End to End: The Monorail

The monorail is the primary mode of transportation linking all aspects of humanity together. It runs from Star's End in the far north to Summer's End in the south. It runs multiple lines to allow traffic to and from various routes although the major high speed line runs direct Star's End - The House of Falling Leaves - Summer's End leaving side lines to stop at the Aegis' and other communities located on or along the line.

The original builders of the monorail aren't known only that it is nigh imperishable and maintenance free. The system is automated leaving only basic conductors to be provided by the various human communities to keep an eye on passengers.

The Underneath

One of the least known portions of the world is simply referred to as "The Underneath". Running from at least Summer's End to The Deepening and possibly much further the only known access points on land are The Deepening in Winterhome and below the House of Falling Leaves in Autumnhold. Cetes reports that the south coast in Summertide is riddled with below water entrances.

The Underneath itself is a series of caverns and passages, mostly submerged, that run the length of the land. There are a few colonies of humans who lives among the large caverns facilitating and supporting the cetes who roam the underwater passages. Air pockets abound enough that travel for air breathing swimmers is relatively easy and main routes from the coast to the House of Falling Leaves are well marked. The networks are extensive however and many side junctions are unexplored.

Visibility in most areas is quite good as there are odd luminescent algae and fungi that provide an odd ambient light. This is generally sufficient for cetes to see although humans generally find they need to supplement with artificial light sources.

Water temperature tends to be quite comfortable, akin to the warm waters of Summertime, although entering into the areas below Winterhome the temperature begins to drop off especially around The Deepening.

Technology

This world is a challenging mix of technology and magic. The idea being that while the two generally compete to do the same things each has its strong points. The tendency ends up being somewhat racial: humans use technology, dragons use magic, and ceteceans use psionics which is somewhat akin to magic but they also embrace technology to an extent due to their close relation with humans.

Human technology tends to be akin to that of cyberpunk settings. Highly electronic with many bionic/cybernetic advancements. Military technology is also highly advanced. To an extent normal life technology has advanced as well due to the sometimes extreme conditions with which people need to survive. For instance the north is almost constantly in winter conditions and invariably in extreme winter weather situations.

The main hindrance to a lot of the technology is that it is somewhat limited. There are no satelites, space vehicles, etc in this world because there simply isn't any space. How to explain or argue that is a bit of a challenge (ie I haven't made something up yet) but from a practical aspect it makes sense. This is a closed system and having space opens it up as space is infinite. This world most certainly is not. The end result is that communications are limited to a certain distance from major population centers like the limits of radio today. Repeaters can push those farther out but they are not nessecarily always there. The frontier is still the frontier.

Within that closed environment humans tend to be king however. Even the simple ability to easily and instaneously communicate with multiple people within their environ gives the humans an edge (ala Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex cybercoms). Other edges are access to power supplies of various sorts and other logistic support. Technology generally requires much support making it severely less useful when denied that support ocassionally even being burdensome.

What does all this conclude? Not much, just random musings on a developing world.

Memorium

In one of the valleys hidden between clefts of autumn hewn and radiant green leaves is a quiet place of perpetual light mist cut by sunlight tracing slow patterns across the moss and grasses. Dew hangs from the young leaves of indivudal sugar maple saplings scattered valley casting small sparkling beads of light between rows of white crosses. Rows upon rows of crosses. Amongst the saplings lies this forest of simple white. They stretch across every point of open space, every hill, every knoll, from one end of the valley to the other in stately silence. Each one would bear a name and an age but some instead simply read: "This honored comrade's identity rests with God". For a world known to be filled with near immortals the ages read woefully young.

In the center of all this sits a slightly larger cross with the simple form of a wolf lying in sad, patient watch at its base. On the front it reads: "You left us too soon child"; on the back: "Our future is better by your sacrifice". On the cross if one looks closely the initial "ACP" and the number "0" can barely be made out.

