recursal/Fanatic-Fandom huggingface dataset:
Species: Tabaxi

Of the "Sons of Suul", as they are called, the Tabaxi are the most fun-loving, and are found *positively everywhere*. These inquisitive felines love nothing more than to travel to new areas and sample new cuisine. That said, many also like to hunt their own food, considering vermin, rodents and flea-bitten foxes a great source of sustenance. This gains them no shortage of confused looks and disgusted faces. That said, those who are willing to give it a shot find a whole new world of cuisine opened up for them, as well as a bountiful new source of food in the local scroungers and pests.

Curious to a fault, Tabaxi are willing to try any task, career, hobby or art form, so long as it doesn't pin them to only one outlet. Jack of all trades, my friend! Too many flavors to try, too much art to create. This especially rankles the snootier elves, many of whom have spent their long years honing a single craft.

Tabaxi are generally town-folk, living in dense metropolitan areas and busy trade hubs. For this reason, Kabu and Siolynburgh are favorite regions for the feline population.

Why should you play a Tabaxi? Maybe you want to multi-class, and like the capricious, wild flavor a Tabaxi offers. Maybe you just want to magnificent features of the class; who am I to judge?

Related Documentation: Children of the Celestials
Species: Genasi

Even the Genasi are oblivious to their origins. Most call the Genasi "Golemborns", a reference to the Rise of the Golems. The theory goes, latent primordial animus remained after the Remedial Moon marked the end of the golems, and instilled the land with magic. From that day forward, the occasional child would be born a Genasi, resembling their parents to a large extent, and yet possessed of marked differences. Those of the water are blue, and frequently possess aspects of aquatic wildlife. Those of earth may have stony skin, or have crystals growing from their joints. The fiery among them are red or orange of skin, and their skin is considerably hotter to the touch than your average being. And lastly, the air genasi, whose skin may be bleach white, stormy grey, or sky blue.

Apart from their difference in appearance and a few inherent abilities, Genasi are a similar to their parents as any other child, to the point of similar personalities and features. Despite this, rumors of one parent or the other consorting with fiends and fey still circle, and generally follow the child until they reach adulthood and leave town, as most do.

Why should you play a Genasi? Good historical tie-ins and some proper beefy perks make for enjoyable play. Additionally, this species would be an interesting combo with the Ranger Conclave: Golemier subclass.

Related Documentation: The Rise of the Golems
An Honest Review of the Y'lophenes Tapestry in Burgundy

Look, people. It's never fun to be the dissenting party. You're all going to jeer at me and call me all sorts of unsavory names when I say what I'm about to say, but it's time we all stopped kidding with ourselves. So here it is:

The Y'lophenes Tapestry in Burgundy is a second-rate primary school project, and should have resulted in a failing grade.

Don't come here with your "mind of childlike genius" malarky. It's a Vaentel-damned maroon rectangle on a six-foot square scrap of moldy fabric the old fellow found lying in his basement. And that "accent" snobs go on and on about in the upper right-hand panel? His journal stated that, on Felling 7th, he "ran out of thread. Perhaps I could procure some from the shop around the corner, but my joints are acting up so. Perhaps I'll pop down in a few days' time and get some, but for now, I'll use a clever approximation: scarlet. I doubt all but the keenest of eye could tell the difference. Y'lophenes, you *clever* old bird. You've done it again!"

I bought the journals at auction. Anyone who wants proof just needs to swallow their pride and swing by. And get them smeared in their snobbish face.

*It's just a bad tapestry! End of story! Even Y'lophenes admitted it was bad.* Let. It. Go. Let's talk about something that's actually worth considering.

Yours in vitriol,

Timshellie Vellcrope
Feat: Beastwhisperer

***Prerequisites:*** Proficiency in the Animal Handling skill, or the Ranger or Druid Class.

Your experience with beasts has given you an edge at befriending them, and has given you a certain tactical edge at commanding beasts in battle.

* You may claim a beast as a Befriended Beast. This is done by making three successful Animal Handling checks against its Intelligence, Wisdom, or Charisma stat (your Game Master will choose). The Beast in question must have a CR less than or equal to one quarter of your player level.
* Your Befriended Beast joins battle on your initiative order, and obeys verbal or somatic commands that will not spell certain doom for the creature. In order for the beast to receive commands, it must be able to see or hear you. Otherwise, it takes the Dodge action on its turn.
* In addition, the Befriended Beast gains a bonus to its Armor Class equal to half your Proficiency Bonus, rounded down.
* The Befriended Beast adds your full Proficiency Bonus to its attack and damage rolls.
* The Befriended Beast adds 2 to its hit point total for every level your character has.
* You may command your Befriended Beast on your turn as a Bonus Action. This can be done using the same Bonus Action you would use to command other entities (summons, wards, Ranger companions, Drakewarden Drake, etc).
* You may only have one befriended beast at a time. You may dismiss your current befriended beast to take another.
The Barony of Exabysm

Formerly a part of Zletograd, this run-down city was reluctantly ceded to a group of Tiefling refugees. These refugees quickly banded together to build a prosperous community based on equality, hard work, and gratitude. Rising from the ashes of what the ruin had become, a gorgeous new city arose, made of local blue granite and slate.

