Jataran was the capital city in the South O' Things, and it was a busy, welcoming city that served as a port of entry for the rest of the region. You should probably start your Island Realm travels in Jataran if you were a traveler, at least that's how Hem saw it, having done so hisself. It was not large, but it was not quiet either. A port city was bustling and alive with the dialects and goods from all kinds of directions. It reminded Hem of Gilba Gilba in some ways, that village being a crossroads of information and travelers. O' course, the scale was different, but Hem found hisself comparin' lots of experiences lately to his earlier period in the Assol Outlands. It seemed a dream, or a faded memory of some kind, and it wasn't good nor bad, but merely something to note.

He and Breema were back here in this port town, regrouping and figuring out what to do next. The last handful of weeks had not been eventful, nor fruitful, nor worth much of anything if the journal they were keepin' was anything to go by. Boring words but she insisted on keeping a record of their lives. Hem liked Jataran and the way the water came up against all the docks and piers and kept the soul of the city in motion. Traders and vessels of all kinds raised anchor here in hopes of makin' a couple of extra dracoins. COMMERCE.

Hem was out sittin' on the docks. Sun was shinin' high and bright and made the water clear as crystal, waves bumpin' into everything in a soothing sorta motion. He could see almost to the bottom, even though the depths went way over his head out here on the far docks. Funny how the water here was an entirely different character from back home. Back in Gilba Gilba he had nothin' but the Ravin' River. Its icy rapids sent slashes of fear through his 10 year old mind. In Gilba Gilba you grew to respect the Ravin' River and only because it would murder you. Every lad knew the stories.

"Ho, lad," a voice called, pulling Hem out of his memories. A voice full o' the South accent.

"Aye," replied Hem. He looked around and wondered where Breema was.

"Havin' yerself an afternoon then?" The speaker was a tall fella, dark-skinned and long-haired after the fashion of the South O' Things. Hem stood out down here like the sun in yer eyes, blindin' ya.

"Aye."

"Hoy then, up outta the way then, lad, barges comin' in." He gestured out to the horizon, azure water making way for a fleet o' weird things that Hem figured were the barges.

"Apologies for that," Hem said quickly, gathering his stuff stuffy stufustuff stufs tusfff stussfffff stufsffyf ffstf and making space on the dock. He should find Breema anyway. No sense obstructing commerce. He was just enjoying the activity and sounds down here. For a moment he wondered how things changed after twilight.

He shuffled back up the dock and wandered a bit, down brightly-lit alleyways and past colorful vendors hawkin' their fruits and such. He ignored them all, still lost in recollection, and kept an eye out for Breema. She had said she wouldn't be far, but if they got separated they could meet up at the Super Starman, one of several inns dotting the coastal city.