Fantasy Race Generator: Build a People From Real Folklore: 20 fantasy races
A kind of pixie with hair that smells of warm bread. They keep to a plateau of hot springs ringed by snow peaks, where they keep a written record of every promise made. They are known for soup that cures homesickness. Their neighbors say they invented the nap.
Folklore kindpixie
Marked featurehair that smells of warm bread
Homelanda plateau of hot springs ringed by snow peaks
How they livekeep a written record of every promise made
Every fantasy race you make is kept here, newest first, up to the last 20. The list stays in this browser.
Fantasy Race of the day
A kind of dokkaebi with eyes that hold a faint light after dusk. They keep to the tidal flats that vanish twice a day, where they settle inheritance by ordeal, not by birth. They are known for hats of astonishing height. Their neighbors say their songs can calm a river in flood.
A kind of elf with a shadow that keeps its hat on indoors. They keep to the hedgerows along a lazy brown river, where they bind alliances with an exchange of songs. They are known for a choir that armies have stopped to hear. Their neighbors say they ring a bell at night and will not say for whom.
A kind of goblin with cheeks that glow like lanterns when they are pleased. They keep to the ash slopes and boiling pools of a live volcano, where they vote with colored stones cast into a bowl. They are known for coffins no grave robber has ever opened. Their neighbors say they can cross water without a boat.
A kind of domovoy with eyes clouded white that still see well enough. They keep to a snowy valley with a hot spring at its head, where they appoint one official grumbler to air complaints. They are known for jam that wins every fair for fifty miles. Their neighbors say they taught the first smiths and regret it.
A kind of kappa with a pulse too faint to find. They keep to the back gardens along a town's forgotten stream, where they forbid mirrors and whistling after dark. They are known for glasswork so fine it rings in the wind. Their neighbors say they taught the cuckoo its only song.
A kind of giant with breath that frosts even in high summer. They keep to a crescent bay under cliffs of blue slate, where they inherit a recipe instead of a surname. They are known for lanterns that burn without oil. Their neighbors say their songs can calm a river in flood.
A kind of jötunn with cheeks that glow like lanterns when they are pleased. They keep to the long sea-cliffs and their ruined lighthouses, where they settle inheritance by ordeal, not by birth. They are known for giving directions that are scenic rather than short. Their neighbors say no one who wronged them has died in bed.
A kind of brownie with hair as stiff and dark as wet thatch. They keep to the tidal flats that vanish twice a day, where they tell the bees every piece of family news. They are known for a library copied out fresh every generation. Their neighbors say they turn invisible when they are embarrassed.
A kind of merfolk with eyes clouded white that still see well enough. They keep to a battlefield marsh that no one will plow, where they sleep through the coldest month and wake hungry. They are known for pies with something different in every slice. Their neighbors say they never sit with their backs to a door.
A kind of tengu with a voice no louder than a kettle, however angry. They keep to a flooded quarry and the spoil heaps around it, where they follow a calendar of thirteen named winds. They are known for festivals that run three days past the plan. Their neighbors say they never forgive and never forget a face.
A kind of sylph with hair the color of new copper wire. They keep to a forest clearing with a pool that never freezes, where they appoint one official grumbler to air complaints. They are known for giving directions that are scenic rather than short. Their neighbors say they can follow a trail three winters cold.
A kind of jötunn with skin that freckles silver under a full moon. They keep to the high passes at the head of three rivers, where they keep two names, one for kin and one for strangers. They are known for mending anything left on the doorstep overnight. Their neighbors say the crows report to them.
A kind of peri with a scent of apples and woodsmoke. They keep to the water meadows below an old stone bridge, where they pay their debts in buttons and favors. They are known for never leaving a debt unpaid or a slight unanswered. Their neighbors say no one who wronged them has died in bed.
A kind of kitsune with knuckles that crack out a tune. They keep to the long sea-cliffs and their ruined lighthouses, where they trade in riddles when coin runs short. They are known for lockpicks, false bottoms and hidden doors. Their neighbors say their geese understand every word you say.
