Animals

Freshly born with pitch-black face fluff — you can't even find the eyes.

Ill-tempered and fast to spit when offended.

Horned Alpacas migrate with the seasons, moving between mountain meadows and lowland plains. In the cold, they huddle for warmth. In warmth, they breed, compete, and — yes — spit. Despite their horns, they rarely use them except when predators threaten. For all other disagreements — rank disputes, courtship rejection, or just plain annoyance — they fire long-range spit attacks that can reach up to a dozen paces.

Their wool is soft and waterproof, rich in lanolin that doubles as a natural moisturizer — essential for harsh highland climates. In Cerro Rico, wild herds are rounded up every few years just to be sheared and set free again. The imported blankets made from this wool are silkier than usual — whether that's due to their unique processing methods or the difference between wild and domestic alpacas is anyone's guess.

You call them "Horned Alpacas", we call them "Hawney" — a divine gift from the heavens, said to have dropped from the clouds themselves after the Celestial One walked the land and returned to the skies. They've since lived between the northern grasslands and Cerro Rico valleys, following the paths once walked by the divine. For generations, herders nurtured this gift. Hawney became the heart of the herd, their wool and milk nourishing our ancestors. But here in Doloc, maybe it's the climate — these creatures rarely produce milk outside nursing periods. <align=right>— Kenenimuu</align>

A round little body nearly as wide as it is tall. Loves curling into a fuzzy ball.

A mellow hoofed creature, distant kin to buffalo. Its milk is rich and creamy.

Marsh Beasts live by water, led by noses that sense moisture — what herders call "Heaven's Guidance". They can sniff out hidden pools or even dig their own muddy wallows with their horns. The mud helps cool their easily-overheated bodies and wards off pests. Thanks to their water-seeking nature, herders use them to locate shallow underground springs.

Marsh Beast milk is high in fat and protein (according to Alchemy), giving it a lush, indulgent flavor. Their horns help them dig in dry soil or scare off predators. Not especially hard, these horns grow, mature, and shed yearly — sometimes dropping off early with a knock. Herders gather the fallen horns to make ornaments and signal horns.

"Halt", meaning "beast born of the swamp", nly appeared post-war, near southern wetlands bordering the northern plains. Some say they're hybrids of old-world buffalo and rodents, nearly lost to machines, until saved by Manas and his rangers. Heaven, seeing this act of mercy, gifted the herd to follow our people. Besides milk and meat, their greatest value lies in labor — they're excellent pack animals. These days, we ride motorcycles and they carry the rest. That's post-war herding for you. <align=right>— Kenenimuu</align>

A rare chameleon bug subspecies found only in Doloc Rivervalley and its surroundings.

It differs from standard chameleon bugs in one curious way: its outer gel layer contains wax — chemically similar to pre-war beeswax. These creatures gather and live communally, secreting wax to build hive-like homes. Yet they have no queen, no central intelligence, and reproduce by splitting. Still, they act almost like ancient bees. The wax layer is non-toxic, flavorless, and lightly sweet. Some say it's like sugar-free gum, you can chew it to stay focused.

When Morphohoney Bugs ingest flowering plants, they convert carbohydrates into simple sugars and produce a honey-like substance (Bug Honey) to nourish their offspring. The young don't need it to survive, but it helps them grow. And yes, that "bug honey" tastes amazing.

They only appeared after the energy spike from the Environmental Modifier and a series of prolonged ultrasonic waves. Not a mutation from Chameleon Bugs, but a migration toward human activity. DNA results suggest: after consuming bionic bee remains, the Chameleon Bugs absorbed the artificial circuitry via bioelectrical signals and turned into Morphohoney Bugs. That transformation exceeds what we understand of evolution. Research paused due to lack of proper equipment. <align=right>— Unknown User</align>

A halo of gray-yellow fuzz surrounds its body, shimmering under the sunlight.

A bird with proudly raised feathers, striking tail plumage, and a booming crow.

In a flock, the one with the brightest plumage and loudest call becomes the leader — until challenged. These duels are more beauty pageants than battles, with each contestant showing off their tails and singing their lungs out. Because of this noisy ritual, villagers in small island settlements (like Kon-Tiki) trim the tail feathers of all but one rooster. This avoids the drama, and conveniently provides a steady supply of feathers.

Though they lay eggs like any common hen, Stilt-Tail Pheasants once strutted the pre-war runways for their rich, iridescent feathers. Their plumage adapts to the environment, providing natural camouflage — an ability once exploited for mass-producing specific feather colors and patterns. As these feathers became common, the old illegal bird-hunting trade collapsed. On Kon-Tiki, most pheasants sport sandy yellows or leafy greens. Grays are rarer, usually found around the wreckage-littered areas in the Rivervalley of Doroko.

Sure, they were discovered and domesticated on the islands, but nobody really knows how these birds became a species of their own — perhaps their wild streak made them too hard to domesticate until recent agricultural advances a century ago? When we returned to the mainland for trade, t he Skychild were already retired from war and bartering livestock for our spices and tech. They'd never seen Stilt-Tail Pheasants before, so they bought a batch from us and started raising even more than we did. They nicknamed the bird "Taha". Why didn't I bring any for sale? Ha! Ever tried shipping livestock? Count me out. <align=right>— Paiea</align>