Event A Yuletide Feast

[TheThird]

The night is dark, the moon hidden behind a curtain of swirling snow. A frigid wind whistles through the trees, carrying with it the distant echo of something otherworldly. Stars glitter above like shards of ice, their light cold and piercing against the velvety black sky. The forest lay blanketed in fresh snow, each branch and twig frosted with delicate crystals that sparkle faintly in the starlight.

Across the world, forests stand cloaked in snow, and in each of them, a similar phenomenon occurred: a soft, golden glow appeared in the distance, only for what felt like a second, visible only to those whose hearts carried a certain longing. Drawn by the light, individuals from all walks of life and all corners of the world found themselves venturing into their local forests.

As the woods grow darker and the snow colder, you spot the warm light in the distance once more, a small glow deeper in the forest. With each step closer to the blaze, warmth starts engulfing your body. Unknown footprints lead the way straight to the light, it is a single pair seemingly going straight towards the glow.

The light grows, and burdens such as fear and stress start to depart your mind. Your weapons and any temptation of using it vanish from your thoughts, there is no need for such tools at this time, and those who wield magic as their weapon feel a weight lifted from their souls as they momentarily forget that they employ such vast forces. All become equal and everything outside the forest is left behind, only for this one night.

The light grows and as you step ever closer to its source the forests seem to change around you. The wind lessens, and the air takes on a subtle warmth, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and something sweeter, like spiced cider. The trees seem taller, their branches arching overhead to form a natural cathedral. The snow underfoot sparkles like crushed diamonds, and the silence was profound, broken only by the crunch of their steps. The snowy footprints remain guiding anyone who wishes it.

The light seems almost within reach of your hands, its warmth now completely covers any sensations you had before, its blaze illuminating a large tree, a towering evergreen tree. Its height is awe-inspiring, stretching impossibly high, as though it sought to touch the heavens. The tree’s needles are a rich emerald green, each one glistening as if dusted with morning dew, despite the frigid air. The branches are heavy with ornaments of every colour and shape, each one a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Some are delicate glass globes, swirling with captured light; others, carved from wood, painted with scenes of festive cheer. Strings of tiny, enchanted lights coiled around the tree, pulsing gently like a heartbeat, their colours shifting from warm gold to vibrant hues of red, green, and blue. Near the base of the tree, strands of silver and gold tinsel cascaded like frozen waterfalls, catching and scattering the glow in every direction. Snow dusts the lower branches but melts away as one’s gaze travels upward, where the lights radiate a gentle warmth. At the very top of the tree, a star blazes with an intensity that pierces the night. It was no ordinary star but something ancient and alive, its radiance filling the clearing with a profound sense of peace and wonder. Beneath the tree, a trove of gifts lay arranged with care, their wrappings shimmering with iridescent hues that shifted in the light. The ribbons that adorned them seem to move subtly as if stirred by an unseen breeze. Each package bore an unmistakable aura, as though it held something precious, not just in material value but in meaning.

As they stand before the tree, the light intensifies, enveloping them in its warmth. The world around them blurs and shifts, the snow underfoot replaced by soft warm carpet, the chill air turning balmy. When the light faded, they found themselves in a new clearing, one unlike any they had ever seen. The air was filled with music, though no musician could be seen, and the scent of the feast was intoxicating.

Here, the forest is alive with colour and warmth. Strings of golden lights hang between the trees, and the ground is carpeted with soft greenery dotted with red and white flowers. In the centre of the clearing stands a long table, its surface laden with food and drink. Roasted meats, fresh bread, steaming soups, and an array of sweets glistened invitingly under the glow of enchanted lanterns. Holly and ivy adorn the table, and the chairs draped with plush furs. The sky was fully visible no trees obscuring the view, its twinkling stars dotted the velvet darkness above, almost copping the many wonders of lights dawning the tree.

 

[Ragnar Björn]

It was quite a strange visual to see lights in the forest. It was clear that there was something like a party going on in the forest and I was never one to attend cozy parties where peace was held or rather I was never someone who was invited to such events and I was also not someone who had or has time for such silly pleasures of this thing we call which is also a series of miseries called life. But it was in my blood to attend a party when it was held and also as the Baron of Garðar I have the responsibility to build good relations with the nations around me or so I am told by my wise and good natured ministers. I wish I could do better stuff than partying like my father who only did parties(from whom I get my need to celebrate).


