Solo [Baroque Bay] Here Fishy, Fishy

[Nellie Hawkins]

.5th bell.
.23rd of fall, 514av.

The grey pre-dawn light barely illuminated the water of the Bay, and Nellie was both grateful and frustrated by the lack of visibility; the low light hid her form from casual view, but offered the same protection to any who might wish her harm. Never a peaceful city, Sunberth was especially volatile lately; violence in the streets was escalating to a fever pitch, and being out alone was risky. But a girl still needed to eat. And so she’d found herself skulking through the almost-shadows of the city streets, basket and fishing line in tow, braving the lonesome piers in the hopes of quickly catching enough food to keep her belly full and enough excess to sell on the way back to her apartment.

But her shoulders were tense as she plied her line; the normally relaxing activity was giving her entirely too much time to think and her mind was conjuring truly awful images of the consequences, should she find herself the target of gang violence. The hook hung suspended in the water, line relaxed and undisturbed while her thoughts were anything but. Paranoia, ever-present, magnified itself tenfold the longer she went without distraction, and Nellie nearly bolted up and dashed off, spurred by nothing more threatening than a bird calling from a nearby tree. Huffing, the fisher sent a glare to the treeline, wishing all manner of unpleasant death upon the bird.

With effort, Nellie resettled herself and focused instead on her line, eyes tracing the shining length of it as it spilled out over the salty waters of the bay, disappearing into waters so far undisturbed by her quarry. Still, she stared hard at the line, willing it to move; so intently was she watching, in fact, that she missed the first signs of nibbling fish at her bait. ”Petch!”

Pulling firmly, but not hopefully on the line that she’d left far too long to the tender mercies of the sea, Nellie drew back. As expected, there was only the faintest resistance before the line came easily back out of the water, and dangled from her hand – emptied of bait and of fish. Cursing her luck, Nellie reached for the angle, spearing another small piece of cheese onto its hook. She’d not wanted to take the time to hunt up worms this morning; speed and efficiency won out over frugality, and the cheese she’d saved from last night’s meal had been sacrificed to this early morning endeavor.

Clearly, it was a hit with the fish.

Tossing the line gently back into the bay, she resolved to give no more of it away. The next fish who claimed a meal would also, regrettably, become one.

[Nellie Hawkins]

The sky was lightening, and Nellie looked around nervously, instinct suggesting that she hurry this adventure along and get herself back to the relative safety of her apartment before misery or misfortune found her. She eyed the line, still falling unmolested into the water before her, anxiously waiting for the cheesy treat at the end to snare its prey.

”Here fishy, fishy,” she sing-songed softly; to her own ears, her voice sounded oddly out of place among the dockworkers’ casual, early-morning vulgarities.

Thankfully she didn’t have long to wait before another intrepid fish ventured a nibble at her hook; this time Nellie was ready for it, jerking the hook just a bit to lodge it more securely in the unfortunate diner’s mouth. Then, carefully, steadily she dragged the line in hand over hand, pulling her fish slowly from the comfort of its watery home. Her catch put up minimal struggle, and Nellie knew before seeing it that it would not be one for the record books; still, a fish was a fish, so long as there was enough of it to filet, she was happy enough.

As it broke the surface of the water, droplets flying off to shimmer in the muted light, Nellie nodded in satisfaction. This one would do, and she happily grabbed at its thrashing body, holding it against her side as she deftly removed the hook from the gasping lips. Slick silvery scales made maintaining a firm grip difficult, and Nellie ended up using most of her forearm to keep the little petcher from making a wriggly escape back into the bay.

With no pity, she plucked the lid from her basket and dropped the scaly body inside, where it would quickly gasp its last. Already the fish was moving more sporadically, thrashing had become intermittent twitching, and Nellie secured the lid back over the basket and its struggling contents. Though she felt no sorrow at the creature’s demise, neither did she want to watch its opaque eyes as a lack of water took its toll. More importantly – her hook was now empty and she had more work to do.

Quickly she pinched off another piece of cheese, squeezing it into a ball. It seemed the sealife in the bay were especially fond of dairy, and Nellie carefully pressed the hook through her yellowy bait. Stringing out some more line, she returned her angle to its task and hoped for another quick and easy catch.

[Nellie Hawkins]

But luck was not with her, it seemed; Ovek must have had better things to do than lend his aid to a hungry waif. Undeterred, Nellie sat on the pier, feet dangling; below the salty water, her cheesy bait would be twisting appetizingly, innocently in its efforts to snare another fish.

