Gazing into the Whiskerwisp's eyes, its deep purple hue matches its ears' colour. The eyes seem to hold a sense of mystique and intelligence, reflecting the creature's playful nature.
The Whiskerwisp's slender tail swishes gracefully behind it as it playfully chases its Flufflehorn friend on the map. The tail is long and fluffy, adorned with streaks of light blue and purple, adding an extra touch of enchantment to its appearance. The Whiskerwisp purrs loudly, resonating with contentment and affection.
I take in the creature's ethereal beauty and playful nature, feeling a sense of wonder and delight.
'I can't wait to come across these adorable little animals in Felderia,' I squeal.
‘They’re so cute. I want one,’ Imogen adds.
‘Anything from Felderia stays in Felderia. These creatures do not belong in your world,’ Xander chides.
‘Do we get to at least pat and cuddle some of the creatures?’ Imogen asks.
‘The ones that won’t eat you alive or kill you, sure,’ he says.
Imogen, Janie and I share a smile of excitement.
‘Now, let me go over some of the landmarks and well-known areas of Felderia with you. You all need some basic knowledge so you aren’t caught out. So, listen carefully. Here we have Silverpeak Mountains—the towering peaks represent the northern border of Felderia. Its highest peak is known as the Artic Crown. It’s constantly snowing in these parts. It’s the coldest land in Felderia,’ Xander tells us.
‘We didn’t buy clothes for snowy weather, though,’ I tell him.
‘We won’t be going anywhere near there. It would take us well over a week to get there by a Glowhorn stag, anyway,’ Xander replies.
‘What’s a Glowhorn stag?’ Janie asks Xander.
‘I’ll show you,’ he says, waving a hand around the map, making it spin.
Xander then zooms in on what appears to be a tavern or inn with a stable. He swipes at the animal, grabs it and opens his hand to reveal a woolly-stag-like hologram animal running on the spot in the palm of his hand. ‘It’s a mountable animal. Just like a horse, but slightly smaller, we saddle them up and ride them,’ he says.
Janie, Imogen and I lean in closer to take in the magnificent creature. It has silvery-grey and white fur with black sigil-like markings covering its body. Its majestic appearance is only enhanced by its large glowing, wide-swirling antlers that curve elegantly towards the sky.
‘Let me educate you on them,’ Xander says as he sees our fascination with them. ‘Glowhorn stags roam all the lands of Felderia. It's the most commonly used mount by travellers. It possesses great strength and stamina and can navigate the rugged terrain of Felderia with ease.
They have iridescent hooves and horns, which glow at night with a bright, white light, making the Glowhorn the perfect mount for travellers who need to journey through the darkened forests and treacherous mountain paths of Felderia. They are otherwise gentle creatures known for their calm temperament.’
‘Will we get to ride them?’ Imogen asks.
‘Yes, they will be our main mode of transport,’ Xander tells her. ‘Now, back to the map,’ he says, placing the Glowhorn back in the stable. ‘Here we have Diamond Lake. It’s a serene body of water nestled at the foothills of Silverpeak Mountains. The water is crystal-clear. You can see the fish swimming, the stones and pebbles at the bottom, and sometimes bones,’ he says.
‘Bones!’ I ask, anxious.
‘Most likely bones of a strayed or weak animal,’ he says, ‘but,’ he continues, ‘legends speak of the lake's waters that a beautiful water nymph will appear and drown you if you refuse her a poem or dissatisfy her with your words. It’s said as twilight casts its spell upon the land, the shimmering lake awakens. From its crystalline depths emerges the water nymph, her emerald locks cascading like delicate tendrils of seaweed, caressing the surface with every undulating movement. Her eyes, pools of liquid sapphire, gleam with a mixture of longing and mischief. She has a voice that carries the melodies of rippling waves and beckons the bold wanderer to approach. As the traveller draws near, the water nymph's captivating gaze locks onto their form. She craves the magic of poetry, the power of words woven into verses that stir the soul. To approach her is to embark on a dangerous dance with fate, for the nymph demands tribute in the form of an enchanting poem. With an alluring smile, she presents her fateful request.’
“Speak to me in verses,” Xander murmurs, mimicking the nymph’s apparent voice in a haunting tone, "Weave me a tapestry of words, an ode to the moonlit night, or risk being claimed by the depths,” is what she says.
Xander smiles and continues the story as Imogen, Janie, and I cling together in trepidation, ‘they say the water nymph's power is not to be trifled with. To deny her request is to risk an eternal slumber beneath the shimmering surface, entwined in the watery embrace.
And if the water nymph is pleased, her countenance transforms. She bestows a smile upon the poet, her form shimmering in approval, and retreats back into the depths from whence she came. The wanderer is left unharmed, forever marked by the encounter.
But those who fail, whose words fall short or lack the essence of true artistry, feel a cold tentacle grasp their ankle, pulling them beneath the surface, where they are lost to the world above. Their souls join the chorus of failed poets, forever entombed in the watery abyss.
The water nymph remains a mystery, a beautiful and deadly guardian of the lake's secrets, waiting for those brave or foolish enough to cross her path. But it is just a legend, and I’ve been there many a time and have never encountered such a thing,’ Xander finishes telling us.
I grab his scroll of don’ts, flip it over and start writing.
‘What are you doing with my scroll?’ Xander asks, annoyed.
‘I’m making a list of what to stay away from. So far, I have quinserps, blood-sucking vines, skull-hide basilisks, wraiths, lakes and women with green hair. Anything else I should note down?’ I ask him nonchalantly.