Below is a short list of sentient races and Solarian (human) Paths in the Ring Runner universe.
Mohmils originate from the small planet of Keese just beyond the Fourth Ring, where great salt deserts stretch like the once blue oceans of Earth. Not surprisingly, they've developed a taste for notoriously salty cuisine. A mannerly Mohmil will welcome you into his hutch with a bowl of salt. With a little fortune, it might even be hiding a peanut.
Mohmils claim that their success as a spacefaring race is due to their superior cunning and dexterous paws, but statisticians pin the causality on their prolific breeding. It's common for a single hutch to contain a thousand siblings. Liberated from the harsh environmental conditions of their homeworld, the Mohmish race has spread like wildfire across the vastness of space, as if trying to plug it with their very fur.
The most prosperous Mohmils make their fortunes as salvagers and trinket merchants. This, they are assured -- and not their mousy appearance -- has earned them the label of "packrats," a term they roundly resent. But no amount of snickering and snide epithets could dissuade them from these professions -- not while they're so conducive to whisker growing.
Mohmish whiskers only grow in times of opulence, and it is rumored that only virile males can grow them in abundance -- a fact which reputable science has yet to prove. Facial hair is the primary determiner of status in Mohmish society, and transplants are an ostracizable offense.
The Centrians are a particularly crass Path of the Solarian race that collect cybernetics like tattoos. Their "enhancements" rarely serve a practical purpose and are often a source of great inconvenience. For Centrians, it's not about how much an arm can lift or how fast the pistons of their legs can carry them; it's about the history of the metal from which they're made. Minerals that can be traced back to Earth are preferred, and those that have seen battle are particularly valued. The Centrian mafias have launched headlong into more than one war simply to appreciate the value of their resulting scrap.
The heavy smog that blankets their homeworld of Centrias is not a byproduct of industry or traffic. There are factories whose only purpose is to churn out acrid clouds like black cotton; it saves on cigar expenses. This pollution coupled with the highest population of Centrians in the universe, is enough disincentive to keep the Consortium out of Centrias. Free from Sophian eyes, the Centrian kingpins become walking trophy cases of I.C.E.s (Illegal Corporeal Enhancements). To get "ICEd out like a fridge on Pluto," is every Centrian's ambition; those that succeed earn the title of "ICE Chest."
The Skwell are an asexual, gelatinous race known for their good manners among many qualities. Skwell traveling abroad will typically take on a cubic form, which they have deemed their "business shape." Their ability to directly interface with electronic equipment has earned them countless positions and technicians across the universe.
They've also earned a reputation for making excellent nannies, carefully regulating the temperature, nutrients, and external stimuli that filter through the semi-vitreous humors of their body. Subsequently, they are preferred 1 to a 1000 to Mohmish daycare operators by First Path Solarian parents.
Skwellachi cuisine has raised a few concerns when it was discovered that they were cooking with their own skimmings. However, Solarian studies conducted on the product Vegamite, which is nearly pure Skwell Skimmings, have demonstrated no deleterious effects. The various flavors are achieved by housing the Skwell "chefs" in different atmospheres of "ingredients."
Sophians are born with hereditary memory. They have the knowledge and memories of all of their ancestors. Long ago, their culture developed strict, hierarchical breeding structures known as "The Pyramids" with the purpose of producing offspring that carried the complete memories of a lineage. War raged between the Pyramids for millennia. Decades of peace talks couldn't overcome a million lifetimes' worth of harbored hatred. In the end, only one pyramid still stood: The Soheren.
The Sophian homeworld of Veredos is located at the center of the universe, but its people no longer live on its once fertile soil. They live on the eight tiers of planetworks, giant metal webs that orbit the planet's tired husk like clockwork. Individuals are assigned to the tiers according to their standing within the Soheren Pyramid.
And soaring high above it all is the Centower, home of The Capstone, Teros Soheren Greyan. It was his invention of the anchor drive that has allowed for universal travel and, consequently, civilization. And it was his command to turn this technology into a weapon, capable of reducing planets to asteroid fields with a single speck of sand fired at unfathomable speed, that has made him the undisputed ruler of The Consortium of the Inner Rings.
The Valoraphim didn't always bear a resemblance to the angels of classical Solarian religion. With concerns spanning from cosmetic to cosmic, their metamorphosis took centuries of extensive genetic manipulation, all beginning and ending long before first contact with the men of earth. Since then, images of their previous form have been struck from all murals and records.
Golden palaces and temples dot the asteroids of what was once their homeworld, Miraval. There, in the light of the star Atamal, The Royal Gincleare Family rules in all matters of Valoraph culture. Laws and legal arbitrations, however, are the domain of the Sophian leaders of the CIR, the very hands responsible for shattering Miraval with a single anchor round.
Mysteries and prophecies define the Valoraphim race. Although only the purer-blood royals are fully winged, their transformation allows them to survive through extreme temperatures and in the absence of an atmosphere -- almost as if the ancients knew their race would have to survive in the bareness of space.
These two ladies are actually just one sentient creature. Once human and arguably still human, the Eidolans are a path of the Solarian race who employ sophisticated holoneural technology in order to appear others not as they are, but as they chose to be: their Eidolan avatars.
Now I know what you're thinking: which one's the avatar? An Eidolan avatar can appear as almost anything, so you can never be sure. And it's not just the look either; avatars can fool all the sense of the various Solarian paths -- except for Polyhapterans, but those floating orbs are like Swiss Army knives of senses.
The way they beam the avatar into your head is the subject much controversy. Every Eidolan is the carrier of an aggressive nanite virus. These airborne microbes enter any suitable host and immediately begin constructing the Eidolan Reticulum, which has a lot in common with both an antenna and a taser. Because the reticulum is so invasive, creeping through the convolutions of the host's brain, the Solarian council ruled that the Eidolans must redesign their virus to prompt recipients with the option to keep or metabolize their reticulum upon infection.
Despite the controversy and the resultant ruling, studies show that the vast majority of visitors to Eidola will choose to accept the reticulum. This may be due to the fact that after several centuries of breeding without concern for physical qualities, the Eidolans have become a rather aesthetically challenged people.