Taerh is home to three races that are considered ‘civilized’: Humans, Dwarves and Elves. Humans are by far the most populous and common of the races of Taerh.  With the exception of the nation-state of Drunmarch, mankind has spread throughout the Cradle as well as north into Mantry and the Rangor wastes beyond.  Shorter lived than both the Dwarves and the Elves, they reproduce at such an astounding rate that neither race could hope to keep up with them.  Due to their short lifespans, humans have a drive to achieve as much as possible with the time they have.  Half-elves, often known by the derogatory term Half Breed, do not form races unto themselves, but rather they can be found at the periphery of both their parents’ societies, tolerated by both and accepted by neither.

Elven society dwells exclusively on the island continent west of the Cradle called ‘The Blades’.  Considered by many to be little more than savages by the majority of humankind, many refer to them by the derogatory term, ‘Points’, no doubt in reference to the shape of their ears. This negative perception of the Elves is supported (and some say, encouraged) by the most recent Hand of Light, Hierophant Graceous Trim. As the voice of Olm on Taerh, Trim has declared crusade against the occupants of the Blades after what he has claimed to be tragic conflicts between them and Olmish missionaries sent there to bring ‘civilization’ to the wild frontier.  Ulrych St. Huame, a veteran of the Crusades has this to say about the mysterious race:

“Elves are savage, barbaric creatures, a mirror of the Blades on which they live.  We have tried on multiple occasions to bring the light of Olm to their lives and been repaid each time with violence and blood.  We have come upon villages where Olmites hang, bloodless from trees like so much horrific fruit.  Originally, we had thought to share the Blades with them; but it has become clear that they must be brought to heel or removed completely.”

Dwarves, on the other hand, hold the interest and respect of humankind throughout the Cradle.  Known as the ‘Fair Folk’, the entirety of the dwarven race dwells within the city-kingdom of Drunmarch.  Known as the Stone City, it spans almost the length of the Grey Spire Mountains that make up the eastern boundary of the continent itself.  The dwarves of Drunmarch produce a bright steel mined from the pure, almost white iron found in the mountain kingdom.  When forged, it produces items of exceptional strength and durability.  The craftsmen of the dwarven nation are able to create with this steel weapons and armor that are far superior to anything the human kingdoms are capable of.  As such, raw dwarven steel never leaves the mountain, although the dwarves do a steady trade in items manufactured from it.

Aristoi, one of the mysterious Songspears of Kiel, once described how the dwarves earned their title of the ‘Fair Folk’ as such:

“Dwarves earn the title Fair Folk for their disposition.  It is said that you could more easily rouse a rock to anger than a dwarf; but Drunmarch spans the length of the Grey Spire Mountains; it would be difficult to carve such a kingdom with such a gentle bearing.  Do not mistake their slowness to anger with weakness … or even kindness.  Dwarves live much longer than we do and as such tend to do everything slowly as well.  By all accounts, they are single minded and stubborn once their minds are set upon a course.  Dwarves do as dwarves do, with little concern for the words or actions of others.

You would think that, given the worth of Dwarven steel, someone would have tried to carve themselves a piece of the stranglehold they keep upon it.  A few have tried; but the speed at which they grow angry varies inversely to their fury once they have been roused.  The entirety of their race lives beneath a mountain, out of which they have carved a city the size of a small kingdom … by hand.  At each of their disposal is a strength that would put any four men to shame.  I heard a tale of a princeling of Utel, a second son that sought to create himself a kingdom among the Grey Spires.  I suppose when faced with his lifestyle being dependent solely on the whim of his older, inheriting, brother, he thought the anger of the Fair Folk was an acceptable risk.  He was wrong.  The little princeling took ten thousand men to the gates of Drunmarch; only those wise enough to flee before the thousand or so Dwarven home guard survived.  At any rate, the prince never did need to worry about his inheritance.

Since that time their ire has faded; but for a hundred years the flow of steel stopped and any man who dare lay a foot upon the Grey Spires would suffer the same fate as the prince’s mighty army.  Slow to anger, slow to forgive.  Eventually, the greed of the few overcame the anger of the many as it always does.”