Santangero's Vastaya Pastoral Investigation Notes

Vastaya

(A Gentleman's, Explorer's, and Chronicler's Notes on the Hybrid Creatures of Northern Ionia. By Edouard Santangero)

My first encounter with the hybrid creatures known as the Vastaya came after I set foot upon the fertile shores of Ionia.

My initial purpose was to seek an antidote for a peculiar malady endemic to Piltover: the Ennui—a gentle, protracted boredom that arises from the advanced, sophisticated, and opulent daily life of the City of Progress, where I myself earned a modest living as a writer of some repute.

It was in the warm, mystical hinterlands of Ionia—a region seldom explored by cartographers not native to its soil—that I embarked on my adventure, seeking something beyond the scope of my knowledge.

Something wondrous, peculiar, beautiful, and awe-inspiring.

Upon discovering the Vastaya, I knew instantly that my journey had not been in vain.

I first laid eyes upon a Vastaya on a quiet, late night. It was rummaging through my camp, searching for something to eat.

I nearly scared it away when I awoke, but I managed to placate it with a handful of sweet cakes and a lullaby my mother used to sing to me (as a tenor, I am well-versed in music and can readily perform soothing melodies that stir the soul).

Though it walked on two legs like a human, its physical characteristics were a hybrid of many other creatures, some of which I had only read about in books, while others I had encountered during my travels.

It possessed long whiskers and a pointed nose like a cat, its body was covered in scales like a python, and its limbs had the strength of a Bilgewater saltwater beast (which I was fortunate enough to witness after it devoured the sweet cakes, as it effortlessly lifted me over its head to confirm my sleeping bag held no hidden candies before setting me down).

Moments later, the creature vanished into the darkness, and I knew my objective: I resolved to continue my exploration of these Vastaya (as the locals called them).

What follows are the records of the diverse Vastaya I encountered during my journey across this mysterious continent.

What are the Vastaya?

If I were to venture a hypothesis regarding the origin of these creatures—a hypothesis I feel qualified to make as a gentleman learned in the physical sciences—my conclusion is that the Vastaya are not confined to a single species. Taxonomically, they belong to a broader category, deserving of their own order, or perhaps even phylum: the Vastaya.

In short, while there may be many similarly appearing Vastaya (a conclusion I reached after tailing a cat-like, serpentine, simian child back to his village, only to be rudely driven away by his similarly-featured kin. They likely mistook me for a hostile scout or a predator at the top of the food chain, as they subsequently followed me back to my camp and confiscated all my provisions), the differences in appearance and behavior between various tribes and populations are immense.

After my initial encounter with the Vastaya, I adopted a method of following the water source, proceeding along the Whispering River (a name I bestowed upon it due to the sheer volume of its flow, and my penchant for sarcasm, much like many gentlemen of my acquaintance) near their village, knowing that other Vastaya tribes would undoubtedly be drawn to the water.

As expected, a few days later, I discovered a completely different tribe. This group of Vastaya had fluffy, otter-like faces that made one want to cup them in their hands. However, from the waist down, they transformed into seal tails.

I attempted to offer my spectacles as a gift symbolizing peace (as I noticed many of them carried pouches filled with glowing trinkets, leading me to suspect they might be a bartering community), but to no avail. I then proceeded to perform an impromptu dance titled "I Come in Peace with No Ill Intentions" (a dance that heavily emphasizes knee articulation, and my kneecaps are undoubtedly pristine).

Inspired by my dance, my Vastaya companions accepted me and treated me to a warm dinner, the specific dish of which I can only describe as undercooked meat with an indeterminate fishy flavor.

Although they remained silent during my elaborate ritual of peace-seeking gestures, it was only later, when they politely requested I pass them a cup of pale yellow, salty, powdered substance, that I discovered they could speak my language fluently.

Their accent and dialect were unlike anything I had ever heard, yet I could understand every word they spoke with effortless ease. At this point, my thirst for knowledge surpassed my prior appetite, and I posed a series of questions about their history.

I learned that the origins of the Vastaya could be traced back to a very distant past, in a sanctuary in Ionia, where a group of humans sought refuge from the Voidborn Wars (a subject upon which I have penned many lengthy tomes, offering exceptional value, available at all major bookstores in Piltover).

These fleeing humans encountered a race of intelligent Shapeshifters who were highly attuned and resonant with the Magic Power of nature. The symbiotic pairing between these two groups ultimately gave rise to the Vastaya I know today.

As time passed, the offspring of these pairings settled in various regions, thus adopting different forms. Some became the Winged Humanoids of Ionia, others the Multi-limbed Sand-drag beasts of the Shurima desert, and still others the Scaled Sea Cows of the Freljord, their faces perpetually etched with an expression of profound grievance.

I wanted to stay and learn more from the Otterfolk, but one of my questions seemed to have touched a major taboo, and I was unceremoniously thrown out of their village. Their friendliness and goodwill vanished entirely.

To prevent everyone from making the same mistake, the last question I asked was whether the pairings of the first two tribes were purely magical or involved more substantial (don't misunderstand) contact.

Further thoughts on the Vastaya, some of which may be uncomfortable for conservative readers.

My composure left with my supplies, but my desire for adventure never waned. I set off in a new direction, my only defenses now a bold spirit and a flowery vocabulary.

For months, I survived on Ionia's abundant fruits and vegetables, which thankfully hung ripe on branches or lay scattered on the ground, as readily available as goods at a border market stall.

I could only track time by the sunrises and sunsets, and I happily forgot the Piltover formalities I had grown accustomed to. Later, after wandering Ionia for many days, I began to smell.

