Draconic Shenanigans – Peoples of Hestia

  

 

Right, lacking any other inspiration for the next blog post, I’ve decided to do an overview of the peoples of Hestia. This may restomp ground already covered but I’m running a little dry of ideas at the moment. Lots of deadlines, not a lot of time, the book not much closer to being done and my coffee pot is beginning to run low so once again a huge shout out to my patreons you really do help to keep the lights on and coffee flowing. I is needing coffee, lots of coffee.

So to start having a look at all the weird and wonderful collection of people who make up the races of Hestia.

First and by far the most numerous would be the humans. Always in a hurry, always busy, always doing something, with humans there is always hurry and worry and scurry. Some of the longer lived races rather unkindly but some what accurately describe humans as swarming. Unfortunately this is rather built into the instinctive structure of the human race.

The reason there are so many different races on Hestia is because they were originally made, not evolved. The Begetters, an ancient, secretive race created the first four races of Hestia - orcs as the heavy lifters, dwarfs as refiners and smiths, elves as the archivists and the humans as the food source. Therefore a rapidly increasing, self supporting farm stock was sort after and the human race was built accordingly. Unfortunately now that the Begetters have fallen there is no one to cull the stock and so the numbers ever increase, pouring out across the world and coming into conflict with both themselves and other races. Not only do humans have a vastly increased breeding rate but they also have an insatiable drive to compete. Like all farmer’s the Begetters kept the best as breeding stock and culled from the least useful, taking out the most sickly and those that displayed behaviour that endangered the herd. Therefore humans and particularly men, competed harshly to proved that they are worthy of the breeding rights, to prove that they are worthy of life. Lacking the original drive for these instincts, they have metastasised into the greed of wanting more and more and more. The race is no longer to simply stay alive but rather to have the most, gain the most, horde the most. In that way it is unsurprising that humans and dragons have the greatest amount of conflict, their avarice and greed are matched perfectly in each other and so the competition builds and spills over into violence. One has to wonder if dragons are the only creatures capable of curtailing humans’ swarming might. In conflict with other races, even those such as orcs and the giant insects of the world, humans seem to be able to always win. The losses maybe horrifying, the ground littered with the dying and the dead but the swarm continues, riding over and pulling down much bigger creatures than themselves.

The human need for conflict is so great that they’ll even invent reasons to go to war with each other. Due to their wide distribution the human race has diversified and started adapting come evolving to better fit the terrain they find themselves in. Due to this those that live in the tropics have skin of a darker hue while those far in the east have a golden tone. These are natural adaptations to the diverse environments humans have found themselves in and yet some humans use the differences in appearance as excuse for exclusion, persecution and outright war. It is the same with culture. Culture is a method of conducting agriculture, law, custom and belief that serves the community the best in guaranteeing the greatest number of people survive long enough to produce children and preferably see their grandchildren at least born. Due to differences in terrain, climate and available materials cultures can differ greatly, some times even within a country as some countries have quite distinctive micro climates and yet, some how, many different groups of humans are convinced that their way of conducting their lives is the only correct and righteous way of doing so. They will even go so far as to try and force their way of living on to others, by the sword is necessary, despite that their own culture maybe completely detrimental, even disastrous in the new climate. There are a few human kingdoms that seem to be resistant to the affliction of always wanting more but there does not seem to be a pattern as to what triggers this resistance and sometimes the infection returns and the cycle of war begins to repeat again.

As a species humans are the jack of all traders. Though the likes of the Sidhbe Elves will sneer and say that humans master nothing of what they attempt and are nosy, brutish and smelly into the bargain, one has to admit that perhaps it is not so much the individual achievements that should be counted but rather the collective effort that should be admired. Humans do not have the time to master craft to the degree that the dwarves can and neither do they have the natural aptitude for magic the elves possess. Humans are not as tough as the orcs and orc children and they don’t have the sheer quickness of the goblins and yet they thrive. Humans maybe the jack of all trades and master of none but they appear to be better than the master of one.

Despite the disdain the Sidhbe and Metsaan elves display for the human race there are a few cases of Half Elves and occasionally elvish features appear in human bloodlines, suggesting relationships in the past. The High Elves and Forest Elves rarely recognise these human blooded children. Of all the elvish races the Shulmi of the Great Depression seem the most comfortable with admitting to the existence of these children, even allowing the couples who created them to remain within their communities. Granted this maybe because the Shulmi, having been pushed to the edge of existence, recognised the fact that they may not have a diverse enough bloodline stock to guarantee the continued health of their descendants. As mentioned in the Gods of Hestia, the Shulmi conduct their lives with one thought forever on the damage their decisions with inflict upon the seventh generation. Even so human blooded elves remain rare and neither race is entirely comfortable with their existence.

Elves have the massively extended life span compared to humans and natural flair for wizard magic that humans lack. This often makes them haughty at best and arrogant at worse. It is best to tread with care around elves as their manners are complicated and their standards different to humans. If in doubt it is best to remain still and silent. Despite this pride in their lore and culture, elves are not immune to their own internal schisms. Though rarely spilling over into the outright bloodshed that all too often marks human politics, elf power struggles can be a bitter, poisonous brew. They may not use anything lethal but that is only because they consider it poor form to have to use the methods of a human. There are many levels of ‘forgetting’ within the elvish courts. One slip up at a party, an ill timed glance, a word not perfectly pitched can result in the one at fault being frozen out of the social circles of the court. Gradually the disappointment finds their influence decreased and decreased, pushed further and further from influence, relegated to the positions of least influence and therefore least likely to be allowed to make the match that they wish for.

