The Clever, Cooperative Cruelty of the Occisor - The Journal of Anther Strein
The Journal of Anther Strein
Observations from a Travelling Naturalist in a Fantasy World
Written by Lachlan Marnoch
with Illustrations by Nayoung Lee
Photo by Ishan @seefromthesky
Moonsday 26th of Corper, 787 AoC
Fishing ship Connotation, West Spine Ocean east of Essichard
The Clever, Cooperative Cruelty of the Occisor
Our day began with a pod of occisor swimming alongside the ship, weaving in and out of the Connotation’s wake, propelling themselves with powerful thrusts of their tails. Although such a sight is often greeted with joy1, or at least interest, on Proesan craft, this was not the case aboard the Connotation, which is travelling now between fisheries. The response of the Maragana crew to the occisor presence lay somewhere between discomfort and revulsion.
Occisor (Occisor saeva) belong to the chirek family, being among the largest2--only the fathom chireks exceed them for sheer mass. With a snub nose and towering dorsal fin, they can be found in tight-nit family pods almost anywhere in the known ocean. Their colouration is of such a dark blue to be almost black--except for the underbelly, which is completely white. The border between these two extremes moves between wavy, jagged and straight along the length of the animal, forming an utterly symmetric pattern that, so far as I can tell, is unique to each individual. Being apex predators--by which I mean they themselves have no natural predators--occisor have a significantly varied diet. Mostly, they hunt and consume marine mammals and other oceanic reptiles--the scalade and the marspeel being key components of their intake--but this varies by region and even between local pods. Some tackle very large prey, including krakens and fathom chireks. This has earned them a fearsome reputation. It is true that an occisor pod would be more than capable of tearing any sapient to shreds; and yet, there are no recorded sapient deaths from the animals3. I doubt this is out of any compassion, although I might believe it of other chirek species; more likely, as with the okigana, is that our meats are simply not to their taste.
A curious fellowship has been noted to exist between different chirek species--pods of common (Pseudopisces vulgaris) and striped (Leumadair stiallach) chirek are often seen cooperating in the hunt, and chireks of several species have been observed defending the young of others from sharks. They may even be seen playing together in the shallows. I recall a report, dismissed perhaps unfairly in the scientific community, of a fathom chirek and her calf becoming lost in a coastal sandbank labyrinth in the Jaw Sea, in severe danger of beaching, and of a lone common chirek leading her to the safety of open water. At times this playful or protective behaviour has extended to sapient swimmers, and even to krakens, with which the smaller chireks interact peacefully on the regular. It does not, however, seem to encompass the occisor--perhaps because it so regularly preys on the smaller chireks, with no apparent qualms as to relatedness.
As with other chireks, one might well be charmed by the curiosity and playfulness of the occisor--until one has seen the cruelty with which it dismantles its prey, often with that very same merriment. Occisor pods are known to toy with their prey, going so far as to deliberately release and catch it repeatedly--occasionally hobbling the poor beast by removing a fin or flipper. It is disturbing to note how closely their behaviour resembles the cruelest impulses of my own species; they remind me uncannily, at times, of children passing the time by pulling the wings from insects.
I confess to finding myself faintly revolted when reading such reports, but this is an impulse I feel the need to suppress. Cruel it may be, by sapient standards, but I think it strange to apply sentient morality to a species unaccustomed to it. They are what they are. Should their descendants ever wish to join the community of sapient species on Proesus, that will be the time to ask questions of their ethical systems.
