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.
