Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 12: The Tollmaster Harlequins

This is the twelfth part of a solo, narrative campaign within the Ultraviolet Grasslands RPG setting, created by Luka Rejec. The text is edited together based on outputs generated by Sudowrite,

Karnelia di'Orca is a tall and slender figure, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She wears a flowing red robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery, and carries a staff topped with a blood-red crystal. A single black vertebra is visible at the base of her neck, marking her as a member of the secretive wine vampire order.

Jalosti i'Grati is a short and stocky purple-skinned young wizard, with a wild mane of hair and a bushy beard. He wears a flowing purple robe, and rides a machine horse that shimmers with shades of rust and metal. In his hand, he holds a staff of polished black wood, etched with arcane symbols.

Arcia Bodizie is a rugged and weather-beaten Safranjina, with a scar running down her cheek and a patch over one eye. She is dressed in a patchwork of scavenged clothing, with a long, flowing coat of dark blue and a bandana tied around her head. She carries a curved sword at her side, a sign of her status as an exiled pirate. A small furry mutant vole sits perched on her shoulder, giggling at anyone who pets it.

Soundtrack: 'She is So', Sky Valley Mistress.

Chapter 20

The adventurers stepped off their boats and onto the pylon outpost; a strange and wondrous sight greeted them. The outpost was made from several large, white livingstone towers, connected by complex webs of girders and struts. A thin layer of mist hung in the air, obscuring much of what lay within its walls. A small group of harlequin-clad figures stood at each tower's entrance, staring out at the adventurers with curious eyes.

At the center of it all was the an enormous door hewn from ebony black metal that reached up as high as five tall men could stack upon one another's shoulders. A face seemed to be carved into the metal, and its expression was solemn yet menacing. Powerful magical energies radiated from the door like waves, allowing no entrance without its permission. 

"Welcome weary travelers. I am Tollmaster Door, guardian of this place. Present your purpose for entering these gates and pay the customary toll for the inconvenience of rescuing you from the Moon River."

"We seek respite and supplies, Tollmaster Door," Karnelia di'Orca spoke with a strong yet gentle voice. "We thank you in advance for your hospitality."

Tollmaster Door slowly nodded its head before speaking. "You may enter, but only after paying the toll of five hundred cash pieces." The adventurers groaned, as this was the last of their funds, but eying the band of Harlequins encircling them, reluctantly agreed and handed over the required payment. With a loud clank the heavy doors opened, revealing a set of livingstone stairs carved into a central pylon.

The adventurers cautiously climbed the stairs, and upon reaching the top, were met with a breathtaking view of the river below. The entrance to the outpost opened up to a wide platform, spanning almost one hundred feet in diameter, buttressed by the pylons below. The platform creaked from the weight of the driftwood buildings layered atop one another, forming a chaotic skyline of ragtag balconies and precarious bridges woven through the air. A latticework of rope bridges hung between the buildings, from which an assemblage of people traversed—an array of porters, tinkers, and Harlequins weaving through the jostling throng. Above their heads, flags of all stripes flapped in the breeze, marking this precarious outpost as a beacon of hope for those willing to take chances.

In the distance to the West they could see the Near Moon hanging in the air, glowing dark orange as the sun set on the horizon beyond it. 

At the center of the platform stood a lone figure, dressed in aquamarine robes, her fingers gently pulling the strings of the marionette dangling between her hands so that it performed a complex dance of welcome. 

"Greetings travelers," spoke the figure with her ethereal voice. "Welcome to Pylon Post Seven; I am Tollmaster Sister, seneschal of this outpost. What brings you here?" 

Still bedraggled and tired from being near-drowned by the flash flood, the trio of adventures looked at each other. After a pause, Arcia stepped forward on behalf of the group."We are searching for a way across the Moon River and the grasslands beyond, Tollmaster Sister. It seems like there may be a few here that can help us."

Tollmaster Sister seemed to consider this for several seconds before gently smiling and bowing her head in agreement. 

"Yes, my friends," she said, lifting up her hands once more, her marionette performing a pantomime of adventure. 

 "Such brave souls no doubt deserve all the help they can find at Pylon Post Seven. Rest yourselves whilst I consult with my guild-mates to determine how we shall aid your cause."

With that, Tollmaster Sister ushered the adventurers inside one of the many buildings of the platform, her marionette pointing them inside a driftwood bothy. The interior was cramped yet comfortable; there were sleeping bunks spread between tables and shelves cluttered with wares and trinkets left behind by weary travellers who have passed through this place. As they settled in to take rest, Arcia found a collection of ancient books tucked away under one bunk which told tales of incredible power and courage—stories from another era long gone but made new again within these walls.

The adventurers awoke the next morning, refreshed and ready to face the day. As they emerged from their restful sleep they were met by a sight of bustling activity; merchants had begun to barter on the platform, each one eager to trade for their lophotroche sugar. The group were quickly about to replenish their supplies, with a tidy profit on top.

As Arcia surveyed the array of items before her, she made a comment to Jalosti. "It seems like we've found a small slice of wonder in this strange port."

"Indeed," the student wizard replied with a smile, "This is quite a wondrous place on its own accord. It almost makes the near-drowning worth it!" He was still a little worried about rust affecting his mechanical horse.

Just then, they heard a sharp tinkling in the air—the music of Tollmaster Sister's bell studded dress as she emerged from behind one of the buildings. Her marionette danced merrily to a waltz of its own making. As if on cue, everyone around them moved to attention and made way for her.

She strode gracefully towards Arcia and bowed in acknowledgment before gesturing to the river below and beyond Pylon Post Seven's perimeter. "I have consulted with some of our most skillful Harlequin guides," she spoke softly yet confidently; "in view of the unseasonably rapid currents, they think it best we send you off when conditions are ideal." The group listened intently—was this post-organic Redlander about to show them a miracle?

She then stepped closer to them, her voice becoming softer in tone. "I must warn you though – do not underestimate what lies beyond; tales of visitors from the stars linger around these parts so always stay vigilant." 

"We thank you, Tollmaster sister", responded Arcia. She had found the Harlequins and other inhabitants of the outpost agreeable, freewheeling yet dignified, reminding her of the Rainbow Sea pirate companies she knew so well, more than a thousand wayhours away to the East. "We'll be sure to keep your counsel with us on our journey across."

"Farewell, my friends", the post-organic Redlander said. She pulled a curtsy as her marionette bowed in turn to salute them. She turned away from the group to address her Harlequin guides one last time. "May these brave strangers find their way home safe!", she called out, bidding them a fond farewell.

With one last look at the magnificent vista from the platform, the group gathered their supplies and made ready to leave. They made their way down the livingstone staircase and led their horses to the shoreline of the outpost. The flamboyant warrior-guides of the Pylon advised them to wait a few hours until the flood finally subsided.

The Harlequins had judged well well — by midmorning, the current was beginning to slow until it became manageable enough for even Jalosti’s awkward, cantankerous - but thankfully not entirely rusted - mechanical horse. They were all determined now as they led their horses and embarked across this sweeping river – but none so more than Arcia who knew she could not turn back from entering what comes next.

The group sloshed through the waist-deep, chilly water of the second half of the Moon River, careful to keep their balance on the rocky riverbed. There was a collective shiver that ran down their spines as they felt the icy water lapping at their skin. The river seemed to be alive with malicious intent, pushing them towards danger and forcing them to fight against its might. They could feel the pull of the current growing stronger as they approached the far side.  After a few slips and falls, as well as a few worrying moments when the current grew stronger, they eventually made it to the West bank - drenched, battered, but undaunted.

As they clambered onto the shore, soaked and shivering, Jalosti couldn't help but let out a victorious cheer. "We did it!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air, "we beat that treacherous river!"

The others groaned in response, their breaths turning to fog in the frigid air. But deep down, they all shared a sense of satisfaction at having overcome yet another obstacle on their journey towards an uncertain future.

In the distance, low on the horizon, the Near Moon glowed brilliant white in the late morning sun.

Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 11: Bloodworms and the Moon River

This is the eleventh part of a solo, narrative campaign within the Ultraviolet Grasslands RPG setting, created by Luka Rejec. The text is edited together based on outputs generated by Sudowrite,

Karnelia di'Orca is a tall and slender figure, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She wears a flowing red robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery, and carries a staff topped with a blood-red crystal. A single black vertebra is visible at the base of her neck, marking her as a member of the secretive wine vampire order.

