Relationships between castes are permitted, though not all are well regarded or treated equally, especially when they disrupt the established balance.

The distinction between races and roles has been reinforced over millennia by the Decoluxis, who shaped the genetic, magical, and structural laws that keep Gelodian society functioning as a living, unbreakable, and obedient machine. All of this under the guidance of a single sovereign: the King of the Black Crown, the only male member of the royal family capable of bearing the Primordial Blood and the Crown itself.

The Gelodian nobility is organized into Houses, inspired by ancient bloodlines and entrusted with ceremonial, political, and arcane functions. These Houses are usually led by the eldest member, most often the one who commands the greatest arcane mastery within the lineage. Although all members bear the family name and title, only those born as Decoluxis are truly deemed worthy of embodying the legacy. The rest, though noble by birth, are treated as second sons, shadows. Who living beneath the weight of a name they can never rise beyond.

This system, though rigid, has been challenged by some minor Houses that choose to disregard the racial restrictions. Nevertheless, only the Decoluxis, can carry the Primordial Blood that grants the right to claim the throne and the Black Crown. This limitation has sparked countless wars for sovereignty, conflicts that devoured entire generations, until only three Great Houses remained. These now dominate the political landscape, followed by a small number of minor Houses, bound by oath or alliance.

During the infamous War of a Thousand Years, the Decoluxis fractured into a handful of rival Houses, each devoted to an extinct virtue. Since then, their internal conflicts have never ceased. What began as political strife evolved into a perpetual dance of intrigue, broken oaths, and backstabbing murders.

Their bodies, slender in form with wide hips, are covered in an ultra-fine coat of feather-like filaments each strand a microscopic plume, soft as silk. From their heads flows a golden mane, versatile as the wind and radiant like aged gold. Their facial structure is elongated and elegant, with a refined snout, powerful jaw, and eyes blue as dying stars or the deepest ocean. Atop their heads rise two massive wing-shaped ears, living crowns that tremble subtly with every sound. Most bear a pair of wings that allow them to soar across the frozen skies of Gelidium.

Their eyelids resemble those of Terran humans, giving them deeply expressive gazes though to some, these eyes reflect souls rotted by narcissism. Their semi-digitigrade legs grant them a graceful yet predatory gait, while their arms, roughly Terran in proportion, end in bluish claws that shimmer with an iridescent hue. Their plumage often takes on golden or ivory tones with hints of blue, while the skin beneath is a deep, starless blue.

A rare and feared branch of the Decoluxis considered heretical by some Houses, incandescent purple eyes, white hair and coppery plumage.

Abilities of the Decoluxis : 

✦ Gifts of the Rune of Power: 

1. Electromancy:  summoning lightning, manipulation electrical currents

2. Pyromancy:  Fire shaped by will. Heat-forged weapons that burn flesh 

3. Teleportation:  The ability to shift instantly through space via brief ruptures in the fabric of reality. Dangerous but precise.

4. Transmutation:  turning blood into vapor, stone into flesh, iron into salt.

5. Temporal Displacement: They can travel through time and space. A journey of no return that only the wisest and oldest know how to do.

✦ Gifts of the Rune of Power [Bleeding] : 

1. Hypnosis:  The ability to dominate another’s will through gaze, voice, or gesture. Can induce sleep, obedience or false memories.

2. Sensory Manipulation:  They distort the senses of others (ghostly visions, illusory sounds, false pain or pleasure) to confuse, seduce, or torment.

3. Vitalis:  The power to return life to once-living beings: plants, animals, even corpses.

4. Inefabilis:  the power to disintegrate and erase something or someone.

A mutated sub-race from the Vulparesu bloodline, born beyond the margins of logic and sculpted by centuries of martial tradition. Their origin is a genetic mystery, perhaps the whim of a belligerent goddess or a genetic aberration blessed by necessity. Rare, feared, and revered, the Biatencambis are the living embodiment of absolute physical power.

Raised from puphood by noble houses, they are indoctrinated to become faceless zealots: enforcers of royal will, living weapons, clawed shadows deployed when all else has failed. Their presence signals the end of all negotiations, and the beginning of extermination. Where a Biatencambis steps, rarely does any witness remain.

Despite serving as both shield and spear of the crown, the Biatencambis live under a regime of total control. Though granted certain privileges, better quarters, quality food, or the right to wear holy armor, they are denied anything that might awaken a sense of self: they are forbidden from procreating without royal sanction, from forming emotional bonds, or from aspiring to any title beyond that which war grants them. They are living tools, not citizens.

