Creative Corner

This is my 1000th post, and of course I am going to make it about myself. It looks butt ugly so I promise I'll fix this up later


Every year, there is a stretch of time called "The Return." It ranges from a week to a month during the new year. This is a magical phenomenon where the entire city gets submerged within the nearby sea, although life continues on and the normal laws of physics apply. The only strange thing is that shoals of shimmering fish appear and swim about-- the sacred animal, koi, are the most welcome. Any home receiving the blessing of the koi are fated to be happy and peaceful, any business to those fish' liking will be prosperous. For this reason, that time is regarded as a festive one and people will hang out treats for the fish and paper lanterns to beckon them to their homes. However, The Return is the one time that bedragglers can leave, although they would have to swim up from the city and through an unspecified length before they reach shore. (cont)
at some height above the city, the magic wears off and there is a very high chance of drowning. From the "outside," or non-affected world, the water rises all the way up to the cliff(this doesn't appear out of place as the area is a sort of cove, surrounded by rock in a sort of lunar shape.) The paper lanterns that people regularly make and let go serve as guides to freedom for those brave enough to attempt this escape.

Although the city is run by the monks-- the theocracy is necessary because direct orders are delegated to the patron spirit, however only a few people can actually communicate with him-- they have little contact with the rest of the city, as most of their time is spent running infrastructure work and purifying the lands. As a result, there is a rotating council that governs the city alongside a constitution. However, this government is also rather dismissive and crime is an actual threat to it at times, even though the criminals running the show are more collected and composed than one might expect.

As Wanyang is situated between the ocean and the flatlands, its main sources of food are naturally seafood and plants. While the forests and farms supply insects as well, there are restrictions on meat towards the effort of preserving the forest wildlife. As a result, the position of hunter is scarce as hunting teams must consist of skilled perseverance hunters who not only have to chase herd animals down the steppes but engage with the usually dangerous herbivores as well. Although smaller plains creatures, namely rodents, are hunted as well, there is a usual stigma around eating them due to the possibility of infection. Consumption of these animals is emblematic of the lower class, and as such viewed as poor-man's meat.

The most consistently farmed foods are by far rice, wheat, and soybeans, given the moist, temperate conditions of Baiyun-shi. While the the vast elevation differences of the expansive territory means both lowland and highland rice can be grown, the lower, moister regions of the city are mainly dominated by soybean farmers. Although there is domesticated wheat, it is much rarer than the wild wheat which is plentiful on the steppes due to the favorable conditions for their spawning. In the late summer when they germinate, both foraging and hunting parties move out to the steppes to reap the bounty of both the grain and the animals attracted to them.

Lastly and most obviously, the beaches are occupied by seaweed farmers and fishers alike, who take care not to overuse the sliver of ocean provided to them. Due to the dangerous waters further out to sea, many shoals of fish that take advantage of the fast-moving currents can be caught. Expeditions into the water are, as expected, dangerous but bountiful if successful. Further upriver are catfish, turtles, freshwater eels, and carp among many other species, and those are caught and cultivated as well, albeit not to the extent of any other food source.

The oceanside was a desolate, rocky affair. Were one to plunge themselves off the cliff they would not be awarded the clemency of a quick dashing upon the waters; no, the fractured pieces of flesh, blood and bone would spatter the granular sands in quite grisly fashion. The poor few dragons who did so usually became a matter for the seabirds' picking, for there were not many who visited regularly aside from the porters and merchants who made their trade by sea-- and even then, they did not visit the seaside proper, for they mostly hung around the bay harbor near the city. This was for good reason. Beyond the stretches of rock and rock, boulder and boulder was the faintest little sliver of sand. Even then, those were mostly covered by the tides. When the waters receded the vermin and gulls would return abound to feast on the sewage coming from the wide pipes.

It was not to say, however, that the place was smelly. The monks demanded all of the miracle of nature, popular or not-- hell, even if it was agreed upon that it was rather useless, and by extension unbecoming-- be protected. There was much to lose from disobeying the orders of the Child-God's entourage, far more than was spent on the regular maintenance of what was essentially untouched land. The s**t, after all, fell directly into the ocean, and not enough came to care about the fare of the rats and their kin.

