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The Quasielemental Plane of Salt is a treacherous and deadly place, but one of the easiest entrances to the inner and outer planes from the Prime Material Plane. It has several regions described below.
The Laws
There's about as much of this on Salt as there is light. The unwritten rule of course, is never touch another man's water. Messing with anyone's water supply is about the quickest way into the dead-book. The mining towns are few and far between, and so are their laws. The Harmonium just doesn't come out here much, so it's true frontier justice. In some burgs, killing someone just for cheating at dice or even starting a fight is considered fair, so rogues best beware, because it's a dangerous place to be a thief.
The quasi's assault the mines and the settlements, but I think it's more out of thirst then any outrage at us stealin' salt from 'em. And better believe it, berk, there's magical in some of that salt too.
Powers know there's plenty to go around.
The Hazards
The main concern of a traveler here is keepin' his water inside his body. The plane itself sucks the liquids from you [doing 2d6 damage per round] and absorbs the water you carry with you. The plane corrupts potions and even holy water, unless the makers know the secrets of how to protect them. Protection against Salt is even harder to find then that of most of the inner planes, as it ain't really needed anywhere else.
The Magic
Most dwarves ain't to keen on magic, but I've been planewalking just a little too long to buy into that. Well, wouldn't you figure, magic dealing with elemental water just doesn't work here. Even priests have a hard time getting around this aspect of the driest spot in the planes. The halflings have figured a way, and any spellslinger who learns the secret of the spell keys can make himself rich real fast. The problem there is, the spell keys are liquids themselves, which need to be poured out onto the crystal ground.
The Gravity
This one's a kicker. In some parts of the plane there's gravity, in some there aren't. Even the spots that have it can be different, one might be like the plane of Air, one like Pandemonium, and one being normal, like the Outlands. Maps you get here will usually also say how gravity works in a specific area, but most of the draining land just ain't mapped.
The Salty Core[]
Anhydra[]
Anhydra is the home of a unique race of humanoids, called the anhydrans. They make their home in a circular air pocket deep within the heart of the plane of Salt. This air is exceptionally dry and hard for other creatures to breathe (all operate at -4 Constitution while here).
The anhydrans are a peaceful race about the size and shape of halflings, but much more gaunt. They live here because of a unique weakness of theirs that does not allow them to exist elsewhere. Anhydrans have no body fluids. Some strange sort of magical energy takes the place of blood in their bodies, and it has a violent reaction to water. So much as a drop of water landing on an anhydran will kill him. Any liquid that contains water (such as blood) will have the same effect. Even the breath of a human or demihuman is enough to kill or injure any anhydrans nearby, because of the moisture it contains. The plane of Salt is the only place these folk feel even remotely safe.
Anhydrans are LG or NG in alignment, and will not attack any visitors. This is as much due to a pacifistic philosophy as due to self-interest, since any bloodshed could easily kill the whole community.
A portal to anhydra appears in random places throughout the material plane every once in a while, so visitors are not unknown. There is much pain and suffering when this occurs. Anhydran physiology is so different from most other races that few services can be offered. The anhydrans have a rich culture, and exquisite salt sculptures the likes of which are found nowhere else are in Anhydra.
Note: Anhydra is intended to present a moral dilemma to PCs. Their very existence causes harm and death to the natives, who have harmed no-one. Does this make the PCs evil, because of the suffering they cause? Are they still good, since they have not actively chosen to do harm? Can they be morally blameworthy for breathing, an involuntary action? What is it that makes the difference between good and evil?
The Barren Fields[]
None know whom it was who created the land where Mother Water banished the Wol'ridae to, but it seems that it is the creation of an ancient prime wizard, long absent even before our arrival. The land covers endless days of travel, the cavern top above looming dangerously close in some places, while ascending to far to be seen in others. Dunes, mesas, and other desert terrain fill the Barren fields, reminding many travelers of the harshest of deserts. The realm has it's own gravity, and it's proximity to the Saline Sea allows several small rivers to flow. Foolish is the traveler who believes the water a salvation however, for its waters are as corroded and poisonous as any of those that form the border with Mother Water.
Two twin orbs light the lands, small pockets of elemental radiance, which wander about the sky in a slow, seemingly random fashion. Thus, day is nearly constant. However, there are periods where it may seemas night, as both orbs are far across the dunes. The Wol'ridae have named these orbs Suntop and Ember.
In the middle of the trackless dunes, a great black castle rises from the salt. None know who lived here, but most believe it to be the residence of the mage that created the realm. Its obsidian halls are empty now, only ruins left behind. Outside the castle, the bones of a great dragon bask in the orbs' glow, for this castle is never without their light.
Many animentals walk these lands, most being Salt's version of desert animals. Most travelers know already to beware the snakes and scorpions, but extra care must be taken here, for they can grow to truly monstrous sizes. Mephits also make their homes here, but quasielementals are few, and can expect only a quick death at the hands of the Wol'ridae.
The Wol'ridae travel throughout these lands, as we do the rest of Salt, but our home is here. Around the nexus of two saline rivers, Hubris and Humility, one will find Redemption, our only permanent settlement. Here our clerics lead our people in search of a return to the graces of Mother Water. Their spells purify the waters of the two rivers, allowing our people to live. Merchants pass through occasionally seeking water, crafts, and saltskins, but few outsiders live here permanently.
My people were banished to this land centuries ago, after our hubris led us to demand too much of Mother Water's boundary, which already we selfishly hoarded for ourselves, denying others her salvation. In a great ritual, our clerics sought to destroy the oasis of a rival tribe of humans. Mother Water punished us for our cruelty, banishing our tribe to the Draining Waste to teach us humility. We recognize the sins of our ancestors today, and while we do not welcome outsiders, we deny the mother's salvation to none.
Epsomnia[]
Slick tunnels wind through the expanses of crystallized deadwater. They are dark, they are warm, they are polished, and they are probably the fastest routes through the quasiplane. The guardians of the Epsomnia Tunnels are the Crusty Gods, terrible creatures, the spawn of elementals and unknown demiurges. Generally, they ask for scented waters, or especially sweetwater and potions of healing, as a toll.
The secret of Epsomnia is that the whole place is way too nice. 'Course, it'll still drain you of your water as quickly as any other spot on the plane, but it'll cut down on your travel time like nothing else. Whoosh! You go sliding down its dark meanderings, and you're on the other side before you can say, "Are you going to finish that beer?"
There really doesn't seem to be a drawback, any mysterious disappearances or hidden devouring maws on the other side, nothing. Just a smooth, wild ride that hardly ever makes you sick once you get used to it.
One thing, though: some report strange visions in the darkness, and that they sometimes even come true once you're out. I don't know what to make of that.
The Grinder[]
At the very heart of Salt is the Grinder, the infinitely large source of the plane. The two fantastically large boulders which have been smashing away at themselves for all of eternity have given birth to the quasiplane itself. It is said that when the Grinder finally grinds itself completely, that Water will wash over the plane and it will then cease to exist.
