Worlds Without End...

Tuesday, July 29, 2008

In my last blog post, I talked at length about how excited I am to see the authors in Worlds of Their Own—all of whom have made a considerable splash in the fantasy genre through their shared-world fiction—turned loose to write in settings entirely of their own devising, in which their word is the only law and all the toys are theirs to break as they see fit. I also gave you a sneak peak at snippets from the stories by R. A. Salvatore and Michael A. Stackpole.

This week, rather than gushing further about the book, I thought I'd just jump right into the snippets—after all, anybody who wants to hear my opinion (or express their own) can always jump over to the Planet Stories messageboards and chat with me, Erik, and the rest of the crew at their leisure.

So without further ado, I'd like to introduce Jeff Grubb, whose fingerprints are undoubtedly all over your favorite game settings, regardless of what they might be. In addition to rulebooks like the original Manual of the Planes and D20 Modern, he's been heavily involved in novels, comics, and design work for everything from Magic: The Gathering to Spelljammer, the Forgotten Realms to Unearthed Arcana, Dragonlance to Warcraft. Most recently, he's been hired to write the latest installment for the popular Guild Wars video game series. Little surprise, then, that his fabulous story for Worlds of Their Own, "Catch of the Day," is one of my favorites in the volume. It's a fun, energetic tale of a world where humanity has been forced to the mountaintops, sailing above the thick and dangerous atmosphere of the lowlands in buoyant airships, and in which a certain naive scholar ventures off the maps in an effort to discover the truth behind the phrase "here there be dragons..."

"Fable," said Meridan. "Saga. Epic poetry."

"Lost fact," countered August. "I take it you do not believe in the Lost Times?"

"If you challenge me to deny that man once lived beneath these clouds, I will defer to your greater knowledge. But if you ask me if I am a nostalgic, longing for the past, the answer, I'm afraid, is no."

"I confess surprise," said August. "I always thought of captains as romantics at heart."

"We captains are pragmatics," said Meridan. " You have to be, to survive away from the safe shores of the peaks. You cannot long for the past, I'm afraid, so I leave it to the poets."

"And historians," said August evenly. "So tell me, Captain, what do you think happened to the world? How did it get like this?"

"It doesn't matter much, does it?" said the captain. "The world is as it is, and we just have to live in it."

"I always heard," said Baker, "that there was a crystal heart at the center of the world, and someone broke it and released a cloud that wrapped around the globe."

"Nay, you're daft," said Crossgreves. "They had too much hoojoo. Too much magic. That caused the world to cloud over."

"You're both wrong," added Sandotter. "It just started raining one day and forgot to stop. It's just simple natural processes."

The captain, pouring herself another mug of wine, asked, "So, Mister Gold, how did the world come to be wrapped in clouds?"

"No one knows," said August Gold. "But I think someone killed a god."

There was a silence for a moment around the table, then everyone broke out at once. All except Meridan.

"Really," said Sandotter, with a giggle.

"Now that's daft," said Crossgreves. "Begging your pardon, Scholar."

"It would explain why the Churchmen act like they have a wasp up their kirtles," said Baker, "if somebody killed God."

"Not God," corrected August. "A god. There were many such powerful beings once, the old tales say. Only some being of that magnitude could cause it to start raining and keep raining for a hundred years, wrapping the world in a blanket of clouds such that the only survivors had to hike up the mountaintops and start again. And only killing such a being could release such power."

Crossgreves snorted, but Baker and Sandotter nodded.

"Have you proof of your gods?" asked Meridan.

"No. I don't even have proof of my dragons yet," said August.

"I've been meaning to ask, Mister Gold," said Meridan. "Tell me, how do you intend to prove the existence of your fabled dragons?"

"Why, Captain, I thought you had figured it out, looking at my equipment," said August Gold calmly. "I intend to go fishing for them."

If Jeff Grubb is the face of old-school D&D, Monte Cook is the cutting edge. The award-winning author of the Dungeon Master's Guide and Ptolus, Arcana Unearthed and his own take on World of Darkness, Monte is one of the most respected names in gaming, a legend in his own time. Now, in Worlds of Their Own, he dives into the Lands of the Diamond Throne, the world in which his Arcana books are set, in which giants battle dragons for control of an entire continent...

You said," the dragon noted, raising its head higher, "that you know who I am."

"Oh, yes. Perhaps you thought that such lore had been lost, but the akashics have made sure your crimes would always be remembered. I know who you are, Nithogar the Wicked. Nithogar the Hated. Nithogar the Despoiler."

"These are epithets I must have earned after I left."

"Then how about this one, dragon: Nithogar, creator of the dramojh." Out of habit, Re-Magul spat as he said both "dragon" and "dramojh."

Nithogar flexed his wings. "You know nothing of it, Hu-Charad."

"Nothing?" Re-Magul's eyes flared. "You are ancient, it is true, but I am no mere youth. I was there when the stone ships arrived on these shores, one of the first off the boats. I remember the battles with the dramojh—the so-called 'dragon scions.' I battled their dark sorcery and demonic powers. I saw friends and relatives die in their claws and teeth. They scuttled out of the shadows and they raped this land like nothing before them or—thank all the singers in the Houses of the Eternal—since."

"So your kind dealt with the dramojh. I am aware of that. And you were some kind of leader in your campaign against them. What do you want from me—gratitude? So be it. Thanks to you, giant, and to all your kind."

And with a sneer, he added quickly: "Now be on your way."

Re-Magul recoiled. No one had ever spoken to him like that regarding the hated dramojh.

The dragon pointed to the east with a long, sharp claw. " Your ancestral home lies in that direction." He lowered his talon and added, "I trust your vaunted sailing craft still work."

"I know where my homeland lies, beast! I left everything and everyone there to come here to deal with the chaos you created."

"Really, giant. Is that so? And what made the dramojh your problem? I recognize that they were an abomination, but why do you, hailing from across the boundless sea, care about such matters?"

"We are the wardens of the land!"

"We are the land!"

The shouted words of both giant and dragon echoed dully across the landscape. Each could feel the fevered breath of the other. Re-Magul trembled with anger, while the only change in the dragon's demeanor was an intensity of color growing behind his narrowed eyelids...

James Sutter
Planet Stories Editor