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Post by Èdan on Nov 22, 2021 8:34:34 GMT -6
A cavalcade chorus of clattering rocks sounds, once more left to right, then right to left. At one point right in front of him, and then somewhere behind him. Whatever work that human did with the pup was every credit (or favour) well spent, apparently - It seems he'd only need a word before he'll comb the shore up and down for anything to bring back (And shockingly, none of them plain rocks, which would have been his first assumption). It's the first time one of the creatures has exhibited actual use, though the shadow's experience were a little so-and-so. More accidental than directed action.
But, above all, aside the sound of rocks clattering under paws, the rest of it is relative sweet silence, with only the babble of the brook and the occasional hound panting passing by with running footfalls. In truth, it could be.. peace. Held onto by the most faintest of threads, but even so. One couldn't even be faulted for assuming things might be looking up.
. 16 . Perscitus: 31 (1/5) Dry Season: 16
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Post by Èdan on Nov 22, 2021 8:38:17 GMT -6
The pup's methods remain quite erratic, though he's yet to decide whether that actually works in their favour or not. After all, fish aren't exactly known to be the most stable of prey to stalk (In the much more proverbial sense of the word, by beast and humanoids alike who preferred a fine-toothed spear to the much more relaxed form of pole and line). At times the pup dashes into the waters, biting at something that none the less seems to get away. At times he digs around the loose rocks of the shore, ears raised like antennae, seeking sound and signs of life among the dried riverbed. And then there's times where he's completely still, almost so as to make the man assume the pup might actually be taking the hunting portion seriously.
It usually concludes in a leap into the waters, only to come back splashing, momentary confusion, and then the much more familiar sight of absently lolling tongue, but still.
. 17 . Perscitus: 31 (2/5) Dry Season: 17
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Post by Èdan on Nov 22, 2021 8:45:55 GMT -6
Even pups with not much going on in their minds might yet get lucky enough to catch something. Reversely, he's only barely doing better, and there's plenty of things to occupy his mind, so the matter of mentality doesn't necessarily correlate to efficiency.
And speaking of.. Something catches on the line, causing the bobber to wobble on the surface. The sight itself is not so uncommon, as the stream of the river can cause it to dip and surface momentarily based on the speed of the current. But this time around it dives under and doesn't surface again, instead pulling the line along with noticeable force - Something's definitely snagged on it, and it has considerable weight to it. The man grabs the reel to stop the line from spinning out further, and the rod bends in response, the blunt of the kinetic force now born by it.
Whatever it is, isn't as large as the snapper had been, so he doesn't feel like he'll need to be concerned about any potentially lost fingers.
. 18 . Perscitus: 31 (3/5) Dry Season: 18
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Post by Èdan on Nov 22, 2021 8:49:54 GMT -6
At the same time, it's not exactly a snail or a sardine either. By the feel of the pull, it might even be something worth turning into a dinner. With the initial pull levelled out, he slowly starts to reel it in, timing the pull of the line to the tide of the stream. It only helps a little, but whatever is caught doesn't seem to fight back too much, beyond just what it weighs. He'd almost assume it to be already dead, if there aren't some slight variations to the direction the line is pulled, suggesting it's still moving around in the water.
Padded feet signal the pup's arrival to his side, attentions caught by the scene and kept by the prospect that something's happening (It really doesn't take much. The pup could find a leaf fascinating).
"C'mon," the man mutters, and draws nearer to the water's edge, as the line pulls in further. It's perhaps at the very end of the effort that a certain degree of doubt starts to creep in.
. 19 . Perscitus: 31 (4/5) Dry Season: 19
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Post by Èdan on Nov 22, 2021 8:55:53 GMT -6
Unfortunately for him, it's a doubt every bit justified as well. When the perceived 'fish' finally breaks the surface of the water, it's hide is certainly shiny, but anything but scaled - a metallic sheen with a rugged, soggy paper covering. Once the current is no longer pulling it along, the object's weight changes considerably, and the man ends up picking up a mere tin can from the sandy shore. One small measure of hope kindles when he pours out the river water, silt, muck and sludge the can has been accumulating inside it for.. however long it's been sitting on the bottom of the river, but even that sputters out when most of it is just nature's finest sludge, than anything of interest.
