Hook, Line, and How to Lose Fish (Training Thread)

[Keorvic]

4th Day of Summer 510AV

Keorvic woke with a start. He had been dreaming of his experience that had given him his scar. cringing from the memory, he slipped from his shared bed and groped around for the flask of liquor he kept for emergencies. He downed a huge gulp and gasped as the stuff rolled down his throat. He shuddered and took another smaller drink, then screwed the metal cap back on. Relaxing, his eyes were drawn to his unexpected new companion and he cast his amorous gaze at the naked woman. The predawn light illuminated just enough of her exposed body to add emphasis on her beautiful curves and a small portion of her delicate features, the rest was clad in darkness. She was so beautiful, and so sure of herself, and yet managed to convey this feeling of helplessness by herself that he could do nothing but his best to take care of her. "Some job I'm doing. Sleeping in HER bed..." he thought to himself. His heart pounded as he looked at her (as did other parts of his anatomy that he had no control over,) and yet he could not decipher his feelings for her. He was obviously infatuated with her, but was it just infatuation? Or did these feelings run deeper, run down to the very core of his being? Keorvic shook his head, unused to such deep musings, and moved to search for his clothes. Completely unable to find his shirt, he sighed and looked back at his lover. "At least she is enthusiastic." he thought, and padded back over to cover her back up lest she get cold. As he did so, his wadded up shirt fell out of the folds of the bedclothes, and slipped to the floor. Triumphant, Keorvic finished dressing and gathered his gear. Out on the street, he passed few others up this early. "It must be earlier than I thought. fourth bell maybe?" He grimaced to himself, disgusted that in the three days he had of being in the city he was already having difficulty judging the time of dawn. "Night is the domain of thieves only until fishermen arise." His father was fond of saying. Lost in the reverie of thinking of his home, he wandered closer to the seaside docks. As lost as Keorvic would normally be in a city such as this, he would always be able to find his way down to the sea. It was a sixth sense he had often relied upon to find his way back to Whitehold when he was younger.

[Keorvic]

Keorvic eventually found his way down to a long pier, and strolled down it. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply of the fresh sea air, and quickly realized that he was, in fact, too close to a pile of dead something that had washed up and gotten stuck around the supports of the pier. He sighed and rolled his eyes, his stomach twinging. He realized that he had left his food and money back in the room. A quick search of his pockets revealed nothing but small change, barely enough to purchase a small loaf of bread. The large Vantha shrugged to himself and continued down the long wooden walkway till he spotted a small rocky alcove that butted up against the pier and sheltered a small half-cave from the pounding surf. Keorvic leaned out over the side and judged the distance. He smiled and tossed his fishing stuff out onto a wide flat part of the tiny island. It was a bit of a jump, but no major feat to jump out after his belongings, and he quickly set about casting a line. with a deft flick, he cast his line into the calm lee of the rocks, and secured it to a large log that had somehow lodged itself between several larger rocks. Looking over his setup, he nodded to himself, then made the jump back to the pier and pulled himself back onto it with some difficulty. grimacing at the light scrapes he had received on his stomach. Keorvic checked his pockets to make sure the few silver miza he had were still there, and set off towards a small bakery he'd noticed earlier.

[Keorvic]

As the sun rose up, Keorvic decided it was time to go check his rod. He finished his bread and set off. The baker Keorvic had purchased his bread from was a brusque man, and Keorvic accepted this with good grace. Not everyone was cut out to be an early riser, and those that were forced tended to be like that. Smiling, he walked back to the pier when he noticed that the stench that had wrapped around the column supporting the wooden pier was gone, and a terrible though crossed his mind. Back in Whitehold, he would often set himself up on a small iceberg or something and tether it to the land, confident that the ice flows would be unaffected by the tide. however, as the Vantha drew closer, he saw nothing of the rock, and even less of his fishing gear. He let out a cry of dismay as he spotted what looked like the log he had secured his rod to being dragged far out to see. It was little solace to him that his rod was made of wood and would eventually snap instead of permanently fettering whatever poor fish might have caught itself on his hook. Staring out at see with dismay, he heard a shrill laughter, punctuated every now and then with small clicks. He turned and realized there was a simply dressed Charoda lounging against the side of the pier, apparently laughing at him. "Why do you laugh? I have lost everything with which I can fish, and may not be able to replace them." He would normally be angry at someone for such blatant disregard for his feelings, but was currently too dismayed with himself to do anything other than be totally bewildered.

