As the spinning glyphs from the astrolabe guided circular door slowly stop spinning to rest the landscape comes into focus.

A vast desert with undulating hills winding up to a ring of jagged mountains jutting up in symmetric glory like the spines of an urchin.

Punctuating the vast interior sandscape is a gleaming obelisk with shifting stones, smoothly gliding reminiscent of that surreal experiencing watching synchronized swimmers whilst on hallucinogens. The prize of the sphere, Basti0n.  A city of great duality as the clean bipeds reside within the obelisk tending to their varied hobbies such as abbersnt algorithm calculation, crystal exchange rates, and the most underrated recipies for tasselstarch a strange tuber grown en masse by the tripedal denizens of the ring around the obelisk.  They live in squalor strewn shacks, toiling in fields and dipping buckets into the 100km deep moat that surrounds basti0n.

It is rumored deep within those waters and the labyrinth of tunnels live a strange humanoid amphibians.  While in the mountains are a wide range of goblonoid type entities, from the stone bloods to the red cliff sands of the south west, the goblins who live in the mouth of toads in the marshy scrub land of the south.  The hairy gobbos with canine teeth to the northwest and finally the Bob-Yaga to the north east, born from the flesh tree’s womb as it scurries the boiling mud flats with chicken legs.

The sky has an odd pallor akin to crystalline bubbles atop the iris, the stars seem to warp in proportions as if refracted by the atmosphere of the plane itself.  Two gleaming suns of reddish and blush hues respectively spin in the cosmos.

Being the only known site for extra-planar travels the traders from basti0n the entry ring is always busy with bipeds sauntering to and fro, their glittering jewelry and brightly colored robes denoting their background.

Outside the mountain ring are those born from a lava lake, the lizard folk who dwell within sentient mounds of compost (they are cold blooded after all), to the new cabal of lizard folk eschewing meat eating and the banal existence of cold blooded life are making inroads into an old territory, rumored to be controlled by an obscuring mist of blood from which the living dead emerge.

Finally in the far north a group of bipeds do reside in a grand Colosseum, the know not much more than the wrestling dance of unique chartreuse scarves wrapped around their necks at birth and removed upon their demise.

A grand and unique sphere with intrigue and explorati0n in spades!