epidemiology | EVENT ★ GONE FISHIN'

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EVENT ★ GONE FISHIN'

Thanks to your help, repairs to the flood wall are complete. The Nalawi are still largely without their Gifts, so they are thankful -- without the aid of ALASTAIR recruits, they would have surely drowned or been eaten by sea monsters.

Despite the barely averted disaster, the residents of Komo have decided to go along with their lives as planned, perhaps to bolster morale instead of giving into despair. By chance, their annual fishing contest is scheduled for today! As honored guests, recruits are invited to participate.

FISHING CONTEST

Dugout canoes are provided for all participants, patterns that suggest fish scales burned into the wooden sides. Curiously, no fishing rods are offered; if a recruit requests one, they will be given a strange look, but the harbormaster will acquiesce.

Due to the rough seas, the passage between Komo and the other islands is still inaccessible. Contestants are reminded to stay behind the reefs or venture east toward open ocean for their quarry. It’s only when the contest begins that the quarry in question is actually announced . . .

Sharks.

You are fishing sharks. And, judging by the lack of equipment (or the puny fishing rod you requested), you’re expected to do this by hand.

The tiny deer people don’t seem bothered by this predicament at all: the goal is to catch the biggest shark, by length and poundage. Better not embarrass yourself in front of the locals.

GET PUMPED

Mettaton has announced over the jewelry that he will be hosting a celebration in tandem with the fishing contest, in order to help the native Nalawi and the ALASTAIR recruits get to know each other better. This includes singing, dancing, and all sorts of different performances -- and, of course, reporting on the actual fishing.

If you aren’t the fishing type or maybe you just need a break from chasing sharks around, this is a good chance to bust a move and show your teammates how you can get down -- or just sit back and watch! It’s bound to be entertaining one way or another.

Plot for the stage here!

Olivia will be the final performer in the showcase. Anyone who witnesses her dancing may feel themselves super-charged by the spectacle . . . with possibly unexpected results! Characters may feel even more determined to win the fishing contest, or perhaps they’ll take this surge of optimism to help rebuild some of Komo’s destroyed buildings before the day winds down into night.

THE FEAST

After the fishing contest, the sharks will be collected and prepared. Grilled shark, fried shark, shark caviar, and shark jerky from the results of last year’s contest. There are fruits and vegetables and breads available as well, but if you want some protein, you’d better go native.

During the feast, some of the Nalawi perform dances and song. The subjects range from their goddess Nalanni to love songs. Want to show off your talents again? Now’s the time! Or, if you’d prefer to step away from the excitement, the beach is quiet and empty, and the baths are unoccupied since the whole of Komo is at the gathering.

As the feast winds down, the Nalawi will pass around their very potent alcohol for a toast to Komo’s health. Someone shouts, interrupting, wondering what good that will do if Nalanni has abandoned them. Concerned murmuring fills the gathering, spoiling the mood. ALASTAIR recruits may attempt to put them at ease -- otherwise, the feast will disperse on a sour note.

OOC INFO

If you would like your character to win the fishing contest, please sign up below. You must thread out fishing in order to participate in the drawing. There will be only one winner, decided by RNG. The winner will be contacted on April 1st. The prize is a necklace of shark’s teeth, which has a one-use spell that will make all sharks in a one mile radius sleep for 30 seconds.

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[Lessa casts Evan an underhanded sort of glance, wondering if he's implicating her short stature. Well, let him. She has nothing to prove, with a gold dragon drowsing on her lap.]

Of course, none of these mountains has been actively flaming in years, so the information said. I must fight my own instincts over the tragedy in that. When I saw those peaks I thought of home... but if we've been sent to reignite them, you've probably got a good idea, seeing if they have been too enthusiastically diverted.

[It's hard to stay tart when Ramoth is in physical contact with her, so Lessa casts the man a small smile.]

When you're done with that, I'd like to be shown where the nearest entrance is. I doubt we'll be missed from the party.