Probably due to their extreme longevity and almost mythical good health elves, particularly the Sidhbe, have an innate distaste of illness and disability. They are willing to accept the scars from honourable combat although even that is a risk as it only takes a whisper of recklessness or cowardice or incompetence to turn honourable combat into a smear campaign that wrecks an elf’s reputation and casts them into the cold palace of the outer most ring of the settlement.

On occasion the Sidhbe have practised an even worse punishment for physical imperfection – exile. What is worse this exile is often not declared, leaving the one who has been exiled to live in hope of returning to their home.

Example

Vil’tinoos Erevan was a younger son of a noble house in one of the glittering, pearlescent spires of the Sidhbe courts. As the second child of a union, his birthing saw to the ascension of his father’s and grandfather’s estates. As mentioned in the Hestia Locator, children are rare and cherished among the Sidhbe so a family who has multiple children will see their fortunes improve, if those children are able to deport themselves to the standards expected. Vil’tinoos Erevan was such a child. He passed every test demanded by his education and was as silent and reserved as elvish manners could wish and yet… And yet there was a quality to him that made even his own parents uneasy about him. His gaze was too penetrating, his expression too still and when he did speak, his carefully chosen words asked questions that the rest of the Sidhbe court was uncomfortable with answering. There was something… something pressurized about Vil’tinoos, the difference between him and his elder brother was that his eldest brother swam in the treacherous currents of the court with ease, enthusiasm even, where as Vil’tinoos was squeezing himself into the shape demanded of him. That squeezing did not, however, erase the parts of himself he was not showing, rather they were being compressed, like a yew bow being draw until it describes a near perfect semi-circle. Vil’tinoos carried a tension about him that the rest of the court could sense but never name.

Then came the illness.

A decade after Vil’tinoos had come of age, he had begun the long and complicated process of courting the daughter of a house aligned with his father’s interests and event were progressing well when he was suddenly struck down by a stunningly savage illness. True illness or poison, it was never truly determined which it was. What was evident was that Vil’tinoos lay close to death for nearly a year and was recuperating for nearly a decade. When he finally returned to public duties the court was horrified. Vil’tinoos had been aged until he looked older than his grandfather; hair gone from the bright silver of his people to a dull zinc, crow lines, a phenomena not seen among elves, gathered at the corners of his eyes and mouth and worse, his hands trembled, particularly in the cool weather of autumn and winter. When he spoke all could hear the edged growl in his voice that the illness had left behind. Within weeks rumours began that the illness had somehow imprinted him with the barbaric blood of humankind.

Before the year was out his father arrange for him to become the ambassador to the human court of Faransah. Faransah is one of the largest of the north western countries and its north coastline forms the first point of contact south of the sea route that separates the Albion homeland from the mainland. Therefore it historically acted as the buffer zone between the land of the elves and that ever expansive empire. Only a couple of times in history were the forces of Albion able to punch through the Faransah lines and dig into the elf lands. The elves will not admit it but they found themselves hard pushed to survive these campaigns, especially as they could not replace the loses as quickly as the humans could. In a war of attrition, humans will always win against the elves. Due to this the Sidhbe courts were forced to keep pseudo friendly relationships with the kings of Faransah and Vil’tinoos Erevan was sent to be the spokesman of the Sidhbe in the human court, as there is still fear of the Ghoul Court of Albion or worse, a descendant of Armasar Mockblight coming across the ocean to try and bring another country to total smash.

The farewells between Vil’tinoos and his family and betrothed were cool but that was not unexpected. Affection is not a feature of life in the Sidhbe courts and his illness had made his father’s influence in the court unstable. He adjusted to life in the human court with the same silent watchfulness that had marked his behaviour in the Sidhbe court, learning the language and customs but it was always a performance, he was an outsider looking in. He wrote official reports to the Sidhbe court, more personal letters to his family and his most personal letters to his betrothed, when the weather allowed his hands to remain steady enough to hold the brush to shape the characters of the elvish alphabet.

Thus it continued for many decades with Vil’tinoos maintaining his aloofness, writing his reports and waiting to recalled to the Sidhbe courts. The human officials who interacted with him reported in their own language, the same thing that the elvish courts had noted, that tension, ever more marked now after his illness, the sense of something pressurized behind his cool mask.

The only one who saw something else in him was Morwenna Flamesong. Morwenna was a survivor from a travelling circus that had been attacked in the mountain passes and her presence is probably why the survivors were sent to the capital to become performers in the court – she was one of the Tuired. These people will be described in greater detail later but the outline is that they came into being after the Day of Destruction scoured the Burning Continent. In some societies their existence is considered to be an evil that needs to be stamped out as quickly as possible. In others they are considered curios and fortunately for Morwenna the court of Faransah was one such place. Her appearance and skill as a dancer certainly earned her bread in the court... and Vil’tinoos’ attention. He watched like a man ahamed of his watching and tried to keep away but court functions did not allow for total avoidance. That and Morwenna had some skill as a healer and was the only one who could create and administer a salve that calmed the trembling and pain that wracked his hands during the winter in the snow prone latitudes. Under her administrations his condition finally began to ease, even if it meant his interest in her was fed. An elf’s control and self discipline are legendry for a reason but there is no doubt that Morwenna was aware of the fire burning under the snow bank, even if Vil’tinoos was trying to smoother it below the cold.

