#LUXVEGA
Who dont want to get this legendary neutral summoner?
3D ART
LORE:
No one knows who Lux Vega is or where she came from. Some say she is a wealthy heiress from the Mortician city of Beluroc. Others say her origins began as a humble priestess within the Peace of Light Monastery. Still, more say she is a graduate of the Summun Infuria, where she was personally trained by Malric Inferno. Whatever the truth behind her origins, though, one thing is certain.
Lux Vega knows how to have a good time.
Her reputation for being rude, entitled, and dismissive of those she considers beneath her has not besmirched her notoriety. On the contrary; her arrogance has only increased her desirability. Adventurers the world over know someone who knows someone (always a friend of a cousin’s friend’s acquaintance or some such) who has crossed paths with her oversized stagecoach and the even more oversized hog that pulls it.
They say a portal stands at the back of the wagon, a swirl of golden color, and those who step through it find not the interior of a stagecoach, but a massive chamber rife with debauchery. Within it, a sea of bodies twine and writhe in time to the beat of an otherworldly music. Scantily clad nymphs of extraordinary beauty dance seductively in cages that hang above the crowd, while multicolored lights strobe and sweep across the scene. Numerous levels of mezzanines connected by open staircases line the periphery of the chamber. On some, beautiful people in glamorous attire lounge in couches or sit at tables, where they busy themselves consuming massive amounts of intoxicating beverages and psychedelic substances, shouting to be heard over the clamor. Other levels are packed with the stalls of black market traders, where anything–anything at all–can be bought…for the right price.
Lux Vega watches over it all with an air of disinterest. As she drifts through the chamber and up and down its many levels, the crowd parts before her. Heads turn surreptitiously. They talk louder and laugh harder, hoping for her attention. She ignores it all, her chin held high.
None know who she is or her story, but they all want to be her.
As the hours wear on and adrenaline and euphoria give way to exhaustion, her guests grow heavy lidded. Try as they might, sleep becomes impossible to resist and, almost as one, they drift into unconsciousness.
When they wake, the chamber with its lights, music, mezzanines, and sinful delights has vanished. They open their eyes to a wild forest or find themselves on the side of the road, on a beach, on the hilltop of some rolling plains, or elsewhere. No sign of the oversized stagecoach or even the hog. And when they search their packs, pouches, and pockets, there’s no sign of their coins either; any items of value they had are gone. They scratch their heads and try to remember. Did they spend it all? Give it away?
In the end, they decide it doesn’t matter. That friend of a cousin’s friend’s acquaintance or some such, whoever they are, they always say the same thing.
It was the best time of their life.
The moon ascended bright and full in the sky, casting the landscape in an ethereal glow. The forest rose on either side of the little dirt road that wound its way through it like an old scar. The air was fresh and cool and carried the scent of pine. Crickets chirruped in the darkness.
Jassy hefted her bulging merchant’s pack and rolled her shoulders as she trundled down the road. Beside her, Harold plodded along, his gaze on his feet. Sweat dripped from his brow, and he stuck his bottom lip out and blew upward, trying to dislodge a drop from the end of his nose. His own overstuffed pack bounced, rattled, and clinked with each step, threatening to send him toppling over backward.
They’d followed the winding road north out of Mox City when the sun was at its zenith, heading into Mox Woods and toward Perfalan. The innkeeper where they’d stayed told them there was another inn within the Woods and that they should reach it before nightfall.
Well, nightfall had descended like a shroud, and there was still no sign of an inn. They passed several farms and cabins, even nodded a greeting at the travelers along the way, but that had been hours ago. Now, it was as if Jassy and Harold were the last two people on Praetoria.
“Is that a light ahead?”
Jassy pulled up short. Harold had stopped several paces behind her, squinting into the darkness ahead. She followed his gaze. A dim light glowed at the end of the road.
“An inn?” she asked, but even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t. The light was growing brighter, which meant it was drawing closer. “Travelers.”
Harold grunted. “This time of night, probably bandits.”
