Greentails, sirens, mermaids, merfolk, the creature you think of when you hear these names is a Tangaroa.
I try to avoid them if I can. I see them sometimes herding their flocks of flabby grey creatures into and out of Boston harbor, and it always gives me the chills. Briano tells me that they brought me back to life, but I can't remember it. I can't remember a lot of stuff. He also tells me that I was good friends with one of them once. One of the ones that begs outside of Grand Island Bank for nickels or blood. I can't tell you why I'm uncomfortable around them. They're just fish.
Not all of the mermaids and sea sirens are half fish, there are other things that live in the sea
Toltep walked slowly along the avenue, it would have been easier to swim along in the viaduct, but he had made it a point to not do the easy thing. All to often the easy path lead to ruin, and he had not survived so long by taking shortcuts, or the easy road. The market, what was above water, was abuzz with conversation. A large school of blood-crazed lurdi had been diverted into an ambush where the brave people had slaughtered the monsters. There was some worry, Toltep gathered, as a few had escaped.
''In a world dominated by savagery and barbarism, we alone represent civilization. Is it any wonder then that we are forced to keep the horrors of the outside world at bay?''
-an anonymous Usholal
Swimming with the Great Western Tide that sweeps towards Tarrod from the far west of the Ocean, the mighty and enigmatic Uuluun sing songs that speak of the unfathomable gods of the deep, and wrestle each other in seabed-shaking contests of strength and martial skill.
Something flashes beneath the waves, a hint of green scales surfaces. A rainbow colored crest breaks the waters surface followed by a huge beast.
The Wordfishes of Hloth, known also as the Sshpah, are strange composite-minds of the Hlothian jungles.
Perhaps one of the oldest of the humanoid races, the Pelamids are a sort of missing link between terrestrial humans and aquatic merfolk.
The roar of the dragon echoed through the cave, causing the knights to stumble back in fear. “Don’t worry,” said the mage who was with them. “It’s a water dragon, and from the state of the river outside, it is in poor health. It’s just trying to scare us.”
Legends even to the merfolk, the reclusive Trench Dwellers are a race alien and strange beyond human reckoning.
From afar I hailed the large man in the dialect of the keirn, thinking him to be friendly. To my surprize, the closer I walked to his large boat, the alrger he became, until he towered over my small frame. His frightning size and pose did little to hide his friendly face and then I knew, that I had found the Aegir.
-Aergais, Sage, Traveler, Historian
An aloof race of intelligent amphibians, the S’krae are an honor bound culture who have unusual customs.
Swarming, never-ending, sea of teeth, muscle, and scales. They are all pervasive, all consuming, and they will destroy you. Devouring body and soul. They are hatred and fear incarnate, a punishment from the foul and incomprehensible gods.
The Surash are without doubt,the most distrusted and least liked race in existence.
Suffused with a love for probing every inch of the darkest and most unexplored depths of the ocean,this adventurous octopus like being possesses a dashing courage most odd for one of his race.
Not very surprising perhaps,when you consider the fact that this young explorer is insane.
One day a a wind begins to blow out of the West. The next day it gets stronger. And stronger still the next few days. Eventually (and fortunately), the speed of the wind tops out at a steady fifty miles an hour, but continues to blow. Soon an entire kingdom is wondering why it's not abating. The weather mages deem it unnatural but can't seem to banish or control it. The priests of various faiths claim it's divine. The End-Of-Days crowd is having a field day with their predictions of doom. No one knows why the gale persists. When inquiring with neighboring kingdoms, it seems they too suffer from a persistent western mistral. Eventually the populace begins to adapt to living with a twenty four hour a day wind. Always from the West, and perpetual. What could be causing this? A raging Elemental king? a curse from the gods? an unearthed artifact? Or has Nature itself gone haywire?