A kind of gnome with silver-flecked eyes that widen in starlight. They keep to a lighthouse rock and the tide pools around it, where they tell the bees every piece of family news. They are known for never once arriving on time. Their neighbors say their grandmothers can knit a fog.
A kind of korrigan with noses that twitch before good news. They keep to a river gorge bridged by living roots, where they pay their debts in buttons and favors. They are known for a wine that tastes of the year it was made. Their neighbors say they once lost a whole summer and blame each other.
A kind of giant with eyes that hold a faint light after dusk. They keep to a chain of lake islands joined by rope bridges, where they never travel in groups smaller than three. They are known for poetry that other peoples learn by heart. Their neighbors say they never forgive and never forget a face.
A kind of cyclops with a voice no louder than a kettle, however angry. They keep to the high passes at the head of three rivers, where they inherit a recipe instead of a surname. They are known for lockpicks, false bottoms and hidden doors. Their neighbors say the crows report to them.
A kind of leprechaun with breath that frosts even in high summer. They keep to a village well and the lanes that lead to it, where they never start a journey on an empty stomach. They are known for armor as light as a winter coat. Their neighbors say no one who wronged them has died in bed.
A kind of selkie with knuckles that crack out a tune. They keep to the back gardens along a town's forgotten stream, where they hold a feast whenever anyone finds a lost thing. They are known for gardens that bloom a month before anyone else's. Their neighbors say they were old when the first cities were new.
Fantasy Race Generator: Build a People From Real Folklore: how it works
This fantasy race generator starts from real folklore. One press draws one of 49 kinds, from the Cornish knocker to the Korean dokkaebi, then gives it a marked feature, a homeland, a custom, a reputation and a rumor the neighbors repeat. Use it as a random fantasy race generator: lock the rows that suit your world and press again.
Three troll peoples, one ancestor
Lock Folklore kind on troll and press New fantasy race three times. You get three troll peoples with one ancestor and nothing else in common, which is how a world gets rivals. Lock Homeland instead to see who else lives on that coast. Copy the paragraph, save it with the heart, or print 20 peoples on one sheet.
What the old stories say
The full list under the tool names each kind's tradition and one checked line. Early Norse sources never call dwarfs small, and dwarfs is the usual plural. Cobalt ore is said to be named for the mischief of mine spirits later called kobolds. A kappa will return a deep bow, spilling the water it carries on its head. Start from the old story and your people will not read as a copy.
Tips
Treat the rumor as gossip. Decide whether it is true, half true or a slander spread by a rival, and you have a plot.
Rename them once the draw is done. A kind of nixie is a starting point; your own name makes the people yours.
Some kinds are still honored: the fox is Inari's messenger at Shinto shrines, and kappa and kodama have shrines of their own in Japan. Borrow the shape with respect, and never rebuild a real-world people under a made-up name.
Questions and answers
How many fantasy races can it make?
49 kinds times 72 features, 72 homelands, 72 customs, 72 reputations and 72 rumors gives 94,810,963,968 combinations. Nothing repeats within a row until the whole row has been dealt, and today's fantasy race of the day is the same on every screen.
Why is there no orc or halfling?
The kind row draws only on traditional folklore. The orc as a people of soldiers comes from twentieth-century fiction; the old word appears once in Beowulf, as orcneas, and its meaning is uncertain. Halfling is an old Scots word for a half-grown youth that novels and games borrowed later. Nothing here is taken from a published game, novel or film.
Can I get only grim or only fairy-tale results?
There is no tone switch yet. Each invented row holds 24 high-fantasy, 24 fairy-tale and 24 grim lines. Reroll a row until its tone suits, then lock it. For the place they live, try the random setting generator.
boggartNorthern England: a household nuisance said to follow the family even when they move house.
brownieScottish household lore: works by night for a bowl of cream and leaves for good if given clothes.
fairyBritish and Irish lore: cold iron, church bells, a four-leaf clover and clothes worn inside out were all charms against them.
hobgoblinEnglish household lore: does odd jobs while the family sleeps, is paid in food and leaves if given clothes.
knockerCornish mines: knocks on the rock to warn of a collapse; miners threw it the last bite of a pasty.
korriganBrittany: the Breton name means small dwarf; they haunt wells and like to dance around fountains.
leprechaunIreland: a solitary shoemaker who, in accounts before the 20th century, wore red rather than green.
pixieDevon and Cornwall: leads travelers astray on the moors; a coat turned inside out breaks the spell.
púcaCeltic lore: a shape-changer seen as a horse, goat, cat, dog or hare; reapers left it a share of the crop.
selkieOrkney and Shetland: a seal in the water and a person on land, once the sealskin comes off.
trowOrkney and Shetland: comes out at night, loves fiddle music and was said to carry off fiddlers.
