I'll be honest with you; I wasn't particularly excited when I heard that we were getting a cute animal set in Bloomburrow. But after some time exploring Valley and encountering the various creature factions that populated this Plane, my opinion started to change, as there is this undeniable charm and wonder packed into every nook and cranny of this set.
But there was something else about Bloomburrow that stuck with me, you see this set has a familiar structure reminiscent of Ravnica with its ten two-colour guilds, but here the twist is that each color pair is associated to a specific animal, with their own unique cultures, magic and ideals, and as someone who is a fan of color pie-centric sets, I knew I had to learn more about each of the animals that populate Bloomburrow. That's why I travelled to Valley myself to meet its inhabitants, and document what I found, and I cannot wait to share it with all of you, so let's begin.
Birdfolk
When I first took to the skies of Valley, the birdfolk immediately caught my eye, their feathers shimmering in a riot of colors, each one a testament to their unique personality. These birdfolk, ever busy, flew with purpose—carrying mail, delivering aid, and even offering rides to other animals across the expansive Valley. Their sense of duty and chivalry was evident in everything they did, though there was always this air of self-importance to their nature, but for good reason I suppose. One of the birdfolk, approached me, as I must have seen how lost I looked. They introduced themselves as a member of the Windcrested, an elite subset who had braved the Plumecreed.
A perilous journey to The Tip of the World, that only the bravest among them took part in. But for those who succeeded earned, not just a name for themselves, but were gifted with supernatural speed and agility. The Windcrested invited me to a Preenery, a communal bathhouse where birdfolk gathered to preen their feathers and don their finest attire. It was here that I learned about their deep concern for appearance and social status the birdfolk held. A seemingly frivolous tradition but one carried out with a sense of duty, the same they apply to everything they do. You see Birdfolk were staunch idealists, unwavering in their defense of justice and equity.
They believed themselves to be natural leaders among the Animalfolk, a role they embraced with fervor. From a young age, Birdfolk sought out elders to learn the art of weaving spells, guided by the ethical principles of the Wingbeat Way. This commitment to the common good was reflected in their daily interactions and their collaborative spirit. As leaders and diplomats, Birdfolk often took the reins in Valley's diverse communities. Their grandiose speeches at the start of each day inspired those around them, though their insistence on having the final say sometimes led to friction.
Before I moved on I was invited into one of their homes, known as Perches, located high in trees or on stilts, a home, I was told they offered as sanctuary to any Animalfolk in need. In my time with the Birdfolk, I felt a profound sense of safety and admiration for their dedication to service and chivalry. Their confidence, though sometimes bordering on arrogance, was rooted in a genuine desire to protect and uplift their fellow inhabitants of Valley.
Batfolk
When night fell I came across the Batfolk of Valley, mysterious nocturnal guardians, who are a sight to behold. Eccentric and superstitious, carrying a fierce sense of loyalty and tradition. Guided by the moon and stars, their communities thrive on order and rigid roles, each Batfolk knowing their place in the grand tapestry of the night. I noticed like unlike other folk they often flew alone on silent patrols, their eyes ever watchful. These guardians of the night see themselves as the protectors of balance, maintaining the delicate harmony between light and dark, life and death. Their leaders are a blend of magic practitioners, spiritual guides, and battle-hardened veterans, all united by a common purpose.
One evening, I was lucky enough to be invited to witness the Lunar Paean, a celebration held at the end of each moon phase. It was a mesmerizing blend of festivity and ritual, where the batfolk shared their beliefs and respect for the cycles of life. Led by their most revered members, the event was attended by denizens from all corners of Valley, especially those born under the same lunar pattern. Fortunes were told, star charts assigned to newborns, and families gazed at the stars, connecting with their ancestors. It was a night of profound significance, steeped in tradition and cosmic wonder. I learned that as the night’s protectors, they patrol while others sleep, often requesting lifeforce from the daytime Animalfolk to fuel their magic.
This might seem demanding, but their dedication is unquestionable. When the need arises, Batfolk join adventuring parties, seamlessly stepping into roles from armored warriors to cosmic warlocks, their magic drawn from the very stars they revere. Even their home reflected their mystical approach, known as Perches, they are architectural marvels, hanging from trees in smooth, swooping shapes adorned with star lights and intricate spires. Inside, celestial motifs and astrolabes create an atmosphere of both grandeur and serenity.
