Winter Lights Festival (Come One, Come All)

by **Flicker** on February 6th, 2011, 8:22 pm

Festival of the Lights

Timestamp: 44-45 Winter, 510 AV
Location: Stained Glass Gallery
Reason: Damage Control

Never is Priskil’s toasty presence so appreciated as during the deadly winter months. As Morwen rages, Priskil’s molten attendance banishes all icy tendrils from the mountain. Halfway through the season, when tempers are fraying and the end has been lost sight of, it’s time to party. The celebration is simple in the hardships of winter, but fueled by twice the gusto of any other festival. Spanning two days, and three events, the celebration takes place in the Stained Glass Gallery with one activity out in the snow packed Courtyard of the Sky. With concern to the food supply, there are no meals or snacks available within the festivities themselves, but the evening of the 45th, right after the Wind Warrior (grand champion) is announced, the labors of the food competition are made available for an event-closing feast.

After much deliberation, the main event was announced as a stained glass competition(Flicker). All contestants are released from duties to report to the Gallery at dawn of the 44th. The Gallery has already been split into sections. Half of the spacious chamber is devoted to work tables and supplies for use by the contestants. Although there are partitions to provide privacy between tables, in the past, most of these have been shoved out of the way to allow for banter between parties. Although those skilled in glass working can choose to work alone, often they pair up with someone lacking the knowledge to compete on their own. Skilled artisans in these groups do most of the work and provide guidance to the less skilled party, who is often referred to as the designer.

Every material necessary is supplied and the contestants have right up to dusk on the 45th to submit their pieces. The only limitation is that the work must be between two square feet and nine square feet. After the sun has receded beneath the horizon and no longer baths the Gallery in the myriad of colors from the installed stained glass, the contest will begin. In the dark, each piece will be placed in front of a light and the design illuminated for judgment. Two prizes with be rewarded to the winning team, one for the artisan and one for the designer.

Another contest is the aforementioned cooking challenge(Phoenix). This year’s challenge is to feature the nutritious blue emergency-ration mold in a dish in such a way that the diners don’t have to force themselves to eat it. These contestants report in at dawn of the 45th and then take their business to the private kitchens, which have been reserved for their sole use all day long. They don’t have the resources that the glass workers do, but each will be allowed to create two plates of the same dish. In the two bells before dusk, festival goers will be allowed to partake of one of the plates and cast their judgments while the second plate is reserved for the feast after the Wind Warrior is announced. The winner will be rewarded a prize.

The last, and most certainly not least, event is a war game, usually referred to as the Winter Warrior challenge (Gossamer). The Courtyard of the Sky, buried under fifteen feet of packed snow, has been transformed into a proving ground via Seize the Flag. Enough snow has been cleared from around one set of doors between the mountain and the Courtyard to allow contestants to gather before diving into the tunnel-warscape. On either end of the Courtyard a large expanse has been cleared as a base. From these bases, five tunnels snake toward the other team’s. However, neither side’s tunnels actually intersect with the other’s. To make it to the other base, the soldiers must use one of the available hatches to pop onto the surface of the snow and make a run for an opposing opening.

A team accumulates ‘kills’ by hitting a competitor with a thin glass sphere filled with dye. The dye is a dry powder that reacts with the moisture from the snow gathered on coats. Once splotched, a competitor is out and must evacuate the battle ground. These balls are stockpiled in the bases and replenished only after a match is up. If a team runs out, their firepower and ability to decimate the other team has been compromised.

These scurrying soldiers, dodging missiles, must also keep an eye out for the Wind Eagles swooping down to scoop them up on the surface. The Wind Eagles are the true threats. They cannot be disqualified, and anyone attempting to strike at them will be punished. Through telepathy, they coordinate the attacks and keep track of everyone’s kills.

The Eagle with the most scoops at the end of the game will be awarded a complete remodeling of his nest, new wind chimes, games, or new tack/gear. The soldier with the most kills will be allowed to choose a prize. The soldier with the most flag captures will choose a prize. And the one with the most combined will also be deemed a winner.