Germanic and Nordic 8
dwarfGermanic lore: master smiths who live in mountains and stones; early Norse sources never call them small.
elfGermanic lore: Old English medical texts blame elves for sudden illness in people and livestock.
huldufólkIceland and the Faroes: the hidden folk of rocks and mounds; food is left out for them at Christmas.
jötunnNorse myth: usually translated as giant, though the sources do not make them all notably large.
koboldGerman lore: a house spirit that does chores when treated well; cobalt ore is said to be named for the mischief of mine spirits that later writers also called kobolds.
nisseNordic farms: guards the livestock and expects Christmas Eve porridge with a pat of butter on top.
nixieGermanic lore: shapeshifting water spirits; the male nix plays the violin in brooks and waterfalls.
trollNordic lore: lives in small family groups among rocks and caves, and turns to stone in sunlight.
Greek, Roman and wider Europe 13
centaurGreek myth: horse-bodied people of Thessaly who fought the Lapiths at a wedding feast.
cyclopsGreek myth: Hesiod's forge the thunderbolt of Zeus, Homer's are lawless shepherds; the name means round-eye.
duendeSpain, Portugal and Latin America: the Castilian name is a contraction of master of the house.
faunRoman lore: spirits of lonely rustic places who frightened travelers but also guided those in need.
giantEuropean lore: across Europe, the ruins of older civilizations were said to be the work of giants.
gnomeRenaissance alchemy: Paracelsus described earth spirits that pass through rock as we pass through air.
goblinEuropean lore: small, grotesque and often spiteful; the Old French word gobelin is recorded from 1195.
merfolkTold worldwide: the English word mermaid joins mere, an old word for sea, to maid, by about 1390.
nymphGreek myth: nature spirits each tied to one place, such as a spring, a tree, a mountain or the sea.
ogreFrench fairy tales: the word came into wide use through Charles Perrault's tales of the 1690s.
satyrGreek myth: companions of Dionysus, shown in early art with a horse's ears and tail, not goat legs.
sylphRenaissance alchemy: the air spirits of Paracelsus, who coined the word in the 16th century.
undineRenaissance alchemy: the water spirits of Paracelsus, named from the Latin unda, a wave.
Slavic 8
bannikSlavic bathhouses: bathers left him the third firing, along with fir branches, water and soap.
domovoySlavic homes: the guardian of the household; a family moving house formally invites him to come too.
kikimoraSlavic homes: spins thread at night and minds the chickens when the house is kept in order.
leshySlavic forests: the guardian of the wood, as tall as the trees or as small as a blade of grass.
polevikSlavic fields: grass for hair, seen at noon or sunset, and apt to lead wanderers astray.
rusalkaSlavic rivers: older accounts tie them to fertility, coming ashore in spring to water the fields.
vilaSouth Slavic lore: they dance in circles, punish the uninvited and become sworn sisters to heroes.
vodyanoySlavic rivers: a green-bearded old man of the water who breaks dams and mill wheels when angered.
