Tabaxi

Touched by the Beast That Was There are places in Novaris where the land still remembers the monster. The earth buckles in unnatural ways. The trees lean as if to avoid a buried presence. Magic twists, heavy and low, like breath held in the dark. These are the scarred veins of a wound left by the Tarrasque—The Beast That Was—a creature so vast, so terrible, that even in slumber, it reshaped the world around it. It was in these borderlands of devastation and instinct that the Tabaxi first emerged. No scholar can agree on how. No god claims them. The Elves say they were born of broken magic. The Dwarves, of wild blood. But the Tabaxi tell their own story. They say they were not born—but changed. That they were once animals, or spirits, or winds—until something in the great beast’s shadow looked back and saw them. And in that moment, they remembered themselves. Feline in form and soul, the Tabaxi are a race without a kingdom, without a banner, without permanence. They are hunters, speakers of riddles, dancers of forgotten wars. Some live in prides that drift like weather across the jungles and ruins of southern Novaris. Others walk alone, following dreams they do not understand, drawn to places where old powers sleep uneasy beneath the soil. They are not tribal in the traditional sense, but every Tabaxi knows their bloodline—not by name or heritage, but by story. One will say they descend from the One Who Leapt Between Flames. Another, from the Claw That Broke the Sky. These ancestral tales are living things, passed by dance, by claw-scratch carvings, by whispered yowls beneath a moonless sky. To know your story is to remember who you are, and to forget it is to become truly lost. Though they are rarely found in cities, a few walk among the kingdoms—emissaries, guides, mercenaries, and wanderers. Their presence is unsettling to many. They move too quietly, observe too closely. Their eyes seem to know more than they should. It is said that some can smell magic on the wind, or predict disaster through scent alone. Whether this is truth or superstition, even seasoned adventurers grow nervous when a Tabaxi starts watching the horizon in silence. Many believe the Tabaxi are cursed, still tied to the Tarrasque in some spiritual way. Their dreams are often restless, filled with memories not their own—flashes of fire, of hunger, of ancient battle cries in languages long dead. They are drawn to ruins, to dead gods’ temples, to the edge of catastrophe. It is as if they are trying to remember something vast and terrible they were once a part of… or trying to make sure it never wakes again. The Tabaxi themselves do not speak plainly of it. They offer parables. A half-told poem. A riddle that loops in on itself. And when pressed too far, they vanish—gone as if they were never there, leaving only footprints and the echo of something primal in the air. And yet, for all their strangeness, they are not cruel. Many are fiercely loyal, almost embarrassingly curious, and prone to sudden moments of breathtaking joy—as if they know how fragile happiness is. They laugh in bursts, leap without warning, sleep like the dead and wake like lightning. A Tabaxi on the road is a storm with paws. A Tabaxi in battle is poetry with blood on its teeth. Some scholars call them beasts. Others, survivors. But among the older peoples of Novaris—the Shadar, the Aarakocra, the scattered Dragonborn—there is another word they use, one born of old fears and older truths: Reminders. Because if the Tarrasque ever opens its eyes again, it is said the Tabaxi will know first. And they will not howl. They will not scream. They will simply look up from whatever story they were chasing… …and start running toward it.

Basic Information

Anatomy

“We are what runs when the wind flees.” The Tabaxi are feline in both form and motion, their anatomy a seamless fusion of predator grace and humanoid adaptability. Though they walk upright and wield tools with the intelligence of any other sapient race, there is no mistaking their bestial origin—every movement, every twitch of the ear or flick of the tail is a relic of something wilder. Their bodies are lean, athletic, and built for bursts of speed, agility, and silence. Evolution—or mutation, depending on who you ask—has shaped them into apex motion incarnate. Whether they emerged naturally or were twisted into being by the Tarrasque’s residual power, they are creatures of instinct first, and intellect second.

General Structure

Bipedal humanoids with fully digitigrade legs and muscular, flexible frames.
Standing height averages between 5'6" and 6'2", with some males exceeding 6'4".
Tabaxi are surprisingly light for their size, with dense but hollow-boned structures adapted for speed and fluid motion.
All possess a long, expressive tail, which serves as a counterbalance when sprinting, climbing, or leaping. The tail is also used socially—curling in affection, swaying in irritation, or stiffening in combat anticipation.

Skeletal & Muscular System

The skeleton is a hybrid of feline and humanoid structures. The spine is especially flexible, allowing for incredible twisting motions, acrobatics, and reflexive agility.
Shoulder joints allow for near full rotational movement, giving Tabaxi uncanny climbing and combat potential—especially in vertical or unstable terrain.
The musculature is lean, not bulky. Tabaxi strength comes from fast-twitch muscle fibers, making them natural sprinters and pouncers rather than weightlifters or long-distance runners.