Nonetheless, their instinctual heritage sometimes overflows their oath. Many break their celibacy and conceive in secret, often following illicit encounters with nobles they once vowed to protect. These forbidden offspring are hidden or, in more severe cases, handed over to the Academic Ministry for elimination.

When a transgression is discovered, the purge order is issued by their own sisters in arms, those who trained alongside the deserter, who must carry out the execution. No trial, no mercy. They must kill the traitor and her offspring with their own hands. To refuse is to forfeit their oath and share the condemned’s fate.

Unlike the Decoluxis, whose splendor is tied to nobility, grace, and beauty, the Biatencambis embody the physical apex of their species in a far more brutal and pragmatic form. Their bodies, though outwardly sturdy and plain, conceal dense and lethal musculature built for endurance and destruction. They are covered in bluish or reddish scales that act as natural armor, spreading over key anatomical zones to enhance their resilience.

A Biatencambis can range in size from two meters to, in the case of elite individuals born from forced selection cycles, up to four meters tall. The largest among them are said to be able to break down walls with a single charge, tear a Terran in half with their claws, or devour one whole by unhinging their jaw in a serpentine manner. Their mouth, typically hidden beneath a calm or vacant expression, can unfold into a nightmare of fangs designed to crush bone and metal alike.

Even a careless shove from a Biatencambis can send an opponent crashing into a wall with lethal force. They are natural-born hunters, as a rule. They feel no fear. Show no mercy. And rarely miss a strike.

Though not known for academic intellect, they possess a sharp oral memory and a deep love for myths, legends, and war stories. This passion for spoken history makes them surprisingly expressive, especially in closed circles.

They are maternal. Deeply so. Capable of a dangerous tenderness, they form emotional codependencies that can become unbreakable bonds or tragic inevitabilities. This duality, ruthless brutality in battle and emotional attachment in the personal  is what makes them both monstrous and profoundly loyal, which is why Gelodian males are often tempted to court them.

Abilities of the Biatencambis: 

✦ Gifts of the Rune of Fertility:

1. Superstrength:  Their bodies surpass biological limits.

2. Selective Hardening:   Instant secretion of a protective layer that deflects bullets and blades

3. Appendix Modification:  Generation of new limbs, organic blades, or shields.

4. Regeneration: they can regrow organs and limbs with time and nutrients.

✦ Gifts of the Rune of Fertility [Bleeding] : 

1. Vocal Command:  Their voice can fracture will, dull senses, or force obedience.

2. Siren Pheromones:  Emit chemical signals to enthrall males of other castes.

3. Changeling:  Rare specimens may alter their appearance, though unstable and unbelievable. 

4. Milk of Healing:  Their lactation restores wounds, purges toxins, and invigorates flesh.

Engraved into their marrow is the Rune of Strength, one that robs them of magic but grants them resistance to cold, pain, and exhaustion.

They are born in litters of two or three, gestated in barely nine months, as if the world were in a hurry to burn through them. Within weeks, they walk. In days, they carry weight. Before a full solar cycle, they can already form words. Their lives last between 50 and 80 years, if they're lucky enough not to be crushed in a forge, buried in a battlefield, or lost in a tunnel that will never see daylight.

They are not called slaves. But they need no chains to obey. Faith cages them. Purpose justifies them. That’s why they are known as the useful herd: born, serve, collapse.

And the Crown knows it. Every tower, every building and home, every mine drilled into the world’s marrow, every colossal ship that crosses the frozen skies. Was built by their hands. That’s why they’re feared. That’s why they are forbidden from carrying weapons within the cities. If one day they chose to stop obeying, the Throne would fall with them.

Enough reason to grant them just the right amount of freedom to keep them distracted, immersed in consumption and base desires, as long as they stay obedient.

Every Vulparesu is registered, watched, categorized.

They are fast. Social. Trainable. Perfect cannon fodder. They respond as a pack. They don’t question the purpose and their obedience is a conditioned reflex from birth.

Goldenresu are said by hushed tongues to be divine errors. Smooth, pale skin etched with golden patterns and blood-red markings, as if painted with Terran blood. They are larger. Longer-lived. More coveted. And the most strictly controlled. Their existence is a genetic mutation, an evolutionary vortex.

They have a single biological obligation: to birth Decoluxis, the male elite of the Kingdom.

From their first cry, they are stripped of the right to know their parents, especially when born into the kingdom’s lower houses. No mother steps forward. Soon after, they are taken and assigned to a wetnurse within the Church of Silver, who determines their role for the years to come.

