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Unbeknownst to all, however, she secretly teaches them to defend themselves in face of domestic violence, hoping to grant some empowerment to her beleaguered gender.

#Journey to the savage planet gelatinous cube how to

One of her most important tasks is the education of outgoing girls: how to act, how to speak, how to eat.

Though owned by a man, most of the Sanctum’s activities are overseen by the owner’s eldest and only surviving wife, the Matron Khalilah, an efficient and enigmatic manager. The Sanctum, a combination brothel and woman-trafficking institution, is a popular destination. Its presence gave rise to the first post-apocalyptic city – named Oasis.īut men travel to Oasis for more than water. Though socially aloof, the Monastery has already proven to be beneficial one artifact is now being utilized as a massive clean water generator. To keep their artifacts safe from the mana storms and from marauding hooves, the Monastery has holed up in a pre-cataclysmic bunker. The Monastery, a detached but largely philanthropic organization, collects and studies pre-cataclysmic arcane in hopes of revitalizing the land. Fertility is a woman’s most powerful and oftentimes only asset. Women are bought and sold as commodities men of power are wed to many wives. In this lawless place, misogyny runs rampant. Those rare warriors that achieve victory against the vicious marauders are heroes.ĭriven by the most base of human motivations, the Wasteland is one large den of sin. Many stand against this horde and are defeated. Without stable resources, they raid and pillage from the humanoid settlements. A population of centaurs, possessing both cunning and mobility, rule the fringes of the Wasteland. Now, intermittent mana storms rip through the area, arcane is sought after and hoarded, and ruthless violence invades every corner of the desert. Some 80 years ago, a promising golden age ended with a massive arcane cataclysm that ripped through the land, leveling cities and plunging all of civilization into a dark age. There will be a storm tonight, a reminder to all that the cataclysm was not just an explosive catastrophe brought on by their ancestors, but a tragedy that will haunt them for centuries to come. Random bursts of elemental energy – fire, ice, lightning – dot the evening sky. With the setting sun, the faint spark of mana synapses are visible from far above. Times are growing better, with the Monastery’s hard work finally paying off, but five hundred gallons per day is still not enough – not nearly enough – to feed the thirsty bodies of everyone in the desert, and the bloody war for relics and resources grows more fierce each day. A relic, the monks say, from before the cataclysm. To the north, the boy can see the city – Oasis – where the water is spun from a magnificent magical wheel. The boy catches the drop in his right bucket a victory. A small bead of sweat hangs for an instant like a necklace jewel on his chin. The sand stings, forces him to turn his head, close his eyes, and threatens to topple him. He tries to keep the two heavy buckets, brimming with precious water, balanced on his shoulders.