Open The Departure of Morwen Festival

[Capricious]

Date: 89th-91st of Autumn, 512 AV
Location: Frozen Falls Market
Purpose: Departure of Morwen
Status: Open

The Departure of Morwen is celebrated each year on the last four days of the Fall Season. During the Winter season, Morwen leaves Avanthal to spread the joys of winter across Mizahar. The Vantha, although they would miss their goddess, celebrated Morwen's journey and the gift she so freely gave to the rest of Mizahar. The event had a sad undertone, but was one where the Vantha knew Morwen would return in the Spring and they would celebrate the Homecoming of Morwen.

The festival is primarily held at the Frozen Malls Market. Besides being outdoors where the Vantha can fully appreciate Morwen's handiwork, the Frozen Falls Market is a large enough space for all the holds can freely space out and visitors to Avanthal could fit in as well. Even though the festival is primarily held at the market, the Departure of Morwen is celebrated all throughout the city. Children and adults alike fly down the Slippery Slope Sledding Hill and couples hold hands while ice skating on Mirror Lake. Others enjoy the excitement of the Smoldering Embrace and even more make their way up into the Frostpoint Lighthouse to look out over the horizon. Each individual hold held some type of festivity in the Frozen Market Falls, not to mention around the city.

The Whitevine Hold was the least active hold at the festival. They were on hand in the case of an emergency. Near the front of the market, one could find Whitevine Doctors of all sorts and sizes were handing out mittens for those involved in snowball fights or sledding, to keep the hands from becoming frostbitten.

Scattered throughout the Departure of Morwen festival were ice sculptures. The Skyglow Hold had done a magnificent job and made the sculptures seem alive, especially the Frostfawn Deer sculptures. On the bell, every bell, one could attempt to learn how to take a small chunk of ice and sculpt it. Not everyone was cut out for the job, for those did manage to make something were able to take their sculpture with them.

The Winterflame Hold had spent days upon days preparing for the festival. The Vantha had slaved in the kitchens in order to prepare the gourmet food that would last all throughout the festival. And the food was still being created. Located at conveniently placed tables, one could grab a snack, stop and chat, or learn how to prepare simple dishes. Or individuals could take marshmallows and roast them over the open flames the Winterflame Hold used to keep food warm and cook.

Sleighs hitched to Avanthal Sleigh Horse and decorated with tinkling bells were giving free rides hosted by the Frostfawn Hold. Furs decorated the seats and provided individuals with warmth. Couples curled up together under the furs, using the chilly nip of the wind as motivation. If one traveled to the Frostfawn Stables, they would find the place had been decorated for the festival and all the animals were tended to. Here, one could learn about the many animals of Avanthal and interact with the creatures themselves.

The Snowsong provided music ringing throughout the Market. Clumps of individuals sang songs and lullabies, mostly centering around Morwen. They sang of the season of winter; of Morwen's gentle personality and looks; of how gifted the Vantha were with their city; and of so much more. Tiny clumps of five to six people, male and female, stood near certain points in the market and in the city to sing.

Sitting on seats carved by the Iceglaze is a circle of people. Skyglow, Snowsong, and even the Coolwater gather here. Anyone is welcome to join to the circle. As is tradition, stories were told by the group. One person would begin the tale and another would step in and continue it.

The Skyglow told of the arts and enjoyed telling stories where the sculptures came alive. Especially one where a sculpture of a Frostfawn Deer turned out to be the real thing, driven to participate in the festival by their own love of Morwen.

The Snowsong added the lyrical notes to the stories and elaborate outfits. They brought dramatic flair to the stories, twisting the stories and holding listeners on the edges of their seats. They tell tales of how the wind whispers through the trees and sounds like music.

The Coolwater Hold provided many a fish for the festival, but participate all the same. Several hold members had joined the circle and told of how the stars and the constellations of the sky guided courageous sailors home and of the sneaky water animals who pop up above the ice only when a back is turned.

