One calm night, a night that seemed it would be like any other, a storm began to toss the sea. The waves rose slowly at first but quickly began to rise higher and higher, crashing down around the moon sailors as they stood stricken in their Nevors. They began to fear they wouldn’t make it back to shore, back to their loved ones, children and pets. They began to shout across the waves at each other, some began to cry out to the gods above them in the heavens, they began to plead for their lives, begged not to drown, to not be destroyed by the waves.

Loh (pronounced low-uh) was a moon sailor like her mother and father before her and her grandparents before them. As the waves rose high and rocked her boat, and the moon shone brightly upon her, she suddenly realised the storm was unlike any other; this storm was caused by Brakkus, the giant underwater dog-like god, and he was shaking off the jipsylum, a foamy, briny part of the sea water, as he rose from the depths of the ocean.
As the other moon sailors rushed to safety, realising the same, and fearing the wrath of the beast, Loh watched, afraid for her people. Fear churned in her belly; she knew she must do something to save them all.

Loh struggled to gain control of her boat; she tipped side-to-side, losing her balance and had to fight to keep herself steady. Once she found balance again, as she watched the moon sailors around her struggle to reach the sea, she knew what she must do.

Loh spun her Nevor around, away from the shore, toward the centre of the sea and, mustering all her courage in her strongest voice, she called out to Brakkus, “Under the powerful light of the moon, show yourself to us, let us see you, we can help you!” She shouted into the waves.

Brakkus drove the waves higher, and the moon sailors close to shore scrambled from their boats, running into the village to tell their loved ones what was happening. The others in their boats shouted and screamed to Loh to leave it, to hurry, to retreat, to not further upset the beast.

But Loh sensed that Brakkus was in distress. She had heard stories of the great wolf-dog banished to a life underwater, with only darkness and fish to keep as friends. She knew the story that Brakkus had been cursed by Gojunv for reckless doings. It was a story they all knew, a story told to them before bed by their moon sailor parents, a way to explain the waves and the dangers of the sea.

As the waves swirled higher, the sea rising ever closer to the village's destruction, the Scalveohs ran from their homes, climbing the nearby hills to see the storm, fearing for their safety and what might be the end of the life they knew. They could see the moon shining down on one tiny Nevor perched on the tip of the tallest wave, as Brakkus reared his great head out of the ferocious sea and howled. The moon beamed upon the scene like a spotlight.

A collective gasp could be heard from the villagers.

The howl shook Loh to her core. She was soaking wet, her thickly knit moon sailor sweater covered in and covered in the sticky salty jipsylum. But she stayed strong, balancing in her boat on the curl of the biggest wave, face to face with the enormous outcast sea monster.
Loh noticed Brakkus’s coat, which, according to legend, had once been deep blue and shiny, was now matte and slick with jipsylum, and she had an idea, a solution.

Loh exhaled, willing her fear to leave her. “Brakkus, I can see your pain. As a moon sailor, I know the discomfort of jipsylum. I know it can cause your skin to become sore if you do not remove it. Perhaps I can help you with your discomfort. With two of us, we can try to undo the suffering you are in.”

Brakkus responded, “I have been banished to these depths, I am alone, I have only the darkness and the smallest fishes that do not care for me. How can you help me? I cannot see what you could do for me. You are so small in your tiny boat.”

“Your coat, Brakkus, once the talk of all the gods, your pride, it is covered in jipsylum, that must make you uncomfortable, and that discomfort must make you angry.”

Brakkus howled in response.

“I can help. I can clean the jipsylum from your fur so that your coat will be smooth and shiny and you will find relief.”

At the thought of being free from the dry and matting effects of the jipsylum, Brakkus began to thrash his massive tail, sending waves onto Loh and her boat.

“But you will have to be calm, Brakkus!” If you capsize me, I will drown, and I can not help you.”

Loh still shook with fear, the great dog breathing down upon her, the moon shining brightly on him, he was so big, so scary, with teeth the size of her Nevor. She knew he could send her to a painful death with one quick snap of his jowls.

Loh exhaled again and explained to Brakkus that he must calm the sea and himself, but form waves so she could reach his great height. And to her relief, Brakkus agreed.

The Scalveohs gathered on the hills watched as the sea calmed, the great dog hovering above the small girl in her boat, the Nevor perched atop a single curling wave.
In her moon sailing kit, Loh carried a scalve, a tool that was used to remove jipsylum from the fibre fish. This tool was what the Scalveoh people were known for. The tool that they had created to clean a fibre fish, which gave them the ability to eat the fish. The invention generations on generations before had given the people their livelihood, and from where they took their name.

