Tales From The Sunless Sea: The Clayman Chronicles

First Zee-Captain --- Previous Zee-Captain --- Next Zee-Captain

The clayman had a successful run at being a captain, much longer than many of his predecessors. This was mostly owing to its agelessness and cautiousness. With most of the crew being immune to things such as religion, illness, and curiosity, it was an ideal situation for the ocean. They were also cautious, as most civilised places would not take too kindly to a ship of sentient claymen, so they covered themselves in shadow and spent little time roaming the cities.

Due to the difficulty mingling with city-folk, the claymen dealt mostly in some of the forbidden trading - finding themselves doing runs for underground organisations in London, dealing with the Khantae, and even finding themselves spending great lengths of time working with those on the Isle of Cats. Before they did all this, however, they did need to recruit more people to help run such a large cruiser. The people who joined were... odd. It takes a certain kind of individual to join a crew of claymen, thus a certain kind of individual they were.

To carry on to more specifics, the clayment sought improvements to their life at zee. As they had no intention of retiring to London - improving their state at zee was significantly beneficial to them. So they sought out legends and tales of special ship parts, and engines. They needed to keep their money, up of course, so they traded in coffee beans and wine as well as gaining the trust of some of the more disreputable trade markets. They gained trade with the Khan himself, and sought out some of the harder to find markets in the Iron Republic. The admiral of London also cared not for who brought information and shipments of red honey to him, so this was useful for income.

It seemed all set and useful, with these trade routes, but then pieces started to fit together. The plan was to recruit a co-captain who was human, set up a trustworthy set of officers and hunt down the Fulgent Impeller - an engine that can efficiently power the most grand of vessels. The clayman also heard of some powerful weapons he might seek out in due time, as if he had any aspiration, it was either to find peace or to hunt the most dangerous of zee-creatures. Whichever came first.

With these careful goals, trade routes were planned and success came in great swathes. His crewmates were helpful, also - bringing in all kind of outsider information as well as some of the stories and information gathered from those who had come before.

The shadow clayman, whilst hunting information of the Fulgent Impeller, happened upon an island named 'Aestival', which had the rarest of resources blasting down upon it. Sunlight. The clayman was said to have stood on that island in awe, overstaying his welcome at the peril of his human crewmates.

Though he never spoke of it, there are some who claim that finding the little island changed the clayman. As if he was reinvigorated. Perhaps, he had just found a new goal in life. Whilst visiting the Grand Geode, there was one who claimed to have overheard the clayman talking about a way of making the island habitable. There also happens to be a book upon the shelves of his quarters that is entitled 'Aestival' - though none have ever seen inside of it.

All this being said, the one thing that is known for sure is that it gave the captain an idea. An idea to go to the surface. Which he did. Many of his human crewmates never made it back alive, whether dying from the harsh sunlight (as direct sun is fatal to us Neath Dwellers), or those who could withstand it were said to have stayed. Nevertheless, it did not affect those clay-crew on board. So with plenty of fuel and supplies, they sought out the surface and traded in Naples to make some money. Few stories have ever reached back to us about Naples. Would that I could say more about the place.

The captain, upon his return was particularly sneaky, however, as it is said, that secretly even to some of his crew, he had filled up a few suntrap boxes of sunlight for some underground dealings in London. This was the financial boost that was necessary to set the Clayman on his path. After some long discussions with engineers, he finally found a man who thought he may be capable of creating the Fulgent Impeller - and thus outlines the resources he would need.

Next on the agenda, then, was to ransom a particular prisoner out of the prison on the lilypads of Wisdom - and it would not be easy...

To Be Continued...
---Howard Sterling, Chronicler of the Fallen London University

Tales from the Sunless Sea - The First Zee Captain

     Deep below the earth of where Queen Victoria's London used to lie, there exists a cavernous ocean named the Unterzee. The Zee there holds many mysteries and dangers, so what draws people here, below the depths, is known only to themselves. For those of us neath-dwellers who were born here already, we have little choice but to make do. Within the Unterzee, riddled with disease and the unknown lurking beneath every ripple, it is ill advised to venture far from what can scarcely be called civilisation. The largest and most prosperous 'civilised' territory inhabiting the Unterzee is that of Fallen London. Life there is not as it is on the surface and it is from this sunken City that all Zee-Captains begin their journey.