Jalosti i'Grati is a short and stocky purple-skinned young wizard, with a wild mane of hair and a bushy beard. He wears a flowing purple robe, and rides a machine horse that shimmers with shades of rust and metal. In his hand, he holds a staff of polished black wood, etched with arcane symbols.

Arcia Bodizie is a rugged and weather-beaten Safranjina, with a scar running down her cheek and a patch over one eye. She is dressed in a patchwork of scavenged clothing, with a long, flowing coat of dark blue and a bandana tied around her head. She carries a curved sword at her side, a sign of her status as an exiled pirate. A small furry mutant vole sits perched on her shoulder, giggling at anyone who pets it.

Soundtrack: 'A Cold Embrace', Black Tusk.

Chapter 19

Standing near to the crimson skeleton of the great red rock a day later, Jalosti observed Karnelia as the biomechanical bloodworms writhed around her outstretched arms.

 

The worms moved like extensions of Karnelia's own body, with each creature following the rise and fall of her breath. Wherever she looked or moved her hands through the air, they would writhe rhythmically in response.

 

Jalosti was filled with awe at Karnelia's skill to be able to summon these creatures from out among the bloodied grasses here in the distant west. As he watched from a safe distance, Jalosti surmised that it must be her wine vampire powers combined with the strange affinity she had developed for the stone markers that allowed her such control of the creatures. Despite his fascination with biomancy, his caution was greater. Perhaps it was best not to inquire too deeply just now...

 

Arcia, who had been guarding their perimeter, approached Jalosti with a casual shrug. "What's she doing now?" she asked, her curiosity plain.

 

Jalosti turned to Arcia, his eyes wide with wonder. "She's controlling the bloodworms," he said in awe.

 

Arcia walked over to Karnelia, her hand hovering over her sword hilt.

 

"What is the point of all this?" she asked the wine vampire in a gruff voice.

 

"The magnetic worms were harnessed by the Heart of Gold Blood Cult. They enhance blood magic. I can feel every pulse of every blood vessel in every organism for miles" explained Karnelia, a strange intensity in her eyes.

 

Arcia had always respected the vampire priestess's power, but never before had she seen her as confident and self-assured.

 

"It is time for us to continue onward," she said in a calm but determined tone. The group set off westwards once more, Arcia and Jalosti leading their mounts with Karnelia walking ahead towards towering spires green pine visible on the horizon. Karnelia's magical control over the creatures was undiminished as she and her companions continued across the steppe.

 

The pine forest in the distance beckoned, but it also brought with it a sense of unease that none of them could quite name. When they came upon a gigantic lophotroche shell - an ancient organism similar to a cuttlefish - some began to feel fear rather than awe at its grandeur, for who knew what mysteries lurked within such depths?

 

The lophotroche shell was the size of a citadel, coated in mosses and fungi that grew over its weathered surface. Gnarled and twisted lumen pines crept up its sides as if searching for a way inside. Wisps of ghostly fog hung low to the ground, like an ominous warning from beyond the veil of death itself. The air around it smelled of loamy earth yet strangely sweet. A mournful noise, like the toll of a bell, rang out from within the shell.

 

Arcia motioned to the others to be silent, as she slowly crept ahead in order to investigate. Her eyes lit up with surprise when a group of figures dressed in flowing robes emerged from the shell. More strangely still, each pair of figures carried a heavy pinewood tun between them.

 

 

The leader among them spoke first: "Greetings travelers! Are you here looking for sustenance? Sugars we specialize in... the sweetest you shall ever taste".

 

The group stared at her confoundedly before pulling themselves together enough to respond "Yes indeed!" Karnelia stepped forward boldly ready o haggle with the sugar-sellers. She asked a dozen questions hoping to gain some insight into who these strange figures were, and from where their sweet sugars had come from.

 

After much back and forth discussion between Karnelia and the mysterious figures, Karnelia's eyes widened in shock as they revealed their true identity. "We are not mere merchants of sweets," one of them spoke, "but rather escaped polybody rebels. We live as one with the Great Creature inside the shell". Although they had escaped from the Porcelain Princes, their glandular links were still active. Together they formed a collective entity in semi-unity with one another, living in symbiosis with the lophotroche.  Arcia, Jalosti and Karnelia were no friends of the Porcelain Princes, and they felt sympathetic with the pine-dwelling symbiotes.

 

The polybody sugar specialists were keen to make a deal, offering various types of sugary treats from inside the giant leviathan's flesh!

 

Realising that the confectionaries could fetch a high price further west, Arcia exclaimed "Let's scrape together what little money we have left and buy the sacks of pink sherbet". Karnelia raised an eyebrow at Arcia's sudden enthusiasm for sugary sweets, but she saw the glint in Arcia's eye and knew better than to question it. They pooled their remaining coins and made the trade with the polybody rebels.

 

After the trade was complete, Jalosti looked around at the group and chuckled. "Who would have thought that we would be trading with symbiotic rebels living inside a giant cuttlefish shell in the middle of nowhere?" he said wryly.

 

With their new supplies in tow, the group continued their journey westward past the spires of green pine. Karnelia retained her strange attunement with the landscape, and they  journeyed unharmed for another week through the ghost grass, passing the foothills of the Behemoth Chaos to the south and Old Turalia to their north, a great expanse of dead white trees beneath the cold, bright skies.

 

Finally they arrived within sight of the Pylon Heights and the Moon River. The river, glinting like silver coins in soft ripples, could be seen darting through gorges beneath fields of majestic citrus mallow. High above them towered dozens upon dozens of strange structures built from crumbling dryland coral, reaching up into a distant sky like some kind of ancient mechanical forest.

 

"Pylons from some kind of bridge," surmised Jalosti.

 

Karnelia, who was often lost in her own head when it came to the domain of possibilities and cosmic entities, felt a tingle up her spine.

 

"The bridge is long gone now," mused Arcia. "We'll have to ford the river".

 

Jalosti nodded. "Yes, but first we shall have to find a safe passage". He searched the horizon for signs of life other than their own. All was quiet in this place between the worlds - nothing stirs save for the slow stars high above and those creatures who remain hidden from sight in dark depths beneath. But there... there on a half-crumbled pylon in the middle of the great wide river there seemed to be movement and activity.

 

He motioned to Arcia, who took out her pirate spyglass. "Looks like a settlement or outpost in the middle of the river," she confirmed.

 

 Karnelia frowned, "Let's go have a closer look - but be on guard. Traveler's tales tell of river full of dangerous creatures."

 

The group cautiously made their way towards the edge of the river. As they got closer they glimpsed the top of the Near Moon on the horizon - and gasped. The cratered planetoid rose incongruously from the plain beyond the river, the sunlight of the dying day casting it red.

 

Their enjoyment of the sight was interrupted by a rustling in the reeds nearby. Yellow-eyed dire water rats had been stalking them, and their sharp claws were now ready to pounce. The heroes steeled themselves for battle, drawing swords and staves as they faced off against these fierce predators.

 

Arcia leaped forward with her cutlass, slicing into the body of a rat as it leaped at her. Jalosti's voice rose above the chaos as he spoke the incantation for Swifferack's Burning Conflagration, setting a group of rats on fire with a burst of flames. He raised his hands higher and the flames grew larger,  consuming the dire rats in a fiery inferno.  Karnelia summoned forth her blood magic, amplified by her bonded blood worms. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her hands shaking as the blood worms shot out from her body like crimson rays of light. A cacophony of screams arose as the dire rats succumbed to their fate, their flesh boiling and liquifying before the ravenous blood worms devoured their corpses.

 

The power of their combined might was enough to drive off their attackers, but not before Arcia had been bitten on the arm by one of them – leaving a single deep wounds trailing bright crimson drops onto the muddy riverbank.

 

"Arcia – how are you doing?" asked Karnelia.

 

"I'll... be fine," she whispered back weakly. Groaning in pain, she leaned against Karnelia with Karnelia wrapping arm around her waist to support her weight.

 

"We must get across the river," Jalosti declared.

 

The three started to ford the river, carefully holding each other steady and guiding their mounts across the chilly waters - Arcia wincing from her wound as she shuffled ever closer to safety. As they entered, cool mud squished between their toes and tiny fish darted between Jalosti's legs. With each step, the river revealed its secrets: from giant freshwater mussels sleeping in silty depths to lazy eels remembering stories of past travelers gliding through foggy waters. The sky above seemed to stretch out forever as if eternity lived at the horizon.

