The Beginning

Enter: A little orphan of a digital planet, or perhaps a rock left behind, clutching only: grey sea; great grey plains; smudgy grey sky; excellent canvas for a self-taught witch to teach herself to portal. 

No citizens, not really. Several million species of fauna; mineral; chemical; flora: most particularly an abundance of moth varieties. All colors of bright lichen spreading over the grubby grey, like little coral reefs on little skipping stones, or perhaps little gorse meadows on little prairie stones. Little flat shrubs with spikes and spines no higher than a witch’s knee; little merry putrid pools.

Halfway down-coast was a sun-bleached blown-over old human outpost, short-lived, long-dead, just its own grey bones now, no ghosts, no echos. Its landscape had been allowed to remain relatively undisturbed over its lifetime, neither violence nor ritual bore ruin.

The wind brought the skyship down; in lieu of a proper landing pad was the flattest piece of carbon on the flattest bluff the witch could find.