For use in a Dungeons & Dragons setting largely devoid of “monstrous humanoid” races. Due to a surplus of civilized noble races in the Player’s Handbook, half have been designated as less-civilized exotic people to fill the role of the menacing Other.

Before the first foundation stone was laid on Burkant Hill, before the sedentary folk of Cach or Abadan set sail to clear the forests and terrace the hills and harness the rivers, the lands were already long peopled. Four great tribes have lived here since the gods first set the sun and moon alight. They are people slow to change but quick to move on, abiding by ancient traditions. The sedentary folk of the cities erect their walls and think themselves civilized, building their society around stone and industry and coercion. The Great Peoples, though they vary greatly in their appearance and history and particular customs, build theirs upon family, honor, and hospitality, pillars far more durable.

Each of the Peoples organize themselves very loosely, largely by extended family, with no formal governments at all. Trade is largely done with neither currency nor barter, with most goods trading hands in the form of gifts between households and an informal credit and debt system. Between different Peoples and the sedentary folk barter and coin are common. Raiding between Peoples and families for livestock, goods, and women is common enough to form a continuous tradition of warrior culture stretching back thousands of years. Rarely these raids escalate to full-blown wars over territory. Casualties are typically minor, as the Peoples have nomadic tendencies and will generally withdraw when faced with overwhelming odds. In this way their lands have been gradually ceded in the face of the city-builders.

The names for each of the Peoples here are those used for diplomatic and legal purposes in Cach. Each has its own language, in which the word for themselves is translated roughly to “the true people” or “the great people.”

Dragonborn
The Dragonborn range primarily to the South, migrating North in the late spring to bring their herds out of the parched savanna, then returning just after the monsoons pass. They are perhaps the most exotic of the Peoples, dwelling briefly and rarely encamping in one place for more than a week. They tend to flocks of domesticated drakes, and often have access to goods hailing from distant lands. Their prolonged absences from territory they consider theirs can lead to misunderstandings and friction with homesteaders and expansionist city-builders. Dragonborn men and women dress very conservatively, veiling themselves when visiting or entertaining outsiders. They segregate between genders almost continuously.

Elves
The Elves hold a large portion of the Northern lands, dwelling in the forests and hills. Not as nomadic as the Dragonborn, not as settled as the Gnomes, Elven families move their homes to follow the growing cycle of plants they cultivate, sowing crops one season then leaving for months at a time before returning. A typical Elven family will rotate between five or six locations over a cycle of three years. They sometimes keep horses, but are most famous for their tame elk, which their warriors ride on raids but are never used for plowing.

Gnomes
Gnomes are the most settled of the Peoples. It is thought they were once city-builders themselves, or were wholly subjugated to some long-lost city-building race. Their oral tradition tells of a great immortal tyrant that was slain, his temple ruined and his followers put to the axe. The location of such a temple is unknown, for the Gnomes have lived in small mountain villages for as long as any other People can remember. Gnomish families are reckoned matrilineally and raiding for brides is rare. Gnomish settlements are strongly averse to interacting with other Peoples or city-building folk. Whenever the location of one of their villages is known to non-Gnomes, the people will almost immediately take up the debate to either silence the interlopers or move. Approaching a Gnomish settlement is extremely hazardous. Gnomes subsist on hunting, gathering, and small-scale gardening.

Orcs
These are the most physically imposing and least refined of the Peoples, in the eyes of city-builders. Raids between Orcish families are common, and trade with them is somewhat hazardous, as they have a long history of deciding (after the fact) that they have been cheated or disrespected in some way by a deal. This often leads to a surprising retaliatory attack, with dozens of fearsome Orcs on their Terror Birds pouring out of the hills, howling as if possessed. The Orcish diet relies heavily on hunting, supplemented by foraged vegetation. The needlework on Orcish textiles is world-reknown, with many brave merchants having made fortunes and lost their lives trading dyes and thread to secure samples for wealthy patrons.

Orcs as presented here use the rules for Half-Orcs found in the Player’s Handbook. Their Terror Birds are Axebeaks, as presented in the Monster Manual. Subraces are considered part of the same tribe, though of different family lineage.