The Maragana view on this is different, coloured and complicated by the spiritual affinity that they share for sharks--which are perceived, not unreasonably, as the mortal enemy of the occisor. While it is only with the okigana that most chireks share an enmity, the occisor seems to have broadened its hostility to include all sharks. When an occisor pod arrives to a new location, the local shark population will quietly melt away overnight, even if the sharks are there to mate or for a seasonal feeding event. This goes even for the greatshark or kelogana (Megapistris ithekraken), which, although more than a match for a lone occisor, would rather avoid tangling with a pack of them. This is only prudent, for although sharkmeat forms only a small part of the occisor diet, the pods seem to pursue any large shark they encounter with something approaching vendetta. In such conflicts, the occisor pod will often remove the shark’s liver and leave the rest of the body behind, behaviour that does remind one uncomfortably of that of a serial killer. Sharks are generally not cooperative animals, and no shark is likely to come to the aid of another against the bullying occisor. The sole exceptions to this, the okigana, present little threat to the much greater occisor, even in a full pack. If the skirmish I described in my last entry took place against occisor instead of common chireks, the outcome would have doubtless been the shark pack's complete slaughter.
Cooperation between sapient hunters and occisor, as pods or individuals, is sometimes reported. Naaki is familiar with this behaviour; she related that, among the coastal Maragana tribes of the Northtip region, there exists one that engages with the huge reptiles. The occisor there chiefly hunt small to moderate krakens; they routinely herd the poor cephalopods into small, shallow harbours and guard against their escape, while keeping to a safe distance from the strangling tentacles. This is clever, but not uncharacteristically so. The remarkable part is this: once a kraken is cornered, the occisor pod sends a single messenger to the Northtip homestead, alerting the Maragana of the catch by leaping from the water. The krakeners, armed with harpoons, will pile into their boats and follow the messenger to the confined kraken, where they help the pod to finish the creature off. The Maragana then haul the corpse back to the homestead harbour, where it is left in the water overnight. The occisor are allowed to eat the tentacles, before the mantle is pulled ashore the following day for the Maragana to consume. Never do either party breach this custom by eating more than their due. The tribe, Naaki said, even has names for the individuals of the pod.
I remain unfamiliar with Maragana mannerisms, but am beginning to catch on to some, and it seemed to me that Naaki--who once, on her travels, witnessed such a hunt personally--related these facts with some distaste.
“It has a… treacherous flavour to it. I try not to judge culture in this way, but… the occisor is an enemy of the shark, and the shark is our ancestor. To fraternise so with the old nemesis seems perverse. But then, the Northtip occisor are said not to attack sharks--only kraken--so perhaps this can be forgiven.”
She did not seem certain of this last statement.
Naaki is not alone in her reservations. The Northtip tribe is at best considered unseemly, and at worst despised, by most other Maragana. However, the Maragana Republic forbids cultural discrimination, and the tribe is represented in the government like any other (or so Naaki says). This brought home to me just how strongly Maragana identify with sharks--enough to approach persecution of those who merely associate with the shark’s natural enemy!--and yet they appear reluctant to lift a finger to defend the fearsome fishes against such enemies, as in the chirek-okigana skirmish related in my previous entry. I do not pretend to understand, but then, who can truly comprehend the tangled contradictions of any culture to which one is not native? I am sure there are many nuances of the people in my own homeland that I take for granted, but which would seem utterly bizarre or nonsensical to the Maragana (or even to Paluchard from other countries).
An interesting insight, here, is that Maragana appear to consider sharks their ancestors, which sheds some light on their almost totemic reverence for the animals. I have not yet had the time to ask for clarification. I wonder if, in Maragana belief, this is a case of reincarnation? Do they believe that the spirits of their deceased ancestors reside in living sharks? Or do they believe that the Maragana, as a people, are literally descended from sharks? Their own name for themselves does suggest this possibility. It aligns quite neatly with my own thoughts, but must surely be too good to be true. Or perhaps I am simply unwilling to fully accept that the Maragana are in possession of a better understanding of the natural world than those of us in Proesus--despite mounting evidence in support of such a fact!
Cultural attitudes aside, such novel interspecies cooperation as exhibited in Northip speaks to a depth of intelligence in the occisor, and perhaps in its chirek relatives, heretofore unsuspected by Proesan naturalists. It cannot be that they participate out of mere instinct, as in other examples of mutualism between species. It seems almost a thing of culture--just as the Northtip Maragana pass the practise from one generation to the next, the occisor of the Northtip pod must teach their calves. At some point in the past, some enterprising occisor must have taken note of the Maragana’s skill at hunting the kraken and realised the advantage it could gain by cooperating with them.
