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Description
Light clouds drifted aimlessly behind the towering pinnacles of Castle Raza. The summer breeze drifted from plains to the south helping stave off the worst of the noonday heat, and smelling of open fields. Sparkling like a stream of jewels, the godband stretched across the horizon, the twins moons flitting across the edge of the colored stripe, pulling closer together, heralding the coming of the Sun Festival.

From across the lands of Trillia gathered merchants, artisans, gamblers, entertainers, and others whose dealings were not quite as honest. In a cacophony of sound and color, travelers gather before the enormous white gates that lead into the expansive courtyard of the castle. High above the courtyard two Voivion songships slid through the clouds toward the airdocks.

Held only once each twenty five years, the Sun Festival gathered the attention of even the Goblynne. The living vessels could be seen in the south, slowly approaching the castle. Their gigantic bodies held aloft by balloon-like hydrogen bladders, served as both transcontinental conveyances to the mysterious Goblynne, and housing for the cities of their masters.

Lining the road leading to the White Gates, vendors marketing on the those long weary from their dusty journey set up small shops, selling wares of all type. The scent of foods of all sorts, and from all nations and races blended. Knolan crust bread and mead sold for five marks at one tent, thick haunches of fresh beef hung slowly roasted at a conical blue hued tent, bearing the travel signs of the Sanji.

To the left, bright eyes and high voices crooned sweetly to the quick rhythm of a lute being played by the long fingered hands of a Lemurian bard, while his partner eye the hip pouches of bystanders with a lean and hungry look. To the right, Knolan smiths hammered fiercely at thick pieces glowing metal.

Viovion priests strolled down the lane, and Issthrin slavers eyed the smaller races with sly grins spreading across their scaled faces.

Flags from the Free States flew next to the Viorian national flag, and even a few dark banners of the Vallesethian warriors standard snapped in the wind.

At the Sun Festival, all were equal. It was in this spirit that the Madimadje would step down, and hand to her successor the wisdom of the ages, and the rule of the Southern Kingdom. At the culmination of the Festival, three days hence, the Madimadje would address the attending multitudes, and hand the crown and dragon heartstone of her heritage to the next maid who would bear the privilege and burden of the title for the next twenty five years. At that moment, signaled by the conjunction of moons and sun, the next Madimadje takes control of all Vior.

Once past the massive White Gates, the courtyard opens into an expanse wider than most the more rural visitors. The grounds were encased in the massive walls of Castle Raza, with the spire, home of the Madimadje, majestically rising from the center. To the west of lay the business district, where any manor of merchandise could be found, for the right price. To the northwest, lay the residential district, home to the multitudes that made up the stable populous of Castle Raza. Surrounding the Spire, laying to the eastern wall stood the military barrack. It was the eastern wall that faced any incoming travelers. To the south , lay the Magic Academies of Raza.

The courtyard itself could easily encompass several small villages. It was in this space that the influx of merchants and crusaders gathered. Easily the size of a small city itself, the hastily assembled vendor booths, quickly erected performance booths , and rows of tents made up the blending of cultures that was the Sun Festival.

Partially in honor of the crowning of the next Madimadje, partially to celebrate the rare solar event that was to occur, and partially to gather and turn a quick mark off a skill, the Sun Festival brought together races that would rarely tolerate the presence of the other.

Stryder races, where trainers of all sorts raced their prize steeds, drew crowds of cheering spectators many of whom wagered dangerously, as the Knolan ale merchant collected his marks and grinned enthusiastically at his Lemurian partner across the way, collecting wagers of all sizes from drunken passersby. Sanji dancers spun upon the center stage, a coveted treat for the artist, center stage was filled by invitation only. The best performers in the world received invitations from the Madimadje herself.

In the moment of retirement and receipt, the dragon heartstone experiences a moment of vulnerability; prejudices are set aside, lives and loves temporarily forgotten, the land of Trillia holds a collective breath during these precious moments, waiting to gasp in celebration as separate worlds collide in the single hand of the maiden Madimadje the instant the dragon heart stone touches her skin, safe once more for another twenty five years.

