In the distant past, an aspect of the goddess Sune fell in love with a noble and mighty Merman by the name of Triton. Together they had eleven sons and ruled below the waves for many centuries - and, when the time came, Triton was borne aloft by Sune - and carried away to her realm upon the astral sea, to live forever by her side.

The eleven sons took human, elven and aquatic wives in and around the islands and coastlines of the Shining sea - founding families of brave, honourable folk; who saw beauty in all things, were kind and generous to their allies and their kin, and swift to deliver due vengeance upon their enemies - with strong spear-arms and dazzling shields. They were the Myrmidons. The folk of Triton. The Merfolk of the Blazing Sun.

Alas, time erodes all things. And, eventually, the glories, histories, and memories of the Myrmidons were all but forgotten. Buried beneath the silt and waves of the Shining Sea. But one lineage, it would seem, remained alight - on the isle of Ithaka, near the lands called Tethyr, Myrmidon and royal blood were, and always have been, one and the same.

Through the generations Myrmidon blood has remained miraculously undiluted - causing kings, queens, and the royal sons and daughters of Ithaka to exhibit unique traits at varying points in their lives: Great wisdom and personal magnetism, acute eyesight in even total darkness, immunity to the crushing cold of the fathomless depths, the ability to breathe water as if it were air, a stroke beneath waves that outpaces the swiftest swimmers of men. And physical manifestations, such as unearthly beauty, golden eyes, blue-tinged skin, and red, fiery manes of hair - that flow like fire or water, without the slightest breath or gust of wind.

And so we come to the recent past.

Memnon's father, Laertes, was a highly regarded Count - ruling sea-thronged Ithaka and it's surrounding isles by grace of the monarchy on the Tethyrian mainland - honouring Zazesspur and then Darromar as capitals, and paying direct homage to the Duke of Memnon, who was also a close friend. He was descended from Ithaka's proud and vaunted royal line; unbroken for years beyond reckoning. Laertes and his hoplite phalanxes supported the new King and Queen in the recent and viscous Tethyrian civil-war, and though Laertes was highly decorated in the battles of the time - he did not live to see the new monarchs crowned, slain in the final, climactic siege of Castle Tethyr.

On hearing the news, Laertes' queen, Anticlea, threw herself from her high chamber's window - into the yawning depths of Firedrake Bay. No body was ever found.

Fearing for the life of their infant son - sole heir to the throne of Ithaka - Memnon's retainer, a master-at-arms by the name of Helikaeon, took it upon himself to raise the boy; until such a time as it was safe for him to return and claim his birthright.

And so Memnon was raised upon the Xanthos by his 'uncle' Helikaeon, fed the kind-lie that his parents were slain by corsairs, oblivious of his past and almost certainly unique heritage.

But over the last few months, a change has come over the man that Memnon has become. His locks, once golden as the Sun, have seemingly burst into flames beneath its constant gaze. And his eyes - once blue as the Shining sea - have become golden, radiant pools. The sea calls to him, and the crew of the Xanthos have all but guessed the truth. His heritage can no longer remain hidden as once it was. Helikaeon, having seen the same changes occur in Laertes when he was of a similar age, and knowing that the time is almost upon Memnon, has sent the boy ashore in the city of Tashluta. With an heirloom spear, a familiar shield, and the knowledge that he has great things yet to be done ahead of him - Memnon steps onto the world's stage at auspicious time, a turn of the tide you might say. Perhaps this will be his Right of Manhood. Perhaps the long buried secrets of his heritage, and the throne of Ithaka, await.