As she sat, arms tensed, ready to spring into action at the first bit of tug on her line, she let her eyes roam the docks. All the usual suspects were present, and she spent a chime or two studying the sailors and dockworkers as they hurried about their business. Crates were lifted and hauled and cursed at all in the same breath, and the young woman found a strange comfort in the tedious routine. Although the tensions in the city had heightened considerably since the strangers had hauled themselves out of the Bay, life, such as it was, continued on.

The first few days after the - Invasion? Visit? Landing? - had seen a much subdued dockside, as people tried to assess the relative danger. Or relative profit to be had by braving the shores. Nellie herself had avoided the Bay for the first few days after the incident, out of fear. Who knew if there were more of those snaky things lurking in the waters, just waiting to ambush the first unsuspecting person to wander by? No, she’d come cautiously back to the beach, keeping a wary eye on the shoreline and all who braved it, half-suspecting that she would be witness to some sneak attack. When no attack came, she’d been both relieved and mildly disappointed.

Typically Sunberth, like it or not.

”Petch!” While she’d been musing, something in the water had discovered her cheese and attacked it with vigor. Nellie grasped at her pole and line almost desperately, as the activity below threatened to yank it all from her hands. Gaining a firm hold, she peered into the water; if it was a fish, it was definitely bigger than her last one. And if it was anything else, it was decidedly small. Confidently, Nellie began to haul in her line, curious to see what she’d hooked.

A small struggle ensued; her catch seemed determined to live as long as possible, thrashing and pulling back against her line in a desperate bid for freedom. Nellie wasn’t feeling charitable; in fact, she was hungry and ready to be back in the relative safety of her own apartment. With grim determination, she braced herself and began hauling her victim up into the morning light.

It was a delicate balance, reeling the fish in without snapping her line. More than once, in her younger days, she’d been over-anxious and yanked the line in, thinking that the fish on the end would follow good-naturedly, landing docilely on the shore next to her. It hadn’t ever worked out that way, but she’d gotten enough experience re-tying her lines off and lost enough hooks that she no longer counted on the fish to cooperate with her. This one was no exception, but it was losing the battle.

Nellie was happy to see that she’d snagged a fish, indeed, and not some small snaky creature. It twitched and bowed in the air, testing the strength of the line all the way on to the dock, where it pitched about in an impressive display of shining scales and flying water droplets, mouth gaping ineffectively around the metal hook.

[Nellie Hawkins]

The thrashing and flopping slowed, and as the fish stilled Nellie was able to get a clearer picture of its size. Easily longer than her forearm, with a scarred tail end, the fish was one of the largest she'd caught in the bay. Her usual catch was about half the size of the one she'd just landed, and she told the thing as much. "Oy, there, beastie. Ain't seen much yer size out 'ere."

Thoughtfully, she stared out into the relatively calm waters of the bay; was it a fluke? Or had something disturbed the larger fish, usually found much further out in the waters, and chased them inward? Mind on her own musings, Nellie knelt down and began to work her angle out of the gaping mouth of her latest catch. Once freed, she hefted the fish in both hands and deposited it into the basket with its predecessor, noting again the considerable difference in sizes.

Patting her pocket, Nellie felt for the cheese she'd been using as bait. Though there was enough left for another cast, Nellie was torn. It was getting lighter by the chime, and the docks were getting busier with the very types of people Nellie was trying to avoid: people who wouldn't mind knocking a lone woman around and stealing her fish, leaving her for dead or worse. Violence was rampant everywhere in Sunberth, and even moreso the past few days. It was smarter not to take chances.

Popping the cheese into her mouth, she chewed it unenthusiastically; being another day old and spending time in her pocket had done the morsel no favors, and Nellie was just as glad when the last of the taste had been swallowed and left her mouth. The alternative would have been to toss it into the bay; such waste was almost painful for her on the best of days, but with the streets growing more unsafe by the day, it was downright foolhardy to waste any resources, no matter how small.

Fishing finished for the day, or at least the morning, Nellie wound her line up, tying it off securely and placing it carefully in her basket on top of the fish for safe-keeping. Collecting her pole and her basket, she began the tense journey home; it would be much more difficult to hide in the bright light of day. The best she could hope for was an uneventful journey and no reason to run for it.

It would be a shame to be forced to leave the biggest fish she'd ever caught lying rotting on the side of the road.

[Avarice]

Nellie

Skill	Points
Fishing	+3
Observation	+4
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Lore

Location: Baroque Bay

The Paranoia of Sunberth

Fishing: Using Cheese as Bait

Ovek Must Hate Me Today

Fishing: Saltwater Trout of Baroque Bay

Stuff?
Consequences, Injuries, Expenses, and More!

• Catch of the Day: Saltwater Trout (Medium: 5 lbs; 10 gm value)
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  Catch of the Day: Saltwater Trout (Small: 1 lb; 2 gm value)

Comments

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