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The giants consider the world to be a carcass. And that all life comes from the ashes of the fallen. A system of death and birth forever in a loop, as history and people repeat themselves in various forms. This faith is known as the undying tree. In which the roots reach deep into the underworld. The trunk is the material plane, and the branches perforate through the heavens. They subscribe to the idea that all life courses up and down this tree in an infinite cycle. And that when the world ends, a seedling is left behind to start existence anew.
They seek to peer into their dead for guidance, believing that organs, bone, and blood are the keys to unlocking their potential. They tattoo their cremated remains onto the skin as symbols of their accomplishments in battle. It's rumored that they can alter the size and parts of their body. Only the most influential walk around showing off their inner power and mastery of their craft. They treat their armaments as if they were an extension of their bodies.
The giants believe one's weapon is a continuation of their will. They take all carcasses and use them to construct elaborate structures of bone or armaments. And use the skin as they tan it into leather linings to coat their dwellings' interiors. The roofs are shaped like a crab's shell, the walls pure skeletal structures with protruding ribs serving as columns for support.
They hearken to the Matron of the tribe for wisdom. When their ruler expires, their skeletal remains are utilized to add to their throne as the next leader sits on it. This symbolizes their knowledge and power passing on. Those deemed unworthy are not granted this most sacred right. Instead, their corpse is left outside to be eaten by carrions.
The necrotic people of the realm are noted for having two distinct species within their fold. The first is the jackal-eared and tailed kin known as the Burseti'khlani. And the second is more feline, known as the Peur'skar. They currently dwell within the Hearth of the Earth and the Boneyard. Their race deems itself the pinnacle of evolution, often sneering down on the other groups with resentment. They're often known for exercising necromancy, believing that the dead should serve the living. As a result, they have specialized in various embalming methods. Raising the fallen to join their undead guard force. They think the soulless husk needs to be maintained so their loved ones can look at their offspring gleefully.
As a society, they rarely get involved or attack other races unless provoked. This species is very reserved, dispatching dark acolytes into the jungle to dig through countless ruins, as archaeology and forgotten arts are their strengths. However, they are not against snatching wildlife to add some fleshy bits to their thralls.
The goatkin are an engineering and scholarly society. Their belief is centered on the notion that people are made of tiny pebbles; they see the world as a giant round boulder with a magma turtle sleeping within the hollow center. These spherical earthy shells are floating in nothingness, and the sun is a burning slab their world orbits.
The goats know of magnetism, deeming it rocks attracted to one another. And gravity is the weight and size of the boulder pushing down on an invisible sheet that's intangible. There is a potent force in which angry rocks ingest and radiate energy and heat while sorrowful rocks repel. On the other side, a brittle force. Where the mass and size of the slab determine its weight and, to an extent, density. The tribe sees magic as non-rock forces interacting with stones that allow the pebbles and boulders to be manipulated.
Life's genesis is taught to come from a racing pebble that entered our world and crashed. From this collision, the origins of being started from a pure lesser state (cobble), ultimately becoming a more complex state (boulders). The goatkin have a zest for astrology; they see stars as distant glistening crags and gems reflecting the light of their nearby burning boulders like a polished stone, tracking its journeys across the heavens, telling seasons, time, and direction. They believe the twinkling of stars to be the spinning or wobbling of these terrene masses.
They reside within cities carved into the mountain and belly of the earth; they fancy mining, studying the stones, and engineering. Mastering math to count and trade rocks, building a commerce system around bartering the priceless gems they uncover.
The Mothkela inhabit pyramid-like structures. They believe in meditation to receive mental healing. Their faith is that of ancestral worship, assuming that when one dies, their soul goes on a 3,000-year journey. Their society mainly trades coffee, sugar, and milk from their cattle. It comes from a giant sloth species they herd across the thick growths of their jungle homeland. The moths are famed for their extensive knowledge of using alchemical reagents for healing properties.
Within their culture, a larva hits adulthood at 14 years of age. Their political structure is matriarchal. The men are seen as warriors and toilers of the jungle. In contrast, women run their society's economic, spiritual, and political spheres.
The Mothkela believe that all life originated on the moon and that the evils of this world are due to their kind not being able to perceive the dark side of the celestial body. Whenever the tribe has a severe loss in battle, plague, famine, or drought, they will sacrifice the hearts of willing servants to placate the lunar mother.
