On Loria Broadly:
The Sky
The heavens of Loria are restless. They guide crops, command tides, and set the rhythm of superstition. Yet they do not obey the steady rules known elsewhere. The sun burns a shade deeper, the moons wander in their own peculiar cadence, and the galaxy sprawls so bright that no night is truly dark.
The Star of Loria
The sun of this world is not the white blaze of Earth but a warmer, golden-amber fire. Its light carries more red and yellow, bathing stone and forest in a glow that seems older, heavier. Days feel long but not harsh; shadows stretch deeper, colors sink richer. Farmers say this warmth feeds the great fungi as much as rain does, and that the land itself grows restless when clouds hide it too long.
The Three Moons
Loria’s sky is governed by three moons, each distinct in color, orbit, and lore.
Talvaris is the largest — silver-grey, cratered, and bright enough to cast hard shadows. It is called the Keeper, for it steadies the tides and marks the calendar.
Cynvara is smaller, pale-rose in hue. It glows softly, sometimes dimming to a mere smudge, other times burning bright as a lantern. Traders and thieves alike mark its rising as a sign of change.
Orriven is the strangest: icy blue, slow in its path, and visible even in daylight. Its faint rings halo the sky on cold nights, and sailors swear its pull stirs deep currents no map can track.
Their combined gravities make the seas unpredictable, floods sudden, and rivers restless. On nights when all three rise together — a chorus sky — the land itself seems to pause. Shadows sharpen, animals still, and even the Valemire mists retreat as if listening.
The Stars and Constellations
Beyond the moons, the firmament is astonishing. Loria’s skies have little haze and almost no smoke to dim them. The galaxy swathes the heavens like a river of fire, brighter than any Milky Way charted on Earth — bands of green, pink, and gold gas clouds weaving among millions of visible stars.
Constellations are vivid and varied. Some are familiar patterns — hunters, serpents, crowns — while others resist comparison: a broken wheel, a chair that is always empty, a spiral that seems to turn when stared at too long. Every culture reads the constellations differently, but all agree they are closer, brighter, and more alive than should be possible.
Falling Lights
Meteors streak often, bright enough to leave trails that linger for minutes. Whole showers arrive without warning, painting the night in arcs of flame. Comets too are common, some trailing colored vapors that glow for weeks. Sailors call them sky-serpents and change their courses when one appears. Priests call them omens, while farmers simply count them and wager on their number.
Seasons and Skyweave
The moons and the star together divide the year into four seasons:
- The Wake — when Cynvara rises earliest, and rains renew the land.
- Highlight — Talvaris’ reign, bright and dry, when trade flows fastest.
- The Wane — Orriven lingers high, cooling air and shortening days.
- Shroud — nights grow long, the sky glows oddly at the horizon, and folk carry charms against sky-born ills.
During Shroud, another wonder appears: the Skyweave. Curtains of colored light ripple across the night, shifting in time with the moons’ paths. Greens, violets, and pale golds dance across the firmament, sometimes so bright they paint rivers and rooftops below. Scholars argue whether these are gases, energies of the Myrrhn, or some reflection of the Underroot far beneath. None agree, and none deny their beauty.
Philosophy of Place
The sky of Loria is not backdrop. It changes mood like a creature with its own will. Farmers plant by it, sailors pray to it, and priests claim to read its intentions in silence.
It does not always answer, but it always watches.