Those born of noble blood are trained like glass ornaments: Dance. Protocol. Silence. While they often enjoy greater privilege, most are dressed as offerings handed over as trophies. Others, however, exploit the very system that birthed them. They rebel under the illusion of freedom, built by their own kind. A game of influence, one often orchestrated by themselves.

Some end up in aristocratic beds. Others, paired with Royal Guardsmen, in unions often rewarded more for function than for desire. They can give birth once a year.And they do. Sometimes in religious ecstasy. Other times, through screams of hatred and resentment. The saddest truth is: not all their offspring survive. Some are born missing organs, with collapsed minds, or broken immune systems. If not born into noble lineage and deemed unfit for strength, they face three paths: Sacrificed. Assigned to a lower caste. Or conscripted into the Royal Guard, where it’s unlikely they'll ever know their progenitor or their siblings.

Abilities of the Vulparesus: 

✦ Gifts of the Rune of Strength:

1. Brutal Enhancement:  Muscles far denser than normal, granting overwhelming strength.

2. Accelerated Reflexes:   reaction time and motion prediction.

3. Endurance Surge:   Operate for days without fatigue or loss of combat ability.

4. Pack Focus: Strength amplifies when moving in coordinated groups.

✦ Gifts of the Rune of Strength [Bleeding] : 

1. Channeled Rage:  Injuries boost strength; pain becomes fuel.

2. Instinctive Butcher:  Attack patterns become erratic and brutal.

3. Fibrillating Muscles:  Hyperfast movement at the cost of internal damage.

A Biatencambis may give birth to one or two cubs in her first pregnancy. As she matures, her births become more abundant: between six and twelve offspring throughout her fertile years, sometimes more in rare cases. But abundance does not mean quality. Lumens do not reach independence until after the age of seven, and without their mother, they do not survive.

Their emotional biology is parasitically symbiotic. Their mother’s presence doesn’t just calm them it keeps them alive. Without her, they collapse and die. Their cries can induce hallucinations, and their mere agony is known to trigger the “guardian syndrome,” a psycho-arcane phenomenon that turns even natural enemies into protectors.

Due to their mixed nature, Lumens exhibit a range of traits: winged ears, skin that shifts between scales and feathers. Their voice is soft, almost hypnotic, and their bodies show no clear sexual dimorphism until after puberty. They are often mistaken for Decoluxis, though sometimes their excess horns reveal their lineage. Some males inherit the warm, sturdy build of their mothers; some females the slender figure of their Decoluxis fathers. And in some unfortunate cases, they grow extra limbs, three arms, two tails, or more.

Lumens are living generators of raw arcane energy. Many are born without defined channels, without limits or control. They manifest arcane crystals prematurely and when that happens, their bodies may tear apart from within, causing spontaneous mutations, degenerative diseases, or even minor dimensional fractures that consume them. Few survive past the age of three. But those who do… there are no words to measure their true potential.

Abilities of the Lumens: 

✶  Gifts of the Rune of ?̸̞̘̒̓͘?̴͓͖͕͒̽̚?̵̡̠̫̓͘:

1. Appendix Modification:  Generation of new limbs, organic blades, or shields.

2. Regeneration: they can regrow organs and limbs with time and nutrients.

✶  Gifts of the Rune of ?̸̞̘̒̓͘?̴͓͖͕͒̽̚?̵̡̠̫̓͘  [Bleeding] : 

1. Electromancy:  summoning lightning, manipulation electrical currents

2. Pyromancy:  Fire shaped by will. Heat-forged weapons that burn flesh 

3. Teleportation:  The ability to shift instantly through space via brief ruptures in the fabric of reality. Dangerous but precise.

4. Transmutation:  turning blood into vapor, stone into flesh, iron into salt.

5. Re-Vitalis:  Breathes fleeting life into hollow matter. 

6. Hollow Vein:  Passively or intentionally drains the life of others when they are attacked.

7. Tongue of Kingslayers:  They can twist the minds of others, forcing conscious victims to commit murder and even betrayal.

8. Visions:  The Lumen dreams can see visions, being able to see future disasters and calamities in an obtuse way.

9. Technomancy:  With sheer will and raw cognition, the Lumen shapes weapons and constructs, bypassing the need for biological extensions. Their mind is the forge.

Yet, unlike the costly and impractical nature of controlling a Lumen, the Kingdom of Gelidium, in its wise cruelty, found a purpose for them.