 

Jalosti stole a glance back at his mechanical horse, anxiously wondering if the old thing could handle the journey ahead. His stomach twisted as he imagined it rusting due to the waters or malfunctioning and costing them their lives.

 

Without warning, the waters began to surge, rushing at them from upriver like thunder worms.

 

"Hold on to me, Arcia!" cried Jalosti, bracing himself against being swept away by the torrent.

 

The horses started to panic, and one of the sacks of the precious sherbet came loose - swept away on the waves. Karnelia grabbed tightly onto the manes of their horses, desperately trying to keep them from being swept away too. The others clung onto her and held each other close as the vast waters surged and threatened to sweep them away with its immense power.

 

Her mind raced, searching for a solution to their seemingly impossible situation. Suddenly, the waters parted and a group of harlequin rowboats appeared from the fog - each one with strange painted faces and wild jester robes – could it be? They were here to help!

 

One of them shouted out "Come! Our boats will save you from the river's treachery!"

 

The heroes heaved a collective sigh of relief as they scrambled onto the boats, eager to get away from the treacherous waters. Harlequins reached out to seize the reigns of the horses, helping the animals swim to safety.

 

The Harlequins skillfully evaded the raging waters until eventually one by one each boat was safely docked at a pontoon underneath the pylon outpost they had spotted from the shore.

 

They were wet, exhausted and in the debt of the flamboyant Moon River sailors who had saved them - but at least they were alive.

Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 10

This is the tenth part of a solo, narrative campaign within the Ultraviolet Grasslands RPG setting, created by Luka Rejec. The text is edited together based on outputs generated by Sudowrite,

Karnelia di'Orca is a tall and slender figure, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She wears a flowing red robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery, and carries a staff topped with a blood-red crystal. A single black vertebra is visible at the base of her neck, marking her as a member of the secretive wine vampire order.

Jalosti i'Grati is a short and stocky purple-skinned young wizard, with a wild mane of hair and a bushy beard. He wears a flowing purple robe, and rides a machine horse that shimmers with shades of rust and metal. In his hand, he holds a staff of polished black wood, etched with arcane symbols.

Arcia Bodizie is a rugged and weather-beaten Safranjina, with a scar running down her cheek and a patch over one eye. She is dressed in a patchwork of scavenged clothing, with a long, flowing coat of dark blue and a bandana tied around her head. She carries a curved sword at her side, a sign of her status as an exiled pirate. A small furry mutant vole sits perched on her shoulder, giggling at anyone who pets it.

Soundtrack: 'Goodbye Gemini', Blood Ceremony.

Chapter 18 

Karnelia, Jalosti and Arcia continued on across the steppe, making good time as they rode their steeds. The Vale River below them on their left-hand side was now little more than a stream. The ridge flattened out  into a vast plain of white grass that stretched as far as the eye could see.

 

The trio noticed a strange herd of dark animals grazing some distance away. These creatures were ghost gazelles - tall, thin animals with pure black coats and long horns that curved like scythes.

 

"The ghost gazelles are said to be living spirits," explained Jalosti.

 

Karnelia nodded her head in agreement. Some post-theologians believed that the fabled gazelles were  spirits which had escaped from some other realm.

 

"Be careful," she warned. "They can be dangerous if provoked."

 

The heroes were cautious as they approached the herd of gazelles, but their presence did not seem to disturb them at all. The animals simply watched them with luminous yellow eyes, unafraid and unconcerned. After a few minutes, they turned away and continued grazing peacefully on the white grasslands.

 

In the distance, they could see the Cedar Shaded Hills and the distant South Facing Passage to the land of the behemoths. After debating possible routes, they continued west. Here, the landscape appeared even more surreal - on the horizon they could glimpse the fabled Luminous Pines, and on the plain before them were dotted great stone markers, dozens of strides wide.

 

The walked through the grazing lands of steppe ostrichians, which ran through the grasses in great flocks. These majestic birds were like nothing they had ever seen before; their long necks and curved beaks were perfect and graceful. As they passed by, the swift-birds cast curious glances at the travellers before continuing on their way.

 

Without any shelter, the trio camped on the open plain. In the morning, in the dawn light, they awoke to discover that Jalosti's mechanical horse had been set upon by biomechanical serpents - small, swift creatures of metal and flesh. Jalosti's rusting steed reared in terror and bolted away from the advancing hunter-killers. The heroes clashed swords and staves against the writhing, mass of the earth-dwelling snakes. Sweat streamed down their faces as they parried and thrust, muscles quivering with fatigue.

 

It was then that Arcia remembered ancient pirate chants her grandmother had passed down to her. It was an ancient power, a secret passed down through the generations of seafaring Safranjinas. She stood tall and proud, and called out in a voice that echoed across the plains. Her words were a powerful incantation, summoning a brilliant light from her sword which burned away the biomechanical serpents like kindling until all that remained were charred cinders on the red grass.

 

Jalosti smiled in awe as he watched Arcia's display of power. "You have a gift for the arcane," he said, admiration evident in his voice.

 

As they continued across the steppe, the adventurers noticed a new ecosystem taking shape among the grasslands - from small burrowing creatures to strange half-plant hybrids sprouting from the ground itself. With each new discovery, Jalosti marveled at the sheer diversity of life he encountered in this foreign wilderness.

 

Finally, at the edge of the white grasslands, they came across a large stone marker - smooth and slippery in appearance,rising a foot above the soil, and five hundred paces across. Far from any civilization, it appeared to have been carved out of solid rock.

 

"It must be from an ancient people," Arcia said in awe. "Look at the detail."

 

The entire surface shifted in curiously fractal serpent patterns of chocolate and amber. Arcia's compass swirled madly then pointed itself towards the stone as if beckoning them onward into this unknown land.

 

At the stone marker was a camp of scavenger outcasts, shrouded in gray hoods and robes. Their skin was translucent, with dark veins running like rivers beneath its surface. These were the further nomads - travelers who had decided to live their lives away from cities, civilizations, and even other nomads.

 

The nomads eyed the travelers warily from beneath the shadows of their hoods. They spoke in hushed voices to one another but did not approach or offer any greeting or hospitality. Karnelia stepped forward and bowed her head respectfully; she wanted to show that they meant no harm.

 

After a long pause, the strangers held up their hands in a gesture of peace, and the heroes took this as an invitation to enter the camp.

 

The camp was made up of many tents and ramshackle dwellings that had been constructed out of driftwood, animal hides and scavenged materials.

 

At close quarters, the heroes saw that the outcast further nomads' skin glowed faintly and that their veins seemed to move and swim under the surface like snakes. Their eyes were large and almond-shaped; when they blinked, their pupils reflected a bright turquoise hue back at them in the fading evening light.

 

They carried strange tools and weapons made of stone and bone; blades fashioned from ancient fossilized teeth and staffs adorned with tiny bones.

 

They were wary of strangers but curious about these adventurers who had so unexpectedly crossed into their realm.

 

Karnelia narrowed her gaze and studied the group of nomads. They were peculiar, in ways that spoke of generations of adaptation to the harsh environment of the steppe. She knew they would not easy to talk to; they were a closed-off people who had chosen to live away from civilization and instead survive out in nature. It seemed clear to her that the ornate stone marker was of some significance to the lost wanderers, likely sacred or full of great power. Whatever had created such a remarkable sight must have been more ancient and powerful than she had ever imagined possible.

 

Karnelia stepped forward again and attempted to communicate through the smattering of Sunsettish and Satrap Canto that she knew. The outcasts stared at her with wide eyes, not sure what to make of this strange dark-haired, pink-skinned girl who spoke so strangely. Karnelia sensed that they were wary of her presence and felt a sense of unease rise within her. She was unsure if they would permit her to get close enough to the stone marker to touch it or inspect its carvings more closely.

 

After several minutes, Karnelia noticed one of the outcasts - an elder man with silver hair and wrinkles running deep into his skin - walk towards the marker and trace its patterns with his fingers. He motioned to Karnelia to do likewise. Jalosti started as if he was going to shout a warning to Karnelia, but then stopped himself. Warriors of the scavenger outcasts stood by, taciturn.

