Technological wonders from another world, androids have synthetic bodies and living souls. Their dual nature makes them quick-thinking and calm under pressure, but comfortable in stillness and solitude.
Androids first arrived on Golarion during the Rain of Stars, when an interstellar vessel from the far-off planet of Androffa crash-landed, scattering debris across Numeria. While some android survivors of this crash still walk Golarion today, most were created from the technological pods, known as foundries, that operate sporadically amid the starship's wreckage. Androids birthed from these mechanical wombs possess mature bodies and newborn souls, both organic and synthetic; they emerge knowing only their creators' language and the motor skills necessary for survival. They have no understanding of their surroundings, origin, or purpose. Most learn how to behave through keen observation while wandering Numeria.
Androids tend to be logical introverts, rational and contemplative. Insatiably curious, with an urge to understand themselves and the world around them, androids place great value on intellectual pursuits. They have difficulty interpreting and expressing emotions, both in themselves and in others, which makes them seem distant and uncaring. While androids can forge emotional bonds, they find it more difficult to connect with non-androids.
If you want a character that's a synthetic foreigner in a fantastic world, forced to learn the nuances of reality and society through the powers of observation and logic alone, you should play an android.
Athamarus are fish-like humanoids who form tight-knit undersea communities. In small settlements, they engage in the subsistence farming of seaweed, train eels to serve as mounts, and create elaborate works of coral art. Their interactions with other aquatic ancestries are strained, as athamarus have suffered mistreatment at their hands. However, they remain curious about potential connections and what new opportunities may offer.
Athamarus define themselves by their connections to the world around them. They live in communal settings among coral reefs and aquatic companion creatures that encourage large families and friend groups. Athamaru settlements established near river or sea trade routes usually maintain strong relationships with the sailors who regularly pass by, exchanging coral jewelry or information about nearby sea routes for surface goods, especially root foods like tubers, yams, and other vegetables, which they see as delicacies.
If you want to play a character who values community and survives the sea through effort alone, you should play an athamaru.
These intelligent constructs house actual souls and represent what remains of a dying empire's last attempt at greatness. Automatons combine technological ingenuity with magical power, creating a blended being wholly unique to Eldranis.
The exceptional and forward-thinking construction of automatons means that a fair number remain today, millennia later, scattered to the winds. However, the passage of time has revealed one of automatons' greatest weaknesses: their mortal psyches. Only the strongest willed have managed to retain their memories, sense of self, and lucidity after all this time. As each automaton remains as unique as any living person on Eldranis; a given automaton has their own personality, shaped by countless experiences. Most automatons behave reclusively, preferring to avoid others due to fear of attachment or misunderstanding. Even automatons who are more willing to live in the open understand that their unique nature makes them a prime target for hunters, scholars, or worse. Rare is the automaton that lives without the regular occurrence of distrust or worry.
If you want to play a character who is a living construct with powerful potential and ties to ancient magic, you should play an automaton.
Azarketis, inheritors of a shattered empire's legacy, hold their proud traditions close but still surface to interact with the rest of the world.
The aquatic humanoids of the Inner Sea share a somber and burdened history. Most refer to these aquatic peoples as gillmen or sometimes Low Azlanti, though they typically refer to themselves as azarketi, an Azlanti word that translates roughly to “people of the seas.” After Earthfall, these proud humans were mutated into aquatic servants by their alghollthu foes. Feeling like they don't fully belong with their human brethren nor with the sea that binds them, many azarketis struggle for a sense of identity and purpose. Though they remain distrusted by the surface dwellers, azarketis celebrate their unique lineage and their descent from the venerated Azlanti culture.
Conrasus are shards of cosmic force given consciousness who construct intricate exoskeletons to interface with the mortal world. Both an integral part of the underlying processes of the universe and strangely set apart, conrasus look to aeons to understand their existence.
Conrasus aren't entirely clear on their own origins. Some historians think them a failed experiment of a wizardly cabal who desperately hoped to bind a pleroma to bolster their army but who accidentally conjured shattered scraps of the aeon instead. Others believe conrasus were built by their ancestors using an accelerated, iterative evolution process as natural as one designed by those who build portions of their own bodies could ever hope to achieve. Most likely, it is a mix of the two.