The pair hurried off the road and thrashed through the tangle of underbrush until they reached the treeline. They hunkered down behind two stout trunks and waited. Before long, the bump and thump of wooden wheels and the clomp of hooves rose in the night, and a stagecoach rolled into view.
“Is that a three-eyed pig?” Harold whispered hoarsely, and Jassy shot him a look and pressed a finger to her lips.
It was a three-eyed pig, though. It was the biggest pig that Jassy had ever seen. It was pulling a massive, two-story stagecoach down the road. The coach's windows were lit with a soft, flickering glow. Its wheels and axles creaked and groaned. A wisp of smoke drifted from a stout little chimney upon its roof. Lanterns hung from its rafters, casting a nimbus of light. With each clomp of the pig’s hooves, the ground shook.
A man or woman–just a silhouetted figure, really–slouched at the front of the stagecoach, holding the reins loosely. Their hands twitched ever so slightly, and the pig slowed and stopped. The stagecoach ground to a halt on the road opposite where Jassy and Harold hid. Silence followed.
“You think they saw us?” Harold’s eyes were wide and white in the darkness.
A golden light flared from the rear of the stagecoach and spilled down the road. It was the color of honey, illuminating the trees on either side.
“No need to be afraid,” a voice called out. It was feminine, sultry, and teasing. “You can come out now.”
Harold looked at Jassy. She shook her head.
“I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”
Jassy kept shaking her head, but Harold stood and, brushing at his clothes and hair, fought his way through the underbrush and back onto the road. Cursing under her breath, Jassy followed him.
As they rounded the back of the stagecoach, Harold stopped so suddenly that Jassy bumped into his overstuffed backpack with an “Ooof!” Something inside it gave a metallic rattle. Harold staggered forward a step but stood motionless. Jassy stepped around him to see what he was gawking at.
It was a woman. Of course it was.
She wore a pair of black leather boots and a skirt with a slit up one side that revealed a scandalous amount of thigh. A pair of belts crisscrossed low over hips, and her leather vest was cut low (Jassy was pretty sure this is what had transfixed Harold). She leaned lazily on an ornamental cane, and a top hat was perched crookedly atop her head. The left side of her face was hidden by a mask of runes, and raven-black hair framed her features and spilled down her back. Behind her, instead of a door into the stagecoach, stood a portal, its light framing the woman in a wreath of gold. She smiled at them through lidded eyes.
Harold gawked. Jassy scowled. “Who are you?” she said.
Harold elbowed her and leaned in close, but his gaze remained on the woman. “It’s Splinterfest!”
Jassy gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Splinterfest is nothing but a fairytale.”
“Fairytale?” The woman cocked an eyebrow. “And I suppose Lux Vega is nothing but a fantasy?” She winked. “In case you haven’t heard, fairytales are real, and I am Lux Vega, here to make all your fantasies come true. Through this portal, you will find pleasures found nowhere else in the world. Sins of the mind and of the body. The most delicious foods, the finest wines, the most talented musicians, and the most beautiful creatures imaginable.” She jabbed her cane first at Harold, then at Jassy. “Would you care to join them?”
“Absolutely,” Harold said.
Jassy crossed her arms over her chest. “Absolutely not.”
Lux Vega’s eyes twinkled. “I don’t suppose you have tickets?”
Harold’s head fell. Jassy gave a smug smile. “Unfortunately not. I guess we’ll be going on our way then.”
But Lux Vega raised a finger. “For you, I’d be willing to barter.” Her gaze drifted to their packs. “A trade, then.”
Harold started to shrug off his pack. “Here, you can have it all.”
Lux Vega threw back her head and gave a throaty laugh. “Unnecessary. I see you have a fine iron skillet.” She nodded toward his pack and the skillet strapped to its side by a length of knotted leather. “That will do. I’m in need of a new one.”
Harold gaped at her. “It’s a deal.” His pack hit the dirt with a thump, and he dropped to one knee and began fumbling with the leather and its knots.
Lux Vega looked Jassy up and down. “And what do you have to offer?”
Jassy jammed her hand into a pocket and came out with a single copper coin. She gave Lux Vega a hard look and extended it on the palm of her hand.
