Story Arc Rapture: A Shadow Behind the Stars [CELESTIAL FESTIVAL]

The Celestial Festival. Its origins were relatively sketchy, as far as Beira was concerned, but what mattered was that it was there, and it was apparently a big deal in Fiore. Like many established traditional celebrations, the festival had its roots in myths, probably appropriated from some event that had happened so long ago. All Beira's attempts to get to the root of this festival proved a relatively enjoyable wild goose chase, as she had found herself being regaled with tall tales that were quite difficult to believe, even for someone such as herself, of whom it could be said came from an age and time quite akin to the ages during which legends were formed. In any case, the young (at least as far as appearances and behavior went) Utgardian found herself quite entertained by the stories, despite her suspicion that most of the story tellers had added a whole deal of fabrications, probably to impress and amaze the God Slayer. At least the stories were enjoyable.

That had been stage one of Beira's data collection procedure. She had recently imbibed the habit of investigating aspects of Fiorean culture, for the sole purpose of information gathering and education about the matter at hand. Fiore's culture was incredibly different from Utgardr's, and though she wasn't particularly interested in integrating herself into Fiorean customs, she was quite interested in learning what she could about the whole culture, traditions, cuisine, festivals and all, which had brought her to the streets of Crocus. She had been quite a naughty girl the last time she was here, though she had been not at all careless about showing her identity while she infiltrated that ball. Well enough, the security knew a blonde had been the culprit, but she'd done the crime a while ago, and she was sure the Crocus police wouldn't be arresting every blonde they came in contact with since then till the present moment.

Allowing herself an amused smile, the Winter Goddess left the inn in which she had spent the last thirty minutes, listening to the wild tales of a group of sailors who'd plied the seas to the west of Fiore to some reasonable extent. Despite the reputation of sailors to be extremely bad mannered and cantankerous, these fellows had made for relatively good company, though they seemed to be unable to dispense with swearing, even if to save their lives. It was they who had educated Beira on the origins of the Celestial Festival, and even if the Utgardian hadn't been minded to believe their stories, she hadn't felt the last half hour wasted. Probably, when she had returned to Hostia, she would document the tales she had heard, as well as all the sights she would see, and her experiences this night. Just for the sake of... book keeping, in the literal sense of the word.

So, she just walked idly among the thronging people, her frame wrapped securely in her grey traveling cloak, as she observed the people and their doings. She had decided she would do little aside watch people and maybe sample some food and drinks, before turning in for the night, and getting out of Crocus by sunrise. She was in the process of studying some brightly colored lamps, as she walked past their stand slowly, when she felt a hand on her shoulder, which spun her round to face its owner. For a moment, adrenaline surged, and she was ready to engage in combat, believing that somehow, someone had noticed her and recognized her from her misdemeanors when last she was in Crocus. It was not the case. The owner of the hand, which was still on her shoulder, was asking her to take a picture of himself and his spirits. She stared at him blankly, as she quickly sought to figure out what he meant by taking pictures. Then she remembered. Technology of the present age could capture images. Unfortunately, she did not possess any such of the prerequisite materials for the capturing of pictures.

"Unhand me, kind sir," she said politely, though she made no effort to pull away from the man's grip. "I am afraid I don't have the wherewithal to satisfy your present desire. But I'm sure you'll not have to search long before you find someone with a... satisfactory contraption." As she spoke, she took stock of him. While of her age, he looked, in her opinion, strange, with his platinum, red-tipped hair, dark clothes and stark white shoes. The many rings on his fingers were not an issue to her. Utgardians were fond of jewelry, after all.


WC: 770
@Odhran Aegisbane

Man, what a stacked festival! Mura had just walked through the entrance to the Capital Crocus, donning his usual Toad Sage Gi with Gaitō over his shoulders as a small cloak - despite today being a celebratory occasion, he did find himself in Capital Crocus of all cities, after all. This place would be filled to the brim with civilians from all over Fiore for such an event, all wanting to celebrate, have fun, eat, drink, dance, play, watch the stars and the fireworks. People of all ages, too… even small kids who looked up to Wizard Saints like him.

