[UVG] Session 9 – Belly of the Beast

All illustrations are by Luka Rejec for The Ultraviolet Grasslands.

Dramatis Personae

• Marcy. Grapefruit nomad Steppelander. Amateur camel matchmaker, furniture fight emcee.
• Astia. D.W.A.R.F. Decapolitan Biomancer Ambassador. Friends with the world's greatest Fleshcrafter.
• Finn. Greenlander Phytomancer Emerald City Preacher. Body-slammed an armoire.

It's Been

One week since learning that Lacquer Stone 4-body purchased large amounts of rose water from an Oranjian merchant, our heroes had planned their next steps. Astia assisted Anise of Star with his research into the Skull of Rot while Marcy and Finn made a contact within an underground zine operation working out of the Harmonium.

The Crystalline Seed

Hitting the books confirmed Anise's suspicion: the enchanted skull found in Jonky Bonko's locker was indeed the Crystalline Seed left behind on earth when Rot, the god of biomantic flesh manipulation ascended to the cosmos. Astia and Anise learned that the skull requires six bodies sacrificed to break its six seals:

• A Rainbowlander
• A Steppelander
• A Cat Lord
• A Spectrum Satrap
• A Vome
• And a Vile, void-travelers once known as Elves. Very few known to exist.

Anise of Star discovered a new purpose for his life and resolved to roam the world in search of sacrifices for the skull. Astia made him promise that he would only use willing sacrifices, to which Anise agreed with the stipulation that he would take what he could get when it came to Viles. Having no use for it anymore, Anise handed the keys to the Buried Delicatessen to Astia and left the Last Serai with Basil of Planet.

Sodoba Purpureo and the Anarchist Collective

Marceline and Finn spent the week utilizing the fashion sense they picked up from spending so much time at YOUR LIFE BURNS FASTER IN THIS HOUSE to spot (fellow?) revolutionaries. Their efforts paid off in the form of a new contact: Sodoba Purpureo, a Violet City expat working on an anarcho-collectivist zine out of the Harmonium. Sodoba declined Marcy's request to convince her collective to "storm the Final Emabassy," but promised that if any of them were able to produce actual evidence she'd push their narrative hard as she could. Also, Sodoba's really cool and wears a clockwork balaclava.

What's that Saying About Plans Surviving First Contact with the Enemy?

Reconvening, the plan was simple: Marcy, Finn, and Astia would all disguise themselves as Spectrum Satraps (Marcy casting illusions on herself and Finn, Astia using body magic to literally change his form). Marcy would then approach the receptionist's desk and preoccupy them by asking about literally every service provided at the embassy while Astia and Finn snuck down the tube into the basement. Spells were cast, the operation was underway.

Marcy approached the receptionist desk and was greeted by a woman named Satrap 177 who immediately threw a spanner in the works by asking for her name. Everyone immediately realized they hadn't come up with aliases, and soon after realized that they weren't entirely certain how Satrap naming conventions worked. Marcy improvised "Satrap 572" and the receptionist told her to wait while she sent a message into the brass pipes reaching down into the basement. The receptionist then demanded an explanation as to why Marcy had given her a made up name, to which Marcy replied that she was suffering from amnesia. It took some convincing, but the receptionist eventually bought the story and began trying to figure out how to restore Marcy from a backup, a thing that Spectrum Satraps can actually do that Marceline assuredly was unaware of going into the operation. The receptionist apologized and explained that they were on high alert since a Satrap who works at the embassy was assaulted the previous week.

With the receptionist clearly distracted, Finn and Astia sprung into action walking at a brisk pace across the ground floor of the embassy toward the tubes in the back. An armed guard stood nearby and, when they were about to climb into the tube, asked incredulously why they weren't just using the stairs instead. Neither Finn nor Astia had a good answer, so the guard ordered them to identify themselves. Astia improvised "Black Diamond 420" at which point the guard immediately drew his gun and tried to pull off Astia's disguise. The guard was mortified when his assumption that Astia was an impostor proved incorrect; this was 100% authentic Spectrum Satrap (thanks to his advanced Fleshcrafting magic). Still, the guard was confused and demanded to know what some Satraps who didn't even know where the secret stairs were hidden had shown up and given him a made up name. Astia threw a hail mary: he put on his best top secret military official act and gave the guard the "Now Why Might That Be" treatment. It miraculously worked, and they were shown the hidden staircase behind the tube wells that Satraps use to travel less stupidly through the Final Embassy. They were in.

