In many ways, Triaxus is actually two worlds. Dubbed “the Wanderer” because of its extremely eccentric orbit, Triaxus’s distance from the sun varies greatly as it traces its slow path through the heavens. At its farthest point from the system’s centre, out past the great gas giants, the sun is little more than a bright spot in the sky, and the world is covered by glaciers and vast snowfields. At its closest point, however, Triaxus comes even closer to the sun than steamy Castrovel, transforming into a world of vibrant forests, rushing rivers, and fertile earth. Because of this extreme seasonal shift, Triaxus has two distinct ecologies, each of which changes or goes dormant while the other is ascendant.
During the Triaxian winter, the planet’s civilized races hunker down in castles and towns carved from ice and stone, hunting the giant furred insects and terrifying snowbirds of the plains while burning pale fungi and snowmoss for warmth. Seas freeze partway over, and narrow straits become ice bridges connecting islands and isthmuses. This is a hard time for everyone, and the people’s personalities reflect it—gruff but honourable, concerned first and foremost with the survival and comfort of their families, slow to give friendship but willing to fight to the death to uphold a promise. Though life remains slightly easier along the equator, with the nations there sometimes constructing vast energy- absorbing plates and angled mirrors to help harness and redirect the weak sun’s ray’s, most settled peoples prefer to stand their ground rather than attempt to migrate, passing stories to their children of their icy world’s transient nature and the new paradise to come.