“It’s just a traveling carnival.”
Sailors swear it drifts like a festival fleet—music on the wind, lights on the water. No demons. Just fun that doesn’t ask questions.
“You can win anything there.”
A dockhand claims a man won a sword that never dulled. Another says someone won back a lost lover’s smile. No one agrees on what the prizes cost.
“Holy magic works… sort of.”
A disgraced cleric insists their prayers still answered—only louder, brighter, and with confetti. The god didn’t object. That’s what worries people.
“Armor feels heavier the longer you stay.”
Veterans say they took their gear off just to breathe easier. When they went to leave, they couldn’t remember where they’d put it.
“No one forces you to stay.”
Everyone agrees on this. No guards. No chains. Just games, rides, laughter—and the sense that leaving would be rude.
“Time slips sideways there.”
A fishing crew vanished for a night and returned months later with fresh food, clean clothes, and no memory of storms or hunger.
“The demons clap when you fail.”
Not mockingly. Encouragingly. Like they’re proud you tried.
“It hates grim people.”
Zealots, crusaders, and anyone too serious are said to crack first—laughing until they cry, crying until they forget why they were angry.
“The food tastes like childhood.”
Funnel cakes, sweets, drinks that taste like summers you don’t remember having. No one reports getting sick—just full.
“You don’t dream there.”
Or maybe you do, but only of the carnival. Bright lights. Music. Applause. Waking feels unnecessary.
“Some people leave better than they arrived.”
Lighter. Happier. Less burdened. They never explain what they lost to get that way.
“Maps don’t work, but invitations do.”
A sailor claims the Revelry only appears when you’ve already decided to go—when you’re tired, bored, or done fighting.
“It never attacks ships.”
Vessels drift into its lights willingly. Those who turn away swear they hear applause fading behind them.
“The prizes remember you.”
A merchant won a music box that still plays when he lies. He sold it. The buyer returned it the next day, shaking.
“There’s a voice under the music.”
Soft. Patient. Amused. It never calls you by name—until it does.
“It’s safer than war.”
This rumor spreads fastest among soldiers.
“The exit is clearly marked.”
Bright signs. Friendly attendants. Gift shop included.
Everyone agrees on this too.
No one agrees on why so few use it.
“If you’re happy already, it’s boring.”
Some say the Revelry doesn’t bother with people who are content. Others say those people are just harder to keep.
“You can bring friends.”
You’ll want to.
“It’s not evil.”
Most people say this with relief.
The wiser ones say it with fear.