Polearms

In old Mondstadt, spear arts were forbidden by the nobility.

Ostensibly, they claimed that only the sword was worthy of noble stock,

But they say that in reality, it was because the length of polearms could bridge the gaps in training,

Which might grant the unarmed and unschooled commoners a weapon with which to resist.

A simple weapon that exudes a certain austerity.

For those who defend that which they must protect,

Or a traveler with naught to their name but themselves,

Even the most mundane of weapons might be ten times as powerful as it seems.

One night, a Millelith officer drank with a poet, and brought his signature white-tasseled halberd with him.

The poet's ink was spilled.

And the halberd's white tassel was dyed black.

"'Tis but a tale of polearm wielder and poet."

"Unrelated to mine own black—tasseled polearm."

The old smith smacked his apprentice.

He demanded that he dye the newly made polearm's tassel black.

The polearm is a powerful weapon even in the hands of the unskilled, because "the longer, the mightier."

Adding an axe on the tip renders it somewhat unwieldy, but adds slash capabilities. This makes it better suited to complex battle scenarios.

The axe-mounted polearm — the halberd — is preferred by warriors of great strength. It has also come to symbolize the honor and bravery of Millelith officers.

Though peace prevails in the Liyue Harbor of today, the sight of brave warriors with halberd in hand is a ubiquitous one on the city streets.

Each Millelith squad was led by an officer who would fearlessly charge ahead. They were the first line of defense for their comrades in dangerous territory.

But it was not through bravery, loyalty, and self-sacrifice alone that they were able to protect their comrades. For they were also formidable fighters, their skills honed over years and years of drilling.

Any foe who dared approach knew that the sight of the halberd-holding officers of the front line spelled almost certain doom for them.

And when the soldiers of the Millelith assumed a tactical formation, it was the cornerstone of their fearless officers that made them impenetrable as a rock formation.

The Millelith Soldier are renowned the world over for their skilled use of polearm weapons.

The signature white-tasseled halberd they wield is mass-produced at the Blackcliff Forge.

It is a weapon that has stood the test of countless bloody battles over centuries of history.

For even when the smoke of the battlefield stained the tassel a murky shade of gray, it would wave proudly and defiantly like a flag in the wind.

The army once had in its ranks a legendary master of the polearm.

He could hit his target from miles away without staining its tassel.

"The legend is that of the polearm's bearer..."

"Not the polearm itself, which was entirely ordinary."

The old smith smacked his apprentice.

He demanded a white tassel for the newly made polearm.

The favored barbed spear of a famous Inazuman bandit. It was originally a harpoon used to catch fish, but it was also very handy in battle. They say that he even pierced the enchanted, sword-armed puppet before carrying it off.

"Haha! Once, I was the master of this ship, the 'Seiraimaru.'"

"I commanded over ten ships, and they called me the Deathless Oni of Seirai."

"Now, I am but a leaf floating upon the waves."

"If not for Janome and the people marooned on those islands,"

"Forget raising our sails again - I doubt I would have managed to make it back to my home shores."

"And yet Seirai now looks like this."

"There is no longer any place for me in the Inazuman Islands."

"Even that naggy, fretful old shrine maiden is gone..."

The bandit named Ako Domeki's voice was thick with emotion. Then he said...

"Hey Janome! I'm now the freest man in the whole wide world!"

"Aunt Shrine Maiden! Didn't you say that you wanted to go see the world?"

"You know, go someplace else, like that Kamuna guy or that Konbumaru you always talk about?"

"You know what? Let me, Ako Domeki Zaemon, go in your stead!"

"Let me go see what the edge of the world really looks like!" "We'll meet again where all ship routes end!" 

"And when we do, it'll be my turn to tell you all about these distant lands!".

A sharp-tipped polearm wrought from rare blackcliff. It zaps through the air like lightning, unimpeded by the wind.

Made in Blackcliff crystal from head to tip, the body is inlaid with red jade stones for decoration.

Viewed in the moonlight, the swirling of blood-red light can be discerned within.

Liyue master craftsman Han Wu had a son with his first wife. The son's name was "Han Ce, the Cold and Calculating." Cold, because his father wished him to be cool-headed and rational. Calculating, because his father wished him to be precise in his craft, that he might inherit the family business.

But Han Ce had other ambitions. During his days as a student, Han Ce idled away his study time on martial arts fiction, while spending his free time practicing the art of the polearm up in the mountains. He was consumed by the desire to become a martial nomad, roaming the world with his pole for protection.

