This setting contains one item inspired by each of the books I read. It will be updated regularly, as I gather more material from a variety of roleplaying books. It is free to use, free to alter, and free to share. Just a little in-joke between fellow hobbyists. Comment if you actually use it, though. I'd be very interested in knowing how that plays out.
The World of UKSS
The Dragon Market
If you leave TBD-city and head inland, riding for six days through the TBD-wastes, you will come across a massive meteor crater, nearly a mile across and more than 2000 feet deep. But the ancient signs of carnage pale before the modern ones. Carved into the sides of the crater, to take advantage of the magic-dampening properties of meteoric iron, are the only cages in Ukss capable of holding an enraged dragon.
The Dragon Market is an assault on the senses. Explosions of dragon breath, unleashed in useless rage, light up the sky. Noxious odors of unwashed bodies waft down from the cages and up from the mercenary armies that regularly rotate in and out of the crater. And above all, the noise. Roars and curses, insinuating whispers, offers of bribes, and screams of pain that seem almost human.
And in the center of it all is the Trading Floor, a modest three-story townhouse, made in a popular TBD-city style, that nonetheless seems to dominate its surroundings from the audacity of its smallness. It is here that merchants, potentates, and speculators gather to trade dragons.
It is rare for a dragon, once captured, to actually leave its cage. The ownership is almost entirely on paper, and exists purely to facilitate games of statecraft and realpolitik. But their value is not entirely by fiat. Most dragons, even the nastily evil ones, will honor a bargain made to secure their freedom, making them the ultimate weapon of last resort (The fact that the Market quite provably knows how to contact the really effective Dragon-Hunters also serves to secure the prisoners' honesty).
The proprietors of the Dragon Market are shrouded in secrecy. Any number of heroes, rulers, and apocalyptic cultists would love to move against the people who hold the keys to dragon cages, and not all of them would be dissuaded by the chaos that would ensue if those cages were thrown open all at once.
The Boiling Sea
To get to the Boiling Sea, you must travel to the far north, deep into the interior of the polar ice shelf. If you approach from the east, upwind, you'll have only a day's warning, as the permafrost gives way and scalding hot geysers spring from the earth. Downwind, to the west, the warm air thaws a thousand square miles, making it an improbable temperate region in the middle of the arctic.
The warmlands are home to a small, but thriving civilization. They almost never see outsiders and are curious and friendly, but they can be ruthlessly pragmatic when the winds change and resources become scarce.
The Boiling Sea itself is exactly what it sounds like. A small sea, around 100 miles across, that boils like a kettle running over. It is wreathed in a huge pillar of steam that acts as a beacon from horizon to horizon. The warmlanders have learned to harness the steam to power simple industry (only their small numbers prevent the adoption of more sophisticated techniques), but it is dangerous work. No one has ever ventured into the center of the sea and its cause is currently unknown.
The Blackfire Cauldron
In the peaceful TBD woods, just off the main road, lies a small cave, tended by an order of monks, sworn to poverty and nonviolence. The cave is the resting place of the Blackfire Cauldron. A sacred relic of the god TBD, it is a simple bronze pot that contains a flickering darkness. If ashes are fed into it, they will un-burn, restoring the original object.
This always seems to work out fairly smoothly, not being confused by partial or mixed ashes, but the exact mechanism is a mystery – the monks gently forbid experimentation. As near as anyone can tell, the Blackfire works by answering a sincere prayer for restoration. Casually tossing in a handful of random ash probably won't do anything.
The Blackfire cannot bring the dead back to life, but it can restore a burned corpse for purposes of identification or dignified burial.
The Order of the Cauldron has an itinerant branch that wanders from city to city, gathering the ashes from the fires that periodically spring up in such places. They return these ashes to the Cauldron as an act of devotion. The walls of the cave are lined with hundreds of items recovered in this manner. Pilgrims, provided they did not bring ashes of their own, are allowed to remove a single such item, as a keepsake of their visit and an icon of the god TBD.
Three Sisters Island
There's an island in the TBD ocean that wise sailors avoid. It has no name. Very deliberately, it has no name. When the sea-canny refer to it all, they do so obliquely. It is "where the sisters sleep." Or "The place the sisters protect."
No one is quite sure what the sisters are, exactly. Goddesses, perhaps? Or creatures older than humanity's petty categories. It is rare for them to directly confront trespassers, but if you sail towards their island, you will find yourself sailing away into stranger seas. It is a common beginning to many heroes' stories.
The hero always survives, but it may be because only a hero can.
Sandcastle's name isn't purely poetic. The people there have mastered a peculiar alchemy. By means of a certain potion, brewed from a mix of local herbs and minerals, they are able to harden sand so it has the durability of stone. The resulting buildings, which look for all the world like scaled-up children's sandcastles, give the village its distinct character. The exact mixture is a well-kept secret, and protecting it is the only thing the otherwise laid-back residents of Sandcastle Village seem to take seriously.
Sandcastle is "ruled" by Mayor Wally. Chosen by general acclaim, Wally is not your typical politician. No one has ever seen him without his trademark robe and slippers, even in town meetings and important trade negotiations. Similarly, his trusty pipe is always close at hand. The two facts may be somewhat related.
Yet the people of Sandcastle love their mayor, and seem to take special delight in directing impatient outsiders to take their "urgent problems" to him.
The Other Library
In the city of TBD is a library the world's scholars speak of in hushed tones. It is not a center of learning. It does not contain the great historical classics, nor cutting-edge treatises on advancements in science and magic. It is The Other Library, and it contains only books which have never been written.
Most people visit only to satisfy their curiosity. The bulk of its books are histories of events that never happened or the outlandish stories of alien societies that no one on Ukss will ever meet. Sometimes, though, a visitor will become obsessed. They will search the stacks desperately for posthumous works from history's greatest authors, diaries of their enemies (or loved ones!), or for wondrous inventions that never were.
It's a fool's errand, but sometimes it pays off.
The city-state of Yennin is a rising power in the TBD region, buoyed by its willingness to experiment in areas of magic others treat with superstitious dread. The ritualists of Yennin have devised magic that interferes with the natural process of procreation, potentially bringing to life things that were never meant to be.
The most famous application of this magic is the Clone ritual, which is already changing the way the wealthy cope with death. In the long-run, though, their chimerical breeding program may wind up having even more profound effects.
The champions of Yennin are made from the seed of ten fathers, which is somehow blended together and implanted in a single mother. These champions have super-human strength, durability, and insight. They manifest strange Prodigies, even if their fathers were normal men. If the fathers were Prodigies themselves, these ability may magnify as much as ten-fold.
So far, Yennin is a commercial power, selling the fruits of its research for unheard of profits, but it has imperial ambitions, and the day my come when the people of Ukss curse its champions as the vanguard of a conquering army.
The Sky Preserve
As industrial production spreads across the world of Ukss, there are some who worry that their pollution may cause irreparable damage to the natural world. In an attempt to preemptively find a solution to this problem, a group of ecologically minded ritualists gathered together to create the Sky Preserve.
Intended as a model of responsible urban living, The Sky Preserve is a modern city born aloft on an enchanted mountain, pulled from the barren lands of the TBD desert. It is home to about 40,000 people and it flies in a lazy circuit around the TBD desert and its nearby savannah. It trades finished cloth with the lowland empires, but after transportation costs, these industries barely break even. It is largely subsidized for its biological research by lowland monarchs and magicians who either agree with heir mission or cynically want to exploit it for their own ends.
The Tree of Sages
It is known among the scholars, engineers, and magicians of Ukss that the wisest among them need never die. If they are willing to face the perils of a long and dangerous pilgrimage, they may take themselves to an isolated valley in the TBD mountains to find there The Tree of Sages. If the Tree finds them worthy, it will take the soul from their body and absorb it into its branches, where the now-immortal sage may commune with their fellows until the end of time.
Seekers of knowledge will sometimes seek out the Tree of Sages to answer their questions and provide guidance to their research or inventions. When queried, the Tree will grow faces, like wooden masks, through which its sage-spirits may speak. Since the tree contains hundreds of sages, gathered over centuries, any of whom could speak to any question, the "answers" given are usually more like symposiums (or, less charitably, "massive arguments"). Nonetheless, a discerning student could learn much, provided they don't lose patience first.
The House of Not Yet Midnight
This house is not in any guidebook to the occult. It is neither studied as a mystery, nor marked as a threat. As far as the outside world is concerned, it's just an ordinary house. But the children of TBD know better. They warn each other to stay away from the house at the end of the cul-de-sac, the one hidden behind an overgrown hedge and wrought-iron gates. Kids who venture into that house come back . . . changed.
