World of Warcraft®

*Tacked onto the public board in major cities where relevant, in common*

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Fishmonger for Hire!

In need of numerous paraphyletic organisms for your culinary creations?
Looking to diversify your stock of craniate animals that lack limbs with digits?
Desire to expand your offering of gill-bearing aquatic creatures?

Then Look No Further!!
...but please keep reading.

Dr. Mahlr'D is now moonlighting as a Semi-Professional Angler for all your Angling necessities.

Contact him anytime, day or night, by Mail.
Provide a list of your requirements and a meeting will be scheduled to discuss particulars.

Good Fishing! and Fair Weather!

((Yea! So, fun story, I decided to attend one of those fishing tournaments in STV and wouldn't you know? I got hooked! *roll snare* The tournament was over in the first 15 minutes, but I kept on fishing for the fun of it.

In the days following I started RPing that Cail had retired from practicing medicine and was now spending his twilight years out on the lakes and rivers of Azeroth! Everyday I'd RP him walking somewhere to "level his fishing" and so far I'm having a blast doing it, but I'm catching so many fish. I didn't know what to do with all of them. I hated vendoring stacks and stacks of them so I started leveling my Cooking and storing them for RP purposes, but now my bank is getting full!

I think I might organize a BBQ or something...but I digress...

So I had this brainy idea; maybe I could RP selling my catch to those that run Tavern Night RP Activities, for them to hand out if they'd like. I don't know about you, but it's always fun to actually be handed something in RP, even if its a worthless trinket. After a short chat with one such person I thought "why not expand the offer to anyone and everyone?"

So there ya have it.

If you can think of an RP need for my fish, any need at all, then by all means whisper me or mail a letter. We don't even have to meet, I'll be happy to ship them to you free of cost. While I'm leveling, all fish I offer is totally free. If you need a particular fish I'll see what I can do for ya. I just like to fish!))

Study hall was the worst. The. Worst. For like a bajillion hours, Khromie had been half-heartedly drawing poison apple green eyes all over her copy of Dr. Mahlr'D's latest extremely dense and complicated article on emergency blood transfusions. Reaching her breaking point, Khromie heaved a sigh and raised her hand.

Brother Benjamin one-upped Khromie's sigh and eyed the junior medic cautiously.

"Yes, Sister Khromie?"

Khromie held up her Razzle Dazzle Rainbow Wand and twirled it like a little baton as she replied, "B.B., my highlighter's broken!"

Brother Benjamin felt his palm gravitate instinctively towards his face. "Do you mean it's out of ink?"

Khromie nodded with so much vigor that it required her to hop onto the table, garnering a few glares from her more studious classmates. "Yeah, it's broken! Like, SO broken!"

"You're welcome to borrow mine, or I'm sure any of your peers will be happy to lend you theirs."

Khromie shook her head. "I can only concentrate with a Razzle Dazzle Rainbow Wand, patented by Sizzspring Polyspan Brightspark! May I pretty, pretty, prettiest PLEASE go buy another one? PUHLEAAAAASE?"

Brother Benjamin entertained the thought of denying the request, then shuddered at the memory of Sister Khromie's newest game, something she liked to call Surprise Mammoth. With another heavy sigh, Brother Benjamin dismissed Khromie with a flick of his wrist.

"Fine. You have half-an-hour, Sister Khromie. If you're late, you know I'll have to report you to Mother Superior."

One of Khromie's classmates snapped. "For fel's sake, she's not even good at cleaning the toilets! If my bum gets covered in glitter one more time I'll--"

Brother Benjamin cast a stern look at the prelate, cutting off his outburst. "That's enough, Brother Charles. Sister Khromie, go buy your Razzle Daz...Your highlighter. Be prompt about it and return at once."

"HOORAAAAY! Light be with you, et cetera, et cetera, B.B.! Van Winkle, to the Blu--to the stationary store!" Her altar-yeti in tow, Khromie ran through the halls of the Cathedral, singing a jaunty tune.

Just a few, teensy weensy drinks later, Khromie was on her way out of the Blue Recluse with five minutes left to spare when she spotted the fishmonger's notice. What luck! This was JUST the sort of services she was looking for! She searched her pockets for something to write with and pulled out her trusty Razzle Dazzle Rainbow Wand which, of course, was not at all broken. Checking her pocketwatch, Khromie penned a hasty reply.

Dear Friend Fishmonger!

Please send ALL the fish in your inventory to one Mister Fatcat Boopin of the Pea Farmers. Please bill Tom Winter, also of the Pea Farmers.

xoxoxo
Khromie Overspark

So excited by the opportunity to make amends to Mister Boopin for mistaking him for an imposter, Khromie failed to notice that this fishmonger and the esteemed medical scholar whose work she had just been studying were one and the same. As Khromie decorated her signature with hearts and a baby unicorn, Van Winkle tugged on her arm with a low yowl. Khromie squeaked. She was late.