When he scoured the lands in search of Aerosiderite, he sought not the rare ore itself but the thrill of adventure. And when he ascended the highest peaks to commune with the adepti, he desired not the wisdom of the sages but the tale of his travels.

Han Ce cared not for the flames of the furnace and the working of weaponry. His father scolded him, but it was to no avail. Eventually, Han Ce left home one day without bidding his father farewell.

In his later years, Han Wu was involved in a mining accident that profoundly changed his temperament. Han Ce caught wind of the ordeal and hurried home to see his father, traveling through the night.

Previously hot-tempered and never short of something to say, Han Wu was now calm and quiet. He no longer held any animosity towards his son for his reluctance to take over the forge.

Finally, the father and son grew close for the first time in their lives. Han Ce was ashamed of his past actions, but knew not how to redeem himself.

Several years later, Han Wu breathed his last. Thus ended the life of a master craftsman of a generation. Per his father's will, Han Ce retrieved an archive of weapon designs from the study - they were the fabled prototypes.

The archive was sealed inside a wooden chest along with a letter addressed to Han Ce.

"To my dear son, Han Ce. The world is vast and filled with many marvels. May you always see the wonder in the world, wherever your journey takes you."

The designs were covered in comments penned by his father.

Han Ce was overjoyed at the sight and proceeded to peruse them all night long.

As Han Ce stepped outside the door of the study at the first light of dawn, he watched in wonder as a meteorite fell from the sky. It crashed down right before him in front of the Han residence, landing perfectly vertical.

A host of emotions flooded Han Ce's heart. Tears both of joy and sorrow streamed down his face as he cried, "The heavens have spoken! The heavens have spoken!"

Han Ce took the pitch-black aerosiderite and added it to the blackcliff that remained in the forge. Following his late father's designs to the letter, he crafted a pointed pole with a sharp tip that shimmered like ice and a body hard as bedrock.

Han Ce could have traveled the world with this trusty weapon in hand, but he chose not to. For Han Ce vowed that starting that day, never again would the flames of the furnace die out, and never again would the working of weaponry cease.

The whole world flocks to the commercial port of Liyue, much to the city's pride.

With the tides of people also come exotic treasures.

This spearhead is long and narrow like a needle, with a crescent-shaped blade extending from its base.

Once the bearer has grasped its elusive design concept, this weapon becomes far more destructive than its counterparts.

Unlike the martial artists of Liyue, those from other lands are masters of the art of surprise, skilled at developing ingenious new tricks.

This weapon is designed to exploit fatal flaws. Like a needle, it slips between the gaps in an opponent's armor. Like the powers of music and love, it finds its way past people's defenses.

The designer of the Crescent Pike was said to be able to visualize the fatal flaws in life itself.

As if drawn by some mystical power, the pike would fly from her hand toward her opponents' fatal flaws.

"Perhaps all that lives waits willingly for death."

So thought the designer, who could see that which was fatally undefended in each living thing, yet had no such fatal flaws in her own life.

Then she found music, and through music found love. And in love, she found her own fatal flaw.

In the end, the pain of finality, which pierced her heart like a needle, finally brought the witch to a realization:

"Fatal flaws are born of a fear of death. Fear of death is born of having things, and people, to care about."

"Oh, how I wish to see him but one more time, that thief who can neither be caught nor killed."

"Oh, how I wish to hear his song but one more time. If I should survive, I shall certainly treat him—"

This crimson polearm has seen countless battles, and has borne witness to a certain gladiator's valor.

Its ice-cold tip was often drenched in the blood of its foes, to the thunderous applause of the crowd.

Bloodstained was the gladiator's fate, and freedom, so near yet so far, was often balanced on a knife's edge.

The dull sound of that crimson tip piercing flesh was many a battle's death-knell.

As the gladiator's final performance ended, their master spoke up amidst the thunderous applause:

"The promised number has been met. You have done well, and are a warrior worthy of great renown."

"Consider this weapon to be a parting gift... Yet, would you not consider fighting on?"

"Continue your brilliant performance as a free person, for your glory and for mine. What say you?"

Many years past, and the beasts and men who fell to that spear grew too numerous to count.

The duelist's weapon became known as undefeated, but his heart belonged to his young master.

As the gladiator's final performance ended, amidst thunderous applause,

His weapon fell to the bloodied sand as the red-haired maiden's scorching blade pierced the old warrior's heart.

As he fell, despondent, he turned his eyes to his beloved master, his noble lord who cherished him...

"Eberhart, Master Eberhart... Did my final performance please you?"

