Jorm leaned against the side of the ship, listlessly moving his fingers across the holes of his flute. He’d never assumed that a skald’s life would be one of endless revelry, and old Falada, his master, had drilled into him the fact that there would be long periods of drudgery between each good tale-telling. He could still hear her laughing at him in between making him recite the sagas with a bag over his head, kicking him in the ribs for each mistake. No matter how much he thought he was ready, he knew she’d be laughing at him still if she knew his decision to go a-viking with his clansmen had left him bored out of his mind.

I am going to go absolutely insane if we don’t find this damn village soon, he thought to himself. This was supposed to be simple: sail down the coast until we find the place, take anything good, put a few people to one sword or another, set the buildings on fire, go home. They never said anything about getting lost in a storm or trying to row up the wrong river entirely. He stared across the choppy sea. I may as well practice a bit, he decided, raising his flute to his lips to play.

The piping notes were nearly drowned out by the rain, but Jorm played on regardless. He was nearly about to stop in frustration when he heard an answering harmony being sung back to him. Jorm looked about, trying to see if any of the rowers were answering his tune, but they were all busy with their oars, miserable and silent in the downpour. Jorm scratched his head in confusion; he strained his ears to hear, and much to his surprise he found that the song was coming from somewhere in the foam-flecked darkness. He knew the stories, but the music was so lovely he couldn’t help but continue to play, fingers dancing across his flute in patterns he’d never thought he would master. The unseen singer’s voice rose in volume and enthusiasm, drawing ever closer, and he was soon able to see who it was that sang so finely.

It was a great beast of the sea, its shape like a pike-headed serpent, its body clad in shimmering gold and scarlet scales that seemed to glow against the drab colors surrounding it. Its eyes were bright with madness. The sweet voice of a woman came from within its snaggletoothed mouth. A patch of white adorned its head like the star sometimes seen on the faces of horses, another white spot along its fleshy-pouched throat. He had heard of the livathi, but never so much as seen a dead one washed ashore or tangled in a net. Now Jorm stood before a live one in the flesh. His heart was gripped with fear, but he knew that so long as he kept playing he would be safe. That’s alright, he thought. I never want to stop, not ever.

Suddenly there was a shout from the captain, who snatched at his clothes with a rough-gloved hand; Jorm barely even registered the fact that he was almost about to walk off the edge of the ship, being more concerned with the fact that he could no longer play. She barked something at the livathi in a language he didn’t recognize. The great white-blazed monster dove beneath the water, narrowly ducking the stone she threw at its whiskered head, and his heart sank along with it. Jorm tried to lean over the railing as he reached out for the other half of his duet, his heart filled with a longing stronger and fiercer than he had ever felt before, but she gripped him firmly by his cloak and tunic. He scrabbled desperately at the shield-lined planking. She hauled him back, glaring at him.

“But I…” he began, pleading. The woman shook her head sternly and dragged him towards the mast, tucking the flute in her belt. Jorm struggled as she tied him in place, but he could not break her knots; he spent the rest of the journey in silent misery, his eyes forever watching the waves for a flash of red and gold.

Singular: livathi
Plural: livathi
Pronunciation: lih-vah-thee, IPA: /lɪ.'vɔ.θiː/

Avg. Length: 12.5m/41'
Avg. Weight: 3 metric tonnes/3.25 tons

A livathi (Muraenagnosis uri) is an enormous aquatic creature that resembles a bewhiskered sea serpent or enormous moray eel with a pronounced underbite. They are brightly colored in whites, reds, golds, and blacks, similar to koi carp. A livathi's whiskers are actually prehensile appendages which can be used to manipulate objects.

Most livathi in the modern era are completely insane, driven mad as a species during the escalating magical warfare that led to the Long Winter.

Detailed Anatomy Information

Nonplayable Species

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