Ultraviolet Odyssey Part 6

This is the sixth 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, plus Sudowrite, 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: 'Snake Eyes', Somnus Throne.

Chapter 13

As the sun began to set in the west, bathing the Porcelain Citadel in hues of pink and orange, a sense of despondency settled over the three adventurers. They had encountered several reactionary Porcelain Princes on their journey, and it seemed like every turn they took led to another unpleasant encounter. Jocasti had hoped that the abmortal wizards might have been willing to share knowledge of the goal of their quest, Null Object of Desire. But after a day of unhappy interactions, the prospects of assistance from the Princes seemed very remote. Uncertain of what lay ahead, they trudged on, a gloomy mood palpable in the air.

"We should find somewhere to rest and regroup," said Arcia, her brow furrowed in thought. "There must be a place in this town where we won't be judged for being outsiders."

After asking around, they eventually stumbled upon a place called 'Your Life Burns Faster in this House', a radical house known for its loud music and even louder politics. It was painted pink, decorated with a variety of brightly-colored graffiti and vibrant protest artwork. It quaked to the beat of doom-laden hymns as a crowd around it swayed and postured. As they approached the door, they could hear the sound of pounding drums and wailing guitars emanating from within.

"This looks like the place for us," said Karnelia with a grin.

They pushed open the door and stepped inside, immediately greeted by a thick cloud of pungent smoke. The room was filled with a motley assortment of people, ranging from Redland District radicals to pseudo-dwarves, all huddled together in small groups, talking in hushed tones. They felt a sense of relief wash over them. This was a place for radicals and rebels, a place where they could plot and plan their next steps without fear of persecution.

Syruss Sensible, the proprietor of the establishment, greeted them warmly as they entered. He was a tall, slender figure with a sharp suit adorned with pins and a neatly trimmed handlebar moustache that curved around his lips.

"Welcome, welcome!" Syruss exclaimed as he led the adventurers to a table. His voice resonated with a smooth baritone, an inviting timbre that filled the adventurers with a sense of ease.

"I'm Syruss Sensible, and this is Your Life Burns Faster in this House. The place where anything goes and the revolution never sleeps. This is a place for rebels, outcasts and mischief makers.”

As they settled into their seats, Syruss gestured throughout the smoky bar, hand-rolling a cigarette between his fingers. He pointed out the gruff Redland District radicals, the short chubby pseudo-dwarves, and even a group of Porcelain Princes who were fed up with the conservative ways of their kin.

"So, what brings you three to our little corner of the world?" Syruss asked, leaning back in his chair.

"We are travelling to the Black City, on a mission from the Cat Lords," replied Jocasti.

Syruss's eyes widened with curiosity, and he leaned forward in his chair. "The Cat Lords? That is an interesting mission indeed! What could they possibly be wanting with you?"

"Archon Kynosophia has tasked us with seeking an audience with the Grand Observer," Karnelia responded, solemnly. She frowned. The trio were far from home, yet the Black City still seemed an impossible distance away. "Our problem is that... we are almost out of money and supplies, and lack any means of locomotion."

Syruss nodded, thoughtful. "Yes, yes, I can see why the Cats of Violet City would prefer to send others on such an arduous journey. But rest assured, I am sure that the Grand Observer is a patient and wise figure. I am sure you will get your audience." Syruss smiled, before taking a long drag of his cigarette. "And for tonight, you are welcome to stay here as my guests. But first, let me ask you something: do you truly wish to defy the Porcelain Princes?"

The adventurers nodded. 

"Then I have just the thing. It is a rare form of locomotion called the Caravan of Bones. It is powered by the spirit of those who have passed, and it is capable of navigating the most dangerous terrain. It's theft would be a great setback for those pompous autocrats, and a great boon for the three of you."

"But how do we gain access to this caravan?" asked Arcia.

"I can show you a method," replied Syruss, confidence in his voice. "But be warned - the journey will not be easy. The Princes will be after you, and the route further west via the Last Serai will be impossible for you. You will have no choice but to cross the Trail of Vomish Dreams."

The adventurers looked at one another and nodded in unison.

Yes, they were ready.

"Superb," declared Syruss. "Tonight, however, we celebrate."

