Rancor is a vast tapestry, each thread a unique race, weaving together a story that’s as beautiful as it is chaotic. To understand this world, you’ve got to know the people. And who better to tell you about them than me? Let’s start with the Aetheri.
You’d know an Aetheri if you saw one. Tall, ethereal, and radiating mana like a bonfire in the night. Their glowing eyes seem to see right through you, as if they’re measuring your worth in mana. And honestly? They probably are. The Aetheri have an innate connection to magic that’s unmatched. They’re the brains behind the Mana Academy, the institution that’s responsible for keeping magic from turning us all into cinders. Their cities are marvels of arcane engineering—gleaming towers that hum with energy, streets that glow underfoot. It’s like they decided gravity was optional and aesthetics mandatory.
The Aetheri dominion spans across the continent of West Aeloria, with enclaves and embassies dotting the East Continent where the Mana Academy resides. Their capital city, Luminaris, is a beacon of magical prowess, with towering spires that house research laboratories, libraries, and arcane workshops. Other major cities like Orithal and Serenveil are hubs of trade and innovation. Each city-state in their empire is linked through mana portals, making travel instantaneous. Their mana-enabled technology includes constructs that can think, airships that soar across skies with ease, and enchanted textiles that adapt to the wearer’s environment. However, their reliance on mana has also created vulnerabilities. If mana flow falters, their world can grind to a halt—a weakness they’re always trying to compensate for.
But… there’s always a but, isn’t there? The Aetheri have this tendency to make you feel like a kid in a room full of prodigies. Call it confidence, call it arrogance, but they’ll remind you—subtly or not—that they’re the pinnacle of magical evolution. And whatever you do, don’t mention Terrans to them. It’s like tossing a spark into dry kindling; suddenly, you’re in the middle of a heated debate about ‘efficient resource utilization’ that nobody wins.
Speaking of Terrans, let’s talk about these mountain-loving folks. If the Aetheri are the poets of mana, the Terrans are its craftsmen. Hardy, resilient, and stubborn as the stone they carve, Terrans will stare at a mountain and think, ‘That’ll make a fine city.’ And then they’ll build one, chiseling their legacy into the earth itself. Their craftsmanship is legendary. Stone carvings, intricate jewelry, massive fortresses—whatever they create, it’s built to last. Their festivals are just as impressive, full of hearty laughter, clinking mugs, and enough food to feed a small army.
The Terrans dominate the continent of North Oragath, where their underground cities, such as the sprawling Hammerdeep, are marvels of engineering. Hammerdeep itself is a labyrinthine metropolis of glowing crystal mines and mana-powered forges. Other cities, like Stormvault and Ironreach, specialize in producing mana-infused weaponry and defensive constructs. Their mana-enabled technology centers around enhancing their natural fortifications—giant forges powered by molten mana streams, mana-fueled drills that can carve through the toughest rock, and defensive wards that can repel entire armies. Their strength lies in their ability to combine the old with the new, crafting tools and weapons that are as practical as they are powerful.
During the Mana Revolution, the Terrans didn’t get the spotlight like the Aetheri, but their contributions were as solid as their stonework. They’re a proud people, and rightfully so. Just don’t challenge one to a drinking contest unless you’ve got a liver of iron and a strong desire to lose.
Now, from stone to saplings: the Sylvani. Imagine walking through a forest and feeling like the trees are alive. That’s the Sylvani for you. They’re part plant, part person, and completely attuned to nature. You’ll often find them deep in their forests, weaving harmony into their lives with the same care they nurture their surroundings. Don’t mistake their calm demeanor for weakness, though. Cross a Sylvani, and you’ll find yourself ensnared in vines so fast you won’t even have time to apologize.
The Sylvani hail from the continent of South Verdalis, where their sprawling arboreal cities blend seamlessly with the ancient forests. Their capital, Arboralis, is built atop and within the Great Eldertree, a sentient tree that’s as old as mana itself. Sylvani mana technology revolves around symbiosis with nature—living structures that grow and adapt, mana-charged seeds that sprout instant barriers, and armor that regenerates as if it’s alive. Smaller city-states like Viridiana and Greenhaven maintain their own forest sanctuaries, while embassies in the East Continent’s Mana Academy help them keep an eye on the wider world. Their relationship with mana is both art and survival, creating a delicate balance that sustains their world.
