As if cotton candy could take the form of a giant ferret, the Dunverclain bounds across the plains to the east of the empire, loping through the golden grasses, always in search of a very specific treasure. They are not the only ones, not by a long shot, but anyone who hunts for the eggs that dragons bury out here has seen a Dunverclain for themselves — or even tried to reason with one.
When they are possessed of their senses, the Dunverclain are the best hunters there are. An unerring sense of direction, a keen nose that can even smell sorcery — they have the traits every human only longs for. But they go mad out here, on the hunt. Driven to fits and delusions, perhaps by the magic of the dragons or the nature of this plane. Perhaps we will never know! Make yourself an ally of the Dunverclain, but never trust it completely. It will eventually betray you, whether it means to or not.