Six faint orbs glowered through the waters up at the silhouette above. In them lay all the malice and disdain the ocean could muster. A hunger roiled within them like a storm waiting to be unleashed, hanging at the very edge of violence. Nevertheless, they waited patiently, unmoving.

Graalusxarulz was an odd sort of vrool. Though he possessed all the finer qualities of his sunken brethren like rage or self-absorption, Graal wielded a very rare weapon indeed; he was thoughtful. And so it was that the Tyrant-that-Wasn’t watched and waited in the waters, several tentacles holding tight to the rocky outcroppings of the riverbottom to keep him completely still. The river water galled his skin, like excessively hot and dry air might discomfort a land dweller, but in the end it was nothing but a small irritation. Below him, lower into the river, the riverfloor moved. 

A tide of vrool swam upriver beneath him, gliding across the riverbed with arms and armor in tow. Each one bore the scars of their conquests, unhealed through intentional, repeated harm to the wounds so that their scars earned would not be stolen by their well-made forms. Each and every one of them was a unique sort of vrool, different from the masses that made their homes deep in the oceans. At least, that is what they told themselves. They were all veterans of dozens of battles, if not hundreds when massacres were counted. Their panoplies displayed quite clearly this mercenary lifestyle. Unlike the vrool retainers bound to the depths for petty wars between pathetic tyrants, these vrool were bedecked in far more exotic kit. Bronze weapons and plates clung to their forms, thrusting swords, stabbing spears, and other tools of killing made up their metallic menagerie. 

They were Voduun. His Voduun. 

Out of safe harbors in the Imperial Holdings back in Aopoa, Korok, and Uovou the Voduun of Graal and vrool like him were free to ravage the whole of the Toraan coastline. Coastal villages had been the purview of these raids for some time now, hundreds of years in some cases, but that was where most vrool stopped. There was a distinct awareness of just how far vrool could travel inland and the risk of being caught out in the open and baked to death was a dread one indeed. With the vrool’s natural weakness as an unintentional defense, the deeper into the continent a settlement was the safer the warm-bloods would be from the predation of the vrool. That, of course, was only the case when the monsters below lacked the clarity and cunning to find other means.

And so it was that the Voduun of Graal found themselves in a river, travelling upstream like a salmon filled to bursting. It was a mental image that entertained Graal greatly. 

With his warriors passed Graal left the silhouette above the waters to its devices; no terrible death in the river that day. Onwards and upwards they went, striving with ease against the gentle current of the river. The city was soon left behind them, so-called Acadia if the Reshut traders were to be believed. There had been discussions about raiding the city directly but the reshut clan they had dealt with had given them reason for pause. Evidently the Acadians were fine warriors, trained as such at fighting some scourge of the warm-blood surface. Though there was little doubt that with serious effort the defenders could be overcome, especially by surprise, there was far greater risk of harm. With only two dozen warriors with him on this particular raid Graal felt it was far more reasonable to hunt for easier prey. Acadia would be spared, at least for now.

[hr]
Further up river, a good several days swim from Acadia, the band had found their prize. With rations nearly burned it was time enough besides. The river, yet unnamed by the vrool and their undersea lot, had proven to be a far more different mistress than expected. First and foremost was the density of food; though they had expected some edible things, they had not expected whole schools of river fish. Though their meat paled in comparison to the taste of sea-fish and they were riddled with parasites, it wasn’t all bad; their bones had a nice crunch to them and parasites just meant more protein to a vrool. The next point of note was the sheer size of the river. Though it was no sea, it was wide enough to hide and glide quite easily throughout.

Graal’s voduun had found for themselves an inlet on the river’s edge, sizable enough to serve as acceptable lodgings for a vrool warband and their several Akuan companions. Though they had little need for true shelter the ability to simply lay on to the river bottom without constantly fighting the currents was an appreciated respite. They had waited on for a few hours before perpetual vrool curiosity got the better of the party. One after the other eyes were turned upward and outward, looking at the surroundings above the river inlet with animal cunning and terrible interest. What faced them was particularly surprising.

“What… did some voduun get here before us?”

The entire band had now raised their heads above the surface, staring blankly out at it with deepening peculiarity. It was a city, that was for certain, but it was not like any they had seen before. Most notable in that distinction was the fact that it was in ruins and there were absolutely no people. Scattered bones, cracked for marrow, were dashed about here and there and the darkened splotches that smelled of blood and gore were fairly visible in some places but mostly this place was empty. In fact, it had been empty for some time. Several vrool could be heard offering little prayers, tossing their meals back to the river to hand off as bribes to Gods of this and that; this was certainly a bad omen.

