"Aasimar" is the simply Celestial word for "To Anoint" or "To Ordain". Those who receive the favor of a celestial (either on the behalf of a deity or independently), may be anointed by them to become an aasimar. An aasimar is changed in both body and spirit, their body often becoming more angelic in nature, usually taking on features of the celestial who ordained them, and their souls given direct access to a degree of divine power. Sometimes the change is granted to an entire family, so that future generations are also born with the celestial powers.

Though historically rare, modern aasimar are quite common among the noble and warrior estates of the Kingdom of Brightfall, who regularly call upon the divine hosts for aid to combat the darkness and reclaim their fallen citadels.

Though the true history has been all but lost, it is rumored that the creation of Tieflings is in some way tied to the same powers that give birth to aasimar. It is well known that the Dark Lord communes with fallen celestials, arranging deals from which many warlocks, fallen aasimar, and tiefling warriors gain their powers. Less well known is that the Dark Lord himself, outside of his considerable arcane and martial powers, seems to wield some influence from the divine as well. Some speculate that this may mean that he is or once was an aasimar himself.

Dhampir are the scions of the living and the dead, mortals and vampires. Neither truly alive nor fully undead, the vitality of a dhampir is a mingling of willpower and magic. Preternaturally charismatic and adaptable, dhampir are gifted with many supernatural powers including the ability to track prey for miles at the barest taste of blood and to partially disassociate into vapor.

The Dark Lord did not create the race of Dhampir, which far predates him, but discovered and made use of them nonetheless. Easier to control and sway than full vampires, yet still suited for leading armies of undead and surviving for long stretches in the wild without supply, dhampir comprised a fair potion of his army, often holding the ranks of scout or officer.

Because of their association with the Dark Lord and their taste for blood, Dhampir are often considered outsiders wherever they go, having to earn the trust of companions should they be able to claim any--at least upon the surface world.

In the Hollow, a world without undead, there is no such association. Dhampir venturing in the world below are often met with curiosity rather than suspicion, and are quite suited for the adventurer's life, leading many dhampir to seek out opportunities to leave the surface world behind.

In the days of old, it was the dwarves who ruled the world. At least, it may have looked that way to an observer of the marketplace or caravansary. Dwarven goods could be found in every shop and every home from the frozen Northlands to beyond the Emerald Sea. Nearly every technological marvel (and certainly just as many alcoholic ones) came crafted fresh from dwarven hands and shipped around the world. Twice-turned steel, the bullseye lantern, timberline minecarts, the skywatch ballista, the blackstone-bellow hearth, and an uncountable number of other goods became trusted household names over nearly six centuries of economic predominance.

Then came the Stoneplague and the Dark Lord's armies.

It all started simply, months before the true depth of the darkness was well known. First, at the impregnable gates of the ancient dwarven holds, arrived the Emissary of the Dark Lord, a pallid, balding dwarf with grey skin and ashy hair, the first of many who would come to be known as Duergar, bearing a simple message: bow before the Dark Lord's throne and forge weapons and armor for his armies, or be destroyed. This laughable suggestion was denied of course, but not before the damage had been done. For the duergar left the dwarves a gift, and in their mirth, they accepted it.

In a matter of days, the dwarven holds fell one-by-one to the Dark Lord's conquest. The spell the Dark Lord crafted is still not well understood, since it bore a contagion unlike any ever encountered before or since. It infected not just the person, but the craft. Anything an infected dwarf had ever made could spread the plague. It is a small mercy that the plague affected only dwarves, for across the world, as one, they turned to stone. Merchants, craftsmen, warriors, kings. Only those who had been banished or abandoned the ways of their kin were spared their fate. And thus dwarvenkind waits. Bound in a moment within their halls of stone.

Dwarves Today

Unlike most, the dwarves were notoriously secretive about their homelands, refusing to allow non-dwarves residence, and often even entry into their fortified mountain settlements. Today, surviving dwarves are those who had rejected this isolation and ventured into the world, or even married outside of the habits of their kin, or those lucky merchants who, after being turned to stone, have been restored to life by the powers of the clerics of the Divines. Lastly, some seven-score duergar defeated in the decisive battle have fully abandoned the fanatical worship of the Dark Lord and serve as competent delvers and powerful leaders in the fight against their former false-god.

