Difference between revisions of "Atruozan Summer Festival"

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(Created page with "The Atruozan Summer Festival is effectively a New Year's Celebration, lasting 10 days starting on the summer solstice (the start of the new year). It welcomes the short period...")
 
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At morn, everyone in the village starts off their day by putting on nothing but the most meagre of undergarments, and running outside to the centre of the village in the semi-nude, or for those elders and adults who've proven their worth and earned their right to do so, with their birthday suit on full show.  Once everyone assembled, a traditional dance called the enin-ytxis is performed, wherein everyone in the village thanks the Great Northern Wind Spirit for blessing them with the comfort of warmth and the end of the bitter cold that year, all while letting loose guttural screams listing off all the souls with whom they bear anger or hate or distaste (which usually results in calling out all the polluters, food wasters, deaf souls, owl killers, and warm-climate northerners), in order to cleanse their spirit of the black and green, by letting all the anger fly away like little naked cupids, releasing it all as a volley of arrows towards the skies, so that the spirits of their ancestors may hear it when darkness comes once more, and they return upon the aurora, in order to let them feel pride in the strength of their descendants for not taking a fucking harpoon to their skulls with all the bullshit they have to deal with.
 
At morn, everyone in the village starts off their day by putting on nothing but the most meagre of undergarments, and running outside to the centre of the village in the semi-nude, or for those elders and adults who've proven their worth and earned their right to do so, with their birthday suit on full show.  Once everyone assembled, a traditional dance called the enin-ytxis is performed, wherein everyone in the village thanks the Great Northern Wind Spirit for blessing them with the comfort of warmth and the end of the bitter cold that year, all while letting loose guttural screams listing off all the souls with whom they bear anger or hate or distaste (which usually results in calling out all the polluters, food wasters, deaf souls, owl killers, and warm-climate northerners), in order to cleanse their spirit of the black and green, by letting all the anger fly away like little naked cupids, releasing it all as a volley of arrows towards the skies, so that the spirits of their ancestors may hear it when darkness comes once more, and they return upon the aurora, in order to let them feel pride in the strength of their descendants for not taking a fucking harpoon to their skulls with all the bullshit they have to deal with.
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 +
They then run down to the nearest body of water where they become the penguins they always were, as unlike the filthy northerners, we Atruozans have unlocked the secrets of sapio-penguinism, and have thus transcended your pathetic sapien forms, and catch a single fish each, bringing it back to the village to separate the food, with the elders and best hunters receiving the most, putting aside one fish for every ten people, as a show of goodwill to the Northern Wind Spirit, where they are then pissed on and putt under a fatass pile of rocks to ferment for the next year (only the elders and shamans are allowed to eat this delicacy as a way of connecting with the spirits).
 +
 +
The following three days involve basically just running around dancing in the streets and in the sheets, with a large communal gathering for the evening meal every day, wherein the Great Owl Spirit is thanked for not completely fuckin yeeting everyone in the village during the winter, and ask for strength to survive the coming one, as well as to not be such as fuckin hardass during said coming winter.
 +
 +
On the fourth day, the best hunters in the village are carried around crowd-surf style naked, and each given a firm slap on the ass as a way of transferring all the courage from the village into them, for they are now set to embark on a hard and treacherous journey, wherein luck and faith in the spirits of nature to give back to them as they give to it are crucial, as they pray to the spirits of the Shabirs for a good hunt, and head off to bring home a Shabirs for every 25 people within the next 6 days. 
 +
 +
On the fifth day, the period of calm commences, wherein during the following 4 days, people spend their time creating art, perfecting their song and dance, and soaking up all the warmth they can, as they begin setting their eyes on those who they want to court, getting ready to shake them flippers, all the while spending a moment at every half-circling of the sun to silently pray for any and all asshole murderers like you, reader, to fucking stop polluting as much and kindly save us the headache in the follwing year.  It is during these four days that the frozameltabol happens, where men and women between the ages of 16 and 40 compete to see who can stay awake the longest on minimal food and drink, while alternating between the frigid waters, remaining snowbanks, and saunas as hot and dry as they can be made with our admittedly limited resources (we're poor help us please), all trying to prove that they are the most badass icefolk in the village.
 +
 +
The winner on the ninth day is dubbed "Chief of the Blue Balls" and has his or her genitalia painted dark blue, and then given the right to freely walk around naked during the remainder of the festival, regardless of their age or other achievments.  This is a great honour, as they become the physical link between the cold of the winter and the soothing warmth of the newly arrived summer for the spirits who have come to pass, will come to pass, and who are to come for new life.  It is customary for at the end of the meager meal that night, all parents hoping for a good strong-bodied and hot-blooded child to come and strongly caress their blue-painted nether regions, praying to the spirits of the cold to have mercy on their future fetus during the harsh of winter, and on the spirits of the warmth to protect the child in its growth, and to be present on the day of childbirth, so that it may not be thrown into a desolate world of white, despite it coming from a world of white if ya get my drift.
 +
 +
On the tenth and final day, the hunters hopefully return with good hunt, and a massive feast ensues, with huge partying and dancing late into what is assumed to be the night, with the hunters thrown high on blankets because trust us, it is toooootally safe to do this mhm, and one last "FUCK YOU, DEAF SOULS!" cries out from the people, before the children are sent home, and what only the adults are aware of, occurs until the following morn, when everyone goes home wasted af and crashes all day, but hey that's pretty much always a weekend so it's fiiiine.