The rebuilding efforts started with the **Refugees' Cistern**, a tremendous reservoir that was outfitted to house the ramshackle group of Tieflings. Drainage was added to the four cardinal directions of the cistern, and then gardens and orchards were planted within, turning the little town inside into a small paradise. Much of the prime housing in the Cistern is given to the very old and the perpetually ill, as it boasts the cleanest air, purest water, and quick access to gardens and orchards alike.

Looking then to defense, the **Liberation Forgeworks** were developed, a compact yet potent smeltery and forge. This is the only forge in the land capable of producing Adamantine, though finding the resources to create it poses a tremendous challenge. Nevertheless, Rolff the Nearhammer, worthy Dwarf and fast friend of the Tieflings, attends to his friends' every need, and is a much-beloved member of the community.

Following the creation of the forgeworks, **Cities** was renovated. This district is called "Cities" because those who escaped from the hells lived in barracks or dungeons, and had never heard of a city before. Simply assuming it was a proper name, they kept it, and put their hands towards sprucing Cities up into a comfortable and attractive place for the common Tiefling to live. Fresh water in each room, hanging gardens in the commons, and small libraries in every major structure has made Cities an enviable place to live.

Then, the **Veil of Incense** was built, as a memorial to those who perished in their attempt to escape the hells, and as a reminder of the evil they must always strive to resist and abjure. It is also where most of the governing is done, and where the finances of the region are managed. The beautiful amphitheater was restored from the wreckage of a run-down agora, and gleams with a bright azure with the rising of each sun.

All that was left then was the construction of more permanent farms. Thus, **The Tamed Wilderlands** was established, a belt of rich farmland that encircles the entire city. Farming is one of the most well-compensated professions in the barony, and farmers are therefore pillars of the community, and are considered the most blessed of folk.

After all was built or renovated, a shocking discovery was found under the Veil of Incense: **The Literary Catacombs**. As a tomb for the venerated dead and archived knowledge, it is a holy site to the denizens of Exabysm, and access to the library itself is restricted to only the most trusted friends of Exabysm, and the cohort of the Bardic College of Spirits.
Economic Proposal in Siolynburgh

To your honor, Baroness Mags Keanen,

Regarding permissions to open up a stall in your fair borough.

My esteemed lady, I believe there is a limitless bounty of goods and services a humble Goblin might present to the illustrious patrons of your fair realm, and what's more, I believe I am just the Goblin for the job. How would the ordinary passerby feel about a proprietary ale brewed by a clever and careful artisan, and bottled in bespoke, cleverly constructed bottles, blown on-site? Or perhaps a new tunic, complete with emblems of the gods of the realm, dyed by the self-same Goblin? I also provide medicinal cures for lesser magus-viruses, rots, warts and night terrors. Hurting for the presence of a loved one? Messages sent daily, by magic! Pest problem? Taken care of, either by poison or my personal den of eager mousers.

So, my lady, I suppose the question is not what can I provide, but rather what *cannot* I provide?

I look forward to your affirmative response. If received, I can start building my stall tonight, with wood felled from the local copse and meticulously carved and assembled by yours truly.

With humility and gratitude,

Kirkkinamik Sikkinik, tradesman.
Pledge to Zletograd

For the White and Black Flags on the Parapets!

May my heart hold true in the surges of the sea.

For the Lord and Lady of the Keep!

May my breath strike true on our enemy.

For the Sister Ports and the Merchants!

May my handiwork blossom in the stalls.

For the Lady's Blood who created us!

May I rest in her noble halls.

*Penned by Petria Zleto*
Scimdun Alchemical Procedure

Step One: Aunt Chandelier

Begin by acquiring a young fellow's shoe, and fill it right up with iron filings. Then, take your halfling lass' shoe and fill that with finely ground Yargish Copper. Please feel free to pause at this point to consume a soothing beverage, as no doubt your nerves are shot. Finally, and *carefully*, fill a thimble with Hag's Eyelash. Place these in a large crucible over red-hot coals. While you're at it, cosy a foot bath up to it and give the tootsies a good toast. Nothing wasted.

Step Two: Dosial in the Spring

Wait until the water in the foot bath is too hot to be of any use and throw it out. Attend to the crucible, stirring the contents around every ten minutes or so, for an hour.

Step Three: Please Don't Kill My Dog

Add in two handfuls of Salamander Marrow and cover the crucible again for exactly twelve seconds. Then remove the crucible from the heat, and dose it with five good Ray of Frost spells. If you don't have the magical potency to cast Ray of Frost, please hang up your apron; you are finished with this method of craftsmanship, and are likely better suited to street-sweeping or axebeak farming.

Step Four: Singing Loudly to Wow Your Neighbors

Hammer, hammer and hammer it into shape, and then fold and fold again. The more folds you get in the steel, the stronger it will be, and the more your friends will be impressed. My pal Thul'Sendrith said he'd never seen a sharper blade, and repeated it all the way to the infirmary. He's doing better now; the blood toxins are almost all purged from his system.

A note to the reader- Now that you've completed this procedure, please look back and ensure you were wearing protective gloves and glasses as you did it. Safety first!