The tension might have held forever if it had not been for a misplaced letter having been bundled by accident into a missive sent from the Sidhbe Court. The letter had been sent from the Lord that should have been Vil’tinoos’ father-in-law to his father and described the Lord’s satisfaction with the union between their two houses and commiserated at length over the ‘necessary steps’ Vil’tinoos’ father had been forced to employ to remove the previous barrier to this happy conclusion and reassured him that he was not blamed for having to send the flawed result away to be contained within the human lands.

The control and self discipline of elves is legendary.

Vil’tinoos wrote several carefully worded letters to his father, his brother and the elf maid he had considered his betrothed all this time and included a gift of a silver and diamond necklace as fine as human smiths could make in the last one.

What resulted was a visit from his cousin who came to return the ‘human dross’ and inform him that his sister-in-law no longer wished to correspond with him.

Three days later Morwenna demanded entrance to his quarters because she would not allow him to wallow any longer. That and his hands need their treatment again. In a strange way the humans did not seem surprised at all when it became open knowledge that the elvish ambassador and the Tuired entertainer where interested in one another. What surprised the human court was when Vil’tinoos adopted human customs to announce their engagement, an engagement he did not report to his father or the Sidhbe court.

His marriage to Morwenna finally seemed to loosen something Vil’tinoos had been holding tight for centuries. He was still quite and considered in both action and word but there wasn’t the terrible icy stillness that he had been holding rigid for so long and he began to emerse more fully in the society of Faransah, studying law and theology in equal measure, though there was something beyond even that. What that something was remained unclear until his father arrived without an official announcement. Apparently, somehow, news of Vil’tinoos’ decisions had reached home. But if his father had expected him to accept his censor without question then he was in for a rude surprise as Vil’tinoos and Morwenna faced him together and the necklace Vil’tinoos had once sent for his betrothed sparkled around Morwenna’s neck. Vil’tinoos was unrepentant and outright refused to return home without his wife at his side and when his father made to physically chastise Morwenna, he let the elvish retinue and the human court see what he had been pressurizing for so many years. Vil’tinoos had no need for the delicate, complicated gestures of elvish wizardly that his hands could no longer manage, a click of his fingers was enough to unleash the dark fire that flared and flowed round him like veils of heat but scorched the very breath from his father’s lungs. Vil’tinoos was a sorcerer born and a thumping powerful one at that. His threat to humble the grandest wizards in the Sidhbe court was not an idle one but would have resulted in Vil’tinoos outshining his father and grandfather in a way that would have not only eclipsed their influence but also damaged it – elves do not like sorcerers as they do not fit neatly into the power structures, intrigues and categorization that rules the Sidhbe courts.

Still gasping for breath, Vil’tinoos’ father mounted his horse and told Vil’tinoos that he was no son of his sire, something that Vil’tinoos already knew, thanks to that misplaced, hateful letter. Vil’tinoos’s father also told the human king that he expected the ambassador’s quarters to be ready for the new Ambassador, something that Vil’tinoos wasn’t worried about. The Sidhbe court would scheme and plot and manoeuvre for decades, if not a century, as no one would want the dishonour of having to send a member of their family to be the Ambassador in the human court. He had time and he intended to use it.

By the time the new Elvish Ambassador arrived in Faransah, the twins were ten years old, their younger brother was eight and the youngest twins were just beginning to toddle. One has to wonder if the scheming and plotting of the Sidhbe courts has resulted in a bloodline bottleneck as infertility is a mark of such a thing, whereas Vil’tinoos and Morwenna seemed to have no trouble in having many children. It is also possible that elves, with their control and decorum, self discipline and dedication to etiquette, simply cannot muster the fires of passion necessary to produce many children to their names. Seeing as Vil’tinoos had started adding a flare of his very own to his wife’s performances, there is no doubt that Vil’tinoos had found a depth of passion few elves can touch.

The new Elvish Ambassador also found his quarters ready as Vil’tinoos and his family were no longer living in the Palace. Vil’tinoos had complete his training and had moved his family to the law quarter of the city, beginning the career that would eventually see him named The Righteous Judge. Morwenna still entertained at the Royal Court as well as founding a Theatre Company and permanent stage. What was unspoken was that Morwenna had a nose for corruption in high places and had founded a network through the people who travelled the most intimate places of the rich and powerful and yet were the most invisible – the servants. The work was slow as Vil’tinoos cautioned care to make sure they were not suspected but between them and the Royal family, they slowly began to undo decades of corruption and nepotism that had been steadily undermining the authority of the Crown and choking the reforms necessary to guarantee that the rewards of commerce where fairly shared between the few and the many who served them. The Righteous Judge and his Tuired wife are well loved by his adopted people.

