Excerpt from Captain Marris’s Briefing for New Crew
Talereth isn’t the biggest world this side of the Belt. That’s Kharos. But it’s the most lived-in. Probably holds three-quarters of the system’s people, and hardly a soul down there knows they’re part of a system at all.
Locals call it the Heart of Creation. The Cradle, like nothing else ever was or will be. They don’t know about the rest. They don’t realize their skies weren’t always this quiet. Some say that’s a shame. Others say it’s for the best.
Coming down from orbit, what hits you first is the color. Wide blue waters. Forests that go on forever. Then the shapes: long continents, broken mountain spines, old ruins wrapped in vines. And if your descent’s clean and the wind favors you, the air will hit like a blessing. Warm, wild, thick with spice and salt. That scent alone is worth the visit.
The cultures down there are layered like trapped fossils. Kingdoms, republics, clans, free cities, farmsteads, or whatever else they’ve dreamed up. Each with its own rules and stories. A few of those stories are even true.
Commerce
The Mercantile Guild runs most of the official trade. Big agrarian colonies on the surface, shipping food and water to offworld habitats. They use caravans and river barges, whatever fits local eyes. But a few crossroads and coastal ports double as Wildspace docks. Quiet landings. Quiet takeoffs.
- Highwater on Alyndra: a lively harbor with music, markets, and a spelljammer dock hidden in the nearby caldera. You wouldn’t know it unless someone showed you the path.
- Sunreach Hold: a desert crossroads dressed like a fortress and lit up with music and pageantry. The locals see a cultural landmark. The Velvet Court sees a starborne junction under illusion and stone.
Faith and Fire
The Radiant Mandate’s been busy here. Preaching from mountaintops and back alleys. Claiming the stars are speaking again, and that Talereth’s got a role to play in what’s coming. Their missionaries tend to favor rural temples and old crossroads, where folk still watch the skies and listen for meaning.
Some call them protectors. Others say their light burns too hot.
They’ve taken a particular interest in Myrren,
Talereth’s haunted moon. It's still veiled. Still full of old stories.
The Mandate treats it like a holy site — or a cursed one in need of
cleansing. Pilgrimages have increased, and some say they’ve seen shapes
in the sky above it. Not ships. Not stars. Something else.
Word count: 433
