EVENT ★ EXPLORATION

[futurologists]

With the storm gone, the water surrounding Komo has calmed considerably. Much of the affected area is in ruins, but thanks to ALASTAIR, a large contingent of Komo survived the disaster. However, with parts of Komo uninhabitable, they need to be able to reach Nalawi’s other islands. With their technology so limited due to dependence on their Gifts, it’s all they can do to build a few tiny, shoddy canoes, powered solely by elbow grease. They only fit two regular-sized people (but four Nalawi), and the wait time is long, but they do the trick. If you aren't willing to wait, you can always try to get creative. Strangely, though, anyone trying to use their magic to cross the waters will find that their powers are beginning to dampen. Similarly, anyone with superhuman abilities at all will find them waning, albeit at different rates. Those without any special powers at all will be completely unaffected. But that's nothing to worry about, right? It’s time to see the rest of Nalawi. PU’ULAI PU’ULAI is the centermost island of the archipelago and by far the largest. Most of the travel between islands is to and from Pu’ulai, as it’s the cultural hub of Nalawi and the location of Nalanni’s largest temple. It’s very populated during the day, but isn’t a residential area and clears out once the sun goes down. The first thing you'll notice is that the deer hate cats. The citizens of Komo are far more likely to let it go, but if you have anything slightly cat-looking with you here, at best, you'll be yelled at. Some Nalawi try to start fights, and no one but Komoans will allow cats anywhere near their homes or inns. Recruits might notice children running away from cats, screaming, "Dakal!" THE TEMPLE, referred to as Nalanni’s Garden, is closest to the Nalalona volcano on a neighboring island. The regular ash from it was viewed as a good omen from Nalanni, who’s rumored to live within the volcano, but it’s been months since anyone has seen any activity from it. The temple is dark as obsidian, which is coincidentally what it’s made of. There’s a copious amount of brightly colored flowers around the temple, hence the name. The gardens are free for anyone to walk through, as is the temple. One image is constant throughout the temple: an inhumanly large, vaguely feminine being made in stone and fire, a walking volcano. It would be easy for such a woman to look frightening, but she looks welcoming and caring, arms outstretched to embrace her children. Inside the temple are more murals of Nalanni, but also some curiously unrelated to her. They depict the Nalawi fighting against large, predatory cat-creatures, finally culminating in their enemies attacking Nalalona. This is when Nalanni reappears, striking them down. The temple is tended to by several Nalawi of varying ages, all very welcoming to strangers, especially those they’ve heard heroic tales of. News traveled fast once the Komo villagers crossed the waters and spread the news of their timely rescuers. There are plenty of Nalawi in the temple, making offerings and asking Nalanni to return to them -- some are hopeful, but others appear desolate. CITY HALL is where the ten members of the Council convene. No one is allowed in, as they’ve been discussing the changing state of Nalawi nonstop for days. There’s a group gathered around the hall each day, hoping their leaders will emerge and announce their plans, but nothing has happened yet. It’s a good chance to sit around and listen, though -- you’ll quickly find out that Nalawi is a meritocracy; the Council have the strongest Gifts of anyone in Nalawi, determined by a nationwide competition to prove their worth every time a seat opens. Some of the more disgruntled deer whisper that some must have lost their powers by now and no longer deserve to sit on the Council. A few arguments are beginning to break out around the city hall, and even a few scuffles. Luckily, their weakened powers have also dampened the damage they’re able to deal, and no one has been injured too badly. Just try to be respectful -- otherwise, you might upset the wrong person. Those hooves can hurt. ELSEWHERE, there's a marketplace where traditional Nalawi clothing can be bought, among other things, inactive spas shut down due to dormant volcanoes, and maybe -- if you’re very lucky -- you’ll stumble upon a ferry that still works. It’s unlikely, though, and haggling with its owner will be difficult. You could always steal it, but you wouldn’t do that, would you? You can always explore the SURROUNDING ISLANDS, which are mostly residential areas, similar in theme to the parts of Komo that haven't been destroyed. Oh, and if you're disrespectful to the islanders or were at any point rude to the people in Komo, you might wake up to find a bunch of tiny, adorable Nalawi around your bed, swinging around bars of soap in socks. Don't worry, they won't actually do anything but threaten you for a minute before storming out. ...Yet. The moral of the story is 'don't mess with the Nalawi.' OOC INFO The entire map of Nalawi is now available to characters. Updated location information can be found here.

