Rather Be Fishin’

Ironforge, the Forlorn Cavern.

Leave from the front, and rest and relaxation.

Sort of.

“I had to move from the pool I was fishing in because you came over and threw up in it,” Robaz the Frail said, casting his fishing line into the cave pool. “Killed all the fish.”

“Fishing in an ornamental fountain was a typical elf trick anyway,” Ringo Flinthammer said mildly, reeling in his own line and preparing to cast it out again. “Remind me to go throw up in Teldrassil’s moon wells.”

“That is just blasphemy, pure and simple,” Robaz sighed. Robaz was among the first night elves Ringo had ever met. He was humble, for a night elf, reserving his overwhelming arrogance for insisting that he was a better fisherman and cook than Ringo.

“Stay in there longer,” Ringo chuckled, eyeing Robaz standing in the pool up to his knees, while Ringo sat on shore. “Ye still smell like elf.”

“Keep yapping, sir. I take it you have been here for two days straight and still nothing.”

The two had agreed to settle who was the better fisherman, once and for all, by attempting to catch Old Ironjaw, the legendary uncatchable fish of Ironforge.

“I have been killing elves, my favorite pastime,” Ringo said, feeding a fish to Murky, who stood nearby, hoping for just such a handout. “Have you not heard? My elf-killing fame has spread far and wide.”

“Outrageous,” Robaz sniffed. “Odd, i just fished up a heavy shortbow. I wonder what silly dwarf dropped that in the water, I have never fished up something like that.”

“Dwarves don’t use bows. Some elf must have drowned.”

“Impossible, the water here only goes to our knees.”

“He was probably staring at his reflection, like all elves love to do, and fell in.”

“Elves do not ‘drop’ things, only stubby fingered dwarfs do that.”

“My fingers aren’t stubby. They’re big-boned.”

Robaz snickered to himself.

“Do ye know what the night elf national motto is?” Ringo asked after a moment.

“Go ahead, sir, I await your wit.”

“‘Not in the face! Not in the face!’”

“I wonder about you sometimes, sir.”

Old Ironjaw plucked the bait off their hooks and swam away into the darkness at the far end of the pool.


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4 Responses to “Rather Be Fishin’”

  1. Sanlear Says:

    Old Ironjaw is laughing at you two, I suspect.

  2. Only elves and dwarves would go about this in such an inefficient way! Poles and string! Get an engineering team in there and drain the damn pool!

  3. Llyrwyn Says:

    Better yet…use dynamite. I hear the gnomes say it works wonders. ;-)

  4. oh my….oh MY…this had me chuckling the entire read through.

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