The Caliendo Straits. Isles Unmoored.
The Caliendo Straits: are a series of islands in the Western Hemisphere where the known conventions of the natural world go to fester and come close to dying. There are many strange locales across the face of this world: the altered landscapes of Surtova and Mavend, the elemental chaos of the Roil, and the rot-birthed jungles of the Blightspine. Yet, everything that makes them stark and alien can be consolidated into the shifting landscape of Caliendo.
Caliendo, as it currently sits within the wider biosphere, was born from a calamity crafted of lost magic and divine intervention. Once a bridge that connected two continents into one continuous landmass, it is now a shifting mass of thousands of unmoored islands, islets, and atolls that float atop the waves. These islands rarely move so far apart to leave the Straits, seeming to be tethered together by some unseen form of magic, and more commonly crash together, reshaping coastlines and trading inhabitants as the fauna of the Straits has learned to use the chaotic nature of their home their own betterment.
The topography varies a bit nonsensically across the Straits, with some towering high into the sky atop sheer cliffs. At the same time, their neighbor is a sodden marshy atoll barely bobbing above the waves. This is likely due to the islands’ ever-moving nature. The only constants are the “Cascade Marks,” blue holes that funnel water into somewhere far below the surface of the world. Their pull is strong enough to keep a ring of the islands moored in a spinning orbit around them. Currently, five of these regions have been identified by the few that have dared enter the turbulent and untrustworthy waters of the locale. All of the aforementioned characteristics leave Caliendo largely isolated from the rest of the world, even though it sits on what would be prime trading lanes between the Far West and the North, as the shifting land masses, untrustworthy tides, latent magical radiation, and vicious inhabitants make it an often suicidal attempt to navigate. More ships have run aground or sank in Caliendo than anywhere else in the world, or so the claim goes.
The flora and fauna of Caliendo are shaped not only by the shifting nature of their environment but also by the pervasive perfusion of magic that afflicted the lands. This allowed many of those who survived the “Cascade” to rapidly adapt and evolve in a comparatively scant number of generations. This process, occasionally observed elsewhere in the world, has been dubbed by some as “Edenic Evolution,” which is perhaps misleading in its actual connotations.
The nature of Caliendo and the entities living within it have also shaped a number of isolated cultures that live within its expanse. Still, as this is less of an anthropological work, the explorative narrative will stray away from them at this time.
Flora:
The flora within Caliendo comes in two varieties: the aquatic and the semi-aquatic. The chaotic ever-shifting nature of the locale means that for at least part of the year, the roots of the majority of plant life will be dipping below the seawater. This has led to a mangrove-analog root system amongst most trees, even those away from the shores, creating domed areas that a number of smaller fauna take as dens. The magic of the area also means that despite the isle’s more northerly clime, the air stays balmy and near tropical, allowing plant life to flourish year-round.
In other settings, this would mean the plants rely on a monsoon-based climate system for their pollination and growth, but that is not the case in Caliendo. Instead, flora are able to hold onto their spores, which is necessary for cross-pollination, until the proper time. This proper time for those that are rooted atop the isles is whenever an island grows close to each other, and in some cases, plants know when to drop their fruit so they can be eaten by herbivores and have their seeds carried to a new isle. The opposite is true for aquatic plants, which wait until isles move apart to breed, turning the brief empty sea patches into a verdant greenery.
As Caliendo was once the main seat of power for the Promeath, a nation of hyper-magically powered despots and the numerous slave races forced to serve them, the vegetation found within Caliendo derives from domesticated breeds and very few wild strains.
Nearly all trees in Caliendo descend from some fruit tree, with citrus, pear, and pomegranate trees being the most popular last time. While many a new variety has grown in the time since then, the fruit they produce is still largely recognizable, despite the occasional outlandish colors and strange qualities gained from generations of steeping in magical-radiation.
The oceans are more starkly different than those in the wider world. Seawater-dwelling water lilies of prodigious size draw the eyes first of those who dare to sojourn into the region. Local fauna often use them as brief places of respite or rafts to more distant islands. Yet, most aquatic plantlife descends from two domesticated flora in particular.
Corn and Potatoes.
The former takes the place of most seagrasses in the region. However, its descendants most closely resemble kelp forests, which can still be recognized from the vegetables that still cover their heights. They have also adapted to sea life and are the foundation of the diet for most sea-dwelling herbivores.
The latter, meanwhile, has formed a symbiotic relationship with a species of fungus to become the foundation of faux coral reefs that coat the elevated sea bed, forming barriers between the varying “corn-kelp” forests and home for the variety of fish, invertebrates, and amphibians that call the sea home.
