5 Races and the Structure of the World of BSG

Story of the World

Demiurge

Krigos was not evil. Born in the depths of the infernal worlds of the Gehenna cluster, this demon was simply a very hungry predator. Hungry and toothless. Therefore, when he realized that the blades of mortals could serve as his teeth, his delight knew no bounds. Oh, that exquisite cocktail of feelings filling a warrior on the battlefield! A refreshing, sparkling hatred, the hot pleasure of an enemy collapsing before you, and the sweet, lingering horror of their last breath! At that time, wars were raging in many worlds, and the Soul Slayer, intoxicated, was flying among them.

But only Nothing is unchangeable. Gradually evolving, sentients from different worlds found new, bloodless ways of interacting with their kind. Abundant harvests swayed in the fields, fat herds trampled the soil with their hooves, and fewer victims were brought to Krigos. He burst into kings' bedrooms, spread rumors among peasants—inciting, exhorting, terrorizing. But as soon as some local deity noticed these encroachments, the demon was chased from the realm with haste. For the life-satisfied, well-fed mortals offered these deities plentiful sacrifices, albeit not bloody, and sang praises that made the skin of the immortals glisten with fat.

The unquenched hunger compelled the Soul Slayer to seek new ways of satiation; sobered, he discovered powers within himself that had previously gone unnoticed. He snatched an empty sphere from the cluster of the Second Line of Ages, but the mystery of creation was denied to him. Then the demon secretly began to infiltrate inhabited worlds and abduct the living. He scattered elemental spirits across the dead lands—and the winds began to weave through the branches of trees that sprouted from fertile soil, watered by rains and warmed by the gentle ether. He brought wild beasts and magical beings from different clusters here—and the magical threads began to resonate, filling the space. Now it was the turn of the sentients.

In search of burning hatred, Krigos stumbled upon two mirror worlds, each of which had nearly completely annihilated one of the warring tribes due to the eternal struggle between light and darkness. Drow in one and elves in the other; all their prayers, dreams, and thoughts reverted to the thirst for death for their once-brothers, now sworn enemies, who had brought them to the wretched state they now found themselves in. The few who survived after centuries of war became slaves to the victors, living a bestial existence, bereft of strength or means for revenge. These he abducted and placed in his coliseum closer to each other, eagerly awaiting when they would begin to tear each other’s throats.

But when that moment came, an unforeseen disappointment struck Krigos: the long-eared ones clutched at each other, rage melting their eyes, but the only pain born from these struggles was the pain of powerlessness. As helpless infants, they rolled on the ground, spewing curses—because in moving, the sentients lost all their powers, derived from the blessings of the gods that clung to the fabric of their native worlds.

Then the demon moved them to reservations, separated by insurmountable mountains, and set off in search of other races, hoping they would retain their deadly skills upon transition. Left to their own devices, the elves and drow first tried to call upon their former deities, but no matter how many prayers they offered, they received no response. Spurred on by the palpable proximity of their sworn enemy, they did not give up but began to study the laws of the new world, seeking new sources of strength. The Soul Slayer brought in three more races of sentients and, to intensify xenophobia, settled them on islands. But they too lost their skills, and the enraged demon abandoned his failed progeny for several centuries.

Natural Selection

A huge clawed paw slammed into the ground just an inch above Karn's shoulder. With a guttural growl, the orc crouched down and kicked the beast in the chest, causing it to fall to the ground. Freeing himself from its weight, Karn instantly sprang to his feet and then felt someone’s grasping fingers on his shoulder.

– Did you want to ask something, Karn?

– Yes, father… – he began, trying to shake off the inappropriate cheerfulness and calm his partner, the bear cub, who couldn’t understand why the training had suddenly ended. – During our last raid to the southwest of the continent, we stumbled upon a settlement of vile semi-sentient creatures, which the Captain called… – the young Druid hesitated, recalling his own confusion, and exclaimed indignantly, – he called them orcs! How could he…

– Unfortunately, it’s true, Karn. Remember, three summers ago, you were sent for the Trial? This tradition traces back through generations of the First Arrivals, and since then, all children of the Horde undergo it. Those who do not pass… well, they could not serve their people adequately; this world is too harsh – there is no place for the weak. The adults know this and train the younglings so that they can survive in the Testing Year in the steppe. However, several centuries ago, an old man found himself at odds with tradition. They say he lost his mind after a close encounter with a mining golem and lived as a hermit near the Cave of Glory. The memory of his deceased son, in his view, did not let him rest. He wandered the steppe and accosted young men hunting alone with strange talk promising some syrupy peace. Usually, he was shooed away, but there were weak-spirited among the initiates. Betraying their people, they surrendered themselves to this madman, who fattened them like piglets for slaughter. To avoid being seen by the horde, the old man established a settlement deep in a gorge where the sun did not shine, and where even those who were not particularly bright fell into complete dullness. Years went by, the settlement expanded, and eventually grew to such proportions that it could no longer go unnoticed. The governor sent a detachment to rid his lands of this blight of idleness and potential betrayal. In horror, the renegades fleeing to the mainland tried to fend off their pursuers with simple fireballs. But years without training took their toll, and they couldn’t even injure one of the horde. Instead, they struck the supports holding the walls of the gorge. Filling the surroundings with thunderous crashes, the mountains forever closed behind the retreating ones.

