Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 3

 This is the third part of a solo, narrative campaign within the Ultraviolet Grasslands RPG setting, created by Luka Rejec. The text was generated by the Chat GPT large language model, with multiple generations and further responses spliced together and edited. Some of prompts to generate the text were taken from the UVG sourcebook and/or fan materials. UVG and the Vastlands setting are  the intellectual property of Luka Rejec. This campaign log is unaffiliated with either WTF Studio or Luka Rejec.

The adventurers  Karnelia di’Orca, Jalosti i’Grati and Arcia Bodizie  are travelling through the Azure Ruins on their way to the Violet City.

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: 'Death Grip', Black Lung.

Chapter 7

The next morning, as the heroes stumbled along the streets of Violet City, they were greeted by the sights and sounds of a bustling city coming to life. The purple light of dawn illuminated the vibrant buildings and colorful inhabitants, and the heroes were struck by the vibrancy and energy of the place.

 As they walked, they passed by Doghead urchins, who scurried along the streets, scavenging for scraps and treasures to sell. As they walked, they passed by Doghead urchins, who scurried along the streets, barking and whimpering as they scavenged for scraps and treasures to sell. At the same time, the heroes were careful to avoid these small, scrappy creatures, knowing that they could be dangerous if provoked. The urchins were a motley group, with dirty, ragged clothing and sharp, predatory eyes.

Karnelia: "Those hound-headed rascals are a nuisance. I hope we don't run into any more of them on our journey."

Jalosti: "I've heard that the Dogheads are actually quite intelligent, but treated with contempt in a city of cats. I'd be interested in studying them more closely, if we have the opportunity."

Eventually, the heroes came across a caravan making its way West, toward the Low Road and the High, a great crossroads of superconcrete highways that lay in ruins. The Purplelander caravan master, João Levanta, was a rugged and weathered individual, with piercing purple eyes and a thick beard. He had been travelling the Ultraviolet Grasslands for many years, and he knew every inch of the treacherous landscape. He was a gruff and no-nonsense man, but he had an instant respect for the heroes, and he welcomed them into his caravan with open arms.

Arcia: "Good morning, caravan master. We seek an uneventful journey West."

João Levanta: "I'll do my best to make sure it is, lass. But the Grasslands are never without their dangers, so be on your guard."

Arcia: "Oh, I'm always on my guard, master. It's the pirate way."

João Levanta: "I can see that, lass. You've got a fierce look in your eye, and a sharp tongue to match. Just remember to use it wisely, lest you find yourself in hot water."

Arcia: "I'll keep that in mind, master. But I'm not afraid of a little heat. I've faced worse than that in my time."

The heroes decided to join the caravan, eager to continue their epic journey into the unknown lands of the Ultraviolet Grasslands.

Jalosti was grateful for the sturdy and reliable metal horse that carried him through the treacherous terrain, and he rode with skill and confidence, navigating the rocky paths with ease. As the purple wizard rode alongside the caravan on his metal horse, he marveled at the vast expanse of the Ultraviolet Grasslands. The rolling hills and deep ravines stretched out before him, broken only by the occasional clump of twisted trees. The air was thin and dry, and the sun beat down relentlessly, casting long shadows across the grass. He could feel the excitement and adventure of the journey coursing through his veins.

As they travelled, the landscape changed around them. The grass grew taller and thicker, forming dense tangles that slowed their progress. They saw strange creatures lurking in the shadows, their eyes glowing with a sinister light.

At night, the heroes huddled around the campfire, listening to the eerie howls of the wind as it whipped through the grass. They told stories of their past adventures and shared tales of the strange and wonderful things they had seen on their journey.

The heroes rode in a battered old caravan, its creaking wheels grinding against the hard-packed dirt of the Low Road. They could see the crumbling remains of the High Road above them, its pylons of dead coral jutting out of the ground like the bones of some ancient beast.

As they approached the High, the ruins of the great crossroads came into view. The remains of towering buildings and crumbling highways stretched out before them, a reminder of the once-great civilization that had fallen to the ravages of time.

As Karnelia caught sight of the High Road, she felt a shiver run down her spine. Karnelia had heard tales of the great road, but seeing it in person was truly breathtaking. "By the gods," she breathed, her eyes wide with awe. "The stories were true. The ancient highways of the Long-Long-Ago still stand." She gazed up at the crumbling pylons of coral, her mind racing with the possibilities of what they might find among the ruins.

The heroes made their way through the ruins, carefully navigating the treacherous terrain. They could feel the weight of history pressing down on them, and they knew that they were on the brink of something truly incredible.

As they rode along the Low Road, they came across a strange sight: a small herd of hares with slender legs and frightened eyes. These hares were unlike any they had seen before, for their bodies were covered in strange, chitinous protuberances that seemed to swivel and twist at the slightest movement.

