Ah! A fellow worldbuilder. Gods, are we, to some. To others, mortals with a divine imagination. But to most, we're just normal people, going about our lives with little seeds we call "ideas" lining our pockets. Most of the time, these seeds fall loose, never to be seen again. But some are special. I do my best to cultivate these seeds with promises of success, hoping they live to see the day the players at my table shout chants of victory or tears of mourning as a legend is born within it.   As a worldbuilder, it is my duty to lay the very foundation of a campaign. When I was a baby game-master, the most common issue I faced was the question "where is that?" followed by "where are we in relation to that?" I was a terrible keeper of maps. I quickly discovered the value a precise geographical layout lends to a successful D&D campaign. And then I took my learning a step further. I wanted a campaign that my players could see as a creation entirely our own. A universe born from naught but a synapse (mis)firing in my brain. After cranking out campaign after campaign of medieval-themed worlds and stories, I craved something new. I set about homebrewing a multiverse. Multiple planes intertwined by a thread of fate, woven beautifully together in harmony until an entity, dormant for eons unnamed, pulled the single vulnerable thread, unraveling it into pure discord. This campaign lasted about 17 months before its ultimate conclusion, and I was very proud of my work. In that time, I came to realize exactly what a world needs to thrive in the hands of tabletop gamers.   Now that I'm on World-Anvil, I hope to share my future works with you all as I create them. I don't expect to publish any of my previous campaigns here, as the jumble of notes and reams of papers I used to create them would take actual decades for me to transcribe to the site.   We start with naught but a seed and a quill. -Tekrin