The Origins of the Merfolk
When Zheenkeef hurled the elves around the world, some landed in the sea, and became the sea-elves. While most of the mortal races over which the gods have dominion reside on land, the sea-elves rarely touch earth. But the sea-elves are not the only mortal race to reside under the waves; the merfolk also have souls, and go before Maal upon their deaths to be judged.
They are humans who were changed to live under the sea—but how is this possible?
Long ago there arose a seaside kingdom of proud men who sailed tall ships across Grandfather Ocean’s back. When he marked them, Shalimyr the Wave loved these humans well, for they respected the waters and wrote joyful songs praising its foam and waves. The sounds of these works were soothing to Raging Shalimyr’s ear. But the attention of Shalimyr, the Waters of the World, is fickle, and he forgot about these people whom he so loved.
So it was that the seaside kingdom, unprotected and unfavored, came to war with a powerful empire that wielded fell magic against its foes. The men of the water cried out to Shalimyr to crush their foes, but he did not—his attention was on other matters, and his affections belonged to others, now. Battles raged for many years. Wave-lords conquered the ports of the mages for a time, but the mages drove them off with fire and lightning.
At last the mages who waged this war against the proud men of the ships devised a tactic to destroy their foes. Calling upon terrible magic, they sank the entire kingdom of the seafaring men to the bottom of the great, wide sea! It is said that Mormekar, the Grim Wanderer (as he is called by all folk doomed to meet him), may claim any few souls without even sparing them his attention; but in that hour so many thousands died at once that Mormekar was required to walk among them himself. For many long moments, not one of them died though they clawed at their throats, unable to breathe.
Their terrible suffering reached Endless Shalimyr’s ears, and he too went to the site of this cataclysm. He asked Mormekar to spare them, but the Grim Wanderer does his duty and stays his hand for few—or perhaps none.
“They cannot breathe, Shalimyr, and they must die. The choice is not mine.” And indeed, Shalimyr understood: The choice was not Mormekar’s but his own, to let these people who loved him and revered him die and be erased from the world, or to save them. And Shalimyr so loved these folk, every one of them doomed to death, that he transformed them. He gave them the tails and gills of fishes so that they might live on! In wonder at this transformation, the merfolk called out their thanks. And thus do they revere Endless Shalimyr to this day, for he saved them from death and made them what they are.
“They cannot breathe, Shalimyr, and they must die. The choice is not mine.” And indeed, Shalimyr understood: The choice was not Mormekar’s but his own, to let these people who loved him and revered him die and be erased from the world, or to save them. And Shalimyr so loved these folk, every one of them doomed to death, that he transformed them. He gave them the tails and gills of fishes so that they might live on! In wonder at this transformation, the merfolk called out their thanks. And thus do they revere Endless Shalimyr to this day, for he saved them from death and made them what they are.
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