     These folk, foolish as they may be, see the Zee as an opportunity. Whether it be for fame, riches, knowledge or some personal quest, there are those who will risk a life at Zee. These folks are known as the Zee Captains and it is I who makes the claim that they ought be remembered, lest their deaths be in vein. Through one cause or another, Zee Captain after Zee Captain find themselves in Fallen London and proceed to venture out; dedicating the rest of their lives to the Zee.

      The first Zee Captain was a philosopher by the name of Ylvanna. She sought knowledge and a life in Fallen London. She was naive. Not much is known of Ylvanna, save some tales of what she found at Zee, but she set forth a path that many were to follow in her wake. Of course, she was not the first, but she was the first of interest. Life in the Unterzee has been going on for many years, there are tales of colonies that sailed the entire Zee and settled far away, there are those who sail and stick to the safest waters for trade, and there are those who have sought isolation on one of the many islands. There are also the pirates and rogues who live off the Zee to varying degrees of success. Ylvanna, though, was the first to actively seek exploration. She was the first to be heard in the stories. She was the first that deserves a name in the history books.

      What follows is the story of Ylvanna to the best of our knowledge.

     Ylvanna set trends on her journey that other captains would follow, such as keeping a journal, working in towns, trading information and setting out with a pet; she had a ferret. She was able to plan how she would survive the Zee, but her naivety was her downfall. Many say she had family on the surface that drove her down below, others claim she was struggling too much as a philosopher on the surface to make a name. Whatever her reasons, her goal, it is said, was to explore, map and discover the Zee and get her research in the history books.

     The course of her journey is little known, though she was seen within the first month gathering information in London, and some of the local colonies. She recruited a first mate very quickly and a gunner soon after. In that first month, all seemed promising. The first of her mistakes was visiting the Hunter's Lodge without invitation. Though she was allowed in and drank tea with the ladies there, her curiosity at how questionable the building was got the better of her she was seen taking multiple return journeys over the next few months. Rumours say she made friends with Phoebe at the Hunter's Lodge. By her third month, she was said to have hunted and collected research on giant crustaceans, bats and ceased the activities of multiple pirate gangs. This was an early mistake, however, as her aggressive activities towards Zee-life caught the attention of the unending anger we call: 'Storm'.

     Her trading consisted mainly with scholars and men willing to tell tales. Over the next two months she began making mistakes. Upon a return visit to Fallen London, she had garnered the attention of an underground group who decided to send her a present for her loyalty. As she had no desire to meddle with such groups, taking the present under the impression that it was purely a generous present was testament to her nativity. Later that same week, she allowed a hermit on an outlier beach island to tell her a story, in the hope she might trade it. The story, however, was more of a hex and when she woke, she woke with stolen rations and coin. The tales she told quickly became tales of madness and fear, tales enough to frighten those in the Iron Republic, south of Fallen London. These were tales she claimed to have gathered from dead folk. Eventually, she struggled to keep the crew of her boat calm in the darker waters.

     There are those who claim to have experienced the change in sanity of Ylvanna's crew over time. An obsessive scholar who had many dealings with Ylvanna for he was a collector of Zee tales stated:

"...when taken port I was excited; my greatly valuable source of new theory material as she was - something was changed. She stank like one of those Northerners. A once-jolly telling-style was replaced with that of a stare over my shoulder and monotone - I was fascinated to see how crazy she could get, so I encouraged her to head out and find me more to learn. Alas, I never saw her again!"

      On her next trip out, trading for information seemed not to pay off when her management of fuel and rations wore thin, so they say. With madness and hunger, sailing became tough. One misjudged trip ran them empty of fuel before they could return to Fallen London the following week or so. There was little to be done. It is told, then, that she did not take long to make a deal with the anger god, Storm. She sacrificed her own crew members in the hope that it may deliver them from imminent demise. Storm answered the call, but not in the way she wanted. She was granted strength to fight, she was granted fortitude of ship, she was not granted fuel nor food. She and all remaining crew abandoned ship.