An underlying tension filled the festival. Holds were more likely to stay with their own than wander freely from one event to the next. This is not to say Vantha were not welcome at other holds, but more as they were treated with slight suspicion and questioned subtly. The holds were interested in what the others were doing and rumors spread that it was stemming from the political turmoil. The only ones who welcomed the others without interrogation and suspicion were the Winterflames. But even then the hold known for their cooking ability treaded carefully.

[Sliver]

"You are all on duty, remember that. Any trouble, anyone that needs help, consider yourself there and helping. But you know, other than that, have fun. We won't be seeing our Queen till spring, so enjoy the festivities, just stay light on the hard cider, alright?" The echo of Jaerith's words still hung in her mind, as well as the efficiency of the Icewatch's strategy. Letting the entirety of the watch save the gate guards and a few stray patrols mill about the festivities was a clever plan, ensuring they were virtually everywhere and constantly roaming the proceedings. They were more relaxed to be certain, but their duties were clear if the need arose. Personally Sliver wasn't too worried, Hold tensions aside, the new lull that had come over the city after certain events had come to light had calmed down things considerably. She would keep dark eyes open, but she saw no reason to be anxious during this time of celebration. Now there were a lot of wonderful things happening to be sure. The sounds of lilting voices weaving the stories Vantha were so adept at creating, the synchronized vocals of Snowsongs belting out the tunes they knew best. The animals, the artwork, the Vantha had found ways to express what they did best. This was all well and good, but the Kelvic had one mission this day and that could be summed up with two words: Good. Food. Winterflame was a source of fascination for the Kelvic. They were in on the Hold drama same as everyone, but they always seemed more laid back and a bit removed. Perhaps it came from the fact that their Hold produced the most temporary form of contribution, no less important, but not testaments of time like Skyglow or Iceglaze. Sliver certainly wasn't one to spend the time to ascertain the psychological differences between the Holds, especially when her goal was to obtain as much and varied types of food as possible throughout the day, she simply didn't have the time. So she began in earnest. She had to start small, and logically grabbed a breakfast of caribou sausage dipped in a honey butter glaze with a chilled mulled cider as she wandered around the square, drinking in the sights with her newly found beverage and meal.

[Maringar]

Maringar suddenly felt very glad he had decided to rest in Avanthal for a time, not only was it going to get warmer soon but the Vantha were putting on a big celebration to commemorate the departure of their goddess to the rest of the world for the season.
The hunter did not know many people in the city yet so he didn't really take part in much of the celebrating, but even watching the festivities made him feel the joyful buzz of the people all around him. He and the hound Ripper found a spot to sit and watch in the comfortably crowded marketplace. At first the scarred warhound tensed up and refused to relax among all the bustle, but after some fussing Maringar managed to quiet the dogs barely audible growling with some well deserved petting. Eventually Ripper realized there was no danger, and laid down to catch a morning nap despite the noise.
The rest eased Maringar's spirits and he allowed himself to truly enjoy the atmosphere. Not aware of the subtle politics of the Holds, Maringar remained oblivious to any underlying tension in the atmosphere. Still, while he knew the Vantha as a friendly people he was an outsider, and with no dog to fuss over he became slowly more aware of the fact. He could likely strike up a conversation with the people of one of the holds and be a part of the revel, but he wasn't quite sure how, he began to realize that here just as much as in his hunting, he had no idea what he was doing. He was new to the city and the people here, and they were new to him, how was being here going to help him refine his abilities?
Despairing at his own lack of direction in anything he seemed to attempt, Maringar's mood went from fair to foul. Ripper, sensing his unease, abandoned his attempt at slumber and stood on guard once again. Maringar chuckled and patted the hound's head, glad for the company of his one friend in the world. Now more than any other time, he saw the happy companionship of friends and family and remembered what he had left behind. He had sacrificed his life for a hopeless quest with no clear goal, and he had no other companions left.

