Festival - Forges and Steel
Forges worked dauntlessly.
They melted, shaped, created items from blueprints, and adapted them following other blueprints.
A redhead oversaw the work of myriads. Hundreds of people in those hot, mind-numbing forges, but they worked without a single word of discomfort muttered, for they knew that the true work had to be done.
A golden opportunity approached them, after aeons of stagnation, they had a chance. A chance to fight back and push against the demons, to finally break out of Anfitrian’s walls, and expand.
For this, they all worked day and night, from the smallest child helping operate delicate tools to the very leader of the Guild, who guided the operation in and out.
Tools were made, small pieces to operate complex technology and unknown magic, as it ran on their hopes and dreams. A design never made before, a design they had to improvise on old prints and magic guidelines.
They knew not if it would work, but they should make it work, at all works.
United, the workers hammered the pieces. They cut gears in place.
Ground and fit together pieces so small that it would be a miracle if it worked without a hitch.
Their sweat fell into flames, boiling immediately.
The very heat of a small sun echoed into the forges, as the leader of the Starcrossed Hammer prayed and hoped their efforts would be enough.
New heroes rose in their ranks.
A cyclops with the power to shake and break the very ground with his might.
A paladin of deep waters and honor.
Dolls that sought to replace their guild.
A berserker of violent nature and relentless brutality.
Many rose from the depths of oblivion.
For their grand work, for their future and hope, the forges couldn’t stop, even as their heat became unbearable.
The portal’s parts should be made, the conduits of magic constructed, and the controls and levers made according to the mages’ need.
Red eyes reflected the flames that burned deep in her soul. The ambition, the desire to trample the demons. A flame that bothered her to the point she joined the workforce in grunt work, pulling heavy, thick ropes, shaping metal.
The Grand Design couldn’t be stopped, not now.
As a Festival raged in Anfitrian, the forges and furnaces roared with power and purpose.
Festival - Blessed, Poor, and the Distance (Avroc, Galatea, Tazlyn)
Avroc tried to participate in the festivities as much as his prodigious size allowed.
He was treated just like everyone else despite his clumsiness and difference in senses.
He sat on an empty lot, he held a whole roasted lamb like it was a kebab. The sound of festivities and people's laughter filled him with nostalgia.
Of Forge Koor, of his people.
It was warming to be beside them, and joyous to stand as one of them.
“Enjoying yourself, big guy?” Someone asked, but Avroc couldn't hear properly.
“Hey. Are you enjoying yourself?” He shouted, drawing Avroc's attention.
“Oh, yes. I am. The festival reminds me of home.” After registering the man's presence, Avroc spoke truthfully.
The man, Tazlyn, scratched the back of his neck. All those heroes came from a different time. The world had changed far too much from what they knew.
For all he knew, home was but a distant memory. Tazlyn sat beside the cyclops, an actual kebab in his hand.
“How was it? Your home?” Tazlyn tried to start a conversation. He knew hardly a thing about the cyclops, so it was a hard matter to talk to him.
“Home… home was beautiful. It was lively with the sound of hammer against metal and the sound of carpenters working. It had days and nights filled with joy, couples walked down the streets, and children were free to play without any worries on our stone streets.” Avroc's voice was hurting, but he didn't let it affect him.
The world was not the same as it used to be.
The great work was not done. Too much was left open-ended.
Tazlyn closed his eyes and relaxed as the wind blew beside them.
He couldn't imagine a world besides the one he knew. The wonder of how it was before the gods died, before it all went to hell.
A doll stared in the distance. She held a small flower between her fingers. She felt the hopeful warmth that came from the cyclops. It made her reminisce about her creator. How the human and cyclops interchanged words as if they knew each other for a long, long time.
Galatea couldn’t deny that she felt a small pang of an unknown feeling, a small bit of anger, and wanting, for the warmth they changed with each other.
She lost concentration for a second, dwelling too deeply in her thoughts, she didn’t feel as a great object approached her. A hand, with a large piece of meat on it, ripped from his immense kebab.
