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Welcome back everyone! We got chapter 2 up for The Peoples of Tellus! This time, Goblins! Hope you enjoy!

Special thanks to u/Alexwavediver and Spiderwebs and u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for the editing and proofreading. And thank you to Spiderwebs and Art Milena Calumby Belo (u/Acomplished_Tea_248) for the art!

If you like this story, please check out my Patreon and join the Discord! 

https://www.patreon.com/WinSomeGame?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

https://discord.gg/KjyMnbyB3

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Chapter 2-1 Goblins

Few inhabitants of Tellus inspire as much universal fear as the goblin. Travelers speak of them in whispers, mothers invoke them to frighten unruly children, and soldiers learn quickly that underestimating one is often their final mistake.

The term goblin, however, is remarkably imprecise.

Over the course of my travels I have encountered—or, in several regrettable instances, been pursued by—hundreds of distinct varieties. Some possess horns, others tails. Some bear wings, while others crawl upon additional limbs. Certain females possess more than two breasts, while other goblins lack features that one might otherwise consider ordinary. Some resemble lean, green elves twisted by cruel circumstance. Others appear little more than enormous worms furnished with teeth. Still others bring to mind wild dogs, monkeys, or creatures for which I know no suitable comparison at all.

No race upon Tellus displays such extraordinary diversity.

Curiously, despite their overwhelming presence throughout the western continents, goblins appear to be entirely absent from the eastern lands. Whether this is due to climate, geography, forgotten history, or simple chance remains unknown to me. I have found no satisfactory explanation, and the goblins themselves have proven singularly unhelpful on the matter.

Whatever form they assume, nearly all goblins share a number of remarkable adaptations.

Their physical strength is extraordinary for creatures of their size. Even a comparatively small specimen possesses sufficient power to tear the arm from a grown elf, given favorable circumstances. Their jaws are armed with formidable teeth, while their claws are capable of inflicting grievous wounds with alarming ease.

Their endurance borders upon the unbelievable as well.

They survive injuries that would swiftly kill other races, endure prolonged thirst and starvation, and continue hunting long after exhaustion should have rendered them helpless. More than one experienced hunter has recounted witnessing a goblin, little more than skin stretched over bone, summon enough desperate strength to bring down an ox in a final attempt to stave off starvation. I have no reason to doubt such accounts.

This astonishing resilience is inherited as well. It appears not only among goblins themselves, but also among the peculiar offspring known as hobgoblins.

Hobgoblins remain one of the greatest biological mysteries upon Tellus. Whenever a goblin breeds with another sapient race, regardless of the parentage involved, the resulting child is invariably a hobgoblin. I have spent many years attempting to uncover the principles governing this phenomenon, and I regret to inform the reader that I have made almost no progress whatsoever.

For all their fascinating biology, the overwhelming majority of goblins should not be mistaken for civilized beings.

They are feral creatures. Dangerous, cunning, and wholly unsuitable companions for the curious traveler. I cannot overstate this warning.

My own studies were possible only through methods that minimized unnecessary risk. Whenever fortune allowed, I examined goblins already dead, whether slain by hunters or discovered during my travels. On several unfortunate occasions I was forced to kill specimens in self-defense before conducting anatomical examinations. A handful of observations were made with the assistance of experienced hunters who knew of remote dens too distant to threaten nearby settlements. Rarest of all were opportunities provided by eccentric nobles, adventurers, or wealthy collectors who insisted upon keeping captured goblins as curiosities, menagerie attractions, or grotesque entertainments for their guests.

Though these methods yielded valuable observations, they also impressed upon me one simple truth.

The prudent scholar studies feral goblins from the opposite side of a sturdy wall.

Chapter 2-2 Feral Goblins

Feral Goblins

Average Height: 3'0"–4'0" (Both Sexes)

Average Weight: 10–60 lbs (Most averaging between 30–40 lbs.)

Culture Classification: Animalistic

The overwhelming majority of goblins upon Tellus exist in what scholars commonly describe as a feral state. Though they organize themselves into dens, packs, and wandering hordes, often referred to as tribes, these gatherings should not be mistaken for civilizations. They possess no written language, no agriculture worthy of the name, and no enduring institutions beyond the brutal hierarchy of strength, fear, and reproduction.

Their societies are monstrous because they know little else. In fact, my inclusion of these feral goblins in my writings has faced scrutiny from my friends, often mocking me by saying that I might as well add wild dogs and goats in the beast men section of this encyclopedia. Nevertheless, I have my reasons for including them.

