Books of Terminus

A book of the History and achievements of the House of Commerce

A Rough Start:
I have journeyed far and wide, across the seas, hoping for a Second Chance. A Clean Slate wiped free of all things. No mistakes this time. I landed on the beach of a fresh new continent just before sunrise, full of hope and eagerness. However, things were not so easy: Monsters dwell here that i have not seen before, in great numbers. I carved a dugout house into a nearby hill for shelter, and lived in this shelter for some time, preparing more and more resources for a proper home.

A few mornings later, I was surprised to see that my small dugout campsite was now a temporary living-grounds to a group of nomads. They were very unhappy to see me, and aimed their crossbows at me. Now, I have an aptitude for speechcraft and the mercantile arts. It took a little over two hours, but the nomads were not only soothed of their distrust of me, but had been convinced to join me. They were quite agreeable when you got down to it. For the price of the trinkets in my pockets, I had a group of 8 ready to build a town with me. The Termini people (what the nomads called themselves), were thrilled when I even told them that the site of this grand new town would be named Terminus, fondly after them.

~Cartara

Terminus Food Shortage Solved
Y'know. I think as far back as I can remember to my first memory, I can only remember one thing: Hunger. I was always hungry. I've always been on the verge of starving. Sure, sometimes getting a few berries here or there, some smoked seaweed (Which you'd be surprised how easily a guy can get sick of those), or on rare occasions a fish. But I'm not a hunter, or a farmer or rancher or anything like that. I never did like doing any of that stuff before.

But now it's different.

The one running the Termini, this guy called Chef Fresk, knows all about how to do all sorts of techniques to sustain his tribe. They've proven to be decent farmers, and have been generously passing down their techniques. Ranching, farming, and even baking. Finally got a good meal in me, for the first time in a very, very long time.

I'm still hungry.

~Cartara

The Nexus
It's certainly been an eventful day, to say the least.

The foundation of Terminus is being laid out, slowly but surely. Our efforts to create a shining beacon by the sea are beginning to pay off.

However today, The strangest thing had occurred. A stranger entered Terminus by land, headed for the beaches. He was unlike any of the Tribesman I had met across the Sea, and nothing like the Termini nomads. The hooded figure looked, strangely enough, like me. His name was Raziel, and his cloak bore a strange symbol of faded green and pale gray. I welcomed him to the site of Terminus, and he inspected the developing land, complimenting it.

After his brief inspection of the land, he asked me the strangest question as well: What House I belonged to. What House? Did he mean my small dugout shack? I didn't know how to reply other than with more questions. He didn't seem to understand. Raziel explained to me that I was an "Son of Oreville," and that I must have been a part of a Group lost during the Great Dissension. I apparently had lost my heritage.

Fresk and the Termini seemed distrustful of the Outsider, and they whispered the words 'Usurper' at the site.

The Stranger then told me that he was a part of the House of Fog, and explained that there was an entire town full of other Houses of those like myself. A town called Oreville.

I asked to see this wondrous place, almost curious to see if this man was touched in the head or if he spoke truth. What did he mean when he said there were others like me? I agreed to travel with him, and put Fresk in charge of the operation for a few days.

Raziel told me that the Town is only a few miles away, which was impossible according to my prior surveys. I challenged his statement, only to be taken aback as he pulled out a small machine, and tore open a Mauve rift on the Outskirts of town.

The Rift
The rift that Raziel had opened led to a strange reddish-gray plane land, seemingly infinite, and incredibly silent. This place unsettled me deeply, like hellish places in the stories certain Elders spoke of over Campfires. We walked a ways, following a small line of lights strung about: it seemed that it was easy to get lost within this empty hellscape. It wasn't long before we made it to a strange mode of transportation, which Raziel called "the Iceway." It was a sort of railway powered by technology I was unfamiliar with, but it was very fast.

The Stranger explained that this place was called The Nexus: a place in between dimensions. He explained a lot of other scientific terms, some of which I did not fully understand. It was disorienting.

We stopped at the end of the line, at a swirling Purple rift before us. I hesitated before going in, uncertain what would meet me on the other side, but my curiosity forced me onwards, into the unknown.

Oreville
By my ancestors! This place is more elaborate than I originally expected. I stepped out of that hellish rift and into a bustling town (a fitting contrast). To my surprise, this place was filled with many others like me, wearing different symbols and performing a plethora of different tasks.

Needless to say, I was excited beyond my expectations. So much to see, and so much more to do...