*A groundbreaking procedure pioneered by Professor Grapejuice, in which he managed to create a facsimile of the Blushing Blades of legend, and all from the comfort of his own garden shed*. *Nobody has been able to replicate the results since*.
First Contact

Honesty, based on my own crazy experiences in the Everlode, the big creatures announce their danger pretty damn loudly; it's the little creatures that are gonna kill you. Keep in mind: anything that small that has thrived living among such large creatures, many of them predators, has this whole survival thing figured out.

But you know Sverrin; bravery of a lion, but the brain of an axebeak. He sees this group of bipeds, a bit shorter than him (he was pretty tall, even for a hobgoblin). And what does he do? He pulls out that big, clunky greatclub and charges at em, yelling something about "bowling em over like ninepins". They took one look at this large furry hulk bearing down on them, and sprung into action like a greased trap. One of them tripped him as it dodged out of his way, while the other lashed out with the goddamn savage talons on its feet, disemboweling him. Finally, the third and most colorful of the group, springs up in the air and comes crashing down on him like a javelin, *head first*. Shattered every rib in his body. RIP, Sverrin.

Luckily, we had Varnius Illien with us on this particular disaster. We approached the group cautiously, weapons sheathed. Sensing no threat, they seemed content to look over the wreckage of our comrade. Varnius pulled out a particularly gorgeous rock, muttering something about it being a sodding waste (not sure he was wrong), and cast the spell. His innards slithered back in, his ribs realigned, and breath came back into the hulking idiot. And what does he say? "Did I get em?" I almost put him right back under.

All that to say, though, the Torrine are alright in my book. The bright colors, martial skill, and forgive-and-forget nature of em makes them a unique set of people. The only down side is the theft. They'll take the sword right off your back, and look at you like they done nothing wrong. That's why a lot of these larger cities don't let them in. Call it cruel, but they're sure hard on trade- they have a soft spot for shiny things. *Expensive* shiny things.

*From a brief interview with Julia Broadwing, aarakocran mercenary. Conducted by Yllin Scalline.*
The Condemnation of Falnur's Elect

By Order of Kerzius Arradius, Centur of Hexiun Divinity Company

Those belonging to the cult that names itself Falnur's Elect are to be killed on sight. These can be recognized by their hit-and-fade tactics and their white tattoos of dice, roads, wind, and other chaotic depictions. These savage aggressors have time and time again sprung from wood and stream in attempts to assassinate prominent persons and leaders of our communities. Any who can be taken alive without difficulty are to be brought to the dungeons under strict guard, and to be fed only the most meager of rations. Our primary goal as Divinity Company is to quash these heretics, which means our goal is to take them out at their roots: their high command.

Go forth in the name of the Grand Duke,

Kerzius Arradius
Species: Hobgoblin

If bugbears are lax and unruly, Hobgoblins are their opposite. Orderly, well-groomed and holding to a strict code of honor, these regal (yet imposing) goblinoids can range from courtly to blood-thirsty depending on how offended they might be in any given situation. A few useful tidbits to consider before you converse with a Hobgoblin include: 1. Do not make claims about their family members, whether the claims be good or evil. Any inaccuracy would result in a potentially deadly tirade. 2. Do mention how well-groomed their fur is, yet only in passing. To linger on the subject is to behave flatteringly, which is a hated personality quirk amongst Hobgoblins. 3. Never approach them with a business proposition that could be viewed as dishonest or crooked; this is a surefire way to call a Hobgoblin's character into question, and will doubtless end with a brutal beating.

Hobgoblins are generally welcome within polite society, and make the best courtiers in the land. That said, many shy away from military companies of Hobgoblins, as a unified force of well-tuned ferocity that has an honor based hair-trigger is not to be approached lightly.

These brawny goblinoids don't see a distinction between art and commerce. All of their art can be bought, and all that they sell has a sleek, if somewhat plain, artistry about it. A Hobgoblin sword is perfect, if simple. A Hobgoblin vase is symmetrical and spacious. Hobgoblin cuisine is nourishing and tasty, if less-than-complex.

Why should you play a Hobgoblin? This culture would fit in well for an honor-based melee build, such as the Samurai or Cavalier class of Fighter.

Related Documentation: Letter of Commendation to Bartoleo Da Pevicci
Species: Githzerai

Some creatures react to trauma differently than others. While their cousins, the Githyanki, reveled in their newfound freedom and ran headlong into high adventure, the Githzerai sought stability and culture above all else. These stalwart individuals sailed through the Astral Sea, looking for the floating lands that were considered too small or inhospitable for others, and built their physics-defying monasteries and temples upon them. These grand structures were frequently larger than the islands they occupy, held aloft by some unknowable magic held sacred by the Githzerai. Here they learn, archive, and cultivate, creating some of the most rich libraries, laboratories and botanical gardens in all the realms. For this reason, the Githzerai have close ties to the High Elves, or at least as close as interplanar friendship can get. That said, the Githzerai and far less altruistic than their High Elven associates, often hoarding goods and knowledge rather than dispersing them for the benefit of their neighbors.

