[Culture] The Praeterian Fleet

[Metamancy 1765]

The Praeterian Fleet

Introduction

 

I first came across these peoples when I set out on a small trade expedition and encountered their fleets. It had been many a day and many a night I had been upon the waters on my own, until I came across the ships of the Praeterians. Captivated by their culture, I made the choice to stay with them a little while and record their unique way of living. 

 

It is almost remarkable a feat that this seafaring group managed to form a cohesive “family,” as they like to call themselves, considering how different each and every one are. A mismatched group of not only all four descendant races but also beastfolk such as kharajyr or musin, the Praeterians are surely an anomaly given how close they all are through their differences. As mentioned above, they refer to themselves as a “family,” though are much more akin to a society out at sea. Spending a few years upon each continent they find themselves upon, their fleet grows and grows with each new destination they visit, and so do their records, maps and knowledge. Though their society is seemingly rather disorganized and their mindset seemingly chaotic, upon closer inspection, the Praeterians are truly sophisticated and possess a great wealth of camaraderie and respect that many of the noble families we know of do not possess.

 

Being mastered seafarers, their mastery of the waters is truly unparalleled. Where most sailors find themselves relying on compasses, charts and maps, the Praeterians memorize the paths they take and are able to read the stars, mapping out the seas they face in their very minds. This is, of course, not to say that they do not use maps. It is clear that, most of these people having been raised out at sea, they have a secret tradition that allows them to navigate the oceans to such an extent, which I, as an outsider, was not privy to. I have also noticed that they speak to each other in strange tongues which I could not understand; their native language, perhaps. Their vessels are quite often heard roaring with laughter and cheering in that strange tongue. Their demeanor is difficult to describe; they are often very loud, good-humored, and passionate, though any description beyond that eludes me. Contrary to one’s initial impressions, they are no mere marauders or vagabonds; for their bonds are not of blood, but of choice, which makes that bond all the more stronger. To travel with them is to witness a society both fluid and firm, where respect is given freely to all. 

 

Transcribed below are the detailed records of what I have observed during my time with the Praeterians. 

Origin

 

The Praeterian Fleet, though seafaring in nature, speak of a certain “home” that they originate from. This “home” is often romanticized in their tales and very few of them were alive to ever be there. Based on the records I have collected, this continent that these sailors originate from seems to have become uninhabitable by something the Praeterians refer to only as “the calamity.” Forced upon ships, it would appear that they took to the waters quite kindly, and took on the lives of sailors, which, obviously, they still live as today. 

 

While it is likely that the vast majority of their tales of “home” are either untrue or exaggerated, I have pieced together from their several, scattered tales what their home continent may have been like. They speak of their home as a natural utopia, with sprawling deltas, lush mangroves and rivers that stretch on for leagues on end. From what I have gathered, it was a rather small continent compared to the likes of Aevos or Almaris; in fact, an island may be a better term for it than a continent. With towering coral cliffs and lagoons, the Praeterian “home,” if it truly existed and was as grand as they describe it, could not have been a better place to live. It would seem that the population of this island was also quite small as well; consisting of only a few hundred more than what the original Praeterian Fleet consisted of, the ones who did not join the fleet having been declared dead during “the calamity.” 

 

Speaking of this calamity, it is worth noting that to try and coax information regarding the calamity out of a Praeterian is considered a grave offense; for it is taboo to speak of it at all. I, unfortunately, had to learn this the hard way - I quite clearly recall almost being thrown overboard by several upset crew members, the captain’s grace the only thing saving me. For this reason, I was unable to gather a clear narrative on how the Praeterians were forced off of their island; however, from whispers in the dark and tales carefully told, I have been able to record a somewhat-cohesive narrative. At the heart of “home” was a great volcano; which had been considered to be inactive during the Praeterians’ time there. Then, perhaps it had been an act of magic or some higher power, but this great volcano had erupted with immense force, forcing all the natives off of the island and killing many. I suspect that, due to the island already being a tropical place with much water and also being so connected to the sea, the Praeterians were not new to sailing before they were forced to take to the ocean. 

 

Perhaps it is for this reason that the Praeterians are such a mismatched bunch; for, even if they were separate groups back at “home,” they found themselves forced upon the same vessels during their escape of the island, leading to the formation of the Praeterian Fleet. 

