Oi, it's not a post but I did finally write up that sea deity I was mulling over since a while. Maybe someone out there is willing to believe this hogwash. :D

[hider=Meroe][b]Meroe[/b]

[i]The drowned goddess, the wife of sailors[/i]

The tale of Yorven, Ormen and Grom, and the tragedy that befell the race of gods at the beginning of time, is well known to the northlanders. A lesser known story, mostly told in hushed voices among superstitious seafolk, continues the tragedy even farther, for it is said that Ormen was wed to Meroe; a pale, morose goddess who was the only one besides Ormen’s own brother who could feel any love for the lord of death. It is unclear if she existed outside of Grom’s family or if she is a sibling of some kind, but everyone agrees that, when her husband was struck down to preserve mankind, she tied her foot to a rock and hurled it – and herself – into the roiling seas out of grief. But a goddess is not so easily slain, is she? She did not drown in the tides as was her want, and sank to the very bottom of the lightless abyss. Perhaps it is something she found there, or simply the nature of spending eternity chained to the tenebrous bedrock of the ocean, but they say that Meroe went… mad, madness borne from something more than simple grief. A madness so profound it changed her into something divine – no more.

Sailors beware when they hear an eerie chant over the biting wind and sloshing waves, for to be called to Meroe’s realm is worse than death. If at all possible, a prisoner or slave is gladly sent to the depths as sacrifice to appease the mistress of the sea and superstition holds that those who do will sail smoother waters. Listen in at a portside tavern and you might hear some men claim they have seen her pale blue face beneath the water, just besides their ship, following, beckoning, smiling invitingly. It is a vicious trap.

In her great house at the bottom of the sea, on a vast plateau that sunlight has not caressed since the dawn of time, Meroe collects the drowned of the world, men and women both, denying them the afterlife they deserve. Women are fortunate, for they are merely made handmaidens to herself and her inhuman children, but woe unto the men who must wed her and join her miserable harem. Miserable because here, in the darkest, coldest halls on Azoth, Meroe reveals her true face: a grotesque monstrosity said to be so horrifying it would make even the most black hearted sea reavers weep with terror. Miserable because here, they must lay with her and father her children. All hope, all happiness dies in the wake of Meroe’s ever growing brood.

None can say if the tale is true or not, but few are willing to risk being mistaken in disbelieving it, and so perpetuate the myth from one generation to the next. Sailormen do tell of many outlandish creatures they have seen on their maritime voyages, creatures so strange and repulsive that they might very well be Meroe’s dreaded children.

Better to throw a slave overboard and make sure you are spared, no?
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