That said, trade is vital to any successful society, so the Githzerai do indeed engage in economics. Medicines, tomes, spellbooks, alchemistry and enchanted gear are all peddled by the monks, who never give proper care instructions, preferring the repeat business of a befuddled merc who can't understand why his enchanted sword won't stop laughing.

Another potential trade opportunity is found in the artistic works churned out by the monks. Tapestries, baubles and gorgeous glassworks are found in abundance in the monasteries, and can generally be bought, providing the price is high.

Why should you play a Githzerai? It's a great choice if you want to have that "I'm in a new culture and can't go home" feel, without needing to resort to a sad backstory of a destroyed home or exile.

Related Documentation: Wedzleydail's Repair Request
Species: Changeling

Most changelings are forced to live in that dreadful crossroads between what one is capable of, and what your common folk fear one's intentions are. What's to stop a changeling from simply replacing a local leader and assuming their place? What if one enters my store disguised as my employee and robs my establishment? These are just a few of the questions leveled at a generally benign species, generally too timid or empathetic to do any real harm to their fellow beings.

Changelings are an inner-city people, thriving off the relationships and gossip around them. Their natural shapeshifting ability is hard-wired to change their form as their deep, rich emotional state fluctuates. That said, the suspicion of those around them have caused most changelings to suppress this part of themselves, instead taking on a single form to use while within sight of townsfolk. A changeling pushed to the point of desperation, however, is not above using their indwelt ability to perform criminal acts, just to get by. Or in the case of the rare changeling with a truly evil bent, the desperation is not required.

You average changeling enjoys engaging in art forms that reflect their nature, focusing on lithe dances, sculpting, pottery and carving. As far as commerce goes, their sensitive nature equips them to be great cooks, jewelers and tinkers, turning out finished goods of delicate and beautiful nature, no matter how long it takes to make.

Why should you play a changeling? Perhaps you wish to transcend a hurtful, untrue narrative. Or maybe you just like to punk NPC's with some (hopefully good-natured) pranks. Whatever the case, the ability to change your form can be most useful in arrangements of intrigue and deception.

Related Document: Dossier: Fendus "Ragdoll" Faeman
Species: Goliath

Your average Goliath is a sight to behold. Over seven feet tall, these resilient beings are found in the most hostile areas of Meradyne, shrugging off freezing cold, boiling heat, aggressive monsters, lack of food, and even psychological tyranny with the nonchalance of those who have dealt with it before, and can carry on with it indefinitely.

Each tribe has a pecking order, with the weakest getting the first crack at food and the most comfortable shelter. This is a polarizing system within Goliath culture. While some see this as a means of dishonoring the weaker members, calling them "soft" or "needing", many tribes exercise this preferential treatment as a functional means of society. After all, how are the weak to become strong members of the tribe if they're not given the opportunities to become so? And every tribe is only as strong as its weakest member, here on the hostile borders of the realm.

Goliath art reflects the nature of the artists, namely that the art is painstakingly done, relatively subtle, and takes a long, long time to complete. Despite this, the understated nature of these perfect pieces is lost on many collectors, and consequentially, the market for Goliath artifacts is slim, apart from a few fanatical collectors here and there.

It is exceedingly rare to encounter a Goliath away from the deadly corner of the realm, and rarer yet to find one with no ties to family or tribe. Such a Goliath is likely one of two things- the shamed relict of a now-extinct tribe, or a criminal so vile that the tribe cast them out to wander the "gentle places" of the earth and reap the bounty they so desperately seek.

Why should you play a Goliath? If you want a hardy, stoic character, or perhaps a desperate criminal desperate to change their ways, this might be a good choice for you.

Related Documentation: Letter to Scribe Himbolshakkin
The Un-Grand Bazaar

Dearest cousin,

When you informed me we would be going to "a grand bazaar", I had mistakenly assumed you meant we would be attending *the* Grand Bazaar. I will admit I was somewhat disappointed when, after packing months' worth of clothes in my satchel of holding, I discovered we were merely walking out of city limits to a boisterous little market.

Yet, I don't hold this against you, cousin, as it really was a most fantastical sight, all those great fellows braying out their goods in their unusual accents. What scents! The smell of the desert, and the burn of the spices in my nostrils. And what noise! All of the shouting, the welcoming, and the overwhelming flattery. Why, I walked out of there feeling seven feet tall.

You must inform me of your health, my dear. How badly those savage hornets stung you! That Loxodon should have known better. To carry a hive around on one's back, at a *market*, no less--hives and spices yet. I pray to Luun you are healing swiftly, and that your pain is minimal.

If ever you should wish to go to this un-Grand Bazaar again, I should be delighted to join you, though I shall be head-to-toe in apiarist's accoutrement. And should you ever wish to visit *The* Grand Bazaar, I should be even more so delighted.

Your admiring cousin,

In'Falnurian of Hexiun
Species: Dragonborn

In these lands, dragonborn are as common as any other species, and are thought to be the result of a drinking match between Thaestol, Companion of the Youthful, and Suvmir, Warlord of Victory. As the two drank, then fought, then drank again, a splash of Suvmir's blood fell into Thaestol's liquor. The blazing blood of the Lady of War ignited the liquor in the mug, and in a flash of purple smoke, a small host of dragonborns crawled out, all different shades. She took a liking to the creatures, granting them sentience. Thaestol, being a smug a brash fellow, then created Kobolds as a mockery of their image.