“You. Do not just stare, be free to join us as well.” She was snapped out of her thoughts as the cyclops smiled. His bearded face shone with welcoming warmth and mirth.
Words escaped her mouth, but she did not reject his offer. She came closer to them and sat beside the cyclops as well.
Tazlyn looked at her. “So, how much of the conversation did you hear?” He questioned with a small smile. While eavesdropping would get him with his guard a little higher than normal, this festival and the talk he had with the cyclops were enough to break the ice and make him feel more at ease.
“All of it,” Galatea answered in a heartbeat. Tazlyn scratched his beard, a little thoughtful about how to proceed with the discussion.
“So, how was the world before you died?” the older man asked her. He was curious about how a doll would see the world and how different it would be from theirs.
“It was… warm.” She was but an automata, a golem without will back then, living on her master’s orders, without true thoughts about herself or her purpose, but… she couldn’t deny that the memories she had of her previous life, how it was before the Demon Lord invaded, made her feel warm inside.
Tazlyn couldn’t help but notice that the way she said warm had more emotion behind it, more gravitas. She did not elaborate as much as Avroc, but her love for her hometown was nonetheless there.
A part of Tazlyn envied them all. He envied how they saw a world different from the nightmare he lived in, under the red sun’s guide and rule.
“And you? What do you think of your world?” Avroc questioned him. His voice filled with a sad wisdom, knowing that the world Tazlyn lived, and the world he lived in were not the same; they departed from each other far too long ago.
Tazlyn resisted the urge to look away; he stood his metaphorical ground, despite all the pain of admitting how flawed and broken the world was, and how it hurt him and everyone else. “It is not pleasant. Hell, it is a hole leading to the abyss, but…”
He overlooked the Festival. Despite all its flaws and hurts, it was the first time that Tazlyn had seen people so lively, with so much joy and happiness on their faces.
It was almost as if hope had returned to their forsaken home, even if it was far, far from the truth. “It is a world worth fighting for.” A victory made their hope ignite, even if it was a little. Then, with enough victories, who knew what could emerge from that hope?
A popular saying used to say that faith as small as a mustard seed could move mountains. Maybe they could bank on the faith that made people move mountains with their will and hopes.
It was a wishful thought, but one his heart desperately wanted to be true, so all of this madness could have some sense, so all this insanity had a purpose.
Avroc Strongman looked at the sky.
His heart filled with longing for a time that wouldn’t come back. He wished for his home.
But he knew that it was impossible to go back home.
He sighed. Even if home was but a distant memory, there were things worth fighting for, as Tazlyn had said. Even if things were not the same, and his vision was blurry, the festival, its liveness, made his life feel a little fuller, like how it used to be before the fortress fell.
Festival - Outer and Inner Beasts (Serene, Janus, Tanya)
In a food court, many worshippers and godless alike gathered, enjoying the festival with copious amounts of food and beer, and tents serving all kinds of delicacies. On a wide, rectangular table, many people congregated. It included three special participants, who went to the depths of the dungeon.
Janus saw a strange dichotomy before her eyes—two beasts side by side—one with golden scales, one with bloodlust in her heart. A part of Janus wondered if such a meeting was a game of chance or something predetermined by powers above.
She was a silent watcher of both beasts. Serene looked over Tanya, who ate like a starving beast, no decorum, etiquette, just her hands picking up meat, bread, drinking soup and stew like a ravenous beast.
It made her skin crawl with disgust at how little “human”, how little “class” Tanya had, even when compared to a beast who seldom had contact with society and civilization.
As for the berserker, she cared little. All she did was eat and eat, trying to quench a thirst that no water could quench, and sate a hunger no food could end.
It was a strange feeling. To not be the one who was a beast, an outsider, when side by side with Tanya, the inhabitants of Anfitrian seemed to avoid and dislike the latter more than they disliked her.