Limbs & Dexterity

Arms and legs are long and agile, ending in five-fingered hands and four-toed feet—each digit tipped with retractable claws.
These claws are sharp enough to assist in climbing, tearing, and defense, but are not used in fine tool work unless extended deliberately.
Their feet retain a soft, padded understructure—silent on stone, muffled on leaves, and utterly noiseless in a dead run.
Tabaxi have an exceptional range of motion, allowing them to crouch, lunge, and contort in ways unsettling to most humanoids.

Head & Sensory Organs

The Tabaxi skull retains a short, broad muzzle, with a full range of facial expressions that combine feline and humanoid gestures.
Their eyes are large and slit-pupiled, adapted for low-light environments, granting exceptional night vision.
Ears are high, mobile, and expressive—capable of pivoting toward sound sources, twitching in response to emotional cues, or flattening when threatened.

Coat & Patterning

A Tabaxi’s body is covered in a fine coat of fur, which varies wildly in length, color, and pattern:
Common base colors include tawny, charcoal, ivory, gold, and obsidian black.
Patterns often mimic those of terrestrial felines: striped (tiger-like), spotted (leopard or cheetah), rosetted (jaguar-like), or solid.
Some Tabaxi tribes claim that coat pattern is linked to ancestry—those with flame-colored spots, for instance, are said to be born under the Tarrasque’s dreaming eye.

Their fur is self-groomed and naturally insulating, with minor waterproofing. Tabaxi do not wear heavy armor or layered clothing—it impedes their senses and disturbs their balance.

Vocal Traits

Their voices are soft, rhythmic, and capable of chirrups, purrs, growls, and trills in addition to fluent speech.
Tabaxi have exceptionally wide vocal ranges, with many naturally skilled at mimicry, musical tone, or layered speaking.
Some can imitate animal sounds or ambient noises as a survival trait.

Internal Physiology

Tabaxi have a predator’s digestive system—optimized for meat, but capable of processing plant matter.
They possess a rapid reflex loop, meaning their reaction speed in danger is often near-supernatural.
Their body temperature runs slightly higher than most humanoids, and they tend to prefer warm, humid climates or controlled cold exposure.

Unique Traits & Possible Mutation

Tabaxi born near sites of intense magical trauma—especially places touched by the Tarrasque’s wake—occasionally show biological anomalies:
Extra digits or elongated claws
Eyes that shift color with mood or moonlight
Patches of scale, horn, or obsidian-like bone
“Beast-lash memory” episodes—short fugue states where ancestral instincts override conscious thought

These traits are seen as signs of blessing or warning, depending on the tribe.

Civilization and Culture

Naming Traditions

“A name is not what you are. A name is where you began.” The Tabaxi do not name themselves as others do. They do not inherit surnames from bloodlines or titles from courts. Their names are stories, memories, and vows—spoken in full only during moments of deep ritual or self-revelation. To name a Tabaxi is to ask what they chase, what they carry, or what they left behind. Most Tabaxi possess three layers of name, each serving a different purpose:

Soul-Name (True Name)

The Soul-Name is revealed through dream, vision, or ordeal, often during adolescence. It is typically poetic, metaphorical, or descriptive—less a name, more a title wrapped in story. Examples: He-Who-Ran-From-Fire Whispers-in-the-Stone Claw-That-Sings-in-Sleep Ember-Caught-on-River-Wind Dancer-of-Five-Shadows Hunter-Who-Remembers-Wrong These names may refer to past lives, omens, family myths, or moments of instinctual clarity. They are used formally, in rituals, among elders, or in telling one’s life story. To give your Soul-Name to a stranger is to offer them power—or trust.

Travel-Name (Common Use Name)

Since Soul-Names are often long and poetic, Tabaxi adopt a Travel-Name for interaction with other races and casual use. These are often condensed or stylized forms of the Soul-Name, chosen by the Tabaxi themselves. Examples: Ember, from Ember-Caught-on-River-Wind Whisper, from Whispers-in-the-Stone Five, from Dancer-of-Five-Shadows Runner, from He-Who-Ran-From-Fire Claw, from Claw-That-Sings-in-Sleep Travel-Names may change during a Tabaxi’s life, especially after a major event or transformation. They are not legally fixed, and most Tabaxi treat them as temporary reflections of the self.