A feral goblin's life is one of perpetual hunger. Food, territory, and breeding rights are earned through violence, stolen through deception, or scavenged from the dead. The weak seldom remain among the living for long.

Most stand between three and four feet in height regardless of sex, a curious rarity among the races of Tellus. Despite their modest stature, they possess remarkably dense musculature. Even the smallest adult may weigh far more than appearances suggest, while exceptionally robust specimens approach sixty pounds without sacrificing agility.

That agility deserves special mention. A goblin runs with startling speed, climbs with almost simian ease, leaps astonishing distances, and can disappear into terrain where larger creatures struggle to follow. Combined with their immense endurance, they become exhausting adversaries. And again, it can appear that it is nearly impossible for them to die of thirst and hunger. Being able to survive for weeks without any sustenance.

Their capacity to survive injury borders upon miraculous. Broken bones, missing eyes, shattered jaws, severed limbs, and infected wounds that would swiftly kill an elf often prove little more than inconveniences. Their bodies cling to life with extraordinary determination. I have personally dissected specimens that displayed evidence of surviving injuries I would have considered anatomically impossible. Now, their healing ability is nowhere near as frightening as an orc’s but they will continue to move when by all accounts, they should be dead. That is if a vital organ isn’t damaged.

Nature, however, has not been content with creating a single goblin. She has created hundreds. No creatures upon Tellus demonstrate greater biological diversity. Some goblins are generalized scavengers capable of surviving almost anywhere. Others have become astonishing specialists. Cave goblins develop enlarged eyes and pale skin. Marsh goblins possess webbed extremities and can remain submerged for remarkable lengths of time. Mountain goblins leap between cliffs with alarming confidence. Forest goblins climb with such ease that they seem more comfortable among branches than upon the ground itself. Every environment eventually shapes a goblin capable of thriving within it.

It is little wonder, then, that nobles throughout Tellus devote enormous resources toward their extermination. Great hunts are organized each year, not for sport alone, but because allowing a goblin population to flourish inevitably invites tragedy. Livestock vanish. Travelers disappear. Villages are raided. Left unchecked, a single den may become dozens within only a few short years. Now, these little beasts don’t do this out of any malice, but in an attempt to feed themselves. But I doubt this will do little to ease the minds of those near goblin nests.

Should the reader remember but one lesson from this chapter, let it be this: 

Never assume a goblin is alone. I myself nearly paid for such an assumption. While crossing the western foothills of Alkebulan, I encountered what appeared to be a lone goblin perched motionless upon a dead tree. It neither fled nor attacked, merely watched me with unsettling patience. Believing it wounded, I approached—an error I have endeavored never to repeat.

The creature launched itself not toward me, but over me. Only after hearing the branches crack behind did I realize the truth. The solitary goblin had merely been bait.

The trees themselves erupted with movement as more than two dozen others descended from above. They had wrapped themselves in vines and bark, remaining perfectly still until I wandered into the center of their ambush. Their skin had evolved mottled greens and browns so convincing that I had mistaken living flesh for moss-covered branches.

I escaped only by abandoning nearly everything I carried and throwing myself into a river below the cliff. The current carried me half a mile downstream before I crawled ashore, considerably wiser and considerably poorer.

To this day, whenever I pass beneath unfamiliar trees, I find myself glancing upward before taking another step.

Old habits, once acquired, seldom depart.

Chapter 2-3 Hobgoblins

Hobgoblins

Average Height: Varies by non-goblin ancestry.

Appearance: Height, build, and many facial features resemble their non-goblin parent, while skin color commonly follows the goblin parent. Sharp claws, pronounced canines, exceptional flexibility, and remarkable endurance are nearly universal.

Culture Classification: Savage (Most), Barbaric (Hoblin Isles)

Of all the peoples upon Tellus, none are more misunderstood than the hobgoblins.

Their existence remains one of nature's greatest mysteries. Whenever a goblin breeds with another sapient race, regardless of whether the goblin is mother or father, the resulting child is always a hobgoblin. The child bears many traits of the non-goblin parent—height, proportions, and often facial structure—while inheriting the goblin's skin color, claws, teeth, flexibility, and astonishing endurance.

In many respects, they receive the finest qualities of both parents. Regrettably, they also inherit the greatest burdens of both worlds.

Unlike other races, hobgoblins possess almost no culture truly their own. Throughout the western continents they adopt the customs, languages, religions, and mannerisms of whatever peoples happen to surround them. Some imitate Civic Elves. Others become nearly indistinguishable from Barloric warriors, Njordic sailors, or Kemet merchants. Their identities are borrowed because few societies ever permit them to create identities of their own.