Below the Final Embassy

Finn and Astia were deep in hostile territory, behind enemy lines, in the belly of the beast. They descended the stairs to find themselves on a darkened bottom landing. Drawing glo-crystal rods from an umbrella stand, they crept over to a pit in the corner. Apparently, the tube they had planned to shimmy down moments before let out here: it was a trap, greased lower down causing unsuspecting interlopers to fall to their deaths. Listening at a door they heard footsteps and shuffling sounds. Finn peaked around the corner to spot a scientist-looking Satrap rummaging through some heavy wooden cabinets. Finn and Astia ambushed him, attacking with their bluntest instruments. He made a break for it but Finn cast a Levitation spell, effectively holding him in place while they interrogated him.

They learned the scientist worked tending to something called the Delicate Seer. He agreed to show them the Seer and lead them to the pool where it lives. Nearby was his research desk; he exchanged a journal full of his research notes for his life, and asked them to knock him out so he wouldn't be accused of treason or whatever. Finn obliged. After wading out into the cloud green water to embrace a synthetic egg full of post-human flesh, Finn and Astia saw potential versions of their future. Astia envisioned himself escaping successfully from the extremely dangerous situation in which they found themselves. Finn pictured himself kissing a girl for the first time.

The two crept down a hallway towards where they hoped to find evidence of dark phytomancy. They found a locked door at the end which Finn began to pick with his metal fingernails, but midway through the action heard the march of boots coming from the other side. We ended the session there, with sounds of an approaching threat and Finn's shiny metal fingernail stuffed into a keyhole.

[UVG] Session 8 – A Taste of Rose Water, a Smell of Wet

All illustrations are by Luka Rejec for The Ultraviolet Grasslands.

Dramatis Personae

• Astia. D.W.A.R.F. Decapolitan Biomancer Ambassador. Fast friends with the world's greatest Fleshcrafter.
• Marcy. Grapefruit nomad Steppelander. Amateur camel matchmaker, furniture fight emcee.
• Finn. Greenlander Phytomancer Emerald City Preacher. Body-slammed an armoire.
• Limon. Lime nomad Steppelander climate migrant. Bound in servitude to a demigod Bonsai Turtle named Glum.

The Negotiation That Went Poorly

Marcy and Finn sat at the bar of the Giving Cow, the former filling in the latter on the stakes of the upcoming meeting. Astia was a negotiator by trade, but he was on his way to a club in the Harmonium called Gentle Whisper in order to keep mercenary group The Dangerous Ballad busy for the evening. The teens ran over their relevant knowledge:

• They found two skeletons with fleshy worm-vines in the cupboard of their hostel room.
• Marcy saw worm-vines in the aftermath of her barista's "static overload" incident. 
• Black Helmet 60-plurality denied the existence of any such creatures.
• The orange Satrap 57 confirmed that no mention of worm-vines was made in BH60-P's report of the incident.
• Underneath the Final Embassy, the atmosphere was humid and the smell of plant magic suffused the building.
• Satrap 57 took great umbrage at the unspoken suggestion that dark phytomancy took place in the Final Embassy's basement and pleaded with our heroes not to go to BH60-P with their evidence.

There was also their goal to consider: the group will be heading further westward soon, which inevitably involves moving closer to Spectrum Satrap seats of power. So they wanted to blackmail(?) the Satraps, but in a manner that wouldn't harm their potential relationship with the faction. Astia paid the hefty $10 cover charge to get into the club with the cadre of mercenaries unaware that he himself is the bounty they seek. Satrap 57 arrived at the Giving Cow.

RAW SEWAGE

RAW SEWAGE, the Giving Cow's Dwarf Biomancer bartender and owner hadn't intended to eavesdrop on Marcy and Finn's conversation, but through pure proximity had absorbed enough to understand that these kids were in some kind of serious trouble. They moved to a booth once their guest arrived, but even half the bar away, he could tell things were not going well. 

Then, inspiration struck. 

Whoever this orange guy was, he was threatening RAW SEWAGE's friends (probably, or something), so RAW SEWAGE sabotaged some milk and sent it his way. From over the Satrap's shoulder he indicated that the milk was drugged to the best of his ability. He was confident Marcy and Finn understood, but knew for sure that they couldn't confirm mid-conversation. It'd be too suspicious. So he sauntered back over to his station and waited. Sure enough, Satrap 57 took a couple slurps of the white stuff and was face-down on the table moments later.