 

The Fleet

 

The Praeterian Fleet is truly a sight to behold. The sight of them is truly unlike that of any navy or trading company I have known; for they do not move in formation and are more akin to a swarm. There is a strange, almost frightening unity in the chaos of their fleet. Each vessel is great and unmistakably Praeterian, taking on a hull shape; their ships are sleek and narrow, built for speed and maneuverability. Their keels are shallow and retractable, which allows them to sail close to shore or even upriver, but remain reinforced enough to withstand the open sea. The sails of the Praeterian ships are always square-rigged and black, with the Praeterian symbol often, but not always, emblazoned on the sail; a white compass upon a black canvas. Their ships are made of dark-stained wood, appearing quite aged yet still sailing proud. Ships are built low-decked, with no massive forecastles or aftcastles, keeping their ships light and swift. Cargo is stored below, while the crew lives, eats and sings on deck. Below deck are countless records, maps and books that the Archivists of the crew meticulously keep track of. In truth, being an Archivist myself, the Praeterian Archivists were of the most help in my research; they were happy to share their customs and knowledge with me, even some of the things the other crew members may not have. One particular area of interest that the Archivists were of great assistance with was the social hierarchy of the Praeterian Fleet. Detailed in the following section is what I have gathered regarding this seafaring society’s social ladder. 

 

Society

 

It is worth noting, first and foremost, that everyone upon the Praeterian Fleet is equal. While a certain hierarchy is forced to exist due to the nature of their society, the crew members do not serve the Captain in the way an imperial might serve the Empire. Though it is the Captain that makes the major decisions, decides courses and leads in battle, they are only as powerful as the crew; for a Captain is elected, not inherited or appointed. The authority of whomever the current Captain is lasts only for as long as they are able to maintain the respect of the sailors; if the majority of the crew members gather and vote for a new Captain, the current Captain is forced to step down and become a normal crew member. In some severe cases, rogue ex-Captains have even been known to be thrown overboard. While the Captain is in charge of the entire fleet, each ship that is not the flagship has its own “mini-Captain,” referred to as the Shipmaster, who reports directly to the Captain and is in charge of their own vessel. 

 

Below the Captain, second-in-command, is the Quartermaster, a select individual who is also elected. It is worth mentioning that the authority of the Captain and Quartermaster remain separate; if a new Captain is to be designated, the Quartermaster may still retain their position. The Quartermaster is in charge of discipline, maintaining order and dividing spoils; and, most importantly, acts as a representative of the crew. The Quartermaster, although working alongside the Captain, also acts as an important balance against the Captain’s authority; if the crew grows dissatisfied with the Captain, it is the Quartermaster that speaks first. 

 

Then there are the Archivists, who have been briefly touched upon already. Though they technically hold no authority, they are respected as scholars and record-keepers, maintaining the maps, logs and histories of the fleet. Being the keepers of knowledge, the Captain and Quartermaster are known to often seek the Archivists’ counsel, for they act as impartial voices, being mediators in disputes. However, due to this, they are also more serious and detached from the rest of the crew, spending their days mostly below deck or recording data. While the crew, or the “family” laughs and drinks on deck, the Archivists are often studying away below, poring over the endless tomes and maps that the Praeterian Fleet is home to. 

 

And, of course, there is the “family,” which an outside observer would simply refer to as the crew. To the Praeterians, the term “family” is as literal as it comes; to them, blood ties mean nothing compared to loyalty and choice. A newcomer who proves their worth and loyalty can become just as much “kin” as a sailor who has been with the fleet for years. Regardless of an individual’s race, heritage, or past, once accepted into the fleet, all are considered brothers and sisters of the sea. Even beastfolk, who often find themselves facing prejudice elsewhere, are welcome and respected within the Praeterian Fleet. The Praeterians seem to place value on one’s personality and loyalty rather than how one was born; a societal trait very scarcely seen anywhere else. They truly are as a “family,” as they refer to themselves as; they eat together, sing together, and fight together. Food is divided equally, spoils are shared by all, and no one goes hungry while another one feasts. Even disagreements, however infrequent, are treated as sibling quarrels rather than permanent divisions. The Praeterian bond is a sacred one; to betray it is to betray oneself. 

