Before the seas boiled there was Petra, the City of Eternity. Through its igam ogam heights and organic broad walks the wisest sages of the traverse discussed the many facets of reality. Along its narrow corridors a gentle wind carried the scent of blossoms. It was there, before the Cataclysm that I learnt all that I know and heard all that I have heard worth hearing. I walk its lonely streets in quiet contemplation when the sun is set, wavering in the brink of madness for the lament of days gone by.
Before the skies the formed there was Ixias, the Raging Furnace. In that strange place, all the fires of all the worlds’ burn fiercely. Gravity and time bend in chaotic melee in vortexes so vast they would sweep away the very fabric of Althanas in a single heartbeat. The once vibrant cities of industry that nestled themselves in cages of magic still linger in the firestorm, but only a few daring refuges dwell in the warm and rusted catacombs. They wait fetidly for salvation from the endless, scouring flares that lapse against their citadels of sorrow.
Before the animals spawned there was Breen, the People’s Republic. Its labyrinthine markets and endless roiling streets were a pinnacle of island life, forged on the common principle of kinship, togetherness and determination. Ruled by a queen of noble stature and untouched by war for millennia, when the Cataclysm raged, civil war did more harm than the fire and magical cracks ever could. Now its streets are quiet, silent, and empty, except for when I walk them in search of a memory to kindle my faith in humanity.
Before the birds sung there was Quant, the Mystic’s Market. From all the corners of the Kalithrism people gathered. Whatever you desired it could be found in the dense sprawl of shops, junk yards and canal boat traders. Every desire, every principle, every momentary weakness in the hearts of the many world’s peoples fluttered up and down the wooden jetties and in and out of the okiyas and bars without prejudice. Of all the worlds this was the place people came to lose themselves. Many could never leave such a paradise, and after the Cataclysm they were stricken with greed and tore one another apart. Its stands and stalls are stained with ancient blood and its rivers run red. Rumour is amok that all the artefacts still remain, if one is of sound enough mind to walk amongst the spirits of the dead…
Before the stones cooled and the mountains rose there was Hudde, the Nomad’s Realm. The rolling sands and the tombs buried in time were a place you could find yourself. Those exiled there discovered a new freedom asides their confinement. My ancestor’s spoke of this place with equal pleasure and pain, for the trials of the world walker ultimately end in a temple grave, a name engraved into the sandstone beneath the eternal limelight of a sickly, dying moon. If escape is what one requires, it is here that you shall find it.
Before the trees grew there was Bulganin, the Heart World. The surface of the Heart World is an eternal forest, a twisting swamp miasma home to trees so tall that vast cities dwell in them. Entire tribes live out their lives oblivious to the other cultures living a macrocosm away. When the cataclysm came many fled here, for the abundance of food was perceived as a blessing. To the soul of Bulganin the invaders had to be cleansed and the trees rose in defence and the tribes. Though primitive in many respects, they retreated to their cities and left the refugees to die beneath the rasp of blood vines and the crawling needle bushes. Only those who know where to walk can find safety into the open arms of Bulganin’s pantheon of elders, and only those who have learnt that trust can do so more than once.
Before the cities formed and you find iron, steel and bronze there was Zhuhai, the Capitalist Zenith. The world has but one continent at the heart of an endless sea, but it is covered by a mega city, walled and separate from the vast slums which surround it. When the cataclysm came the technology of Zhuhai allowed the city to survive and it became xenophobic and alienated from the remnants of the Kalithrism. The many hundreds of thousands that look up to its glass walls dream of the day when they can steal themselves or bribe their way into the sanctuary it offers, and into the stuffy, heartless bigotry it contains. I walk amongst those villages, and am brought to tears at the joy of seeing such survival and humbled love for one another in these dark times. What dark secrets remain in the city even I do not know, but perhaps one day, I shall find a path to walk into the heart of the bourgeoisie prison, and show them what horrors lie on the other side of that wall.
Before your world settled as it is today there were two sisters, Junkyo, the Menagerie of the Gods and Lela, the Dancing Moon. My home was a world made out of crystal and ice, a permafrost citadel sparkling and plentiful and happy. When the cataclysm came, the moon was the first to be destroyed and I heard the screams of my sisters for many decades after the energy tore it apart. When it struck my world, I had but a moment to look over my shoulder as I walked to safety, leaving the burning image of the temples and coliseums tumbling into ruin in my mind. We were the teachers and troubadours of the Kalithrism, but it was always our audiences’ right to have the last laugh at our expense. I cannot walk there, for nothing but dust remains, though I keep the world alive beneath every step, hoping to find answers one day.
Only after our world fell did yours become alive. For millennia daemons and elves fought, and no doubt for many centuries more man shall in his deity’s stead wage war. When I first fled from Junkyo it was to Althanas, the Cosmopolitan Battlefield that my fear of death and need of company sent me blind through the vortices to. Though I walk through the Kalithrism still, I have found a spark of familiarity here and though I scorn your ignorance of the worlds beyond your own, and fear for the implications of the cataclysm I can only wonder where my path shall wind and my journey lead if it is to these shores I fall in my darkest hour.
Your character finds them self on earth and meets you, what happens?
Your character looses everyone close to them, what happened and what will they do next? (Leaders of a large group lose all their men)
Your character finds a rare item, what is it and what will they do with it?
You get transported to Althanas and meet your character, what happens?
Your familiar is in charge, what happens?
Your character has an opposite twin (Good <-> Bad), What happens when they meet?
Everyone's familiars are mixed up, who's familiar do you get and what do you guys do? (Each familiar can only be used once.)
Your character has to go to a United States style school with all your other familiars, what goes down?
Your character find themselves in an embarrassing situation, what is it and how do they get through it?
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