Fleshwarps are people whose forms were created or radically transformed by magic, alchemy, or unnatural energies. Their unorthodox appearance can make it difficult for them to find a place for themselves in the world.
Magic and science that can warp bone and twist sinew are all too common on Eldranis. Fleshwarps are those who have been permanently altered by such methods—sometimes a sapient being created whole cloth from inanimate flesh, but often a victim unwillingly transformed by strange energies or sadistic creators.
The ancestry name “fleshwarp” is an umbrella term, since on Eldranis the actual fleshwarping process is more infamously well-known than are alterations caused by uncontrolled magic, technology, or fringe science. Whether practiced by Thassilonian wizards, Nexian fleshcrafters, or the drow of the Darklands, fleshwarping is the craft of reshaping flesh and mind in vats of foul magical reagents. This has led some scholars of monsters to argue that only those beings created by traditional fleshwarping should be considered fleshwarps. Regardless of the source of their altered forms, fleshwarps bear their new shape forever, transformed beings living a wild and strange existence beyond what was possible for their original ancestry.
Although fleshwarps are humanoid, no two look the same. One might possess limbs in unusual places and skin as smooth as glass, while another might have a thick matting of spiny fur. Some might have animalistic features, like a boar snout, scales, or cloven hooves. Others have entirely alien appearances, such as bulging eyes on the backs of their hands. Some may have only subtly uncanny features that differentiate them, such as glowing teeth, smoking eyes, or fingernails made of bone. The only commonality among fleshwarps is their mismatched nature. Let your imagination run wild when creating a fleshwarp character!
If you want a character who is tough and hardy, can change their form as they grow, and can use their wholly unique appearance to inspire awe or fear in others, you should play a fleshwarp.
Golomas fear most other people and deliberately use their unusual biology to frighten off those they consider to be dangerous predators. Rarely seen and poorly understood, golomas' many-eyed and wooden faced visages instill terror in most they meet.
Though just as capable of being dangerous as any intelligent creature on Eldranis, golomas have a deep-rooted psychological understanding that they are prey, and that all two-eyed people are predators. As a result, golomas rarely reveal themselves to others, and when they do, they often adopt threatening personas as a means to protect themselves. Even those few golomas who venture out into greater Mwangi society often have trouble relating to other ancestries, due to their strong differences in perception and mindset.
Kashrishi make their homes in remote areas of the world. These quiet beings have stout, durable frames and distinctive crystalline horns. Their inherent psychic abilities make them natural empaths but also occasionally burden them with the unceasing thoughts of their neighbors.
Kashrishi occupy a unique evolutionary branch native to the lands bordering the northern stretches of the Obari Ocean. Resembling halfling
sized bipedal rhinoceroses with the occasional odd insectile feature, kashrishi adapt to their environs with unusual efficiency, using a combination of rapid physical evolutions and inherent psychic powers. Kashrishi are often mistakenly referred to as having hive minds, though they're actually natural empaths, capable of discerning a creature's emotional state and impulses through proximity. This near-oracular behavior occasionally leads to misunderstandings with humanoids who think a kashrishi is reading their thoughts or otherwise magically influencing the conversation, though peoples more familiar with kashrishi come to value their unique insights and intuitive diplomacy.
Kashrishi have an atypical level of control over their physical forms, thanks to their psychic powers, and can evolve new features over the course of a single generation. Typically, these features are intentionally cultivated to help deal with a particular environmental obstacle, such as a change in weather patterns, or if an invasive species affects available food supplies near their settlements.
Kashrishi often tailor their evolutions to match the most successful creatures in their environment. Whether a testament to the resilience of insects or simply a quirk of their environment, many kashrishi evolutions are directly inspired by creatures like the rhinoceros beetle or giant water bug.
If you want a character that's visually distinct, able to naturally access the occult powers of the mind, and great at quickly making friends wherever they go, you should play a kashrishi.