Aside from prizes, winners will earn points for every feat they accrue.

First place (glass) – 50
Second place (glass) – 30
Third place (glass) – 20

First place (chef) – 30
Second place (chef) – 20
Third place (chef) – 10

Most kills and flags – 40
Most kills – 30
Most flags – 20

The Wind Warrior will be the Inarta with the most points. This Warrior will receive a grand prize and the honor of presiding over the next festival

by **Flicker** on February 6th, 2011, 8:30 pm

Morning of the 45th

No man, woman or child, surely no Eagle, slept beyond the first dancing rays of dawn on the day denoting the midway point of winter. Those coordinating the festival had been up long before the sun cared to show up for greeting. Although the glass competition had already started, the competitors still working on their pieces had to wait for the doors to open to all of Skyinarta before being allowed back to their projects. This was the day all of Skyinarta would be at play. The doors to the kitchens remained closed, as did those to the Courtyard, while last minute touches were made. The setting out of the foodstuffs, the stocking of the thin glass bauble weapons, everything would be prepared for two bells past dawn. The great doors of the Gallery inched open and Kaden, swathed in robes, appeared in the gap betwixt them to address the hushed crowd.

“Inarta! We weather the storm!” he roared, his feisty spirit expanding to fill the massive entrance as he wound up in this opening speech. “We battle most of the year to win the war against winter! We will not be defeated by snow and ice! We will not succumb to frozen water!” Kaden’s eyes blazed over the cheering crowd, the denizens of Skyinarta needing this stoking of spirit. “It’s time to show winter that we are not defeated. It may take our food from us, but it cannot take our fire! Our fire, Priskil blessed, will never suffocate under a few paltry months of water! His growl faded in conjunction with the growing noise of the crowd. Admittance to the chamber was as simple as him stepping to the side, hiding behind the door as redheads rushed by.

Half the chamber was partitioned off as glass working space, and those uninvited by competitors were encouraged to stay away. On either end of remaining space tables were set up. One was the registration for the cooking competition and the other was registration for the Winter Warrior challenge. At these tables challengers would give their name and report in with their dish/stats after they had finished their games. Between the desks, in long lines, the feast tables were set up in wait and for relaxation during the course of the day. Val the Gatekeeper was standing on one long line of tables, waiting for everyone to gather ‘round.

“I’m gonna lay the prize system down for you guys before you all go lose your minds!” The crowd cheered and he waved them to quiet again. “Shut up already! Only got enough energy to say this once! You get prizes for placing in the events, cooking, snow battle, or stained glass! Each winner will also be given so many points based on their event. You can also win points by playing music, dancing, telling jokes, witty conversation, falling on your ass and making us laugh! You do something noteworthy, we’ll give you your points. Now, the man, woman or child with the most points get to preside over the next festival and receives a grand prize!”

Val, his piece said, used a chair to step down in signal that they could scurry off to register for their events.

What this thread is :

by **Sira** on February 7th, 2011, 12:21 am

OOCWoo! First response!

Ah, the Winter Lights Festival... Sira could remember the previous year's festival only just barely, having spent much of it completely and utterly intoxicated. She had nearly crashed into the mountainside that year, but she didn't care. She had lived, and this year was much different for her. This year she had people to celebrate it with, Aidara her new love and Sairque her sister Endal, even despite what tensions might still be between them. Sira was ready for the competition too. She would be crowned the Winter Warrior, and there was no convincing her otherwise. Previous years had not gone so well.. and one year she'd been disqualified for carrying a fellow competitor half way around the mountain before dropping them ten feet into a bank of snow. But this year, this year she wouldn't get disqualified and she was going to win!

