Once dwellers of the deepest ocean trenches, the Nautiloids were among the first Marinefolk to reject the pull of the tides. When the world above grew loud and chaotic, and the world below fell silent, they sought something greater—understanding. Through ancient rituals and collective psychic will, they tore themselves from the sea and created a sanctuary unlike any other: a domain suspended between realms, a sphere of coral and water drifting high in the skies.

This sanctuary became known as the Abyssal Athenaeum—a colossal orb of living coral, swirling seawater, and psionic energy that glows faintly against the clouds. Within it rests the world’s greatest library, filled with records of gods, mortals, and the forgotten things between.

Form and Physiology

A Nautiloid’s appearance is both regal and alien. Their skin shimmers in fluid tones of deep cerulean, coral orange, or pale violet, patterned with faintly glowing rings. Tentacles frame their lower face and jaw, moving with precision as they manipulate tools, write glyphs, or gesture mid-telepathic speech.

Their eyes are large and glassy, reflecting an intelligence that feels endless—like gazing into the calm eye of a storm. Despite their aquatic biology, they float rather than walk, gliding as if gravity itself has been negotiated. They exude an aura of calm detachment, every movement deliberate and precise, guided by thought rather than instinct.

The Abyssal Athenaeum

High above the world of Zin drifts the Nautiloid’s greatest creation—a living fortress of thought and water known as the Abyssal Athenaeum. It is no mere structure; it breathes. Walls of coral pulse like veins, guiding currents that circulate through floating chambers filled with drifting tomes, glowing orbs of memory, and psychic wards.

Every Nautiloid contributes to its growth. Knowledge is fed into the Athenaeum as one might feed a fire. Myths, truths, inventions, and lies—all cataloged without bias. To them, information is sacred, even if its source is not.

The Athenaeum serves not only as a library but as the collective mind of their people, each Nautiloid’s consciousness brushing against the others through faint psychic resonance. Together, they form a silent network of scholars that can exchange knowledge without words, their minds flowing like tides between each other.

Mind Over Matter

The Nautiloids possess intellects so vast they can bend the world around them through sheer thought. Objects drift at their command; doors open in silence; books turn pages in midair. This is not magic—it is the force of will made tangible.

The oldest Nautiloids are said to channel their psionic power to reshape coral and water with a single thought, creating new chambers within the Athenaeum or even altering their own bodies. The rumor that the first psion—a being capable of weaponizing thought—was a Nautiloid elder is a story that persists in every scholar’s hall, though no Nautiloid has ever confirmed it.

Seekers of All Knowledge

To the Nautiloids, there is no such thing as forbidden knowledge. Every idea, sacred or profane, has value as a piece of the greater whole. They do not worship gods, but they record their myths. They do not fight wars, but they preserve their tactics. Even the writings of madmen and tyrants are stored in the Athenaeum—because to them, ignorance is the only true sin.

Historians, mages, and priests all seek the Nautiloids’ archives, often trading secrets or memories to earn access. Some are granted passage into the sphere through psychic invitation, while others attempt to breach it—none of whom have ever returned.

The Wanderers

Most Nautiloids never leave their floating sanctuary. But there are those whose thirst for experience outweighs their need for isolation. These Wanderers descend to Zin, not to rule or meddle, but to observe. They see the world as an unending field of data—wars, loves, deaths, discoveries—all of it worthy of collection.

Though neutral by nature, their presence unsettles others. Their calm detachment, their emotionless observation of suffering or wonder alike, and the quiet hum of psychic energy around them make them feel both divine and distant.

These travelers record what they see, then return to the Athenaeum to share what they have learned. To them, every event—no matter how trivial—is another line in the grand text of existence.

Society and Culture

Nautiloid society is structured not by hierarchy, but by contribution. Each individual’s worth is measured by the knowledge they return to the Athenaeum. Those who expand its archives are called Archivists, those who defend its truths are Mindwardens, and those who wander are Collectors.

Their interactions are entirely telepathic, filled with layered meanings and shared memory. Conversations between Nautiloids can exchange more in a moment than most races could in a lifetime. Emotion exists among them, but it is tempered—translated into thought, analyzed, and set aside.

They are guided by a single tenet:

“To understand all is to become eternal.”