Randy Ellefson

Fantasy author Randy Ellefson is the author of THE ART OF WORLD BUILDING, a guide for authors, gamers, and hobbyists. Learn more at http://www.randyellefson.com

Sep 212017

If our species is humanoid, our body design work is largely done. Areas needing description are mostly those of overall size, height, mass, and fitness standards. The prevalence of facial hair on males and average cleanliness of all genders can also characterize them, but these are partly cultural, too, and result from behaviors. A species that does messy work, like farming, might become less careful about cleanliness so that their slovenly appearance characterizes them. Deciding on some bodily issues can come before or after we form an impression of world view.

Females will be different from males in usually minor ways. Human females are more feminine than males (hence the word), but we can reverse this, making the females brutish and the males delicate; this will benefit from a good reason. Do females wear jewelry or otherwise try to appear more attractive to males, or is the species too brutish for that? Is mating like humans or do females go into heat like animals? Is there a mating season? Much of this is cultural.

Standards of beauty have changed in human history, with larger woman having been seen as better bearers of children long ago, but now thinner women are all the rage, so how are the females? Is it the women who pursue the males, who must try to attract them, and if so, what affect does this have on both genders physically? Making a humanoid body different from those of humans (in more than superficial ways) involves thinking about other aspects of their lives.

Size and mass influence not just strength and endurance, but capabilities. A species with hands that are much larger or smaller than humans will have trouble wielding weapons or using tools designed for us. If they aren’t sophisticated enough to invent their own, then is someone creating these for them? Do they just steal the items? Or do they capture people with the know-how to make them, then force these slaves to do that work?

Size also affects relationships with enemies and allies. If our species is three feet tall, do they just run away from something over six feet tall, or do they swarm while attacking? Have they developed great endurance from all that running or are they just faster than everything and then good at hiding? Being encumbered by possessions makes running harder, so do they travel light? Does another, taller species protect them? Is there a flying species who knows this running species will drop everything and flee, so they follow along hoping to pick up the discarded items, like carrion birds circling a battlefield? If they’re larger than everyone, are they fearless? Is that overconfidence that can be used against them?

In SF in particular, many aliens have skin like reptiles, not only with scales but similar coloring. This should have a biological basis, such as protection from the elements or predators. Making their skin poisonous is another option, which can introduce some cultural issues. They’d need to avoid touching humans, for example, and might be wearing gloves or other gear to protect others.


If our species is not humanoid, basing it on an animal can help realize its body and avoid something unintentionally silly. Gigantism is an option but is arguably the least interesting because it’s a run of the mill creature except for its size. If we also modify our analogue, this is more attractive.

Combining features of animals and humanoids is benefited by having some understanding why an animal has a feature so we can decide if it makes sense for our species. If our species has a tail, what do they use it for? A weapon is a good answer; that suggests protecting their rear but that they might also be a predator and prey. Is the tail is long enough to strike forward? Can that tail sting? How venomous is it? How fast acting is the poison? If it’s designed to use against those with weapon skills and not just animals, a poison would be fast acting to neutralize a threat quickly, even if it sedates instead of kills. All of this is true of poisonous teeth and claws.

Research every feature to see why it exists. Why do turtles have shells? Why don’t snakes have legs? Tails are often for climbing, but clearly that’s not true for a horse. Horns and tusks are used for fighting and even digging in dirt. Coloring may be for camouflage or warning. Wings are obviously for flight, but there are flightless birds, so understand why that happens before inventing one; they typically exist on an island that has no predators, so creating a flightless bird that lives amid many predators doesn’t make sense unless it has developed another way of surviving, one that rendered their wings less important. Not only will a little research turn up useful info to make our creations better, but it can give us other ideas and enrich our life as we understand the world around us more.

Sep 182017

When creating a head, think about every last facial feature, as described next, but when describing a species to an audience, it’s often best to comment on the most important features rather than overwhelm with detail. It’s even better to do so while describing a character’s mood at the moment, as evidenced by the effect of that mood on those features.


Below are some features to write about and the options that are easiest to describe with a word that most will recognize; if we have to explain a facial feature too much, maybe it’s better to just go with something easier to envision and convey. An example of this problem is the word “monolid,” (listed below in text about eyes) because while we’ve all seen this, we’ve likely never heard the word.

