Event #09: THE FETE OF KNOWLEDGE

[vivalamods]

EVENT #09: THE FETE OF KNOWLEDGE

As the month wears on, the Imperial forces withdraw, tired of scouring the seas in attempts to pick off individual Corsair ships, have slunk back to their masters. During this time, the Corsairs were hard at work finishing the Crimson Portal in Asphodel, and for the first time ever the Corsairs now have four waypoints - an enormous gain as they welcome the refugees from Vindess.

The refugees themselves are settling about as well as can be expected. Tension is still high, while the people are grateful for being saved from certain doom, a lifetime of propaganda doesn’t fade away in an instant and they remain wary, upset at the loss of their homes and way of life. Struggle is natural, and thus, the Corsairs have prepared for the second phase of the resettlement operation - the Fete of Knowledge.

As Asphodel residents stream into the Vault, music - the kind never permitted under Imperial auspices - echoes through the halls. Although the hammering of munitions is ever-present, this music is meant to reverberate through the caverns, echoing upon itself to build into even greater harmonies. This is music of the Crimson Corsairs, made to suit their purposes and circumstances. A salve for aching hearts and a beauty to bring a tear to the eye, the Vault is ready to prove that as the last repository of forbidden knowledge in the world, the wonders they hold welcome all who have the minds to seek it.

With the spring thaw well underway there is still much to be done, but the Corsairs have worked to complete it as best they can. Thus, most everyone within the three, no, four cities should find some time to partake in the Fete. As the week-long festivities commence, Corsairs are welcomed to take a much-needed break and celebrate their triumphs.

Join the Performance

The music of the day is a beautiful choral arrangement, repeated on the hour to echo through the halls, the verses building upon each other. While not enough to drown out the bombing, it’s a gorgeous piece and one that somehow provides a measure of peace and comfort. Any and all are welcome to lend their voices, there are several parts for any vocal range with the more complex vocalizations being handled by experienced musicians. And, best of all, any who aid in the song are gifted a jug of honey wine, a salve for a sore throat and a delicious delicacy besides.

Debate Hall

The Debate Hall is often lively, and during the Fete it has been repurposed to serve as the center of introduction to rhetoric. Debates between people of roughly equivalent skill are held throughout the Fete, and the topic of debate can be anything the participants choose. Debates over best foods, fashion, or even the odd lyrical exchange of truly hair-raising insults, just about any kind of confrontational discourse is currently on display for the amusement of refugees and Corsairs alike. Corsairs are free to join the stage, so long as they honor the traditions of the hall - settle disputes with words, not blades. At least while you’re in the hall, anyway.

Banquet Hall

The Corsairs have tapped their stores to create a truly enormous feast of delicacies only found in the Eternal Ocean. Aquatic creatures of all sorts grace the tables, as well as some of the native flora and fauna of Elysium’s fields, prepared to absolute perfection. And then, of course, there is the grog, free-flowing and plentiful to help take the edge off the trauma of the resettlement. The mood is mostly festive, with sober bouncers on hand to eject any Corsairs who might get a bit too belligerent while soaking in libations.

Dueling Hall

Sometimes words are not enough, and the Corsairs have set up a dueling hall within the Vault for people to test their skills against each other in controlled environments. Ether is dampened in the Dueling Hall, so while one can cast spells as they might, the lethality is far reduced, a once-searing flame is now a gentle warmth and a block of ice a pleasant mist. This, along with padded weaponry, make for a fine way for Corsairs to both test their skill and show off for the masses, with any number of interesting rules in play to make the contests of strength more interesting and enjoyable to watch. With many a pair from the Debate Hall making their way to the Dueling Hall to continue their disputes, the hall is busy for the entirety of the Fete.