The Bottomless City, the Eternal Colony, the Red Jewel, and a dozen other appellations apply to the city of Cach. The original census records and founding charter were lost long ago when the city was sacked, but legend has it Cach was the result of five separate settlements colonized by ancient civilizations beyond the Great Sea. All five were wracked by famine, plague, hostile natives, and ravenous monsters until only a few dozen survivors remained. They banded together atop Burkant Hill, where they erected a sturdy rampart, drove a well deep into the earth, and clung together for dear life. Half of them died during the first five years, but nearly twelve hundred years later their desperate fort has grown into a mighty citadel overlooking a vast, dense city with sturdy walls, fearsome armies, and a bustling port.

The city states of Bektemir, Hamza, Mirobod, and Sergeli were all originally outposts of Cach that have since won for themselves political independence. The nobles of Cach have a long history of infighting, and many of its Lord Mayors have spent their entire reigns focusing their attention inward. This leaves its satellite cities to their own devices. While now fiercely independent, these smaller states look to Cach as an economic and cultural center, and each maintains active embassies here.

Cach is situated around a hill overlooking Olmazar bay. An artificial harbor and series of lighthouses provide shelter for a fishing fleet and trade ships carrying exotic goods and passengers from far-flung lands. Canals cut across the delta plain of the Green River and through massive locks that double as the Northwest gates in the city walls. The inland hills are extensively terraced and irrigated by massive screw-pumps. The Cachic justice system and armies provide a steady supply of laborers for the great locks and pumps. Hundreds of craftsmen and professionals ply their trade inside the city walls, operating mostly from small shops; there are no large-scale manufactories.

The national defenses consist of a fleet of mothballed war galleys and the Mayor’s Guard. Individual noble houses maintain their own cadres of soldiers. Technically only the Mayor’s Guard are allowed to bear military arms in public places, but entire neighborhoods fall within the property boundaries of some houses, and are heavily patrolled by private armies. There are currently two mercenary companies under contract with the Lord Mayor. A special dispensation exempts members of these companies from the city’s arcane and sometimes draconian sumptuary laws. The Lord Mayor is elected to a twelve year term by a congregation of representatives of the founding families. It is widely believed that the bona fides of many of these electors are the result of fabrications and that nearly all of their loyalties are bought and paid for by a deep and broad network of special favors, blackmail, and bald-faced cronyism. It is considered extremely uncouth for an elector to ever stop backing a Lord Mayor he has previously voted for; the elections are nearly always a formality, the results known long in advance.

The city-state Abadan lies roughly one hundred thirty miles north by northeast along the coast, connected by caravan roads and sea lanes. The nation of Konjikala is a hundred miles south, separated by the Leviathan Channel. Sea trade between these three is frequent, and each has been known to raise massive navies for use against each other. Konjikala recently lost a war against Abadan and is burdened with reparations and tribute. Their official delegation to Cach goes to great lengths to conceal how thin their budget has stretched.

For use in a Dungeons & Dragons setting with a very low incidence of full-caster character classes. Each of the deities listed here grants any domain listed in the Players Handbook or Dungeon Master’s Guide and may have followers of any alignment.

Many temples and shrines have been built and scrupulously maintained or left as crumbling ruins over the ages. The gods of Man are commonly understood to be tremendously powerful and personal entities that take a direct interest in the lives of mortals, bringing calamity, prosperity, joy, and sorrow in varying measure. Unlike the Fiends and Fey Lords, their influence on grand-scale world events is subtle or nonexistent depending on who you ask. The gods act directly and personally, rarely affecting more than an immediate family with their interventions. They make no binding contracts with their followers, accepting or ignoring their petitions as suits their own inscrutable desires.

They walk the earth, unnoticed by most, listening to or ignoring the appeals of their faithful, accepting offerings, granting boons, and dispensing punishments themselves. Their motivations are obscure and unique to themselves. The clergy are not miracle-workers, but shrine-tenders, teachers, bureaucrats, and intellectuals. They have no more direct access to the gods than the laity, but have developed various means of reading the signs and portents the gods are known to leave for them so they may better guide the faith and appease their divine patrons.

