A festival of settling scores and airing of grievances
It was quite the odd sight, clusters of people dressed like jesters, or prancing devil, or one group were in badly done Lyran dance costumes, all dancing, running about, making noise or music (well, the music was mostly noise), all on the day after the New Year’s Birth. It is quite sobering. I should know. I was there staring out at it from my inn window. I soon got dressed, moved myself slowly downstairs, and made "sophisticated and urbane sounding inquires" (which were neither thanks to the amount of mead the previous night) of the Inn Keeper. He who told me all about this mad tradition of his city’s while I had bread and beer for breakfast. Baldius and the Trader’s Way Blue Press 1524
The Rite of Children is a beautiful service. The children practice their parts for a month under the tutalage of the local priests. Then they will sing, recite, and pray for their parents and the sults of the congregation.
She is The Princess of the Night Faire
It is that most magical night, it is time for the Night Faire
Christmas type holiday that can be thrown into any city/town.
The old clock tower stands tall, but the bulk of the uppermost storey is crumbling and unsafe, with gaping cracks in the walls. The metal struts and girders supporting the great bronze bells are still intact, though, and the bells survive. The grotesque gargoyles and arabesques which decorated the original design have either fallen into the street (once or twice a year more bricks fall from the tower, prompting calls for its demolition) or have been defaced, but the main doors to the clock tower are still intact and show signs of being kept in working order. This is the home of The Captains, clad in raggedy clothes, with sooty faces, and perpetually runny noses. But behind each set of eyes is the look of a survivor. They live to stick together and make it through each day. Older than their years in many ways, the friendship they share with each other and Wims ghost keeps the core of a childs innocence and hope alive in each. But they are still very suspicious of outsiders. They are a group of street children who live in the clock tower. Some are orphans, some runaways, and some nomads who occasionally return to their homes. But they’re all poor, dirty and perpetually hungry, as well as being wily, unscrupulous and mischievous in a fairly brutal way. Enough of them have suffered at the hands of adults for all of them to be wary of any grown-ups, particularly ones who ask too many questions, although with hard work and a lot of food it might be possible to win the confidence or even the trust of a few of them.