Warku the Untameable

A species of large, land-wandering reef crabs native to the coastal jungles and beaches of the Shark Tooth Isles, the Kah’Puaka are typically dull brown or mottled green — excellent for camouflage among volcanic rock and palm shadows. But Warku? Warku is a vision. Deep crimson legs, a carapace streaked with azure and gold, and claws that shimmer like oil on water. He's big, too — easily the size of a full-grown man, with eyes that gleam like moonstones and the arrogance of a deity. According to local lore, Warku has escaped death more than a dozen times. The Ki’Inori say he first appeared during the Path of Fire and Foam festival some eighty years ago, stealing a ceremonial fruit offering and scuttling off with it in broad daylight. Since then, he’s been spotted across the archipelago — in bustling markets, atop temple roofs, crashing weddings, even once halfway up Mt Ki’Inoro itself. Attempts to capture, cook, or cage him have all failed… miserably. Nets tear. Pots break. Boats sink. More than one unlucky fisherman has been pinched in the balls by those divine claws. Children sing songs about him. Travellers tell stories of sightings. Merchants sell Warku charms for protection and mischief — especially popular among smugglers and pirates. Some even say he’s the earthly avatar of a forgotten trickster god, or perhaps a spirit of the reef itself, sent to remind mortals that not everything wild can be tamed. These days, Warku is a local treasure. Revered, feared, adored. He answers to no one, honours no festival, and follows no path but his own — and the Kah’Puaka have never been more respected. Legends say that the day Warku allows himself to be caught will mark the end of the Ki’Inori's freedom — so none dare try again.