[hr][hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/ISC3u5i.png[/img][/center][hr][hr][h2]Lifting of the Shroud          [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qIf3vdf7DMY]𝅗𝅥   𝅘𝅥   𝅘𝅥𝅮   𝅘𝅥𝅯   𝅘𝅥𝅰[/url][/h2][hr][hr]
The City of the Bells had endured one massive blow after another, and it was reeling. Bloody Victendes had claimed its victims and, while magic had restored much, it could not bring back the dead without consequences the Zenos in charge of the city had deemed too steep. It could not repeal the less physical harms Ersand'Enise's people had endured. A fractured mind is not so easily mended as similarly wounded stone. Little to nothing was said of the violence at Moli's Emporium. Nothing was spoken of the hurricane that had lashed the coast and the bloody fight that had taken place under its cover. As for the stolen auction items, the incident was passed off as a mere misplacement, sellers paid off, and the lost items pointedly forgotten. In any event, there were greater matters to contend with.

Some twenty-thousand people attended the funeral of Hugo Hunghorasz, greatest hero of his age, dignitaries appearing from as far afield as Vossoriya, Retan, Eskand, and Sawand. Thousands more lined the streets as his funerary procession passed from the Cathedral of the Redeemer to Balthazar Hall, where he was entombed beneath the central rotunda, as were all former Zeniths. With little fanfare, Karan Harrachora assumed many of his former responsibilities, for the Zenith had bought peace with his faction by offering him those. The bells chimed for an hour straight on that final day of his. Prayers were spoken, condolences offered to his closest relatives, including a boy of some thirteen years who was said to resemble him perfectly, and all were assured that he would reside in Shune's light for eternity.

Life quieted after that. Days passed, and then weeks. The former grounds of Moli's Emporium were quietly purchased by a consortium of interests from the school and Vossoriya and construction began on... something. Things returned to normal or, at least, a new sort of normal, with the portal to Hogh Munkhelad and the bounties of the Hegelans and Callanast open and war between Perrence and Revidia seemingly averted. Ships sailed eagerly into and out of the great port. Wagons bustled through the portal along with both wide and shrewd-eyed Hegelan visitors. 

And as for the students? Why, they returned to their routines, and found themselves fairly inundated with textbooks and theses and practice, for an entire week had been lost to the various tragedies that had befallen the city and that wasted time needed to be repaid! Now that the strong hand of Hugo Hunghorasz had been replaced with the strong hand of another, there was business to be conducted, magic and science to be learned, and pleasure to be had. If the healing was to leave scars, it at least appeared to be well underway.

Beneath the surface, however, next to nothing had been resolved, and even new problems created. Though some steam had been vented, tensions still bubbled. The people of the Workman's Quarter still demanded accountability of the academy, the Zenos, and the nobles and, still, these demands were met with payouts in cash, hollow promises, and subtle threats. The people of Mudville, also wronged, petitioned more urgently than ever to be officially incorporated as a territory under the administration of the government of Ersand'Enise. They would be willing to pay taxes and be bound by the city's laws in exchange for some investment in infrastructure, policing, and trade, and for a voice in the governing of their shared nation. 

To the south, in Perrence, green Perrence, some two hundred unusually large men found work in odd jobs, made their livings, and laid low, waiting. Green grew ever greener, before turning yellow, then orange, red, and gold. In the cooler southern reaches of the vast kingdom, leaves fell from trees. In the warmer subtropical north, the nights cooled and the rains came. The fruits of summer grew ripe and heavy on tree branches. the fruits of fields swayed in the rezain breeze. Days began to shorten and nights grow deeper and darker. Dies Arcanum, halfway through the season, approached. First, however, came Nox Arcanum, and that was an entirely different animal.

[hr][hr][h2]Night of the Masquerade          [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ENfwd8Nkyu4]𝅗𝅥   𝅘𝅥   𝅘𝅥𝅮   𝅘𝅥𝅯   𝅘𝅥𝅰[/url][/h2][hr][hr]
Their first full semester at the school had concluded, successfully for most, and the students of Ersand'Enise's 105th cohort were two weeks into their second. The blazing heat of Dorrad had finally seemed to slacken over the past week, and they could now consider themselves well-settled into their courses. Introductions and basic theory had concluded and piles of books and papers now lay on many desks. In some dormitories, of course, lay other treasures, for the calamities of a few months earlier had not come without their adventures and misadventures and these, in turn, had not come without their benefits. A multitude of widely varied eggs were prepared to hatch any day now. Would the small animals within choose such an auspicious day to come into the world?

