Skylands

Your premier "cozy" setting of adventure and whimsical fun. First conceived of on April 29th 2013 in the /tg/ thread "A Slice of Life: Living in a sky world," it tickled the fancy of many elegan/tg/entlemen and has evolved into a setting of it's own.

Physical Properties

The Skylands exist as a large group of floating islands in an endless sky. Most races live at what is about sea level in our world in terms of pressure and climate. The farther down you go into skyland, the more dark and dangerous things become, filled with adventure and mystery. There is no "bottom" of skyworld as we may think of it, but instead some kind of mystical core that causes the islands to stay flying due to wooby-wooby magic. The orbits of islands around this core follow a general prescribed path that can be mapped, and generally do not stray from it.

Races of the Skylands

Humans: Your average stock humans that inhabit the temperate world. Most belong to the Justaerin Empire, a pseudo-greek/roman empire that incorporates most of the civilized planets. The Emperor of the Justearan Empire is not a cruel man, and rules justly, provided his citizens are law abiding.

Maotai: A race of giant Manta Ray people that soar the upper skies whose culture is loosely based off of the Maori people of earth. They are generally not trusted by the other races for their nomadic tendencies, and for living so high above everyone else.

Aven: Incorporating the many subraces including Eagles, Owls, Cranes, Rooks, and the reviled Gulls, the time of the Avens as a race has passed, and they often keep to themselves. The different breeds of Aven meet in a so called 'council of four wings,' with the exclusion of the Gulls.

The Rook subrace can be described best as your eccentric uncle. The one who's a lot of fun in small doses, but you wouldn't want to introduce to your friends lest he embarrass you. They see value in accruing the largest horde of baubles possible in a lifetime, and are quite crafty.

Deep Race: It is generally accepted that there should be a race that dwells beneath the other islands, in a place of eternal twilight and dusk, but no one has as of yet agreed whether they should be ants, mushrooms, worms, or dwarf people with the odd badger man thrown in.