The pup sits nearby, ears and eyes forward, as he turns around and shows the can to him. "Looks like we caught ourselves a real tin beast," he comments drily, and the face sours further when he notices the hook has been all bent out of shape from where it latched to the tin, carrying all that extra weight. With a silent sigh, not one of defeat, but of someone enduring, he makes his way back to their things for yet another new hook. Perhaps this one will be luckier (Though he doubts it).
. 20 .(added)Perscitus: 32 (0/5) Dry Season: 20
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Post by Nadia on Nov 22, 2021 12:43:52 GMT -6
If only it were so. The hook bobs around in the water, but the line remains slack - perhaps it's just a bad day for fish...
[Nothing happens.]
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Post by Èdan on Nov 23, 2021 5:29:54 GMT -6
One would think he'd be better at tying these things on by now, considering how many hooks he goes through, but no. The knot slips a few times, prompting a few underbreath curses, before he finally gets it to stick with several knots on top. Not exactly the most.. elegant solution, but it will do in a practical sense. Strange that for all the bookshop had novellas on most things, it seemed to severely lack something in fishing.. Either the locals aren't too versed in it to produce one, or perhaps overly versed, in that some basic knowledge is assumed to be second nature.
Ah well. Every fallback is a learning experience, every failure a lesson. And even tin cans can have a purpose, if properly utilized - Commonly, things are only junk to the unimaginative (and he can be fairly creative in a lot of things). So with the line drawn back, he casts it out again and whistles to the pup, "Your turn, go on. Search and fish."
. 21 . Perscitus: 32 (1/5) Dry Season: 21
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Post by Èdan on Nov 23, 2021 5:37:46 GMT -6
For example, the can could make for a fairly decent toy for the more rough-and-tumble crowd of beasts, to keep them busy and attentive (And less likely to cause problems). He'd be tempted to give it to the pup already, if the lid isn't just that bit suspiciously ragged, suggesting it could be sharper than it looks. But a bit of filing to dull the edge and it'd be fine for later.
For now, the pup can be kept occupied in other ways. With a clatter of stones he starts off from where he was sitting, dashing across the shoreline as if it were a race. (It's really not, but far from it would he be looking to curb the enthusiasm when it's giving the pup a lot more things to keep him occupied). Water splashes not long after and the pup ends up wading through most of the shallows, ears forward and eyes darting around at anything that moves below, regardless of whether it's actual prey or just some bubbles.
. 22 . Perscitus: 32 (2/5) Dry Season: 22
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Post by Èdan on Nov 23, 2021 6:11:57 GMT -6
The finer art of subterfuge seems lost on him, much less the concepts of stealth, since one would think the splashing more chases the fish away than catches them. But then.. Perhaps the idea is to 'herd' them closer to the line? (Doubtful, but he's seen stranger things in only so many months, so nothing can be assumed to be outside the realm of possibility here). Whatever the method, the river seems disdainfully shy that day.
The line drags and released in turn, whether brushed by still-considering fish or simply a stronger undercurrent, and with nothing to show in either scenario. The minutes pass on by, slowly turning to parts of an hour. It's still early in the day, but if this is to measure the mood of the day, it's certainly not looking great.
A part of him comes to wonder if it's perhaps more due to the season, as the waters of the river do run rather low.
. 23 . Perscitus: 32 (3/5) Dry Season: 23
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Post by Èdan on Nov 23, 2021 6:25:07 GMT -6
When winter comes, it's not unusual for a lot of birds and beasts to migrate more south. He hasn't really heard of fish doing so as often, although perhaps they find deeper lakes and rivers to dwell out the encroaching frost and cold? A fine pickle, then.. On the one hand the waters are as clear as they're likely to ever be, with a slowness to match, but the catch has moved house elsewhere. (Most likely the larger lake area, though he wouldn't be caught dead trying to fish there, in large part because he would be dead soon enough if he tried. The lake was filled with some real goddess-forsaken up sea serpents, making it anything but a pleasant environment).