Persian, Japanese and Korean 9
dokkaebiKorea: formed from cast-off household objects such as old brooms; challenges travelers to wrestle.
kappaJapanese rivers: carries water in a dish on its head, loves cucumbers and sumo, and will return a deep bow.
kitsuneJapan: fox spirits that take human form; the more tails, up to nine, the older and stronger the fox.
kodamaJapan: tree spirits; felling their tree brings a curse, so such trees are often marked with sacred rope.
oniJapan: horned and club-carrying; at Setsubun people throw beans to drive them out of the house.
periPersian tales: winged and beautiful, with societies of their own; in the earliest beliefs they were probably evil spirits.
tanukiJapan: the shapeshifting raccoon dog, with eight disguises to the fox's seven, said to drum on its belly.
tenguJapan: mountain and forest spirits, first drawn with a kite's beak; the long nose came in the 14th century.
zashiki-warashiIwate, Japan: a parlor spirit whose household prospers, and declines if it leaves.
a shadow that falls a little longer than it should
a voice that carries a mile over open ground
breath that frosts even in high summer
ears that turn toward the quietest sound
eyes like polished amber
eyes that change color with the season
eyes that hold a faint light after dusk
fingertips that glow while they work
footprints that fill with dew before dawn
hair that chimes faintly when they run
hair that lifts when a storm is an hour off
hair the color of new copper wire
long-fingered hands that never seem to tire
pale gold eyes and narrow, slitted pupils
palms marked from birth by a spiral line
silver-flecked eyes that widen in starlight
skin that freckles silver under a full moon
skin that holds the day's warmth long after dark
veins that show blue-green at the wrist and throat
voices that fall into harmony without trying
Fairy tale 24
a hum they cannot stop while they work
a laugh like a dropped tray of spoons
a scent of apples and woodsmoke
a shadow that keeps its hat on indoors
a sneeze that rings like a small bell
a voice like a creaking garden gate
a voice no louder than a kettle, however angry
a yawn that sets the whole room yawning
cheeks that glow like lanterns when they are pleased
ears that droop when they are sad
ears that turn pink when they fib
eyebrows like two startled caterpillars
eyes as round and bright as buttons
eyes of two different colors, never the same two
footprints where clover comes up by morning
freckles that rearrange themselves overnight
hair as fine and white as dandelion seed
hair that curls tight when rain is coming
hair that grows a hand's width every night
hair that smells of warm bread
knuckles that crack out a tune
noses that twitch before good news
teeth as small and even as seed pearls
thumbs green to the first knuckle
Grim 24
a dry laugh like a snapped twig
a pulse too faint to find
a scent of cold ash and iron
a scent that sets dogs barking
a shadow that does not always keep pace
a smile that shows too many teeth
a stare they hold a moment too long
a voice like gravel under a cart wheel
a whisper that carries farther than a shout
breath that smells of turned earth
ears that catch a heartbeat across a room
eyes clouded white that still see well enough
eyes that never seem to blink
eyes that throw back torchlight like a cat's
fingers one joint too long
gray teeth worn flat with age
hair as stiff and dark as wet thatch
hair gone white before they are grown
hands scarred from a rite nobody explains
nails as dark and hard as slate
skin cold to the touch in any weather
skin that bruises the color of storm cloud
tears as dark as ink
voices that never rise above a murmur
How this list was compiled: An original list written for this page. The tool builds one people from six rows (folklore kind, marked feature, homeland, how they live, known for, neighbors say) and cannot block a combination, so every line in this row was written to read well beside every line in the other five. Rules for this row: a noun phrase that follows the word with. Only eyes, voice, skin, hair, hands, teeth, ears, breath, scent, shadow and footprints, so no line adds a limb, wings, horns or a tail that the folklore kind may not have, and no line states a size. Skin lines use colors and textures no real person has. No name, term or spelling from a published game, novel or film. No line maps a real-world people onto an invented one, and none leans on a real-world slur or prejudice. Three tones of 24 lines each: high fantasy, fairy tale and grim. Licence: own work
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Homeland: all 72 homelands
High fantasy 24
a canyon with a river that runs silver at night
a chain of lake islands joined by rope bridges
a coral shore backed by jungle ridges
a crater lake with one wooded island at its heart
a crescent bay under cliffs of blue slate
a drowned city with towers that still clear the tide
a forest of giant trees along a slow green river
a mountain tarn and the stone halls around it
a plateau of hot springs ringed by snow peaks