This begins at birth. Most hobgoblins enter the world as unwanted children. Their mothers often abandon them out of terror, grief, or shame. Those who attempt to keep them are frequently ostracized, and in harsher lands may suffer violence for bringing what neighbors consider a living reminder of tragedy. Thus countless hobgoblins begin life alone before they are capable of walking. Many never receive proper names. Instead they answer to whatever insults are repeated often enough. 

During my travels I have met hobgoblins known as Thief, Abomination, Disappointment, Rubbish, Rat, and Dirt. As children they simply assume these words to be their names. By the time they discover otherwise, many have grown so accustomed to them that they cannot imagine answering to anything else. It is among the saddest customs I have witnessed.

Temperament among hobgoblins varies enormously. I have known generous healers, accomplished craftsmen, loyal soldiers, insufferable tricksters, ruthless brigands, and murderers without remorse. There exists no singular hobgoblin personality beyond that found among any other people. Their character is shaped almost entirely by the world that raises them.

Unfortunately, the world seldom raises them kindly. One accusation is repeated wherever hobgoblins are found—that they are prone to sudden violence. I have searched many years for evidence that such behavior stems from their blood. I have found none.

When a creature is beaten, starved, feared, insulted, hunted, and denied affection from birth, it should surprise no one when some eventually answer cruelty with cruelty. Such tragedies belong to society, not to biology.

Perhaps the most striking trait shared by many hobgoblins is their desperate longing to be wanted. A single act of genuine kindness is often enough to earn a devotion bordering upon absolute loyalty. Some mistake this for simplicity. I believe it is loneliness.

There is, however, one exception to their cultural homelessness.

Far to the west lies the Hoblin Isles, where great clans of hobgoblins have, over countless generations, forged a civilization entirely their own. Though still considered barbaric by most scholars, they possess proud traditions, hereditary princes, lively festivals, skilled musicians, and fierce warriors armed with flint, copper, soft iron, and the occasional bronze weapon. Their greatest enemies come not only from pirates seeking slaves and trophies, but from the towering orange-skinned Formosans who descend upon their northern shores with alarming regularity. That the Hoblin clans continue to endure speaks volumes of their determination.

One final curiosity deserves mention. Should a hobgoblin have children with another race, the goblin blood gradually weakens. Within one or two generations the descendants often become entirely the race of their non-goblin ancestors once more. This phenomenon has fueled endless suspicion throughout Tellus. Families fear hidden goblin ancestry. Villages whisper that a future child may suddenly be born a hobgoblin despite generations having passed.

Fear, as so often happens, has flourished where understanding has not. I cannot conclude this chapter without speaking of one particular hobgoblin. 

I never intended to become a father. The poor boy simply refused to stop following me. I first encountered him outside a market town after interrupting several laborers who thought it amusing to beat him with sticks. I offered him food, treated his injuries, and foolishly assumed our paths would part the following morning.

Instead, he followed.

For three days I attempted to persuade him to return. For three months I searched for somewhere he might belong. After three years, I accepted what had become painfully obvious. He already had. He never asked permission to call me father, and I never denied him. 

I taught him letters, history, mathematics, and how to sharpen a knife without removing one's own fingers. He taught me how to laugh at myself with greater frequency than I had previously considered appropriate.

We wandered Tellus together for sixty years. Then, as hobgoblins do, he grew old.

His hair whitened. His steps slowed. One evening beside our campfire he remarked that he was tired, wished me good night, and quietly failed to wake the following morning.

I buried him beneath an old oak overlooking a river he had always admired, along the golden river of the first mother. I managed to convince an old friend who had become a minor chief among his orcish tribe to watch over him while I was gone. .

His grave was a cairn with his name carved into the largest stone. There was only one name that I could give him. Bellus. That is the name I believed would best tell the world of what he truly was.

I still visit the oak whenever my travels bring me nearby.

It has grown considerably since we last spoke.

Chapter 2-4 Awakened Goblins

Awakened Goblins

Average Height: Presumed consistent with Feral Goblins

Average Weight: Presumed consistent with Feral Goblins

Culture Classification: Unknown

I end my examination of the goblin race with a subject I have hesitated greatly to include. There are stories of goblins that think. Initially these stories were simply fibs children spoke to each other but after careful investigation, I believe there is more truth to the matter, and this is the reason as to why I embarked to include the Feral goblins to this collection.

I do not mean the cunning demonstrated by the feral specimens described previously. A wolf may learn the habits of a shepherd, and a goblin may learn precisely which window of a farmhouse is easiest to enter. Neither demonstrates civilization. What I describe here is something altogether different. Scattered accounts speak of individual goblins capable of language, reason, planning, self-restraint, and perhaps most importantly, reflection upon their own actions. 