Litter-Mark (Clan or Pride Marker)

Though Tabaxi are not bound by traditional family names, most are born into prides, dens, or lineages that are honored through a Marking Word—not always used in introductions, but held with deep meaning. Examples: of Ashbreath of the Red Crater of No-Moon Night of the Watchers’ Hollow of the Forgotten Tail These names are tied to places of origin, significant ancestors, or tribal events. Some Tabaxi cast them off in adulthood. Others carry them as spiritual armor.

Naming Rites & Traditions

Naming dances are performed during rites of passage. The story behind a Tabaxi’s Soul-Name is usually told through movement, rhythm, and silence, not words. Some Tabaxi bear scar tattoos or fur-braid symbols that represent their names in visual form, using claw marks, ink, or beads. Tabaxi children are not named at birth. They are called by nicknames or sounds until their spirit shows its shape. Tabaxi who lose their way or suffer a spiritual fracture may cast off their names and walk unnamed until a new one is earned. To steal or mock a Tabaxi’s true name is one of the gravest taboos, and in some tribes, doing so demands a name duel, in which memory, story, and motion are judged by elders to determine who carries the truth. Examples of Tabaxi Names in Use: She-Who-Walks-With Storms, called Storm Tail-Flicker-Before-the-Fire, called Flicker Watcher-Beneath-the-Sky’s-Last-Color, called Skylast Claw-Who-Sings-for-Lost-Gods, called Singer He-Who-Fell-But-Stood, called Stand

Beauty Ideals

“To move like wind. To burn like memory.” To the Tabaxi, beauty is not measured by symmetry, softness, or stillness. It is not something captured in paint or sculpture—it is something in motion, in breath, and in the wild moment before it disappears. Their ideals of beauty are born from their primal connection to the Tarrasque, from their nomadic lives, and from their deep-rooted belief that form is not static. They see the body not as a vessel to perfect, but as an instrument of expression—one that should be agile, responsive, and honest. Where Elves see beauty in poise and serenity, and Humans in artistry and adornment, Tabaxi find it in motion, presence, and resonance. One’s appearance is less important than how they move through the world, how they react, and how they carry their story in their stride.

The Grace of the Flame

The most praised form of beauty among Tabaxi is called K’a’resh—translated as “the grace of the flame.” It is the ideal of fluid, untamed motion, the sense that someone is dancing even when they are still. A beautiful Tabaxi is one who moves like something half-remembered, as though their body is part of a story only they understand. Posture, reaction time, and subtlety are admired far more than ornament or muscle. A graceful flick of the tail, the perfect timing of a leap, the way a head turns toward danger before it arrives—these are signs of deep beauty. To “burn with K’a’resh” is to have a presence that draws the eye and holds it without force.

Fur as Canvas, Not Display

Fur is never styled or trimmed for superficial reasons. Instead, it is used to express emotion, tribe, history, or ritual state. Some Tabaxi dye portions of their fur using natural pigments, ashes, or blood to mark a vow, loss, or transformation. Certain coat patterns are believed to be ancestral echoes, and a rare or striking pattern is seen as a spiritual inheritance rather than aesthetic luck. Tabaxi find the grooming rituals of other races vain at best, meaningless at worst—unless the action has purpose or story. A messy mane after a long hunt is more beautiful than a perfumed one untouched by sweat.

The Eyes and the Echo

The eyes are sacred among Tabaxi—not because of their color or shape, but because of what they reveal. A beautiful gaze is one that remembers. Eyes that shimmer with untold stories, that seem to see beyond what is in front of them, are considered deeply moving. Shifting eye color, common among magically or ancestrally touched Tabaxi, is often viewed as a sign of inner depth, especially if it reflects emotion. Some tribes use reflective paints around the eyes before rituals or duels to accentuate focus and intent. To look someone in the eyes without flinching, and to carry history in your gaze, is one of the highest markers of beauty.

Scars, Markings, and Memory

Tabaxi do not hide scars. They wear them like memories. A scar earned in a worthy hunt or a failed vow made whole is seen as a sign of transformation—proof that the body has changed to reflect the soul. Decorative scars, claw-etched lines along the limbs or across the chest, are sometimes carved in ritual and later healed with salves that leave pale tracings. Some Tabaxi receive memory-etches, long lines carved after major life events that are then inked to preserve their meaning. Perfection is not the goal. Meaning is.

Adornment and Ornament

Adornment is minimal but meaningful. Beads in the mane, tied with threads from a fallen companion’s cloak. A necklace of bone shards from a slain beast. A single earring with a charm representing a vow not yet fulfilled. Beauty in ornament is not in how it looks—but in why it is worn. A Tabaxi covered in baubles without meaning is considered foolish or false.

