The sea holds many secrets in its depths, and the sea folk have no shortage of odd tales to share on long voyages or at the docks. Strange illusions upon the horizons, ghostly ships that vanish into fog and sea, strange shadows beneath the waves that fit no fish, and nights when the starry sky and glowing sea seem to beckon to one another. One favorite tale or spooky story they whisper is of the sounds that can be heard on a dark night in a calm sea. When the water is perfectly still and one is adrift in this blackened void, the water below seems to hum and waver. It is a dull and droning sound, more so felt in one's bones than heard in your ears. Crews shall search their ships in vain, thinking it a trick or one of their own, but no culprit shall be found. When they look to the sea, they will know the source, and fear what it could mean.
Above the surface, this droning hum is difficult to decipher, though it may raise and fall in odd patterns. But some claim that the noise can be better heard when immersed in the ocean, dunking one's head in for a better listen. Obviously, most sea folk believe this to be foolish, almost suicidal, yet tales speak of few who have done this daring deed. As the stories go, some "brave" sailors take the dip, lowering themselves down to the ocean and dipping their heads in to learn more. Once they go in, however, they do not come up. Even as the seconds turn to a minute and past, they remain under, barely moving as they listen. Hopefully, other crew members are around to pull them back up, as some stories say that the men will drown in mere inches of water and yet never flail or fight. Those who are rescued before they calmly drown themselves will snap to, as if roused from a dream, and babble on of singing and reverent chants. They will go fearful of the ocean, and desperately try to escape the sight of it. They hide in the bowels of the ship, rocking themselves and murmuring sounds not made with lungs. Yet, when morning comes, they will be gone. They will have vanished in the night, and every whaler knows where they have gone. It is the go-to explanation for all who disappear at sea without a trace: "The ocean called to them, and they returned."
While many would believe these strange ocean songs to be myth or classic sailor superstition, there is no denying that there is something down there. The myriad of odd beings caught in trawling nets or washed up dying on shore are proof, their mere image showing they are more than simple fish. And sometimes, these aquatic entities appear on their own volition, like those of the Saints and their leviathans. There are others that have been encountered upon shore and on sea, and these run ins tend to create more mysteries than they solve. One of these odds creatures are the Bishops, strange fishy beings whose silhouettes are both similar and unnerving.
The Bishops are typically encountered at sea, sometimes appearing besides small vessels out of nowhere, and sometimes hauled in by accident with their nets. Every story notes the unsettling aura of calm they exude, remaining still and silent even as their bodies are tangled in nets and hooks. Those who show up next to ships also remain quiet and serene, emerging from the water with sluggish ease despite the waves and weather. When the fishermen realize their company, they are quick to untangle them or give them their rapt attention. It seems the moment they gain all as witnesses, the Bishops perform their task. Of course, this is all guesswork, as no one truly knows what they intend with these appearances, or what they think of their sudden abductions. Their mouths move with clicking teeth, yet no words are formed. Their odd tendril hands slowly form holy gestures, moving in deliberate patterns that feel like silent speaking. But as baffling as they are, meaning is often delivered to the minds of the watchers. The tales talk about the odd sensations that occur to the body as the Bishops "speak." They speak of the creature's head pulsing and throbbing, and soon the fishermen's flesh tingles and their hair stand on end. The mind is confused, frantic, as if waves are rolling over one's brain, but then suddenly, it will strike them like an epiphany. Meaning from out of the blue, understanding of some alien tongue dropped directly into their minds. And often, this moment of understanding blinds the crew, and by the time they regain their senses, they will see the tip of the Bishop's tail vanish elegantly into the depths.
The messages given to the witnesses are indescribable, as human words cannot convey their meaning. The best folk can give as explanations are feelings and odd urges, wariness of some things to come or confidence in an event that should never happen. Some have spoken of absolution, of this feeling of weight taken off their bodies. Past failures and trauma are suddenly numbed and faded, as if the scars have truly been healed. But then others come back with haunted eyes and unnerved minds, acting like condemned prisoners on the way to the chopping block. What was "gifted" to them is never shared, but their untimely ends shortly after speak volumes.
There is no doubt that their appearance is holy: the visage similar to members of the Church, the calm demeanor they always carry and the artifacts they clutch in their tendrils. Some groups consider them truly sacred, on par with the Church itself, though these sects tend to not be favorites in the Church's eyes. They think that the Bishops are the holy who have reincarnated into this new form, to live in the calm serenity of the depths. The messages they bring are blessings or damnation, given to those who deserve such judgements. They are leaders of the flocks of the deep, speaking sermons in tongues that know only water, and chanting prayers that hum throughout the very seas. Visions of the depths have painted a world of billowing spires, of churches built from leviathan bone and writhing worm. Down there, where darkness and pressure wipes away the senses, faith is the one thing that remains strong.
Of course, some always have to wonder and ask: do they truly hold sermons down there, and if so, what do they speak of? To the folk upon dry land, these are beings free from any known humors or godly liquids. To what do they pray to? What do they worship, and what do they think of the world above? Surely in these times of chaos and war, they would abandon such a violent land, yet they still appear. Perhaps these eyes that know only abyssal darkness still see something within our rotten souls. Perhaps they still arrive at our shores to deliver things we have lost along the way. Perhaps, despite it all, there is still hope for us.
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