While most worlds are covered in water, the skies are wide open, too.

Whether the world you are constructing is a globe or some sort of bubble wrap configuration with the “firmament,” (Down flerfs! This is fantasy) the sky is the limit when it comes to worldbuilding. For centuries now, humans here on Earth have been fascinated by our skies. Why should birds and insects get to have all the fun when we can climb beanstalks to visit the sky giants or visit flying castles.

I have a few twists that might make sky settlements more entertaining, some of which are based upon Earthly myths or urban legends. First we’ll look at sky-based creatures, then a few sky settlements, and finally a few ways of getting around.

Creatures of the Sky

Flying monsters are always cool, but once you have trotted out the dragons, griffons, and harpies, things start to feel a little familiar. That is where the real fun begins. Flying whales and sky worms are the backbone of what I like to call vertical folklore, the stories we tell about the things floating above our heads. Some say the whales drift lazily through the clouds, filtering vapor and singing storms into being. Others swear they are only the juveniles of something vast and ancient that still slumbers in the upper air.

Sky worms are less friendly. They twist like living contrails just behind the sun, seen only for an instant by terrified airship crews before vanishing into glare. Then there are the hazards that make the sky its own kind of wilderness: vampiric hummingbirds the size of crows, and the infamous flying sharks that hunt in thunderheads. And we would be remiss not to mention my many goose-based horrors, from the warlike Iron Goose to the spectral Honker of the North. The skies are full of feathered nightmares, including the airborne kaiju: Goosidorah, Bloosifer, and Goosera, the flying armored goose monster that terrorizes everything in its shadow.

Our mythology also speaks of the Gorpy, a goose-like harpy whose shrieking call can be heard for miles before it descends in a storm of feathers and fury. Some say the Gorpy’s cry is an omen of war, while others insist it simply hates anyone who interrupts its midair nesting. Either way, few skyfarers forget their first encounter with one.

But the upper world is not only predators. Imagine the kin who adapted to live there. Dragonfly folk with mirrored eyes and stained-glass wings. Wasp kin with hive minds built on honeyed pride. Spider kin who spin colossal webs between mountain peaks, creating shimmering cities of silk that glisten in the dawn light. The air should feel like a living realm with its own people, predators, and politics.

And of course, there are the bird kin. Some resemble the renowned bird kin of Dungeons & Dragons fame, (which had to be renamed here due to IP concerns,) noble and sharp-eyed guardians of the high winds.. Bird kin societies might range from sky palaces ruled by feathered aristocrats to nomadic flocks that follow the migration paths of flying whales. They bridge the space between the mortal and the mythic.

Settlements in the Air

Even the sky needs towns. You might picture monasteries built on floating rocks or storm miners scraping raw mana from the clouds. Everyone remembers Dalaran from World of Warcraft, that shining city suspended over the world, but I like to ask what happens when a flying city stops.

In one of my worlds, a saucer has hovered motionless for centuries. An elven community built a whole town on top of it, farming and worshiping while the metal hull hums softly beneath their feet. No one has ever managed to open the craft, and no one is sure they should. It is both sanctuary and dungeon, a mystery that literally holds up their lives.

Other sky settlements might drift along ley currents, rest on the backs of vast sky leviathans, or even stand upon the shell of a colossal flying tortoise that travels the winds like a wandering continent. The higher they climb, the stranger the rules become.

Travel and Trade

If you have ever played World of Warcraft, you already know how right they got the feel of flight. Griffons, wyverns, pegasi, drakes, spirit wyrms, and rockets all carry their own histories and attitudes. Flying should never just be a way to skip the journey. It is a bond, maybe even a form of faith.

Your world can easily blend the mythical with the mechanical. Steampunk-style airships, dirigibles, and gliders roar through the same skies as staff kites inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender. (I like Appa, too.)  Maybe you fancy manta-like creatures that can be ridden in harness, or even telepathic mounts that choose their partners. Inspiration could also be taken from the most unlikely of sources, Fortnite’s various glider skins. Travel through the air should feel like sailing an untamed sea, full of wonder and lurking teeth.

The Sky’s the Limit

The sky is freedom, danger, and mystery all at once. It is where we put our gods and our satellites. It is also where everything strange and beautiful has room to breathe. The ground belongs to the rules of men. The air belongs to imagination.

So, let your adventurers climb. Let them look up. Let them wonder what waits above the clouds.

And if they ever start to feel safe, have the saucer move.

Thank you for being here with me today. I appreciate you. Keep it real, but please strive for positivity, too. Please embrace the things that bring you the most joy in your life.