Movement as Expression

Perhaps more than any other race, the Tabaxi see movement as the highest expression of beauty. Courtship is often performed through synchronized stalking dances, mock duels, or displays of balance and leaping precision. Storytelling is paired with fluid gestures or tail-and-ear language; some legends are only told through full-body motion. A Tabaxi with limited agility—due to age or injury—may develop a “still style”, where the elegance of restraint becomes its own kind of grace. To move beautifully is to remind the world that life still pulses, no matter what slumbers beneath it.

Courtship Ideals

“To chase is to understand. To be caught is to choose.” The Tabaxi do not fall in love the way others do. They do not pursue romance with poetry and gifts, nor do they negotiate alliances through bloodlines or dowries. To the Tabaxi, love is instinct sharpened by observation, desire refined through mutual motion. It is not a ritual of stillness or words—it is a hunt, an invitation, and, finally, a choice. For a people whose culture values movement, memory, and meaning, courtship is not about possession or security. It is about finding another soul who runs the same way you do—who can match your step, challenge your instincts, and see the world through motion and scent and shared silence.

The Hunt Without Teeth

Courtship begins with what the Tabaxi call the Silent Chase—a non-verbal period of observation and play. One Tabaxi will express interest not by words, but by mirroring the other's behavior, following them at a distance, mimicking their gait, or sharing a campfire without comment. This phase may last days, weeks, or even moons. It is not stalking—it is respectful watching. If the attention is welcome, the pursued will respond with signals: Dropping objects and allowing the other to return them. Flashing their tail during a leap, a traditional sign of invitation. Brief moments of direct eye contact, followed by turning away. Whispering or purring songs known only to one's own kin. It is understood that until one is caught, one is free. And even then, catching does not mean owning—it means understanding.

The Shared Hunt

Once both Tabaxi have acknowledged mutual interest, they embark on a Shared Hunt. This is not always literal—though it may involve tracking beasts or exploring ruins—but it must involve risk, challenge, and instinct. This stage is designed to reveal the compatibility of their movements, the harmony of decision-making, and how they react under pressure. It is during this phase that many Tabaxi decide whether their pairing is momentary or enduring. A Shared Hunt may end in: The creation of a shared story-name, a temporary name fusion or poetic phrase used privately between them. An exchange of memory tokens—claws, whiskers, beads, or fur braided into keepsakes. A ritual of sleeping under open sky, where both rest with their backs touching and tails entwined. Some pairings end here with mutual respect. Others continue into bonding.

The Dance of Vows

If a pair chooses to bond—whether temporarily or for life—they perform the Dance of Vows, a fluid, expressive duet before their den, tribe, or even the wild itself. This is a nonverbal ceremony, where both partners move in tandem, circling, weaving, leaping, and brushing against one another in rhythm. Each movement represents a promise: A leap may symbolize trust. A crouch may signify humility. A turnaway-and-return gesture marks the right to leave and the freedom to stay. If one partner falters, the dance ends without shame. If they finish in perfect rhythm, they are considered soul-tied—not bound eternally, but recognized.

Freedom, Not Ownership

Tabaxi do not believe in marital contracts or lifelong vows sealed by law. Instead, they believe in Seasons of Union—times during which two (or more) individuals choose to walk together. These seasons may last a year, a decade, or until the wind changes. Separation is not seen as betrayal, but as a shift in rhythm. Many Tabaxi maintain multiple meaningful unions across a lifetime, some overlapping, some revisited years later. Children born of such unions are raised by the pride, not solely by the parents, and inherit the stories of both lines.

Romance with Other Races

Tabaxi who court outside their people often struggle with other races’ expectations of verbal affirmation, emotional exposition, or permanence. They may appear aloof or inconsistent—but in truth, they are watching, learning, and inviting without forcing. To be chosen by a Tabaxi is to be seen as someone worth chasing—and being caught by. Those who try to possess them without rhythm or trust are gently—but permanently—left behind. Still, rare and deep cross-species bonds are possible, especially with those who understand that the chase is sacred, and freedom is love's truest form.

Common Customs, Traditions and Rituals

“A people born of memory, shaped by motion.” The Tabaxi live untethered to empire, unconcerned with crowns or cities. Their culture is not carved in stone, but etched in rhythm, motion, and instinctive reverence. To live as a Tabaxi is to honor the wild, the past, and the story that walks beside you—whether spoken, danced, hunted, or hidden. Their customs are fluid yet sacred, practiced with the ease of breath and the weight of blood memory. In their dens, across wind-worn plains, or alone beneath a pale moon, the Tabaxi enact rites that bind them to one another and to the echo of the Beast That Was—their origin and their warning.

