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In the beginning...or so it is said...
...The world was bright, yet it was cold...
...For beneath the pall of sunlight was a lifeless sphere, a place of nothingness, where all was still and colorless. Not so much as wind blew across the surface of this land, and nary a pockmark dotted the surface of this smooth, motionless world...
...And upon this nothingness, a great Void tore forth, spilling the Riftsea upon the world. The ground rippled and tore, shattering into millions of imperfections as the first of the Waygods, shrouded in light, tore forth from the Place Between Places...
...And as they twirled and arced through the air, the limitless energies of the Riftsea shrouded them, whirling and dancing at their every whim. And with such ability, they seeded our world, embedding life and energy into its every freshly-sculpted pore...
...And from this cultivated garden of endless delights sprouted plants, animals, the Upright Races, and all the pleasures and dangers of this world alike...
...Or, so it is said...
...
In the beginning...or so it is said...
...The world was bright, yet it was cold...
...For beneath the pall of sunlight was a lifeless sphere, a place of nothingness, where all was still and colorless. Not so much as wind blew across the surface of this land, and nary a pockmark dotted the surface of this smooth, motionless world...
...And upon this nothingness, a great Void tore forth, spilling the Riftsea upon the world. The ground rippled and tore, shattering into millions of imperfections as the first of the Waygods, shrouded in light, tore forth from the Place Between Places...
...And as they twirled and arced through the air, the limitless energies of the Riftsea shrouded them, whirling and dancing at their every whim. And with such ability, they seeded our world, embedding life and energy into its every freshly-sculpted pore...
...And from this cultivated garden of endless delights sprouted plants, animals, the Upright Races, and all the pleasures and dangers of this world alike...
...Or, so it is said...
...
It had been long, long, and longer, still, since the Festival of Replenishment.
Once every sixty years--and, indeed, only once--there came a time when the followers of Alaphus, the seldom-seen, yet benign Waygod of a town known as Pyrr, put on the most lavish of fetes, at least as far as their region was concerned. Alaphus was an old, old god; older than the trees and the mountains, than the fields and the farmlands. Older than all the creations and empires of the Upright Races, and, indeed, it is said, older than the world itself.
Yet he, like many Waygods, had waned. The humble town which now paid him service in return for his blessing of sanctuary remained faithful, and for generations their festival pulled travelers from all the corners of the land to dance, sing, enjoy and expel their many energies for Alaphus's sake, in return for small blessings given from the unearthly denizen of the great standing stone in the town's central square. And so had come another once in a lifetime opportunity.
Ah, the festival of festivals; a week-long affair which had brought visits from even the greatest royal families of the ages, which had seen appearances of great heroes and men of honor. Firespitters danced in the streets, timing impressive bursts of flame to the haughty songs of nearby musicians. Colored paper flittered down from the bellows of the town's many chimneys, perpetually bathing the cobblestone pathways with multicolored shards of light. Bright, rainbow-spitting lanterns of blown glass hung and swayed in the lazy afternoon breeze, gawked at by travelers and children that stood just below. Every race, every creed, every type of person imaginable filled the festival to the brim, their shouts and hollers and muddled conversations mixing with music and other forms of celebration, all while the great Slumberstone, the towering pinnacle in the town's core, carved with the many happenings and histories of fetes past, and decorated with dyed, looping strings, spreading outward and latching to the many buildings of the plaza, cast a long shadow over bright stone rooftops.
The second afternoon of the Festival of Replenishment. Indeed, it was as wonderful as could be imagined.
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