The Creative Process

I don't talk much about my creative process, but here's a wee bit. A dream I had last night - a dream that's going to be a great old-school adventure.

Long before there was a material plane, a winged serpent flew through the ethereal - a serpent of unimaginable size, a serpent of an age older than that of the ethereal itself. A great serpent, immune to all trials and travails excepting time itself. At the moment of death, it spoke a single word, the only word it had ever spoken in its ageless eons: begin.

As death claimed the great winged serpent, it's body sundered into thousands of millions of pieces - each fleshy piece covered with the blood of the mighty serpent. Its scales too scattered throughout the ether, some landing upon the bloody surfaces of the pieces of the serpent.

And thus, the material plane was born, from the flesh of a gigantic winged serpent. Planets from it's flesh, oceans from its blood, and upon the lucky planets, scales. For the scales of the serpent contained its intelligence, power, and life essence, and over uncounted ages the scales seeded those lucky planets with life.

Some say these gigantic scales still float upon the sea, magnificent intelligent islands of creation. Islands that control every aspect of their living terrain. Islands that test those who land upon their shores - test them to see if they are worthy of the life bestowed upon them by an eld serpent from eons prior.

I think I'm going to have fun with this one - The Floating Isle Quhultassyth. It'll be a tough write, but something that I believe will be worth it.