Through Your Smoke

A expanse of continent unchanged by time. Labyrinths and forest that have been before any remember. Mountain ranges that never wear with age, rivers that never break from their eternal course. Guarding the permanent landscapes are the Elementals, spiritual embodiments of nature. They wander through the passing of time, recording the slow changes of those who reside on this strange middle ground. Here, the mythical and magic reside alongside the undead and lost. Artifacts lost to time wash up on the shores alongside the socks that disappear in washing machines. Humans who wandered into fairy circles sit with dwarves and elves that forsake the mortal realm entirely. Ghosts and spirits are as natural as the rolling fog. With the abundance of magic users, magic is merely a trade like tailoring and smithing. Lives for the people are unchanging and slow across the continent. Any desire for conquest and wealth seems silly in the eternal pace the "Middle Realm" treads along. The elementals no longer remember their beginnings, they have existed beside everything for so long. People do not age as they do in the mortal realm, and death is merely a friend. There has been so much history and they have seen so much that there is too much to consider, comprehend and see. Their original purpose seems lost and they fall apart trying to amuse themselves in other ways. But, when an the elemental of smoke dies, the concept of eternal existence begins to slowly crumble. As people's driving motivations are uncovered, they are forced to reconcile with what has value, meaning, and maybe, find something that will last. Something that is truth.