Deep within the Thalorien Woods dwell the nissri, a people as varied and unpredictable as the forest itself. No two are alike: some sprout delicate antlers, others curling horns, a twitching tail, or even all at once. Their bodies are slight and nimble, built for darting through undergrowth or clambering up the backs of the creatures they ride—mostly small rodents or birds, that they steer with reckless delight.
Most nissri are wild, mischievous, and only half-clothed, draped in moss, bark, or leaves. They delight in trickery, in leading travelers astray with laughter from the shadows, and in snatching small trinkets left unwatched. Yet not all are feral. Among their kind live those who lean toward civility, wearing simple garments and showing curiosity—sometimes even kindness—toward outsiders. These rare nissri will trade stories with the Vhalandir or serve as guides, though never without a glint of mischief in their eyes.
The scholars of the Thaeryx tribe speak of the nissri as the “many faces of Thalorien’s spirit”—neither wholly friend nor foe, but ever a reflection of the forest’s shifting moods. To encounter one is to be tested: in wit, in patience, or in the willingness to laugh at one’s own expense. For whether wild or mild, the nissris remain bound to the woods, their lives woven into its magic as tightly as root to soil.