16th Bell - 40th Day of Winter, 516AV - Upper Lari Lake, Sea of Grass
Calendar EventThe Conclave vote unanimously to ignore the normal path of The Run for a small portion of Winter's journey. Instead of tracking north towards the Bluevein River, the horseclans hold south and make camp along Lari Lake instead. The city rests on the northern bank for ten days from the 36th to the 45th. To prevent the spoiling of the water source and the fouling of the camp, the clans condense their herds and drive them around the lake and along Lari River in large numbers. Extra hands are pulled as well as every willing body to defend the livestock. The Watch sets double patrols around the city as well as Webbers to monitor the herds.
Fishing is encouraged especially since there appears to be no huntable game nearby. A Watch patrol discover a cluster of old canoes made from hollowed out tree trunks. These are free to use by all but the elders and ankals ask that people be respectful of the needs of others and limit their time to two bells.
Players: Players are welcome to have fun with this event. At this point, I am not going to moderate any threads though I am always open to interrupting your plans. Do not engage any wildlife aside from fish and waterfowl during this time frame. The entire area is void of animals except the ones owned by the Drykas and listed in the previous sentence.
Before he'd ever known how to gut a man, he knew how to gut a fish. That was thanks to his mother.
She'd been a fishwife in Baroque Bay, which always stank of the sea's bounty (and effluence). Every day tons of wrigglers had been hauled ashore and they all needed to be treated somehow. Most times they were just beheaded and salted and sent along to whatever market would sell them, but his mother was always on hand to go some dressing, too.
Extra duties for extra mizas, of course. She was always like that. Either doing more or cutting corners, whichever got her better compensated. So some nights Konrad watched as she went through a great, stinking basket of fresh fish, scaling and cutting and gutting and salting and leaving the next morning with scores of fillets fit for the kitchen.
Watch something enough times - even help out some, when her hands were too sore and the bells were late - and you're going to remember it, know how to do it. A quarter-century later, that hadn't changed.
Getting them was a bitch, though.
Konrad grunted and finished making the rude little pyramid of twigs and sticks outside his tent. Around him, the Pridesun Pavilion was a beavering hive of activity, all of it soggy and smelly. Water had been found, and with it, and abundance of fish! Men and women who'd grown half-mad on salted lamb and steppe nuts were catching as much fish and fowl as they could, and Konrad thanked himself again for getting that shyke done good and early.
He closed his eyes and readied his djed before remembering the tinder box he had. This wyrd he had was a wonder, truly, but it didn't suit to get over-reliant on anything. The metal rasped and scraped a dozen times against the flint, little showers of sparks spattering onto the dead fire until...
Konrad smiled, and made a note to make it bigger. His breeches were still soaking.
That accomplished, the Sunberth man sat down with his legs crossed and drew the hunting knife that he always kept fine enough to split hairs. Most would assume that was in case he ever needed to kill a man with it, and they would be partially right. Just not a big partial.
Sharp knives and patience. Half the job of cooking, right there.
He reached over and grabbed the scaly morsel he'd caught, thumb scraping along the ragged arrow wound that had killed it. He knew that nets and rods were the best preferred means but, well, he didn't have those. He had a few hooks with little string, and a bow and arrows. So he'd improvised.
"Now," he mumbled to himself, as he straightened the fish on its side and he made the first cut, a half-Leth behind the fin, on the side of the fish. "Lesse if I 'member how t'do this..."
The fins nicely sliced out of the equation, he moved on to the head, or just behind it. It was the feel of it, that's where the real skill came in. He went in smoothly, metal probing a quarter-inch at a time until... and there was the backbone. He licked his lips and squinted, though everything was under the scales, of course.
He cut down the back of the fish, from the top to the tail, deep enough that he could pull the freshly-made fillet from the rest of the carcass with his bare hands. He peered inside and frowned, spying little ridges of white bone where he'd left the spine attached. He kept pulling until he'd peeled a half-foot-long strip of scale and flesh from the fish like a banana, then cut it loose.
