【Humans】

The most numerous of the civilized races, what it means to be "human" is an enigma even to their own scholars. While not as long-lived as the more-reclusive elves and dwarves, the oldest recorded human, the great sage Albonore, was still able to reach an impressive 200 years old. Magical assistance allows a scant few - the rich, the powerful, the connected, and often those esteemed as retired heros - to reach 150. But the vast majority of humans lack the resources to live very far past 70. Strangely, this is all roughly the same as halflings, but all evidence points away from one or the other being a splinter race. Lacking the religious retrictions of the short folk, however, means that humans have spread far and wide.

Much to the displeasure of the more-traditional demihuman communities.

For while humans have created the great cities of the past several centuries, made many discoveries of both the magical and scientific arts, and begun to map the coasts - a few even setting their sights on the great horizons of the open ocean - they have also caused great destruction.

Wherever law seeks to stabilize a human society, plenty break from it and wreack havoc on the open roads. The current nomadic humans are little more than clans formed from those bandit troups that managed to survive generations pillaging until they developed their own customs. Wherever humans give in to the chaos of life and try to simply live-and-let-live, cliques form, which become orders and then evolve into marching bands of enforcers with plans of power and subjugation.

And yet - all is not bad.

Where iron-fisted totalitarianism reigns, inevitably break the people free. Where cults and strongmen take over, faith and justice send such evils back to the darkness.

Unlike the strong alignment tendencies of most demihumans, the extreme variation of human spirit means they are always in an eternal struggle for balance, mimicking the ebbs and flows of the greater universe. While other races have strong feelings of stagnation in their native lands, humans - no matter their goals - have evidence of progress in every direction at once.

But, once again - balance occurs.

Civilizations of all beings have been irrevocably destroyed by human feuds. Humans were some of the first, and make up a plurality of adventurers - that misfit profession that some regard as only a few steps above banditry. Dwarves hold long memories of rules, infractions and process, but humans are unique in their propensity to hold not only grudges of opportunity, but familial and even generational vows of vengeance against wrongs. Several neighboring human settlements are only just barely open to trade with each other out of necessity, old slights and spites holding firm.

And, like a form of cosmic poetry, there are nine powerful human city-states that each have leadership pledged to one of the alignments.

Baragon, the alabaster citadel - Home to the largest order of paladins, and a refuge for those few lawful, and even fewer, pious, elves. The architecture has distinct elven influence, but the grand white buildings topped with gilt spires take on a very human tone in their size, number, and frequency of holy symbols worked into the facades.

Shash, the great lodge - Wood, minerals, furs, and good food. The massive wooden pallisades that make up the walled city of Shash keep elven freeloaders away in the summers, and the frigid snowfall keeps them away in the winters. While the hardy people are all able to take up a hatchet when needed to defend their families or guests, the pikemen and archers of Shash are the true protectors of the city against threats both natural and unnatural.

Colosso, the grand arena - An entire city constructed around a 10-ring entertainment complex, across the great bay from Kyropos. Obstacle courses, gladiatoral fights, and one of the few large settlements that serves nexuses of arcane spellcasters, due to being built over a leyline tuned to illusion magic. All combat and bets must be honorable, and there are enough compentent illusionists and elite fighters that the entertainment is also a display of the city's might, and a threat to cheaters.

Kyropos, library port - Paradoxically humid, it is home to the greatest accountants, scholars, shipwrights and non-dwarven stone carvers. Where anything worth writing is permanently recorded. And access is strictly controlled. All able-bodied people who live, work, or sale on a Kropan ship are required to serve in the Kyropos Guard, which is famed for its sluggishness in offensive moves (owing to the constant consulting of former battle records and the resulting arguments between tacticians) yet solid as the cliffs the city is nestled within when it comes to resisting invasion, Kyropan troops favoring some of the heaviest armor available when practical.