But you would do well to keep that detail about the Kobolds quiet around dragonborns. They are proud of their heritage, and believe they are born to rule over their own domains. Now what that domain is? That's anyone's guess. A dragon's hoard could be made up of anything, and so can a dragonborn's domain be over anything. Baron of Zletograd, lord of a keep, head chef of the kitchen or king of the hill, a dragonborn sets their criteria and sets off to conquer.

For this reason, you're likely to find dragonborns wherever there is a power struggle, and you're more than likely to see them prevail time and time again. Head of industry, captain of the guard, lead soprano, doesn't matter.

A dragonborn will embrace any art or industry, so long as they think they have opportunity and potential to become the very best at it. For that reason, some people say dragonborns just don't "get" art. That it's not about being the best, but about self expression. To which a dragonborn will generally hold up a piece of their art and say "then why does this look better than yours?"

Why should you play a dragonborn? Well, if you're tired of playing the nice PC who is willing to compromise and gently massage a fair deal out of situation, this might just be your choice. Or maybe you want an awesome breath weapon? Check Fizban's. It's a great setup.

Related Document: Pledge to Zletograd
Shadow the Hedgehog

> My God... Project Shadow.
>
> Commander Walters

**Shadow the Hedgehog** is a black and red hedgehog created as the result of Project Shadow: a secret project of the United States Government linked to the name "Robotnik". After his creation, Shadow was put into cryostasis in 1970. However, he was awakened fifty years later under unknown reasons.
Metamorphic Anastasis

At one time, I was the same emotionless creature the rest of my kin are. And, from an entirely detached perspective, the Lizardfolk worldview is sensible and convenient. Emotion *does* cloud judgment, and creates a whole kaleidoscope of confusion for the experiencing party. Yet, it is a limited view. For who could say such a life has purpose? To live without a further purpose, the mission of survival is already a failed quest. For who among us will not die? Even the elves decay in time.

My purpose, or rather the road to it, began when I was still in my unchanged state, foraging for sustenance and hiding from danger. One day, I had received news (from a prospective meal) that a powerful artifact lay in the hills south of the desert, in a barrow known as Hinnu Urrah. After I drilled him for information and dined upon him, I went through the wizened orc's pack and found a map. Following the map, I happened upon the barrow. Upon entry, a few traps were discharged upon my scaly hide, doing little damage. A few denizens rose up to attack me (large arachnids- good food, but almost impossible to access), which I concealed myself from and slipped past. Eventually I found it: the Relic of Urrah. To my eye, it appeared to be the Death Saint's femur, which was so full of potent magic that it functioned quite handily as a magic staff.

And that when things worsened. As I seized the powerful artifact, the spirit within it seized me in return, and I found myself invaded by a being of malice. The horrid works this devil, this Urrah, had me do... I shudder to think of the ruin left in my wake. Sometimes I think the repulsiveness of those deeds would have taught me empathy by contrast, even without the help of the Advent Gods. Yet I dare say to say such a thing would be unjust.

To make a long story shorter, the staff had taken me like a dervish through several villages in a fortnight, leaving desiccated wastes behind me, and had so thoroughly used my powers that I collapsed in the brushlands of the northeast, against the staff's will. Fortunately, a wandering holy man found me in my sorry state, and was able to remove the cursed staff from my possession, and sent a invisible servant of his to return the staff to its home. The act killed me entirely.

Fortunately, this Cleric was well acquainted with the ways of the god Vyazhinn, and beseeched it on my behalf. I passed through its darkened realm and was reborn into my body, forever changed, forever molded to its design.

I caught a glimpse of this Divine Calculus, this path to the grave and beyond, into life eternal. I learned the love of all around me, root, rock, person and creature. And I even learned art. The first among my kind to do so, if I am not mistaken. I couldn't be more grateful.

*The autobiographical account of Genzien the Lore Paladin, and his experience with curses, death and rebirth.*
Spell: Lesser Clamorstride

*2nd-level Transmutation*

**Casting Time:** Reaction, which you take when you are hit by an attack.

**Range:** 60 feet

**Components:** V, S, M (a handful of bells)

**Duration:** 1 minute (concentration)

You alter the enemy's feet or footgear, causing them to make a ringing cacophony when they move. The enemy must make a Wisdom saving throw against your spell save DC, or be subject to the spell's effect. While under the effect of this spell, the targeted enemy rolls stealth checks at disadvantage.

***At Higher Levels:*** When you cast this spell using a 3rd level spell slot or higher, you can cause them to suffer a -1 to their stealth checks per level above 2, up to a total of your proficiency bonus (Maximum of 6).

***Spell Lists:*** Artificer, Bard, Sorcerer, Wizard
The Tears of Deinya

In the young year of 83, Deinya Mavaliye was relatively unknown; in those days, the Kenku were a largely tribal people, and of the Daughters of Luun (let the reader understand: these refer to the avian species, namely the Kenku, Aarakocra and Owlin), they were the least warlike, preferring to subsist on the bounty of the forest and the company of their neighbors, in whom they delighted. While the Aarakocra waged savage combat in the southern forest, and the Owlin pursued magical potency and lordship over the developed cities, the Kenku graced their northeastern realm with song, tradition, and sculpture.

