Limbo

A shifting stew of elements and ideas: continents of coral-glass blink into sea; mountains molt into rope bridges; rain becomes text and then soup. Islands of held thought, monasteries, foundries, floating markets, persist where someone (or something) keeps paying attention.   Limbo is an ocean of idea-foam: color, heat, rock, rain, language, and living rumor churning into and out of shape. Gravity is local and moody. Time is mostly steady but pebbled: you hit pockets that run fast, slow, or sideways for a few heartbeats. Sound carries too well or not at all. Maps are poems here, not diagrams.  

Common geologies

Possibility Reefs

Honeycombed lattices that remember footsteps (advantage to track, then forget you if you stop thinking about them).  

Borrowed Skies

A fragment uses your memory of a horizon as its dome; change your mind, change the weather.  

Mantra Spires

Needle-thin towers of script where pilgrims chant to keep the stairs existing.  

Notable Locations

The Unlibrary

A library of books not yet written. Each tome requires you to think the missing parts into place as you read. Lose focus, lose the page. Great for inspiration, terrible for citation.  

The One Minute City

A market that assembles when sixty heartbeats agree to meet. It sells exactly what those hearts hoped for—and then forgets to exist.  

Monastery of the Still Splash

Built atop a single undisturbed drop of water the size of a keep. The abbot can hold it for a week; initiates learn to stand on it for a breath.  

The Argument

A thunderhead made of two contradictory laws. Lawyers from Dis come here to vent clausesm sometimes they go home changed.  

Xaos Conduit

The sanctioned gate from the Outlands. Its name, shape, and fee schedule change daily; the rhythm of its toll never does.  

Freefold Archipelago

A drifting chain of stabilized isles, where hostels, gardens, a courthouse grown from accorded promises can be found. Falls apart if the community’s bylaws are abandoned.  

The Gyre of Unnumbers

A storm of dead equations; step in with an unsolved problem, step out with either a solution—or a new superstition.  

Serac of Days

A comet-glacier made of paused moments; chip off a shard to gain a one-round “hold” on time (if you can stomach the backlash).  

Maw of Whispers

The loudest silence in Limbo... an ever-open throat to Pandemonium. Your thoughts echo there and return slightly edited.  

The Aleph Null

A polychrome bloom said to be the faintest echo of the First Word’s vowel. Looking into it teaches you a truth you cannot use twice.  

Travel

The creature, must pick a subjecive 'down' in order to move or even move at all without 'imagining' Down,  

Inhabitants

The most common there, are the Proteans, who are Limbo’s native serpent-shapers, half philosophy, half hunger. They curate and cull experiments, detest “finished” things, and sometimes mentor mortal anarchs who show promise.  

Anarch Hermitages

Still-minded orders who chant floorboards into place and brew tea that stays tea. They teach travelers breathing and focus so your camp doesn’t turn into bees mid-sleep.  

Flux Guilds

Artisans who cast possibility into prototypes, then export designs to more stable planes for manufacturing.  

The Protean Chorus

Serpentine philosophers of change; they sing topography into being and debate it into ruin. Treat with respect or be remixed.  

Petitioners of Maybe

Souls whose last purpose was exploration over outcome. They drift, try shapes on like cloaks, and sometimes anchor into saints of improvisation.  

Azatas

While not as numerous as others, there are quite uncommon in Limbo.  

The Chorus of Molting Names

Change is the only kindness.

Proteans trade safe passage for stories you haven’t told anyone yet.

Anyone can try to “pin” reality around themselves, espacially those of Psionic capabilities;   In addition there are other phenomena:

Coalescence Showers

Minutes-long rains of usable matter (timbers, bricks, tools) that evaporate unless incorporated into a shaped structure.  

Cacophony Fronts

Spoken words become objects for 1 minute (a “bridge” falls as a plank unless you keep talking).  

Reversion Gusts

Unattended objects try to return to simpler states (steel sweats iron, books unprint into blank codices).

When the Words of Creation set law, there was overflow, clauses, edge cases, and untyped potential that no gear would accept. That slosh became Limbo: a roiling substrate where intention is the only gravity. It is not “opposed” to order so much as prior to it. Deities draft here; mortals daydream here; some never leave.