An Account of the History of Veksar Translated by Scholar Phinea of Omen’s Call
Translator’s Note I have done my best to use the notes of the goblin scholars to create a decent translation key, but the reader should understand this is passing through the filter of the minds of lesser individuals. Therefore, many of the nuances of the script have doubtless been lost.
Following the victory over the Shissar, the Iksar of the Kylong tribe set out to build a city, grand in its scope and dedicated to pleasure and to art. This city was built and became known as Veksar. with only the most refined architectural techniques in mine, it was built stone by stone into a living masterwork.
The theater of Veksar was perhaps their finest accomplishment. Its players have played to only the most noble and wealthiest of Iksar families for generations, and its halls have fostered some of the finest performers and composers known to our people.
When Venril Sathir assumed patronage of Veksar by way of the Unification wars, the theater, as well as all of Veksar, only grew in magnificence. Every spire was elevated higher, every hall was made grander, every mosaic was made that much more intricate and beautiful.
Many individuals, such as the playwright Yeviksi Ggzash or the singer Zrisi Ssthith, have found their fame here. Zrisi, in particular, was a favorite of Venril Sathir. She came to the theater as a young Iksar and played here until her death. Venril Sathir himself requested would host a private show with her every visit.
The stories that have come from her halls have grown and spread among the iksar so that even the lowliest of jungle villager knows the progression of their basic tales. Such classic fables as “The Ant Tale” began as performances conducted for her audiences.
I record here, regrettably, at the end of her days. Though Veksar survived the end of the Sebilisian Empire, I believe she will not see another day. I am Poet Urviszin and have read my verses in these halls since I was a young Iksar, but I will do so no longer. The great dragon Garudon, infuriated at the wrongs he believed done to him, has set his sights upon it.
Even now, I can feel the halls shake as he and his minions throw themselves against her walls. Frescoes are cracking and breaking, costumes are scattered, sculptures have toppled and are being tripped over by fleeing bodies, desperate nobles and poets reduced to a common fate with slaves and servants us all try to survive.
I have chosen to stay and leave this final account upon the walls. Veksar and her theater deserve that much. For hundreds of years, this city has persisted as the jewel of the Iksar, but today, this jewel will be smashed and shattered.