This is the twelfth 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: 'She is So', Sky Valley Mistress.
Chapter 20
The adventurers stepped off their boats and onto the pylon outpost; a strange and wondrous sight greeted them. The outpost was made from several large, white livingstone towers, connected by complex webs of girders and struts. A thin layer of mist hung in the air, obscuring much of what lay within its walls. A small group of harlequin-clad figures stood at each tower's entrance, staring out at the adventurers with curious eyes.
At the center of it all was the an enormous door hewn from ebony black metal that reached up as high as five tall men could stack upon one another's shoulders. A face seemed to be carved into the metal, and its expression was solemn yet menacing. Powerful magical energies radiated from the door like waves, allowing no entrance without its permission.
"Welcome weary travelers. I am Tollmaster Door, guardian of this place. Present your purpose for entering these gates and pay the customary toll for the inconvenience of rescuing you from the Moon River."
"We seek respite and supplies, Tollmaster Door," Karnelia di'Orca spoke with a strong yet gentle voice. "We thank you in advance for your hospitality."
Tollmaster Door slowly nodded its head before speaking. "You may enter, but only after paying the toll of five hundred cash pieces." The adventurers groaned, as this was the last of their funds, but eying the band of Harlequins encircling them, reluctantly agreed and handed over the required payment. With a loud clank the heavy doors opened, revealing a set of livingstone stairs carved into a central pylon.
The adventurers cautiously climbed the stairs, and upon reaching the top, were met with a breathtaking view of the river below. The entrance to the outpost opened up to a wide platform, spanning almost one hundred feet in diameter, buttressed by the pylons below. The platform creaked from the weight of the driftwood buildings layered atop one another, forming a chaotic skyline of ragtag balconies and precarious bridges woven through the air. A latticework of rope bridges hung between the buildings, from which an assemblage of people traversed—an array of porters, tinkers, and Harlequins weaving through the jostling throng. Above their heads, flags of all stripes flapped in the breeze, marking this precarious outpost as a beacon of hope for those willing to take chances.
In the distance to the West they could see the Near Moon hanging in the air, glowing dark orange as the sun set on the horizon beyond it.
At the center of the platform stood a lone figure, dressed in aquamarine robes, her fingers gently pulling the strings of the marionette dangling between her hands so that it performed a complex dance of welcome.
"Greetings travelers," spoke the figure with her ethereal voice. "Welcome to Pylon Post Seven; I am Tollmaster Sister, seneschal of this outpost. What brings you here?"
Still bedraggled and tired from being near-drowned by the flash flood, the trio of adventures looked at each other. After a pause, Arcia stepped forward on behalf of the group."We are searching for a way across the Moon River and the grasslands beyond, Tollmaster Sister. It seems like there may be a few here that can help us."
Tollmaster Sister seemed to consider this for several seconds before gently smiling and bowing her head in agreement.
"Yes, my friends," she said, lifting up her hands once more, her marionette performing a pantomime of adventure.
"Such brave souls no doubt deserve all the help they can find at Pylon Post Seven. Rest yourselves whilst I consult with my guild-mates to determine how we shall aid your cause."
With that, Tollmaster Sister ushered the adventurers inside one of the many buildings of the platform, her marionette pointing them inside a driftwood bothy. The interior was cramped yet comfortable; there were sleeping bunks spread between tables and shelves cluttered with wares and trinkets left behind by weary travellers who have passed through this place. As they settled in to take rest, Arcia found a collection of ancient books tucked away under one bunk which told tales of incredible power and courage—stories from another era long gone but made new again within these walls.
The adventurers awoke the next morning, refreshed and ready to face the day. As they emerged from their restful sleep they were met by a sight of bustling activity; merchants had begun to barter on the platform, each one eager to trade for their lophotroche sugar. The group were quickly about to replenish their supplies, with a tidy profit on top.
As Arcia surveyed the array of items before her, she made a comment to Jalosti. "It seems like we've found a small slice of wonder in this strange port."
"Indeed," the student wizard replied with a smile, "This is quite a wondrous place on its own accord. It almost makes the near-drowning worth it!" He was still a little worried about rust affecting his mechanical horse.
Just then, they heard a sharp tinkling in the air—the music of Tollmaster Sister's bell studded dress as she emerged from behind one of the buildings. Her marionette danced merrily to a waltz of its own making. As if on cue, everyone around them moved to attention and made way for her.
She strode gracefully towards Arcia and bowed in acknowledgment before gesturing to the river below and beyond Pylon Post Seven's perimeter. "I have consulted with some of our most skillful Harlequin guides," she spoke softly yet confidently; "in view of the unseasonably rapid currents, they think it best we send you off when conditions are ideal." The group listened intently—was this post-organic Redlander about to show them a miracle?
She then stepped closer to them, her voice becoming softer in tone. "I must warn you though – do not underestimate what lies beyond; tales of visitors from the stars linger around these parts so always stay vigilant."
"We thank you, Tollmaster sister", responded Arcia. She had found the Harlequins and other inhabitants of the outpost agreeable, freewheeling yet dignified, reminding her of the Rainbow Sea pirate companies she knew so well, more than a thousand wayhours away to the East. "We'll be sure to keep your counsel with us on our journey across."
"Farewell, my friends", the post-organic Redlander said. She pulled a curtsy as her marionette bowed in turn to salute them. She turned away from the group to address her Harlequin guides one last time. "May these brave strangers find their way home safe!", she called out, bidding them a fond farewell.
With one last look at the magnificent vista from the platform, the group gathered their supplies and made ready to leave. They made their way down the livingstone staircase and led their horses to the shoreline of the outpost. The flamboyant warrior-guides of the Pylon advised them to wait a few hours until the flood finally subsided.
The Harlequins had judged well well — by midmorning, the current was beginning to slow until it became manageable enough for even Jalosti’s awkward, cantankerous - but thankfully not entirely rusted - mechanical horse. They were all determined now as they led their horses and embarked across this sweeping river – but none so more than Arcia who knew she could not turn back from entering what comes next.
The group sloshed through the waist-deep, chilly water of the second half of the Moon River, careful to keep their balance on the rocky riverbed. There was a collective shiver that ran down their spines as they felt the icy water lapping at their skin. The river seemed to be alive with malicious intent, pushing them towards danger and forcing them to fight against its might. They could feel the pull of the current growing stronger as they approached the far side. After a few slips and falls, as well as a few worrying moments when the current grew stronger, they eventually made it to the West bank - drenched, battered, but undaunted.
As they clambered onto the shore, soaked and shivering, Jalosti couldn't help but let out a victorious cheer. "We did it!" he exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air, "we beat that treacherous river!"
The others groaned in response, their breaths turning to fog in the frigid air. But deep down, they all shared a sense of satisfaction at having overcome yet another obstacle on their journey towards an uncertain future.
In the distance, low on the horizon, the Near Moon glowed brilliant white in the late morning sun.