The slarkreen is a warrior race of ape humanoids; that live on top of towering trees. As a people, they value brawn above all else. These hunters only descend from their treetop community to hunt and gather manure, which they use to make methane. Imbuing the excrement with their spiritual energy to generate gas bombs. They set them ablaze to ward off predators and foes alike. They value acrobatic arts, often walking across thin ropes connecting the various treetops. Their extremities are used for scaling the trees, and their toes can coil branches.
When a slarkreen dies, its body will be placed within hollow openings within the trees they call home. They consider the world as intangible roots connecting all life forms into one. The universe is based on balance, and reverence needs to be afforded to all victims, be they man or beast. The slarkeen holds that the only thing one can trust is their senses. As such, things like drugs, open fornication, and even theft are permitted. If caught committing a crime, they are thrown off the branches to their death. For lack of subterfuge has deemed them unfit of the title of slarkreen.
The turzien is often depicted as dim-witted beings who viciously defend their ever-dwindling borders. These shelled monstrosities are renowned for their physical brawn and valor on the battlefield. These reptiles dwell within the necrotic swamplands. They're often seen defending ruins and bridges, demanding resources as a toll for safe passage. They are loyal to Florentina Jorgenskull, referring to her as the "Wise woman of the shell." Using the giant leeches originating from her body as both a weapon and an detection system. This recent union has facilitated harmony with the toads, as they now fight under the same banner.
Their speech regarding the common tongue could be better, coming off as both broken and slow. As a hatchling, they are taken and sorted into three primary "vocations." Warriors, spiritual leaders (Politicians), or gatherers (Alchemist.) These turtles see the world as one large shell supported by a giant log. The moon is a big rock they long ago flung into the heavens. The turzien's believe the world will end when the sun is blown out, leading to a perpetual hibernation. When one of their kind dies, they seal them within their shells and let them float down the river into the sea.
Due to their poor hearing, these reptilians hate fast talkers. They consider their quick tongues as some attempt to spread confusion to exploit them. Whenever not hunting or warring, they can be found sitting on rocks, eating hallucinogenic truffles as they venture to commune with the bog. Whenever a stranger roams into their domain, if unshelled, they often will refer to them as "soft backs." When it comes to romance, they usually try to bang their lover's shells with a stick. If she likes the echo, she will lay her eggs on the wet earth as the men fertilize them and safeguard them till they hatch. The males raise the young, while the women are appreciated for depositing the hatchlings.
There are a few positive things the other races have to say about the toads. Throughout the jungle's history, they gorged themselves on the other races. They take full advantage of their long tongue and muscles to overpower travelers. Their hideous appearance has done little to diminish these perceptions. They favor living within the swamplands, nesting inside homes of mud and roots. Their croaks are a warning, informing the lesser species that they have wandered into their domain. They use corpse flies and leeches as pets to overrun their foes, donning their victims' skin and the muck surrounding their encampments as garbs. This reclusive bunch carries their young on their back, sprouting from the flesh, leaping free to begin their natural development.
The toadlin's see the world as a pointless struggle against decay that all things are destined to decompose into oblivion. This dismal outlook has led their society to see dominance as the only currency of the land.
The oni is an academic species. Their core pillars revolve solely around the unraveling of the world's mysteries. To them, nature represents a puzzle. One that their studious tendrils or pincers are destined to solve. That there is no problem they can't overcome with enough thought. As a collective, they believe that one's mind can surpass the body's limitations. And that the ability to wonder and artistically express oneself is the highest marker of sapience.
Physically, two classifications denote their race. The first are cephalopodic humanoids. And the others are crustaceans and sea slugs. (Cuttle, Octopus, Squids, sea slugs. Crabs, Prawns, Lobsters.)
Their garb is often organic. Taking inspiration from coral and the colors and textures of the sea. To them, the tide best surmises the passage of time. And that one's legacy is the only thing that can delay the washing away of their presence. And while they aren't aquatic, they believe their origins may stem from the oceans.
Often, partners proclaim a life pact (marriage) by the coastline and will disseminate their cremated remains into the sea. In the eyes of an oni, life is turbulent. And it's merely our ability to rationalize the bedlam of the shore that confers value. This interest has led them to favor technological, alchemical, and scientific pursuits. And it is through this analytical lens that they perceive the world.
