Science Fantasy born of the sole stimulus, Rule of Cool

[I am the Hashka]

Sword and Gun in the stars, aface to face with blade and whit, sinews of chemically boosted iron, an attempt and preamble for my work of love campaign setting "Eternal and Everpresenc is Humanity.
This thread is to pick apart and seek further concepts to use for the campaign hewn together from Deathstalker, Iron Lords of Jupiter, Barsoom, He-Man (and Masters of Umdaar) as well as Cryptark, Adventures In Space Garbage and Book of the New Sun among my own attempts further, now to be translated to D20 (Pathfinder) fused with Fate. Please critique, query or suggest as needed, there are numerous motes I left out.

Mankind was born alone in the cosmos a thinking beast, yet amid the innumerate ages from genesis, he spanned the stars, sundering and ressurecting himself. From his artifice came the "Roll Engine" the flickering instant transmission system now connecting the cosmos. Genes warped and flensed into desired shapes, There is little that man has not touched, and less of Earth remains amid the distant empires aspan ten galaxies. At some point prior and lost in the ashes of old worlds man's artifice became limitless. Distance meant nothing when a Roll or Scrape Engine warped space, instant transposition across the cosmos, across worlds. Buildings rose, single houses connected to ten worlds, a room under an Ivory sun, a kitchen in the light of a binary violet. With artifice and the mechanisms of older man left, came a sloth of descendants. Gates grew silent, and arbitrary limits of Roll-Ships manifested. Numerous long nights across a cosmos, technology lost, genes melded and broken. Empires manifested nascent power to bind the universe, at gun once, before the blade remained en power. Mankind had become degenerate, barbarians hoarding the Doors across Space, the ancient weapons of range and missile subsumed and supplanted by the fencers art, of shield dancing and sword, the rare gun a salvaged, crude thing of high caliber and great danger. Amid the arbarian clans of the world, some hold technology of steam, fusion, or even pocket dimension. Man is alone and turning upon itself in the name of a thousand ideals, whether betusked sages, augmented void dwellers, or artificer giants. What few remain are the Guilds, ancient groupings maintaining technology, exploration, and controlling hte scape of wars. Man is a feudal beast with monarchal and aristocratic parlaiments contorlling the innumerate variations of humanity, and fighting eachother and themselves over space, resources, and faith. It is an uncertain, crude time. It is the time of the blade, the wit, and the daring.

The Universe known is ten galaxies, crossed by precision use of the Roll Engine. Technology is degenerated, with aircraft and stone castles, nanogenic computers and fencing schools and maille coats existing aside. Man has degenerated, reliant on self perpetuating, or mechanically simple systems, often modified with errant inventions, such as liquid blades, nanodust, and ultrasharp blades. Ancient structures and self perpetuating machines astrewn planets, stars and the ebony atween with countless structures, from bridges between stars populated by daggermaster hermits, to the rare missile battery left guarding the horizon of a nebula long compressed into a protostar. Man ranges from vatformed brutes, to eyeless mystics, augmented space farers, or animal admixtures with a thousand thousand different shapes and states. War has been supplanted by simple weapons, impellor locks, firepikes, and blades. Shields had long stopped innacurate warfare, and a gun is oft the first volley or an ambush weapon for the steaming streets of a lowtown brawl, before blades are drawn. The Iterna Confederation itself is noted as one of the few remaining producers of missile weapons, with magnetic locks, grenades and the rarest of all, heavy repeaters in some use among elite troops. Stone and wood return, oft spliced and interspersed with steam and nanogenics, entire primitive clans living under a shielded dome in the lower levels of a gas giant, or astride a walking city amid a star's face. Man is primitive, and adorned the glyphs of a God. Barbarity is common, starvation and war constant and raging, unified armies oft appearing instantly and rending apart entire planets in hours, yet man endures, if only to scar and be rended again. Amid man's innumeracy, comes artifice. Steam and flesh are mastered, entire stars held in false life and astrewn over with steam and mechanisms plunging into the Atomfire Hells within. Man's genes sundered from efforts arcane and eugenic, nobilitiy and wanders often barely akin of flesh to those they rule, the sole measure of mankind itself broken over a godless wheel. With time has come the awaking of the mind to matters telepathic and psionic, or even rarer yet the subroutines of reality, true, horrific an gloried magery slung from ancient and new lines of sorcerors, often warped to conduct the throbbant reality straining high of a spell or even the strange, gargling tendrils of something outside reality.
From magic comes machinery, augmented men and the descendants of build races clash over starving, crude worlds with barely an once of blackpowder a continent. Fusion steam driven trains aspan entire solar systems or vast, hardlight bridges that flicker and dance amid themselves wtiht the errant motions of stars. Implants of liquid data or chemical glands are yet ubiquitous amid the fighting, funloving, and frightening. Man is a twisted thing, with even errant pleasure subjected to the waxing of time, Time the sole inhabitance, an untread path only errantly ministrated in alien orbits, or the rare perception augmenting implants turning an hour to seconds, or a jiffy to an eon in the name of experience. From the steelfleshed sons of the Imperito House of Jova, to the beastmen ubiquitous to Technobarbaric worlds, Robotic Shipmen born from ancient self aware voidsuits, or even those converted to raw energy from trans dimensional exposure. One binding comes amid man, the apex of construction. Yet never made by man as he knows himself, the innumerate objects of power, keys to War and Wandering Pace of Man in foreign realities, the Blades Absolute.

Star Swords, Godly Foci, the Blades Absolute, Keys of the Cosmos Unseen, these are the epithets amid the countless of the blades, each a vast, alien weapon made for nonhuman hands, if only in subtleties and weighting. Each bears a distinct method to slay and protect, from weaponized sounds that cut the ears of what hear it drawn, to a rather infamous example that used entropy itself as an edge, piercing anything in any known reality, to the less linear, the Night Stilled, a cloud of trans dimensional glass conjuring a maelstrom that cuts the innate threads of physics binding an object, or the "Touch Of the Broken Throne" using coutner momentum and inertia to produce and distort trajectory and motion with the subtlety of an Atomic Salvo across entire continents. Yet, aside offence is another means, the bearers of these Absolute Blades bear a second role, for each sword manifests a pseudomechanical frame known as "The Panoply" from a suit of living glass, a cloud frame that burns light itself into it's HEat Death, or a Spheric Armature of hard sound, about the user. These blades oft induce strange gnarls of physics aside even their mighty abilities, with Kings, the ascent of Empires reflected in each "Blade" as well as the end of such in the end of an arcing swing. Yet here come the mist shrouded protagonoi, making gelt and seeking glory in a fluidic and furious cosmos, here comes you, to seek the Blades for whatever means! Onward to sundering of the stars themselves in your path and dulling in your wake.

[Aeolus Wind King]

Okay so I didn't read that. Before I do could you use some formatting to break it up a little. BOLD could be helpful and also probably some spoilers. Gives you less of a

MAAAAAASSSSSSIIIIIVVVVEEE
TEEEEEEEXXXXT
BLOOOOOCCCCKK

sort of feel to it.