Triton
Tritons are proud, amphibious beings shaped by the ancient powers of the sea—descendants of the mighty Leviathans who once ruled the fathomless depths. Created as stewards of the ocean’s mysteries, they dwell in coral citadels, deep trenches, and the ever-shifting seafloor ruins of sunken empires. Among the people of Aigusyl, they are regarded with awe and caution, for they are both emissaries and reminders of the unknowable power that slumbers beneath the waves.
Tall, regal, and blue-skinned, tritons possess features reminiscent of the sea itself: eyes that shimmer like sunlit tidepools, gills that flutter with each breath, and crests of fins along their arms, legs, and backs that undulate in the current. Their voices carry the echo of the ocean, capable of calming tides or summoning the wrath of a storm. Though at home in water, they move with eerie grace on land, walking with the dignity of those who know they were shaped by divine, monstrous hands.
The Leviathans—primordial beings of immense power and alien purpose—created the tritons as their hands and voices in the world. Of these titanic entities, Ssa’thyr, The Writhing Deep, and Thal’Azar, the Brine-Titan of Water, are the most venerated (and feared). While Ssa’thyr’s tritons often serve darker or more inscrutable goals, Thal’Azar’s children are usually stewards of balance and guardians of sacred currents. This duality has created internal rifts within Triton society—some revere the ocean as a source of peace and protection, others as a devouring, divine abyss.
Tritons live by ancient codes, handed down through songs and rituals echoing from the first crests of the world’s seas. Their societies are structured, hierarchical, and honor-bound. Duty to the sea, to their ancestors, and to the Leviathans supersedes all else. Outsiders may see them as cold or arrogant, but this stems not from cruelty—rather, they feel the burden of immense responsibility. The tides are eternal, and the tritons see themselves as their vigilant shepherds.
While most tritons reside beneath the waves, some are sent to the surface as scouts, emissaries, or exiles. These surface-dwelling tritons are often conflicted—torn between their sacred duties below and the strange, sprawling lives of the landfolk. Many grow to appreciate the sky’s freedom and the warmth of sunlit bonds, while others grow bitter, longing for the crushing comfort of The Abyss.
Among the peoples of Aigusyl, tritons are rare but unforgettable. To sailors, they are omens—sometimes of storms, sometimes salvation. To druids and scholars, they are windows into the oldest secrets of the sea. And to the devout, they are living relics of the Leviathans’ will, carrying the salt of ancient oaths and the weight of a world most will never see.
