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[Story] Py'rai: A Festival of Lights. [Sanctus]

SpentaSpenta Member
edited April 23 in Role-Playing Tavern

This First Post is just a Setup Post for the Rest of the Story. There will be plenty of dialogue, character focus and other small adventures.

I am grateful for your presence here, seated by the warm fire as I share with you my reminiscences of youth - a time when I was a more youthful version of myself, immersed in the culture of my people. My name is Nahele Myrunji, and my tale commences much like any other - at home. While it may seem like an ordinary preface with a modest start, it is a testament to the power of beginnings and the richness of our lives experiences.

Nestled within a verdant copse at the fringes of the riverlands on the world of Sanctus, lay the Clan of the My'Runji. Our village, boasting majestic trees of towering heights, bore a distinct mark of natural beauty - the abodes of many among us, carefully integrated within the sprawling foliage to preserve its innate splendor. Though small in number, our community of three to four hundred residents was tightly-knit, a place where every face was familiar and where crossing any of the quaint bridges over the tranquil riverways would inevitably lead to an encounter with someone you had conversed with a mere week ago. The village was built around a network of rivers that flowed from the distant mountains, through the woods and into the riverlands, a lifeline that facilitated both trade and sustenance through fishing and hunting. At the heart of our settlement, stood a towering tree ablaze with the hues of autumn, unlike the other trees that were resplendent in verdant greenery during summer and barren during winter, this mighty tree never lost its colors. The centerpiece of our village, a grand edifice, was built into the very heart of this tree.

Our village boasted a humble school, a repository of ancient texts and manuscripts, and a handful of quaint shops. Among our other public buildings were a hunters hall and a council chamber, presided over by the wise elders who governed our local affairs. Despite being one of the many outlying villages of the Py'rai, we lived in harmony with the natural world, a tranquil haven that exuded a sense of safety and serenity. Yet, the same seclusion that sheltered us also bred a wariness towards the outside world, a trait that was deeply ingrained in our kind. Despite this, I hungered for knowledge of the wider world, devouring books at the village library and immersing myself in tales of the distant lands inhabited by the Velan and the Dunzenkell, much of which had been passed down to me by my parents.

My father, a dignified figure in our community, held the coveted position of Village Leader, occupying the foremost seat in our council. He was a man of great stature, exuding a regal bearing that spoke volumes about his unwavering pride and staunch adherence to our ways. My beloved sister, Tonili Myrunji, on the other hand, had an insatiable appetite for adventure and was often found traversing the wilds, engaging in one-sided conversations with the creatures that crossed her path. Sadly, our mother left us a year ago, and the circumstances of her disappearance remain shrouded in mystery to this day. Nonetheless, it was in this very village that my own story begins.
Following Our Lore Series which is based on Ashes of Creation You can find it here:


  • SpentaSpenta Member
    edited April 23
    Preparation of the Ceremony of Lights

    This was a local festival that our village held exclusively, a celebration that was believed to have been conceived by our forefathers who sought to live closer to the vast plains and rivers, free from the constraints of overhanging branches and the darkness they imparted. The festivities were a vibrant mix of music, folktales passed down from generations long gone, and the release of paper lanterns that floated up into the night sky, a poignant tribute to our loved ones who had journeyed beyond this world. And so, it is in the midst of this festive gathering that the story of Nahele Myrunji, my own story, truly begins.


    Scene I: The Streets of a Village

    "Nahele," a masculine voice resonated from a nearby abode, interrupting his reverie, "Please do not forget your other obligations for the day."

    Nahele's youthful yet sonorous voice rang out in response, "Yes, Father. I will not forget, I promise."

    With a contented smile, Nahele turned and made his way down the road, paved with natural stones that had been expertly flattened and integrated into the earth to prevent the formation of mud. The day was breathtakingly beautiful, the autumn foliage ablaze with a kaleidoscope of vivid hues that seemingly burst forth like flames. The golden oranges and mellow yellows softened the ambiance of the village and its surroundings.

    Nahele's attire was a sight to behold - a pristine white robe, adorned with delicate golden leaf embroidery, complimented his dusky complexion perfectly. His hair, cropped short with soft curls, was a deep brown, and his eyes, a bright and lively brown, seemed to dance with joy. What was most striking, however, were the ivory antlers that sprouted from his forehead and flowed gracefully through his hairline. A subtle touch of gold paint graced his cheeks, a nod to his heritage and lineage. His gait was confident and fluid, and he carried a well-stocked pack with him, including various books, writing supplies, and a compact medical kit.

    As Nahele made his way across one of the five picturesque bridges that spanned the river, he couldn't help but marvel at the sight of the water's shimmering surface, basking in the warm autumn sun. Passing by fellow villagers, he would exchange friendly nods and greetings, wishing them a "Good Morning" or a "Good Day" as they bustled about with their preparations for the festival. Despite the lively atmosphere, Nahele remained focused on his goal of reaching the library, where he would delve into the village's history to ensure he was well-prepared for his upcoming role in the traditional retelling - an esteemed honor that he took seriously.

