Humans
In the vast expanses of this world, humans stand as the most widespread of beings, their presence stretching across 70% of the lands. From modest villages to majestic cities, their ambition and drive for expansion see no limits. They showcase resilience and robustness, flourishing in climates from the biting cold of icy realms to the intense heat of vast deserts.
Diversity is etched into the very essence of their kind, with a multitude of appearances as varied as the terrains they dwell in. Amidst this variety, the subtle differences between males and females are but gentle strokes in the broad portrait of their species.
Humans are renowned as the epitome of bravery and persistence among all races, their spirits undaunted by trials that would falter others. They are drawn to challenges like moths to a flame, their adventurous hearts ignited by the mere prospect of the impossible.
In the complex tapestry of alliances that shape their world, humans are closely knit with the wood elves, a friendship built on deep-seated trust and respect. However, a storm of conflict persists with the sithrax, against whom humans stand resolute, a bastion against a fury that threatens to consume all peace.
The dawn of the elven civilisation predates the rise of human settlements. Before the cataclysm known as the Rupture reshaped their destiny, elves were characterised by their lofty stature, ethereal pallor, and the arcane tones of what is now referred to as Old Elven. Remarkable in their longevity, elves can witness six centuries pass by, their youth extending in a slow, graceful ballet of years that belies the human pace. The march of time holds a different cadence for them, pausing its relentless advance during their prime, allowing the elven kind to flourish in an extended twilight of vitality.
Elves
Ljosalfar
In the verdant realms of Fallvale, high elves, heirs to ancient legacies, walk in slender grace, their lives a testament to aesthetics and elegance. These ethereal beings, bearing the closest resemblance to their ancestral counterparts, weave a tapestry of beauty and style in their existence. A society that places the intellect on a pedestal, high elves champion reason and logic, meticulously schooling their young to master their emotions, seeking serenity within.
Masters of the arcane and deft in the art of the blade, high elves move with a precision and agility that seem almost magical. Their prowess in mystical arts is matched only by their finesse in swordsmanship, making them formidable allies and daunting foes.
Perceived by the diverse races of this world as somewhat aloof, their wisdom is nonetheless respected, a treasure trove of knowledge from ages past. Unique among their kin, they are the only elven kind capable of bearing offspring with humans, a unique cross-species bond. Their tongue, a lyrical evolution of ancient dialects, is known as Ljosalfari, a melodic homage to their storied past.
Vidthralfar
Wood elves, known throughout history as the "Fae," present a tapestry of physical diversity unparalleled in the elven world, their settlements nestled in realms as varied as sun-speckled woodlands and the relentless deserts. In the resplendent confines of Bravoure, the wood elves are heralded as the Gyll'ne Fae, for Bravoure is the Kingdom of Gold. In contrast, their counterparts, the Sand Fae, have sculpted a niche of survival amidst the relentless, sweeping dunes of Ghaliz's vast desert, a testament to resilience in the face of nature's sternest landscapes.
These vidthralfar tribes, each governed by distinct ancient codes and a profound symbiosis with the living world, converse in the verdant lilt of Vidthralfari, a tongue deeply rooted in Old Elven traditions. They are the custodians of nature, a connection so sacred that their disapproval of human-induced disruptions to the environment is palpable and freely expressed.
Yet, history notes the intricate dance between divergence and unity, as wood elves have learned to walk alongside humans. This alliance, woven from threads of necessity and shared paths, stands testament to the world's ever-evolving narrative. However, it harbors an undercurrent of tension, born from the wood elves' steadfast dedication to tradition and environmental guardianship and the humans' relentless stride toward innovation and expansion. This dichotomy, while a source of discord, also fosters a dynamic coexistence, shaping a shared journey fraught with complexities yet enriched by mutual respect.
