“ Meta energy...lent by lunos of the seven skys, father of the dragongods, has the power to alter events, rippling through time and space, no other form of energy is stronger, with the ability to even destory planets.It rips apart sheilds by going back in time before they were brought up. No weapon can withstand the force of such It is a power usable only by families bloodline, and those we have chosen to gift with miniscule amounts of its power. It not being of this plane, isn't even subjective to the so called 'gods' here. Different worlds, different levels of power.
It is a power of change and manipulation, essentially leaving us to create with it what we will, if our mind is strong enough to do so.
Large amounts of this inserted into any one being/energy will cause them to implode, ripping themselves apart and sucked into another dimension entirely.
The limitations of meta are only set by ones mind, an open mind has no limits to the powers of meta.”
“ Wytchwolde-Under-Ash, once a great Thorpe, was razed to the ground by the ruthless, and truth told more than slightly deranged, Porcelain Princess and her henchmen, the Purifiers. When the flames had at last subsided, and a kaleidoscope of swirling, dull-gray ash choked the sky, nine hundred acres of old growth iron spruce, black larch and weeping birch, was burned to utter cinders, along with the entire coven of witches comprising the Sisterhood of the Silver Teat.
Now, centuries later, the forests are somewhat re-grown, and the town of Foolswater stands where Wytchwolde-Under-Ash once did. It is said that even to this day, one can still find ashes in the otherwise potable well-water of this village. Once a year during the Winter Solstice, the 'Ash-Wind' comes to Foolswater, a suffocating black cloud that passes quickly but leaves dead birds and animals in its wake, darkening the trees, and staining the sky with black snow. The inhabitants of the village know better than to be caught outside during the day-long Ash-Wind. Everyone is locked snugly inside, singing old hymns that curse and re-curse the burned witches who once called this place home.”
“ In one region of a forest, all of the trees are identical, down to the leaves and the twigs. If the PCs carve something into one of the trees, it could mystically propigate until it covered all of the trees, or could vanish since it was not carved into the one true tree.”
