World of Illidia - OOC

Humans are perhaps the second- or third-most prolific of the "high races", those who dwell principally in large towns and cities. The majority have shunned the wilds for millennia and have become entirely civilised, with a strong presence across the north and west regions of Lechin and Illidia. Intrepid adventurers and merchants frequently try their luck at heading into the nigh-abandoned relic land of Terlanis to the far south, but most are unable to survive the crossing of the Cortillos Mountains that block their path.

Chief among the human territories are Tinidal, a fertile realm known for accepting practically anyone and anything, governed from the city of Towelen by an elite class of seven families; the war-ravaged kingdom of Gunthartaz, which has been violently contesting its borders for centuries and is unspokenly accepted to be ruled by the mysterious vizier Melakh; and the city-fortress of Ger, believed to be impregnable to assault and warded against infiltration by equally potent sorceries reinforced by the ruling Council of Magi.

Humans come in all shapes, sizes and colours; having adapted to the peculiarities of each area they live in, but are uniformly prone to relatively short lifespans - hitting 50 would be extremely impressive - and seem to exhibit greater vulnerability to disease than many other races. The oldest human religion that still survives holds them to be the creations of a trickster god, although the details are practically left up to the individual to decide. Few have any knowledge and fewer still any belief in the old gods such as Dundein, Throff and Sukh.

Depending on who you ask, elves are the second- or third-most prolific of the "high races", exhibiting physical and mental variation that is the equal of humanity. However, unlike humans, the elven peoples have not abandoned their ancient ways and can be found across far more habitats, from the darkest jungles to the highest mountains. Elven cultures therefore vary even more than those of humans, with traditions and customs that generally stretch even further back in time.

The most famous elven citadel is Hae-Veen, constructed practically out of the impossibly great Mount Fydor and housing upwards of twenty thousand people, making it also one of the largest cities in the entire known world. By contrast, the most infamous is Tiranduil Kelthas, also known as Darkside, long ago buried beneath miles of rock in a racial civil war that has left the elves as a whole terrified of going to war with each other ever again. Elves therefore self-govern their settlements via total democracy, requiring vote majorities of four-fifths or greater before sanctioning major change.

Although an elf is typically seen as physically weaker but more graceful than a human, that is a racial attribute common mainly to the Vale-elves of the eastern woods, rather than, for example, the husky 'greys' or 'blacks' who live a predominantly nomadic lifestyle. Many elves pay lip-service to their old gods, but only Erillia the Elf-Mother has any significant number of followers in these times. None speak of their fallen cousins, the murderous dark-soul (or just dark) elves without good cause.

The dwarves are a hardy race known for being ancestral enemies of the greater orcoids, with a long and bloody history of near-constant warfare against one group or another. Strangely, dwarves show little diversity for a "high race", less inclination towards changing their traditions and no sign whatsoever of trying to integrate themselves more fully into other communities. Dwarven apprentices are expected to remain in tuition for at least thirty years before taking on serious duties in their profession, making dwarven craftsmanship among the finest in the world.

Despite their name, dwarves are often nearly as tall as a human, frequently reaching heights of 5ft or more, though they are typically possessed of far greater bone- and muscle-mass. One theory is that the earliest dwarves were indeed much smaller than their modern descendants, although since dwarves have lived in the same mountain strongholds for as long as their histories - oral, rather than written - continue, there is actually very little archaeological evidence to support this. Another misconception is that dwarves are extremely hairy: most, in fact, go clean-shaven and bald to keep from overheating in their homes, with only travelling dwarves showing any exception to this.

A dwarf is taught almost from birth that they are the chosen, the prized children of earth and fire - and to stand strong against any who are so foolish as to try to take away this divine heritage. Dwarves worship the Earth Goddess Throff - Kerrilim in their speech - and Filash the Firelord, together with their various children, including Verlang, Father of Salamanders and God of Volcanoes. It is rumoured that blood sacrifices are still made in secret among the oldest priest-families, but so far nobody looking into these has found any proof.

The avian "high race" believed to be natives of the Celestus Plains, the bizarre continent suspended some five miles above the ocean below, the serachrin have developed a culture that is almost entirely distinct from those of their neighbor continent, prioritising art and literature such that other disciplines find themselves subordinated to them. A serachrin warrior might wield his calligraphy brush as a weapon, or a battlemage use song to evoke his spells, yet suffer no disadvantage against a more traditional foe.

With as much variety in form and hue as true birds, the serachrin are as adept in the air as on the ground - and very fond of travelling in search of new beauties and ideas to take back to the Celestus Plains. This, however, can occasionally get them in trouble with their masters, the unimaginably ancient hamakei to whom they owe fealty and from whom they learned almost all they know as a race; for once the hamakei were the benevolent rulers of all sentience, only for some great catastrophe of their own making to befall them and render them nearly extinct.

Serachrin religion contains a number of divinities practically unknown to the rest of the world, including deities of art and music, philosophy and teaching. The overgod of their pantheon is Hamaskis, god of magic, said by serachrin scholars to 'prove' the origins of the hamakei and of the nature behind the floating of their continent above the waves. In technical terms, this proves nothing, but magic is indeed the only realistic avenue of inquiry regarding these enigmatic subjects.

Just before the vast expanse of the southern jungles is reached, the angular cities of the mantid ja'tazak scrape the sky with their unsettling smoke-belching towers. Technologically the most advanced "high race", the ja'tazak scorned magic and chose to master the physical sciences, still holding the monopoly on the creation of a variety of firearm designs and even a modicum of steam power to provide energy for growing factories. The industrial revolution currently underway is forcing many of the downtrodden to flee to shanty towns outside the main cities or even out of their realm altogether.

Ja'tazak society is based on an utterly inflexible racial caste system, with the ja'tazak proper at the top and other insectile creatures below them. Attempts by these lower orders to rebel against the system are exceedingly rare, for it is remembered that the early efforts were met with cold and calculated reprisals of infanticide and public torture. Nowadays, in light of the ever-progressive nature of the society, many of the old laws are being modified or thrown out of the statute books, though there is a long way to go yet.

For example, the ja'tazak themselves are still convinced of their innate superiority, thanks in part to their biology, which admittedly makes them healthier and stronger than the other insectoids - being practically immune to bacterial diseases and parasites, with a brain advanced enough to operate all four arms at full efficacy rather than just two (as well as twin opposable thumbs, unique to them) and a symbiotic relationship with a fungus on their chitin that permits partial photosynthesis, reducing their need to eat so long as they have access to earth and sunlight.

According to dwarven legends, widely held to be the leading authority in such matters, trolls were the first creation of the deity Hashak, who actually stole the secret of making life from the goddess Throff. As most trolls tend towards being clumsy, crude and stupid creatures with practically no culture of their own, this is rarely contested among creation myths. One actual troll custom that has grown far beyond its origins is the allowing of women to choose whether or not to marry, despite the overwhelming patriarchal structure of troll clans.

As with all orcoids, trolls show great mutability and are prized as bodyguards or mercenaries by those with the mental fortitude to deal with them - and wars have been fought over trolls who had brains as powerful as their bodies. Eight hundred years ago, a troll clan was enslaved by a particularly visionary lunatic mage, who began to crossbreed them systematically with similarly captive cave giants, producing the horrific doragar warrior-race. Trolls have grown to hate these creatures with a suicidal intensity that their shamans only encourage.

Troll relations with most of the other sentient races tend towards the indifferent, since trolls are happiest as simple hunters - though the fact that they have no problem eating other races (strangely, cannibalism is a strict taboo punishable by death) tends to make people a little less pleasant towards trolls as a whole. Trolls have little in the way of religion or magic, but their shamans are often sought out by the brave for particularly ancient rites that other peoples have long ago forgotten. Sometimes they even get what they came for.

The second of Hashak's creations were the orcs, who are widely acknowledged as the standard by which all their kind can be measured - and are also widely acknowledged to be the ideal choice for breeding new races, having historically given rise to twelve that now breed-true among themselves: craggeracks, cyclops, exo-beasts, hobgoblins, i'karen, khomatad, kobolds, mamlik, ogres, svinn, toa-suo and troglodytes. No other race has or possibly ever will come close to matching orcs in this regard; a dubious honour indeed.

Almost every aspect of culture held by the orcoids, including the trolls and goblins, originated among the first orc tribes. Even today, orcs bearing those ancestral names are treated with admiration and respect from their fellows, usually rising to become chieftains or shamans of their tribes. Although some orcs nearer to the civilised lands are becoming ever more akin to the city folk, the sad truth is that the majority of the race is still a barbaric horde of plunderers and brawlers.

Unique to orcs is a digestive system that is able to break down practically anything, including rocks and metal, although that sort of heavy meal provides very little nourishment and forces them into a deep sleep for several hours thereafter. It is a hard-learned lesson among those who have tried to imprison orcs to make sure magical barriers are in place, otherwise the captive will literally eat their way out of their cell - and since orcs never stop replacing lost teeth, that is not an issue either.

Said to be the third creation of Hashak, when he hoped to refine his previous works still further, goblins are one of the most insidious and pervasive of the orcoids, able to survive in almost any environment and compete successfully with almost anything. More so than any other of their ilk, a goblin is able to throw off its primitive tribal lifestyle and adopt a wholly civilised existence within human or elven cities, even earning a measure of respect for their typical success at their occupation.

For some reason long lost to time, goblins as a whole consider themselves in a state of eternal war with the diminutive kobolds and troglodytes of the Underdeep realms; a feeling that is no less reciprocated and has led to numerous attacks on city-goblins (and anybody else nearby) from sewers over the years. It is theorised that this is because those vermin-like races were among the first produced by crossbreeding with orcs, they were less favoured and unsuccessfully cast out to die.

Goblins often come into conflicts with dwarves, as both races have a tendency to try mining the same areas, which led to one goblin tribe into a very unfortunate breeding experiment with the local giants. Untold years and agonies later, the race of the garks was produced, a pathetic fusion of a giant's size and strength with practically nothing of its goblin ancestry save psychology. Goblins have since used garks as little more than beasts of burden and labour, since garks are slavishly devoted to true goblins from birth, even when bred entirely apart from sight or sound of goblins for generations.

'Bulls of Minos' is the name given to the strange inhabitants of the archipelagos - collectively known as the Minos Islands - that lie beneath the Celestus Plains. Although most of them is human or elven in form, even the least bestial minotaur has the head of a great bull and considerably greater muscle-mass for its size than any human or elf. The variation among this race is intricately connected to its islandic line of descent, with the wildest and most animalistic - some little more than solitary masses of fur and hunger that seem related to bears - hailing from the western isles.

Minotaurs from the central and eastern islands are considerably more civilised, if usually lacking in the facilities to afford them education appropriate to their intelligence, leaving many sadly unable to reach their maximum potential. They have a good relationship with serachrin, who often take pity on them and bring promising calves to their cities for a superior education. A minotaur who graduates from any of the serachrin academies is often technically permitted to pursue a position of power within their society, although none have yet been accepted over equally-qualified serachrin.

This has led to violence in the past, when the legendary Cernunnos - now often worshipped as a hero-deity by many minotaurs - tried to seize the contents of a serachrin library to distribute freely to his people, arguing that the serachrin were the victims of a superiority complex and needed to be taught a harsh lesson in humility in their dealings with other races. Notably, despite his brief revolution even threatening the great archives wherein the hamakei dwelt, there was no reprisal or even condemnation from these rulers of the Celestus Plains.

Caarth are perhaps the most enigmatic and feared of all the "high races", dwelling solely within the searing deserts at the heart of Illidia and veiling outsider knowledge of their cities and territories with uniquely resilient magics. This is because the caarth were spawned by the Demon Prince Sithera a mere two thousand years past, granted from the beginning all the power and knowledge held by the other races in order to combat them and lay the groundwork for a full-scale invasion; fortunately, one that was thwarted before it even began by the serachrin's Second Luminous Crusade.

Nowadays, caarth keep mostly to themselves, maintaining an unyielding grip over the inhospitable lands that few would even wish to enter, let alone be able to survive in; and continue to hone their mastery of black magic and poison, of which they are the undisputed paragons of skill. Unlike other cultures and races, the caarth did not waste time breeding captives to create slaves (though they do that as well) but instead went straight to creating life out of pure magical arrogance. With five known servitor races, they have yet to be shown this is a poor path to tread.

Owing in part to their recent creation - and in the rest to their views of racial superiority - caarth are almost completely identical, with barely any variation across their entire species. A mainly humanoid body structure topped by a great viper's head forms the basis of their being, usually about two metres tall with scales as tough as chainmail and highly dexterous claws that belie their troll-like strength. The biggest downside is that they cannot survive outside their deserts with an extremely rare and hard-to-make magical item - and even so, the relative cold they experience makes them slower to act and think than in their native environment.

The most northern reaches of Illidia are covered in permanent ice, practically uninhabitable and devoid of life save for the i'karen, once the mongrel descendants of human and orc outcasts and now the masters of the great ice wastes. I'karen society is fairly simple, in that it is entirely held within Dall, a single vast city of ice and snow built on the Bluesheen Plateau, but in every other respect they may be considered one of the "high races", as they kept the knowledge of their ancestors and expanded upon it considerably over the millennia.

I'karen have a considerable degree of mutability thanks to the orcish ancestry, with a tendency for massive amounts of thick fur to grow all over their body - although this can be shaved off and, in some parts of Dall, even sculpted into patterns or magically dyed as part of fashion - and the variation in height can be as great as three metres across the race. Those i'karen who do not develop fur have a marked advantage over their fellows if they should ever travel south, as they are not likely to overheat and die, but do need to be careful in keeping their insulated clothes on whilst at home.

The religion of the i'karen is a small but clear one, with only a few minor gods and very little in the way of spirituality, which would be distracting to a people who need to work hard to survive in the desolate ice wastes of Illidia's frozen north. Despite this, Dall is led by what amounts to a theocracy, a powerful priesthood based in the holy Ice Sanctuary at the very heart of the city and which maintains an elite guard trained to stab first, ask questions later and then continue stabbing if they don't get a response. What, exactly, is being guarded is unknown.

Also known as the 'beastfolk' of the southern jungles, the talmay are a curious race indeed, endowed with a connection to the natural world that strong enough to cause a bewildering array of mutable features. Talmay are basically humanoid, but invariably have physical qualities belonging to animals, some of which are neither native to their homeland nor even the continent - gills have been reported, for example, as have a slew of wings (functional or otherwise), poison sacs in all sorts of places, even the odd tendril or outright tentacle.

Whilst there is no such as a typical talmay as far as the body goes, the same cannot be said about their mindset, which remains firmly rooted in the nomadic traditions of their earliest ancestors. This wanderlust has led some family groups to leave the jungles, but even they have stayed ever on the move. This has led to a lot of distrust of talmay, for the logic of the city-dwellers is that only someone with something to hide would stick to that level of nomadism.

Talmay hold to an archaic spirituality that doesn't understand gods as such, but rather very powerful spirits responsible for overseeing the lesser souls inherent in all things - like trees, rivers and rocks. Some talmay develop a type of magic that lets them speak to these basically inanimate objects and ask for advice or assistance - magical control of these substances is a thought most talmay find morally repugnant, just as much as magical domination of a person.

The giants are a curious people, that can sometimes be categorised as a "high race" and sometimes as little more than animals. Cave and hill giants are both the most primitive and the smallest, rarely reaching ten feet in height and having no culture to speak of; whereas the forest and mountain giants often dominate entire regions with their combined strength and intellect, regularly hitting fifteen feet tall and often even being literate. In centuries past the frost giants were a significant threat to the northern lands, but they are believed to be extinct now, for reasons that are still heavily debated.

However, it is beneath the waves that the giants truly come into their own. Sea giants easily reach twenty feet tall and have built entire cities in the ocean depths, taming whales and hunting sharks or squid in the canyons, or just cultivating kelp in immense farms that can stretch for leagues upon leagues. Conversation with sea giants is, naturally, extremely hard to accomplish, but invariably worth it to those scholars who make the effort and succeed.

Mamliks are renowned as master assassins and spies, for whilst their true form is indisputably orcoid, they have developed the unique and quite disgusting ability to disguise themselves using the body parts of other creatures, in particular the skin - once stripped of its former owner, the skin is draped over the mamlik and begins to fuse to its flesh, until it can even bleed and heal injury as though it was actually a part of the mamlik.

If removed within two or three days, it can even be used again by other mamliks, otherwise it actually becomes an extension of the mamlik's body. Eyes, tongues and fingers are other prime targets for this type of assimilation, especially if they have been lost over the years. Mamliks who perfect this horrific art are known as the Faceless, for they have replaced so much of themselves so often that the original creature is often assumed to have long ago vanished under the relentless march of change.

Only the chattermatters themselves know the truths behind their origins and the nature of their abilities. Other races only know for certain that they like dark places, can go for months without food, are exceptionally malleable entities...and can apparently speak any language that has a vocalised component to it effortlessly, hence their names. Most people will only ever encounter a chattermatter in the most remote ruins or cave systems, unless they visit the First Edition book-store in Towelen, which is owned and run by a very polite and equally unsettling chattermatter.

Your typical chattermatter is about sixteen feet in length and maybe sixteen inches in width, being a nigh-gelatinous creature that, like a spider, spins intricate webs along ceilings and walls to allow it to slide around its environment quickly - a grounded chattermatter is usually a dying one, and they prefer to conduct all conversations with them at a height. Those who speak to chattermatters often cite the feeling of being watched by more than one creature, though they admit this could be due to it having dozens of eyes across its body and can extend very long pseudopods to manipulate its environment without ever moving from its position.

Created as a result of an especially unbalanced breeding attempt between goblins and giants, the garks look like especially malformed goblins the size of giants, but lacking in even the basic intellect of a troll. Consequently, they are relegated to the lowest possible positions of goblin society, which includes the vast majority of pets and worker animals such as razorboars and giant spiders. A gark lacks any understanding of this, however, which allows goblins to train and control them much like any animal, with not a single complaint from the garks themselves.

Since their creation, garks have replaced trolls in goblin forces - and orc ones if goblins are present - as the front-line troops sent in to cause a whole lot of damage before being cut down. Whereas trolls needed incentive, such as being allowed first pick of the dead to eat, garks were significantly easier to manage as a goblin needed only to point in the general direction of the enemy and snarl for the gark to make a suicidal charge. Even better, a troll has at least a modicum of sense and self-preservation, but garks obeying or defending a goblin do not and will thoughtlessly sacrifice themselves long after the goblin has left the danger zone.

Legend has it that when Hashak seeded the first orcs across the world, he hid one tribe in a cave system prone to bursts of Chaos, so that when they finally emerged into the surface world, they had been mutated into a wholly new race - the ogres, who are still known as the Warped Ones among the orcoids. The mutability of ogres is legendary and it is common for people to mistake a group of ogres for a mixed group of other Chaos-touched races.

Bizarrely, ogre mutability can be held back by breeding with primitive giants, early forays into which produced the monstrous cyclops - twelve feet tall, as strong as three trolls and eternally hungry brutes who delight in bloody combat. Warlords throughout history have found cyclops to be ideal shock troops, since they take to soldiering startlingly well and generally become masters of war.

The alamari lay claim to the Endless Plains as being left to them to nurture and protect by their centaur mentors. The makay lay claim to the Endless Plains as being left to noone and open territory for those who wish to settle it. This dispute has led to an endless war between the various tribes such as has not been since the days of the centaurs. Neither race is aware that they are the closest of relatives, actually descended from the same progenitor species (a type of elf) - and even if they were, most would simply find that to be further evidence of the other races' corruption and the need to destroy them.

Like the centaurs, alamari are a nomadic people who still live according to what they can take from the land, using the peculiar six-legged laustras as both mount and source of most of their materials - laustra hide for leather, laustra bone for tools, laustra meat as a dietary supplement and so on. The makay, by contrast, build permanent settlements wherever possible, try to cultivate the earth and domesticate varieties of cattle, at least until an alamari raid burns the whole lot down.

The alamari resemble their ancestors most closely, tall and angular, with a layer of insulating fur and wide ears that can be swiveled independently of the other to pinpoint sounds coming from any direction. Makay, however, are rather more suited to rigours of early agricultural lives, short and stocky, hairless but extremely dark-skinned to prevent overheating, and in some tribes that have lived near to orcs for some generations, small horns and stubby tails are surprisingly common among the children of either race.

According to the histories of Ger, which are the oldest and most detailed in the known world, about fifteen thousand years ago a tribe of the makay were driven south of the Endless Plains by the alamari and fell into the power of an evil entity imprisoned in the area - whether some type of demon or an undead sorcerer is ambiguous and contentious owing to linguistic evolution over the millennia - and were rapidly corrupted by its foul influence.

Today, the mako are hideous abominations still driven by ancient hates and grudges, waging a ceaseless war with the people of Gunthartaz, which politically encompasses the territories of the mako and which has had its entire history shaped by the conflict. Nobody has actually had any significant contact with mako in centuries, but equally nobody is fooled by this and everyone is just waiting for the next horrendous assault that these twisted mutants launch.

The famed horse-men of the Endless Plains long ago vanished from Illidia, leaving for the distant continent of Lantus far over the eastern ocean, but their legacy remains. Centaurs as a whole were never considered one of the "high races", mainly because they were prone to going on alcohol-induced rampages of pillage and rape across entire regions if not restrained, but some herds were known for producing individuals of especial intellect and insight who were sought out by thousands for their advice.

Most of what known about alchemy and herbalism was taught to the other races by centaurs. Earliest agricultural communities used centaurs to help till the fields and haul the plow - and the first horses were domesticated because the nomadic centaurs could always be relied upon. Cartographers relied upon them for the making of maps and merchants trusted their words on safe trading routes absolutely. The last time a centaur was known to have walked Illidia was over three thousand years ago, but some still hold out hope that they will return one day - or set out themselves to find them in Lantus.

Though the centaurs are gone, their closest relatives and most bitter enemies remain, only growing in number with the cessation of the formerly-endless racial war. Felinaurs have the lower bodies of great cats rather than equines and are the unashamed apex predators of the Endless Plains, mainly hunting the alamari and makay tribes, or scavenging the remains of one of their conflicts - unsurprisingly, their willingness to eat the bodies of sentients makes them feared and loathed by most who know of it.

Surprisingly, felinaurs today are perhaps less dangerous than centaurs ever were, their lives ruled by strict codes of behaviour that have been adapted by more than one government drafting new laws and valuing spiritual nobility over practical reason. Felinaurs still worship the four ancient cat divinities Rogaar, Magir, Skurasha and Meerar; and venerate Kurawu as an ancestor-god who teaches the right way to live. Though most would scoff at this primitive "religion", a few intrepid scholars make its study the focus of their entire careers and claim to have been granted enlightenment as a reward. They are invariably ridiculed, even if not one is treated with anything less than kindness by felinaurs.

Among the oldest of races, legends and myths thrive about a precusor civilisation that dominated the entire world, before Lantea was sunk beneath the waves and even before the creation of the modern "high races". Fragments of that peoples' own tales have descended the ages, speaking of the 'Wise Men of Ahmsku' (an ancient name for Hamaskis; a deity of knowledge, magic and secrets) - and it is these same 'Wise Men' who today are named hamakei, the vulture-headed men who are older than mortality itself.

Very little is known about the hamakei, save that they dwell solely in the Celestus Plains, ruling over the serachrin who wish to be so ruled and studying mysteries and philosophies of staggering complexity that lesser minds are literally incapable of comprehending them. All known hamakei pre-date even the illithid city of Zorvak'Mur, which has a history spanning over twenty thousand years, yet claim they are no immortal than anything that lives. Questions about whether an immortal god is thus alive only ever elicit mysterious smiles from them.

To those who know of them, the xoroa are little more than a curiosity, a strange race that lives far underground with little interest in the surface world and less impact upon it. To those who know about them - almost exclusively ja'tazak - the xoroa represent one of the most insidious threats to civilisation native to this plane, spreading their hives across the world with the patience of a race that thinks a hundred millennia is but a brief time. The oldest proverb known to originate from the xoroa is: "An immortal ant can dig away the mountain", usually interpreted as meaning that anything can accomplished if enough time and effort is put into it.

A lowly worker xoroa, about four feet tall and six feet long. Soldiers can be nearly twice the size.

To this day hobgoblins pride themselves on being the first of the "bred orcoids", the descendants of the earliest orc and goblin tribes mingling together. Physically, a hobgoblin is of similar size to an orc but with all of a goblin's intellect - and a level of discipline that neither parent race can match. A hobgoblin is born with a rigid mindset and an instinctive understanding of hierarchy, making them the most prized warriors of any army that can secure their services (a difficult proposition since they also consider themselves superior to the other races and prefer to organise their own legions in readiness for a global campaign of subjugation or genocide).

Of the hobgoblins that migrated north to the Frozen Wastes, little is known. Experts in the field assert that most regressed to an animalistc state and that some of these bred with the i'karen that came later, until they were little more than howling beasts grown large and strong with the new blood. Certainly the race known as toa-suo speak a language identical to ancient hobgoblin and obey similarly rigid social rules, but few laymen can reconcile the orderly, groomed hobgoblin with the gibbering, shaggy-coated toa-suo.

The first forays of the caarth into creating life produced this creature, a huge serpent larger and stronger than any natural snake, with the added feature of a pair of arms to give them the last tools they needed to be a true servitor species. Khjustrahl, as they are named in the caarth's own language, are not much more intelligent than the average troll, though their minds were designed to ensure they never forgot anything successfully taught to them. This rarely extends beyond menial duties or the basics of a combat style - individual justrali either get better through practice or are never posted anywhere that provides the necessary experience.

A typical justrali. Note the brazier is four feet in height, discounting the flames.

Also known as the Cobra People, these are undoubtedly the most successful of the caarth's creations, barring their propensity for pronounced individualism that rivals that of their makers. Physically, a kassistra is based on the early justrali design, reduced to about a third in size and improved with a mind strong enough to innovate and improvise as well as many "high race" mammals - indeed, more charitable caarth are known to permit their kassistra considerable free rein that is tantamount to independence.

Criticisms tend to be levelled at how this treatment is making kassistra increasingly less willing to act as a true servitor race, with insubordination of all kinds becoming more and more common by the year. However, as long as the Cobra People as a whole are still of great use - particularly thanks to their hypnotic gaze, an almost magical quality their creators endowed them with - then they remain safe from destruction.

Illithids: the mind flayers, brain slayers, thought eaters...all these and more names are given to the overlords of the uttermost depths of the world. Strictly speaking, "illithid" should be the collective name of dozens of species that share these lightless realms with their masters, in much the same way as "mammal" or "reptile" is used on the surface - familiarity, however, has led to its relegation as the name of the most powerful and lethal of these. One famous debate with a caarth priest suggests they were introduced to Illidia by a rival Demon Prince to Sithera, although nearly everything from that discussion was subtext on both sides.

A trio of illithids at bay. Beyond their awesome mentalist abilities, very little is certain about them.

Also known as the Enchantment Providence, whereby the caster endows a perfectly mundane item with potent magical energies that are usually permanent. Artificers (or enchanters) prefer to differentiate themselves from so-called "arcanosmiths" and the most skilled of alchemists, since what they do involves drawing upon raw magical force as opposed to the intrinsic magical energies of certain animals and plants - thus, "artificial". Semantics aside, artificers are an extremely varied lot, for the sheer number of enchanting possibilities renders any attempt at generalism doomed to mediocrity.

**By far the largest group, though vastly subdivided even so, are the artificers who specialise in protective magic - against elemental injury, ill fortune or the ravages of disease, against suffocation or starvation, attacks on the mind or soul; and so forth. Within this category, the rarest artificers are those who know the necessary incantations and materials to create magical items that defend against any sort of magic outright: this mystery is closely guarded and is almost always passed on only from master to apprentice, with a spell-enforced oath never to record the details for just anyone to pick up.

**The second-largest group are those who serve the offensive needs of adventurers and mercenaries, by enchanting their weapons. Simple charms of sharpening and accuracy tend to be the go-to options for the novice artificer, though the more adventurous (appropriately) might seek to strengthen the magic by improvising a little - using the teeth of a cockatrice instead of a chicken, for example, or binding a br'vruk briefly to draw some of its resilience into the weapon.
Ironically, the smallest group draws most of its recruits from this one, as artificers are prized among many communities for being able to improve their day-to-day gear. A miner's camp would do well to have an artificer keeping their picks strong and their masks purifying the air, for example. Enchantments of this sort are so simple that a single artificer can service a community of several hundred before starting to run into difficulty.

**Skilled artificers start to fall into a single specialisation after a few years of honing their craft, based on the other types of magic they are most capable with. A mentalist, for example, might become known for making helmets that fortify the wearer's mind against illusions - or, more insidiously, make them more vulnerable to such things - whereas a pyromage would find valuable employ in making the weapons of vampire hunters burst into flame whenever they hit an undead creature.

**The greatest limitation of the enchanting process is that only a single type of enchantment can usually be given to any one item, although certain lesser magical qualities can be added at any time without more than token difficulty. The most powerful artificers know techniques which allow for two or even three enchantment types to be placed within a single item - but such techniques are naturally guarded jealously and defended with extreme prejudice against would-be thieves.

Also known as the Conjuration Providence, whereby the caster tethers their essence to that of a 'Free Magic' force, which may or may be alive and/or sentient, depending on what the caster is attempting to bind. The process is extremely dangerous to the unskilled, since every spell that falls within this class results in a physical presence being made manifest in the world - backlash tends to be extremely destructive and prone to causing significant magical fallout to a large surrounding area.

**Some, often named spellswords, favour invocations that result in weapons of condensed 'Free Magic' forming within their grasp. As a spellsword grows in power and skill, so does the potency with which he wields his magic - a novice would only be able to manifest a "weapon" scarcely better than an iron dagger or oak club, nearly invisible, with barely any range and a duration rarely exceeding a minute-90 seconds.
More experienced adepts, however, seem to create actual weapons that can be quite intricate and can last for an hour or more. Much like martial fighters, spellswords tend to specialise in a very few or single "weapon"; generalists tend to suffer when up against a master. Also much like martial fighters, training is a slow path and it is accepted that the swift progress is made by honing your skill in an actual life-or-death battle. The risks are self-evident.
On the flip-side of this coin are those binders who master defensive spells, fashioning shields and even armours from 'Free Magic'. Although more difficult to maintain such spells, typically because of the area needed to be affected by them, proficiency with this type of magic is considered an especially impressive and noble feat by binders - learning how to project such defences beyond one's own self is technically possible, unlike with bound weaponry, but nobody has been confirmed as managing such a thing in centuries, as it requires tremendous expertise and vast amounts of willpower.