 

Culture

 

Being the supportive “family” they are, all are free to practice their own religion; which also leads to a mismatch of deific magics that are seen used by the Praeterians. All are free to wear whatever clothes they like, speak in whatever way they desire, and live however they wish; the only requisite being loyalty to the family. This being said, dark magics are strictly forbidden and any sailor seen making use of them will be thrown overboard, or killed in some similar, brutal way. Freedom seems to be one of the Praeterian’s core values; they believe that true harmony and a healthy “family” cannot exist when everyone is forced into a certain framework. Every Praeterian is free to speak, dress, worship and live as they see fit; so long as their choices do not put their brethren or themselves in danger. Tattoos, charms, talismans and eccentric fashion choices abound; a Praeterian ship is often more akin to a wandering bazaar than a regimented navy. Interestingly, however, they do all wear sailor’s headscarves or bandanas; though this seems to be more of an identifier than a cultural aspect. 

 

There are also no proper “laws” aboard the Praeterian Fleet; from what I have gathered, the Praeterians share one single, vague code, that being “loyalty.” If a decision must be made, then the sailors all gather and hold a vote, which the Captain then takes into account and makes a decision. Not once during my time with the Praeterians have I seen a Captain act against a majority vote. A sailor may be blasphemous, eccentric, foul-mouthed; but as long as they are true to the family and the fleet, they are welcome. This being said, however, betrayal is the ultimate crime; I have seen a few sailors attempt to mutiny, spy for other powers or abandon the ship in times of danger, and those sailors are considered already dead, killed then erased from memory. Any records of them are tossed into the sea or burned. 

 

Despite the chaos of the Praeterians, the fleet thrives on the idea that their bonds are not of sameness but of choice. Upon first impression, they appear almost contradictory; chaotic yet organized, brutal yet compassionate, bickering yet inseparable; but to them, this is strength, for freedom without loyalty has no meaning and loyalty without freedom is tyranny. There truly is a unity in their diversity; every sailor is welcomed and made equal amongst their fellow Praeterians.

 

But it should not be mistakenly thought that the Praeterians are a soft people for how friendly and good-humored they can be. They are a fierce, oftentimes brutal people; punishments are swift and public aboard their ships. Thieves may lose a hand, traitors may be keelhauled, and those who are found to truly betray loyalty are often tortured to death. Joy from combat is a common trait amongst the Praeterians; many are known to have lost a hand, an eye, or even a leg in petty skirmishes. Even towards outsiders, respect is expected; those who demean or condescend the Praeterians are swiftly corrected. The fleet has little to no patience for arrogance and insults to one are treated as insults to all. 

 

This being said, the Praeterians are not reckless marauders as they may seem at first glance; they do not seek battles for the sake of blood and are very slow to violence, opting to remove themselves from a situation rather than drawing their blades. A part of this may be their familial mindset; the life of every sailor is valuable, and so any unnecessary loss over a petty matter is considered a weakening to the whole. They are opportunistic by nature; only striking when the tide is in their favor or when a prize is deemed truly worth it. Masters of patience and ambush, they are known to shadow ships, lure foes into coral reefs or use deceptive tactics rather than brute force. They also seem to hold the belief that as long as they are honorable towards others, fortune will find them; and in this sense, they are set apart from normal pirates, for they do not strike at innocent trading ships or vessels of a peaceful nation. It is also for this reason that I was able to approach them peacefully without being killed. 

 

I was shocked, initially, at the hospitality of the Praeterians. At first meeting, they treat every outsider, be they peasant, prince, elf, dwarf or beastfolk, with the same respect; rank and title matter little. Hospitality also seems to be a duty; guests aboard a Praeterian ship are offered food, drink, and shelter without repayment so long as they come in peace. The fleet judges others based on actions; a barbaric uruk with honor may be embraced as a brother, while a noble who cheats and lies may be cast aside as unworthy of their time. Once respect is hard-earned, seldom is it withdrawn, for the Praeterians value allies almost as much as they value each other. 

 

Rituals

 

Life among the Praeterians is always marked by countless, albeit small, traditions. Due to their countless differences, there seem to be no notable festivals or religious ceremonies, only small, everyday rituals that bind them all together as a family.