And with that, Syruss led the trio to the bar and presented them with an array of exotic drinks. Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia couldn't help but overhear the heated debates happening all around them.

"The Porcelain Princes have had their way for far too long," said a young woman with bright purple hair. "It's time for us to take back our power and control our own lives."

"Hear, hear!" cried out a deep-voiced pseudo-dwarf.

It was clear that the bar was a haven for rebels and miscreants, a place where the laws of the Porcelain Princes held no sway. The adventurers smiled, for the first time in days feeling the warmth of community and the courage of revolution. They had found an unlikely ally in Syruss Sensible, and with him, a way to both challenge the Porcelain Prince and continue their journey to the Black City.

Jocasti grinned and raised his glass, admiring the red hue of the ale. Happily swigging the cherry beer, struck up a conversation with an elf wearing a heavily embroidered robe and tall leather boots. Where its right hand should have been, a steel prosthetic gleamed in the light.

"Believe me," the elf assured him "Syruss's owes his position to his hats. A turban made from titanium silk and a feathered bonnet fit for a king or queen. A beret knitted from witch-wool and velvet cap from the distant East. Each hat is imbued with remarkable powers that could unlock secret portals, summon storms or even deflect bullets."

Jalosti was fascinated. But then again, Syruss didn't seem to be wearing a hat that evening. Maybe magical hats were only for special occasions.

He noticed, however, that Karnelia looked troubled. She had been relieved as he and Arcia had been to find the radical house, but he noticed that she kept glancing nervously at the group of Redland revolutionists.

"Karnelia, if I may be so bold, I noticed that you seemed troubled when you heard these people talking about the Redland revolution," Jalosti said tentatively.

Karnelia breathed a deep sigh and turned to face him. "I think that the people of Redland have a right to fight for their freedom," she said slowly. "But I also believe that there must be other ways to achieve justice without resorting to violence and chaos." She paused for a moment, her intense garnet eyes meeting Jalosti's gaze.

"Landslaaf and freiwerker alike have been oppressed by the great estates for centuries," she continued. "It's true that the estates must be challenged, but I fear that the bloody revolution is only bringing more misery and suffering. I believe that revolution must be guided by compassion and reason, not rage and vengeance."

Arcia, however, was getting on famously with the huddle of Redland revolutionary veterans. She felt a sudden urge to join in the political debate and began a passionate diatribe against the injustices she had seen. But before she could finish, a voice rose above the crowd.

"Let's have some fun!" someone shouted. "Who wants to join me in the dancing contest?".

Arcia found herself surrounded by an eager crowd of revelers. She felt compelled to join them; her feet quickened as the music blared and she began to move. All eyes were on Arcia as she danced with grace and confidence; soon enough everyone had joined in, some clapping along while others twirled beside her. As she danced, her movements were met with cheers from those around her until finally it came time for someone to be crowned champion. She was presented, quite incongruously, with a pie.

Afterwards, they agreed that one of the last things they could remember of the night. Each recalled a round of Cherenkov cherry vodka shots, and the disconcerting sense of travelling very rapidly whilst standing still – or at least swaying on the spot.  They awoke under bar tables with heads ringing, surrounded by upturned chairs and broken glass. Someone had picked their pockets of their few remaining coins.

Syruss strolled into the bar, impossibly well-composed. "I hope you enjoyed our hospitality last night. Now, let me explain how you are going to steal the Caravan of Bones."

 

Chapter 14

As the three adventurers sat in the dimly lit barroom of "Your Life Burns Faster in this House", the purple light of dawn peering through the shutters, Syruss Sensible laid out a plan for them to steal the Caravan of Bones.

"Now, the Caravan of Bones is guarded by a group of Porcelain Princes at all times," Syruss explained, "But they are creatures of habit and follow a strict schedule. If you can catch them off guard, we can steal the caravan and make our escape."

Karnelia, Jalosti, and Arcia nodded attentively. Syruss pulled out a small, intricately carved wand from his waistcoat. "I have procured a Femur Wand for you, Jalosti. It should allow you to control the Caravan. And I have procured disguises for all three of you. If you pretend to be a single polybody Prince, it should be enough to get you close enough to the caravan without arousing suspicion. Practice moving in synchrony to make the disguise more convincing."