Other names can be used in our files but not in our writing because they’re of Earth origin, like “Roman nose” or “Cupid’s bow,” unless Earth figures in our work; we’d need another name, but then no one will know what we’re talking about and we’ll have to describe it. To see images of many features listed, do an internet search.

Face/jawlineround, oval, square, heart-shaped
Browprominent (often caused by deep set eyes) or shallow (monolid)
Eyebrowsrounded, arched (and to what degree), mono brow
Eyesround, slanted, deep set, up/down turned (at the outside corner), wide/close set, hooded (as if hidden behind overhanging eyelids all the time), protruding (the opposite of hooded), and monolid (the opposite of deep set, where the brow appears less prominent, as in some Asians)
Irisshape (vertical/horizontal slit, round, cat’s eye, crescent) and typical colors
Cheekbonessunken/indented or high/prominent. Low is average and not typically mentioned
Nosestraight, long and wide (like blacks), hawkish, snub, thin and pointed, bulbous, upturned, aquiline, broad with large nostrils, and the basic large nose
Mouthaverage, wide, small, full or thin lips (sometimes each is different), rounded/pointed/absent Cupid’s bow
Teethstraight, crooked, missing, stained, pointed, serrated, poisonous, tiny, large, and multiple rows (like a shark)
Chinprotruding, cleft, thin and pointing, round, square, jutting, receding (i.e., almost no chin), and long (often points forward)

If you can’t draw, then your decisions may look different than you intended when someone like an artist you hire assembles them into a face. There are various games, such as Wii, or online tools that allow you to create a character or avatar that looks like you. You can experiment with these face generators to give you a head start on this. A quick Google search for face avatar generators turned up these free, online programs I experimented with:

  1. Pimp the face: http://www.pimptheface.com/create/
  2. Face your manga: http://www.faceyourmanga.com/editmangatar.php

The second allowed me to generate several images in a few fun minutes of poking around. While I wouldn’t use it in my work, it gives me a good reference image in my files and can be handed to an artist to draw something similar.


The heads of non-humanoids can be based on animals or invented from scratch, but you’ll want an understanding of why a feature exists or it might not make sense. In a monster, an explanation isn’t necessary; after all, the creepiness of things that don’t make sense are part of why it’s a monster (the bizarre and nonsensical frightens). The bar is set higher for a species. We needn’t ever explain it, but having the species use the feature in a way that makes it clear there’s a rationale behind it helps us.

For example, sharks have jaws that can distend for a wider bite, with rows of replaceable, serrated teeth for ripping meat. If our species also eats something (on land?) raw and with high fat content (like a seal), then it might have this as well. If it eats a different prey, then it won’t. A crocodile drowns victims by holding them underwater, so it doesn’t need shearing teeth. Also, such teeth wouldn’t make sense if our species eats plants or cooks all meals.

Predators tend to have eyes facing forward, while prey tend to have them on the sides to see predators coming more easily (usually from behind). If our species is truly only prey and never predator, consider this option. Prey also tend to have ears that can independently swivel, but a hunter might also have this skill. A wet nose is designed to catch particles for dissolving and smelling, so if we say our species has a great sense of smell but don’t say they have a wet nose, that’s less believable, though most people won’t know that.

Sep 142017

When creating a species, start with physical characteristics; bodies influence the minds that develop. Like it or not, appearance plays a crucial role in life, even if no one’s likely to draw our species or otherwise see it. The overall impression and details combine to add characterization opportunities that shouldn’t be overlooked. It’s okay to start with envisioning a specific character, but try to get a sense of how the species generally looks, too. This allows us to not only define them all, but then comment on how our character matches or defies expectations, without which, our audience has a limited understanding of how this person fits in (or not) with their own kind or others.

For example, if your species is generally slovenly but this character is neat, maybe he gets more respect from other species. And what does it say about him? Do his kind find him arrogant? Does he care? Why is he like this? Does he aspire to be better? Or does he dress neatly to keep people from suspecting his character is bad? Does this provide him better opportunities?

A neat species but a sloppy character can have the opposite effect. Maybe his own kind think he’s a slob in personal and work habits, but other species find him more down to earth. Maybe he’s a gambler and wants to fit in with lowlife friends. Or he’s disguising himself like an undercover cop. Is he so consumed by his work that he doesn’t pay attention to his appearance (a cliché)? He’s just clueless or indifferent to the consequences?

Are They Humanoid?