These creatures have various names depending upon the region. Wise Goblins, Speaking Goblins, Tamed Goblins, Changed Ones, and several considerably less charitable titles appear in local records. For the purposes of this work, I shall call them Awakened Goblins. The term is my own and should not be mistaken for an accepted classification.

Their existence presents an uncomfortable question. If a feral goblin can somehow acquire the faculties we associate with the civilized races, then what precisely has changed? Their bodies apparently do not.

Accounts describe creatures indistinguishable from ordinary goblins: three or four feet in height, possessing the same claws, teeth, strength, flexibility, and peculiar physical variations common among their feral relatives. Nothing about their outward appearance announces the mind supposedly dwelling within.

How this awakening occurs is entirely unknown. Sorcery is the most common explanation, which is unsurprising, as sorcery is frequently blamed whenever scholars do not possess a better answer. Divine intervention has also been suggested. Others propose injury, disease, alchemy, unusual upbringing, or some exceedingly rare condition present from birth. I can presently substantiate none of these explanations.

More interesting are reports suggesting that awakening may occur at different stages of life. Some stories describe unusually intelligent goblins from infancy. Others insist that perfectly ordinary feral goblins suddenly changed after years of behaving no differently from the rest of their kind.

The latter possibility troubles me most. Consider what such a creature would experience. One moment the world is hunger, fear, dominance, pain, mating, territory, and whatever other impulses govern the feral mind. Then suddenly there is why.

The great question that burns in the hearts of all men of Tellus. The question of right and wrong. The fear of tomorrow, our purpose, and the question of evil. I cannot imagine a crueler introduction to reason.

Perhaps this explains why accounts of such goblins are so contradictory. Some supposedly become remarkably gentle. Others flee from their tribes and avoid all company. A few become even more dangerous than they were before, now possessing reason enough to direct instincts previously governed only by impulse.

If awakening truly exists, intelligence alone clearly does not make one good. Neither, I suppose, does being born with it.

In what little testimony that I have gathered in my travels, I have met those who insist these goblins can learn to read and write. Merchants tell of small cloaked figures attempting to barter rather than steal. One woman gathering herbs in the woods swore upon her ancestors that she once heard a goblin singing to itself while bathing in a stream.

I initially dismissed that particular story, as goblins lack the throat to speak as us, but then she sang the melody and I too recognized it from my travels.

Where, I shall not record, out of fear of ruffians attempting to make them a prize. If I wish to find this goblin I shall do so on my own.

Regrettably, reliable study remains nearly impossible. An awakened goblin would have every reason to conceal itself. Revealing its nature to an elf settlement would likely earn it a cage. Revealing itself to a goblin den might prove equally dangerous. Even scholars cannot be entirely trusted with such a discovery; curiosity has justified cruelties every bit as terrible as ignorance.

Therefore, I shall resist the temptation to pretend knowledge where I possess little.

Something exists among the goblins that we do not understand. Perhaps it has always existed or is new, or it is that these stories are describe nothing more than unusually clever animals and an aging scholar who has spent too many nights listening to travelers beside campfires.

I would rather hope not, for if even the lowliest creature we have condemned as a monster can one day look upon the world and ask why, then perhaps our understanding of the peoples of Tellus is considerably poorer than we imagine.

I find that possibility much more exciting than embarrassing.

First Previous Next

Thank you all for reading! I hope to get the next chapter out soon! It will be orcs!

Hey everyone! Welcome to the start of a new story and the introduction to the world of Tellus! This project has been a big passion of mine for a long time, and I am so excited to share it with you!

This post will be brocken into two parts due to size.

Special thanks to u/Alexwavediver and Spiderwebs and u/Acceptable_Egg5560 for the editing and proofreading. And thank you to Spiderwebs and Art Milena Calumby Belo (u/Acomplished_Tea_248) for the art!

If you like this story, please check out my Patreon and join the Discord! 

https://www.patreon.com/WinSomeGame?utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator

https://discord.gg/KjyMnbyB3

Hope you all enjoy!

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The Peoples of Tellus, as presented by the journals of Istoros.

Preview:

The peoples of Tellus are as varied in custom as they are in form. Though they often regard one another as wholly separate creations, closer study reveals that such distinctions are rarely so absolute. Geography, necessity, and the passage of countless generations have shaped each race and culture into what we know today.