The Tuired as mentioned in the above example came into being after the Day of Destruction scoured the Burning Continent. They are people touched by the twisting of the ley lines that racked the world at that time. In the first three decades after magic was wrenched sideways, malformed births among man and beast were common. Indeed many of the hybrid chimaeras and monstrous beasts were created during this time as magic destabilized and nature twisted out of shape. For nearly a century all magic users had to be careful to avoid their skills turning on them and destroying them or worse, turning them into monsters. Though this time of instability has calmed and settled, the effects are still running through the life stream of Hestia herself. The Tuired are one of the results of this.

In appearance they are very similar to the race of their parents, though at birth there is always an obvious sign of their true nature, beside their skin colour. They all have tails that continue the length of their spine. In some lands, these children are disposed of the moment they are born, some going so far as to fill the babe’s mouth with ash before they can cry for the first time. In others they are accepted as curiosities but rarely as full citizens.

Though there are similarities to their parent’s race, there are also marked differences, besides the afore mentioned tails. Some are also born for a digitigrade stance with their feet ending in hooves, either the solid hooves of horses or the bulk stompers of cattle. Some even have the delicate hooves of deer or the climbing grippers of goats. Of those that have normal toes most have claws instead of nails, while some even have the foot structures of owls and eagles. Either way Tuired prefer to go unshod and they are surprisingly quiet and graceful when they walk. Their skin colours are exotic and unusual, ranging from cerise pink to purple to blue. Some have even been green, leading to misidentification as orc children. Black as the void or white as snow are also possible. Though their hair is usually similar to their skin counter shades are also possible. Morwenna Flamesong, wife of the Righteous Judge, had skin the colour of amber in fire light but hair the blue black of a raven’s wing.

One of the most distinctive features of a tuired is the set of horns that grow from their brows as they age. These seem to develop differently from individual to individual and appear to be connected to what the individual dedicates their lives to. A tuired who values strength above all, be that marshal strength of arms or a civilian career that values strength such as a wood cutter, will develop heavy thick horns, usually joined in the middle like an oxen or ram’s horns. They will often be ridge and curve or coiled in the manner of afore mentioned beasts. You do not want to take a head butt from one of these people. Their tails are usually thick with pointed ends, which are sometimes barbed. No matter your personal opinions of Tuired it is better to treat these people with respect, they tend to hit like a run away wagon.

A tuired who dedicates their life to Nature and growing things, be that as a druid or a farmer or even a healer that uses natural rather than divine healing, tend to develop horns akin the antlers of a stag or the horns of an antelope. These are often decorated with flowers or vines, becoming little ecosystems in their own right. Others have pets that perch upon the antlers and help keep watch for them. The end of their tails often develop a fur tuff like a lion’s or kirin’s tail depending on their age and their dedication to nature.

Tuireds who take to academic pursuits be that of the mundane or magical variety, usually have small, asymmetrical horns, often with a second set developing once they start applying or practising in their field. Think the historian who develops a second set of horns once she begins teaching in the field, mentoring younger students to discover the patterns of history so that they could try and stop the echoes of harm. Their tails are also forked with one side being shorter than the other.

Tuireds dedicated to religious ideals can be problematic. While all clerical tuireds have their horns grow in a wide arch, eventually joining in the middle to form a halo above their heads while the end of their tails do the same forming a loop often adorned with rings, there are no outward signs of which god the tuireds are following. Tuireds are treated with both fascination and fear in equal measure and many are mistreated. Many of those who join the clergy do so with the mind set of ‘they feared me for no reason, I’ll prove them wrong’. A few turn to darker gods, their pain curdling into ‘they hated me for no damn good reason, I’ll give them one!’ Sometimes you have to wonder if the latter isn’t right. If a system demands the destruction of a child to preserve itself then that system deserves to be burnt to the ground, does it not? Perhaps people should ask themselves more often why they have a problem with people who are different from themselves.

Tuireds who swim in the waters of society tend to have the thinnest, most delicate looking horns. They are smooth and up pointed, they can waver but never twist or curl. Their tails are thin and usually come to a delicate point or are spread and flattened in a fan shape that is sometimes made of feathers. The are performers, singers, dancers and acrobats. They can also be merchants, courtiers and spy masters. Any profession that requires people skills in abundance is the job for this kind of tuired and they thrive in it.

There are also combinations of these types. Morwenna’s horns where delicate ripples of ebony, polished to white at the tips and branching near the base to give the appearance of a more ornate pair of giant Muntjac deer antlers.

Though humans seem to produce the most tuired, probably due to their rapid breeding rate, they have appeared in other races as well, though the elves are not admitting to whether or not there have ever been any born among them. One of the lesser known qualities of the tuireds is that they have a high resistance to heat and fire, even their hair refusing to catch in the flames. Due to this one of the races where they have appeared and have been accepted openly are the dwarfs. Though the number of tuired dwarfs are low they have more than earned their place among their dwarven kin. Usually blue of skin and red of hair, brows crowned with heavy rams horns, they can work all day in the forge and foundry without tongs or heat protection, handling glowing metal with bare fingers, judging the temperature by feel and so that they know exactly how much force to put behind their blows to shape their work to their desire. The dwarfs were unsure as to how to respond to these different children to begin with but they could fight and wrestle with the best of their crèche mates and rolled with the punches in just the way their parents wanted them to. A dwarf tuired’s horns start developing lot sooner than the horns of most tuireds so their crèche mates learn early to not try and head butt them. Once their abilities with heat and forge were discovered then many dwarf parents decided that they were as proud as proud could be of their different children. Once the eldest of the dwarf tuireds drank his grandfather under the table at his coming of age party their reputation was assured.