But his master's seat was empty, save for a wine goblet and silver platter, toppled in haste.

"At first, I fought for myself, for blood and battle-lust."

"But since a time I know not when, I have killed for my master."

"Only for the sake of others can we fight like wild beasts without care."

"Someone like you, who fights for her people and not for herself... Surely, you understand this as well."

Rumored to be a legendary polearm of Liyue.

The polearm features a dragon motif that runs from handle to tip.

It used to have a dragon-shaped wooden sheath,

but now it no longer needs to contain its might.

It shall pierce through anything that stands in its way.

It is said that when Kunwu forged this Pole, he used a dragon's spine for the haft and a dragon's claw for the tip.

Hence the weapon's body is unbreakable, while its tip is sharp beyond compare — and gleams with a dragon's malice.

There once was a dragon slayer of unimaginable strength and courage, who defied the ocean's wrath and fought fiercely against the monstrosities it harbored within.

Many years after the dragon slayer had disappeared without a trace, the hopeless sound of a dragon's cry could be still be heard resounding throughout the ocean.

The dragon slayer became an urban legend. In the end, both the legend and the dragon-slaying polearm were lost.

Freed at last from the shackles of its past, it displayed the full force of its ferocity once and for all, as if to mark the dragon's return to the ocean where it belonged.

He had a very, very long dream...

He dreamed that he and everyone else had gone on a long, long journey,

Into a land where green grass grew, and where soulful songs were sung.

He dreamed that he sang along with the gentle people of this land,

And danced in the skies with a dragon as beauteous as a jewel.

When he opened his eyes, he was in the sky above a mountain swept by roaring snowstorms.

The green, tranquil land had already been painted crimson by fire and blood,

And the song of that sky-blue bard's lyre was almost drowned in the howling tumult.

And that bejeweled, lovely dragon, like a tender lover,

Had now pierced his neck through with its sharp fangs.

"Farewell, Mother! My journey is ended."

"I shall sleep beneath this white, shining silver... and perhaps this, too, is good."

"Farewell, O lovely bard! And farewell, O lovely dragon!"

"Would that we had met in a different time and place,"

"To meet, to song and dance together!"

So he thought most sincerely as he lay dying.

"Now then, this great blessing that pulses through my veins,"

"And lovely sight of the dark universe that gave me birth..."

"They are now yours to inherit."

A spear of honor amongst the Knights of Favonius. It is used in a ceremonial role at parades and reviews, but it is also a keen and mortal foe of monsters. By studying the arbor that held firm in the wind, the craftsmen and scholars of Mondstadt would learn much of elemental affinities.

This sturdy spear not only holds a place of special honor among the Knights — it is also a crystallization of the hard work and artistry of the city's defenders.

With it in hand, they shall always remember to be disciplined, and to defend Mondstadt's freedom.

Indeed, many people have used polearms of a kind as their weapons, using the reach advantage to supplement their lack of martial skill.

Even untrained plebeians could arm themselves with sharpened wooden sticks, and they could perhaps be a match for the steel of trained soldiers.

To celebrate the overthrow of the aristocracy, long stakes, flagpoles, and pitchforks were stuck all over the greenery around the city.

It was once required of all nobles to study the art of the sword, that they might grow in stature and wisdom.

In those days, the art of the spear was reserved for foreign gladiators and traitors.

But there was once a noble scion who wielded a spear.

They said that Eberhart would enjoy the night breeze as he caught the first drops of dew with his spear tip.

An illegitimate child, Eberhart dreamed of recapturing the glory and pride of ancient nobility.

Yet, he needed greater power in order to destroy these rotten foundations. So—

Whether it was instigate his legitimate brother to pursue his dream of becoming a phantom thief, before deceiving him and forcing him to flee,

So that he might usurp that legitimacy.

Or whether it was pledging himself as a certain spear-wielding witch's disciple to learn the fatal loophole in her art, All the better to slay her with...

"So what if those who came after should despise me? I will do anything to achieve my goals."

A strangely-shaped spear made by Kitain Bunsou for his own unique style of spearmanship.

Its massive weight makes it extremely unwieldy in untrained hands.

But in the hands of an expert, it is capable of unleashing great destructive power.

In the distant past, Kitain used to be a family that hunted the Tatarigami down.

For many generations, they shouldered the responsibility of serving as the Prefects of Yashiori.

In the past, there was a certain children's song that circulated widely within Inazuma:

"Arataki of the Front Gate, Iwakura the Successor, Kitain the Serpent, Takamine the Mistsplitter."