“You… you could eat normally, you know? This food is not going to vanish now. There will be a tomorrow, you don’t need to overindulge to the point of gluttony.” Serene said to Tanya, who sat beside her. Curiously, Tanya didn’t rebut her and just ignored Serene, to continue indulging her gluttonous hunger.
Janus was intrigued, as for what she saw and heard about the Sun God’s berserker, she was explosive and violent, to be targeted so blatantly in an open area would not be met without retaliation, either verbal or physical.
The Janus returned her gaze to Serene. A vein jumped underneath a scale, a part of her bothered by how she was ignored by Tanya, as if she wasn’t there.
“Are you even hearing me? You should stop eating like a swine. You are embarrassing us, worshippers.” Tanya picked up on her pace, she ate even more rabidly.
Serene could not believe how brash the girl before her was. They, as worshippers, had a duty to be strong, pristine murals of will, discipline, and etiquette. The image the common folk would see and be inspired by, the start of myths that would fuel the hearts of future heroes with their tales.
How could one of them act like an animal? So ravenous, so uncouth. It took great effort from Serene to tolerate that. How degenerate would people become if someone chose that worshipper as their idol? The one to inspire them?
A person who ate as if she were going to die, and didn’t leave even a single scrap for others.
Serene gritted her teeth. Her golden eyes gleamed with intent. As Tanya went to pick up another bowl of soup, Serene knocked her hand away, the bowl ending up on the other end of the table.
It finally made Tanya look up, meeting Serene’s golden eyes with dismissal and uninterest.
“The day purgatory is full, the dead will walk the earth,” Tanya said with a raspy, uncaring voice. “We are dead risen once again. Darkness has fallen over the earth. Nobility, etiquette, means little, for we are not nobles.”
Tanya sighed, an unnerving degree of self-control and consciousness over her word choice and actions. “We are warriors, we are all strangers to these people. We fight for the same purpose, but that alone does not mean we are their people.”
She got up, placing both hands on the table as she did so. “They will cheer us, but in the end, for all of them, we are as worth as we can provide to them. They want us to feel good about ourselves and to fight harder for this place. We are both exploiting each other in the end. ”
“If you want to play the noble, go forth. I doubt anyone will want to stop you, but make no mistake, beast, we are all equal to them. We are not above them, as they provide us with our food, water, shelters, and we provide them whatever they need from us.” Tanya licked the corners of her mouth clean, getting rid of any food scraps.
The city was feeding the warriors they would send to life and death missions. They should at least afford to feed them well, until their hunger and thirst were stated. It was all transactional. They needed demons killed and dragons dismembered? She would do that.
The other worshippers would do that, so all they would do was at least feed them well, as to make up for the dangers they would incur, and the treasure they would bring back. No one had to lose in this transaction, so in her eyes, it was as fair as it could get.
“Eat to your heart’s content, or just be a bitch like you are being right now. It isn’t going to change their views of us as mere useful tools. We are alone in the end. They will all only see us as a means to an end, and only that. Faking nobility and etiquette won’t get you anywhere, but if that makes you feel good about yourself, go forth, queen.”
Serene trembled with rage as Tanya got up from her seat to pick up her bowl, not paying any attention to her. She dragged the view of worshippers through the mud, and cared not about it.
Some looked away in shame, resonating with the words said by Tanya, but many more continued eating, just proving Tanya’s words; they were no lords or kings, but equals to the common men; they gave them what they wanted, and waited for something in return.
Janus pursed her lips. While her lord’s need to be seen as a noble, superior to the common folk made sense, the words Tanya said made even more sense. After all, Janus herself was one of the most exploited, and the one who saw the most how “transactional” their lives were for Anfitrian. They were as worthy as the purpose they fulfilled.
Serene felt herself fill with rage, but decided to be the bigger person. She picked Janus and pulled her way, making distance between herself and Tanya.
As for Tanya, she took Serene’s retreat as a victory, as she could not argue against her logic and words.