Akunbek, a very old god thought to have been a warrior long ago. When the world was young he killed the goddess of storms and the god of steel, taking their secrets and their power for himself. Now doddering in his old age, Akunbek no longer answers prayers for rain or calm seas, imparts no secrets to craftsmen, and is known as the god of rust. Common prayers to him are uttered when using metal tools, embarking on a sea voyage, sowing crops, or preparing for battle. Those that can see him describe a withered, gray-haired man with a whispy beard, tired eyes, and threadbare noble regalia. It is thought that he rarely strays from his holy places, and it is typical to see a small shrine dedicated to Akunbek in seaports and near armories.

Karluk, a clever young man thought to be the most knowledgeable of the gods. There is some difference of opinion regarding his backgound. Some tales report him as the son of Mahatbek and Akunbek, others place him as the child of Sanira. It was Karluk that taught the Elves and Dwarves how to speak and invented written language. Through his gifts, useful information and gossip can spread like wildfire among mortals. Many stories of Karluk paint him as the god of fear. His faithful seek answers from him, but when he obliges they often come to regret it. He is revered by scholars, respected by the clergy generally, and his favors are often sought out by the desperate. Reports of his appearance are conflicting, with most divinely-inspired Clerics who have laid eyes on him declining to describe him. Some say his is a slight, frail man with shifty eyes and ink-stained fingers. Others report him to be a hulking brute of a man with a heavy beard calloused knuckles. It is common practice to inscribe a prayer to Karluk inside the binding of every book, making any collection of written works a shrine of sorts to him. A notable exception to this practice is the spellbooks of Eldritch Knights, Warlocks, and Wizards, who fear a prayer in such a book may provoke Karluk’s wrath.

Mahatbek, a wise old woman thought to be responsible for plants and fungus of medicinal value. Also the goddess most closely associated with pestilence. Myths involving Mahatbek tend to center around barbers, witch-doctors, and midwives suffering from hubris and bringing disaster to those under their care. She is thought to punish the proud with illness. Those that have seen her report she appears as an inscrutable middle-aged woman in simple attire. Prayers to her are uttered when preparing food for winter storage, when a ship arrives from a foreign port, and when doing business with courtesans. She is thought to travel widely from place to place, and her shrines are typically found in the homes of people that are frequently in contact with the ill.

Rostem is thought to be this age’s thriving and vital warrior god. In recent times it has become increasingly clear to the clergy that he may never have been a god of strength and martial valor as originally thought, but rather a spirit of deception and lies. He is portrayed as dashing, athletic, and valiant, eager to rush headlong into battle for a worthy cause. Those that have seen him in recent years believe this image is actually Rostem’s shadow, reshaped to distract and confuse those around him. Rostem negotiates in bad faith and manipulates his followers and fellow gods continuously. Prayers are frequently offered to him in times or crisis or to bolster bravery. Increasingly the laity is accepting the notion that their warrior champion god is a liar, and many gamblers invoke him before picking up dice or cards.

Sanira is the every-woman of the gods. Stories about her are nearly always parables of gender role expectations, with various other gods taking on the male role but Sanira always at the middle weathering abuse and doling out justice to suit the needs of the storyteller. Many of the popular tales are likely falsehoods, but she remains a cultural cornerstone. She is often thought of as the grieving mother, as any story about a fallen god places her in this role. Of all the gods she is the mostly frequently depicted in artwork, generally shown as a grey-haired matron with sad eyes and a kind smile. Prayers to Sanira are frequent, and offered to comfort her as often as to seek her help. Of all the gods, her mortal champions are the most likely to perish early in the execution of their duties. Her Clerics, when they arise, are mourned even as they live.

There are various other gods that appear in the folklore of the world, but these are the five most commonly venerated and the most likely to interfere with or assist mortals, and the only five thought to grant divine spellcasting. Several of the less notable gods are actually dead, victims of squabbles among themselves or even the machinations of the Archfiends or Fey. As a whole they are a fractious lot, and prominent servants of one god will often run afoul of the others.

Note that in this setting the magic used by Druids, Paladins, and Ranger are all of fiendish or fey origin. Bards, Clerics, Druids, Sorcerers, and Wizards are exceedingly uncommon, with perhaps a dozen of each alive at any given time.