Color Focus - La Dévotion Silencieuse (Disease)

There are stories in Ville des Marais that people tell with half a smile and half a warning, and La Dévotion Silencieuse is spoken of in exactly that way. It is not written in any official ledger of plague or affliction. It does not have a temple blessing or a recognized cure. It exists only in memory - a shared unease that something once took hold of the city, and then, as suddenly as it began, let go.

It happened some fifty years ago, during a season when the air hung still and the river seemed to slow its song. It began with a single person - a young dockhand, so the tale goes - who stood in the street and began to sway. Not violently, not erratically, but with a strange, deliberate rhythm, as though responding to a music no one else could hear. At first, passersby laughed. Then they watched. Then, slowly, they began to listen.

Within days, it spread. Not like fire, but like a thought that moves from one mind to another without ever being spoken aloud. One by one, people joined in the motion. They silently danced - if it can be called dancing - with a strange mixture of purpose and compulsion. Their steps followed patterns that felt both familiar and foreign, as though echoing a ritual no one remembered learning. Musicians tried to match them. Priests tried to stop them. Nothing seemed to interrupt the rhythm once it had taken hold.

Those afflicted did not appear frantic or distressed at first. Many seemed almost serene, their expressions calm, their movements steady. But there was something wrong beneath the surface. They could not stop. Even when exhaustion set in, even when their bodies failed them, they continued to move. Some collapsed and rose again, pulled upright by the same unseen rhythm that guided their steps. By the time it ended, nearly two hundred people had suffered from the affliction, and at least a dozen of them died - their bodies simply giving out under the relentless compulsion.

The city responded as best it could. Temples performed rites. Physicians administered rest and remedies. Some were restrained, though not harshly - there was a quiet understanding that the compulsion was not willful. Yet even in stillness, those affected would twitch, sway, or shift as though their bodies were trying to resume the motion they had lost. The rhythm was not merely in their limbs - it had settled deeper, somewhere that could not easily be reached.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

There was no final note. No breaking point. No great release. One morning, the streets were still. Those who had been caught in the movement simply… stood. Some were confused. Some were weeping. Others said nothing at all. It is said that the silence that followed was heavier than the dancing itself - as though the city had held its breath for too long and was only just beginning to exhale.

In the years since, there have been no repeat occurrences. No echo. No resurgence. But those who lived through it remember the feeling of it too clearly to dismiss. They recall the way it spread, the way it took hold, the way it refused to release its grip until it chose to. And most unsettling of all - they remember that, at times, it felt as though the city itself was listening to something they could not hear.

To this day, there are small, quiet fears tied to movement in the streets. A sudden, inexplicable rhythm will sometimes make a passerby pause. A foot tapping too long in place might draw a glance. Music, while loved and celebrated, is sometimes approached with a touch more caution when it lingers too insistently. No one speaks openly of it as a danger. But no one has forgotten that the body can be led - not by force, but by something far more subtle.

La Dévotion Silencieuse (Disease)
Type disease (compulsion, mind-affecting, supernatural); Save Fortitude DC 17

Onset 1 day; Frequency 1/hour

Effect: The victim becomes compelled to engage in rhythmic, repetitive motion resembling dancing. This is a compulsive condition rather than a voluntary action.

• While affected, the victim must succeed on a Will save (DC 17) each hour to resist moving. Failure means the victim must begin dancing or swaying in place for the duration of the hour.
• Affected individuals take a -2 penalty on all skill checks and attack rolls due to distraction and physical fatigue.
• After 6 continuous hours of failure, the victim must make a Fortitude save (DC 17) or take 1d3 Constitution damage from exhaustion.
• After 24 continuous hours of being affected (whether dancing or resisting), the victim must succeed on a Fortitude save (DC 17) or fall unconscious from exhaustion. Continued failure after this point can lead to death from strain.

Cure: 3 consecutive successful Fortitude saves, calm emotions, lesser restoration, remove disease, or similar magic.

Recovery: A creature that recovers from the Quiet Devotion requires 1 day of rest for every hour spent under its effect beyond the first 6 hours.

Special: While under the effect of this disease, victims are considered under a compulsion effect and may be susceptible to effects that influence movement, rhythm, or emotion at the DM’s discretion.

Color Focus - La Nuit de Jack Errant

 La Nuit de Jack Errant

“The Night of the Wandering Jack”

Date: 30th of Deuxième Récolte

Overview

La Nuit de Jack Errant marks the final night of the harvest season - a liminal moment when the living world brushes dangerously close to the restless dead. It is both a celebration and a warding ritual, a contradiction embraced fully: music against silence, masks against recognition, light against the dark.

The people say:

“If Jack sees his face, he remembers his curse. If he does not… he remembers you.”

Origins & Legend

The tale of Wandering Jack is told in hushed tones along bayous and in candlelit parlors. Jack was once a cruel and cunning man - variously described as a gambler, a smuggler, or a faithless priest - who cheated spirits, betrayed allies, and escaped death more than once through trickery. When he finally died, neither heaven nor hell would claim him. Instead, he was cursed to wander eternally, his face lost, his identity unraveling with each passing year.

In desperation, Jack began stealing faces - first from the dead, then from the living. But the spirits, angered by his defiance, laid a binding geas upon him: Jack cannot take a face that he already sees reflected. When confronted with his own likeness, he becomes confused, enraged, and is driven away.

Thus, the tradition was born.