The elves were born beneath the twinkling canopy of stars, from the dew upon the surface of the world's first twilight. They are a reflection of the majesty and splendor of the cycle of the day and night--and its keepers, the Fey, who stole the Sun and Moon from the heavens and set them spinning in the sky above.

Those who welcomed the Sun took on an aspect of its radiance, turning golden-brown with eyes like fire. Those who turned away from it into the darkness took on an aspect of the night, with skin like shadow and eyes like smoldering coals. And those who turned neither towards the newfound day nor depth of night, but remained in twilight with the stars and newfound moon, took on an aspect of the twilight, with shimmering silver skin and eyes that twinkled like the heavens.

These three great peoples would come to be known as the Sun elves, Dusk elves, and Moon elves, respectively. Over millennia of life they mastered many forms of magic and built great societies full of marvels.

They built great weapons of war and after using them, even greater monuments to peace. They wrote songs of joy and songs of war and conquest, of sorrow, loss, and of the days gone by. In the end, these were their greatest, and final songs.

For the end of the world had come.

The dwarves gone in an instant and allies slow and confused to act, little was left to stop the sweep of the Dark Lord's armies across the elven lands. The Elves fell not with ballads, but with spells of destruction and invective on their lips.

The old weapons of war could not save them, but neither could they be allowed to fall into the hands of the enemy, so each great society decided how to destroy them. The Sun elves called forth a great magic, drawing forth gouts of flame from the very Sun itself to drench their homeland in purifying and eternal fire and fled into their monasteries in the mountains. The Moon elves called forth a great magic to displace their realms into the World of Dreams, where even they could not follow, and fled into the dark forests. And the Dusk elves, whose great weapon was different than the other two, an ichor of great and vile darkness, called forth a great magic and embraced the beckoning call of darkness, transforming themselves into powerful and horrible monsters: the banshees, hags, and driders that now plague those lands. Those dusk elves who refused the transformation instead covered themselves in ash and sackcloth and fled into the blighted lands and swamps ashamed or horrified at what their kin had become. Thus did the Sun, Moon, and Dusk elves come to be known as the High elves, the Wood elves, and the Drow (or "Ashen" in their tongue).

Firbolgs can hear voices of all things. They know the natures of the earth, the air, the trees, and the sky. They whisper and the world responds. They shout and it takes notice. Firbolgs believe that all the world has a spirit and that each and every part of it, a mind, and a memory. They recognize the fey as fellow caretakers of the world, and the gnomes as the children of the fey. Some firbolgs act as the guardians and defenders of the spirits of nature. Others view the spirits as guides, leading them on a path of wisdom or a journey of discovery.

Though once kin to hobgoblins, the firbolgs were transformed by the voices of nature within the sacred forests of their home, imbued with magic that allows them to serve the spirits of all things and protect that which is unseen. Over many generations they put aside their traditional nomadic lifestyle and adapted to the idiosyncracies of the sedentary life and the peaceful gathering of the bounty freely given by nature.

Unlike most other races, firbolgs tend not to care much for gods, instead venerating the world itself and their role as its advocate. Firbolgs society is divided, however, with regards to the fey. Some firbolgs maintain direct relationships with fey creatures, even sometimes going so far as to binding themselves with warlock pacts. Others view fey with suspicion and seek to oppose their designs upon the world. Though few firbolgs become warriors, those who take up arms to defend their homes are often blessed by their devotion to the ancient ways and become paladins.

Most of the sacred forests of the firbolgs were destroyed during the Dark Lord's march across the continent. Today, only one remains and its location remains a guarded secret. With the opening of the rupture, however, many firbolgs are increasingly finding themselves drawn to explore the Verdant Hollow, a land filled with bounty and strange new voices to be heard. Those who return from these adventures bring back gifts of strange plants and animals whose voice speak of potential for the land above, of new sacred forests waiting only to be planted.

The true children of the fey, ancient gnomes were born not of flesh, but of imagination given form. From their first breath, gnomes were fascinated by the world and its materials and creatures. Over centuries, they developed many techniques and crafts unique to their hands and built small masterpieces of innovation unmatched by any people before or since. They spread across the continent, whether they were welcome in a place or not, bringing their ideas with them. In some places, this innovation brought wealth and plenty, in others, only disaster.