*drools

Spriggel hurried back to the Ironforge AAMS Visitor Center bulletin board lugging several cat carriers. Pushing aside a realtor's card, she wrote on his notice:

Dear Dr. Mahlr'D

Any fish you could send me would be greatly appreciated. I have recently come into possession of a mailbox full of magical cats; Gentyl says they're magical because of the glitter but she is mistaken. They are magical because they all fit into my 1'x1'x2' mailbox; it's quite a sight. There must be 50 or so of them, so if you could send me enough fish to feed that many, I will be in your debt.

Spriggel Lockbolton
AAMS Ironforge Branch Mgr

She then lugged the carriers, that had fallen out of her mailbox when she opened it, up into the Ironforge AAMS Visitor Center to her desk. She hoped the cats would not be too distracting for the staff while she was away on her usual rounds, and she puzzled what to do with the dozens of cats STILL left in her mailbox.

Well at least she had a valid feline reason not to check her mailbox for bills anytime in the next week.

((If you could send or have AAMS pickup from you about 6 stacks of any fish, Spriggel thinks that folks are more likely to take a free kitty if it comes with its own food. Should make for some fun RP. Although it might stink up the office. Hmm, maybe she'll have them all moved to a central location - say the Booty Bay office . . . .))

Sizzspring Polyspan Brightspark pulled her saltwater matted hair from the harbor and gasped. Shaking the water from her hair and a few quick thumps to her tilted head to clean out her ears, she flicked a lever on her latest invention a pair of goggles for gathering information while underwater; the AquaticEyeGlasses.

Air intake levels: 7. Exceeding normal capacity by 2.
Must not stay under that long in the future without considering a breathing apparatus.

She gleefully sprinted around the peer, hugging every single dockworker and knocking over a few sailors in the process. The test was a success. It was in the midst of her triumphant celebration that a new display appeared before her eyes.

Shark levels: 112. Exceeding normal capacity by infestation.
Need to increase fish population or provide food elsewhere. Perhaps shark predators?

The panic stricken sheet ghost white gnome began to cry. One hundred twelve sharks!? She could never go swimming in the harbor with Khromie if there were that many sharks. What she needed was a gun of some sort. A gun that would shoot a bunch of fish at the sharks until they were so full that they left to go hibernate. Sharks hibernated like bears, right? She would need to ask a druid about that. Maybe Lerrelin would tell her. Afterall, they were best friends, right? Anyway Khromie would know best and Sizy took off in a sprint up to the Cathedral to find her bestestest friend in the whole of Stormwind City. Maybe even Azeroth. Maybe even the universe.

Normally, Pippo could have given Sizy a ride, but after he dropped her off, he jumped into the harbor and stunk, so she sent him off to the groomers to get bathed and his fur untangled. When she got to the top of the stairs, she stopped, panted, popped open a RocketFuel Energy Drink (available now for 25s from all of your local providers or via delivery, order by mail or stone). The liquid disappeared into her waiting gullet and with renewed vigor, she continued her sprint when she burst into Brother Benjamin's lessons screaming.

"Raving Raptor Revenge! I've come for you Khromie!"

The poor man fell over with chest pangs. Then Khromie ran in behind her hollering.

"I'm not late. I'm not late! I swear with the... oh hi Sizy." She looked around the room at all the scared priests and paladins and at her friends claw fingered stance. "Raving Raptor Revenge?"

Sizy turned and sulked. "Damn, I was sure I would get you."

"Troll's balls, you got the rest of them real good though. What are you doing here?"

"First, I thought you might need another Razzle Dazzle Rainbow Wand (now with a Dash of Sparkle). And to ask you, do you know where I can get lots of fish?"

(( Side note: Khromie, our weekend RP session should totally be a grooming of pets and mounts featuring the latest grooming inventions by Sizy and possibly Sizzle if she thinks it's a great idea as well. We may need fish to keep the animals calm while they get groomed. Especially, if the machines break...))

[ Fab. I'm there. We could also combine forces with Sprinkles and do some sort of cat adoption event. Replying on MYaTO thread for Noikona, as well. ]

With a tremendous effort, and no small amount of ingenuity, the old gnome hefts the last of the heavy iron lockboxes to the top of the wooden stairs.

Aside from the few odd crates stacked haphazardly the upstairs platform of the shop The Silver Shield, used mainly for storage, was largely empty. It was a perfect location for the Doctor. Not too large, not too small, just spacious enough for his personal items, a cot, a modest work table for studying and the odd tinkering, and room enough to move. Pacing back and forth often aided his mental process, as too do his quiet mumbles and murmurs.