Godwall

Beyond the horizon lies a superstorm that defies all efforts by men to travel beyond it. Ships, airships, even submarines cannot pass beyond its roiling girth. Somehow ceteceans find their way through and beyond lies their resting grounds.

This superstorm is referred to by the dragons as the Godwall and like humans it seems the dragons cannot past. Not even the mostly aquatic types can slip through. Why ceteceans can navigate this when others cannot is beyond the realm of anyone's understanding. The cetes claim it is their natural ability to navigate bodies of water, sheer instinct itself, that allows pods to traverse with minimum harm done to their body.

The storm itself waxes and wanes like any other but it never ends. It spins in a slow consistent motion riling up the ocean beneath it and powering the weather around it. At any given time a dozen cyclones can be see spinning admists the towering clouds and mountainous waves. The sky although totally blotted from the sun nearly all the time is still well lit by the constact cacophony of lightning striking the waves and leaping from cloud bank to cloud bank.

The Godwall seems to produce the myriad of hurricanes that pummel the ocean farther north. The tide itself seems to be generated by the storm mimicking a minor, almost earth-like, tide along the sandy shores of Summerhold.

The problems traversing the storm are obvious: flying craft are subjected to all manners of air turbulence including cyclones, wind shears, omni-directional winds and other dangerous wind related phenomena. Additionally the air is positively charged with electricity to a degree that makes the storm clouds into potent anti-aircraft weaponry in their own right. Visibility ranges from a hundred meters to nothing and can change on a whim. Precipitation varies from pouring rain hard enough to knock a man down, hail of all sizes, to even the occasional snow shower within higher level clouds further increasing the strain on aircraft.

Surface ships must survive the cyclones, waves varying from 3m to nearly 100m, precipitation of varying types and intensity, lightning, strange ocean currents, odd magnetic affects, and visibility that is rarely greater then 100m at the best of times. Submersibles suffer nearly all the effects of the surface ships and additionally are subject to intense strain from the rolling waters and currents created by the waves and the odd ocean current effects. Lightning makes metallic submersibles incredibly dangerous as sometimes huge areas of the water become charged by intense, repeated lightning strikes.

Needless to say the Godwall gets its name simply due to the fact that it seems to men and dragons alike that only God could put up and maintain such a storm. To what purpose they can only guess and debate. The ceteceans claim that the storm is where God vents his anger rather then across the land to the benefit of all.

The Cathedral of the Lost

A strange shrine to what once was, this ancient monument is carved literally out of a mountain on the farthest northern edge of the mountains. Beyond it lay the foothills that lead to the ice fields of the true north. It is a barren bleak place unheated and desolate. Hardly any but dragons even know of its existence and even dragons rarely come here.

The Cathedral itself is as cold and rocky as the mountain it inhabits. From the outside there is little evidence of existence especially on approaches from the south. Only a small narrow winding trail leading up to a pair of massive stone doors hewn straight from the mountain give any side of anything being there at all. The doors are decorated with depictions of fierce dragons that have no match to any of the current speices known to inhabit Autumnhold. Their size towers far beyond even the greatest dragons' height and would be nigh movable to anything short of small army of men or several power dragons. They have stood ever so slightly ajar for centuries now allowing man sized creatures or smaller to slip in.

Inside is dark. Giant pillars tower up into the darkness above ending where noone on the ground can see. Each pillar is a highly stylized version of strange, nearly demonic, dragons similiar in vein to those on the door. Their wings spread out to touch their neighbors wings in spans that surpass their height in width. Around each of these pillars are smaller forms, in various sizes and shapes, of demonic looking beings who seem to watch any who enter while standing gaurd around the base of their given pillar.

