Wild beasts of the imagination — untamed spirits of the quick and unfettered waters of this world. These steeds of the fast-flowing rivers are never to be captured, never to be controlled; to stop is to die — to be stopped is to be turned to droplets which return to the fast-flowing waters. Yet, while free they are things of pure beauty; mystical bringers of the gods' good will.
In the strangest parts of The Ocean, the Lojcreltians are born. Beings of weirdness and cosmic balance so profound they can alter reality.
Few things define a ship more than her guardian spirit.
It is unwise to speak the name of the Great Demon of the Ocean if you are close enough to the sea to smell the salt in the air. It is inviting disaster to speak it’s name when you are on the ocean itself.
In a small inn (the more remote the better), a man turns up dead. There are no wounds on his body what-so-ever, and he aboslutely reeks of garlic.
The man died of a curse that forced him to eat a clove of garlic a day or suffer the penalty. This gets really interesting if the body somehow appears on top of a someone the villagers are suspcious of.