There’s a tendency to create humanoid species like elves and dwarves instead of spider-like ones, for example. This is preferred for most species because otherwise things might get too weird for our audience, or too much like a cartoon. While there’s always room for these, non-humanoids have their challenges.

With humanoids, we don’t have to decide what they eat, how often they sleep, and other biological basics. They mingle well with humans, being able to live in similar buildings, use horses, and need fewer unusual physical things. By contrast, would a giant spider sleep in a bed, or eat with utensils, or consume the same food? How would one travel if not on foot? Such considerations might be needed if we go this route. It could make things more interesting for both us and the audience.

With a non-humanoid, our ability to quickly and skillfully describe them matters because readers have to imagine them, unless we’re in a visual medium. While it’s great to have explanations for anatomical features, audiences are used to bizarre things without getting one iota of explanation. Be forewarned that such creations have a tendency to be monsters, or viewed as one, a subject discussed more in Chapter 5, “Creating Monsters.”

Sep 112017

Is our species good, evil, or more complicated? Our intended use of them will help in subsequent decisions.

Something violent, uncivilized, and uneducated may not be welcomed in society. Maybe the idea of them is used to frighten children into behaving. They’re a danger for travelers, especially non-warriors. Characters might have relatives injured, killed, or even eaten by this species. People go missing, in the wilderness or in space, whether there’s a gruesome crime scene or no sign of the body. Its presence causes caravans to be armed and scouting patrols to be around the community’s borders. Settlement or space station defenses will take their abilities into consideration when arranging armed forces. Weapons might be designed with them in mind. People can be skilled in tracking and scouting for them. The species will have a reputation that affects the lives of those they threaten.

A pleasant, communicative, and benevolent species will be welcomed by other societies, though possibly with reservations. They could be bringing supplies only they have access to, like plants, gems, or special weapons and armor of their creation. They may exchange information on recent activities by obnoxious species. Our characters might have friends in that species, who could’ve saved, trained, or befriended a relative. Maybe people aspire to be like them.

The caveat here is the human model—we can’t be predicted to be nefarious or benevolent as a whole. Some like to believe mankind is basically good, and while not getting all philosophical about it, this obviously doesn’t mean we don’t do horrible things to each other and even animals, plants, and the Earth. Is our new species more predictable than us or equally complex?

If they have a uniform disposition, is there a reason for this? Did a set of gods with the same disposition create them? If evil gods created ogres, maybe that explains their attitude. Were they the result of an accident that influenced them? Did they result from breeding sentient life with animals or monsters? Did someone evil or good create them and use magic or something else to ensure their disposition? How strong is that disposition? If they were created ten thousand years ago and something situational at the time made them evil, hasn’t that situation likely passed and maybe now they’re different, less extreme? Or is it perpetual and they’re even more upset?

An evil species might be less useful if shunned by society, effectively relegating them to a smarter monster out in the woods. This places creative limits on us that might be undesirable, particularly if we intend to use our setting for many stories. That species can’t do things inside a city without sneaking in, for example, but how many times do we want to use them that way before they become a predictable caricature of themselves? This can be solved by creating two races of similar appearance but with opposing dispositions, such as elves and drow (dark elves).

This can greatly extend the reach of a uniformly good or evil species, allowing new uses for them. It also creates a problem for those on our world: does the person we’re looking at belong to the good one or the evil one? Can the person standing before them be trusted? Using elves and drow as an example, the first all good, the second all evil, elves would be trusted, but now people know that drow exist. A drow could pretend to be an elf to gain access to somewhere or something. An elf could pretend to be a drow to infiltrate somewhere under drow control. If you like this idea but also like races that can be physically distinguished from others in the species, just create additional races: one that looks different and one that doesn’t; for example, elves and drow looking the same, and a third kind of elf that looks different from both.

Sep 072017

Does your species live in settlements with other species or keep to itself? Learn why and when each scenario makes sense. If living in joint settlements, consider the factors affecting their integration, or lack thereof. What sort of terrain and climate do they prefer and how does this affect their choice of settlement?

Sep 072017

5 World Building Tips (Vol 1, #10): Species

This is the tenth in a series of world building articles I’ll be sending you! Today’s theme is species. This will get you started, but you can read more about this in Chapter 2, “Species,” from Creating Life, (The Art of World Building, #1).

