The effect is immediate - the fish forgotten, it's the man that now draws up in the beast's focus, including it's suddenly remembered fear of his presence. Whatever part of him that makes the beasts keep their distance, in any case (It's not like he has to try for it). "Settle," he simply rumbles low, and turns back to their tools. Along with the fish there came some of the usual debris found in rivers - small pieces of twigs, some lichen, pieces of mud. He carefully cleans the net (The better avoid it's presence being betrayed in the water) and picks up another can of the pellets.
If rumour was to be told the river could bring down all sorts of things from the mountains. There wasn't much facts he could find to match it, except that many seem to have confused it with a different kind of flood from the other side of the mountain, where the mines were. These days those didn't flood so much, but if pub talk was to be believed it could rain down gold and jewels back in the day - Something that was tempting, to be sure, but nothing he was willing to freely go down into death-traps of construction for.
In his scouting of the proverbial fishing landscape ahead of time, a few knew to tell the water of this river weren't exactly free of threats either, but the key difference between the two is one happened to be under open blue skies. He certainly wasn't going to be dumb enough to go wading into the deep waters, and getting caught in a slip and a current near the shore was more likely to spook than truly get you stuck somewhere. After all, it wasn't like it was some ocean needing crossing or anything..
With the attention span of a wren, the dog's own fear fades as the sound of water draws it's attention back to it. There is still a draw to go splashing in, held at bay by the leash (The dumb thing probably had no idea how to swim even, aside whatever natural instinct it possessed. The waters are calm, sure, but it didn't mean it was safe for something the size of a boot). So long as it wasn't going to be loud enough to scare things off, however, it was fine - At least the entertainment kept it occupied.
The man side-steps the pup and beings walking upstream once more. The idea is to do much the same, even if the results isn't likely to be the same. He uncaps the jar and sprinkles the bait into the slower stream of the river, before moving back down to their little basin area. There, he positions himself partly on a rock outcropping from the waters, partly on the shore, and places the net back into the water. The flakes slowly float ever closer and the net sits patiently, awaiting anything lurking up from the shifting silty waters.
The eyes scan the rippling waves, glinting in the midday sun. It's warm, to be sure, but nothing that ever really bothered him before (At least he doesn't have to run around as the knight for a while, slow-cooked in scale-mail). And were the rivers not known to be filled with things that bite and gnaw, it would almost be a tempting place to swim.
To that point it does make him wonder at times - for all the fancy technology and luxury the City had to offer (For those who could pay.. And the ones who could certainly did), there was distinct lack of leisure options to be found. The southern side of the desert's coast wasn't much for farmland, but they made a tidy profit in trade and catering to the finer tastes of passing merchants, one more wealthier than the others. There he'd seen and heard of this concept for a 'spah' (Or however one called it, the local language wasn't exactly simple to pick up on) which many avidly visited. It seems almost a missed opportunity the City hasn't looked into that manner of service yet.
Well. Perhaps for the better. After all, they would have to have some pretty specific regulations in regards to privacy, anyway. This 'spah' for a creature and owner alike could certainly be reason (or excuse) to take the pup there, but it would be mighty weird for others to watch a humanish walk around the bathing areas with a hat still on.
The man isn't one for daydreaming so much as having portions of the mind preoccupied with current circumstances, while others look to things in the more near future. You had to have one foot in the door of potential could-be's, after all (It's what stopped the door from being slammed in your face otherwise). A nice leisurely activity such as standing over a body of water with a rod and net makes for ample time for that to occur. Especially when the last pieces of bait has drifted on by minutes ago and there has been nothing hitting the net. Not even a shadow moving through the basin area.
As much as he would like, the dog wouldn't be the one to blame in this - sure, the pup has been splashing the edges of the water and giving small whines, but the noise itself nothing more or less than the water bubbling against the river bank on its own. More water does not yield more fish, necessarily, it seemed.
Even waiting a little longer doesn't seem to affect much. The only thing of note passing them by is a piece of branch floating along the waves. Right, enough of that.. He pulls out the net and goes to cleaning it again, pulling off the mats of plant-matter and smaller debris. It's one thing to stand around waiting for something to get to you, spending a whole day just staring, and another to fish. (Supposedly. Things were coming back, but they were slow-going).
