Plumach [Rilmani]

Squat and solid, a plumach has lusterless lead-gray skin, wide shoulders, a thick middle, short blunt fingers and sturdy legs. They lack the grace and might of their kin but make up for it in sheer stubbornness. Mistaking them for dim is unwise; they possess deep practical wisdom and plain good sense.

They fight only when their lives or interests are clearly at stake, and foes who took their indifference for weakness are often shocked when they dig in. They wield lead mauls, clubs and heavy maces with an effective 17 Strength, punch for 1d4 unarmed, and are dangerous in groups because they coordinate well and never quit until the job is done.

Their few innate powers, used singly at one per round, are hold person, heat metal, detect alignment and chill touch, plus solid fog once a day, all as 4th-level casters. Only +1 or better weapons hit them, and they have no ability to gate.

The weakest rilmani are the ordinary folk of the great spire, and their neutrality is the plainest: stay out of it. They mind their own business and ask everyone else to keep trouble away from the spire; a favorite saying dismisses outsiders' opinions entirely. Even so, while other rilmani watch the balance across the Outer, Prime and Elemental Planes, plumachs keep an eye on the neutral planes at home. Their traders and envoys travel widely there, though distance from the spire makes them ever less inclined to act.

They value hard work, earned respect and the courtesy of not meddling. As craftsmen, merchants and haulers, they run daily life in rilmani society, each matching the best human artisans in its trade. Since rilmani need no food, clothing or shelter, they spend their efforts on art and comforts. In great emergencies plumach legions muster, and their dense hides and strength serve well against weaker foes, but only an aurumach can persuade them a cause deserves their blood.