The Blade and the Cycle

The first thing you have to know, is that existence, the multiverse, is a wheel. It's a cycle, do you get it? We move from one plane to the next to the next, and we spin round forever. Unless, of course, the wheel stops spinning.

But that doesn't happen.
Well, it shouldn't.

Eivr, Plane Material.
Eida, Plane Arcane.
Endo, Plane Divine.
Etni, Plane Dream.

And we spin, from one to the next to the next, every time we die. Do you get it?

The second thing you need to know, is who lives on the wheel. The wheel doesn't exactly care about that, the goings-on of the tiny little things that crawl across its surface. But for the purposes of having a story beyond "spin, spin, spin", we do.

The dreamfolk flit through the suspended web of chaos that is Etni, Plane Dream. Capricious, unknowable, and insubstantial, they couldn't really care less about the trivial solid state everyone else tromps around in. Their place is on the sleepy edges of the brain when the weird thoughts start crowding for your attention. They're the ones who laugh at you when you're at school with no clothes on, and the ones who pushed you off the cliff you're falling down. They lack any culture of their own but what they find inside the collective unconscious of the dreamers, and calling them elusive is an understatement, but they're a friendly enough bunch, if you can find them.
They like a good story.

The Nephilim who populate Plane Divine are the caretakers of the liminal being-stuff that floats through their home, tireless caretakers for the forgotten and long-departed gods. Plane Divine stretches from the lowest, blackest pits of the Abyss to the dazzling turrets of the Illumined City.
The Seraphim who dwell in the upper gradient are stern warrior-monks, staunch defenders of the virtuous dead and the shepherds of souls. They're generally agreeable as long as you wipe your feet and refrain from bothering the spirits.
The Demons who haunt the lower gradient will let your soul move on to its next vessel. Eventually.
They don't get along, much.

The Qal of Plane Arcane are a tough and long-lived race of proud, fierce warriors. No Qal lacks a military rank, and no Qal lacks for family. They are raised communally, with no distinction for parentage, nobility, or inheritance. Every Qal starts at the bottom, and is given the same opportunity to rise to the top. They carve out a living among the mighty fortress-cities in great tribes, each in constant deadlock with the next, and with the megalithic beasts that haunt the deep crevices and floating spires of Plane Arcane.
Every Qal hungers for adventure and the chance to prove his or her worth, and in their rough and beautiful world such chance surrounds them.

The Vidder of Plane Material are the most culturally varied of all the Wheel's inhabitants. They are quick-witted, resourceful, and highly emotional. Viddera have produced the most beautiful art in the multiverse, and the most alarming atrocities. They hate with enough intensity to foster constant war, and love with enough to remain with one other person their entire lives, both qualities that mystify all other planar denizens.
The Vidder are the weakest of any race, but they possess one thing that makes them the terror of the entire multiverse: Magic. From the constant twilight of the Arcanopolis, where the space between the plains wears thin, the Cyclopean mages of the Viddera practice astonishingly destructive spells attuned to each of the four planes: Illusion from Plane Dream, Thaumaturgy from Plane Divine, Evocation from Plane Arcane, and Elementalism from Plane Material.

Now it's time for you clustered dreamfolk to tell me something.

Are you a Qal Bravo, strutting the streets of your fortress city with steel by your side, seeking out rank and reputation in a wild land,

A Seraphim Scribe, cloistered in your ivory monastery, watching the yawning fires below your feet with constant vigilance,

or a Vidder Mage, gazing at the world through your unblinking Oculus and twisting it to shape your needs?