Life on the great city-state flotillas of Thalassa is spartan indeed. Free divers are able to reach the very tips of the submerged hive spires of old Thalassa but risk the ruptured eye balls and crippled lungs of the bends. Even more terrifying are the flora and fauna of the upper oceans, evolved to confuse and ensnare. To consume and absorb. Yet, no other source of metal exists.
Occasionally some titan of the deep ocean, swollen with the pestilent gases of decomposition will breach the surface. It’s chitinous spines and bloated poison sacks replenishing stocks of wargear—fueling raids against rival flotilla. Food, metal, mates and slaves. Of these, slaves are the most valuable. Both as a means of propulsion and in the lean times survival.
Observing all, the Apothecaries and Chaplains of the Sauroters, select the most resourceful and ruthless. Communicating via signs and portents, Chapter Serfs posing as Oracles are instructed to deliver these young men as tribute to the deities of Halia; sole land mass on Thalassa and undoubted seat of God.
Setting foot on dry land for the first time, Aspirants climb the mountain to the temple atop the highest point on Halia. There the inscriptions on the pillars of the temple describe the ordeal ahead. Alone, in an open boat, an Aspirant must circumnavigate the planet. Equipped only with a smooth handled adze of polished wood and bronxe and a carvel built boat fashioned from the sacred trees of the temple precincts.
Hollowed by hunger, desiccated by thirst, disfigured by the sun. Upon return, taken down into the vast complex below the holy mountain. Transformed physically by the Apothecarium; spiritually by the Reclusiam. Neophytes emerge blinking in the sunlight once more. To begin the often lethal process of becoming a full Battle Brother of the Sauroters Chapter.