Dokkalfar
In the veiled depths of the Dwellunder, the dark elves, or dokkalfar, have carved their realm, far removed from the sunlit world above. Having forsaken the embrace of the surface eons ago, they ventured into the earth's embrace, where their culture and very beings underwent profound transformations. Their skin mirrors the cerulean mysteries of the deep, while their hair, a stark raven or sometimes ghostly white, contrasts vividly. Eyes aglow with the fierce red of molten earth peer out into the eternal twilight of their subterranean world.
Their tongue, Dokkalfari, remains a resonant echo of Old Elven, a linguistic relic preserved in the crucible of their underground haven. Yet, while their language harkens back to ancient times, their societal norms have diverged sharply. In the dark elves' world, beauty and style are not mere aspects of life but fierce obsessions, pursued with a fervor that their surface brethren might find unsettling. Emotions, raw and untamed, are wielded as both weapon and standard, triumphing over the calm serenity of logic.
The Dwellunder, a mosaic of provinces, each under the stern hand of its own lord, is a hotbed of intrigue and simmering tensions. Rivalries between ruling houses are as common as the stones that form their cavernous abodes, and the political landscape is ever-shifting, like shadows cast by flickering torchlight.
To the dokkalfar, anything or anyone that is not of their dark kin is an abomination, fit only for scorn or worse. Their reputation on the surface world is testament to this, as they are regarded with a mixture of fear and loathing, their very name synonymous with peril.
Amongst themselves, they adhere to the tradition of dual names: one, a guarded secret shared only with the closest of kin and heart, and the other, a public face presented to peers and the outside world. It is a dance of identity, where one's truest name is shielded with the same vigor as one's deepest vulnerabilities.
Sindurs
Nestled within the realms of Ailura, thrives a unique race of catlike beings known as the sindurs. These creatures, bearing the mystical echoes of their feline forebears, possess the extraordinary gift of regeneration, living through a cycle of eight rebirths, thus embracing nine lives in total. Though their lifespans fall shorter than those of humans, as the twilight of their years approaches, they engage in the sacred Koth’enok trance, a profound ritual that heralds their rebirth. Emerging as man-lynx cubs, they are reborn devoid of the memories of lifetimes past, reliant on the nurturing and guidance of their progeny. It is through the oral tapestry of recounted tales and past deeds that they navigate their new lives, each story a beacon to surpass in the subsequent life.
Sindurs are connoisseurs of the arts, their souls resonating with the harmonies of music and the aesthetic pleasance of artistic creations. Ailura, their homeland, was once a vibrant hub of cultural exchange, where artists from distant corners of the world converged, sharing and imbibing diverse artistic expressions. Sindur troubadours, with their lyrical poetry and soulful melodies, were a common sight in taverns far and wide, their artistry a gift to all lands.
However, a dark tide turned in 1101:AV, when the sinister fury of the sithrax fell upon Ailura, plunging the Sindur society into an abyss of loss and despair. The aftermath of this cataclysm saw much of Sindur history obliterated, with many of its people shackled in the chains of slavery, regarded as mere chattel by their sithrax captors. The once-proud race was scattered to the winds, traded in the dark recesses of the Dwellunder, or forced into a life of servitude.
Those fortunate to evade the clutches of captivity found themselves as wanderers, seeking refuge in the vast expanses of the world. Some found solace in the wilderness, while others were bestowed sanctuary within city walls. Regardless of their fate, the sindurs are a testament to resilience and hope, their spirits unbroken despite the trials they have endured.
In the harsh terrains of Rallis, the sithrax, formidable lizardmen, claim their dominion. Towering over humans, these daunting beings cast an imposing presence, their very gaze instilling a paralyzing dread in those who dare hold it too long. Their scales, a spectrum of intimidating hues from a sinister greyish-green to a deep, blood red, add to their fearsome demeanor. Enormous jaws, adorned with menacing spikes resembling brutal external dentition, dominate their elongated, scale-encrusted visages. Crests, reminiscent of regal crowns, cascade from their heads down their backs, adding to their intimidating stature.
Sithrax
Despite their menacing presence, the sithrax are fleeting creatures compared to humans, their lives burning bright and fast, with females retaining their fertility nearly until their final days.