Description
Light clouds drifted aimlessly behind the towering pinnacles of Castle Raza. The summer breeze drifted from plains to the south helping stave off the worst of the noonday heat, and smelling of open fields. Sparkling like a stream of jewels, the godband stretched across the horizon, the twins moons flitting across the edge of the colored stripe, pulling closer together, heralding the coming of the Sun Festival.

From across the lands of Trillia gathered merchants, artisans, gamblers, entertainers, and others whose dealings were not quite as honest. In a cacophony of sound and color, travelers gather before the enormous white gates that lead into the expansive courtyard of the castle. High above the courtyard two Voivion songships slid through the clouds toward the airdocks.

Held only once each twenty five years, the Sun Festival gathered the attention of even the Goblynne. The living vessels could be seen in the south, slowly approaching the castle. Their gigantic bodies held aloft by balloon-like hydrogen bladders, served as both transcontinental conveyances to the mysterious Goblynne, and housing for the cities of their masters.

Lining the road leading to the White Gates, vendors marketing on the those long weary from their dusty journey set up small shops, selling wares of all type. The scent of foods of all sorts, and from all nations and races blended. Knolan crust bread and mead sold for five marks at one tent, thick haunches of fresh beef hung slowly roasted at a conical blue hued tent, bearing the travel signs of the Sanji.

To the left, bright eyes and high voices crooned sweetly to the quick rhythm of a lute being played by the long fingered hands of a Lemurian bard, while his partner eye the hip pouches of bystanders with a lean and hungry look. To the right, Knolan smiths hammered fiercely at thick pieces glowing metal.

Viovion priests strolled down the lane, and Issthrin slavers eyed the smaller races with sly grins spreading across their scaled faces.

Flags from the Free States flew next to the Viorian national flag, and even a few dark banners of the Vallesethian warriors standard snapped in the wind.

At the Sun Festival, all were equal. It was in this spirit that the Madimadje would step down, and hand to her successor the wisdom of the ages, and the rule of the Southern Kingdom. At the culmination of the Festival, three days hence, the Madimadje would address the attending multitudes, and hand the crown and dragon heartstone of her heritage to the next maid who would bear the privilege and burden of the title for the next twenty five years. At that moment, signaled by the conjunction of moons and sun, the next Madimadje takes control of all Vior.

Once past the massive White Gates, the courtyard opens into an expanse wider than most the more rural visitors. The grounds were encased in the massive walls of Castle Raza, with the spire, home of the Madimadje, majestically rising from the center. To the west of lay the business district, where any manor of merchandise could be found, for the right price. To the northwest, lay the residential district, home to the multitudes that made up the stable populous of Castle Raza. Surrounding the Spire, laying to the eastern wall stood the military barrack. It was the eastern wall that faced any incoming travelers. To the south , lay the Magic Academies of Raza.

The courtyard itself could easily encompass several small villages. It was in this space that the influx of merchants and crusaders gathered. Easily the size of a small city itself, the hastily assembled vendor booths, quickly erected performance booths , and rows of tents made up the blending of cultures that was the Sun Festival.

Partially in honor of the crowning of the next Madimadje, partially to celebrate the rare solar event that was to occur, and partially to gather and turn a quick mark off a skill, the Sun Festival brought together races that would rarely tolerate the presence of the other.

Stryder races, where trainers of all sorts raced their prize steeds, drew crowds of cheering spectators many of whom wagered dangerously, as the Knolan ale merchant collected his marks and grinned enthusiastically at his Lemurian partner across the way, collecting wagers of all sizes from drunken passersby. Sanji dancers spun upon the center stage, a coveted treat for the artist, center stage was filled by invitation only. The best performers in the world received invitations from the Madimadje herself.

In the moment of retirement and receipt, the dragon heartstone experiences a moment of vulnerability; prejudices are set aside, lives and loves temporarily forgotten, the land of Trillia holds a collective breath during these precious moments, waiting to gasp in celebration as separate worlds collide in the single hand of the maiden Madimadje the instant the dragon heart stone touches her skin, safe once more for another twenty five years.