I’ve ventured inside at last. I waited on the rocks by the cave entrance some three turns to see if anyone would join me but nobody came – save the occasional Initiate on their way to hunt. No Dwellers ventured out, either. A pirate or two I did see, milling about the shore. Eventually, my curiosity got the better of me and I went inside.
I encountered my first ever Dweller just a short way inside the cave. I was struck by how similar physiologically he was to myself, or any other human for that matter. He was not hunched or stooped like the Gremlins or Trolls. He stood upright, with a strong, lithe frame and capable-looking limbs. The Dwellers seem to be of a height similar to that of humans, or Land Dwellers as I hear they call us. Facially, we are quite alike. With the exception of that their ears seem to be smaller than what is commonly observed in humans. But, eyes, nose and mouth all seem appropriately of the right size and in the right place for them to bear a striking similarity to humans.
Of course, the major physical difference between Dwellers and ourselves is skin. The three Dwellers that I have encountered in the uppermost level of the cave are scaled (similar to a fish) and are of a blueish-green colour. They do not seem to have any body hair.
Where a human might have hair upon his head, Dwellers have a crest: spiny and a darker shade of blue than that of the rest of their bodies, running from forehead to the base of their necks. Similarly, they have these same dark crests, only smaller, sprouting from their elbows. I wonder if these have use in the water, or if they’re for display? Perhaps they are just as seemingly useless as human hair or fingernails. Crest size and colour seems to vary between individuals.
Their hands and feet can be seen to be more elongated than that of a human, with webbing that appears to begin around their second knuckle. Obviously, this is to give them mobility in water, while their fingers still maintain the length to remain dexterous. Looking at Sea Dwellers, it is difficult to fathom whether they are mammals or amphibians. By definition, they cannot be fish, as so many racists would claim.
The uppermost level of their dwelling seems only a passageway. Discarded fish scale litters the floor, presumably where they have begun preparing a catch on the way back to their homes. The walls are rough and craggy, the floor smooth from the constant motion of the tide. The Dwellers have made no attempt to decorate this upper level.
Currently, however, I stand at a smooth hole carved into the stone floor. It is perfectly circular. It’s edges elaborately decorated with depictions of seascapes and what appears to be script, an example of their writing. It is not like anything I have ever seen before, the characters delicate, swirling and fitting for their clever hands.