Ah, yes, Starfall Isles: A vast archipelago of towering crystals and star-filled forests regarded as majestic and enticing, so long as you don’t mind all the pink. The nerve center of magic and curiosity has opened its theoretical doors to distant and not-too-distant travelers in its yearly Starfall Celebration, and festivities and a general sense of jubilation fill the entirety of the western island.
Among the crowded game and food stalls lies a long, rectangular table overflowing with trinkets, accessories, and chattering familiars. Sitting on the edge of the table with her legs dangling and swaying is an Arcane Sprite who gasps, wide-eyed, before hastily flipping to the next page of her book. When you approach, you’re greeted by a slightly twitching fae.
“G-Good day, traveler, and welcome to our festivities!” He glances to both sides before continuing. “Have you claimed enough tickets to--”
A deafening explosion cuts him off and rocks the earth, and for a moment you consider tossing aside your dignity and flattening yourself against the ground when, abruptly, it stops. Your concern about your dignity also stops. The glittering, pink and purple smoke originating from a distance, however, does not.
The fae appears nonplussed--as, admittedly, fae often appear--although his crests do spasm a bit. “As I was saying--”
“Um, sorry to interrupt, but are those pink flames over there?” you say, should you be kind enough to point it out.
“What?” He doesn’t even turn around. “Oh, don’t mind that! A few of us have simply taken to experimenting with new spells that are completely and utterly unrelated to averting a potential crisis that may or may not result in the end of the world, why are you even asking that?”
He chuckles loudly--as much as fae can chuckle loudly, which is a monumental achievement in itself, as most of it involves rather over-energetic crest-flapping--before he leans forward and, trembling, whispers,
“Please help us.”