After the commotion made by Finn and Marcy's surprised, panicked reactions RAW SEWAGE offered to hog tie the satrap, but the teens had a better idea. They would take him back to their hostel room, Finn would run and grab Astia from the club, and they would trick Satrap 57 into thinking he'd simply partied too hard in celebration of a successful negotiation. It was air-tight!

A Master Class in Burning Bridges

After hauling Satrap 57 up to the hostel Weekend at Bernie's style—miraculously raising no suspicion along the way—Finn ran to the Harmonium while Marcy waited in case 57 woke up earlier than expected. The Greenlander raced through the cramped hallways of the serais arriving at Gentle Hush to find the Dangerous Ballad playing a game involving digging coins into the table. The losers had minor cosmetic features swapped around by Astia's flesh-stitching magic. Finn breathlessly explained the situation to Astia, cleverly disinteresting the mercs by explaining away Astia's required absence as pertaining to teenage romantic drama between Marcy and Limon. In need of alcohol to plant on the satrap, Astia bought a bottle of Karma Joose from the club (at a disgustingly inflated price), sneakily putting it on Jimmy the Shark's tab before ditching him and his goons for the night.

The two made it back with minutes to spare before RAW SEWAGE's drugs were expected to wear off. Limon had shown up at some point with the same aloof demeanor he always wore, either unaware or uncaring of the peril at hand. Ah, youth... Anyway, Astia and Marcy splashed the drug-infused alcohol on their unconscious guest and rubbed a little on his imbibing tube. He awoke understandably confused. They told Satrap 57 their planned lie: the negotiation had gone so well that they had decided to toast to a beautiful new friendship. One thing lead to another and, well, here he is in an unfamiliar hostel with no recollection of the entire last night's event (they lied about it being a day later to him despite only a couple hours having gone by). You see, Karma Joose is kinda like Goldschläger, except instead of gold flakes it features a suspension of karma dust, a drug (and valuable trade good!) that induces amnesia; it's essentially a party-drink for people whose intention is to not remember the night. Satrap 57 was incredulous to say the least that he would intentionally order such a drink after an event that's pretty important he remember. Despite Astia's encouragement, he excused himself from their hostel and headed back to his quarters in the Satraps' serai.

Is this what those things look like?? God I hope not

Finn had another chat with the fleshy worm-vines while everyone figured out their next step, asking about the master, the "mind-burned thief," and the whereabouts of their origin. Possessing no sense of sight, the best the plants could offer was that the mind-burned thief "tastes of rosewater and smells of wet." 

Less than confident in their plan's execution, our heroes decided to find someplace else to crash for the night at the Buried Delicatessen. 

Aftermath and a Return to Scooby Doo Stuff

While Astia studied the Skull of Rot with Anise and Basil instructed Limon on how to properly categorize and sort body parts, Marcy and Finn decided to check on RAW SEWAGE. He'd shut down the Giving Cow after the incident, and no one had heard from him since. They got his address from Anise and paid him a visit.

Arriving at the depressing quarters, Marcy and Finn found themselves in a cramped drycoral hallways and staring at a flimsy, thin, wooden door. No light could be seen under the door (there were no windows, as the apartment's underground) and if RAW SEWAGE was home, he wasn't responding to their calls. Finn used a metal fingernail to pick the lock, and the two entered the darkened abode. To the right, a door laid open—just a crack—leading into a darkened room. Marcy pushed the door fully open from a safe enough distance to narrowly avoid the bucket of acid balanced atop it, but still found herself in the sights of R.S.'s rifle. He gave Marcy to the count of five to prove she was who she said she was (Spectrum Satraps are powerful illusionists, according to him) before he'd open fire. 

They satisfied his standard of rigor by shouting about how he winked at them from over the Satrap's shoulder, something their shared adversary couldn't have known. He invited them to crash at his place, which was a boon to all as Marcy's lack of sleep requirement allowed her to keep watch all night while the others slept. Eventually Astia and Limon got worried and regrouped, having to jump through similar hoops to satisfy the increasingly paranoid Dwarf milk-slinger.

Everyone headed back up to the surface mid-day to further investigate the mind-burned thief who tastes of rosewater and smells of wet. When they arrived at the hostel they found their shared room's door kicked in and off its hinges. Opening their skeleton cupboard, Finn found his phytomantic friends fried, laser guns by the look of it. Sleeping elsewhere that night had been a wise choice after all. Everyone asked around the bazaar for anyone selling and/or buying rosewater; when they found their man, they learned that his biggest buyer was none other than Lacquer Stone 4-body... Black Helmet 60-plurality's boss. 

