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.