These phrases describe the dazzling warriors who once illuminated the earth like comets.

There used to be many other names on the list, but they have since been lost to history.

And having been a demon hunter for so long, it is unavoidable that one might imbibe some of that miasmic, tainted blood.

A weapon favored by the Millelith of yore.

Made from a lith of the Guyun Stone Forest, said to be able to pierce even through dragon scales...

Its great weight prevents the Millelith of today from equipping it.

In ancient times, the Millelith would conduct themselves in Rex Lapis' name according to this axiom:

"While rock stays hard, the mountain shall never fail; while the Millelith stands guard, evil shall never prevail."

In the past, they went forth to subdue demons and protect the roads and the countryside.

In these peaceful times, their duties have shifted to maintaining order.

At a certain point in the past, the earth did shake, and the mountains did tremble.

Then, the Millelith gave out equipment left over from the ancient wars to those among them who were of unusually great stature.

These were the incredibly weighty Lithic Spears, and they were used as shoveling tools to rescue the injured.

"The Lithic Spear pierces through rock with ease."

"If a thousand such spears could be lined up in formation today, none could stand before them."

Yet in an even earlier era, when the world was in yet deeper turmoil,

Every soldier in the Millelith could wield these colossal weapons.

Thus were they able to protect Rex Lapis' kingdom and defend their homeland.

With a thousand Lithic Spears lined up in formation, no evil could prevail against them.

Prototype Starglitter: An ancient prototype pole weapon from Liyue's arsenal. The batch number has faded and no records exist to confirm the date of production.

The pole is made of black steel inlaid with gold. A lightning motif runs along the body, featuring streaks of lightning interspersed with stars. The addition of gold leaf gives it an exquisite finish.

By the time the monster threat was quelled, the remaining troops were few and far between, and each joined the civilian community where they were based. Though peace now prevailed, it sparked a martial arts renaissance that spread throughout the land.

Demand for all kinds of weaponry spiked, especially for superior quality items, and manufacturers could not keep pace. To find a solution, Yun Hui of the house of Yun met with master craftsman Han Wu and the two conducted intensive research behind closed doors.

By the time they emerged, both men's beards had grown by twelve inches. Their new weapon designs, "the prototypes," were finally ready to revolutionize weaponry manufacturing in Liyue. It was time to do away with the shackles of the past that plagued their craft.

The first pole built to the new specifications had a black-and-gold appearance. The spike at the tip was two inches longer than the previous standard. It was truly a deadly weapon, but one with a composed and commanding presence.

It was left to bask overnight in the moonlight. At the first light of dawn, the tip shone with the cold, piercing light of a star against the dim sky.

At this ethereal sight, Yun Hui's mind was flooded with memories of his father's glory, for his father's name made reference to the stars. Greatly moved, he decided to dedicate the weapon to his father's memory.

For this reason the weapon became known as "Starglitter" among later practitioners of the halberd arts in Liyue.

An ancient prototype pole weapon from Liyue's arsenal. The batch number has faded and no records exist to confirm the date of production.

The pole is made of black steel inlaid with gold. A lightning motif runs along the body, featuring streaks of lightning interspersed with stars. The addition of gold leaf gives it an exquisite finish.

By the time the monster threat was quelled, the remaining troops were few and far between, and each joined the civilian community where they were based. Though peace now prevailed, it sparked a martial arts renaissance that spread throughout the land.

Demand for all kinds of weaponry spiked, especially for superior quality items, and manufacturers could not keep pace. To find a solution, Yun Hui of the house of Yun met with master craftsman Han Wu and the two conducted intensive research behind closed doors.

By the time they emerged, both men's beards had grown by twelve inches. Their new weapon designs, "the prototypes," were finally ready to revolutionize weaponry manufacturing in Liyue. It was time to do away with the shackles of the past that plagued their craft.

The first pole built to the new specifications had a black-and-gold appearance. The spike at the tip was two inches longer than the previous standard. It was truly a deadly weapon, but one with a composed and commanding presence.

It was left to bask overnight in the moonlight. At the first light of dawn, the tip shone with the cold, piercing light of a star against the dim sky.

At this ethereal sight, Yun Hui's mind was flooded with memories of his father's glory, for his father's name made reference to the stars. Greatly moved, he decided to dedicate the weapon to his father's memory.

For this reason the weapon became known as "Starglitter" among later practitioners of the halberd arts in Liyue.

A lance once kept in the collection of a noble who ruled over Mondstadt. A product of premium materials and masterful artisanship.

