The Rules.

A small, damp blob with big dreams and no bones. The most common race on the wheel, the weakest thing alive, and somehow our mascot. Every Flobbit is a tragedy and a sitcom at the same time.

A whole sub-wheel of animals. You might get a Capybara. You might get a Pigeon. Once in a lifetime you get a Kraken, and then it's everyone else's problem.

Sub-wheel: Capybara, Pigeon, Sloth … Kraken, Yeti, Owlbear

Small, clever, deeply suspicious of anyone taller than a mushroom. Always plural. Nobody has ever seen just one, and nobody wants to.

No skin, no organs, no problem. Rattles when nervous. Is always nervous.

Fast hands, faster excuses. No goblin has ever lost a fight it was allowed to describe afterwards.

Statistically average, spiritually stubborn. Ranges from Peasant to Knight and complains about both.

Sub-wheel: Peasant, Outlaw, Scholar … Knight

Mushroom people. Calm, communal, slightly spore-y. Don't ask what they eat. Don't ask what they eat it on.

Majestic underwater. On land, a very confident fish having the worst day of its life.

Tiny, glittering and contractually dangerous. Never thank a Fey. Never accept its gifts. Never, ever read its terms.

Built like a cellar door. Mines, forges, and holds grudges in geological time.

Sub-wheel: Mountain, Deep, Forge … Dwarf King

A creature whose body is a die. Makes every decision by rolling itself. Has complicated feelings about the wheel.

Half person, half forest. Infinitely patient until someone brings an axe. Then extremely finite.

Regenerates from almost anything. Bridge optional. Toll mandatory.

Ageless, graceful, and three centuries into a sulk about something you didn't do.

Big, loud, and genuinely a great friend once you survive the first meeting. Most don't.

Was somebody once. Now drifts through walls during important conversations.

Stone by day, problem by night. Has been watching you from a rooftop for a while now. Wave.

Immortal, elegant, allergic to sunlight and to the word "no".

One eye, zero depth perception, an extraordinary amount of confidence.

Appears before disasters. Possibly causes them. Completely loses it near a porch light.

For a Giant, the Size wheel is a formality. Mostly a structural one.

The classic. Hoards gold, grudges and airspace. From Baby Dragon (adorable, flammable) to Elder Dragon (just flammable).

Sub-wheel: Baby, Fire, Ice … Elder Dragon

Came up from somewhere hot with a contract and a really nice pen. Don't sign. You're going to sign.

Built, not born. Follows instructions perfectly, which is exactly the problem.

Steps between places that aren't places. Comes back slightly wrong every time. Won't say how.

Part flesh, part machine, fully convinced the machine is the better half. Might be right.

Radiant, terrifying, and far less friendly than the paintings suggest. Opens with "Be not afraid." Be afraid.

A sorcerer who refused to die and has been insufferable about it ever since.

An actual god, rolled on a wheel. Still has to sit through the other 18 wheels like everybody else.

Older than gods, bigger than mountains, moves like a continent: slowly, and you lose.

Half divine, half mortal, fully unbearable at family dinners.

The ultimate entity and the thinnest slice on the wheel. If you ever see it land, take a screenshot. Then leave the area.