Catching Up

Later that day the camp had been set alight. 

It was already late evening, yet the muddy paths between tents were as illuminated as the cobblestone roads of a city's red light district. The murmur of celebration deafened the splatter of people staggering through mud in a drunken fashion. The smell of a hundred traditional dishes of just as many different civilizations engulfed the entire camp, masking the oddly familiar smell of furnaces, wet dirt, drying blood and poor hygiene.

'The war is over!' people chanted as mortals and cultivators alike as they thrust their wooden mugs in the air, wasting half of their drink before it could even wet their lips. The beginning of a long night, if not days of celebration that were only bound to get worse as the alcohol kept flowing.