Woo: The Hunter's Sea, an explanation of the races and groups of Rothcar and Akwana
half-elves.
Half-elves are a bastard race that, in general, no one likes. Most of them are slaves, and those that are not probably were slaves at one point. They don't live nearly as long as real elves do, but they live much longer than humans and wear their age better than both races. In appearance they are a blending of elven and human; short to average-tall in height, build ranging from slender to solid but never ethereal or burly. Their hair and eyes are always the same color- always. They don't have random streaks of other colors in their hair, either, unless something traumatic has happened. Dyes and illusions slough off after a short period of time due to their inherent magic; tattoos are an exception to this if they are applied with the proper ink and ritual, as they must be.

Tattoos and multiple piercings figure prominently into their culture. There are some half-elves that don't have an inch of unmarked skin left; all half-elves have at least one tattoo that is used as a clan marking or identification tag. It's taboo to show any non-half-elf the primary ID tattoo; it's typically found around the neck, so all half-elves wear collars to cover it and to remind them of their own origins as slaves. Outsiders are rarely allowed into half-elven conclaves because of this; they do not cover their necks when surrounded by their own kind, but must if a human or elf visits. (They're kinda like wolves with the whole 'baring the throat in submission' bit...) The tattoos also serve as power channels. Their entire bodies, in fact, act as incredibly stable power sinks into the world around them- they're walking spellbooks. Their innate magical powers deal mostly with the physical aspect of magic, rather than the mental or emotional.

the assassin's guild
The assassin's guild in the capital city of Rothcar is one of the most successful ever. The Guildmaster has reigned with a not-so-iron-so-much-as-firmly-gentle-fist for the past thousand years, due to a deal made with the God of Murderers and Mercenaries, Qschxbxqkkl the Unpronounceable. (Not to be confused with the God of Sneakthieves and Cutthroats, Quiskybixil the Unpeeveable, patron of the Thieve's Guild) The gist of the deal was that if the Unpronouncable one gave the Guildmaster eternal life, he'd give the God eternal service, yada yada. So the Unpronouncable One decided that eternal life was too much of a hassle, but he would close the doors of death to the Guildmaster if he sacrificed himself on a burning altar in the name of his god. The Guildmaster (who's name, I believe, was Joe) thought about this for a moment and realized that there was something wrong with this idea. Unfortunately, he'd already agreed to it, and oops! No more Joe. The Unpronouncable kept his promise, though, and Joe had himself a nice new body and a candle that would tell him when it would be a good time to go throwing himself on burning pyres again. And a Shrive Cat, because for some reason they're under Qschxbxqkkl's jurisdiction. So it was Joe and Geranium against the world, and then the assassin's and mystics and blood mages began flocking to him- a few healers as well, because in that trade, who doesn't need some patching up once in a while? And then every few decades, Joe would trick one of his subjects into pushing him into a fire, and *bang!* he'd have a new body. The previous owner of his new body would be rather put out by this, and as a result Joe has gotten to be quite jaded, bitter, and Not All There due to the number of ghosts haunting his head, and the wise and impeccable striped tomcat that sits around his chambers making cryptic comments at him.

He still makes a hell of a good leader for the Guild, though, and everybody is rather respectful and awed with him. The only problem is that his last sacrifice to the God ended rather badly...the assassin he chose to betray (Blaine's mother) had bound her fate, soul, and mind to her husband. So when Joe took her body, he also got stuck with her husband's body, and now they have two Guildmasters, and Joe must put up with his own PMSing once a month. Sometimes they speak in unison, sometimes they don't, and that damn cat sits there and laughs as both/all/one of him the entire time.

The Guild is comprised of nearly a thousand members, including wizards, run of the mill murderers, mystics (who aren't all there, ever), healers, many Shrive cats, and a lot of children. Joe always had a soft spot for children (though he's loathe to admit it now) and so marriages within the guild are encouraged, and children are always given the best opportunities possible for education. It's quite a setup they've got going, inhabiting the catacombs and labyrinths beneath the city. The ones that aren't inhabited by ghouls, theives, gypsies and vampires, that is. They've got a couple of those in the guild anyway, though.

The Thieve's Guild doesn't have quite as interesting a history as the Assassin's; their Guildmaster actually dies every now and then. Currently she's an elf, so 'every now and then' describes it pretty well. The thieves don't require as many diverse jobs within their Guild as the assassins do; they do occasionally work hand in hand with the assassins, though. Member transfers, skill training; if a child raised as a thief is too bloodthirsty, she'll be sent to train as an assassin, or if somebody like Blaine pops up, he'll be sent to the thieves. There's no animosity between the two guilds; the thieves know the assassins could kick their collective asses, and the assassins know the thieves could rob them blind, so they get along pretty well.

The Temple District of Rothcar's capital takes up more space than the residential, business, and palatial sections combined. There are more temples than there are enough worshippers to go around. (I can't remember the name of the city; most people refer to it as the Center of the World for reasons not at all geographical.)

------Woo. That was fun. I wonder why I'm obsessing over this story so much lately...