     Somehow, with scarce many of her crew remaining, she survived and landed afloat near the town around the entrance to the surface. Those there knew who she was and immediately stocked her with a new boat, rations and food only enough so that she may survive the trip back to Fallen London. Favour was on her side and her storytelling benefited her in this. When setting off with too much, stuff however, her ambition is what killed her. Rather than sailing north to Fallen London and safety, she sailed south. Those at the docks claim to have heard her utter something about trading a stolen barrel of salt for prosperity. If this was the case, it was her last mistake. Her boat was found abandoned two weeks later.

     There exists one survivor of her first abandoned vessel, though as a latecomer of the crew they held a crazed demeanor and a lack of willingness to talk openly about her travelling with Ylvanna. What information has been garnered from her is present in the rest of this written here. However, with no other known survivors of her downfall there is little we can do to pry for any more information.

     A week further was the last sight of Ylvanna's existence. A sodden mostly ruined journal tied to a bottle with Ylvanna's map of the Zee bobbed into the harbour of Fallen London. It was found by someone Ylvanna had dealings with, and who went on to become the second Zee Captain...

 --- Howard Sterling, Chronicler Of The Fallen London University

To Be Continued...

Maiden Of The Sea

           To see such a creature right before my eyes filled me with so many feelings. A feeling of shock, of worry and of awe. The gleam of that, who some would name a beast, reflected the sun to look as if to glow. A sight to behold that I'll never forget.

           I never wanted to lose the sight of it. Yet, I never wanted it to catch sight of me. That was the feeling of fear. Fear of what it might do; fear that it may leave and never come back.

                                                                  * * *

           October 12^th, 1814. My sixteenth birthday. I had woken up to a still dark sky. The earliest a morning could be, to me. My uncle was visiting my mother and I at our bungalow by the sea and he had promised to take me beachcombing.

           When he'd first mentioned beachcombing, I'd never understood it. Then he told me of many jobs that involved beachcombing, and I remember laughing so very hard at the term 'winkle-picker'. But I was only a little boy. He said when I was sixteen he would take me out beachcombing with him – as was his hobby – and suddenly, I became obsessed with the idea.

           I loved the sea. I loved the beach. To live so close was something I adored. But I stuck to a promise and never became a 'beachcomber' until my uncle showed me how. Not that I thought there was much to show. My mother agreed, however, that I shouldn't be going to down to the beach alone until I was of a more reasonable age. As a result, I spent most of my time helping my mum with house work and and visiting my friends during these summer holidays.

           When the time finally came round to it, I had my waders ready and bought a pair of gloves that I didn't wear until I needed them. A thick jumper was needed as it was cold before the sun came up. A bag for my findings. All other tools were carried by my uncle, consisting of a shovel a trowel and a rake. I looked at myself in the mirror with my rake, tall boots, jumper and straggly hair. My mother wasn't awake yet, but if she were, she'd have told me I looked just like my late father.

           The reason beachcombing was so important to my uncle was very much unknown to me. I had never realised the difference between fifteen and sixteen. But I trusted him enough, having looked after me and my mum for so many years after my dad passed away. Now it was almost like he was accepting me as an adult. So with bags and pockets-a-plenty, we left the house to the greyish blue sky of pre-sun mornings.

           It was barely ten minutes later to walk around the cliff edge and find our way down to the beach way. We were upwind for most of the journey to smell to strong sea breeze. Our beach was not as fine sand as they have on other beaches, but fine enough for rocks and pebbles to be scattered at distances. I stopped at the edge of the beach, looked up at my uncle and smiled. Speaking above the roar of the sea, he smiled back, wishing me a happy birthday.

           We watched the ground. Looking for something shiny was the best, but anything interesting could be picked up. We made our way systematically across the beach to the edge of the sea and even waded in a little. It wasn't the nicest of days, clouds were heavy but with no threat of rain. My Uncle got out a comb and started scratching the sea with it. I laughed a lot at how silly he looked.

