Prompt: How does your character observe the Midsummer Fire Festival? How will they observe it this year? Write something related to your character observing the Fire Festival and what it means to them. Post your story here.
Rules: Write as much or as little as you want. Write in whatever format you want, poetic to first person narrative. All skill levels of writing are welcome. Keep any adult content limited and tasteful in scope - adult content (horror/gore/etc) is allowed as long as it works for the story. Most of all have fun, and don't be intimated.
Hana looked to the midnight sky as she sat against a wall in the crumbling yet still standing ruins of Lordaeron. Memories flowing through her head like she was reliving them. That's all she seemed to do these days, live in the memories of happier times. Several undead walk by her talking rather loudly and she overhears them talking about the midsummer festival and various plans they had. Hana looked to where the giant wicker usually stands during the festival and smiles, closing her eyes. "I suppose it's that time of year again. I wonder If Sylvanas will give a speech again. It was such a moral boost last year. Guess I should get back to the lab then...Least I have some celebrating to look forward to."
"I don't know who thought this was a good idea in the first place," the goblin said, chomping on his cigar butt and staring at the now flaming circle of tents as the fire jugglers tried to make themselves invisible in the crowd. The fire had spread fairly quickly once the first tent had gone up, canvas and fur catching as sparks hopped around the half-circle. Now the flames easily dwarfed the nearby bonfire and the heat had driven the crowd back several feet. Some ran for buckets of water from the nearby lake, but most people just did what crowds always do and got in the way. One elf was taking SELFIES with the fire raging in the background. Sighing, the cigar-chewer turned to the purple-plated patchwork girl next to him. "You don't get to have these anymore," he said, snatching the remaining juggling torches from her hand and stomping away.
Zibbit's lower lip trembled. "But I was just getting good!"
Xelth comes out fo the portal in the Magic Quarter of the Undercity with his beloved apothecary equiptment, after a few steps away of the portal he summons a felstead from the nether to ride towards Ambermill "I wonder how long the gathering with the living will take this time". Finally he sighs and starts to ride to the upper levels of the Undercity.
As he comes out of the throne room the banners and fires of the festival appear, but that was not the worst part, the living had some attraction to the Undercity in festivities like this one and usually they came in numbers. As he continued passing by the fallen statue just before the final gate a juggler attempts to throw a torch towards Xelth to mix him with the festival spirit and the jest is responded with the complete inmolation of the torch by Xelth and a glare half hidden behind the gas mask he wears, the juggler flinches for a second and the goes back to his business.
"Im glad this useless celebration is ending soon..."
The Pyrocanist couldn’t help but giggle silently from his hidden spot he had been observing the village from for about a week now. Such patience was natural for the unliving but Niraniz Cinderstrike was not the most patient. Midsummer was different for him, so many fires to see and the heat to go along with it. Well that may have been fine in years past but this year he had a different plan in mind to make this year so very special.
The small farming village of Ingstavale had been building up for this night. For the festival lasted a week but these farmers could only celebrate one night, such was their lot in life. Nira had chosen this village for the size of their bonfire, and how isolated they were. The residents would never forget the night for generations, of that Nira was sure. That fire was yet to be lit, but it was over thirty feet tall at this point Nira reckoned. There was still time for more timber to be set upon it before it was lit and Nira’s plan could go into effect. He rubbed his singed and thin hands together in anticipation.
As expected the bonfire was lit as the sun was dipping under the horizon. Nira was struck as always by the beauty of the flame, the chaotic nature of it all. Yellow, orange, and blue he could see from so far away. He lost himself in that flame for a time and then snapped out of it as the first firework was set off. Nira slowly shook his head and regained his composure.
“Fireworks eh, I’ll show you some fireworks!” Nira screeched and got up to his feet for the first time in a week. Joints popped and the muscles were slow to respond, but the necromantic magic made it possible.
The focus of his plan, the bonfire, was just reaching its apex height as he stood and took out his trusty black iron fire-poker sceptre and pointed it to the sky and closed his yellow eyes. The Battlemage pulled every energy he was able from the Nether and focused it on the scepter with every bit of will a forsaken could possess. The scepter’s end was white hot and the black iron was burning his hand. Nira cared not, forsaken cared only for the goal ahead. The mage roared and fiery wings erupted from his back as the power started to overwhelm him, he opened his eyes and there was a swirling red tinge mixed in with the regular yellow. The roar turned into a maniacal laugh as a small red spot opened up in the sky and an object fell through.
The object in question was a black rocked elemental that seemed to bulge and contract by the second. As it fell from the sky, rapidly picking up speed, there was a thin red and yellow contrail behind it. Nira watched and guided the rapidly falling otherworldly rock with his sceptre, aiming it right for the bonfire. A few villagers noticed and pointed at the queer sight but it was already too late.
“I bid all you fools a memorable Midsummer AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAH!!!” Nira shrieked and magically projected his voice along the valley. He could see them all looking around in confusion at the booming voice, all according to plan.
The bulging elemental hit the bonfire at a fair clip and as soon aa the elemental touched the top Nira closed his fist hard and fast. The result was more than he had expected. The compressed elemental exploded with a large “WHUMPTH” and the resulting fireball almost made Nira weep, if he was able to do so in his undead state. The mage screamed with glee at his handy work and that drowned out the screams of the burning and dying.
Serata: I am desperately stalling and trying to find something to do with myself at work. Posted a bunch of stuff about Sherbourne so y'all know who she is and what she looks like...and I still have 4 1/2 hours left before I can go home and play again. T_T
Aug 31, 2016 6:28:52 GMT
Banshih: Yay for stalling? Yay for rp campaign starting soon!
Sept 12, 2016 23:04:21 GMT
Banshih: Thanks for another great Dance Of The Dead!
Oct 27, 2016 12:23:26 GMT