In this setting the young man would often come to walk the gravelly shores and climb atop the seaweed-laden rocks. The rats, scorpions, the other lowly creatures multitudinous worried him not as did the squelch of brine, the abscess that made the saltwater bubbles as he squeezed them out of the rocks. In this manner he would stand day after day, still as the stone around him, letting the sunrise wash over his cloaked features. The wait was privy only to the seafoam spray, the dolorous clouds.

The wait was certain as the rising of the sun.

Characters featured: Xielu

The Expanse at World's Edge is a territory on the Southwestern coast of the Wind territory geographically; rather, the entry point to it is there, and the region itself is actually stuck in a pocket dimension from very far back in time. One key note is that there are no mountains in the Sornieth side of the rift while those in the Expanse are very tall, from the ages before the Windsinger and his kin flattened the lands into blocky stretches of plateau and twisted flat land into unlivable karst.

The settlers of this grand valley were the very first of Windsinger's brood to have gone awry. Their indolence was rebellion, and as their numbers were small they were pushed further and further off the mainland. Just as a force of their younger brethren was to finish them off, the youngest of the villages offered himself to the winds, sacrificing his body and part of his soul to accommodate some of the Windsinger's overpowering essence. In this act of communion with the deity, he agreed to seal this region off from the rest of Sornieth by severing the threads of space and time using the new power vested within him. For better or for worse, the region would be as a hot air balloon to the earth; only tethered by mere points.

The youth, now finding himself a vessel for the capriciousness of the winds, decided that luck should hold dominion over his new promised land. Only those who are destined to be in the passes at World's Edge would find their way there. The descendants of the original clans, however, could leave and return as they so chose.

In the thousands of years since isolation began, various settlements grew which would eventually condense into one city, Wanyang. Its urbanizing sprawl stretches from the foot of the Pillars of Heaven all the way to the coast. To cleanse and irrigate the city, there are various canals dug out from the rivers that shatter the coastline into small pieces. Just as frequent are there also false islands floating on the water, meant to join separate parts of the city together.

The development of Wanyang in their perspective is very rapid, aided by new technology brought in by destined travelers. This way, even if the magical forces are breached and an enemy can one day bypass the force of fate keeping them from accessing the Expanse, they can properly defend themselves. Thus decreed the now nameless Luck God.

The seaside is the heart of business as merchants can trade with Fire to the east, Arcane and Plague to the north, and Ice to the south. This area is known as Leviathan's Prowl as there have been sightings of leviathan half-dragon, half-beasts surfacing by the rocks. In recent history, one has even been dragged onto the beach streets, wreaking havoc and taking businesses. Now, more sensible merchants have been pushing further interior into what is considered the lite version of the business district, where small family-owned shops make their humble living.

Nibelungen does not run one of those shops. Yes, his offices are small, but they are luxury. He stays close to the proles simply because their souls are less than missed when gone.

For posterity


Smoke on the trail, the fragile skeleton of a burn. A miasma seeps from his clothes-- take care not to breathe it in, or you go down and out--
Ragged breaths, making clouds in the snow,
A quickly passing shadow in the wood;
Blind, tormented justice, roaring garbled murder
What was once a hunter becomes the greatest beast of all

The best monsters have purposeful rage. In the mirages of early morning one can spot him at the wharf, standing on the guano-streaked rocks, almost in meditative calm. The sun might glint too off the slots of his hat. He’ll be standing still. Maybe he is watching for something over the consternation of the waves. Maybe he is listening for something under the glare of the rising sun. Either way it is best not to disturb him.

“I love you.”
Zhiyi whispers it into Mingwu’s ear. Mingwu is too unconscious to hear him. This he knows.
Good.
And even if Mingwu did hear him, let him forget.
Zhiyi says it over and over, day in and out, until his voice is hoarse and his mind skeptical. Then he says it more, faithfully like a widow at a grave—or perhaps at a sacrifice— until his vocal chords have snapped, he, a heretic he wants to burn.
Day in, day out, sun, rain, shade—Zhiyi whispers, only whispers, and Mingwu doesn’t hear, he doesn’t remember.
Good.
He will love him forever, he thinks.