Sira only half listened as the speech was given and the prize system was explained. It was the basic same thing every year, but each year they had new guests and new children to hear the rules so it had to be done. Sira rushed in with the rest of the mob, heading first for the sign-ups for the Winter Warrior challenge. "Name's Sira. I'll be the Winter Warrior this year," she exclaimed to the person in charge of sign-ups, who only laughed and put her name down. Sira couldn't wait for the festivities to begin. She knew she'd need to earn more points here if she was to win overall, especially since her idea for the cooking contest had been completely shot down. Still... the worlds strongest booze and drugs sounded like a good idea to her to make the blue gunk taste good, but it was against the rules.

Sira knew what she was going to do for bonus points already... something a year ago she would never have done but with her knew fortunes she found herself feeling different this year. But that would come later, for now it was a time for mingling and a time to find her friends. She'd reveal her secret plan later. Sira searched around for somebody she knew, or somebody who looked like they might have an interest in talking to her at least, wandering about the chamber as she did so.

by **Yarrin** on February 7th, 2011, 4:16 am

Like most every Inarta should, Yarrin felt a particular kind of joy once the Winter Lights Festival broke the struggle of the season open with an excuse to celebrate. By this time in the year, the bowyer was almost entirely finished with any customer work and often had time to be personally creative, for by now, he always needed an excuse to keep his mind off the nagging worry over how the food stores were doing.

This year had gone well for Yarrin and the strawberry blond felt rather optimistic about his opportunities in the Festival.

He listened to all the announcements with a fidgety sort of excitement, fingers listless over the embroidery of his bryda. Once all the talking was over, he jostled his way through the crowds and tried to wait patiently in lines, sizing up the competition as he did so. His stomach rumbled as he stood waiting to sign up, a reminder of why he knew to avoid the cooking challenge altogether. Too much food in one place would just be a temptation and not a joy.

The first line he endured was for the Winter Warrior event, though he also knew he’d have to make his way over to register for a stained glass team as well. Part of him wondered if he’d see his father on one of those teams. It would make for a bit of spice, for sure.

Once he’d managed to get his name down for two events, he hovered in the chamber. He didn’t have anywhere else to go, really, and watching the frenzied excitement was somewhat inspiring.

by **Kovac** on February 7th, 2011, 7:50 pm

Of all the festivals that Kovac had forced himself to endure, the Winter Lights is always the most welcomed. The wretched winter season brought the denizens of Wind Reach to a dicey edge, stir crazy, rationed on food, agitated by the most mundane things. The festival is probably the biggest single factor in keeping the Inarta from tearing each other apart during the long, cold besieged days. The cynical Avora often found the dead of winter almost unbearable. Living in the Aeries this year had alleviated some of that angst, where he could enjoy some advantage. He even smuggled food a couple times to Haya, the Dek that he could almost call a friend. Now his growing irritation could be expended in a more constructive manner.

The Avora had drifted towards the Stained Glass Gallery while Shayth was still out. Surely he would run into her later. They still feigned some distance between each other, but to any who observed them it was obvious that there was more than archery instruction going on between Shayth and her live-in trainer. Arriving after the bulk of the crowd had assembled, Kovac lingered at the edge of the throng as Kaden appeared in the doorway in all his glory. His words were sentiments of typical Inarta bravado, whipping the red-maned mob into a frenzy of excitement. The Avora did not embrace so strongly the Inarta corporate persona of his father's people, though he had lived with them all his life. He was Inarta, and he was not. Some accepted the half-breed, others never had. Either way, he lived by the rules of Wind Reach.

As the air of anticipation hovered over the crowd, Kovac found he too nurtured a hidden excitement about this year's festival. He chose to participate more, encouraged by Shayth and others. But the archer still did not like crowds, and was grateful when Kaden disappeared and the great doors were flung open. The archer surged with the masses, grumbling as he was jarred and bumped. Once inside the gallery, and old Val had delivered his instructions, Kovac wove his way between carved columns and groups of yammering citizens until he reached the registration tables for the Winter Warrior Challenge. He hesitated, cringing for a moment at the prospect of having to cooperate with others. With a sigh he shrugged off his trepidation and got in line to sign up, intent on taking part in the games. He had something to prove this year. He was going to do something else, something he had said that he would never do....ever. Kovac was going to play one of the pieces he had composed on his lute. There was no apparent reason for the sudden change of heart, and it still made him shudder to think about playing in front of people. But maybe there was more artist in him than he chose to admit.