The caravan company of João Levanta was a bustling and diverse group of travellers, each with their own unique skills and talents. There were merchants and traders, craftsmen and artisans, and even a few brave warriors who had joined the caravan for protection against the dangers of the Ultraviolet Grasslands.

As they made camp for the night in a ruin camp, the adventurers set up their tents and started a fire to cook their evening meal – roast hare. The night was cold and quiet, with only the sounds of the wind and the distant howling of mutant beasts to break the silence. Karnelia, the wine vampire priest, sat off to the side, staring into the flames as she pondered the mysteries of the lost world that she had been dreaming of. Arcia, the exiled pirate, was sharpening her sword, her small furry mutant vole at her side, giggling happily as she petted it.

Jalosti: "This roast hare is delicious, but there's something off about the taste. Do you think it could be contaminated?"

Arcia: "It's possible. We need to be careful what we eat out here in the Grasslands. The radiation can do strange things to the local wildlife."

The heroes struck up a conversation with Obritish Krat, a diesel-chugging mechanist.

"Greetings, adventurers. I am Obritish Krat, a golem-whisper from the east."

Karnelia: "It's nice to meet you, Krat. We are Karnelia di'Orca, Jalosti i'Grati, and Arcia Bodizie. We are on our own journey of exploration and adventure in the grasslands."

"So, what exactly is a golem-whisperer?" Karnelia asked, sipping from her flask of vampire wine.

"Ah, a golem-whisper is someone who can communicate with the ancient constructs that still roam the grasslands," Obritish Krat replied, his burned beard rustling in the wind. "You see, during the Long-Long-Ago, the ancients created powerful machines to serve them, but when their civilization fell, many of these constructs were left behind to roam the wasteland."

"And you can talk to them?" Jalosti asked, his purple eyes gleaming with curiosity.

"Well, not exactly talk," Krat explained. "It's more like a sort of telepathic connection. I can sense their thoughts and emotions, and they can sense mine. It's a strange and wonderful gift, but also a dangerous one. The golems are powerful and unpredictable, and if they decide to turn on you, there's not much you can do to stop them."

"But you've mastered this ability?" Arcia asked, her furry vole perched on her shoulder.

"I've been at it for a long time," Krat replied, his eyes haunted by memories. "I've encountered many golems in my travels, and I've learned to understand them and even control them to some extent. It's not an easy path, but it's one that I'm drawn to."

Jalosti i'Grati: "What brings you to the grasslands in any case, Krat? We've heard stories of the dangers that lurk in these lands."

Obritish Krat: "Ah, the dangers of the grasslands are real, my friends. But I have faced many dangers in my life, and I am not afraid. I am here to seek my fortune and to learn more about the ancient machines and technologies that still survive in these lands. I've seen some strange things out here in the grasslands, let me tell you."

Jalosti: "Like what? We've encountered our fair share of strange creatures before."

Krat: "Ah, but you haven't seen anything like the wire-ghouls that lurk in the salt mines of the Golden Desert. They're twisted creatures, made of metal and magic. They'll tear you to pieces if you're not careful."

The next morning, as Jalosti was putting on his boot, he was bitten by a scorpion-spider. The venom coursed through his veins, causing him to feel dizzy and weak.  Luckily, Karnelia was there to help, and with her knowledge of strange sorcery, she was able to save Jalosti from certain death. Karnelia, quick to act, used her holy vampire powers to suck out the venom, saving Jalosti's life. She licked the venom from her lips, her black metal vertebra glinting in the early morning light.

Chapter 8

With João Levanta spending the day concluding a business deal with a group of hill-tribe survivalists, the three voyagers decided to explore the environs. As the adventurers set out from the ruin camp, they were immediately struck by the strange and desolate beauty of the Low Road. The ground beneath their feet was hard-packed, scarred by the constant passage of caravans and travellers. The air dry and dusty, carrying with it the tang of rust and the faint hint of something sweet and sickly. The sky overhead a dull, lifeless grey, with only the occasional glimpse of a distant sun to break the monotony.

In the distance, they could see the Rusted Hand of Victory, a towering metal sculpture that rises from the ground like a beacon. As the adventurers approached the Hand, they were confronted by a troupe of monkey mechs. These strange creatures waved razor-sharp metal claws, and they moved with a strange, unsettling grace.

"What are those things?" Arcia cried out, her hand instinctively reaching for her sword.

"I don't know, but they look dangerous," Jalosti replied, his purple wizard's robes fluttering in the dry, dusty wind.

"We need to be careful," Karnelia warned, her black metal vertebra glinting in the dull light. "They could be thieves, looking to pilfer our valuables."

Without warning, the monkey mechs attacked, their glinting claws flashing through the air. The adventurers were caught off guard, but they quickly regained their footing and fought back with all their might.

"Stay back, you mechanical monstrosities!" Arcia yelled, swinging her sword with deadly accuracy.