Badbloods are deployed into the most primitive and disposable shock units of the Coalition of Nifelhaim Realms, where their sole purpose is to advance, strike, absorb, and fall. They are not trained. They are not taught. They are simply pointed toward the enemy and given a reason: "they took something from you." Sometimes, not even that. A glance is enough. They respond with laughter, drool, and euphoria, as if violence were their only friend.

Most Badbloods live barely a few decades, and in their final days, they seek death as if it were a prize. Some volunteer as suicide minions; others sell themselves as hitmen for noble houses too proud to stain their hands with “official” blood. It is rumored that certain lords even collect the skulls of particularly brutal Badbloods as trophies from assassination attempts they've survived.

Abilities of the Badbloods: 

All the abilities of the Biatencambis, but in a very poor and impractical form. 

According to the sacred scriptures, Avathoth emerged from the Void but was cast out for rebelling against the chaotic will of that darkness. In her exile, she sowed life into dead worlds and shaped the fabric of reality with her fertile breath.

Whenever the three legions are deployed composed of every caste and race that walks under Gelodian skies one thing is certain: you’ve made the king very angry. From the most feral Vulparesu to the most sadistic and loyal Badbloods, all feed the sacred machine of war, which charges forward like an unstoppable stampede until their target is extinguished or the last of them falls.

The Three Legions of the Gladii Imperatoris:

Θ The Military Patrol :  They are the flesh and meat of the army. They patrol the streets, guard borders, pilot the warships, cleanse infested districts, and die by the thousands. Vulparesu, Badbloods, and all kinds of hybrids regardless of gender or nature are thrown into these ranks. Some enlist for faith, some for necessity, others out of sheer condemnation.

They are lured with promises of coin and spiritual redemption, but what most truly receive is a grave with no name.

Ω The Zealot:  From their first breath, the Zealots are taken by the Silver Church. Torn away from the common world, raised in the so called "Academies", they are sculpted into living weapons of devotion. There is no family. No desire. No self.

Only duty. Only the Crown. They are forged through brutal hand-to-hand combat, tactical warfare drills, and religious indoctrination. Every Zealot burns with the sacred mission to protect the noble bloodlines, to fulfill royal command, and to execute their master's judgment without hesitation or mercy.

α   The Royal Guard:  They are the final card when all else collapses. Warriors without past or name, once-soldiers who surrendered everything pleasures, identities, even memory to don the sacred mantle of absolute duty. They are celibate by sacred oath, masters of arcane warfare, trained in the arts of annihilation and Void suppression. Their mere presence bends the entire chain of command around them. When one appears, the ground trembles. When two arrive, death is not a possibility it’s a certainty.

This empire spans thousands of colonies across countless stellar sectors, where freedom does not exist only purpose. Every conquered world is transformed through relentless terraformation: its resources are exploited, its inhabitants are recruited, classified, and, if necessary, modified to become functional components of the vast imperial mechanism. From Terraprime, the technological core of the empire, the Supreme Didact rules with an iron hand.

Under his command, the Iron Council an elite of military commanders and technocrats, executes his will through a swarm of automated systems, uniformed armies, and unbreakable laws. Under constant surveillance by the Replicant Consciousnesses, artificial intelligences that monitor every detail, the empire records even the slightest movement of its citizens. Every life is analyzed, archived, evaluated, and cross-referenced to determine whether it is useful... or disposable.

The Nexoguards: Genetically modified soldiers indoctrinated since childhood, the Nexoguards are the weapon through which the Empire crushes wills. Equipped with cutting-edge weaponry and the law tattooed into their flesh, they are symbols of supreme order.

Core Citizens: The administrative and scientific elite, born within Nexusterra’s Core Worlds. They live in controlled conditions, with access to technology, yet under constant surveillance. Their value lies in production, technical innovation, or loyal service.

Frontier Plebeians: Inhabitants of outer colonies, used as cannon fodder, slave labor, or test subjects for technological enhancements. Most will never know any life other than to serve and die for Nexusterra.

Their most blasphemous act was the development of the Mark of Darkness, something so unthinkable that even the Empire and the Gelodians consider it beyond comprehension. This cursed rune or blessing is said to be forged through the death of magical beings. Through this arcane heresy, they have learned to absorb life force and wield dark sorcery that would otherwise be impossible for humans. These practices gave rise to an underground school of forbidden arts that, on rare occasions, has even taken root within the Empire itself, among its most corrupt members.