Konrad held it up to the ever-staring Syna, studying his work. His hands would stink for bells, but he was pleased. There were still shreds of bone in the fillet, but he could pick those out later. And hells, if they weren't too big or too solid, then why bother? Long as no-one choked on them...
He turned the fish over, slapping it onto the desiccated side, and repeated the process. He cursed softly as the blade went too far, juddering gently as he cut through bone. When he peeled that side off, he frowned at the jagged length of bone attached to it, and knew that would take longer to prepare.
But the first one? He skewered that on the end of a stick and left it sizzling over the fire for a chime or two. He had other business.
Lari Lake was a curious calamity of water, scale, shell, fur and hooves that day. The Drykas had driven their herds of horses, cattle, lambs and goats into the water, knowing how close to death many of them were and how pointless it would be to try and draw enough water out by bucket. Endrykas was a moving city, and it would take days to water all of them. Easier to bring the Wind Oak to Sylir, as it were.
Konrad walked to the edge, until the rustle of his boots was replaced by wet squelches instead and he could feel the bottom of them soak. Before him, shaggy cattle bobbed through the water, horns like the fins of sharks. Horses danced and frolicked and goats trotted through the surf. Hundreds. Thousands. A city's worth, after all.
His lips twitched as he wondered if Dapple was out there. He figured the pasture had put their animals in there, too.
"Damn well better be takin' care a' him."
Not that he'd be surprised if they weren't, though. Konrad knew he wasn't too popular among Endrykas, especially not beyond Jonas Pridesun and his litle band of zealots. If it wasn't for the debt he owed the unhinged old man, Konrad would have been gone, but still... it irked him.
Had he scragged anyone? Had he even raised his voice? Thrown a punch? No, because he was a killer, not an idiot, and intended to die an old, rich one. But it was the same complaint, the same reason that he'd heard so many times it didn't even hurt anymore. It was just how things were.
They took one look at him, and saw trouble. Mutilation means monstrosity, and Konrad knew it. So he was alone and apart, in all things. Trapping and training, errands and minor adventures, it was just him, as if he were a leper.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh..."
Konrad made the water yellow and let his head roll around on his shoulders as he drained the dog into the lake. He spat at the same time and seemed to direct both sources of fluid towards the Drykas sprawled out with their herds.
"Sod the horse-petchers," he said to himself, buttoning his breeches back up and wandering back to his cooking. "Hardly be the first time f'me, would it?"
Fishing is encouraged especially since there appears to be no huntable game nearby. A Watch patrol discover a cluster of old canoes made from hollowed out tree trunks. These are free to use by all but the elders and ankals ask that people be respectful of the needs of others and limit their time to two bells.
Players: Players are welcome to have fun with this event. At this point, I am not going to moderate any threads though I am always open to interrupting your plans. Do not engage any wildlife aside from fish and waterfowl during this time frame. The entire area is void of animals except the ones owned by the Drykas and listed in the previous sentence.
Before he'd ever known how to gut a man, he knew how to gut a fish. That was thanks to his mother.
She'd been a fishwife in Baroque Bay, which always stank of the sea's bounty (and effluence). Every day tons of wrigglers had been hauled ashore and they all needed to be treated somehow. Most times they were just beheaded and salted and sent along to whatever market would sell them, but his mother was always on hand to go some dressing, too.
Extra duties for extra mizas, of course. She was always like that. Either doing more or cutting corners, whichever got her better compensated. So some nights Konrad watched as she went through a great, stinking basket of fresh fish, scaling and cutting and gutting and salting and leaving the next morning with scores of fillets fit for the kitchen.
Watch something enough times - even help out some, when her hands were too sore and the bells were late - and you're going to remember it, know how to do it. A quarter-century later, that hadn't changed.
Getting them was a bitch, though.
Konrad grunted and finished making the rude little pyramid of twigs and sticks outside his tent. Around him, the Pridesun Pavilion was a beavering hive of activity, all of it soggy and smelly. Water had been found, and with it, and abundance of fish! Men and women who'd grown half-mad on salted lamb and steppe nuts were catching as much fish and fowl as they could, and Konrad thanked himself again for getting that shyke done good and early.
