Tales from Beyond the Spider Moon

  Part Three: Dust and Embers Chapter Eight: Landfall On the evening of their arrival at Ashen, Ceru was woken midway through her evening slumber. It was Carver, with a hand on her shoulder, rousing her.      “All hands,” he said. “We’re here. I’m guessing Mook needs you up in the tops.”      Bleary-eyed, with a head full of cotton and half-finished dreams, Ceru nodded, reaching for her canteen. After a drink, and a handful of water splashed on her face, with a quick stretch to try willing herself awake, she made it to her feet. Carver was already gone, and all around her, the rest of her watch were also slapping, and stretching, and yawning themselves awake.      Ceru tended to sleep in her trousers and a blouse, so she fetched a vest from her pack and quickly laced it up before pulling on her boots and strapping her work knife to her belt. A handful of jokes about sleep deprivation and the curse of the dreamless were bandied about, but...

Chapter Seven: Sea Stories Ceru and Mookee were looking at the blazing sun in the distance, trying to spot the tiny world of Ashen, somewhere in its orbit when the bell rang and the halfling bid her good night. She climbed down from the rigging and stretched a little, turned her head to crack her neck and headed below deck. There she found Oquee, Bob, and the other regulars on her watch, lounging around, playing cards and shooting the breeze.     She fell in with the other humans, who dealt her into their game. After losing a fair bit of coin over the past few nights, she was ready to make it back tonight. Someone chuckled at that. Oquee sat in the corner, on his bedding, drawing on his pipe, snout stuck in one of the large tomes he often carried down from the great cabin. After a while, and into her second cup, someone asked about Ashen - the planet to which they were sailing.     “I know Ashen,” the half-orc Bob said. “The old sages called it Cindre, and it’s the...

Chapter Six: Under Way Life in the sky was similar enough to life at sea. Everything operated in shifts, and on something resembling a schedule, so that there was always at least a skeleton crew awake and rested enough to run things smoothly.      The Pyre burned in the void with no sea behind which to set, so there was no real daylight or night. Only the long shadows of the ship, when she turned her deck away from the sun; and the constant, dim, and twinkling stars. Ceru found herself sharing the midwatch with Mookee and the Forenoon; which meant she slept in the early evening and woke in time for the second dog watch.      Since Mookee practically lived in the rigging, her only job in the over-night was to assist the halfling with whatever he needed doing, and to be awake and alert if something went wrong. During the Forenoon watch, she ended up where she was when the Elf came looking for her - swabbing the deck.      She was dunking her m...

Part Two: The Void I Chapter Five: Spelljamming In the darkness of the crew quarters, below the galley, Ceru and Oquee were lounging on their palettes. A small chess board lay between them. Lost pieces were strewn about on either side of the board, but the white king - Ceru’s king - lay on its side.      The game, now largely forgotten, had been the foundation on which they had built a conversation, and even though that the game was over, the conversation continued.      “I like you, Oquee. I never had a chance to meet the wizards on my last voyage,” Ceru took a swig out of the bottle she'd swiped from the galley. “I have to admit, though, I don’t really understand how it all works.” She passed the bottle over.      “Oh,” Oquee said, his long neck stretching to its full length in an unsettling way. “Spelljamming, you mean?” She nodded. “Well, the basics are the same. You know that. The magic makes the function of just about everything onboard...

Chapter Four - The Elf In no time at all, the Black Ophelia was pulling away from the Spelldocks of Madinat Alnnahas, the City of Brass - tossing their mooring lines and easing out into the blackness of space. The sensation was totally unlike being on a ship at sea. There was no rocking of the ocean waves, no noticeable wind (though Ceru was certain there must be wind, since the ship was moving and the sails were full), and there was little to indicate movement. Only the slowly diminishing asteroid behind them, burning red against the black, starry void, quietly slipping away into the darkness.      When Tormund had led Ceru and Oquee out onto the weather deck, they found an elf talking with the Captain. When he saw the three of them, though, the elf excused himself and approached. “Are you a tortle,” he asked Oquee, “from Ongmar, on the WorldSea?”      Oquee nodded. “Indeed, Master Elf, I am.”      Ceru had never met an elf, but just abou...

Chapter Three - The Black Ophelia The tortle led Ceru through the stacked shelves of the Spelldocks, up and down stairs and ladders, through crowds of sailors, dockworkers, and guild merchants loading and offloading ship after ship in the busy port. They passed by and through crowds of people from every race, each more exotic than the last.      Ceru was aware that the ‘Verse was filled with more races than she’d ever encountered, but being here, walking through the City of Brass amidst actual elves, and dwarves, and the blue-skinned vedalken, and all manner of creature - it was more than reading about them, or listening to tavern stories from old-timers who probably never actually set foot among the stars.      She was brought up short when she came across a pair of five-foot tall owls with massive wingspans, and long, flowing robes of cotton and canvas. The birdmen turned their heads in her direction. Round, black eyes watched her intently.    ...

Cerulean Crowe on DeviantArt "The white-haired swashbuckler dances from one of your crewmates to the next, slashing an arm here, a leg there, and firing her pistol at Long Carrow's beloved parrot. She leaps with both feet forward, slamming the Quartermaster over the rail and into the water.      "'For Anderlae's sake! Someone grab her!'      "But it's no use. Now she's halfway up the bloody mast." Cerulean "Ceru" Crowe Ceru is a Quelyan Human who longs to become a more competent warrior, sailor, and maybe an assassin. More than anything, she intends to return to Quelya and become a Pirate Hunter.     She can be hired as part of a Green Crew, despite her combat expertise and knowledge of life at sea, her experience in space is extremely limited.     She's a quick learner, though; and so long as the heroes don't resort to piracy, a highly loyal crewman.      Cerulean was born on Quelya, just off the Isle of Erelan, where she...

Chapter Two: The Spelldocks At the end of the alley, Ceru came up short. She was still a grounder, and the sight of the open void struck a chord of fear in her heart. An unwanted rush of adrenaline made her take a deep breath of that foul, hot air, and she choked on it, grabbing the warm, metal railing and taking a knee. She tried to balance herself against the sight of all that infinity.      “This must be your first time away from home,” a voice said behind her. The words were Aquan, Quelyan - the tongue of the Seas, the language of her homeworld. The voice was gravelly, slow, and deep. Ceru didn’t recognize it, but she knew what sort of creature spoke in those tones. As she reclaimed her feet, she turned away from the swallowing darkness of open space, wearing an uneasy grin.      Sure enough, standing against a metal wall braced with stone and plastered with notices and want ads, and calls to adventure, there stood a six-foot tall, 400 pound, upright to...

Part One: The City of Brass Chapter One: Streets of Brass Sulphur winds danced between buildings, and rushed down alleyways, as the residents of Madinat Alnnahas went about their business; as travelers and traders met in dark alleys, conducting darker dealings; and as tourists and other lost folk all wrinkled their noses, scurrying for the nearest open avenue - eager to escape the oppressive heat and the stench of the city. Cerulean Crowe marched briskly down the beaten brass cobble of Market Ring. Her long, white braid trailed behind her, and she clung tightly to the canvas bag slung over her shoulder. She was a deft hand with the cutlass slung at her waist, and it ached to be held, but she didn’t want her alienation and fear to play out in her demeanor. She just wanted to get to the ship.      This was her first time off-world; but even a backwater grounder knew the tales of danger that bled out of the Market Ring in the City of Brass. She made her way hurriedly (but no...