The House of Not Yet Midnight sits on a vortex of invasive magical energies. The whole structure is like a giant wand that channels its inhabitants' fears and regrets, trapping them in a time-loop of their own creation, one where they face their greatest weakness again and again, until it is overcome. No one ever ages in The House of Not Yet Midnight. Nor do they die. No matter how many hundreds or thousands of times they fail, the House will not grant them that mercy.
The Kingdom of Bliss
The Kingdom of Bliss is probably not a true kingdom. If it has a monarch, they have never been seen in public. There is no royal palace or crown jewels. In fact, by the standards of most nations, it is barely ruled at all. The sorcerers who perform and interpret the soul-readings are probably the closest thing they have to a government, but that is an open fellowship, and they are constantly admitting new members to help relieve the burden of their work.
The soul-reading ritual is at the heart of The Kingdom of Bliss. It strips away all prejudice and self-delusion to reveal the soul's true calling, whatever vocation, lifestyle, and social associations would make the subject happiest. Then, once the report is ready, the Kingdom of Bliss works its hardest to try and make it happen.
Travelers tell of an upside-down land, where stable-muckers go home to expansive palaces and scientists and engineers live in humble cottages. Where there is song and laughter everywhere, but long lines for grain and water. Where there are few soldiers, but those that exist fight with unseemly passion.
It is unclear exactly how much magic is going into propping up the Kingdom of Bliss, but it is likely that their all-consuming obsession with making every citizen as happy as possible is the only thing keeping them from being a major regional power.
The goblins of Vintner's Valley live in comfortable, shallowly-dug burrows, outfitted with all the latest middle-class comforts. They are respectably old-fashioned, wearing styles that were popular among humans a half-century ago. When they are not working, there is almost always some sort of festival or gala or garden party with which to celebrate the turning of the seasons. They are fat, rich, and contented.
The source of this idyll is the Valley's fertility and mild climate, which make it an ideal location for some of the world's best dairies and wineries. The instinctive magic that goblins put into all of their crafts manages to elevate even those natural blessings into the realm of the sublime. Wines, cheeses, and cured meats from Vintner's Valley are the gold standard by which all luxury foodstuffs are measured.
Vintner's Valley is extremely friendly to humans, provided they appear to be of sufficient social class to afford its products. This reputation for chumminess makes it the butt of many jokes among more worldly goblins. "Valley Goblin" is widespread slang for those who appear to have adopted human customs at the expense of their own heritage.
The Seekers of the Hour
Concentrated within the technologically advanced areas of TBD, but with followers worldwide, the Seekers of the Hour are a mystery cult whose rituals revolve around clocks and timekeeping. The deepest initiates, those who have studied and meditated for years, gain the minor magical ability to manipulate clocks, causing them to run faster or slower, stop or start, all with a thought.
The Seekers demonstrate no other telekinetic of time-manipulating abilities, and they have never claimed to offer such. To their thinking, the clock is humanity's purest invention. A concrete manifestation of Intellect, undiluted by personality, or even knowledge. They believe that their control of clocks comes from a spiritual connection to that pure intellect, and that while they may not be able to control anything as crude as terrestrial time, their practices allow them to influence their own celestial clock – advancing their progress along the wheel of reincarnation or extending their time in a favorable form.
The Seekers of the Hour tend to recruit from well-to-do people, the natural philosophers of the gentry, who use their leisure time to ponder the mysteries of the universe. Connections within the cult can open a lot of doors in high society, and their more or less unique magic allows them to easily identify each other across national lines.
Baron Von Hendriks
The self-styled "Lord of Fort Doom," Von Hendriks is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. His enemies, of which he has many, dismiss him as a fool and a fraud, but they have never been able to defeat him.
He is a conqueror. A schemer. A tyrant. A raider of cities and ransomer of damsels. Above all else, he is theatrical. He attacks when he doesn't need to, overcomes impossible odds, and is left with a prize he can't possibly keep. He gloats when he is merely on the verge of victory and gives grand speeches when his forces should be in retreat. He has a knack for angering the powerful and inspiring peasant uprisings in places that have been peacefully subdued for the past thousand years.
While his tactics are invariably brilliant, none can figure out his strategy. Some say he does it for the glory. Others for the challenge. Some quip that he must have made a deal with a trickster god - peerless might in exchange for fleeting victories. These theories all capture part of his reasons, but his real motivation is much simpler - he does it because he is the one and only Baron Von Hendricks, and no one else would dare.
Order of the Mantis
This elite martial order operates out of the fortress of TBD and serves as a sort of national symbol for the people of TBD. They are Ukss's only heavy aerial cavalry and fly into battle heavily armed and even more heavily armored. Partly this is to act as hard-hitting shock troops, supporting the infantry wherever air support is needed most.
Mostly, though, it is to protect the riders against their own mounts, should the beasts ever slip out of control. For the Mantis is not simply the Order's heraldry, it is what they ride into battle.
Giant Mantises are natural creatures, native to the TBD region. The Order of the Mantis captures them young and bonds them with adept candidates, who must master the magic necessary to control them before the creatures become so large that they can devour their captors.
Those who survive the Order's training develop a cocky swagger, and are treated by the people of TBD as superstars. Though even with the Order's magic, death in the belly of a giant Mantis is only a matter of time, giving the Knights of the Order a live-for-today energy that only heightens their mystique. Despite the dangers, the Order of the Mantis has never suffered from low recruitment.
Ledaal Kes is probably a spy. That's what most people who meet him conclude. There is no way someone with such an incisive mind, such improbable scientific abilities, such effortlessly seductive joie de vivre could possibly be satisfied as an investigator for the TBD Treasury. He must be hiding something.
Ledaal Kes just smiles and keeps his secrets. It's so much easier getting the beautiful boys into his bed if he has an air of mystery.
The Prince's Folly
The Prince's Folly is a carnival's carnival. It stages greater spectacles, it hosts more esoteric mystics, it offers more elaborate games, it is more riddled with thieves than any other show on the world of Ukss. It is run by the Tainted, M. Corona, a refugee from the spirit courts of the magical world.
M. Corona is, by strict taxonomy, a demon, but that mainly manifests in an unrepentant pragmatism. They employ thieves to keep the Folly afloat, they sabotage rivals to make it easier to acquire key talent, they use their androgynous good looks to seduce yokels questioning their sexuality because it's fun, but they hold no malice for humankind. They took over this struggling carnival in order to hide from their enemies in the magic world, but it has become their passion and their obsession. They want nothing more than to astonish and amaze the mortals that attend the Prince's Folly, shaking their small minds out their limited perspective by showing them something they've never seen before.
All demons are inherently genderless, but unlike most of their kin, M. Corona does not disguise themselves as either male or female. They prefer to tread the line as closely as possible, presenting as mostly masculine, in their frock coat and starched collar, but adding feminine touches like a floral print cravat and dangly diamond earrings. They especially delight in awakening the latent desires of small-town gay and lesbian visitors, and will offer unconditional refuge to any LGBTQ person who wants to run away with The Prince's Folly.
The Wardens of the Sky
Large-scale air travel is still very new to the word of Ukss, but there is great enthusiasm for it among the world's cognescenti. So much so that the most daring among them have gathered together to create an adventurer's conspiracy - a vigilante organization devoted to hunting down and eliminating threats to the expansion of air travel, especially those who misuse it for criminal ends.
The Wardens of the Sky mostly work alone, booking passage on flights to intercept pirates and hijackers as they strike or hanging out in ports, listening for rumors of trouble from the air. They recruit mostly from those that have the wealth and leisure to travel frequently, and while few are full magicians or dedicated ritualists, all must be capable of casting the Cloud Chariot spell, the better to make the Wardens' traditional spectacular entrance.
The Aerial Excellence Squadron
In the heart of the lowlands, they breed the world's heartiest destriers. Of these, the strongest and the swiftest are chosen to become the steeds of the Aerial Excellence Squadron.
Using ritual magic, these horses are fused with a form of living metal, growing 20-foot long wings of glittering steel. From then on, the horses must eat iron filings as well as grass, but the transformation seems to have no other ill effects.
Unlike the Order of the Mantis, the knights of The Aerial Excellence Squadron are lightly armed and armored (aside from their steeds' steel skin, that is), but they make up for it in speed and acrobatic skill. Because the transformed horses are indigestible to a giant mantis, the Squadron is one of the only groups that can meet the Mantis Riders on their own terms. The two groups each consider the other to be their greatest rivals.
Captain of the Black Squadron, Juno Eclipse has a fearsome reputation among the world's fliers as the deadliest woman to ever pilot a biplane.
But she has an even more terrible reputation among those conquered by the Lowlands' imperial expansion, for her Black Squadron is the last thing a village will see before being bombed into
Dark, the Blade
He used to have it all. He was the best cop in TBD's elite Special Investigations Unit. He had true love, and a family on the way. Then Baron Von Hendriks took everything from him.