For that reason, it remains sharp as it was on the day it was first forged, even many generations after the nobles' time ended.

But back in the era of the nobility, this weapon never saw the light of day, and bathed only in the pale moonlight.

The nobles believed that those of high blood should use swords in battle.

To them, the sound of blades clashing was the chorus the lofty souls.

The spear and the bow, on the other hand, were the weapons of plebian gladiators and commoners.

Commoners with pitchforks and sharpened wooden poles, after all, could yet be a match for sword-wielding scions of nobility.

This was, undoubtedly, a hard pill for the rulers of Old Mondstadt to swallow.

Legend has it that there was also a youth of noble stock,

Who sought out a smith to make this weapon, emblazoned with their house's crest,

And yet which, like this youth, could never earn the favor of his family...

No, not without the spilling of blood.

If that youth wanted change to come, they needed power.

Even if it meant using a weapon seen as ignoble.

Even if it meant that their spear-wielding shadow could never see any light but that of the deep night's moon.

The naginata of "Umigozen," the mighty warrior of Watatsumi. Its edge flows with the phosphorescence of the depths.

The way this person once made the navies of Narukami quail are well-recorded in the island's music.

The whalesong that the twin Watatsumi shrine maidens once sang followed the tide's flow into the dreams of the island's people.

All of Watatsumi's warriors pinned their hopes and will to fight upon their shoulders.

And they brandished their nagamaki like a white, flowing wave, and with a loud shout advanced upon the other islands.

Yet the glory of Omikami and that of his warriors were dimmed by the lightning's glow...

Mouun was consumed by a dark storm of crow feathers, and the great whale who sang with the sisters sank to the bottom of the sea.

The vassal ruler, determined as a child, the vanguard of their forces, vanished into a rift rent into the very earth itself.

"Umigozen" was lost to the waves, becoming a myth to the archipelago at large.

Some say that she dove alone into the press of tengu warriors to reclaim the bodies of her comrades, and was lost after a valiant last stand.

Others say that she hid thenceforth, steering her flagship into the Dark Sea at the borders of the world...

The only proof that she once sought to change the tides of the world is this still-sharp naginata.

As long as the seas are yet disturbed by the waves, so too might the memory of her song live on.

Legend even has it that the song yet echoes within seashells and the bellies of mighty whales at the bottom of the sea.

The naginata was a lethal weapon by which scattered dross might be cut away.

And the one who wielded that naginata was one who guarded the path to eternity.

When the one who stood high above the storm clouds looked upon the mortal world, which she so loved,

Seeing their shallow disputes and transient obsessions...

Such contentions stemmed from needless attachments and unchecked desire — both enemies of eternity.

The wild weeds that disturbed the unchanging world would be swept away by the lightning.

"Well then — what sort of Eternity would ██'s eyes reflect?" So asked the clergyperson who sloshed and drank wine with her under the sakura tree in that still-clear memory.

What a pointless question. Though the answer she gave them was lost to the alcohol,

She had gained the answer countless times in those memories. One must thin fruits to improve their quality, and plants used in dyes must have their flowers pruned.

Not a single speck of dross could be permitted in an eternal paradise.

"Ah, but even so..."

"Using that great blade of light to uproot all obsession and to eliminate the possibility for dreams to take root and wither by themselves..."

"A tranquil world that brooks no dispute, no gain, or no loss... It shall be an amnesiac world, lost to itself."

In the heart of eternity, those old friends still appear so clear and the scent of the sakura remains so fresh.

But I will never forget you, just as I will not forget the things that were lost across the years.

After all...

Having witnessed the pitch-dark annihilation consume those precious to her,

How could she not see the absurd nature of life and death, yes, incomprehensible destiny itself, as her mortal foe?

But since no one can overturn the impermanence of the world,

and the barren nature of this game,

Then let the eternal euthymia within her heart carry forth into the nation she loves.

At Liyue's foundation, monsters and gods still ruled the seas.

In fear the forebears lived, and fought the sea with all they could muster.

As spring turned to fall and back again for many an eon, a behemoth arose that dominated the seas. Even the Geo Archon's Geo Whale could not triumph against it.

The people of Liyue called it "Baqiu," a beast without rival even in the deepest depths of the ocean abyss. Its enormous waves would wash away entire settlements.

So the Geo Archon fashioned a black kite by hand with jade and stones.

The stone bird took to the unbound skies once forged. Into the heart of the ocean it dove, into the battlefield with the behemoth and the whale.

Into the depths of the sea the behemoth sank, there to stay forever.

