#interesting lore

I can’t sleep and I’m too impatient to wait for the poll to end, so I’m just gonna jump right in and talk about my OG alien species, the Loreirrans. Let’s start off with one of the regional appearances.

This group of loreirrans live in the cold and harsh environments of Icera-5. They have adapted to the cold weather with thick fur and the ability to breath in the dry, cold air without discomfort. The babies are hatched without fur but they quickly develop a thick coat only hours after hatching. The tundra Loreirrans prefer to live in homes that aren’t filled with technology, being more connected with their spiritual side. They have a more tribal way of living and regional government compared to other regional Loreirrans. Their homes are traditionally built out of the materials available to them in their area, such as wood, snow, moss, animals pelts and so on. Since there aren’t that many cold places on Icera-5 besides the small polar caps, this species of loreirran isn’t as plentiful as the others.

Celessa seems to be the local expert on Princess Zelda. She’s a great NPC to talk to! I think I rather enjoy hearing whatever it is she has to say...

Also, it pays to talk to her again, because the second time around she said this:

HPHM Fictober |Day: Three| Prompt- Now? Now will you listen to me? Genre: Original Fiction Word Count: 647 Sequel; to Ministry File “Daguet”

To: Sir Wilhem Nitefael

It is imperative that you realize the danger that this town, and soon, our community will face if you continue to do nothing. In my pursuit of this creature, there is a trail of fear and assurance in death. He does not discriminate as we are all lambs to this wolf. Your continual indecision will spell disaster for the few lives that continue to cling to hope. I, myself, have begun to be wary of the townsfolk. I’m sure this is another tactic borne of the desire to drive me mad. I cannot be swayed. I will not be so easily cast away or turned aside. These people, while they may be a majority of Muggles, their existence is crucial to the overall economy. As such, these people are essential. They are not aware of the danger. They do not know just how much is at stake.

There is a wolf in their midst. A shifter that preys on their emotional vulnerability and devours it. Physical contact is dangerous. I have seen more than one fall victim to this draining kiss and more that I’d like to admit were silenced with a crushing bite to the throat. It seems as if he is able to keep his victims alive long enough to assure that they continue to return. However, he has an unfortunate habit of becoming bored. Or perhaps this cycle pertains to when his true hunger is no longer sated by such affections? Either way, to be enraptured is to be ensnared. He is a terrible threat.

Do you understand now? Now, now will you listen to me?

Valravns are shifters. They prey on the emotions and inherent weakness of an individual and become a tantalizing bait. Appearance forms through mimicry. Voices are altered through repetition. He blends so easily into society I’m afraid I’m going mad simply desiring to rid him of the town. For every time I am sure I have found him, he has moved elsewhere. The nature of this creature is elusive and it is beyond frustrating.

It is clear that Haedon may have shifted into another form, a more……..curvaceous one at that. Shifting appears to be an acute sense of mimicry. Perhaps he had interacted with her before? My mind shudders at what that sort of interaction would have meant. If my assessments were correct, as they tend to be, the woman that owns this form is dead. There was no sign of any death. No indication that anything had gone awry in the town and yet, there was evidence that the townsfolk are in danger. Even though I have been tempted into such a trap more than once.

How long had it been? My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth out of principle though, it too has begun to dry. Even swallowing provides little comfort as my throat tightens. Despite the overwhelming thirst, I stay my hand. The only reliable source of water is a mere mile or so and yet I cannot move. Call it what you will be mesmerized or spellbound, my body betrays me. While I had been sure of the creature’s trail, this beauty that is caressed by the wind cannot be the same being. Surely not. At least, that is what my eager heart wants to believe. To cast aside doubt and begin the dutiful inquiries yet common sense stays my feet. My whole body aches in its denial but I cannot allow myself to be swayed. The cost of such frivolity is high. The price of which could put an end to my research altogether. Yet maybe...if I just.. Experience this for myself, then I’ll know. It’s a gamble but there’s no threat in this, not in the first touch. I’ll kiss her…...him...it, for the benefit of the ministry. I only wish my throat was not so parched.

                            Sincerely,                                         Rolf Kicavith