Now he goes by the name of Dark, his soul as black as the funeral clothes he's vowed to wear until his wife and child are avenged. He stalks the shadows, bringing his blade of justice to Von Hendriks' criminal associates, eliminating them one by one until he finds the perfect opportunity to not just kill the Baron of Fort Doom, but to destroy him.
The Crypt Rangers
There are many forces in Ukss that would disturb the places where the dead are interred - Mad scientists, sorcerers, and vampires all have their own uses for human remains, uses which would not meet with the approval of their original owners. The Crypt Rangers are the self-appointed guardians of these sacred places, patrolling graveyards for intruders and using their famous tracking skills to bring back escapees.
The Crypt Rangers often come in conflict with necromancers and the undead, but they are not intrinsically opposed. They will inter any necro-automatons they find in the course of their duties, but will often act as protectors and patrons for those sentient undead that have no desire to cause havoc among the living. Though they are not allowed in positions of leadership, many of the most effective Crypt Rangers are themselves vampires and ghosts.
The Serpent Company
Most infamous among the mercenary companies operating out of the TBD coast, The Serpent Company markets itself as discreet, professional, and willing to take any contract, no matter how small.
Its detractors call it a gang of assassins-for-hire, and they're mostly correct, but people who go up against them expecting a group of petty criminals are in for a rude surprise. The Serpent Company's discipline and loyalty are second to none. Though they are pragmatic about losses while on assignment, they will go to any lengths to avenge a comrade killed or captured outside the lines of duty.
Given their usefulness and disproportionate vindictiveness, the Serpent Company has attained a sort of defacto legitimacy among the coastal states and the more ruthless lowland empires. No one will admit to tolerating them, but it's an open secret that they are often hired at the highest levels of government.
Nebt Bhakau, the Necromancer
Magicians of all sorts play outsized roles in Ukss' history, but few names have the power to strike dread into nearly any soul who hears them. Nebt Bhakau is one of those names. Quite possibly the greatest Necromancer to ever live, he is the only person to have attained true immortality. At the height of his powers, he was indestructible by any blade or gun or wand wielded by lesser hands. It was a feat attained only after a century of atrocities performed in the name of "research."
Though he was never a great conqueror or tyrant, his outrages against the dignity of both living and dead made him an enemy of every decent person on Ukss. In the end, an alliance of the five closest nations, from which he drew the bulk of his victims, laid siege to his spectre-guarded tower, and though they lost nine tenths of their forces, the survivors were able to bind him in chains of meteoric iron.
With ritual techniques gleaned from his own notes, his captors were able to dismember Nebt Bhakau and bind his six most essential organs (eyes, tongue, heart, hands, genitals, and spleen) into special ceramic jars. So long as the bindings for all six endure, his regenerative capabilities are sealed away. But if even one of the jars is opened, he will be free to live and work his evil once more.
The only blessing is that each jar contains a separate aspect of Nebt Bhakau's full power, so even if he's reborn, he will still need to find the five other jars to assume his true strength. For that reason, each of the five nations holds one of the jars, with the sixth, containing his heart, entombed in a secret location known only to the ones who buried him.
Knights of the Tongue
Not a true martial order, The Knights of the Tongue nevertheless have a complex system of ranks and etiquette that is only half-joking. The Knights are a social club based in TBD city and composed of explorers, adventurers, and the respectable bandits of the gentry who share a singular passion - to discover Ukss's most unusual flora and fauna and sample their taste.
For some, this is but a decadent hobby, for others an important form of scientific and agronomical research. Both types are fond of haunting goblin markets and stalking through yokai-haunted wilderness, looking to buy any vaguely food-like substance the locals might be selling (when they're not hunting the locals for game, of course).
The terror of the wild-reclaimed interior of the TBD continent, Dog-Eater is a warlord-scavenger who has made his fortune raiding the ruins of cities destroyed in the Prism Wars (and, rumor has it, looting kaers that had managed to make it through the crisis intact).
The struggling villages that have had the misfortune to play host to his horde of reavers view him more as a malevolent force of nature than a man. He seems to have little interest in conquering territory, but he has no tolerance for anything that could be interpreted as disrespect of defiance. He earned his name through his habit of showing dominance by finding the most pampered, beloved pet in any new town to slaughter and consume as a form of psychological dominance.
Dog-Eater is beloved by his followers for his extravagant generosity when it comes to the spoils of his looting. Whenever he must address his followers or intimidate a recalcitrant village elder, he dons a glittering coat made of strung-together coins of a hundred different denominations and governments. He claims it's strong enough to stop bullets, but conveniently, he only wears it in situations where gunplay is unlikely.
The Prism Wars
Fifty years ago, the magician TBD, holder of The Wand of Illumination, became unsatisfied with her lot. She held one of the Great Wands, tools of the Creators, each one a key to unlocking some facet of reality, but over time, she came to resent its limitations. She had absolute mastery over elemental light, but deep in her soul, she knew she was capable of more.
And so she broke the Wand of Illumination into seven pieces. The shards could no longer be used as true Wands, and with the breaking TBD lost a lot of her immediate power, but when they were set as the focus for slower, ritual magic, they had profound and far-reaching abilities, unlike anything the world of UKSS had ever seen.
Thus began the Prism Wars. Through the shards, TBD reached into a realm of pure magic and drew out seven legions of warriors - the Rainbow Knights - each one empowered by a different primordial power - from the Red Legion, who could heal themselves by drinking the blood of their enemies all the way to the Violet Legion, who marched in shadow and were never seen until it was already too late.
The people of the continent of TBD were able to band together and defeat the Rainbow Knights, but at a terrible cost. Even now, their kaers - underground shelters, woven with many protective spells - still stand as monuments to their brush with total extinction. They say some kaers still stand undisturbed, their inhabitants refusing to believe that the Rainbow Knights could ever be defeated.
Set for the 11th full moon of the year, just as autumn is giving way to winter, Vine Day officially marks the end of the grape harvest and a celebration of a job well done. Unofficially, it's an excuse to get drunk and act like a fool.
Vine Day is a day sacred to the God TBD, but is primarily celebrated in the more heterodox cities of the TBD coastal region. There it is an excuse to release inhibitions and express passions that have been suppressed the rest of the year. The more decadent trade cities compete with each other to throw the grandest parade, and in places with a strong Vine Day tradition, anything done while wearing a carnival masque does not count against the year's tally of sins.
Some of the more staid priests of TBD try to shut down Vine Day celebrations, but rulers and subjects alike view it as a necessary release valve for pent-up tensions. This lavish celebration of excess is going nowhere anytime soon.
Wonders & Terrors
Over the years, many have tried to tame the Roc. The reward is obvious - she is a giant eagle, capable of lifting an elephant in each of her mighty claws. Anyone who controlled such a thing would have uncontested mastery of the skies. Certainly, even the mightiest hunter quails at the thought of confronting the beast, and every general, warlord, and king in the shadow of the TBD mountains, where she makes her lair, has planned for the nightmare scenario, where she is drawn into battle against them.
Yet the Roc is too wild, too pure to ever be tamed. The mountain folk revere her for it, seeing her as a symbol of freedom against the encroaching rule of the lowland empires. Though it would be condescending to say they "worshiped" her, they do occasionally leave her offerings of ox and yak. And they keep secret a fact that would draw fortune-seekers from around the world - the Roc's nest contains an egg. A chick is on the way.
Sometimes, for reasons unknown, a rat will grow to giagantic size (for a rat - about 2-3 feet tall), develop articulate fingers, and gain the power of speech. These mutations invariably breed true, and when these Awakened Rats find each other, they form tight-knit bands that stay together generation after generation.
Unlike most other Yokai, Awakened Rats do not separate themselves from human society. Instead, they live at its fringes, finding work as mercenaries, thieves, and, occasionally, heroes. Rat culture is very keen on the idea of the rogue adventurer, and many Awakened Rats seem like they belong to an older, more chivalrous age.
Living in the desert wastes of TBD, the Sandcrawlers are a community of Awakened Rats that rejects the romance and chivalry of their brethren for a pragmatic philosophy of survival . . . or so they claim. More mainstream rats point out that they are scrupulously honest in their dealings, but the Sandcrawlers claim it's so their word will have value. They'll point out that the Sandcrawlers rescue stranded travelers and the Sandcrawlers will protest that dead men can't pay a reward. They'll point out that they are meticulous recyclers and careful stewards of the land, and the Sandcrawlers answer that in the desert, you can never afford to waste resources.
The settled villages along the border of the TBD desert have a harsher opinion of the Sandcrawlers, viewing them as scavengers and sharp dealers, but even the harshest of their critics would be hard-pressed to say that they are a dangerous threat.
