“ A group of humans living in a mountainous area have spent generations mining, drinking home made liquor, and generally not spreading the gene pool around enough. The end result is a sub-race of humans who no longer have necks, rather their heads protrude from the upper portion of the torso between the shoulders. They have beards, and lacking the ability to turn their heads, can only see what they are directly facing. They are simple and to the point, and direct to the point of bluntness.”
“ (Post zombie apocalypse)-a tribe of humans
Culture: Drumming circles daily around an arena for their bravest brutes to slaughter their accepted foe, the zombie. Feasts of overcooked zombie flesh (to kill all of the zombie virus present). Wooden fortress that make this tribe in the far future look several millennium behind in technology. Instead of becoming a troublesome and unnatural foe that they seek to cure, this tribe has accepted that Zombies will continue to roam their land and, if the undead were to perish (be cured), this tribe would suffer as well.”
“ The Wizard-Brewers of the Old Empire stored memories in bottles of mead, passing their brightest ideas, most subtle magics, and most important decisions on to their heirs in bottles of oddly-flavored honey-wine. A cache of these ancient magical vintages has been unearthed, but does anyone dare drink from it? The ancient mead's creator is a complete mystery, as are the thoughts he left behind.”
