鱼人MURLOCS
I don’t like water much. No surprise, really — I
am a dwarf, after all. Water’s fine to take off dirt
and it’s good for cooling hot metals from the forge.
It helps crops grow, and I can even stand to drink
it when there’s nothing else available. But I don’t
enjoy traveling on it — if you ask me, if the Titans
wanted us to sail they’d have given us rudders and
masts and the like, instead of fingers and toes and
hair. I can go on a boat when I have to — going
from one continent to another, I don’t have much
choice — but I’m on last and off the second we’re
close enough to wade ashore. My time beneath the
waves around Nazjatar didn’t do anything to endear
me to the element, either.
So the notion of moving under water instead
of across it is unpleasant. And the idea that some
beings live in it like fish — well, that’s just wrong.
Murlocs don’t agree.
I still remember the first time I saw one. I’d heard
stories, of course, about fish-men who actually
breathe under the water, easy as you please. But
I’ve heard plenty of strange stories — people who
fly, people who turn to smoke, people who eat
their own limbs and grow them back overnight,
all manner of weird. A lot of it was just stories, or
exaggerations of something real and not even all
that interesting, like the starving tribe that had no
food and so each member cut off and ate his own
left arm so he wouldn’t hold a grudge against any of
his tribemates. I figured this was more of the same.
A tribe that liked water enough to swim every day
— which I still say is unnatural all by itself — and
somebody started calling them fish.
Then I saw them myself. I was down in Azeroth’s
Elwynn Forest, walking along a lakeshore, when I
saw a faint glimmer out in the water. It disappeared
almost immediately but then I saw it again, not forty
feet out. I had one hand on my axe, just in case, but
thought it was nothing more than some wreckage
from a boat or perhaps a piece of driftwood.
Then it raised its head above the surface and
stared at me.
My first thought was “since when do fish look
above the water?” because that’s what it looked
like. A fish. A big one with bright shiny scales and
a wide body and a spiny fin across the top. Only
it kept coming toward me, rising up at the same
time, and I saw that below the body was more flesh,
and then it widened and I realized it had shoulders.
The “body” was its head. It stood up then, twenty
feet from me, barbed spear in one hand and net
in the other, and tilted its head back. The sound
that came out was a strange gurgle, loud and liquid,
and it hefted its spear as if to throw. I knew I could
take it in a fight, but what if more of them were
lurking nearby, below the surface where I couldn’t
see them? So I backed up a bit, and when I glanced
back it was gone.
I’m still not sure I believe everything I’ve learned
about them since. Oh, people are happy to tell
me all about the fish-men, or “gurglers” as they’re
sometimes called. I’ve seen murloc hunters, and
heard about them fishing or fighting sharks and
whales, and even heard about murloc traders.
That’s how people know the race’s name. But the
murlocs don’t much like other people and don’t
interact except when necessary. They always shy
away from me quick enough. Maybe it’s the beard.
By the time I reached Northrend I had seen a lot
of murlocs, but still didn’t know much about them.
Then I met an old druid named Mitrius, a pleasant
sort of fellow, and we got to talking over some ale
one night. He’d spent the past two years on the
Shiverwind Coast, studying various plants and
sea creatures, and his camp was less than a day’s
travel from a murloc tribe. After a few months they
decided he wasn’t dangerous and started trading
with him, fresh fish and seaweed and shells for
wood and cloth and spices. Things got to the point
where they even invited Mitrius into their home.
He became a regular guest, probably the most
tolerated non-murloc in all Azeroth, and he knew
more about them than anyone. He told me most
of it, though I suspect he kept a few things back.
What he did say was enough to convince me he’s
either a fool or the bravest human I ever met. Who
else would walk right into a place like that, time
and again, without fearing that each time might be
his last?
To hear Mitrius tell it, the murloc race is far older
than most people realize. Far older and far more
intelligent. The folks in Valgarde consider them
little more than upright fish who can speak a few
words, but Mitrius says murlocs are as smart as we
are. They spend hours each day thinking and talking
and praying. Their whole culture is built around
prayer, actually, and around their religion. Then he
told me about their religion, before I finally stopped
him and drank enough ale to pass out. Somethings
even dwarves shouldn’t have to hear.
Description
Murlocs are amphibious humanoids. They breathe
as easily underwater as on dry land, and can walk but
swim more quickly and comfortably. Murlocs don’t
like being above the water — they find air too dry and
walking awkward, slow, and slightly painful. Yet they
remain, establishing their clustered villages along the
shores and lakes of every continent.
To most humans and dwarves murlocs are just
primitive fish-men who sometimes trade shells and
seafood for metal, wood and spices, but more often
battle us with crude weapons. Only a few murlocs
ever enter other settlements, and they do so only
to trade (or fight). Since murlocs usually live along
empty coastlines no one else wants, people leave
them alone.