The Rite of First Scent

At birth, a Tabaxi kitten is unnamed and untouched by story. For the first few weeks of life, the pride allows the child to exist only as presence—a soft creature learning breath and balance. When the child first leaves the den or walks unassisted, they are presented to the wind. Elder kin will gently press the child’s head to the earth, lift their tail toward the breeze, and allow them to sniff the air. This is called “the First Scent.” From this moment onward, the child begins collecting their life-scent, and with it, their story, which one day will become their true name.

The Memoryfire

The most sacred ritual among Tabaxi is the Memoryfire—a silent vigil held around a flickering flame, in which stories of the dead are relived through gesture, breath, and scent. No words are spoken. Instead, the tribe surrounds the flame, and one by one, kin approach and move as the deceased once moved—a twitch of the ear, a leap, a battle crouch, a grooming routine. Through this embodied memory, the soul of the dead is remembered, not as ideal—but as lived. At the end of the night, a single token of the deceased—often a claw, bead, or tuft of fur—is burned. The smoke carries their memory to the dream of the Beast, where it will live forever in motion.

The Chase of Telling

Storytelling among Tabaxi is not done from chairs or scrolls. It is done through motion and pursuit. To tell a tale, the speaker runs, and the listeners follow. The rhythm of the run—its pauses, leaps, and circles—matches the rhythm of the tale. To miss a turn is to miss a meaning. “To understand the story,” the Tabaxi say, “you must breathe its pace.” These storytelling runs, called Chases, are often held during full moons, festivals, or long migrations. Outsiders often find themselves exhausted or confused, but Tabaxi children are trained to listen with their bodies, not just their ears.

Hunt-Song Duels

Conflict among Tabaxi is rarely resolved through violence. Instead, disagreements—especially over pride roles, leadership, or romantic entanglements—are settled through Hunt-Song Duels. These duels are non-lethal contests of speed, memory, instinct, and voice. Participants must chase one another through a marked route while singing or reciting a memory-story of their choosing. The goal is to maintain rhythm, balance, and narrative flow while navigating terrain and emotional truth. Victory is granted not to the swiftest, but to the truest performance—as judged by elder shamans or seers.

The Nightwatch Tail Binding

When two or more Tabaxi enter a mutual vow—whether for partnership, siblinghood, or shared purpose—they engage in the Tail Binding, a nighttime ritual held under the stars. Participants wrap their tails together using braided vine, thread, or whisker-wire, and sit back-to-back in silence for an entire night. During this time, they are not allowed to speak. At dawn, if the binding remains and no one has left, the vow is considered sealed. Some bindings are permanent. Others fray in time. The Tabaxi believe a vow is sacred when made, and sacred still when broken with grace.

The Listening Hunt

Once every cycle (often tied to the solstices or the Tarrasque’s dreaming phases), a Tabaxi tribe sends its hunters on a Listening Hunt. Unlike normal hunts, they do not pursue prey. Instead, they track a sound—a whispered voice, a thunderclap, the breath of the land itself. The goal is to reach the source and listen without interference. Many hunters return with dreams. Some return with secrets. A few do not return at all. But those who do are changed—and their stories often guide the pride’s direction for years to come.

Departure Ritual: The Wind-Walk

When a Tabaxi leaves their pride—whether in exile, curiosity, or personal calling—they perform the Wind-Walk. Before departing, they walk a wide spiral around the pride's encampment or den, pressing their fingers to the ground at intervals. This gesture marks the path of their scent, allowing their kin to follow should they ever choose to return. A wind-blessed cloth or fur token is often tied to their tail or belt, fluttering as they go—a sign of both farewell and belonging.