 

Karnelia stepped forward and ran her fingers across the stone's mysterious patterns, feeling thrumming energy travel through her arm and into her soul - it was something ancient and powerful. Karnelia immediately felt connected to this place - as if the ages that had passed since this marker was left here had only been moments.

 

She thought of all that must have transpired in those many years: battles fought, cities raised and civilizations destroyed in the blink of an eye. The power of this stone had endured through all of it, pulsing with life - with a knowledge of days gone by and a promise of days yet to come.

 

Arcia's gaze fixed on Karnelia as she touched the amber and earth-coloured stone. Her eyes glazed over and her face settled into an expression of serenity. Minutes dragged on until finally, Karnelia's eyes fluttered and her trance broke. She spoke slowly and carefully, but with a newfound clarity, as if a veil had been removed and she had been enlightened with a truth that Arcia couldn't comprehend. "I feel the sway of the grass," she said.

 

Karnelia then walked away from the stone marker, as if in a dream, and towards a guest-tent. Her companions watched in respectful silence as she made her way to her bed and lay down to sleep.

 

That night was filled with dreams for Karnelia. She saw images of the fractal serpent patterns of the stone and the swaying white grass of the steppe, high above them the stars burning like gems against a velvet sky. She felt power radiating around her, and a sense that she was not just witnessing these visions but actually partaking in them - as though this moment was stretching out forever and she had joined some ancient tapestry of thought and memory.

 

***

 

As purple daybreak stole its way across the landscape, they bade their farewells to the scavenger outcasts.

 

With time and distance between them and the camp, Karnelia realised she had developed a deep awareness of the white grass steppe which seemed to encompass her entirely. She felt like an integral part of something greater - as if she belonged to this land and that it belonged to her too. She could feel its subtle shifting of air and earth, the living pulse of the grassland.

 

As they traveled further, a strange murmuring filled the sky. Looking up, Karnelia saw swarms of delicate mayflies performing some kind of aerial ritual, swirling and dipping in unison. Cloud of starlings were hunting them, diving into the swarm to feast. Distant mountains glistened in the early morning light, snow-capped against a deep blue sky. Karnelia could feel time slowly slipping away as she watched from horseback the beautiful spectacle unfolding before her eyes.

 

The other two adventurers looked at each other with concern.

 

"Karnelia, are you well?" Arcia asked.

 

Karnelia seemed to take a moment to register the question, but then turned to Arcia and smiled reassuringly. "I am doing fine," she said, pointing towards a distant red stone marker in the distance, "That is our next destination."

 

After another hour of travel, the trio approached the red stone marker, which jutted out from a sea of burgundy grass. Its dryland coral skeleton was an intricately wound maze, with vibrant red rock formations that seemed to glisten like bloodied bones.

 

Karnelia dismounted her steed and walked towards the stone marker. She knew that its power had been enhanced through centuries of ritualistic use. Karnelia raised her hands, placing them against the gore-coloured coral. She opened her mind and heart to receive what this new land had to offer.

 

The stone marker began to pulse and hum like a beating heart. She felt a connection to the creators of the stone, the horrifying yet beautiful sonic cult, Heart of Gold Blood. She felt the fierce power of the stone, its call to action reverberating throughout her mind and soul.

 

With deep appreciation, Karnelia knelt in front of the stone marker and bowed three times to ancient gods who had granted them this gift. "Oh Spirits divine, bring sustenance and succor."

 

Jalosti, who had been watching with awe, stepped forward to Karnelia's side.

 

"What will we do now, Karnelia?" he asked.

 

Karnelia smiled mischievously and replied, "We’re going hunting for Blood Worms."

Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 9

This is the ninth part of a solo, narrative campaign within the Ultraviolet Grasslands RPG setting, created by Luka Rejec. The text is edited together based on outputs generated by Sudowrite,

Karnelia di'Orca is a tall and slender figure, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She wears a flowing red robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery, and carries a staff topped with a blood-red crystal. A single black vertebra is visible at the base of her neck, marking her as a member of the secretive wine vampire order.

Jalosti i'Grati is a short and stocky purple-skinned young wizard, with a wild mane of hair and a bushy beard. He wears a flowing purple robe, and rides a machine horse that shimmers with shades of rust and metal. In his hand, he holds a staff of polished black wood, etched with arcane symbols.

Arcia Bodizie is a rugged and weather-beaten Safranjina, with a scar running down her cheek and a patch over one eye. She is dressed in a patchwork of scavenged clothing, with a long, flowing coat of dark blue and a bandana tied around her head. She carries a curved sword at her side, a sign of her status as an exiled pirate. A small furry mutant vole sits perched on her shoulder, giggling at anyone who pets it.

Soundtrack: 'Electric Wizard', Electric Wizard.

Chapter 17

 

The adventurers began their journey along the Long Ridge, the sun baking down on their backs. Karnelia di’Orca squinted against the sun, pulling the edges of her crimson cape closer to her body. The heat was oppressive, like the hand of some infernal god pressing down on her. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the heat became oppressive as they continued on their way. As they trudged through the tall, ash-white grass, they were pestered by swarms of blood-sucking flies, drawn to the scent of their sweat.

Karnelia eyed Jalosti i’Grati, who was batting haplessly at the voracious flies that were pestering him, astride his mechanical horse. He was an undergraduate, yet to even complete his arcane studies, and eager to prove himself. She had to admit that he had held up remarkably well so far, but this place was testing even the hardiest of travelers.

Karnelia waved her staff and uttered a few words of holy profane blood magic, sending a shimmering wave of power across the long ridge. The haematophagic flies scattered and the adventurers laughed in relief.

“It’s easier when we don’t have to swat them away constantly,” Arcia said, wiping sweat from her brow.

“Where are we headed?” Jalosti asked.

“West,” Karnelia said, pointing off into the distance, where the white-grey grasslands folded back on themselves in a trackless landscape. “As far as we can go.”

The three of them rode in silence for a while, taking in the beauty of the wilderness around them. The grasslands seemed to go on forever, the travelers soon finding themselves in a trackless landscape  that stretched out in front of them and folded back on itself in an endless pale sea. The heat was oppressive, and the wind coming off the grasslands felt like a hot breath on the back of their necks. Karnelia looked around, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of civilization. But there was none; the Long Ridge was a place where the remnants of history had been erased by time and wind. The world around them was wide and untamed, and the sky a clear silver white. To the south, below the ridge, could be seen the gleam of the Vale River. The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in brilliant shades of red and orange.

 

The group walked for hours, the sun slowly sinking lower in the sky. They stopped only to take short breaks and drink from their canteens. As the sun set, a chill settled in the air. The stars began to twinkle, and the nocturnal insects began to chirp.

 

Karnelia looked up at the starry sky, and she could feel a sense of peace coming over her. This was a place of beauty, a place where the worries of the world could be forgotten. She turned to her companions and smiled.

 

Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia walked until twilight and decided to sleep beneath the stout silhouette of a twisted Krumholz tree, its limbs twisted from years of harsh winds and storms. The gnarled branches of the evergreen formed a shelter on the gentle slope of the Long Ridge, its leaves rattling in the wind like an old door creaking. The tree’s needles were small and soft to the touch, like young girl's eyelashes, and their berries were as hard as great-grandmothers' ears. Treading across a soft carpet of fallen pine, the adventurers set up camp for the night. They had been travelling this desolate landscape all day and the prospect of rest was inviting. 

“Let’s make camp here. The night will be cold, but I think we’ll be safe enough.”

Jalosti and Arcia nodded in agreement, and the three of them set about gathering wood for a fire. They cooked a simple meal of orange steppe-peas over the flames, then settled down to sleep, their bodies tired and aching from the long day’s march.

***

The morning sun was a thin, pale curl of violet on the hazy horizon as Jalosti, Arcia and Karnelia set out from their camp in a lee of Krumholz trees. The air was crisp and clean, the dew-damp grass crunching under the hooves of their steeds as they made their way along the ridge of the Long Steppe. The morning air carried a faint scent of newly-cut grass, with an odd underlying sweetness like honey-coated flowers.

The Vole, perched atop Arcia's shoulder, seemed pleased by the journey. Its black eyes sparkled with curiosity, taking in its new surroundings as its nose twitched and whiskers quivered with excitement. Jalosti's machine horse, an archaic contraption of rust and metal, whirred and ticked, drowning out the chirps and tweets of the morning birds.

