[center][h1][color=a2d39c]Legorian, The Deep One[/color]
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It always started with a single note. Lymir, the high priest of the Deepfolk, stood on the roof of the temple, his coral staff clutched in one hand turned white from age. All around him was Kalanai, the abyssal city - the city was above and below him, carved into the stone walls and lit with bioluminescent plant pods. His fellow deepfolk swam to and fro in their nightly business; the hustle and bustle of a great metropolis was the same above or below the waves. Lymir opened his mouth, and the water echoed with a single deep, sonorous voice.

All around, the Deepfolk paused, and one by one they lifted their voices to join in the wordless melody. Every deepfolk was born knowing the song of the sea, and they sang it nightly with their kin until their dying day. In smaller tribes or towns, the song would be simple, quiet, and slow - in Kalanai, of course, it was more of a production. Below Lymir, the conductor of the Deep Orchestra signaled his assembled band to begin, and the musicians began to pluck at twangy instruments made of shell and fishguts. Above, a passing pod of whales began to hum in time with the song, and the great drum at the heart of the city began to beat in time to the music.

All of this, Legorian saw and heard from his palace window. It could be said that the God of the Sea was troubled, but when was that not true these days? Even still, there was a disquiet in his soul that the music of his people did not still. "Breathing light," he murmured to himself. "Red air, spinning. Ungod rising. Burning wheel bearing down, breathing light, breathing red. Seventeen prayers to a dead god. Up spears, up claws, up spinning, up light."

"Father?" a clear, cautious voice interrupted Legorian's pontification, and the mad god turned to see his son Akatun enter his chambers, clad in coral armor as usual. The demigod waved his hand over the plant-bulb in the center of the room, causing it to stir into a soft, pale glow, and brought a fist to his chest. "You summoned me? Are you well?"

"My son," Legorian said, his deep voice echoing in the water. "You did well to come so quickly. Tell me of your time above, with the she-war." 

Akatun furrowed his black brow. "The surface is... strange. I often forget that I was born there, it seems so different. They are so disconnected up there, from themselves, from each other, from the world. The sun is... bright, and harsh, but there is beauty in that harshness. Koritomo is not what you would expect - not like her father at all. She's kind, noble even, but she's as fierce a warrior as you could hope to meet. I have much more to learn from her."

Legorian tilted his head. "You wish to return, my son?"

"I... do," the demigod said, nodding slowly. "It has been good to return and visit with my home and my men, but I am not the warrior I could be, not yet. And there are others like me, children of gods. I wish to see them again."

The Mad God turned. The song was speeding up outside; every Deepfolk in the city was singing, every instrument raised to join the chorus, every whale and squid that swam through the trench humming in time with the music. Finally, Legorian nodded. "Return, then. Take my fastest crab and however many soldiers you would wish for. Go to the coral smiths before you leave and select a gift for Koritomo from me - let her know it is on account of her late father."

Akatun brought his fist to his chest, a broad smile on his face. "Thank you, father. It will be as you say." 

The demigod departed, and Legorian called after him, "And send a message to your sister while you're at it! Tell her that she and her host can expect a visit from me soon." There was much to do in this newer, madder world, Legorian reflected as the song outside drew to a close. He would begin by having words with Leoric.