Story Hall

A Story Hall has been set up near the library for actors and orators to read and sometimes act out the books and stories found within the library. While the townsfolk of Vindess are not entirely illiterate, their lower class nature as mine workers means that many cannot read, or read well, and this hall gives them an opportunity to experience the wonder of the written word, of story and legend, and to hear the histories the Empire has long suppressed. The Story Hall is always looking for more orators and actors to read or act out books and plays, and it is one of the most heavily trafficked areas in the Fete, with the Vindess residents hungry for these once-forbidden tales.

Wildcard

The Fete of Knowledge is all about sharing, so there are any number of activities, and Corsairs are encouraged to come up with their own to keep the Fete moving. You may use this prompt to do whatever you wish. Enjoy the party!

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[spacetogrow]

Ilphyl was adapting to the curse. Discovering racoon paws could hold a piece of chalk was a marked improvement to using a parrot's or raven's ability to mimic words, or carry a communication device around and try to type. The raccoon was becoming one of the forms they tended to socialize as until they could figure out a way to break the curse. That and the cat, on the general principle that people like cats.

Ilphyl also has taken pains to make themselves still recognizable -- their tattoo is visible as a pattern on fur, and they have their spell focus around their neck, in addition to hauling a slate and chalk around, and whatever supernatural senses could pick up a druid in wild shape. 'The Farmer sounds good'.

[singlemilletgrain]

Shu smiles in approval.

"This is my favorite story. Very well. The Farmer and the Xian. ...To begin, you will need to know what a Xian is. It is a word in Yanese that means something like god, or spirit, but has slightly different connotations. 'Immortal,' perhaps, is the best translation. It is an immortal who knows very little of humanity.

"Once, long, long ago, when the land of Yan had just gone through a great war, the people of Yan in the northern wastes were starving. Though the farmers worked the land, they did not have the agricultural knowledge that we hold now and struggled to grow even the most meagre of grains. Starvation was common. And the rulers of Yan, the nobility far to the south, were too preoccupied with rebuilding after the war to care for some peasant farmers in the far reaches of their land.

"So it was that these people lived harsh and tragic lives.

"One day, wandering through the fields, a farmer came upon a figure with the form of a girl. Thinking she was a lost and hungry child, the farmer took her in and fed and clothed her. But this child was strange. She spoke of strange things, asked strange questions, and did not understand the most simple of facts. Finally, one day in frustration, the farmer declared...

'You must be a Xian.'

And so it was that an immortal came to Earth."

[spacetogrow]

Ilphly listened. Their world has plenty of 'outsiders' -- beings from other planes, like elemental and celestial and fiends who just had their own assumptions about what was normal. They usually were pretty obvious.

And, well, they themselves, mortal though they may be, was proof that where one grew up mattered. The World Above was confusing to someone native to the Underdark.

They nod for Shu to go on.

[singlemilletgrain]

"For some time, the farmer and the Xian dwelt in peace. The Xian did not seem to understand anything of human customs. She had questions about everything. Why did the farmer work this dry and desolate earth? Why did she not go elsewhere? Why did she rise before the dawn? Why did she give her life to coax out such meagre plants from the soil?

"The farmer answered as best she could. This was all she had. This was the life she knew.

"Finally, in frustration, the Xian declared: 'Once, I was ten thousand li and the mountains grew tall upon my back. In a single stride, I could cross an entire continent. I will make it so that you will no longer need to labor so uselessly.' And with a single gesture, she made the earth bloom beautifully with acres and acres of crop.

"What do you think the farmer said?"

[spacetogrow]

Ilphyl thought, then wrote. 'She might be worried that people stronger and less kind than her would take what the Xian had given her, because it was only her land not everywhere. Since people don't live in the margins if they don't have to.'

It took a bit of having her read and then erasing the slate to get the full idea across.

Ilphyl had grown up in a place where the most livable spots were bitterly contested. Even if a community banded together, if the rulers wanted, they could notice what happened in the north. And Shu said there was a war.

They held up a paw, then added, 'or wanted to know why humans had to toil if Xian could just create crops. Not just her, but everyone.'

