An eruption of sound and a blaze of light signified the beginnings of the Triumph Festival; the holiday representing the unification of Caleah and the three isles that constitute it. Masks and tri-coloured dress were the norm, the three houses’ colours: green, red, and gold. Once again, Sara, Nip and Garrick had been assigned as security of different areas of the city while the police were responsible for the main parties on the central Triumph Isle.
The south-east districts were the Flame Hand’s this year; a relatively easy assignment due to its wealthy residents and few and far between entertainment attractions, as opposed to the rest of the city with its tendency to turn into crazy town. Two streets were the group’s responsibility: McArthur Avenue and Merchant’s Way, the latter of which was the feeder street from the main road to the south-eastern marina and docks.
Sara and Garrick were keeping an eye on the movement of goods down the street; a few merchants taking advantage of the lack of trading today to get some exporting done. Nip was roaming McArthur Avenue, overseeing the small street party that had been set up there by the locals.
A firework streaked above the relatively low skyline of Merchant’s Way, catching Sara’s eye. “Your family manage to get tickets to the main event on Triumph Isle, Garrick?” she asked.
Garrick sniffed, rubbing his hands together, “They did, aye. Owain refused my request for leave, the stingy bastard.”
“Better luck next time, big guy.”
An argument further down the street caught the pair’s attention; two carts had stopped on either side of the road and their owners were yelling over the din of the festivities.
“Hey, hey, hey – what’s the problem here gentlemen?” Sara was first in, attempting to step between the two traders.
“That rat bastard, Jenkins, booked up the last ten spots on the only vessel leaving the isles for the next two days!” the shorter man, a dwarf, had begun rolling up his sleeves. The small window of his face not covered by hair was crimson.
“He did what!?” chimed in the cart owner behind the dwarf.
“I’ll fix ‘im real good, don’t you worry!” The dwarf had exposed his thick, hairy forearms. He wound up his arm as he approached Jenkins, a lanky half-elf with spectacles and a terrified look on his face.
“Please, guards, do something!” Jenkins cried.
Sara sighed, putting herself in between Jenkins and the dwarf. Garrick had already begun stepping in front of the pint-sized ball of fury, trying his hardest to quell his rage without letting the confrontation escalate to violence.
Today's prompt: crazy town
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