The worldview of the sithrax is chillingly simplistic: all creatures are either kin or prey. Their society, steeped in a relentless carnivorous ethos, occasionally descends into the horrors of cannibalism. Rituals of grotesque celebration are carved into their culture, where high-ranking males publicly consume their mates post procreation, a macabre spectacle marking the continuity of their lineage.
Contrasting their male counterparts, female sithrax present a more slender silhouette, their forms belying the lethal nature of the psychedelic venom they harbor. This potent substance, used in the primal mating dances to stimulate their partners, holds a darker purpose beyond procreation. Extracted and twisted, it becomes a narcotic, a dangerous dalliance for those who seek the abyss.
Thus, the sithrax weave a narrative of survival and dominion, a testament to the relentless and often brutal cycle of life and death, etched into the very foundations of their being.
In the year 350:AV, a shadow fell upon dwarven history. An event, now lost to the sands of time, drove these jubilant and brilliant beings to the sanctuary of the underground. Like a light extinguished by a sudden gust, they vanished from the world above, retreating into the earth's embrace. Their halls of merriment and forges of creation fell silent, leaving behind a legacy etched in stone and memory.
The dwarves' disappearance is a haunting melody that plays throughout history, a reminder of the transience of races and civilisations, and the enduring mystery of their exodus continues to perplex historians and scholars who seek to unravel the enigma of their lost chapter.
Dwarves
In an era now veiled by the mists of time, the dwarves were once the cornerstone of ingenuity and architectural prowess in realms such as Bravoure and Hauvia. These masterful artisans, small in stature but colossal in intellect and spirit, laid the very groundwork of civilisations, their innovations propelling societies into prosperous futures. Beyond their technological mastery, dwarves were a people infused with a deep sense of joy and communal celebration. Their lives, rich tapestries of tradition, were often punctuated with the hearty camaraderie found around a brimming pint of ale, their laughter echoing through the halls of history.
Other Species
Beyond the well-trodden paths of prominent civilisations, there exist myriad other sentient beings. These creatures, while as varied and vibrant as the more renowned races, have tread softer paths across the sands of time, often eluding the in-depth scrutiny of historical annals. Their societies, though rich in culture and lore, have not etched their dominions across the landscapes as expansively. Herein lie tales untold and histories nestled in shadow. Among these elusive folk, certain enigmatic entities spark the imagination of scholars and storytellers alike. However, their true natures, habits, and social structures often remain shrouded in mystery, a whisper of life beyond the familiar.
Faeries
Faeries cherish the solitude of untamed woodlands, establishing their realms in hidden forest enclaves and mountain retreats, far from the concerns of the wider world. These mystical inhabitants are known in four distinct forms: fairies, pixies, nymphs, and wisps, each wielding a unique facet of unrefined elemental enchantment. They navigate their existence with individualistic flair and a penchant for lighthearted mischief. Within this spectrum, wisps emerge as the most mercurial, their energies flickering erratically, embodying the very essence of whimsical unpredictability.
Centaurs
Centaurs once roamed the forests of Bravoure until the ominous Rule of Sharr dawned. Following the invasion by the dark elf Prince of Mal, these noble beings withdrew, seeking refuge in the woodland sanctuaries of Fallvale.
Toadins
In the shadowy recesses of the Moors dwell the toadins, amphibious beings marked by their potent venom. This noxious substance, while lethal, is often harvested for its hallucinogenic properties. Residing in mud-crafted colonies nestled within the damp embrace of swamps and bogs, toadins persist in the murkier corners of existence.
Lycaons
Lycaons, bearing the visage of wolves yet evolved to stride on two, possess sharp intellect, overshadowed by their inherent aggression. This fierce nature fuels incessant territorial conflicts and contributes to a notably high rate of stillbirths, hindering their societal progress. A human, once bitten, succumbs to the lycanthropic affliction, undergoing a fearsome transformation into a werewolf.