It is here where Fortune-telling and star reading are popular pastimes. I decided against having my fortune read though, as I prefer the future to be unknown. Not all batfolk adhere strictly to their predetermined paths though. The Drifting Stars, those who embraced adventure and eccentricity. Yet, whether they followed the stars or their unique paths, every batfolk I met embodied a profound respect for balance. Their commitment to their role as Valley’s nocturnal guardians was unwavering and inspiring, leaving a lasting impression on this me.
MouseFolk
The Mousefolk of Valley are vibrant, adventurous souls whose hearts beat with an unquenchable spirit. Driven by a deep sense of familial pride, these plucky creatures embark on quests for glory and treasure, their bravery often bordering on naivete. They believe in acts of heroism as the highest virtue, leaping into danger without hesitation. At their best, Mousefolk are loyal and courageous, but at their worst, they can be impulsive and reckless. Of all the animalfolk I met there was something about the Mousefolk that reminded me of home, a human spirit I suppose.
That's probably why I felt most comfortable around them, their bustling communities, like the bustling cities of home. Of note Mousefolk communities thrive on large, interconnected families led by wise elders. These close-knit groups collaborate to tackle collective problems, their strong familial bonds forming the backbone of their society.Without question these spirited beings are doers, not thinkers, preferring the thrill of adventure, which can lead them into perilous situations. They often were eager to tell me stories of their adventures, and the optimistic determination of their stories were a delight.
Whether it was defending Valley from threats or joining adventuring parties, they seemed eager to protect their homeland and showcase their valor. If I were to attribute one virtue to the Mousefolk I would say that it is their Heroism. As if they thrived off of the challenges they faced. Though I was skeptical at first I learned quickly that the Mousfolk were made of mettle despite their stature. Their roles within Valley seem to lean into their nature quite well. As they are often found working on large community projects, leading defense efforts, or venturing into The Brambles for vital resources.
Mousefolk above all else are dedicated to the common good and their eagerness to assist others make them cherished members of the Valley community, and cherished in my own hear. To my surprise though, considering their martial focus, Weaving magic is another domain where Mousefolk excel. They use spells to enhance their speed and strength, moving so swiftly that they appear as blurred afterimages, creating the illusion of multiple attackers. In the end, the Mousefolk's combination of bravery, loyalty, and a strong sense of community make them the unsung heroes of Valley, always ready to leap into action and protect their beloved home.
RabbitFolk
Ah, the Rabbitfolk of Valley, industrious and talented, are the heart and soul of the land’s culinary and agricultural bounty. So believe me I was excited to meet them. From what I heard they are often seen as humble homebodies, renowned for their dedication to hard work and hospitality. I was welcomed into the home of one such Rabbitfolk, who I spoke to at length while he cooked a raspberry pie. Her home was coziness personified, blending into the surrounding area, with a lazy windmill spinning above. She told me of how the Rabbitfolk culture is rooted in a deep connection to the earth.
That it's important to them that their hands are ever-busy, tilling soil and nurturing plants. To them conflict is an unwelcome guest; they prefer to let tensions dissipate rather than face them head-on. To be frank simple values and clear ideals guide their lives. Complexities and grey areas cause them to freeze or retreat, so they cling to traditions rather than the unexpected, and there is something about that outlook I appreciate. I learned first hand that their generosity knows no bounds; even as an outsider I was showered in gifts, and delicious food which were more than simple tokens but great gestures that reflect their desire to show prosperity and goodwill.
Rabbitfolk venturing into cities remain tethered to their roots, frequently visiting and supporting their families back home. Their kind hearts and willingness to assist others often leave them vulnerable to exploitation, yet they continue to offer help without expecting anything in return. Family and community are the lifeblood of rabbitfolk society. They live in tight-knit groups called Fluffles, where multiple generations share homes and responsibilities. The eldest members hold revered positions, guiding their kin with wisdom.
After dinner I met some warrior rabbit folk who showed me that despite their pacifist nature, Rabbitfolk stand ready to defend their homes. The Pawpatch Party, a band of elite warriors, patrols the Valley to protect against Calamity Beasts. Clad in antler helmets and wielding hefty weapons, these guardians exemplify the Rabbitfolk's courage and resilience. Adventurous Rabbitfolk often serve as clerics or front-line warriors, their healing spells and formidable strength making them invaluable allies. Their magic, deeply entwined with nature, enhances their farming prowess, causing plants to flourish and grow to extraordinary sizes. Though most of those I talked to preferred hospitality over combat.
