The Old Ones
The headman came to regret his decision to marry his daughter to the Sea.
The Sea had of course kept its promises – the fish returned in great numbers, and the village was awash in plenty. But each year, during the traditional time of visiting in-laws, his daughter rose from the depths Changed.
On the first visit, the headman saw his daughter damp and brine-smelling, with ornaments of copper and shaped coral.
On the second visit, seaweed entwined her hair, and barnacles clung to her skin.
On the third visit, she was mottled with patches of scale, and her eyes no longer looked human at all.
On the fourth visit, her breath was difficult and gasping, and she seemed to wither and dry in the sun. This could go on no longer.
Greatly saddened, the headman released her from familial obligations. She would visit not more. All knew the Sea would keep its promises regardless.
His grandchildren the headman never met…
…but we have, lurking on lonely islands of valueless land where neither game nor fresh water is found. Beware the desolate beaches, my relatives, for Sea Born sorcery is hazardous to all true-blooded men.
-Tale of the Northern Shore
Long has the Sea been jealous of the land, distant and isolate, stolen from its domain in mythic time. It desires nothing more than to walk the forbidden surface…
Denied this privilege, the Sea of our late era has chosen a new tactic: to vomit its children upon the shore to engage in blasphemous couplings, birthing tiny vessels into which it may pour its being, overflowing them with its puissance. Over time these invaders have drifted together to form little villages, giving rise to an unwholesome and degenerate race.