The Neo-Soviet marine biomods
The Black Leviathan from the eastern sea is a greater hazard in legend then in fact, as it only infrequently preys upon man. At least, as far as can be told, for many are taken by the sea with no record of their passing.
"Cities in the deep? I've never heard such foolishness. A talking lobster? Rubbish!"
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.
Before Final Fantasy turned Bahamut into a dragon, it was a fish
-"He's dead, Jim. Drowned, from the looks of it."
-"Cramps? Swimming too soon after a meal?"
-"No, but something got a meal alright."
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.
"Ye've ne'er heard of the Shnickels? Ye must 'ave not grown up in yonder country. The Shnickels are pests. Varmints. They move in, and you're done, son."
-Old Gerald, man in the pub.
Not all of the mermaids and sea sirens are half fish, there are other things that live in the sea
In the strangest parts of The Ocean, the Lojcreltians are born. Beings of weirdness and cosmic balance so profound they can alter reality.
A response to Dragonlordmax's Freetext Friday. Specifically, Exotic Mounts.
Thanks to axlerowes for help fleshing out the details and helping me tie it in further with the rest of the setting.
Vastids - man-maimers who live in contaminated water areas and Balrin Algae.
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.
Welcome, Lads, to Thunder Reef. A marvel of magical energies existing in harmony with the local fauna. Here, in Thunder Reef, you can find a large variety of oceanic creatures just overflowing with sonic energy. From the lowly Cacophony Crab, to the mighty Thunder-Squid, we will be taking a look at all of them today.
Classified as a category 4 threat, the Elib is somewhere between a vampire lord and Godzilla for limits of escalation. Yes, I would consider using a nuclear device to kill just one. I am that sure that I want it dead.
''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.
The whales of the deep are not to be trifled with, those who hunt them are as mad as those who think to slay dragons.
Cold Comfort is a long-sword of star-steel, its blade giving off a wan, blueish light. Its grip is wrapped tightly in snow-serpent hide, and its pommel bears a single opalescent gemstone.
This blade is enchanted in such a way, that whoever wields it, begins to fall completely and irrevocably "in love" with the weapon. This love does not manifest itself as the expected reverence and bond formed between any warrior and his weapon, but as a deeper, truer love, one has for a soul-mate of the same species! The longer the wielder carries Cold Comfort the stronger and more disturbing this love becomes, and only the most powerful of magicks can potentially break the sword's insidious spell. The blade's owner will even speak to and coo to the weapon, convinced that the sword understands and returns this epic love.
If the blade's wielder somehow loses the weapon or has it taken away, they will become inconsolable, and will predictably go to "ends of the earth and back" to retrieve it at any cost. Such is the weapon's curse that even separation from it does not damper the feelings the owner has for the sword. Legends tell of several distraught and mind-addled knights who even years after losing the blade, still wander the country-side searching for their lost love. And woe be to the "new lover" if and when they find him or her.