"I'll show you the power of a purple wizard! Well, a trainee wizard at least" Jalosti cried out, unleashing a bolt of magical energy that sent one of the mechs flying.

"By the crimson veins of the Redlands, I command you to retreat!" Karnelia shouted, her voice carrying across the battlefield.

The battle raged on, with the adventurers fighting for their lives against the relentless monkey mechs. But in the end, they emerged victorious, their weapons stained with the blood of their mechanical foes.

Still panting from the battle, the adventurers regarded the Hand of Victory, a towering metal sculpture rising from the hard-packed ground like a beacon. It was covered in graffiti, and its once-smooth surface was now rough and jagged with age and exposure. Despite its age and the ravages of time, the Rusted Hand was still an imposing and impressive sight. It loomed over the adventurers, casting a long shadow across the desolate landscape.

As they regarded the Hand, the trio were approached by a group of a group of aristo maidens who are eager to have their portraits taken at the Rusted Hand. The adventurers oblige, and soon the maidens are posing for pictures, laughing and smiling in spite of the desolate surroundings.

“The Hand rises like a monument to the victories of the Long Ago over the soft, slow, and lazy enemy: the sea” declared one of the highborn young women, with a tone of approval in her voice.

Karnelia nodded in agreement, to her it seemed that the Rusted Hand was a symbol of the power and resilience of the human spirit. Despite being battered and beaten by the ravages of time, it was still standing tall and proud, a testament to the indomitable will of those who came before.

Arcia, however, frowned. The Rusted Hand seemed like a reminder of the fragility of life. She was struck by the way the metal has rusted and decayed, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy as she looks upon it. Despite its grandeur, it was ultimately just a discarded relic of a bygone age. And anyways, the sea was hundreds of miles to the East.

Her thought was interrupted by another aristo girl taking issue with the pronouncements of her companion. “All but two of the hand's fingers are broken off. The thumb has been removed. It is said that this is the mark of someone who was caught cheating at cards but could not be punished because no one knew where he lived. A futile gesture of revenge”.

The debate continued inconclusively, until the young women’s robot butler began serving orchid tea and mountain cress sandwiches, at which point they lost interest.

“We still have enough time to see the famous Sealed Gate before and make it back to camp before nightfall if we hurry”, declared Jalosti eagerly. His two companions agreed, the Sealed Gate was famous, and if they were really going to bring back the Null Object of Contemplation from the Black City, they would need to acquaint themselves with the mysterious and ineffable.

As the three adventurers approached the Sealed Gate, they were struck by the eerie beauty of the four-walled, onion-domed structure fronted by a drycoral arch. The surface of the structure were covered in intricate carvings, partially obscured by graffiti, depicting scenes of battles and triumphs from a bygone age. The gate itself was surrounded by a field of petrified bones, jutting out from the light, fluffy stone of the area.

Karnelia, the wine vampire priest, examined the bones with interest. "These must be the remains of some ancient beasts," she murmured, her dark hair blowing in the weary afternoon breeze. "I wonder what they were like in life."

Jalosti, the undergraduate purple wizard, nodded in agreement. "I've heard rumors of fabulous biotechnology hidden within these ruins," he said, patting the flank of his machine horse. "But… perhaps it would be unwise to get too close."

Cautiously, the adventurers moved closer to the gate, their feet crunching on the bones beneath them. They could feel a strange energy emanating from the structure, a mix of sorcery and science that was both enticing and foreboding. Karnelia had heard stories of this place, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight before her. She felt a strange connection to the ancient carvings, as if they held a hidden meaning just beyond her grasp. As the trio approached the arch, they saw a group gathered at the entrance dressed in colorful garb, examining the intricate carvings that adorned the gate. They seemed to be in the midst of some sort of performance, and they beckoned the adventurers to join them.

To the adventurer’s chagrin, the group were little more than dilettantes. They seemed to be in the midst of some sort of performance, and they beckoned the adventurers to join them. They carried a variety of instruments, from drums and flutes to more exotic devices that the adventurers couldn't identify, yet played none of them well. Members of the group spontaneously broke into poetry, offering free-verse paean to the mystery of the Gate. Karnelia, Jalosti and Arcia were aghast.

More agreeably, one of the dilettantes had brought along a dozen jars of wine, which he began passing round. Karnelia sniffed the jar she was offered. It wasn’t the sacred vampire wine her homeland, but it was ripe and rich nonetheless. Inevitably, a joint of purple haze was passed around as bodhrán drums battled one another. Despite animated digressions from many of the pretentious artists assembled, it was clear that no one present had any read idea of the purpose or origin of the gate. The adventurers settled for an evening pursuing less highbrow interests.

When they woke, they found that they had fallen asleep in the luxury landcruiser and were already on their way towards the Potsherd Crater, leaving João Levanta and his caravan far behind.