🌊Ocearin: The Tide that Breathes
Born beneath the Moon, forged in stillness, and moved by the depths of soul.
I. Born Beneath the Moon’s Gaze
Before war, before whispers, before even the first surface fires were lit—there was only the sea. The Moondrift Expanse shimmered like a dream, its tides moving not in chaos, but in rhythm, like the breathing of a god. From this vast calm came the Ocearin: beings of flowing form and soulful silence.
Their origin is traced not to eggs, stone, or stars—but to Amera, the water goddess, whom they call She Who Dances Above.
Unlike the Solians, who build temples of stone and speak of Amera in prose and title, the Ocearin feel her in the moon’s pull.
They believe the moon—the great wavy ball in the ocean’s sky—is her eternal gaze. When the waves are calm, she watches with grace.
When storms rise, she blinks.
Unlike the Solians, who build temples of stone and speak of Amera in prose and title, the Ocearin feel her in the moon’s pull.
They believe the moon—the great wavy ball in the ocean’s sky—is her eternal gaze. When the waves are calm, she watches with grace.
When storms rise, she blinks.
But balance, they believe, is never without tension.
To ensure the harmony of the Moondrift, Amera birthed a beast to remind them of what lies beneath serenity:
To ensure the harmony of the Moondrift, Amera birthed a beast to remind them of what lies beneath serenity:
Varnaxxos, the Deep Maw.
A colossal kraken said to coil beneath the oldest trenches, whose every motion stirs whirlpools above. A divine warden. A lurking test.
To forget Varnaxxos is to take peace for granted. And if the Ocearin stray too far from Amera’s rhythm, the Maw stirs.
A colossal kraken said to coil beneath the oldest trenches, whose every motion stirs whirlpools above. A divine warden. A lurking test.
To forget Varnaxxos is to take peace for granted. And if the Ocearin stray too far from Amera’s rhythm, the Maw stirs.
II. Songs from the Shipwrecks
Though isolated, the Ocearin knew the surface.
They read it—through torn sails, rusted wheels, shattered compasses—each wreckage caught on coral reefs became a page from another world.
From these relics, the Ocearin pieced together tales of fire, greed, and endless conquest. “Up there,” they whispered, “they burn instead of breathe.”
They read it—through torn sails, rusted wheels, shattered compasses—each wreckage caught on coral reefs became a page from another world.
From these relics, the Ocearin pieced together tales of fire, greed, and endless conquest. “Up there,” they whispered, “they burn instead of breathe.”
But curiosity cannot be drowned. A pod of five emerged from the Moondrift to see the world above—not expecting sand or soil—but stepping instead onto ice.
They wandered the frozen mirror of Kaltevene… and met the Pinglings.
They wandered the frozen mirror of Kaltevene… and met the Pinglings.
At first, they watched:
Penguins barreling down mountains for sport.
A brutal ice game where players were flung into 1v1 duels.
Feathery tinkerers leaping off cliffs with hand-carved gliders, trying to touch the skies.
The Ocearin wept... from awe. These tiny creatures had no magic, no great goddess—but joy? Endless.
They introduced themselves, and the Pinglings welcomed them not with suspicion, but dance.
III. The Dance of Tides and Snow
Ocearin and Pingling became unlikely kin—sea and snow, glide and flow.
The Ocearin taught the art of meditation beneath the moon.
The Pinglings taught the joy of sliding belly-first into a snowbank while screaming “YIP!”
The Ocearin taught the art of meditation beneath the moon.
The Pinglings taught the joy of sliding belly-first into a snowbank while screaming “YIP!”
Together, they repelled Dawgren raids—the wolfish marauders who clawed at the igloos and harmony alike.
The Ocearin did not fight with rage, but with stillness sharpened.
To strike like an Ocearin is to strike like a wave: beautiful… and gone before you knew you were hit.
The Ocearin did not fight with rage, but with stillness sharpened.
To strike like an Ocearin is to strike like a wave: beautiful… and gone before you knew you were hit.
In honor of their protectors, the Pinglings created a holiday:
“Moonlight Melt” —where snow dances, songs echo under the auroras, and gifts of shell and fish are given in gratitude.