Comments

2

[gutpunching]

[Sweet. Sure. Jason's spent enough time around her type to twig to her meaning, there. Sure, it would probably be worth a fortune to someone, somewhere, if that's what you're into. Slight problem, though.]

If you can find yourself a buyer.

[All things considered, he's yet to stumble on a thriving deer black market. And it's a little bit big to try to sneak out in her back pocket. Observationally—]

That's a pretty mercenary attitude.

[anteil]

Is it? I barely feel judged at all.

| Don't mind the smirk, the amusement in her voice. If he listens closely, if he's the observant type, maybe he notices the twinge of bitterness. It's gone by the next sentence. |

The buyer isn't the problem. | It's forever 1914 to her, museums still buy, people still buy, and almost anything and everything at that. | But getting all this there...

| It's said casually, but there is something oddly final about her tone now. This is a thought she's entertaining, but however obvious it might be to him, it's all hypothetical. She feels the weight of the large knife at her side. It's good, it means she keeps her "well-wishes" for her former commander to herself. |

[gutpunching]

[1914, wow. Talk about your retro style. Better than some people he's met here, at least. "Observant type" is putting it lightly. He may have traded in his Boy Wonder cape for a pair of pistols, but you don't hang around the heels of the "World's Greatest Detective"(sic) without getting good at noticing the little things. (You can take the Robin out of the Batcave—) But he won't comment, for now. He tips his head back at her in an evaluating kind of way.]

And then you retire to Kokomo with the haul, huh.

[That's just "Komo," Jason. It's fairly flippant. (Even if it's out loud. What is anyone going to do? Drag them off to deer-jail?) Still, while jewel thieves and museum robberies aren't really his game, anymore, old habits die hard and all. And since they're speaking in hypotheticals—]

Unless you're planning to take it off planet.

[Then yeah, he'd like to know how you're planning that one.]

[anteil]

On my own?

| She raises an eyebrow, but keeps her tone relatively light. Sure, he's young, but that hadn't meant anything when she had been his age, so while the flippancy isn't something she overly approves of, it doesn't immediately discredit him in her eyes.

Whatever his stance on them are, she can't tell, but that he has traversed circles similar to hers, she's sure of. |

Now that's a pipe dream.

| She doesn't much bother with quietness herself, instead, she keeps her tone casual; it's a cue she more or less has to take from his. She's not worried about deer jail (she doubts they would manage to arrest her, much less keep her), but ALASTAIR took her out of a very precarious situation. She doesn't fancy being sent back to that hundred feet drop. |

Of course, in the right places, with the right people, the hypothetical price would easily be worth the effort.

[gutpunching]

Hypothetically.

[He's a hard guy to put a finger on. Worked both side of the law when it suited him, more than enough to know a player when he sees one. (She doesn't really remind him of Talia. Not exactly, not with those priorities in mind. He's certainly not going to afford her the same kind of trust, right off the bat. But the same air of dangerous femme fatale competency is there.) Not disagreeably—]

Probably easier ways to make money.

[Money's easy, if you've got the stones to back yourself up. Still, can't really blame her for defaulting to what she (presumably) knows.]

You usually deal in tomb raiding?

[He'd make a Laura Croft joke, but most of his references seem to fall pretty flat. He's learning to skip the middleman. ...Sometimes.]

[anteil]

Someone I knew called it adventure capitalism.

| And that someone is the precise reason why she sleeps with a knife under her pillow. Ironically, the only knife currently in her possession happens to be his. Long story short: trust is out of question, but a certain degree of kinship isn't so far fetched, to her. It isn't as if all she ever did or does is mercenary work, either – she's been a gun instructor, soldier, and bodyguard.

