The Sanguine Harvest
Goblins are small, humanoid-like creatures with large ear’s that point outwards from their heads. Goblins are unintelligent and animalistic, most aren’t even capable of speech, communicating instead with grunts, screeches and pointing.
Nobody seems to know where these things came from. Elves say they’re the dwarves’ fault—dredged up from a hidden place beneath the earth. Dwarves say they’re bad elvish children, taken away at birth and raised in the dark. Humans suspect goblins are a mutated species of orc heritage. The truth of the matter is that goblins have always been here and they’ll be here once all the civilized races have fallen and gone away. Goblins never die out. There’s just too damn many of them.
Goblins have no organised settlements of their own, proving incapable of running even rudimentary societies; instead they scavenge what they can from the other races – it’s a common human saying that you’re only ever 6ft from a goblin.
Demonborn are humanoids with an abyssal ancestor (much like Devilborn have infernal ancestors). Their horns, pointed tail and “soulless” eyes make this obvious. While once prevalent on the Midleian continent their kind was mostly purged by humans and dwarves for the evil in their blood.
Scholars believe that lizardmen were around before all other races. That before elves and dwarves and men built even the first of their wattle huts, a race of proud lizard kings strode the land. That they lived in palaces of crystal and worshiped their own scaly gods. Maybe that’s true and maybe it isn’t, now they dwell in places men long forgot or abandoned, crafting tools from volcano-glass and lashing against the works of the civilized world. Maybe they just want back what they lost.
A predatory hyena-like race of savages that see other races as prey. They’ve been known to do the will of trans-planar beings of evil.
Some are wont to lump these little, rat-like dragon-men in with goblins and orcs, bugbears and hobgoblins. They are smarter and wiser than their kin, however. The kobolds are beholden slaves to dragons and were, in ancient times, their lorekeepers and sorcerer-servants. Their clans, with names like Ironscale and Whitewing, form around a dragon master and live to serve and do its bidding. Spotting a kobold means more are near—and if more are near then a mighty dragon cannot be far, either.
The sermons of mannish and dwarven gods would tell you that Death is the end of all. They say that once the mortal coil is unwound and a person takes their final breath that all is warmth and song and the white wings of celestial fore-bearers. Not so. Not for all. For some, after life’s embrace loses its strength a darker power can take hold. Black magic rips the dead from the ground and gives them shambling unlife full of hate and hunger. Sorcery and witchcraft can, if called upon lend an ancient spell-smith the power to live forever in the husk of a Lich. There are bleak enchantments at play in shadowy corners all throughout Mitleia and beyond. These creatures are the spawn of that fell magic.