T R I T O N
son of Poseidon, king of the merfolk

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Gifted From Birth

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Born in the shallows of the Tsunami Flats, Triton was a small spiral hatchling gifted with the Sight from the Tidelord. As he grew, so too did his powers. The most startling change had his parents confused— each day Triton’s body grew shorter and stockier. His four wings merged into two, and his leg’s lengthened and grew more and more webbed right in front of their eyes.

At full maturity, the once spiral hatchling with notable foresight had become a hulking guardian with incredible prophecies bubbling out of his mouth.

It was, therefor, inevitable when Triton began to make his way down into the Sea’s darkest depths; retreating from the increasing conflict raging in the world above the rippling currents. Much like his god before him, Triton detested the inevitable warfare he could see around him— unlike the Tidelord, however, Triton fled in hopes of drowning out the bloody visions blinding his senses.

Reaching Fishspine Reef, Triton attempted to integrate himself with the dragon’s lurking among the sunken shipwrecks. The wailing of the ancient spirits lost to the seas, however, merged into an unbearable cacophony, and the gifted guardian fled once more into the depths.

Unlike the Tidelord, however, Triton was still a victim to the power of nature. An emptiness, first triggered by the retreat from home, had been stirring within, growing with every stroke further into the Sea’s depths. A guardian was little without a subject to protect, after all, Sighted or otherwise.

It was during the passing of the Leviathan Trenches that Triton found his first piece of peace. A glow emerged from a lair to his left as the overwhelmed dragon swam past; larger than one of the fluorescent fish that called the trenches home, but smaller than the mature dragon’s which lurked in the Sea’s most dangerous of depths.

Atlas, as Triton would later know the hatchling, was fleeing from his parent’s dutiful watch once more— his sister having provided an ample distraction for the pair of exhausted Tundra’s back in the cave’s depths. Tonga and Mariana, both also aglow with their magically infused runes, where relieved when the fleeing guardian brought their son back by the scruff of his neck— even more so when Triton offered his help in herding the curious Tundra until he could hold his own against the monsters that lurked outside their lair’s entrance.

In his time with the small, but gifted, family, Triton found his rising restlessness appeased. Perhaps it had been the instant requirement for protection, or maybe the exasperated fondness that built in the days that followed, but the young Guaridan found his ward in the ever wandering Atlas. Even as the Tundra grew to full maturity, and became capable of holding his own, Triton continued to trail after Atlas.

Maybe it was the misfortune that followed after the curious furred dragon— a protection from, instead of for? The world would never know, for Triton himself— for all his gifts— could not see the answer to this.

Regardless of the reasoning, the pair continued to travel further into the Sea; one seeking knowledge buried in the darkest pits, the other fleeing from the ever-present knowledge that the light of day brought to his mind. Eventually, however, the two stumbled upon a spiralling conch, towering up from the seeming core of the planet.

A bellow from within, burdened with the knowledge of the far future, hit the travellers’ senses, awakening them from their mindless wanderings.

The Tidelord was awake, and restless from his own flight from warring friends.

As the pair approached, the reed-banks began to rustle to life; exalted hatchlings appearing before Triton and Atlas’ very eyes. Not old enough to serve the cause, yet not welcome at the nest’s they’d once called home.

The guardian had found a cause for his Sight, for his existence. Atlas had found a place untouched by clan’s before.

The pair had found a home.

Building A Home

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Taking his discovery as a sign from the Tidelord, Triton began to make The Spiral Keep his home. Together with Atlas, Triton dug down into the seabed, determined to make a home for the small hatchlings surrounding him. It would take hours, perhaps even days, but the promise of a lair alone provided the exalted hatchlings a glimmer of hope.

One particular hatchling, in fact, stepped forward and offered her own help with the task at hand. Galatea herself hadn’t be exalted, but her parents had both given themselves over to the Tidelord’s cause, desperate for an existence with meaning. With the young skydancer’s offer, the ice shattered, and soon enough millions of tiny paws joined Triton and Atlas’ in their burrowing.

As guided by the call of their god, many hatchlings joined the excavations and a couple of dragons left to join the frontlines, but eventually the work was done. The joyful chorus of chirping hatchlings nearly drowned out the doomed destinies echoing around Triton’s mind, and a bittersweet taste settled in his mouth.

Solace wrapped around his heart as he watched the hatchlings form nests and bunk-nests and communal-nests with the reeds that their digging had displaced. While the future —unknown or known— seemed only dark and painful, Triton had provided a present for the present; the dragons who would serve the Tidelord would have a welcoming home when not on the battlefields.

He could do that much.