a river gorge bridged by living roots
a valley of seven lakes, each a different color
the amber-leaved woods beside an inland sea
an archipelago of a hundred windblown islets
the cedar slopes above a fjord of still water
the floating reed-meadows of a vast warm lake
the hanging valleys behind a great waterfall
the high passes at the head of three rivers
the long sea-cliffs and their ruined lighthouses
the old canal-country of a fallen empire
the orchards of a river oasis in red desert
the salt marshes at the mouth of a holy river
the star-fall moors and their black peat pools
the terraced cliffs above a singing river
the white-stone valleys below a glacier
Fairy tale 24
a beaver-dammed creek deep in birch woods
a canal lock and the kitchen gardens beside it
a duck-pond common ringed with crooked cottages
a forest clearing with a pool that never freezes
a harbor town of steep steps and leaning houses
a hollow hill with a spring at the bottom
a lighthouse rock and the tide pools around it
a mill pond and the crooked wood behind it
a row of stilt houses over a lily pond
a snowy valley with a hot spring at its head
a village well and the lanes that lead to it
an orchard valley with a stream down the middle
the back gardens along a town's forgotten stream
the banks of a brook nobody has followed to its end
the bluebell woods above a chattering stream
the chalk hills and a stream that only runs in winter
the dunes and rock pools of a windy shore
the hedgerows along a lazy brown river
the mossy stones around a wishing well
the pebble beach under a toffee-colored cliff
the reed beds at the edge of a sleepy lake
the roots of one enormous oak beside a ford
the water meadows below an old stone bridge
the willow islands in the middle of a wide river
Grim 24
a battlefield marsh that no one will plow
a bog that keeps whatever is dropped in it
a drowned forest of bare trunks in still water
a flooded quarry and the spoil heaps around it
a frozen river and the burial mounds along it
a gorge so deep the river below is only a sound
a moor of standing stones and sucking pools
a plague-emptied port slowly filling with sand
a river delta choked with wrecked barges
a salt lake shrinking inside cracked flats
a storm-beaten headland of hidden coves
a swamp of cypress knees and low mist
the ash slopes and boiling pools of a live volcano
the black pine hills above a tarn with no bottom
the cisterns and sewers under an old capital
the dry wells and last oasis of a dying land
the fens that swallow the road every spring
the gray shingle coast beyond the last harbor
the iceberg coast at the end of the charts
the levees of a river that floods without warning
the mine-scarred hills and their rust-red streams
the sea caves under a ruined abbey
the sinkhole country, all caves and cold springs
the tidal flats that vanish twice a day
How this list was compiled: An original list written for this page. The tool builds one people from six rows (folklore kind, marked feature, homeland, how they live, known for, neighbors say) and cannot block a combination, so every line in this row was written to read well beside every line in the other five. Rules for this row: a noun phrase that follows They keep to and comes before the words where they. Every homeland holds both water and dry ground, so a seal-skinned or river-dwelling kind fits as well as a mountain one. No real place names, no climate that rules out a custom, and the word where never appears. No name, term or spelling from a published game, novel or film. No line maps a real-world people onto an invented one, and none leans on a real-world slur or prejudice. Three tones of 24 lines each: high fantasy, fairy tale and grim. Licence: own work
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How they live: all 72 customs
High fantasy 24
bind alliances with an exchange of songsSinging an ally's song badly is a diplomatic incident.
bury their dead standing, facing homeGraves far from home all point the same way, like a compass.
choose their ruler by a contest of riddlesA clever outsider could win the throne, and someone has to write the riddles.
crown no ruler until the last one's tree has floweredA slow spring means a long regency and a nervous court.
elect their judges from among the oldestVerdicts are slow, thorough and full of precedent nobody else remembers.
follow a calendar of thirteen named windsEach wind has its own luck, its own chores and its own forbidden acts.
foster every child in another householdEvery family has a stake in every other, which is the point.
give every trade its own guild hall and bannerThe banners march in a fixed order that every guild disputes.
hold all land in trust for the unbornNobody can sell a field, so every quarrel over land is a quarrel over who tends it.
keep a council of nine with one seat always emptyEveryone has a theory about who the ninth seat is kept for.
keep a standing guard of sworn volunteersNobody is made to serve, and nobody who serves may leave in the middle of a watch.