History

“Before we had words, we had memories. Before we had names, we had the roar.” The Tabaxi have no carved stone to mark their past. No ancient cities stand in their name, no tomes carry their lineage. Their history is not recorded in ink or crown, but in scented winds, claw-scratched rock, fire-walked dreams, and blood-colored moons. To others, this means they have no history at all. They know better. The Tabaxi do not need monuments. Because they remember. They remember the sky splitting, the earth screaming, and the blood of gods and monsters spilling across the world. Not from stories—but in dreams, passed through generations like scent passed through fur. These are not myths. These are instincts. They do not explain. They warn. And always, at the center of the memory, there is the Tarrasque—the Beast That Was, whose passage across Novaris did not just destroy—it reshaped. It tore open the seams of magic and memory, leaving behind craters where the world forgot itself. And it was in one of those places that the Tabaxi became. Whether born of beasts made sentient, or spirits dragged into flesh, or echoes of the Tarrasque itself left smoldering in the jungles and forgotten valleys—they were not created. They awakened. Fur-covered, fire-eyed, heart-drumming to the pulse of something ancient, they emerged not as a people of conquest, but of persistence. They hunted. They howled. They remembered. The Elves were the first to find them—and the first to misunderstand them. To the Sylvan Courts, the Tabaxi were wild Fey, touched by chaos, neither beast nor mortal. Attempts to observe them failed. Attempts to tame them ended in blood and confusion. And when the Elves left the mainland, the Tabaxi remained, unbothered, untouched by the fall of nations. The Dwarves avoided them, calling them soft-footed ghosts. The Orcs respected them as kindred survivors, but saw no purpose in forging bonds. Humans, at first, believed them to be cursed animals—a belief that lingers in the frightened whispers of farmers whose cattle go missing under crescent moons. But the truth is simpler: the Tabaxi were never meant to be understood. They are not part of the rise and fall of empires. They do not belong to the age of crowns or chains. They are the children of catastrophe, born from the thing the world cannot explain, only fear. And yet, in spite of their strange origins, the Tabaxi have wandered. Their footprints are found in every land: along trade roads, through arcane ruins, even in the cities of Ashar, where a lone Tabaxi may sit silently on a rooftop, watching the stars shift. They are drawn to change, to magic, to buried things and broken places. Some tribes have settled, briefly, near ruins of the Kingdom of Jabber, or in the wild forests once held by Elves. Others drift as traveling seers, scavengers, and storytellers—gathering truths the gods have tried to bury. Their history is not linear. It is spiral, scent, and motion. To the Tabaxi, the world is not a path to be walked. It is a hunt—and they are still tracking the dream that birthed them. They do not forget. They cannot. Not while the Beast That Was still sleeps. Not while its breath still curls under the soil. Not while the Tabaxi still walk the land as its only living memory. And if it wakes again, they will be the first to know. And the last to run.

Historical Figures

“We do not build monuments. We leave footprints.” While the Tabaxi have no kings, no engraved statues, and no temples bearing ancestral names, they still remember their great ones. Their heroes are not preserved in stone but in story, movement, and ritual. A Tabaxi's name may fade in memory, but their rhythm lingers—a leap retold, a scent re-walked, a whisper spoken on the wind. Here are some of the most revered and retold figures in Tabaxi oral tradition—names carried across the grasslands, echoed through dens, or remembered in the quiet of a fire’s glow.

Red-Eyed Sira, Who Danced the Earth Open

“She did not fight the mountain. She outlasted it.” Sira was born during the Night of Ash, when three prides burned under a falling star that shattered a ridge near the Tarrasque's last-known path. Orphaned and half-blind from the heat, Sira learned to navigate not by sight, but by tremor and breath. Her eyes glowed red in the dark, earning her the name “Moon-Burned.” According to legend, she danced every night for a full year—slow, deliberate, and in circles—around the mountain that had buried her kin. One year later, a tremor cracked the stone, and from the mountain’s side burst water, fire, and the bones of those lost. She buried them with her own claws, and her song became a vigil still performed by mourners today. No shrine marks her name. Only the stillness of the ground when the drums stop.

Fleet-of-Fang, the Story Thief

“He was the fastest. And the loneliest.” Fleet-of-Fang was a rogue storyteller who lived between prides, never settling, never claiming kin. He was said to steal stories from the mouths of dying warriors and turn them into living dances—changing endings, borrowing names, and adding claws where there had been mercy. He became famous, then infamous. Some say he invented dozens of new legends. Others believe he merely wove half-truths into rhythm too good to ignore. His end came when he tried to tell a story that was not yet finished—a tale belonging to a still-living seer. She hunted him across thirteen winters, caught him during a rain-ritual, and took back the breath he’d stolen. To this day, when a Tabaxi tells a tale too early, elders will ask: “Do you run Fleet’s path? Or your own?”

Whisper-in-the-Bone, the Death-Singer

“She spoke only once. The Beast heard her.” Whisper-in-the-Bone was a shaman born without a voice, but with a gift for feeling the names of the dead in the ground beneath her feet. She walked from ruin to ruin, laying her palm to the earth and singing without breath. Her songs echoed only in dreams. She is said to have ended three hauntings, tamed the spirit of a broken wyvern, and once lulled a Tarrasque-born echo into slumber just by standing beneath the moon and humming through her ribs. Her body was never found, but the place she disappeared is a forbidden grove, ringed by claw-etched stones and untouched by flame. Tabaxi who suffer grief often walk there in silence and return with lighter hearts. No one claims to know what her voice sounded like. But many claim they’ve heard it, once, when they needed it most.