Could this be the answer they sought? 

Will they discover the identity and motivations of the mind-burned thief? 

IS dark phytomancy actually being practiced beneath the Final Embassy? 

Should the party just dip set and get the fuck out of this place while they still can?? 

Some or all of these answers and more, next time on UVG.

[UVG] Session 7 – There Is No Dark Phytomancy Occurring Under the Final Embassy

All illustrations are by Luka Rejec for The Ultraviolet Grasslands.

Dramatis Personae

• Limon. Lime nomad Steppelander climate migrant. Bound in servitude to a demigod Bonsai Turtle named Glum. Owner of a strikingly wide-brimmed pale green wizard hat.
• Astia. D.W.A.R.F. Decapolitan Biomancer Ambassador of the Cobalt Ziggu-Rot. Making more Biomancer friends than anyone should be comfortable with.
• Marcy. Grapefruit nomad Steppelander Black Gold Industrialist. Budding cat coffee dealer, amateur camel matchmaker, furniture fight emcee.

Deep In the Underbelly of the Last Trading House

...our heroes convened at The Buried Delicatessen. The den of biomancy felt about the temperature of a Subway toppings refrigerator and featured body parts drained of blood, hanging from meat hooks amidst and above the half dozen or so unoccupied ka-boxes. Anise of Star eyed the Skull of Rot eagerly and confessed his expert opinion on the artifact to Astia: this, he surmised, was the long-awaited Crystalline Seed. A gift from their mutual god to his followers on earth. Anise offered the group free ka-box sessions and a full facial reconstruction for Marcy's mouth situation in exchange for the skull. Astia understood well the power of this artifact, but knew that its application could prove... problematic, what with the un/willing sacrifices and whatnot. An artifact conveys power, undeniably, but so does instantly getting on the good side of the known world's foremost expert in one's chosen field. Potentially even moreso than the skill itself. Astia agreed and the party's nettle burns and chemical coughs were healed overnight.

Rejuvenating as six or so hours in a ka-box may be, our heroes had nonetheless stayed up into the wee hours of the morning and sought refuge back at their hostel. At least a couple hours of shut-eye would be better than nothing, save for Marceline who no longer requires sleep. Before they left, Limon asked Anise for employment who acquiesced. He needed a bouncer, and someone to index his increasingly scattered collection of preserved organs by quality. Anise also offered Astia a position as research assistant while he further studied the skull. While everyone else retired to their beds, sleepless Marcy headed for a coffee shop.

Everything was Going Okay Until the Barista Exploded

Marcy sat reading a magazine at Crystal Rebirth, a coffee shop in the Harmonium she had spotted during her previous day's exploration. Commotion from the hallway outside the front doors caught her eye. An orange Spectrum Satrap was being rushed into a pod by a pair of necroamblers, which in retrospect are probably supposed to be zombie-like creatures but I decided in the moment were dog-sized spiders comprised of sewn-together human legs made animate. The Ultraviolet Grasslands, baby! Moments afterwards, the barista came to collect Marcy's empty cup and hadn't even finished if she'd like a refill before erupting into a shower of gore, painting the formerly cozy spot with blood and viscera. Marcy screamed.

Responding to the horrified shrieking, 10 humanoid figures wearing matching outfits and hercules-beetle-shaped masks of black porcelain rushed in. Four of them began questioning Marcy about what had happened and what she had seen, introducing themselves as Black Helmet 60-plurality; the others pulled out black batons and began beating to death two writing, rosy flesh-colored wormlike vines writhing about in the muck that had once been a coffee shop employee. After taking down her account, the poly-cop (polyce??) assured Marcy that it was merely "static overload," nothing to be concerned about. She tried to point out the worm-vine things, but Black Helmet 60-plurality refused to acknowledge them, and having sufficiently beaten all evidence of them into a nasty paste marched off in uncanny unison. Marceline needed a bath.

She soon found a kindly old woman willing to lend her a helping hand despite everything. No one else would make eye contact with the blood-soaked and shaken teenager, with the vast majority of folks taking one look at her and promptly pulling an about-face, noping off as fast as possible. Katya took her up to a makeshift hovel in a storage room and introduced her to a friendly janitorial gelatinous ooze who Marceline agreed to let clean her. The ooze felt like hydrogen peroxide and her entire body an open wound, but you couldn't argue with the results. A squeaky clean Marcy thanked the ooze and the old lady, trekking back to The Last Trading Hostel to inform her friends of what had transpired.

