“ Often times in when alchemy is thought of, we think medieval times with wizards and sorcerers. What if such things existed in modern days such as today? What if the focus of alchemy is common knowledge is can be used for favorite drinks? What if you have a soda machine that can create soda with special properties? The varieties is endless, though good taste is limited. What kind of concoctions can you create?”
“ SeaClans: The six seaclans are Dolphin, Gull, Ray, Kraken, Shark, and SeaDragon. These totem animals serve as mascots rather than any deep symbol of the clan. These seafaring organizations are filled with land based saliors and fishermen. They ply the seas and deeper waterways. They function like guilds for ocean sailors
The clans have their own homeland. These people live on large floating rafts- human made islands, as well as vessels of all varieties docked to it. These wetfoots never set foot on land (or only do it for a few hours at most).
Rat Clan: This guild is nominally related to the seaclans. The Rats ply the rivers and marshes of the world, as well as do longshoreman work. The seaclans hold the self proclaimed 'rat clan' in contempt and the officials see them as just a Guild of River saliors and longshoremen with a funny name. The Rats hold their title with pride and will take it out on anyone who gives them grief about it.”
“ AutoMedon A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
'It's strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its' workings or even if the damn thing is' Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman”