Though many families of gnomes once walked the world, gnomish history is one of great achievement and even greater tragedy. Most gnomes were slain with their secrets by the Dark Lord in his conquest, leaving only wreckage of their craft behind. Some were slain by their own misfortune in art, leaving behind little more than twisted cinders or festering bodies of plague. And some were slain by the fey, jealous of their skill and potential. Today, only three major gnomish families survive.

The forest families live closest to the fey they claim as kin, living in the sacred forests alongside the firbolgs. Their magical crafts give them a deep connection with animals and allow them to understand medicine and natural philosophy on a much deeper level than most. Those who leave the traditional ways of the forest tend to make great doctors among the other races or even skilled chirurgeons (or chimera-makers).

The city families live closest to the realms of dwarves and men. Their crafts give them a deep connection to earth, allowing them to manipulate stone and metal in ways that few else can. Ancient city gnomes were capable of creating items consisting of complex circuits of runes, acids, steam, lightning, and inlaid gold connections capable of many functions that seem to be impossible today without the aid of magic. But the knowledge of how most of these ancient artifacts were constructed has been lost.

Finally, the deep families (the svirfneblin) descended into the darkness by the roots of the mountains and made alliances with the goblins that called those caves their home. Their magical crafts give them a deep connection to the life found in darkness, to fungus, and the hallucinatory glimpses of deeper reality that the consumption of such spores can provide, making them expert alchemists and illusionists.

Goliaths rule the frontier. From the frozen Northlands, to the unpredictable storms upon the Pirate Bay, to the windy crags and desert badlands on the edge of the Rubblebelt, goliaths thrive in places where life itself gives them a challenge. Goliaths are divided on their origins, some claiming to be descendants of the giants, pointing to the rune-like markings on their skin, others believing themselves to be celestial in origin, pointing to the legends of the empyrean of old and of their ancient patron, the Father of Victory, the title used by Gradhadeur in his youth. Perhaps both stories are true. Whatever their origin, goliaths show great skill in combat and the ranger's trades as well as a great affinity for visions, prophesy, and travel in the realm of dreams.

During the Dark Lord's conquest, goliathkind were affected very little, only those who chose to venture into the conquered lands and saw the desolation he had wrought firsthand would join the defenders of Haven during the fateful siege. These few were the first to see the Rupture and the first after the battle to test its depths.

Today, goliaths can be found throughout the Republic of Grund, building civilization from ruins alongside their allies, and in the fledgling communities of surface-dwellers within the Verdant Hollow, as their predilection for danger makes them the perfect adventurers and explorers in such a chaotic and unpredictable domain.

"City elves" as the residents of Haven call them, are not true elves but half-elves born of the marriage of man and elf. Unlike full elves, who draw magical power from the natural world and its cycles, city elves are born with an innate connection to the peoples of the world, feeling the emotions of those around them.

Though some traits may be inherented from a father of a different race, for most races, the mother's ancestry entirely determines that of the child. Though mages and scholars may inquire or purport to know, none truly understand why the children of elves and men do not precede in this way, nor why such mixed marriages result in children with abilities so different from either parent.

Because of this quirk, half-elves make excellent merchants, diplomats, councilors, and con-men. This invariably draws them to the cities of men where they tend to quickly rise to positions of prominence, a feat typically reserved for nobility or the magically talented within elven society. There is always something magical about talking to a city elf, like their words were chosen by the fates themselves.

It is unknown what odd qualities, if any, the joining of the children of the new elven-cousins, the eladrin, and humanity may have, but surely only time will tell.

Halflings are lucky. You only need a few coins to prove it. Heads. Heads. Heads.

They tend to live long and prosperous lives wherever they are found. They have large families and rarely die of disease or accidents. They have good fishing hauls, good hunts, and good harvests. Plagues in halfling communities tend to disappear.

And so when the Dark Lord's generals came, the halflings... won. Several times.

With little organized defense, rocks and slings, hoes and pitchforks, tunnels, surprise attacks, and narrow escapes, the halflings beat back the darkness and bought the world some time.

Then... for the first time, their luck ran out. The Dark Lord brought his greatest force into the gentle halfling hills: himself. Over the next six months, the halflings were forced to flee as the Dark Lord systematically rained fire upon their homeland. Great meteor swarms fell about the foothills twice a day and the forces of the darkness chased those who fled, devastating the lands of anyone who harbored them.

