On Keeping
This is not meant to be a memoir. Yet, I must share some things about myself.
A few friends of merit have noted that I am in fact reaching the evening of life, and despite the incidental rudeness, I consider prudent their advice to compose a trove of missives directing the well-inclined on how to account for this, my humble “vault” of the history of Terminus - and a few things beyond.
I have always begrudged the names draped over this office, for I consider myself not of repute, renown or even regard. I was never meant to wear armor and I was never meant to hold a title. Yet I have stood accused as a thief, blasphemer, usurper and general malfeasant in several courts and one tribunal (though in most cases I was fortunately acquitted, and in one, rescued). More than once I’ve been approached by unprincipled men with offers to elevate my status by “simply” recording events more or less favorably. (To wit, Festus of High Brace is a fraud, at least in this day. In years past I esteemed him a companion in the archival devotion and a friend outside of it. Sadly, like too many he has heard the clink of gold preferable to the rustle of pages and spins his myths for a deplorable profit. I say this only to bid the reader warning if he or she should seek to combine our respective collections - and also to shame him). To this end I hardly allow myself to take any patronage, for I am a normal man and fear even genuine kindness could unduly lighten the weight of truth, dulling my discernment. My life has oft been under threat, more so by “nobility” and less often by pilferers, yet I cannot permit misdeed effect my labor any more than generosity.
Setback is a ritual that attends true discovery, it seems. I've had two shops burned to the stones in the ground. Four chests stolen, though one was entirely filled with dung-rubbed rocks and another rigged with an ingenious trap of inflammatory sapwood and pitch (at considerable price with considerable result). I have been hexed, cursed, haunted, hunted, whipped, expelled, excommunicated, imprisoned and briefly enslaved. Yet, Terminus has always granted I linger in her company and it is my fervent belief that some sovereign presence desires the guarding of all these precious things - indeed, I believe myself preserved for this purpose.
So what is my name, or rather - who am I? A fond, departed friend once called me “a loomer of legends”, which is bright, but quite unrepeatable. “The Loomer” rings like false gold, which is the worst kind. And though there are many hails from the array of tribes, clans, kingdoms and so forth to which I gladly reply, none so fit the role as much the man. And that is why I meekly take the office of Keeper - though just as quickly pray it endures beyond my keeping. For when I am finally deposited amongst the dead, this world will still require remembering. Thus I write it all down and supplicate that One may send another companion to unquiet my study. One who is truly lit with the same zeal, inclined to sacrifice in favor of this most necessary stewardship. Yet such persons are rarer than any precious stone, rune or spell...
Thus, until I die
The Keeper
What Are the Keepings of Castigue?
"The Keepings of Castigue...
These conspicuous little letters have cost me more danger than an entire shelf of books on High Summoning, or even three volumes listing every known Dragon on Terminus.
...and I almost returned them, didn't I? To their owner, a descendant of the young Narian's line - so gravely sought was this collection in the first months... Thankfully I relented and now regard the gift with dear fondness, and mutual benefit.
Thus I named them after Narian and I reread the words of Castigue and Kaolyen Greyborne often, more than most of the writings I've accumulated. Their kinship was emblematic of what denizens of Terminus desperately required during the Deicide War. And though unfinished, their devotion to deciphering the Dragon Accord upheld a brotherly humility, which is lacking in the present.
I glean true friendship from these resilient pages and the insight they lend is matchless.
...I feel afraid - and in awe... such a quiet marvel that peers into a time in Terminus' history that is sadly under-documented."
The Keepings of Castigue I - "On the Dragon Accord"
Kaolyen,
My colleague and my friend.
At your request, this is our most current translation of the document we have named “The Dragon Accord”. While I must stress this is a fallible and incomplete effort, we feel an accurate, yet disquieting picture is emerging…
The accord precludes even your race’s arrival. This is perhaps a narrow revelation to you, or none at all. Yet it bears our attention, as distant drums hail the approach of battle. To such depths we were given exceptional aid by the Dwarves of Khadassa - that is... at first. They shared a number of parchments, maps and drawings which gave us the initial footholds into the Dragon tongue's nuances. Without these pieces we would be sifting tomes amiss, or worse, brazenly incorrect. However, this connection has since been severed - I fear the growing conflict may have reached them sooner than they anticipated.
The Myr have been largely unreachable. Quite unobservable, in fact. How they can suffer to dwell so close to the Ogres is a mystery. Even so, I am doubtful they would contribute. We had planned an expedition to the east once the snow thaws. Our aim was to reach the tribes of Ginto - I am referring to The Remnant. It is a dimming hope - our most recent reports of their settlements are nearly 3 years old, and they seem a reclusive order focused on the realms even farther east. I am convinced they would illumine much if we could but lay the writings before them. I doubt we will have such opportunity, however.
Lastly, it is not without some measure of internal conflict that I confide these writings to you. A critical few in authority over me would prefer all such information remain hidden within our halls. Still, I have chosen to neglect their approval. I am certain their agenda is not all selfish, but stems from a deeper, acquired concern. I know this document has attracted much interest... gravely so. We have lost some very astute men and women, more gifted than myself, to tragic events I’d prefer to see as chance. Keener minds have suggested intent. Their efforts live on in the translations we've gained, but their deaths guard my every conscious movement across this page. I caution you respectfully, but sincerely, to delegate this research carefully.
Always keep watch over yourself. Though buried in my studies, I am quite aware of the chaos growing in nearly every corner of this planet. Much of Terminus trembles around us; I know you feel it sharper than myself. If this tiding finds you at all, let it find you well. I covet the insight of your discernments.
I depart now for the Dwarven realm of Khadassa. I have come by few reliable charts or maps and must pass through lands of unknown threat. You know this, and were kind to offer me Elven escort. If there is a chance of regaining Dwarven aid in this effort, it is worth the risk for me to go - but we are candid fellows. Should I my journey fail or the Dwarves lend us nothing, it falls to you - if you cannot unlock the Dragon tongue, I fear this document will open to no one.
Your fellow in this pursuit,
Narian Castigue, 473 I.H.
Narian’s note: My final discovery before departing was to conclude that this seems to be written in Drak’Elrin, a “deeper” and more obscure dragon tongue than Drak’Fane. It is possible this may be a higher language. Certainly it has contributed greatly to our trouble in translating further.
Translation begins...
To Rok’Nhilthamos, the Dragon King
of the line of Rok’Tsuntyensire, the First Dragon King