Released from its thundering roars were the people of Liyue.

A spine that holds up the sky.

The true companion of the Anemo Archon never wavered in its desire to protect the land of wind.

This unshakeable resolve sustained the wind dragon through its mortal battle against its vile nemesis.

In olden times, the shadow dragon Durin, covetous of the peace Mondstadt enjoyed, came forth to defile the land.

Durin's black wings blotted out the sky, releasing clouds of toxic fumes,

So much so that even the thousand winds could not hold their pestilence and rot at bay,

And thus fell black rain from the skies, the din of their downpour drowning the cries and groans of the people.

The Anemo Archon was awakened by the sound of their agony, and his heart was pierced by their despair.

So he summoned Dvalin to his side, and shrouding themselves in storm, they pierced through the poisoned skies.

The great dragon plunged in with a cry, tearing a swathe through the noxious nimbus the shadow dragon had created.

Following his wings came a great, swift whirlwind that destroyed those venomous clouds.

Dvalin seized the poisonous dragon in his mighty claws, ascending to heights that even clouds could not fathom.

The poisonous rain had scattered as the clouds had been left behind, and the burning skies became the dragons' battleground.

At last the wind dragon's razor fangs pierced his foe's throat, and his great claws tore out its corrupted heart.

The sinners' creation, filled with eternal regret, fell from the spotless skies and fell to ruin upon a snowy peak.

That fierce battle in the distant skies had thus defended the people of the Anemo Archon.

But at the moment of his triumph, the venomous ichor of his foe had flowed between his teeth and into his guts.

The pain withered bone and marrow, and in his agony the great wind dragon curled up in the depths of an ancient ruin.

...Nursing his wounds, Dvalin still believed that one day, he would be reawakened.

He would again pierce the heavens, scatter the darkness, and sing to the sounds of the lyre of the Anemo Archon, his dear friend.

To cleanse by fire all that is impure, to allow the impurities to rise with the flames unto the all-accommodating high heavens.

These rites would see fresh tinder lit during the rainy seasons, and wolf smoke would arise from those fires as prayers for blessings and the defeat of evil.

These blazing rituals were especially commonplace during that ancient period of strife.

For the dreams and delusions of the silent corpses of gods would produce evil miasmas,

Snatching away the citizens who were no longer theirs, and those who never were theirs also.

Then, a merciful doctor heard a whisper from within the flame as fierce as the red sunset,

From within the crackling and snapping of withered grass.

"Only an unbound flame can purify the filth of this world."

"Lift up this scarlet firewood. With it, you shall repel every demon."

So the doctor took up that devilishly red staff, igniting all that was impure.

Those who have passed, unable to bear deep sadness, but who have since become shrouded by ill karma and calamity,

They shall be reduced to ashen butterflies in this flame, and receive relief from their misfortunes and hurts.

As for the doctor who lit those countless flames, legend has it that they, too, were reduced to smoke in the shape of a lovely butterfly.

Though these rites have been forgotten over time and with the coming of peace,

Those with fire in their hearts can still hear these whispered words from flickering flames when they find themselves faced with an imposing darkness:

"Only an unbound flame can purify this world."

This was an ancient time, when ships sailed alongside sea monsters.

In those days, Liyue Harbor was not at peace, not from those creatures from the deep.

They say that a great shadow once dwelt within the oceanic abyss. With great vortexes and whirlpools it would smash even the strongest of ships, and drag its prey down into the sunless depths. They also say that a divine island would emerge from the sea, rainbow-clad and fog-shrouded...

All who are fortunate enough to set foot on that island will find treasures buried for time incalculable.

Still others say that this island is a great monster in a threadbare torpor.

Most legends that pass between sailors and skippers are such bizarre ones as these. But there is one story that they all believe. They believe that Rex Lapis had once wielded a spear that pierced the rainbow. pinning the churning vortex that had once terrorized the oceans in the center of the deep sea.

Legends have it that since then, one can often see dolphins and whales congregate about that patch of ocean, singing.

Some hold that they mourn for the God that they revered, and sing many a winding dirge for it.

Others claim that they do so in awe of Rex Lapis' great power, that he could indeed pierce the rainbow's arc and bring them down the sun.

But folk legend also holds this,

That one day, the vortex, consigned to a dead stillness by the Lord of Geo's divine spear, will once again begin to wake.

When the wind once again brings the stench of the depths onshore, that will be the omen of a hurricane as large as a nine-headed hydra.

Who, then, will be able to subdue That Which Lies in the Deep?