[center][h1][b][color=0054a6]Klaarungraxus[/color][/b][/h1][/center]

Far on distant shores, well beyond the watery depths of the Unending Vo, warm-bloods were stirring. On the horizon the unmistakable glow of the rising son could be seen, just beginning to creep its way up the heavenly-wall that was the great, blue sky. To many creatures of the overworld and even for some below, it was noticeably beautiful.

For Cardamom, it offered only pain. 

An entire tribe of night elves were on the run, hundreds of people making a mad dash along the coastline. Their community had been disrupted by a mass of earthquakes that had wracked their caves and collapsed huge portions of what was once their home-canyon. It was decided by the elders that they should move to the next canyon over, the coastline the most direct route. Now, it seemed, even that had not been enough. Though the sun was not fatal to the night elves, the pain it could directly cause was more than enough to make even a grown man weep and prolonged exposure over the rest of the distance certainly wasn’t going to help.

That blaring symbol of Oraelia’s fury rose higher, cresting the horizon and unleashing its rays on the collected people of the tribe. A great and terrible cry when out from the back of the column as they were the first struck by the pain of the light. One by one the terrified convoy was lit ablaze by the glorious rays of the sun and sent into screams of their own. Cardamom dropped to his knees, embracing the pain to come for his failure in leading his people to safety. With tears in his eyes, he begged and pleaded for anyone to save them.
[hr]
Deep below the waves something watched and listened.

Their cries, those of the warm blooded little things that scurried above the waves, wafted across the waters of its realm and echoed in all directions. Tinny cries, mostly pointless, and entirely aggravating. Best to be ignored, thought the entity, and it began to swim off in another direction. A single voice cried out a pleading request, a prayer for assistance to anyone and anything that could hear them. To the many-minds of Klaarungraxus, this was but one begging voice among many.

To all but Forward-Right Down-Two. 

The tentacle, in all its independent thought, ran through a number of calculations and considerations on the demand. An interesting request. Using perceptual information received from the overmind, Forward-Right Down-Two considered the case most curiously; what, exactly, was the creature requesting? As the mastermind of sapience for the Vrool race, this particular sub-mind had become adept at understanding and breaking down the concept that was the mortal mind. A simple equation, at least on the surface, but much like the ocean it hid considerable complexity just below. Their suffering, most of all, was a window into the twisted skein of emotions and feelings that mortals had the capacity to feel.

And to Forward-Right Down-Two, it was fascinating.

The submind craved action in response to this and pinged back the thought to the rest of the minds of Klaarungraxus. Though originally disinterested in the entire situation, consensus was required for further decision. At nearly the speed of light, thoughts bounced wildly inside Klaar’s mind, deciding exactly what should be done about the mortal wailings on the shore. Realization dawned on the many-minds and the potential of the situation became absolutely clear. Action could be taken that would accomplish the goals of the God of Oceans while simultaneously granting these mortals the respite they so craved. Brilliant.
[hr]
Cardamom held back his own shouts of pain as the sun burned brightly. The crowd had continued to move as best they could, attempting to help others, but the rising sun made their vision no better than a human in the day. Children and the elderly were struggling to keep up at any proper pace and with many miles to go there was the distinct possibility that the damage would be permanent. 

A strange noise caught Cardamom’s attention, his head turning to take stock of what was happening. Though he could hardly see, all of his senses still available to him told a clear story; the waves were no longer crashing. The smell of salt and brine pulled away, leaving away a surprising dryness, while the sound of water rushing back down the sands of the beach filled his ears. Though he had never heard it in his entire life, it was a sound the night elf was not at all fond of. 

Then came the onrushing wall of water.

The crowd had no time to react as the tidal wave dove over them, crushing through the beach and further onwards to flood low lying places and destroying the dense growth further inland. Though faced with the battering waves head on the night elves on the beach remained completely still, seemingly completely untouched by the monumental forces acting on the beach. They remained in position, children huddled to them, covering themselves, before one by one realizing the miraculous event that had occured. For a moment they shared looks with one another, hair dancing in the waters where the dreadful light of the sun stung only lightly. Just as it seemed they had been saved, the first of the night elves began to cough. Bubbles rushed upwards and awareness dawned on them all that they could not breath. As they began to swim upwards, desperate to reach air, a riptide tugged the elves from the shelf that was once a coastal beach and into the depths below. Darkness enveloped them, so deep and impenetrable that even their eyes could not peer into its depths.
[hr]
A gentle light shone in the darkness, calming in its radiance and soft in its purple-blue hue. Despite its glow it did not strike pain nor blind, only filled the space with a sense of warmth and belonging. 

He could see.

