Cedelyon

## Lore

*Hoofprints in the Sand*

In comparison to their distant cousins, the centaurs of the Gallop Highlands, the Cerynitis from the jagged crags of the Sandy Ridges were even more menacing. With their diabolical horns, wild hair, monstrous torsos, stump-like hooves, and large bony hands, they were quite frightening to behold. Worst of all, their unfriendly faces looked vicious and unwelcoming to strangers, as if they were looking for trouble.

Yet the most fearsome characteristic of the Cerynitis was their ability to control the wind. A dust storm billowing in the distance? Don't panic, it might just be a careless Cerynitis sneezing.

As one of the lucky few who have dealt with the Cerynitis and survived – I would venture there are no more than two of us throughout all of Etryna – I think I must warn ambitious adventurers: do not think lightly of entering this lethal desert.
It is said that the demigod, Adrian, was once displeased with the early iniquity of his creation, the Centaurs. As a warning to them, he sent down a twisted, fearsome double of the Centaurs, and gave it the name "Cerynitis." The centaurs saw this beast as a living reminder that the Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. Their piety increased forthwith, leading to their highly ritualized present-day society. Seeing that the centaurs had submitted his will, Adrian rewarded them by removing the beast to a distant desert. Yet Cerynitis was still begot of his own power, and Adrian took pity on it, despite its ugliness. He gave it powers to protect itself, and companions of its own kind. Thus, the race of Cerynitis is said to represent the wrath of Adrian in the natural world.
If the legend is true, which it must be, for I have encountered this rare beast, absolutely do not imagine that anything good will come of facing a Cerynitis yourself.
--*G.D. Folkien, Panic! 12 Years out of Etryna, pp 238-239, 7th ed., A.L. 1327*
It is undeniable that Folkien was a great adventurer. His travel notes are undoubtedly some of the most fascinating works in the history of the Etryna. However, he couldn't tell a Cerynitis from a shortnose slug. As with the proverb "in all of Etryna there are no two identical leaves," the Sandy Ridges do not contain two entirely identical Cerynitises.

One thing is for sure: it is absolutely unfair to say that all encounters with Cerynitis are misfortunate. The majority of those who died exploring the Sandy Ridges did so due to their own arrogance and stupidity – not because of Cerynitis. In fact, the Cerynitis held no malice toward strangers, nor did they mind holding out their hands for strangers who had been caught in quicksand. To be sure, whether or not they would take it is another matter!
However, one critical item must be noted: if you don't want to taste the true anger of the Cerynitis, never try to ride one.

An ancient legend from the Elves about their eastward exodus may explain the origins of the taboo around the Cerynitis. Many thousands of years ago, Sandy Ridges was a lush forest, a veritable elven paradise. Compared with the High Elves of the city of Al’Falas of today, the ancient elves were far, far stronger, but far more arrogant. They did not know how to respect nature. And so, the elves built a sprawling city here, and wantonly exploited the strength of the forest. The grass and trees started to wither, and the earth began to dry up.

One night, the elves were shocked to see something they had never seen before: a sandstorm. It howled through the air, submerging the elven city under a sea of sand. It is recorded in elven legend as "The Wrath of Desert," turning the formerly beautiful and grand palaces of the Dawn Elves into dunes of sand. The survivors fled to the east, towards the dawn, and abandoning all they once held dear, including the sapient horses that they had tamed. The legend states these horses were the ancestors of the Cerynitis, abandoned in this unnatural sandstorm to fend for themselves.

Miraculously, they survived through sandstorms and drought, even mastering the power to control the desert. With their history of slavery and abandonment, the Cerynitis refused to be ridden or used as tools ever again. Over the generations, they chose to live harsh lives of solitude in this barren desert; only foolhardy adventurers drawn by the legends of Dawn Elven riches dared to disturb them.

How do I understand the Cerynitis so well, you ask? When I was still young and my brain was filled with fantasies about adventure and treasure, I spent an… unforgettable time in the desert with a tribe of the Cerynitis. It is no exaggeration to say that the experience served as a bookend to my life of adventure. It changed my life; afterwards, I could return home with a lighter conscience.

After decades of committed study and research, I became the most erudite scholar east of Pantos rather than a pile of bleached dwarven bones in the wilderness. I must thank my Cerynitis friends for this – that is, aside from the fractured bones that ache whenever it's overcast and rainy.

And now, I must see him one last time. The Dark Lord and his henchmen are in hot pursuit. And the time left for me is short. Fortunately, this long journey is nearly at an end. The great dunes of Sandy Ridges have revealed themselves to me in the dawn light. I can already hear the sound of hooves treading atop them.

Quickly, I’m almost there. I think I can see the figures of the Cerynitis galloping towards me. My old friend is a reliable one: Cedelyon, King of the Cerynitis, will you answer my call? Etyrna needs you!

## Synergy

Loshod

Thrym

Omaeus

Unknown