Catharsis is the act of purging stress and tension. Most commonly used in psychiatric diagnosis, it is also demonstrated to absolute effect in the movie The Purge.
Intersectionality is the nebulous web of privilege and discrimination that is the crux of social justice/injustice, and protoculture is the passing of behaviors from one generation to the next among non-human primates
The study and application of technology and human activity
"Absent gods, here's another bunch of them," Chav drawled, irritation in her voice.
"I hear them," I grunted, shifting my back against the tree to find a more comfortable angle. Well, I'd heard the horses' clopping, any how. I opened a single eye, and sure enough, Chav was right. Four of them this time, green as grass. You wonder if they really thought wearing brown homespun tunics and trousers were going to fool anyone into thinking they were Just Folks ... while riding Sadasian stallions and those gorgeous tooled Mithlantri saddles.
Unfortunately, they also heard us. The chickling at their head spurred over to us, and raised her arm in salute to me. "Captain? My name is Amberstar. We heard in Redwave that one of the orc columns were headed this way." She grinned at me with her cheeks puffed out like a bleeding squirrel. "We want to help!"
Joy and rapture unbounded.
“Top, my name is Brock Figglewater, I knew your aunt. I tap a piece of pillow that belonged to your aunt, and I jump belongs to you now. You see, I just bought this Stimech, and I jump it was stolen by a bruce named Horace. Horace was a pream tattle of mine. Three weeks ago, I let Horace take out my pream stimech to go bounce along the billibong looking for bubblely-bobs to bring to the spitter’s patch. Horace says he ran into some boom sauce and had to hop out of the stimech in just a tater sack. I cannot jump that Hoarace bounced 5 kims across the pillow in a tater sack. I have tapped spitter dops on the Big Under pillow for years, I ain’t no trainer. I ain’t rigged to swallow dry sand, and I washed Hoarace. But I need my stimech back, and I ain’t got the press to go all over the Big Under boiling Hoarce’s peals of truth. I need your help.”
A 100 word past time
One day a man named Koret claimed to realize what was wrong with humanity. Shortly after that he claimed to have figured out how to fix all the world problems, and he wrote down a series of commandments aimed at saving humanity from themselves. Over 500 years after his teachings were literally set into stone people are still talking about what he wrote, and some are even trying to follow it.
One of the side effects of the rampant cloning and genetic augmentation in the Cosmic Era is the slow emergence of genetic castes.
How does a culture measure time underground, without any sun? The dwarves have got it covered.
30 wierd, wonderful and wacky wedding customs for your worlds.
"Archeoc isn't just a language, it's a piece of our history. Great empires rose and fell on the pillars of that great tongue, and it's legacy will forever, and inextricably bind Greatlanders together."
-Author Hedron Gadolfini
A scholar and his student sat in the garden, drinking wine, breaking bread and pondering.
And so the student asked the scholar "O' great and wise Master please answer to me this; what word should describe the practice every man and every woman should do at all times?"
With no hesitance, the scholar replied "O' learned disciple, 'Reciprocity' is the word ye seek."
- The Biv, Tome of Life, The Ethical Collections (6), Parable 32
What most people call aliens and monsters are usually extra-dimensional creatures.
Time is measured for most by the events that are both constant and special. "How many Christmas's ago was that?" It should be no different for Halflings.
A twisted zombiepocalypse creates a new holiday season.
A colourful but universally applicable calendar.
Thirty systems of justice-or the most rank injustice, in some cases.
After Buddha died, his shadow was still shown for centuries in a cave—a tremendous, gruesome shadow. God is dead; but given the way of man, there may still be caves for thousands of years in which his shadow will be shown. And we—we still have to vanquish his shadow, too.
A system for samurai ranks. Still having trouble with the output of this one.
A short summary of the ranks used by the Gurkha Regiments of the British Indian Army.
Castoria was once a thriving and prosperous nation, a rich trade center for the surrounding lands. This all changed when, on one fateful night nearly a century ago, the Mist of Eternity rolled in and surrounded the land, obscuring more of the outside world as days and nights passed.
By the time the Mist blocked out the sun, a new light shone during what was assumed to be daytime: The Starpoint Spire, a mysterious place atop Castoria's highest peak in the northern-central region. Some say that there is some sort of building atop the mountain shining the dim "sunlight" onto the land, but it is only ever too bright or too dark to fully make out any structure, not to mention the mountain's immense height.
Not a month after the Spire's light lit up, the stars fell. Flaming rocks and debris from far-flung edges of space plummeted downward onto the eastern region of Castoria. Once the shower subsided, a strange energy from within the fallen stars transformed the eastern lands in what are now known as The Voidwastes, a barren gray land littered with craters and strange alien creatures (these can vary, but I had Pathfinder's Akatas in mind).
To the south, strange mechanism of eldritch origin are again at work after aeons of rest in the Ruins of Kchuthngnl, an ancient city of non-human creation that is estimated by scholars to be no less that five millennia old.
To the west, the once peaceful and serene forest, now known as The Plagued Woods, has been experiencing corruptions of the wildlife and humanoids living there. Some humans have reported creatures that appear not unlike a halfling, except that they can open their mouths to massive proportions to swallow creatures the size of an ogre.
When adventurers and citizens alike try to make an escape from Castoria, they are never seen again, and it is utterly unknown whether they found hopeful sanctuary or agonizing death withing the Mist's depths.
What is unknown to all residents of Castoria is that all of these events occurred because of the actions of a secret but powerful cult loyal to the Elder Gods who call the space between the planes their abhorrent home. The cult still lives on, larger than ever, and their plan is for the alien horrors to incubate and thrive within the dome of mist that now envelops Castoria, so that when the Elder Gods return as the cult's prophecy foretells, they will have an army of blasphemous creation at their disposal that they will use to make war with and enslave the denizens of the Material Plane.