Rumors: Not as infinitely large as they are made out to be (but nonetheless rather imposing), the two perfectly round boulders that make up the Grinder have indeed been smashing at each other for quite a long time. Massive and extremely rough to the touch, the Grinder's purest salt corrodes metal (not mentioning skin) almost instantly. It is nearly impossible to approach the boulders, as the sea of Salt surrounding them is only slightly less potent as the salt the boulders themselves produce - and the incredible cacophony the boulders produce in their eternal crashing is nearly unbearable. Without adequate protection, even swimming near the Grinder is a hazard. Should an enterprising enough cutter be able to get a jar full of this purest of salt, there is no telling what price he might fetch for it.
The Teeth of Maaleh[]
Enormous pillars of ivory thrust through the saltlands, sharply pointed. Salty vulture animentals burrow about, picking the Teeth clear of all other forms of life. Even the fundamentals have very short lifespans here.
You'd never know it from looking at the surface, but Maaleh is the site of the major outpost of the race of Marid on the plane of Salt. The Teeth are hollow, and filled with clear water and a typical coral-and-precious rare material genie dwelling. There's no opening, but the djinn teleport in and out what and who they desire. The maridim are friendly enough to non-saline lifeforms, and are even willing to overlook the salt found in the bodies of most Prime Material natives, so relieved are they to be distracted from the tedium and annoyance of the plane on which they're stationed. They may even aid their visitors in some way, if they are sufficiently amusing and promise to return.
Secrets: These maridim aren't stationed here to gain allies among the quasielementals or to watch the Facets, though there are individuals doing these things as we sit here jabbering. The maridim live in the Teeth because they are confused.
Long ago, they offended some petty saltlord by trying to forcibly impress it into the service of the Padisha. More clever than anything as stable as salt ought to be, the lord managed, through refracted thought and drained reason, to convince the maridim that they were home, and the genies settled down where they stood, wondering what happened to the neighborhood.
They're aware, of course, of their salty surroundings, and frustrated by it. Repeated petitions to their shah to do something about the sudden influx of riffraff in their vicinity have met with no response, and with every pulse it becomes more likely that one of them will go out and give someone a tongue-lashing (and likely become entirely drained).
The Saline Sea[]
Water Water Everywhere, but not a Drop to Drink[]
The Saline Sea is a cloudy semi-ocean, heavy with huge crystals of pure salt. The sea is a strange place, nestled as it is between Salt and Water; for some creatures of Salt it's seen as some sort of fabled heaven, with the comfortable tang of Salt and a plentitude of Water combined. For drier natives of Salt, the wetness here is agony itself. Yet for mortalkind, the water is so laden with corrosive salts that it is deadly poisonous!
For the last powers-know-how-many years, the Saline Sea has been held by water elemental and marid forces with a fairly tight grip. According to a water weird friend of mine, the crystalline facets are trying, in vain at the present time, to reach the Saline Sea and multiply. In fact, chant goes that it was this place that spawned the water weird race.
The brine here is so thick with salt that a human-sized creature can walk across the surface, only knee-deep in liquid, and the density of the solution will support a body's weight. Planewalkers should mind the saltbergs, though; vast blocks of crystal salt that've broken off the Core and now float through the brine. They're apparently immune to being dissolved because the Sea is completely saturated. Salt penguins, brine bears, sloggosh and wading birds thrive in these conditions, as well as pure white salt flamingos, who seem to feed off the caustic salt itself.
Iron Failing []
An isle of decaying metal bobbing in an ocean of brine, Iron Failing is a creaking, cancerous place. The ironburg is a huge construct of metal struggles to stay above the surface of the Saline Sea, and its surface shows the wear of many centuries of corrosive salt eating away at the structure.
The burg is a massive hulk several miles across, knee-deep in crumbling reddish rust. Under the dusty exterior, if a cutter brushes away the dead metal, there's a shiny metallic surface. It's slowly being eaten away by the atmosphere -- Iron Failing is slowly crumbling away and leaving a red-rust trail in the Saline Sea behind it as it floats.
Nobody really knows where the burg came from, or even whether it's natural, divine or constructed by mortal hands -- the place is simply too badly rusted away to be able to tell. Most planewalkers agree that the place looks like it once was some sort of metal city, long-since collapsed. One story goes however, that a fiendish city of steel captured by an archon force was wished here using mighty magics indeed. The remaining fiends soon perished in the hostile environment and the plane itself is slowly destroying the evidence.
Another tale reckons Iron Failing is the birthplace of rust monsters (some reckon rust monsters aren't natural in the first place, but that may not be the case). Indeed, these beasts infest the island, searching for bare surfaces of metal which haven't been corrupted by the salty spray. Failing that, the beasts feast on the copious flakes of rust blowing around. A plumper bunch of fine rust monsters you'll never find. In fact, wizards keen on breeding the things have been known to finance expeditions to capture specimens. Strangely though the rusties here are more aggressive and conniving than the average prime rust monster. Maybe they've picked up a taste of the evil that some historians say used to haunt the burg in its past life.
Seas the Dream[]
Excerpt from the journals of Captain Bligh Tugmarin, a Prime sailor whose personal belongings just turned up in a junk shop on the material plane.
Log of the Iris, Bligh Tugmarin, Commanding Officer
Entry Four, Day 11:
Three days out from Hamlin and trade is beginning without us. At least we aren't the only ones late this year-- we've overtaken the Kracken and are riding with the Devil's Biscuit to port.
Sailing's good this season, wind's sweet and clouds're full of gentle rain instead of storms. Kept pace with The Otter today, though we're the slower ship by far. If I didn't know Suss as well as I do, I'd almost think they weren't trying to beat us into port. Suss'd never hold back, though. If there's a greedier man anywhere on the sea I've never met him. In Derrytown they said he'd hired on a wizard to keep his sails full and divine a safe course, but that's not the Suss I know. He'd sooner part with his head than gold. Still, though, it seems like he's driving soft today, and it's unlike him to be late at all. Ah, we'll catch old Otter in the night if he is holding back. The men'll wake me and we can shout across if we can see her for the bloody fog that blew up.
Entry Four, Day 12:
We should be two days out from Hamlin, but I can see land. A seafront shantytown built of roped bridges and piled buildings. Otter's nowhere in sight, but Devil's Biscuit is still with us. With the wind dead, Old Jake and I pulled to and bumped heads over this. We can't understand what's happened. We've seen white skies before, but ones without clouds? And the men are parched, they've sucked through a week's ration of water in the night. We dropped buckets to boil some fresh, but the water was bitter, poison, not our friendly sea at all.
On top of that, Iris is riding too high. She's listing badly, even with a full load. I ordered Frump to take on some water as ballast and he said the pumps locked up on it. "Crystals in the piston," he said. "Locked tight," he said. God help me if my men ever read this, but their captain is scared. I've never seen anything like this.
The town put out a ship today, it'll be here in hours. I told the men I'd get some rest while I could, that tomorrow I'd never sleep, I'd be so busy cutting deals and making them rich men. Maybe I will. Maybe the ship from the town can explain what's happened. But, God save my soul, what if they can't?
On an open sea in a ridiculously huge cavern of air on the Plane of Salt sits Seas the Dream. It is a waterfront shantytown, built of suspended bridges and stilted buildings. Inspection shows the planks and lines come from one source only-ships that came in and never left. The ships, not only their wood and rope behind, but their cargo, their provisions, and their crews. So those in the burg are master traders, getting what they can for as little as possible, before the incoming ships realize they may not be able to go home.