The testy Avora produced his name and information to the restistrar and turned to find a corner where he could watch the day's event unfold and spot the very few friends he managed to have.

by **Amon** on February 7th, 2011, 8:52 pm

Amon wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for the Festival of Lights or aggravated by the fact that he couldn’t just remain where he was, in his room, comfortable, brooding, slightly more pleasant than he was 20 days before. He had been practicing his archery on his makeshift target when an attendant had called to him to join the rest of the populace at the entrance to the Gallery. He stifled a sigh and slipped into a simple white bryda and his riding boots and followed the rest of the crowd toward the grand, imposing doors of the chamber.

Golden eyes scouted the faces, and he recognized many. Some just acquaintances, others, good friends. But oddly enough, Amon had no desire to approach them. He remained silent during Kaden’s announcement and subsequent exit from the center of the open doorway and allowed the bustling crowd to push him further into the Stained Glass Gallery. He noticed the registrar tables set conveniently on the other end of the chamber. But as the majority of the redheads bustled around Val, he decided to listen carefully.

Ah, so a competition, something that could take his mind of his deteriorating personality. Perhaps he yet still had hope, but whatever shred he could find in Priskil’s realm would be difficult to hold. Amon passed by man, woman and child, ignoring the calls for his attention that occasionally erupted from the mass of heads. He moved toward the Chef’s competition registrar table first, signing his name there after careful deliberation. He knew enough cooking that he could at least have a bit of fun with this even if he did not win. Next, he moved toward the Winter Warrior challenge table, and signed up there as well. What’s a little exercise and good competition to relieve some much unneeded stress and frustration?

Then he moved from the tables, only just noticing the familiar form of Kovac in a corner, once again, alone. He moved towards him, but said not a word.

by **Chemar Tisserand** on February 9th, 2011, 12:03 am

Having been holed up in her workshop for most of the winter season, Chemar was absolutely craving the company of something beyond piles of tanned hides, dyes and thread. She'd been perfecting the fur and leather coats that she would present at the festival, the hopes that she and Sai had pinned on people appreciating the work they'd done hanging in that presentation. But today was just for fun, a little break in the painstaking creation of the elaborate Katinus, made from pelts provided by Sairque and crafted at Chemar's hands.

She looked down at herself before walking into the gallery, giving her appearance the once over and taking a moment to adjust the flame colored scarf that encircled her hips. The scarf, like her hair was woven with tiny glass teardrops of red, gold, orange and copper and with every step she took, there was a delicate, airy, chiming that insinuated itself into the ears of those that heard it like a melodic whisper. With an enigmatic smile curling the corners of her mouth, she walked into the gallery without hesitation. Though her eyes always remained slightly squinted from her work in the dream chambers, she met the gaze of those she encountered with a bold feeling of confidence.

The gallery was beginning to fill with Inarta, they milled around the various sign-up stations talking and laughing with companions and strangers alike. She loved this time of year, not only for the respite it gave the residents, but also because it gave her an opportunity to stop work, even if for just an afternoon or two. As her eyes scanned the room, she took pause on those faces she'd seen in passing, wondering what each of their stories were. Finally a familiar face passes into her view and her smile shifts to one of affectionate recognition. Doing her best to approach without notice, she sneaks up behind Amon, bringing a 'shushing finger' to her lips as a man nearby threatens call attention to her sneaking. When she reaches Amon, she very nearly sets her chin on his shoulder and whispers so only he can hear, the sound of her lyrical voice affected by her mischievous smile. "They'll just let anyone into the festival these days." A warm chuckle attached itself to the last of her words, and she lifted on her tip toes to kiss Amon on the cheek.

by **Ronin** on February 9th, 2011, 6:26 pm

Ronin had entered the Gallery just in time to hear Kaden's speech. He cheered along with the crowd when they cheered, but his mind was elsewhere. The artisan who had taken Ronin on as an apprentice had fallen ill the night before, and would not be able to compete in this year's Stained Glass competition. Ronin was only supposed to be a designer this year. Now, he had to choose whether he would drop out or compete at a severe disadvantage without the experience of his teacher.