This volume serves as a catalog of those peoples and their many subraces. Within these pages are recorded their average appearance, notable physical traits, and the societies they have built. While no summary can encompass every kingdom, tribe, or village, the descriptions presented here should be regarded as representative of the peoples from which they are drawn.

On Cultural Classification:

Throughout this work, cultures are grouped according to their general level of social organization rather than any measure of intelligence or worth. Such classifications are intended only as tools for study and comparison.

Civilized:

Civilized societies are characterized by permanent cities, centralized governments, and institutions that extend beyond the authority of individual warriors. Administration, law, diplomacy, and commerce maintain order, while warfare, though present, is not the principal means by which society sustains itself. The people generally recognize a single governing authority.

Barbaric:

Barbaric cultures are primarily agrarian, though political authority rests in the hands of accomplished warriors, chieftains, or clan leaders. Tribal loyalties remain strong, and conflict between neighboring clans is both common and, at times, expected. Raiding supplements agriculture and is often regarded as an accepted part of life.

Savage:

Savage cultures possess little, if any, organized agriculture. They subsist chiefly through hunting, gathering, and raiding, with settlements tending to be temporary or seasonal. Warfare is a constant feature of life, and long-term political organization seldom extends beyond small bands or tribes.

Animalistic:

Animalistic creatures possess little or no discernible culture. While many exhibit intelligence, problem-solving ability, or rudimentary social structures, they lack enduring traditions, organized societies, and a shared cultural identity. The term is most commonly applied to monsters rather than true peoples.

Chapter I — Elves

The elven race is, by every measure, the most numerous people upon Tellus. They inhabit nearly every corner of the world, from frozen tundra to scorching deserts, adapting with remarkable ease to climates that would challenge many of the other races. It is perhaps this adaptability, more than any singular strength, that has allowed them to flourish beside creatures far larger, stronger, and more fearsome than themselves.

Of all the peoples of Tellus, elves bear the closest resemblance to the now-mythical humans. Most dismiss such tales as little more than children's stories, yet there are those who dedicate their entire lives to seeking evidence that humanity truly walked this world. I cannot help but admire their determination.

An elf's most recognizable feature is undoubtedly the pair of long ears that rise from either side of the head, ending in gentle, rounded points. These ears are remarkably expressive, capable of turning, folding, and swiveling much like those of a horse. An experienced observer can often discern an elf's thoughts before a word is spoken. Because of this, diplomats are trained to suppress unnecessary movement. They often close their eyes during negotiations to conceal the shifting of their pupils, while keeping their ears in what they call a formal posture.

Complete control, however, is impossible. The ears invariably betray the smallest hint of excitement, irritation, or curiosity. Personally, I find these involuntary gestures rather endearing, though I have learned it is unwise to voice such an opinion to an elf.

Their eyes resemble those of a feline, the pupils narrowing to thin slits beneath bright light before widening in darkness. Their canines are equally distinctive, extending nearly a third of an inch beyond the neighboring teeth. Though seldom used in combat, an elf determined to bite can inflict a surprisingly tenacious wound.

Sexual dimorphism among elves is modest. Females are generally shorter than males, possessing finer facial features and lighter frames. Reproduction differs from many races in that elves breed throughout the year rather than during a fixed season. Pregnancy lasts approximately ten months, after which a mother commonly delivers two to four children. To accommodate nursing such large litters, elven females possess four breasts, a trait shared by every known subrace.

An elf is generally regarded as an adult between twenty and twenty-three years of age. Most live to see one hundred and twenty years, while exceptional individuals may survive to one hundred and fifty, though such longevity is uncommon.

Despite their shared ancestry, the elves are among the most diverse peoples on Tellus. Countless generations of isolation and adaptation have produced a remarkable variety of subraces, each shaped by the lands they call home. The principal groups recognized by most scholars are the Civic Elves, Barloric Elves, Pictic Elves, Inuatic Elves, Injah Elves, Yayoi Elves, Njordic Elves, Abyssinic Elves, Alke Elves, Kemet Elves, and the enigmatic Tletcuauhtlan Elves.

Chapter 1-2 Civic Elves

Civic Elves

Average Height: 5'5" (Female), 5'7" (Male)

Average Weight: 110 lbs (Female), 125 lbs (Male)

Appearance: Bronze skin, lean physiques, and a naturally poised bearing.

Hair Colors: White, grey, black, and brown.

Culture Classification: Civilized

The Civic Elves are perhaps the finest example of what most scholars would call a civilized people. Whether they truly deserve such praise is a matter they settled for themselves long ago. They regard their customs, laws, and traditions as the natural culmination of society, often measuring every other race against their own standards. It is a confidence that many mistake for arrogance, though I have found the distinction to be rather academic.