Rumors: Seas the Dream sits in a sea on the Plane of Salt, sure. But it also sits in an ethereal sea, one plied by Wanderers of the Brine (Salt Genasi) and Prime seamen lost in mists and magic triangles. Sailors come in, but some don't go out.
Secrets: Yep, Seas is a great place to find a deal on some really great items. Heck, most any of the locals would give you their arm for ride out of town. As you can guess, food and water go for a premium. So much of a premium, in fact, that some of the ships that appear to leave don't, really. Why? Humans have a lot of meat on their bones, you know. And elves are so piquant.
The Tears of K'un Lun[]
"It came to be that on an ancient Prime world now lost to existence that a Power of the Sea fell in love with a mortal of the land. The Sea studied and adored this mortal, though could never touch her, for she lived on land. After many years, this mortal the Sea so adored finally took a ginger step into the foam that frothed on a beach. The Sea was overjoyed, and used its mighty tides to pull the mortal closer to it. The sea pulled and pulled, until the mortal was completely submerged - screaming for air and floundering against the waves that so adored her. The mortal drowned, and when the Sea realised what it had done, it cried great tears. These tears exist still on Salt, it is said, where lovers go to seek the solace of the sea's tears to aid in their tearing relationships."
- Nora Twelvetales, Storyteller
Rumors: Five lakes arranged in a vague star formation, the Tears of K'un Lun are each ponderous bodies of water, so rich in salt that a body can actually walk across them and only end up submerged to the ankles. The waters of the lakes are a grand mockery to thirsty travellers of the plane; there is no water to be found in the planes that is less drinkable. Salt Mephits congregate at the lakes and sloggosh herds mill about in the middles of the lakes, dipping their salty beards in the water. They occasionally search for fish that might happen to swim too high in the salty water. The occasional superstitious mortal comes to take a flask full of water in exchange for whatever offering they might be able to make; a tossed coin, a prayer, or even salt being thrown over a shoulder are all common.
Secrets: The Tears of K'un Lun actually are the tears of the sea; so heavily salted and emotionally charged, they seeped their way through the fabric of the planes to rest on Salt. The Tears never dry up, and are nearly impossible to store, due to the high salt content; they quickly eat away at all manner of containers. A canny basher who does find a way to store them will quickly find that his searches for something to aid in his love life weren't in vain. An ingested drop of water from the Tears will allow him to spout poetry and speak as flowery as the Sea to its precious mortal. While causing a sod to suffer mild dehydration and a -2 to Constitution until he drinks a decent amount of water. These tears are also reported to be an ingredient in philters of love.
An estranged proxy of the prime power K'un Lun claims these lakes are holy to her master, and dwells in and around the five lakes. Myrtle, as she is known, does not prevent visitors from exploring the lakes, but will act quickly and with great force to defend the lakes from harm. She's also been known to help weary travellers who need shelter by providing them with conjured food and water, in exchange for them listening to the sad story of K'un Lun. The Tears aren't strictly a realm of the power, but in the godsforsaken plane of Salt, any connection to divinity is considered special.
The Stagnant Sea[]
Watch your Step![]
Muck and filth, frozen-but-not-cold, crusty and dried into thin sheets disguised as land; that's the Stagnant Sea. Less water and more treacherous mud, the "sea" is really a vast expanse of almost-dry mudflats. The place is absolutely deadly, for so many reasons that it's hard to start, but you're clearly an eager reader and ought to be warned before you do something you'll regret. Here's the lowdown:
The ground is fickle. You might think it's a solid-slurry that lets you wade through it but don't count on it. Without warning, the consistency can change and careless walkers might end up neck-deep -- or worse -- in toxic mud.
The filth is noxious. Like its respective parent planes, the muck of the Stagnant Sea is both poisonous and desiccating, combining both of their worst features in one vile location. Expect to encounter pockets of disease, acidic mud, water-leeching slime, quicksand and caustic ooze. It's all the more deadly because while the Sea seems moist, all the while it's sucking moisture from your body like a child sucking an orange.
The muckdwellers are hungry hunters. Dwelling in the dry bog-slime, in tunnels under the mud surface, things lurk. Don't bother trying to name them or catalogue them, I told the Guvner expedition, and they didn't listen. They won't be seen again. Whatever they are and wherever they're from they've been twisted and mutated by the muck and now they're larger, hungrier and far deadlier than before. Able to hear a traveller's squelching boot from a mile away, be sure that if you're wading in the Stagnant Sea, the things are following you close.
Is that enough of a warning for you?
Brinesoup[]
Brinesoup is a watery town in the Plane of Salt. Its buildings are made of rotting purple coral, and host undead tritons and mermen in servitude to the local king, Ashaerman. Travellers here are provided no services (but death), unless they offer something Ashaerman wants. All who enter the town's vicinity are met by 2d6 elementals, all of which capture the travellers and take them to Ashaerman's palace.
Inhabitants: The burg is home to outcast water elementals, servants one of the Gods of Water - Olhydra. Istishia banished these elementals, for gathering in worship of Olhydra. For a time they continued in faith, but Olhydra sent no help for them. Unable to return they have established a town, almost a mockery of the elemental lords' palaces. The briny saltwater causes continual pain to the elementals, and they entreat travellers for aid, and are hostile to those who refuse. The elementals are all barmy from the pain, acting in a chaotic evil but intelligent manner, seeking any means to leave, and vengeance on those who help not.
Leader: The Water Elemental King: Ashaerman (Male water elemental CE 20 HD). Ashaerman has gathered an undead army, using his own formidable magic and the planes tendency toward negative energy, for his return to the plane of Water. There he plans to overthrow both Olhydra and Istishia. The other elementals do not challenge him at all, but loyally support the self-proclaimed monarch. Guests who do not properly respect him easily offend Ashaerman. These guests provide additions to the Water King's army.
Crustpore[]
Like a festering sore, Crustpore is a heaving, open portal in the Stagnant Sea connecting to Juiblex's layer in the Abyss. On both sides of the portal, the portal is a 10' diameter ring of salty crust, thus the name Crustpore. It opens to a rivulet of the Styx on the Abyssal side of the portal. The Styx's foul waters surge at random tides through the portal, occasionally sweeping Abyssal residents and a good amount of liquid into the other side of the portal in the Stagnant Sea, an area between the Quasielemental Plane of Salt and the Paraelemental Plane of Ooze. After a Styx surge, the elemental power of Salt dominates, eventually drying up the waters and sealing the portal. One can still enter the Abyss through the dried portal by casting Touch of the Styx or Forget spells as portal keys. When the portal is flowing with Abyssal waters, no portal key is necessary. It is one of two known portals from Jubilex's layer to the Inner Planes.
If one can emerge from the Styx safely after travelling from the Inner Planes through Crustpore, he will find himself in Juiblex's realm in the Abyss. This has been numbered by Guvners as Layer Two Hundred and Twenty Second, or Shedaklah by some. It is also commonly referred to by many as the Slime Pits, due to the nature of its resident power Juiblex, the Faceless Lord of slimes, oozes and jellies. It is said to be a plain consisting entirely of living slime.