Although the Proesan scientific community is in general reluctant to acknowledge the intellect of ‘lower’ species, it may do to mention here that occisor are considered of high intelligence by any who have observed them for any length of time. In contrast to the strange partnership described above, many Proesan krakening operations consider the occisor a nuisance, as the immense reptiles do not hesitate to scavenge or even steal kills from krakening ships. Some pods take this a step beyond opportunism, lingering outside krakening ports and following in the wake of krakeners for this very purpose.
Perhaps the pod trailing the Connotation had something like this in mind. Although among the fastest swimmers the ocean has to offer, with their sleek bodies and powerful tails, they couldn’t keep pace with the enhanced swiftness of the ghostwood vessel for long4, and dropped back to continue their patrol.
I have received further insight into Maragana culture, physiology and behaviour since my previous entries, and so shall continue my description here.
Most Maragana fish for the majority of their diet, although they also supplement their seafood with red or white meat from terrestrial animals. As they are almost completely carnivorous by nature, I had resigned myself before boarding to violating my vegetarianism once again. However, the Connotation has allowances for such things--Naaki first had the galley prepare a delicious seaweed soup for me, and they have continued to produce new vegetarian meals at an impressive rate. Vegetarianism, it seems, is not unknown in their island home, despite the inborn carnivory of the species, and provisions are made in most Maragana institutions. Key to this defiance of nature is an ingredient they call tofu--a spongy substance that seems a decent nutritional substitute for meat. I shall have to see if I can weasel the means of producing this food from the chef!
It is not uncommon for a Maragana to lose a tooth while eating; I witnessed such an event during our first evening meal, as the crew dug into a portion of their catch. This was quite alarming to a Paluchard--we lose and replace only a single milktooth in the transition from infancy. It is true that some other mammals replace their entire dentition before reaching maturity. Maragana take this a further step, constantly growing new teeth to replace those lost even into adulthood. In any healthy Maragana, multiple rows of teeth can be glimpsed within the down-turned, ever-gaping maw. These begin life on the inside of the jaw, marching steadily in disciplined lines toward the front of the mouth, where they eventually fall casualty to the constant attrition of everyday life.
The various tribes, clans and societies of the Maragana island, and some of its neighbours, are unified into the Republic5 of Maragana. It is rare (but not vanishingly so) to find Maragana settlements elsewhere. There are but a handful along the east Proesus coast, and never larger than a small village. So far as I can tell, these have always been independent of the Republic--products of nationless voyagers rather than allegiant colonies. It appears that the Maragana, especially those of the Republic, are more apt to explore and trade than to settle away from their homeland. I’ve heard that even these Maragana populations found apart from the Republic tell legends of their origin on the distant island, no matter for how long they’ve existed separately. Few sapient species are so certain of their genesis--although we Paluchard seem to have been born in the rainforest, there are numerous conflicting myths, legends, and hypotheses concerning our origin. The Austia, Ridorun and Nuntium are even more muddled, a fact exacerbated by their apparently native presence on multiple continents. The Essilor, although known to have arrived in Proesus from a homeland in the northern oceans, debate endlessly about whether they first sprung into existence there or elsewhere, perhaps in the Old World. Ractanos all seem to agree on an origin in the deserts of the Proesus mainland, but never on where precisely6. Erea and Nullartus do not speak of their myths, and the Praesul are not present to tell of theirs.
Female Maragana are, on average, considerably larger than males, exhibited nowhere better than in the Connotation's towering captain. I somewhat envy the matriarchal society this appears to have encouraged; female captains, leaders and even rulers are in the majority on their island home.
