A Report By Lleva Vyeldisana, Naturalist and Zoa Conservationist
For transmission to the Vert-Kelly University of Natural Sciences, Emerald City.

Skirting through the wilderness rut-roads that pass through the uncertain borderlands of dubious ownership between all that is Blue and Green (and ever on course for the Purple) would be a dangerous proposition for all but the most experienced caravaneers. Fortunately for myself, and for the rest of my companions in this mad journey which is surely trending toward the Redlands, we travel with the Vermeil Vein Caravan under the protection (and with the wisdom) of Ilod Kvelak, who seems to know every trackpath through this teal wilderness. I have no illusions about the fact that we will, certainly, face danger on these roads, but something about Kvelak’s stubborn sureness gives me all of the confidence I need to carry on. Our Blue Oracle’s very presence enlivens me, and even thinking about her brings a smile to my face. Surely we are blessed to have her among our number, and I can’t, for the life of me, understand why I ever felt otherwise. Surely I was a fool, and am not infected by blue spores, or some other such thing I once worried about. No, my mind is too clear for there to be any trace of foreign influence. I do feel such a keen yearning to journey deeper into the Bluelands, though. If our Oracle deemed that was our course tomorrow, I would follow her there without question. I suppose I should be worried about that, but my mind is still so keen and clear! I am my own person, driven by my own ambitions, it’s just that those ambitions seem to dovetail with those of the Blue Oracle at every step of the way these days. Yes, that must surely be it. Kismet and nothing more. Nothing else makes sense!

Regardless, wherever we journey, I will do my duty as a naturalist and catalog the wonders that we find on our way south toward the Circle Sea.


A detachment of The Knights of the Second Sun are crossing this area on pilgrimage to their holy sites. They arrive singing strange songs that alternate with clicking and squishy phonemes, but are generally friendly. Wearing armor made of chitin cap mushrooms, Knights of this obscure order undergo a commitment ritual in which they allow themselves to be colonized by a meaty, bioluminescent fungus that grants them periodic visions of the divine. They carry very little of value for trade, and the fungus makes them odorous and coprovorous, but may know of useful rumors or tales gathered along their way. 

Invariably, 1d4 of the members of any given troupe of the Knights of the Second Sun will be sick and convulsing with mushroom visions, laid out upon a stretcher carried by the rest. Should you be unlucky enough to meet them In combat, they are quick to turn zealous and fiery, screaming out to the Second Sun to lend its heat to their flame-trailing plasma swords so that they might reduce their foes to ash. A common Second Sun devotee would be classed as a Second Solar Knight (L3, fanatical).


The near impact of a falling star promises riches and wisdom from beyond the sphere, but will the remains really prove to be a boon or are they the seed of something more sinister? Many things fall from the sky at night in these lands, from damaged voidships (with or without crew and/or hostile alien organisms present within them), to nuclearlithic relics from Long Ago. A fallen star might even be the corrupted and half-functional remains of an orbital autofac that is keen to start over in soil, using the rich technological loam of the anthropocene to fabricate an army of laser-eyed, skele-golems programmed to enforce happiness and order upon all of the people of the world. 

Crystalline shards of hyperglass castles suspended in low orbit sometimes come crashing down onto the grasslands as well. Such shards are valuable curiosities in themselves, good for making tools and weapons that are nearly impossible to break and which are sharper than monomolecular wire, However, it is when an entire tower or wing of such a castle comes crashing down that they can become a sort of lootable tomb full of otherworldly treasures that heroes from around the world might come in search of.

Or you might just find a really hot rock. Those still fall from the sky as well. Maybe you can swaddle it in cooling cloths and trade it in the Violet City for some cat coffee.


The dulcet tones of a choir reverberate up through the cracked dome of a sleek, silvery temple jutting from the side of a hill. The sounds of their hymns are sweet and carry for miles in every direction. This is the Temple of the Sons of the Sun, and it is a cathedral-sized edifice carved out from the bones and nose cone (now a dome) of a massive ark voidship. The monastic order that maintains the voidship-turned-cathedral are the descendents of the survivors of the crash, and the hymns they sing are lifted directly from the instruction manual for the cryonic wake-up procedures that once struggled to rouse their ancestors from centuries of slumber. Even still, the words of these hymnals are inspiring and made catchy with repeated instances of the words “rise up” and “wake the sleeper!”

The Sons of the Sun have a reputation for being generous, kind to strangers, but also aggressive about their teachings regarding “waking up” to the true nature of reality. Generally, this involves drinking powerful stimulants and vitamin cocktails meant for people recovering from long-term cryogenic suspension. They treat golems with deference, like dumb objects, and collapse into wailing and screaming terror whenever there is an solar eclipse. A great deal of their voidship is still buried underground, so there is the potential for finding treasure and/or adventure under the cathedral, (perhaps as a tech-ruin, full of rooms from the previous REDIRECTION), but the Sons of the Sun see it as holy ground and may get violent if even so much as a pebble is taken or disturbed.


"Charred-Hand" a perfectly ordinary and unassuming wastelander

The Blue Oracle, Dreamer of Dreams

Ilod Kvelak, Redlander Merchant and Caravaneer

Coda-1, Coda-2 and Coda-3, a Bluelander polybody pilgrim, allegedly.

Lleva Vyeldisana, Greenfolk Naturalist and Zoa Conservationist


My goal with REDIRECTIONS is to add my own contribution to the Psychedelic / Heavy Metal / Ligne Claire art RPG space.  Much in the way that people inspired by Tolkien’s style helped give birth to the modern genre of High Fantasy, the style of Jean “Moebius” Giraud (and others like him) seems to be spawning a sort of genre of its own right now, and I want to expose more people to the wonders of it. I want to share it. I want to be a part of it. Most of all, I want it to grow.

    REDIRECTIONS is a collection of wondrous places and resources presented in story format (as a game in play, specifically traversing the universe of UVG (Ultraviolet Grasslands) but it is also kept more general for your own RPG characters to visit and explore regardless of the system you use. Each place is unique and wholly original, with a bevy of interesting stories, plot hooks and characters to color your experience. 

    The format and many of the specific terms are from UVG. I'm just playing in Luca Rejec's universe. 

    If you like these posts and find them useful, let me know! 

    While the images (not the text) of the majority of the prior posts in this series have been created in collaboration with AI, I have been working to learn how to draw and so all of the images in this post were ones I drew by hand. I still enjoy collaborating with AI to make pretty pictures, but I also I greatly respect the skill of people who work with pen and pencil and have the skill of hand to make things from scratch. I’m still learning myself.

    This is a series, and each entry is numbered. If you like things like this, please support the true artists whose works are part of the genre, such as the works of Moebius, Luka Rejec's Ultraviolet Grasslands, Luke Gearing's Acid Death Fantasy and Raw Fury's game SABLE.


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