Where Crustpore opens on the Inner Planar side, a caustic sea of brine absorbs the foul waters of the Styx. As Crustpore belches Abyssal fluids, the waters flow in two directions: to Ooze and to Salt. Where the Styx flows towards Ooze, the waters eventually dilute, losing their memory-stealing powers but gaining an acidic nature. Where the Styx waters flow towards Salt, the surge creates a tunnel temporarily dissolving Salt as long as it flows. Eventually Salt wins out over the Styx, and a rapidly crystallising tunnel is left behind. Crystallised corpses of unfortunate Stithid and Hyrdoloth alike can be found in this tunnel.
Secrets: A recently ascended Bwimb II, Paraelemental Princess of Ooze, uses Crustpore frequently to broker power with Juiblex. Rumour has it that the previous Lord of Ooze met an untimely end at the hands of a mysterious evil force known only as Tenebrous. The present 'Lady' of Ooze wishes to be a bit more plane-savvy to prevent similar unfortunate occurrences from happening again.
Juiblex seeks inner planar allies against the Facets of Salt, who seek to conquer his liquidy realm. Juiblex's forces of slime cannot tolerate the environmental conditions found in the Stagnant Sea, and conquest from the Abyss is near-impossible. Only the memory-stealing powers of the Styx prevent the facet legions from overrunning Juiblex's natives and absorbing their moisture. While powerful, Juiblex fears this possibility, and is sliming up to Bwimb II's 'good' side for some assistance in its struggles against Salt.
In the tunnel from Crustpore towards Salt, it is said that the dehydrated remnants of the Styx's waters can be used to enhance Forget spells. A mage travelling this area can easily collect a lifetime supply of spell component crystals from this area, which add a segment of casting time and a material component to the Forget spell. However, the enchantment can then be cast as if the mage were one level higher! These dehydrated Styx remains are also spell keys for the Forget spell, allowing the spell to be cast normally in Ooze, Salt and Shedaklah.
Consumption[]
Salt Ground Down and Blown Away[]
As an unseen planar wind swirls powdered salt and crumbling dust together, so the Consumption was born. A hostile place indeed, dreaded even on a plane where hostility is a way of life. Bloods venturing here must protect themselves from the drying effect of Salt and the crumbling effect of Dust, for here where both planes meet their natures combine rather than compete.
A seemingly-endless wasteland of billowing salt and dust clouds, movement here involves wading through pale silt. Below the surface, compacted salt-dust forms a "ground" that can be anywhere from knee-deep to three fathoms under the surface. Travellers should probe the silt ahead with a long stick to ensure the compacted silt doesn't suddenly drop away treacherously.
A real primewalker might recognise Consumption. The horrid place isn't entirely unlike the Silt Seas of the blasted world Athas, during a particularly bad storm. Unlike that prime world, however, Consumption is infinitely larger, more relentless (the storm here never stops) and not broken by islands of rock. Add to that the draining effects from Salt and Dust and your sum gives a very unwelcoming answer.
The Dead Sea[]
Shed salty tears on the parched, cracked sand. This place used to be teeming with dolphins, scattered with lush islands and perfect coral reefs. It's sad when something natural is destroyed, and sadder still when a beautiful creature dies. Imagine the sorrow, then, the Dead Sea has brought to the plane...
Rumors: Long ago, there was a prime world where all things were worshipped; the mountains, the forests, the sea. All of these things were sentient, and responded to their worshippers by granting them mild seasons, calm water or rich harvests. But in time the primitive people of this prime world grew sophisticated and the culture matured. Their religion turned to gods and idols, and they neglected their ancient nature powers.
The nature powers slipped into a deep slumber, pushed aside by their mortal children. The same thing has probably happened on countless worlds, but this one, rumor has it, was different. A race of salamanders emerged from below the ground, torching and razing the cities of the humans. With no true powers to aid them, the salamanders systematically rounded up and killed the humans until they were all dead. Their magical fires burned the land and seared the skies. The prime world grew hotter and hotter, their air choked with fumes and the seas began to boil. After many years of flames, during which time the salamanders frolicked gleefully in their new found home, the ocean had been reduced to a wasteland of blowing salt dunes. The scorching winds scoured the barren wastes, blowing the last traces of the seas away. And that was the last the salamanders ever thought of the nasty water that they used to hate so much.
Secrets: The planar winds of change blow hard, and a long way. When the salty remains of the dead sea power came to rest, they found themselves in Consumption. Here they remain deep in slumber, stirring only slightly when disturbed when mortal life passes by, or so the legends go. See, there's divine life in this here salt yet...ask any Athar and she'll tell you that a dead power never really dies. Bloods who should know better sometimes whisper that if a planewalker found this place, and willingly spills precious water into the salty ground, the weakened ancient power will rise from its torpor and grant the water-bringer wishes that would put a marid to shame.
Sounds too good to be true? Maybe it is. No planewalker really knows where the Dead Sea is (all of Consumption looks rather similar to most folks), if indeed it exists at all. Natives of Salt are tight-lipped on the subject, neither confirming nor denying anything. That hasn't stopped many a traveller getting themselves lost, both literally and figuratively, in the parched wastelands of the plane, chasing a dead power's dream...
The Library of Dust[]
Deep within the waste lands of Consumption is a strange place. It is the remains of a building, dozens of storeys high, but the walls have all turned to dust long ago. Shelves are all that remained, large, endless shelves full of parchments, books, and journals. This must have been a very famous library, and it still contains the knowledge of an ancient civilization. However, the pages are brittle and delicate, and any touch will destroy a whole book instantly, turning it to a pile of fine, useless dust. Other books are protected by magic, such as explosive runes and glyphs, and the destruction of those books may trigger the spells. Worse, it is rumoured that the library is still haunted by the ghosts of the deceased librarians, who are still dutifully protecting their dear books against people who don't have proper membership cards.
Intafell's School of Cooking[]
In the plane of Salt, situated near the plane of Dust, lies Intafell's school for cooking. This three-story building is a rather strange site. Inside the building you are protected against the dehydrating effect of the layer. Intafell, a monadic deva, started this school 200 years ago. Since the graduated cooks spread through the multiverse opening restaurants, it's gaining fame.
At this time the school has three (of course) teachers. Intafell (outsider / male monadic deva / 10HD / LG), famous for his salads, he gives lectures about cooking itself. It is whispered that he has a cookbook with over fifty thousand recipes.
Katoria cook extraordinaire, inventor of salted and pickled carrion crawler, personal cook of kings, (outsider / female salt mephit / 3HD / N), gives lectures mainly about preserving food. Katoria is the most feared among the students but her constructive criticism is valued.
And last but not least Nails (humanoid / male human / Bard 4 / NG), a cook from Toril who has made cooking a new form of art. He gives lectures about how to serve the food, what sort of food does or don't mix and of course what to drink with your meal.
Courses are given at three levels, beginner, intermediate and expert. Each course takes three years so a student following the full study lives the next 9 years in the plane of Salt. It is possible for experienced cooks to start at higher levels. Students are housed in the school itself and, since it is not that big, there is a maximum of 30 students. There is also room for visiting relatives or adventurers but a warning to everyone who visits: "You better be hungry!"
Why this site was chosen to build the school really is any basher's guess. The fact that food and water is in plentiful supply strongly suggests there's a convenient portal deep in the bowels of the school, possibly leading to a plane like Arborea where rich foods are readily found. A cutter may well wonder why the school wasn't built on Arborea instead, though. Likely Intafell has his reasons, though the one he usually gives is to avoid distractions for the students. If merely going outside would kill them in moments, they're not so apt to skip lectures.