Writefaggotry

An Old Dewer's Tale/The Legend of Redfeather As his small audience huddled closer to the dull warmth of the glowing stone, the old man smiled, his beard rustling gently in the cool evening breeze. “There was a time long ago when our village was much, much smaller than it is today. There was only the tower, three houses, and the tower.” One of the children piped up, wiping his nose on his sleeve as he exclaimed “And the big feather too!” The old man looked over his shoulder, admiring the bright red plumage in the distance before he turned back, chuckling and shaking his head. “Oh no no no, there was no feather back then. In fact, we weren’t even a large enough place to have any sort of name, much less the noble name of Redfeather!” Amid confused looks from the children, and against the backdrop of the setting sun, the old Dewer began his tale. “As I said, we were a tiny village, only a handful of people. Everyone had their job, and they did it proudly. I myself was a Dewer, and it was my job to hang out the water lines so that everyone could have plenty of water to drink. Now, who knows where water lines come from?” The children all shook their heads; they were too young to know such things. The old man was all too happy to explain. “Well, the water lines come from the Mistweaver, who lives deep, deep in the forest, under a great tree! Us Dewers borrow some of their lines of silk, in exchange for a small offering, or a present. One of the pudgier children raised his hand “Mistweavers can’t talk!” He said matter-of-factly. “Well, that’s just what the other people in the village told me when I told them.” Everyone giggled, giving the old man a moment to catch up to where he was after being interrupted. “Now, there was not much else I could do, as no one would believe me. The next day, however, is when everything changed. I had slept until late in the day, as I had ran almost all night. But when I stepped outside, it was as black as night! Everyone was running about, looking to the skies and searching for the sun. But there was no sun to be found, only darkness and shadow!” The old man quickly swirled his cloak in front of him, covering the lightstone and cutting off any light, causing the children to shriek in fright. He chuckled, pulling his cloak back onto his shoulders as if nothing had happened. “Indeed, it was quite the scare for us as well. No one knew what was happening, until I climbed the tower and looked into the distance…” “I will never forget that sight. It was a Cloudrazor, larger than anything I had seen or ever will see. Huge crimson wings blotted out the very light of day, black claws the size of the tallest man, and a beak that was sharper than any Empire blade. It flew towards the island, towards the village, for it was intending to make a meal out of all of us! I shouted as loud as I could for everyone to run, but it was too late, my voice was drowned out by the beating of its wings and the hurricane that followed. I was knocked off of my feet, and nearly took a tumble off of the tower! In fact, as I stood back up, I was sure that I was already dead, because what I saw next was surely too extraordinary to be real! “An outlander, armed with nothing but a rope and more courage than any man has a right to have, was on the creature’s back! He was wrestling with it, the rope gripped tightly in each hand as he worked it around the beast’s neck! It thrashed, and it shrieked, and it cried out in fury as it tried to get away! But for every twist the beast gave, the outlander gave a turn right back! It went on for hours, and the entire village watched in awe as they fought! But it came to a grisly end for the both of them. They thrashed their way to the very edge of the island, and took a tumble right off of the edge, leaving nothing but a single red feather to remind anyone that it had even happened. “And that is why we keep that feather on the tower, to remember that outlander’s bravery and selflessness, his courage to help a people that he never knew. Everyone in this village owes their life to that one man, and it is why we all try to be as courageous and generous as he was, so that we may all live a better life.” The pudgy child stood up as the tale finished, crossing his arms and looking positively grumpy. “Well, what if I don’t want to be generous, huh?” The old man leaned in close to the lightstone, a grim expression on his face. “Well then, I’m afraid that the great beast might just come back if you aren’t, and carry you off of this island for his dinner!” Right on cue, a man burst out of the bushes behind the young audience, wearing a crude bird mask and a red cloak, he shrieked and hollered, flapping his arms as he jumped around. The children scattered, screaming and running off to their parents as the two men laughed, getting cross looks from a few mothers. “Ah, that story gets longer every time you tell it!” The young man pried off his mask, grinning from ear to ear as he took a now vacant spot next to the Dewer. “Aye, and my memory gets shorter every time too. Pretty soon you’ll be the one telling it instead of menacing the kids.” They shared another laugh as they got up, heading for the tower. It was late, and the young man needed to fetch silk from the Mistweaver in the morning…

The Judgement of Terram Ipsumque XVI Yesterday the island was not named, the place was simply referred to as home. Today the island had a name and a number; Terram Ipsumque XVI. Yesterday the place was alive with the commerce of men. Yesterday the place smelt of meat and wood. Yesterday the air was misty and light. Today the place rang with the tolls of hundreds of picks. Today the island smelt of char and smoke. Today there was no commerce. Today red flags draped over the halls and houses, churches and markets of the land. Today the air was thick and hot. Today the lungs of men shuttered as ash assaulted them. Yesterday the mines of the place were shallow and safe. Today the mines cut much too deep. Yesterday there was much silk and gold and iron in the island. Today there was few. Today great ships poured the island’s own water into these deep gauges. The island groaned as rock was flooded, slowly churning under it’s own weight. Pressure mounted against the ancient stone foundations of the nameless island. The rock cracked, a jagged and terrible seam showing across the face of the whole of Terram Ipsumque XVI. From the dark scar, an explosion of water, reliving pressure from the shaking island. Very suddenly, the rock wailed, and split entirely, it’s mass drifting slightly away before stabilizing. Immediately large tethers connected the two lands, like stitches across a gaping wound. Grey men marched the tethers and again the air rang as pickaxes struck the earth. Today the local soldiers lay dead or maimed, their families grieving in large mobs. They put their faces in their hands, lifting from them every so often to shout obscenities at men in silver armor, who wore thick red plumes of dyed horsehair. Yesterday the men of the island killed those soldiers of the Imperial Garrison, and then feasted in celebration of their new independence. Yesterday the unnamed island revolted against the Justearan Empire, and the rule of Emperor Cato Junius. Today Terram Ipsumque XVI was paying for it.