Marinosphere: The Saltsea
Gahla's surface is comprised of a single expansive ocean with almost no solid ground to speak of. The exceptions are the glacial megacontinent, Fryggidos, the muddy floodswamps of Karthina, and a few rare spires, stacks, and rocky arches that protrude from the otherwise featureless waters. Not only is the saltsea nearly devoid of dry land, most of it is also unknowably deep. This means that there are very few places where marine plants can take root, or where coral can accumulate, while also enjoying the lifegiving rays of the sun. Only when an ayrland falls from the sky, and crashes into a shallower part of the ocean do temporary islands and reefs appear. They are, however, swiftly eroded or swept away after a decade or so. During the day, the Saltsea is a roiling blue expanse of hundred-foot-tall waves, meandering waterspouts, and tangled forests of floating kelp. It is extremely treacherous to sail, and any parts that are exposed to sunlight will quickly begin to boil until covered by the shade of the clouds that rise upwards to patch any gaps in the Nuvesea. At night, the waters are more calm, though hardly safer. Creatures that depend on sunlight to see are now at the mercy of those who have devised other means of finding prey. Deepsea monsters beyond description rouse from slumber and probe the surface for easy pickings with great barbed tentacles. Where pockets of aether have settled on the surface, Lumes gather to feast, forming great sheets of glowing blue that shimmer and ripple with motion of the waves. Come the next dawn, these same lume pools will send thick clouds of aquamarine brillemist floating up into the sky.