Grey Dust, Who Forgot His Name

“Some stories run away.” Grey Dust was a hunter of great beasts, famed for his patience and precision. He once tracked a fire-born wyrm across two regions and struck it down with a single arrow before it ever saw him. But the tale that matters most came later—when he began to forget his story. Names slipped. Faces blurred. His rhythm faltered. And instead of fighting it, he let the forgetting happen. He said, “If my story is leaving, then I will follow it.” He wandered into the Dream-Wastes alone and was never seen again. His memory is honored during the Run of Silence, a ceremony for aging Tabaxi who feel their story fading and wish to leave before it collapses. When someone disappears without a trace, the Tabaxi do not mourn. They say: “Grey Dust found them.”

Moon-Touched Yash, Who Leapt Beyond the Sky

“He was born chasing light. He never stopped.” Yash was said to have been born during a total eclipse, his fur pale as starlight. From his youth, he dreamed of stars—not as distant lights, but as things he could reach. He climbed higher than any Tabaxi before him, leaping between mountaintops, into ancient towers, and even onto the backs of dragons in flight. According to myth, he once climbed a ray of moonlight until it faded beneath his claws. He fell. But the story says he fell upward. Some say Yash still leaps among the stars, chasing comets like mice. His name is often whispered by Tabaxi about to take a leap with no certainty of landing.

Common Myths and Legends

The Beast That Was

“It does not slumber. It waits. And in its dreams, we dance.” This is the central myth of the Tabaxi—not creation, but inheritance. It is said that long ago, before names, before speech, before even gods knew fear, there was a roar so loud it cracked the world. This was the Tarrasque. The Beast That Was. When it moved, mountains fell. When it breathed, time forgot to pass. And when it slept, the land changed. Animals became more than animals. Spirits became more than mist. And somewhere in its long shadow, the Tabaxi were touched—not as prey, but as reminders. They were not meant to live. They were meant to remember. The myth says the Tabaxi carry a piece of the Beast’s dream in their blood. And when the world begins to shake again, they will feel it in their paws long before others hear the thunder.

The One Who Ran Across Fire

“The first story. The first leap.” Before language, there was a Tabaxi who leapt through flame to reach her cub, caught between a burning tree and a crashing wave. The fire melted her fur, blackened her claws, and scorched her tail—but she did not slow. When she emerged, cub in her mouth, the world around her had changed. Her tracks glowed. Her breath shimmered. And the other Tabaxi, who had watched from the rocks, followed her glow into the darkness. Some say she was the first leader. Others say she was the first lie—that no fire could have burned so long, or any hunter run so fast. But no Tabaxi speaks her name without placing one paw forward in respect.

Whisker and the Silent God

“He spoke to a god who could not speak back. So he learned to listen.” Whisker was a solitary hunter who once followed a dream across six territories and three winters. In his dream, a god with no mouth and no face stood at the edge of the world, surrounded by stars that pulsed like heartbeats. When Whisker found the place in waking life, there was no god. Only a silent stone, cracked and humming. He placed his paw on it—and heard a story that never ended, one that played like a heartbeat beneath the soil. When he returned, he said nothing. He only sat and listened—for a year and a day. Now, when a Tabaxi grows too proud, too loud, or too swift, an elder might say: “Go sit with Whisker awhile. See what doesn’t speak.”

The Tail Thief

“A story so fast, it outran itself.” There was once a Tabaxi who grew jealous of others' names. He believed their stories were better, their motion more graceful, their legends more lasting. So he began to steal them—one by one. He cut off the tail of Run-Through-Bramble, took the claws of She-Who-Walks-on-Rain, and whispered the secrets of Dreams-in-Dust into his own ears. But the stories refused to fit. His tail flicked too late. His claws did not leap true. He tripped on every memory not his. In the end, it is said he looked into a still pool and saw none of the stories he had stolen—only his own, small and unfinished. Some say his spirit still runs, trying to find the story that belongs to him. Others say he became a shadow that chases the feet of storytellers, waiting for them to falter.

Interspecies Relations and Assumptions

“We watch them. We smell their fear, their hunger, their wanting. Some run with grace. Others forget how.” The Tabaxi move through the world on light feet and ancient instincts, untouched by the politics and pageantry of the other races. They do not hold courts, write treaties, or draw borders. To the Tabaxi, what matters is not where a people come from—but how they move, what they remember, and what their presence does to the wind. They approach other species as they would approach prey, or kin, or rivals: with caution, curiosity, and complete freedom to leave at a moment’s notice. Their relationships with others are rarely formal—but they are deeply felt, shaped by observation and scent, not by assumption.

