"The Rings of Saturn: The Obsidian Eye" is a narrative retelling of a single-player Dungeons & Dragons campaign run by ChatGPT. Any images included in this post were created by ChatGPT's image generator, Sora, based on descriptions provided throughout the campaign, and the story was driven by AI and shaped by decisions made by a human and his dice rolls along the way.
This campaign is the second story following Alamir Greyhaven; it is a follow-up to "The Rings of Saturn: Fall of House Namarra," which can be re-read here.
Vandros
Vandros breathes again—but it hasn’t fully exhaled. Weeks have passed since the explosion at House Namarra’s estate, yet a faint pulse of purple can still be seen at the highest point of the sky when the moon is right and the clouds are still. The burned-out husk of House Namarra’s estate looms over the merchant quarter like a scorched monument to ambition—or madness. Nights are restless. Something in the city has changed, even if most can’t say how.
The city of Vandros still bore the scars of the explosive aftermath at House Namarra’s vault. Alamir Greyhaven—“The Rings of Saturn”—had barely recovered in his secret hideout when a surprise visitor arrived: Kerret, the gruff but loyal dockworker and reluctant opera crooner. In his hands, Kerret carried a sealed letter, bearing the dark raven insignia of House Namarra—a chilling reminder that the city’s mysteries were far from resolved.
"You… you might wanna see this," Kerret said, handing Alamir the envelope.
With sleepy fingers, Alamir broke the seal and unfolded the note.
“Alamir—If you’re reading this, then I’ve taken a risk. If you’re still in Vandros, then you’re in more danger than I can explain in a letter. You need to know: House Namarra didn’t die in that explosion. It simply… shed its skin.I told you before—this city isn’t done with you. That wasn’t a warning. It was a promise. You opened the Vault, Alamir. You heard it whisper. And it heard you back. There are factions that would see you silenced for what you know.The Obsidian Eye has returned. That’s what they’re calling it now. You cracked it open, and now it’s looking for something. I can help you. But not here. Come to the Black Veil Masquerade, midnight tomorrow, at Ravencrest Estate. Wear something dark, and try not to get yourself killed.~ V”
The Black Veil Masquerade was an exclusive and enigmatic event held at the illustrious Ravencrest Estate—a staple for the elite nobles of Vandros—and it wasn’t something that just anyone got invited to. This invitation hinted at answers hidden in the shadows—answers about the true power that House Namarra had been attempting to harness. The Obsidian Eye? Was that what they were calling the mysterious artifact that had whispered to Alamir’s mind from the depths of the Namarra vault on that fateful night?
Alamir thought of his harrowing experience in the Namarran vault... that obsidian pedestal with its eerie voice echoing in his mind. "Join me..." it had said. He squinted and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to drive the thought from his mind before turning to Kerret. "Looks like I'm going dancing, my friend."
"Dancin’?" Kerret questioned. "Alamir, that’s not a party invite—that’s a bloody trap dressed in velvet and perfume. But… you’re goin’ anyway, aren’t you?" Alamir gave him that signature Rings of Saturn smirk. Kerret grumbled, reached into his coat, and pulled out a battered hip flask. "Fine. I’ll tag along. But if we’re pokin’ around noble parties, I’m not wearin’ another ne of those silk opera shirts. You remember what it did to my neck rash."
Speaking of silk opera shirts—and knowing the importance of preparation—Alamir first sought out a friendly face: Aelith, the elegant high elf and skilled seamstress who ran Brillane’s Trunk, a costume shop down by the docks.
The streets of Vandros hummed with the day’s commerce, but as Alamir and Kerret pushed open the weathered door of Brillane’s Trunk, the city noise softened, overtaken by the gentle rustling of fabric and the faint scent of lavender and chalk dust. The shop was just as they remembered—a whirl of color and elegance. Satin gowns draped mannequins, feathered masks hung from thin cords above, and enchanted mirrors murmured unsolicited compliments.
Aelith stood at her workbench, needle dancing in her graceful hand. She was dressed simply—cream blouse, green vest, glasses perched on the tip of her nose—but she still looked more radiant than half the nobility in town.
Memories flooded back as Alamir spotted the opera costumes he and Kerret had worn while taking down Big Jarek and the Maelstrom Syndicate, displayed proudly in the front of her store, as Aelith had promised. After sharing warm greetings and playful banter—teasing Kerret about his infamous persona, “Kerret the Crooner”—Alamir secured a custom outfit perfect for blending into the masquerade’s high society:
- A tailored long coat in shimmering charcoal silk, embroidered with thread-of-silver swirls that almost move when the light catches.
- A deep violet waistcoat with subtle raven-feather motifs.
- Matching gloves with faint enchantments to mask fingerprints.
- A custom half-mask, black with subtle purple etching—elegant, mysterious, and just a little dangerous.
Aelith, ever supportive and sharp-witted, offered vital insights on navigating the event’s social currents, and Alamir promised her a place for his new ensemble in her growing display of Vandros’ finest disguises.