**More commonly, archetypal conjurers use these spells to produce semi-real constructs that appear as animals or monsters to serve as allies or servants. The most enterprising of conjurers often claim the title of Caller, almost perverting their discipline by not binding the 'Free Magic' force they conjure and letting it run amok, though theoretically they are still able to negotiate with it. How, exactly, is unknown, since no Caller has yet been of a sufficiently moral bent to do so.
Novices in this field are initially taught how to bind homunculi, tiny constructs no larger than a domestic cat but with none of the intelligence. Incantations for stronger bindings are extremely easy to learn after this initial hurdle, as they obey simple and logical patterns, and indeed many a conjurer knows more spells than he will ever cast: stronger spells require more of the caster to be invested in them, and thus weaken them more and for longer if banished, dispelled or even simply have their duration expire. The only consistently safe way to overcome this is through lots and lots of practice.

**At the pinnacles of expertise lie the Five Rites of Fusion. If performed properly - and, significantly more rarely, survived - the caster gains a small measure of the power of one of the Five Paragons, through the merging of their soul with the fullest totality of the Paragon in question. All things are relative, naturally. Even a fraction of a Paragon's power is enough to turn a weakling into a nigh-unstoppable force of destruction, should it choose to exercise its might as such.
Mythohistorically, a binder who has mastered a Rite of Fusion has only been matched by another, or by one of the Clean Godtouched, of which nothing even vaguely believable is known. Only four places in the known world are thought to have any reliable information on the nature of the Godtouched and all four are held by groups who say they know better than to make that information public: one in Hae-Veen's Library of Heaven, two in Ger and one somewhere in isolated Terlanis.

Rite of Fusion: Paragon Almor - Once, Almor was venerated as the Packlord and Master of Hunts, father to the wolves and jackals, but today only a few tribes among the wildest orcs still revere him as such. A caster who tries to fuse with this Paragon for selfish reasons is not destroyed, but permanently stripped of all their magical power and left only with their memories and regrets - Almor bestows his gifts only to those who work with others for the good of them all, with those willing to sacrifice themselves gaining the most from this rite.

Rite of Fusion: Paragon Caldun - Mythologically seen as the first of the self-willed beings upon which humans, elves, orcs and other such mortals were based when they were created. Caldun represents the total realisation of an individual's potential, which consequently varies from person to person in accordance to their own unique nature. Caldun does not punish those who fail to perform the Rite properly, a unique occurrence when attempting fusion with the Paragons. Notably, however, the talent he grants does not extent to performing other Rites of Fusion, but is rather subtracted so that they are almost certain to fail horribly.

Rite of Fusion: Paragon Dumah - Only a very few conjurers will ever attempt this Rite, for the object of their interest is known to still be active in this plane of existence. Dumah van Malus, so far as anybody is aware, is the oldest vampiric entity in Illidia, either among the first brood of or actually the very first progenitor of vampirism entire. Consequently, only the most deranged and evil will try to draw upon Dumah's power, as he will be immediately alerted of the fact and is granted complete access to the conjurer's mind - he might ignore them as unworthy of his time, or he might get bored and possess them for some nefarious purpose of his own.

Rite of Fusion: Paragon Laelaleo - The first mortal to have transcended their physicality was Laelaleo, which is actually the name given to this ancient druid by those who followed in her footsteps, as it is widely believed that this concept, among countless others was beyond her understanding. A reasonable belief, seeing as how she was one of the wodewose from who the early talmay learned how to survive in the jungles. Laelaleo only grants her power to those who have not attempted to despoil nature, usually generating a lethal and highly infectious wasting disease upon those who attempt this rite and have not shown nature respect.

Rite of Fusion: Paragon Nejule - The great warrior Nejule was renowned as a hero of countless wars and possibly one of the worst soldiers in history, deriding authority and pursuing conflict for the sake of personal glory in combat over any other consideration, even loyalty to his allies and family. Nejule stands in opposition to Almor and countless folktales speak of their intense rivalry. Those who fail the rite are typically stripped of all bravery and initiative, fleeing at the slightest sign of any danger or blindly obeying even the most suicidal of commands. The worst afflicted lose all free will and invariably end up starving to death or dying of exposure.

Among the "high races", this class of magic is typically known as druidry, with shamanism being the name they assign to the magic of the tribal people - who seem more than happy with that state of affairs. There is no practical difference, save than someone who identifies as a druid rather than a shaman is usually of a more civilised background and has voluntarily gone into the wilds in search of magical and spiritual enlightenment.

The trials of nature are brutal and uncompromising - most do not survive that are unprepared and fewer still that do live are granted any sort of reward for it. Druids bear the weight of the wilds upon their shoulders, tasked with ensuring their territory is kept in a paradoxical state of health and struggle, so that only the strong can survive and breed and teach the next generation to do the same.

**The power of a druid directly correlates with their own acceptance of their long-buried instincts - a druid who holds on to the comforts of civilisation or even the artificial constraints of a tribal society, is nowhere nearly as powerful as the druid who has let their soul remember what it is to be a truly inextricable part of nature, eternally bound in a cycle of death and rebirth that sustains and nourishes all things.
Even the least powerful druid can speak the languages of birds and beasts - some tongues, like those of fish or insects, are usually known by more specialist druids who have actual interest in what they have to say - and many of them pick up the necessary mindset to be able to commune with plants too, albeit some magical assistance is necessary, as plants generally lack the mouths needed for more developed conversation.

**After several years of introspection, a druid often has their first great revelation, a profound insight into their character that allows them to get more in touch with nature. At this stage, they may begin to develop immunities to diseases and poisons, or spontaneously learn spells for manipulating the elements of the natural world - the storms called upon by some druids have been known to last years and submerge entire cities.
Continuing to progress down the elemental path leads many druids to withdraw almost completely from the world, for the magic they acquire possesses such awesome destructive power that they fear to use it without causing unacceptable damage to the local ecosystem. Claims of causing earthquakes, tidal waves, acid rain and even triggering volcanic eruptions have all been made by the most powerful of druids in their day - no such claims are yet verified, though most would rather keep it that way.