Dwarfs are short, usually four foot fall at the most, barrel chested, thick of limb and heavily bearded. Their manners are brusk and sometimes abrasive. Dwarfs favour straight talking. They do not like ‘twisty’ language, if you have something to say spit it out straight and say it plain. They are people of their environment; mines do not lend themselves to much talking and neither do foundry and forge. You need a big voice and short words to be heard over the clash of pick and the ring of hammer. Despite this, under their hard shells dwarfs have an appreciation for beauty and grandeur, it is just different from the elves. Whereas elves favour the flowing forms of nature, dwarfs favour geometric shapes and repeating hard patterns. They are also good singers but again of a different sort. Whereas elf music is ethereal and played on pipe and string, floating over the land until you can hardly tell where music begins and the sounds of nature end, dwarf music favours deep, pulsing rhythms and big voiced brass instruments, the sort of music that announces itself in no uncertain terms and demands your attention. Dwarfs love mighty anthems and bellowing shanties that can keep the work gangs pulling in time and stir the blood as the tankards clink afterwards. Dwarfs favour hot meat, strong ale and work that makes you sweat. Strength, grit and sheer bloody minded determination are the values of a dwarf. They are also known for carrying grudges. Dwarfs may not be as long lived as elves but they are longer lived than humans and they trust slowly. For everyday they suspect you, you must give a year of dedication to earn their respect. About the only way to short cut this condition of their respect is to save a dwarf’s life, be that in battle or disaster. Dwarfs take their debts very seriously and the only thing more valuable to them than their own lives in the lives of their children. If you can save the life of a dwarf child then your family will be able to call upon the aid of the dwarf clan for eternity.

Dwarf children are raised more communally than most children as both parents rarely give up work entirely, though parents of young children have much shorter shifts at the forge. As such there will be crèches near the forge and foundries for the children to play on while Ma and Da work. The play of dwarf children involves a lot of rough and tumble and physically trying their strength against each other. As mentioned when discussing tuired dwarfs, headbutting is not uncommon. As the children grow and develop fine co-ordination they are introduced to weighs and push logs and then miniature versions of their parents tools and soft rocks on which to practise, mostly rock breaking to begin with but most start to develop an interest in shaping the rock as they grow and refine their skills. Once they reach sixty years old they start their apprenticeship in the mines. The work is hard and long and exactly the sort of thing dwarfs thrive on. Some stay in the mines and work their way up to being shift leaders and Overseers while others become surveyors and safety managers, studying the rocks to find the pockets of riches the dwarfs seek and to make sure that the ceiling isn’t going to cave in on their heads as they work. The fear of dwarfs is to be trapped on the wrong side of a rock fall, with air and water but no exit. The idea of starving to death slowly in the dark is the fear that is written into the bones of every dwarf. It is why most dwarf shafts and galleries are sunk in pairs through the rock, usually with cross tunnels between them to provide emergency exits in case of disaster. It also means that if a cave in does block access to the exits then the rescue teams have a more accurate calculation of which direction to dig in to break through to those trapped.

Others young dwarfs go on into the rock workers at a hundred and twenty years old, the architects and artists of the dwarf people. They style is usually sturdy and geometric to the eyes of those used to more natural patterns and flowing forms but again this is partly due to their environment. Dwarf statues are often carved from the support pillars of the caverns and therefore have to fore-fill their primary purpose first and foremost – holding up the ceiling.

Other dwarfs after coming of age at a hundred and twenty years of age on into the foundries, pursuing their career in the refining and shaping of metals. Though some elves practise metallurgy it is a career looked down upon by many of them for the heat and sweat and indignity of the muck that comes with it. Dwarfs are the metal workers beyond compare. Some dwarfs also work in leather to produce the protective clothing needed for the metal workers and to also line the armour that they produce. Dwarf armies march with heavy tread, every warrior clad in plate armour over ring mail over boiled leather. A human would buckle under the weight unless they had trained from infancy to stand with all that metal riding on them, especially with the weigh of the war hammers dwarfs wield into the bargain. Each and every dwarf on the war path is a reinforced fortress and when they lock into a battleline, enemy warriors break upon them like waves crashing on to shore. They have no cavalry because what would horses eat underground? What they have is the sort determination that grinds down mountains. Dwarfs on the march are a glacier gouging away at the landscape until it is shaped how the glacier is comfortable with. It is best not to start wars with dwarfs. If nothing else they do not suffer from the infertility of issues of the elves, with many dwarf couples having at least one child every decade so, though not quite as fast as humans, dwarfs are on a more equal footing if it comes to a war of attrition.

The ones who are most often at war with the dwarfs are the orcs. Originally made to be the bulk lifters and carriers of the world, the orcs discovered a knack for surviving in the wold and savage places after the Begetters fell. Orcs were not made to have much between their ears and as such their lives are ruled by main strength and instinctive power structures. Orcs live more in packs than communities, bound together by family ties and respect for the largest and strongest. You can not gain an orc’s respect by talking, you will only gain it by being able to thump harder and stronger then he, or she, can.