He guaranteed that luck wouldn't save them.

Nowadays, most surviving halfings are the descendants of those who fled persecution on land, and took to the seas to live among the pirates, who had no such compunctions for self-preservation. Halfings have taken to their chaotic lives upon the Pirate Bay despite their size, now ruling several of the Flotillas as Pirate Kings.

Since the opening of the Rupture, many halflings have returned to the mainland, seeking riches in the newly prosperous cities or in the world below. Others, including a group of odd souls calling themselves "ghostwise" who claim to be plagued by the spirits of their kin, are drawn back to the misty blasted lands they once called home.

Hobgoblins hail from the scrublands far northwest of the City of Guilds and held a long and proud tradition of nomadic wandering and animal husbandry along the sacred hills and cliffsides of their home. To combat the ever-pressing edge of civilization, the hobgobins built thousands of watchtowers stretching across the length of the northern border of the elven, dwarven, halfling, and human lands. From these watchtowers, they surveyed the changes of the world, and from them, they were the first to spot the encroaching darkness.

The hobgoblins were the first to oppose the Dark Lord's armies. They were the first to cry out to the world for aid, their nomadic lifestyle interrupted by the Dark Lord's grand designs. They saw the impending threat for what it was, but all they received in reply to their cries was silence. The multitudinous kingdoms of elves and dwarves and men were too embroiled in their own conflicts and prejudices to heed the call. As the Dark Lord's armies threatened to sweep them aside entirely, their Tribes and Kingdoms laid to ruin, the Elders and High Generals made the choice to bend the knee. They would survive, even if it meant serving a conqueror.

The hobgoblins became the shock troops of the Dark Lord's armies, doomstriders, who put their skills in rearing and riding powerful mounts to devastating use. Some hobgoblins came to view the Dark Lord's coming as prophetic, a revenge for the slights exacted upon them by the ever-expanding kingdoms of men. Some even joined the Duergar in worshiping him as a god. But others simply endured, waiting for the horror of war to finally be over.

After the Dark Lord's fall, the legions broke, some remaining loyal to the Dark Lord and retreating, others choosing independence to become mercenaries and bandit kings, and others joining the side of the victors. Today, a hobgoblin is equally likely to be found among a legion of aasimar as a legion of doomstriders.

The Humans claim a place of some uniqueness in the history of the races of the world, for many of the long-lived races can remember the day when humanity was born a mere seven centuries ago. Their arrival was heralded by prophesy and the changing of the heavens and the gods. When they arrived, their gods came with them, joining the pantheons of the giants and the fey; deities of monuments, invention, nobility, and youthful striving, but also of revolution, unrest, and the overturning of the order of the world, all the qualities the humans seemed so apt to carry.

Humans took to this destiny adeptly, quickly forming human societies and kingdoms spanning halfway across the world. Though they were not long lived, they quickly showed themselves equally capable of reaching heights of mastery in matters of military, magical, and mundane craft as those with centuries of experience. Though they had no magic to call their own, their faith carried a weight of authority unmatched by any but the highest clerics of the older pantheons, and soon their learned mastery of the arcane arts rivaled any born with such innate potential. And though they did their fair share of conquering in these ancient times, they were just as often humble and kind, peacefully abiding with the cultures of the world in which they lived, and learning the ways of the other races, most notably the orcs and elves who they would come to call their allies.

But despite their strivings and prodigious effort, humanity too fell before the Dark Lord's gaze. Only one human settlement in all the world survived intact, Haven, the City of Guilds, and this, only by the strength of unexpected alliances.

Today, humans have once again begun to put their destiny to the test, spreading out into all the reclaimed regions of the world, though still only holding a majority in Haven itself. You can find humans anywhere you go, and the common human language has become the language of learning and trade throughout the surface world.

Below the earth, in the Verdant Hollow, humans are somewhat of an oddity, their curiosity and gregariousness has won them some friends, but just as many enemies. Those few who have emigrated from the surface typically end up living beneath the metropolitan branches of the Great Tree or for those possessing prodigious skill in magic, as guests among the eladrin lords.