Thoughts rushed through the individual’s head, realization and memories clashing at once to remind him of what had just occurred. Surely he had just drowned, if the rushing and bubbling riptide and the depths were something to be believed. Those recollections of past events seemed so distant, as if they had been lived in another life or by someone else. In an attempt to get a hold of himself, the man raised his hands to his eyes to clear them of what felt like months worth of sleep. Before him were hands that were not his own.

“Whhuuugh!?”

His startled outburst came out as bubbling gasps, sound radiating from his throat into the watery surroundings and killing his words before they were even born. He was underwater, surrounded by darkness but for that one gentle light, and before him were hands that were not his moments ago. Webbed fins ran between his fingers and though the colors were similar, they were reflective and glossy. Scales, soft and smooth, now ran across in pockets across his body and his skin looked smoother to the touch. Was this who he had been all his life? He could not be sure, for the memories could not be his. 

“H̶e̷l̷l̵o̴?̴”

The drowned elf turned to the voice addressing him, spinning as fast as he could as his heart skipped a beat. Half-standing, half-floating before him was a young child of garrish coloration and strange features. The young girl’s hair had been replaced by a thick collection of fin-like fronds while her colors had intermixed into bright gradients. The language she spoke was not one that the man was aware of ever learning yet in his mind’s eye he knew it as his native tongue. 

“W̷h̴o̷ ̷a̶r̷e̷ ̵y̴o̵u̴?̵ ̶W̵h̵e̴r̵e̸ ̷a̸m̴ ̴I̶?̷ ̸W̶h̶a̶t̷ ̶i̵s̵ ̵t̷h̸i̸s̵ ̶p̶l̵a̵c̵e̸?̵”

All around them lights began to glow into life, gently lighting the entire area. In all directions there could be seen hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of individuals just like them. They woke one by one, looking about their new surroundings with awe. The horde collected themselves individually before turning to others for clarification, learning of their shared fate and those memories of lives they may have once lived and people they might have once been. The pangs of grief for that lost time were short lived in some, longer in others, but most seemed simply to move on as if it had never been them in the first place. Names escaped each and every one of them as if that time was now past and such burdens were stripped from them by the guiding hand of fate. Were that it was so simple. 

A voice thundered in their minds, powerful and all encompassing. Unlike their own voices the words spoken by this distant speaker made the very waters move with their intent. Each and every one of them was filled to the brim with the presence of that voice and the entity from which it poured forth.

[color=0054a6]”Mourn not thine sorrowful loss, beloved children of the Maiden-Moon, for thou hath thine prayers answered. Gentle tides and soothing currents abound upon thee for Our grace is yours to bask in. The One-Bad-Orb above can cast harm upon your flock no longer, for schooling below there is safety from its vain cruelties and hateful gaze. Worry not, for you are saved.”[/color]

The crowd murmured all at once as their voices came to them, the language that seemed so alien now filling their heads with perfect clarity. An awareness in all of them of this action rippled through the collected numbers of these drowned elves turned elsewise to other forms. One, who could have once been a man named Cardamom, spoke up with his new-found tongue.

“Who are you, o’ savior? And who are we? Let us know our names!” His control of the tongue warbled and wavered, a distinct sign that his race had never been intended to speak it. Though heavily accented compared to the speaker from below, it seemed his language was just as full and vibrant as any other.

[color=0054a6]“You are Tane Tama’Mawar o’te’Tuatahi-Kahau, little growth”[/color] came the response, though in each individual’s head a different name and title was heard, [color=0054a6]”And you are the Akua, for ye are now drowned.”[/color]
[hr]
[hider=Post Summary]
An elf migration is taking place escaping the damages to a number of Night Elf communities related to monumental earthquakes. Cardamom, an Elf male, leads the tribe in its rush to escape the blazing sun. Unfortunately, he fails. In a desperate attempt to save his people from suffering, Cardamom prays to anything and anyone for assistance.

Deep below, Klaarungraxus hears their pleas. Though mostly disinterested, the mastermind behind Vrool sapience (the tentacle Right-Forward Down-Two) pings curiosity that the rest of the many-minds respond to. Surely this was an opportunity for the whole to be remembered, as was the same goal of making the Vrool sapient in the first place?

With consensus met, Klaarungraxus sends a massive tidal wave to drown not only the night elves on the beach but likely numerous others as well. In doing so, Klaarungraxus then alters the affected Night Elves to create the Akua race. Though they have few memories from their previous life the Akua have their memories struck from them.
[/hider]

[hider=MP Summary]
Start 3MP/2DP
 
> Alter a group of Night Elves to be an extraordinary, undersea species called the Akua. (-0 MP, reduced by Oceans)

End 3MP/2DP
[/hider]