Merfolk live in every ocean of Golarion, infinite in their variety and awe-inspiring in their majesty. They consider themselves, not without some merit, the rulers of the sea. Among the tropical reefs of the Fever Sea, merfolk build temples and palaces of brightly colored corals. Beneath the ice floes of the Shining Sea, merfolk hunt seals and whales for food in small, standoffish clans. In the Embaral Ocean, merfolk populate the great trading city of Alohmab, built into the shell of a titanic snail that crawls across the ocean floor.
Though merfolk’s everyday lives aren’t all that different from those of the surface dwellers above, they have a much more intimate relationship with magic. In the aquatic environment of the open ocean, much that relies on fire and metal is impossible. Instead, merfolk shape sound and water with magic, using them as both tools and weapons. Such skills are widely distributed throughout all merfolk communities, even among those without formal magical training.
If you want to play a character who embodies the grace, wonder, and danger of the sea, you should play a merfolk.
Sarangay are carabao-headed people who have long survived deep in the forests across Tian Xia. Many adventurers have thought them to be monsters at first, but sarangay are nothing more than a thriving society who value their community and their souls above all else. Their cultures are built upon the intense desire to protect their communities and their chosen leader. Their horns are said to be a crescent moon, and their towering statures are said to have come from their ancestors being stretched so far up to reach their Father Moon while their Mother Earth kept them close to her bosom. They revere the great Father Moon, their First Ancestor, and endeavor to protect and exalt nature above all else, for they understand that they’re part of it.
Sarangay tend to be rare and appear even rarer within the diverse confines of adventuring cities. When they leave their society, it’s typically because they either have a duty to fulfill or they must depart in order to save their community. In the rising chaos of the modern lands of Tian Xia, more sarangay have begun to venture out into the world, either preemptively investigating potential threats or facing a breakdown in their own societies. The most tragic sarangay are those who wander alone because they have nothing and no one to protect and care for.
If you want to play a character who is at home in the wild, possesses inherent occult power, is sharply aware of their impressive strength, and comes from a proud culture, you should play a sarangay.
Skeletons are considered among the lowest types of undead. They're typically mindless creatures, lacking many of the abilities that make other undead a serious threat. However, the animated bones of dragons, giants, and other great beasts make for dangerous foes. Powerful living creatures can retain some of their might and intellect upon returning as a skeleton. Some necromancers turn their strongest enemies into skeletal undead servants, assuming they can keep control of them.
Skeleton adventurers were usually skilled and powerful in their former lives. Through unremitting force of will or extraordinary circumstances, their ego and ideals persist even in death. However, the very act of rising as a skeletal undead is traumatic. Memories of one's former life are usually fractured or hazy, if anything can be remembered at all. For some, these memories return with time; for others, they're gone forever. For the most part, this comes down to how the skeleton views themself: either as a continuation of the person they once were, or an entirely new being.
Skeleton adventurers often set themselves apart from other skeletons by dressing as flamboyantly as their station allows. Large, feathered caps, ornate armor, embroidered silks, or glittering jewelry are likely staples of their wardrobe. Some carve intricate “tattoos” into their bones or paint their skulls to maintain a sense of self that simple skeletons lack, and to signal to the living they're not like other undead.
Skeleton adventurers must come to terms with their new identity. They aren't bound by the limitations of the living and are often underestimated.
Surkis are an insectile species who subsist on the latent magic in the world around them. As a subterranean species native to the Darklands, surkis have rarely been seen on the surface, and always with long pauses between historical sightings. This is due to surkis’ life cycle—long dormancies followed by so-called “generation digs,” as they migrate great distances in response to happenings underground. The healing of the Worldwound initiated one of the largest such digs in their history, bringing surkis up into the caverns and passages of the Sarkoris Scar and emerging onto the surface for the first time in many years. Since their emergence, several small surki settlements have been established in secluded corners of Sarkoris, voraciously cataloging the wildlife, magics, and various other inhabitants of the area as they explore the alien environment of the surface.
Rather than consuming food conventionally, surkis are filter feeders, absorbing magic from the air, soil, plants, stone, and practically any other material. This magic is refined and sequestered in nodes throughout a surki’s body over the course of their life cycle, which is comprised of three distinct phases: larva, adult, and evolved. At each stage, surkis use their stockpiled magic to undergo a dramatic metamorphosis into their next stage of life, evolving adaptations that will help them survive in any environment. Surkis therefore vary dramatically on an individual level; each surki tells the story of their adventures and their chosen role in the environment in their unique combination of adaptations.
