All of Anaxas' celebration for the Feast of Saint Grumble
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The Feast of Saint Grumble
LOSHIS 3, 2718 | KINGDOM WIDE
It was back.
The wonderful, magical, slightly wet wonder that was the week of St Grumbles. Last year, folks had called it many things. Magical. Serene. Rowdy.
This year it was tense.
To say the revelry was reduced would be a lie. Like any other year, beautiful phosphorus lanterns were hung from street lamps and houses alike in Brunnhold, Vienda and Old Rose, glowing warmly in the evening drizzle, whilst on the doors and fence railings of their homes people hung decorated wreaths of thistles and drapings of red velvet ribbon. Carolers wandered the streets or the campus, singing the Dirge of Grumble and handing out tickets to friends and strangers both for the musical wonderment that would be the Re-enactment of the Dirge at the Aeterna Theatre. Alternatively in Brunnhold the students and staff who stayed around attended the lavish and classical Red Tie event in the Great Hall. Over in the Rose, there was the customary truce on fighting and the excess on drinking.
Food was in abundance and drink was not lacking, and yet, there was something in the air. A sense of caution. The Seventen officers seemed to be on every street corner in Vienda and Brunnhold, whilst in Old Rose the Bad Brothers were stalking the taverns and hanging out in the docks. Guns were at the ready and eyes were watching.
“You’d think the people would be more interested, given their Crown has put on such a lavish event even with their bloody rioting last Yaris, and then all that nonsense with the body in the river. They should count themselves lucky St Grumbles is happening at all.” Muttered Damen D’Arthe, stroking his beard as he scanned the crowd in Crosstown Court. Beside him, High Judge Azmus chuckled and swirled his brandy.
“People are scared D’Arthe. They’re waiting for something to happen, waiting for the scary chroves to tear out of the darkness and rip out their throats.” Lifting his drink, sipping it under his thin mustache, the man smiled. It was true, the people were afraid of what had become of their great city. Missing people, mutilated bodies in the Arova, rioting, prison breaks, beatings, Seventen in the courts…it may as well be Old Rose at this rate. Most of the Vienda folk were taking an early night, the crowd thinner as the night progressed. Lillian Lovegood and Basil York still parade the streets, both high as summer kites, enticing people to the annual St Grumbles play. This year it was dedicated to Benjamin Tolsby, who had disappeared from the theatre in Ophus and had not reappeared. The papers had sensationally claimed the body in the river was his, but it had not been confirmed or denied by the authorities—perhaps a move to reduce widespread panic. Thus far, there had been no other bodies, but the journalists were working up a story about a possible killer in their midsts. Would they strike again, or was this their only victim.
It was a perfect storm as far as the Judge was concerned. Panicked people did stupid things. Believed unbelievable things. And they were going to give them something to believe.
“They are exactly where we want them to be.” He said quietly, unable to wipe the grin from his face.
“Chroveshite is what it is.” The snarled voice said from the darkness of the Rose docks, two figures huddling under the awning of a warehouse as the Loshis rain poured down thick and fast. The man who owned the voice, a Bad Brother for years under Hawke, coughed heartily and brought up something to spit into the poor weather. Beside him, the brunette witch tsked and shook her braided hair.
“I’m tellin’ ye, th’ King were ravin’ about it. He’s sure th’ Drain are settin’ t’ make a move on th’ Rose. Take it right from under ‘im. I ent much f’ rumors, but ‘tween ye an’ I, Hawke’s actin’ a pina mant moony over it. Obsessin’ as it were.” The man waved his gun to dismiss her, his face scrunched in disbelief.
“This is Silas fuckin’ Hawke you’re talking about, wick. Not some green bastard with his dick in his hand. Ain’t nothing scares the King, and talk like that is liable to get folks shived.” He gave her a sidelong look, as though emphasizing his point. The witch sniffed and rested her hand casually on a Mugrobi round dagger by her side.
“Oes, is it now? Well, best be keepin’ that sort o’ talk t’ myself then.” Both the Brothers fell silent again, staring out at the rain between them and the ships settled in the rocky water of the docks.
“Yes but I don’t understand why we must attend the dinner this year. It’s never been a must before. I wanted to get into the Stacks early before it’s all packed out.” A stocky ginger haired boy complained to his friend seated beside him, smoothing his cream colored jacket and sipping the First Light the students had been given in the Great Hall. Music played a dancing tune, and the room murmured with the quiet chatter of a good hundred or so students. Every year prior, they would have numbered in the low thirties or so, majority of the Brunnhold attendees slipping away for the Stacks or staying in their dorm rooms for their own private parties. This year, the faculty had insisted students attend the Redtie. They’d organized chaperoned trips for shopping in the town and had marked down names as people filed in. Those who didn’t attend would have their parents brought in and had the threat of being Gated for the rest of the year.
The other student, a Bastian girl with thick dark curls and a white frock, laughed and waved her hand. She gestured him to lean closer, as did their whole table who listened into the conversation.
“It’s Vienda right? I heard that there’s been all sorts of wild things happening there, and the school board along with our parents are scared that the Stacks will be dangerous tonight. Like, as if, right?” Another student, older than both of them with a shock of white hair and pink eyes, scoffed and looked them over with a straight back and heavy field.
“Anaxi do not know the meaning of danger. You have not looked into the mountain and seen the abyss staring back. There is not danger in this country. It is just too soft. Too emotional.” The Bastian gave him a sneering look, annoyed he had interupted her spotlight.
“Yes we all know how you come from under the rocks and like to play in caverns and such. Good for you. There’s danger here, you just haven’t run into it yet.” The ginger grinned then, putting down his drink and waggling his eyebrows.
“So lets go run into it. I mean, we’ve attended right? The rule was we just have to attend. If we go around nearest the passive station over there, we can slip out the back way and then its just a matter of a Perceptive and some field dampening and boom. Stacks.” The students at the table giggled, nodding and ready to follow their fearless leader into his cunning plan.
“Alioe, there goes another table.” Ophelia muttered under her breath, watching the students who thought they were being sneaky as they escaped the dinner, tapping her nails against her glass absentmindedly. Beside her, one of the Living professors looked over with a chuckle.
“Let them go Headmistress. They’re children and its St Grumbles. You’ve done all we could to at least try and keep them on campus, but the parents should know we can’t very well Gate all students on this evening. Besides, its the Stacks, not Vienda. There’s plenty of eyes out there tonight. They’ll be fine.” The brunette woman nodded a little, drawing her gaze away from the students and sighing. She took a breath, raised her glass and put on her best smile.
“Happy Saint Grumbles all. May you all have sense like Lizzie and bravado like Grumble, and may no dragons eat you.”
Welcome to the second annual Feast of St Grumbles, which takes place from the 1st of Loshis until the 10th of Loshis, the first week of the rainy season. Classes are out, many businesses are closed, and all races enjoy the story of St Grumbles while feasting and exchanging gifts over the ten days (if they can afford to do so).
This is an introduction, and if you'd like your character(s) to participate in the Feast, please start all of your thread titles with [St Grumbles] and we encourage you to make them Open threads!
If there's a particular NPC that you'd like to interact with, don't hesitate to talk to your friendly staff! Have fun and happy feasting!
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