Festival - Fumes, Fogs, and Mists (Klein, Callisto, Baron Hade)
On the outskirts of Anfitrian, two shadowy figures stood. One kindled with the flames of a light blaze, one wrapped in the darkest shadows.
They reminisced over the past and the hurt it brought to their lives.
A dauntless life, one set ablaze. His oath, a soldier and protector, forever sworn to the Lord of Justice. He fought for justice and what he thought was holy.
Now he stood with a second life, one just as fiery as the first, but he was not risen by his lord’s hand. No, a third party toyed with fate and changed the stage.
Things made less and less sense the more he thought about it, but the one that controlled the strings of his charred flesh and soul was no longer the Baroque One, but rather the Caronte.
Did this mean that his ties to him were weak? Or that the pull of Caronte was merely stronger? What conclusion was there to be had? Klein didn’t know.
He desperately wanted to, even Aelia's confirmation was not enough in such times. The key he had found was also not a good omen in his tired eyes.
Something was amiss about it, even as she held the power of the Baroque One.
Klein felt conflicted and lost about what to do.
He stared down at his hands, slowly crumbling away. What were those battles for? What did his sacrifice, and the sacrifice of everyone, even bring to the war efforts?
All faded away like tears in the rain. There was no proof of their existence, and history had forgotten them, had forgotten everyone, all became naught but ghosts in the wind, brought back to life to wage war once again. It was the only thing they could do, but they didn’t do it before?
What was the difference this time? What did they have that could change the tides of war? Klein felt ashamed, but he was doubtful of their chances of winning this bid.
All the odds were stacked against them, and there was no light at the end of the tunnel…
But if the Baroque One taught them anything, it was that the lack of light doesn’t mean a match can’t be lit up, and a new light born out of darkness.
In his doubt, he would find strength, and the justice he sought, he would confide. That was the least he could do, and for all intents and purposes. Uncertainty and bumps would become a clean road sooner or later, Klein hoped for sooner.
His companion turned his head to stare at him. Even in his armor-bound appearance, Callisto sensed the reaffirmation in Klein’s soul, the fact that he shook out his doubts and accepted his weakness, but chose to proceed rather than hide or shy away.
For Calisto, things were not as clean. The road was muddy, and the horizon was foggy. His past was a strange mystery he wanted to uncover, a thing he could not have, an open-ended enigma with only him as the one who could solve it.
A part of him hoped he could achieve closure and a sense of enlightenment once he knew who he was. Calisto stared at the bright moon. It hung over Anfitrian, like a bright eye of the divine staring the very peninsula down.
An ethereal view for the time of the day when he felt the most alive.
The breeze of the festival brought new life to both the undead. If they could close their eyes and bask in the sensation, they would, but it was something too far gone for them at that moment.
Calisto thought about smiling. Even if his past was unclear, and a missing piece in his head, he was not lost, nor unsure of his purpose, unlike Klein. He knew that the good fight should be fought, and that it would herald his memories back in, one day.
After all, he was brought to fight, and lacked his memories. Both aspects should be conjoined somehow.
In the depths of the forest, Hade was challenged by a strange, ghostly woman. She promised he would get all the candies and yummy food he could wish for if he won against her in a game of catch. She laughed and taunted him, daring him to win.
But no matter how much he ran, he could never catch her. She was always close to him, but too far away for his hand to reach.
“See, child?” She whispered to him as the moon hung above them. “There are some games you can’t win, and besides,” She laughed.
Soon, she vanished from Hades’ view as he exited the forest, ending near Calisto. “This is where you are meant to be, sweet child.” She whispered, soft as the wind, unheard by everyone, as three candies appeared on his hand.
Candies he had never seen, skewered on a stick. “Go share, enjoy the moment while it lasts.” She commented as Calisto saw Hade.
The boy got startled a little, unsure of what had happened, but there was no point in dwelling on what that woman was. He noticed Calisto's gaze on him and offered one of the skewered candies. Calisto picked two, and offered the other one to Klein.