If you want to play a character who’s exploring Golarion for the first time, with limitless adaptability and a strong tie to magic, you should play a surki.
Tengu are survivalists and conversationalists, equally at home living off the wilderness and finding a niche in dense cities. They accumulate knowledge, tools, and companions, adding them to their collection as they travel.
The tengu diaspora has spread across Golarion in search of a better life, bringing their skill with blade crafting to lands far from their home. In maritime regions, tengu notably work as fishers, blacksmiths, and “jinx eaters”—members of ships’ crews who are believed, accurately or otherwise, to absorb misfortune. Having lived in a variety of conditions and locations, tengu tend to be nonjudgmental, though their willingness to associate with lawbreakers has often led some to regard them with suspicion.
If you want to play a character hailing from a rich history of artisanship and tradition, but who happily picks up new practices as needed, you should play a tengu.
Tripkees are a shy and cautious people who generally seek to avoid being drawn into the affairs of others. Despite their cautious outlook and small stature, adventurous tripkees still take bold and noble action when the situation demands it.
Tripkees are reclusive treetop survivalists who harvest their homes’ bounty, utilizing their canopy homes as natural fortifications against the threats posed by larger predators. Their reliance on cunning and simple tools has led to tripkees often being mischaracterized as rudimentary, though this does poor justice to their skill in the cultivation of hidden orchards and camouflaged causeways tucked away in treetop nations. Tripkees are most likely to emerge from their forest homes to trade, explore, and combat threats that would despoil the world.
If you want a character who is small in stature but large in spirit, and possesses qualities of a tree frog, you should play a tripkee.
Vishkanyas are ophidian humanoids who carry potent venom within their blood and saliva. Largely misunderstood due to old tales of their toxicity and natural finesse, vishkanyas work to grow into more than just what stories paint them to be.
The true nature of vishkanyas' origin is a matter of debate. Some vishkanyas believe they are rejected spawn of Ravithra, which explains the animosity between vishkanyas and nagas. Others believe themselves the stolen offspring of a forgotten progenitor whose name was excised from history. Regardless, one thing is quite clear: vishkanyas are survivors. Throughout history, fear of their deadly abilities forced vishkanyas to experience subjugation, exploitation, and ostracizing. Yet through it all, they endured. Now free of chains to bind them, vishkanyas live in close-knit groups, and use their love of storytelling and the arts to keep a detailed history of their people while they determine how best to proceed in a world ripe with opportunity.
Wayangs are diasporic sojourners from the Netherworld where they lived and worked alongside their allies, light-weaving d’ziriaks. Both peoples shared affinities for artistic expression and spiritual introspection, inspiring each other’s sensitivities to color, form, and function; they also bolstered each other’s defense against rampaging dragons, oni, and undead. This idyll collapsed from divine meddling; some say when Abadar sentenced Zon-Kuthon to exile in the Netherworld, the Midnight Lord’s deific presence distorted the plane into a nightmarish domain, while others accounts ascribe fiendish sources to this doom.
Whatever the reason, wayang and d’ziriak communities suffered terribly; Kuthites and velstracs colonized the Netherworld, engulfing it in religious wars of slaughter and brutality—an ongoing catastrophe that wayangs and d’ziriaks refer to as the Desecration. Despite both peoples’ valorous resistance, with every generation, space and resources became scarcer. When the Age of Ashes created passageways between the Netherworld and Golarion, many wayangs sailed away for a better life.
These curious wayfarers became Tian Xia’s first wayangs, who shared their skills and labor to eke out a solidarity of subsistence with Earthfall’s survivors. These explorers also observed how Tian Xia’s suffering souls weakened barriers to the Netherworld, whose malignant overlords absorbed the negative emotions to grow in power. While disappointments, melancholia, and other negative experiences were part and parcel of existence, the engineers of the Desecration exploited mortal emotions to oppress both the Universe and its shadow Netherworlds.