Syruss then presented each of them with a porcelain mask, each with a different cerulean symbol painted on the cheek. The adventurers quickly donned their disguises, thanked Syruss for his help and shook his hand. Waiting until dusk, they followed his instructions to the Porcelain Prince's encampment.

As the shadows stretched East, the adventurers crept towards the guarded caravan, their steps in synchrony. Jalosti held the Femur Wand tightly in her hand as they approached, ready to take control of the vehicle at a moment's notice. As they approached the Caravan of Bones, he could feel a strange, almost malign energy emanating from the vehicle, as if it has been cursed to never move again. It appeared to be a wheeled white barge ten strides long.

The guards were just as Syruss had described them: a small group of the Princes' minions, well-armed and alert. They were adorned in ceremonial armor and carrying long spears tipped with razor sharp white blades, with holstered machine-pistols at their sides. Karnelia, Arcia, and Jalosti made their way through the camp, using their porcelain masks and their practiced movements to blend in until they finally reached the side of the Caravan of Bones. Up close, they could see that the bones composing the caravan were knitted together, weaving in and out of one another, forming a morbid tapestry. Karnelia realised that into the bones were carved symbols of death and resurrection. It rumbled eerily, like a sleeping beast awoken from slumber.

A loud voice bellowed from the encampment.

"Hey! Who goes there?"

Karnelia stepped forward, her voice firm and confident.

"I am the Porcelain Prince Malfyr 3-Adjutant. I have been sent to inspect the caravan on behalf the Ageless Society." Arcia and Jalosti attempted to mimic her gestures as she spoke. "We have been reliably informed that there have been inappropriate innovations in how the Caravan of Bones is being guarded. Naturally, this of great concern to us given the importance of this most cherished heirloom."

"It appears you are who you say you are," the guard said gruffly, "You may go ahead and inspect the caravan."

Karnelia let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding as they continued their mission in silence.

Jalosti whispered a few words of arcane, and the Femur Wand came to life. With a few more words, the caravan began to move, its wheels creaking and grinding.

The adventurers quickly leapt inside the vehicle, Arcia at the helm, Jalosti animating the vehicle with the Femur Wand.

"Halt! Stop in the name of the Citadel!" The guards, or rather  shouted and began running towards them with a spear in hand.

Karnelia stepped out onto the side of the carriage and prepared to fight off any pursuers, her eyes narrowed against the wind as she bent low into an attack stance. The guard ran forward but was no match for Karnelia's speed and skill. She deftly parried his strikes with her crystal-topped staff, sending him stumbling back each time until he tumbled to the ground.

The roar of gunfire filled the air, loud and relentless as the guards unleashed a barrage of bullets from their machine-pistols. Bullets ricocheted off the bone chassis of the caravan, sending chips of bone flying like hail.

Karnelia flung herself against the deck of the caravan, but Jalosti cried out, clutching his arm.

"Jalosti! Are you ok?!" Arcia cried out, her voice full of fear and worry.

Jalosti gritted his teeth against the pain, but held tight hold of the Femur Wand. Karnelia crawled along the deck towards him, and used her vampire priestess skills to command the blood seeping from Jalosti's arm to coagulated and staunch.

Soon enough, the gunfire faded into the night, and they were on their way to safety. They quickly left the camp behind them, until the only sound that filled their ears was the grinding of bone wheels against dirt road.

A large stony figure passed by them on the left of the Caravan, and with a feeling of sinking horror Arcia remembered the sentry golems. Syruss's plan had not accounted for them. Behind them eyes of the golem began to glow. But the terrible blast of burning lightning Arcia anticipated was never unleashed. For some reason, the defence tower would not fire on the ancient ossuary vehicle.

Karnelia let out a sigh of relief, but it was quickly replaced by concern as she remembered how weak Jalosti had become. He needed rest, and fast.

The caravan creaked and groaned as they travelled through the night. Arcia kept her gaze glued to the stars, both for navigation purposes and so that she would not have to look at the macabre sight of bones around her. The pulse from the wand continued to fill the air with a gentle hum, calming Arcia's nerves until eventually, exhaustion overcame them all and they fell asleep in their skeletal waggon.

The caravan rolled through the night, the adventurers slipping through the Porcelain Princes' grip and towards the Black City.