[Silarial]

The Departure of Morwen festival is a busy time for Silarial. All of the Holds work together during this time of the year to celebrate their goddess’ graciousness, soon to be shared with the rest of the world. Being a Snowsong, she was tasked to sing in the market with four of her friends from their Hold. Despite not being a very good singer, she tried her best to sing of love and praises for Morwen's beauty and splendor. So far, everything seems to be going really well. The people loved their songs, and the city was filled with lovely music. After a few more performances, Silarial sneaked off to check out the events that the other Holds prepared for the festival. While walking around the market, she caught a whiff of something delicious. Following the mouthwatering scent, she reached rows of tables lined up with scrumptious food. Free food is certainly welcome for the girl, especially now that she’s a bit short on money. She thanked a person she recognized from Winterflame for creating such appetizing foods before grabbing a sandwich. She sank her teeth into the food and almost cried in delight; it’s not every day she got to eat such delicious foods after all. Silarial started to wander around once more, taking a bite from her meal every now and then. Pausing a bit to think what event she'll check out next, she remembered her mother's warning about going off to other Holds: "Have fun, but don't cause trouble. Be mindful of whatever you do in the other Holds' territories." Silarial frowned. Was this something about Hold politics again? That’s just stupid. These are days of celebrations, not suspicions! Hold tensions or not, she’s going to make the most of this day and have fun. She took another bite of her sandwich and smirked as she decided upon her next point of interest.

[Geothryn]

90th of Autumn, 512 AV For Capricious : Geothryn is in the process from recovering from a very serious Walrus attack and therefore has certain physical limitations imposed upon him. Doctors Orders: Lixue gave him permission to go to the festival, but he is to be accompanied by an assistant (whom I will be NPCing, but whom you obviously will also have control over). This assistant is to keep an eye on him for signs of fatigue. Geo insisted on carrying his own lute case, but should it prove too tiring to carry (The assistant will be the judge of that) then the NPC will demand to carry it. He is still walking on crutches, while keeping the foot exposed to as little pressure as possible. The leg in question (His right leg) will be wrapped in gauze with a splint, and further wrapped in fur around that. Geothryn took a deep breath of the crisp fall air, as he always did when he was taken out of the Whitevine Hospital. There was something reassuring about it, something encouraging in the fact that the outside world remained unchanged, at least in its most basic beauty. But today was the second day of the Departure of Morwen. Doctor Lixue hadn't let him go yesterday, but she finally conceded that attending the festival would not bring any harm upon Geo, and, furthermore, missing it would probably cause him irreparable mental scarring (A position which he vehemently argued). So here he stood, at the edge of the Market, looking around and reveling in the festivity. He could sense the underlying tension, though, the tangible fear and suspicion that threaded through the atmosphere. It somewhat dampened his mood. Being stuck in the infirmary for most of the season, he hadn't been keeping up with the local politics, but what little news that dribbled into the hospital made him worry. What was happening to the Holds? And what would happen, now that Morwen was leaving to spread Winter across Mizahar? Geo shook his head to clear his thoughts. This was no time to be thinking such things. He was out and about, and ready to enjoy himself. He still felt amazed that he was allowed to carry his own lute. Its comforting weight on his back almost brought tears of joy to his eyes. "You alright, Geo?" his assistant asked. He was a rather tall man from Whitevine. The musician had no doubt the man could carry him and his lute across the plaza in his bare arms, if need be. He hoped it wouldn't come to that. "I'm fine," He said, unable to articulate how he felt. A non-musician wouldn't understand, anyway. "Let's join a circle, shall we?" He walked haltingly through the crowded plaza, thanking Morwen that people weren't jostling him. In fact, he seemed to have a bubble of emptiness around him, caused by either his apparent injury or incredibly strong companion. Probably a combination of the two. He walked with his right leg somewhat suspended in the air in front of him, each step he took a hop on his crutches. It was somewhat tiring, but he was willing to put up with it (And unwilling to tell the attendant that he needed help), and besides, it was much better than the alternative wheel-chair. That would simply not do. Not at all. Taking a seat in one of the storytelling circles, he stretched out his fur-wrapped leg and sighed. Not being able to step on it was a pain, but stepping on it was a bigger pain, so he made do. Placing his crutches by his side, he shrugged his shoulders to bring his lute case within grabbing distance, then reached over his head and brought the case down onto his lap. Unclasping the case,e he took a minute to tune the instrument before adding his own flavor to the background music that accompanied the storytelling, playing a counterpoint to the flutist across the circle. She smiled at him when he started playing, and changed her tempo to match the story being told. Ah, this was the life.

