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

[evantuality]

[The light is dim enough that Evan doesn't get a good read on who his new company is until Ford gets fairly close. When he does, though, the young man's interest is piqued; he's seen this man around, has caught his air of authority. He was older than most of the recruits and Evan, used to a lifetime of teachers who in some cases looked very much like this man, finds himself inclined to be a little less flip with the man than he otherwise might. He straightens.]

While I don't necessarily buy the concept of ghosts, I'd have to be a bit daft to ignore the locals entirely.

[He bends then, going for his pack. Tucking away his paper and pencil, he instead draws out a plate of glass, backed by something that's made it mirrored enough to reflect, if not perfectly. He shows it to Ford.]

I do want to at least get a look at whatever tromps through here at night, though.

[weirdologist]

[He's honestly a little surprised at the other's preparedness, though nonetheless pleased. Some would rush in without heeding local legend, and while Ford himself had been planning on - maybe - catching a glimpse of their spectral forms, he wasn't stupid enough to defy their traditions. He adjusts his glasses, nodding.]

As do I, my friend. Ghost or not, if there's something that can help with the Nalawi's plight, it would be worth investigating.

[He holds a six fingered hand out to the younger man, other one tucked behind his back.]

Stanford Pines, but please, just call me Ford.

[evantuality]

[In the dark, he misses that telling sixth finger until he stands to shakes the man's hand and something feels off. A double-take confirms the source of that strangeness, and somehow that sixth finger on an otherwise human-looking man feels all the weirder than, say, the seven-foot-something red giant he ran into at market today. He works not to stare his curiosity, and manages, more or less.

Actually, hearing Ford's name helps. Evan straightens a little, processing the name.]

Ford Pines? Oh, you're Mabel's... uh. Uncle?

['Grunkle' hadn't quite parsed and he'd been too busy trying to convince the youngster not to go climbing around in lava tubes to ask for clarification. Oh, hell; hopefully she hasn't, and this gruff-voiced man doesn't have reason to disapprove of Evan right off the bat.]

She's, um, a spirited youngster.

[weirdologist]

Great uncle, yes. I'm not entirely surprised she, ah, charmed you.

[There's a warm chuckle as he says that, entirely unfazed by the double take at his fingers. Were he younger it might have troubled him, but Ford has grown well accustomed to staring on any part. He withdraws his hand and wriggles his fingers for visual effect before tucking his hands behind his back, turning his attention away from the younger man. The drumming seems to have stopped, but it starts again just as sooner, the beat a steady rhythm and getting closer.]

Perhaps we should save this conversation until after the procession, hm?

[As interested as he was in catching a glimpse of the ghosts, perhaps even observing them at a closer range, Ford does not want to become subject to whatever it is that the spirits will cause on one who is not respectful enough.]

[evantuality]

Ah! Yeah, yeah.

[The nearing of the drums startles Evan into paying attention to the graveyard around him. He'd sat here since the sun had begun to set, and it had gone from a cheerful, bright place slowly all the way to being a little eerie as full dark had fallen.

Now, he has to admit himself with a prickle, it's downright creepy. It's a response that embarrassed Evan the pragmatist, and instead of dwell on it he turns towards the path, looks down, and starts fiddling with the piece of mirror to get a decent angle on where the ghosts seem liable to pass.]

Let me know how to tilt it so you can see too, [he offers in a terse little whisper as those drums get louder.]

[weirdologist]

[Ford slips one of his hands into his pocket, feeling the letter that he'd found during his exploration of the graveyard before the twilight hours that lead into dusk, the other tense and ready. Physical form they might not have, but it never hurt to be prepared. He shifts so he's closer to the younger man, paying more attention to the drums than anything.

If his hearing was right they were...ten, maybe twelve feet away from their current position. Ford had spent two years on a planet with tunnel like networks, hiding and listening. He judges the angle of the mirror before nodding and shifting it without taking it from Evan, holding his hand up.]

Perfect. Although, I really must say the chances of catching sight of a ghost on a mirror is about sixty percent...of course that could have been because I was attempting to trap one, not just view one.

[Ford brings a hand up to scratch at his cheek, looking a little sheepish before he cups it over his ear, listening intently.]

They're close. About...two minutes from where we are.

[evantuality]

[Pretty much every bit of what Ford said raised questions for Evan -- questions that in large part left him madly skeptical and madly interested both. Trapping ghosts? Ghosts at all? But what could he get a reasonable answer to in two minutes? Probably nothing, though even that wasn't quite enough to stem the flow of the young man's curiosity.]

You've run into enough, er, ghosts, that you can vouch for a percentage like that? But aren't you from Earth?

[According to his conversation with Mabel, anyways. He asks that in a whisper, at least, as the drums draw closer. There are no ghosts on Evan's version of earth, nope, nosiree, none at all.]

[weirdologist]

Oh I am. Our version anyway. I studied the paranormal for years before I started traveling the multiverse on accident.

[He can understand the curiosity that must have lead to that question, adjusting his glasses before tucking his arm behind his back. Ford strains his ears, listening for how close the drums were getting as he explains, waving a hand to elaborate.]

In our world, weirdness is in one location more than anywhere else in the United States; a small town in Oregon called Gravity Falls. I moved there after college to start conducting research on the supernatural. The man who built my house made a comment about ghosts in his cabin and, well, naturally I had to investigate.

[He gives a small snort.]

I ended up having a category one follow me around for a while as a result. I couldn't convince it that I was not, in fact, a preteen girl.

[evantuality]

[And once again, that raises more questions for the young man than it answers by quite a long shot, and almost all of them are ones that are going to require a positive sit-down to get proper answers for, he imagines. A ghost category system? Gravity Falls? The pun alone...

But given their time limit he opts for perhaps the least pressing of his queries.]

What, did the ghost have bad eyesight? ... can ghosts have bad eyesight? Can ghosts have eyes?

[And then Evan sucks in a breath and shuts himself up re: further absurd queries, because around a treed corner a glow can be seen. The drums are close, throbbing in the humid night air, and despite himself Evan's pulse kicks up. He stares at the glow and gestures, to catch Ford's attention in case the man hasn't spotted that shine, until he remembers himself and looks back down at the mirror hurriedly.

It's hard, nearly impossible, to properly track the glow from his periphery, but better that than whatever mischief the purveyors of that glow have waiting for too-curious stares. The drums, those are the best indicator, but Evan finds himself holding his breath, caught by the tension of that rhythm. It will be several moments still before anything shows up on their mirror, and each passing moment winches the suspense higher. As the drums creep closer to passing directly behind the pair, Evan glances at Ford, wondering if the man is feeling as wound-up as he is.]

[weirdologist]

Yes, yes and yes. But more on that at a later time.

[Ford waves his hand nonchalantly and keeps his head bowed as he sees the glow out of his peripheral vision. Showing a bit of respect for the dead makes sense to him, even if they are sneaking a glimpse in the mirror that Evan has provided them with. He's sure this is some kind of privilege that only comes along once in a while, to see spirits in a "natural" habitat.

He inclines his head when he notices Evan's gesture, holding an index finger to his lips. There's something tense about this situation, even as he listens to the drums getting louder and the glow getting brighter. The same ethereal glow he'd seen from the dozen or so other ghosts back home. There was something clenching in his stomach, a tension that he'd felt a thousand times before and a chill goes down his spine as he catches sight of one of the ghosts in the mirror.]