Races:

Everwealth’s population is a fractious tapestry of over two dozen derelict races, refugees from nations obliterated or scattered by The Great Schism. Once proud peoples with their own lands, cultures, and histories, they now find themselves forced into coexistence in the rugged highlands of this post-war realm. The grim reality of their situation leaves little choice, band together or perish. The ruins of the old kingdom, with its barren plains, carnivorous wildlife, and resources spread thin across treacherous miles, offer no alternative to cooperation. As the soot-stained valley saying goes, "It’s better to be bitter than dead." Despite the grim necessity of unity, tensions simmer constantly beneath the surface. Old grudges die hard, and memories of betrayal, conquest, and bloodshed linger like scars on the collective psyche. Elfese, once known for their aloof superiority, now rub shoulders with Humans whose ancestors they fought bitterly over resource-rich forests. Gnomish, notorious for their trickery, ply their trade among dour Dwarfish, who find little humor in such antics. The solemn Lizard-Kin, displaced from their swampy homes, must contend with the firebrand Orcish who see them as weak, while the stoic Half-Giants bear the brunt of mistrust for their hulking stature and fearsome appearance.

Even with such deeply ingrained differences, the folk of Everwealth manage a tenuous peace out of sheer desperation. The Highlands, with their jagged peaks and shadowy forests, are no forgiving sanctuary, and the alternative to collaboration is starvation, disease, or an untimely end beneath the claws of a roaming beast. Fragile trade agreements keep food and medicine circulating, while loose militias form to patrol the borderlands, defending against marauding predators and worse things that lurk in the old kingdom’s ruins. Trust may be in short supply, but pragmatism proves a strong enough glue to hold this uneasy alliance together, if only barely. Yet, not all is gloom. Strange as it may seem, shared hardship has given rise to a unique cultural fusion. Market squares echo with a cacophony of languages as Lizard-Kin trade herbs for Dwarfish iron, and Minotauri farmers barter grain for Gnomish-crafted tools. Festivals put together from the remnants of once-great traditions, are celebrated with the same fervor as in the old days, if not more so, as a rare reprieve from their struggles. Even the younger generations, who have never known the divisions of their ancestors, begin to see their neighbors less as strangers and more as fellow survivors. Everwealth’s folk may be broken and bitter, but they endure. And perhaps, through the cracks of their fractured histories, something new and unexpectedly resilient will grow.