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Ever since I was a small Thoomlin', my Grandfather told me stories of our ancestors. He died when I was very young, but my Father took over as family Patriarch and continued the oral tradition of passin' down our history. This is, as best as I remember, the history of the "Thooms."

Many, many millennia ago, the Thoomish races were not like it is today. For one thing, we had not adopted that name. For another, violence ruled our hearts. It was this aggression that lead to our greatest shame and our eventual enlightenment.

Both races of the Thoomish people thought they could rule the world. While the other races were content to stay in their lands, Thooms sailed the seas discoverin' and conquerin' faraway peoples. The tale of our savagery is grim indeed and not generally discussed amongst our people for fear of returnin' to those vile ways, but let's suffice to say that our actions were despicable. We could find no peace with ourselves but in war.

Yet, after centuries of war with outsiders, we did start to settle down. We could find no others to conquer. We settled in coastal cities and built monuments to our greatness. We were a proud people. Havin' built cities and monuments, we tried to turn to rulin' ourselves peacefully, but we could not. What wars we could not find with others, we created amongst ourselves.

It should be mentioned that the "Thooms" of yesteryear were actually two races. One race is as it is today, and the other race only differed in that they never lost their gills. They could still return to and breathe water. My Grandfather did not know the true name of the other race, but he called them the Ichetons, if only to differentiate them from us. In all ways that are important, we were the same. Yet in our ancestors' hatred, it was not seen that way.

A civil war, called the Divisional War, ensued that lasted for centuries. Thoom against Icheton. Men, women, and Thoomlings were all killed in the name of our hatred. Such atrocities occurred that to even say that it was "war" would be to understate. Then, without warnin', it ended.

It seems that some Thoomish Mystics were meddlin' in vile magics in hopes to end the civil war. Their experiments led them to discover a magic so vile that it would wipe out the entire race of Ichetons. In their hatred, they rejoiced. In their rejoicin', they unleashed the magic.

It worked. In a month's time, every Icheton known to exist was dead. Each suffered unspeakable pain and sufferin' 'til his life's soul left this world and sought the next. Such death, such pain, such unspeakable cruelty disgusted the other Thooms. In their greatest triumph, they suffered a spiritual defeat.

For years, our people bore this shame. It was not often spoken of, but when it was, it was with dejected hearts. If not for the voice of one Thoom, our race might have faded from the world in shame and disgust.

This voice was an elder spiritual leader. He taught that we should learn from this tragedy. That we could become a race that guided and helped others. That we could tap into our souls and become enlightened. That our experience must not be cast into the sea but taught to others so that such tragedy would not be repeated! His name was Thoom'daron.

His teachings so enlivened our race that we adopted his name as our own. Every family swore to repeat this history 'til the end of time. Although we may be organized into families, our race was one. In fact, "Thoom" now roughly translates to "You are in my family, and I am in yours."

That is our history. From a haughty, violent self-defeat, we arose a humble, spiritual people. Instead of conquerin', we now travel the seas to teach and to explore. Secretly, we also search for any signs of Ichetons that may have escaped the slaughter. So far, we have found none. But our quest continues.