A Frightening Reality
Winter was a harsh season on Pamarthe. Cold fronts, heavy rain, and even snow or hail in some regions made sailing dangerous. But every 5 years or so came the Weeping and with it storms like none other. From the southern isles to the Salt Planes of Speyr Balley, storms raged on the high seas with winds strong enough to toss boulders and waves tall enough to sink even the sturdiest of vessels. Most travel during the Weeping was done by starship and even that was treacherous as the storm walls could hold hail the size of errey on top of whatever the winds had snatched up from the islands it passed over. The storms were only the beginning. The true monsters of the Weeping were the Skyeels. Ready to breed and spawn the Lesser Skyeels coalesced into a glowing tempest of wriggling, hungry bodies, devouring anything in their path be it wood, chitin, or flesh. Across the planet, these "Glowing Storms" ravaged homesteaders, towns, and the small cities that the planet had managed to build over thousands of years of colonization leaving nothing but steel, stone, and pain in their wake.
Moash knew this. He'd lived on these waters all his life and the Storm Father had blessed him with a beautiful family for it. But the Father giveth and the Father taketh away. Both his daughter and wife had succumbed to disease and left him the night before and she'd asked to be buried in the sea. She had been born on the homeworld, Mon Cala, and had even served in the Silver Jedi's navy for a time years and years ago and so she held a warrior's heart. And so she'd asked for a warrior's burial. There was no way he'd make it through the atmosphere during the Weeping with his own hunk of junk ship so Mon Cala was out of the question. He liked to think she'd found Pamarthe to be just as much home as Mon Cala had been before the monster Zambrano poisoned the waters. Their pet morray hound whined as water welled in Moash's big, bulbous eyes. Weeping or no, he would give his wife and daughter the burials they deserved.
The boat rocked with the dark, angry waves, and rain pelted his skin as he struggled to shift the body of his daughter onto the edge. He closed his eyes and tilted his head into the rain, struggling to remember the shanty his wife had taught him. It had been so long ago, back when they'd had to bury her father. Setting his webbed hands on his daughter's covered body he smiled, remembering the song.
Chorus:
Send down the Admiral,
To the rest he's sorely earned.
From the boundless deep came a warrior's soul
And there it must return.
Recall his spirit from the sky,
Send him down, lower him down.
In beds of coral let him lie.
Down into the sea.
Chorus:
In victory's channels let him swim,
Send him down, lower him down.
No Krakana's maw awaits, for him.
Down into the sea.
Chorus:
Let his admittance no man bar,
Send him down, lower him down.
To the good right hand of King Lee-Char.
Down into the sea.
Chorus:
For it's many the honored company,
Send him down, lower him down.
That await him in profundity.
Down into the sea.
Send down the Admiral,
To the rest he's sorely earned.
From the boundless deep came a warrior's soul
And there it must return.
Recall his spirit from the sky,
Send him down, lower him down.
In beds of coral let him lie.
Down into the sea.
Chorus:
In victory's channels let him swim,
Send him down, lower him down.
No Krakana's maw awaits, for him.
Down into the sea.
Chorus:
Let his admittance no man bar,
Send him down, lower him down.
To the good right hand of King Lee-Char.
Down into the sea.
Chorus:
For it's many the honored company,
Send him down, lower him down.
That await him in profundity.
Down into the sea.
As he sang the words though the hound began to growl and bark.
"Now you listen here Axl, I won't have-" There was a wet thunk, and then another. There wasn't anyone else on the boat. It must have just been the boat bumping into a shark or water dragon. That's all. Good, she'd feed the deep right away and-
Thunk.
He looked down and saw Axl had already left his side. There was a bark, a whine, what sounded like a bite, a squelch, and a whimper. Moash swallowed hard as the struggle continued. He inched his way around the cabin and pulled out his hand cannon and honor blade. It wasn't summer. The Water Dragons weren't yet agile enough to climb and he wasn't in the territory of any known Pamarthen Lion prides. Rogue lions maybe? Or just maybe a big Skyeel? Greater Skyeels didn't live this close to the Veteran Isles.
"H-hello?" There was a whine and a sickening crunch and then the struggle was over. "A-axl? Y-You there girl?" It sounded like something, several somethings, were eating, tearing at poor Axl's chitin to get at the meat below. Moash fought back tears and terror and swung around, pulling the trigger at high power. The bolts sizzled and the air smelled like a mix of ozone and burning chum.

"Neptune's beard," he shouted, staring down at three monsters. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Oh, Storm Father there were more of them? Moash screamed, pulling the trigger as many times as he could. He didn't stop and cried out when he saw some of the creatures' hands pulling his daughter into the deep and another set not waiting and simply tearing into his wife, the serenity of her dying smile at odds to her grim demise.
"You bastards!!!"




Meanwhile, all across Pamarthe, these monstrosities of ancient dark side alchemy have sprung up. The people of Pamarthe must work together in order to survive. In Hyne, the city is under siege. The port district has been shut off from the rest of the city and those who were left behind must fend for themselves! Still in the midst of a massive storm, it is believed that the worst of nature has passed, but a glowing mass approaches...Batten down the hatches and keep your honor blade close or be chum for the Thresher.
Port District Pamarthens:


Jakk Parthas