You probably saw their descendants by the sea. Losing the remnants of reason and strength, mating with animals and eating each other's remains, they led a cattle-like existence. It is said that the Imperials catch the weakest individuals and take them to their island as training dummies for their children. Because of these degenerates, the slow-witted elves call all green-skinned creatures dumb slabs of meat, for they were the first orcs to reach the mainland, – here the father grinned carnivorously and continued. – Just imagine their surprise when they encountered the first combat reconnaissance squad of the Horde…

Price of Power

– Let’s try another one! – exclaimed Luabreena and, grinning hungrily, approached the writhing figure on the rack, ignoring its moans. Ksunirr hesitantly tried to stop her, mumbling something about the laws, but Luabreena just waved her hand. But as soon as she sank her fingers into the gaping wound on the elf’s belly, Instructor Brizziradir appeared by the rack and, with furious flashing eyes, flung her onto the stone slabs, adding to it a crackling spell of ball lightning. Weakly crying out, Ksunirr caught the convulsing Luabreena and tried to shout to her fading consciousness, senselessly embracing her. Luabreena's eyes rolled back.

… She stood in the middle of a valley, and the wind tangled her luxurious ashen hair. Another bone crunched beneath her heel. All around, as far as the eye could see, the undead raged, tearing apart, crushing, and devouring everyone who crossed their path. The screams of the deranged, the acrid smell of rapidly decaying flesh surged into Luabreena's being, and she burst into uncontrollable laughter, rejoicing and choking with ecstasy at the sensation of her boundless power and might. She alone, in a single battle, achieved what all her kin could not over the course of a couple of centuries. All the enemies of the Dominion who dared to attack on this fateful day on their territory were defeated. Those who hid in the cities died without even having time to lift arms, so relentless was the plague she summoned. And every fallen foe became a new soldier in her countless army. From this sweet ecstasy, she was curiously distracted by Antraen, shaking her by the shoulders and saying something with animal terror in his eyes. With an authoritative gesture, she rewarded him with a heavy slap, causing the young man to lose his balance. A dark droplet emerged on his wounded cheek.

In the distance, a man tormented by agony shrieked, and something broke in Luabreena's consciousness. All her power began to scatter like a sandcastle; the will of the darkest beings, a moment ago so submissive, rebelled against their enslaver. A terrible headache struck, and Luabreena felt hundreds of recently deceased warriors attempting to seize her mind. Forcing herself to open her eyes, the necromancer saw an ugly face right in front of her, all contorted, with a broken jaw and a gaping hole where an eye socket had been, from which some gray-brown rags protruded. The hand tearing her hair was being eaten away by a plague sore before her eyes, while repulsive, rot-sodden teeth sank into the beautiful, pampered skin of her thigh. Two dozen hands reached for her, pulling her towards them, tearing her flesh like thin fabric of a robe. The last thing she felt was the salty, viscous blood of Antraen of the Arkhenafin line, her beloved, warm jet striking at her parched throat.

… Gasping and choking, Luabreena awoke and started coughing, periodically spitting blood that oozed from her bitten tongue. The indifferent voice of the Instructor began to gradually bring her back to awareness.

– That was the end of the First Age of Conquests – the army raised by Mikanure Khlaervs indeed drove all enemies of the Dominion into their reservations. But uncontrolled undead saw no distinctions between sentients, and our people suffered no less than others. That was the beginning of the Second Age, for hordes of corpses, obeying some phantom memory, occupied cities and outposts, becoming the sixth force in the Eternal War. To this day, not all of them have found peace and wander through various corners of the world. So, dear, if you want your recent dream to turn into reality, – the Instructor unexpectedly finished in a sickeningly sweet voice, making an inviting gesture towards the quietly moaning elf, – you may continue your exercises.

Luabreena gazed long at the retreating Brizziradiira with bleary eyes, and only when the echo of her footsteps faded, remembering the corpse worms, did she spit a bloodied piece of her tongue onto the stone floor.

