Sku'um

Revelation

Long, long ago there was a single great fish frozen within the glaciers of the Dragon Chillan'thar, the god of winter. In that slow inevitable way that glaciers flow, an iceberg containing this great fish broke off and set adrift. For months this iceberg drifted along the currents, melting as it went until it finally released the trapped great fish. As the ocean waters surrounded its body, the great fish awoke.
After so much time trapped and slumbering within the ice, the world had changed a great deal. The most startling thing was the lack of connection. There was no murmuring of others of its kind from the pearl embedded deep within the great fish's tissues. No swarms of servants rushed to serve it when he neared undersea settlements. Instead, they were indifferent to his presence with some even being dismissive. Where was the Empire? Where were its kind? Where was Ichthiask'um?
To find an answer, they sank to the deepest depths of the Great Ocean, the trenches. These were once the homes of the empire and its people. But there were no others to be found. The Pearl Strands that carried the murmurs from pearl to pearl, including those within each Ichthiask'um, were gone. It took time for it to accept the silence from his pearl---time it spent down in the deepest trench to ponder its predicament and to plan.
On occasion, it would rise to explore and to learn then retreat back into its trench for more contemplation. One thing became very clear. It needed more. Servants to carry out tasks it could not. More of it to replenish its kind. Unfortunately, the only way for one Ichthiask'um to do that was to self-replicate by planting a piece of its core self into a host. It took time for a replicant to hatch from its host. It also took time to heal from ripping out a piece before it could make another. Sadly, they would all be replicants, born with all the memories it had up to the moment the core piece and been torn away. There would be no diversity. All would be Ichthiask'um. They would be it. It would be them.

by Kyraxys

Dawning Horror

by SamMino

Building an Empire requires laborers. As the first replicant grew within a deep-water shark, Ichthiask'um ventured towards a small village of fishfolk. With great patience, it waited until one of them strayed out alone before launching its attack. With fast and mighty swipes of its tail, Ichthiask'um shot across the water, veering away from the startled creature once he touched a whisker-like tentacle to it. Then, it swam away to wait.
The fishfolk, having flinched from the sudden rush and touch of the huge fish, fled back to the village and hid in a hut made of shells and scraps of coral. When he came out an hour later, he moved in a listless manner, his scales taking on a cloudy sheen. The moment another fishfolk noticed, she swam away to the shaman.
"Bloon has the ick!" At the cry from the nervous fishfolk, the shaman took up her clam shell medicine box.
"Show me." In another moment, she was tending to Bloon who was indeed suffering from something. A slime was spreading on his scales. A faint cloudiness to the slime muted the colors of Bloon's scales, making it easy to spot. "An ick, indeed."
Digging out a tiny shell sealed with a coral-and-kelp stopper, she handed it to Bloon. "Go home. Spread this all over. I will see you in the morning."
For days the shaman tried every cure but all failed. Bloon began to swell and complained of inner pain everywhere. On the seventh day, Bloon's flesh began to split open and peel. He writhed and roiled, sending bits of himself floating out through the water.
"Monster!" A fishfolk squealed.
"Nooo.....," the creature moaned. "Ashra, I... I am Bloon." He turned suddenly. "I am coming, master."
"Master?" The shaman gasped. All watched as Bloon swam toward a great pale fish whose eyes held a vast and unnatural awareness. Then, he turned back towards the villagers. "The master wishes... more." He grabbed Ashra and, before anyone could help, dragged her swiftly to the fish who stroked her with a tentacle. Seeing the line of slime that touch left, the shaman screamed. "Flee! Away for your lives!"
Once word spread of the dreadful fish and its ick, the fishfolk came to fear all ick. The afflicted have one chance for a cure to work. If that fails they are put to death.
More than fishfolk have come to serve Ichthiask'um. The Empire is growing!