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Bovinites are a magically proficient race that clings to a Darwinian meritocracy. Only those that ascend the ladder of chaos are bequeathed the term son or daughter, flaunted around as an accolade of achievement. Many bovinites aspire to hold this coveted title, but the path to reclamation is arduous.
Through wars, conquest, and ordeals, weakness can be shed, allowing their kind to brave the iniquity of despondency alone. While grisly, this antagonistic drive has facilitated the cream of the crop to lord over their lesser brethren. Marriage is based on the notion of dominance, where the most potent mate charges any lover to yield under their yoke. Once offspring are conceived, they pledge a solemn vow. Upon expiration, their remains are buried in the earth.
Cheating, lying, and stealing are all seen as tolerable when applied to the evolution of their station. For a master to be replaced by their apprentice is seen as one of the few honors their kind can achieve. Culturally, despite seeming selfish, their studious and magical pursuits are fixated on a single path, strengthening their family. Currently, they reside in Nirvana, sheltering from the mist within the formerly great metropolis.
The rakata hunker below the surface of the sands. This subterranean species dwell within tunneled communes. Their odd mannerisms have lent credence to the ludicrous proposition that they are somehow of lesser intellect to those of the world of suns and sky. As a people, they find all things shiny to be of merit. Their entire tribalistic society is built on the notion that beyond a thin curtain, a paradise persists, just exceeding their greedy clutches. Their male-dominated hierarchy teaches that by amassing enough "shinies," they can construct a grand magnifying glass and melt away this intangible barricade. Consequently, these rodents are often portrayed as the bane to any would-be adventurer or merchant as a byproduct of this odd belief structure. Infamous for their guile and kleptomaniacal tendencies, many on the road often secure their worldly attainments in the hope it would thwart off their sordid fingers.
Whenever not delving through ruins or rummaging for treasures, the Rakatta can be seen skulking off to hunt for game or herd their Pill bug mounts across the knolls. Occasionally, one of their kind will veer from the pack, those beady eyes envious of the surface empires' creations. They are often witnessed joining nomadic carneys with the hopes of aggregating intelligence to bring home to their Khan, laboring as spies. Marriage is seen as a solemn vow, where the man who presents the largest "shiny" wins the bride's heart. Once a Rakata perishes, their remains are collected and arranged into holes in the walls of their cities, watched over as they mummify.
These vermin hold that upon perforating that barrier, those dead, once stepping through, will be given new bodies and a second chance at life. When a husband or wife dies, the other partner is expected to join them as they keep each other company within the abyss, waiting unabatingly for the day their species achieves their remarkable journey.
Fox society is honor-based, mastering their career before venturing into another field. If one is a stablehand, one should aspire to be the best stablehand in the realm to bring honor and pay respect to their ancestors. From a young age, every member of their society is trained in combat (From 5 years old). Asides from martial professions, they are also trained in alchemy, magic, and the history of their craft. Knowledge, like any tool, has its place. However, only those who survive and endure the harshest regiments can become monster hunters.
Marriage within kitsune society is unique; there isn't a big ceremony; instead, the two mates return to their tent and dwell together. The mere act of fornicating in one's home symbolizes the two houses melding their flesh into one.
When it comes to funeral rites, their species believe in endocannibalism, that ingesting the dead grants them the fallen one's powers. This practice is not done by eating flesh but by grinding cremated remains into a fine powder and adding it to their tea or stews. When a hero of the people passes on, the entire community will gather to drink a few glasses of tea as a group, venerating their attainments by receiving their essence into the whole of the society's body.
The elves and men of the sands have had several rough centuries; formerly treated as second-class citizens, they recently were bestowed the opportunity to scale up the social ladder. Culturally, they are an amalgamation due to their interactions with the jackals and bovinites. They adopted the Jackal's belief structure concerning necromancy as a proper funeral right, the admiration of art and beauty from their hare brethren, and an unparalleled sense of patriotism from the bovinites. The other races are mixed on this recent evolution, still recollecting how their kind enslaved their ancestors.