Revision as of 04:23, 1 April 2019

The Atruozan Summer Festival is effectively a New Year's Celebration, lasting 10 days starting on the summer solstice (the start of the new year). It welcomes the short period of warmth that the world grants us poor mortal heathens, as the all-mightly Great Spirits in the skies constantly are trying to further encroach upon us our impending demise. Life is a struggle, and when you are spending 9 months of your year under ice, you best be frickin celebrating the return of the sun and relative warmth from the frozen hell that is your life and soul. Yes, you, reader, are a fucken cold-hearted murderer. Every piece of garbage you threw out, every piece of plastic or wood that you used, broke, desposed of, all without giving thanks to the spirits, or caring for those of the wildlife you are affecting, you caused more animals to die, more poor souls to have to move on before their time thanks to your pollution, you sick monsters. And as you enrage the spirits further by ignoring their pleas, we're the ones that have to deal with the Great Snowy Owl Spirit and the Great Southern Wind Spirit, who work together to try to kill us all off every winter, and every winter, more of us fall prey to their rage. I hope you feel sorry for yourselves.

General schedule/happenings of the Festival

The Festival starts at dawn on the summer solstice, which is to say it starts at some random point in time that the people generally consider in consensus to be "morning", as the sun really has been up for at least a week at this point, and you are basking in all of its glory, as you watch the owl's blood slowly wash away from the earth and into the seas, giving rise to life anew.

At morn, everyone in the village starts off their day by putting on nothing but the most meagre of undergarments, and running outside to the centre of the village in the semi-nude, or for those elders and adults who've proven their worth and earned their right to do so, with their birthday suit on full show. Once everyone assembled, a traditional dance called the enin-ytxis is performed, wherein everyone in the village thanks the Great Northern Wind Spirit for blessing them with the comfort of warmth and the end of the bitter cold that year, all while letting loose guttural screams listing off all the souls with whom they bear anger or hate or distaste (which usually results in calling out all the polluters, food wasters, deaf souls, owl killers, and warm-climate northerners), in order to cleanse their spirit of the black and green, by letting all the anger fly away like little naked cupids, releasing it all as a volley of arrows towards the skies, so that the spirits of their ancestors may hear it when darkness comes once more, and they return upon the aurora, in order to let them feel pride in the strength of their descendants for not taking a fucking harpoon to their skulls with all the bullshit they have to deal with.

They then run down to the nearest body of water where they become the penguins they always were, as unlike the filthy northerners, we Atruozans have unlocked the secrets of sapio-penguinism, and have thus transcended your pathetic sapien forms, and catch a single fish each, bringing it back to the village to separate the food, with the elders and best hunters receiving the most, putting aside one fish for every ten people, as a show of goodwill to the Northern Wind Spirit, where they are then pissed on and putt under a fatass pile of rocks to ferment for the next year (only the elders and shamans are allowed to eat this delicacy as a way of connecting with the spirits).

The following three days involve basically just running around dancing in the streets and in the sheets, with a large communal gathering for the evening meal every day, wherein the Great Owl Spirit is thanked for not completely fuckin yeeting everyone in the village during the winter, and ask for strength to survive the coming one, as well as to not be such as fuckin hardass during said coming winter.

On the fourth day, the best hunters in the village are carried around crowd-surf style naked, and each given a firm slap on the ass as a way of transferring all the courage from the village into them, for they are now set to embark on a hard and treacherous journey, wherein luck and faith in the spirits of nature to give back to them as they give to it are crucial, as they pray to the spirits of the Shabirs for a good hunt, and head off to bring home a Shabirs for every 25 people within the next 6 days.

On the fifth day, the period of calm commences, wherein during the following 4 days, people spend their time creating art, perfecting their song and dance, and soaking up all the warmth they can, as they begin setting their eyes on those who they want to court, getting ready to shake them flippers, all the while spending a moment at every half-circling of the sun to silently pray for any and all asshole murderers like you, reader, to fucking stop polluting as much and kindly save us the headache in the follwing year. It is during these four days that the frozameltabol happens, where men and women between the ages of 16 and 40 compete to see who can stay awake the longest on minimal food and drink, while alternating between the frigid waters, remaining snowbanks, and saunas as hot and dry as they can be made with our admittedly limited resources (we're poor help us please), all trying to prove that they are the most badass icefolk in the village.

The winner on the ninth day is dubbed "Chief of the Blue Balls" and has his or her genitalia painted dark blue, and then given the right to freely walk around naked during the remainder of the festival, regardless of their age or other achievments. This is a great honour, as they become the physical link between the cold of the winter and the soothing warmth of the newly arrived summer for the spirits who have come to pass, will come to pass, and who are to come for new life. It is customary for at the end of the meager meal that night, all parents hoping for a good strong-bodied and hot-blooded child to come and strongly caress their blue-painted nether regions, praying to the spirits of the cold to have mercy on their future fetus during the harsh of winter, and on the spirits of the warmth to protect the child in its growth, and to be present on the day of childbirth, so that it may not be thrown into a desolate world of white, despite it coming from a world of white if ya get my drift.

On the tenth and final day, the hunters hopefully return with good hunt, and a massive feast ensues, with huge partying and dancing late into what is assumed to be the night, with the hunters thrown high on blankets because trust us, it is toooootally safe to do this mhm, and one last "FUCK YOU, DEAF SOULS!" cries out from the people, before the children are sent home, and what only the adults are aware of, occurs until the following morn, when everyone goes home wasted af and crashes all day, but hey that's pretty much always a weekend so it's fiiiine.