Day 24: Party city

A mischevious god has ordained that one week out of the year will be time without sin -- a period where its followers can perform any act and it will turn a blind eye. However, never too concerned with particulars, the god let its followers decide which week will allow anything to go; now, dozens of factions cause havoc as each allows its followers to cause chaos at a different time in the year.

The god of the city has always had a troubled relationship with its citizens. Humans are petty, troublesome and quick to judge; fittingly, the only god willing to rule over them is mischevious, temperamental and sometimes cruel.

The best example is the time without sin -- a week where the god's followers can act out on their desires and needs without fear of divine retribution. A common folk tale suggests that as the god made his decree, he giggled before vanishing. Any true scholar scoffs at such a suggestion, and is quick to destroy any tome that confirms the story.

As is common among followers of such a god -- a god who is just as often bored with humanity as it is willing to meddle -- dozens of sects have sprung up, each claiming to understand the gods' vague and sometimes contradictory statements. When the week without sin was proclaimed, each of these took a differing opinion on when that week was. Some argued that it would be the week ending in the god's birthdate, representing the moral darkness before his coming; others scoffed at that, saying that the week beginning with the god's birth was far more fitting, as its followers ought to be as newborn infants, free of ill intent, during the week. Dozens and dozens of other weeks were suggested -- the first week of spring, because the god sought to increase the number of children through wanton sexual gratification; the last week of summer, as a celebration of the ending of the year; every 40th week, because a prophet was 40 when the declaration was made.

At this point, every week of the year is the week without sin to some sect; the city, never known for its orderly nature, has become bedlam. Ironically, the city hasn't fallen to chaos; instead, travellers stream to it now, seeking release in the eternal festivities. Others have made fortunes serving as bodyguards and police for hire, and enterprising merchants have found lucrative markets for intoxicants, stimulants, exotic foods and all manner of luxuries. Some have speculated that the god's purpose can be seen in these successes -- but they're just as likely to be shouted down by some other group.