Orc weapons and armour tend to be made from the pieces of other race’s equipment that orcs have repurposed to their needs. Their diet is omnivores and usually raw, though some packs have rudimentary fire use skills. Their camps are messy but in many ways orcs leave very little damage behind them when they are travelling on the wild lands as they take only what they can carry. Nature grows over torn under brush and fire pits fairly rapidly. It is only when orcs come raiding into more civilized lands that they start becoming problematic. They seem to find buildings and cultivated fields an affront and will do they best to tear them up and smash them down. Perhaps it is a racial memory of being enslaved by clever, more civilized beings that drives their destructive tendencies. Due to this need to destroy the efforts of more civilized peoples, most kingdoms have at least militia squads patrolling the border lands, while those that are close to wild lands tend to have standing armies of professional soldiers standing ready to defend the settlements and farms that feed the nation.

Orcs are large, standing head and shoulders above the average human and twice as broad across the shoulders. Their eyes are small and adapted for low light vision, their mouths broad and adorned with a pair of upward pointing thick tusks at the corners, rather like those of a wild boar. Their broad noses possess an excellent sense of smell and their hearing is surprisingly good. Their frames bulge with muscle and their hands are large with thick, knobbly knuckles. Their language is basic, mostly guttural, animal sounds but they understand more of the language of other races than one would suppose and one would be a fool to under estimate their natural cunning. Though they often blindly run towards a challenge, there are packs that will use the ambush tactic of wolves to weigh the odds in their favour.

It has been many centuries since a serious orc incursion has taken place. It seems that they were severely affected by the Day of Destruction and the three decades of instability that followed as well as the ever increase of human held lands. The more humans assert their dominance on the world the less room there is for the likes of the orcs, even their rapid reproduction failing to keep up with the losses of the wars they fight with men and dwarves.

The salvation of the orcs might come from a most unlikely place. Centuries ago, before the Albion Empire was destroyed a Lich who’s name has been lost to time decided to attempt magically combining the strains of both orc and human. As far as scholars can deduce he wished to create a peoples as strong, resilient and disposable as the orcs while being as controllable as humans. The orc children are still larger than humans on average, thick with muscle and prohibitively strong. They are tough, hardy, thriving in mountains and cold climates where their size and bulk help insulate them against the cold and the hazards that come with such terrain. Their eyes are more in proportion with the rest of their faces but they still have the boar tusks of their orc ancestors. They tend to be a brighter green colour than their orc ancestors and this seems to be a mark of health among them. The orc children tend to have an appreciation for sunlight and some tribes have developed sun worshipping tendencies, particularly in the early spring. Orc children are still not as far along in developing their own culture as other races but they are more organised than their orc ancestors, building huts of wood and cold tanned hides as well as palisades of sharpened logs in rudimentary settlements. They have a strong grasp of fire usage, favouring roast meat and baked tubers for the main stay of their diet. They do not cultivate the land but some tribes are developing a sort of gardening habit, carrying a seed stock of roots with them when they move and planting them at the new location. They are also developing a rudimentary skill at making beer, though they appear very vulnerable to more distilled beverages. As already mentioned they are developing the techniques for cold tanning hides, though their prefer to leave the fur on so their tanning work does not smell as bad as many human communities. Tannins are extracted from acorns and oak galls and cold soaked into the hides. Softening is done by folding and chewing and is a task often done in winter when blizzards and avalanches mean that the tribes can’t travel. Though most orc children gain their metal weapons and tools by either taking them or bartering for them from other races, some tribes are beginning to master the skills necessary to smelt and forge their own. These tribes also show signs of mastering charcoal burning and cob construction. These tribes are often found in the swampy, marshy terrain at the foot of some mountain ranges where humans are still not comfortable living as it is difficult to cultivate the ground. The orc child tribes of the mountains and tundra areas are usually more nomadic and temporary in their occupation of the ground.

Due to their history they have a long running antagonism with the dwarves. In the grand flow of time it wasn’t really either of the races’ fault, just bad timing, location and desperation. The orc children were desperate to get away from the realm they had been imprisoned in, following the water courses upward and they stumbled into the dwarves’ realm without any intent to cause destruction. The dwarves saw something that looked like an orc incursion, smelt like an orc incursion and sounded like an orc incursion and reacted as such. There has been bad blood between the races ever since. Orc children have a similar problematic relationship with humans, though for a slightly different reason. Orc children want a corner of the world where the land is big, where there is big prey, big trees, big rivers and plants that can be brewed into good beer but they are rarely left alone in those places. Just when they think they have found somewhere that they’ll be left alone, humans show up. In some places the orcs have won the contest, in others they have lost and in some… an understanding has been reached, the humans will leave them alone as long as the orc children are willing to trade across the boundary, usually swooping the hides and bones of big predators, gems, amber and salt for metal weapons and tools, woven wool and linen as well as some food stuffs.

With the Metsaan elves they have managed to come to an unspoken cease fire, they do not trespass into Metsaan forests and Metsaan do not shoot over the border at the orc children. Will this arrangement hold? Maybe, maybe not, time will tell. If any tuireds have been born among the orc children it has not been confirmed but it is possible.