Tapang, seat of change - The southernmost of the great human cities, hot and tropical Tapang is a fair journey from everywhere else. Nevertheless, its relative isolation makes it a popular pilgimage for people - human and demihuman - of all sorts. Many paladin and antipaladin orders send initiates to Tapang as part of their initial rites of passage. Adventurers frequently head there for good luck on their future journeys, and merchants stop at Tapang for both business and their own form of wishing for good fortune. The city itself is rumored to have originally been built by halflings in times long forgotten, as the architectual style is unique - squat, baroque, solid. Akin to some of the more interesting human cathedrals, but stouter. Whether or not this is true is, like much of the attempts to pin down halfling history, disputed. While ships do come to Tapang from time to time, the journey is long and difficult for even skilled navigators, making it not as bustling a port as otherwise would be expected. Besides the great fountain in the center of the city, it's the closest large settlement to the Island of Saint Payo. On which is the town of Saint Payo, and the legendary Castle Darkstone.

Billan's Green, federation of independents - Named after the writer of the original founding code, the Greenfolk are organized as less of a city-state and more of an amalgamated, localized network of farmsteads, breweries, tradesmen, warriors and so on, with nomads in between - the latter often functioning as guides and porters for coin. Travel through the "city" feels more like rapidly moving through several villages in succession. Bisected by the hilly tail end of a mountain range, the people are varied and yet have a few things in common. One is that they all are prone to both fighting and song - and everyone knows how to fight and sing. It's not uncommon to come across a ring of observers cheering on two people duking it out to resolve conflict, only for everyone to go to the nearest tap to cheer the victor with some alcohol. Serious attempts at murder are readily retaliated against, however. Greenfolk have a smattering of beliefs - shamanism, church worship, and while still rare, the site of Billan's Green attracts the most druids of any non-wild place thanks to ancient stone structures important to their sects that litter the landscape. While outsiders are treated well (as long as they have money), lingering too long or attempting to move in will get one side-eyes and distrust, as most foreigners aren't used to the level of self-sufficiency required in the Green.

Kalliostborg, lily of the valley - Founded nine centuries ago by a regiment of antipaladins, of the same order as its nickname, Kalliosborg is, fitting its name, nestled in a valley between two mountain ranges. It was this syncronicity that the Order of the Lily of the Valley took as a fortunate omen for their campaign of terror's final destination - an 8 year long siege against a dwarven mountainhome, one of the great contributors to dwarven paranoia. Unlike many other past warbands, the decision to settle has made Kalliostborg survive rather than being eventually wiped out. Kalliostborg's defensive capabilities are legendary. The city is positioned such that the brutal winters of the region create only a mild chill and dusting of snow within the walls. But this location also means that they have been unable to project power, to everyone else's relief. The Order of the Lily of The Valley has the most advanced armor and weaponry in the entire world, having enslaved the dwarves they conquered rather than slaughtered them. Much of their resources are spent keeping order, and while the city is open and friendly to visitors, guests are only permitted in designated areas, and countless merchants have been let out in the dreadful winter after being a little too insistent on offering to buy Kalliostian weaponry. The all-female antipaladin order make up the bulk of the city's hosts, guards, military and leaders.

Kokuciu, the black city - City of death, city of luxury. Situated along a swampy river valley south of a blistering desert, Kokuciu is a strange union of life and death. Luxury goods are are its main export, and merchants boldly make the dangerous trip to get their hands on exquisite finery, laquerware, and its famous "Death Black" ink. But none linger too long, especially if they travel with family. For, like Colosso, it's built on a leyline nexus - but one of necromancy. Any born in the city who die in the city, after a few days, will rise as undead, lasting a few years before the spark of magic animating them dissipates. The city's population is kept fed and protected by the world's largest army of the risen. Rather than a curse, the residents view this as a duty, a reciprocation for all the city provides them in life. Even travelling Kokuciunos who find themselves gravely injured will often spend all they can to arrive back in their hometown before they expire. The city is run by a priestly caste who squabble over any good corpses, as it is they who control the resulting risen dead. Bidding, bribing, lying, cheating, and - in some cases - stealing. The wealthier ones have the corpses either cleaned to be skeletal servants, or the expensive process of mummification will render the most elite of guards. All unfit for service are burned - the source of the famous ink - as without a controller the undead will simply run mad, and those who died crippled or sickly are more likely to rise as something malignant. The city allows a small foothold of good churches to exist, but not proseletyse, so that their priests and rangers may act as hunters of these undead. Like a remora on a great black shark.