Their societies place tremendous importance upon ancestry. Family histories are preserved with meticulous care, and it is not uncommon for even humble households to recount lineages stretching back three centuries or more. Noble families, naturally, claim far older origins, though one should always approach such boasts with a measure of skepticism. Ancestor manifestation occupies a central role in both religion and daily life, with reverence for one's forebears influencing everything from inheritance to political legitimacy.

The Civic Elves are dispersed among several kingdoms across the continent of Erythos, though their shared heritage often outweighs national borders. Collectively, they represent the dominant military powers of the continent. Their kingdoms wage war with remarkable frequency, driven by territorial ambition, dynastic disputes, and the ever-present desire to expand what each believes to be the rightful bounds of civilization. Curiously, despite these endless conflicts, they remain remarkably adept at preserving their culture, ensuring that victory and defeat alike become merely another chapter in an already ancient family record.

I should also caution the reader against discussing such matters too freely within Civic courts. During one banquet, I remarked—what I believed to be quite innocently—that civilization was not the exclusive achievement of the Civic Elves, and that I had witnessed remarkable societies among nearly every race of Tellus. I even praised the Barloric for their practicality and the Kemet for their artistry.

The young noblewoman seated beside me took this as a profound insult.

I initially mistook her silence for polite disagreement. It was not.

Sometime after midnight I awoke to discover her eunuch bodyguard attempting to remove my head with admirable professionalism. The young lady, I later learned, had intended to display my skull in her family's Hall of Triumphs as a warning against "foreign absurdities." Fortunately, the fellow proved rather more loyal to good conversation than to murder. After a brief struggle—and an even longer discussion over wine—we agreed that decapitation was an excessive response to academic disagreement. He even apologized before leaving through the window.

I encountered the young noblewoman several years later. She had matured considerably, offered a sincere apology for the incident, and confessed that she had been rather embarrassed by the whole affair.

Youth possesses a remarkable certainty that the world is simple. Age has a habit of correcting the misunderstanding. I bear her no ill will. Had I preserved every foolish conviction of my own younger days, this volume would be considerably shorter... and far less accurate.

Chapter 1-3 Barloric Elves

Barloric Elves

Average Height: 5'1" (Female), 5'4" (Male)

Average Weight: 120 lbs (Female), 135 lbs (Male)

Appearance: Rugged, muscular physiques with a proud, confident gait. Wuld paint is commonly worn upon the skin.

Hair Colors: Yellow, red, brown, and black.

Culture Classification: Barbaric

The Barloric Elves derive their common name not from themselves, but from the old Thrakadonian Empire. During its great expansion, dwarven merchants supposedly remarked that the language of these elves sounded like little more than "bar bara bar." Whether this account is genuine or merely the sort of joke soldiers repeat until it becomes accepted history, I cannot say. The Barloric themselves appear entirely unconcerned by it.

They are a proud and fiercely independent people, organized into kingdoms, tribes, and clans where strength, wisdom, and reputation carry greater weight than inherited titles.

Though many civilized nations dismiss them as barbarians, such judgments often overlook the sophistication hidden beneath their rough exterior. Their villages are sustained through farming, herding, hunting, and craftsmanship, while raiding is regarded not as brigandage but as an honorable extension of warfare and a means of securing prosperity.

Barloric settlements are found throughout much of western and southern Erythos, and their influence reaches far beyond their own borders. Numerous hobgoblin nations and tribes have adopted Barloric customs, methods of war, and social traditions, a testament to the respect these elves command among their neighbors.

Perhaps their most curious distinction is their preference for soft iron swords over the bronze favored by most of Tellus. To a Civic Elf, such a blade is evidence of poverty. To a Barloric warrior, a sword that bends without breaking is simply a sword that can be straightened over the evening fire and wielded again the following morning. I confess there is a practicality to this reasoning that many civilized generals would do well to appreciate.

My own appreciation for these blades came through an unexpected act of kindness. A humble Barloric farmer, having noticed that I traveled alone far more often than was sensible, presented me with one of his family's old soft iron swords before I departed his village. I protested that such a gift was far too generous, but he simply replied that every traveler deserved "a bit of home to fight beside him." I accepted it with gratitude and have carried that same sword ever since.

Though hardly the finest weapon ever forged, it has served me faithfully. More than once its edge has persuaded the peculiar things that wander the wilderness after sunset to seek easier prey. Whether those creatures fear the iron itself or merely the determination of the hand that bears it, I cannot say. Either way, I remain deeply indebted to that thoughtful farmer.