Realizing these planar interconnections, wayang leaders reached a bold conclusion: no world is free until all worlds are. To prevent the Netherworlds’ colonial oppressors from harnessing mortal souls and to reclaim the darkness from its present state of malice and anguish, more wayang expeditions arrived in Tian Xia with exorcists and curse-breakers to purify paths to the Netherworld and starve its despots of spiritual power. Toward this end, wayang sages devised the Dissolution, a philosophy of drawing strength and peace from one’s inner darkness. They shared their teachings discreetly with those in Tian Xia touched by darkness, instead of leaving such people to be preyed upon by velstracs and other depraved entities.
If you want to play a character who is at home in the shadows of Tian Xia’s oceans and jungles, is heir to mystic and martial arts drawing upon the Netherworld’s untainted power, and pursues obscure struggles against dark forces, you should play a wayang.
Away from shining citadels and opulent palaces, reticent yakshas shelter Tian Xia’s rural hinterlands from natural disasters and otherworldly depredations. Famed for resolute vows and prowess with primal magic, yakshas shield the indigent and protect the wilderness, punishing those who threaten either with bone-crushing fury. Yaksha legends recall their origins as divine spirits, overseeing the safety of roads and abodes in a primeval world of vast storm forests and titanic flame floods—the First World, a realm of boundless potentiality. During the Great Abandonment, when the gods left the First World, many yakshas rejected this exodus, instead staying to perform their duties as caretakers. Despite the realm’s sudden dearth of divine power, the remaining yakshas swore primordial vows, allowing them to channel power from the nearby Creation’s Forge into primal magic and transform swathes of the metamorphic First World into stable regions to provide refuge for destitute fey.
Yakshas faced great hostility in the First World; their sheltering of impoverished fey didn’t garner sympathy but instead drew scorn from others. Affronted fey aristocrats saw yaksha sanctuaries as a challenge to their authority, and the stolid plainness of yaksha domains offended the fey’s aesthetic sensitivities. Thus, yaksha communities increasingly became targets and, at some uncertain time, were banished to the Universe. Some of these exiles came to settle in obscurity amid Tian Xia’s forests, a fact that planar scholars record as a tragedy. After all, if these yakshas had left alongside the gods earlier, they would surely enjoy greater prominence and privilege on Golarion.
Yet most yakshas spurn such sentiments, instead expressing quiet pride in fulfilling their vows where even the gods failed. Yakshas view their departure not as a dereliction, but an execution of duty. Their histories claim this egress paved the way for other persecuted fey to escape, and thus their relocation aligned with their obligations. Many yakshas still enjoy amicable relations with fey emigrants, protecting them and their descendants from First World pursuers. Just as many wander bucolic back roads and shadowy swamps, guiding lost travelers, repairing flood-torn bridges, or simply nurturing the green, growing earth—a fundamental pillar of the land. Such stalwart custodianship has earned the reclusive yakshas a reputation for being hospitable, if enigmatic, guardians of the wild.
If you want to play a character who’s a guardian spirit and has complex relationships with gods and fiends alike, swears primordial vows to uphold noble duties, and acts on behalf of the humble and forgotten, you should play a yaksha.
Yaoguai usually begin as simple animals, plants, or objects before finding a way to awaken to sapience, becoming strange shapeshifting creatures in the process. Often originating from an infusion of ambient energy into their original form, yaoguai attain their powers through training their innate magic. Taking care not to expose their true appearance and nature, yaoguai of the same origins or species sometimes form enclaves in which they dedicate their lives to honing their powers or engaging in hedonistic pursuits—though the two aren’t mutually exclusive. Yaoguai who lack a solid community, meanwhile, feel compelled to cultivate themselves until they transcend their origin, which might allow them to join society and experience a new kind of freedom.
Sometimes, extraplanar beings or humanoids are transformed into yaoguai by rituals, arcane mishaps, or sheer coincidence. For some, this occurrence was their heart’s desire, though others see their transformation as divine punishment for a misdeed they committed. For those wishing to change back, a long journey of atonement or discovery lies ahead, while those who accept their new forms seek ways to solidify their control over these innate gifts and amass power.
If you want to play a character who seeks to change themself fundamentally through power, experience, or transcendence, you should play a yaoguai.