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.