“Of course no one got here before us,” muttered Graal, voice grating and ferocious, “Something else got to this place…”

There was a murmur of agreement from several vrool as they continued to look into the city from what was evidently the makeshift docks of an old city. The long pause was finally broken by an Akua, the druid brought around with the voduun band for good luck. Akamai tapped away at the edge of the river, mumbling to himself before finally speaking up.

“Big he’e, fair warning. Gods aint right with this place. Something worse en’ you showed up here. No-no work of Gentle Currents nor kahuna gods neither.”

Graal looked to the Akuan man for a moment, eyes flashing anger before calming. Graalusxarulz was not known for his lack of self-control and his trust, as far as a vrool could trust, for Akamai was fairly high. If the Akuan kahuna said something worse had come to this city he spoke honestly. Nevertheless, Graal was no coward and vrool curiosity ever burned in his heart. All he needed do was wait and remain silent and his curiosity could be sated without blame sitting squarely on his bell.

“Wait here, cowards,” said a younger vrool by the name of Rusx, an admittedly sizeable bull well-fed on siblings and servants back in his petty home-reef, “The ramblings of a witch do not frighten me.”

With that the other vrool had been taunted. One by one, irrespective of their feelings, they pulled themselves from the water and moved with surprising efficacy into the city. Graal clicked inwardly with enthusiastic glee; he loved how predictable his race was, after all. Now if something bad happened it was on Rusx, sparing him the normal conflicts of leadership among a band of vrool. Quite pleased with him, Graal placed the large, bronze helmet down onto his head and drew his numerous killing implements. Even if his own curiosity pulled him inwards, he still fully trusted Akamai’s assertion and he would not be caught unawares.
[hr]
The city was outwardly as empty as the party had first seen, their several dozen numbers clearing through it at a fair pace. Much to the band’s enjoyment much of the loot from the city remained untouched, free for the taking. Shiny things from the surface and materials rare deep below were nabbed or broken off from their furnishings and jammed into hide bags. Even as they stuffed their pockets Graal was beginning to feel uneasy. Though he hadn’t believed it for a moment, this confirmed it was not Vrool who had done this. He had heard from Drighina servants back in Aopoa that their larger cousins haunted these parts but there was no sign of destruction such monsters could wrought. There was battle damage, of that Graal was certain, but it was far less put together than one would expect from an intentional attack by warriors. 

Just as his pondering was reaching new heights Graal opened a door into a room and was struck with surprise. A disgusting creature, reminiscent in some ways of Akua or men, stood hunched on the inside of the chamber. It scrambled to stuff its mouth with some rotted meat-stuff, all of its attention set to gorging itself. The sickly, pallid color of its flesh offend Graal deeply and its form lacked any of the grace found among Akua that even vrool could admire. It was just a vile little thing, like a shore jackal that got mange. Just as it began to turn about to face Graal the massive vrool acted. 

In the span of less than a second one tentacle surged forward, stabbing blade in hand punching right through the creature’s deformed skull and into the wall behind. With a contemptuous flick Graal tugged his blade free and whipped the carcass against the wall. A moment of pause flashed before his eyes before Graal used a free tentacle to grab the corpse by the leg and pulled it out into the street.

Just then a roar of surprise rumbled through the city. Rusx howled in vonu, knocking apart a fountain and spilling its contents all over the cobbles. Half a dozen of the little monsters scurried about his shape, like a swarm of oceants bringing down a whale. In a handful of seconds they all died, either ripped apart by tentacles, hacked to death by gripped weapons, are ironically devoured by the thing they sought to eat. There was a pause as Rusx collected himself before the boastful high-born whelpling raised his weapon proudly, waving it towards the rest of the band. A collection of bloodcurdling screams went up in the direction of the city center, suddenly followed by hundreds more. Soon the cacophony reached a fevered pitch as the first of the iskrill began flooding over roofs and out from tight alleys. 

“To me! Bind close!”

The order pulled the voduun warband inwards, each well-armed vrool knowing full well that battles both below and above required unity far beyond simple might at arms. Nearly two dozen vrool pulled inwards, arms to the teeth and hacking in all directions as they came. Lances and thrusting spears were the most common, easy to use underwater and only increasing the immense reach advantage vrool had upon all races. Thrusting and hacking handweapons were similarly used, from short spikes of blade-coral to rarer bronze weapons taken as payment or as loot from the surface. Even a few shields could be seen, bronze faced with numerous breaths cut into them to allow for easier movement in their native environment. 

From all directions the horde of ravenous, gibbering monstrosities came. They moved like waves, more a liquid than a pack of individuals, and Graal got the instant sense of a shared cunning amongst their kind. Where the current ebbed close to the mob of vrool tentacles would lash out, their range deceptively long. Though they died in their droves to the panoply-armed myrmidons, the unknown creatures were relentless. The continued pressure from ever increasing numbers, however, was beginning to worry Graal; he could see the tides of this odd foe beginning to flow around the formation instead of straight into it.

