“Now,” Erzili returned to the map. “To the South-West, we have the Elvani Capital, the floating cities of Oreilles.”
“I’m sorry, floating cities?”
Erzili sighed wistfully. “One of the Nine Wonders of the Advanced Era. The Floating Cities of Oreilles – a land of mystery, magic, and hotspot for lovers, minstrels, troubadours and the recently eloped.”
She clapped. “It’s built upon a ridiculous amount of dark sorcery, night-magic and bloodshed, but it is a truly beautiful place. Erzili hardly believed it would become the marvel it is now, especially after their civil war. Bards sing today of the Elvani Wars as some great battle between those with good virtue and those without, but Erzili was there. Erzili remembers, how it all began because of one brother’s intense desire to fuck his sister and the chaos that unveiled from it all.”
“…fascinating.”
“Fascinating indeed,” Erzili laughed. “Elvani age slowly, and so their dispute lasted several hundred years until one young warrior attained a Floater Relic that ended the wars and divided the Elvani into factions. The Qe’al Du’ud, or the Black Elvani, and the Qe’al Puka, or the White Elvani.”
“Which faction supported the incest?”
“Neither. The faction that did, was the Qe’al Pel. They’re called Mud Elvani. Muckers, if you wish to be crass. Sold to other races as entertainment, labor, livestock, or property.” Erzili let out a shrill laugh. “The Elvani have memories as long as they have lives, and they can keep a grudge for centuries.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that.”
“So, you can see why nightmares of the south have a bit of an issue.”
“You can’t attack the Elvani because they’re in the sky, you can’t attack the Midwarves because they’re deep underground, and you can’t attack the Humans because they’re behind a giant wall.”
“Exactly, darling,” Erzili explained. “That only leaves the other races. Druids are absurdly rare. Leporinians repopulate like rabbits, but they are a nomadic tribe, traveling the world in some ridiculous quest to find their Messiah. We feast on them when we see them, but we can’t rely on their arrivals.”
“What about the other two?” I asked. “Alamir has seven races doesn’t it? Humans, Druids, Leporinians, Midwarves, Elvani –”
“Lycaoni and Felani.” Erzili completed. “We tend not to hunt them.”
“They don’t have a pleasant taste?”
“On the contrary. However, unlike all others, Lycaoni and Felani are warrior races. Trained from birth to fight or die, the weakest amongst them are either killed by their tribe or rendered sterile and sold to wandering slave traders.” Erzili placed her hand on her chin. “How should Erzili put this…”
She walked around the room, humming in thought.
“Fighting a Felani or Lycaoni is something you should only do when you have absolutely no other choice. They do not understand surrender. They do not fear death. They do not take prisoners. If you find yourself pitted against one, prepare either for death or a pyrrhic victory. They believe that they will not be granted access to the afterlife if they do not at least deprive their opponent of a body part before they die, so from the start of a battle, they will attack with the aim not to kill, but to plunder.”
I could understand why it would be a bad idea to try to hunt a race like that for food. “The risks are too high.”
Erzili nodded. “The Lycaoni and Felani hunt and kill each other for sport and merriment. They are the races closest to nightmares in a lot of ways, yet, in numerous others, they are our opposites. Erzili feels that the only reason they are not the dominant races in Alamir is that they have no desire for anything except battle, bloodshed, and plunder. The finer arts of developing a civilization are lost on them.”
She pointed to the map. “The Lycaoni can mostly be found in the employ of individuals as guards and sentries or being hired as extra hands to support a military campaign. The Felani however are often assassins, brigands and soldiers-of-fortune. Erzili has had a run-in with them numerous times. They are dangerously formidable.”
I took a seat on Erzili’s bed, my steepled hands in front of me as I stared at the map on the wall. My gaze flickered from the map to the Slithercreep, and back to the map again, and I found myself chuckling at it all.
“Something amusing you?”
“…I just realized how little of this world I knew.” I said. “I was like a toad at the bottom of a well, staring out and believing that the small part of the sky I could see was all that there was to it.”
“How poetic,” Erzili said. “Do regard Erzili with more verses like that, will you?”
I laughed. “I’ll try.”
Such a vast world. Such a vast world and Oblivion had told me to end it. To destroy it. I barked a laugh. No. Absolutely not. He was stark mad if he wanted me to destroy this world.
“So,” Erzili continued her lecture. “Fort Zyvar and my darlings have been managing to get by through feasting on other nightmares. Feasting on wildlife sustains us sometimes, but it is not feasible. Other times, we get fortunate and feast on travelers and traders who enter the area. Our range of available food is limited by three things –”
She pointed to the map. “Krvavi Lagoon.” She pointed, stretching her finger, to another location. “Fort Sobaka.” She stretched to the final one. “The Rift.”
I examined the map. “…there’s a settlement on the other side of Krvavi Lagoon?”
Erzili nodded. “A settlement of banished humans from the Rift, and a few Leporinians who decided to abandon the nomadic lifestyle. A suitable source of food for Erzili’s darlings that’ll last, with some rationing, at least several months.”
“I’m sensing there’s a ‘but.’”
“Krvavi Lagoon is the Domain of a nightmare called