I stopped, undressed (first ensuring no one was around—a gentleman never forces his nudity upon others), and entered a lake. The water smelled of berries and fresh grass.

There, I witnessed the most beautiful sight of my life, and even if I lived to be a thousand, I would never see anything more wondrous.

Closer to humans than any Vastaya I had ever seen, and closer to natural beauty than any human, the creature before me was bathing on the opposite bank. She had the ears and tail of a fox, but was completely unclothed—I shall not describe it in too much detail here, to avoid discomfort for younger or sensitive readers—making her look very, very much like a human woman.

Very much so.

Submerged in the pond, I could only see her indistinctly, my mouth agape, water streaming down my gaunt body as I desperately searched my mind for words of greeting. Perhaps I could introduce myself as a renowned author and recite some glowing reviews for her. Or, I could sing her a ballad I had composed, a love song specifically prepared for such an occasion.

Before I could decide, however, the grass behind me rustled, startling me. I instinctively turned to see the source of the commotion, but nothing appeared.

I turned back to find the radiant Fox Woman gone, leaving me bewildered, my mind full of questions, the first words forming on my lips being, "Oh, my dream, my love, my longed-for companion," an expression of embarrassment I could not erase.

I had intended to beat whatever had made the noise into unconsciousness, but it turned out to be a human, a berry merchant from a distant village. Though his berries looked delicious, I did not partake, as I was unsure if I could suppress the urge to slap them onto his smiling face.

Shai (his name) sternly warned me not to bathe in this pond, as the water and the Fox Woman who occasionally bathed by the lake posed a threat to my health.

I told him that startling a naked, lovesick man was a greater threat to his health, and he merely chuckled.

After I dressed, the merchant agreed to escort me back to human civilization and answered many of my questions. In return, I gave him my hat (Jin Rushi Menswear, retail price fifty-three silver wheels).

He told me that his family had known this strange woman for generations—meaning she, like other Vastaya, lived longer than ordinary humans.

Some Vastaya were said to live for millennia, and others were rumored and legendary to be immortal. Shai told me the local Ionian name for these beings, though I had always called them "Phantasma" until now. The merchant scoffed at my naming convention.

It was for this reason that I unified my previous records from "Phantasma" to "Vastaya," primarily out of humanitarian concern, as only my humility could be compared to my verbosity.

We walked together for several days, and he would occasionally stop to sniff the air, like a hound tracking prey. I asked him what he was doing, and he simply smiled faintly, telling me he was searching for treasure.

Though his inexplicable behavior was somewhat distasteful, this wolfdog-like sniffing suddenly brought a question to mind, which I immediately posed to him: If the Vastaya were a fusion of humans and ancient shapeshifting ancestors, what would happen if this bloodline were diluted to its limit through reproduction and propagation? What would a person with Vastaya bloodline look like, if it wasn't enough to manifest the hybrid animal form?

At this, he stopped sniffing and his eyes widened. Looking at me, he smiled and said, "In that case, they should be able to transform too, don't you think?" Then, the Dog Hybrid turned into a pig and dug up a Silken Matsutake from the ground.

I was surprised not only to encounter a shapeshifter, but to have met three different kinds of Vastaya in just a few months. While luck favors the learned like myself, this was perhaps too frequent.

Of course, I must still point out that the "Man Who Turns Into a Pig" was a regression compared to the "alluring and charming Fox Woman."

If things continue like this, the next Vastaya I encounter might be a cockroach that walks on two legs.

Conclusion: I hereby grant the readers, who will inevitably be immensely curious, the decision on whether this publication will continue to be updated.

For the past few months, I have been doing my utmost to search for information on various types of Vastaya throughout Ionia, hoping to establish a comprehensive catalog of Vastaya species for Runeterra's fauna.

While I have gathered a substantial amount of information on the Vastaya, there is still much to be discovered—I suspect that by limiting my research to Ionia, I am only seeing the tip of the iceberg of this category's diversity.

But for now, it's time to turn the page—I have knocked on the door of the Vastaya, and now I will leave it to other journalists to enter this field. Today, I will turn my attention to other mysterious creatures of Runeterra, whose stories are still largely unknown. For instance, the terrifying living weapons, the Ruined. For instance, the fallen, corrupted embodiments of depravity, the Void Creatures. For instance, the legendary and rarely seen Sprites, the Yordles. These stories must be told, and to uphold my promise, I will embark on a journey of exploration. After all, only I am suited for this task.

Editor's Note from Mr. Santangero:

Two weeks after submitting this manuscript, Mr. Santangero returned to Ionia on his own accord, claiming it was to "inquire further about the Fox Woman—purely for the needs of the second edition."

A few weeks later, we received a letter from Mr. Santangero, which read as follows:

"I have met with misfortune. I have been kidnapped by a group of boorish ruffians who call themselves the Navoli Brotherhood. They suspect me of being a spy from Piltover. Absurd! My reputation is impeccable, my talents are abundant, my skills are sharp, and my charm is legendary [abridged due to space constraints]. Such accusations are an insult to me.

However, I have managed to persuade them to hold me hostage for ransom rather than execute me on the spot. Therefore, I implore you, please send some precious ores, or food, or weapons. Please refer to my value as a writer to you for the quantities. I would be eternally grateful. Of course, the exact cost to redeem my freedom is entirely up to you, but I trust you will sell the publishing house and persuade all shareholders to contribute their utmost as a minimum. Clearly, your expenditure will be worthwhile."

Upon receiving this ransom note, we sent the entirety of the projected profits from Mr. Santangero's new book, which included: some loose change and a piece of expired sweet cake.

He has not been heard from since.