There have been many famous graduates of this school, but few remain on Salt for longer than it takes to find a portal. One who still dwells on the plane, however, is a roguish mephit named Barbary Floyd.
Barbary Floyd[]
Barbary Floyd (planar / male mephit / 4 HD / N) is the leader of a salt mephit tribe. He's young for a mephit, created from elemental energies but three decades ago by the tribe's previous leader, who gave him a rakish name suitable for a member of a band of proud raiders.
Floyd had other ideas, however. As soon as he had learned as much as he thought he could, he slew his creator and declared for the tribe a new direction. They would be civilized mephits, loved by members of every saline race.
Floyd is sullen and sarcastic and occasionally violent, but has a magnetism about him that inspires loyalty. His people call him "The Bloodless King;" an accurate enough description. Presently, the tribe works as janitors-for-hire in a minor quasielemental kingdom with little need for such mundanities, but the King assures them this is only a stepping stone to something much greater. They believe him.
Barbary Floyd's dark secret is his addiction to Lye. He can't get enough of it, and it's only available in urban centers. This is the only reason why he lurks there. He has no greater plan, but will eagerly do anything for anyone who can supply him with his next hit: steal, lie, or even murder. As it happens, his tribe is destined to become great, riding the wave of a great fad for mephit tonechefs among salt quasielementals. It seems that, for the next few cycles, there will be a great demand for the peculiar aharmonic method of food seasoning popularised by the mephits of Floyd's region, and Barbary Floyd's tribe will lead the way. The rare salts to be made will likely set most of the tribe for life, although Floyd himself will likely die of lye poisoning sometime before then, the build up of ash in his body eventually becoming too great.
Salt in the Wound[]
Salt in the Wound is a ruvoka community in a medium-sized saltcrack with a natural channel like a dry riverbed, a "wadi," named Tears of Salt. The ruvoka, or the Wakna as they call their tribe, are of a little below average height, with pale white-blue skin, long slender fingers, generous body-fat, balding heads, major access to the druidic sphere of Water and minor access to Earth. They wear what hair they have in long braids; the females wrap them into buns or around their heads, necks and ears. The Wakna are strongly matriarchal.
The Wakna build igloos made of salt bricks and hunt hlach, and salt penguins. They use giant animental mantises as beasts of burden, something that would be fatal to almost any less nature-sensitive race.
The Wakna were driven from the plane of Earth millenia ago by the Horde Creatures, and lived for a time in Ash before finally settling here.
Rumors: The Wakna have discovered an artifact called the Blunder Cap which allows for lightning-quick teleporting and planeshifting: you can't predict where you'll go, but you can get back quickly. They're considering using it against their old enemies the Horde, but are afraid of what greedy powers may align against them if their treasure is discovered.
Crystal Range[]
When Salt Dries Up[]
Bizarre even by the standards of the Lower Inner Planes, the Crystal Range is a dense cluster of hard salt mountains and foothills stretching the border between Core Salt and the Negative Energy Plane. Yet in this environment of destruction and death, somehow the energies from the Negative Energy Plane seem to be causing the range to grow. As time continues, they're growing ever bigger. Theories abound as to why, such as the unerring draw of the Negative is stretching the Plane of Salt towards it, or perhaps the expansion of the facet empire into The Salty Core is causing the plane to grow into the Negative Energy Plane. Rumor as it that the water-obsessed facets hail from the range originally, but have moved on to wetter lands.
The slopes of the Crystal Range are littered (well, as crowded as barren gets) with the perfectly preserved desiccated shells of travellers who thought that starting into the face of the Negative Plane would be easy. Their dried-out snowy husks usually bear expressions of agony, gasping for a drop of water... some bashers claim that if you're careful you can carry a statue off of the Plane of Salt and revive it with a skinful of holy water -- and gain yourself a friend for life. Or a slave; depending on your intentions.
Right where the Range ends, the Precipice is the very edge of the Negative. From here, only the smallest shards of salt float in the blackness of Negative energy. Look off the Precipice into the nothing and you'll get a sensation of vertigo that makes falling off the Spire look like a picnic. On one of the highest peaks of the Range, the Toppling Mountain, is perched the Doomguard Citadel of Salt, just hanging there off the Precipice.
Crystal Palace[]
By Felm Spar (a human planeswalker)
A short, prune of a wizard stands at the gate to a collection of towering crystalline spires of salt surrounded by a translucent dome of shaped salt crystal. The wizard is propped up on a short stick of a silvery metal, a pair of goggles shielding his eyes, and a deteriorating mask covering the rest of his face. His boots are covered in the same strange metal, his white pants buckled to the outside of his boots. A well-worn dust cloak sits, salt stained, on his withered shoulders. At first, he doesn't open his mouth to speak, only hmm'ng and gesturing inside the dome.
We pass through a door of crystal, into a small chamber, and he shuts the first door behind us. He takes his mask off and lowers his goggles around his neck, dropping the hood of his dust cloak. A scratchy voice ebbs out of his mouth from deep in his throat "Deh Talska. You?"
Although I am puzzled by his manner of speech, he is the first person I have spoken to "I, Felm Spar, humbly introduce myself, and ask entrance to your abode."
He nods his head slightly and a second door of crystal slides away. I follow him through the doorway and am overwhelmed by the beauty.
"Crystal Palace." He opens his arms towards the towers "Home. Scholars' outpost. Stay welcome."
The towers, visible from the outside, are now fully visible, and the stand many spans tall, joined at near their full height by arcing bridges of crystal. The walls of them are not as translucent as the dome, instead, they stand as monoliths of opaque white salt. The entrances all face outward, doors of silvery metal, all no higher than Deh himself.
Surprisingly, the area between the towers is lush and green, with several short trees.
Deh, being a man of few words, gestures me to follow him towards the centre of the whole thing. Nearing the centre, the sound of rushing water startles me, and right in the centre, a fountain shoots water a few feet into the air, and it splashes back down into a basin of white crystal, salt no doubt. But as I approach, the light sparkles, in only the way that metal can.
He cups his hand and catches a handful of silvery metal "Try."
I reach out. The liquid is heavy and warm, flowing as freely as water. I clench my hand and it feels like I am trying to crush a piece of metal.
"Doors, boots, water." He gestures to the garden around him with his arms wide "Life."
"Magic user?"
I nod, and he assumes that I can put the pieces together about the metallic doors and boots.
I ask him if there are other people living here, and he pauses for a moment of thought. He cocks his head to one side, and then nods. "Night. Others take watch."
Over the next few weeks, I helped out tending the small garden in middle, but was of no use altering the life giving metal. Apparently, none of the occupants (all four of them) knew where the source of the metal was, merely the fact that it existed. By some magical spell, they transmuted the metal to water, as well as to solid metal. The insides of the towers were furnished with metal and crystal, their cloaks and bedding acquired through trading with any passers-by.
Deh had come upon it first, and the other three, also loners, had wandered in from the harsh environ outside, and just never decided to leave. The dome and spires had been there for an eons, and likely would remain that way from the way that it survived the harsh conditions.
The crystal palace is difficult to find, as no portals are known to exist anywhere near it. It is not close to any border, nor any other landmarks in Salt. Visitors are allowed into it, but are only permitted to stay long if they share the work, little as it is. All of the crystal, both translucent and opaque, is pure salt.