The travelers followed a path of their own making, one without maps or direction, the only goal being to reach the end of the Long Steppe.

The morning passed quickly, and soon they began to notice a strange pattern emerging from the grassy fields around them. What appeared to be circles and whorls of grass, cut in strange and precise shapes, began to sprawl across the steppe in all directions. The wind rustled through the grass like a whispered secret.

The trio paused to observe the phenomenon closer. The circles were precise and uniform, with patterns of ash-white grass cut in shapes of stars and crescents, separated by a uniform ring of untrimmed grass. The sight was both strange and beautiful, and the Vole gazed curiously from Arcia's shoulder.

Soon, Arcia's sharp seafarer's eyes noticed the presence of others on the steppe. Small bands of local nomads, some on horseback, had stopped to observe the strange circles. The nomads were dressed in warm, earth-toned clothing and headscarves. Their faces were weathered from years of travel, but their eyes sparkled with curiosity. They wore traditional jewelry over their clothes - coins, amulets and charms - which clink as they move. They seemed puzzled and curious, likely wondering what had caused such a phenomenon.

Seeing the nomads, the trio decided to approach them and inquire. The nomads were friendly and welcoming, and Jalosti and Arcia soon found themselves part of a large congregation of locals and travelers, all discussing the circles and their possible origins.

"They are called the Long Steppe Symbols," one of the nomads explained. "It is believed that they are symbols of power and protection, placed by gods of the vast open sky to ward off dark forces."

"No, no. The circles are the work of an ancient sorcerer, who traveled these lands many moons ago,” another of the nomads said, her voice carrying across the steppe.

 

The discussion soon turned to the travelers themselves, and Jalosti and Arcia found themselves the center of much curiosity. The nomads were especially intrigued by the Vole, which seemed to be quite content to be the center of attention.

 

"What brings you three to this place, far from your sea of water in the East? The White Grass Steppe is no place for the faint of heart," one of the nomads said.

 

Karnelia told them their story, about their travels in the dying world and their quest for an audience with the Grand Observer. The nomads listened intently, nodding in understanding.

 

"The Steppe can be a dangerous place, but also a beautiful one," responded the nomad. "You are welcome to camp with us and rest before continuing your journey."

 

The trio was grateful for the invitation, and after setting up camp, they spent the night talking around a fire under a blanket of stars. As they ate, the nomads spun stories about magical creatures living deep within the grassy plains, about mischievous sprites playing tricks on unaware travelers, about powerful sorcerers who once roamed these steppes. The campfire illuminated their faces in its orange glow, casting long shadows onto the ground.

 

 

At dawn, the travelers said their goodbyes and continued their journey. As they walked, they noticed more of the strange circles appearing in the grass around them. Eventually, they stumbled upon an especially large circle in a clearing surrounded by weathered tree stumps.

 

 

Inside this circle were several small children dressed in white garments - an otherworldly sight that made Arcia gasp in wonderment. The children were playing some sort of game, their laughter echoing through the steppe like a chorus of bells. Their faces were small and pale, their eyes of shifting colors like that of a chameleon's - golden one moment and emerald green the next.

 

Arcia stepped forward cautiously. Taking a deep breath, she cleared her throat and asked, "What are you doing here?". One of the children slowly turned her head toward Arcia and spoke softly in a language none of them understood.

 

The children smiled and began clapping their hands before gathering together in the center of the circle. With grace and enthusiasm, they they danced in a wheel within the circle of white grass.

 

As the dance ended, the children stepped out of the circle. Concerned, Arcia stepped forward, but the children laughed and ran into the tall grass leaving no trace.

 

The adventurers were puzzled by the strange encounter but continued on their journey on horseback. Eventually, they found a restful grove with beautiful spring. The clear water seemed to sparkle with tiny flecks of light, and a pleasant smell filled the air.

 

They took the chance to drink from the spring water. It was cool and pure, and they refilled their canteens before continuing their journey. They all took their fill, feeling refreshed and invigorated.

 

But as they drank, they noticed something strange floating in the water - tiny metallic specks. Jalosti scooped up a handful of water and studied it closer. It was filled with tiny metallic particles that, every few seconds, seemed to come together to momentarily trace the outline of a swarm of fish, a geometric pattern or a human face. The travelers were captivated by such a marvel, a secret known only by this silent water.

 

"The water is contaminated by ultra artifacts!" exclaimed Jalosti. “These must have been left behind by some ancient people from the Long Ago, perhaps one of the Zombie Democracies”.

 

They quickly fled the area as fast as possible, hoping to outrun whatever danger lurked beyond. But alas, it was too late - for within minutes, Jalosti and Arcia began to feel an eerie fog overtake their minds, pulling them into a day lost to hallucinatory fugue...  Colors and shapes blurred, sounds echoed unnaturally, and soon the two travelers found themselves in an alien landscape, their minds warped by the mysterious fog.

 

***

 

They awoke in a ditch the next morning, shaken and disoriented. Luckily, they had not wandered far from their horses. As their minds slowly cleared, the trio came to a realization that the Long Steppe Symbols were not some kind of protective magic, but rather a warning of the danger held within the world - a warning that ancient powers had the power to alter reality itself if they were not careful.

 

The group quickly gathered their belongings and rode off in search of safer land west. As they traveled along the Long Ridge, something else emerged on the horizon - monuments made of stone and glass that seemed to be sentinels of a higher power.

 

Nearing the ruins, they could see that the pillars formed a hall, the the faint lines of an exuberant structure shimmering above it, the ghost of the great building clinging to its last trace of corporeality.

 

Next to the ancient feast hall was a deep oblong pool filled with rainbow-colored liquid. Odd farmers milled about, milling about indifferently, heedless of the adventuring party. Their bodies were sinewy, their skin the texture of young wood in shades of grey, brown, and green, vine-like muscles roping over visible bones. Lidless pits were where their eyes should have been. They moved in a manner that was graceful yet mechanical, like puppets attached to invisible strings.

 

"What kind of creature or being created these people?" Arcia asked Jalosti.

 

"Some sort of abmortal bioengineer," mused Jalosti. The strangeness of the steppe was beyond anything his study had prepared him for.

 

Karnelia noticed that the farmers had gathered piles of pale tubers and fat steppe-grubs. She pointed at the foodstuff and the farmers seemed to understand her. She placed some cash her purse in her open palm and offered them to the strange beings. One of them carefully sifted through to select a few small coins. The others gathered around and stood staring at the takings, as if they did not know what to do next.

 

As the trio packed the supplies into the saddlebags of their horses, they saw an upright black circle approach over the western horizon. As it moved towards them along the ridge, they saw it was a huge motorized monocycle.

 

When the monocyle finally arrived, they were greeted by a strange figure. He was dressed in raven black, wore a pointed hat, a long coat, and goggles that covered his eyes. On the front of his monocycle was a large metallic box with an intricate control panel.

 

"Greetings, adventurers," said the figure in a low, croaky voice. "I am Giovanni de Udine, the electric wizard. Perhaps you have heard of me.”

 

He then declared that he was on a mission to recover the Erebus Star, a relic of inviolable power, which had been vanished from this realm for centuries.

 

"While I search, however, I must replenish my strength. I see you have met the servants of the Fallen Feast Hall. They produce they provide is dull but nutritious."

 

De Udine paid for a brace of grubs and a few tubers, before taking a device out of the luggage compartment of his monocycle. Setting the contraption, which resembled a series of pans on a tripod, down on the grass, he intoned some mystical words and gestured with a pristine crystal wand. He filled one of the pans with water and began to cook a few of the tubers.

 

As he was doing so he explained some of what he knew of the Long Steppe. "You see, these ultra artifacts scattered about the steppe," Giovanni said. "They hold a power that could be harnessed to create great things, if only someone knew the secrets."

 

"What do you know of the Black City?" blurted Jalosti.

 

"Enough to know that it is far too dangerous for the likes of an amateur spell-wrangler such as yourself," responded Giovanni de Udine haughtily. Jalosti blushed, whilst Arcia frowned.

 

"The Black City was once a great metropolis of learning and innovation; the home of powerful diabolists and void-scholars who had harnessed the secrets from the upper and lower realms. They could create inventions which others could only dream of - self-moving machines, magical weapons and wondrous portals to other worlds."

