Gone Fishing

[Quintus]

May 18th | River outside of Dawnseekers Camp

The young creature stood poised on the river bank, barely moving a muscle as it stared into the crystal clear water. Below it could see as several large trout swam quickly past it, not seeming to care about the enraptured audience to their daily comings and goings. Quintus just continued to watch them, occasionally leaning closer causing the fish to scatter at the sudden movement from above before leaning back again and continuing to watch the creatures swimming below. 

Finally, a big, lazy catfish caught Quintus' eye as it moved along the river bed. In an instant he sprung, plunging his head and forearms into the cold water with a loud splash. He emerged again, the fish wriggling frantically in his arms as he threw it down on the bank and clamped his jaws, filled with sharp needle like teeth, around it's head and crushed it.

"Food!" he cried happily, bouncing up and down and clearly pleased at his catch "Food! Food!"

[Septima]

Septima chose the moment to unceremoniously spit a shiny wad of half-chewed elderberry onto the ground, her mood just as black. Her purple scales still shone from when she had plunged into the icy water herself, splashing in a frenzy as though the fish were enemies to be crushed into obedience. Septima was not as fast as she thought she was, and her short temper frayed as failure piled upon failure. In what was obviously a case of sour grapes, Septima told Quintus that berries taste better than "any dumb ol' fish."

They did not. 

"Beginner's luck," she said petulantly, repeating something she heard Boso say when Grey Brother beat him in a race. 

Septima then heard someone coming and frowned at the thought of Quintus being praised for his prize. So she shoved him to the ground.

[The Gourmand]

When the Gourmand wasn’t concerning himself with the war part of the war (such as training or making weapons), he was usually gathering food. He liked to eat, and he ate a lot. But he did spend a good chunk of his time acquiring food, whether by hunting or trading. He did this chiefly because he didn’t want to hear anyone whining about his appetite, considering he himself did a good chunk of the gathering. At this time, he’d just returned from one of the nearest villages, and one of their main trade partners. As his pod allowed him a sustained speed better than most would be able to walk, and that he could hang a decent amount of goods off it’s sides, the Gourmand was rather useful in venturing out to acquire supplies. Today, he carried a good deal of bread, honey, syrups, preserves, and ample jerky… and if anyone wanted to say he didn’t replenish the food he ate, that seventy-five pound sack of bacon was gonna go right upside their face.

Even though it had been a while since the Dawnseekers had formed, the Gourmand still kept himself well prepared for any ill will directed toward him. He knew it was bound to still happen. He wasn’t like the rest of them and he knew it. Furthermore, now that he had family here, he was yet more keen to keep an eye out for them, even if he did tend to do so at a distance. The Gourmand felt the vast majority of the army had done well, pulling together for the greater good, but there were still some people who seemed primarily self-interested. And the sea beast wouldn’t put it beyond them to attempt to target his children as some sort of petty revenge scheme against him for his mistake.  He felt the need to be vigilant.

Initially he’d been drawn in when he realized his offspring appeared to be unsupervised. The Gourmand, acutely aware of their vulnerability, detoured his path to the camp proper and hovered closer to the riverside. Most of the underbrush was pushed aside by the bottom of his vehicle, and the higher branches were swatted away as he occasionally whipped a tentacle around as needed. When he reached the clearing at the river bank, he just glanced down at the little mer-creatures.

He hadn’t spoken, or even acknowledged what had just happened. The Gourmand was consumed in a seriousness -- a wariness of attack, less by the forces of nature, but by his own supposed allies.

“You’re alone?”

Was all he said.

[Quintus]

Quintus let out an angry hiss when he hit the ground, immediately leaping to his feet and moving to shove Septima in much the same way she had done to him. For one thing, she would steal his fish and he was not going to let his younger sister get the praise that was rightfully his. He'd show her! 

