Anon-The gathering (intro)

> Deep in the primordial forests of distant lands there reside many strange things; some beautiful, some terrible, others just are.

> One of these ancient forests has something that makes it a bit different from the others. Within its shadowy recesses something shines every night.

> A beacon of purest light contained within a crystal sphere at the centre of a sprawling structure of silk and branches built in the highest boughs of a giant tree.

> On this moonless night a crowd gathers, moth ponies of every shape and colour imaginable dance about the light in a great swooping arcs and swift dartings

> The only music is that which comes from the shifting of many wings, the beating of hooves, and the trilling of voices.

> As the night wears on their dances become wilder, darting about with wild abandon some fall to the silken floor overwhelmed by the simple joy of it all.

> Abruptly at some unspoken signal the activity begins to taper off, the dancers begin to land singularly or in small groups they cling to every available surface, horizontal or vertical.

> As the last stragglers retire from the dance ‘floor’ a single aged mothpony flutters to hover just above the great beacon, her great tattered wings making dancing shadows upon the walls.

“Welcome my friends. Once again we gather to bask in the great light on the longest night”

> The voice is whispery with age but still strong, and the speaker gazes out at the gathered throng

“With our bodies we have paid honor to the light through our dance and song. And now that our bodies are wearied we shall instead pay honor to the dark with our minds through our stories. So tell me what story would you ask of old Dust Mantle?”

> A voice rings out from the crowd

“Tell us of how Pity won the heart of the beautiful prince Lunarc”

> Before the elder can react another voice younger this time calls out

“Tell of how Gold band first stole honey from the bees!”

> A few chuckles at the youngster’s enthusiasm wash through the crowd as Dust Mantle looks thoughtful.

> However before she can begin the story a pair of voices speaks

“Let us hear the story of Burnt Wing”

“And Low Song”

“And how they first brought the light to our people”

> At this Dust Mantle pauses, raising a hoof for silence she speaks

“Yes, this is a good story to begin with.”

>She looks to the beacon below her

“After all without our two greatest heroes this festival would not exist, and a beginning is always a good place to start.”

>She flies high above the light and begins to circle her wings shuddering and shaking so that great quantities of colourful wing dust drifts down in a great cloud below her.

>Waiting until the cloud drifts and spreads to just above the light, she then dives into it.

>Deftly using all her limbs and just a bit of magic she guides the dust on currents of air and shapes begin to emerge as her story begins.

“Long long ago, long before even I or any of the other elders even existed our people lived in fear of the dark”