The inside appears to be one great nave that stretches literally through the entire mountain on a north-south axis. From the south doors a dim light can be seen at the far end of the cathedral. As one approaches two giant stain glass windows slowly come into focus. A great arched window of stained glass towers up into the dark topped far above by a rose window of equal width. The towering arched window depicts a giant white dragon reaching up as if to grasp the rose window. It appears to be strained as far as it can reach with the rose window just out of reach. In large plain letters below the dragon reads: "Semper Contingere" (To Reach Forever). Surrounding the dragons are broken towers which are depicted in such a way as to seem if almost metallic. All are fallen and ruined. The rose window depicts a sphere with great patches of blue, brown continents, and white wisping clouds. Any observer from Earth would recognize a badly rendered globe centered roughly on Europe.

At the base of this window and about 5 meters from it the floor is raised up by about half a meter. On the very edge of this raised platform sits a statue of a normal grey wolf. It is sitting looking directly south away from the stained glass its head hung low as if in pity and great sadness for some event. When the windows are lit it casts an incredibly long shadow into the gloom.

All lighting comes from the two great windows although it is not much considering how far north the cathedral lies. Yet at least once a year the sun is strong enough and angled such that the shadow of the wolf carries across the entire nave all the way to the great doors. Much of the time the chamber is barely visible at all and the shadows all blend into one dark mass.

For all its grand gothic appearance the Cathedral of the Lost shows obvious signs of neglect. Huge boulders and chunks of masonry dot the floor. Many of the pillars are beginning to crumble. Only the great windows and the statue of the wolf remain in pristine condition.

This is the home of the Lost.

Airships

Humans found a unique way to get from places that in some aspects tops even the vaunted tram system that connects their cities: airships.

Immense steel shells flying through the air these vessels are still an uncommon sight. Each is unique making each its own legend and story. Some have travelled greatly while others stick to specific runs like clockwork. The people aboard tend to be as unique as the vessel. It takes a special breed of folk to ride the clouds where normally only dragons tread. Several of the vessels are known to be sea-worthy as well acting like the old Earth submarines that they mimic in shape. Some are reportedly crewed primarily by ceteceans and ply the undersea depths more often then the lofty heights.

The airships differ greatly in functions owing to their varying designs. Some are lumbering cargo ships moving freight back and forth that won't fit on the trams. Others explore the lands answering to the human knack to want to see everything for themselves. Some have gone beyond the ocean to the south and the mountains of the north and never returned. Others are built to fight although it is exceedingly rare to see them active in any sort of combat due to the peaceful nature of life. Their existence is a remindor similiar to those of the Aegis that life was not always as good as it is now and may someday return to that state.

Whatever their purpose the airships are a welcome sight in any human settlement representing the most human technology has to offer and always news from somewhere else and sometimes tales of new places and things.

The basic technology of the airship are four anti-grav pods that adorn each end of the craft keeping it aloft and propelling it. Some craft have additional means of the thrust others rely entirely on this alone. All have a conning tower of some type harkening to their submarine roots. Although they mimic old Earth submarines all the airships dwarf their predecessor's in size.

House of Falling Leaves

How are things organized here?

The House of Falling Leaves would be considered the nominal capitol of Autumnhold. Dragons nest and lair in the upper branches of this ancient sugar maple the dwarfs even the normally monumental trees of Autumnhold. Humans have built habitats on and around the middle and lower branches creating a city that lives in harmony with the ancient tree. Even the rare visiting cetecean can live relatively happily in a huge naturally refreshing (by means that the humans cannot explain and the dragons are either baffled as well or remain silent) pool that rests at the base of the confluence of the all the branches in a giant hollow that even leads deep into the tree. This hollow actually leads deep down through the tree to the underland sea that passes underneath much of Autumnhold which allows the ceteceans easy access.

The main access route to the "city" portion of the House from the ground (and thus the monorail) is called the Neverending Stair that wraps slowly around the base of the tree spiraling upwards into its branches. It also spirals downwards into the ground but few people venture there.

The tree itself has an air of mystery about it. Simply put it acts as its own ecosystem and even though it has been long inhabited the trunk and roots still hold many mysteries and are far from explored. It is one of the few known access points to the underland. As such many explorers venture out from it from time to time.