Dessicus[]
Another Dustmen burg is Dessicus, this place went through many incarnations before falling into Dustmen hands. First it was a Baatezu salt mine. Legend has it that prisoners were forced to work here without magical protection. Legend also says it wasn't salt the Baatezu were looking, for but an item of power.
When the fiends abandoned the place, the Doomguard built Citadel Dessicus atop the mines hoping to use the twisting tunnels as secret passages between portals, vortex's, and citadels. But the Doomguard mysteriously abandoned the place as well.
Now the Dustmen reside there, and this place has several uses. Its primary purpose is defense, though the Dustmen had yet to use it for that. The lower part is heavily armoured, and the confusing mazes of tunnels and secret passageways have many Doomguard weapons stored in within.
The second most important area is the mausoleum. Here shelf after shelf built into the citadels walls (originally used by Doomguard to show off their sheer variety of weapons) now have bones set within.
The third area is the Jerky works. Dead animals brought to the Dustmen are dried out here and their meat is placed in fancy black boxes with little white skulls on them (the skulls are NOT designs mind you) and sold on the material plane. It seems the dead managed to make money out of this place too. Rumour has it the fiends and sinkers left for a reason, and the reason is still there.
Echidrine[]
Licinius Julianus, a warlord of unknown origin but whose face was a pale blue skull, founded a city in Salt over a thousand years ago. Ghouls, spectres, and skeletal warriors flocked to his banner. He established firm laws, monumental architecture, clear roads in the salt, and a culture glorifying military prowness. The citizens spar daily, preparing for the next stage in their state's expansion, ruled by an elected Senate (Julianus having disappeared centuries ago). Echidrine also trades with some local crysmals and mephits, exchanging finished weapons for raw material mined from the extremely sharp veins of crystal that lace the plane. The undead of Echidrine are organized into blood-houses (not that any of them have blood, anymore), or adopted clans. The fractious politics of the state are generally kept in control by the Senate and their military arm, the Stiff Robed Fishers.
The Hall of Thickening is not the Senate House. It is the place of registry for new recruits, more of which arrive every kilopulse. The living, too, may be registered in one blood-house or another, if they have the will.
Ghost Sea[]
Shudder in panic, realise the unbelievable. In view of a deceased sea, you recognize that your own fate must be meaningless to the Powers, those who let this ocean die.
A vast landscape dotted with boulders, dead trunks, the dry carcasses of unknown species, and occasionally large, wooden buildings or vehicles (ships) that once served unknown purposes. At some places, alien jungles can be found, made of seemingly frozen, weird plants that break upon the slightest touch, crystalline, coloured salt that has grown to fragile shapes, and terrific looking corpses of large, clumsy creatures that seem strange and unfit to live on ground.
Overhead is a glittering sky, complete with sparkling stars and a pale moon which never moves. It is in fact the ceiling of a large cavern that surrounds the realm.
Within the cavern, there is a place dotted with crumbling pillars, marble buildings, shell-plated squares, and other evidences of a once-proud civilisation. Today, only their restless spirits can be found, that have risen from the dead in the shape of ghosts, haunts, and the occasional banshee. Most of them are not evil, but uneasy with their fate. If a visitor manages to befriend one of the more sane spirits, he might hear the story of the Ghost Sea.
A few non-undead call their kip here. They call themselves the "Sailors", and they are mostly Dustmen and Sinkers. Once a band of planewalkers, they stumbled into the Ghost Sea by accident, and liked it. They have made a pact with the undead and are allowed to live here. The weather is a bit dry, but the scenery is great, they say. One of them, a wizard, uses her spells to make life a bit more comfortable.
History: Centuries or more ago, this has been the bottom of an ocean on some prime material plane. A once fertile, pleasant land, the miralves were the major sentient lifeform here, living in harmony with the creatures of the sea. Until disaster struck, a bright light burning far above the sea level. And within a few decades, the ocean slowly dried up, making live miserable for the miralves. Most died when the water became too salty for them. Eventually, all what was left slipped into the quasi-elemental plane of salt.
The ghosts whisper that among those who escaped in time was the one who brought the big fire to their world, condemning all his brethren to death. They swore revenge, and they didn't let death stop them. Until today, they attack all half-elves (and many tieflings) on sight, and interrogate all other visitors.
Ruler: A ghost called Sur'ye Gon has some authority among the undead protectors. Since the ghosts seem to remember much of their former lives and nature, they aren't inherently evil. Consequently, the few banshees are loners and have no special rank.
Behind the Throne: The undead seem to be very resistant against turning attempts. Perhaps a necromancer, a very powerful undead, or even a Power calls the Ghost Sea his realm.
Militia: There is no organized militia. But there are at least a few dozen spirits in the city of the Ghost Sea, who attack all defilers of the city that has become their eternal resting place.
Services: Fine, natural salt. A zillion tons of it. Explorers may learn a few secrets about the miralves, but they should be very careful not to upset the ghosts. The "Sailors" can provide shelter and security, for hefty prices. They are on good terms with the ghosts, so don't offend them.
Local News: A single church, half buried in tons of salt, has resisted the decay. The underground entrance, discovered not long ago, is sealed from within and can withstand most physical or magical damage. If the Ghost Sea is the realm of some major blood, this must be his home. Bold adventurers who tried to teleport inside didn't return ever. It is rumoured that treasures and the lore of the miralves is kept inside, but there hasn't been any proof yet. The "Sailors" don't want to explore this site, but they encourage others to try.
Sweat of the Brow[]
Toil, toil, and toil some more. Dig till your hands are bleeding. The salt might sting your wounds and burn your eyes but it's a wholesome pain and it'll do you good. Work until your fears are forgotten, so hard that you stop thinking about anything but the rhythm of the pick swinging. The crunch of shovel in salty rock is the music, and the sizzle of sweat on the ground is the song. Through work comes enlightenment, forgiveness and righteousness.
Rumors: It's a well-known fact that dwarven powers work their petitioners harder than most. Just as in life, the dwarven dead dig their tunnels and mine their gems, only working for a higher power rather than for their own gain. What happens, then, to the spirits of work-shy dwarves; those who were lazy or guilty of slacking? In the dwarven mindset, sloth is the deadliest of sins, and bashers guilty of it are made to make amends in the next life. This then, is the purpose of a realm like Sweat of the Brow.
It's not really a home to any one particular power, rather a realm that all dwarves deemed too slothful to enter the afterlife proper eventually end up. Here the poor petitioners are made to dig in the salt, working until they have worked hard enough to atone for their previous lazy sins. It's not a punishment as such -- there's no evil dwarven avatar with a whip in his hand, lashing away - there's no point forcing someone to work because then their efforts will be half-hearted. No, it's harder than that. Dwarven petitioners here have to toil because they *want* to, and that's the hardest work of all. They know that until they've repaid their debt to society they'll be stuck in Salt forever...
Secrets: Most of the petitioners here are a dour lot; it's not that pleasant to be slapped in the face with your own laziness. Dwarves are dwarves, however, and they're now determined to work up enough sweat to escape the realm. Apparently the way it works is this -- a petitioner keeps digging and digging, and one day, when the powers reckon he's dug enough, he breaks through the Salt into the dwarven afterlife. The hole-portal swallows the basher up and closes behind -- there's no easy escape for other petitioners this way.