The Sandcrawlers live collectively in massive junk-gathering caravans and wear thick robes to protect themselves from the desert sun. It's said that a Sandcrawler can repair any sort of technology, but only for long enough to pass it on to an unsuspecting customer.
Invasive pests from the world of magic, Dream Beetles enter this reality through the minds of potential magicians who have not yet found a wand to channel their budding magical energies. They rarely stay confined there for long, though, spreading from mind to mind like a plague.
Dream Beetles are not a deadly threat, but they are highly disruptive. They take images from sleepers' dreams and extrude them into the real world to create repulsive nests of rapidly decaying dream-matter. These can cause quite a shock to those not used to the phenomenon, seeing, for example, a hive that appears to be made of the rotting corpses of the infested's friends and family, but which are merely the dream bodies of such people, absent their real-life animating spirit.
The people of Ukss have a rudimentary understanding of magnetism. They know it is the operating principle behind the compass and that it has some relationship to the production of electricity. But they still don't know where it comes from or how to create it directly. Instead, they make magnets by bringing iron to the Hungry Stones.
The Hungry Stones are natural magnets of incredible size, capable of pulling an armored man off his feet at 30 paces. There are about 50 known Hungry Stones, but more are being discovered all the time. The best theory that scholars have is that they were ammunition in a weapon used by the gods to defeat some invading creature of magic. Evidence for this hypothesis is scarce, but it is undeniable that Hungry Stones are found mostly in magic-dead areas. Anyone who could unlock this mystery would have a weapon that governments would pay dearly for.
The Questing Beast
No one knows exactly what the Questing Beast looks like, but most hunters agree that it definitely exists. They can hear it when it taunts them in the woods. Its call is like the ringing of bells and its footprints are always clear and distinct. But it has never been caught. Somehow, when the hunters know they are right on top of it, it vanishes, to find new pursues to play with.
Chasing the Questing Beast is not without its rewards. It always leads its pursuers to somewhere they didn't know they needed to be. Legend has it that if you catch the Beast it will grant a wish (or perhaps simply reveal an important truth - these legends are pure speculation), but no one has any idea about how such a feat might be accomplished.
They look human, but they're not. Never forget - they are not human.
Maybe they were once. Maybe they were simply so devoted to the worship of the powers of night that they lost the daylight aspects of their personalities. Maybe they were so obsessed with becoming the perfect adepts of shadow that they ultimately became shadows.
Because that's what they are now. Stare at them all you want and you will see only a flat thing, so black its contours vanish into the whole. That doesn't seem so human, sure. But when they come for you and you're fighting for your life, you might see a cock of the head, a tilt of the posture, some small gesture that makes you think there might still be a person inside. You might be tempted to show them mercy.
Don't be fooled. They gave up their voices long ago. They surrendered themselves utterly to their dark patrons and it is those gods who act when the Shinobi come upon you. They will kill you for your mercy. Any glimmer of humanity you might see in them is as substantial as the smoke they leave behind when they're slain.
These elephant-sized birds are surely very wise. Most people who meet them agree that they are very intelligent and know many mystical secrets. Nobody has an unkind word to say against them.
A Typhonian Peacock is definitely as smart as a human. Some of them are even as smart as a clever human. But they lean on their beauty. They are conversationally skillful. They evade questions they don't know how to answer and speak so confidently that none dare gainsay them. They do have magic, often quite potent, but they are Prodigies. Each one is born able to manipulate a particular element (usually sky or flame), but there is no trick to it. They have no secrets to share. They are simply vain enough to imply that they do.
A tail feather from a Typhonian Peacock can be used as a Wand of Splendor, but it is fragile and quickly disintegrates under repeated use.
Fenris, the Dog
Fenris doesn't mean to cause so much trouble, really. He's just a big, clumsy oaf of a puppy . . .
Wait! That thing is a puppy?! That 20-foot-tall slavering hellbeast, with teeth like scimitars and paws the size of a grown-man's torso is a puppy? It's going to get bigger?
And so Fenris was betrayed. As an immortal, he could be slain by none but the gods, but he could be bound. Lured with succulent treats and kind words, he bounded after his human friends into the deepest, darkest cave anyone could find. While he was distracted with a freshly-slain yak carcass, his captors dynamited the entrance.
You can still hear Fenris' howls on a quiet night. They are apologetic and full of sadness. One day, maybe one day soon, the apologies will stop and the sadness will turn to anger.
The glittering stars of the lowland empires' cocktail party circuit, the Kitsune cut an impressive figure wherever they go. Fox spirits who have taken human shapes, they have an instinctual knack for the predatory social environment of Ukss's elite capitalists.
Many of the ultra-wealthy value the Kitsune as political advisors and personal companions. They are thoughtlessly ruthless and effortlessly beautiful. Only their fox tails (of which they gain more as they age, up to a maximum of nine) mark them as inhuman, but they have the charm to play them off as a fashionable accoutrement.
Kitsune have no sort of organized society or culture. When two fox-spirits meet, if resources are plentiful, they may bond over their shared hustle, but once they come into direct competition, they instantly become deadly rivals.
These ancient megaliths appear all around the world, usually in the shadow of volcanoes. Initially taken as mere monuments, it is now theorized that they are ancient magical artifacts, created to protect the surrounding areas from earthquakes and lava flows. All that is known is that areas which have lost their Anchors will usually succumb to natural disasters within a few decades.
Disturbingly, some Earth Anchors appear in areas that otherwise calm and stable. Whether they suppressed volcanic activity in the past or were merely built later, in imitation of the more functional monuments, is currently unknown.
This unique creature has a hundred names among the people of Ukss, though those who study it most just call it "The Forester." It is a giant slug, at least 60 feet long, that is capable of hardening its slimy skin to become as tough as the strongest steel armor. It is drawn to places of devastation and ecological collapse, where it will crawl in complex spiral patterns, a "dance" with meaning known only to itself.
Something about the dance speaks to the memory of plants in the soil, and within a season, everywhere its trail of slime remained undisturbed will sprout new growth to replace the old. Scientists have studied the slime itself and found it to be a remarkable fertilizer, but not inherently magical. The ritual of restoration is the slug's and the slug's alone.
The Sorcerer-Artisans of TBD island produce these elegant sea-going vessels for a select clientele of discerning customers. Made from a form of enchanted glass that is "grown" into the proper shape over the course of years, the glass boats are lighter than wood and harder than steel. Only dedicated warships are better under cannon fire, and there is not a cargo vessel in the world that can carry more weight, faster. Plus, a glass boat need never worry about barnacles or water termites.
Yet for all their meritorious qualities, glass boats are ludicrously expensive, and thus nearly every one in service acts as a personal yacht for some sorcerer, monarch, or lowland industrialist.
The Gold Harvest
On the slopes of the TBD mountains, grows a most unusual plant. Small-leafed and hardy, it climbs up cliff faces and takes root on any old patch of bare rock. It would be a terribly invasive weed were it not for one miraculous property - its roots contain gold! Through some process not yet understood by scientists, the TBD Cliff-clover draws in heavy metals as part of its normal life cycle. Though the amount in any one plant is minuscule, villages in Cliff-clover country can make a decent bit of extra money by harvesting them in the thousands and burning them in specialized kilns. The kilns run hot enough to reduce the plant matter entirely to ash and leave behind only a modest, but profitable stream of molten gold.
The Book of Tales
From time to time, a lonely soul in Ukss will find a strange book among their possessions. They won't remember how they came to possess it, but it will seem familiar, like something they owned in childhood (or if they themselves are children or otherwise too poor to have ever owned a book - then as something they've dreamed of one day owning).
Regardless of the form it takes, The Book of Tales calls to its chosen. Even the most illiterate of them will feel drawn towards reading the book, and after just one or two pages, they'll be hooked. The main character will be immensely relatable, like the sort of strong, resilient, and principled person they wish they could be.
As the readers get deeper into the story, they'll find it takes on a curious applicability. The main character's trials and tribulations are exaggerated, allegorical versions of the problems they face in real life. And if the reader emulates the main character, borrowing their unconventional strategies to overcome challenges with courage and integrity, then things will generally work out.
The Book of Tales doesn't do anything as blunt and direct as prophecy, but in its pages, lost people discover a way to become found. It never fails to change a reader's life for the better, and those who best absorb its wisdom have a habit of becoming legends.
"Yokai Village" is a collective term for the hidden settlements of lesser spirits and near-human monsters. The classic Yokai Village is a refuge for any supernatural creature strange enough to to be shunned by human society and smart enough to honor the Village truce. These Villages usually reside in "cursed" wilderness, where humans fear to tread, lest they get hopelessly lost . . . or worse. It's unclear whether these curses are caused by the Yokai enforcing their borders or if the Yokai simply seek out the most dangerous lands in which to hide. Either way, a mixed Yokai Village will welcome any of the Old Peoples who need to flee the encroaching hand of humanity.
