Aptera
2009-03-31, 11:10 AM
First off, this is not for an RPG. I have considered making an RPG (Specifically a Savage Worlds setting, because it fits) with this and posting it here, but I decided not to do so. I have a story I'm working on in this world, but I also want some opinions on that. So without further ado her it is, the world of Obscura.
Intro:
Great gothic spires rise from the barren earth, frozen and dark. Inside them a thousand souls live their lives in their dank, wet corridors, toiling away in infernal workhouses and factories powered by the mysterious powers of the temperaments, air, earth, fire, and water, each spirit bonded to a vast network of gears and cogs. Golems carry large objects to and fro, the words inscribed in the slips of paper in the mouth animating the clay and stone. The vast roiling sea of humanity trapped in these slums roil and seethe with change and rebellion, cowed only by the fear of the dark that lies on the other side of the towers. On the edge of the towers, which lie in a titanic circle, huge windows face the artificial sun that floats above the city casting its warm light on the million souls within.
Closer to the sun a great rolling layers of fog cascade through the lower towers, now simply a few stories high, so as to minimize shadow. Here the majority of the cities population live, a bustling hub of commerce, and hive of villainous activity. Four different species change and morph within these streets, from prosperous human tradesmen, to the seline explorers of the darkness seeking to reanimate their broken god, the always moving peregrines bound through an ancient pact with the eight spirits, and from below he great fires of the earth sent the ignateris to the above.
Revolution spreads among the lower classes, who toil in the poorhouses and workshops of the city. The merchants fight the landed nobles for dominance, while the middle class seeks to legitimize itself. The Gendarme and constabulary are morose and understaffed, trying to defeat crime both mundane and arcane. The Bureaucracy of the city is ever growing, becoming more and more entrenched and unchanging. And above it all in the massive sun palace which pierces the fog and clouds to support the sun above the city, lives the Marchioness, the Lady of Gears. She has ruled the city for two hundred years immortal and silent, of clockwork and flesh all mixed together manipulating the city and its inhabitants.
Far way across the darkness the six other suns hover above the land, the blood cities priests are on the warpath enslaving and sacrificing entire towns to feed their dyeing sun. The three largest remnants of the moon hover above the villages and towns of the selines, powered by the souls of their ancestors as they seek to keep their dyeing god alive until all of him can be found an reunited. The Ignateris holds have been blinking off the map one by one, denying their food to the cities and famine lingers not far behind. Something has been killing off the peregrines lesser spirits, and the eight spirits are getting worried.
Deep deep in the frozen darkness where only brave prospectors dare to tread in their search for the luxstones, the Star Children rise and whisper for they are hungry. And above the planet the empty sky groans as the Star God, slowly pulls the sky apart to let himself back in.
Intro:
Great gothic spires rise from the barren earth, frozen and dark. Inside them a thousand souls live their lives in their dank, wet corridors, toiling away in infernal workhouses and factories powered by the mysterious powers of the temperaments, air, earth, fire, and water, each spirit bonded to a vast network of gears and cogs. Golems carry large objects to and fro, the words inscribed in the slips of paper in the mouth animating the clay and stone. The vast roiling sea of humanity trapped in these slums roil and seethe with change and rebellion, cowed only by the fear of the dark that lies on the other side of the towers. On the edge of the towers, which lie in a titanic circle, huge windows face the artificial sun that floats above the city casting its warm light on the million souls within.
Closer to the sun a great rolling layers of fog cascade through the lower towers, now simply a few stories high, so as to minimize shadow. Here the majority of the cities population live, a bustling hub of commerce, and hive of villainous activity. Four different species change and morph within these streets, from prosperous human tradesmen, to the seline explorers of the darkness seeking to reanimate their broken god, the always moving peregrines bound through an ancient pact with the eight spirits, and from below he great fires of the earth sent the ignateris to the above.
Revolution spreads among the lower classes, who toil in the poorhouses and workshops of the city. The merchants fight the landed nobles for dominance, while the middle class seeks to legitimize itself. The Gendarme and constabulary are morose and understaffed, trying to defeat crime both mundane and arcane. The Bureaucracy of the city is ever growing, becoming more and more entrenched and unchanging. And above it all in the massive sun palace which pierces the fog and clouds to support the sun above the city, lives the Marchioness, the Lady of Gears. She has ruled the city for two hundred years immortal and silent, of clockwork and flesh all mixed together manipulating the city and its inhabitants.
Far way across the darkness the six other suns hover above the land, the blood cities priests are on the warpath enslaving and sacrificing entire towns to feed their dyeing sun. The three largest remnants of the moon hover above the villages and towns of the selines, powered by the souls of their ancestors as they seek to keep their dyeing god alive until all of him can be found an reunited. The Ignateris holds have been blinking off the map one by one, denying their food to the cities and famine lingers not far behind. Something has been killing off the peregrines lesser spirits, and the eight spirits are getting worried.
Deep deep in the frozen darkness where only brave prospectors dare to tread in their search for the luxstones, the Star Children rise and whisper for they are hungry. And above the planet the empty sky groans as the Star God, slowly pulls the sky apart to let himself back in.