[Sliver]

Having moved on to her favorite pastries, this one filled with a citrus filling that started sour yet developed into a warm and flavorful sweetness, the wolverine observed several tables of Winterflames aiding other Vantha and children in making certain types of food. Natural curiosity slowly pulled the Kelvic towards the set up, trying to glean exactly what was going on. As she did so, attempting to be as nonchalant as possible, a young girl with sun yellow streaks in her hair and what could have been a permanent smile pasted to he face skipped over and grabbed her art. "I see you eyeing the tables there, Icewatch. Want to learn a thing or two about how we do things?" The Kelvic stammered and stuttered, a bit put off by the vibrancy of the individual bodily dragging her along. The Winterflame took her lack of rebuttal as acquiescence and sat her down at a table with several younger children, who all giggled with delight to see the comparatively larger and tattooed individual in their midst. The woman rubbed her hands together and cleared her throat. "Today we will be learning how to make a salad." Someone cleared their throat and one of the children piped up. "But that's easy! You just put a bunch of plants into a bowl and you're done." Sliver had to admit she was nearly in perfect agreement with the kids on this one, that was until the woman brought out the glass bowl, sculpted to look like a crystalline hunk of ice, which held the salad. It was clearly fresh and was a variety of hues ranging from pale leaf green to a deep aquamarine, garnished with carefully chopped chicken, bits of fruit, and various nuts and seeds. It wasn't a large bowl, barely enough for one unless one counted the children who may not be able to finish it by themselves, but everyone was clearly in awe. She set it down in the middle. "Whom ever has the best looking salad by the end will get this beauty, remember its not a race." She left, returning with a massive tray containing all the necessary, pre-cooked ingredients. Everyone received a bowl to make their salad in. Despite her cautionary words, as soon as she signalled to go, many of the children ripped into the contents of the different dishes as if there would be none left by the end of the attempt. Sliver waited patiently for her turn, looking at the bowl in the middle as a model of what she would do, fingers twitching to get to work.

[Silarial]

OOCCapricious has given permission for Maringar to be skipped in the posting order until further notice. If Maringar should return, he or she will be able to continue in the next round. Silarial walked towards a dozen ice sculptures, her face filled with awe. She gawked at the beautiful works of art that seemed almost alive and ready to jump at her any moment. It’s normal for her to see wonderful works coming from the Skyglow artists everyday, but today’s exhibits were truly exquisite. She was most especially entranced by an ice sculpture of a swooping falcon. It was obvious that the artist put in a lot of time and effort over this particular piece. “Do you like it?” She almost jumped in surprise when a male voice suddenly came from beside her. Silarial turned her head and met a pair of curious dark eyes. Silarial blinked her ivory white eyes in surprise. “Yes. I think it’s really, really beautiful.” She looked at the sculpture once more. “This piece is very well made.” The boy chuckled and Silarial found herself blushing. He’s really attractive, this boy. “I’m honored to hear such compliments for my work, especially coming from such a beautiful lady.” Oh. “By chance, are you Ray’ken Skyglow?” Big flirt, handsome face, amazing sculpting skills: he must be Ray’ken. He’s quite famous, really, partly because he’s the son of the leader of Skyglow Hold, but mostly because he was such a ladies man. “Yes… that’s my name alright. Is something the matter?” He smirked playfully, inching his body closer to her. The closeness brought a blush to her face and made her heart beat fast within her chest. He was doing this on purpose! This Ray’ken, he must be enjoying seeing her like this. Silarial bit her lip and breathed deeply. He wanted to flirt? Well two can play that game. Silarial shook her head and smiled sweetly, showing a perfect set of white teeth. “Nope. Why, should something be the matter at all?” Ray’ken shrugged and stepped back, still staring at her with that amused glint in his eyes. “Not really. It’s just that you know my name, yet I don’t know yours.” Silarial crossed her arms in front of her chest, kicking at the snow on the ground while she spoke. “I don’t give my name out to just anyone on the streets, you know. You have to earn it.” She ended with a teasing wink. She was turning on her heel when he grabbed her by the wrist and made her face him. She shot the artist a confused look, her eyebrows raised in inquiry. “By the way, our Hold hosts ice sculpting lessons every bell for free. If you want, I could personally teach you how to do it.” Ray’ken drew his hands and stuffed them in the pocket of his pants. Tilting his head, he flashed her a charming smile. “Care to give it a try?” Silarial’s eyes swarmed with colors before finally settling into a vibrant crimson. A grin slowly made its way to her face and her eyes crinkled into a smile. How can a girl like her say no to this?