[Keorvic]

"You must be quite new to fishing to make such a mistake as that." whistled the Charoda, still chuckling slightly. "No, not really, But I am unused to dealing with tides." Keorvic mumbled, slumping down to sit dejectedly against a post. His knife had been in his pack, along with his scrimshaw, not to mention his fishing supplied and bait. He would have to spend quite a bit of money to replace everything, and doubted he would find a knife to match the quality of the one he had lost. He related this to the Charoda, who seemed content to stand and smile at the pitiful state Keorvic found himself. Keorvic gradually became more and more disgusted as he realized this, and stood up to abruptly excuse himself."Aren't you forgetting something, young one?" the old charoda asked him, kicking something lightly towards him. With disbelief, he looked at his pack, then looked back up at the Charoda. "Did....did you get that for me? but how? That jump was difficult for me, suredly..." he sputtered, not wanting to offend the one who had saved him much pain and trouble.

[Keorvic]

the charoda simply chuckled and flicked his line out again, the lure dancing across the surface like a mayfly. He had never seen a lure that looked like the one on the end of the charoda's line though; a simple tuft of horse hair hiding a hook. The old man chuckled again, and drew his line back in as a wave crashed over where his lure had been. Turning, the man gestured for Keorvic to follow him, and Keorvic quickly shouldered his pack and turned to follow. As they walked out further on the pier, Keorvic began to see a few small boats moored to it. Some were small and made of an unrecognizable material, while others where bigger and made of wood. They were all in various states of repair. Realizing that he had fallen behind, he scampered to catch up. "I'm sorry, I didn't introduce myself, I am Keorvic. So what is that lure for that you had back there?" he asked, realizing that the charoda had gathered up several other rods that were quite different. "I am Ylress. In common, you would refer to that as "Fly Fishing." said the man.

[Keorvic]

As the morning grew nearer, the old fish-man said little, but imparted much knowledge with what he did say. He showed Keorvic how to prepare a fly fishing lure, but only showed him the very basics of how to actually use the lure. "Its not a skill you can pick up in one day, friend." Ylretss often said. Still, it was tough spending time with someone who obviously wanted to impart some knowledge, but just as obviously was disinclined to talk. Eventually they reached the end of the peir, and Keorvic assumed they would be going thier seperate ways. Keorvic watched the old char lean over the side of the peir and tug on a line, deftly undoing a knot. A sudden intuition reminded him that char were untalkative people outside of thier own tongue, which was hard to reproduce out of the water, but it was possible. Keorvic took a deep breath, and sang out "Thank you for your teachings my friend/ I hope that our paths will cross again some day/ so that i may repay my debt to you." in passable char.

[Keorvic]

The old char looked around, startled. his eyes fixed on Keorvic, and suddenly he burst out laughing. "It is most wonderful that you speak our tongue\though you owe me naught but thanks. I invite you to fish with me this morning\and break fast as well." the old char sang, hopping down into the boat, and indicating a seat near the middle. Keorvic nodded, then stepped out onto the boat, knowing that he was in for the best fishing that he would find in this area. After Keorvic was settled in, the char turned and worked the sail, at first moving the boat slowly, but quickly picking up speed and moving out into the surf. Despite the lack of any wind stronger than a gentle breeze, they were soon well out past the breakers, and the surf was quiet in the distance. The char turned to him and smiled. "Here I will show you a new way to fish\a way to bring up fish larger than any you've ever seen." He opened a long wooden locker along the side of the boat, and pulled out the largest rod and reel keorvic had ever seen. "With these, we shall catch Ono."