“Back to the river! Make quick work of it!”

Howling out orders in the holy vonu, the warband began its measured retreat. Occasionally a vrool would get distracted, their own monstrous nature getting the better of them as they broke off to slaughter nearby branches of the horde. Though this usually meant little to the band, one by one each vrool breaking off took a little longer to return to the formation. The gibbering continued, the creatures organizing in a way Graal could recognize, and soon enough they made their move. Rusx, that ever impetuous youth, was the first to go down. Straying a little too long away from the formation, kept busy by iskrill playing at the edges of his fighting distance, he was soon enveloped. The last thing Graal saw of the whelp was him killing dozens of the creatures crawling about his person, stabbing with improvised or stolen weapons and razor sharp claws. His death throes and the cries that followed confirmed it.

At long last the band slipped into the waters of the river, iskrill diving in after them only to be butchered in their attempts. Even those that remained at the water’s edge were tugged inwards to be throttled or stabbed to death. Even Graal took part in that particular slaughter, animal curiosity driving him to drag one down below and watch carefully to see if it drowned. With lungs full of water and life rapidly leaving its eyes, Graal’s hypothesis was proven adequately correct. For nearly an hour the creatures continued to harry at the river’s edge, having brought down three of the vrool in their retreat; no small feat, to be sure. The raid, if it could be called one, had gifted the vrool with some treasures and plenty of fresh meat for a further trip upriver. Perhaps, Graal hoped, to less infested towns.

With that the Voduun of Graal swam onwards, deeper into the highlands and the lands of men.
[hr]
Klaar watched through the inward eyes of his perception at the world below. His kith and kin, that ferocious kind, had done much since he was away. He had watched the battle unfold with deep and growing fascination, the unity of these odd vrool something else to behold. Watched through the eyes of the disembodied mind, so-called Mawar, Klaarungraxus had been free to simply absorb the knowledge. More interesting than the unity of these vrool or the oddling forms of the iskrill was the prayer he received. An Akua among the vrool, a druid-kahuna, had prayed for him to lead the man to safety. Klaar had pondered on this, for according to powers of the Hir this was not entirely outside of his purview. Indeed, he could have likely flooded the entire city given enough effort. 

But he had not answered. Not for lack of interest or a desire for the man to suffer harm but instead, simply, because he did not realize how best to do so. A tidal wave could have killed the man just as thoroughly as it would have killed the iskrill and a gentle, slow raising of waters would not have saved the Akua fast enough if danger had been truly present. The Old Growth Below ruminated on this, rumbling in his dark-world of Saxus. 

A ping of thought brought Klaar’s attention back to the work at hand.

[i]Perhaps a new solution is required?[/i]

The thought, one of the more cognizant ones now being pinged to him by Mawar, was an enlightening one. The image of storms, of the Mother’s Heart west of Kubrajzar, caught his attention above all else. This was a gentle storm despite its appearance, a remembrance of a mother’s love more than anything. But what if something similar could be done, to present the total wrath of nature upon the foes of those who prayed to the God of Oceans? An interesting proposal. The knowledge of such storms belonged to Klaar now, gleaned from the making of the Makuakane Makuahine. Vonu, the holy deepspeak, could shake the very world with its intonation. Perhaps this would be the path to such boons.

Klaar turned his attentions towards Saxus and outwards beyond its limit, to the ever roiling lifeblood of the universe. He could draw this power from it and so he would; just as sorcery had been mantled by the God of Oceans, so too would storms. 
[hr]
[hider=Summary]
Introduction to the Voduun, a new "holy order" among the Vrool. So-called myrmidons by surface-folk, the Voduun are made up by peerless raiders and adventurers from beneath the waves. Though initially meaning specifically adventuring vrool, Voduun bands can include and refer to Akua as well. 

The Voduun of Graal, a particularly noteworthy warband commanded by the eccentric Warlord Graalusxarulz, has decided to go up river into the highlands. Passing through the river by Acadia undetected and desiring to skip conflict with that potentially formidable city, they swim inwards. Finding themselves at the unguarded ruins of Solaria, the warband surfaces. Suddenly, Iskrill! Though they kill the creatures by the hundreds three of the warband are brought down in the surprise attack. Graal ponders this new awareness as the warband swims deeper into the highlands.

Meanwhile, Klaarungraxus realizes he has no way to respond aggressively to prayers for safety. He looks to the knowledge picked up by Mawar and determines the powerful environmental effects of storms are worthy of his interest. With that, the portfolio of Storms has been acquired by Klaar.
[/hider]
[hider=MP Summary]
Start 5MP/5DP
> 3 MP to take Storms Port under Nature Domain
> 2 MP, 5 DP to form Holy Order, the Voduun [7 title weight]
[/hider]