Vastaya
(Notes on observations, deductions, and reflections concerning hybrid creatures in northern Ionia. Edouard Santangero: gentleman, explorer, chronicler)
I first encountered the hybrid creatures known as Vastaya after setting foot on Ionia's fertile shores.
My original purpose was to seek a cure for a peculiar illness of the heart, found only in Piltover: ennui—a soft, lingering sense of boredom, born of the advanced, mature, and opulent everyday life of the City of Progress, where I was fortunate enough to make a modest living as a writer of some renown.
I began my adventures in Ionia's warm, wondrous interior—territory that mapmakers not born here rarely explore—setting out in search of things beyond the limits of my understanding.
Something astonishing, uncanny, beautiful, and awe-inspiring.
When I discovered the Vastaya, I knew at once that my journey had not been in vain.
I saw my first Vastaya on a quiet night. It was rummaging through my camp, searching for something to fill its belly.
I nearly scared it off when I woke, but managed to calm it with a handful of sweetcakes and a lullaby my mother had taught me (as a celebrated tenor, I was well versed in music and could sing a lilting, soothing tune to stir the heart at a moment's notice).
Though it walked on two legs like a human, its body was a hybrid of traits from many other creatures. Some of these I had only read about in books, while others I had come across in my travels.
It had long, catlike whiskers and a pointed snout, its body was covered in python-like scales, and its limbs had the strength of a Bilgewater saltwater beast (it quickly finished the sweetcakes, giving me the good fortune of witnessing it hoist me over its head with ease. It set me down only after confirming there were no other sweets hidden in my sleeping bag).
Soon after, the creature fled into the darkness. I knew what I had to do: I decided to investigate these Vastaya further (as the locals called them).
What follows is a record of the many kinds of Vastaya I encountered on my travels through this mysterious land.
What Are the Vastaya?
If I were to hazard a guess about the origins of these creatures—as a learned gentleman in the field of physical science, I believe I am qualified to offer one—I would argue that the Vastaya are not limited to any particular species. Taxonomically, they belong to a broader category and should be classified as an order of Vastaya, or perhaps even a phylum.
In short, while there may be many Vastaya who look much alike (this conclusion came at great cost: I followed the cat-snake-ape child back to his village, only to be rudely chased off by his lookalike kin. Perhaps they mistook me for a hostile scout or an apex predator, for they then followed me back to camp and took all my provisions), the differences in appearance and behavior between tribes and populations are still immense.
After my first encounter with the Vastaya, I followed the water upstream, continuing along the Whispering River near their village (a name I gave it because of its very loud current, and because, like many old gentlemen, I enjoy dry sarcasm). I knew other Vastaya tribes would be drawn to the water.
As expected, I discovered an entirely different tribe a few days later. This group of Vastaya had little furry faces like otters, so adorable that I wanted to hold them and give them a squeeze. From the waist down, however, they had seal tails.
I tried to offer them my spectacles as a token of peace (I had noticed that many of them carried bags full of glowing trinkets, so I assumed they were a barter-based community), but to no avail. So I began performing an improvised "I come in peace, I mean no harm" dance (the dance moves emphasized the use of the knees, and my kneecaps were unquestionably spotless).
Inspired by my dance, my Vastaya companions accepted me and even served me a warm dinner. As for the dish itself, all I can say is that it tasted like some kind of fish, cooked medium rare.
Though they did not speak during my elaborate plea for peace, I later discovered they could speak my language fluently when they politely asked me to pass them a cup of pale yellow, salty, spicy powder.
I had never heard their accent or dialect before, but I understood every word they said without the slightest difficulty. By then my curiosity had overtaken my appetite, so I bombarded them with questions about their history.
I learned that the Vastaya's origins could be traced back to a very, very long time ago, in a hidden paradise in Ionia, where a group of humans had fled the war between the Voidborn and the Darkin (I have written many lengthy books on the subject. They're well worth the price and available in all the major bookstores in Piltover).
The fleeing humans encountered a tribe of intelligent shapeshifters, who were highly attuned to and resonated with the magic power of nature. The two groups mated and lived in symbiosis, eventually giving rise to the Vastaya I knew.
As the ages passed, the descendants of these unions settled in different regions and took on different forms. Some became the winged humanoids of Ionia, others the many-limbed Sand-drag beasts of Shurima's deserts, and still others the Scaled Sea Cows of Freljord, who always wore an expression of misery and grievance.
I had hoped to stay and learn more from these Otterfolk, but one of my questions seemed to touch upon some great taboo. I was abruptly thrown out of the village, and all their friendliness and kindness vanished.
To help others avoid making the same mistake, the last question I asked was whether the original union of the two groups had been purely magical, or involved more physical (no offense intended) contact.
More Thoughts on the Vastaya, Some of Which May Offend Conservative Readers
My composure went the way of my provisions, but I never abandoned my thirst for adventure. I set off in a new direction, now armed for protection with nothing but a heart full of ambition and a lavish vocabulary.
For months, I survived on Ionia's abundant fruits and vegetables. Fortunately, they hung plainly from branches or lay on the ground, as easy to pick up as the wares on a stall in a border market.
I could only tell the time by sunrise and sunset, and I happily forgot the tedious etiquette I had once taken for granted in Piltover. Later, after wandering Ionia for many days, I began to smell.
I stopped, stripped off my clothes (first making sure no one was around—a gentleman would never force another person to look at his naked body), and stepped into a lake. The water carried the fresh scent of berries and grass.