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Their leaders, the Eldertrees, are sentient behemoths of wisdom and patience—sometimes too much patience, if you ask me. Decisions that take an Eldertree a century to make might as well take an eternity, but when they do act, it’s like a storm: unstoppable and devastating. The Sylvani’s connection to mana manifests in their ability to command nature itself, making them both protectors and warriors of their lush domains.
And then there are the Aquari. Ah, the Aquari. Descend into the crimson depths of Rancor’s oceans, and you’ll find their underwater cities—gleaming marvels of bioluminescence and coral architecture. The Aquari are as graceful as the tides they command, their shimmering scales catching the light like living jewels. But don’t be fooled by their beauty; they’re sharp—as sharp as the currents that pull you under when you least expect it.
The Aquari thrive on the coasts and in the depths of East and South Thalassia, the continents that are as much sea as they are land. Their capital city, Undinelis, rests on the ocean floor, protected by mana barriers that repel the crushing pressure and allow air-breathing visitors to marvel at its splendor. Other Aquari cities like Tidalspire and Coralreach anchor their control over key trade routes. Their technology revolves around water manipulation—devices that harness ocean currents for energy, mana-infused shells that amplify sound or light, and fleets of mana-powered submersibles. The Aquari’s mastery of water magic keeps their kingdom connected and secure.
The Aquari are traders, navigators, and diplomats. During the Mana Revolution, they kept the world connected through their mastery of the seas. Their water magic is unparalleled, capable of summoning storms or calming raging tempests. And their songs? Beautiful and haunting. But if you hear one while lost at sea, pray it’s a ballad and not a lament—the latter often ends poorly for the listener.
Of course, no account of Rancor’s races would be complete without mentioning Humans. We’re the wild cards, the improvisers, the ones who muddle through by sheer stubbornness and ingenuity. We’re not the tallest, strongest, or most magical, but we make up for it with creativity—and a knack for causing chaos. Some might call us reckless; I prefer ‘innovative.’ Our relationship with mana is… experimental, to put it kindly. Sometimes it works brilliantly, and sometimes… well, let’s just say we’ve had our share of mishaps.
Humans dominate the sprawling East Continent, where kingdoms, empires, and city-states used to rise and fall like the tide. Their capital cities—like the sprawling metropolis of Arcanthia and the fortified bastion of Durnholm—are hubs of mana-powered innovation. Mana technology has become their lifeblood—from mana-infused railways to arcane cannons and even rudimentary mana-based automatons. Humans excel at taking what they learn from other races and turning it into something uniquely chaotic… and occasionally brilliant.
Finally, the Voidborn. They’re the newest addition to Rancor’s roster, and frankly, the most unsettling. Imagine shadows given form, walking among us with an air of mystery and danger. No one knows exactly where they came from, though whispers of the Void itself abound. Their magic is unlike anything else: unpredictable, powerful, and often terrifying. Warp reality? Tear the fabric of existence? For the Voidborn, it’s just another Tuesday.
The Voidborn emerged from a mysterious rift in the Shattered Wastes of North Oragath. Their settlements, like Umbra’s Veil and Shadowspire, are enigmatic fortresses that seem to defy the laws of physics. Their mana-enabled technology is as alien as they are—devices that manipulate space, time, and perception. Their presence is a reminder of how little we truly understand about mana’s potential.
Interacting with a Voidborn requires caution. They’re not inherently malicious—at least, I don’t think so—but their very presence unsettles even the bravest souls. Treat them with respect and a healthy dose of distance, and you’ll probably be fine. Probably.
And there it is. The Aetheri, Terrans, Sylvani, Aquari, Humans, and Voidborn: the threads that weave Rancor’s story. Each one vibrant, unique, and crucial to the world’s tapestry. At the time of writing, all these races are united under my rule in the Radiant Empire, which spans all continents of Rancor: West Aeloria, North Oragath, South Verdalis, East Thalassia, and even the far-flung Shattered Wastes. Many of the once-proud cities and kingdoms I’ve mentioned—like Stormvault, Viridiana, and Ironreach—have fallen, overtaken by time, war, or the unrelenting passage of mana’s ebb and flow. New kingdoms and city-states have arisen in their place, but the empire I have forged is one of unification.
I can only hope that my successors will maintain the harmony and peace my generation has fought so hard to build. This book is my attempt to preserve the knowledge of our world’s races and the fragile balance we’ve achieved. As you embark on your own journey across Rancor, remember that this world is ever-evolving—its cities and peoples will change, but its heart remains constant, woven together by the power of mana, and the legacy of those who came before.