But when I saw the light in the forest and like how my fellow mercenaries worded it, I knew it was time for celebration.I did get to attend such festivities even while running around and gathering the strength I needed to come back to my land of Garðar for revenge and for claiming what is rightfully mine. Like the advice of my wise ministers who as you might have guessed are my personal advisers too and the wise men who implement the changes you can now see in Garðar. Like they say my personal growth is necessary and so I must socialize my best and it is not an issue but I will not let partying be the bane of my existence like my father and I will do what is necessary for my barony which one day will be the capital of all the land around me. I like socializing but not with those that are jealous of me. But it is an occupational hazard to socialize with those who are jealous as well as friends and enemies.

The place where the party is held is a convenient spot for gathering and I like the fact that it is being held in the forest. I am sure other cowards will arrive with a cavalry to protect themselves. But I don’t need any cavalry to protect myself. I am enough to protect me and I know that others are well aware of that fact.If the holy and somewhat blissful light that I see from this distance is going to stay as holy and blissful as each step I take towards it then tonight will be a good night. A silent night, sort of a peaceful night. Each step I take forward I feel a certain compulsion to leave behind my weapons,but it might be a trickery and I have an instinctual feeling that tonight I may not need my weapons and that is why I left my weapons at the door of my nation. I am capable enough to hold against an army all by myself if it comes. But I feel more at ease as I walk towards this light. It is quite blissful and it brings a certain warmth to my heart. I feel quite like something I never knew.It is a good feeling but one that is bringing tears to my eyes. On the way I can feel that the world around me is magical and it is almost familiar but so Extraordinary and alien to feel. I feel quite nostalgic to feel like this. Yet I don’t know why its nostalgic. The parties I have been seem like something that happened long time ago and nothing feels quite important as much as this right now as I reach near the source of the lights. I could hear the cry of the wilderness,but this time it has some redeeming qualities like it has some kind of somber and quite an intimate feel to it rather than an intimidating feel. I could see that I am one of the earlier people to arrive or rather the first to arrive to the party that is held here.


There is food on the tables that have been arranged for a feast it seems. It has cavernous drinks flowing off the trees maybe or so it seems. But nearby even the rivers feel quite wholesome rather than a thunderous flow against the rocks and Yonder across the hill where my land resides is also celebrating in the festive mood and it is financed by me in my land every year. I could hear the breaking of elm or some other timber in the hall where there is a huge table for gathering and it feels like quite a celebration is to be held of which I have no doubts.But it is a quite a disheartening thing to arrive first to a party and sit idle. But in this place it feels that no such feel of disheartening could arise in my heart. It feels so good and it feels very grand and it brings quite a deep heat to the heart which only such occasions as this can bring and these thoughts slowly seems to not concern me anymore as I sit in a bench drinking the nectar like liquid poured out to a large wooden tavern mug on the table and the tree in the corner twinkled and glowed against the light as the little small red and green and all such coloured decorations were a treat to the eye and to the heart.

 

[Marcus Aumont]

The moonlight bathed the dense forest in an ethereal glow, and the sound of merriment drew Marcus Aumont, the Vampire King, closer to the lively gathering hidden amidst the trees. The holiday festival was alive with laughter, music, and the warm glow of lanterns swaying in the crisp night air. Marcus had caught wind of this celebration and, driven by an old love for such human festivities, decided it was time to indulge in his favorite pastime.

Emerging from the shadows with Celeste, the ever-enigmatic Red Mage, Marcus made his entrance as if choreographed. His steps were graceful, almost like he was waltzing across an unseen stage. The movement of his long, dark coat, stitched with silver threads that shimmered faintly, was as mesmerizing as the flicker of the lanterns. His attire was an opulent symphony of black and crimson, tailored from the finest fabrics that seemed to drink in the moonlight and radiate his commanding presence.

The humans noticed him immediately, their conversations faltering as they turned to watch the duo. It was as though time had paused to make way for the arrival of something extraordinary. Marcus’ eyes, a deep, hypnotic crimson, scanned the festival with a playful glint. His lips curled into a subtle, alluring smile as he swept into the gathering, nodding courteously to those who caught his gaze.

“Ah, such life, such revelry,” Marcus murmured, his voice velvet smooth, resonating above the gentle hum of the festival. “It’s been far too long since I’ve seen a celebration so… enchanting.”
Celeste, cloaked in her flowing crimson robe, observed the humans with quiet fascination. Tonight, she was not the infiltrator or mage but a guest, her mysterious aura softening into one of curiosity as she studied the festival’s traditions.

Marcus moved with intent, as though this festival were his stage and he its star performer. He approached a circle of dancers with an easy confidence, stepping in time with the music without invitation. His movements were precise, otherworldly, and utterly captivating, his presence drawing in more onlookers. The humans, caught between awe and uncertainty, made way for him as if compelled by an unseen force.

As Marcus twirled with effortless elegance, he reached out a hand to one of the festival-goers—a young woman with wide, astonished eyes. “May I?” he asked, his tone charming and warm, though the depth in his gaze hinted at something more profound, almost haunting.