But during the turning of the seasons in the year 84 (we assume to be sometime around Kindling), the instability of the realms started to spread, stretching from the conflicted south towards the peaceful north, and a great many sentient species left their home to seek solace elsewhere. Consequently, the Kenku found their land full of refugees, and the battalions of the warring factions gradually closed in. As tensions flared and the competition for resources became fierce, only one of the formerly peaceful Kenku transcended the situation and saw only the sorrow and desperation of the unfortunate around her.

It is said that on what is now known as the 21st of Saint’s Vigil, she climbed a great hill and looked up at the full moon, and wept to Luun. Four times she wept. The first were bitter, hot tears, which scorched the earth beneath her, hardening the dirt into mud. The second were the desperate tears of fear and helplessness, which began to glide over the hardened earth beneath her and became a mighty river. The third were the hopeless tears of the dead and dying, which sent veins of frost through the flow, hardening the water into ice, deep into the earth. And the fourth were the daring tears of those who cry for hope one last time, the hope that comes beyond all hope. These tears sent a great shockwave through the icy river, shattering the ice that had pierced so deeply into the earth. So tremendous was this tremor that the land was sundered, and the island known as Kabu drifted off into the great sea, severing the tribe and its refugees from the war-torn lands around.

From that day forward, the citizens of Kabu followed in Deinya’s footsteps, appealing to Luun and weeping for the evils of the world during a festival known as Deinya’s Tears. To this day, the tradition of the Deinya’s Tears, as it was known, remains, but goes under the name of Saint’s Vigil, the month of repentance and reflection.

*Recorded by Yllin Scalline, College of Lore*
Species: Aasimar

It is rumored that the Aasimar were those who unlocked the door, allowing the downtrodden tieflings to escape their oppressive prison and exit into the light. All Aasimar have one thing in common- they were born with a spark of a god's purpose in their soul, and were granted the power to see it come to pass. That does not mean they have personal contact with that god, or even that they particularly revere them; it simply means they have a purpose in alignment with them.

Most Aasimar are potently magical, and have a penchant for obtaining and treasuring magical items. Protection Aasimar may choose to be Paladins or Abjuration Wizards, Scourge Aasimar my become Evocation Wizards or Sorcerers, and Fallen Aasimar may call upon the indwelt power of the earth as Druids, or will forge a firm contract with their god, taking on the mantle of the Warlock. And yet, some Aasimar with the cruelest tasks prefer to get their hands dirty and fight face to face, snarling in their enemies' faces.

Aasimar don't spring from any one place, but rather are born in the presence of something that symbolizes their aligned deity. For instance, a Naja-Bound Aasimar might be born in the presence of a clock or sundial, while an Aanasim-Bound Aasimar might be fished out of a river, or materialize out of a much-beloved storybook.

Aasimar don't often have down time, as they are tirelessly enforcing their iron will, but if they do find down-time, they stoically create art in accordance with the imagery and specialities of the bound deity. A Thaestolian Aasimar may take an interest in carving snake-like images or creating taxidermies of birds of prey. Alternatively, an agent of Suul may take to glassblowing, utilizing the scorching heat of the Solar God to create majestic works.

Why should you play an Aasimar? You can have a ludicrous, impossible birthday story, and the RP possibilities are endless. Also, you can use the new pantheon! I'm quite proud of it.

Related Document: Mission and Conquest
A Source Most Infinite

Of divine pow'r there is no end

Until your god depart;

The earth is strong and potent,

Yet fickle from the start.

Form a pact with devils

And they'll help you 'til they tire

And yet the arcane way

Is an ever-burning fire.

Boundless source, unyielding strength,

A worthy way of life.

Arcaneum Corps shall remain strong-

All other live in strife.

I knew a lad from Divinity

Who healed the lads and lasses

Until his god grew angry,

And knocked them on their asses.

Another was a druid,

Weaving powerful nature magic.

Until his vines turned on him,

And made his story tragic.

Boundless source, unyielding strength,

A worthy way of life.

Arcaneum Corps shall remain strong-

All other live in strife.
What You Shouldn't Know About Elves

"Do you know how hard it is to corner an elf, both physically and rhetorically? It takes a lot, a whole lot, Yllin. I might just be the first Harengon to do so, and I pray to the gods the last. I'm still exhausted, and this was seven months ago. There we sat in his parlor, me seated in front of the door so he couldn't escape, and him maddeningly offering me every beverage I'd ever heard of, and several I hadn't. Finally, when I'd accepted some barley water, he calmed down enough for me to put the screws to him. And here's what I found out:

"Elves have a deep insecurity. This is for a couple of reasons. First of all, all the other races had someone to show them the ropes. Except dwarves, maybe, but dwarves have that sheer instinct to them that drove them to the hills and mountains. The elves? The elves popped out of the grass or whatever, and stood looking up at the sky, for nigh on a fortnight. Any other species would have starved, but no, not an elf. Finally, Lode had to physically *rise from the earth* and tell them to build a damned house and plant a crop or two. After that, the Firstborn finally started taking a little initiative, building culture from the ground up. Now for this reason, I think a Harengon could cut them a little slack- these neurotic fellas had to come up with the arts, including glassblowing. You know what kind of place you have to be in, as a person, to put your lips to a tube with molten sludge on the other end of it, and just start blowing away? And they call us Harengons mad.