Heights and Depths

– …Whatever the case, that Plague played into our hands. The Alliance detachment exploring the Staccato swamps had been in these foul, toxic marshes for quite some time by the period of the Era change. During their stay there, the guys withstood a strong immunity to various diseases, their supply of healing potions was great, and the Plague bypassed the swamp. And while other nations sought an antidote or a protective potion to avoid swiftly decaying into a living dead at the first steps on contaminated ground, our detachment could work peacefully. Moving freely across the mainland, the dwarves, undistracted by attacks from other races, built a stronghold in the middle of the swamp over several years, now known as the Great Tower. The Gates established there now allow movement closer to various battlefields and useful minerals, bypassing extensive territories that separate them from our island.

Iri finished her herbal brew and began methodically gathering dirty dishes from the table into a large basin. Despite the gray hair streaming through her fiery-red strands and the wrinkles carving her face, the bright eyes of the dwarf were childishly wide open, and her movements carried youthful ease.

– How did the Alliance squads get to the mainland before, while the Tower wasn't yet built? – asked Iri by a boy who could have been her great-grandson, who, however, had already managed to grow a thick beard and develop a small bald patch – the discrepancy between the appearance and age of dwarves always astonished their opponents when they noticed it.

– Sorry, Hinnar, I need to go now, – Iri said, clattering the basin expressively. – But perhaps this gadget will answer your questions? Just be careful with it, – with these words, a stack of yellowed pages, which could, with some imagination, be called a journal, landed on the table before the dwarf. Iri left, and Hinnar, breathlessly, turned the first fragile page filled with water-smudged notes.

“Sunset 124 from my arrival. The golem for digging mines and tunnels, recently discovered in the river near the village, has been somewhat repaired, despite the absence of mining shop masters. Starting tomorrow, we will attempt to establish communication with overseas territories using it.

Sunset 157 from arrival. The sky opened at the end of the First Tunnel. The soil is dry, sandy, and unfruitful. However, the fauna inhabiting these western territories is diverse and, at the very least, possesses valuable fur.

Sunset 159. During the exploration of new territories, a clash with the local population occurred. The green little men behaved unfriendly, expressing discontent with the unauthorized loosening of their soil, and the digging detachment, despite the bravery of its members and the active actions of the golem, which repelled the first squad of natives, had to hastily retreat to the fortified garrisons of Home. The tunnel was buried to avoid the penetration of violent ideas into the still immature minds of the youths of the Alliance.

Sunset 202. The sky opened above the Second Tunnel. The tunnel is excessively seeping water; apparently, we dug too high. It needs urgent strengthening; otherwise, a collapse is imminent. Nevertheless, the southern territories still hold our hopes. The soil is rich in minerals, and the incoming combat squads are currently managing to withstand the onslaught of wild monsters…”

Suddenly, Hinnara was distracted by a strange rumble. Quickly jumping up, he could only grab the battle hammer standing in the corner before a magical whirlwind burst into the room and scattered the last ancient manuscript to dust.

5 Races

Empire

The bravest and most numerous race in the BSFG world. Thanks to their faith in the Emperor and the greed intrinsic to all men, they have seized control of the entire southern part of the continent. The tactical strength of the race is built through the training of troops and constant military campaigns.

Features:

The human race is renowned for its excellent blacksmiths and masters of their craft. They equip the army with the strongest armor, which is why the troops of the Empire are known for their resilience in close combat and courage in fending off rainstorms of arrows.

Alliance

Proud and self-assured. In ancient times, their pride led certain clans of Elves to create their own states until they encountered a formidable enemy: humans. This forced them to create the Alliance in the shortest time to counter the invasion.

Features:

Elves are fast and agile warriors, but this doesn't mean they flee at the first sign of danger; it means that the enemy will never escape from them. Sharp arrows and extensive knowledge of water magic provide a significant advantage to the Alliance in ranged attacks.

Dominion

During the schism, one of the clans of ancient elves went into the western swamps and founded its state. A new religion arose in these dark lands scattered with iniquity. Faith in the mystery of death and the immortality of dust, that is what lies in the heart of every warrior of the Dominion.

Features:

Dark Elves are top-class assassins. They have mastered the skills of inflicting fatal bleeding wounds and stripping their opponent of all flesh to perfection. Death and wind magic aids the mages of the dominion in their endless war for the souls of their enemies.

Horde

One battle cry of the chieftain, and the Horde is already ready to crush the heads of any enemy. This was true in the past, is true now, and will always be so. The beastly strength unites with the knowledge of nature and the element of earth in the orcs, whom they consider their progenitors and protectors.

Features:

Other races disdainfully call orcs