Cultural Traditions

Masks of the Living

• Everyone wears masks - no exceptions.
• Common Folk: Painted wood, cloth, or papier-mâché masks
• Wealthy: Enchanted masks that whisper, laugh, or subtly shift expression
• Children: Often wear exaggerated or comical “Jack faces”

Masks serve two purposes:

• Prevent Jack from recognizing a “true” face
• Mock and confuse him with false identities

Removing a mask outdoors during the night is considered extremely dangerous. It is also said that sometimes Jack is able to see through a mask worn by a particularly evil or malicious person, especially one that has harmed the poor or needy. The face of such individuals is reflected on their souls, and this is enough to draw Jack's attention to them.

Jack-Lanterns (Les Visages de Jack)

Pumpkins, gourds, and other squash are carved with grotesque or exaggerated faces and lit from within.

Placed in windows, doorways, graveyards, and crossroads, they are often carved to resemble a distorted, screaming face. Magical versions may whisper curses or laugh softly.

Important Belief:

The more numerous the faces, the weaker Jack becomes in that area.

Music & Processions

Unlike many somber death festivals, this one is loud. Bardic bands, drums, and rattles fill the streets. Processions weave through neighborhoods. Dancers deliberately stomp and spin to “shake loose” lingering spirits. Silence is considered inviting to Jack.

Feasting & Offerings

Rich harvest foods: roasted squash, spiced meats, dark breads. Strong drink flows freely. A small portion of food is left outside as an offering - not to Jack, but to other spirits, to keep them from aiding him

The Midnight Turning

At midnight:

All candles and lanterns are extinguished for a brief moment (usually 10–30 seconds). During this time, it is said Jack walks freely

When the lights return:

Bells ring. People shout, laugh, and bang pots, and the living “reclaim” the night

Adventure Hooks

• A neighborhood’s jack-o’-lanterns are being mysteriously extinguished one by one
• A noble’s enchanted mask refuses to come off - and begins whispering in Jack’s voice
• Someone claims to have seen Jack’s true face and gone mad
• Jack manifests physically this year… and he’s hunting someone specific

Event Focus - La Fête Humide

La Fête Humide (“The Moist Party”) is a grand celebration held once every three years in Ville des Marai. During this time, the entire city takes on a festive air - music fills the streets, laughter is everywhere, and spirits run high. Taverns lower their prices, with the loss offset by reduced taxes for the year, and a wide variety of competitions are held, including the famed Guerre des Bardes (“War of the Bards”). For its duration, the city becomes a place of near-constant revelry.

Twenty-four years ago, however, the realm was shaken by a devastating series of earthquakes, the true cause of which remains unknown. Theories are plentiful: some claim the black dragon Shimrexxafaque battled powerful bayou loa, while others insist dwarves delved too deeply and awakened something ancient and terrible. Kelwyn himself has stated that he uncovered the truth, but for reasons unknown, he refuses - or is unable - to share it.

Each year when both Mother Moon and Father Moon are new (in 1485, this occurs on Last Winter 1), the Rivière Tumultueuse begins to rise. Over the course of a week, it swells to ten feet above high tide, holds at that height for eight to ten days, and then slowly recedes over the following week. In response, Les Gardiens de l’Eau - a council of twelve arcanists elected by the people - assemble at Le Poste de Garde just beyond the Keep. There, they perform a specialized ritual that conjures invisible walls of force along the river where it cuts through the city.

Each day, a pair of these spellcasters returns to reinforce the barrier, ensuring its strength holds against the relentless current. Meanwhile, the high ground south of the city walls remains untouched, protected naturally by the land’s peculiar geography. Those who live there require no magical defenses and often view the spectacle from a position of quiet safety.

To witness water rushing past in midair is a marvel, even for those long accustomed to magic. From the windows of perfectly dry shops, one might watch alligators, turtles, and stranger river creatures glide past as though the river still flowed around them. The sight never quite loses its wonder.

One popular pastime during this time is a drinking game known as poisson ivre (“drunken fish”). Participants gather near the river and take a drink each time something larger than a fish passes by. Given the abundance of wildlife, this often leads to rapid and enthusiastic intoxication. Variants of the game restrict players to spotting specific creatures - alligators, turtles, or nutria - but even these tend to end the same way.

The celebration itself began almost by accident. When the river first rose, many believed the city doomed, reasoning that if they were to drown, they might as well enjoy their final days. What began as a grim acceptance transformed into something unexpectedly joyful, as the people embraced music, drink, and companionship in the face of disaster.

While the city reveled, its arcanists desperately searched for a solution. In their frantic efforts, they uncovered a long-forgotten tome hidden deep within their archives. Strangely, no one remembered ever seeing the book before, nor was it listed in any inventory. With time running out and the waters rising, no one questioned its origin.

The ritual described within was performed before the Keep, and as the final words were spoken, towering walls of blue force sprang into existence before fading from sight. The river was stopped. The city was saved. What followed was an eruption of joy unlike anything Ville des Marai had ever known.

The spellcasters were immediately hailed as heroes, and on that very day, Les Gardiens de l’Eau was formally established. Their duty - to protect the city from the river’s rise - became both an honor and a sacred responsibility.

In the years since, new traditions have taken root, blending together like a well-made gumbo. At first, revelers wore masks resembling the Gardiens, but over time this evolved into the widespread use of masks in the city’s colors: green, gold, and purple. Beads of wood, bone, ivory, and more precious materials such as silver, gold, and pearls are worn by nearly everyone.

Cheaper strands are often tossed from balconies to the crowds below when called for with the phrase “jette moi quelque chose” (“throw me something”). In return, a flash of bare breast is sometimes offered in thanks for more valuable trinkets - a bit of public indecency that, during the festival, the city watch is content to overlook.