The morning dawned cool and rainy, and students went about their classes in anxious anticipation of the evening. Were their plans to be spoiled by mother Oraff or would they play witness to a displayer similar to the one that had greeted them upon their first arrival? Thunder rumbled softly and rain pattered against the flagstones as they went about their classes. Zenos smirked and teased and ultimately assigned them little work to take home. 

As the Hours of Oraff gave way to those of Eshiran, so too did the clouds give way to late afternoon sun. Two of the moons were already up: full and visible in the deep blue sky. Banners, strings of pennants, and paper lanterns had been hung from lampposts, balconies, and businesses, the last of those ready to be set free to float through the air once the sun disappeared behind the horizon. Dozens of masked figures traipsed merrily about campus and the northern half of the city, breathing jets of flame, simulating fireworks, and forming spectral dragons that danced and twisted with their magic. They handed out gaily-decorated apples, whimsical paper ghosts, angels, and demons, and pamphlets inviting people to various celebrations and events. How eager the nascent apple harvest had been! How many hours the paint-makers and printers had worked and how much money had they made!

The grandest events available to the hundreds of youths, however, were the masquerade parties organized by the student guilds. The Society of the Gift stood atop the others and, appropriately, had been granted the East Arboretum for their event. Dozens of tables were already laid out on the grass and hundreds of paper lanterns ready to rise like ghosts. The large semi-enclosed pavilion there was packed with chefs and musicians, and bottles of wine and spirits were lined up and ready. The music began wafting out into the night: waltzes and more genteel numbers at first, and then cheekier ones before long. Drawn to it like bears to honey, brightly dressed students bounced and bounded over in little packs, some rushing onto the grass or claiming tables, while others peeled off earlier, into Balthazar Square. 

This space, and the rotunda of the Hall from which it derived its name, had been claimed by the Magicians' Guild, and the two masquerades were separate in name only. It was a tradition stretching back over two centuries that the members of the one would mingle, masked and unrecognized - in theory - with those of the other. Besides, there was always an  apple decorating contest and a bob in the fountain and they usually had delicacies like Brandæbles, Rango Sours, and Candied Apples, plus Torragonese Hollows for carving and painting. Pigs roasted on spits and the Eskandish Students' Union had already slaughtered the ceremonial Kæmpe Ko the day before and been slow-roasting and smoking it ever since.

The Enchanters' Union, however, was not invited, and this was cause for misgiving among some in the Magician's Guild. Their peace with the Society was tenuous enough, however, that nobody raised too much of a fuss. Instead, the commons and artisans had rented out one of the largest of the pleasure villas in Bath House, and there, they had a real party. If those inside the city walls were Zeno-approved, truly anything went out here. Cheap alcohol and good music flowed freely. A thresher and a bull had been brought in to buck and leap and kick and, fueled by drink, dozens of people tried to ride them. They went out into the surf in rowboats, too, and tried to topple each other from them. They dived into the water and dared each other to climb the banana trees to pick the fruits - no magic! The courtesans of the Vermilion Swirl were everywhere among them, some plying their trade but most simply joining in the celebration. In one particular corner, however, a dastardly plan was hatching, ready to bear fruit all too soon.

This, then, was Nox Arcanum.


[hr][hr][h2]Action Opportunities          [/h2][hr][hr]
For this, our final chapter before the timeskip, a number of things are on tap:
[indent]1) A few members of the moderating team will be running independent storylines. Feel free to join those. There's a daring caper, a dragon ride, and a wildblood gone rogue!
2) You can summarize the mini timeskip, including any Forked Tower activities, fallout from the calamities, new classes, and the funeral of Hugo.
3) If you have eggs, they will have either already hatched or will soon do so!
4) How'd the party go?[/indent]
Questions, ideas, or general feedback? Let's talk on discord. Also, keep in mind that the conclusion of this cycle will bring us to the end of the arc and missions are on tap after we move nearly a year ahead. We'll be returning to a more regular forum-first posting schedule and I encorage you to reacclimate to that and to reset from feeling obliged to post longer summaries to feeling comfortable with short ones. On that note, Happy posting! I can't wait to see what you come out with!