My name is Tamarin. I am a Thoom. That's not what we call ourselves, of course. I believe the Humans first called us Thoom, after the sound we make in our throat air sacs. Humans are ingenious at naming things. This scroll tells the tale of who I am and how I came to arrive in Puddleby, as well as I can reconstruct it.
We Thoom have been explorers and scholars of prodigious passion since ancient times. I daresay, I should not be surprised if our recorded history were longer than that of any other race, save perhaps the Sylvans. I believe myself to be a typical Thoom in this regard, as I have always been consumed with curiosity about the world.
Mer d'Syl, the small fishing village in which I grew up, was unexciting to me as a child. Life was simple: everybody fished. When we weren't fishing, we were mending our fishing tackle, and when we weren't doing that, we cleaned fish, we cooked fish, and we talked about fish as we ate fish. Have I mentioned I'm not fond of fish? My only escape was school.
In school, we learned about the Gods, the history of the world, Emperor Mobius, the Darshak Theocracy, the other races, magematics, the arts and sciences, and all sorts of interesting things that had nothing to do with fish. As you can imagine, I found it frustrating to learn about all of these other wonderful things I would likely never see. That didn't stop me from spending all the time I could in the library, though. (All but the poorest Thoom settlements have a library.)
Do not let my academic bent mislead you, however; I was not a gifted student. Although I always have loved learning, I believe the academic curriculum was perhaps too structured for my far-wandering fancy. While my intellectual appetite was great, it was also capricious and often at odds with the lesson of the day.
The event that shattered the innocence of my youth took place at the end of summer. In my village, everybody fished, even me; there was no choice about it. On this fateful day, my uncle (mother's brother) had taken my sister and me on a three-day trip to catch some Tho'Lin, a swift-swimming deep sea fish considered a delicacy by my people.
At the time of the accident, Sister was helping Uncle wrestle a Tho'Lin toward the boat, while I was at the tiller. All Thoom children are taught to sail, which I ordinarily enjoy; it's fishing I don't like. This time, though, I was daydreaming and not paying attention to the wind. A small gust hit us on the leeward side which abruptly brought the sail about, and I was naturally compensating in the wrong direction with the tiller.
The boat pitched violently toward the rail Uncle and Sister were leaning on, and as the boom came around it knocked me in the water, hard. The boat capsized and, in a panic, I grabbed onto the line Uncle had just released. The powerful Tho'Lin shot off, towing me behind it. Gulping sea water, the last thing I saw before blacking out was Uncle and Sister struggling to stay afloat near the sinking boat.
My next conscious memory is of waking up in the infirmary in Puddleby. I know not whether my uncle and sister lived or died as a result of my carelessness, but I am determined to find a way home and learn their fate. In the meantime, to atone for my shame, I decided to become a healer and dedicate all of my good deeds to their memory.
This takes you from my childhood through my arrival in Puddleby. For the rest of my story, please continue to read my journal.