[Svasra]

Svasra Snowsong "A people without the knowledge of their past history, origin and culture is like a tree without roots." -Marcus Garvey The departure of Morwen. A bittersweet festival, though it was full of smiles and laugh and drinks, the tone that underlay the entire thing was one of sadness. The Vantha could not be any more proud of the goddess that spread the beauty of Avanthal's permanent winter to the rest of the world each year, though the fact she had to depart from their walls made everyone a touch downcast. Even so, it would not be long until Morwen returned back, and an even larger festival was held for their Queen's return and the rich ice of Avanthal restored under her reign. Could there be a more loved ruler? As Svasra descended into the madness of the frays of Avanthal during the middle of the festival, she showed her pair of mittens to the Whitevine doctors, nodding her head in appreciation all the same. As she walked, Svasra marveled at the Frostfawn Deer sculptures that popped up everywhere, the stories of encounters with such creatures trotting through Svasra's mind eagerly. She continued on, ears filled with the roar of the crowd and the drifting songs performed by her Hold. As she made her way towards the circle where stories were shared, Svasra felt the rising tension that perforated the festivities this year, the weight of each step growing larger as other Hold members quietened as she passed, or eyed her suspiciously. It felt as though it took ages to reach the circle, where a story was already in motion. Svasra took a spot next to a man playing the lute, keeping the time with a flutist across the space. The storyteller in the middle, a Skyglow, Svasra was positive, was telling a familiar tale of yet another encounter with Frostfawn Deer. This one Svasra had heard, and eagerly took out journal and quill to write it down, as stories of the Hold were often told around other fires, and this was one of her particular favorites - funny she never thought to record stories before they were told. " . . . Lost in the middle of the forest, cold, and hungry, Rytin regretted ever trying to find the Alchemist's workplace. He was turning in circles, as every tree looked the same, every shape in the snow merging into one memory. Rytin knew his strength was leaving him, and fell to his knees. He looked up to the sky where the snow had begun to fall, these perfect figures, as though done with the beauty and Skyglow and skill of Iceglaze, drifting gently down." The storyteller had paused for a moment, and Svasra appreciated the rest, letting the music weave the moment. Svasra's gaze and the storyteller's locked though, and she smiled, backing towards a seat. Svasra paused for a moment, hesitant to take the place of such skill, and stared at the Skyglow with obvious reluctance. She had already seated herself though and only nodded with a glint of amusement, as though to reassure the young Vantha she would do fine. Clearing her throat slightly, Svasra didn't rise from her seat as other, instead projecting her voice easily through the circle as she often did in the Red Diamond. "With the intimate touch of snowflakes on his brow and eyelids, Rytin could only pray. He prayed to Queen Morwen, as his beloved ruler and revered deity. He prayed with not only his soul, but his hungered stomach, his weak limbs, and scared mind. He had gone in search of something that didn't want to be found, and now . . . all he wanted was to be found in the piles of snow. "Morwen, though busy and working, paused in her duties. She looked up in mild alarm, the ringing notes of one of her children in her mind. Our Queen smiled where she was, saying nothing to anyone as she crossed to the window, the ice wind flying through snow-white locks. 