Tip #1: “Don’t Give a Species a Uniform Disposition”

Much of the tension in life, at least among us humans, is not knowing whether someone is good or evil, to be simplistic about it. Making invented species be uniformly one way or another makes them predictable, which is less interesting, but if we invent multiple races of them, this variety makes them more entertaining.

Tip #2: “Use Avatar Creators to Invent a Head”

A free, online avatar creator can help you invent faces that are typical of your invented species. This can help visualize something and be provided to an artist if we want someone to draw our creation. It also helps us avoid being unintentionally ridiculous.


Tip #3: “Create Races for Variety”

If all the elves, for example, look the same, that means a wood elf and drow can masquerade as each other. This gives us opportunities for mayhem that don’t exist if every race of a species looks the same. Besides, why not surprise other characters and readers alike?

Tip #4: “Decide How They Get Along With Everyone, Not Just Humans”

It’s easy to overlook how two invented species get along with each other because we’re trying to figure out how each gets along with humans. More thought given to this makes our world more believable and engaging. Envision each race’s viewpoint on how people should behave and then what they think of another race’s behavior. Read Creating Life to learn more.

Tip #5: “Determine Their View of Magic/Technology”

We should decide how educated a species is, as this may impact their ability to do magic or invent/use technology. If they can’t read and spells are hard to learn orally, they may be unable to cast them, unless they can do it without a spell, like a god. Even uneducated species can steal a space ship, for example, and those need janitors, too, so be clever in finding ways that the less fortunate can have power that maybe they shouldn’t!

Summary of Chapter 3—Creating a Species

Audiences are familiar with using “race” to distinguish between humanoids, especially in fantasy, but species may be a more appropriate term. This chapter explores the meaning and implications of both words, with some examples of which one to use, when, and why.

Creating a species is challenging and time consuming, but the risks and rewards can be navigated and achieved, respectively. This chapter helps us decide on our goals and if the effort is worth it. SF writers might have little choice but to create species because there are no public domain species available like the elves, dwarves, and dragons of fantasy. The benefits of creating something different can outweigh the investment and help our work stand out.

An invented species must compete with legendary ones like elves, dwarves, and dragons; this chapter helps us achieve this. Starting with habitat helps us decide on physical adaptations that affect their minds, outlook, and society, and what a typical settlement might be like and even whether or not they live in jointly formed settlements. Their disposition affects their relationships with other species but can also limit their usefulness to us unless steps are taken to avoid this. Characteristics like intelligence, wisdom, and dexterity all play a role in how they can be used in our work, as does their society and world view, both affected by a history we can invent to integrate them with our world. Their familiarity with the supernatural and technology influences their prominence and how they compare to other life in our world.

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Sep 052017
Creating Something Different

Inventing unique species can help our work stand out (hopefully in a good way) and even invigorate love of the genre for both us and our audience. With so many people using public domain species, there’s probably little we can say about them that hasn’t been said before. How many authors have used the long lives of elves to comment on how impatient humans can be? There are constraints on us from these species, possibly making us long for our freedom. But there’s also safety there, in the comfort of familiarity, and an assurance that if our audience doesn’t like our work, the species won’t be their reason. There’s risk to invention, but reward, too.

If our species will be alongside public domain ones in our work, comparisons are inevitable. Doing a good job is even more important. The standard species are high quality and set a high bar for us. This chapter is designed to help us get over it.

How Often the Setting Will Be Used

It doesn’t make sense to spend many hours developing a species for a short story. We’ll never have a chance to reveal much of our work. If we’d like to develop a detailed species anyway, then we should invent for a setting we’ll use repeatedly across multiple works. Creating a thinly developed species for shorter works on a single-use world is another good approach, which can work especially well if the species is bizarre and might face resistance from an audience.

We might invent a species to tell a specific story, which allows us to tailor our invention to our use. This keeps down unwanted or unneeded invention but might also restrict us, when freedom is one reason we’re creating species. Conversely, we might invent a species first and begin to think of story ideas or ways we can use it. This latter approach might yield more material than intended, but having ideas is never a bad thing. We can end up with multiple stories while retaining the freedom to invent. Regardless of our approach, we shouldn’t feel that building a species is a waste of time because it can take our work to unexpected and great places. Everyone benefits.


How much effort to expend on creating a species will depend on intentions, but there’s a range of possibility from extreme world building to hardly any.