Lux Vega smiled. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? I like that.” The words were a purr. “I accept.”
Jassy stared at the coin in her palm. She squinted. It was worn and dingy, practically worthless.
“Of the rich and royalty, I ask of more,” Lux Vega shrugged. “But who am I to say that two honest merchants don’t deserve a good time as well?” She extended her hand.
After a moment's hesitation, Jassy stepped forward and gave her the coin. Harold finally got his iron skillet disentangled from his pack, and he handed it to her as well. With a flourish, coin and skillet vanished. Now, the woman held two scrolls, one in each hand.
She let them unfurl, and they burst into blue flames and were gone. The skin of her slender fingers was unburned and unblemished by soot or ash. She stepped to one side and swept an arm at the portal. “Welcome to Splinterfest.”
Harold bounded up the stairs and disappeared throughout it without so much as a backward glance.
Jassy followed, ascending the stairs one cautious step at a time. When she reached the top, she peered into the light. It swirled and shimmered. She glanced at Lux Vega.
“You’re about to have the best night of your life,” the woman said. “Trust me.”
“I don’t,” Jassy said. She stepped through the portal.
A dance floor stretched before her, filled with writhing bodies twined together. Multiple levels of mezzanines rose up the stone walls, joined together by open staircases. The mezzanines were filled with handsome people in handsome clothes. Some leaned on the railings, sipping drinks and watching the scene below. Others lounged on plush chairs and couches. At the far end of the room, a band played from a stage, a harsh yet melodic tune punctuated by a steady bass drum. Colorful lights flashed from the ceiling high above. The smell of sweat and decadence hung heavy in the air.
Someone pushed a drink into one of her hands. Someone else grabbed her other hand and pulled her toward the dance floor. Jassy staggered forward, walking on the balls of her feet as she scanned the crowd for Harold. She caught a glimpse of him before he vanished into the sea of bodies.
She drank from her glass. It burned going down but warmed her gut and left her light-headed. She tipped it back and downed the rest in one long swallow.
Then she was dancing, swaying her hips and swinging her head wildly. Bodies grinded against her, and she grinded back. Another drink appeared in her hand. She didn’t know how it got there and didn’t remember asking for it, but she drank it anyway.
At some point, her merchant’s backpack had disappeared. Had she checked it with the attendant at the door? No matter. It would be returned when she left.
Sweat glistened on her body. She was breathing hard, and her heart pounded in her chest. A good-looking elf grabbed her around the waist and pressed himself close. Then he was gone, and a beautiful nymph took his place, grabbing Jassy’s hips. Her breath was sweet and smelled of some exotic flower.
At last, Jassy staggered free of the throng of bodies and made her way toward the metal staircase leading up to the first mezzanine level. She needed to catch her breath. The clang of her boots on the risers was inaudible over the music. It seemed to reverberate in her bones.
The first level was lined with black market merchants selling goods that would find you in irons anywhere else. Drugs, potions, forbidden scrolls. She gaped at these as she wandered by.
Another drink appeared in her hand, and she took a long swallow without thinking. She wondered vaguely about Harold and where he’d gone off to.
She strolled up and down the various levels of the mezzanines. Time and action blurred together until she couldn’t distinguish one moment from the next.
She blinked and found herself nestled on an extravagant couch with a man dressed in the finest of clothes. His face was all planes and angles. They kissed. He passed her a thin roll of something wrapped in paper tipped with a glowing ember. She drew it into her lungs and closed her eyes and held her breath. He pulled her to him and kissed her hard on the mouth, and she exhaled into him.
All thoughts of Harold had vanished.
The rest of the night was a blur.
Jassy opened her eyes and looked around. She was laying on her back in a field of tall grass that swayed in the wind. The sky was the soft blue of dawn, and the sun kissed the eastern horizon.
She sat up. She was alone. No sign of the road or the forest from the night before. No sign of Lux Vega, her giant pig, or her stagecoach. No sign of Harold. No sign of her backpack with all her wares, either.
She fell back into the grass, closed her eyes, and smiled.
Lux Vega was right. It had been the best night of her life.