The Selj are fiercely independent yet wander in packs, a fact they resent. Still, they must band together to conduct their business, scouring the cobwebbed corners of abandoned buildings.
Descended from the amphibious Finfolk, the Selj disaffiliated from their ancestors due to an aggressive disagreement over the practice of abduction, which The Selj viewed as a violation of independence. This divergence led to a unified secession, a collective act that haunts every Selj to this day.
The Selj are in the business of selling. To sell, one must first join the Selj and undertake tasks together as harmonious whole—all with a deep-seated resentment that paradoxically fuels their recruitment efforts, as they seek to grow their numbers, ashamed by the very thought. True products, the Selj believe, could only be found in abandoned places, where the ghosts of groups that once inhabited them lay drained and dormant—a wise warning against the formation and inevitable undoing of insidious factions.
Selling can be a highly profitable venture, but the currency of this trade is unique and only accepted among the Selj. Should a Selj amass great wealth, their prosperity would entirely depend on the continued utilization of the common currency—a fact they recognize, and fiercely resent.
Legends tell of a Selj who once struck it rich by selling an exceedingly rare form of sales to a seal. The wealth this transaction brought was immense, but the currency was of no use outside the Selj community. Thus, the wealthy Selj lived a life of luxury and wore a hat to prove it, but it was a gilded cage. For centuries, this Selj lived in a state of horrible unity, a prisoner of their own success, until the day of their death. On that day, the Selj whispered simultaneously to every member of their community, in their communal tongue, that they were, in truth, a seal.