That was how, a minute after having entered Crocus, he was recognized by a group of kids running about. They were playing some kind of ‘wizard brawl’ like game with wands and tall hats, pointing at each other and shouting out words like ‘firebolt’ and ‘ice spike’. They had braked in their track, each kid - boys and girls alike - gazed upon the familiar face that they had seen in the Sorceror’s Magazine as well.


While bickering with each other over what to do with the celebrity in front of them, they slowly realized that Mura’s surprised face had changed into one with a cheeky grin. The shaman had lifted his right index finger up and spoke to them in a mild but mysterious manner: “Ohhhhh, you’ve picked the wrong wizard to play with. You see, I possess one of the most powerful, most taboo spells in all of Earthland…”


“… SPRINKLEEEEEEEEEER!” Mura shouted as his finger released a spray of purified water, raining it all over the kids who cried in joy.


And thus, it turned into a chase. The shaman hunted down the kids who ran across the roads, each laughing as they would try to get away from his sprinkling water magic. This would continue for a while before Mura came across none other than his own, in-the-flesh wife. He almost sprinkled her down too, but he was quick enough to put a stop to his little spell before it wet her clothes. She had probably been waiting for a little long, huh… oof.

A little awkward.

“O-Oh, there you are, Mythica…” Mura spoke up, laughing a little nervously with a voice and posture to pretend that he was looking for her. This could, perhaps, have stood up if the kids didn’t call for him right after: “Aww, Mr. Kensho! You’re too slow, now! The others can get away, now!”

“S-Sorry, kids… I gotta bail out. You all have fun, okay?”

“Whaaaat? Aww… okay, but if you get on the Sorceror’s Magazine again, shout me out!”

“Sure!”

The kid with ginger hair then ran towards the group of kids and disappeared behind the crowds. That left Mura with his wife in the middle of the street as the shaman gave a solid moment of silence before breaking the silence again - not really, the buzz from the crowds were almost deafening them all: “S-Sorry, I was… y’know… this is such a huge fest. Let’s go get some snacks or something…!” He kept a goofy smile on his face, hoping to not have angered Mythica too much, and he also offered his shoulder, so they could link arms like a really cute couple.

In the background, further away from the two of them, Kyuken and Zirconis floated about as the ghosts they were, commenting:

“Damn, what a cocky brat, running off and playing monster with kids that aren’t even his…”
“You could’ve warned him or something…”
“… YOU could’ve warned him or something!”
“I- well, we BOTH could’ve warned him!”
“B-But why didn’t we?!”
“… Hmpf. It was just to keep the kids happy and all. He has quite a reputation, and he just wanted to live up to it.”

WC: 697
@Mythica

After finding out how much jewels he earned from trading those Goddess Medals in, Martian Moonie paid for his rent and then some, with his boss Billi even suggesting he take a day off and recommended the Celestial Festival that was taking place in Crocus. "Don't party too hard and don't get lost going there and coming back". with a pat on the boy's shoulder, Billiam Feyson then waved his apprentice goodbye as he left Magnolia and made his way to the festival. It's probably been at least five months now that Martian has gotten accustomed to living within urban dwellings and alongside people. There was still a lot he needed to do, a great many things in this world that he has yet to see. The concept of Holidays was a fairly new idea to Mars, especially considering as he continuously lived his life grounded in the present time, pretty much the same as any animal would when it came to survival. Those were simpler times and, while it was harsh, it was a great deal easier to focus on just getting enough food in his belly to live another day than to wrap his head around the complexities that come with living in a heavily populated settlement among individuals who greatly differ from himself.

While the domesticated barbarian didn't know what a Celestial was, he certainly knew what was coming when a celebration like this was happening: lots and lots of food. It was true that, because of his current living situation, he need not fear the possibility of starving anytime soon, but it still blew his simple little brain that such delicious morsels could be found so easily and in such great quantity. Vanilla Ale flowed and gushed like a river, nearly endless and quick to fill and refill empty mugs. Stalls and hawker stands could be seen filling the main streets as far as the eye could see, selling various trinkets and goods or holding little carnival games. Lanterns and street lights illuminated the whole place and kept things bright and cheerful even through the night, the various buildings of the capital were awash in brilliance as though a little piece of the sun decided to stay in this part of Fiore.