The woman hesitated, but his smile was irresistible, and she took his hand. He led her in a graceful dance, his movements so fluid and commanding that the crowd couldn’t help but cheer. For those few moments, Marcus was the life of the party, his laughter warm and his charm infectious. But beneath the surface, there was a subtle darkness—a reminder that the King of the Night Court was far more than a mere man.

As the music swelled and the revelry continued, Marcus cast a glance at Celeste, a knowing smile playing on his lips. For now, he would revel in this fleeting moment of human celebration. But as always, there was more to his presence here than mere amusement.

 

[Dagon Erh]

(Dagon after the transformation)​

The Pale one was travelling this fated night, he had business outside the Hegemony of Esh. He moved through the forest like a shadow, his presence unsettling even to the creatures that dwelled within. He was a man of solitary habits and, a beast no one could trust. His amalgamations of limbs carried him swiftly across the woods until a glimpse of something bright halted him in his tracks. Without hesitation, the creature snapped his elongated beastial fingers, and his face began to change, his body almost being moulded like clay into something he was not. Something became of his, something more human-looking.

The abomination had changed into what looked like a customary man in his mid twenties, his body was thin and pale. His face a map of scars that told stories no one dared to ask about. His dark eyes betrayed a storm of thoughts, but his expression remained a stoic mask. Dressed in black from head to toe, with a priest’s collar peeking from beneath his heavy coat.

The glow had drawn him reluctantly. He had seen it first through the frost-streaked window of a decaying chapel where he often spent his nights, seeking solace in the quiet decay. At first, he thought it was a trick of the moonlight, but the light pulsed with a rhythm that seemed alive, beckoning him. Against his better judgment, he had left the chapel and followed the glow into the snow-laden streets, through the outskirts of the city, and finally into the forest.

As he walked, the wind seemed to whisper to him, though the words were indistinct. The trees loomed tall and foreboding, their skeletal branches clawing at the night sky. Snow crunched beneath his boots, and the air carried a faint, metallic chill that prickled his skin. Dagon’s hand hovered near his pocket, where he kept a simple blade his only companion in a world he trusted little.

The glow always stayed just out of reach, its golden hue contrasting sharply with the cold blue of the snow and stars. It seemed to move with purpose, guiding him deeper into the forest. Dagon’s steps faltered when he came upon a strange sight: a raven perched on a low branch, its feathers glinting faintly in the glow. It stared at him with unblinking eyes, and for a moment, he felt as if it were judging him. He moved on, but the feeling of being watched lingered.

The deeper he ventured, the more the forest seemed to change. The wind grew softer, and the whispers in the air turned clearer. They spoke fragments of his past, memories he had buried long ago. A child’s laughter. The crackle of a fire. The rasping voice of an old man, offering words of forgiveness he had never accepted. Dagon shook his head and quickened his pace, his breath visible in the cold air.

When he stumbled upon a frozen stream, he paused to catch his breath. The glow reflected in the ice, shimmering like a golden thread woven into the fabric of the forest. He knelt, his scarred fingers brushing the icy surface, and for a brief moment, he felt warmth not in the air but within himself, a flicker of something he couldn’t name, a fervour he had long dreamt of. The sensation startled him, and he stood abruptly, his dark coat swirling around him as he resumed his journey.

Finally, the forest opened into a clearing, and Dagon stopped in his tracks. The tree stood before him, a towering monument to beauty and wonder. Its emerald branches were adorned with ornaments that seemed to hold fragments of the night sky, their light shifting and shimmering with an inner fire. Strings of enchanted lights coiled around the tree, casting a glow that was both warm and otherworldly. The star at its peak blazed with a brilliance that seemed to pierce through the shadows in his heart.

For the first time in years, Dagon felt his guarded expression falter. He approached the tree slowly, his scarred hand reaching out as if to touch the light itself. The glow intensified, wrapping around him like a warm embrace, and the clearing began to blur and shift. The snow underfoot transformed into soft moss, the air grew balmy, and the scent of pine was joined by the aroma of roasted meats and spiced wine.

When the light faded, the abomination found himself standing in a vibrant glade, where a long table laden with food and drink stretched before him. Around it sat people from all walks of life, their faces alight with wonder. Dagon hesitated, his dark golden eyes scanning the scene. He felt out of place, a shadow in a world of light, but the warmth in the air and the soft hum of music drew him forward. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt the faint stirrings of hope.

Here, in this enchanted glade, Dagon Erh took his seat at the table, a lonely man finding himself among strangers who might, just might, become something more.

@Marcus Aumont @Ragnar Björn