“Moonlight Melt” —where snow dances, songs echo under the auroras, and gifts of shell and fish are given in gratitude.
IV. The Kraken’s Bargain
Despite their joy above, the Ocearin never forgot Varnaxxos.
The Maw was not a villain—it was a mirror.
To live peacefully was to be vigilant in soul. To drift into pride was to invite collapse.
The Maw was not a villain—it was a mirror.
To live peacefully was to be vigilant in soul. To drift into pride was to invite collapse.
Ocearin scholars such as Velra the Driftseer taught that the Kraken wasn’t merely a beast—it was the outer ego, the tide of unchecked fear or ambition that brews beneath one’s calm exterior.
Velra’s famous line is etched into sea-glass:
“The storm below is the storm within.”
Velra’s famous line is etched into sea-glass:
“The storm below is the storm within.”
V. Inventions, Realizations, and “Surface Logic”
Many Ocearin inventors changed their society forever—by discovering what surface-folk considered common sense.
Lun’Tai the Collector invented a “stick with a hook” to reach hard-to-grab sea fruit, which revolutionized reef harvesting.
Moraelis the Bubblecaster discovered how to trap air pockets in spiraled coral, creating the first underwater storytelling amphitheater.
Ollen Driftwhirl realized that heat could be used for more than survival—and accidentally invented soup.
They studied fish, became friends with dolphins, and forged bonds with creatures so strange the surface still thinks they’re myths.
One Ocearin even tamed a sea turtle large enough to carry twelve. They called it Yuma, the Gentle Reef.
One Ocearin even tamed a sea turtle large enough to carry twelve. They called it Yuma, the Gentle Reef.
VI. The Still Flame: Unity Through Contrast
Though born of water, the Ocearin did not drift aimlessly. Their path carried them far beyond Kaltevene’s frozen tides—across the great Moondrift Expanse and into the burning sands of Scorrachai, where they encountered the Emberin.
The meeting was no clash, but a convergence.
Where Ocearin flowed with patience and introspection, the Emberin blazed with purpose and passion. At first glance, they were opposites—one shaped by the moon’s pull, the other by the sun’s fire. But it was in this elemental contrast that something deeper formed: a shared truth, born not of sameness, but of symmetry.
From this union came a philosophy known as The Tidefire Accord—a belief that every force, no matter how opposing, holds the seed of its complement. That stillness needs motion, and fire needs something to burn. Through this balance, the Ocearin and Emberin found new ways of building, creating, and understanding not just each other—but themselves.
It was here, amid the meditative waters and scorching sands, that the first whispers of the Tale of Two Wolves emerged—an allegory not of good versus evil, but of inner conflict and harmony. The tale would ripple across Pentara in time, shaping entire generations.
Ocearin teachings now mirror this unity. They say:
“To feel pain is not to drown—but to sink just enough to hear your own truth.”
“To clash is not to destroy—but to forge something new in the fire.”
“To reflect is to float. To let go is to drift. And in drifting… rise anew.”
The ocean within them stirs—not with wrath, but with clarity.
The flame beside them burns—not with rage, but with purpose.
Together, they remind Pentara: opposites do not divide—they define.
The flame beside them burns—not with rage, but with purpose.
Together, they remind Pentara: opposites do not divide—they define.
VII. Modern Ocearin and the Surface Tides
Some Ocearin now walk the land—not as wanderers, but as listeners.
They meditate in glacial caves. They attend Spirit Mask Festivals with the Chymanni.
They even return to the Moondrift, bringing snow and songs as offerings.
They meditate in glacial caves. They attend Spirit Mask Festivals with the Chymanni.
They even return to the Moondrift, bringing snow and songs as offerings.
Still, the Kraken waits.
And the Ocearin know this: tranquility is not the absence of threat… it is the choice to remain present despite it.
And the Ocearin know this: tranquility is not the absence of threat… it is the choice to remain present despite it.
“The tide is not afraid of the storm.
It listens.
Then it returns.”
It listens.
Then it returns.”
—Velra the Driftseer