The once feral non-mage waddled contently through these busy, crowded streets with a mug of Vanilla Ale in one hand and a veritable cache of snacks cradled in his arms. As far as Mars knew, life was good, he has a home to return to, and there wasn't any sign of some underlying calamity brewing on the horizon. Finding a nearby bench, the boy in red plopped down to take a seat and watched what was around him. A few people were taking group photos with their iLacs, one young lady was in the process of tuning her instruments, perhaps doing a small-time performance or probably taking advantage of the festival's saturation of visitors to busk up some quick and easy jewels for her next meal. While gorging upon his foodstuffs, Martian would extend his senses out around him, creating a sphere of awareness that allowed him to keep track of any and everything that exerted a living presence within his vicinity. This was a habitual thing for the weirdo, as he didn't want to be caught off guard while he was eating, and he would be ready to either fight or make a break for it at a moment's notice. More importantly, he didn't want to be jolted by an overly friendly stranger and accidentally drop all of his food on the ground.

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Word Count: 600
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The Celestial Festival in Crocus held a plethora of games and attractions that would garner almost any bystander's or merrymaker's attention from far and wide. Puzzles, challenges of dexterity or strategy, or even plain tests of strength or endurance. Martian Moonie had just finished stuffing himself with the various snacks he managed to get his hands on when he found that he made a mess of his clothes. Heading back to the place he was residing in, for the time being, a small inn that was situated neatly between two sizeable business offices, the boy changed into yet another simple robe that was of a darker red and a fancy white top hat that he placed squarely on his head. With his new attire, the young barbarian once again went outside to explore where he scurried about while holding a paintbrush in one hand and a small bottle of red paint in the other. Wonders upon wonders would abound for the childlike fellow as he went around marking new territories as his claims to add to his domain of stupid. He would enter into one nook and come out several meters away from a cranny over yonder, he would come out of places so unexpected that it would wake quite a while to figure out how he came to be there.

Off he went, familiarizing himself with the environment around him, doing funny jigs on random rooftops for eccentric rituals, and even finding himself inside of a strange and large room. The room's interior was dome-shaped, with the entirety of the walls being covered in hexagonal tiles, the center of the room having what appeared to be some sort of control panel that had various switches and levers. Instinctively, Mars refrained from touching anything on the panel, his wariness being the result of some past experiences with technology that he found unfamiliar. Off to the side was a door that happened to lead somewhere, hopefully to a place that had fewer buttons for the simple-minded hobo to worry about. Stepping outside, he found that he was still in Crocus, and close to one of the first places he visited to get his foodstuffs. Turning around, Martian hopped up in surprise, as what he came out of was a small blue box with the word "POLICE" painted in large white letters.

Suddenly, the box was gone in a flash of white light and strange blaring noises that gradually grew fainter and fainter. Confusion gave way to curiosity, that curiosity would then devolve into frustration as could find an answer for what he just experienced, and his frustration then escalated into a pure hate-filled rage, as he came to believe that he was made the victim of some magically wrought shenanigans by some filthy wizard. His conclusion was that the perpetrator was hiding in a nearby building, which led him to set his sights on the tavern that was just a few steps away. The establishment quite literally exploded as a large fight ensued, men and women and any other form of sentient life were punching, kicking, breaking bottles, and shanking. The chaos died down, either because a lot the people from the bar fled while most of the ones were either knocked out or too injured to move. Martian Moonie, the most unimposing childlike manlet that couldn't intimidate a fly to save his life, was on top of a large burly man, still beating his face black and blue.

Then, some tall pale woman with blonde hair wearing a brown trenchcoat over an all-black suit walked in almost whimsically. "Does someone need a Doctor", the newcomer chimed her inquiry in good cheer, "I'll fix you all as right as rain in no time". Then the mysterious lady pulled out what appeared to be a small metal rod with a few buttons and buzzing lights on it. All the cues that have gone through Mars's brain all scream that the object was a wand, which immediately caused him to leap up and deck the unsuspecting woman in the face with such force, she was sent crashing into the wall of an adjacent building. Believing that he has fixed his problem, Mars waddled off and went on his merry way, his dopey grin restored.

Word Count: 711

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Total Word Count: 711