"Hm. Look at that... A Full Castle... Great hand for someone who can't tell his cards are facin' the wrong way eh?"
The words “The Common Races” should not be taken to mean unremarkable, nor should their prevalence be mistaken for simplicity. Though these peoples outnumber all others by the thousands, they are anything but uniform. Among them walk towering green-skinned warriors, short-statured sages with beards like carpets, sunburnt tinkerers with tomato stains on their gloves, and freckled madmen born too curious for their own good. You’ll find them in every corner of Everwealth, from the cobbled alleys of Opulence to the c, from moss-eaten farms to highborn feasting halls. They are the kingdom’s spine and its ache, its beauty and its bruises. Humans remain the most widespread, not through conquest alone, but through sheer adaptability. They flourish in ruin, clawing survival from splinters and scraps, changing faiths and fashions as easily as coats. No other race matches their hunger for legacy or their recklessness in chasing it. Dwarfish, in contrast, wear their past like a shroud. Once lords of the mountain halls, now smiths, scholars, or mercenaries among the lowlanders, their pride is carved deeper than their quarries. They are builders, drinkers, and old souls hardened by exile. Smallfolk are clever, cheerful, and too often underestimated. They plant the seeds, mend the tools, and build the clever things no one else thinks to, though step on their trust, and you'll learn just how sharp a smile can turn. Giants, rarer than other common races, but nonetheless mighty, are relics of a forgotten age, their lineage a tangle of myth and mortal blood. Though many serve as caravan guards, smiths, or city wardens, others live quietly along cliffside farms, moving boulders and tending goats without fanfare. They are soft-spoken, slow to anger, but unstoppable once stirred. Among them all, the common races form the heart of Everwealth: diverse, divided, endlessly entangled. They may quarrel and curse, love and leave, but whether by birthright or battlefield, tavern or tower, it is they who make the kingdom turn, slowly, stubbornly, and not without blood.