Dusk of the Drowned
When it was first observed in Stirge, the holiday now known as the Dusk of the Drowned was a somber event, serving equal parts as honor to the dead and lesson to children. Towns' populations would gather along shorelines, trekking in from miles around to watch the sun set behind the ocean. Elders would tell tales of the mates they'd lost, and of the ships they'd watched sink, espousing the virtues of learning to swim and working with one's crew to the bitter end despite the apparent odds. Across the darkened seas, motes of light would sometimes be seen, and were quickly assumed to be the souls of the dead, wandering the waves in an effort to find their way to dry land.
Somewhere along the line, people had the bright idea of trying to lead the souls to land themselves, rather than gathering to watch them only to leave them to their plight. Traditionalists balked, as they so often do, but the idea caught on incredibly quickly. In short order, these quiet, depressing events transformed first into bonfire vigils, with all manner of light sources being brought out in attempts to match the brightness of a lighthouse, and eventually into raucous festivals with music and noise believe to draw in even the most dim-sighted spirit.
Participants now take part in all manner of events, from swimming contests to cook-offs to musical concerts, all in the name of drawing the spirits of those who fell at sea back to shore, that they might enjoy one last night of pleasure before the reapers come for them with the morning sun. It's steadily becoming common for some participants in these events to 'dress the part', concocting elaborate costumes in reference to the creatures (especially the horrors) of the ocean. Some consider it in poor taste, but the youth see it as a fun way to 'defang' the terror of the oceans depths, for the living and the dead.
Participants
What was originally an attempt to appease indignant elders has long since become a beloved institution, as nearly every site of a Dusk of the Dead celebration will have an amphitheater in which the eldest members of regional communities will tell grand tales of the nation's past to rapt audiences. Though their stories quickly spiral off into fantasy, there's always a hint of truth to them...
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