Solstice in Sylvaeon

On the Winter Solstice, the Northern lands of Sylvaeon are filled with many sorts of celebrations and dread:

The Druids meet this shortest of days at special cairns, constructed to face the rising sun. The Druids meet in conclave this day and discuss the past year's events, pass collective knowledge to each other and hold mysterious ceremonies throughout the night.

At the palace of the White Lady, the Winter ritual of the passing the Staff of Seasons takes place in the Shine of the Seasons. The silver leaves on the staff fall to the floor of the shine, leaving only the few golden berries on vines which cling to it, still. The passing of Autumn in Winter marks not only the changing of the season, but also the two week long celebration of the royal lady's Winter Court. This is a time of great feasting for her subjects and contests of wit and prowess amongst the knights of the Fae.

In the city state of St. Valens, the Templars prepare for Christ Mass and are already well into Advent time. It is a time of pious reflection and planning for the next year. The people of the city state practice greater charity and turn their thoughts to thanksgiving for another year of survival in the strange world that as become their home.

The Viking clans prepare to celebrate Yule and are conscious that this is the time of the Wild Hunt… laying low and avoiding anything that might bring an inauspicious Wyrd upon them. The Yule fires will soon be lit and epic tales are told, songs of heroes sung and great drinking will abound!

Elsewhere, in the Wilderlands, the packs of wolves and night-lurking snowy owls will look for their next meal as prey animals try to make it through the Winter. Some fairy creatures frolic in the icy forests, while some begin to sleep, dreaming of Spring and the new life it brings...

Waiting For Midnight

Fog filled the air, coming in off of the bay as a shadowed figure moved through the streets. This night was like many others in the city of Luindel and night was when Adelwulf did most of his business, if he could help it. Slipping down an alley, the rogue stopped and listened for several minutes to determine if he were followed or not. The moon above was as obscured by the fog as he was below. Sensing that all was clear, he made straight for the door of the Drunken Druid inn.

Once inside, the cool damp air turned to alcohol-scented, smoky damp air – but Adelwulf found it somewhat pleasant, because it was the familiar environment where he conducted his affairs. The table at the back of the room was empty, even though the rest were filled with carousers and loud chatter. he threw his cape upon the back of the chair and sat down. This was his reserved spot at one of several establishments around town. Here at the far corner of the Drunken Druid, Adelwulf could spy out the clientele for new-comers, fresh and ready to lose their purses in a card game... or he could sift the conversations for rumors that might lead to other prospects.

Just as these thoughts flashed through his mind, the serving wench, Marie, came with his usual: a snifter of aged brandy from the unusually well-stocked reserves of this otherwise seedy-looking place. She was certainly the best thing to be seen around here. Adelwulf rose, removed his hat and bowed to her as if she were a noblewoman. She giggled as he placed the coins in her hand and let his linger upon hers for a brief moment, smiling. As Marie left, she glanced back over her shoulder at the scoundrel, but he made sure not to be seen noticing. “Another night, like many other nights”, he thought, “yet something more than fog is in the air”.

Adelwulf Volker, supposed son of a lowly baron and master of the underground world of Luindel drank a sip of his brandy … and he waited; waited in this place that he could almost call his second home... waited for his midnight appointment to enter...