The SisterWorlds are an overarcing story concept that encompasses a number of fictional worlds that serve as a background for ongoing, original fiction that is dynamic and multifaceted. The site contains considerable background, 'fluff', concepts, and ideas that have been created for the story backdrop, all contributed by a host of writers and players. Contributors have included 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: 22AUG2010, IX-4-8, The Curse of the Ruins of Ranis.

Fandremos paused, looking at the tears streaming down the paladin's cheeks while he gazed out upon the low tables. The paladin's eyes lighted on Fandremos' for a moment, and the two exchanged a look. Fandremos saw in those eyes the same awful loss there, as he felt in his heart. The old soldier envied the bastard paladin's ability to cry, and let go his pain. Fandremos, son of Jeldarn, looked deep into the dark depths of his tankard, again, and then drained the tar-caulked wood cylinder. The old soldier sat his tankard down heavily on the table, feeling the flush fan out from his throat and his gut. His nose glowed merrily, and he smirked. Fandremos knew how to hold his liquor, but somehow, he could not seem to remember how many times the serving wench had filled his tankard from the tun she carried on her shoulder. That bothered the old soldier more than he was willing to admit.

-excerpt from The Unmanned Table (17th of Trivor, 1329 Avard), by Joe Parish