Overview
Dregmaw are the shark-skinned kin of the bone city. They decide who is fed, and they consider the tide a promise the bone keeps for them.
Habitat
Dregmaw live in Sharkbone Warrens, a cannibal bone city where the tide is the only honest conversation. They need three things: a bone old enough to be a wall, a tide wide enough to carry the feed, and a swimmer who is worth the bite. They are settled in warrens around the bone-cities, with feeding-lines across the mapped current; a dregmaw who has not judged a feed in a season is called "the one who forgot the tide."
Appearance
The dregmaw silhouette is the heavy, low, bladed shape — broad at the shoulder, narrow at the waist, with the head sitting a little too low on the body, like a word that is waiting for a swimmer. Males stand 1.65 m to 1.83 m, heavy through the blade-jaw and shoulder, with a thick grey-blue scale and a low, barked voice; they are the blade, the first bite, and the ones who take the swimmer and give the bone. Females stand 1.65 m, leaner and quicker, with a thinner scale and a longer memory; they are the tide-judges, the ones who decide who is fed, and the ones whose nod is the tide. The base scale is a thick, wet grey-blue, the color of deep bone-city water seen through a dark glass, with a faint pattern of deeper, sea-black bands along the spine and a clean, deliberate bone-white at the fin-edge that is the dregmaw line's most persistent claim. The eyes are a pale, washed-out sea-white, large for the head, with a slow, deliberate blink and a depth that makes them look like they are reading the swimmer — and in most cases, they are, and the reading is the point. The head is the mark: a flat, broad skull with a pair of long, pointed ears in the same grey-blue as the scale, a short crest of coarse dark-brown hair, and the blade-jaw, which is the dregmaw line's most persistent claim — a row of true, long, curved blades, always clean, and always pointed at something. Males carry the line in the blade and the shoulder; females in the jaw and the memory. Elders are marked by a scale gone a deep, dull bone-slate and a crest gone pale silver — an old dregmaw bites slower and holds the tide longer. Everyday wear: a wrap of stitched bone-hide at the waist, a single bone bead at the throat, and no armor, because the scale is the armor and the bone is the home.
Behavior
Disposition: pack, aggressive, territorial, clannish. In peace, dregmaw are watchful, deliberate, and absolutely certain of the bone — they have the tide, and they let the surface know it. In war they fight as the tide fights: the blade first, the bite second, the patient, precise holding of the current third. Strangers on the surface are either a meal or a mistake, and the mistake is the one the bone remembers. The social unit is the warren, 40–150 strong, around the bone-cities — no warren follows a biter, it follows the judge whose blade is truest. Two signature quirks: a dregmaw who is being lied to will not call it out — they will simply judge the lie's feed and wait, because the judging is the point. And they keep the bone for a lifetime: a bone the warren has fed is a debt, and the debt is paid in tide.
Warfare & Markings
Tactics: the ambush of the blade — the dregmaw line does not fight in the open current; it fights as the bone-city fights, with the blade, the bite, and the long, deliberate patience of the one who has already judged the feed. Armor: scale, by choice — the natural scale is the armor, and a dregmaw who wears metal has already decided the bone is not enough. Weapons: the bone-blade, the blade-jaw that is not a weapon but is used like one, and the tide that is not a weapon but is used like one. War markings: the Blade-Notch, a deliberate chip in the left blade for every feed kept, worn as a record of the long tide; the Bone-Knot, a single knot in the tail-braid for every warren oath kept, in sea-black; and the Tide-Brand, a small, deliberate mark on the inner wrist — the first swimmer the wearer ever judged, worn as a mark of the beginning. Post-battle: the dead are carried to the bone-city, their names judged over the tide, and their blades laid across the bone — a dregmaw buried without their blade is buried as a surface.
Magic Alignment
Primary domain: chaos — dregmaw magic is the decay, the becoming, the patient, precise turning of the bone across the warren. Secondaries: death and wild. Named inborns: Tide-Sense (a dregmaw can feel the current's mood a day before it turns, and the feeling is not a choice), Bone-Sight (a dregmaw sees in the deep the way a human sees in the light, and the seeing is not a choice), Bite-Carry (a dregmaw's blade carries the warren's memory across the tide, and the carrying is not a choice). Signature power: the Judge's Word — a dregmaw can speak a word in the bone tongue and let it land on a blade, and the blade will keep the word until the feed is done. Limitation: dregmaw magic is spent on the bone; a dregmaw who has spent their judge's word must sit in the dry dark for one day, and the day is the worst one of the warren.
Religion
Dregmaw keep Mordra, the Unraveler as their primary god — the chaos, the decay, the becoming that is the bone's own law. The bone-city is Mordra's, and the dregmaw is the bone's judge. Priestly class: the Tide-Judge, who keeps the bone-temple and judges the feed at every rite. Heresy is not blasphemy — it is a word broken in the warren, and there is no rite for that one; the warren simply stops feeding with the breaker.
Society
Warrens of 40–150, led by the Tide-Judge, rank decided by the tide — whose blade is truest.
Home
They live in Sharkbone Warrens, a cannibal bone city where the tide is the only honest conversation.
Relations
The "the tide is the only honest conversation" faction — warren neighbors whose tide is a price, and the ones whose nod is the feed. The Deep Ones of the drowned warrens are the small kin the warren tolerates — the deep one keeps the deep and the dregmaw keeps the warren, and the two have learned that a deep that is not fed is a deep that is not a promise, and the not-feeding is the whole of the distance. The Naga of the spires are the ones the warren keeps at a distance — the naga keeps the spire and the dregmaw keeps the tide, and the two have learned that a tide that is not judged is a tide that is not a conversation, and the not-judging is the whole of the peace. The Merfolk of the coral thrones are the neighbors the warren does not fight — the merfolk keeps the throne and the dregmaw keeps the bone, and the two have learned that a throne that is not fed is a throne that is not a feed, and the not-feeding is the whole of the law. The Kelpies of the deep water are the ones the tide tests most often — the kelpie keeps the water and the dregmaw keeps the warren, and the kelpie who has been fed is the kelpie the warren has already decided is a find, and the deciding is the whole of the law. Above, the ground-folk of The Forgotten are the ones the warren tests most often, and the testing is the whole of the bond, because the forgotten are the ones the tide keeps the feed for, and the keeping is the whole of the promise. Uaellaen keeps a page of the warren in the wiki — the tide, the feed, the nod that is the find — and the keeping is the whole of the record, because the camp has learned that a dregmaw who has been written about is a dregmaw who has been fed with, and the feeding-with is the whole of the welcome.
In the Story
In the current story, the dregmaw are the tide in the warren — the feed Uaellaen writes about when the bone is the law. The Forgotten keep their distance at the warren line, and the distance has held for two seasons. This season a feed came up from the warren that is not in the tide — a feed the Tide-Judge does not remember, and the not-remembering is the whole of the warning, because the warren keeps its tide, and the tide has started to feed. The feeding is the hand the camp has not been shown.
You swim in our warren and you make a sound. Good. Now we know where you are, and you have made our tide's choice for us. The price is a feed. You have one to give, or you are already a find. — Tide-Judge Grik the Grey