epidemiology | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ No choice but to hang out with him, this is the sort of hostage situation that Lancer's okay with. He has his mood swings where he prefers quietude, the sort of days that drive him to go get revenge for a bunch of deer he never knew instead of hamming it up at a party. But these times evaporate with good company. He happily takes the cigarette with a quip of thanks, a click of the tongue. ]

They're a pain, don't bother.

[ Which he leaves at that. Not to be enigmatic—that's all there is to that story, mostly. More curiously, ]

Boudicca's been dead a while, hasn't she? [ To say the least. Same ballpark as him, about the same neighborhood. ] No one like that has any business raising corpses. Resurrection's for the living. [ If anyone... ]

[A pain, huh. Well, it's not like Hellboy isn't prone to the same kind of vagueness, so he doesn't have much room to talk. He lets that go.]

Right. The story goes that as she was dying, she crawled into a witch's cave. She gave the witch her soul in return for a promise that the Romans would be driven out of Britain.

[Hellboy takes a drag off the cigarette, watching the smoke curl up into the sky as he breathes it out the corner of his mouth.]

She terrorized them with all sorts of natural disasters. Earthquakes, plagues. They found the witch and hanged her, and everything stopped. That was one of my first jobs -- dealing with the hag when she came back.

[ Ah, that's no good. Terrorizing the good folk of Britain. Though with his background, it's still a bit sobering—the nicotine isn't fast enough to make up the difference. ]

That's all that survived of Boudicca's kingdom, huh...

[ He sounds more pensive than bitter, tapping away a dusting of ash. That's how most of these tales end. He's stuck in his 20s for all of time and still too old to be surprised. One thing his wealth of mythological knowledge won't grant him, though: ]

Since you obviously made out okay—how'd you get rid of her?

[Hellboy notes that, which lends a bit more credence to Lancer's claim that he's some Irish (or Scots) folk hero. Either that or he's so nuts that he's convinced himself of the fact. But more and more, Hellboy is becoming convinced it's the former.]

I was there with my father. [He pauses, then thinks to clarify in case Lancer decides to ask.] Adopted father. It was his idea: convince the dead Romans to kill the hag instead. He was always better at thinking on his feet than me. I probably would have just kept punching until they were all dead.

This was a long time ago, though. More than fifty years, now.

[ It's rare for him to allude to often to his past, even in the brief snippets that he has. Not only because it was a bad habit—heroic spirits have plenty of weaknesses to exploit from their stories—but because it doesn't interest him. Hellboy makes it just entertaining enough to merit swapping accounts of the 'good' ol' days.

Granted, he prefers listening, laughing out a cloud of smoke. ]

I like your strategy better. [ if it works, it works... ] So was your old man the brains to your brawn?

[Punching isn't strictly a strategy, but he'll take it. Hellboy laughs a little, because that's certainly how it started. Hellboy kicking down doors while the professor tried to rein him in.]

More or less. I guess I smartened up eventually though, since he let me go without... [Hellboy stops. Stops talking, stops moving -- he turns his head to the side, getting a weird feeling like something's over there. The air is cold.

He lowers his voice, his hand instinctively seeking out the revolver at his hip.]

Do you feel that?

[ Their talk takes a turn with the temperature. From the understated warmth of conversation to something cold.

Lancer pauses, quickly sobered. ]

Yeah.

[ He doesn't know if guns are any good against the spooks that float through graveyards. But maybe modern-day man's better at ghostbusting than he gave them credit for. Good time to find out—the air pressure dips, like a tornado. The wind is too quiet to match. ]

I'm not sure punching's gonna work this time.

[ even punching.... with bullets ]

[Bullet punching usually works, Lancer. Don't knock it until you've watched it in action.

Hellboy doesn't answer the quip, just tightens his jaw and unsnaps his holster. He's still, muscles coiled, slowly sweeping the shadows with his eyes. He doesn't see anything at first, and he's beginning to think it was just a coincidental draft in the air, but then something dimly glowing happens beyond the bushes.

It comes closer, slowly, eventually materializing into a line of ghostly little deer people, all holding spears or bows and arrows. The hair on the back of Hellboy's neck stands up as the procession passes them -- and then, slowly, they all turn to look at Hellboy and Lancer as one.]

EVENT ★ GONE FISHIN'

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