Getting to the Bottom of Things

Things had become suspicious-er and suspicious-er, and now it was time to piece together the clues and crack this case. Skeletons with worm-vines, a Spectrum Satrap rushed into a privacy pod, a barista exploding with worms inside, "static overload," Porcelain Prince Police cover-ups... they decided to head over to The Final Embassy's Cultural Center to learn about Spectrum Satraps and their history. 

He may have stood out better had I remembered about the tentacle arm. Oops!

Unlike the Last Trading House and Harmonium serais, the party found the Final Embassy a spotless, hermetically sealed affair. The sliding glass doors opened with a "pssshh" sound and the inside smelled like a freshly opened tube of tennis balls. At the wide, curved receptionist's desk sat... another orange Spectrum Satrap. Not recognizing the fellow, Marcy began interrogating the receptionist about the incident she had witnessed earlier. Information was requisitioned via a brass tube extending into the floor below their feet, but while the Satraps had a record of the event, it contained no mention of worm-vines. The Spectrum Satrap introduced himself as Satrap 57 and strongly suggested they not pry too hard into this whole worm-vine thing. It was probably just static overload. Leave it alone! Satrap 57 sent a necroambler to show them the way to the Cultural Center on the second floor. 

The horrifying leg-beast ambled on over to the back of the room where it began cautiously mounting the inside of a glass tube extending both above and below the serai's ground floor. Satisfied that it was as well-situated it was going to get, it spider-climbed its way up to the second floor. The party looked bewilderedly up after the bizarre creature as it ascended slowly and awkwardly.

The only way to get up to the cultural center

It was everyone else's turn to follow. Astia and Marcy deftly performed the athletic feat, but (surprisingly) Limon slipped, sliding slightly below ground floor before regaining his grip. To his surprise, the air was humid and smelly down there, a far cry from the sterile, heavily filtered air of the above-ground floors. Stranger still was that rather than a natural mixing of the two floors' gasses, a distinct yet unseen barrier separated the humid below from the clean above. Limon climbed his way up to the cultural center and shared his findings with the others. 

Now less concerned with the word salad technobabble nonsense displayed on the plaques ("During the Decadent Poly-chromatism movement of the Savenger Polities, it is said that Every Spectrum Satrap Died" and so on and so forth) and more with the mounting mystery of the forbidden basement (signs in 12 different languages said "do not enter" more or less), the group discussed their options. Should they sneak into the basement? Cause a distraction to distract Satrap 57? Would they get in trouble or be killed? Armed guards were out back overseeing the unloading of marrow-beet from the colossal prismatic walkers stationed outside... would there be time to escape before they reacted? After speculating all this and more, they noticed the necroambler observing them. It then dashed off toward the mobility tube, but in its rush to get back to the front desk, slipped and fell who knows how far into the darkness Below. Limon, Marcy, and Astia decided it was time they all left.

A Tense Negotiation, Scheduled

On their way out, Satrap 57 got a buzz from the tubes heading below and chased after them, but only to the border between the Final Embassy and the Harmonium. Marceline mentioned smelling magic from below at which point the Satrap exasperatedly denied—perhaps a bit too preemptively—any and all accusations not yet made of Dark Phytomancy being practiced below the Final Embassy. The group threatened to go to Black Helmet 60-plurality with their newfound information unless the Spectrum Satraps made it worth their while. Decidedly opposed to this outcome, Satrap 57 agreed to meet them at a neutral location to discuss terms. He also made Astia swear a D.W.A.R.F.en vow they wouldn't divulge any information prior to the meeting; he agreed. They scheduled the meeting for that very night at the Giving Cow.

Upon arriving at the Giving Cow, however, our party found a group of familiar yet uniquely unwelcome faces: The Dangerous Ballad. Once again, the goons hired to hunt them down were playing their betting game around a glass of putrid toxic milk. Being the only party member who the Dangerous Ballad did not possess a description of, Astia nobly chose to get them out of everyone else's hair. He flashed his wad, impressing the goons, and offered to take them out on the town for the evening. Excited to leave the dump and hit up a nicer joint for once, the mercenaries left with him post-haste, walking directly past Limon and Marceline who were standing by the entranceway to the milk bar. Marcy quickly pulled Limon into her embrace and planted one on him so as to not expose their faces to the bounty hunters. The goons chided them, but passed by without IDing the macking teens. They had lost their best negotiator in exchange for removing a serious problem, but Marcy had a greater concern on her mind.

Sparks had flown.