Of course, all that digging leaves a lot of tunnels behind. Sure, the powers close them back up after a while to give the remaining petitioners space to dig and construct their own tunnels, but Sweat of the Brow is a vast warren of twisting passages. Some are grand and some are barely large enough to squeeze a gnome, let alone a human. Few lead anywhere interesting (the biggest irony of the realm is there's almost nothing of value in Salt so dwarves are digging for nothing more than the sake of it), but there's air to breathe and relative safety. Except for rock falls, the occasional tremor of collapsing passages and salt elementals hunting for prey.
Not all of the petitioners are happy to dig, however. A couple of charismatic individuals resent what they see as cruel impositions on their (after) lives, and like-minded bitter dwarves have flocked to their sides. There are at least two warring factions of dwarves down there in the tunnels, each with their own schemes and idea on how to escape the entrapment of the realm without working their fingers to the bone for centuries. It's likely that few, if any, will succeed in escaping, however...
The Flats[]
Face Pure Nothing[]
Pillars of crumbling salt stretch into the void here, ever-thinning and becoming more brittle as the Vacuum looms closer. Near Vacuum itself the salt is almost not there, more fragile than the wings of an Arcadia butterfly. Others are razor sharp needles, almost thinner than a body can see. Move towards the salty core and the columns thicken and merge, creating immense flat or curved planes of pure whiteness, hard-packed salt with no atmosphere. Some cutters claim to be able to feel a faint breeze here, if their senses are keen; the last gasp of dry breath from Air.
The wasteland nearest Salt is what most cutters think of when the Flats are mentioned; the pillars nearer the Void are too fragile to sustain burgs, at least ones made of solid beings. Vacuum quasi-elementals and other creatures tired of the endless nothingness sometimes come to this barren place, for there is just enough salt to be there, but not so much that it it disturbing to a creature used to the quiet of absolute Vacuum. These being flock and frolic above the Flats, or so it's said, because most planewalkers could stumble through a whole family of vacuum quasielementals without even noticing it. Nothing annoys a creature of Vacuum more than that, by the way...
The Flats themselves range from crisp white plains of packed salt to smooth mirrored expanses of soda-glass, reflecting the empty skies above. Chant goes of a fabled place in the Flats called the Mirror Plane. More likely a figment of thirst-delerious travellers than a real place, the Mirror Plane is said to be an area of salt-glass so perfectly reflective that a cutter who spends too long walking across it becomes planestruck but its beauty. Soon after that, he loses the ability to determine what is a real, and what is merely his reflection. Eventually, he can't tell whether his reflection or his own body is actually real. It doesn't take a blood to figure that any sod in this state's going to get himself lost real quick.
Ionixia[]
As you know those outer planars can't leave well enough alone when it comes to other planes. The rilmani are the worst offenders but not the only ones, not by a long shot. Perhaps the most disturbing of these are the tanar'ri burgs. Ionixia is just one example of these foul places. Ionixia is a burg of moisture sapping salt buildings, but there is more. You see those darn tanar'ri do awful things to the plane and its quasielementals that makes this little tiefer shiver in fear. They found a way to splice salt into a soft metal that ignites on contact with any moisture, inluding that of your flesh, and a noxious gas that eats at your lungs. If you want my advice avoid the place. Well I warned you, if you want to be barmy and visit though, go ahead. Just don't bring me along for the ride, and don't say I didn't warn you.
Perfection of Serenity[]
Imagine an expanse of endless whiteness, smooth and flat, stretching in all directions for further than you can see, or could walk. This featureless, waterless, anythingless plain is the realm of Qort, the power of cleanliness, simpleness and minimalism. The blankness, second only in its sheer lack of features to Vacuum itself, is not exactly nothingness however, but subtly different. While Vacuum embodies nothingness, the Vast Wastes (or Perfection of Serenity as Qort's monks call it) embodies a state of severe cleanness, a blank slate, or virgin sand that the tide has just washed.
When a cutter meditates and reaches a state of inner peace, she understands the total stillness of Perfection of Serenity. Try telling that to the countless bashers who've died in hideous thirsty agony out on the Wastes, however. The plain is featureless white salt, smooth as glass, cleaner than a bucket of whistles, lit with a brilliant light. White burns in all directions, and the shimmering heat is intense -- imagine salt flats on Athas and you're perhaps halfway there. No shelter, no relenting.
Rumors: Why do fools tread here, then? Seeking Serenity of course. It's the name of the palace of Qort, a construction that does not have a color or even a shape, only an existence. This place is a veritable Nirvana for mediators and bashers seeking inner peace. The searingly fearsome trek across the Wastes is not the only hazard, however. A warring tribe of Dust elementals seems to be bent of capturing the Wastes and Serenity itself. None seem to know why, but their attacks on travelers seem more fierce, frenzied and frequent of late. The creatures still have not stumbled across the palace of Serenity yet, but this is due less to their eagerness and more to the fact that the burg can't be reached by travelers until they themselves have reached inner peace -- or died in the attempt. The fact that the Dust elementals fail to understand this rather Outer Planar concept belies their own Inner Planar mindset.
The chant goes that no powers dwell on the plane of Salt. Fact is Qort doesn't live here. Apparently, the power has some other hiding place on an Outer Plane (none know quite where, however), and doesn't believe in cluttering up her own beautifully empty realm with her presence. Qort herself is a mysterious power at best, depicted as a shrouded figure in colorless, featureless robes with barely her eyes showing. Her skin is completely hairless, without wrinkles or blemishes, and whiter than salt itself. Her worshippers on Salt and other planes follow her minimal appearance with their robes, donning no color, shaving and even bleaching their skin. Owning no material possessions and living in the most barren of environments, the monks and nuns of Qort are usually silent, and spend most waking hours in deep meditative states.
Secrets: Wandering about the realm in the name of Qort is the only beacon of hope a lost sod in the Wastes has - Qort's only known avatar, one Armin the Frail. Armin, a human whose skin is as pale white as the infinite salt he travels, searches out the realm for the lost berks who mean well, but just can't make it to the Palace. With a word of encouragement and a nip of water from his bottomless flask, he puts the lost party on the way out of the Wastes, or alternately, on the best path to the Palace. Canny bashers take the former, and are sure to be polite - as no road to the Palace is easy.
The Stinging Storm[]
Frozen Salt and Stinging Hail[]
Ever heard of dry ice? Nasty stuff if ever there was. Not only is it colder than normal ice, but it's dessicating too, and freezes the very moisture out of your skin. Crank up the wind, blow it around at speeds so it cuts your skin when it strikes, and add a touch of icy acid sleet, and welcome to the Stinging Storm.
Acrid enough to dissolve metal, slowly, the blizzard here is not for the faint of heart. The salt in the air lowers the temperature further, and parts of the Storm are colder than the plane of Ice itself, some planewalkers say. Most of the Stinging Storm goes on above the surface of the place, obviously, where thick gray clouds promising more relentless hail swirl at alarming speeds. The surface itself is a knee-deep snowdrift which'll dissolve your boots, socks and feet in minutes. Magical protection is strongly recommended!
Wind speeds vary from a gale to a hurricane the like of which prime worlds have never seen, and the size of hailstones from fangs to shurikens to great spiked shields. And just as sharp.