"But, in more recent (and far more pertinent) matters, the Elves have also had to watch the influence of their Parent Gods fade. It's almost as if they're passing on and leaving these lands. Most elves are now irreligious, as their faith in the permanence of faith has been shaken by the withdrawal Suul, Luun and Lode. And yes, their presence can still be felt and their power harnessed, but the last known sighting of any of them was sixty years ago, and even that is hearsay. Can you imagine? Imagine being a grain farmer and watching barely just... go away. Without warning or reason. Everyone tells you to start raising rye to make up for it, but who's to say that'll stick around either? So you switch to an all-meat diet.

"And that's what's more disturbing. There's people out there who's never seen so much as a leaf of lettuce, eating bull after bull after cockerel after bull, and I'm just supposed to accept that these meat maniacs won't fancy a bite of long-rabbit after awhile? I had a second cousin just outside of Hexiun who..."

*An interview with the scholar Washbasin, taken down by Yllin Scalline. This account has been trimmed, as Washbasin is known to ramble in his accounts.*
Mission and Conquest

When choosing between the nectar of kindness or the medicine of orthodoxy, the upright must always uphold the tenets of the divine, for as the gods watch over our paths, so we must walk on the roads they have paved for their children.

The returning dead are to be immolated with the utmost prejudice, as they have run their course and have deemed the gods' provision lacking. If we forsake the righteous way of the divines, what is left for the living but the abyss and hells?

Take up a protege; find a lesser devotee to guide on your path, one step behind. As a tiered fountain's top bowl fills the bowl beneath it, so may you fill the potential of your lesser, ever striving that they should be your greater by your teaching and the provision of the gods.

Waste not your time with platitudes and all manner of religious cliches, for as the cicadas call from dawn to dusk, your hailstorm of words will only annoy those you would wish to edify. Rather through action and resolve shall you preach, for a safe countryside will bring in the crops more effectively than a thousand eloquent sermons.

The holy weapons of your god should be drawn with restraint, yet wielded generously once you have done so. For which of the iconoclastic devilkin would have mercy on you? Neither should you extend mercy to them.

Your time will end; this is without doubt. Whether slain in glorious service to the divine ones, brought to their embrace by the wild fluxes of time and chance, or you simply retire and enjoy the gods' esteem for a life well-lived, you are to embrace that time and fall into it with grace and humility. For as a great tree falls in a forest, the young among the trees will luxuriate in the light your absence grants. This is your final gift, and ultimately, your greatest.

May the blessings of the gods be with you.

*Also known as* The Manifesto of the Six*, this was penned by Genzien, the Lore Paladin of the Lizardfolk Palisades (located outside The Everlode)*
Species: Goblin

To be a Goblin is to celebrate asymmetry. After all, who doesn't have one hand more dexterous than the other? One arm stronger than the other? A better side to their profile? Goblins have taken this to an art form. From their own forms to their dwellings, Goblins delight in variance and incongruence. This artistic preference distances them from other goblinoids; hobgoblins are brutalists, caring only for the function and efficiency of their environment. Bugbears are survivalists, only caring to find a place to nap in peace. But a goblin? Miles of tunnels, decorated with nicknacks, tchotchkies, doohickeys, doodads, whatchamacallits, and whatevers. A gruesome skull here, a gorgeous bow there... why not? Life is full of dualities.

For this reason, Goblins have been mislabeled as uncoordinated and careless by outsiders. In contrast to this, most Goblins have a very firm moral compass, valuing the double-edged nature of a conscious spirit, and the affections and reliance each Goblin has for its own people. Get in good with a Goblin, and you've got yourself a friend for life, ride or die.

True to their nature, a Goblin is not just *willing* to try any art form or commercial pursuit, but many try to diversify as much as possible. "Yeah, I blow glass and sell high-grade military ordinance. I also weave tapestries on the side. What of it? Life is full of rich variance, and so am I."

Why play a Goblin? The world is open to you, and you're always in a position to defy expectations, where outsiders are concerned.

Related Documentation: Economic Proposal in Siolynburgh
Species: Yuan-Ti

The Yuan-Ti have been present since the first Humans faced adversity in the realm. The creations of a sort of sour pact, they have been preserved by their cunning, intellect in indwelt power for centuries. While many view these hybrid-humans with caution or even disgust, this is unfair in a modern context. While still cunning and cold-blooded, the modern Yuan-Ti is as much a member of society as anyone else.

These do tend towards the more unpleasant and gruesome jobs. Morticians, corpse-collectors, rat-catchers, sewer clearers... the list goes on and on. But take note- each of these professions are the backbone of civilization, and without someone to fill the position, society would collapse. For instance, the rat plague of Dosial would have swept the entire trade route, had the Yuan-Ti Rat Catcher by the name of Mahmaad restrained his hand from an untidy task. Most scholars agree that this sole Yuan-Ti saved the lives of thousands, and he did so quiet, methodically, and without so much as a complaint.

