Lore:All Saints' Wake

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2011

Ware Winged Fiends!

Daniffen. Randolfe. Llafymae. These names may or may not ring a bell. If ever you have had occasion to visit the Adventurers’ Guild, however, I daresay you already know the personages to whom they belong. Aye, I speak of the saints of old who grace guildleves—the individuals revered as paragons of virtue and raised high by the Twelve themselves. Their legacy remains with us to this day, most visibly in the form of splendid stained crystals upon said guildleves. And then there is the ancient custom called All Saints’ Wake.

Legend tells that, at the same time each year, the Twelve honor the saints by inviting them to the celestial realm for a feast of deific proportions. While this show of favor from the gods is no less than the saints deserve, in ascending to the heavens, they leave the mortal realm bereft of their divine protection. During this time, it is said that creatures of darkness come out from hiding to wreak havoc upon mortalkind, and with such gusto as if to make up for the rest of the year when their devilry is kept in check. Fearing for their safety, folk took to returning home before sunset and barricading themselves indoors with kith and kin until dawn arrived to banish the night. Over time, this practice took root and flourished into the annual tradition we know today.

All Saints’ Wake draws nigh once again, and folk can already be seen scrambling for the supposed security of their abodes before the sun kisses the horizon. As common sense dictates, there are those of certain professions who have not the luxury to observe the custom. However, it appears this fact was not made known to a rather superstitious crew of prison wardens, who decided to retire for the day well ahead of the scheduled change of shift. And as ill fate would have it, these wardens had charge over the surveillance of none other than a malevolent band of imps. Left utterly unguarded, the winged fiends managed to win free of their cells, and are now at large in the city-state. The imps have since assumed the form of citizens, the better to afflict hapless townsfolk with such vile deeds as only their vile minds can conceive.

When the incident came to light, the Adventurers’ Guild was promptly tasked with returning every last one of the creatures to imprisonment. Runners have now been dispatched to each of the three city-states, garbed in the likeness of a demon said to plague the mortal realm during All Saints’ Wake. All attempts to seek an explanation for the peculiar choice of costume have yet to yield a satisfactory answer, but some suggest that it is intended to draw the attention of adventurers.

One cannot find fault with the Adventurers’ Guild for keeping in the spirit of tradition in the face of an imminent outbreak of chaos. However, only the gods and the saints above know how their bid to recapture the imps will unfold.

Update:

In the Wake of All Saints' Wake
It all began with a band of prison wardens who took leave of their senses and stations both in order to return home before sunset in observance of All Saints' Wake. In the absence of watchful eyes, a murder of malevolent imps managed to break free of their confinement en masse. Rather than fading quietly into the night, however, the devilish creatures sought to humiliate their former captors, and thus challenged the Adventurers' Guild to a contest of wits.

The imps would pose riddles, which representatives of the guild must attempt to answer. A correct response would earn the guild pumpkin cookies, of which a specified amount must be amassed by the conclusion of All Saints' Wake. If the quota were met, the imps would swear to return to their prison cells of their own volition. Elsewise, the Adventurers' Guild must promise to pursue them no more.

Word of the challenge ruffled the feathers of many in the guild; indeed, most were of the sentiment that swift and brutal force should be employed to recapture the winged fiends. With the imps at large in the city, however, it was judged that open acts of aggression could lead to casualties among civilians. And so it was decided that the issue must be settled in conformance with the prescribed rules.

All Saints' Wake arrived this year with much nervous biting of knuckles at the Adventurers' Guild. This reporter was present to witness the counting of cookies before the leve counter. A veritable mountain of the baked treats had been painstakingly gathered through the efforts of altruistic adventurers…but would it be enough?

I am pleased, dear readers, to describe the unrestrained jubilation that broke out as the 999,999th cookie was accounted for. The imps conceded defeat, and—to everyone's astonishment—very graciously honored their side of the bargain, returning to their cells with neither bitterness nor a demand for a recount. Pats on the back were exchanged all around, and many could be seen heartily munching pumpkin cookies in a gesture of triumph.

Doing my rounds of interviews of those involved in the operation, my eyes once more fell upon the prodigious pile of cookies that fair reached the ceiling. To be able to bake such a vast amount within a matter of days, I could not help but appreciate that the imps must be as resourceful as they are mischievous.

As I mused upon this, I absently bit into a cookie, one from a generous basketful proffered me earlier. It was at that very moment that I noticed what appeared to be traces of gysahl greens—aye, the selfsame leafy plant favored by chocobos—embedded within the half still in my hand, in a fibrous state that could only be described as digested. Here my chewing grew labored. For the sake of propriety, I forced down what was already inside my mouth, but not before breaking out in cold sweat at the implications of the discovery.

We might have bested the imps in the challenge, but I daresay the odious little devils managed to have the last laugh after all.