Ratfolk
My journey eventually lead me to the marshlands at the edge of Valley. The air was thick, the earth damp, never the less I pushed on. Lucky for me a cautious Ratfolk greeted me not far into my journey, surely watching me the moment I entered their land. His eyes were sharp and wary, yet curiosity flickered behind those same eyes. I explained why I was there and he said he was willing to guide me. While we walked he spoke of their ancestors who once freely shared knowledge until a catastrophic misuse nearly unleashed an apocalypse. Since then, the Ratfolk turned inward, their society becoming secretive and suspicious.
Despite their aloofness, I sensed a profound intelligence and resilience in them. In the heart of their settlement, I was introduced to the Knowledge Ossuaries, sprawling caverns beneath the marshes filled with relics and artifacts carried by the Long River. Each item was meticulously cataloged, part of The World Whorl, a spiraling archive of Valley's history. My guide showed me carvings on the walls, depicting their storied past and the near-catastrophe that had shaped their present. Ratfolk, I learned, form deep bonds with their insect companions. These relationships, almost telepathic, are a cornerstone of their culture.
My guide's insect partner, a luminous beetle, flitted nearby, responding to unspoken commands. This connection is rare among other animalfolk, often leading to misunderstandings and frustrations. Their homes were a stark contrast to the elaborate Knowledge Ossuaries—simple, undecorated barracks lining the marsh. Yet, the central plazas burst with life and artistry, showcasing intricate sculptures and carvings made from shells. Ratfolk walked by, talking to themselves or their insect companions, engrossed in their thoughts and tasks.
One evening, as we sat by the fire, my guide explained their hypnotic magic, channeled through snail shells to ward off intruders or protect their secrets. They demonstrated with a flick of their wrist, the air shimmering with unseen energy. This magic, developed to safeguard their archives, could disguise or divert, ensuring their knowledge remained hidden. Despite their reclusive nature, Ratfolk play crucial roles in Valley. As advisors and librarians, their expertise is unmatched. Recently, more Ratfolk have ventured into larger communities, sharing their knowledge and skills.
As my time with the Ratfolk drew to a close, I marveled at their resilience and ingenuity. Though their mistrust of outsiders and secretive ways might seem standoffish, their dedication to preserving Valley's history and knowledge is unwavering. I left the marshlands with a newfound respect for these guardians of ancient secrets, their silent wisdom a vital thread in the fabric of Valley.
Otterfolk
My journey then took me to the winding rivers of Valley led and home of the spirited Otterfolk, whose laughter and playful antics were as much a part of the water as the currents themselves. As I floated along, I encountered a group of Otterfolk engaged in a boisterous game of Otterball, their signature sport. The rules were as elusive as the players, shifting and adapting with every splash and dive. Intrigued, I was invited to join, and though I never fully grasped the game, their infectious joy was impossible to resist. The Otterfolk are the daredevils of Valley, always seeking the next thrill. One of them, a particularly adventurous soul named Ripple, regaled me with tales of storm chasing—a favorite pastime among his kind.
Ripple spoke of pursuing Calamity Beasts to capture their elemental magic, a practice known as Clamming. Lightning, in particular, held a special place in their hearts, often collected in shells and pearls to be used in their daring games or spellcasting. Ripple even showed me a glass bulb filled with the electric energy of a storm, a trophy from his latest chase. Living mostly on water, the otterfolk make their homes on playful houseboats, which they call Rafts. These floating abodes drift along the rivers, rarely touching solid ground. Life on these rafts is a constant adventure, with games and races making the most of the ever-changing river terrain.
I was lucky enough to witness a Roping, a seasonal gathering where the houseboats link up to form a large circle. This event was a vibrant celebration of community, trade, and friendly competition, with the central water area becoming a playground for their young pups. Despite their seemingly carefree nature, the otterfolk are incredibly skilled and resourceful. They are the best fishers and divers in Valley, often aiding other species in retrieving lost items from the depths. Their intimate knowledge of the waterways makes them excellent navigators and invaluable guides. I found their ability to manipulate water through spellcraft particularly mesmerizing, using it to create dazzling displays or to outwit any who might pose a threat.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Ripple and his friends performed an impromptu acrobatic show. Their sleek, nimble bodies moved with such grace and agility, enhanced by bursts of captured lightning, that it left the entire audience in awe. This blend of magic and physical prowess is a testament to their adventurous spirit and boundless energy. In the end, my time with the otterfolk was a whirlwind of excitement and camaraderie. Their daring, jovial nature and their love for the thrill of the moment were contagious. They live life to the fullest, embracing every challenge with a laugh and a splash, reminding all who encounter them of the joy that can be found in the simplest of moments.