'Do not worry, my child,' " Svasra's own voice was soft and loving, "'No harm will come to you within the world of winter, my world, yours, ours.' "Rytin, alone where he huddled underneath a tree, head resting against the bark, felt the wind play along his shoulder. It seemed to twist around him, carrying the voiceless music of Avanthal, and the pristine beauty of its song. He turned his face towards it, eyes closing, ears drinking the notes of Avanthal, thinking this was the last gift to his mortal form." Svasra paused and looked around quickly, seeing if anyone wished to wrap it up - as it was traditional to step down if someone else showed interest. No one else did though, and the Snowsong continued, her eyes a silvery white. "Opening his eyes though, Rytin did not see the world of shapes and shapelessness, everything and nothing. He did not see the gods' world at all, though he swore he was no longer alive." Another pause as Svasra leaned in, voice carrying a mythical quality as she continued to the finish. "In front of him, in all of its glory and grace, stood a Frostfawn Deer. Intelligent brown eyes stared down at the helpless Vantha, who could do nothing but stare as the Frostfawn Deer's head lowered, ice-sharp horns pointed straight at his heart, seen by the light that danced midst the two of them. "To be killed by a Frostfawn Deer, perhaps protecting his young or herd, was something Rytin was not ashamed of. He bowed his own head in submission to the god-like quality of the silent Deer, who's fur was pure white and had a iridescent look in the sunlight. For a moment though, they stayed frozen, both bowed, both calm. Eventually though, Rytin glanced up, puzzled to see the deer still in the position. He rose cautiously, trying not to struggle as his limbs shuddered to respond. The Deer looked up, and trotted over, tilting its head so one of its great antlers presented itself to Rytin, who took it in his hand cautiously. "Though the ice-y appearance, Rytin found the antler bearable to hold as he straightened. The Frostfawn Deer slowly took a step forwards, forcing Rytin to follow, leaning heavily on the side of the Deer's large head as it trudged along. 'Taking me to Avanthal?' Rytin whispered as he looked to the Deer where it walked with an easy grace and confident gait. It didn't respond, though glanced at him with eyes so keen Rytin knew no knowledge would surpass such creature. "They walked for what seemed for bells, yet Rytin found strength within the presence of the Deer, whether it was from some magic or his own will was never known. Through the thickening snow, Rytin saw the shadow of a building, low and already half-disguised with its dressings of snow. 'It cannot be,' Rytin gasped as a small hut fully appeared out of the blizzard, a candle still burning in its window as though someone sat within. "His hand slipping off the antler, Rytin could only stare at the hut and take another step forwards. 'You brought me to the Alchemist's lost workshop,' Rytin said in wonder, turning to thank the Deer. He found though, it had already disappeared, silently and gracefully, back into the winter-y world in which it was home in. "No one really knows what happened to Rytin once he entered the hut, though it is rumored he lives there to this day just waiting for someone to come and find him . . ." Here her voice dropped, " . . . and thus share the knowledge of the Avanthal that the Alchemist had collected." Svasra finished with a smile, leaning back in her seats as another story was immediately started. Her eyes flushing a deep green, Svasra couldn't help but feel giddy from the remnant of the story. The love for telling tales ran deep in her veins, and Svasra never got over the emotion of seeing a satisfied crowd. Though this story was considered bittersweet - a small tale to comfort an old mother who had lost her child to the lure of the Alchemist's lost hut - it was one of Svasra's favorites, always willing to tie in the practically mythological beings of the Frostfawn Deer, so rare they were. As she listened to stories, and relaxed on the ice, Svasra could almost forget the underlying tension that ran as deep as the ice itself.