There, I saw the most beautiful sight of my entire life. Even if I lived to be a thousand, I would never see anything more beautiful.
More human than any Vastaya I had ever seen, and more naturally beautiful than any human, the creature before me was bathing on the far side of the lake. She had fox ears and a tail, and wore not a stitch of clothing—though I shall refrain from describing her in too much detail, lest I offend younger or more sensitive readers. She looked very, very much like a human woman.
Very much.
Floating in the pond, I could only make out her figure through the haze. I stared, speechless, while water trickled down my gaunt body and I desperately searched my mind for words of greeting. Perhaps I could introduce myself as a famous writer and recite some glowing reviews. Or I could sing her a love ballad I had composed specifically for such an occasion.
But before I could decide, the bushes behind me suddenly rustled, startling me. I instinctively turned to look for the source of the noise, but nothing appeared.
When I turned back, the radiant Fox Woman had disappeared, leaving me alone and bewildered, full of questions, with my first words still hanging in the air: "Oh, my dream, my love, my hoped-for companion." My face burned with embarrassment.
I had been ready to beat whatever had made the noise and ruined my lovely evening senseless, but it turned out to be a human—a berry peddler from a distant village. His berries looked delicious, but I didn't try any. I wasn't sure I could resist the urge to slap them into his smiling face.
Shai (that was his name) sternly warned me not to bathe in that pond, as both the water and the Fox Woman who occasionally bathed by the lake could pose a threat to my health.
I told him that threatening a naked man in the throes of infatuation posed an even greater threat to his health. He merely smiled.
Once I was dressed, the merchant agreed to take me back to the world of human civilization, and answered many of my questions along the way. In return, I gave him my hat (Jin Rushi Menswear, retail price: fifty-three silver wheels).
He told me his family had known this strange woman for several generations—which meant that, like other Vastaya, she lived longer than ordinary humans.
Some Vastaya were said to live for a thousand years, while others were immortal in legend and lore. Shai told me what these creatures were called in Ionia. Until then, I had been calling them "Phantasms," and the merchant mocked my choice of name.
That was why I changed all my earlier notes from "Phantasms" to "Vastaya." I did so mainly out of consideration for others, since the only thing that could rival my eloquence was my humility.
We traveled together for several days. Every so often, he would stop to sniff the air, like a hound on the trail of prey. When I asked what he was doing, he simply smiled and told me he was looking for treasure.
Though his strange behavior repulsed me somewhat, his wolfdog-like sniffing suddenly gave me an idea, and I asked him at once: if the Vastaya were a fusion of humans and ancient shapeshifting ancestors, what would happen if their bloodline were diluted to the extreme as it spread through generations? What would someone with Vastaya blood look like if it wasn't enough to give them a hybrid animal form?
He stopped sniffing and opened his eyes wide. Looking at me, he smiled and said, "Then they should be able to change shape too, don't you think?" Then the Dog Hybrid turned into a pig and dug a Silken Matsutake out of the ground.
I was astonished not only to meet a shapeshifter, but to encounter three different kinds of Vastaya in just a few short months. Luck always favored the learned, such as myself, but this was rather excessive.
Of course, I must still point out that the "Man Who Turns Into a Pig" was a step down from the "alluring Fox Woman."
At this rate, the next Vastaya I encountered might be a cockroach that walked upright.
Conclusion, and I hereby leave it to my inevitably curious readers to decide whether this publication will continue
For the past few months, I have done everything I could to seek out information on different kinds of Vastaya in Ionia, hoping to create a complete catalog of the Vastaya taxonomy in Runeterra's fauna.
Though I have gathered a great deal of information about the Vastaya, much remains to be discovered. I suspect that if I limit my research to Ionia, I will see only a fraction of the diversity within the phylum.
For now, however, it is time to turn the page. I have opened the door to the Vastaya, and the next step is for other reporters to enter this field. Today, I turn my attention to other mysterious creatures in Runeterra, whose stories are still little known. For instance, the terrifying living weapons known as the Darkin. For instance, the fallen, corrupted embodiments known as Void Creatures. And for instance, the elusive little faeries of legend, the Yordles. The world must hear these stories, and to keep my promise, I will set out on a journey of exploration. After all, I am the only one qualified for the task.
Editor's note on Mr. Santangero:
Two weeks after submitting this issue's manuscript, Mr. Santangero returned to Ionia on his own. He claimed he wanted to "ask for more information about the Fox Woman—for the sake of the second edition alone."
A few weeks later, we received the following letter from Mr. Santangero:
"I have suffered a misfortune. I was kidnapped by a group of uncouth ruffians who called themselves the Navori Brotherhood and suspected me of being a Piltover spy. Absurd! I am a man of impeccable reputation, dazzling talent, nimble hands, and irresistible charm [abridged for length]. This accusation is an insult.
"Still, I managed to persuade them to take me hostage and demand a ransom, rather than execute me on the spot. So please send precious ore, food, or weapons. Let the amount reflect my value to you as a writer, and I will be deeply grateful. Naturally, the amount of wealth you choose to spend to buy my freedom is entirely up to you, but I trust you will sell the publishing house and convince every shareholder to contribute all they have as the minimum amount. Your expense will clearly be worthwhile."
After receiving this Blackmail Letter, we sent Mr. Santangero all the expected profits from his new book, including a handful of loose change and one stale sweetcake.
We have heard nothing from him since.
Before you continue