Though murlocs can breathe air, they cannot
remain out of water for long. Their skin is scaled like
a fish and requires moisture to stay supple. Without
daily immersion it dries and cracks, causing intense
pain. This is why their villages are built along the shore
— every murloc spends part of the day underwater, as
much for survival as for enjoyment.
Appearance
Murlocs are fine-looking creatures, if you like fish.
They stand as tall as a human male, though they
hunch over when out of water, and they’re as broad
as a young man, with long arms and legs. Their skin
gleams when wet, which it usually is, and you can see
the scales clearly. One thing I hadn’t expected from the
stories was how colorful they are. Most fish I’ve seen
are silvery or coppery. Murlocs are all manner of color,
though — some have bands of red or blue or green
across their torsos and foreheads, others have mottled
patterns of silver and gold against bright green or blue,
and others are striped or spotted. Some have a single
color, but even that is bright and glistens with other
colors in the light, like a scaly rainbow. Of course,
much of the time their skin is coated with slime from
the shore or the water, so the colors are dulled. On
special occasions they splash themselves clean and
then you can see all the colors fully — though if you’re
at such an occasion you may be a bit preoccupied.
One look and you know without a doubt that
murlocs are water-dwellers. In addition to the scales
they have fins atop their heads, down their backs, and
at their wrists and ankles. Their fingers and toes are
long and webbed. Their eyes are big saucers that bulge
outward and they’ve got two or more eyelids. Their
noses are small and their ears little more than dents
in the sides of their heads, but their lips are thick and
their teeth are small but sharp. They’ve also got gills
on either side of their necks, clearly visible.
Murlocs don’t wear much, even in Northrend. Iguess their scales are enough to stave off the cold
— if they can handle the temperature underwater
they can certainly cope with the wind and chill
on land. They do wear armlets and bracers and
necklaces and belts, all ornamented with shells and
teeth and bits of stone or metal. A few wear cloths
draped across a shoulder or wrapped around their
neck (below the gills) and I think that indicates
some rank. Headdresses are common — they have
no hair to get in the way and often arrange spines
and spikes and shells and rocks about their heads,
held in place by seaweed or twine or leather straps
or even metal wire. A few pierce their skin with
sharp coral needles or thin stone spikes, and use
these as decorations as well. The few who trade
with people sometimes wear loincloths and shawls
as a concession to human modesty.
Regions
Murlocs have villages along at least one shore
of every continent. In Northrend they’ve settled
along the southern shore, from the mouth of Lake
Wintergrasp to just above Valgarde and Daggercap
Bay. They also live along the edges of freshwater
lakes. It seems they usually choose large bodies of
water, generally away from any other races. That
way they have ready water access and no one
bothers them.
The stories I’ve heard suggest that the murlocs
only came out of the water within the last century.
Before that, most people assume they lived on the
shore of some other continent. They’re wrong. From
what I can tell, and what that druid Mitrius told me,
they appeared on each continent around the same
time. Before that they didn’t live above water at all
— their home was the sea and their villages dotted
the ocean floor. So why did they leave that behind
and move to dry land, which they clearly hate?
Faith
Religion plays a major part in murloc society. I’m not
quite sure what to call their religion — polytheistic,
maybe, or animistic, or perhaps shamanistic. Mitrius
told me of odd rituals involving communication with
the sea and its powers. He’s convinced that murlocs
worship the water and powerful entities within it. Their
religion is flexible enough to include any new aquatic
creature they encounter, and they happily add or
remove creatures to fit recent events. Thus a naga sea
witch might become part of their prayers until she is
killed by a band of sharks, at which point she is removed
but the sharks are added. The only real constant is the
water itself, which is seen as the mother of the murlocs
and of all life.
History
Mitrius told me that the murloc race is far older
than anyone realizes. Most people think murlocs
became sentient or mobile or amphibious or all
three only within the past century, which is why
we never saw them before that. They’re wrong.
The shamans carry staves with tiny chips of shell
imbedded around them in a rising swirl from
bottom to top, and a shaman told Mitrius that each
chip is added by the shaman just before he hands
the staff to his successor. Scratched into those
chips are tiny sigils containing key information
that shaman learned during his lifetime. The staff
that shaman held bore at least a hundred chips and
was only covered halfway up its length. That staff
was created more than ten thousand years ago!
That means the murlocs existed before the rise
of the Kaldorei, before the Burning Legion came,
before the Great Sundering tore Kalimdor apart.
They may be one of the oldest races on Azeroth.
And most of their existence has been beneath the
waves, hidden from view. Of course, most of this
is Mitrius’s speculation, but if anyone should know
what he’s talking about, it’s him.
If these tales are true, why, then, did murlocs
emerge on shores all over the world a century ago?