"Are you certain you don't want any help master gnome?" Bryan Cross called up the stairs. Shield merchant and proprietor of The Silver Shield, the man was fair minded and very amiable, allowing the old gnome a place to stay while he looked for a more permanent residence.

Cail waved down at the man. "No no." Between heaving breaths. "This... is the... the last of them... And please... call me Ducky." Bryan grinned and with a nod returned to his work.

The old gnome leaned against the iron lockbox heaving deep breaths and glanced over to the pile in the middle of his pacing space.

"Two...four...eight..." he mumbled, counting the number of iron lockboxes that he had stacked.

"Twenty-four...no twenty-five...and this," he patted the lockbox that currently held him verticle. "This makes twenty-six."

Sims, his superlatively intelligent mechanized squirrel companion, beeped and chirped. It popped into view at the top of the pile of iron lockboxes.

"Yes yes, I know." Cail removed his loosely threaded fishing hat and wiped his brow. "I couldn't very well just leave them there on the shore where I fished them up! Besides..." he stood proudly, regaining his composure, and tossed his hat aside. The edges of his mustache curling into a smile. "Finders keepers."

Grabbing a spanner from his work table, Cail returned to the final lockbox and knelt beside, working at the lock. "Who knows what untold treasures these may hold!"

"Ducky!" The voice called from below again. "A nice stack of letters arrived for you earlier. I left them on you work table."

The old gnome glanced back and spotted the obviously large stack of letters that he had so easily overlooked before. "Oh! Many thanks Mr. Cross!" He dropped the spanner next to the lockbox and opened a few of the letters on his work table, scanning through them quickly.

"Khromie...Khromie...Ah! Yes, the lass from the sermon. Delightful gal." he read again. "Yes. Boopin of the Pea Farmers. Yes, I'll get right on that." Cail grinned widely, happy that he finally had a purpose for all these fish he's been catching.

Most he had been able to store on ice, others he had flash frozen thanks to the efforts of his Magician contacts. The rest however were crated up and stored in the vaults of the new 2nd Stormwind Bank. They were beginning to smell. He needed to get rid of them before the bank managers discovered them and closed his accounts!

This sounds like a job for AAMS!

Loosely threaded fishing hat? *ponders whether the hat is turned while Ducky stands still or whether the hat is held still while Ducky twirls underneath it*

((between that and Raving Raptor Revenge - I had the bestest belly laugh today - thanks Gnome Corp.

And Khromie, if I get a satisfactory reply to my GM ticket to temporarily allow Spriggel to catapult kittens into people's backpacks [ala paper zepplins or leather balls] then adoptions won't be necessary. If however the GM is not a gnome (or even worse, a troll), then adoptions will be necessary & Spriggel would be glad to join ya'll.

Wish me luck. And just imagine projectile happy glitter kittens filling the skies! Hmm, wonder if it would work on Broodin too . . . .))

The Old Gnome sauntered into the Pig n' Whistle, making his way toward the rear of the tavern, bundle of his freshest catch in tow. With a hearty greeting to the tavern keep and barmaid, he hauled his load into the kitchen. He found a nook to store his haul for the moment so that it is out of the way of the cook, who was busy chopping meat.

"A good catch." He muttered to himself. "A good catch indeed." He removed a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his brow. "Hot day. Hot day it is."

He stood for a moment to admire his hefty haul, then exited back to the main salon. He took a seat at one of the vacant tables, and ordered a mug of ale. He pulled out his small notebook.

This particular book was different. Instead of medical studies, theories, wild hypothesis, and various other research notes, this small book was half filled with regional weather patterns, tidal tables, sweet spots for bait, spawning times, pool locations, migratory habits and locations of certain "honey holes" for various types of classified fish.

It was quite simply everything he had learned so far about fishing, and yet the book was only half filled. Cail would never be satisfied until every last page was filled complete with cross-references and observations scribbled throughout.

As he studied the pages a thought occurred to him. He stopped the barmaid as she passed. "Pardon, but would you know of anyone that could could use some lobster?" The young woman blinked at the old gnome.

"I'm a fisherman you see, of sorts, and I've just returned from a long trip. I've brought with me a hefty catch of various fish, and with them a fair amount of Darkclaw Lobster, all captured fresh from the coast of the Blasted Lands!"

The young barmaid stared vacantly.

"I'm awaiting the arrival of a mage associate, upon which they will all be flash-frozen to preserve their freshness!"

The increasingly vacant young woman slowly shook her head. Cail nodded. "...and there ya have it."

Cail turned back to his small book and mug of ale.

Journal Entry
Written this the Fourteenth day of the Seventh month, according to common calendar.

Many months I have wandered the through the lesser and greater Kingdom of Stormwind, following the river flows and natural spring fissure lakes. At each major settlement, and at a few minor, I have paused for some days to test the waters with nothing but my trusty fishing pole, some basic bobbles, and a novice skill.

I have now returned to the Old Town of Stormwind proper. Given time to reflect, I note that my own personal skill with rod and reel has increased dramatically, as has my knowledge and intuition where the aquatic is concerned. By no means to do I count myself among the masterful, but I have become quite confident and competent indeed, learning as well along the way how to wind and create my own lure.

The kingdom is vast and full of challenge, but I fear that I grow restless even now. I desire to experience something dramatically different, to travel to lands I have yet to visit in my own lifetime. I believe that on the morrow I will inquire with the port authority on obtaining passage to the elfen lands. I will also seek a modest lodging in Darnassus that I might have a base from where to operate. After thoroughly exploring all they have to offer in their homelands I will then set out to parts unknown throughout Kalimdor. Places I have only visited only through book and imagination.

I do not go unprepared! I will have my trusty gear, my bait and tackle, my long time mechanical companion Sims who will surely look after me, and my hard won knowledge and intuition.

I will also be packing my Mechanical Copter and Strider, as to not be without transportation and find myself in the most dire of situations.

[notes]

Secure transportation, complete with all necessary payments and paperwork to ensure safe passage.
Secure lodging in Darnassus.
Obtain the services of a competent guide, as I would hate to wander into a deadly situation that could have otherwise been totally avoidable.

Shipping
The good doctor's meeting with Captain Jackson Brassbuckle earlier in the week went swimmingly. The fellow was cordial and generous enough to provide a short tour of his galleon, the AMS Wobbly Compass. Everything appeared in clean, tidy, and in order so far as the old gnome could tell anyway; and the two settled on a more than fair price. Passage and Freight to the mythical World Tree city.

The old gnome felt alive and tingled with excitement as he made his way to the ship. The pier buzzed with activity. Large burly men hurried this way and that, carrying crates, lugging sacks, and pushing barrels of all manner from one place to another. Thick ropes lashed the galleon in place but even so the waters of the harbor gently raised and lowered the massive ship along with the long pier. Cail rounded a mountain of supplies, stacked high and ready for loading, and spied the good Captain standing near the wide boarding plank barking orders.

“Lash th' lot below!” He motioned with both hands. “Other side!”
“Would ye get tha' tied down aready?!” He pointed to a group of men working a wooden crane on the pier.
“Would ye get tha' tied down arready?!” He pointed to a group of men working a wooden crane on the pier.
The men called out in unison “Aye Cap'n!”
“Oi! Where's me manifest?!” The captain glanced about in a scowl. His eyes locked on the old gnome as he waddled near.

Cail waved with a grin that curled up his wildly fluffy gray whiskers. “Ahoy my Captain!” The little old gnome was a sight to see. His dark brown plaid shirt neatly pressed and cuffed at wrists. His lighter brown pants held up by a dark pair of suspenders, which seemed superfluous given that he was also girded by a dark leather belt with a variety of pouches all around. His cleaned and polished dark boots clomped on the planks with each step. Each hand was gloved fingerless with dark leather. In one he totted a modest wooden box with a handle on top. The other held the strap at his shoulder which belonged to the aptly sized pack slung on his back. Placed cross-body, as if it were a weapon at the ready, was his beloved fishing pole. An item of simple but efficient design, he would say.

Captain Jack broke into a wide grin, the old gnomes' exuberance melting way his scowl. “Doctor! How fare ye?”

Cail set his box down. Putting his hand flat against the brow he peered out over the harbor. “I fare rather well, thank you Captain. Water seems a bit choppy this morning!”

“Aye.” Captain Jack faced the sea.

“Weather appears grim on the horizon. Will this cause any concern?” The old gnome asked more out of curiosity than genuine concern. He hadn't ever sailed in a ship so large and impressive, let alone venture across the sea.

Captain Jack peered down at the old gnome. “Good eye on ye. We'll make ye a sailor yet!” He chuckled but turned to the sea seriously.

“The sea, she's a finicky lass. She'll love ye through the evenin', grace yer sails wit' fair winds an' calm waters by th' night... Then she'll toss ye about in th' mornin' all o' the sudden, an' fer wha' seems like no good reason.” The captain scratched the faint stubble on his jaw. “Aye, she's a tawdry, vexatious !@#$%...” His voice trailed off as if lost in a moments' thought.

Quickly snapping back. “Naught t' be worryin' yerself for, good Doctor. We're certain t' have a strong wind this day.”

Cail nodded, picking up his box. Captain Jack motioned toward the ship. “Come aboard and I'll show ya to your quarters.” A loud crash of splintering wood made the man and gnome cringe. The captain grinned. “Perhaps you go inside an I'll finish with this loadin.”

As Cail entered galley Captain Jacks voice faded behind. A slurred mash of insult mixed with instruction.

[reservation for the follow up tale from Shipping . Likely won't need it, but you never know. ;D ]