Editing City of Dead Gods:Main Page (section)

==Setting Background==

It has been a thousand years since the Sethesians, a worlds-spanning empire of the elves, warred with the upstart hobgoblins of the Ghuk-ta-Kali, and wildspace has never been quiet since. 

From the earliest times, the countless races of the countless planets in the universe have dreamed of other worlds- worlds where their gods dwell, worlds where the strange creatures that plague them return to, worlds to escape to, worlds to exile others. Some looked to the sky, and called the unexplained among them "visitors" or "aliens". Others, scholars and arcanists, spoke of "infinite planes" and a "multiverse".

The truth was far more complex. Both views were right. The vast gates found on many worlds allow travel through them to far off lands and other stars. Arcane and divine magic allows a quick "door" through to the dwelling places of the gods. In time, it was discovered that spelljamming, the ability to fly up off the planet and travel through the stars, could bring one just as accurately to the "outer planes"- in actuality, other worlds floating in the vastness of arcane space. Today it is a cosmopolitan universe. Between powerful wizards opening gates to fiend-stars and elemental bodies, the ancient gates allowing limited and often dangerous travel, and spelljamming vessels, by far the safest method, the groundling has many opportunities to pass from place to place. 

It is a fine universe to make a profit in, or to study the ancient star-spanning civilizations- the dragons, illithids, elves, or even older and stranger. Whether you began as a groundling and have since taken to the stars, or are a seasoned worlds-traveller, Wildspace has much to offer you.

Eventually, most people find themselves at least passing through the floating city of Hallows, the city of dead gods. For that it is what it is comprised of- vast corpses of ancient elf and hobgoblin deities, their names long forgotten, locked in an eternal struggle. There are three of them, two elf and a hobgoblin. The first god, called the Lady by the irreverent townsfolk, is the district of the wealthy, and consists of the weathered remains of an elf woman. She kneels, cradling the fallen form of the second elf, the Fallen, upon which the bulk of the city is built. Connected by a vast spiked chain of the same chalky stone, wrapped around the waist of the fallen elf, is an armored hobgoblin, the Slayer, where the military and higher government of the city resides. Hallows is a holy place to both the elves and hobgoblins, and by treaty is the only place in all of Wildspace that the two races meet without elaborate truce discussions. The city is neutrally held by a joint council of dwarves, illithid, and giants, with the current mayor being a giant, a former pirate named Clever Jack who sponsors many privateers and merchant companies. The city is a flamboyant cultural melting pot, with staid elf Imperials meeting with hobgoblin sons of the Wolf in seedy opium dens, dwarf merchants selling slaves to illithids in the shadows of their great conch-towers, and members of a hundred other races going about their business and worship both above and below the city streets.

You are members of the Company of the Emerald Heron, a prestigious worlds-spanning research and adventuring society chartered in Hallows for the purpose of exploration and charting of Wildspace, collection and cataloguing of relics and artifacts of interest to the community, and the selling and profit from said relics. Members of the company are known by their green cloak or sash and silver heron cloak pin or belt buckle. Your patron is a wizard named Anaximander, and there are several other groups much like yours within the Company. Your group just happened to work well together on past jobs, and so you have been a squad longer than usual. Your base of operations is a converted dwarven ironbarge called the Jormungandr. It derives motive force from a series of spellforged plates along its flanks which collect light and heat from the ambient atmosphere and convert it to a thin, foul-smelling oil known as phlogiston (which, incidentally, occurs naturally in places and can be used in grenades). In a pinch, the ship can also be run on coal or whale oil. As long as no speedy maneuvers are needed, the Jormungandr is entirely self sufficient for travel of any distance, needing to stop only for reprovisioning. The Jormungandr is possessed of two swivel guns, primitive cannons only a bit larger than rifles which fire phlogiston explosive shots (treat as a fireball, 3d6 damage, must take Exotic Weapon Proficiency in Artillery to use them properly). As you are chartered out of Hallows, which is theoretically neutral ground for all major spacefaring nations, it is the hope of your employer that violence need never be resorted to.

Well, hopes are so often fleeting...