 

He lifted his goggles to reveal two shining amber eyes. "I mean to find the secrets of that age Long Long Ago," he said.

 

Slightly overawed, the trio thanked de Udine for his time, mounted their horses and continued West.

"It said that during the Long Long Ago, the powers that the electric wizards possessed were commonplace. Every person was, in their own way, a master of such sorcery," expounded Jalosti - impressed at de Udine despite the latter's gruff demeanor. The other two remained sceptical, but said nothing.

Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 8

 This is the eighth part of a solo, narrative campaign within the Ultraviolet Grasslands RPG setting, created by Luka Rejec. The text is edited together based on outputs generated by Sudowrite,

Karnelia di'Orca is a tall and slender figure, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She wears a flowing red robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery, and carries a staff topped with a blood-red crystal. A single black vertebra is visible at the base of her neck, marking her as a member of the secretive wine vampire order.

Jalosti i'Grati is a short and stocky purple-skinned young wizard, with a wild mane of hair and a bushy beard. He wears a flowing purple robe, and rides a machine horse that shimmers with shades of rust and metal. In his hand, he holds a staff of polished black wood, etched with arcane symbols.

Arcia Bodizie is a rugged and weather-beaten Safranjina, with a scar running down her cheek and a patch over one eye. She is dressed in a patchwork of scavenged clothing, with a long, flowing coat of dark blue and a bandana tied around her head. She carries a curved sword at her side, a sign of her status as an exiled pirate. A small furry mutant vole sits perched on her shoulder, giggling at anyone who pets it.

Soundtrack: 'Wall of Fire', Monster Magnet.

Chapter 16

The three adventurers had been travelling for days, ever since they had left the nomads of the Calamansi clan. The thought of pursuit by the Porcelain Princes weighed on their minds.

Karnelia frowned, her face grim. “We should take the caravan and hide it in the woods. We can continue our journey on foot, carrying a sack of Cherenkov cherries.”

The others agreed. As they travelled through the Wicker Vale, they kept an eye out for a safe place to hide the strange necromantically-powered vehicle they had acquired, the Caravan of Bones.

To that end, their goal was the secret wood marked on the map of Calamansi nomads, a place that only a few were aware of and even fewer dared to venture.

Karnelia acted as lookout on the deck of the barge-shaped vehicle, her sharp eyes scanning the countryside for any signs of danger or trouble, ready to take evasive action should it become necessary. Her two companions, Jalosti and Arcia, stood at the wheel, ready to be called upon at a moment's notice.

As the sun slowly made its way across the sky, the adventurers rolled ever onward. Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, they arrived at the edge of the secret wood, a dark and mysterious place.

Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia stood at the edge, surveying the forest before them. The trees were tall and ancient, their branches like gnarled, knotted hands reaching out to grab anything that came too close.

The adventurers exchanged a glance, and Karnelia nodded. "We must hide the Caravan of Bones here," she said. "If we are to have any hope of avoiding the Porcelain Princes, we must keep it out of sight. We must be careful, though. We must be sure that the vehicle remains hidden and that there is no trace of our presence here."

Jalosti and Arcia nodded in agreement, and the trio set about creating a hidden spot for their strange vehicle, covering it with leaves and fallen tree branches, making sure that it was completely disguised. When they were finished, it was undetectable from the road. The Caravan of Bones was safe and secure.

Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia stood back and surveyed their work, satisfied that their plan had been successful. The Porcelain Princes would surely have no way of finding it now.

The adventurers made their way out of the woods, relieved that their mission had been accomplished. Now, they could only hope that their hiding place would remain undiscovered by the haughty and autocratic polybody wizards.

The trio then shouldered their packs, and each carrying sack of Cherenkov cherries, they set off towards the distant prehistoric ramparts. Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia trudged through the Wicker Vale, the baking heat of the wide depression sapping their energy. Sweat rolled down their faces, stinging their eyes, and they felt like they’d been marching through the dry plains since the Fast Stars fell. The tinder-dry grass crunched beneath their feet, and the occasional shrub or stunted tree threw an eerie shadow across the landscape.

The adventurers forded the shallow river as night descended, and made camp on the far side. They rolled out their bedrolls, ate a small meal of dried meat and mare-milk cheese, and settled into an exhausted sleep.

Jalosti was the first to wake the next morning, and he felt a strange uneasiness in his bones. He looked around groggily, the sun a dark mauve smudge in the sky. Karnelia and Arcia were still asleep, their bedrolls soft mounds in the grass.

Jalosti cautiously sat up, feeling a chill run up his spine. He looked down and saw that he had slept on the grave of a radiation ghost, the glowing apparition pointing at him in wordless accusation. The half-buried skeleton was still visible, and a chill ran through his body as he realised what he had done.

He scrambled away from the cursed grave, dizzy and feeling ill. The other two awoke as he staggered back, and both looked at him with concern.

“What’s wrong?” Karnelia asked, her voice still slurred with sleep.

Jalosti shook his head, not sure how to explain it. He gestured to the grave, and the others gasped.

“We have to leave here,” Arcia said, her voice serious. “We don’t have time to wait and see if the curse has taken hold.”

The sun beat down on them as they walked. The valley’s heat seemed to seep up from the ground and wrap around them as they ascended the grassy hillside, their feet aching from the effort. They were all exhausted, their bodies and minds both weary from their long journey. But still they kept going, step by step, until finally the ramparts were in sight. In the near distance, the ancient defences of long-forgotten civilizations, still etched with faded wizard spell-arms, looked down upon them.

As they reached the edge of the ancient fortress, they allowed themselves a moment of respite. They rested in the shade of the crumbling walls and felt a sense of relief that their journey was almost at an end.

Recovering some of their strength, they took in the panorama before them, beholding the spectacle of the Circle of Grass. Rolling hills of lush green grass dotted the landscape, dotted with the occasional copse of trees.

As they drew closer, the sounds of celebration became louder and clearer. A sea of tents and banners surrounded the Circle of Grass, and it soon became apparent that the adventurers had stumbled upon a great clansfolk festival.

People from all walks of life had gathered to celebrate in the warm air of the Wicker Vale. Clad in vibrant colors, they feasted and sang, danced and drank, while children ran and played in the tall grass. Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia stepped forward, wide-eyed and filled with wonder.

Arcia beheld the scene before her with a broad smile. She was no stranger to grand displays, but this one had a special charm to it that made her heart skip a beat.

"Can you believe it?" Arcia said in awe as she gestured towards the grand bonfire that engulfed a hillock, its flames reaching up to the sky. A strange figure of grass and wood towered over the pyre – a Grass Colossus. It stood like a sentry, its arms crossed and its eyes watching over the festivities.

The three adventurers shared stories with the people of the White Grass and learned of the long-forgotten legends of the region. A musician played haunting melodies on the lute, and a clown fought a fierce battle with an invisible foe.

But the greatest spectacle came when an old shaman stepped out of a nearby tent and began to sing. The sound of his voice sent chills down their spine, and as he sang his song, a large bear lumbered out of the tent behind him. Their song was hypnotic, casting a spell over the people who gathered around them. The shaman’s words painted vivid images that sparked the imagination, while their bear clapped its hands in time with the music. It seemed to be calling out for coins from the audience, playfully guilting them into emptying their pockets. People pulled coins, jewelry and trinkets from their pockets in tribute to the shaman’s performance, captivated by their music and stories.

The crowd soon split in two, and a boisterous game of throw-the-boar broke out between the two sides. The boar, glistening in grease, squealed wildly as it was thrown up and down the field. They laughed and cheered as they threw it around, sending it soaring through the air before finally catching it in their arms with a roar of triumph. The players took turns chasing the wild animal around, trying to catch it and throw it into a large basket at the center of the circle. Everyone cheered, hollered and whistled as they watched the spectacle unfold. Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia watched on in awe at this strange spectacle, unable to take their eyes off the wild beast.

But then, the music and laughter suddenly stopped. A hush fell over the crowd as everyone looked up at the top of the hillock. There stood a figure, a tall imposing figure who seemed to be looking out over them all with an air of authority. His skin was like leather, weathered and tough from years spent in battle. His haggard eyes surveyed the crowd with a weary hatred of nonsense. The clansfolk bowed before him in reverence and respect for his position.

The figure stepped forward, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. He gestured towards the Circle of Grass and spoke in a booming voice: ‘Tonight, we honor our ancestors by offering a sacrifice to the Colossus!’