But time mended most wounds has given this long-since disregarded society a second chance. Aside from their academic pursuits, they are known for their love of coin and history. They bring much wealth into the culture while joining their necromantic siblings on countless expeditions to unearth mysteries buried by the sands of time. They are fearful that this time of prosperity will not last and seek to ensure its proliferation. They see it as penitence, holding little hatred against their brethren. Instead of gloomy yesteryear, they look toward the future with the romanticized idealism that a better tomorrow is worth tussling over. Their time as the scum of society conferred much-needed introspection and humility. Which, as a group, they intend to use to propel themselves into an optimistic future.
These dog-like humanoids are known for their fondness for war and conflict; even during quiet times, they will engage in small mock battles to test their mettle. They now inhabit the Obsidian Canyon due to Matsumota's takeover and are fiercely loyal to the new regime. They perceive ambivalence as a natural catalyst to purge the weak and empower the whole. Their warbands can be witnessed pulling portable forges, gathering all resources to make their signature glaives. The Wulfgar believe that one's glaive is a manifestation of their spirit, and the shattering of their weapon symbolizes their dominance being pulverized.
Their history is kept through oral tradition, the uttering of throat singing to pass on legends and myths. These warriors have a sense of honor while not chivalrous. But in the sense that what is earned is your birthright. Having lived most of their lives in the volcanic heart of the land. The tribes have taken an affinity with fire, going as far as to burn their insignia onto their very flesh. Accumulating trophies from the fallen they deem worthy of remembrance, such as skulls and spines, or the skin of their foes, which they bleach white and keep in a shrine or fused with their armor. Most Wulfgar are often witnessed as mercenaries, soldiers, farmers, or bandits, seeking the inspiration of the hunt to substantiate their existence.
Marriage is done for political gain, interbreeding with other Wulfgar communities to form a bond. The average member never settles down, desiring children to join their ever-growing army. Those who wed for alliance purposes are seen as making the ultimate sacrifice. Their former nomadic lifestyle has propagated a philosophy that such anchors impair a person. The Wulfgar are known for their beetle mounts, which use large mandible pincers to pick up their prey and cut them in half. Those denied or assumed not worthy to die or taste combat are cursed to work the earth to feed their forces. Few things are as terrifying as their war drums, followed by their throat songs and stampeding calvary, which shake the planet's foundations.
The varenkuns are a rabbit humanoid species that inhabits the Fungal Forest. Everything they believe is tied to nature and its wonderment. The people here hold that life originated on a stone hurled across the sky, that when it crashed, brought with it an alien spore. This single remnant of an old-world started to grow; its germination led to its current reach. An area of land the denizens of the sands know only as Fungi Forest. The varenkun, from birth, are forced to ingest ceremonial spores produced from the toadstools. Allowing their species to gain access to ancient magic, often manifesting their attacks in the form of tendrils or fungus.
The Varenkun grow their houses from spores, pouring their mana into it to form elaborate spiraling towers connected by bridges of moss and vines. As a people, they revere scholarly, archeological, magical, alchemical, enchanting, and artistic pursuits. Wearing flamboyantly colored garbs, dousing themselves in gentle perfume, while playing their harps which ring throughout the toadstool wilderness. Debates are civil here, as resorting to violence is seen as a sign of ignorance. In contrast to the rest of the sands, they are often expelled or put on trial if an opponent is caught employing force. This doesn't mean they aren't capable of violence, it's just not their preferred avenue of approach.
Their women are known for being some of the fairest in the land. They use this to infiltrate many cultures and positions of influence, to bend them politically to their vagaries. Aside from their love of magic, history, and knowledge, they have instituted a few assassin guilds to help contest unwanted challenges to their people or the forest before they can sufficiently bloom. In combat, they dance about and cast vibrant spells, believing that war and turmoil are artforms in and of themselves. The varenkun see marriage as a contract; love never enters their mind when choosing a partner. It is said there is no better example of beauty than their vivid attire, wondrous structures, and whimsical theater and music. The dead are taken and placed in the earth as the fungus grows outward.
Something to keep in mind.
All outlanders are seen with heavy distrust due to former interference their nations caused when they were the superpowers of the world. The dynamic shifted, and their states devolved while the Dynasty advanced. So if you're playing an Outlander race, be mindful that NPCs and possible player characters will only look kindly on you once you prove your worth. You're an immigrant of a formerly oppressive and ethno-driven regime.