keep a written record of every promise madeThe record hall is the most heavily guarded building they own.
keep two names, one for kin and one for strangersLearning someone's kin name is a gift, a promotion or a threat.
let the youngest adult speak first in councilIt stops the young from simply echoing the old.
mark each birth by planting a treeYou can read a family's fortunes in its row of trees.
measure wealth in the stories a person can tellA traveler with news from far away arrives rich.
send every youth away for a year and a daySome come back changed, some come back married, and some do not come back.
settle feuds by single combat to first bloodChampions for hire do well here, and so do surgeons.
sing their laws aloud at each new moonA law nobody can fit to a tune does not get passed.
swear every oath on a named ancestor's swordA family with no famous ancestor has nothing to swear on, so they borrow one at a price.
take a new name at each great turn of lifeAn old friend may ask for you by a name you gave up years ago.
trace descent through the mother's lineTitles, houses and feuds all pass from mother to daughter.
vote with colored stones cast into a bowlStones can be counted, weighed, swapped and stolen.
wear their family history woven into a sashA blank stretch of sash means a story the family will not tell.
Fairy tale 24
appoint one official grumbler to air complaintsThe post is unpaid, hotly contested and held for life.
choose the mayor by who bakes the best loafElection week smells wonderful and ends in accusations about yeast.
decide everything over a very long breakfastNothing is settled before the second pot of tea, and nothing after noon.
give each child a second, secret birthdayOnly the family knows the date, and guessing it is very rude.
greet every stranger with soup before questionsBy the time the bowl is empty they have decided what to ask.
hold a feast whenever anyone finds a lost thingIn a dull month, some things get lost on purpose.
hold court once a year under the oldest treeGrievances are saved up all year, so the day runs long.
inherit a recipe instead of a surnameYou are introduced by your dish, and a lost recipe ends a family line.
keep a village goose that outranks the mayorThe goose has never been wrong, because it has never said anything.
keep no locks and mind each other's doorsTheft is rare. Privacy is rarer.
leave a spare chair at every table for a guestSitting in it without being asked is how you start a feud.
let grandmothers have the last word on everythingTwo grandmothers who disagree can stall a village for a year.
move house every spring, all on the same dayFor one day a year nobody knows where anybody lives.
name each child after the weather on its first dayThere are a great many people called Drizzle.
never start a journey on an empty stomachExpeditions leave late, well fed and in a good mood.
pay their debts in buttons and favorsA rare button is worth a week's work. A favor is worth whatever is asked.
settle arguments with a three-legged raceThe two who quarreled are tied together and must beat everyone else.
share one enormous cooking pot per streetWhoever stirs that day decides what the whole street eats.
sing their shopping lists so nothing is forgottenMarket day sounds like a choir with no conductor.
sleep through the coldest month and wake hungryVisitors in that month find every door shut and every chimney cold.
swap hats to seal a bargainYou can tell who made a bad deal by the hat that does not fit.
tell the bees every piece of family newsBees that hear it second-hand are said to sulk for a season.
trade in riddles when coin runs shortA good riddle buys supper. A stolen one gets you thrown out.
wear their best clothes on the worst daysA street full of finery means something has gone wrong.
Grim 24
answer to a judge who wears a mask in courtNobody is meant to know who the judge is, the judge's family included.
bar their doors from dusk until full lightA knock after dark goes unanswered, whoever is knocking.
burn a dead leader's hall and build anewNo leader inherits a seat, a roof or a loyal staff.
cast out anyone who breaks a sworn wordExiles from here are easy to hire and hard to trust.
choose their leader by lot, and never twiceNobody wants the job, which they consider the best qualification.
forbid mirrors and whistling after darkAsk why and you get a different answer from every elder.
give each newborn a knife and a burial plotBoth are kept for life. Selling either is unthinkable.
hold their councils in total darknessNo one can see who spoke, so no one can be punished for it.
keep a book of grudges read aloud each winterA name is struck out only when the debt is paid in front of witnesses.
keep a guest from every allied house at courtGuest is the polite word. Everyone understands the arrangement.
