The Grung

It is said that when the Great Wyrm Ophyxia first dreamt the world into being, not all of her thoughts were of grandeur and harmony. There were also venomous, cunning thoughts of predation and subtle danger, born of the primal struggle for survival. And from these were born the Grung, a race of small, bipedal beings with the countenance of a frog, whose every aspect is a testament to the unforgiving nature of the wilds. Their forms are but three feet in height, but they are lithe and strong, with muscular limbs that propel them in quick, short hops. Though they cannot leap far as other amphibians, their skin is a canvas of brilliant, poisonous hues, a warning to all who would dare to trespass upon their lands.

Their society is a thing of harsh and rigid order, a caste system ordained not by a law, but by the very color of their skin, a divine gift from their creator. The lowliest of their kind are the Green Grung, the laborers and warriors who toil to sustain the tribe. Above them are the artisans of the Blue Grung, whose crafts are sometimes found in the great marketplaces of the other races. Above them stand the Purple Grung, who watch over the lower castes, and the scholarly Red Grung, who wield magic and command respect from all. The Orange Grung are the elite warriors, and at the apex of all stands the Gold Grung, who alone holds the right to lead, a war-chief whose word is law.

The Grung are a people of uncompromising territory, and they do not parley. Their settlements, crude shelters cobbled together from mud and moss in the deep jungles, are girded by the hanged bodies of their enemies. Their primary art is the ambush, their poisoned skin a vile tool that coats their weapons with a potent venom that quickly sours in the air. Their lives are a constant dance with danger, for their very existence is tethered to the water that they must submerge themselves in daily. And though they are fierce predators, they are also prey; for the Yuan-Ti consider their eggs a delicacy, and the great snakes of the jungle are immune to their poison, hunting them without fear. The Tabaxi also, for reasons known only to themselves, seek them out in the depths of the jungle. They are a bitter and fierce people, a perfect reflection of the raw and dangerous thoughts of Ophyxia's turbulent mind.