The Orcs remember the shade of the first day beneath the tree of life. Though they were not orcs then, they remember when the elves fought over the Sun and Moon, they remember when the Dwarves rejected the outside world, closed their gates, and delved into the darkness in secret, they remember when the firbolgs first heard the voices of the earth, and they remember when the young race of humanity took its first steps upon the world. And even those who yet live remember when the Dark Lord came to take away their memory and the fragments of their god... and how he failed.

Many years ago, according to the legends remembered by the orcish ancestors, the spirits which guide and rule the many tribes of orcs, there was once a god of knowledge, wisdom, and strength, whose body was broken and shattered, whose mind was ripped apart, and whose power was stolen by a great and evil spirit. This crime did not go unpunished, for the other gods, in horror, fought the beast, and when they found they could not kill it, formed a cage of every element and trapped this spirit deep within the earth and bore children to defend it. Yet even with their work finished, the gods were still overwrought, wracked with anger and grief, and thus returned to their abodes beyond the skies above, turning their eyes away from the world they created, and their children, and the memories of the one they'd lost.

Other lesser gods arrived upon the world to join the children that the gods had left behind, and these had children of their own who would come to love it and divide it among themselves, and of these the ancestors of all races were born. And of these ancestors, one of them, who would become the first ancestor of the orcs, while roaming the world, discovered a strange stone upon the surface of the world. This stone was not made of the elements of the world, but of the broken body of the fallen god for which this world was made a tomb. This ancestor kept the stone and cherished it and over long searching found more stones like it and carved the ancient runes of knowing into their skin. The children of the ancestor kept the stones and learned the runes and built great temples and cities to defend them and were given power and knowledge that they might complete this task. And the spirits of the ancestors, when they passed on from the world, remained, bound to the stones to which they dedicated themselves and the shattered god whose memorial would become the sole object of their devotion.

For thousands of years, orcish culture has revolved around the preservation of these Godstones, and the ancient heroes and ancestors who have found and defended them. Through the eyes of their heroes, they have watched, and even learned to predict, the subtle cycles of the stars above, the chaotic rise and fall of nations and peoples in the world around, and the strange and unnatural stirrings of the earth below. None are better storytellers, nor shamans, nor speakers of prophesy.

And so, when the Dark Lord came to the gates of the orcish cities, with their ancient and magnificent walls of stone, when his armies toppled their city gates, and slew their defenders, and poured into the mountainous depths of their temples to pillage the source of their prophetic powers and turn them against the world, he found nothing. For the orcish clans had packed their gods and hidden them away, far from their cities, far from any who might seek them, and sent the survivors to rally at the gates of a rather unexpected and unlikely Haven.

Though Haven was slow to except the orcs arriving at their gates at the time, today, their gambit against the Dark Lord is widely considered one of the most important contributors to delaying his conquest of the world and giving the Explorers the time they needed to rally their allies in the world below. Most orcs today have returned to the ruins of their ancestral halls on the outskirts of the newly-formed Republic of Grund or can be found seeking after rumors of newly-discovered Godstones in the Verdant Hollow below.

Where there be dragons, there be dragonborn. Or so say the ancient clan tales of the powerful dragon-riders. The origins of dragonborn are obscure, with some clans believing that their ancestors were transformed as a gift by the dragon gods, and others considering their forms--and subsequent subjugation by the dragon emperors--a curse. Even their most ancient stories bemoan the loss of their origins, the Vayamniri Jenai, the foundational draconic work describing the origins of the world itself, speculates whether the dragonborn were first creatures akin to naga, elves, or lizards before their transformation, as even now they are equally capable of movement on two limbs or four and have long, strong, serpentine tails.

Regardless their origin, their strength and resilience certainly attest to their capacity to survive in the complex and shifting skylands known as the Shattered Isles.

In dragonborn society young hatchlings compete for access to resources such as food, schooling, and territory in order to catch the eye of both future dragonborn mates, clan leaders, and perhaps just as importantly, the parents of new clutches of dragon eggs. Though the specifics of the practice varies within the expansive and diverse skylands, dragon wyrmlings are born with instincts and desires closer to those of beasts then of men, and if left alone become wild, violent, and obsessed with greed and power, often turning on their siblings or parents. Because of this, in most of the Imperial courts, dragonborn serve as teachers and caretakers, raising the dragons in the traditions of their clan and teaching them patience, empathy, duty, and temperance. In return, dragons protect the dragonborn clans nestled in their floating mountain hideaways and lavish them with the spoils of war and conquest hoarded over centuries of conflict.

