Friends At The Table

I want you to close your eyes and imagine with me: Imagine Realis Itself, the Radiant Planet at the heart of the Thousand Moons, that orb which lights the cosmos entire. Above it, the betrayer star, the Corpse Sun, red and sick and pulsing ill, small and fainter by the day. Below it, hungry and roiling, the Great Void, an abyss of voracious clouds. And in between, those thousand moons, countless except you know their number. Varied eternally, yet all dwarfed by the azure orb around which they glide. And there, bring them to mind too: Four colorful moons, spinning and buzzing and twirling around each other. Do you remember their names? The names of the Tetraspherica? The Speckled Quartet, the Marbled Quartenion? Those spinning, glorious jewels—unique even among all thousand of the moons of Realis? Let me tell remind you: Placid Ulled. World of farms, of cultivation, of soil—and of what lies beneath it. The Crux. A vast colosseum world where victory, glory, and power have been rendered equivalent. Prisma