Spears at the Throat of God (Faction)

Spears at the Throat of God is a small Maren faction believed to be active in the deep waters to the north of the Labyrinth. They split from a population of rootbed maren and undertides after a schism. Though the original population remains active, no contact is known to have passed between them,
While information on the faction is limited, they are believed to be non-hostile to dragons but hostile towards their gods. They are considered a faction of minor concern. Due to the complexity of their name when expressed in Draconic, they are sometimes referred to as Deepspears.
== History and Schism ==
The history of the Spears at the Throat of God is currently limited to secondhand accounts. An account of the schism that led to their formation was provided by an underglade, and is reproduced here in its entirety.
When a sect of undertides sought to leave the Tidelord behind entirely, some deep sea maren accompanied them. They didn't feel the pain of the Tidelord's betrayal, but didn't need to in order to support kin. But neither did they feel any relief from the Gladekeeper's song, especially not when they found themselves trapped in Her roots. The feelings could be held back for a time, owing to the work of gathering food, seeking an exit, and generally joining together to make a home for ourselves. When we first met the rest of our rootbed kin, we learned no such exit was possible, as the flooding was limited to the section of caverns we'd already explored, nor could one be made without risking lives. The maren were asked whether there might be some way to transport them up to the surface, then back to the water. They weren't sure, but went to work.
While they were able to develop a prototype strong enough to maintain pressure, they couldn't supply enough dissolved oxygen for the whole journey, so the undertide set themselves to the work of easing the path. They left the flooded caverns as best they could, charting routes, sounding out hidden springs, carrying water to make new ponds for oxygenation. They didn't want the maren to go, of course. I think, deep down, many of us hoped that reaching the sea would ease all those tensions, and we could put it all to rest.
Anyways, the path was still too long. New routes were drafted to chain "hops" between the deepest reservoirs, new suits that, though even more lacking for out-of-water survival, could partially compensate for pressure while submerged. But some of the undertide began to settle in, seeing their new god's work in them. Their eggs sprouted leaves, their children's eyes lost the mark of the sea. Maren, too, trusting the newer suits and friends to transport them, became steadily more comfortable with the place. Others wouldn't or couldn't, until the day came when their tempers boiled over.
The fight was simple: they felt their kin were falling victim--giving in--to the thing that'd trapped them. The others felt that adaptation wasn't the worst thing. The suits would be perfected eventually and, until then, the undertide were finally at peace, and there was plenty to keep us all busy. The first asserted the undertide were being manipulated, the second that they could choose for themselves. While some heated words were exchanged, the focus of the first group's anger was the gods. They decided it was up to them to save the rest of us. They packed suits, wove grapple lines. We begged them not to go, promising to redouble our efforts to get them out, but they just promised to return once they'd found a route "we could swim as we were." They set course inwards instead of up, off into the wild darkness at the heart of the rootbed. And that's the last we saw of them.
...once they'd left, well. I suppose the rest of us decided that means we're with Her, right? That we were right and they'd come to their senses. We like this place, after all. We want to raise our kids here. Were we manipulated? I don't think so. The undertide wanted to remove all trace of their connection to that--to the Tidelord. It really hurt them, what he did. We wanted to support them. We wanted to make sure we'd stay one people...
No news of the rootbed population is believed to have reached the Deep until very recently. It's unknown whether the schismed maren were unwilling or unable to return to the Deep. Similarly, it's unknown why, having discovered a maren-passable route to the surface, they never returned to inform their kin. Reports on their movements are scarce, and no major attacks, thefts, or other events have been attributed to them. As such, there's little to note about them beyond their origins.
== Songs sung ourselves ==
It's best the dragon archivists know as little of us as possible, though we're working in their name--in the name of all dragonkind--ungrateful though they are.
We've tried to help the shallower schools understand that dragons aren't inherently warlike. They're slaves to their gods, but in a way alien to we beastclan--antithetical, because we are born free. Their gods are vast and powerful, but also petty. Petulant. They sculpted children but were too selfish to grant them the fullness of free will. We didn't understand this until we found ourselves trapped in the Green Blight's nest. While we chafed at our bonds, our kin rejoiced to be welcomed back into a god's fold. They were made to serve; they could only be as they were in the Deep because their god rejected them. Is that pain the greatest freedom a dragon can attain? Had we never heard that other song...had we kept swimming north, until all these gods died away, what could we have made together?
At first, we planned to swim south to get help for our kin. We suspected the undertide were not bringing their full might to bear in making a new exit...we hate to accuse them, but they were terrified of being abandoned again. If we brought more of our kin and our best tools, we could knock a new hole from the outside. But then we realized what we were risking. The remaining Deep undertides were as free as they could be. To expose them to a new god would be to offer up that freedom for the freedom of our maren kin. And our kin had chosen to stay. So we are betrayers. We are betrayers twice over, because neither did we return to them with word of the route we'd plotted. Our suits were crumbling by the time we reached the sea...we would not survive the return trip.
So here we stayed. We've founded a new school of sorts, and have made contact with dragons who share our distaste for the gods. How have they achieved this freedom? Perhaps, as more dragons are born, the chains on each weaken. With their help, and the force of will and generations, we were once more equipped to return to our kin. But we learned that they've thrown themselves fully into the Green Blight's service. Why? Did they see no other option? We can only blame ourselves. What choice did we leave them?
And now we learn that our kin in the Deep have reestablished contact with the world. The undertides seek new gods to serve. We have failed. Again and again we have failed. And yet we're still here, beastclan who seek to kill a dragon god. Perhaps they think us beneath their notice. But the Outer Ocean is deeper and darker than the dreams of all their gods, and it is our domain. If there is freedom for our kin, we will find it.