He closed his eyes and readied his djed before remembering the tinder box he had. This wyrd he had was a wonder, truly, but it didn't suit to get over-reliant on anything. The metal rasped and scraped a dozen times against the flint, little showers of sparks spattering onto the dead fire until...
Konrad smiled, and made a note to make it bigger. His breeches were still soaking.
That accomplished, the Sunberth man sat down with his legs crossed and drew the hunting knife that he always kept fine enough to split hairs. Most would assume that was in case he ever needed to kill a man with it, and they would be partially right. Just not a big partial.
Sharp knives and patience. Half the job of cooking, right there.
He reached over and grabbed the scaly morsel he'd caught, thumb scraping along the ragged arrow wound that had killed it. He knew that nets and rods were the best preferred means but, well, he didn't have those. He had a few hooks with little string, and a bow and arrows. So he'd improvised.
"Now," he mumbled to himself, as he straightened the fish on its side and he made the first cut, a half-Leth behind the fin, on the side of the fish. "Lesse if I 'member how t'do this..."
The fins nicely sliced out of the equation, he moved on to the head, or just behind it. It was the feel of it, that's where the real skill came in. He went in smoothly, metal probing a quarter-inch at a time until... and there was the backbone. He licked his lips and squinted, though everything was under the scales, of course.
He cut down the back of the fish, from the top to the tail, deep enough that he could pull the freshly-made fillet from the rest of the carcass with his bare hands. He peered inside and frowned, spying little ridges of white bone where he'd left the spine attached. He kept pulling until he'd peeled a half-foot-long strip of scale and flesh from the fish like a banana, then cut it loose.
Konrad held it up to the ever-staring Syna, studying his work. His hands would stink for bells, but he was pleased. There were still shreds of bone in the fillet, but he could pick those out later. And hells, if they weren't too big or too solid, then why bother? Long as no-one choked on them...
He turned the fish over, slapping it onto the desiccated side, and repeated the process. He cursed softly as the blade went too far, juddering gently as he cut through bone. When he peeled that side off, he frowned at the jagged length of bone attached to it, and knew that would take longer to prepare.
But the first one? He skewered that on the end of a stick and left it sizzling over the fire for a chime or two. He had other business.
Lari Lake was a curious calamity of water, scale, shell, fur and hooves that day. The Drykas had driven their herds of horses, cattle, lambs and goats into the water, knowing how close to death many of them were and how pointless it would be to try and draw enough water out by bucket. Endrykas was a moving city, and it would take days to water all of them. Easier to bring the Wind Oak to Sylir, as it were.
Konrad walked to the edge, until the rustle of his boots was replaced by wet squelches instead and he could feel the bottom of them soak. Before him, shaggy cattle bobbed through the water, horns like the fins of sharks. Horses danced and frolicked and goats trotted through the surf. Hundreds. Thousands. A city's worth, after all.
His lips twitched as he wondered if Dapple was out there. He figured the pasture had put their animals in there, too.
"Damn well better be takin' care a' him."
Not that he'd be surprised if they weren't, though. Konrad knew he wasn't too popular among Endrykas, especially not beyond Jonas Pridesun and his litle band of zealots. If it wasn't for the debt he owed the unhinged old man, Konrad would have been gone, but still... it irked him.
Had he scragged anyone? Had he even raised his voice? Thrown a punch? No, because he was a killer, not an idiot, and intended to die an old, rich one. But it was the same complaint, the same reason that he'd heard so many times it didn't even hurt anymore. It was just how things were.
They took one look at him, and saw trouble. Mutilation means monstrosity, and Konrad knew it. So he was alone and apart, in all things. Trapping and training, errands and minor adventures, it was just him, as if he were a leper.
"Aaaaaaaahhhhhh..."
Konrad made the water yellow and let his head roll around on his shoulders as he drained the dog into the lake. He spat at the same time and seemed to direct both sources of fluid towards the Drykas sprawled out with their herds.
"Sod the horse-petchers," he said to himself, buttoning his breeches back up and wandering back to his cooking. "Hardly be the first time f'me, would it?"
Fish Filet Video! :
