Tales from Beyond the Spider Moon

Chapter Twelve: Hulk “There is a chamber at the end of this hall,” the Forged Woman said. “If it has not collapsed, it should provide safety so you can recover from your injuries.”      “We don’t understand you,” Ceru replied; but Tormund offered to translate. Her Dwarvish was halting, and of a dialect that was difficult for him to understand; but passable in those dark hallways. They made their way to the stone door and entered what appeared to be a stonemason’s workshop. Everywhere there were tools, mostly rotten with age; half-finished etchings and piles of hand-chiseled brick. The warforged lay Tormund on a stone workbench and sat beside him. The others gathered around, and with the door closed, they rested a moment.      “I am called Hulk,” Tormund translated for the warforged. “I was taught the dwarf tongue by the dwarves who found me and woke me in Avungar - the ruin of a city far to the east.”      “Would you be able to locate this Av...

  Chapter Eleven: Ruin Tormund was the first into the crevice, followed by a pair of genasi marines. The dwarf staked down ropes as he went, leading the way for Oquee, Ceru, and finally Adovar to descend into the darkness. The going was slow and treacherous. Ceru and each of the genasi wore small lanterns tied to their belts, while Oquee’s staff gave off an unnatural white brilliance. These played and competed with each other, causing long shadows that danced around them,  if the darkness itself was fighting for dominance, trying drive them back out.      They dropped through a hole in the roof of a squat, square chamber covered in dust. The walls were finely chiseled stone carved out of the hard rock and reinforced with brick and mortar. The room was barren, except for a single stone door on the south wall. All decoration and design was worn away by the harsh environment that had been allowed to creep into this dark place, scouring the room's every surface. ...

  Chapter Ten: Preparation No one needed to wake Ceru in the morning. The change in her sleep schedule kept her up for most of the night, but even so, the unrelenting heat of the morning sun and glare of the Pyre’s light on the pale and dusty ground was enough to shift her from her slumber. Even in the lee of the Black Ophelia , with the sun behind her and the long shadow of the ship to keep her cool, she and all her fellows were roused at first light.      She dressed for the heat, fetched a tin mug of coffee from the cook’s impromptu kitchen, and joined the others at the map table. The scouts had returned a little while before sunrise and were lounging in the sand nearby, eating breakfast in silence.      “The scouts put our target just beyond that outcropping,” Adovar said, pointing to a jagged trio of rocks in the distance. “We’ll find a small crevice leading to what is - apparently - a remarkably intact dungeon.” He indicated the spot on the map. ...

  We know Cerulean Crowe  hates them. We know they're probably all pirates or - at least - she thinks they are. But they don't appear in most D&D worlds, and they're not in any official supplement (yet - man, I'd love to put one on D&D Beyond, but I don't want to jump through the hoops to get it to work right). But I'm on a tangent. Sorry about that. The Shark Men haven't shown up in the story yet, but they've been mentioned - and they play a large role in Crowe's backstory, so I know they'll be coming up again, and you might not know who they are. The Praedaren were created by Anthony Vallozzi , and I first came across them back when this Spelljammer campaign was just going to be Pirates of the Dark Water, but D&D. I was looking for interesting things to populate my Aquatic campaign with, when I came across this post: [Race] Player Race: Praedaren (The GMBinder Link) It was great. Like that top comment said, it's Street Sharks; ...

  Chapter Nine: Desolation Descriptions of the barren world did it no justice. Ceru stared, and in every direction, she saw only ruin. Jagged rocks and dust, with the Pyre in the sky, not quite as large as Bob had made out; but massive, and brighter than anything Ceru had seen before.      All hands congregated on the weather deck and were given instructions. The Black Ophelia was secured, exactly as if it were moored to a dock back home, only it sat in the loose sand, which gave Ceru the uneasy feeling that the ship was scuttled. It was pointless, but a life at sea filled her with the inescapable dread that they were stranded. Anchor posts were driven into the ground at even intervals around the ship, and tents were erected over the anchor lines. Gear and equipment were hauled down from the hold and by nightfall the Black Ophelia resembled a small village.      As the Pyre sank slowly past the horizon, Ceru was eating with Mookee and some of the oth...

Streets of Brass on DeviantArt  

  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...