Beneath their gazes, a key was snatched.
Festival - Hope and Sisterhood (Mana, Lumina, Iridia)
If there is firewood, give it fire.
Ignite the metal.
Paint those walls in the crimson flare of flames.
Blades of Justice, made to banish evil. A slayer of dragons and beasts alike, unbroken and unbowed, made out of poor steel, but with a glint sharp enough to pierce the heavens.
A sword made of ash, on a ruined altar, her will covered in the dying embers of her will, with a soft burning core.
A bladed shield, ever protecting those behind her, and dangerous to those who seek harm against the ones she vowed to defend.
The night of the festival was soon to end, giving place to the rise of a red, dying sun, nearly devoid of light and warmth.
Three lonely figures stood watch over the city from the balcony of the city’s tallest building. One of them shone as bright as gold, even as she was covered in ash and dust from the forges. Iridia. She watched it all with hopeful but grim eyes.
It was but one step towards an abyss from which they could no longer step back—a spark of hope in the endless dark. There was only so much they could, and even in her heart, she knew it was far beyond them.
The Wicked Star rested over his throne, in wait of something to finally crash the stalemate, break the boredom. The moment it was broken, he would rise again, and their fight would become so much harder.
Yet… the fight should be fought, for the sake of her objective, for the sake of a future denied. To forge a future where eternal darkness could be pierced.
A future where hope denied the shadowy chains of fate and cracked the code. Iridia would never rest until hope was reignited, and the fight was brought to the doorsteps of demons. Until every single droplet of their blood was spilt.
Her eyes saw beyond Anfitrian, into the red light beyond, to build fortresses on the horizon, raise their defenses until they came bastions of invincibility, and meat grinders towards demon kind.
“Are ya zoomin’ out?” Mana asked as she hit Iridia on the back, and it snapped her back to reality. Iridia gave Mana a stinky eye.
“Just thinking about the future, about the bastion I want to build, far beyond the defenses of the peninsula. Where can we reclaim land for our cause, and not hide away anymore.” To change a paradigm that stood unchallenged for far too long.
A nexus to the outside world.
The silent one in their trio, Lumina, gave the idea a conflicted smile of hope and pain. She saw merit in Iridia’s bold strategy, but also saw danger far greater than anything else they had ever done in Anfitrian’s history.
“You know that your plan will spill blood, do you not? That it will bring hurt and pain.” She chewed her lower lip. Iridia merely nodded to her words. In her eyes, it was a necessary sacrifice, but for Lumina, the price may be too great.
Too many resources used, too much sweat, tears, and blood spilled for a labor they don’t even know if it is going to be worth it. Too many circumstances and unforeseen consequences.
Mana held her chin in silent contemplation. “Even without good old me around, they did great! Well, it is the first time in a long time that things have gone right, no? So what is the problem? I think we should get a little bolder. No pain, no gain, and all.”
Mana knew of the dangers and how bold the idea was, but she could not deny how enticing it sounded, like a forbidden fruit left hanging in your garden.
Maybe it was time for Anfitrian to finally grow a pair and start taking lands back, and expanding. There were many factions over there in the big world. The wild hunters, the feral goblins, and the pocket villages of humans and other assorted races.
Those who dwelt in ruins.
A gateway to the outside world could be the change they needed, after all.
Lumina sighed. She was against the idea, but the festival, their victory, could be pivotal to changing the council’s mind. After all, such a crushing victory was what they needed to change their outlook and raise the spirits within the peninsula.
Lumina was still against it, but if her fellow sister in faith wanted to do it, she would not have a problem if the council approved Iridia’s decision.
The Abbess sighed as the new dawn slowly rose. While people rested, the great work for them just started. Iridia worked day and night to prepare supplements and materials for the gateway to the outside world, and Lumina herself was busy administering the resources within the peninsula and Anfitrian itself.
The Great Work has only begun…