The Minimum

At the least, we must decide on physical appearance and an overall disposition that’s shared across members of a species. Such life forms are often used as little more than a beast for characters to overcome in their quests. Ogres, orcs, and other henchmen types from fantasy are good examples. They seldom talk or do much more than get killed by the heroes. A more benevolent species can also have limited use, like Chewbacca from Star Wars.

He’s a Wookiee, but in the original three films, we never see another Wookiee (George Lucas may have added more in the background when he altered the films later). That we only saw one Wookiee made Chewbacca synonymous with his species. We had no Wookiees to compare him to and his personality traits might as well have been the traits of all of them. That he never spoke a word we could understand eliminated cultural, societal, and other issues that minimized the effort needed to create him. He is useful primarily as a constant physical companion who can fight and do things while Han Solo has conversations without the distraction of doing Chewbacca’s tasks.

It is Harrison Ford’s acting talents that make Chewy work as a character; his funny responses to Chewy’s nonsensical growls are what really characterize the Wookiee. The same can be said of C-3PO’s responses to the unintelligible R2-D2. Despite all of this, Chewbacca works, but this approach arguably succeeds onscreen better than on paper, due to the inflections, body language, and tone used by actors. In books, a character or species with such limited use is hard to make memorable; our readers may forget the character is there or wonder what they’re for. The character is little more than a henchman, albeit a positive one.

As a side note, Wookiee is capitalized for some reason but your species or races should not be; that’s not a title or proper name. You never see “human” capitalized unless it’s the start of a sentence. One justification for capitalizing it is when the name is synonymous with a region. For example, Germans are from Germany so we capitalize it. Wookiees are from Kashyyyk so this rule doesn’t appear to apply, which just shows you we can get away with things like this.

Continuing with Star Wars as an example, there are countless other species shown but never named. They are extras on the set, many with compelling appearances, and that is all we experience of them. This works better onscreen than on paper; a picture really is worth a thousand words, which we don’t want to waste on a multitude of characters who have minimal impact on our story.

The Maximum

At the other extreme is a fully-developed species, including their habitat, climate, settlement preferences, appearance of head, body, and clothing, their gods, society, languages, customs, history, relationships with other species, supernatural and technology talents and attitudes, and combat skills. It can be easy to go overboard inventing things we might never use, but it can also make a great impression of depth and believability.

A major issue with this is not only hours but months, even years of refinement, weeding out the lesser aspects that don’t stand the test of time while rounding out and improving the good ideas. As with most things, world building skill grows with practice, making this culling part of the process; this book is designed to give you a head start. As we go on to invent sovereign powers, monsters, animals and plants, we’ll continuously update our species, integrating everything and improving realism.

In Moderation

If done right, splitting the difference can be a sensible choice. The next section and species template (in the appendix) can help you can make an informed decision about which areas to work on. I recommend deciding on habitat, whether the species lives in joint settlements, overall disposition, appearance, and their relationships with each other and your other creations. Areas to skimp for now can be clothing, gods, characteristics (like agility, intelligence, and morale), language, customs, history, combat, and details on their supernatural and technological level.

“Skimping” ranges from overlooking a subject altogether to jotting down a few words about it. You’ll have to decide what is skimped based on your needs, but it’s worth it to think about every subject to see if you have any concepts. Sometimes ideas beget ideas, meaning that the act of writing down one subject causes you to think of other details. This happens more often as you develop other aspects of a world, resulting in an integrated setting that could stand out in the crowded marketplace.

Aug 312017

In SF, we may need to create new species, but in fantasy we have the option not to. This section helps you decide on whether to do it or not.

In Science Fiction

Aside from little green aliens, inventors of SF have no public domain species available. We can’t use Vulcans from Star Trek or Na’-vi from Avatar because someone else owns them. We either have only humans or must invent humanoid (or not) species. Do you want your planet-hopping characters to encounter unique lifeforms on different planets or on other spacecraft? That and aliens arriving on Earth are the only scenario where we must create them, as there are plenty of SF stories with only humans, especially those involving explorers from Earth.

In a universe like Star Trek, some species are ever-present while others are episodic, only appearing in one or two shows. The latter need far less development time. It might be wise to create a few well-developed species (who are part of a crew we use repeatedly) but then spend less effort on everything else. Some ideas might have limited use anyway; rather than discard them, use them for one story and move on. Riskier ideas are well-suited to this because if our audience doesn’t like them, we’re not revisiting them anyway.