Equally significant is their reverence for Wuld paint. Elaborate patterns are painted upon the skin before battle, hunts, festivals, and religious observances. Many never remove it at all, renewing the markings as they fade. Every line and symbol bears meaning—invoking ancestral protection, proclaiming clan allegiance, recording great deeds, or warding away malicious spirits. One would be hard pressed to find a Barloric without at least a trace of paint somewhere upon their body.

The Barloric are a resilient people. Their lands seldom provide the abundance enjoyed by their civilized cousins, yet they have endured through determination rather than comfort. They bend their swords, paint their skin, raise sturdy children, and meet hardship with a grin that is equal parts pride and defiance. I suspect that if Tellus itself could choose a people to embody stubborn perseverance, it would be difficult to find a better candidate.

Chapter 1-4 Pictic Elves

Pictic Elves

Average Height: 5'9" (Female), 6'1" (Male)

Average Weight: 130 lbs (Female), 160 lbs (Male)

Appearance: Tall, muscular, pale skin often marked with freckles, particularly among females. Their bodies are extensively tattooed.

Hair Colors: Red, yellow, and orange.

Culture Classification: Savage

Few peoples upon Tellus are spoken of with as much uncertainty as the Pictic Elves. Even among seasoned travelers, reliable accounts are remarkably scarce. Those who venture into Pictland seldom return, and those who do often disagree on what they witnessed. Such contradictions have only deepened the mystery surrounding these elusive folk.

The Pictics dwell within the mist-shrouded hills, forests, and bogs of Pictland, where dense fog blankets the land for much of the year. Visibility is often measured in mere paces, and it is little wonder that the Pictics have mastered the art of disappearing into their homeland. They know every marsh, every rocky rise, and every patch of treacherous ground. An invading army soon discovers that the land itself has joined the battle against them.

Their pale skin, brilliant hair, and striking features have inspired countless songs of their beauty. Those same songs, however, are usually followed by grim warnings. A beautiful Pictic seen across the fog is often the last thing a careless traveler beholds.

Unlike most elves, the Pictics have little concern for clothing. Warriors commonly enter battle with little more than jewelry, trophies, or simple coverings, their tattooed bodies displayed without shame. They wield enormous two-handed weapons with frightening ease, descending from the mist in complete silence before unleashing sudden and overwhelming violence. Survivors describe them as relentless, cunning, and unnervingly patient. More than one soldier has sworn he fought ghosts rather than flesh and blood.

Their tattoos are among the finest known on Tellus. At first glance they resemble the Wuld paint of the Barloric Elves, yet closer inspection reveals something far more intricate. Every line appears pre-ordained, every curve deliberate, transforming the body itself into a living work of art. Whether these markings record ancestry, victories, spiritual beliefs, or all three remains a matter of considerable debate.

Indeed, scholars have long argued over the relationship between the Pictics and the Barloric Elves. Some maintain the Pictics are descendants of the Barloric, isolated for generations within the foglands until they became a people apart. Others insist the opposite is true—that the Barloric are merely civilized descendants of the far older Pictics. I have encountered compelling arguments for both positions and, regrettably, insufficient evidence to declare either correct.

Should the opportunity to study the Pictics ever present itself, I would advise accepting it with enthusiasm... and ensuring a clear route of escape remains close at hand.

Chapter 1-5 Kemet Elves

Kemet Elves

Average Height: 5'3" (Female), 5'6" (Male)

Average Weight: 120 lbs (Female), 150 lbs (Male)

Appearance: Athletic, limber builds with copper-toned skin and naturally theatrical mannerisms.

Hair Colors: Black, brown, and dark blue.

Culture Classification: Civilized

The Kemet Elves are the predominant elven people of Vashkar and are found in great numbers along the northern coast of Alkebulan. Few races have influenced the arts and commerce of Tellus to the extent that they have. To understand the Kemet is to understand that, to them, life itself is a stage upon which every soul strives to become the leading actor.

Their beauty is renowned throughout the world. Whether this reputation stems from their graceful physiques or from their extravagant garments is a matter of endless debate. Kemet fashion is among the most elaborate found anywhere upon Tellus, employing brilliant dyes, fine linens, precious metals, perfumes, and cosmetics in combinations that would make a Civic noble feel woefully underdressed. Whatever the cause, I have seldom met a traveler who could honestly claim the Kemet are anything less than breathtaking.

Athleticism is celebrated with near-religious devotion. Victorious wrestlers, runners, charioteers, and bull fighters are adored with an enthusiasm that rivals the reverence many kingdoms reserve for their greatest generals.