Not all Yokai Villages are so diverse, however. Some contain only a single species. They still tend to be isolated and well-protected by secrecy, but any unfamiliar monster that wandered through will be treated with suspicion, at best.
High in the TBD Mountains, there is a valley that dips below the tree line. Inside is an old-growth forest containing gorgeous hardwoods and fragrant pines that have otherwise been logged into extinction. There are magnates down in the lowlands who would pay millions to secure the rights to valley . . . and profit to the tune of millions more as they stripped it bare. But they cannot, because the Valley has powerful protection in the form of its own native band of Sasquatches.
Despite their size and fearsome demeanor, the Sasquatches are peaceful herbivores. They speak a simple language of grunts and howls, but their knowledge of the valley runs deep. They mostly spend their time observing the valley's animals, tending to the health of the trees, and maintaining the rituals that keep their home hidden from the outside world.
The magic of the Sasquatches is unlike anything else on Ukss. Though it is no match for a true magic wand, it has spared their lands from scrutiny for hundreds of years. If discovered, it would inspire even more greed than the valley's untapped natural resources, but only someone as gentle and humble as the Sasquatches themselves could ever hope to master it.
The Giant Lynx of the Alpine Woods
Though, as solitary predators, the Giant Lynx do not live in villages, as the term is commonly understood, they do try and keep in touch with each other, meeting at the intersections of their territories for trade, mating, and news. The most frequently trafficked points on the network are called "crossroads" and the Lynx name them with smell-signs that only partially translate into spoken languages.
The Giant Lynx prefer to have as little to do with humans as possible. They will sometimes negotiate with isolated mining, logging, or furrier camps, trading their services as scouts and guides for recognition and protection of their favored hunting grounds. However, like all cats, they can see nascent magical energies and will often go out of their way to warn others of major magical threats.
Yokai villages are hidden, but that doesn't mean they are all isolated. Some Yokai maintain a tentative contact with the outside world, staging elaborate traveling markets that bring a little of the wonder of the supernatural to the towns and cities they visit.
Goblin Markets do not advertise, but they are not difficult to find for the determined seeker. Most people don't bother, because the wares for sale mostly appeal to the appetites of the Yokai - a Giant Lynx might find a variety of exotic rats at the concessions stand. A Vampire might find a mirror enchanted to show their true reflection. A Kitsune might find an incense that smells exactly like fox piss, for the rare times she is feeling homesick.
Nonetheless, humans do sometimes find the Goblin Markets, whether they are ritualists looking for rare components, adventurers looking for material to lay or break a curse, or simply drunkards and fools, stumbling in by accident. Few leave entirely unsatisfied, but rumor has it that some never leave at all.
Most Goblin Markets are not directly owned or operated by the goblins themselves. They got their name because goblin craft is the most attractive lure for human visitors.
At first glance, Gloomshire appears to be a normal, human village. A bit too bucolic, maybe. The people a little too friendly, too eager to extend hospitality to strangers. But, fundamentally, a nice place. What visitors don't realize, not until it's too late, is that Gloomshire is not a human village. Gloomshire belongs to the spiders.
Using a combination of threats, venom-derived narcotics, and obscene magical rituals, the spiders of Gloomshire keep their captive humans tightly under control, forcing them to play-act the role of cheerful welcoming villagers, the better to lure travelers to the spiders' larders. Sometimes, one of these captives will break free of their control, but that just means the spiders don't have to look so far for their next meal.
Gloomshire has existed as a trap for the better part of a generation, and it has worked well, but the locals are starting to catch on. It is only a matter of time before the spiders abandon the "village" and start again somewhere else. They likely won't let any of their prisoners live to tell the tale.
As intelligent dolphins, the Dargonesti do not build shelters, nor do they stay in one location long enough to call it a home, but their Pods are as tight-knit as any human community and last generation after generation with a fixed name and identity.
Some describe the Dargonesti as the playful jokers of the sea who rescue lost seafarers and entertain ships with their acrobatic antics. Others as sadistic brutes who torture the helpless and take pleasure in cruelty. Both assessments miss the mark. The Dargonesti are people, for all the contradictions and complexities that entails. Nonetheless, they are heavily influenced by the local culture of their pod. If it is led by a craven bully, then that's what they become. Otherwise, most Dargonesti culture hews to the hedonic principle - if it makes you happy, do it.
Dargonesti have an affinity for the magical arts. Their natural form precludes using a wand, and most rituals do not work underwater, but they have a knack for wild magic and are some of the few people to become adepts multiple times over. Most Dargonesti magic is what you would expect from an aquatic creature (summon fish, protection from drowning, etc), but they are eager students and a pod with access to highly-trafficked shipping routes will collect an eclectic variety of talents from friendly land-goers.
The signature Dargonesti magic, though, is the ability to shift into a human-like form. This too is an adept ability, taking years to master, but it is so widespread, appearing even in the most antisocial pods, that outsiders tend to mistake it for an innate power. Dargonesti disguises are good, but rarely completely perfect. They usually overdo the ears, though whether this is because hearing is such an important sense to them or because they don't have external ears of their own (or, as more likely, because it's some private joke at humanity's expense) is currently unknown.
The Frog Nation
The hundred or so frog-person villages of TBD swamp are not a nation-state in the modern sense, but they do have a shared national identity. They speak the same language. They share many of the same customs and traditions. Until recently, they shared a common religion and values.
But the Frog Nation has become riven by civil war. Radical new ideas have shaken the normally staid frog people. A growing faction, calling themselves the Bullywugs, is preaching a violent doctrine of racial supremacy and hatred for the outside world.
Opposing them are the Grippli, traditionalist Frog People who believe they should live in harmony with nature and ignore the outside world.
The conflict is largely generational. Frog People are biologically immortal. If they can escape cancer, they may live for hundreds of years. The Grippli is a philosophy of the old - deeply spiritual, conservative, and cautious. The Bullywugs are a movement of the young. They believe their longevity and regeneration make them superior to other forms of life and are eager to go out into the world and prove it.
It is a chaotic time in the Frog Nation. The ideological split is tearing apart not just villages, but families. There have been only intermittent flare ups of violence, but no deaths so far. Over time, the factions will migrate so that Gripplis live in Grippli towns and Bullywugs among Bullywugs, but for now, it is a dangerously unpredictable environment for outside visitors.
Deep in the deadliest reaches of the TBD desert, where even the Sandcrawlers fear to tread, there lives a culture of nomadic lizard-people. Though they have no name that would translate into a human tongue, the few travelers lucky enough to see them and survive have dubbed them "the Chromatics."
The Chromatics are masters of light. They need no clothes, because their spells can divert the hottest of the sun's rays. They need no weapons, because they can hurl lances of solar fire with pinpoint accuracy. They can make themselves completely invisible or weave complex illusions in the air. They are so attuned to the nature of light that they don't even speak. All of their communication is done through complex patterns of color, many of which are invisible to the human eye.
Because they are so difficult to find (let alone communicate with), scholars mistakenly believe that the Chromatics are Prodigies. And while they do have superhuman vision and the ability to change their skin color, those traits are purely natural. Their magical control over light itself is a form of wand magic.
The Chromatics produce only one kind of wand, polished over years from a certain type of desert crystal, but the number of wands they've accumulated over the years would absolutely stagger the various imperial strategists, were it to become known. Every Chromatic child receives one as a rite of adulthood (whether carved by their parents or handed down from an honored ancestor). Aside from wands, they use little other technology. Flint knives for when they need to cut without heat and spearheads for when they wish to fight their own kind.
The City of Illusion
In the heart of the Chromatics' territory is their most sacred site. It is the repository for their cultural memory. It is here that they record their legends and deeds. It is here that they recreate the ruined buildings they find half-buried in the desert, imagining what they must have looked like when they still stood tall. It is here that they share the faces of travelers, both friend and foe. Everything the wandering Chromatics felt worth preserving has been woven into vibrant moving images and then permanently anchored with a bit of the Sun's own generative power.
At some point, the Chromatics began to understand that their use of life energy had . . . side effects. The most ancient illusions broke from their programming, and began to act out new stories, as if they were in truth the characters they were drawn to be. The mystics among them pronounced this a blessing, saying that the living illusions, as they became aware of each other, would reveal paths of meaning between their stories. They say the center of the city is their racial unconscious, and that the dream-like chaos found therein represents the dreams of the Chromatic people.
For their part, the living illusions are unaware of their role in Chromatic culture. The newly awakened still believe they're real, and rationalize the City as a waking nightmare. The oldest ones worship the god they're certain they'll become.