[Evan had missed the suspicious look, diverted well to his own task. The soap was helping lift the stain, slowly, but much more surely than just water had. He only belatedly caught the small smile, glancing up briefly before looking back to his work.

It was nice, in any case, to have someone agree with him on one count.]

I'll do that. I'm about partied out, myself. It's actually in the middle of town. I, er, don't know how well it's been cleaned up after the storm... it might be a mess down there.

[Though his brow furrowed at that he didn't seem all that concerned. He bent, then, dipping the part of his uniform he was working on back into the hot water, scrubbing it out under there. Not quite satisfied with the results of that, he went back for a second round of soap after the rinse. He shot another glance at the woman and the dragon: there was an edge of contentment to the pair that made him look away again.]

You lived in volcanic mountains? That's a hell of a thing.

Every Weyr is hollowed out of a dormant one; the heat from below powers our baths and our hatching sands.

[Lessa pauses there; Ramoth shifts and make a displeased sound, her inner eyelids snapping open after they'd begun to drowse shut.]

I'll meet you in the center of town once I've found Ramoth a comfortable couch to sleep in. She's due some proper rest.

[Though she's ready to head out, she pauses a short distance away.] My name is Weyrwoman Lessa, by the way. Remember it and contact me if plans change.

[Evan had briefly looked up to watch the woman leave, but had looked back down to his work. He knows a summary dismissal when he hears one. Lessa pausing and offering her name, however, makes him look up again]

Sure. My name's Evan, and that's the name you'll see if I contact you, too. [Unlike some people here and their positively 1995 internet handles.

He looks back down to his work, which has been progressing satisfactorily.]

Evan, then.

[By the time that Ramoth is settled and Lessa has suited up for a trek into possibly damp and unforgiving tunnels, she's sure that Evan had has time to finish cleaning his own suit, and hopefully has put something warmer on than what he was wearing in the bath-house.

The night has settled in comfortably, and away from the bright lights of the party there is very little to light their way. Thinking ahead, Lessa has settled for a torch and a few supplies to keep them in good stead for a few hour's hike. It's unfortunate that this place does not possess the same living glow-grubs of Pern, but she'll make do with the low hiss and pop of the brand she is holding a safe distance from her severely braided hair.

Reaching out via the jewel that ALASTAIR gave her, Lessa projects a brief request for Evan to join her beyond the lights of the Nalawi party.]

[She gets a brief ping back that he's on his way, and then a short span of time left waiting for the young man.

Evan had rinsed himself before he had given his uniform a proper scrub, but it had been a peremptory kind of wash and he'd debated giving himself a proper scrub before he'd given in and gotten dressed again instead. If they were going down into the tunnels, he suspected dirt, guano, all manners of unpleasantness -- a quick rinse would do. Hopefully guano would be easier to get out of his uniform than blood had been.

He is in fact not suited up with much more than what he arrived with when he spots Lessa and approaches. He's got a pack, sort of absurdly small in that it was borrowed from one of the friendly natives, and within it, his father's lighter, some emergency first-aid supplies, a small knife and rope that he isn't entirely sure of the structural integrity of, a handful of other tiny miscellanea. To be honest he is not all that prepared, and his feet are lightly cold, in the dark of the evening.

He has his own torch, a smaller affair than Lessa's, and one that he's keeping a close eye on the flame of. He raises his other hand to wave her down as he approaches, trying valiantly to cover his own nervousness.]

There you are. Sorry that took me a bit.

Come on, it's this way.

[Mostly he covers by diving right in, wise or not. He turns, leads her back towards the village proper, with its ruined buildings, its roughed-up look. He's still got a damp patch on the shoulder of his uniform.]

So you must be used to climbing around caverns back home, mustn't you?

[Lessa is not much for tardiness, so when Evan arrives she casts him a rather ghastly frown by the dramatic light of her torch.]

I'd not have thought it would take a grown man quite so long to get dressed. I was expecting a braid or two at that rate.