 

Drinking is not only an everyday activity but a sacred one. Before every voyage, the crew members all drink together, usually wine or rum, and share stories. They seem to take the act of drinking as not merely recreational and bonding but also symbolic, a celebration, and a toast, to living another day. The final sip of their drinks are often poured into the ocean as an offering to the waters that bear them. This being said, there seems to be no religious connection to the waters as one might expect; only symbolism. 

 

Singing, too, is a commonplace practice. While I have not been able to gather exactly what the sailors are singing, as they sing in their strange language, at dusk and at dawn, the sailors all gather to sing their songs, their voices carrying over the waves. These songs, the Archivists tell me, are not just melodies but records of journeys past, maps committed to memory through song.

 

And yet, not all traditions are as uplifting. When a sailor dies, it is a truly tragic thing. All the lanterns aboard their ships are extinguished at nightfall and the body is set upon a small raft. If the body has been lost, the raft is still fashioned, carrying the essence of the fallen comrade. All is quiet aboard the ships when this death ceremony is carried out. In this solemn silence, the raft is set aflame and left to drift across the seas, the stars of the night alone guiding the fallen sailor to wherever they may go next.

 

-=-=-=-+-=-=-=-

 

Not once during my time with the Praeterians have I felt that my time was a waste. Their culture is truly fascinating and brimming with beautiful contradictions; freedom and loyalty, chaos and order, brutality and compassion. And yet, through it all, these people have managed to weave themselves together into a society that is not only functional, but thriving. Though outsiders may call them pirates, wanderers or vagabonds, I have come to see them as something much more: a people who have built their home upon the boundless sea, a people who live with honor and loyalty to themselves. To sail with them is a glimpse into the life of an unshackled sailor, where one is bound not by borders or blood, but by choice.

 

Thus concludes my account of the Praeterian Fleet. Written and compiled faithfully, by Archivist Everlyn Marwood.

 

[KeiaTypeBeat 3277]

 

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

 

An old, dull, heavy cleaver meets blood and bone, spattles of hemoglobin rich juice flying upwards into the wielder's dirty, brown beard.

 

Thwack. Thwack. Thum-

 

Metal meets bone, jamming into the blade. "Hrm… ay' kne'h jus' wadder do 'bou' dat." A crackly, low voice mumbled. The cleaver, chicken and all, was lifted high into the air.

 

THACKXCH!

 

The bird is sliced in two, hollow bones splintering forth. The man grips it with his fat, muscular fingers. He tosses half the bird onto a fat skillet over an open fire. A hook is stabbed into a cooked bird that had begun to burn moments earlier. The man raises his left arm into the air, bringing the impaled chicken high above his head. His arm comes to a sudden stop over his head, and the chicken is carelessly thrown into a boiling cauldron, splashing a hefty mix of water and grease onto the wooden floor of the ship. 

 

The man returns to the cutting board, using his hook to toss the remaining carcass onto the floor. A monkey hanging from the roof pounces on it, using its tactile fingers to remove flesh from bone, greedily shoveling the morsels into its mouth. 

 

"Arg… das eh 'ood 'itt'eh mong'keh, ea' ye'eff summon 'ood!" He turns to the pot, removing a large, old wooden spoon from his apron pocket. He uses the instrument to stir the concoction. He then pools some of the steaming broth into the spoon's bowl, brings it to his lips, and blows. 

 

Taking a sip, the man recoiled, grumbling to himself. "Arr… 'ot s'ew.. 'eeds a 'iddeh sommn.. Hrm.." 

 

He shoves the wet spoon into his bulky, blood stained apron, and he removes his tall white hat, setting it onto the counter. He removes an onion from a pocket at its top, bit into it, and swallowed, skin and all. He scrapes the rest of the skin off, sloppily, with his hook, tearing the bulb's meat apart with every slice. When satisfied, he tosses the onion into the pot.

 

Again, the burly man removes his spoon and sets it into the frothing water. Another moment, and he is again blowing on the piping hot liquid. Once satisfied, he takes a sip, recoiling again.

"Hrng… 'ot 'oup," Chef mumbled to himself. He nodded slowly.

 

"Dadder beh sum 'ood 'oup ri'e der aye 'ell ye wha'fer!"