The takehome message? Sharp blades of superchilled ice, dessicating dry wind? Almost makes Baator look positively cosy. At least there aren't any pit fiends here...
Neutralization[]
NaOH (aq) + HCl (aq)-> NaCl (aq) + H2O (aq)
The Plane of Salt's just one big chemistry problem, and the blood who can figure out the chemical reaction will rule over the whole sodding plane.
The only way this burg stays alive is the fact that Ichtar managed to open up no less than six gates to the Elemental Plane of Water around the town, and shield it from the Stinging Storm using permanent walls of force. The water flows into an intricate aqueduct system that only a scientist could design, and the water circles itself around the town, creating a curtain of water that surrounds the burg in a circle on all sides. Now, if the gates were small, the salt would overwhelm the little town, but these gates are sodding big. Circular, with at least a twenty feet radius, they nicely neutralize and break up the salt around the town, as well as melt and neutralise the acrid blizzard of the Stinging Storm. Should there ever be enough salt to overwhelm the water, Calinar's been canny enough to open a gateway to a Prime World (with a wish spell), just in case the entire town should need to evacuate quickly. The gate's also useful for providing the scientist's of the town with equipment that Calinar can't summon up with his magic. Fresh air is created for the town by means of another gateway, this one natural, to the Elemental Plane of Air.
The residents of the town are, for the most part, scientists that are fascinated with the Elemental Plane of Salt, seeing its ties to the study of chemistry and alchemy. They've traveled a long way to reach this burg, but agree that it was worth the journey. The first scientists that arrived in the burg predictably tried to change lead into gold using salt. After that phase ended, they tried to see if they could use the divine properties of salt to become a power. By now, however, they've realized that the reactions that salt makes with other elements, mostly with Water and Fire (and their respective quasielemental and paraelemental planes). Now they're trying to see what secrets and laws of the multiverse, especially the laws of the Inner Planes, that they can divine from studying Salt.
The main building in the town is the large building near the center of town known as "The Grand Hall of Research into the Inner Planar Substance Known as Salt," where most of the research is done. It contains gates to a good deal of the other Inner Planes, where mephits specifically created for the task hurry back and forth to collect samples of salt, ice and slush for the scientists that work in the Hall. There are confirmed portals to Lightning, Mineral, Earth, and Water, while some speculate that there are gates to Dust and even the Negative Energy Plane itself. The blood in charge of the Hall is Hsante (Planar / female salt genasi / scientist 15 / LN), an old salt genasi who's given up wandering to study the very element that she was born from in her declining years. She's said to be stern with visitors, but always respects a kindred spirit interested in learning more about the multiverse.
Ruler: The ruler of this scientific town in the middle of the vastness of the Plane of the Salt is a blood by the name of Epsar Waveborn (Planar / male water genasi / Occultist (abjuration) 15 / LN). He's one of the most powerful wizards that the Fraternity of Order has, but it takes the best to stay alive in the middle of one of the most dangerous elemental planes. Fascinated with the workings and reaction between salt and water, his native element, he is usually seen examining the reaction that salt has with the other various elements in the Inner Planes. He's got a shadow salt mephit (planar / male salt mephit / 16 hp / N) for a familiar, and despite the creature's wry wit, he's gotten to like him, and uses him in voyages outside the town into the plane of Salt to gather samples for his next experiment.
Behind the Throne: Calinius Ichtar (Planar / male human / Occultist (conjuration) 20 / LN) is the real force behind the burg. While he holds not Epsar's enthusiasm for the study of the elemental nature of Salt, he enjoys being able to put his talents to use in creating all manner of things for the town. Without Ichtar, the residents of the town would starve, die of thirst, be frozen to death, and have the very water sucked out of their bodies by the unrelenting nature of the plane.
Militia: Neutralization isn't anything more than a bunch of scholars attempting to learn about the basest of chemical reactions. If a concerted effort was made by Inner Planar creatures to eliminate them, this burg would probably be salt itself. However, the corridors of water around the town keep salt- and ice-based intruders away, seeing as how it's like a curtain of death to most of the plane's inhabitants. However, if needed, Ichtar can summon various elementals and other creatures from nearby Elemental Planes to protect the town.
Services: For a mere fee of 500 crowns, any scholar can enter Neutralization and study there, gaining the full services of the Hall's mephits and food and drink for as long as they stay inside the town. Those not looking to stay can purchase food and drink for a lesser fee.
For Planewalkers, the Hall contains gateways to many of the other Inner Planes (see above). Convincing Hsante to allow a berk to use them should be more than a little problem, but by paying the standard fee to use the hall she'll be likely to consent to their use.
Rumors: It's said that Epsar's discovered a disturbing secret the town's been studying only one kind of salt. He claims that there are millions of varieties of salt, each made by various combinations of the Inner Planes. After years of work, it's said that he's introduced a new variety of salt to the multiverse: "potassium chloride". By distilling a nasty gas from the storm around the town and combining it with various metals from the Quasielemental Plane of Mineral, he claims to have found a great truth in the Multiverse.
Also, Saeri (Planar / male human / Occultist (conjuration) 3 / LG), a fairly new scientist recently discovered a new fact about the nature of salt: it behaves curiously inside an electrified basin of water. Nobody's too sure what this means, but everyone's interested.
The Salt Cellar[]
<sniff> What's that in the air? An expression of horror crosses the face as the realization dawns; something foul, something unspeakably rotten is nearby. Hold your breath and try not to imagine what grotesque thing could exude such a stench. Try as you might, an image forms in your mind... tentacles, fetid flesh falling off bones, skin so putrid even Jubilex would shudder. A scream so inhuman it hurts to even think it. Then suddenly, all is white and clean and crystalline and the only scent is the acrid dryness of Salt.
Rumors: Sometimes travelers on the arid and brilliantly white plane of Salt stop and sniff the sharp atmosphere. Sometimes, just sometimes, they smell something fearsomely awful, a smell so terrible it should not even have a name. Then as suddenly as it wafts in, the stench is gone. Most bashers put it down to imagination, for the plane of Salt is so monotonous it tends to starve the senses, but the effect is very real. In fact, the lucky traveler has just escaped a brush with the Salt Cellar.
Secrets: Long ago, before there were tieflings, a power of stench and rot did something unspeakably disgusting to a fellow power. Most scholars point the finger at Qort, power of cleanliness and minimalism, as being the likely victim, but any real proof of it was long lost to the sands of time. In retaliation, Qort lashed out, enveloping the power of rot in all-preserving salt, chilled to freezing in the Stinging Storm by the icy hail, and entombing the poor sod in salty ice for all eternity. It doesn't take much imagination to figure that an oozing, pustulant power is suffering terrible agonies as the desiccating nature of the plane oh so slowly leeches away its decay.
Rumor has it that the Salt Cellar is a real place, far away from anywhere people would sigh to travel in the Stinging Storm, and that the rotten power is very much alive, and insane with rage and vengeful desire. Surely it would promise anything to a blood brave -- or foolish -- enough to release it from its torment and pain. None claim to know the real name of this lost power, and it's said that anyone who speaks its name while on Salt is sucked into the Salt Cellar to join it. Funnily enough, nobody seems that keen to learn it, but there's smart money on the assumption that learning its name is somehow the key to freeing the sod too.