What brought them out of the water they love to
the land they despise? I have no idea. Neither does
Mitrius — every time he asked the murlocs fell
silent or turned away. I did meet another traveler,
though, a tinker named Kem, who offered some
answers.
“I was trading with some of them fish-men,”
Kem told me over an ale, “spearheads for fish and
seaweed. They didn’t much like the smell of me,
apparently, kept wrinkling those funny faces of
theirs — I’d fought off some bats not long before
and still had their droppings all over me. Anyways,
one of the fish-men scowled and turned away but
another stopped him and muttered something
about ‘our duty compels us.’ Dunno what that
meant, but after the deal was made I offered my
hand to seal it. The first one shuddered and stepped
back, but the second one stepped up and said ‘as
you require, Deepest Lord,’ and put that fishy paw
of his in mine.”
Other travelers have told me similar stories.
Murlocs have let slip comments about obedience,
service, orders, and other hints that they came to
dry land not because they chose but because they
were ordered. But by whom? Since they worship
every powerful aquatic creature, it could have been
anything. Yet it must have had a lot of power and
made its wishes very clear for so many murlocs to
leave the safety of the water and suffer through life
on dry ground.
Society
Murlocs live in tribes, each tribe to its own
village. Each tribe has a name that seems indicative
of its members’ activities, appearance, or history,
such as “Lostfin” or “Bluegill.” Tribes are organized
into larger clans, and every so often all tribes in a
clan meet to discuss items of importance. However,
keeping a large group of murlocs coordinated and
in agreement for any significant length of time is
difficult.
Each tribe has a similar structure. An adult murloc
is known as a huntsman, meaning he has proven
himself capable of obtaining food for the tribe.
Children are tested and given trials before becoming
huntsmen. They can also become nightcrawlers,
tiderunners and shamans. “Nightcrawler” is a name
traders came up with, rather than a murloc name.
I have no idea what they call it, but some murlocs
hunt and gather on dry land instead of underwater.
These murlocs are quieter and stealthier than their
brethren, and if you’ve ever seen a murloc being
sneaky you know that’s saying something. I suspect
nightcrawlers also scout new areas and inspect sites
before the rest of their tribe moves in.
Tiderunners are expert hunters. They are more
experienced, and also have skill at taming sea
creatures and using them as guards, scouts and
allies.
Shamans are the wise men and women of the
murloc tribe. I don’t think they ever go hunting,
or perhaps only enough to establish themselves as
full adults. Shamans commune with the water (the
Deep Mother) and her favored children, and handle
the tribe’s rituals. From what I’ve seen they really
can work some primitive magic — and sometimes,
not-so-primitive magic.
At set times each year, several tribes gather
together. Where they gather changes each time
— it’s usually one of the tribes’ homes, though
sometimes they meet in a neutral place instead. The
tribes exchange information and also trade various
goods. The shamans control these large gatherings,
and the eldest shaman is considered the gathering’s
leader. He officiates and delegates tasks to the
junior shamans, who then appoint other murlocs to
handle mundane matters.
One thing about fish is you can’t easily tell male
from female. Murlocs are the same way. It took
me a while to figure out that the length and shape
of the head-fin and back-fin indicate gender, just
as the shading indicates age. Murlocs treat males
and females equally, and either can become a
nightcrawler, a tiderunner or even a shaman.
That’s probably because murlocs lay eggs instead
of birthing live babies — a murloc female can lay
eggs one day, and be able to hunt again the day
after that. The eggs are placed in water just offshore,
near the village, and have to be tended
regularly but anyone can care for them. Apparently
members of the tribe take turns caring for all the
eggs together, and then for the hatchlings once
they hatch. Mitrius told me it takes about a year
before the baby murlocs can breathe air and join
the rest of the tribe in the village.
A few rare murlocs show too much talent and
independence to remain in their tribal system, and
leave their village to seek out a life elsewhere. Most
of these are barbarians, though a few are rogues
or scouts. Only a handful of healers leave murloc
society, and even fewer become arcanists. Murloc
runemasters are unknown.
Mentality
Murlocs seem simple, when you first meet them.
That’s because they’ve entered a settlement, or
allowed someone to enter their village, in order to
trade. Murlocs have their goods ready and know
exactly what they want in return. They don’t want
to bargain or haggle or trade stories (unless it’s
information they want). They just want to make
a deal and be done with it. Most people think that
means someone’s simple. It just means they’re
focused.
Focused is a good word for murlocs. They are
not a frivolous people. Oh, their young may cavort
and splash about and dive just for fun, but older
murlocs are too busy with survival and ritual to be
so carefree. Life in a murloc village is difficult. The
huntsmen are constantly gathering food, while the
children and elders are preparing food, cleaning
huts, making or repairing goods, and getting
materials ready for the next ritual. Mitrius said
even during celebrations most murlocs say as little
as possible. I guess they’re still not used to talking
out of water.
To a murloc, the survival of the group is everything.