let no one eat until the sentries have eatenA cold supper means the watch came in late, and everyone knows why.
make oath-breakers eat alone for a yearIn a place where every meal is shared, it is worse than it sounds.
never travel in groups smaller than threeOne to go on, one to go back, and one to stay with whoever is hurt.
owe a year's labor for every life they takeThe labor is owed to the dead one's family, under that family's roof.
pay a blood-price rather than keep a prisonEvery injury has a fixed price, and the poor pay in years of work.
post a watch every night of the yearThey have never said what the watch is for, and it has never been skipped.
ration salt, iron and lamp oil by householdHoarding any of the three is the one crime they never forgive.
send their elders to keep the border beaconsThe old go willingly. It is an honor, and the beacons must never go out.
settle inheritance by ordeal, not by birthThe ordeal differs by family, and the old ones are not written down.
speak of their dead only in the present tenseOutsiders can never tell who at the table is alive.
take a vow of silence through the mourning monthBusiness carries on in gestures, and old quarrels get a rest.
teach every child to swim, climb and hideThe lessons start early and the reason is never discussed.
tithe a tenth of every harvest to the wall fundThe wall has been under repair for longer than anyone has been alive.
trust no law that is not carved in stoneThere are few laws, all short, and the stonecutters are powerful.
How this list was compiled: An original list written for this page. The tool builds one people from six rows (folklore kind, marked feature, homeland, how they live, known for, neighbors say) and cannot block a combination, so every line in this row was written to read well beside every line in the other five. Rules for this row: a plural verb phrase in the present tense that follows where they. Each line is one custom of rule, law, family, trade or mourning. No line names a landscape or a body part, so it cannot contradict the homeland or the feature. The d line is a hook for the table: what the custom causes. No name, term or spelling from a published game, novel or film. No line maps a real-world people onto an invented one, and none leans on a real-world slur or prejudice. Three tones of 24 lines each: high fantasy, fairy tale and grim. Licence: own work
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Known for: all 72 reputations
High fantasy 24
a blue dye no one else can make
a choir that armies have stopped to hear
a fortress that has never fallen
a library copied out fresh every generation
a wine that tastes of the year it was made
archers who can thread a ring at a hundred paces
armor as light as a winter coat
bells that can be heard a day's walk away
blades that hold an edge for a lifetime
bridges that have never once needed repair
cloth light enough to pull through a ring
glasswork so fine it rings in the wind
guides who have never lost a traveler
healers who take no payment
judges whose rulings other nations borrow
keeping the oldest unbroken calendar in the world
lanterns that burn without oil
locks no thief has ever opened
maps that redraw themselves as borders move
memory-keepers who can recite a thousand years
messengers who have never lost a letter
never breaking a treaty, however old
poetry that other peoples learn by heart
star charts accurate to the hour
Fairy tale 24
a town clock that has been wrong for 300 years
candles that smell of the buyer's happiest day
cheese strong enough to clear a room
festivals that run three days past the plan
finding lost buttons, keys and cats
gardens that bloom a month before anyone else's
giving directions that are scenic rather than short
gossip that travels faster than horses
hats of astonishing height
honey that never sets and never spoils
jam that wins every fair for fifty miles
kites that stay up for a week
knowing tomorrow's weather by the taste of the air
lullabies that work on anyone, bears included
making boots that never wear out
mending anything left on the doorstep overnight
never once arriving on time
pies with something different in every slice
quilts with a story stitched into every square
remembering every birthday in six villages
soup that cures homesickness
toys that seem to move when nobody is looking
whistling so sweet that birds join in
winning every argument by outlasting it
Grim 24
a bitter tea that keeps sentries awake till dawn
a black bread that keeps for ten years
burying other peoples' dead when no one else will
coffins no grave robber has ever opened
debts recorded in knots no outsider can read
guards who cannot be bribed
iron nails that never rust
keeping secrets past the grave
knowing which plants kill and which only seem to
lamps that burn underwater
lockpicks, false bottoms and hidden doors
mercenaries who have never broken a contract
mourning songs that can silence a market
never leaving a debt unpaid or a slight unanswered
outliving every empire that taxed them
poisons and their cures, sold only as a pair
ropes that do not rot or fray
salvage taken from places others fear to go