[But she sees his pack and his supplies, and she softens her tone.]

And no, our caverns are civilized. There are a few, I'm sure, the outer holds and the deeper caverns in the Lower Caverns of Benden, for which you would need this kind of gear, but we prefer to carve stairs and doors and hearths. Ruatha, especially, is refined. An old Hold with technology that had since been lost.

[She feels an old pang, mellowed now that she's been with Ramoth and the Weyr for years. Only recently had she felt a softening towards Ruatha's Warder, Lytol, for all the good he'd done to the Hold that she had devastated in her youth. A long, complicated and blood story, that, and one she didn't want to burden anybody with.

Lessa falls in line behind Evan, used to second place despite herself. She takes her time in watching the way the young man walks. Not the kind of man who usually takes charge, she thinks, just in the way that he speaks with short, abrasive commands and then waters his edge with small-talk. She ignores the pang of concern she's beginning to feel at the state of these houses. No wonder so many Nalawaiians are staying at the Inn with the ALASTAIR recruits, homeless as they are.]

[Evan's discomfort with this sharp-edged woman certainly does not help his ease at leading her into a dark hole in the ground. It is not much better when she falls into step behind him; he's sure he can feel critical eyes boring into the back of his still damp neck.

He does not rise to the insult, at least.]

What's a hold?

[Instead, he taps his curiosity, half deflection, half genuine interest. One of the biggest draws of this place and this quest is the learning he can do about other worlds, of course.

He glances back to make sure she's following, and begins to pick his way down into the pit. The stairs that lead down into the tubes are at the scale of tiny hoof feet, and Evan takes them two at a time, though carefully. They are no longer slippery but as they descend, the cave air feels damp around them -- damper than the ocean breeze, even. Torches throw flickering light on walls that have been sculpted by supernatural powers, and Evan runs a cautious, interested hand along the wall that the staircase curves along. The antechamber of this part of the tubes, at this time of night, is very, very dark. Evan's senses are all prickling with nerves he hadn't been expecting.]

[Lessa isn't used to the damp and the salt in the air. She is, at least, better suited to Nalawi-feet-sized-stairs, being tiny, herself.]

A Hold is a large expanse of land overseen by a Lord... or rarely by a Lord-Warder, or even a Lady. He is responsible for protecting that land from Threads, for providing for the people, and for working with the Crafts to make the most of what the land has to offer. Usually a Hold hosts a craft hall if it is rich enough in resources...

[And maybe Lessa is droning, but being in the dark like this is making her feel a little bit nervous. Ramoth, sleeping, is not there to assuage her of her uncertainty, and unlike Ruatha, Lessa doesn't know this dark bolt-hole like the backs of her weathered, delicate hands.]

Do your people not have fortresses, or do you float through the sky like some of the other people I've met?

[Holds, land holdings... Evan wonders about the etymology, and then wonders about his own wondering. No way this woman's dragon-rider world uses a language with roots in English anyways.

He carries on down the stairs, growing increasingly distracted by the cool air in the cave, which feels damper even than the air outside. Lessa's question startles a glance from him.]

Float through the skies? Hardly. We've got flying machines, certainly. [he dumbs that description down for the apparently nontechnological woman]

Not many fortresses, either. No, mostly we have cities.

[His responses have gotten terse. The descent is a quick one, and soon enough they're arriving at the floor of the antechamber. It's made more for the deer's height than for Evan's or Lessa's, and the roof barely clears their heads, but the chamber sprawls out wide in all directions. Tunnels like gaping mouths open in the darkness branch off in places, in clusters mainly pointing directly at or directly away from the volcano in the middle of the island.

It's also a cluttered, sopping mess. The stairs end on a small rise, but around them, water glistens in the black and Evan is not sure how deep some of it goes. He steps aside, allowing Lessa room on the rocky floor beside him.]

It's a mess down here.

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EVENT ★ GONE FISHIN'

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