Cold Coastline

Haniver gremlins haunt the stories of sailors and fishing communities, featuring prominently in parables told to naughty children by disapproving parents. A thousand such tales exist, each a variation on a common theme—the gremlins flap up from the sea, startle nasty fishermen or disobedient youths, and make off with their trinkets. Yet as is rarely the case with such tales, nearly every word of these stories—no matter how unlikely or comic— proves near to the truth. Strange, capricious fey creatures that enjoy skimming whitecaps, flipping over solitary horseshoe crabs, and suicidally teasing dolphins and sharks, hanivers endlessly indulge a mad racial curiosity. Such is their obsession that every haniver must know what is under every rock, in every basket, and beneath every hat. Should they like what they find, they typically attempt to make off with it, clinging to their prize like a beloved heirloom until the next curiosity or shiny treasure catches their attention. Hanivers have no concept of worth, though they know much of desirability, and might hang onto an item they would otherwise discard in moments if another creature—or former owner—expresses desire for it. The gremlins don’t steal out of any sense of maliciousness, but rather out of curiosity and selfishness. The most intelligent occasionally even believe that they’re trading, and leave behind old “treasures”—often strange or natural items that barely fit the description—in place of things they’ve claimed. Regardless, folklore advises those who have something stolen by a haniver to simply abandon it rather than face the frustration of attempting to rescue it—hence the tendency of sailors to blame the hanivers whenever something goes missing. Hanivers possess flat, leathery bodies with only a few thin bones. Most stand little more than a foot tall and 1-1/2 feet across, and weigh less than 5 pounds.

Ichthyocentaurs, hybrids of hippocampi and more common merfolk, possess a culture that centers around communal growth fostered by mentoring and trading knowledge, songs, and services with small communities of the sea and coast. They idolize both memorable courage and wise stewardship. Ichthyocentaur warriors are known to challenge adventurers simply as a test of mettle and to offer guidance to respectful opponents whether the fight is lost or won. The leaders of ichthyocentaur tribes are usually bards, clerics, or oracles.  Most ichthyocentaurs are nomads, migrating across coastlines and sea lanes along ancient routes and largely living off what they catch. They prefer to avoid larger civilizations for fear of conquest but often form mutually beneficial arrangements with tritons, coast-dwelling satyrs, and insular coastal elf communities. Elder members of the tribe often seek out powerful magical beings such as seilenoi and sphinxes from which to learn. Most ichthyocentaurs worship deities of nature, beauty, and passion, as well as godlike elder fey.  An ichthyocentaur’s humanoid torso generally has features reminiscent of those common in nearby human societies and skin tanned by the sun. They use armor when hunting or fighting but wear little else aside from a few pieces of meaningful jewelry, often fashioned from sea creatures like crabs (whose claws are favored for circlets).  Although they are amphibious and often form relationships with terrestrial creatures, ichthyocentaurs are only able to move on land with difficulty and rarely travel out of sight of the water. They determine their carrying capacity as if they were a quadruped despite having only two legs. An average ichthyocentaur stands just over 5 feet tall when propped up by its legs and tail, is nearly 15 feet long from head to tail tip, and weighs over 1,700 pounds, but tribes from different areas vary significantly in build and size.

Polar bears swim along frigid coasts and wander icy plains looking for prey, most notably the seals they pluck from holes in the ice. A polar bear’s blubber gives it buoyancy, and its long neck helps keep its head above water. Oversized paws with webbed toes propel it steadily through the icy seas, and a polar bear can swim more than 100 miles in a single day.  While easily able to avoid conflict by plunging into the frigid ocean swells that surround their lairs, polar bears are notoriously fearless, and will attack nearly any creature if they feel threatened or desperate. This makes them particularly dangerous scavengers around arctic settlements, though a rare few civilizations hunt polar bears, both for their meat and for the furs and bones that can be fashioned into clothes and vital tools. Many of these cultures hold polar bears sacred, honoring their deaths with solemn rituals and ceremonies.  Polar bears live an average of 15 to 20 years, but arctic peoples have known individual bears to live as long as 40 years, often assuming legendary status in local lore. An adult male polar bear can weigh 800 to 1,200 pounds, with females weighing 350 to 650 pounds.  

In the darkest depths of the earth, in strange frozen rivers and subterranean lakes of frigid black water dwell the mysterious and ferocious chardas. These xenophobic humanoids rarely venture far from their domains, settling in small tribes and building rocky huts underwater or muddy domes along the subterranean shore. A typical charda stands just under 4 feet tall but weighs 250 pounds. Chardas reproduce by laying eggs in small clutches of two to four, which they bury among rocks offshore. Females fiercely protect their own clutches, but show no predisposition toward protecting the clutches of other chardas, even those within their tribe. Devoutly religious, chardas prefer to worship gods of war or cold. They hunt in small packs composed of both males and females. Hunting and slaying help determine an individual’s power within the group. Chardas often engage in infanticide and cannibalism. While they patrol their territories in groups, they fight individually with little strategy or structure. Chardas do not assist each other with their kills, as they perceive aid as a weakness and a dishonor to both themselves and their foes.

Dire polar bears, kin to cave bears, are larger and more aggressive than cave bears and normal polar bears alike. These short-tempered animals tend to avoid settled regions, but sometimes venture dangerously close to them while hunting, potentially resulting in bloody massacres.

Fjord linnorms dwell among the deep waters that grace northern coastlines where fingers of land create complex rivulets, venturing out to sea to feed on sharks and whales when they cannot find settlements or traveling caravans to savage. As their favored haunts often overlap with coastal trade routes, regions known to be within the territory of a fjord linnorm are often avoided by ships. Fjord linnorms are not particularly adept at capsizing ships, as are some other large aquatic monsters, but one might argue that such tactics are unnecessary for a creature the size and power of a fjord linnorm in the first place. Both the curse and poison of a fjord linnorm are extremely dangerous for those who frequent the waterways of the north. The fjord linnorm’s curse is particularly devastating to aquatic creatures, and such beings are careful to avoid any possible conflict with such linnorms. A fjord linnorm is 60 feet long and weighs just over 10,000 pounds.