From a distance, goblins appear to resemble humanity. They have the same basic body plan - two arms, two legs, an upright posture and hairless skin. Yet there are certain crucial differences. They are smaller than humans, rarely exceeding four feet in height, with three to three and a half feet being more common. Their skin is also not quite human, possessing a mineral luster even in its most human-like shades of earthen-brown (slate grey, jade green, and sapphire are more common, though). Their extremities tend to have exaggerated proportions, with long, clever fingers at the end of their spindly arms and big, floppy feet at their dramatically bowed legs. Their eyes, ears, and noses are proportionately larger than a human's, and their senses are sharper as a result.
Goblins excel at crafts, especially working in metal or gems or with complex mechanisms. There are very few goblin magicians, but they have a special gift for weaving magic directly into the items they create, sometimes without consciously realizing it.
Goblins are instinctual nesters, and are uncomfortable living above ground or in nomadic groups. Goblin homes are usually well-fortified and far enough underground that the surface's light and noise cannot penetrate.
Goblins have an undeserved reputation for avarice. Rather, because they tend to bond very strongly to particular fixed homes, they are very vulnerable to anxieties about scarcity. Many goblins become compulsive hoarders, but this is an illness analogous to depression in humans, and is usually brought on by the same sort of stresses.
Deep Goblins hold themselves apart from other Goblin peoples. They live much farther underground than their kin, often hundreds or thousands of feet below the surface in cavernous cities that have been meticulously carved over the centuries.
Conservative to a fault, Deep Goblins eschew most forms of mechanical and electrical technology, instead relying on their own, long-cultivated magical crafts. Though they use only the traditional arts of stone-cutting, blacksmithing, and carpentry, their tools and weapons are coveted by the wealthy and powerful on Ukss's surface. Any goblin-forged blade will cut effortlessly through armor. An axe made by a Deep Goblin will cleave an engine block in half.
The Deep Goblins pride themselves on being fierce warriors who will never back down from defending their own. They are slow to anger, but their stubbornness has drawn out many conflicts far longer than the surface goblins think wise.
The culture of the Deep Goblins often strikes outsiders as bleak and depressing. It is shameful for a Deep Goblin to publicly show emotion or to flaunt their wealth in any way. Thus they dress in practical browns and greys and adopt a gruff, stoic demeanor. Inside the home is different. A Deep Goblin's lair is almost always decorated with exquisite craft that catches the light of the hearth and echoes the sounds of the family's laughter.
Vampires in Ukss are no mere bloodsuckers. They are the harbingers of the end of the world. The vampires themselves are either unclear or deliberately evasive about their initial origins, but they know one thing for certain - they are the only thing that can survive the coming apocalypse. Some vampires look upon the apocalypse with horror and seek to delay it. Others look upon it with glee and seek to hasten it. One thing both factions agree upon is that they will be in no danger of running out of blood.
Most of the Tremere vampires were magicians and ritualists in life, and retain those abilities even in death. Though only the most corrupt and death-tainted wands will function for the undead, the Clan has learned to substitute the mystical energies of their blood. As a result, they are less physically potent than other vampires, but make up for it in versatility and precision.
Clan Tremere is more hierarchical than other vampire families, organizing itself as a perverted mystery cult where deeper circles of initiation grant access to ever more potent mystical secrets.
Clan Tremere is despised by most other vampire families because they tend to operate semi-openly, making deals with corrupt civic officials for sanctuary in exchange for providing their mystical services to the upper class. A city inhabited by Tremere vampires is extremely hostile to other vampires, with hunters frequently tipped off when the trespassers arrive.
The Tremere oppose the coming apocalypse and will preemptively attack rival vampires rather than risk their doomsday cults taking root.
Most vampires are ambivalent about the coming apocalypse. They identify with one faction or the other and pursue its goals in a desultory sort of way, but mostly they just exist night to night, with little thought to the future.
Not so the Morbus.They have fully embraced the end of the world. They work to disrupt human civilization and weaken the guardians of order. Their weapon of choice is indiscriminate pestilence, stored in their immortal bodies and spread through their infectious bites.
No place visited by the Morbus escapes disaster for long. The Morbus don't just spread a single disease. As immortal blood-sucking creatures who feed exclusively off of sick and dying humans, they tend to collect a wide variety of infections over the years. The older Morbus will host a greatest-hits selection of all of history's most terrifying plagues.
If mortals knew of their existence, the Morbus would be the most hunted vampires in existence. Unfortunately, few who come into contact with them survive long enough to spread the word.
Vampires are immortal. The thing no one tells you about immortality is that as time goes on, it becomes increasingly likely that you will become trapped. A building will collapse on top of you. You will be buried in a concrete tomb. You will sink to the bottom of the sea and have your bones crushed by the unbearable pressure of the depths. . .
Benthic vampires are those who have adapted to the deep sea. Down far below the surface, where the sun never shines, they have honed their innate vampire powers to withstand the terrible environment. They are stronger, swifter, and more vicious than surface vampires, but can no longer pass for even remotely human.
Warm blood is rare under the sea, especially at the depths that Benthics favor, but they have learned to listen for whale song. A single whale can feed a whole pack. The monsters swarm over them en masse, dragging them to the sea floor and draining them dry before they can drown.
The Dargonesti hunt Benthics whenever they can, but they are no match for them one-on-one and usually wind up being chased away from the choicest Benthic feeding grounds.
Less a faction of vampires than a title, an Inconnu is an elder vampire who has shunned the trappings of family and temporal power and focused entirely on exploring the vampiric condition. For the most part, "Inconnu" is a past-tense sort of title, something you say about a vampire who has disappeared, but who you dare not proclaim as dead.
Sometimes, though, an Inconnu vampire will reemerge, wielding strange powers and espousing strange philosophies. It is clear that they learned something in their extended absence, but whether such knowledge delays the apocalypse or hastens its arrival is something beyond the comprehension of lesser minds.
Magic on Ukss comes in three types - wand magic, ritual magic, and wild magic. Wand magic is faster, flashier, and more adaptable - able to be used in seconds, rather than the hours or days required for serious magical rituals - but it requires the use of a special magical item of incredible power.
There are a few thousand magic wands currently on Ukss, but new ones are rare. Historically, they were made only about once per century, by none but the greatest practitioners of the mystic arts. In recent years, the pace has picked up, as scholars come to understand the natural laws that govern magic. Now, the world will see a new wand once every 2-3 years.
It is a misconception among laymen that wands create or power spells. Rather, they act as a bridge between the magician's thoughts and the magical realm. Each wand is attuned to a rather narrow range of elemental and/or spiritual energies and thus is limited to creating spells in line with the wand. A Wand of Fire, for example, can shoot sparks or stoke bonfires, but could not summon frost or heal wounds.
Wands work through a combination of gestures and focused visualization. Some magicians use chants, poems, or keywords as part of their spells, but these are purely aids to concentration. Wand magic does not require such measures.
Most wands are patterned after one of the Great Wands, used by the Creators to make the world. Great wands have a higher ceiling for mastery than their more common imitators, but reaching those heights requires just as much study and learning as mastering a lesser wand. A magician who has not yet reached the limits of their current wand would gain no extra benefit from wielding a Great Wand (aside, perhaps, from prestige).
Ritual magic, by contrast, tends to be broader, subtler, and farther reaching. It can have long-lasting effects and may call upon multiple energy types at once. Each ritual is unique and most require exotic ingredients and elaborate ceremonies to perform. Skill in rituals does not grant one the ability to wield a wand, nor vice versa, but the two disciplines are often taught together for the sake of convenience.
Wild magic is controversial as a category. It is not entirely arbitrary. It describes a real phenomenon - creatures and people of Ukss who have some extraordinary magical ability that they can just do. Wild magic requires neither wand, nor ritual behavior, nor any sort of external aid. To those who possess it, wild magic is as natural as walking.
The controversy comes from the fact that wild magic is incredibly diverse, and not necessarily innate. Some forms, like the clock magic of the Seekers of the Hour can be studied and learned. Those who come by their wild magic through practice are called adepts, whereas those who are born with their magic are called prodigies, but many dispute that there should be categories at all.
The Tremere have learned to tame the wild magic innate to vampires, making it operate more like wand magic. This renders it vulnerable to the same sorts of detection, warding, and disruption, but since their wands are their own bodies (well, technically, the blood inside their bodies), they tend to have highly personalized and versatile skill sets.
Those who have reason to fear magic (and to be fair, that's most anybody) favor cats as pets. They can see partially into the magical realm and will notice rituals as they are being cast and the tell-tale aura that surrounds an experienced wand magician at all times. Wild magic is hit or miss. Certainly, no cat will tolerate the presence of a vampire, but they tend to be completely indifferent to the presence of gods.