    As Nahele arrived at the Village Archives, he couldn't help but feel a sense of reverence towards the unassuming building. Nestled into the side of a large earthen mound, it boasted a sturdy structure of carved stone that was a stark contrast to the vibrant colors and natural materials of the surrounding buildings. It was clear that this building was meant to protect and preserve the village's most valuable treasure: its knowledge.

    As he entered the archives, the cool, musty smell of old parchment and ink filled his nostrils. The dimly lit space was lined with shelves of neatly organized books, scrolls, and parchments that contained the collective history and wisdom of the village. Nahele felt a deep sense of respect for the knowledge that lay within these walls, and he knew that it was his duty this evening to make sure he demonstrated that respect through his retelling.

    He made his way to a small desk in the corner, where he would spend the next few hours poring over the texts that held the stories and legends of his people. His fingers traced over the worn pages, taking in the words and letting them weave together into a tapestry of his village's history.

    Nahele recognized the gentle voice of Asha, an older woman who adorned a green garment and had braids in her hair that complemented her petite brown antlers. She approached him and sat down at his table in the Archives. Nahele glanced up from the book he was reading and greeted her kindly.

    "I hope you're doing well, Asha," Nahele inquired.

    Asha smiled and leaned in, placing her hand on the book to pause Nahele's reading. "I am, Nahele. I see you're preparing for tonight. Are you feeling nervous?" she asked with a hint of concern in her voice.

    Nahele shook his head from side to side and put the book down, meeting her gaze. "No, I'm not nervous. Why do you ask?"

    "Perhaps it's just my nerves," Asha admitted, "I tend to stay cooped up in the Archives most days, but tonight is an important event. It's the time for the Enlightenment, isn't it?"

    Nahele nodded in agreement, "Yes, it is. I'll be leaving the village with four others."

    Asha's face dropped a little, but she still managed a smile, "I'll miss you all, but I'm looking forward to the knowledge you'll bring back."

    Nahele returned her smile, "I hope to bring back something valuable to share with everyone, especially the Archives."

    Asha stood up, signaling her departure, "Well, I should let you continue your work. If you need anything, I'll be here."

    Nahele stood up to give Asha a hug, "Thank you."

    Asha embraced him in return before taking her leave, and Nahele settled back into his work, studying and recording notes in his own journal.
    Following Our Lore Series which is based on Ashes of Creation You can find it here:
  • SpentaSpenta Member
    edited April 23
    Scene II: Festival of Lights

    Having spent a substantial portion of the day amongst the tomes in the underground archives, Nahele meticulously finished up a few sections of his notes. He took great care in handling the books, scrolls, and other artifacts of knowledge with thoughtfulness and tenderness, as if they were fragile treasures. After placing everything back in its proper place, Nahele bid farewell to Asha and took his leave, leaving the archives behind for the time being.

    As he emerged from the archives, Nahele was greeted by the cool and invigorating embrace of the outdoors. After hours of intense study and pursuit of knowledge, he relished in the simple pleasure of feeling the wind upon his exposed cheeks and the way it playfully shifted through the tight curls upon his head. The tranquil moment was soon interrupted by the sounds of the bustling village - the cheerful laughter of children playing in the background, the distant murmur of voices, and the gentle rush of water coursing through the village. With a soft sigh, Nahele made his way towards one of the Northern Courtyards where the citizenry would soon gather for the upcoming festival.

    As he strolled through the village's streets, Nahele couldn't help but admire the warm radiance emanating from each of the homesteads he passed. The flickering shadows behind the windows gave a glimpse into the various activities of the village's inhabitants, be it familial or otherwise. The air was filled with an unmistakable sense of serenity and security, a testament to the peace that was so treasured in this community. Nahele's gaze was drawn to the vibrant lanterns lining the paths, their colorful exteriors aglow with the light from within. A smile graced his features, a reflection of the many thoughts swirling in his mind as he made his way through the village.

    As he approached his destination, Nahele couldn't help but appreciate the meticulous details that had gone into setting up the area for the festival. The benches arranged in perfect alignment, adorned with vibrant autumn tapestries that provided a pop of color against the serene backdrop of the open field. The banners, with their delicate yet transparent designs, swayed gently in the breeze as if dancing to the soft music that filled the air. The tables off to the side, filled with an array of delicious foods, were almost too tempting to resist. The stage, a centerpiece of the event, was already prepared with chairs for the council and his father, and a few benches for him and his peers who would soon depart. As he made his way through the crowd, Nahele acknowledged the greetings of the people with a cordial respect, appreciating the warmth and camaraderie of the community.

    As he ascended the steps of the stage, he felt a sense of awe as his eyes drifted upward towards the sky. Despite the bright lights that illuminated the area, the stars still shone brilliantly, as if they were celestial beings attending the festival. Lost in thought, he took his seat on the bench, preferring not to be the first to arrive, but to his dismay, he found himself in that very position. Uncomfortably shifting in his seat, he was soon joined by a few of his fellow tribesmen, providing him with some solace. Gradually, the council members arrived, followed by his father. As they took their seats on the stage, the crowd began to gather, finding their own seats in the audience.