Frogfolk
While following the streams of Valley I came to a pond, but due to my stature stretched out like a lake. As I marveled at the tranquil setting, a croaking laugh drew my attention. There, perched on a mossy stone, was Orin, an elderly Frogfolk with a gaze that seemed to look through me. Orin was not expecting visitors, yet he welcomed me with a knowing smile. As we settled beside the still waters, he began to share the lore of his people, who are renowned for their abilities as seers. These Frogfolk, he explained, possess a unique gift for augury, using their deep understanding of nature to predict the movements of Calamity Beasts and the shifting seasons. This skill, honed over generations, has earned them respect and a touch of fear among the other Animalfolk of Valley.
Their visions often bring warnings of impending doom, casting a shadow over their otherwise serene existence. It was this constant vigilance against potential disasters that instilled a sense of pessimism in his people, a fatalistic outlook that can make them seem distant and aloof. Orin, with his dramatic flair, recounted tales of past calamities averted and futures narrowly saved, his eyes reflecting the weight of these burdens. This skill gave provided an opportunity to manipulate the natural world to prevent disasters. Entire villages can be moved, rivers dammed, and adventurers dispatched to divert beasts, all orchestrated with a meticulous precision that speaks to their deep understanding of nature’s balance.
As we talked he took me to their farmlands, if they could be called such. Here they took on an untraditional version of farming, where instead of forcing a certain crop they would manipulate the area to encourage natural growth of a desired plant. Orin spoke to me of how the Frogfolk are both guardians and guides, their insights crucial to the survival of Valley’s inhabitants. Yet, their dramatic proclamations and tendency to foresee the worst can make them seem overly cautious.
I got the impression that the Frogfolk are beings of deep knowledge and somber duty, balancing curiosity with caution. Though often burdened by the weight of their visions, their contributions to Valley are invaluable, ensuring that life continues safely under their vigilant watch.
LizardFolk
As I wandered into the rugged terrain of Valley, where the shaley hills met rocky ravines, I stumbled upon a group of Lizardfolk, their scales shimmering under the sun's rays. I approached cautiously, knowing their reputation for being gruff and standoffish. None the less the leader of the group, a Lizardfolk named Vesk, greeted me with a curt nod. Without much in the way of pleasantries, they invited me to join them around their central Hearthflame. The fire crackled warmly, casting dancing shadows on their rugged faces. Here, fire is not just warmth; it is the heart of their community, a spiritual anchor brought from their far-off homeland. As we sat I watched them work together, forging metal and crafting intricate sculptures.
Their artistry was impressive, but what struck me most was their unique tradition of destruction. Once a piece of art no longer inspired awe, it was ceremonially destroyed, making way for new creations. This cycle of creation and destruction was art in itself, and to them it was more about the spirit of the art living on rather than some physical thing, like a flame burning bright and hot only to extinguish. As we watched the fire burn Vesk spoke of the importance of Favors and grudges to Lizardfolk society. You see a favor given must be repaid, and grudges can linger unless amends are made sincerely. Yet, once forgiveness is granted, the past is forgotten.
This transactional nature, though often misunderstood, forms the backbone of their community bonds. I was sure he made this point to ensure I made friends not enemies during my stay. I nodded and watched fire some more, and it became evident that fire was central to their lives, both practically and spiritually. This connection to fire extends to their magic, where they can summon flames, cast fireballs, and even infuse their attacks with venomous heat. They are the keepers of the flame, maintaining fires through long winters and controlling wildfires to protect other villages.
As blacksmiths and artisans, they share their skills with a blend of gruffness and enthusiasm that challenges and excites their apprentices. As I left the lizardfolk enclave, I felt a deep admiration for their resilience and passion. Their culture, though different from the other animalfolk, adds a vital thread to the rich tapestry of Valley. They remind us that strength comes from both cooperation and the fiery spirit to forge one’s own path.