A caveat here is that the opposite could happen: we might find ourselves using them more than initially intended, in which case we must be careful not to box ourselves into a corner. Don’t make unnecessary comments in early uses of them, such as, “They never leave their planet.” Unless that’s part of that story, this restriction could come back to haunt us when we want them traveling. There are ways around that, like deciding they’ve been driven from the world, but you get the idea. A side-effect of thinly developed ideas is accidental conflict when we decide to more fully develop them after (italics) publishing them.

In Fantasy

Fantasy species are well defined, popular, and mostly public domain. No one can stop us from using them, which is one reason why seemingly everyone does. Does this make them over-used? Are people clamoring for something they haven’t seen? Are you? If so, you could skip to the next section, “Creating a Species,” right now, but there are a few other points to consider.

Is it okay to present the usual species but with minor or significant changes and still call them the same thing? For minor variations, yes (see “What’s In a Name?” in Chapter 1). For more significant alterations, we might want to just strike out farther on purpose and add a new name. Once freed from the original concept via a name, it becomes easier to reimagine an elf or dwarf. Remember the rule of three when using an analogue: at least three changes so people are less likely to realize it’s a modified elf.

Sometimes it seems like we can read ten books by ten different authors and get ten slightly different versions of an elf. Is that good or bad? They’re on different planets, after all, and might develop differently, but it begs the question of why the humans are usually the same as those on Earth. And the horses. And plants.

There is an important caveat to species that aren’t public domain, like Ents and Hobbits from The Lord of the Rings. We can create a very similar species and then give them a different name. The treants and halflings from Dungeons and Dragons come to mind, Tolkien. This has been done for legal reasons, as the original species belong to their creator. We run the risk of legal trouble with this anyway and it goes against the idea of creating something new, but the option remains. It is arguably best to put our own spin on an analogue while renaming it; with enough changes, audiences won’t immediately think of a known species.

Aug 282017

To make a decision, consider how diverse your creations are. If they’re all humanoid, it suggests shared DNA and they are races. Elves, dwarves, hobbits, orcs, humans, and other fantasy tropes have two arms and legs, one head, and no tail, etc. But if we create one with wings, another with gills and other adaptations for the water, and another with four legs, these suggest different species. Wouldn’t a dragon be a different species from Homo sapiens?

On Earth, we distinguish between Caucasians, Asians, and more with the word “race.” If such races exist on our world, we should also call them race. But if we also have elves and dwarves and call those races, too, isn’t that confusing? Wouldn’t humans, elves, and dwarves be species, and Caucasians, Asians, and blacks be races of humans? High elves and drow would be races of elves. This makes more sense than saying they are races of some unnamed parent humanoid species.

A Hierarchy

A hierarchy can illustrate the problems of using race and species poorly. Consider this list where everyone is lumped together as races:

  1. Daekais
  2. Kadeans
  3. Humans
  4. Mandeans
  5. Morkais
  6. Nideans

Can you tell which ones are related? If so, it’s only from my naming convention; two of them have “kais” in their name and three of them have “deans” in theirs. This lack of structure results from seeing everything as a race of one species despite their differences. As it turns out, two of those humanoids have wings, and three of the others live in water, having gills and other adaptations. Doesn’t the below make more sense?

  1. Humans
  2. Kais
    1. Daekais
    2. Morkais
  3. Mandeans
    1. Kadeans
    2. Nideans

The first numbers one, two, and three are species. The differences between them are enough that no one would confuse one for another. The sub-numbers of 1 and 2 are races under their respective species. I refer to daekais as a race of kais, not just a generic “race” of…unspecified. If I want to refer to daekais and morkais simultaneously, I can use “kais” to do so.

Let’s take a look at some traditional fantasy races. Ask yourself which is better among these organizations:

  1. Drow
  2. Humans
  3. Hill dwarves
  4. Mountain dwarves
  5. Wood elves

Or this:

  1. Dwarves
    1. Hill dwarves
    2. Mountain dwarves
  2. Elves
    1. Drow
    2. Wood elves
  3. Humans

You may have little reason to point out such distinctions to your audience; a paragraph of explanation is not advised. Using “species” has an added benefit of pulling readers out of their comfort zone of expectations. Some who feel strongly one way or another will tell you otherwise, but it’s your world and you are its ultimate god.