Grenache

The Grenache, mockingly referred to by others as “Cellar Dwellers,” are a peculiar race of humans born from the infamous Rum Crusades of Thalas. Their origin is steeped in tragedy and irony. During these crusades, fleets of treasure hunters from Castavino unearthed a cursed artifact—a relic said to grant its discoverer’s deepest desires, though always twisted in malice.

In their greed and revelry, the explorers wished to drink to their hearts’ content forever, free from the ruinous consequences of intoxication. The witch’s curse granted that wish in its cruelest form. Every sailor and soldier was transformed into a being who could no longer consume food at all, condemned to survive solely on alcohol. Over generations, this curse became inheritance, and the Grenache emerged as a distinct race of their own—humans sustained by drink alone.

Through centuries of adaptation, their bodies evolved to accommodate this unnatural fate. Their physiology reversed the very nature of intoxication: the more they drink, the more sober and clear-headed they become, while abstinence drives them toward true intoxication. Their large, bulbous noses are finely tuned to detect even the faintest scent of liquor, guiding them to their next vital sip, and their strong, hoof-like feet make them adept at crushing grapes within their cherished vineyards—fields that sustain both their survival and their identity. Yet the curse carries its own cruel legacy. The Grenache’s pig-like features have made them outcasts, mocked as unsanitary and gluttonous by other races, a cruel reminder of the folly that birthed them.

Still, they endure—lively, stubborn, and bound together by drink, their laughter echoing from the cellars and taverns that have become both their refuge and their home.