If you had to describe the planets you created, you'd probably assign them blunt labels according to the four elements. Not that those bungling alchemists had any idea what they were doing, but at least they were organized.
And if you were going to describe this one, you'd use the element of Wind. This entire planet is covered in dirt. Not rock, but loose dirt. The winds here are so strong that the only reason the bedrock has remained solid is that it is buried underneath layers of dirt. If there were ever any mountains, they've been ground to dust by now. The amount of dirt is astounding- it has the consistancy of water, but it's solid enough that people can walk on it, as long as they keep moving. Anything stationary will slowly sink into the fluid dirt. Only patches of gnarled trees break the monotony; probably elder remnants of a healthier soil.
The ocean of dirt surrounds the planet- its depth is uniform everywhere you look. That hasn't prevented life, though. Oddly enough, they've taken advantage of the grounds odd properties. The inhabitants, an odd bird-like race, have built houses made of driftwood. These shacks are tethered to a large base, which serves as a raft. The houses drift about due to the intense wind, but this nomadic tendancy does not bother the bird people. They fly about, picking moist fruit from the nearest tree grove or hunting the furry herbivores that constanly scamper about the ground less they drown in the dirt.
And if you were going to describe this one, you'd use the element of Wind. This entire planet is covered in dirt. Not rock, but loose dirt. The winds here are so strong that the only reason the bedrock has remained solid is that it is buried underneath layers of dirt. If there were ever any mountains, they've been ground to dust by now. The amount of dirt is astounding- it has the consistancy of water, but it's solid enough that people can walk on it, as long as they keep moving. Anything stationary will slowly sink into the fluid dirt. Only patches of gnarled trees break the monotony; probably elder remnants of a healthier soil.
The ocean of dirt surrounds the planet- its depth is uniform everywhere you look. That hasn't prevented life, though. Oddly enough, they've taken advantage of the grounds odd properties. The inhabitants, an odd bird-like race, have built houses made of driftwood. These shacks are tethered to a large base, which serves as a raft. The houses drift about due to the intense wind, but this nomadic tendancy does not bother the bird people. They fly about, picking moist fruit from the nearest tree grove or hunting the furry herbivores that constanly scamper about the ground less they drown in the dirt.
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