When one stands within the towering hall of the Zaureez Ohbahking, the eye is drawn immediately to the immense corpse of a kibiri crocodile stretched across the chamber floor. Even in death, the beast seems to stare back at all who enter, its vast jaws and armoured hide serving as a silent warning: Look upon me. I was colossal. I was deadly. And even I did not endure.

Beyond the carcass stand the finest sons of the Ohbahkurn, born from his many wives, as is often the Zaureez way. Though these princes may come from different mothers, they are united by the qualities their father values above all else—ruthlessness, cunning, patience, and boldness. In many respects, they resemble the very creature laid before them: predators waiting motionless for the perfect moment to strike.

Among the Zaureez warrior class, the kibiri crocodile is revered as a sacred spiritual beast, embodying dominance, inevitability, and the patient certainty of death itself. Warriors adorn themselves with its teeth, scales, and likeness, believing that to emulate the crocodile is to understand true strength.

The great beast has also become one of the many curiosities drawing travellers from mainland Mernia into the famed Zaureez Tourlands. Merchants, nobles, scholars, and thrill-seekers alike journey south in hopes of glimpsing the wonders and dangers of Zauri with their own eyes. Many arrive harbouring even greater ambitions still—to venture beyond the Tourlands and press further south into the forbidden Birthlands themselves.

Yet no matter one’s title, wealth, or influence, the laws of the Zaureez remain absolute. Beyond certain borders, no foreigner may pass. Countless tales speak of ambitious travellers who believed themselves exceptions to the rule. Few of those stories end well.