As the party rounded the bend, the trees broke away to reveal the massive center of the capital, with decorations aplenty, a ludicrous amount of flowers, and an unspoken promise that a lot of these fellows would be going home at the end of the day completely wasted.
There was a pyramid of jungle Okotans performing a balancing act to thunderous applause, a numerous amount of jungle Okotan children following someone dressed up as an outrageously overexaggerated shaman, with mask paint and tons of feathers. Vendors were everywhere, selling everything from the finest of delicacies to fine furs and souvenirs, and in the center of it all was a large poll with a crude effigy of a fire Okotan skewered on top, its head at a horrible angle, and two Okotans were busily piling branches beneath it.
And of course, loud music featuring flutes, drums, and maracas dominated the air, charging the world with an energetic vibe. Clearly the jungle Okotans knew how to have a good time.
Under the cacophony, however, Ilya - and only Ilya - could hear the faintest of whispers, somehow reaching his ear as he stepped into town.
“Ilya.”
(@Winger @GoodGuy2006 @N01InParticular @Rukah @MakutaOisli @TheMOCingbird)