A young man looks out a window of the Thornmouth college, facing inwards towards the courtyard and old castle. Despite the storm clouds and the crashing of waves on the cliff below, the air holds an odd stillness, as though Neithernor itself is holding its breath. He stands, collects a stack of papers and an empty mug off the windowsill, and rejoins his guildmates in a nearby study room.
Throughout the entire guildhouse, preperations are underway. Scattered cups are gathered and polished, books are put back into their proper places, and tables are pushed aside, making way for the many mismatched chairs to be arranged in large groups and circles. Armchairs, and kitchen chairs, and three-legged stools, all sit pushed together awaiting the arrival of the many Thornmaw, who will gather to tell stories, to relay their best acheivments and to display their best work, to pull well-worn books off the shelves to pore over together, and to share plans for the upcoming year.
As the everglowing Mindflame throws beams of light across the Neithernorian sea, all of Thornmouth gathers beneath it, ready for whatever changes the magimystical current will bring them.
So here we are again, in the week leading up to the Day of Change. We do celebrate together as a community, but how would we celebrate it as a guild? When we had access to Neithernor, and when the guildhouse was lively, how would we celebrate? Would we have a party? A dignified ceremomy? Would we deep-clean the Guild hall, or would we put up festive decorations? All of the above?