It was a warm spring afternoon in the forest outside Holsbarda, and Lenka was complaining again. “And do you know he said then?” she asked, looking up at her travelling companion as though expecting an answer. He couldn’t give one of course, since he had not been there, so she continued with her story. “He said, Oh, I thought that’s what you called yourselves!”
Leaving the desert island of Ziskra behind, the crew of the merchant corbita, the Konteres, sailed South. With each passing day, the winds brought them closer to their native home, the land of Delos. They had brought Deloan goods such as wine, olives, and the newly popular red figure pottery to sell in the Khargan Imperial city. Now, their holds were filled with items from the desert empire, which they intended to sell to their countrymen upon their return. Linen and papyrus had become popular imports in Delos, and brought a good profit to anyone willing to brave the long ocean voyage.
If there’s one thing Gondolend needs more of, it’s concept art. With millions of species of animals and hundreds of ethnic groups, there’s a lot of stuff there to draw.
A Selbok , sporting a covered carriage of wood and blankets, waits for its driver and passenger at an Oasis, in the Khargan desert.
Thaddeus Whittington’s office could not have been any more stereotypical of an established university zoology professor. Thick, deeply varnished shelves lined an entire wall, populated by all manner of books, animal bones, and preserved specimens in jars. Perched atop a filing cabinet next to the window a taxidermy bird of prey glared across the room with glass eyes, while the mounted skeleton of a negren was frozen in mid-leap at one corner of the shelf hutch that stood above the desk. All over were photographs, some of them quite old. Mounted prominently near the door was an old black and white picture of a much younger Whittington, standing with two other men knee-deep in ferns and rushes, broad smiles on their faces. In the background rose the dark hard line of the Barrier; the picture had been taken nearly fifty years ago on the Havaania, the vast prairie that lay out beyond the wall that cut Gondolendia off from the rest of the supercontinent. Justin recognized one of the men as Gina’s uncle Stanley Pike, but he had no idea who the other one was.
Rakateia is a world I’ve been toying with for years, and it’s seen a couple different incarnations before I buckled down and got a little more serious about it just recently. It’s set in an alternate reality of sorts, in a universe in which Earth never existed. This is a world in which mankind evolved in the shadow of dinosaurs, and spread far and wide across the planet. Though Homo sapiens are currently the dominant species, their dinosaurian neighbors still populate the planets cities and wildernesses, and often serve to remind Rakateia’s human population of how tenuous their grasp on planet wide domination really is.
Clambering up the side, and over the railing, as the smoke cleared, Jack noticed that the deck of the Gazela was empty, save for the bloodied corpses of the the Portuguese sailors. Sword drawn, and at the ready, Jack looked to Colton and Martin, standing next to him on the deck of the ruined ship. Colton tightened his grip on his boarding axe.
Max Harper still wasn’t quite comfortable around Sturm and Drang. They seemed harmless enough now, even if they were rather wary of him when he’d first arrived, but they were still raptors. Or rather, they would have been called raptors back home. Here they were called tercels, and they didn’t particularly look like he’d always imagined raptors. He supposed that meant all the scientists were right, because the two animals looked nothing like the scaly, lizard-faced monsters of the movies and instead resembled nothing more than shaggy, long-tailed birds with short, powerful wings. It was those wings, and their feet, that worried him. Both bore large claws, wickedly curved and very sharp-looking.