When the speech was over Ronin made his way toward Val the Gatekeeper.Ronin had attended the year before, though only as an observer, so he knew that Val would be giving the instructions to the competitors. He strained to hear from his space near the back of the crowd who had gathered here. Still racing through his mind were the decisions he had to make in just next few moments.

Time seemed to slow in Ronin's mind as he looked around. He didn't notice a single frown on the faces of the artisans around him. 'There must be some reason they are all excited for this contest,' He thought to himself. With this revelation he made up his mind, he would compete.

Before he could even finish the thought all those around him began to disperse and scurry away toward their stations. Ronin kept pace with them as he looked around at how different the gallery looked divided into these different parts. Not paying attention to where he was going, he walked straight into a pair who seemed to be a couple. (Amon and Chemar) Falling, he hit the ground with a thud, but his attention was suddenly on the ones he had run into.
"I am so very sorry, please forgive me." He said as he scrambled to his feet.
"I am so absent minded, I should watch where I'm going, it wont happen again, I'm terribly sorry. He rambled on and on worried he had hurt them, worried he would get in trouble, and worried he wouldn't get to the registration tables in time. Finally, he got his wits about him to stop talking and stood there silently waiting to be chided.

OOC: I don't know how you usually do OOC here, I hope this is alright. This is my first post so any critiques would be much appreciated, thanks.

by **Twik** on February 10th, 2011, 4:01 am

In Twik's opinion the only thing disagreeable about festival days were that they came along according to schedule and did not manifest automatically whenever she was in the mood for them, which was quite often. When they did come, Twik resolved to make the best of them, and for this particular festival Twik had splurged and bought herself a new brightly colored dress and had tied her hair up in a scarf to make herself look mysterious.

Usually Twik would spend as much of a festival as she could playing her mandolin and singing, but she had noticed that after a goodly number of hours of such activity her fingers grew sore and her voice became hoarse, and so this year she decided to make a rare attempt at moderation and not burn herself out in the morning.

Twik found the competitions very exciting but did not feel she had the skills necessary to compete herself. She certainly was not skilled with glass, and was not even all that good at eating food, let alone cooking it. Instead she had decided to spend her morning at fortune telling, and set herself in a likely corner with her deck of fortune telling cards offering her services to all who passed by. Twik had purchased the cards from one of the rare traders who visited Windreach the previous summer, and in point of fact she was not sure whether the cards were meant for fortune telling or not, and if they were she had no idea what the traditional method of using them was. The cards had been printed with woodcut stamps in a peculiar angular sort of style, some cards having 3 or 4 colors. Each card bore an image, mostly of some strange item or scenario. Twik loved the cards immensely, and felt that she could use them as symbols of fortune and more or less fake a card reading. When the morning had safely passed, Twik would return to her room and get her mandolin and play until her fingers wore out.

by **Aurordan** on February 10th, 2011, 9:18 am

Aurordan followed the crowds into the hall. Festivals really weren't his preferred environment, and he knew by the end he would be seeking refuge in the deserted archery range, but the Winter Lights Festival was inarguably good at breaking the monotony. Bracing himself against the throng, he made his way over to the registration tables.

He always avoided both the cooking and glass crafting events, knowing they could only end in disaster. The Warrior Challenge, however, was much more within his abilities and always a thrill to participate in. He signed up for that and withdrew to the edge of the room, wondering what the next couple of days had in store.