Using a scalve to clean a fibre fish took only a few seconds, but to clean an enormous underwater dog-god, Loh knew it would take a long time. She called to the people of the village, to her fellow moon sailors, to help, but they were afraid and did not move from the hilltops. Unknowing what Loh had agreed on with Brakkus, they feared she was under his spell, and it was a ploy by Brakkus to drown them all and to destroy the town. They kept watch from the hilltops and the shoreline as Loh moved strand by strand around Brakkus, slowly beginning to understand that she was removing the jipsylum from his fur.

As she worked, the time passed, the sky began to lighten, the moon sank back into the night, and Loh kept working. Brakkus was quiet and still, feeling the relief from the sticky salty substance as she made her way from side to side, each great paw, and around his great ferocious head.

Just as the sun began to crest the horizon, Loh scalved the final jipsylum from Brakkus’s monstrous chin. He curled his lips at her, and for a moment she feared him, but then he shook gently, feeling his fur move freely for the first time in what had felt an eternity.

As he shook, a great clattering sound was heard, like the sound of a thousand birds chattering overhead, like five hundred wooden chimes clacking together in a great breeze.

The sun rose golden and orange and blasted the sea in a magnificent golden colour, and the people on the hilltops sat stunned as Brakkus rose from the sea, untethered and stepped onto the shore.

But Loh was tired with a weight she had never felt. A heaviness in her limbs. She could not row her boat to shore; she could only lie in the basin of her Nevor and sleep. The calm waves gently rocked her in the brilliant light of the morning.

The moon sailors ran to their boats to retrieve her, to bring her back to the village, where they could restore her to health.

But with a great shiny paw, Brakkus stopped them.

“No.” He said, “Though I can see that you are a good people, that you will rush to the side of one in need, just as Loh did for me. Your kindness comes from deep within you; it is in all of you as a people. This is goodness. True goodness. The kindness of Loh has released me from my curse, and I am free from the depths and the darkness of the sea now, but Loh, her great selfless kindness, facing a great danger to save her people, is now great, as great as a god. She has sacrificed her life body to offer safety to her people and freedom from fear. Loh will come with me now. She will live in the golden light of kindness and giving amongst the gods.”

The Scalveoh people began to cry. Oh, Loh, they shouted.

Brakkus continued, “To thank you for Loh, for being a people so full of kindness, you would sacrifice one of your own to save a god like me, I will assure your seas will be calm, and your fibre-fish will be plentiful from now forth. In return, I only ask that you never forget Loh; she will be watching you, she will want to be connected to her people always.”

The tears of sadness mingled with tears of joy for their safety and the safety of future generations.

A mist began to rise from the sea, a vibrant mist of blue and gold and orange, and Brakkus and Loh disappeared into the cloud, and the people of Scalveoh were sad, but they rejoiced that they were going to be taken care of and no longer needed to be afraid.

Later that day in town, the leaders, the Challisi, gathered together to discuss how the people would honour Loh and to find ways they and the ones that came after them could find a connection with her. Over many nights and many weeks, after connecting to her in all the ways they could, they received the answer. She would help them with their daily lives, and they would bring her offerings that represented what they were grateful for and what they desired.

They would find ways in their everyday lives to honour her memory. They designed curved shoes that they called Nervoroes, like the nervor boats, so that every step could remind them that they walked upon land that was saved by Loh in her boat.

They would wear simple clothing to remind them that simple actions can have great rewards. 

They made simple dresses out of white corven, a natural fabric similar to cotton, that they dyed with brevol, a brown-pigmented bark, making their clothes a warm cream colour. The dresses flounced just below mid calf, showing their ankles, a sign of vulnerability to the elements in reverence to their Loh.

They would put the symbol of a Scalve in their homes and workplaces to remind them to be kind, as kind and open-hearted as Loh was on that stormy night.

And to Loh, who had been known for her affection for sweetness, they would offer her the greatest confections they could make in the land. The fibre-fish were plentiful, and the scales of the fish were sweet and could be made into the most wonderful desserts. They would offer her a selection of these elaborate confections to recognise all the good they had, to show their gratitude. And to seek her guidance and kind hand in matters they sought help with.

These confections would be their offerings to Loh.

And so the Scalveoh people, the moon sailors and all the people in the village became a pious people. Loh became their god, their reason for being; her memory permeated every aspect of their lives. No longer was a day just a day, but a day to honour Loh, a day to bring an offering to the god that had saved them from the monster of the sea. The people changed, their ways changed, and not for many generations would any of them question the rituals and offerings. Not until a girl named Almoh was born would the sea storm again.