The Refugees appear at first glance to be nothing more than huge worms, or grubs. Upon closer inspection, they actually have short stubby arms, and three sets of legs, generally buried under their flab. They also have vestigial wings, insect-like, growing in rows on their backs. When thin and healthy, they look more like stick-bugs than anything else, and they used to have the capability of flight; but years of laziness and inactivity, combined with population pressure and tiny quarters have made them take their current form. Those few such as the Rengrini tribe who are fit and healthy are still unable to master flight, but do
Cruel and greedy, The Refugees seek to bring this moon (back) under their control. They believe that they come from the distant future. There is ample evidence to support this theory although they are unable to remember what the future was like and have few records of it, but they think that their race used to be the rulers of the entire world. The only records that do exist that could possibly confirm this reside within the tower of the archivist. The tower is at the centre of the largest city of their civilisation, P.O.D-1 although the city is normally referred to simply as Pod. The tower is defended and inhabited by a organisation only a few hundred strong that seeks to protect the secrets in its midst, while a mixed force of those who wish to know the secrets and those who wish them completely destroyed constantly besiege the keep.
The city is inhabited not only by the refugees and their servants the minlings, but also by a large number of phauns. The city consists of two major areas, the coastal fortress build around the keep of the archivist and the suburbs that sprawl in between the fortress and the crystal caverns from which most of the refugees wealth is extracted. The fortress is build of strong stone and is nearly impenetrable to attackers. It also is home to nearly half of the city’s population and is the location of all the important government buildings. The suburbs are the home of the craftsmen (a class made up mostly of phauns) and the workers. It is also where the minlings are homed, the buildings here are likewise made of stone and stretch along four nearly parallel street between the gates of the fortress and the largest entrance to the crystal caverns.
The minlings are tiny, ravenous beasts that are controlled by The Refugees by thought. They scamper and scurry forth to obey their Master's will, acting as their hands, eyes, and even occasional legs, when The Refugees are too lazy to walk themselves. They appear to be nothing more than a hairy mouth, on spindly insect legs, with between two and six long tentacles they use to manipulate their surroundings. Although eyeless, they use supersonic echo location to see perfectly through both fog and darkness.
Minlings are extremely intelligent, for beasts, but their life spans are measured in mere weeks; and they are bound telepathically to obey unthinkingly any order a Refugee may have. For this reason, they have never been able to develop anything resembling culture, or even free will. The Refugees created them, in some far-flung alternate future, as slaves. There is the occasional escape, but away from the shelter of the city these beast quickly freeze to death in the frozen wastes.
The caverns are where the Refugees harvest crystal for the mint. The mint creates intricately multifaceted crystal coins that are ridiculously difficult to counterfeit. These coins are distributed by the captains office the government of Pod, which as these coins are the universal currency means that all wealth flows from the governor or captain as he is called of the refugees. The captain of Pod is a monarch although the council an assembly made up of several other hereditary positions has such power that the system should be more accurately be described as an oligarchy then a monarchy.
The caverns are also the home of the Rengrini tribe. This is a sub group of the refugees who think that clinging to the past, or future depending how you look at it, is a pointless endeavour. They don’t think that they should try and stay separate from their new environment by walling themselves off in their heated city. Instead these people live in the crystal caves. They are much healthier then common refugees, although their wings are still so stumped and weak that they cannot fly. Despite their wishes to establish a new culture they still trade with the city regularly and form a vital part of the economy.
Refugees don’t have names. They are referred to by descriptors that relate to either their family affiliation if they are young and unproven, or their occupation as such a trader who has a shop on longstreet, would be referred to as Longstreet merchant or perhaps simply as merchant by his close friends. This system is often confusing to outsiders, but the refugees find the concept of people having fixed names just as confusing.