It's just that treasure hunting has an appeal none of the other things do. So perhaps there is one thing she does just for the fun of it.

Well, the fun and the right to keep some of the haul, plus pay. |

Not exclusively tombs, not exclusively legally questionable, but, on occasion...

| She trails off, he seems to think fast. |

You're no stranger to that type of work.

| Not a question. |

[gutpunching]

[The confidence in that lack of interrogative has him cocking a brow back at her. Sharp, morally variable, and to the point. That's both encouraging and potentially big trouble, but only if he's careless enough to give her a reason. Or an opportunity. She doesn't sound like she actually needs a confirmation from him, which works out for her, because he casually sidesteps a direct answer anyway.]

I do like to be well rounded.

[Which is as good as a yes, among other things. Not so much the Indiana Jones type of life, but he's run with mercs in the past. (Of course, the money's never the point.) He knocks his knuckles against the painted wall.]

But I'm sure you've got a leg up on me when it comes to the Temple of Doom.

[He's more of a city boy, you know how it is. A little adventuring experience might come in handy in a place like this.]

[anteil]

| It's all the confirmation she needs. She doesn't begrudge him the carefulness, quite the opposite – it speaks for him, especially if one considers his age. Had she been this careful, back then? No, probably not.

Then again, that's why Rourke took her along on his tour to Egypt. |

Perhaps.

| She is still watching him, trying to size him up. Hard to tell fighting prowess without seeing the actual fight, and marksmanship is even less easy to spot unless it happens to be applied just then. Never mind the countless possible places and times he could be from. If it's merely time, she suspects it's after hers, which is an uncomfortable thought all by itself. Easier to believe than freaking Achilles, though.

One of the nearby deer makes a noise of disapproval at his knock. She chooses to ignore it. |

Well rounded, you say.

| This time, there is a hint of inquiry in her tone. |

[gutpunching]

[Helps that he got started early. Back then, everyone used to get on his case for being too reckless. Letting his emotions get the better of him. Said it would get him killed, one day.

(To be fair, they were right.)]

Sure. Never know when a little English Lit might just come in handy.

[Which isn't the kind of well-rounded she's getting at, and clearly, he knows it, because it doesn't come out with an overabundance of effort at sincerity. He's got very few reasons to bother keeping up a strictly civilian face, anymore. Especially this far removed from Gotham. But no sense tipping your whole hand right away, either.]

I've always been a pretty quick study. No harm in picking up some extracurriculars while I'm at it.

[Batman had very much believed in being prepared, and his standards were insanely high. Bruce had taught him everything—except how to maim, or kill. That, he'd pursued on his own, after his recovery. He had a score to settle, after all.]

[anteil]

| He plays his cards close to his chest. Fine, as long as she knows they're there. She resolves to keep an eye on him, to see what he can do – sooner or later, ALASTAIR will force his hands, she is sure of that. |

So studious.

| Half-teasing. She doubts he would care whether she begrudges him his lack of clear cut answers or not, but better to show that she doesnn't mind much than not. |

Well, if you ever need a hand when the temple of doom calls you...

| She trails off, and offers him a gloved hand to shake. |

Helga Sinclair.

[gutpunching]

[Smart lady. No doubt there will be chances to shoot something other than crabs, before this is done. (Though one wonders how much of his demolitions experience even translates in a place where bombs are constructed of coconuts and fish hearts. Can't win 'em all, huh.)

She wins a bit of a wry smile for that. No offense—]

That's pretty generous of you. You didn't much strike me as the altruistic type.

[Just more of a pragmatic one. A business woman. The "you scratch my back" kind of thing that he assumes this offer really is. Either way, can't hurt to make a few friends.]

I'll have to keep it in mind if I ever decide to go into adventure capitalism.

[So, he takes the hand to shake it. Obligingly—]

Jason Todd.

[For all the cards held close to the chest, he'd decided against an alias early on. Little point, really, unless the multiverse decides to prove the odds very dramatically wrong.]