The man walks over to the bundle and unfurls a few more items - a roll of line and three bobbers. Normally they would be back-up for the rod, but that isn't to say he can't strike two birds with one stone (Or string three bobbers with one line). He looks up at the branches of the tree overhanding the stream and measures out an average distance. Three bobbers, three lines. After stringing a line to each he walks into the shallows of the basin, as close to the underside of the branch as he could, without needing to be completely soaked (The courier might be rough-worn, but let's have some standards here).
The strings are tied to the branch in a firm knot and let to drop down until they hit the water. Between the bobbers and the stream's slow current, the lines are gradually pulled lightly taught, carried a little separately from one another as the basin's different flows affect each variously. It's not much of a fishing pole, but in principle should help hedge one's bets. So long as the line holds, in any case..
The dog watches this with interest, sat down and head tilted. It's a good thing the beast is on a leash, otherwise there's not much stopping it from simply rushing the lines thinking them to be some form of fun toys (Toys that have sharp hooks at the end, but the beast isn't likely to figure that out until much too late). "Not for you," the man murmurs at the thing, passing by with another can, as the pup tugs on the leash trying to get at the hanging lines. In terms of attention span (and partly in scales) the beast could well match a goldfish, it seems.
The tactic this time is a little different, or rather the bait is. Instead of the jar of flakes, he opens up the other container filled with pale wiggling forms. If in so far they've only caught something carnivorous, then perhaps the flakes aren't to the tastes of such fish. He wades over to the lines and struggles some as he hooks a worm to each, before dropping them back into the water. Unlike the flakes, the worms are not likely to float quite so easily, being somewhat heavier, so he scatters them into the water a bit closer and more widely - some into the flow heading towards the basin, some among the rocks surrounding the basin.
Maybe something will find moving forms more enticing to go for.. Something that isn't the dog trying to burst out of the leash so it could go play with the lines. Perhaps he should find that woman again, have her train these things with some manners.. Afterwards. For now, he walks over the stones and lowers the net into the water, watching for signs of movement and change of shadows.
Ahaa! There's one! The net quickly scoops up the wiggling form and clawed hands grip around it to untangle from the mess of webbing. All around the yapping gets louder as the dog seems to bite into the new sense of enthusiasm, as if feeling it is an open invitation. Dodging both rocks and dogs, the humanish balances his way towards the buckets and finally gets to throw the greenish fish into the closest one.
Immediately after, with a slight echo of dog yapping, the world calms down again - the fish happy to be back in water, swimming in quick, then ever lazier circles in the bucket. The pup keeping up a yapping spree for a couple of more seconds, seemingly out of principle, until the man turns around and gives it a look. The barking stops and the thing shrinks back, as if suddenly remembering it was supposed to be scared. Perhaps it has a right to be, but he turns away from it again, back to the fishing tools. One of these days the thing needs to have some dressage done, for better or for worse.
He crouches down and begins to unwind the hood of the net, untangling parts where twigs, debris and other pieces had got stuck from the motion of scooping up the fish. For some reason he expected the fish of the City to be bigger, but this one seems hardly largely than an average dinner.. (Not that he expects to eat it. Anything brightly coloured should be first studied and investigated before consuming - while nature can certainly be a liar and deceiver of the highest order, when it doesn't, it's kind of important). Of course, the serpents in the docks are another order of magnitude entirely, but there is this sense that everything seems just a little bit larger than life here.
Including the sounds of the creatures. A blissful five minutes pass before the pup focuses on a fallen leaf landing in the water and immediately pulls the leash taut as it tries to rush for it, coming short. All the while, the yapping resumes. The man grimaces, resolved to his fate as he finishes up with the net.
They had had dogs - great, big hunting hounds that could rip apart a stag if enough of them caught up with it, but docile as mice when commanded, never taking a step out of turn unless ordered. Of course, back then he had just called the commands rather work on them himself (But perhaps he should have done the latter a bit more as well, so they wouldn't shrink every time he came too close, or so much as sneezed). Even so, the biggest of them had less lungs than the pup seemed to have, at twice the size to boot. Perhaps it is a Labs thing.. Make it bigger, make it flashier, make it more dragon!