**Some druids elect to pursue the instinctive, animal sides more during their meditations. These druids start to change physically as their connection to the natural world grows ever stronger - some scholars theorise that the talmay are descended from a great number of druids who bred together and taught their children the same way for countless generations.
Whilst a talented druid with this degree of self-comprehension can deliberately adopt features of animals to replace his own, masters of the art can change the entirety of their bodies into that of another creature, so that they are practically indistinguishable from the real thing. Certain notura practitioners have sought to harness this level of magical control, but thus far only druidic magic has shown that it can actually manage such transformative feats.

**Rarest of the druids are those who have dabbled in binding magic, for these begin to learn spells that cause 'a supranatural transposition' - the magical merger of disparate types of nature from different planes of existence. To the layman, this means that these druids are able to summon the elemental entities such as devlin, br'vruk, aaaa-hhuu-uurr and plobrol into the world and command them to do their bidding - a worrisome thought since experts on the subject are of the opinion the Outer Elemental Demesnes were conquered by demon armies a very long time ago.

Purists among elementalists are often considered primitive and outmoded in this era, sticking stubbornly as they do to the "classical" elements of air, earth, fire and water. That said, this archaic predisposition gives them a unique advantage when dealing with certain paraplanar entities, including the literally incandescent devlin and the ponderous br'vruk, which are composed entirely of the fundamental essence of those "classical" elements. Accessibility is similarly simpler for them, giving even the most feeble aeromage an unlimited resource to draw upon (similarly so for neromages near large bodies of water) for use in generating their spells.

In recent millennia, elementalism has branched out to such degrees that the name itself is beginning to be considered antiquated and obsolete by many, with seven primary sub-disciplines of "new elementalism": cold, light, metal, plants, sound, vermin and wood (held distinct from plants in general for reasons best known to the talmay practitioners who first developed these sub-disciplines). Elementalists interested in the more general applications of their magic tend to experiment with combining spells in new and unusual ways that make sense to very few other people even when they do work.

**At its simplest, the "classical" elementalist can manipulate the basic ambient levels of their element - a pyromage can change the temperature, a geomage can send dirt and dust scudding away etc. - and the actual moment a practitioner can be said to step upon this path is when they learn the necessary spells to actually manipulate their preferred element significantly; by dousing or light torches on command, pulling the air from someone's lungs or filling them instead with water and so on; then after months or years of tuition, to go their own way with the necessary incantations to generate the element from nothing.

**The "new" elementalist tends to follow a different path, taking longer to reach each stage of expertise and finding themselves at a marked disadvantage until they learn the intricacies of their career choice - it is a mark of prestige to make use of especially complex or difficult spells by default rather than rely on 'petty' cantrips taught to every elementalist. In particular, the generation of their element is a secret reserved only for the masters of the art and granted the hardest way: by personal experimentation and never tuition.

Holy magic is only found among those with a pronounced and unashamed belief in one god or another, beyond mere lip-service. It also serves as the foundation of a vicious argument about whether their belief unlocks inherent magical potential or if their belief is rewarded by the conscious will of the god - who, it must be noted, is not limited to being a traditionally benevolent one. Some corrupt devotees have been known to use potent spells of healing and sustenance to keep victims of abuse and torture alive far beyond anything normally survivable.

**Whilst any sorcerer and even the most common hedge-wizard knows a few spells of healing and sustenance, only those who show pronounced religious belief have ever demonstrated genuine skill with such magic. As with all magic, practice makes perfect - and it is often said by the skilled that they would rather be ignorant, for only through applying their magic to the suffering do they gain any greater depth of understanding about it. The greatest healers in history have always lived in times of immense hardship and misery, usually surrounded by war, where their power is most needed.

**Specialists note that this branch of magic bears numerous similarities to both marrangha and necromagia, in that it is used to manipulate life energies artificially - druidic sorcery has a different "signature" apparently - which only serves to intensify the disagreement on its religious qualities. Many undead beings can be damaged or at least held at bay by the same spells which are so restorative to the living, and some spells have been recorded which can even promote entirely new life by curing sterility or even regenerating lost organs. Studies of orcs suggest a type of inherent magic of this kind, which vastly increases their fertility and use in breeding new races.

The horrendous art of marrangha requires three things from those who would engage in it: firstly, at least two living creatures that vary significantly in both body and mind; secondly, a large collection of alchemy reagents and surgical tools; and thirdly, being an unrelentingly sadistic sociopath. Marrangha always results in the creation of a new being from the original specimens, though whether it is still alive is a rarity and if even vaguely capable of surviving on its own is virtually unheard-of. Unlike other classes of magic, marrangha is wholly evil and utterly beyond redemption, drawing attention from the most foul of beings with its use.

As a whole, only the caarth priests have any accumulated knowledge of marrangha, with most who start down its path working from fragments that survived attempts at destruction - the most obscene gift granted them by their demonic creator - but there are a few individuals who have more than is usually found in anyone's possession and yet live, hiding themselves away so as not to be hunted down; chief among them Zharradan Marr, named for this foul art and the only one to ever achieve an unequivocal success with his unspeakable experiments.

**A practitioner of marrangha should ideally possess a formidable knowledge of biology, or at least have access to someone who does, to prevent the early demise of the subjects during the surgical portions. Equally, marrangha is best performed with as little regard as possible for reason, as this tends to interfere with the most important incantations that call upon various gods and demons of perverse lunacies to grant strength to the spell. Knowing which names to call upon is vitally important - blindly asking for help tends to cause very messy results.

**For those merely dipping into marrangha out of amusement, grafting is an ever-popular hobby that has practically limitless potential, especially if functionality is sacrificed for style. In these cases, only one subject needs to be alive, as everything that will be added to it can quite happily be rotting away without affecting success rates in the slightest. If challenged, this aspect of marrangha can even be disguised as a lesser-known feature of notura, provided the challenger isn't too well-read on the subject (unlikely, seeing as how very little is widely known about marrangha).
The so-called 'deeper' dwarves and the abominable illithids prefer using this sort of marrangha over most other forms of magic, with the former blending their specialisation with artificer techniques and the latter pursuing mentalism sorceries almost to the exclusion of all others. Although finding them is hard, surviving long enough to bargain with them is harder and not being betrayed is almost impossible, the rewards are more than worth it for those stupid enough to risk it.