smoked fish that travelers cross borders for
spies who go unnoticed until they wish otherwise
surviving sieges that starved out everyone else
tracking a quarry for weeks without rest
walking through winter storms that stop armies
walls no army has climbed
How this list was compiled: An original list written for this page. The tool builds one people from six rows (folklore kind, marked feature, homeland, how they live, known for, neighbors say) and cannot block a combination, so every line in this row was written to read well beside every line in the other five. Rules for this row: a noun phrase or an -ing phrase that follows They are known for. A craft, a skill, a product or a habit that outsiders would travel for or complain about. Nothing that needs one climate or one landscape; fish is allowed because every homeland has water. No name, term or spelling from a published game, novel or film. No line maps a real-world people onto an invented one, and none leans on a real-world slur or prejudice. Three tones of 24 lines each: high fantasy, fairy tale and grim. Licence: own work
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Neighbors say: all 72 rumors
High fantasy 24
a promise from them outlasts stone
no storm has ever touched their roofs
none of them has ever been lost
the stars sit differently above their halls
their blessing makes a harvest
their children are born knowing one song
their elders speak with the dead one night a year
their songs can calm a river in flood
they are waiting for someone and will know them on sight
they buried a sleeping army somewhere near
they can cross water without a boat
they can hear a lie before it is finished
they can read a stranger's past in a handshake
they forged something once that frightened even them
they keep a door that must never be opened
they know the true name of every wind
they never age while they are at home
they once turned down a crown
they owe the water a debt that comes due soon
they remember the world before the moon
they take turns staying awake, so one always is
they taught the first smiths and regret it
they walk in each other's dreams
they were old when the first cities were new
Fairy tale 24
a kettle boils faster when one of them is in the room
if one of them sneezes, snow follows within the week
it is bad luck to refuse their cake
it rains sideways when they hold a wedding
their doors are never where you left them
their geese understand every word you say
their grandmothers can knit a fog
their scarecrows walk about after dark
they argue with the moon and sometimes win
they borrow things and return them polished
they can smell a birthday coming
they can talk a cat down from any tree
they count in a way that always comes out lucky
they have never told a story the same way twice
they invented the nap
they keep a spare moon in case of accidents
they keep the rain in jars for later
they know a shortcut that takes twice as long
they know where every lost sock goes
they once lost a whole summer and blame each other
they taught the cuckoo its only song
they turn invisible when they are embarrassed
they will fix your roof if you leave out cream
you must never thank them, only pay them
Grim 24
the crows report to them
it is wiser to pay them than to owe them
lights move on their land when nobody is there
no one who wronged them has died in bed
nobody has ever seen one of them asleep
something beneath their hall has to be fed
their dead do not always stay buried
their lullabies are warnings, if you listen
their truce with whatever lives below is nearly up
they buried their last king alive at his own request
they can follow a trail three winters cold
they guard something they wish they could forget
they have a word for a thing nobody else will name
they hear everything said within a mile of water
they keep a list, and names on it get crossed out
they know the hour of every death but their own
they let the old road grow over on purpose
they never forgive and never forget a face
they never sit with their backs to a door
they ring a bell at night and will not say for whom
they salt their doorsteps for a reason
they sold their shadows once and bought them back dear
they struck a bargain long ago and the price is coming
they will not say what became of the last tax collector
How this list was compiled: An original list written for this page. The tool builds one people from six rows (folklore kind, marked feature, homeland, how they live, known for, neighbors say) and cannot block a combination, so every line in this row was written to read well beside every line in the other five. Rules for this row: a full clause that follows Their neighbors say. It is gossip, so it may contradict the other rows, and the page says so. No rumor repeats a slander told about real peoples: nothing about stolen children, poisoned wells, greed, dirt or eating people. No name, term or spelling from a published game, novel or film. No line maps a real-world people onto an invented one, and none leans on a real-world slur or prejudice. Three tones of 24 lines each: high fantasy, fairy tale and grim. Licence: own work