Girios is the strangest of all the Eleven Realms. Gigantic islands of rock, many as large as a entire world, drift through its skies of many-coloured clouds. The islands are, on the whole, cut off from one another, and there are literally thousands of them, even though they are separated by vast distances (hundreds of kilometres usually). Consquently each island has its own distinct culture, and the histories of the islands rarely intertwine, except at long intervals (hundreds or thousands of years).
Huge, polyp-like creatures, known as Vagabonds, glide between the islands, browsing off the greenery on their borders. Often vegetation grows on the upper surfaces of the Vagabonds, making them appear like smaller islands in their own right. The Vagabonds have little motive power of their own, and drift with the wind if left to their own devices. They can, in emergency, or to make fine adjustments to bring them close to a nearby island, propel themselves by releasing an amount of the gas that keeps them buoyant. They can release this form any point in a ring that circles their middle. The gas will subsequently be replenished.
Very occasionally they are used as vessels, with cabins and watchtowers built on them, driven and guided by sails. Travel is, however, rare and somewhat random.
As can be imagined, many of the inhabitants have no idea that they live on islands at all, given that most of the islands are the size of a world. There are a scattering of smaller islands, some so small as to be little larger than a city, whose inhabitants therefore realise something of the true situation, but these are rare.
The islands drift at varying altitudes, though they seem to congregate in particular planes. Some have suggested that all the islands at any one altitude were originally part of one larger island that long ago broke apart.