Out of curiosity, Alamir asked Aelith if she had any tips about blending in at the Black Veil Masquerade. "It’s not just a party, Alamir,” Aelith warned. “It’s a power play. You’ll see representatives from every corner of the shadows—old noble houses trying to stay relevant, mercenaries posing as dukes, spies dressed as jesters. No one uses their real name. They trade in secrets like coin. Whatever you do, don’t try to be yourself. Give them a performance worth fearing. You know… If Vessa’s still around, she’d probably have some intel for you.”
Vessa... Alamir hadn’t originally considered paying her a visit. As one of Vandros’ most mysterious and enigmatic alchemists, Vessa was a hard woman to track down. Of course, there was a slight chance she would be hanging around her old apothecary. Alamir turned for the exit but asked, over his shoulder, if Aelith would fancy one more song from Kerret the Crooner—for old time’s sake.
Kerret's eyes widened like a startled deer's, and he immediately started waving his hands in front of his face. "Nononono—I’m retired, remember? Kerret the Crooner hung up the silks, literally! You can’t keep springin' that on me, Alamir!"
Aelith laughed—a light, melodic sound that softened the air in the boutique. "It is tempting," she said with a mischievous grin. "But I suppose you should save your voice for the masquerade. Who knows what role you’ll be forced to play next, Kerret.”
Vessa's Apothecary
Vessa’s Apothecary wasn’t marked by a sign, but by a soft, glowing purple rune painted onto the door frame. The wooden door itself was cracked, ancient, and still somehow seemed to breathe—just a touch—when Alamir's hand got close.
Kerret leaned in. "You think she’s even in there? Last time we saw her, she ghosted before the dust had even settled…"
Alamir tried the door. It creaked open. Not locked.
The interior of the building was a dim, exotic place of low shelves, hanging lanterns, and narrow walking paths between tables stacked with ingredients—dried lichen, powdered minerals, shriveled mushrooms, and clinking vials full of shadowy fluids.
Then from behind a velvet curtain at the rear of the apothecary, a soft, smoky voice spoke: "You brought fire to the doorstep of the Eye... and lived."
Out stepped Vessa—hooded in deep charcoal, her eyes rimmed with kohl, her silver jewelry gently chiming with each movement.
"So tell me, Rings… why would you come poking your clever little fingers back into the dark?"
Alamir excitedly recapped the Namarran vault explosion; it was, after all, thanks to components provided by Vessa that Alamir and Lady Virelle were able to blow up the vault in the first place. Heavens, Vessa struck an imposing figure—Alamir couldn't help but notice.
"You’re flustered, Rings," she says softly, cocking her head. "That’s cute." She approached one of her many bubbling cauldrons and gave it a slow, deliberate stir, as if considering Alamir's nervous flirtation.
Meanwhile, Kerret, wisely, pretended to be intensely interested in a shelf labeled “DO NOT INHALE.”
Finally, Vessa turned, eyes narrowing in that ever-calculating way of hers.
Vessa’s expression shifted and the playfulness died as Alamir brought up the Obsidian Eye. “That thing beneath the vault?” she said softly, her voice like silk over a blade. “It wasn’t Namarran. Not originally. House Namarra found it—or were shown it. That part’s unclear. But they didn’t build that pedestal, and they didn’t bind whatever was in it.”
She turned away again, grabbing a small glass bottle filled with onyx dust and tossing it lightly in one hand. “They called it the Eye, yes. I suspect it’s a name… or perhaps a facet... of something older. Something that shouldn’t have a name. It whispered to you, didn’t it?”
She glanced over her shoulder at Alamir. "'Join me,' it said? That’s not persuasion, Alamir. That’s recognition. It knew you’d be there. It wanted you. I don’t think the Eye is done with you. And I think you know that.”
A long silence followed, broken only by the low simmer of the cauldron. "If you're truly going to walk into a den of liars, illusions, and secrets,” Vessa continued, “I might have just the thing to help you out."
She offered a potent elixir—the Silverthorn Draught, a truth serum of sorts—on the house, free of charge. She told Alamir she would be willing to part with one other potion of his choice, for a small fee, of course.
“How about that vial of Whisperdust Oil?” Alamir inquired. “I hear that stuff naturally heightens senses. Something like that might prove useful during the ball.”
“And what price are you willing to pay?” Vessa asked.
“How about… a kiss—on the lips?” Alamir slyly glanced over at Kerret. There was a heavy pause. Kerret shifted awkwardly near the doorway, suddenly pretending to inspect a bubbling terrarium, muttering something that sounded like, “Here we go again…”
So now Alamir had a costume and two useful potions. Not bad for a day’s work. It was time to head back to the hideout. “Thanks, Vessa,” Alamir said, still recovering from that truly unforeseen turn of events. He patted the door frame with one hand and said, with a wink, “Maybe I’ll see you around.”
With initial preparations complete and questions swirling in their minds, Alamir and Kerret returned to their secret headquarters.
The city outside was quiet, but the weight of the coming Black Veil Masquerade loomed large. As Kerret settled in, awaiting orders, Alamir considered the path ahead: unraveling the secrets of House Namarra, confronting the power of the Obsidian Eye, and navigating the deadly dance of politics, mystery, and intrigue that awaited at the ball.
The game was set. The pieces were moving. And Vandros was watching.
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment