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The People Beneath the Brass: Everyday Life in the Sky Cities

Finding Humanity Amid the Gears and Aetherlight of Aether Skies

It’s easy to think of Aether Skies as a world of skyships, espionage, and eldritch storms—and it is. But between the dueling factions and divine corruption, life goes on. Children play under steam vents. Vendors hawk fried skyfish on street corners. Inventors curse at clogged gearwork while preachers warn of sin through brass megaphones.

Every floating city is its own world, hanging precariously above a cursed planet, and the people who live there are what make it alive.

This post explores the texture of life among the clouds—the daily rhythm, the art, the slang, and the survival instincts that define a civilization built on Aether and lies.

⚙️ Life in the Shadow of the Engines

Every city in the skies is built on sound. The deep hum of Aether engines vibrates through the floorboards of every home. In Orashul, it’s a noble’s lullaby—steady, dignified, regulated. In Granglehold, it’s a growl that shakes dust from ceilings. For most citizens, that mechanical thrum is comfort. Silence, on the other hand, is terrifying. Silence means failure. And failure means the fall.

The Common Worker

Dockhands, machinists, and scavengers form the backbone of the sky cities. They live by the beat of whistles and bell towers, bound to shifts that change with wind and whim. Many bear burns or scars from Aether exposure—a price quietly accepted for a meal ticket and a roof that hasn’t yet drifted away.

The Upper Rings

For the privileged, life is theater. The elite of Orashul or Theopholis live above the smog, sipping Aether-infused spirits while gossiping about political intrigue and art scandals. They look down through crystal floors at the masses below and congratulate themselves for maintaining order.

Yet even the highest towers creak. And the smell of oil never quite leaves the air.

🎭 Art, Expression, and Defiance

Where there are people, there is art—and in the skies, art is rebellion.

In Kerfluffle, kobold performers stage forbidden plays mocking the Aethernati under the guise of children’s shows. In Piatracas, the clang of factories becomes percussion for street bands who hammer rhythm from scrap. And in Granglehold, tattoo artists etch prayers into skin, believing ink can anchor souls against corruption.

Even in the glittering churches of Theopholis, choirs sing hymns so haunting that the faithful sometimes weep without knowing why.

Aether Skies art is a living thing: powered by grief, fury, and the desperate beauty of people refusing to vanish.

🍞 Food, Faith, and Fear

What They Eat

Food in the skies is as varied as the cities themselves.

• Aetherfish – caught in the upper winds, translucent and faintly luminescent.

• Skyroot Bread – baked from alchemically cultivated fungi that grows in engine vents.

• Dust Spirits – cheap liquor brewed from recycled coolant; burns like a confession.

Cooking is survival and celebration—especially for the Beast-kin, who use meals to prove they are more than monsters. Communal feasts are one of the few times the cities forget their fear of each other.

What They Believe

Faith is fractured. The Church of Theopholis teaches that Aether is divine mercy. The engineers of Orashul insist it’s science. The rebels of Kerfluffle claim it’s stolen power.

Most citizens don’t care which version is true—as long as the engines stay on and the nightmares stay below.

💬 The Rhythm of the Streets

Every floating city speaks its own dialect of survival. Some shared slang (for your players and NPCs alike):

• “Gearborn” – A mechanic or inventor, usually said with respect.

• “Skyblind” – Someone who’s never left their city or seen the surface.

• “Cloudfire” – Aether addiction; when someone glows faintly at night.

• “Dropping brass” – Wasting money or taking reckless risks.

• “Curtain-kissed” – Someone who’s seen the storms below and lived.

• “Sky’s got teeth” – A warning: the winds are about to turn bad.

🧩 Everyday Adventures for GMs

If you want to ground your campaign in daily life before the grand conspiracies begin, here are some adventure seeds:

• The Engine Festival: A celebration of the city’s founding turns into chaos when the power core flickers mid-fireworks display.

• The Missing Mechanist: A beloved street tinkerer disappears, leaving half-finished inventions that seem to move on their own.

• Bread and Rust: The dock workers are starving after Aether shortages. Do the players help the rebellion—or the ration enforcers?

• A Song in the Smoke: A mysterious melody drifts through the lower levels at night. Those who follow it never return.

✨ Final Thought: Brass Hearts Still Beat

For all the scheming nobles, Aether cults, and eldritch storms, Aether Skies is still about people—flawed, fragile, determined.

They argue over prices, fall in love in engine rooms, and whisper prayers before sleep. They build skyships that scrape the stars not because they believe it’s safe, but because it’s all they know.

Every great story in the skies starts with someone ordinary, trying to survive in an extraordinary world.

Because under all the brass and brilliance, what truly keeps the cities aloft isn’t Aether.
It’s hope.

Thanks for reading. Until Next Time, Stay Nerdy!!