I first became acquainted with the heterozygous Vastaya after I set foot on the fertile seaside of Ionia. My original purpose was to seek an antidote to a heart disease peculiar to Piltover, malaise and fatigue—a long, long period of boredom that arose from the sophisticated and opulent everyday life of the progressive city, where I had the privilege of begging for food as a writer of a little fame.

In the warm and magical hinterland of Ionia – a hinterland not usually explored by non-native cartographers – I embarked on an adventure, setting out to find something beyond my knowledge. Something surprising, weird, wonderful, shocking.

When I found out about Vastaya, I knew immediately that I was making the trip.

The first time I met a Vastaya was in the quiet of the night. It was rummaging through my camp, looking for something to feed on. I almost scared it away when I woke up, but I managed to soothe it with a handful of sweet cakes and a pillow tune that my mother taught me to sing (as a soprano singer, I'm well-versed in rhythm and ready to sing melodious and soothing ditties that are tempting).

Although it walks on two legs like a human, its physical characteristics are heterozygous for many other creatures, some of which I have only read about in books and some of which I have seen and heard during my travels. It had a long cat-like beard and a pointed nose, was covered in python-like scales, and had the strength of a Beaglewater saltwater beast on its limbs (because it quickly ate the sweet cake, so I had the privilege of witnessing it lift me above my head and make sure I had no other candy in my sleeping bag before putting me down).

After a while, the creature fled into the darkness, and I knew what I was aiming for: I decided to continue my quest for the Vastayas (as the locals call them).

The text you see below records the various Vastayas I met during my journey to this mysterious continent.

If I were to make a conjecture about the origin of these creatures, which I consider myself qualified as a learned gentleman in the field of physical sciences, I would conclude that the Vastayas were not confined to a particular species, but that they belonged taxonomically to a broader category, and should be classified into a Vastaya order, or a Vastaya phylum.

In a word, though there may have been many Vastayas of similar appearance (this conclusion was not easy to come by, I followed the cat-snake-ape child back to his village, only to be rudely driven away by his like-looking brethren. Maybe they mistook me for a malicious scout or a predator at the top of the food chain, so they followed me back to camp and took all my rations), but the differences in appearance and behavior between tribes and populations are huge.

After my first encounter with the Vastayas, I used the method of tracing the water and continued along the Nerm River (I gave it the name because of the loud flow and the cynicism I shared with many old gentlemen) near their village, knowing that the other Vastaya tribes would be attracted to the water. Unsurprisingly, a few days later I discovered a completely different tribe. The Vastayas had small, fluffy faces like otters, and they couldn't help but want to grab them in their hands and pinch them. But they turn from the waist down into the tail of a seal.

I tried to offer my glasses to them as a gift of peace (as I found out that many of them were carrying bags full of glowing knick-knacks, so I guessed they might be a barter community), but to no avail. So I started to improvise the "I'm here for peace without malice" dance (this dance focuses on the use of the knees, and my kneecaps are definitely icy and jade). Inspired by the dance, my fellow Vastayas accepted me and fed me a warm dinner, a dish that I can only describe as three ripe meats that don't know what the flavor of fish is.

Although they did not speak during my dancing prayer for peace, I discovered later that they could speak my language fluently when they politely asked me to hand me a glass of yellowish salty and spicy powder. I'd never heard their accents or dialects, but I could easily understand everything they spoke. At this point, my intellectual curiosity overtook my previous appetite, and I asked them a series of questions about their history.

I learned that the origins of the Vastayas can be traced back a long, long time ago, to a group of humans in a paradise in Ionia to escape the Void World War (I have written many long books on the subject, and it is a great value for money, and it is sold in all the bookstores in Phi City). The fleeing humans encounter an intelligent group of shapeshifting creatures that resonate in perfect harmony with nature's magical energy. The symbiosis between these two groups eventually led to the Vastaya people I knew. The offspring of the two groups have settled in different regions, and have chosen different forms, some have become winged humanoids in the Ionian region, others have become the limb draggers of the Shurima Desert, and some have become the scaly manatees of Freljord, always with a bitter expression of grievance on their faces.

I wanted to stay and learn more about the otters, but one of my problems seemed to be a big taboo on their part, and I was abruptly thrown out of the village, and their friendliness and kindness were gone. To avoid making the same mistake, the last question I ask is whether the initial pairing between the two races was purely magical, or if it was a more substantial (don't get me wrong) contact.

My composure was gone with supplies, but I never let go of my thirst for adventure. I set out in a new direction again, and all that was left of my self-defense weapon was ambition and ornate rhetoric. For months, I lived on the abundant fruits and vegetables of Ionia, which were as readily available as the food on the branches or on the ground, just like the goods on the stalls of the border markets.

I could only count the time by sunrise and sunset, and I was happy to forget about the Piltover red tape I used to take for granted. Later, after wandering in Ionia for many days, I smelled of it.

I stopped, undressed (to make sure there was no one around—a gentleman would never force himself to be naked) and walked out into a lake. The lake is fragrant with berries and grass.