There is one patch of greenery that stands out from the rest of Caliendo, located in a scattering of northern islets and atolls that notably rarely travel far from each other. This is because a vast, intertwining web of roots and vines tethers them together. The plants here are descended from a more predatory variety, fly traps, sundews, pitcher plants, and every known variety of predatory plants known on Arclund has a representative here, as well as quite a few poisonous species as well. This mass was once but a garden from the Promeath leader, Primarch Apollyon, a woman devoured by the Rite of War. This garden was a pastime of hers that many historians find a bit striking until they look deeper. She coveted plants that fought, ones that waited patiently to make a worthy kill. Today, her garden has become something else entirely, and the conglomerate is rumored not only to have become a singular organism but one with a caustic intelligence all its own. The isles it manages to ensnare it bleeds dry, consuming all fauna and flora its vines can choke out and then releasing the isle to be repopulated.
Fauna:
The fauna within Caliendo is varied, with many descending from formally domesticated species, as with the flora they feast upon. Others were vermin or rare overlooked wild specimens that excited unaccosted within the Promeath’s domain. In the fauna, more than the flora, the effects of the magical cataclysm that consumed the area are more readily apparent. Termed “Mutaforms” by many biological scholars, most are completely unrecognizable compared to their original ancestors.
There is one constant, one of the few that Caliendo actually follows alongside the rest of the world: on an island, the big gets smaller, and the small gets bigger. However, I doubt the scholar that first made that estimation would have expected the colossal size difference seen when comparing Caliendos varied fauna to their progenitors. What is more, many of them have magical capabilities as well.
As with much of the flora, most of the fauna on the Straits are, one, semi-aquatic and two, migratory. The encroaching of two isles sees a mass exodus on both, with prey and predator both leaping the ever-closing gap to seek resources that the previous inhabitants did not make use of. This makes niche partitioning almost as chaotic as anything else in Caliendo, but it does exist. Breeding seasons also coincide with the end of encroachment so that mothers need not worry about attempting to get a new-born nymph, fawn, or cub from one island to the other. Most are around a year old before they make their first crossing, meaning that most species in Caliendo have about a two-year breeding cycle, with mothers focusing on raising their young and reading them for the rest of their chaotic existence. There are some exceptions to this rule, of course, but isn’t that expected in this exception-based place?
While life on the islets and beneath the waves differs greatly from most other locales in the world, the sea birds that call them home come from all over, and many common types can be seen flying alongside some of the Straits’ more outlandish aerialists.
I could go on for pages and pages about the varied fauna of Caliendo. The Raptorian Centipedes, the Wuggles, the Cocoxotls, the Haluda, and the Squallers are all unique and interesting animals, and there’s even more besides!
I think, though, for our purposes, I will briefly describe four of the Straits’ local colors: the Crawlflitters, the proverbial bottom of the food chain; Apollyon’s Mane, the region’s apex predator; the Emerald Leviathans, its largest herbivores; and the Bone Beavers, a particularly unique inhabitant.
Crawflitters (Locusta volans), are best described as pigeon-sized parrot-colored flying crawfish. In function, they move in patterns resembling starlings, though they often form esoteric, arcane patterns that occasionally work to cast spells. They’re consummate herbivores devouring corn-kelp, leaves, fruit, and rotting wood, yet are unable to move on land due to the membrane that connects their many limbs together. They can latch on and move up trees and are powerful swimmers on top of flying, meaning they commonly stick to the coasts of Caliendo’s shifting isles.
They are at the bottom of the food chain, eaten by almost every predator that calls the island home. The natives have learned to hang nets between trees over canals, catching those fleeing whatever is seeking them beneath the waves.
Luckily for them, they are explosive breeders, and their egg clutches are guarded by wards that the crustaceans instinctively create in whirling aerial dances girding them against predators. Of course, this expenditure of magic is quite taxing, and many older Crawflitters end up expending themselves. This has led to many predator species learning to watch the displays in relative peace, which one of my companions once compared to Majorin nobles watching an opera.
The Apollyon’s Mane (Scyphozoa Irambula) is possibly one of the most dangerous Caliendo Mutaforms. Named for the aforementioned Primarch of War, whose bloody conquests still haunt the memories of many peoples across the face of our world due to their vibrant ruby coloration.
They are titanic aquatic predators with a bell thirty feet wide and tendrils that, in larger specimens, can match the length of a Muse’s Whale. Moreover, they have an unnatural level of aggression toward a beast that naturalists believe lacks a brain.
Unlike most Caliendo Mutaforms, the Apollyon’s Mane has made its way into the wider oceans, competing with Goliath Sharks, Orcas, Bludgeon Whales, Sea Serpents, etc, on top of consuming their young.