Also known as the Illusion Providence, sub-divided into two groups: 'true illusions' of magic that influences perceptions and 'meta-illusions' of magic that manipulates the physical world through sheer force of will. Of these two kinds of mentalist, the former is generally more feared for their ability to make a person believe pretty much anything they like. Sensates are the least experienced of this sort of mentalist, concerning themselves with crafting illusions of the senses - some particularly crude sensates never escape that brief period of intoxication when they realise they can deceive themselves as well as others with illusions of physical pleasure and are derogatorily named "blue mages'.

At the other end of the spectrum are the mentalists who generate magical force simply by thinking about it hard enough. The vast majority become convinced this demonstrates a far superior intelligence to other mages, given that they rapidly progress beyond needing gestures and incantations to use magic, but the spells they can use are typically variations upon a very small theme. With experience, this sort of mentalist can progress from pushing a few coins around to hurling a charging troll aside with a twitch of the mind, but never get any better at directly affecting how others think and act.

**The biggest hurdle facing any aspiring mentalist is the ever-present observation that just thinking about something without actually invoking magic won't make it happen. Nearly every mentalist's first lesson involves staring at an unlit candle, merely willing it to combust - until their tutor finally lights it by hand and waits for the realisation to sink in. After this, learning how to deceive oneself into believing that the candle is lit tends to follow, which is meant to teach the lesson that anyone who can deceive their own self - who should know best of all that it is a lie - can deceive anyone at all.
Most actual spells are only taught after this to ensure the apprentice mentalist has a solid academic grasp of their discipline and thus can make swifter and more effective use of it from the very beginning. Not surprisingly, many of these spells are actually disguised or encoded when taught, thereby reinforcing the notion of deception and falsehood that must be brought to the forefront of the mind whenever casting from this branch of magic. Also unsurprisingly, many mentalist teachers end up loathed by their students, who are nevertheless indoctrinated into using the same teaching methods themselves.

**Incantations in most branches of magic are practically a necessity, serving as a means to focus and direct magical power. Mentalism teaches that this is actually the greatest illusion of them all, that no spell actually requires any of that theatrical gesturing and dramatic intonation in order to function - the only problem is that hardly anybody has sufficient willpower to make up the difference. That is, with the exceptions of mentalists (naturally), who near the heights of their skill once they discover the secret of spellcasting through nothing more than concentration. The most talented mentalists are even able to maintain highly complex illusions whilst asleep, unconscious or even for years after death.

Few classes of magic are as misunderstood as that which deals with death. History is replete with examples of deranged necromages animating the bodies of the departed and malevolent diviners who dispense treacherous prophecies from the innards of butchered beasts. Unfortunately, necromagia as a class is most easily mastered through exposure to death and decay, making it all too easy for the impatient or ambitious to justify their increasingly extreme experimentation, until at last they become kin to the corpses they are so fascinated by.

**Some with a martial bent elect to try their luck at becoming death knights, others who yearn for yet more magical power usually try to become liches or revenants. Even more unfortunately, not enough fail and are transmogrified into lesser undead monstrosities than are more readily dispatched. As with all such things, there are rumours of necromagic rituals designed to maintain a good creature's ethical outlook even in undeath, but actual hard evidence of such things has never been found - or if it has, it has never been made public.

**The hidden side of necromagia is the first star in the night sky, the last candle in the catacombs of infinity - the spells that lay the risen dead to rest, that protect a corpse against being raised to start with, that banish common ghosts and ward off the evils of stronger spirits, the agonising Rituals of Exorcism specific to each of the Greater Undead. Churches of good gods are especially fond of securing a benevolent necromage's services, even if their congregation do not always associate the dour new priest with the layman's idea of what necromagia is all about.
A necromage in service to a church typically develops their magic quickly but only to a mediocre level of expertise, very rarely progressing to the knowledge of the most potent necromagic spells of Banishment and Exorcism - simply because there is no call for such a thing in most communities and only the most luckless of their kind will ever need to utilise them. This is because even if successful, Rituals of that sort are extremely draining to the caster and can render them horribly ill as the departing malevolent spirit curses the one that drove them out.

**The archetypal curse is related to necromagia, bearing more in common with it than any sort of magic and thus included here. Properly invoked curses are sometimes considered a form of natural spirit magic, as entirely sorcerous effects have been documented to have been produced by curses pronounced by people without any form of magic at all, usually as they were dying and their souls were neither wholly in nor wholly outside of their bodies. The exact mechanics of curses are hotly disputed but seem to function best when deserved and of appropriate severity.

Also known as the Transmutation Providence. In the gaps between existences lies the aetherium, a pseudo-reality of possibility from which the most skilled spellcasters draw the power for the most difficult of rituals and invocations. Some tap straight into this source for their magic and draw out strands of pure magic and fashion it according to their desires, in a delicate process named notura. Through notura, a spellcaster might refashion an iron bar into a golden one or heat up the air to mimic a classical fireball, perhaps take a leaf from the druidic tree and borrow the capabilities and shapes of animals, or even turn their focus inwards and direct the notura to give them the same skills as a mentalist.
The immense versatility of a notura practitioner comes at a cost too great for many though: the constant exposure to the infinity of possibility results in a magical "bleed-through" of sorts, gradually refashioning both body and mind apparently according to random chance, yet always ensuring survival no matter how drastic a change occurs. Early transmuters attempted to use notura to reverse these changes, only to find the process accelerated and magnified exponentially - the names of those driven to ultimate madness are now long forgotten and widely acknowledged to be best left that way.

**For the wary who use notura in modern times, the risks usually mean they prefer to specialise in a different class and rely on notura only when all other known magic has failed them. Books on the subject are just as widely available as any other treatise of branches of magic, although they are far more difficult to comprehend due to using a vocabulary that is necessarily more esoteric. Patient study works best, as ever, though shortcuts are always available to those lunatics who merely open themselves up to the aetherium and its mysterious denizens - in a sense inverting the magic of binding and allowing themselves to be partially conjured and bound into that strange non-realm.

**Owing in part to the versatility of notura and the sheer amount of possible applications of their skill, those who practice it find their progress to be incredibly slow by comparison to their expertise with other types of magic. A wizard might spend ten years becoming a master conjurer, for example, yet would not consider himself to be more than a mere apprentice of notura after twice that time. Unsurprisingly, those who wish to master notura are often seduced by the eternal life offered by evil necromagia - and much folklore regarding both types of magic has a tendency to equate studying one with studying the other also.