Maragana females must return to the water to give birth, and both sexes to mate--an event occurring only once per year. Some perform both tasks in artificial saltwater pools, although I’m told that it is common for an expectant mother to make the pilgrimage to a river, lake or sea, often one sacred to the particular culture. Especially sought is the Sea of Birth7, the largest of the island’s inland seas. A small number give birth in the ocean, although the dangers of this are well recognised and the tribes that partake do so only from strict tradition. In the water, the Maragana undergoes live birth to highly-developed infants. Upon being thrust into the world, the child resembles a miniature adult, and can already swim (although they must learn to walk). Special care, for those giving birth in large bodies of water, has to be taken to ensure that the babe does not escape! The infants remain in the water for the first months of their lives, until their legs have developed sufficiently to embark onto land. During this period, the parents attend them closely, and the precocious children seem to begin absorbing information as soon as they meet the world.
Unique among sapients is the Maragana’s ability to, on occasion, give birth without mating! Asexual reproduction is reasonably well-documented in the lower species, even in some reptiles, but in a sapient species it raises some eyebrows. This is a rare occurrence, according to Naaki, with only a handful of cases during her lifetime, but frequent enough to be accepted as a regular part of life. She seems to pity the offspring of these events, as they tend to be avoided as mates themselves even despite good health. I could not extract from her why.
Elemental worship is the main religion in Maragana, in which eight ‘elements’--generally recognised as Ice, Fire, Water, Air, Earth, Light, Shadow and Lightning, although membership seems to vary by region--are personified as gods (or as more abstract spiritual concepts? I did not fully apprehend Naaki’s explanation). Each one is understood to have negative and positive aspects. Fire can destroy, or be used for warmth; Water and Air are necessary for life, but storms can tear down villages. Lightning (a stand-in for galvanism, it seems) provides them with their sixth sense, while also sowing occasional destruction. Curious of them to differentiate Lightning and Fire so definitively, even when they were a primitive people; I think no Proesan would have thought to distinguish the two before the rediscovery of galvanism and its connection with lightning. The Maragana’s galvanic sense, I suppose, must have contributed to this understanding--even out of the water, lightning strikes register brightly to their ampullae.
Many of the crew wear elongated masks, fitting snugly over their wide heads. Naaki explains that the maks are bestowed ceremonially on the wearers as markers of accomplishment. Ornately carved from a variety of materials (bone, wood, bronze--I’m told the most prestigious are formed from precious metals), the shape, colouration and patterning seem to represent in some way the manner of accomplishment. Although intricate, the wearers treat them with little more care than their other garments and sport them even on dives. I suspect that some of the masks may carry enchantments, from the strange sheen they give off when glimpsed from the corner of the eye. Perhaps the masks even have a religious significance, but if they do, like much of Maragana culture and behaviour, I do not truly understand it.
The interconnected seas and lakes of the home island are underscored by an even more complex network of underwater caves and caverns; these, in turn, are replete with temples, shrines and other sacred spiritual sites. A few Maragana tribes even make their homes inside the caves, although few choose a permanent life away from the suns.
Speaking of the suns, Sororius disappeared past the horizon some time ago, and my eyes are drooping in response to my exhausted muscles. I must bid you goodnight, my good journal.
1 This was indeed my reaction to the magnificent animals.
2 The largest extant, that is--chirek relatives of startling size exist in the fossil record, rivalling even the krakens and extinct whales in scale.
3 Not, at least, on Proesus--the caution with which the Maragana crew behaved about them might imply a more antagonistic relationship there.
4 Especially when the crew meteomancer pouring wind into the sails, in a deliberate effort to outpace the marine reptiles.
5 I gather this government is in some fashion representative (rare on Proesus, but not unheard of), but have been unable to glean details. I suppose it may also be an imperfect translation from the Maragana language. Languages? Presumably there are several, but details on such things are scarce. Naaki would share further information, I am sure, if it is not covered by the national secrecy that cloaks much Maragana practice; but even as accommodating as she has thus far been, the time she can spare to explain basic concepts to me is limited.
6 All of the Clanhold believe in an ancient migration to their current home in the Ractanos Desert; however, some perceive this as a return to their original place of birth, and others as an arrival to a pristine promised land.
7 Or Rebirth--according to the captain, either translation is acceptable.