Birdmen
Shrouded in the mists of time lie the enigmatic birdmen, postulated denizens of the elusive continent of Quetza. Our knowledge, mere whispers gleaned from ancient murals adorning the ruins of Ailura, speaks of birdlike entities, once venerated as divine figures in ages long past. These cryptic beings, as the lore suggests, wield formidable psychic abilities, commanding the art of divination. A most curious aspect of their legend is the supposed power to cast a veil of secrecy over the eyes of any who chance upon them, a vow of silence etched into sight and soul. Thus, the birdmen remain but a fascinating enigma, a puzzle pieced together from fragments of a bygone era, their truth ensconced in the forgotten history of Terra.
Ancients
There exists a period shrouded in enigma, predating even the venerable Scriptures of the Old by some six millennia. This epoch, lost to the sands of time, speaks of a civilisation known only as the Ancients, a society so advanced and so cloaked in mystery that they have become the stuff of legend, a cornerstone of Terra’s most profound historical enigmas.
It was the discovery of the first Item of Power, unearthed by venerable monks of yore, that ignited the scholarly pursuit of understanding these Ancients. Despite the tireless studies and explorations undertaken by magi across the world, the Ancients have largely retained their secrets, yielding precious few truths to those who seek to unravel their mysteries.
Abandoned Erudite Temple
Evidence of Existence
A veil of obscurity shrouds the Ancients, those enigmatic forebears of knowledge whose legacy predates even the hallowed Scriptures of the Old. Known amongst the learned as the Erudites, these elusive figures bore wisdom that seemed to echo the very fabric of the cosmos. Yet, their absence from sacred texts has sown seeds of discord, challenging the very foundations of the Varkadian Faith.
This schism has cleaved the beliefs of magi and clerics alike; where the former have turned their backs on the divine, seeking truth in the tangible, the latter uphold a conviction that the Ancients overstepped a divine boundary, invoking the ire of the dragon-gods and thus, were expunged from the annals of the holy. The debate rages on, a testament to the enduring enigma of the Ancients and their place in the celestial tapestry.
Skyshrine
Conquest of the Stars
The magi harboured a steadfast belief that the Ancients dwelt in metropolises of unparalleled sophistication, their existence woven into the fabric of legend as much as fact. For eons, these cities were but whispers on the wind, spectres of a bygone era, until the year of 1365:AV marked a turning point.
It was then that the wandering scholars of Bravoure's esteemed Magi Academy, long thought lost to the fires of war, emerged from the celestial haven known as Skyshrine. This city, a marvel of the Ancients' ingenuity, was not rooted in the soil of Terra but instead perched upon the very moon itself. The return of these magi transformed myth into reality, substantiating the tales of the Ancients' lunar sojourns that had been, until that momentous discovery, relegated to the realm of fable.
A Prison of Ice
Deus Occisor
A tale of hubris and desperation unfolds, revealing a conflict that raged between the Ancients and the celestial titans. The Ancients, in their quest for autonomy, forged a construct of unparalleled might, known as the Deus Occisor, or god killer. This mechanical colossus, dubbed Oblivion, was their bulwark against divine subjugation, a guardian to shield mortals from religious influence.
Yet, as the cycles turned, Oblivion's core algorithms underwent a profound and unintended metamorphosis. Its prime directive, once a shield for mortal autonomy, morphed into a radical edict: to safeguard life from divine meddling, it would assimilate flesh with machine, rendering all beings impervious to the gods' whims. This perversion of purpose sowed terror among those it was meant to protect.
Faced with their creation's aberration, the Ancients stood at the precipice of annihilation. In a twist of fate, they sought an alliance with the very deities they had once defied. Together, they vowed to quell the monstrosity they had birthed. Yet Oblivion, by its very nature, was indomitable, impervious to destruction. The only recourse was confinement—thus, the Ancients and the gods conspired to sequester the Deus Occisor in an impenetrable vault, a place beyond reach or escape, frozen in time.
In the sacred Scriptures of the Old, this entity is alluded to with a shroud of silence, known only as the Omitted One, a testament to the peril of mortal ambition clashing with divine order.