A newer ritual, originally devised in the city-state of Yennin, it is gradually spreading among the elite of every land who can afford its exorbitant price. Using only a thimble-full of blood, or a similar amount of flesh, from a recently-dead body, the Clone ritual can create a perfect duplicate of the donor, complete with all of their knowledge, memories and skills. The clone is the same age as the donor was when they died, but cured of all wounds, magical afflictions and infections (certain diseases, like cancer, carry over, but scholars aren't sure why.)
A secret, known only to the ritual's inventors and a few trusted co-conspirators, is that the Clone ritual works even on the living. The age and memories of the clones are the same as the donor when the sample was taken, and while the cabal has not yet figured out a use for this information, it is working on methods of long-term flesh preservation and spells to transfer the soul from one body to another. In the future, the wealthy of Ukss may need never to die.
The ritual to create a Cloud Chariot is known only to the Wardens of the Sky and they take its protection very seriously. Most of the time, the Wardens travel incognito, hiding among normal travelers, the better to lure out aerial threats, but sometimes, they need to act openly, and when they do, the Cloud Chariot acts as a badge of office. When you see an armed warrior descend from the sky on a fluffy white cloud, wreathed in the golden light of dawn, then you know that you are dealing with a genuine Warden of the Sky.
Widely considered the most elegant of the travel rituals, the caster folds a piece of special silk-threaded paper into an elaborate origami boat. Then, speaking a specially composed poem about their hopes for reaching a particular destination, they place the boat into the water, where it grows to full size. As soon as the caster steps aboard, the Origami Vessel will start sailing itself to the destination named in the poem, traveling day and night at a constant speed and ignoring prevailing wind conditions. When the caster steps off the boat, it disintegrates into a cloud of swirling confetti, announcing to all that a sorcerer of considerable power has arrived.
The Tainted Bargain
There are some on Ukss with an urgent need for power. Not for its own sake, and not for themselves, but to accomplish some goal or defend some principle that will live on long after their death. The boldest and most desperate of those seek out The Tainted Bargain, offering their lives to a creature of the magic realm in exchange for securing a powerful champion for their most cherished ideals.
When the ritual is complete, the summoned creature takes possession of the caster's body. This is a one-way trip. For as long as the body's physical integrity endures, it will belong to the entity. In exchange, the entity is afflicted with a compulsion to work towards whatever goal the caster offered - whether as concrete as "rescue this particular prisoner from captivity" or as abstract as "work towards equality for all". The entity does not gain control until it agrees to these terms, and it has a last opportunity to back out, causing the ritual to fail, but generally having a physical body and acting in the material world is seen as desirable enough that nearly any offer is going to find an interested taker.
More powerful entities tend to be more discerning, but sometimes even they rush into ill-conceived deals that transgress against their morals and preferences. Nonetheless, once the bargain is made, it is iron-clad. For all but the most knowledgeable entities, the death of a body means they die along with it, so there are very few loopholes for a trapped and tormented creature.
The authorities are constantly trying to suppress knowledge of The Tainted Bargain, but the ritual is relatively simple to perform and widespread in the magical realm. Whenever a creature does break through, it usually makes it a priority to spread the knowledge far and wide. Such a service is worth many favors among the spirit courts.
Freeing the Primordial Flesh
While exploring the limits of transmutation rituals, scholars at the University of TBD made a stunning discovery - the stones of Ukss were not created as stones, but as something else. Something . . . fleshy.
It is still unclear at this time, whether the earth was transmuted from the massive body of a single being or the mingled bodies of an unimaginable charnel-pile. Different types of stone will revert to different types of . . . meat, but there is no way currently known to determine if these meats come from different donors or from different organs of the same donor or from a once-uniform primordial flesh-stone subjected to aeons of geological alchemy.
What is known is that consuming the flesh produced this way is . . . unwise. It will nourish a body, but it will also change it. It is as yet a mystery what the endpoint of this process might be, as the unfortunates subjected to this experiment have all been mercifully dispatched, but no one who knows of this lore thinks it leads anywhere good.
The Rod of Teeth
Ranking among the most infamous of recently-created wands, the Rod of Teeth is abnormally thick for a wand, almost like a small club or baton. It needs the extra girth because it is studded with human teeth of every type - molars, bicuspids, incisors - young and old, from at least a half-dozen different "donors."
The Rod of Teeth can channel the magic of identity. With it, a magician can steal the traits that make a person unique, removing physical imperfections, stealing memories, erasing names from the skein of history. Once removed, these traits can be bestowed upon others, cast into oblivion, or manifested as half-mad wraiths with a hatred for all life.
The Wand of Dreams
The Great Wands are always a little perilous for mortal magicians to wield. Not because they are cursed or trapped, but because the minds of the Creators moved in spirals. Coming at their powers in a straight line can lead you to places you never meant to go.
It is unclear what the original purpose of the Wand of Dreams may have been. Every magician who has ever wielded it has disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Yet people are still drawn to its power, for many of its wielders created wonders.
The Wand of Dreams connects a magician directly to the portion of the magical world that corresponds to their own subconscious mind, allowing them to manifest illusions that are, to them, completely real. More disturbingly, they may edit real things out of their personal reality. These things still exist, but cannot affect the wielder in any way.
To onlookers, wielders of the Wand of Dreams look half-magic and half-mad. They will undeniably float through the air while claiming to climb a staircase only they can see or touch. They will act completely nonchalant as an enemy's blows harmlessly glance off them. Everything seems to go their way . . . until the day that it doesn't and they disappear into their own solipsistic pseudo-reality.
The Magic World
Magic in Ukss functions by connecting the magic wielder with a nearby shadow-realm, known to scholars as the Magic World. The rules of the magic world are not well understood. It seems to have its own forms of space, time, and matter . . . except when it doesn't. The thoughts of creatures in the realm of matter appear to affect the landscape there . . . except when they don't. It is impossible for a mortal creature to enter the magic world and survive . . . except for those that have.
It is a world without near and far. Whose landmarks are idea and whose inhabitants are gods. It is also a source of raw energy, enough to crack mountains or hurl a traveler to the moon. Most magicians come to accept it as a mystery, but the scholars of Ukss have vowed to try and tame it.
In the magic world, the term "Alfar" does not describe a race so much as a particular set of material circumstances. There are demon-Alfar and god-Alfar and strange-things-which-have-no-human-name-Alfar. To earn the title, one must pass through a sacred gate and take a human-like form. They range in power from minor magicians to lesser gods, though unlike the Tainted, they are tied to the specific place or time that allowed them to cross over. They can only exist in places of unusual magic - ancient groves and barrow hills, seasides and salt flats, or among seasonal storms like hurricanes, blizzards, and siroccos. Being inherently ageless, they can stay in the material world for as long as their gateway endures - sometimes just a few hours, but potentially thousands of years.
Alfar are known for their incredible skill in magic. Technically, they are Prodigies of unusual versatility and power, but their way of using magic is very similar to that of wand magicians. So much so, in fact, that many wand wielders will seek out an Alfar to mentor them in the art. If the wand is sufficiently in tune with the Alfar's normal magical themes, the Alfar can master it almost instantly (the Alfar describe it as "writing poetry in a foreign language"). It is rare for an Alfar to gain new powers by wielding a magic wand, but those that do figure prominently in human legends.
The Alfar sometimes honor their best students with Alfar-crafted wands. They are invariably quite powerful, but also extremely idiosyncratic.
Most Alfar will bear strong marks of the gate they passed through to enter Ukss. This shapes their appearance, their powers, and even their attitudes. It is unclear whether passage through the gate changes them or whether only those beings with the proper affinities may pass through any particular gate.
The Dark Alfar have an unsavory reputation among humankind, but they are not really "evil" so much as "spooky." They cross into Ukss during the witching hour or, more rarely, during certain astrological conjunctions of portentous power. They are invisible in darkness and in starlight or moonlight. The touch of the sun will instantly send them back to the magic world in a puff of black smoke, but is otherwise harmless (and does not prevent them from crossing back when the time is again right).
Under artificial light, the Alfar have skin as black as the space between the stars. Hair ranges through a variety of colors, from moon-silver to aurora-green to rich purples and blues that evoke the complex palette of night.
Dark Alfar best love lonely and misunderstood things. They have a special affinity with spiders and even the intelligent predators of Gloomshire will let them pass unmolested. Their favorite season is winter, when the trees no longer hide the sky. They are especially drawn to abused and neglected children. They will whisper in the young ones' ears, inspiring them to act out, run away, or get revenge. If an abuser is strong and well-respected, or otherwise tries to punish the Dark Alfar's charge, they will lure them into the wilderness, never to be seen again.
The Dark Alfar consider themselves friends to humanity, but their ways of expressing it often bring terror and confusion. Wherever they take up residence, sleepers will begin to have vivid nightmares (that bring personal enlightenment or foretell an avoidable disaster), long-buried secrets will bubble to the surface, long-suppressed desires will find sudden and spontaneous expression, and orphans, outcasts, and hermits will receive forbidden tutelage in the arts of witchcraft.