           “What's with you, dear boy? Never seen a man combing the beach before?” He said as dryly as he could and we both shared the moment of laughter. At the time I had thought nothing of it, but out the corner of my eye, what looked like someone popping out of the water caught my attention.

           “Found something, have we?” My uncle asked.

           “Thought I saw something in the water, is all.” Was my reply.

           “Ah, they do have seals around here, my boy. Probably wondering what all the noise was on this morning.” He said as he got up to keep searching.

           I had found a few really nice shells and some drift wood. A vague fishy smell lingered and the tide must have been going out from the darker sand near the shore. We had gotten to a protrusion in the rock of a cliff when there was a little area of sand around the side. Something really made me want to go around there out of pure curiosity.

           “Where are you off?” My uncle exclaimed as I began to wander away from him. I turned.

           “There's a bit around this cliff I would like to search. I don't think I will be long.” I said, as if asking for permission.

           “Well, I wont be able to climb around that, my boy. But I'll be here when you're back. Wouldn't want to stray too far apart.”

           “Okay, thanks.” I smiled and ran to the edge of the rock, climbing round a few pieces that otherwise meant wading into the water up to my chest. After it shallowed I jumped into the sea and found the other bit of land. Then I heard a feather-light humming and peeked around the last piece of rock. There was an alcove beach of richer sand than before and I saw her.

           To see such a creature right before my eyes filled me with so many feelings. A feeling of shock, of worry and of awe. The gleam of she, who some would name a beast, reflected the sun to make her look as if to glow. Simply, she was beautiful.

           I never wanted to lose the sight of her. Yet, I never wanted her to catch sight of me. That was the feeling of fear. Fear of what she might do; fear that she may leave and never come back. She sat, on a rock combing her hair of a tangled mess. And oh what an abundance of hair! It was truly a sight to behold that defied explanation. Her peach coloured skin contrasted against her scaled tail that balanced her around a rock. Flecks of gold, blue, green and silver could be seen to mix a fantastic colour and her voice was soft.

           The shouting waves and cawing gulls seemed to fade into silence. She didn't draw me towards her, but I could not take my eyes away. I had never known these creatures were to exist. Suddenly, she jolted upright and sniffed the air as if she'd caught a scent and her eyes reflected every ounce of fear she owned. Immediately, I thought she had smelt me. I panicked and ran back, I ran around the cliffs splashing cloves of seawater into my mouth and almost tripping on a sea-weed that kept upon my foot. My uncle looked so surprised as my apparent worry spread through him.

           “What is it, what?” He shouted as he took my shoulder in his hand trying to steady me and my darting gaze.

           “I saw this wonderful, thing, uncle. It had a tail and I think it saw me watching it and... and...” As I was saying this I saw my uncle relax and I knew he had no idea. I would not be able to make him believe what I saw as I could not explain it. Something made me keep what I had seen to myself.

           “Boy, seals are nothing to be worried about. They could give you a nasty bite but keeping your distance is wise at any cost. Really gave me a fright, you did!” My uncle tried to calm me. We carried on roaming the sand for another hour with this wonder lingering in my head. My uncle tried to explain to me why he was so worried about me going off on my own.

           “How old were you when your father passed away? Do you remember anything of him?” He asked me. Of which I was only four so had no true memory. “On the day he went missing, he went off to the beach on his own. Wouldn’t tell anyone why, but it was often he decided to go on his own. One day, like in some fairy tale, he never returned.”

           I hadn't said much in reply, but I had never heard this story before. I wondered if what I had seen was the same thing that took my dad, and if searching for something of my father's was why my uncle beachcombed. I was crossed between allure and fear. Walking back into the warmth of home, I hadn't realised how cold I was. After a meal with my mother she had scraped the money together for; a few games and smiles from people at the local village followed and I went to bed. With a present in my mind the likes I couldn't have dreamed.

                                                                  * * *

           Despite a yearning to re-visit her as soon as possible, my uncle didn't leave town again for another three days. I knew he wouldn't let me go alone. So I waited and spent my time with him while he was with us. He was riding to Bristol docks eventually, so wouldn't be back again for a long time.

