The Neo-Soviet marine biomods
Also known as aquastats or hydrostations, the submersible cities of the Eurasian Alliance
A Revised and improved collection of scallywags, scoundrels, and nautical ne'er do wells.
The Ark Class ship formed part of the three-fold survival plan of the wealthy and powerful of the Petroleum Age. The other two legs of the plan were the arcologies, and space habitats.
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.
A marine version of the construction hardsuit. Excerpted from the Abridged 30 Power Armors sub
Greentails, sirens, mermaids, merfolk, the creature you think of when you hear these names is a Tangaroa.
In the strangest parts of The Ocean, the Lojcreltians are born. Beings of weirdness and cosmic balance so profound they can alter reality.
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.
In the dark one morning, the Bloated Black Beast slowly rose to the water's surface. Whence it crested, great gouts of flame erupted from its Misshapen Form and were hurled hundreds of feet in all directions. It dove again, and appeared as nothing more than an Inky Shadow of Malice. With no purpose, It swam on; occasionally cresting and flaming, but still without purpose.
A mysterious legacy of a hard-working and much-loved mariner and welder.
Something flashes beneath the waves, a hint of green scales surfaces. A rainbow colored crest breaks the waters surface followed by a huge beast.
Brine S’Vick is the Shark Lord, a giant man amongst the ocean curent.
There is nothing like them. They shine like a white gold.
...and a star to steer her by.
In the vein of the other Random Encounter threads, now comes the thread for Oceanic encounters
I tell you, I get this itch on my lip when I think about Sgriob and the waters of the casks…
Captain Wandren, Ship’s logs
The sea is calm, the morning mists clear, the seagulls cry out, and land comes into view
Where the ships float, empty, and the ocean lay wide and empty, where the northern lights shine and the winds chill live the Gesthari. Wraithlike predators who ride the storms.
Magic has brought us to this point of self-destruction,” the Captain said. “It’s the dichotomy of our curiosity and greed, which are ingrained—greed, because we had to survive because we were always hungry, so we had to gather things, and curiosity, which brought us out of the trees
The passenger said, “It sounds like your wind chime is broken, or at least out of tune.” The first mate just smiled. “That chime is music to a sailor’s ears, it is,” he said. “We will have smooth sailing this day.”
The village sits on the edge of the deep fjord, often engulfed in mist or rain. Its people are fishermen, who work even through the sea-ravaging winter. And they pray to the gods of the deep.
At the beginning of every winter they hold a summoning ceremony. Three boats are taken out into the fjord, a hornsman on each. The mournful horns are blown in the language of the whales, the gods of the deep. The whales sometimes appear in answer to these calls, and it is taken as a good omen when they do.
To a party of PCs wandering the misty hills and valleys nearby however, the doleful whalesong of the horns can be disturbing and misinterpreted...