Resource harvesting operations in the clouds of gas giant planets
Habitats and stations that float
"Riversheart! Center of Civilization, of the Holy Empire! Long may that City reign supreme!"
Jarden Ruthpole, drunk peddler
An explanation of souls, spirits, and what happens after death. Part of my main setting, first introduced in Primal Essence, Primals, and the Creation of the Realms.
An origin story for the main setting I build in. There are aspects missing, and certain things need proper names. In addition, there are related topics I'll write about in other, related submissions, and the whole setting has a 'phase 2' (or sequel setting) in a hypothetical future where certain, massively world-changing events take place. I'll list related submissions at the bottom, as clickable links.
It was said that the King fell from grace so abruptly that the earth opened up beneath his citadel so he could fall for eternity. This is exactly what happened...
Down it falls, a great concentric castle of dark stone. Cracked and broken, though upright, pieces large and small fall together in concert, frequently dashing against each other, or drawing apart to create wide gulfs to expose the hungry blackness below.
And in this tumbling castle, there sits a king, his head heavy with his crown, his hands clutching his throne in unending terror.
In a time when synth-brewing and artificial concoctions are the norm, Burly Bill's Beautiful Beverages stands out amongst the gleaming storefronts with its dark oak frames around stained glass windows.
A cool, Northern land, populated by the strange Maskenfolk
A Sundered Realm, flotsam of a world.
The fort seemed like every small boys dream, but in fact it was a very well made magical prison, and the young prince only learned the truth when it was too late and the magic sucked him inside, his cries from his now inch high body too quiet to be heard.
"Has he got any magic stuff on him?" the librarian asked. "You know, magic sword or wand or such?"
"Of course," Glacier answered, annoyed at the question. Dragus the Reaving Knight wielded the Black Sword as everybody knew. "What's that got to do with anything?"
The librarian smiled. "Well, that just made finding him much easier, that's all. See, what you need is the Books of the Holders."
Umbra may have trapped Prima's body, but she is free in her village of dreams.
Located in the Eurasian Alliance Balkanistan Principality, Vetmuara BioSciences is the bottom of the barrel for human cloning.
" As long Mriulnarth still stand, damnation will always occur "
- Emperor Averemarn I
Seven wonders of the Dwarven World
"Living in a town that sits on a dimensional nexus can wear thin after a while. It's not so much the crawling shadows, bizarre weather, or late night visitors from places that never existed; but carrying on with your normal life and trying to act like nothing out of the ordinary is going on in your little corner of the world that gets to you."
A small rural town with surreal secrets, that happens to be situated on a dimensional crossroads, suitable for modern day supernatural/mystical/horror campaigns.
A build a mile tall with 50,000 people in has a lot of room for action and intrigue
"Some call it 'the Realm of the Builders' - the Ark refers to it as 'Dius Factorsitius Terravae' or 'The Forge of Worlds.' My opinion? Well, I think it's more of a garden, to be honest."
-Author Dreu, van Heinhelm Household Cleric
A new take on hell that leaves you gasping on the edge of panic.
The seafaring people of the Southern Islands value their ships greatly, as do other maritime nations. However, they take the beliefs about ships a bit further. A ship's name is very important, once it is named it shouldn't be renamed anymore, ever; most renamed ships seem to fail sooner or later. Ships do not tolerate parts from other ships, a single board from a wrong source can cost sailors their lives, so it is said.
Most ships are identified as female, very few as male, though there is no tale of how their personality is identified; it has nothing to do with the name, for example. The Clarissa (a well-known male ship) is said to like good wine. So whenever sailors or passangers drink, they have to spill a glass for the ship, too. But that is only the most known example.