The crowd gasped as a supplicant was seized and stuffed with saffron and steak, yellow grease dribbling down their chin as they were led towards the pyre at the center of the Circle of Grass. They were hoisted by four clansmen and thrown onto the pyre. The flames licked at the sacrificial victim, their harsh radiant heat engulfing them in an instant. Arcia’s heart leapt into her throat as she watched in horror as the figure was slowly engulfed by the raging fire. The heat from the bonfire was almost unbearable as it radiated from the Heart of the Colossus.

The crowd remained silent until a loud cheer erupted from within its ranks. Everyone stood mesmerized by the display of power before them, awed by its magnificence. At that moment, Karnelia felt a connection to something much greater than herself – something ancient and powerful that had been lost for millennia. Despite their own fears, the adventurers felt a strange sense of respect and admiration for this brave soul who had offered up their life so that others may live in prosperity and joy.

The shaman began to chant, his voice rising in a crescendo as he waved a burning torch towards the Colossus. All at once, the figure stirred and began to move, its limbs creaking and groaning as it unfolded itself from its slumber.

It stood tall, its wicker-and-bone frame shimmering in the light of the bonfire. As it stepped forward into the Circle of Grass, all eyes were glued to it as it began to dance with wild abandon. Its movements were lively and mesmerizing; its limbs seemed to move with an otherworldly grace as it twirled around the pyre. Everyone was spellbound by this creature – they clapped and cheered as they watched this ancient being come alive before their eyes. None daring to move an inch out of fear that the Colossus would snatch them away with one of its great hands. The dance only seemed to grow wilder and more frenzied as time went on, taking on a life of its own as it stretched through the air and touched the stars.

Eventually, the air around them started to grow chilly and the smoke from the pyre began to slow. The adventurers followed clansfolk as they retreated back to the huts that surrounded the Circle. As purple dawn broke, everyone was relieved to see that it had retreated back into its slumber and all but a few unwitting and insufficiently nimble sacrifices had survived.

The trademeet buzzed with life that day, as merchants of all peoples and clans haggled and bartered for any goods they could acquire, legal or not. Arcia scoured the area for any opportunity to make a quick buck and soon found a buyer for the Cherenkov cherries they had recently stolen. "How much can ya offer me?" Arcia questioned the buyer, knowing full well the cherries were worth a pretty penny. After much negotiating, the buyer agreed to an exorbitant price, replenishing the crew's depleted funds.

"Look!" Karnelia yelled, pointing at the figure in the distance.

"It's Jalosti's mechanical horse!"

The crowds parted to let the metal beast through, its gears whirring and clattering hooves tapping against the ground.

Jalosti raced over and hugged the brass horse tightly.

"It looks a bit beaten up but it's in one piece," Jalosti said with a sigh of relief.

Before they left the trademeet, Karnelia and Arcia each bought a mount of their own and restocked the group's provisions. Little did they know how much of a necessity these would be in their journey ahead.

With all the preparations made, the adventurers set their eyes towards the Long Ridge – a harsh, endless sea of grass that stretched into the far west. As night began to creep upon them, tall spires of grass waved gently in unison against a backdrop of a twilight sky illuminated by thousands of stars that seemed to stretch infinitely above them.

Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 7

This is the seventh part of a solo, narrative campaign within the Ultraviolet Grasslands RPG setting, created by Luka Rejec. The text is edited together based on outputs generated by Sudowrite,

Karnelia di'Orca is a tall and slender figure, with long dark hair and piercing eyes. She wears a flowing red robe adorned with intricate golden embroidery, and carries a staff topped with a blood-red crystal. A single black vertebra is visible at the base of her neck, marking her as a member of the secretive wine vampire order.

Jalosti i'Grati is a short and stocky purple-skinned young wizard, with a wild mane of hair and a bushy beard. He wears a flowing purple robe, and rides a machine horse that shimmers with shades of rust and metal. In his hand, he holds a staff of polished black wood, etched with arcane symbols.

Arcia Bodizie is a rugged and weather-beaten Safranjina, with a scar running down her cheek and a patch over one eye. She is dressed in a patchwork of scavenged clothing, with a long, flowing coat of dark blue and a bandana tied around her head. She carries a curved sword at her side, a sign of her status as an exiled pirate. A small furry mutant vole sits perched on her shoulder, giggling at anyone who pets it.

Soundtrack: 'Holy Moon', Black Rainbows.

Chapter 15

The three adventurers continued their getaway, traveling across the dangerous Trail of Vomish Dreams. The Caravan of Bones was a strange and unpredictable vehicle,  powered by the energy of the bones it was made of. The Caravan had driven itself along the trail during the night, spurred on by the Femur Wand that Jalosti had continued to grip in his unconsciousness. They had managed to evade capture, but Jalosti's injury weighed heavily on them. It had been a close call and they knew they couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. The three adventurers had slept fitfully overnight, but were stiff and sore from the rattling of the barge-shaped bone chariot. They awoke under a dark mauve dawn sky.

"The Trail of Vomish Dreams is a dangerous place," explained Jalosti weakly, gripping his injured arm. "It's home to a variety of strange and dangerous creatures, including the vomes. They're synthetic organisms, self-replicating and violent. They're completely unpredictable, and it's nearly impossible to anticipate what they'll do next."

"What are they doing out here?" asked Arcia, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's not clear," replied Jalosti. "Some say that they were created by an out of control SourceFac, while others believe that they're the result of some kind of arms race between unscrupulous biomancers. Whatever the case, they're a constant threat to anyone who travels along the Trail."

The landscape of the was a wild and untamed, with high grass that sparkled and shimmered in the light. The grasses grew tall and lush, covering the ground in a sea of pale green and purple.

It was a perilous journey, but they were determined to escape the territory of the Porcelain Princes and find a safe place to rest. They had to be constantly on guard, ready to defend themselves at a moment's notice.

They had only been able to bring limited supplies with them during the heist of the Caravan. A check of the hold of the wheeled barge they travelled in, however, revealed two dozen sacks of Cherenkov cherries. The fruits would provide sustenance in the harsh, biomantically-corrupted grasslands. But with the harsh sun beating down, they wouldn't be enough to quench their thirst.

"We need to find water," Karnelia said, eyeing the parched landscape. "And soon."

Just as she spoke, they spotted a small waterhole in the distance. Arcia turned the wheel, guiding the Caravan towards it.

Disembarking from the skeletal barge and approaching the waterhole, they noticed several prairie pigs huddled together, looking scared.

"What's wrong, little guys?" Arcia asked, approaching the pigs with a gentle smile.

One of the pigs squealed in fear and ran off, causing the others to follow suit.

"What could have scared them like that?" Arcia exclaimed, turning to the group.

As she did so, she felt a tugging at her foot, and she realized too late that she had lost one of her shoes to a thirsty tangle shrub. She cursed and tried to retrieve it, but the shrub cowered in fear at her approach. She opened her mouth in indignation, but at that moment a loud rustling sound filled the air. The group turned to see a giant vome beast emerging from the grass. Its body was covered in thick spines, and its tail is tipped with a long, curved blade. Its eyes were a deep crimson, and its curved beak glinted brightly in the afternoon sun. The vome beast let out an almighty roar, and one could feel its clammy breath on their skin. Its long talons scored the stones beneath it, leaving deep furrows in the land.

"Run!" Jalosti yelled, pulling Arcia along with him.

“But my shoe!” exclaimed Arcia.

"Forget it," Karnelia said, pulling Arcia back into the Caravan. "We have bigger problems to worry about."

Soon enough, they had reached safety on the other side of the Trail of Vomish Dreams. They disembarked from the Caravan with shaky legs and relieved smiles plastered on their faces. They shared a brief moment of respite before continuing their journey The group scrambled back into the Caravan and with a few waves of the Femur Wand, they were off. Arcia, Karnelia, and Jalosti all clutched onto the sides of the Caravan for dear life as it careened across the uneven terrain. The vome-infested beast charged after them, its razor claws ripping through the ground. The three adventurers ducked their heads, bracing themselves against the rattling carriage. 

Suddenly, just as it seemed that the beast was about to catch up to them, the air became thick with a dense, gray fog that blocked out the view of the menacing creature. The mist sparkled like pixie dust in the midday sun. Through sheer luck, they had stumbled across an enchanted fog bank that served as a safe haven for travelers along this dangerous path. They breathed sighs of relief as the vome's roars faded away in the distance.

