It was a town shy of the sun, lost between the mountains. Built within a river-blessed valley, the town of Staghollow Watch remained dim even as the skies burned with morning light. But not even the vestiges of night could dull the morning routines. Fishermenn and hunters already bore the tools of their trade as they gathered in the streets. Tradesfolk prepped their shops, and craftsmenn toiled away at whatever wood, stone, and steel that was their calling.
Today was a special day; the beginning of the calendar year. This first morning was celebrated with a certain ritual in Staghollow Watch: The Ember Prongs. Citizens, both Hrothi and Brudvir, gathered in the town square, trailing out of the homes that sprawled across the valleys and throughout the mountain depths. A massive stone skull, Hrothi-crafted, sat in the open, commanding the attention of each expectant townsfolk. The skull was that of a stag, albeit hornless, and sized greatly enough to be visible even over a Brudvir's head. Weathered markings covered its surface. They appeared ornamental, and any meaning they might've held was dulled by age.
The crowd grew still as the mayor approached the old statue. Cloaked in furs and wearing a familiar but wooden stag skull as a mask, he stepped up onto a pine platform.
"Fellows, today is a new day," he began. "But it is no different from any other day. It is a day where we make our ancestors proud. It is yet another day where we're still alive! It's been hundreds of years since the northerners told us we'd never survive here, and it's been hundreds of years of fat, dead mayors congratulating a town of dead people on another great year."
The crowd laughed unanimously, as they do every year. The mayor knew very well that words aren't what everyone woke up for, but everyone appreciated the ceremony of it all.
"And my friends," the mayor continued, "as you've seen in the sky, Longest Night will be upon us soon. This may be the final year of full sunlight. But we never were fond of sunlight, were we? Our forebearers settled here during the Night and we survived during the Night. Even when the sun came out, some of us started living in caves! So as the darkness grows stronger, let Staghollow burn brighter, as we set our horns aflame to guide the charge of our brethren, and blaze through the blackened fields!"
Several workers appeared in a hurry. A few pushed a platform into place behind the stone skull. Others carried forth a pair of wooden antlers, upon which were carved stories of the previous year's events as well as names of anyone that lost their lives that year. The antlers were lifted onto the platform, and then lowered into inlets on the stone skull. The statue, in its full glory, was met by sets of torches, lighting the oiled antlers on fire. The crowd cheered harder as the pyre grew hotter, matching the gleam of the sun finally peeking over the mountains. The year had officially begun.