Squirrelfolk
As I continued on late one night, I came to and area dense thickets and twisted trees, it was here where I encountered a small village of SquirrelFolk. Their homes, perched on stilts or nestled in ancient, decaying trees, stood as quiet sentinels in the swampy underbrush. As I approached, a figure emerged from the shadows—an elder Squirrelfolk named Thistle. Thistle greeted me with a curt nod, her demeanor as prickly as her name suggested. Thistle was a warlock, whose work involved burying the remains of Calamity Beasts, and animated bones. “Death,” Thistle mused as she led me through their village, “is a natural part of life. Other Animalfolk fear it, but we understand its necessity.” She also spoke of how Squirrelfolk are not just keepers of bones and death but also preppers for the inevitable.
They maintain robust caches of food, prepared meticulously for the harsh and sudden seasonal changes brought on by the Calamity Beasts. Storing salted fish, pickled vegetables, dried fruits, jams, nuts, and seeds. As we walked, Thistle showed me these stores, which in some cases are intermingled with the bones of Calamity Beasts. “We believe these bones imbue the food with the power of these terrible forces,” she explained, her eyes reflecting a deep-seated belief in the energy that flows through all things. Thistle spoke of their belief that Calamity Beasts trap energy that should flow through nature.
By collecting and ritually burying the remains, they aim to return this energy to the earth. A select few even practice a more direct form of necromancy, using the bones to wield powerful magic. This secret art is guarded closely, taught only to those deemed worthy, which is probably why I never got the chance to see this magic in action. I asked why they seem isolated from the rest of Valley and was told that there are many macabre rumours that swirl around them often lead to a an apprehensive relationship with other animal folk. Despite this, their food reserves are crucial, and their stealthy martial skills make them formidable allies in adventuring parties—when they can be convinced to join.
As we reached the heart of the village, Thistle showed me a small shrine built around the massive bones of a long-defeated Calamity Beast. “We draw strength from these remains,” she said, her voice filled with reverence. The shrine was a testament to their belief in the cyclical nature of life and death, a reminder that from decay springs new life. In my time with the squirrelfolk, I saw firsthand the balance they strive to maintain. Their solitary nature and morbid focus might seem off-putting to some, but beneath the surface lies a deep, unwavering commitment to the land and its cycles. As I bid Thistle farewell and left their secluded village, I couldn't help but feel a profound respect for these stewards of the darker side of Valley.
Raccoonfolk
Nearing the end of my adventure, as twilight painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, I stumbled upon a group of Raccoonfolk gathered around a crackling campfire, their laughter and stories filling the air with an infectious joy. Their reputation as hoarders and collectors was evident as each one carried a piece a knick knack of some sort with them—a broken teapot here, a shattered weapon there, each trinket a memory, a story waiting to be told. One Raccoonfolk, named Bramble, eagerly showed me his collection, his eyes sparkling as he recounted the tales behind each item. “This pebble,” he said, holding up a small, smooth stone, “came from the highest peak in The Brambles. Took me three days to climb, but the view was worth every step.”
Raccoonfolk are adventurers at heart, seldom turning down a chance to explore the unknown. Their strong-willed and entertaining personalities make them delightful companions, though their scatterbrained and impulsive tendencies can sometimes lead to unpredictable outcomes. As the night wore on, I learned that raccoonfolk have a unique relationship with property and ownership. Their homes, built into the bases of trees with big round doors and cozy fireplaces, are less about personal space and more about communal living. It's not uncommon for a raccoonfolk to return home and find a guest making themselves comfortable.
Trinkets and trophies gathered from their travels also clutter every corner of their homes. Bramble opened up her magically woven knapsack and showed me some of her treasures, “Every object here is a part of my journey. They may look like junk to others, but to me, they are treasures.” I was told that they manipulate discarded materials, turning junk into projectiles or barriers, and their druids can weave plant matter into powerful knots imbued with energy. Bramble demonstrated by growing his staff to encase a small pile of objects, turning it into a sturdy carrying device.
“It’s all about finding new uses for the old,” he said with a grin. Despite their solitary tendencies, raccoonfolk form deep friendships with other animalfolk. Their free-spirited joy melts even the iciest dispositions, and their vast knowledge of Valley makes them invaluable advisors. That night I learned first hand of their legendary parties—late-night gatherings filled with games, food, and storytelling. When dawn finally approached, and it was time to bid the racoonfolk goodbye, they made sure to tell me to come by any time, as I was always welcome in Valley.
Thanks for joining me on this long journey through the Bloomburrow and the land of Valley. If you like this sort of approach to discovering the Planes of Magic: the Gathering then consider becoming a site member that way you can be notified when the next article goes live. And with that friends, I will catch you in the multiverse, bye!
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