But, those are the odds, and griping over them tempted them little to change. Another clattering of paws rushed past behind him, as the pup ends up chasing after a leaf floating across the river waters, the most they've seen of anything 'catch-able' in a while.
. 24 . Perscitus: 32 (4/5) Dry Season: 24
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Post by Èdan on Nov 23, 2021 7:06:49 GMT -6
The calm doesn't unnerve him, despite the lack of catch, but everyone needs even a little bit of entertainment in a while. He angles the line to cut off the leaf's path, and yanks upwards when it gets close. The hook catches it, but doesn't latch, so the leaf is free to float onwards down the river once more. Reeling in the line, he inspect the hook for a moment. It's not exactly broken or anything, but given it's not exactly.. enticing, perhaps something a bit brighter would do it good.
So the man walks back to the box, pup curiously in tow, and rummages around inside. The plain metal hook in promptly replaced by something quite a bit more colourful (With due fussing involved, knots and all) and he walks back to the river. The hand brings the pole back, casts it forwards, and the rather obnoxiously pink lure sails through the air, before splashing into the water. Now to wait and see whether the fashion crime attracts any fishy attentions.
. 25 .
Perscitus: 33 (0/5) Dry Season: 25
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Post by Nadia on Nov 23, 2021 16:08:46 GMT -6
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Post by Èdan on Dec 10, 2021 9:50:23 GMT -6
While the line is cast, the pup makes one more run down the shore just beneath it, blissfully unaware of the near-entanglement that could have occurred. It has been a while now, but it doesn't seem as though the pup seems to have a concept for time the same way he does.. For one, the search for something fishy continues in his mind, as if the command been only just given. Certainly points for dedication, if not deducted for a certain kind of simple-minded determination.
As for himself, there's a moment of looking to settle in for a long wait, much like several previous times before, that gets interrupted rather suddenly with a tug on the line. Thinking it something inconsequential at first (perhaps something drifted down the river again to brush against the lure), the opposite is made quite evident when the line tugs again, and once more. It starts to draw little furrows against the stream on the river's surface, moving.
. 26 . Perscitus: 33 (1/5) Dry Season: 26
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Post by Èdan on Dec 10, 2021 9:57:52 GMT -6
The movement is slow, at first, but quickly picks up the pace as whatever is on the line seems to understand its own circumstances in somewhat increasing panic. If the fact the line was moving against the stream wasn't enough evidence, then this certainly confirmed it - Something is caught.
He begins to reel it in, walking closer to the water's edge in the process, as the line starts cutting across the stream towards him. It wobbles and fights, trying to resist to the best of its ability, but by the strength of the pull it doesn't seem to be a very large catch. Persistent, yes, but still a far cry from something the size of the snapper. "Perscitus! Get!" he released on hand to point towards the line briefly, before resuming to reel the catch closer to shore. The pup needed the practice, considering the sparseness of the river that day, and honestly it is a fair way to avoid being drenched in water.
. 27 . Perscitus: 33 (2/5) Dry Season: 27
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Post by Èdan on Dec 10, 2021 10:02:14 GMT -6
With lolled tongue and padding feet, the up turns on his heels, skids and locks in traction again in time to take off towards where the line is zagging across the surface of the river. By that point the catch is close enough to the surface to see the thrashing of the thing itself, something dark with spots of red fighting for dear life on the hooked lure. It only got to see the outside world beyond the waters for a couple of thrashing moments, before the pup's jaws suddenly closed in around it, to hold quite securely. Yes, the fish could still wiggle and move, for the teeth did not bite down enough to pierce its scales, but they are still teeth and they are still sharp - The fish might injure itself by itself if it kept it up.
"Good job," the man knelt, beckoning the pup over and carefully prying the catch out of his mouth.
. 28 . Perscitus: 33 (3/5) Dry Season: 28
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