Hope returned as they realized that luck had been on their side. Soon enough, they found a small stream amid the flat expanse of the Trail. They disembarked from the Caravan with shaky legs and relieved smiles plastered on their faces. They shared a brief moment of respite before continuing their journey.

They travelled all day and every night across the biomantically-corrupted veldt. The bone-chariot clattered across the land, the Femur Wand a guiding beacon in the darkness. Their journey was dangerous, but occasionally punctuated by moments of beauty that reminded them why they had undertaken this quest in the first place. Soft, wispy rays of light topped the horizon, painting the sky with a spectrum of orange, pink, and purple. Wildflowers blanketed the ground in vibrant contrasts, tended to by biomechanical bees. Everywhere was the smell of ozone, riotously decaying matter and the loud, buzzing hum of vomish locusts, like a high-pitched swarm of electric cicadas, loud enough to overwhelm all other sounds but the clatter of the Caravan's bone wheels.

Eventually, after several days of travel, the Trail wound its way through a forest of ultraviolet bamboo. The pale purple bamboo trees stretched tall and proud, their green foliage standing tall against the bright sky. Sunlight filtered through the leaves and branches, creating a dazzling array of light and shadows. Vomish racoons with skittered away from the Bone Chariot as it rumbled along the dirt road. As they fled, their telescoping lens-eyes shifted and rotated, making a whirring sound like the clicking of a small camera shutter.

Through the lush canopy of ultraviolet bamboo trees. At a hundred dwarfish-yards distance on their starboard side, a large pink pearl floated off the ground, glowing like a half-moon. Lions and lambs lay peacefully on the ground around it, unafraid, their fur shimmering in the light of the pink pearl, their eyes closed and manes rippling in a gentle wind. The adventurers heard a peculiar silence, like a wave of stillness which rolled outwards from the tranquil sight before them. Aside from the occasional rustle of the bamboo trees in the breeze, they could make out something like the distant whisper of a lullaby.

As they get closer to the pearl, they find themselves becoming mesmerized by its beauty and start to feel a strange calmness enveloping them. The light radiating from the pearl seemed to reach outwards, beckoning them closer. They stepped forward cautiously, as if in a dream - it felt like an invitation, a siren's call, a promise of something beautiful and mysterious. Slowly, the adventurers began to drift towards the pink pearl, forgetting for a moment why they had come here. Surrounded by such an unearthly sense of peace, nothing else seemed to matter but the moment at hand. As if guided by an unseen force, they stepped forward they were just an arm span from touching its surface.

“We’ve had some pretty incredible adventures so far,” Jalosti whispered. “But this is definitely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Karnelia leaned in close and whispered to the others, "I feel like there's something here, something hidden just beneath the surface..."

Just then, as if in response to her words, the lions and lambs around the pearl slowly stand up and start to speak. With gentle voices they sang a song of welcome and peace - one that seemed both familiar and ancient at the same time. The animals began to circle around the adventurers, padding softly upon the ground. The Pearl seemed to be alive, its light pulsating in time with he gentle song.

None of the three could make out any words of the strange song of the animals. The music eventually subsided and the animals settled back to sleep. Nonplussed the trio of adventurers made their way through the clearing back to the Caravan, resuming their journey in silence.

Yet each of the three had the distinct sense that the encounter with the eerie Pearl had been significant, feeling calmer, more mentally present and attuned to their surroundings. As Karnelia reflected on the experience, she suddenly had the sense that she knew something new about the goal of their quest, although she had no idea how she had come to know it or why she was so certain. She had a clear and insistent idea in her mind that the Null Object of Desire was an imaginary part-object, separable from the body. As to what this actually meant or what the implications for their journey might be, she had no idea.

The forest of ultraviolet bamboo eventually gave way to tall swaying grass, which alternated with harsh scrubland. Ever-alert for vomish beasts, Arcia guided the Caravan along the trail through the unhealthy landscape.

A day later, the trio began to spot thornstone enclosures close to the trail, temporary dwellings grown from drystone coral using petromancy. The walls of the enclosures were typically around seven feet high, speckled with small hollows and crevices,  with jagged rocky thorns jutting out in every direction, providing a formidable barrier. Some were solitary, standing like eight-sided snowflakes, rough and patched with mineral growths and rugged with age. Others were arranged in a circle, or were surrounded by drifts of drycoral poked through by yellow wildflowers.

As the sun started to set, the travelers glimpsed a large gathering of nomads on the horizon. The clansmen wore robes and turbans, and their horses, camels, and oxen grazed on the tufty grass of the scrub. A number of makeshift tents and campfires around a large cluster of thornstone enclosures came into view.

The adventurers decided that this was a good place to camp for the night, not only to rest but also to mingle with the nomads and gain their trust.

"We are travelers, seeking passage through the Trail of Vomish Dreams," Karnelia called out, stepping forward.

The nomads did not respond at first. Each of the men of the clan was mustachioed and wore a quiver of arrows on his back. Perhaps they were intimidated by the strange craft of woven bone that they rode in. Perhaps they did not speak the lingua franca of the Rainbowlands.

Arcia attempted to translate, as she had once shared a cabin with a sailor originally from the steppes.

After a few pleasantries, the group and was welcomed warmly. As they were escorted through the encampment, a delicious aroma of cooking food filled the air. The familial atmosphere was warm and inviting, with children running around playing games while adults talked in hushed tones about matters both serious and not so serious.

As they sat down, bowls full of steaming stew were quickly passed around and everyone enjoyed some hearty conversation in between bites.

The leader of the nomads introduced himself as Sorbec of the Calamansi clan. His dark hair had been weaved into tight braids that hung past his shoulders, and his eyes were a gentle orange-green. He carried himself with a quiet dignity, yet one that exudes a powerful presence. His mustache drooped down into a smile that seemed to leave his face.

"And what business do you have in these parts?" Sorbec asked, speaking in a deep baritone, eyeing them suspiciously.

"We are fleeing from the Porcelain Citadel and the Porcelain Princes," Arcia explained, gesturing to Jalosti's injured arm. She decided to take a risk that these nomads, like others they had encountered, were no friends of the Porcelain citadel. "We stole the Caravan of Bones and made our escape, but we were pursued. We need to put as much distance between ourselves and the Porcelain Princes as possible."

The leader of the clansmen nodded in understanding. "We have had our own troubles with the Porcelain Princes. They have been driving us from our traditional grazing lands, forcing us to seek shelter in these enclosures on the edge of vome country. We are happy to help those who seek to defy them."

The nomads offered to trade supplies and maps for some of the heroes' Cherenkov cherries. Sorbec was especially interested in these glowing fruits, which were a rare delicacy monopolized by the Princes. After some negotiation, an agreement was reached and the heroes were given a map of the region and enough supplies of cheese and dried meat to last until they reached their destination.

"Further to the West is the Wicker Vale and the mighty Vale River. Beyond that is the Circle of Grass, a great meeting place for clans of the White Grass Steppe. You will find safety and refuge there," Sorbec said. "But be wary - there are many dangers in the West."

The night grew dark and the stars twinkled in the sky. As the campfire roared, the nomads and heroes shared tales of folklore and myth. The nomads had many tales of the Dreamlands, of journeys taken and adventures endured. They told vivid stories of ancient battles between warriors who walked on their hands and humming snakes. Each story was told with great drama, gesture and emotion. Jalosti recounted stories of strange beasts he remembered from parapaleontology lectures, and Arcia sang a haunting shanty about an ancient stone dragon that had once terrorized her homeland. For reasons that they could not quite put their finger on, none of the three said anything about their earlier encounter with the eerie pearl.

Long into the night they talked, until eventually, the adventurers settled down to sleep on blankets in one of the thornstone enclosures. It was the first time they had been able to sleep on solid ground in nearly a week, and they all appreciated a night's rest without the rattling motion of the Bone Caravan.

In time, as the violet light of morning broke, they gathered their supplies and bid farewell to Sorbec and his clan, who wished them good luck on their treacherous journey Westwards.

"You are all brave to attempt the Trail of Vomish Dreams," the clansman said, his voice full of admiration. "Farewell, fierce friends. We wish you good luck on your journey" he said as the heroes rode off into the swaying grass.