How the goblin people are related to the orcs is hotly debated and still not confirmed. The prevailing theory at this time is that goblins may be the seed stock that were then enhanced to create the original orcs. The goblins who remain are a diminutive race, two and a half foot tall at the most, green of skin, sharp of teeth, large of ears and eye. Their features are sharp and their fingers are covered in glue, at least they must be as just about everything they touch sticks to them. Goblins tend to have nattering, grating voices, speaking in squeaks and squeals. They are a most unfortunate people. They have a bad reputation and live down to it because they are refused any chance to rise above it. If they manage to remain hidden for long enough, they construct burrows in hill sides, usually hidden in briar patches and bramble thickets. Goblins are a people clinging on to the very edge of existence scrounging off the scraps and rubbish of other, bigger people. Their lives are ruled but the dreadful algebra of necessity and they know that they have no security. Every day could be the one where the spades come for the children, every day the dogs could be set on the old ones, every day could be the last breath they breathe. In some countries goblin baiting is considered an acceptable sport. This usually involves throwing an adult goblin into a pit with a pack of dogs to see how long they last but sometimes it is a sackful of goblin children tipped into the pit with a single dog to see how many the dog can kill before the goblin pups can swarm together to either climb out of the pit or kill the dog. In other places hunters will take a bagged goblin out and let the dog pack get a good sniff of it before tipping it out on the ground and letting it have a head start before the dogs are let off their leashes and set to the hunt.

With the way the weight of the world is stacked against them goblins have come up with a naming convention all their own. Goblins are not named by their parents, nor do they choose their own. Instead goblins are named after the first place they nearly die. This leads to names such as Stab-of-the-Knife, Stamp-of-the-Horse, Kick-of-the-Boot and even the memorable Stink-of-the-Midden. Goblins are a people who are seen as things rather than people at best and seen as outright vermin at worse. Is it any wonder then that one of their favourite things to steal is alcohol, seconded by the weeds that some people smoke as a relaxant? I can quote a goblin as saying ‘it don’t make you hurt less, it just makes you stop caring that you hurt for a while’. Goblins are a people ground down by the world, ground down to the point that even they think that there must be some great wrong in their racial past that means that they deserve the punishment they receive. They don’t know what it is but they figure that must be why the world treats them so cruelly. If they have any thoughts to the next life then they don’t share them. They are a people without hope and who’s fault it that? The common goblin greeting is ‘cling’. This is short for ‘cling together or cling apart but mostly cling on’.

A race that is clinging on better are the goturi. Created by an apprentice of the Lich who authored the creation of the orc children, the goturi are a magically created cross between the goblins and dragonkin. They are the same size as goblins,bipedal with a digitigrade stance. Their fingers are nimble, their voices high pitched, their eyes quick. Their faces are echoes of their dragon ancestors, with purple nose horns flexible ear fins and pale, goat like horns. Their wings, though small, are capable of lifting them in flight. Their scales are usually shining blue and their eyes green. Their tails flick in cat like patterns.

They favour fringed trousers and loose, cuff less shirts, if they bother with shirts at all. Older members usually decorate their shirts with intricate bead patterns and wear long knotted neck cloths as a mark of rank. In cold weather they favour voluminous overcoats. Both shirts and coats have to be specially tailored to accommodate their wings. Goturi respect age and experience, even in other races. They organise themselves around councils of elders. Below the elders are the extended family, below the extended family is the immediate family and then finally the individual. Individuals are expected to discover their talents and then use them to serve the community. To the goturi everyone is a cog that turns in the great machine that is community. They valve privacy and personal space very little, exercising the ability to go into an alone place inside their minds to satisfying the need for alone time while their hands are still busy with their tasks.

The goturi, due to their diminutive size, could have ended up in the same position as their goblin ancestors if it was not for one thing – their skill with the bow. All goturi carry a short bow and a quiver of arrows. Their arrows are either stone or metal tipped and well fletched and their accuracy is legendary. Some goturi travelling bands earn their way rat hunting and I say rat hunting and not catching as goturi can skewer a rat at fifty paces with an arrow. They have been known to drop flying starlings and even take large beetles out of the air. They have also mastered a method of rapid fire with the bow by holding three arrows ready to notch and another three in the fist that holds the bow. In short goturi punch well above their weight on the battlefield, able to inflict casualties much above their numbers among infantry and able to put an arrow through the visor slit of a mounted knight. They are also extremely agile and have been known to shoot the knight off his charging horse, jump, catch the now slack reins, swing up on to the horse’s back and continue firing whilst standing on the saddle. Some goturi earn coins by putting on shows of agility and shooting ability. Goturi are usually encountered as small bands of adventurers who are out to earn coin and buy supplies, as well as to see more of the world. They are usually plucky and upbeat, rolling easily with the turns of the world. Some even turn to the path of the mercenary, guarding caravans and merchant trains, their bows ready and their quick eyes watching. Goturi are a small people who have earned respect in the world.

