Strex

Names: Strex, Milk-Rex, The Ohgodswhy

Appearance: The Strex is a selectively bred, medium-sized tyrannosaurid with a hunched posture, patchy scales, and two bloated udders that hang, flopping beneath its thick, scar-laced belly. Its forelimbs are still comically small, but its legs are powerfully muscled. its mouth, though blunted compared to wild cousins, still bears too many teeth for comfort. Its eyes are wide and unsettlingly intelligent and filled with rage at its existence, while its roar has been described as "half growl, half burp, half scream."

Colors range from leathery gray to jaundiced cream. Some strains have faint black patches resembling cow spots, though many consider this a sick joke of House Nin's breeding team

Ecology: The Strex was never meant to exist in the wild. Bred by House Nin in the province of Emburn, the first successful Strex was the result of aggressive magical breeding, alchemical hormone tampering, and according to rumors, one drunken prayer to Jover. Designed specifically to survive in swampy pastures and yield high-fat, protein-rich milk, Strex are fed a diet of fish paste, root vegetables, and Serfs to keep them docile.

In practice, docility is... inconsistent.

While milkable, Strex are volatile, difficult to herd, and prone to "rage-spurts". Brief, terrifying rampages triggered by stress, heat, or the color red. They require constant music to keep calm, and are usually kept in fortified, rune covered pens with dedicated bard-tenders from the mage circle, the Circle of Music, and “milk wranglers” armed with magically-enhanced lassos and reinforced buckets.

Despite being an apex predator by origin, the Strex now occupies a niche as livestock. Miserable, traumatizing and dangerous livestock.

Cultural Impact:
The existence of the Strex is seen by many as both a miracle of magical husbandry and a cautionary tale against meddling too far into nature. Among the serfs of Emburn, the phrase “Don’t milk a Strex” has become a proverb meaning “don’t push your luck.”

To nobles, Strex-milk cheeses are prized as "bold" "muscular" and "haunting" These are expensive delicacies served in small portions and rarely twice.

Religious orders such as The Steel Clerics have denounced the creature as “an affront to Ba-Rhad’s natural order,” while more chaotic clergy of Jover claim the Strex is proof that absurdity holds divine power.

Some believe a wild strain has escaped into the The Brair-Wild, and that a “Bull Strex” roams free, its milk long curdled, its soul forever spoilt, waiting to return its pain upon the world.

One bard has already written a play: "The Udder Tyrant: A Tragedy." It ends poorly for everyone. The characters, the bard, the nobles that beat the bard to death after hearing his descriptions of udders flapping in the wind. Everyone