Weirdwhale

Warm waves rolled under the Millonoket, and the dozen Colop beetle-men on her deck shifted as it bobbed over each marine hill. Well trained, they kept three or four legs on the deck, two on their ropes.

These days, few ships left Janasport. It had never been an easy proposition, with the city pinched between The Bay of Bones in the East, and the Abyss in the North.

But now, the eastern seas were not safe.

Everyone onboard the Millonket was Colop, one of the broad, rounded beetle-men native to the Great Central Desert, where fossilized ruins of the Colop Empires jutted from the sand.

The rain was light, and Elytra, the first mate, watched it scatter across the deck, her body rolling with the sea, watching preparations, processing what Captain Dorcius said.

Weirdwhale!

Weirdwhale was what every whaler sought. What they hoped to summon with sacrifices and old Colop words. What they tried to discern with water witch scryings and spot with looking glass.

Weirdwhale parts were worth more than gold or silver, and inside chitinous growths in their flesh resided the most valuable substance on Hern - Black Oil.

Black Oil made the magic of the Shapers Guild possible. Alone, it could change things, mutate them, make them weird.

Weirdwhale bones blubber and baleen were the basis of almost every magic charm and wizard’s spell. They were made more valuable by their rarity - a year with a single weirdwhale could make a fleet more valuable than a block of banks.

“Alright, you plank-chewing grubs! Listen up!” She shouted. The light rain beaded up on the black shells as they turned to face her. This crew had seen the greed in the eyes of the scouts coming in from the skimmers.

“You're getting your shells wet on this one! Wing and blood!”