It is unknown how the Apollyon’s Mane detects prey or threats but strikes with startling speed regardless, enveloping their prey in their net of tendrils. Their venom is horrifically painful and highly acidic, working into the body and, in a fashion more fitting of a spider, liquifying them from the inside out into a thick viscous soup that they add to their mass. The aforementioned predators that have gotten into turf wars with the Apollyon’s Mane often bear scars that more closely resemble rusting metal than true flesh wounds.
Perhaps the most frightening quality of the Apollyon’s Mane is their ability to move on land. With surprisingly resilient hide and an ability to absorb water into their porous forms, in their native habits, it is almost more likely to run into one along the coast than within the waves, where they are often beset by Raptorian Centipedes, one of the few beings that has learned to hunt them, the other being certain pods of transient Orcas. Their locomotion is often spider-like and slow as long as prey or danger is not readily in “sight.” However, when detecting prey on land, they pull most of their tendrils into their body, excluding the largest pair, which they use to launch themselves forward, rolling about like a demented wagon wheel.
The Emerald Leviathans (Diplopoda marinas) are the largest of the Caliendo Mutaforms; these behemoths are confined to the shifting islands due to their slow speed and requirement of shallow water, yet they are quite distinctive. After all, an eighty-foot-long millipede with a vibrant green carapace looming out of the water to spout dozens of miniature geysers into the air is quite a sight.
Herbivores, with very few predators, are placid beasts. They consume corn-kelp alongside leaves and fruit that they pluck from coastal trees.
While they have no visible natural weaponry, they are able to keep even the deadliest Caliendo predators at bay as their carapaces naturally conduct bursts of energy when struck. The harder the blow, the harsher the feedback. Yet, this ability only lasts as long as the animal is still alive, and their bodies become a locus of predatory activity. Strangely, outside of the fact that they are negatively buoyant, it appears that the main limitation of the Emerald Leviathan’s range is that their defenses seem to weaken the further they get from Caliendo, allowing Goliath Sharks, Sea Serpents, and Apollyon Manes to tear them apart easily. Several biologists believe this is due to some latent residue or effect within the Straits that the Emerald Leviathans are somehow able to absorb.
The locals, though adverse to interacting with outsiders, have been noted to craft weaponry and armor from the carapaces of Emerald Leviathans. Some settlements are even girded by their vast shells, and through some form of enchantment, they have enlivened their defensive qualities.
Emerald Leviathans rarely mate and are one of the few insects known to give birth live, often having only a single “calf.” Bulls compete for females by charging at each other, the shattering blasts that tear out from these collisions often reforming the terrain around them.
And finally, we have the Bone Beavers (Castor ossisconfractus). These rodents were one of the first discovered Caliendo Mutaforms and are named for their rather unique form of sustenance and living materials. Of course, one should note their blood-red fur, blackened obsidian-like teeth, and prodigious size, the largest of which matching if not outstripping the size of a male Spire Bear.
Bone Beavers are skittish and temperamental, as befits their predation by numerous Insectoforms and the Equus rudashi offshoots that call parts of the Straits home. Of course, that is not to say that these beasts are defenseless and, in truth, might be one of the most deadly beings amidst the shifting chaos.
Their teeth have evolved to allow them to devour some of the toughest material known to mortal-kind: Kaiju bone, of which only one yet truly titanic corpse is spread across a dozen or more largely islets.
These osteovores can readily sheer clean through the material, which is unachievable outside of heavily treated adamant picks. One can imagine then what a bite from one of these creatures can do to another animal or a mortal.
Their bites are preternaturally clean, with muscles and bones severed in a singularly flat edge. More disturbing is the claim that their bites resist regenerative magic, the severed limb refusing to reattach or the body unable to produce a replacement. Some scholars believe this may be due to a caustic element within the Bone Beaver’s saliva, but none have managed to collect a sample due to the beast’s foul temperament.
A single shard of kaiju bone seems to be able to keep a Bone Beaver fed for months as it slowly digests within their stomach. What is more impressive is that they carve hollows into the bone, which they then thread with equally rot-resistant sinew, creating lodges that more closely resemble a weaver bird’s nest or trap spiders’ webs than a regular beaver lodge, which they reside in in family groups of up to six members, often a mated pair and their eldest children. Younger pups are often chased off to either join or start their own lodges elsewhere.
Some worrying rumors have reached my ears that miners within the Blight Spine Forest have managed to smuggle pups in to break down the many Kaiju corpses that form the vast semi-fungal jungle they call home. Claims of the creatures escaping, attacking miners and breeding unchecked have met the ears of several Druidic circles who have begun moving in to investigate, worrying the beasts may upset the already fragile ecosystem in the area.
One could speak for hours about Caliendo’s multifaceted and baffling nature, and this may be the first entry about this enchanting locale. Regardless, the journey moves onward across the wonderous biomes of this world to document the beasts of land, air, sea, and more.