merfolk legend
Listen close, and take care to heed my words of warning - especially you, Order people. The waters are safe most of the time, unless you go out trying to antagonize the sea guardians because you're stupid. You think I'm talking out of my ass? Well, pull a chair and listen well. It was one of those nights like this one - strong winds, the moons weren't all hidden, but may as well be between their phases and the clouds. Oh, Liya, this smoked salmon pie is delicious, can you pass along my praise to the chef? And maybe bring some pickled fish? I have a craving for that one with the beets. Now, the dark night, the strong winds. Thankfully, there was no storm. We would have refused to sail if there was, as we sailor actually have sense unlike the other Order people we had. They said they wanted to meet the Merfolk, so we went out. Things were fine until that night. When we catch unusually large fish with our nets, we toss them back with an apology. But your predecessors, no, they insisted we treat them like any other fish. They ignored our warnings that those fish are not for us. We refused to take part in their feast - our chef took even his tools and spices to keep the Order from using them. But we didn't succeed. Yes, the fish smelled good, until they started to smell like rotten fish. We had no idea what to expect when we heard the banshee wails, but the ship rocked harder than with the winds, and every person on board ran for the deck. Clawed and webbed hands ripped chunks of wood into the sides of the ship. I had never seen so many Mer around. But they weren't listening for songs. They were screaming. I saw one, then another, then another's back darken and shadows reach for the Order troops. Your fellows? They tried to hide behind us. I lost crew that day, but we refused to stand between the sea and those who did the sea wrong. I wish I hadn't seen it. The shadows dragged those people under the water, and I think I saw their flesh rot away as they did it. Not all of those Mer returned to the sea alive. Fish-people skeletons littered the ship before we realized we had a breach in our hull. Not a single Order member survived - remember that when you go out. The rest of us huddled our way to the one liferaft and drifted until we saw Merfolk again, joyful, singing. We sang back in our chilled, starved voices, about what we had seen, and with more somber eyes, the guardians helped catch us enough to survive, and pulled us towards the currents home. And they gave us a warning - we only lived because we did not commit the greatest crime against them. But we brought your kind to them, and for that, we had to be punished. Since then, I've lost two thirds of every catch, but I won't curse the guardians for it. Someday, I hope to pay my debt to nature and her children, but I will not complain. When you sail, do not anger the guardians.
Comments