Macamore means “man of the sea” but you might just as well call them “pigs of the sea” for they are an unlovely lot.
While the female merrow is comely indeed and a siren in both form and feature, the male of the species is characterized by green hair and teeth, as they’ve never felt the need for dental hygiene. Withal, they have a predator’s cold eyes, often described as pig-like. The macamore‘s nose is bulbous and a perpetual red from his fondness for rum, while his limbs are misshapen by fin-like extensions from every joint.
The female merrow is a kind of mermaid and fond of seducing lonely fishermen like this lad. She is a more-than-willing companion, since her alternatives are less than attractive.
You’d expect a macamore to look like this, wouldn’t you? But you’d be wrong.
At best he looks something like this. And at worst…
What’s more, if you look very closely, you’ll notice the absence of certain equipment commonly found among men but not mermen, whose form is fishlike in certain departments. The difference can be disappointing, to say the least, once a merrow has tried life ashore and the pleasures to be had there.
“I’ve had it with halibut! Where’s the beef?!”
So long as the merrow takes care not to lose her cohuleen druith, a magical cap that allows her to breathe underwater, then she is free to emerge from the sea and take up with mortal men. Should it be lost, however, she would be doomed to a life on land, a life of sorrow as her young man ages and finally dies. Eventually, she does likewise.
What does this little cap look like? Well, it’s said to resemble a Spanish bullfighter’s montera, but that is ridiculous.
No woman of my acquaintance would ever wear this monstrosity, human or fae!
Macamores wear them too, but in their case, it’s made from a yarmulke (no, they are not Jewish! They are not even remotely kosher. Like the rest of the Fallen, they are making do with what they can find here, and yarmulkes are metal-free).
Naturally, the preference shown by the female form for human companionship doesn’t sit well with the macamores. Add their sexual frustrations to the stresses and strains of being stranded in this cold world, where the oceans are awash with plastic detritus, the sea floor is littered with nets and steel fish hooks, and factory ships strip the world of its finned wealth with no regard for the future – well, it’s a wonder they don’t simply go on a rampage at every turn.
Lately, things have been a bit strange.
For instance, it’s Dungeness crab season on the Pacific Coast. Normally, this is a time of joyful abundance for San Francisco’s fishermen and sea food lovers too…
Not so much for the Dungeness crabs themselves…
And their escape attempts have suddenly become much more successful than usual because…
That’s right – they’re packing!
The word is, the macamores have begun taking sides in the perennial contest between fishermen and their catch. In some cases, that means mere pranks, but you can’t hand out a howitzer to a humpback whale or even itty bitty derringers to Dungeness crabs without setting off larger conflicts.
If you should encounter a macamore, I’d advise you to reel in your line. Hang it up for the day and head for home, and when you get there, count your blessings.
Fae Forensics 