91 Fall, 515 AV
It had begun under the cover of night, an execution of effort that had been concealed beneath the Womiyu's tower for the past season. Long had the deliberations kept them confined, separated from the people they so often walked among. Some had come and gone, their words falling on deaf ears, finding their time better spent where it had been before, choosing to forsake what shadowy portents the others deliberated over. In the end, a decision was come to, no Words given to say otherwise, and as light broke over the mountains, trickling over the sturdy, uneven walls of the city's edges, bright hues of blues and purples dotted with instances of yellows and greens flared back, filling the streets with livery that, as people began to emerge with smiles upon their faces, was well received.
The buildings themselves had shifted to allow a great plaza in the center of the city where booth after booth, stage and stage again, lined the compact cobbles. Every street, no matter how winding, invariably led to the city's heart. Businesses closed for the day, and everyone filled the streets, partaking of everything that the Speakers had to offer them. There were acrobats and dancers, actors and poets, culinary competitions and artistic displays, even overdue outings of those who had crossed the city's good graces. Some found the lighter laughter of jesters and fools to be far more ideal than the macabre monstrosities the Seamstress and her Tailor had stitched together the roam with bleeding moans throughout the crowded streets. Others enjoyed the screams of branded flesh as Speakers meted out long awaited punishment, lashes and biting jokes alike. All things were mixed in with each other, a physical representation of the Alvad nature displayed for all to see.
Speakers danced and laughed, weaving their ways through the stalls and booths like children. The spirit of the city was in full bloom, each petal a hue of a different kind, dark and light, night and day, the duality of life a delicate and tantalizing thread that tied the celebrations together. As day shifted towards evening, lights began to blink their way into the growing fray. Lightheartedness began to find a more heady deterrent in the large casks of ale that found their way across the city. Music seemed only to grow louder alongside the rise of voices in both joy and agony as night fell, and the lights began to guide every beating heart to the city's own.
There, in the middle over the growing crowd, was situated a large, circular stage, upon which five figures stood, two in robes of white, three in robes of black. A hand was raised. Pale, delicate fingers silenced the congregation with a single pass of a gentle wave, sharp eyes surveyed those before him, seemingly meeting with each and every stare that gazed back. Slowly, one of those garbed in black gave rise to a heavy, deep note. The song moved at a languid pace, sounds that were almost words but not quite rising up towards the moonlit sky, all five figures moving in an unnerving sway, hypnotic in their synchronous motions. They continued, the music of their voices rising and falling like a steady breathe, emotions playing at the fringes of their half-words, only never quite enough to be placed. As the chimes drew near the mark of a bell's length, the two in white stepped forward, their hoods falling to reveal the pale, noble features of the Nuits from the season before.
One by one, the three remaining figures revealed themselves: the Serpent, the Mockingbird, and the Sea. Applause rose up as their voices sank into a soft ambient hum, though it quickly petered as the Serpent rose his hand once more. When the rumble of the Sea's throaty tones was again the only sound to fill the city's plaza, the Nuit's voices rang clear throughout those gathered.
"A shadow is cast," The man spoke first, his voice hoarse and rasping, yet it carried without effort as the Speakers gather spoke in unison, evenly spaced throughout the crowds so that his message would not be missed. "It lingers, waiting for the light to fade."
A clear, bell-like ring danced along the second Nuit's voice, airy and light. "And fade it shall, rot and corruption; death and defilement." The words were met with nothing but silence, the performance not yet concluded.
"What is and is not,
"What was and what will be,"
"The past repeats itself under the guise of the future,"
"And yet both find a place in the present."
With a solemn, somber rumble of every Speaker's voice couple with the two figures in white, they all spoke in unison. "They are coming."
There was a brief moment of absolute silence, the world taking a single tick to rest, to think, to calm, then everything was cast into absolute, endless darkness.
___It had begun under the cover of night, an execution of effort that had been concealed beneath the Womiyu's tower for the past season. Long had the deliberations kept them confined, separated from the people they so often walked among. Some had come and gone, their words falling on deaf ears, finding their time better spent where it had been before, choosing to forsake what shadowy portents the others deliberated over. In the end, a decision was come to, no Words given to say otherwise, and as light broke over the mountains, trickling over the sturdy, uneven walls of the city's edges, bright hues of blues and purples dotted with instances of yellows and greens flared back, filling the streets with livery that, as people began to emerge with smiles upon their faces, was well received.
The buildings themselves had shifted to allow a great plaza in the center of the city where booth after booth, stage and stage again, lined the compact cobbles. Every street, no matter how winding, invariably led to the city's heart. Businesses closed for the day, and everyone filled the streets, partaking of everything that the Speakers had to offer them. There were acrobats and dancers, actors and poets, culinary competitions and artistic displays, even overdue outings of those who had crossed the city's good graces. Some found the lighter laughter of jesters and fools to be far more ideal than the macabre monstrosities the Seamstress and her Tailor had stitched together the roam with bleeding moans throughout the crowded streets. Others enjoyed the screams of branded flesh as Speakers meted out long awaited punishment, lashes and biting jokes alike. All things were mixed in with each other, a physical representation of the Alvad nature displayed for all to see.
Speakers danced and laughed, weaving their ways through the stalls and booths like children. The spirit of the city was in full bloom, each petal a hue of a different kind, dark and light, night and day, the duality of life a delicate and tantalizing thread that tied the celebrations together. As day shifted towards evening, lights began to blink their way into the growing fray. Lightheartedness began to find a more heady deterrent in the large casks of ale that found their way across the city. Music seemed only to grow louder alongside the rise of voices in both joy and agony as night fell, and the lights began to guide every beating heart to the city's own.
There, in the middle over the growing crowd, was situated a large, circular stage, upon which five figures stood, two in robes of white, three in robes of black. A hand was raised. Pale, delicate fingers silenced the congregation with a single pass of a gentle wave, sharp eyes surveyed those before him, seemingly meeting with each and every stare that gazed back. Slowly, one of those garbed in black gave rise to a heavy, deep note. The song moved at a languid pace, sounds that were almost words but not quite rising up towards the moonlit sky, all five figures moving in an unnerving sway, hypnotic in their synchronous motions. They continued, the music of their voices rising and falling like a steady breathe, emotions playing at the fringes of their half-words, only never quite enough to be placed. As the chimes drew near the mark of a bell's length, the two in white stepped forward, their hoods falling to reveal the pale, noble features of the Nuits from the season before.
One by one, the three remaining figures revealed themselves: the Serpent, the Mockingbird, and the Sea. Applause rose up as their voices sank into a soft ambient hum, though it quickly petered as the Serpent rose his hand once more. When the rumble of the Sea's throaty tones was again the only sound to fill the city's plaza, the Nuit's voices rang clear throughout those gathered.
"A shadow is cast," The man spoke first, his voice hoarse and rasping, yet it carried without effort as the Speakers gather spoke in unison, evenly spaced throughout the crowds so that his message would not be missed. "It lingers, waiting for the light to fade."
A clear, bell-like ring danced along the second Nuit's voice, airy and light. "And fade it shall, rot and corruption; death and defilement." The words were met with nothing but silence, the performance not yet concluded.
"What is and is not,
"What was and what will be,"
"The past repeats itself under the guise of the future,"
"And yet both find a place in the present."
With a solemn, somber rumble of every Speaker's voice couple with the two figures in white, they all spoke in unison. "They are coming."
There was a brief moment of absolute silence, the world taking a single tick to rest, to think, to calm, then everything was cast into absolute, endless darkness.
Player's Note: All citizens will "wake" from the darkness. Once the lights are out, PCs are effectively asleep and will wake where ever they slept the night before.
