Staal Paligne

The man of the deep came to shore with a mission. Although none deny his arrival also had a more personal motive, something to do with this fellow not feeling he was getting quite the recognition he deserved. In the bottomless depths of the oceans of tumiun, Staal had to swim courageously against the current to begin his journey. That's all water under the bridge now. Strangely obsessed by the treasures he found in shipwrecks, in boats of the overworld that came sinking to the realm of his people he found rich cultures. Not many of his kind could share in his stroke of genuis when he saw that this would bring the end of their suffering. Still, he knew and remained ever vigilant: He would be the one to bring printing underseas.

Under water, you can never hide from the hungry sea monsters and underwater predators that hunt you from every side and that never seem to rest. Staal had lost many brothers and sisters in battles against the eldrich dangers that lurk below. He even swore to have come swimming eye-to-eye with the great serpent Ta'ta'ta'ki. It's a hecking wonder that Staal was even still alive when he surfaced in Arkiun. The place where he would get caught in a rapid that went straight to the most occult, indescribable wonders anyone could ever dread witnessing.

Staal kept his eyes open and his mind sharpened as the tips of his trident. Even under all this pressure, he was fine. But then came the moment where he had to go undercover. Deep within enemy lines, in the cities of Sestiun, he felt like a fish out of water. This was a hard time for the gilled inspector indeed, where he had to face the one thing he truly feared: Telling lies.

At the same time of course he could not let the enemy get their hands on any information about his quest to stop the meaningless genocide from happening. The Silm were coniving, plotting foes. Slippery as an eel, using propaganda and magic to persuade the world about dangers of their victims. Their goal was drifting closer. Keeping this in mind, he faced a direct question bravely. Staal was stunned to his fish bones. In every form of civilization, people are supposed to do what's right and help each other. It's only logical really. Anyone would see that. But on land things were different. There were (seemingly) no serpentine eyes gazing at their prey from every direction. The greatest danger amongst them in that upside down mad world of land dwellers was themselves.

His allies were a great help to him at these times, taking the dive where our hero slipped. He would soon catch up though. In dire moments could he return the favour: He fought one of the 6 masters that seemed hell-bent on destroying him and his allies, that took part in the great scheme to end the Hirm: The silent war, as it would later be known. On the waters north of Berenost, where the final battle would take place, Staal managed to delay the ships of the evil masters. Without hesitation, even while coming eye-to-eye yet again with a monster this time named Turpentos, he attacked. Shockingly, his swift strike to the head of the Master of Deceit did not bite. It was at that moment he again realized the power difference between mere mortals like himself and the gods that are the Masters. This would not be the first adversary he had to flee from, but more importantly, not the last.

The legend of this stout cleanshaven beardfish would soon come to an end as he and his adventuring party were allowed one more miraculous experience, that would trump all other. In the overgrown heart of the Berenost jungle, the ZZP were granted an audience of none other than the Allfather himself. Not only could they speak with him directly while the tree god energy coarsed the veins of Gnersk, it also bestowed them a wish that could shape the future any way they could think of. Naturally, everyone looked to him for what their final wish should be as he was the most logical person between them. After pondering for some time, he decided they would indeed wish for power. More precisely: "As much of the Allfathers power as they could handle". What could ever go wrong?

The rest is history. Little more is heard of the fish that came to our service when we needed him most. The only remaining traces of his presence on this reality are the small magical pots sold by rare artefact peddlers with peculiar writing on them: *Staal Paligne's Waterproof Ink.*