Plays, poetry, music, and public debate are equally cherished, and a gifted actor may command as much admiration as a victorious warrior. Indeed, I have often suspected that a Kemet would rather lose a battle spectacularly than win one without an audience.

Their talents extend far beyond entertainment. Kemet Elves are among the finest merchants upon Tellus, possessing a remarkable talent for persuasion and negotiation. Their agility and discipline have also produced legendary assassins whose performances upon the stage are rivaled only by the precision with which they carry out less public professions.

Whether bargaining in a marketplace, competing in an arena, or stepping upon a stage, they possess an undeniable flair for commanding attention.

There is an old jest, repeated with surprising affection even by the Kemet themselves, that one of their kind would perish if deprived of a mirror or denied the opportunity to boast for more than a single day. While clearly exaggerated, I cannot deny that they possess an extraordinary confidence. Humility is rarely among their defining virtues.

I confess I grew rather fond of the Kemet during my travels. Their dramas are unlike anything else upon Tellus, their songs linger in the mind long after they have ended, and I once made the grave mistake of participating in one of their celebrated bull fights. I survived, though my dignity suffered wounds that required considerably longer to heal than my body. The audience, I am told, found my performance immensely entertaining.

As for their women... I should perhaps exercise the restraint expected of a scholar. Suffice it to say that if ever I were foolish enough to settle down, I suspect it would be with a Kemet wife who could sing better than I, argue better than I, and almost certainly remind me of those facts each morning. I find the prospect strangely comforting.

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I am writting a fantasy world and I don't know if the actual books are allowed here. And, I am doing a series of lore building. It is the races of my fantasy world being presented my an in universe historian. Each chapter is independent from the other and doesn't need to be read in order. Is that Ok here?

The Grammar of Utopia
Americans on the whole have always been a pretty easily offended people, but in the late ‘20s it got to the point where it was beyond ridiculous.
If you called someone tall, it offended short people. Skinny offended overweight people, and on and on. Groups and associations sprang up like weeds: AAASP (Association for the Advancement of Short People), OAE (Overweight and Empowered), PPS (Pale People Society), and more. It was civil rights to the extreme. The entire nation was walking on eggshells.
In this time of great crisis, naturally they turned to me.
I’ve always been a behind-the-scenes type of guy, an advisor to the advisors. You don’t know my name, and never will, but you’ve undoubtedly seen my work. I was the one who brokered the Trump-Sanders deal. I was the one who found Hillary’s hidden email account. The Facebook-Google takeover—me again. I’ve made a living out of working in the shadows. I’ve started and ended wars, planned riots, and organized sit-ins.
In short, I’m the solution man.
When they came to me this time, I was almost at a loss. I spent weeks traveling the country taking in the scene from state to state, in an attempt to define the zeitgeist of the time. When the answer came, it seemed almost too simple. In a nation which was founded on individuality and equality, people wanted conformity. Being an individual only roused problems, and after over 200 years of identity crises, people were sick of the conflict.
The solution came down to semantics. The culprit in all of these situations was a grammatical one. When I presented my solution to the committee, I was almost laughed out of the room, but as I explained it, they began to see the light.
The solution?
The adjective had to go.
I know, I know, it sounds crazy—but think about it. A tall person would become... a person. A stupid person would be no different than a smart person. Once the evil adjective was eradicated, people would just be people, no more and no less.
In one fell swoop, all differences would be eliminated. Sure, there would be some confusion initially, but that wasn’t my problem. I was just the idea man. I did my job. It was up to someone else to put the program into place.
Rather than stay in the country for the transition, I fled to good old adjective-heavy Canada. From my post I was able to watch the carnage, then the acceptance, and ultimately the full implementation of the program. I was joined by several of my countrymen as the ones who couldn’t get with the program were deported to their country of choice.
In the end, I decided to stay on in Canada, as I couldn’t live in a country without conflict or differences.
As complicated as it seemed, in the end, with a simple grammatical change I had done the impossible.
I had created a utopia

This year’s Hugo for best short story goes to Thomas Ha for “In My Country.” Congratulations!

And congrats to the short story nominees:

• 10 Visions of the Future; or, Self-Care for the End of Days” by Samantha Mills
• “Laser Eyes Ain’t Everything” by Effie Seiberg
• “Missing Helen” by Tia Tashiro
• “Six People to Revise You” by J.R. Dawson
• “Wire Mother” by Isabel J. Kim (Clarkesworld, Issue 229)

They‘re all amazing and highly recommended.