           Going against his wishes did make me feel bad but, as soon as he left, I went down to the beach. I told my mother that I was going to see some friends in the village and she gave me the usual worried look that she gives whenever I leave home on my own. Times were dangerous, but living so far out of town felt safer than roaming streets at night. Either way, I went out to the beach to find this woman of the sea and after an hour of searching one side of the beach to the other, she was no longer there. I slumped down to the sand in dismay. Of course she wasn't there. Was I expecting her to sit on the rock forever and always be there when I went back? It was a ridicules idea.

           Shifting over to move something uncomfortable from under my bum, I pulled a comb from the ground. It looked just like my uncles comb that we had laughed about the time before. I figured he must have dropped it, so I put it in my pocket and went home.

           It wasn't until I was nearly home and fingering the comb in my pocket that what I had seen sprang to my memory. My uncle had mistaken what I had seen for a seal, but what if it wasn't? What if that was the maiden just then? She must have known we were there. I figured maybe she heard our laughter and come to see what the noise was. I decided there was enough light time left for me to get back down to the beach so I ran to my heart's content in the hope that I could see this creature once again, though not without fear that it might see me. I had no choice.

           I found the spot where we were. I shouted, laughed and thumped as loud as I could and generally caused a disturbance among the sand, kicking up all kinds of smells; covering my boots in wet sand. When I didn't see anything popping up, I realised I should head back before it got dark. Just as I turned around, I dropped the comb I was twiddling and it made a minor splash amongst the incoming tide.

           Bending down to pick up the comb, I saw something move in the corner of my eye, though before I could double take, nothing could be seen. I stayed staring a little longer to no prevail and needed to return home. It was only then when I considered that a comb touching the water might have been the link.

           I decided to leave as it didn't seem like I had much of a chance of seeing anything. But it was as I was walking past another indent in the rock that I heard the beautiful humming. And peering around the corner, her skin gleamed as much as her tail did. This time I really looked at her and, again, it is nothing I can explain to look at. From her nose to her breasts to just below the navel looked so much like the most wonderful human and yet, the tail that clearly held so much power lingered on her lower half.

           I can honestly say at this point that despite the nakedness, there was not a drop of lust. I just wanted to be around her. To look at her. To meet her. A little too much after dark, I got home though the window and pretended I had come home sooner without my mother noticing.

                                                                  * * *

           To make myself feel better about lying, and without giving the reasons why, I worried my mother by telling her I was going to the beach. Considering what I had seen on the previous day, I didn't think it would be worth my not trying at least a second, or third time. So I picked the most tattered looking comb from the bathroom. One that almost looked like it was designed to have needless spines, so it didn't matter that it was missing or lost. Then I headed to the beach.

           This time, I seemed to care less if it saw me, I don't know why but I seemed to trust it. And so I didn't want to miss it's initial bump in the water. I sat directly at the edge of the tide, holding the ruined comb. Dipping it into the water, I combed the tiny waves three times and stared out to as much horizon as possible.

           What splashed up out of the waves was definitely not shy, as a whip of jet black hair sprouted a fountain of water into the air that took a while to settle. Even from so far out I could feel it staring directly into me. The eyes covered darker than the hair on it's head and made a direct contrast from how bone white it's skin was. This thing was much thinner and definitely not the same creature I had seen twice before.

           What startled me more was the sharp teeth that darted my way, the speed it seemed to be swimming out-distanced any fish and before I knew it, it was ascending out of the waves covered in spines both pale and dark jutting from her shoulders and spread down her spine. Her fingers were webbed and tail was as dark as her hair. She used her arms to crawl out of the water which slowed her significantly. I was stuck, frozen on the spot, in absolute fear into the depths of my marrow. I had no idea what this thing was or what I had done.

           She loomed over towards me, span from head to tail must have reached eight feet as her size was overwhelming for something so bony and thin. Her chin was extended to fit her needle sharp teeth. As she got closer I could do nothing but stare into the endless black eyes of hers. She grabbed my foot and dragged me underneath her and unhinged her mouth to make somewhere in between a screech and a hiss. She looked as if to take a maul of flesh out of my face. I stared into the mawing abyss.