First comes the race, then the tribe, then the
individual. They’ll do whatever’s necessary for the
survival of the largest group possible, even sacrificing
lesser groups in the process. And in order to survive
they need power. That’s why they worship anyone
water-based who has enough power. Every murloc
hopes to gain that power himself, or make a deal
with someone who has it. No one thinks amiss of a
fellow murloc who betrays his kin for such power, as
long as it would benefit the race as a whole.
Murlocs value obedience above everything else.
Agility and ruthlessness are also important, as are
strength and hunting prowess. Spirit is important
to shamans and separates tiderunners from mere
huntsmen. They don’t care about individuality or
creativity unless it directly aids the survival of the
tribe or some larger portion of the race.
Relations
Murlocs hate other races. There’s no other way
to say it. Well, at least they hate surface-dwellers.
I’ve seen them insult and attack humans, elves,
dwarves, furbolgs, gnomes, goblins, tuskarr, naga
and even Drakkari trolls. It makes sense, since they
hate living above the waves and hate dealing with
land people. The only times murlocs don’t attack
members of another race are when they need
something from them (whether that’s information
or goods) and can’t kill for it, or when the other
race severely outnumbers them. That includes
travelers — I’ve passed through a few murloc
villages unscathed, but then Mitrius told me how
to approach them and what to offer them for safe
passage. Others are not as lucky or not as wellequipped.
That’s all above the waves, of course. Below
the waves the murlocs may be more cordial. They
certainly sacrifice often enough, so perhaps other
aquatic races view them favorably or fear them and
stay away. I suspect, though, that just as murlocs
worship anyone they consider strong, they attack
anyone they consider weak. That means each
individual and each race has to prove itself strong
on the first encounter, or become prey.
Distinguishing Characteristics
Murloc villages are strange little places. From the
outside they’re horrible and pitiful, a collection of
rough mud-and-twig huts strewn about without
pattern. The huts aren’t uniform — they’re roughly
the same size and shape, but not perfectly so and
most of them sag to one side or another. The
villages have no fire, no clear walkways, and no
defenses. The huts are ugly and plain, and the area
is otherwise featureless except for the shallow basin
behind the shaman’s hut. Most huts stand on stilts
to protect them from the tide and flooding. I can’t
imagine a plainer, uglier place.
That’s the outside, though. The interior walls
of each hut are often elaborately decorated. Some
depict branching coral while others are mosaics of
shell and stone and others are surprisingly delicate
tapestries of shaded seaweed. The huts are usually
open to the air, with small wooden pillars to hold
the roof. Murlocs sleep in the water or on woven
mats of seaweed, tied firmly to maintain their shape
but so loose they look like small rectangular nets.
Hooks of coral hold weapons and other items on
the walls or pillars.
Murlocs rarely work in metal and almost never
touch fire. They’re expert carvers, however, and
can work stone, shell, coral or wood into fabulous
shapes and amazing scenes and designs. They don’t
trade these items, though, just shells and seaweed
and other raw materials. I have a tiny sculpture I
won from a trader, which he says a murloc gave
him after a particularly good trade. I’m not sure I
believe him about the circumstances but the item
is probably murloc — it feels like something they
made. It’s a piranha carved from a short piece of
coral, and so lifelike it almost seems to twitch when
I blow on it. I’ve seen their shaman staffs firsthand
and each is a work of art, carved to hold the many
bone and shell chips in the teeth and flippers and
claws of various creatures I hope do not really exist
below the ocean surface.
Leaders
The following are murloc leaders:
• Shlur (female murloc shaman 11/rogue 2/
murloc 3) is the senior shaman of the White Shark
tribe. The White Sharks are an important force on
the stretch of coast closest to Valgarde, and have
more frequent dealings with surface-dwellers than
many other murloc clans. Shlur is an old and crafty
ruler and can silence even the proudest tiderunner
with a single flick of her head-fin.
• Mimmil (male murloc barbarian 6/hunter 5/
murloc 3) is the senior tiderunner of the Dark Ray
tribe. He is revered as the mightiest tiderunner to
appear since the murlocs moved above the water,
and his skills are legendary. His talent at taming
and riding sharks is particularly admired.
• Yshmeel (male murloc scout 10/rogue 7) is
the chief nightcrawler of the Ripfang tribe. During
large gatherings he handles land-based security
and scouting, and reports directly to his chieftain.
Yshmeel is said to be the first murloc as comfortable
on land as in water, or at least the first to be as quick,
quiet and deadly in both environments.
• Lilki (female murloc shaman 7/murloc 3) is an
important shaman of the White Shark tribe. Though
young for such a position, she is already admired for
her wisdom, her power, and her fervent sacrifices.
Most murlocs consider her Shlur’s successor. Some
whisper that Lilki not only wants the position but is
unwilling to wait until her superior dies naturally.