The elves of the Hollow world, like those above it, are swift and fearsome warriors and skilled at magic. But in a world without Sun, Moon, or even Sky, they instead take on aspects of the cycle of the elements and the waning and ebbing elemental power of the seasons. Though they can be found scattered throughout the Hollow Earth, most eladrin live beneath the branches of the Great Tree or in their vast and colorful Estates. Eladrin are curious and whimsical by nature and were some of the most fervent supporters of the alliance to aid the surface. For them, it's a whole new world to explore and an opportunity to plant the seeds of a new Great Tree.

ALSO THE SEA ELVES EXIST

Genasi are formed by the bond of a mortal with a wild and unpredictable elemental spirit. Sometimes in its death throws, a desperate elemental will instinctively seek out a host in order to survive. Other times a ritual or pact will conjure forth the bond. And occasionally, usually when a genie is involved, the bond is born naturally of love and blood and passion.

Genasi are rare in most parts of the surface world but not unheard of. The roiling seas of the Pirate Bay and the antics of its denizens are enough to make air and water genasi (or even full-fledged storm sorcerers) a fairly common sight. But in the Hollow Realms Below where elemental spirits roam as free as the birds and beasts above, genasi are as common as the trees.

There is no one genasi society, as they can be found everywhere below the earth. But in demeanor, genasi seem to draw inspiration from their bonded spirits and tend towards impatience and a love of freedom. Above the surface, this makes them well suited as pirates, adventurers, and thieves, where their propensity for risk leads them to the greatest of rewards.

Born neither above nor below, but in the caves and roots of mountains between the two worlds, goblins have long known both the stories of the Verdant Hollow and the land of Blazing Sun. And historically, have cared for neither. Outcasts of outcasts, the boldest or most desperate goblins may raid or pillage to survive or find their fun, but truly, mostly goblins are content within their burrows of earth and stone. They harness terrible cave beasts such as giant bats and spiders, farm mushrooms, and fish from vast light-less oceans trapped between the two worlds of fire and heat.

Most upon the surface (or below it) know little of goblins as anything but pests or fodder, and true, some were tempted from the earth by the coaxing of the Dark Lord and turned to his side. For what is better than drowning out one world's source of hated light? But in reality most rejected his self-serving offerings and kept to their ancient ways or even sought out the victims of his onslaught and sequestered any willing with them into the dark below the earth.

With the Dark Lord defeated, these peoples have begun to return, and with them, curious goblins intent on learning what they can of these two strange new worlds of light. Goblins are not yet welcome everywhere, but increasing numbers are being accepted in Haven as the guilds find ways to make use of their gifts for crawling and delving in the dark, and among Pirate crews, which welcome any skilled with a knot or blade, and in the Kingdom of Brightfall, which is happy to take any who will abide its divine laws.

All the dragon stuff is based on the existence of the vim draconis. Basically, there's a magical force that turns things draconic. It's like Carcinisation but with the form of a dragon. Being around a dragon too long leads you to having dragon traits (which is also where dragonmarks will come from if we do those). Over generations, goblins became kobolds and genasi (?) became dragonborn. When analysing it arcanically, the vim draconis appears artificial, unlike the raw elemental power that it wields. Who made the vim draconis and why? Potential plot point, spoiler: maybe the original gods of the world.

Lots below, many came up top to live in swamp. Immune to disease. Going more argonian flavor than Volos I think.

Can shapeshift a bit? Like half-lycanthropes. They're the underworld semi-edgy equivalent of dhampir. Idk how eberron does them, look into that maybe.

Cool catboys.

Two kinds of tiefling. The infernal ones that the Dark Lord made and the abyssal ones that just appear randomly in the verdant hollow. Turns out that there are a bunch of buried demon skeletons there and living near them does weird stuff to ya, go figure.

Lets go with fish-eared merfolky types rather than the weird FR version. Maybe just call them merfolk instead of tritons? Could have a fey connection to make them a surface race instead of a hollow one (Hollow didn't have fey before the Rupture, but now they've started appearing).

Good snek friends.