The gnolls are known for their ferocity on the battlefield. They favor a warhammer or mace as a weapon, as they relish the din that is the snapping of their victim's bones. Previously known chiefly as a nomadic warband, they profess to be higher evolved than their wulfgar counterparts. This has resulted in past tension between the two species that have later led to mutual respect as competent warriors. The gnolls believe that the world is a dream. And that all things that die return to the source to be reformed into a new image. The more glory one has accumulated, it results in them achieving a higher form in the next life, only bestowing deference to those who have acquired it by their actions, finding silvery words to be an indication of weakness. The Khan's military might and tactical efficiency have led them to embrace the union with extreme zeal. It is said that if one quarrels, don't talk, fight. Diplomacy has only briefly been touched on before engaging in ritualistic demonstrations of dominance.
Like the Wulfgar, the Gnolls collect trophies from the dead. Instead, these towers of muscles ingest them, concluding that the act of consumption will imbue them with the powers they admire. The shamans of their tribes claim to learn from the dead by devouring their tissue and using intestines to see looming omens. Known for capturing their enemies and employing torture, to the point that many rather perish or commit suicide than fall into their claws. They install large carved totems, which they use to impale their foes while they are still alive. Their corpses serve as a warning that you are now within their world and are subject to their customs. Their species is matriarchal; here, the women are the bulk of soldiers while the men handle more mundane affairs. The act of marriage is done via a sexual act described as being so primal that the scholars who venture to document it can never focus long enough to bear witness to the affair.
The females dictate their relationships as it is signed in blood and held as a contract. The terms are written on their backs, as they believe that losing the agreement releases their mates from this binding document. Resulting in the forfeit of any claims to the bounty of the family unit. This species has an affinity for air magic. Their history is carried through oral tradition and throat singing, including the few warriors worth noting outside their species in song. The gnolls believe every dispute brings them closer to Godhood, yet ironically feel that their rulers should dictate those deserving of battle. They moved up north after Florentina Jorgenskull butchered their warchiefs and now reside in the Jungle.
The ysstmar are a proud reptilian race residing within the mountains north of the swamp. Their isolationist policy has resulted in stagnation, haughtily scrutinizing down with absolute contempt. In their eyes, they are the silt made flesh. The true scions to the bog and see intruders as interlopers and meddlers. Their society is run by chieftains, who are selected based on the notoriety of their genealogy. Or their achievements within the current cycle. These saurians understand each generation is its self-contained universe. An egg that fractures and leaves behind another one in its place. That from the yoke spilled, the next can strengthen itself.
When it comes to the employment of the arcane, as a group, they fancy earth, and fire, as in their mind, it faultlessly encapsulates their cycle of the jungle. The ysstmar believe the reasoning behind why they have yet to command dominion. It is primarily due to the pollution within their people that has diluted their lineage. As punishment, they must tarry and wallow in repentance until such a time as the egg has enough yoke devoured to steer toward the ideal iteration of their species. The shamans are seen as the grains incarnate, often beseeched during trying times for wisdom. Customarily, marriage within their society is regarded as only the right of the strong. Those weak are not permitted to lay eggs or fertilize them. When hatchlings are born, they're inspected. If deformed, they are smashed against the jagged rocks and tossed down the mountains.
When one of merit dies, the tribe congregates and dismembers their carcass—laying out those severed limbs to be roasted over a fire, shortly thereafter consumed by the weak, hoping it would improve their feeble state of being. They grimace toward their fallen victims while traveling on the backs of their domesticated raptors. The only other races they recognize are the giants, toadlins, oni, and turzien, chiefly due to their prior skirmishes on the battlefield. Everyone else, they treat with scorn until such a time as they exhibit their worth as a child of the jungle.
The drumvar prefer to stick to their meditations. Living within their dung homes built into the cliffs. The beetles relish a minimalistic approach, given that they value humility. As a species, bragging is frowned upon, as it is a display of incivility. They use their fecal homes to grow mushrooms, which they consume as their primary diet. As a people, they hold to an unusual philosophy that reality is a dream and that through constant internal scrutiny, one can awake from the cycle of slumbers.
The concept of good and evil are weighed via scales, holding judgment until they can witness an action's ramifications. The drumvar are colorblind and see the spectrum of morality through a similar lens. These insectoids love to grow cannabis. They usually smoke the priceless herb to relax and clear the strains of their existence, crushing the leaves into a paste and applying them as a solvent to assist with injuries.
When one of their kind passes, their corpse is used as fertilizer to grow more of their spiritual herb. These meek creatures are renowned for their alchemical and enchanting talents. They provided the dynasty with much-needed services, as the other races seemed to pursue a far more destructive path.