The SisterWorlds are a group of fictional worlds that serve as background settings for ongoing stories and role-playing campaigns. The site exists under one aegis, but contains information contributed by professional veterinarians, sailors, archaeologists, historians, sociologists, physicists, and more. The site is, in essence, a continually evolving story balanced by cutting-edge breakthroughs in research. The SisterWorlds have been in existence since 1996, and are continually being added to and expanded upon.

Most of the fiction centers around Gaeleth's nation of Rakore, which was described by one individual as 'the America of fantasy worlds' – a melting pot of ideas and races and concepts, all under a banner of freedoms for the individual. The Gaeleth campaigns in general, and more specifically, the Rakore campaigns, have caused the creation of several megabytes worth of text, special maps, games modules, and more. As the site is under continual revision, new pieces of fiction and story concepts are constantly being added.

New readers should visit the Stories section to see if anything there catches their fancy, while returning readers might do well to visit the Campaigns segment to see what fiction has been most recently added.

The site also includes non-fiction information on Earth to serve as comparisons to fictional worlds. One of the more continually updated portions of the Earth entry includes the 'Geohammers' – geological events that changed the course of history both for the planet, and for humanity.

Update: SAT26APR2012, IX-4-67, Rainy Return. The team gets holed up in Fasra during a rain storm.

Lord Captain Seamus Stonehelm was in an ill temper as he stalked through the streets of Gridolyn. He had been pulled away from his current quest by his superior, Lord Prat. Whatever it was about, it had to be urgent and serious for Prat to order him to temporarily abandon his quest and friends like this. People cleared his path like magic as he walked through the heart of the business district with his peculiar gait. Seamus walked with a strange mingling of grace and stubbornness that set him apart from any other Elf on the planet. He was Elven by birth but raised by a Dwarven clan that had found him; to say that he was unique was a bit of an understatement.

Seamus had few friends, but the ones he had were like family to him, and now, now he had been pulled away from them when the quest they had been on for nearly two years was showing signs of completion. He didn't engage in idle speculation as to what could be so ugent as to pull him away from it, Prat wouldn't do so unless it were a dire situation indeed. It wasn't ego that caused Seamus to think this way, it was knowledge of fact, the Quest to find Al Mudin was the highest priority in the land right now, even higher than fighting the Ogarian forces that had recently invaded Rakore. Seamus wanted badly to be on the frontlines to help stop the hated Ogres and their Orc allies, but the Quest took priority. Until now.

“I swear by the Lady, if they've gone and mucked something up and misread the bloody prophecy or something, I'll knock someone's bloody skull in meself.” Seamus muttered to himself in Dwarven. He had no patience for any sort of unneccesary delays, this prophecy had already cost several lives, and he wanted to find the blasted artifact before it cost more.

Seamus had, by now, arrived at the small castle that served as Lord Prat's home. The guards didn't stop him, they merely presented arms with their halberds and allowed him to pass. He stomped his way into the great hall where Prat was busy dealing with several other people at the moment. He veered slightly off course to grab a tankard of ale from a side counter before he resumed his course toward Prat. Prat caught sight of him and immediately broke off his current conversation and made his way over to Seamus, meeting him halfway across the room. “You made good time Captain, I trust the voyage went well?”

“As well as could be expected.” Seamus allowed as he took a sip of the ale, “What's the bloody flap that pulled me back here, then?”

“Another prophecy…” Prat said tiredly, “And it involves a location that only you have been to… the Halls of the Pixie Queen.”

“Bloody Hell!” Seamus muttered before taking a long gulp of the ale.

-excerpt from New Beginnings, Late Davor 1329 Avard, Written by Harry 'Mac' MacKenzie (all rights reserved).