However, it was then that his father spoke and the young mer-child whipped his head around. He had completely forgotten that their father had been nearby and no doubt that if he was caught red-handed in shoving his sister then he would be in trouble. Their father was not exactly the most doting of parents but Quintus didn't want to test him when it came to punishing obvious wrong-doing. Instead, he quickly snatched up the dead fish in his arms, running to Gourmand and holding out his prize with a grin.

"Look! Food!" he declared proudly, hoping his father had seen his excellent catch "I did it!"

Almost as an after-thought, he turned his head and flicked his long tongue out at Septima, that would teach her when he got the praise and she was left in the dust.

[Danielle]

“You caught that all by yourself? That’s awesome!”

A slightly deep, raspy, yet still distinctly femme voice called out as the little cocker lady bounded onto the scene, stumpy tail wagging ninety miles a minute. Dani had only been in the Dawnseeker camp for a couple of days, but in that short time, she had already seen so many exciting and downright weird things. Sure there had been some strange people back in France with the Rogues but none of them even half-way compared to the three creatures before her. They were half-animal and half-fish! Like how cool was that!?

With a barely contained giggle, Dani trotted right up to the little red creature to inspect his prize, a look of awe crossing her face. “Wow, it isn’t any little thing either is it?” she asked as she looked the decently sized catfish over. It was nearly half the size of the little creature holding it and had to have been heavy for him. Still, he held it up with pride to his father, and Dani’s tail wagged some more. Another giggle escaping her as she spoke up to the much larger merman.

“Your kid is awesome, Mr. Gourmand. That fish is huge! I’d of never been able to catch it that’s for sure!”

[Septima]

Septima stared malevolently at Quintus. She might have replied to the challenge had the Gourmand not shown. So she could only sulk while Quintus showed off the fish. Septima had dreams of grandeur and glory, but she was a child still. 

"Your kid is awesome, Mr. Gourmand. That fish is huge! I'd of never been able to catch it that's for sure!"

Septima felt like gagging. 

It galled Septima that Quintus was bigger and stronger than her, as if an hour or two of age made a difference. There wasn't any sense in it. They came from the same clutch of eggs, but by the time Septima was ready to fight her way out of the egg, Quintus had shed his egg tooth and was walking on two feet. To add insult to injury, they had been given names based on the order of their birth. Her brother was named Quintus because he was the fifth to hatch. Septima was the seventh. Quintus would not dare steal her thunder had her name been Prima!

[The Gourmand]

The Gourmand tilted his head in thought. It seemed the wheels never stopped turning. His kind didn’t need as much care as most others, but he was always on the lookout for potential harm. The land-walker, the “canine”, that appeared was regarded by him as a potential hazard. He was decently high ranking, so he was informed the story. Normally he would be suspicious of those who come in from another faction, and he was, but he felt less of a reason to fear a dog. How much damage could they do? The Gourmand had more of a reason to fear a human or a bigger animal.

But spies? What about spies. The Gourmand had his doubts about that, if the Rogue refugee’s story was true. The father of the family? Executed for treason… for not letting a child be killed?

Disgusting.

But what was the Gourmand really expecting from an abusive system like monarchy?

“My deepest sympathies go to you and your family,” the baritone voice was paired with a brief, but potent, stare straight into the dog’s brown eyes.

He severed the subject by turning his attention to his offspring. Having not yet commented, he debated on giving praise, but then he saw his smaller daughter. The Gourmand was decently skilled at reading faces to begin with, so reading a small child was… well, childsplay. He knew Septima was salty about her brother. The seat of the pod creaked as he relaxed, gently brushing his chin with a hand and quirking his brow.

“Excellent,” he addressed Quintus, before continuing in a lighter tone, “I’ll tell you what, perhaps we could do with a hunting lesson, from the old Gourmand, hm?”

The Gourmand bet none of the Dawnseekers would guess he’d be nice to kids. Well, he’d show them. Clearly, Septima wasn’t the only one who was salty.