Raziel guided me through the town, giving me the information I so desperately needed. He explained the different Houses that lived within the city: The Noot Librarians, the secretive Fog scientists, elusive builders on the hill, the Elaborate Bucky Mansion, and the infinite jests of the Inksters. So much information to remember... I explored every corridor, every inch of this great town, enthusiastic to meet these new inhabitants.

And oh, the inhabitants! Though most of the townsfolk were Orevillians, there was also a surprisingly small number of my fellow Landsmen living among them. They seemed to be of no tribe I had encountered before, and each wore a purple-jeweled amulet around their necks as some sort of status symbol. They seemed rather polite; often serving as traders or intellectuals within the city.

After a few hours, Raziel and I temporarily parted ways; we both had business to attend to. While my guide went to file a report, I ventured into the House of Noot Library to get some information. Inside the grand wooden halls, I conversed with the Archivist Peircie in order to gain more knowledge of this city's history. It was quite interesting: hearing her tale of the Jump to this place, Oreville II, and the resolve of the Orevillian people to survive all sorts of catastrophes. It was inspiring to hear these stories, hearing the struggle to survive even the tyranny of their own race.

What an splendid town, and what a unique culture as well.

The Rumination
I spent three days in Oreville, asking as many questions as possible to learn all I could. I found some interesting facts, such as:

The House of Noot is the only House with a working prison, and has detained a Landsman due to their harmful nature.

Most Orevillians had settled elsewhere, before moving west after a dissension between two old houses.

The Houses of Oreville all work together, despite minor disputes.

It's very strange, having centuries of history thrust upon you in a few days: The Noot Scribes made sure to assault me with volumes upon volumes of knowledge. It's stranger still that the Houses rarely fight, contrasting the hostility some of the Landsmen tribes have for each other. Fresk had mentioned that some of the younger members of his tribe had left before to join an Order of Truth, which often raided and enslaved other tribes. It seems that this Order of Truth often antagonized the Townsmen as well, as the Order patrols as close as the Southern Sands near what the Orevillians call "Noot Vegas." Few patrols dare extend towards the walls of the town, for fear of facing the wrath of the town guards.

I couldn't spare more than three days, for fear of something going wrong with my project. Yet on my return voyage to Terminus, I couldn't help wondering about the single town by itself - about the Houses that worked together. Collusion is important. Especially if both Oreville and Terminus are to coexist together. Perhaps with the two working side by side, we can reach even greater heights than ever before.

I will rise above and create a new House. A House where all could benefit from. A House of Commerce.

Trouble on the HomeFront
My return to Terminus was celebrated by Fresk and his people, and I was met with a log wall and a feast for me. While I was away, Terminus had been fortified, and the outline of a village began to form. There was peace, finally.

The peace was broken the next night. Without warning, the night watchmen in charge of the northern Gate were struck with the deadly silence of a crossbow bolt before they could blare their horns in alarm. Two True Order patrols had decided to attack in hopes of finding pillage. I was awoken by the sound of shouts as the patrols had climbed the Founders Hill and began to fire their flaming bolts into the town. I wasted no time in finding Fresk, and together we rallied our townsfolk under the moonlight. I led the charge up Founders hill, leading the group to repel the traitorous landsmen, avoiding the hail of crossbow bolts. The sounds of the fighting caught the attention of a small pack of Afflicted meandering nearby, leading them into the war zone through a hole in our wall.

The Battle became one of three fronts, as the mindless dead began to attack both the Order Patrol, and the Termini. What was once a foreseeable bitter victory became a struggle for the survival of my men, for one bite by an afflicted creature meant a fate worse than any i had imagined. Arrows whizzed by, as steel clashed with steel, and the meaty sounds of flesh tearing apart flesh...

All of the violence made me sick.

After two hours of brutal fighting, the True Order bitterly retreated, and the pack soon was shattered under our defense. Five good men were lost in the fighting, and three were lost in the initial attack. After the dust had settled, Fresk had collapsed. I thought it was from just exhaustion, as he had fought valiantly during the attack. But closer inspection revealed that he had been bitten by one of the lingering dead.

I was in shock- the wise leader and trusted friend was now marked for death, wracked with pain and sickness. I had seen what happens when someone is plagued by the Lingering death: there is no escape from the inevitable.

But there is a chance this time...A Shaman believed that the sickness could be cured, but it would be of great difficulty to obtain.

I had sealed Fresk away in a cellar underground, to shield him from the sun that would burn his flesh to the bone. I was determined to find this cure.