Another small people are the gnomes. Again it is unclear where the gnomish people come from as none of the bigger folk have an origin story for them. Gnomes themselves say that they were here first, that they saw the tall people arrive and that they’ll see them leave. If this is true then it is a possibility that gnomes are actually the base stock of dwarf, human and elf, the ones that were altered to create all others. The gnomes reside most in the little kingdom of Muldwa. This fertile basin of rolling hills and farm land is peaceful and quiet, most of its population content, it appears, to slowly till the soil and grow what is needed for their daily bread. However, Muldwa is a bureaucracy that has kept itself sleek and moving because their country’s survival depends upon it. A small, soft country Muldwa should have been snapped up years ago and the only reason it has not is because of the two packs of Assassin Dragons calling the mountains around them home. Muldwa trades openly and extensively with its less fertile neighbours to have the coin to keep hiring said Assassin Dragons to keep them safe from the greed of said neighbours. The gnomes of Muldwa know that they are a small people, easily stepped on by the rest of the world and they are taking steps to protect themselves against that outcome. Though gnomes found else where appear to be jokers and to never be taking life too seriously, a wise person will realise that they are ever watchful and listen intently to everything they hear. The gnomish network spreads far and wide and it is unclear whether Muldwa is the central hub of the web or whether it is one of many hubs that interact with each other whilst over seeing events in their local vicinity. It behoves a ruler, merchant or adventure to pay attention to the local gnomes’ quarter and to be on friendly terms with them, even if that friendship is not openly shown. After all, a secret friendship can yield more reward for less risk in the circles of politics.

In the east gnomes are common amongst the ranks of the Children of Kronzyn and are often powerful practitioners of the Runes of Kronzyn though as mentioned before, the Tiansin Empire appears to be undergoing a period of social upheaval and the Children of Kronzyn are being expelled from the land. What the result of break down in the gnomish network will be is hard to tell at this stage and it remains to be seen as to what has suddenly caused this change in attitude. If the gnomes known they are not telling.

The other concentration of gnomes appears to be the island nation of Opia. Here the people are divided into two different lifestyles; the nomadic of the lower jungle terrain that live and hunt gather in the dense jungle, their lives leaving very little mark in the forest, whilst the gnomes living in the high mountains dwell in cloistered cliff side communities, tilling and gardening the thin soil with care so as to not exhaust it. There must be some connection between these monastic communities and the rest of the world as all the walking monks appear to originate from here. How they travel the ocean to the rest of the continent is unclear but Muldwa does seem to trade in items that would be difficult to grow within their climate.

Gnomes adapt easily to the culture of whatever land they walk in. Clothes, social structure, mannerisms, mode of speech, gnomes will flex with it all. They seem to make it their mission to be so unremarkable that everyone trusts them. The only ones who do not follow this trend as the walking monks. These child sized monks wander on sandal clad feet, their pale yellow robes layered over as many clothes as they need to stay warm. They seem small, defenceless as they make their solitary ways through the world and yet no one seems to interfere with them. One has to wonder what magic they may possess beyond just being so amiable that no one has the heart to harm them. The question also remains, asking just what it is that they are looking for but they never answer that query.

The final major player on the world stage in the dramas between the races are the dragonkin. As mentioned in the Draconnic Encyclopedia some of the dragon species are capable of shapeshifting magic, taking on the forms of other species, though the common moniker this passed time is given rather hints at the most common form taken. ‘Going human’ is frowned upon by some dragon species, dismissed by some and revelled in by others. The most notorious of the dragons for ‘going human’ are the Tomb Dragons, who use the ability to infiltrate civilisations to bring them to total and utter smash. Thankfully Tomb Dragons rarely dally in more personal relationships while they are in their alternative forms because the resultant children would reveal their true nature.

At birth they tend to be small babies with some midwives speculating that this is to prevent the double shoulders getting stuck during birthing. Dragonkin look very like goturi when they are first born, though their scales are usually the same shade as their dragon parent, but they grow rapidly, often over topping their human parents by the middle of their second decade, with heavier frames and large horns. They are intimidating and know it. Many become defenders of their people, putting their size and strength to good use.

The dragon species with the most dragonkin offspring are the Tropic Dragons of the great Southern Continent. Tropic Dragons live longer than human and dwarves but not as long as elves. As such they share the understanding of time that the smaller races have and see them not as pests but as people. They are the most affectionate of the dragon species and often count the ability to go human as the mark of coming of age. Some clans go so far as to dictate that their first children are to be born of unions with the smaller people to tie the two races together and forge alliances to protect their lands. Therefore Tropic Dragonkin have opportunities that dragonkin of other lines often lack. Whether as Dragonkin from other lands often find themselves restricted by their size and strength, the social expectation ruling their existence, Tropic Dragonkin are encouraged to find their own paths. The two species have interbreed so completely that there are rumours of creatures that look more like scaly men than dragonkin as well as legends of the opposite of dragons; instead of dragons who can go human, they speak of humans who can go dragon.

No matter which career path a dragonkin choses or the bloodline they descend from, they all try to increase the connection to their draconic ancestry, seeking to understand their connection to that level of power. If they manage to nurture the bound to the bloodline then they will develop the ability to use the elemental weapon of their dragon bloodline. Thankfully this is usually achieved only once they are old enough and mature enough to not misuse the ability.

And there you have it, a deep dive into the races of Hestia. I hope you enjoyed this look into another source of all the drama that bedevils the King’s Special and now I need to get back to proof reading the book. Be safe my lovely darlings and be kind.