    As the ceremony was about to commence, a hush fell over the crowd, a natural response to the impending gravity of the event. The mere presence of Nahele's father was enough to command the attention of all in attendance. His stoic gaze surveyed the gathering, imparting a sense of authority that was felt by all, including Nahele himself, who subconsciously adjusted his posture to mirror the regal bearing of his father. And so, the speeches and retellings would begin, marking the start of this momentous occasion.
    Following Our Lore Series which is based on Ashes of Creation You can find it here:
  • SpentaSpenta Member
    Scene II, ACT II: The Speech of Atsa Myrunji

    Atsa Myrunji, Nahele's father, exuded a commanding aura that demanded respect. Despite being of similar stature as his son, he possessed an innate authority that had been honed over years of leading his people through a period of prosperity. With shrewd observation and careful manipulation of those who entered their domain, he had kept their village safe and hidden from the outside world. His methods remained a mystery to Nahele and the other young members of the village. However, the veneration and esteem Atsa commanded were not due to fear but were a result of his accomplishments alone.

    Atsa Myrunji's white robe was a symbol of purity and grace, adorned with a band of blue and gold that added a touch of regal elegance. His gold paint and pattern, much like his son's, enhanced his already striking features, but there was an air of wisdom and experience in his gray-streaked hair and the deep lines etched into his face. His expression was enigmatic, revealing little of the hardships and triumphs he had faced throughout his long life. He commanded the attention of all present as he stood at the forefront of the stage, his arms raised in a gesture that drew the eyes of the crowd to him, preparing to deliver his speech. Atsa was a legend in his own time, his name spoken in hushed tones by those who revered him for his leadership and accomplishments.

    "Thank you for gracing us with your presence on this monumental occasion, to honor those who have come before us and to celebrate the journey that our youth are about to embark upon," Atsa began his speech, his voice carrying with a baritone resonance that resonated throughout the crowd. His attire, the white robe accented with a band of blue and gold, conveyed a sense of purity and regal elegance. It was clear that his gold paint and pattern, much like his son's, added to his striking features, but the subtle shades of gray in his hair suggested the wealth of experience he possessed. His expression, while enigmatic, hinted at the hardships and triumphs he had faced throughout his long life. As he stood at the forefront of the stage with arms raised, the crowd fell silent, fully captivated by the presence of their leader and to some a hero.

    Atsa Myrunji made a conscious effort to make eye contact with every individual present as he continued to speak, "Our forefathers ensured our rightful place on these fertile lands through immense sacrifice and great tribulation. Our history tells us that they fled their homeland, surviving a darkness that we have yet to experience. Let us not forget their tales of calamity and the myths that have been passed down to teach us the lessons we must endure. We must always remember why we protect our forests and safeguard our knowledge. While our future lies in the past, it is not the past that defines our momentum forward, but rather our future that will reinforce it through the development of our youth."

    "The Festival of Lights signifies the stories we have all been raised upon," he explained. "It serves as a reminder of the perils of forgetting our past while also signifying that light can shine through darkness. These lanterns of light that illuminate the night sky represent those who have sacrificed for our peace and those who have imparted knowledge, which fortifies our position." He gestured towards the forest surrounding the village. "Above all, the light reminds us of our unity with the world and our pledge to defend and preserve its natural beauty. Our devotion to these causes must be rooted in our ways and traditions. That is why we light and release the lanterns, and why our youth retell tales of our history, to ensure that knowledge endures."

    "Let us not forget that ignorance dishonors those who came before us and undermines our commitment to our beliefs," he cautioned. "We must never harm the woods and must remain vigilant at all times. It is our sacred obligation to safeguard the lands and all the creatures within. Just as we maintain our spears and arrows, we must also maintain our intellect by sharpening our knowledge through continuous learning. As the night draws to a close, we will send forth our young, who have proven themselves through tests and trials, to gather knowledge that will keep us prepared for whatever may come."

    "Let us now light our lanterns and release them into the night sky," Atsa declared. "May the winds of destiny carry them forward as a message to our ancestors that we shall not only survive but thrive, and that our forests shall remain protected." He turned to the council members seated beside him on the stage, who rose from their chairs and retrieved their paper lanterns. Several citizens standing nearby stepped forward to light the lanterns. Moments later, the council members released their lanterns into the sky. The warm orange glow of their lanterns contrasted beautifully against the dark night sky, and soon the crowd followed suit, releasing lantern after lantern, casting a stunning sunset hue across the night sky.

    As the breathtaking spectacle unfolded, the young ones standing beside Nahele gazed at it in utter amazement. They were well aware that they would soon have their chance to take center stage and perform their own retellings. A profound sense of honor washed over them as Atsa concluded his speech, and they couldn't help but feel that their ancestors were looking down upon them at that very moment, basking in the glory of their descendants' achievements.
    Following Our Lore Series which is based on Ashes of Creation You can find it here:
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