Fishing Folk

The Fishing Folk don't look much different than your average Councilian of the Golden Plains. The weather leaves its mark on farmers and fishers alike, and neither of them is able to afford fine cloth.
Yet, there is something about a member of the Fishing Folk that is other. It's not something a casual observer easily grasps or can pinpoint. There is something eerie about them, as if a ghost just passed by and touched your soul in passing. Despite that, some outsiders have tried to befriend fishers when Lady Luck brought them together, for example as members of the same crew. Still, few people claim of themselves to have a friend among the scattered huts of the Windy Shore, and even those who do rarely understand them fully.
Most fishers seem the brooding, quiet type to the outsider, unwilling to interact or even acknowledge other people unless they absolutely have to. And indeed, this behavior seems to change little, even if you were to spend years on the same boat with thm and have been invited to meet their family. Even in their happy moments they seem to be strangely subdued, and rarely do you get more than a slight smile out of them. Their choice of clothing colors seems to reflect this: they are rarely seen wearing anything else than the colors of a rainy ocean day. Dark, greyish blues, some purple mixed in at times, and dark greys, countered by black are their colors of choice.
Their anger, however, is all the more powerful and intimidating. The fishing folk are a stocky people, muscular from their youth thanks to the rough coast and the fact that they usually start learning the seafaring trade before their tenth winter. Their broad build and usually quiet demeanor amplifies their outbursts of rage, should someone manage to drive them that far. Maybe it is the stark contrast, but people who have experienced it described them as having the rage roll off their bodies in almost physical waves, similar to heat rising up from a fire, and rarely do they have to prove their prowess in a brawl further than that.
Their settlements cling to the coastal cliffs and crevices of the Windy Shore like bird's nests, and often they lift their light fishing boats up and tie them to their houses once a storm comes, lest they be shattered on the ragged rocks above the beach, when the storm brings the tide in high, with their nets wrapped around for additional stability.