#fanged cod

Between a scattering of recently discovered islands rests a jewel of paradise, mystery, and a hint of exotic danger. The famous Blue Hole has found a name for itself among the most envied tourist destinations among the world, with a gorgeous view, thrills to experience, and rich natural resources… but on a day like this, the scene has become anything but recognizable as the bustling hub described. That is because a ponderous fog has decided to linger over the lagoon by the time my vessel reaches port.

Despite the warm weather, I could feel my hairs standing on end from the very moment the clouds had enveloped our ship. Aside from the occasional day like this, fog horns would usually be a rare sound to hear across the bay. Since the discovery of the area, vacationers have enjoyed a tropical climate punctuated by mild storms. It all paints a picture so drastically unlike the eerie one I have pursued to this end. By sunset, I know that the white mist outside will give way to a crimson haze. With it, begins the investigation into the unusual animals only spotted on previous fogged nights: What familiar aberrants have made their way to the region, what are they capable of, and to where they fit within the additional puzzle of Blue Hole’s astounding ecosystem.

The Fog Coast, Part One

The hour is roughly 10pm, and “Blue” Hole has turned to a sight otherworldly. Thick, red vapors and an eerie silence hang in place of what was a starlight sky over the whistles of dolphins a mere night ago. The locals claim that the lagoon is an inscrutable locale, whose underwater geography both hosts an impossible collection of species and undergoes rapid, unexplained changes every few hours. On a night of crimson fog, it has been made enigmatic even from the surface view. Rocks easily seen by daylight make sailing close to the shorelines a hazardous endeavor along a coast with no lighthouse or other navigational indicators. It is a coastal venture treacherous, but also rewarding, for much more hides under these waves than the rocks. A watery gyre is barely seen at the edge of shiplight, and at its core, I have heard there can be found treasures far more interesting than mere gold.

• Encyclopedia Entry No. 83, 84

[Testimony of a local fisherman]

“Now it’s not unusual for cod to happen up close to the shores at night. Obviously, I was hoping for it or I wouldn’t have been fishing in that stuff, but there was something else going on with these fish. Something not right. They weren’t taking to the bait, but they just kept coming up closer. Like they were trying best they could to get up on my ankles without getting stranded. Almost like they see someone standing on the beach and that’s all they’re interested in. Not that I let them, but they got close enough to tell something ugly about them. The only thing I managed to get hooked snapped my line before I could figure out what I was even looking at, other than big teeth and nasty looking eyes.“

Analysis: Our first descriptive cases of mutated cod corroborated with archived specimens from off the coast of Greater Marrow. Though there are instances where residents have managed to capture these codfish whole and live, no success has been found in attempting to keep them or any other mutated fish in captivity, due to their propensity to die shortly after they are harvested from the ocean. The two ‘flavors’ of tainted cod found here include the Fanged and Three-Headed variants, with no cases of hypertrophy. Their behavior has observed to feature heightened predatory behavior, to the point of stalking and testing large animals as oppurtunistic targets. They approach sluggishly at first, and lunge to close distances. They pose some hazard to swimmers, notably the unarmed, but can be reeled or netted as readily as any scrod. The three-headed cods are generally larger than the fanged variant, and both can be found close to the surface during a fog night.

• Encyclopedia Entry No. 79, 80

[We join the crew of a commercial trawler, company left unnamed to permit this revord of the onboard operations. As the ship coasts upon the outskirts of one of the smaller outcrops, fishermen gather at the fresh haul to do their work. Mackerel from all global ranges and climates incredulously line the deck of the vessel, meticulously sorted into an array of containers. One worker calls out as an unusual sight is plucked from the pile- a brown shiner with half a dozen too many eyes for an average fish. The bosun indicates for me a specific container the individual is packed into. What I find there is a collection of similar wretches, scales still twitching and mouths gasping wet with a shimmering fluid.]

“We don’t actually come across that many of them in the nets. One for about every hundred of the healthy ones. Their meat is considered tainted and has to be separated from the catch, but we aren’t allowed to return them to the environment either. They’ll stay on ice for now, later today they’ll be dropped off with a merchant who’s agreed to handle the… disposal.”

Analysis: In spite of the sheer diversity of mackerel to be seen at Blue Hole, these turned pacific mackerel are the only shared species between Greater Marrow and this living collection in such regard. Specifically, the Many-Eyed and Grotesque mackerels found in shallower coastal water. Like most aberrants, they are prone to agitation and exhibit territorial, if not predatory aggression at first contact. Like all aberrations, their blood runs a purple hue, and their sightings dry up once the fog has dissipated.

• Encyclopedia Entry No. 91, 92

[Shared anecdote from a lionfish diver]

“You have to really love a place like Blue Hole to do what I do. A lot of people don’t think of lionfish as an invasive species here, but they can do real damage to reefs where they’re not native, and ours are no exception. Worse still is that they’re far more aggressive here than anywhere else in the world, and not any less venomous. I thought if anyone was prepared to do a part in protecting local animals from these new pests, why not me? And yeah, I bagged a few. I speared things with a few too many eyes, a few too many heads, a few too many teeth. I found these great big ugly fish with no eyes at all that still would come right at you. And then I saw a… thing. The thing, Reason I don’t go night diving anymore. Came out of the dark like a ghost, black bones and green light. It didn’t look like something that should have even been real. I was lining a shot up and I felt like my arm had taken a lion’s barb. I didn’t even know what happened, that thing sparked, and I felt pure pain pulse through half of my body. Everything was panic after that. Panic to get back up and the hell out of the water. Fingers were still tingling almost until morning. All I know that I know is, I’m sticking to day hunting.”