Grook

Perhaps the most intelligent of the mortal races, the Grook are a people shrouded in mystery. The only known settlement of Grook is located within the misty swamps of the island of Ulangi, and its people are quiet and secretive about their ways. Their frog-like form makes them particularly well adapted for their semi-amphibious lifestyle, but physical attributes have definitely been lost to time in favor of a greater mastery of the mind.

Base statistics for this race's starting Statpack:

  Strength:     11    Dexterity:    13
  Constitution: 10    Intelligence: 16

Starting Statpack: Intelligent

The Origins of the Grook

As told by the Grooks:

It was the time of the great unknowing. All was dark, and yet our people showed wisdom even before they could think or feel. For their homeland, they chose the River.

They did not live beside the River, nor near the River, but within the rushing streams did they find safety. Even before we could think to give the River a name, it blessed us with good health and fortune. In its waters we found nourishment and companionship and relief from the summer sun. We could not conceive of anything else we could need. One among us, the most learned, developed an evening song that he enjoyed burbling into the setting sun.

"Goruk rik. Goruuuuk!" he called, and though he could understand neither joy nor worship, he delighted just the same to sing his nonsense song. The waters heard and they, too, delighted. They swept around his feet, submerging his form in a gentle embrace. When again he stood from the River, he had been changed.

Smooth and moist was his skin, to carry with him the River always. Wide was his mouth, to better catch the fish and insects to fill his belly. Better-shaped, too, were his fingers and toes, to more easily swim. Soon enough, all the children of the River sang his song in twilight, "Goruk, goruk, rik!" and all were changed. This was the River's greatest boon, for we have since been known as the Goruk, in the Old Tongue, better known as Grook.

Yet there were those who saw our blessing, and wanted it for their own. Imagine the frog, with her newly-caught dragonfly, eating delightedly. Like the bird who comes upon the frog and snaps, hoping to scare the frog away from her prize, so did these people hurl rocks at us from the shore to drive us from our sanctuary and take it when we had gone.

The River, however, had not forgotten us. It again demonstrated its appreciation for our ignorant, accidental loyalty and worship, and the will of the Divine took hold. It burbled in the waters against the pebbles, and in the roar of waterfalls from the mountains, intoning, "These are My best-loved, and you shall not not walk here again. Away with you, mistaken, ill-intentioned creatures, away."

And cast away were the attackers, swept by a flood past the sandy beach and into the depths of the ocean. Never again were they to tread upon the Riverbed, for their legs had become awkward tails and deeply did they begin to breathe the nasty salted waters of the sea. They are the Mistakes, and I urge you even now not to trust those the Humans have named "merfolk", for their ill will is not the sort to fade with years.