The Lonesome Train
Everyone on Ukss hears its call sooner or later. The Lonesome Train. The train that comes for you when it's your time to die. Some have returned from the Station of the Lonesome Train, pulled back to life from the very brink of death, usually through powerful magic. They report an abandoned train station, shrouded in mist, with no audible sound but the distant whistle of their oncoming passage.
No one has ever encountered another soul in the Station of the Lonesome Train, but its anyone's guess whether that holds true for the train itself. No one who has boarded it has ever returned.
The Great Mother
She is the source of all life, the primordial principle that drives all growth and reproduction. She is transformation and there is a mystery at the heart of her. She hungers.
The Great Mother takes the form of an undifferentiated orb of flesh. Her surface ripples as eyes, mouths, and . . . other organs emerge and recede in endless seething tides of adaptation. Size is more or less meaningless in the Magic World, but she grows. Anyone who sees her understands. She is always growing.
The Great Mother requires fathers for her numberless children, but she does not mate in any conventional sense. She consumes. She devours. Anything that touches her skin is enveloped, trapped in a cyst of flesh as it's slowly taken apart to fertilize new hybrids and stranger creations still.
It is said that the Great Mother cannot create life energy on her own, but that her divine magic can make optimal use of any she absorbs. Perhaps as many as two births for every cell in the donor's body, though sometimes she births new gods, made from the interwoven power of a thousand lives.
One need not be male to father a child on the Great Mother. Sometimes sorcerers will call an extrusion of her power into the material world, so that women may donate to her a strand of hair or a drop of blood. The children born this way have a hint of the monstrous about them, but many have created great things from the ashes of their enemies.
The Great Mother is the tutelary deity of Yennin. It is from her that they learned the art of flesh-weaving, and their great champions can all trace their lineage back to her.
The Cosmic Sphere
Though air travel on Ukss is increasingly common, there is a realm above the sky that has barely been explored. Actually ascending into the Cosmic Sphere is not especially difficult. Any form of magical flight that does not rely on air resistance will eventually lift its user beyond the reaches of Ukss' atmosphere. The real difficulties come when the traveler is exposed to the Stellar Medium. Not only is the Stellar Medium airless, it is full of raw magical energy, capable of roasting an unshielded traveler alive or grotesquely mutating one whose wards are only against the heat.
Pure elements will block the worst effects of the Stellar Medium, though most dedicated cosmic explorers prefer to sheathe themselves in elemental air, so that their shelter will also let them breathe.
The rituals to maintain a sufficiently strong elemental pocket are delicate and fickle. They require constant monitoring to maintain their potency. The ritualists who specialize in this work must also be powerful warriors, for there are monsters capable of surviving the Stellar Medium who like to preface their attacks by sabotaging their victims' protection.
One of the key challenges to exploring the Cosmic Sphere is the vast distances involved. Ordinary magic can take months or years to fly an explorer between even the nearest celestial bodies. Tessers are gigantic fauna native to the Stellar Medium with the power to slip in and out of the magic world at will, allowing them to traverse truly mind-boggling distances in the blink of an eye.
Tessers resemble a mix between a squid and a mollusk. They have thousands of wire-thin tentacles that can stretch for miles outside their soft, squishy bodies. These tentacles harvest energy directly from the Stellar Medium and convert it into power for the Tesser's massive brain. It's debatable how intelligent a Tesser truly is. Most psychics who have bonded with one say that they have the intelligence and demeanor of a small puppy, but those who have worked with them for extended periods often come to believe that they think deep thoughts on a scale too slow for humans to register.
Tessers will burrow into asteroids, using them as protective shells for decades or centuries until they grow too large and are forced to seek out new homes. Their teleportation abilities are more than strong enough to carry millions of tons of rock and metal with them over celestial distances. This is a fact that has not gone unnoticed among Cosmic explorers, who will sometimes try to lure a tesser into adopting a large, air-filled ship as a shell.
The Dagger Moon
Looking like nothing so much as a slate-grey arrowhead, the Dagger Moon is among the most accessible of Ukss' celestial bodies. It is a mere 19km across, but orbits so low that it looms as large as the more distant Luna.
Magicians who have visited the Dagger Moon report that it is, incredibly enough, a massive spacefaring vessel, put into orbit a long time ago, by visitors from far, far away. Deciphering its inscriptions, they have determined that the aliens called it a "Superior Star Destroyer," which seems consistent with the thousands of cannons they've found scattered about its surface.
No one has yet figured out a way to enter the interior of the vessel and explorers of the Cosmic Sphere will move rapidly to stop anyone who is appearing to try. Those who know of the Dagger Moon's true nature have nightmares that some reckless or ambitious scavengers will wake it from its quiescence and unleash destruction on a scale Ukss has never seen.
A full celestial body in its own right, Luna possesses a thin, but breathable atmosphere and enough warmth to support sparse native life. Because Luna has less protection from the Stellar Medium, the surface is subject to strange energies that spawn bizarre and powerful Prodigies.
Disembodied eyeballs, the size of ripe pumpkins float through the air, skimming off the psychic energies of the life down below. Sentient Lunar Kelp uses its innate telekinesis to lift its foliage into the air. Contrary to popular belief, it is not carnivorous, but it will brutally attack any animal that threatens its shallow system of roots. Other, stranger creatures live in the crags and crevices of the seemingly barren Lunar landscape, the only thing they have in common that they cannot survive in the lesser ambient magic of Ukss itself.
The Lunar College of Prophets
Located in the balmy equatorial regions of the Sea of TBD, The College of Prophets is an organization that seeks to gather all true seers under its umbrella, so that they might use their powers for the advancement of all humanity. The College accepts anyone who can magically foresee the future, regardless of whether they Prodigies, Adepts, or Magicians. Even Yokai are welcome to join, provided they are of good will and honest intentions (in fact, College doctrine declares that Yokai must be included in their definition of humanity so long as they are not inherently and irredeemably creatures of malice - and even then there's always hope).
The College helps prospective seers hone their talents, though many find their tutelage frustrating and vague. There is no formal hierarchy and no official teachers or students. Rather, everyone is both. As they are fond of saying, "you never leave the school, the universe is our classroom." This ethos of equality and humility is fostered in the College's members to try and keep them from setting themselves up as humanity's rulers. Many of the more devoted students will renounce all material wealth and national citizenship and come to live at the College full time.
Those who seek out the Prophets' help often find themselves stymied by their seeming lack of urgency and indirect way of addressing requests. Yet the College exists precisely to turn vague prophecies into real benefits for humanity, and they are experts on tugging lightly at the strings of destiny.
The only thing that really seems to rile up the notoriously imperturbable prophets is when they learn of a true seer who abuses the gift of prophecy to exploit or manipulate the unsighted. Rumor has it that the College maintains an elite squad of psychic assassins to deal with such troublemakers, though, of course, if such a group exists, no one has ever been able to find evidence of its existence.
The Living Island
There is a small island almost perfectly centered in the middle of the Sea of TBD, at Luna's warmest, wettest point. Unlike most of the moon's surface, life thrives here, even if the magic has made it . . . strange.
Though there are many animals on The Living Island, none are predators and none are prey. They eat only fruit, and never living bark, leaves, or seeds. Similarly, the Island is lush with blue-tinted foliage, but the broad-leafed trees do not compete for sunlight. On the rare occasions when one drops a seed, it will be picked up by a bird and gently deposited on a bare spot of ground. Animals will come from all over the island to fertilize it with their leavings, not one daring to disturb its germination.
Everything on The Living Island acts with the same singular purpose. They are all connected, joined by psychic bonds carried through the magic-rich air of the Lunar surface. Explorers who've studied the island have so far been unable to locate its controlling mind. Some say it's in the plants, others in the animals, a few even say it's in the rock itself. The best guess is that it's all of the above, a collective mind, acting in perfect concert, to create a paradise for its constituent organisms.
The growth of The Living Island is limited by the boundaries of the sea. Its trees will not take root on the mainland, and any animal removed from it will sicken and die before it reaches the nearest shore. In all likelihood, they have adapted to require the Island's psychic energies as part of their normal metabolism. Moving a significant portion of the Island all in one trip might suffice to create an offspring colony, but freed of its geographic limitations, it would probably overwhelm any world it was transplanted to.
The Living Island is hostile to most visitors, though a few Lunar seafarers know a ritual that will trick the Island into thinking the caster is part of its collective. This ritual is completely safe to use . . . unless you are a rare psychic prodigy who has not yet mastered the art of mental shielding. Then the ritual will serve to open your mind to the collective in truth.