He grimaces again, turning to look over to the pup and only being able to wonder what will become of that thing. It might grow wings, it might go on fire.. Hells, it might even turn into fish at this point, the options in these parts were endless. Standing, he rummages through the box of lures, pulling out a shiny green one and heading for the lines.
The worms have been either gobbled up or swept off, the tides slowly turning over the course of the hours they've spent so far that their little basin was beginning to grow shallow. More and more rocks begin to show in the steady stream of the riverbed, as the banks turn from vaguely rocky-green to a more familiar (and literal) muddy brown. If there's any big fish to be found, it would have to be now, lest the trick of a stream leave little enough to hide anything.
Fiddling with the lines, he eventually manages to untangle them from each other, as the currents slowly keep pushing them into one another. He removes the other two, leaving just the one, rolling up the spares into the spool once more. With the water level dropping on the tide, there isn't much room to have quite that many up and waiting. As he's working, a sudden whine from the side makes him pause and turn to look down. A pair of giant lime-green eyes and a whiny mouth gapping open to release another whine meets his gaze. "What now?" he asks, lightly frowning.
The pup refuses to relent, despite the scowl, seeming to push through the general fear. It whines again, pawing towards the shoreline.. or lack there-of. As his gaze follows the gesture, it click - the 'toys' have moved too far away. The tide might be turning, but the leash is still the same length, putting everything out of reach. A grave sigh as he lets go of the lines and moves to instead adjust the leash on the branch, loosening it to slide forwards and then securing it closer to the end of it.
Immediately the whine turns into a bright yip as the pup rushes towards the receding waterline, splashing about in the mud (Much to immediate regret.. But on a positive note it should keep the thing busy for a time). "Have fun," he rumbles, focusing back on the remaining line. In short order the bright green lure is attached and he tosses it into what remains of the pool. There might not be many fish still passing through the low tide, but in case any are, something that bright would be a sure attraction.
Grabbing the net, he moves to stand on the shore rocks and peer into the silty darkness of the river, lowering the net into the water slowly, and waits.
Zenjesi: Hey Silv - how do you pronounce Kodakai?
Nov 17, 2023 18:23:56 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: Not to mention the baby mosca with wolf skin from Elvye and the sparkling owl of Xentus. <3
Nov 14, 2023 10:27:52 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: I like the Donnor one not just with looks FF, but the description, funny as heck.
Nov 14, 2023 10:26:27 GMT -6
Zenjesi: yours both made me laugh, FF! They're very expressive
Nov 13, 2023 21:57:46 GMT -6
Fiera Ferella: Woooow Twilight, I love that witch drawing!!! :0 It's so pretty! And Zenjesi I think Spectral is my favorite out of yours lol. Just looks happy to be included. and silver now i wanna know which pets youd pick for the other legendary beasts. XD
Nov 13, 2023 21:37:45 GMT -6
Silver: Ah I'm so glad you guys enjoyed it! I love everyone's drawings they're all so cute. ;o;
Nov 13, 2023 17:31:37 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: I like that one as well yeah, loved the old nootnoot image from quest prizes, so that one went perfectly with that particular costume being based around it. X3
Nov 13, 2023 15:23:13 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: The jewelry on tail or at the head definitely tends to be their most recognizable feature for a Mosca, and sadly their pharaoh chin piece as well. XD
Nov 13, 2023 15:21:07 GMT -6
Zenjesi: Your peanut costume is hilarious and adorable too!
Nov 13, 2023 15:14:29 GMT -6
Zenjesi: Yes you're correct! I guess I did a decent enough job with the drawing!
Nov 13, 2023 15:05:27 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: It still looks good on Synkka. She is a shaman Mosca I'm guessing? Its mostly the tail that makes me think of it.
Nov 13, 2023 15:00:42 GMT -6
Zenjesi: I definitely like Spectral's the most too! I sort of cheated by drawing Synkka with a cloak because I do not know how to draw feathered wings, haha ^^'
Nov 13, 2023 13:45:15 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: Which one do you like the most out of the three you made?
Nov 13, 2023 12:09:48 GMT -6
Twilight-Claw: Thanks for that compliment! Though I know with the water it doesn't look entirely great, I love the latter one I made the most.
Nov 13, 2023 12:09:30 GMT -6