Watch the Sky is a piece of fiction for Hoardreach: The City of Wyrms, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

Jelbut watched someone duck down and cower, practically clutching the stones of the road, as a glider buzzed the street in East Town, followed by a wyvern on its tail; the glider’s pilot and the wyvern seemingly involved in an aerial form of tag. No-one else on the street seemed bothered; most didn’t appear to be paying the aerial duo the slightest bit of attention.

“You can always tell out of towners who have never been here before.” Jelbut remarked to their companion Benior. “Always so nervous about the antics in the air above, expecting one of the gliders to crash into the street below and, especially, their own precious body.”

“That has happened in the past,” Benior reminded Jelbut. “Some of those pilots are not as good as they think they are, and some of the natural flyers are rather less bothered about hitting the ground than they should be. There have been a few incidents.”

“Sure, but it’s not like it’s an everyday occurrence.” Jelbut continued. “More the exception than the rule. Besides, what benefit will you get from cowering? That’s not going to help you if a wyvern lands on your head. Never mind something larger and heavier. Once people have visited a few times, I’ve noticed they become far less worried that something will happen. Worrying over something you can’t control that will probably not happen has never done anyone the slightest bit of good. That’s the path to an early grave.”

“There are some necromancers of the Silver Wraiths from Moüd in the city.” was Benior’s response. “I’m sure they could find a use for someone whose driven themselves into an early grave from worrying about crashing wyverns. Well, it probably wouldn’t involve a grave at that.”

Jelbut laughed as they continued, and the out of towner they were watching stood up, brushed themselves off and looked round them with a nervous grin at their panicked response.

Perhaps next time they saw a flyer coming in low, they would be less nervous about it, Jelbut thought to themself.

Profanity Heralds Discovery is an introductory piece of fiction for Silkgift: The City of Sails, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

The shout was a combination of frustration and surprise. It wasn’t followed by an explosion, or a cry of pain, though, so it clearly wasn’t an emergency. Taggart put his tools down, took off the protective lenses he wore and ambled across the hall with his bow-legged stride. The night was dragging on, and the other workshops had emptied out for the night. It seemed that only he and his neighbor were burning moonlight oil, as the saying went. The dwarf rapped his heavy knuckles on the door frame of the workshop, and peered in.

“Everything all right, Ella?” he asked.

“I’ve still got all my fingers and toes, if that’s what you’re asking,” Ella replied. The dark-haired halfling was sitting on the work bench, her head in her hands and her feet dangling.

Taggart stepped over the threshold, taking in the scene. Ella’s workspace had the messy look of a well-loved kitchen, where the clutter had a thread of rhyme and reason to it if one tilted their head and squinted. Her burner had been banked, and on top of it was an iron pot filled with some kind of thick, viscous goop. It smelled like bone meal and sawdust, with a hint of potpourri.

“Bad result?” Taggart asked.

“I bumped the dried spider silk threads with my elbow,” Ella said. “Caught the bottle, but not before half of it spilled in.”

Taggart wrinkled his nose as a bubble burst in the gloop, releasing a puff of strangely scented air. He rubbed his mustache, smoothing it down over his lip. Ella blew out a long breath, moving her hands to the sides of her head, rubbing at her temples.

“There’s something somebody once told me that might be good to keep in mind, Ella,” Taggart said.

“What’s that?” the halfling asked, her eyes closed as she tried to stave off a headache.

“Profanity heralds discovery,” Taggart said, chuckling.

Ella looked up at him. Her expression was less than pleased. “Chalk it out for me? I’m not in a mood for riddles.”

Taggart glanced at the experiment again. He pursed his lips, drawing his thumb over his mustache again. When he was sure Ella was listening, not just humoring him, he smiled at her.

“Just because something you made doesn’t do what you want doesn’t make it useless. So think about that before you toss it in the midden heap and start over.” Taggart yawned, covering his mouth with his fist. “I was at a good breaking point anyway. You want to split a pot of dark?”

“Pretty sure I’m going to need it,” Ella said.

Taggart nodded, clumping back the way he’d come. Ella could hear him filling his kettle, and spooning out the strong tea he kept in a can. She glanced over at the thick glop her experiment had become, and frowned at it. She lifted the stirring stick, and watched as the liquid slowly dripped from the tip.

Was there something she could do with it after all?

Fixing the Problem is a piece of fiction for Silkgift: The City of Sails, one of the supplements for Cities of Sundara, which is available in versions for 5th Edition and Pathfinder.

Mormout Bronzeforger pondered the plans for the new water clock laid out on the table. He looked across at the workbench where several of the pieces of the clock were neatly laid out; carefully-wrought pieces of bronze in unusual shapes.

“Hmm.” ruminated the dwarf. Mormout knew what he was attempting to accomplish with the clock, which was planned for a new installation in Noonbrook, with a deadline that was rapidly getting closer, but something just wasn’t working quite right. There didn’t seem to be a fault in the plans, but the most recent test hadn’t worked correctly. Which is why the water clock was once again in pieces. Carefully arranged, well machined pieces, but pieces all the same.

“Hmm.” pondered Mormout again, repeating himself. “I wonder…”

The dwarf picked up one of the cogs that was used to drive the water clock. To the untrained eye, it looked perfectly fine. Beautifully machined, in fact. To Mormout’s eye, it looked good as well, but there was something about it…

Mormout retrieved one of his finer tools from the set of drawers positioned next to the table where the clock was laid out. He used it to examine the clock much more carefully. This time, he found it. An ever so tiny error in the machining, a slight burr to the cog that was stopping it working as smoothly as it should.

Mormout’s beard twitched in a slight smile. The equivalent of a broad grin on someone else. This was it; he was sure of it. He started making the cog as perfect as it looked.

The next test would be fine. No doubt about it.