Which was a simpler lesson. And the sort of thing Ilphyl wondered about as well when it came to any sort of power.

[singlemilletgrain]

"Ah - those are all very thoughtful questions. Yes, certainly they were things that crossed the farmer's mind as well. But this human was... different from you and I. She was, above all things, conscious of the needs of her countrymen and utterly unconscious of herself. Upon seeing this demonstration of power, she immediately entreated the Xian.

'You must not do that,' she said. 'For one day, you will grow bored with us and leave, and what will become of us then? We humans must feed ourselves, no matter how hard the struggle. It may seem meaningless to you, but with each passing day, we learn a little bit more. And as we learn, this knowledge becomes a part of humanity's wisdom that we might pass it down to those who come after us.'

The Xian had nothing to say. For she could not deny that one day, she would leave this place. With another wave of her hand, the crops retreated back into the earth, and the two resumed their daily work.

...Well? Do you agree with what the farmer said?"

[spacetogrow]

Ilphyl nodded. Being a druid wasn't just about the magic, but the knowledge, and they essentially trained in environments they hadn't grown up in, and then went back to see the places they had grown up in with a new eye.

'Though if the Xian did know things that humans didn't, that might be a better gift.'

[singlemilletgrain]

Shu shakes her head slightly.

"Unfortunately, the knowledge of the Xian would not be of much use to humans. That is not the sort of magic or Art that can be passed on. Similarly, the Xian had no understanding of human agriculture. The one could not understand the other.

But for whatever reason, the Xian continued to dwell with the farmer. And as the weeks and months passed, the farmer gathered more and more knowledge of the working of the land. And the Xian was by her side, watching.

There came another day when the Xian grew tired of the farmer's work. 'This land is harsh and dry. It barely yields to your labor. Come with me, and I will take you to a paradise where flowers and plants bloom all the year round, where the soil is fertile and the hillsides verdant with all manner of vegetation.'

I am sure now you can guess how the farmer responded."

[spacetogrow]

Ilphyl nodded. 'Someone would still have to learn that land so people could live comfortably on it, even if the farmer wasn't there. And the farmer wants to learn the land she's on, and share it with others.'

Ilphyl also suspects that if the land is so good, people already live there, but they recognize this is the sort of story that is intended to make an argument as much as tell history.

[singlemilletgrain]

Shu nods approvingly at this answer.

"Yes, yes. You have it exactly right. The farmer first said, 'Why, I could not do that. Having seen such bounties, it would be all the harder to return home.' To which the Xian exclaimed, 'But why would you ever want to return here?'

And the farmer said, 'If I do not return, who will feed my neighbors?'

The Xian did not understand this answer. Why was it the farmer's job to feed her neighbors? Did she even know her neighbors? Did they do anything for her? But none of that was relevant for the farmer. She only said that it was something that must be done. Baffled, the Xian did not pursue this line of inquiry further.

And so time passed. Months grew into years. Years grew into decades. And still, the Xian did not leave and still, the farmer continued to work the land. Each year, her work became more adept. She learned the perfect times to sow wheat, sorghum, barley. She could predict the weather by measuring the temperature and the pressure alone. She could feel the soil with her bare fingers and understand what nutrients needed to be added. And as she grew more and more skilled, her fame spread throughout this land, this formerly harsh and barren wasteland from which she coaxed all manner of miracles.

A community came together in this place, now hospitable. And they blessed her and praised her, calling her Shennong: the Divine Farmer.

And what of the Xian?

She continued to watch. And she watched. And she watched. Until at last, she understood the meaning of what the farmer did... until she understood the meaning of what it meant to be Human.

And on that day, when she understood, the farmer called the Xian to her. Time is kind to no man, and the farmer was now old and weathered. Her hands shook with palsy. Her speech was no longer as clear as it once was. Both she and the Xian knew... there was not much time left for her."