Humans – “The Fire-Blooded”

“They burn quick. Some burn true. Some just burn everything.” Humans fascinate the Tabaxi. Their short lives and relentless movement mirror the restless chase of the storm. Many Tabaxi admire their passion, their ambition, their constant need to build something that will outlast them. But they are also seen as clumsy, too loud, and unaware of what they destroy beneath their boots. Their tendency to speak first and listen never is unnerving, and Tabaxi often find themselves retreating from Human settlements before the noise becomes too much. Still, individual Humans—those who listen with their eyes, who learn to walk without stomping—are highly respected, and sometimes even chosen as traveling companions or romantic partners.

Elves – “The Dream-Still”

“They move beautifully, but they are always walking backwards.” The Elves of the Sylvan Courts are viewed with a mix of reverence and deep mistrust. Their grace and mastery of magic are appreciated by the Tabaxi, but their obsession with memory and control feels… stagnant. Tabaxi consider the Elves to be trapped in rituals so deep they forget they are moving, and some tribes whisper that the Elves once tried to bind or “study” early Tabaxi, mistaking them for awakened Fey. There is rarely open hostility, but Tabaxi are unlikely to linger near Elven cities—too still, too watched, too silent in the wrong way.

Dwarves – “The Deep-Walkers”

“Strong backs. Stubborn hearts. No love for the sky.” Dwarves are respected for their craftsmanship and tenacity, but their underground world is utterly alien to Tabaxi sensibilities. The idea of living beneath stone, in tunnels without wind or stars, is viewed as a kind of madness. Still, Tabaxi honor those Dwarves who fight with rhythm, who carve beauty from rock, and who can tell a joke without blinking. Trade is rare, but never unfriendly. Most Tabaxi leave Dwarves be, and the feeling is mutual.

Dragonborn – “The Blood-Bound”

“We see them and feel the roar. They remember, even if they do not know why.” Tabaxi feel a strange kinship with Dragonborn, especially those whose ancestors were twisted by Elven hands or awakened through ancient magic. There is a sense that the two peoples share a fractured birth, both born not by divine plan, but by accident, force, or necessity. Dragonborn are admired for their discipline, strength, and pride—traits that mirror the great cats of old. In the field, the two make natural allies. In politics, they simply nod, and walk opposite directions.

Goliaths – “The Mountain-Walkers”

“Too big to follow, too slow to flee. But they carry mountains like memory.” Goliaths earn the quiet respect of Tabaxi tribes. Their endurance, communal codes, and elemental strength are seen as echoes of the world before it broke. Though their paces differ, the two peoples often find silent camaraderie. It is not uncommon for a Tabaxi and a Goliath to share a fire without speaking, and part without needing names.

Orcs – “The Bone-Kin”

“Once, they chased the same prey. Some still do.” Tabaxi view Orcs as kindred survivors—shaped by instinct, scarred by history, and often misunderstood. There is a primal rhythm in Orcish culture that the Tabaxi recognize and even respect. But Orcs’ clan hierarchies, honor duels, and reverence for conquest feel too heavy, too loud. While many Tabaxi admire their strength, they rarely linger long in Orcish camps. Still, old stories tell of Orc-Tabaxi alliances in ancient times, hunting beasts the gods had forgotten.

Tieflings – “The Smoke-Born”

“They are fire hiding in rope. Some try to coil. Some burn.” Tieflings are intriguing to the Tabaxi. Their duality—between mortal soul and infernal spark—resonates with the Tabaxi’s own experience of being born from something monstrous. There is a subtle sense of kinship in the way both races are feared, judged, and yet unbroken. Tabaxi often test Tieflings with riddles, scent-trails, or movement games. Some of the deepest friendships ever recorded by wandering prides were with Tiefling bards, outcasts, or spell-menders who dared to laugh when hunted.

Aarakocra – “The Sky-Cousins”

“They fly where we leap. They remember what we forget.” The Aarakocra are seen as kin to the Tabaxi in spirit, if not in body. Both are born of unnatural forces, both driven by instinct and memory, both restless in the world of walls and cities. The Tabaxi envy their wings. The Aarakocra envy their paws. Together, they run and soar through the same dreams, often without needing to speak. When a Tabaxi shares food with an Aarakocra, it is considered a sacred act—one beast-shaped soul recognizing another.

Other Races

Centaurs are acknowledged as wild Fey cousins—respected for their speed, but regarded with cautious distance.
Halflings are usually treated with gentle amusement, sometimes too sedentary or soft for the Tabaxi’s liking, though often welcomed as keepers of stories and comfort.
Bugbears and Goblins are feared or hunted depending on tribe experience—often seen as predators who chase without meaning.
Fey creatures are approached with ritual silence or deflection. The Tabaxi see them as mirrors that grin too long.

Geographic Distribution