           What felt most strange was that beyond the stench of fish was her natural smell that was not at all unpleasant.

           Mouth agape I could see so close the cilia lining her mouth, a slimy drip slid from her chin to my nose, proceeding to drip onto my face and as a reflex I shut my eyes tight. The next thing I knew was a thump above me and I felt less enclosed. Looking across the beach, there was the maiden I had intended to find pinning this creature to the ground with one hand and the other scratching away at it's neck and torso. The screeching was sure to be heard for a long distance as they fought on the sand. Blows were shared, and the creature seemed to have the upper hand on the maiden. Using her spines as defence and to stick into the maiden with her shoulder impacting in her ribs. She spat a kind of black ink into her pretty face and begun to extend her jaw again.

           The maiden reached out a hand and tore at the creature's lower jaw, making it hang – fully dislocated. Stunned, the pale and black creature was overwhelmed by the tail of the maiden who slammed her onto the ground. The maiden leapt up with surprising speed upon land over to me.

           I could not move, still, out of confusion and fear. The maiden was halted, dead in the sand, by the pale skinned creature digging it's sharp tipped fingers deep into the middle of her tail, tearing out a deep bloody mess. The maiden used the strength of her tail to retaliate and seemingly break something in the creature's torso enough to make her flee.

           Grabbing the spiked comb from my grasp, that had dug into my hand enough to draw blood.

           “Where did you get this?!” she hissed at me. Too frightened to speak I shook my head vigorously as if an acceptable answer. She paused, looking deep into my eyes, down my nose, to my mouth and chin. She looked as though she recognised me. She swept her hair to one side, revealing a medallion she was using as a piece of jewellery and removed it, placing it in my hand, closing my fingers around it.

           “This belongs to you. Never comb the sea again, understand? I might not be around next time if you call the wrong of us.” She calmed her voice. Her accent was implacable, soft and nice to hear as if she spoke with guttural emphasis from the back of the throat.

           “W... What are y... you?” I blubbered, feeling as if I wasn't inside my own body but a spectator for the whole event.

           “That's a rude question, human.” She grinned a wide grin, losing some of her own humanity. “You're just like your father was. We are mermaids as you are human.”

           “M... My father?” I struggled to ask.

           “Do you have my comb?” was the only reply. Harsh, but beautiful. Feeling all my pockets, in the back pocket I found I did have the comb from the previous day still there. I must have sat on it while calling the other mermaid and summoned both. I handed it towards her, my hand still trembling. She took it carefully and eyed me intently.

           “Thank you. For this, I shall grant you one wish. But then I must tend to my wound, and you shall never see me again.” she paused and waited for my quivering mess to think about what had been offered.

           “W.. Well then I wish to see you again. Once a year, I wish to hear your song.” I said. She looked at me for a few seconds as if considering this. She looked me in the eye and nodded once. Pressing my forehead with her lips, she kissed life into my wish.

           “Brave wish for such a cowardly being. You shall not see me, though you will hear my song on this day once a year. Pick up this shell and hold it to your ear, for at this action, you and only you will hear my voice.” With that, she proceeded to lift a shell from the sand, spiralling and pink, holding it to her mouth she sung loud and true for over an hour. This time had calmed me significantly. “Now avoid the sea for a long while, human boy. A summoned Mermaid can lurk at the shores for days.”

           Before I could say anything, she handed me the shell and turned, dragging her weakened tail into the sea with her. The blood did not mix with the water but the cut seemed to disappear instantly. I looked at the shell and slowly dragged myself home.

                                                                  * * *

           Walking through the door, which felt more welcoming than ever before, I was greeted by my mother as white as a sheet. Seeming like she'd seen a spectre of some kind, I noticed her eyes beaming at the medallion I had worn all of the way home. I told her I had found it on the beach and she told me more about my father. I listened carefully and she shed a tear, holding the medallion to her heart. She peered towards my hands where I was cradling the shell.

           “What's that?” She quizzed, casually. I held it up.

           “Just something I wanted to keep.” I lied “Nothing special.”

           Shooting her a grin of sentiment. I put my arm around my mother as we sat.