The Tabaxi

It is said that when the Great Wyrm Ophyxia first dreamt the world into being, her mind gave rise to many peoples. But in the final, most perfect moment of her slumber, her thoughts of grace, speed, and subtle cunning coalesced into a single, flawless form. And thus came the Tabaxi, who believe they were the last and most perfect race born from her dream, for after their creation, she dreamed of no others. They are taller than most men, their slender bodies covered in tawny fur, marked with the spots and stripes of the great felines they resemble, with long tails and eyes of gold or emerald that see truths others do not.

The Tabaxi are a people of profound paradox, for though they are reclusive and avoid the company of others, a deep-seated curiosity burns in the heart of each of them. This singular obsession compels them to wander the face of Wyrmdream, not in search of wealth, for they care little for gold or gems, but for the stories and ancient secrets that lie hidden within the relics and artifacts of ages past. Once a tale is told, or a mystery revealed, the object of their fascination loses its allure, and they are off on the wind to seek a new truth.

Their society is built not upon stone but upon the strength of the clan, each one a network of families who live in simple villages of wooden poles and grass roofs. It is a society of hunts, with each clan sending out small bands to patrol their territory. The Tabaxi are masters of the ambush, swift and silent, capable of camouflaging their scent with aromatic herbs to draw their foes into a deadly snare. They are just as likely to wield a javelin or sling as they are to use their own deadly claws and teeth, for their cunning is their greatest weapon, and their ability to adapt is their unwritten law. They trade not with words, for they see it as demeaning, but in the rare instance that they do, they use agents.

In ages past, the Tabaxi were known only in myth, their wanderings a fleeting rumor. But a shadow has fallen over their hunts. For with the coming of the settlers, a new and terrible fate has befallen them, as they have begun to be hunted for their fine pelts. And so, the final dream of Ophyxia finds itself in peril, its greatest gift of grace and cunning now a curse in a world that seeks to clothe itself in their living legacy.