Today, the Cult of the Ascended is made up of fugitives, fanatics, mutated priests, failed experiments, and exiles from the core hierarchy of Nexusterra. Though marginalized, they are growing. And some whisper that the Ascended already walks among them…

Within the CRN, Aracniums have been reduced almost exclusively to shock troops. They hold no meaningful social role beyond their battlefield utility. Discrimination against them is so entrenched that the Gelodian Kingdom doesn't even provide them with armor or weapons designed for their physiology. Regarded as crude, slow-witted, and easily manipulated, they are used as living tools expendable cannon fodder.

Their reasoning is comparable to that of a caveman: they grasp basic concepts like “strength,” "sex", “enemy,” and “food,” but are incapable of processing complex orders or understanding advanced hierarchical structures. This limitation makes them useful, yet entirely disposable.

They possess a fairly solid level of reasoning, making them intellectually capable and strategically valuable. They build their homes among shipwrecks and ruins of ancient structures that have been claimed by the sea.

Within the CRN, Aquordles primarily serve as support units: healers and users of reinforcing arcane magic. They are essential in protecting soldiers who lack advanced armor, such as the Decoluxis or the Biatencambis.

Socially, Aquordles live in servile conditions. They are often assigned roles as scribes, assistants, or even bankers, due to their exceptional talent for mathematics. On occasion, they are also used as sexual companions. However, their most prominent role is spiritual: they serve actively in the Church of Silver, devoted to the goddess Avathoth, who bears a striking resemblance to an ancient sea deity once worshipped by their species. This connection has been used to further reinforce their religious submission.

Culturally, the Barboslides are deeply spiritual, comparable to Shaolin monks. They exhibit no sexual dimorphism and reproduce by laying eggs, which makes their social structure strange and incompatible with the norms of other species. They seem immune to fear, lack a sense of ego, and reject hierarchy, which has made diplomacy with them frustrating for more structured civilizations. Their original integration into the CRN was purely strategic. During the Thousand Year War, their ability to survive in toxic environments and their unpredictable combat style made them useful. However, over time, they were deemed too expensive to maintain as an active force.

Today, their role within the Coalition is more that of a tributary protectorate. Their home planet is toxic and nearly uninhabitable for other races, except for themselves. As such, the Slugmen no longer provide soldiers or strategic support but instead pay tribute in the form of precious materials, rare metals, and corrosive substances extracted from their deep oceans. In return, they are protected from dissidents and attacks due to their strange way of dealing with warfare.

During the Thousand Year War, many Nomads profited by smuggling supplies and resources for the Gelodians. Though they never formally joined the war effort, certain clans struck lucrative deals that allowed them to thrive in the chaos. Yet, true to their nature, they never pledged allegiance to any one faction. Nomad Terrans are wanderers, constantly on the move, avoiding government oversight and planetary bureaucracy.

Their way of life is forged along dangerous routes, forgotten systems, and floating stations where few dare to enter. Their ships, though modest, are extensively modified: they function as homes, arsenals, markets, and mobile fortresses. Each clan upholds a strict communal code, sharing technology, weapons, supplies, and most importantly, critical information about unexplored territories, smuggling routes, and hidden threats.

They are bounty hunters, explorers, traders, pirates… and often all of these at once. Always on the move, always in the shadows, their loyalty belongs solely to their own and to the freedom the void offers them.

Only during the Great Winter, when starlight vanished and interstellar navigation became near-impossible, the Nomads were among the first forced to land on unknown worlds. Their small to medium-sized ships, designed for long hauls rather than war, were scattered across dead systems. Many never returned to space. Those who did brought back maps, atmospheric data, and geological scans, vital information that Gelidium and Nexusterra used to claim and terraform new colonies.

Though a fragile truce currently exists between them and Gelidium, tensions remain. Some Nomad clans still carry out raids or smuggle forbidden tech, walking the thin line between outlaw and asset.

Then there are the Hosts, also known as the Blessed. These are ethereal spirits from the Void that possess recently deceased bodies or, at times, inanimate objects like dolls, books, shoes, or even teacups. Anything can become their vessel.

Deeper in the layers of horror, though rarely seen beyond the Void, lurk the Chaos Spiders. Massive creatures with countless ghostly eyes that mesmerize their prey, forcing them to witness their deepest fears until madness takes hold… just before being devoured.

Next come the Nightmares, manta-like entities that feed slowly and vampirically on their victims, draining their soul and life until nothing remains but eternal fuel for the creature’s existence.

And lastly, the Pogfish: abyssal beings that hunt by opening both their eyes and mouths at once. Those who lock eyes with them are pulled into a dark, twisted dimension from which no one has ever returned.