Excerpts From Nonexistent Books

A creature only recently discovered by science, the bunyip is an aquatic ampush predator that lies in wait in shallow or muddy water before latching onto prey with its sharp claws and drowning it in muck. It seems to colonize areas of extremely variable and ephemeral water supply, those unsuitable for crocodiles, and appears to be able to lay in wait for decades if not centuries in search of prey. When rare rains come, ephemeral rivers run and salt lakes fill, the bunyip will reportedly gorge itself enough that it can lie fallow for an equal period. Beyond that, though, the Collegium has been unable to assemble a coherent image or drawing of the beast, and those remains that have been collected have been so dessicated that dissection is impractical.

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Extirpated from the continent at around the same time as griffins, sphinxes are unseelie fae that actually do deserve their reputations as man-eaters, as they seem to derive more nutrition from highly intelligent prey, favoring learned professors above all else. This, combined with the sphinx’s own high intelligence and cunning, makes them extremely dangerous to keep in a zoological garden or menagerie. But it also makes them highly desirable and sought-after, so naturally both the Imperial and Royal Menagerie and the Collegium Zoological Gardens have at least one sphinx.

They are fed a regular diet of rhesus monkeys, the most intelligent creature that can be spared, but will often try to bargain their way into sweeter meat, as both sphinxes have fully mastered the common tongue. Indeed, they engage in an enciphered correspondence which seems to keep them appraised of the other, though no one at the Collegium has been able to break their code. It was thought that providing a male sphinx—the size of a housecat, and quite stupid compared to the female—might result in cubs, but the only result in both cases was that the sphinx toyed with the male for a month as they slowly tortured it to death. Visitors to both are cautioned never to enter into a contract of any kind with a sphinx, to give its riddles no heed, and above all to never, ever take anything that it offers.

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The noble griffin, the sign and sigil of many a kingly house, has been a favored animal on heraldry for centuries. However, as near as can be ascertained, they have been extinct in the Emperor-King’s realm since the days of the Eternal Empire, and have indeed been extirpated from the continent entirely. They survive elsewhere, however, albeit in far-diminished numbers given their—perhaps unfair—reputation as man-eaters.

Still, griffins are highly prized for menageries and zoological gardens. The Emperor-King’s menagerie currently holds one, as does the Collegium’s, though both specimens—nicknamed “Earl” and “Duke” after their donors—are elderly and sickly, having been fed a steady stream of refuse by paying visitors and being unable to fly due to clipped wings. Indeed, thanks to declawing that was done while they were both fledge-cubs, neither Earl nor Duke is even capable of seeing to their own meals and must instead be fed pre-cut meat. Indeed, it has been observed that both have grown spoilt and rather fat on this diet, but as the Collegium records no information on the proper diet of a griffin—save legends of them eating only infants exposed and left to die—it is currently unknown if, or how, this can be remedied.

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Seelie denizens of peat bogs, the ballybog is a shy herbivore that feeds on decaying vegetation and small animals. Due to its small humanoid shape and alarming appearance of a perpetual scowl, ballybogs are traditionally shunned and often killed on sight as bad luck. The Collegium has been unable to verify this, as the definition and provenance of “luck” is currently a matter of intense scholarly debate, but what is beyond dispute is that the ballybog is in a decline, possibly a terminal one. A last survey of the peatlands which form their last refuge identified only 101 individuals, of which only 14 were the rare sessile females. Debate is currently underway in the Collegium about the possibility if establishing a preserve, while others hold that the ballybog must perish because it is the natural order. In the meantime, the collegisters have been unable to agree on whether to take action on ballybog slaughter, with some holding that it should be banned until the debate is settled, some preferring to merely discourage it, and others agitating for an outright ban.

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So called because of their resemblance to particularly aged women, hags are unseelie fae that have no other appearance whatever their age. Among the most intelligent and ruthless of the unseelie fae, hags are capable verbal mimics that can exactly copy another’s voice only once. They are also capable of casting an aura of darkness about them, which they generally use for concealment and hunting, luring prey with vocal mimicry and then strangling it or slashing it with their talons. Despite this fearsome reputation, hag attacks on humans are rare, and at least one hag, Coligstress Svingril, gained renown as a scholar before unseelie fae were banned from the Collegium by the Emperor-King.

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Centaurs are not native to the realm, having been instead imported from the steppes as part of the Emperor-King’s bodyguard when the current noble house inherited the throne. Nevertheless, thanks to their loyal service, His Majesty’s Own Centaur Heavy Cavalry enjoy numerous legal and social protections not due other seelie fae. However, that retinue has been decreased over time, as cannon and shot have made cavalry more vulnerable, and for those centaurs not serving in His Majesty’s Own hold few if any rights—including the wives and children of serving members. Needless to say, this has been very unpopular with many centaurs, and their repeated demands to be recognized as full subjects have met with fierce opposition in Estates.

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It is a matter of considerable debate within the Collegium how the common selkie’s mysterious shapeshifting powers work. Appearing as an ordinary fur seal, not unlike the thousands that dot the upper coasts, it appears to be capable of taking human—and possibly other—forms. The legends of them shedding their seal skin remain unsubstantiated, with some Collegium members convinced that this is a myth, and others convinced it is some sort of artifact of the shape-changing process. It is believed that, in either event, this power is used for self-preservation, to tempt away or sabotage fishermen or sealers in the form of a comely maiden. Collegister Lara holds that this is an artifact of those trades being male-dominated, and insists that female fishermen would encounter robust male selkies; this has not yet been taken seriously as a matter of scientific inquiry.

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Long known to hunters as the most difficult prey in any of the Emperor-King’s forests, unicorns are officially protected as imperial-royal game, meaning that they can only be hunted with express royal permission. A number of rejuvinative health effects have been attributed to unicorn meat and unicorn blood, but the Collegium has been unable to determine this reliably. What is clear, though, is that unicorns are at least as intelligent as any human or fae, and that they possess several reserve powers that they ordinarily do not deign to exercise. Wild stories of unicorns speaking, changing shape, and using tools and traps have yet to be substantiated for all the interest they have provoked.

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Violent, misanthropic killers by reputation, a barghest is similar enough to a man in size and posture, and will often wear stolen rags for warmth, that its true unseelie nature may not be discovered until it is upon its victim. Using massive spade-like teeth and a distendable jaw, the barghest will kill by crushing or slashing its prey’s throat, after which it will dismember the body to get at the long bones, which it will crack open and suck dry for sustenance. Though attacks on humans are relatively rare, barghest predation on cattle and other livestock has led to its ruthless suppression and hunting, and there are some in the Collegium who believe that less than 1000 of these creatures yet persist in the Emperor-King’s realm.

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