A new summer rolls over First Landing, bringing with it a wave of anticipation and positivity following a rather bleak year. Children play in the streets whilst adults relax, the commonfolk taking a day off due to the sudden warmth. Even this many cycles in, Old Worlders have trouble adjusting to the rapid pace of seasonal change in the New World. The Guild doesn’t complain, of course; the accelerated seasons mean quicker harvests, and thus the New World truly is turning out to be a land of plenty.
It is among this serene scene that a small band of outcasts and misfits - some of the Old World and some of the New - finalise plans in a forgotten corner of the Pug. At last ready to unleash their schemes, they emerge from the shadows and march into the centre of the plaza…
It is the nimble ratfolk who is first to arrive, clad in black and purple sparkly silks adorned with myriad golden and silver stars. They choose a good spot, between the Pug and the Portal and, after considering it for a moment, begins to unpack an ostentatious tent of the same design as his clothes. Once it is set up, they scurry inside with a large sack to finalise preparations.
Meanwhile, just before the great steps that lead to the portal, a female catfolk tosses a ball high into the air which explodes into a brilliant rainbow, falling down to the earth as streamers and pennants and flags of seemingly every colour that perfectly settle between the roofs of First Landing, decorating the inner city in a dazzling display. With an ostentatious bow, they take the sideline momentarily, disappearing into a conjured tent as a troupe of stagehands move in to set up a stage made of familiar decking.
A crowd gathers, of course, a throng of amused and curious citizens looking on in awe as an androgynous figure takes to the stage. She wears a simple white dress over her slight build, but as the light catches it right the fabric glitters with every hue of the rainbow. Her most obvious ornamentation comes in the form of a holy symbol, shaped like a person dancing with several multi-coloured sashes, that complements her iridescent eyes. Bowing to the crowd, she speaks with a magically-amplified voice:
“Good people of First Landing! My name is Lothari, devoted cleric of Arshea, the Spirit of Abandon. My companions and I have prepared a delightful celebration for you all known as the Prismatic Parade! Please take part in this wonderful cross-faith tradition of celebrating diversity of all kinds, for we are as a rainbow: most beautiful when we all shine together. Thank you!”
A roar erupts from the masses, a cacophony of support for both the festival itself but also the marginalised folk that it helps lift up. Truly, this is a good day in First Landing.