Why should you play a Yuan-Ti? Well, you will have a lore-rich history, and have a natural affinity for the dirty jobs. I might even give you advantage on Cons saves if you're a Yuan-Ti, because chances are, *your character has been there before*.

Related Documentation: The Blessing in the Wyrm's Curse
Species: Vedalken

The Vedalken fell through the cracks. Created alongside the elves at the dawn of the Grand Duchy's founding, they had built a thriving community on Luun's rock, and dedicated themselves to the worship of the lunar goddess. They burrowed into the rock, carving a great palace beneath its surface, illuminated by arcane-infused stones and metals, and fed by magically-sourced fresh water. This veritable paradise blossomed under the lunar goddess' gaze until just after a visit by a Lodelight Elf by the name of Za'ana Gelique, renowned scholar. On her visit, the elf was said to have gone mad, raving about an advent of tyranny soon to strike. The kindly Vedalken tried to catch hold of her and take her into their infirmary, where physicians and priests would see to her, but she was too strong in her madness, and dove from the rock into the sea. She was later found on the shores of what is now known as Zletograd, expired. A final quatrain was found on her person, written on a scrap of vellum.

The Vedalken were never seen again.

So, if you're to play a Vedalken, how have you returned from the mysterious catastrophe that befell your people? This will remain a bit of a roleplaying challenge, as the character themself will not know the nature of the disaster. Whatever the case, if you choose to play a Vedalken, I will be glad to work with you to find a good, plausible reason you have resurfaced in Meradyne.

Related Documentation: Gelique's Quatrain
Jim Carrey

**James Eugene "Jim" Carrey** is a Canadian-American actor, comedian and artist. He portrayed Dr. Robotnik in *Sonic the Hedgehog* and *Sonic the Hedgehog 2.*

## Awards

* He won a Critics Choice Super Award for Best Villain in a Movie for his work in *Sonic the Hedgehog*.
* He was nominated for a Critics Choice Super Award for Best Actor in a Superhero Movie for his work in *Sonic the Hedgehog*.
* He was nominated for a Huading Award for Best Global Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture for his work in *Sonic the Hedgehog*.
* He was nominated for a Kids' Choice Awards for Favorite Movie Actor for his work in *Sonic the Hedgehog*.
* He was nominated for a Kids' Choice Awards for Favorite Movie Actor for his work in *Sonic the Hedgehog 2*.
Species: Tortle

Most scholars agree that the Tortle folk all descended from one tremendous, almost-godlike ancestor. Though considerable smaller than their progenitor, they nonetheless share its insatiable hunger for exploration. Land, sea, or underground, these stalwart, shell-clad individuals are willing to give it a shot. This is helped along by their patient natures, natural armor, and savage claws.

Most Tortles also love a good joke, no matter how long the setup takes. One such joke that has gained many foolish believers is that a Tortle only lives for *exactly* fifty years. This is, of course, nonsense. Like the tortoises they resemble, your average Tortle will keep pack with an elf just fine, often living for upwards of 300 years. So remember: if you hear something outlandish from a Tortle, take it with a grain of salt. It's likely too notable to be true.

When it comes to careers and arts, Tortles gravitate towards things that take a long time to make, and can be done on the road. For this reason, you'll find many of the shelled folk with brewing kits, alchemist supplies, cartography sets, and even sourdough starters. If you find a wandering Tortle tinker, be sure to peruse their wares! Chances are, they have some of the rarest goods you can find.

Why should you play a Tortle? A base 17 AC is absolutely *mental*, and your unarmed strikes are buffed. It's a great setup for a squishy caster.

Related Documentation: Suckered by a Slow Sly Sneak
Lineage: Reborn

All the information in Van Richten's Guide to Ravenloft rings true in Meradyne. The only other thing I will say on this Lineage is, if you have a character you just can't let go of when it dies, this will likely be one of the main options open to you, vis-a-vis continuing with that character. We will then need to have a conversation regarding how your rebirth comes about.

Related Documentation: Why Throw This Body Out When We Can Reuse It?
The End of the Strand

Behold the humble net! Or for those of you who find such a subject to be too mundane, behold rather the magnificent tapestry! Each made of strands, strings, cords, etc., and therefore, each possessed of the *ends of its parts*. Where the component parts of a net stop, there the catching of fish stops as well. Where the edges of a tapestry are tucked, there the depictions must cease.

What, then, about the Weave of Magic? Composed of interconnected strands of magical potential, the ends of the strands are particularly potent magical conduits we call *ley lines*. There are supposedly eight such ley lines in Meradyne, though a few of those eight's end locations remain yet undiscovered. These ley lines each correspond to an aspect of magic, such as illusion, conjuration, evocation, and on and on. As these Regions of Power, these Ends of the Strand touch the land of Meradyne, their energy suffuses the land with the magical potential of the weave above, and the earth around responds in wild and dramatic ways. Mutated beasts, perhaps. Or magical darkness or light. Or even new species appearing! The results are fairly unpredictable, yet tie back to the aspect of the ley line itself.

*A snippet of one of Senreich Seisenvald's lectures before he fell from grace before the board of Artisanal University.*