Peth had always favored the technique of spear-fishing over the line and hook method that most practiced in these lands. It was a skill he acquired in his youth in the wastes of Vaasa. The trick was to stand as still as possible, and wait for the fish to come to you. It was a lesson in patience, as most fishing methods can be. These thoughts ran through his head, accompanied with memories of the time he spent with the shaman Ohrvak. Ohrvak was a gruff, grey-bearded half-orc, quick to whip his student across the shins with a barbweed branch for not paying attention.
"You lose you're wits out here rukh, and you be something's dinner!" The thorns of the barbweed suddenly slice across the young orckin's legs.
"Stike to kill in one blow! You may not get another! Spear shafts break, or sink in the mire, and I doubt you be swimmin' after it!" The old shaman's keening voice made Peth's ears ache inside. He had gotten used to the bugs and the stench of the springtime melt, but the wailing old man was quickly getting on his nerves.
His rememberance was interrupted by a loud splash, and a hard pull on his fishing line. The fish was surprisingly heavy, forcing Peth to brace himself. His teeth bared and the battle was on. Soon a tusky grin appeared on his face. Despite the fact that the willow pole was starting to crack, he managed to land a large catfish! This made his trip worth while, and he quickly set about cleaning and cooking the fish. He made an effort to enjoy the moment, sitting by the flowing river, a warm fire nearby and a stomach full of fish. No one else usually ventured out this far, and even fewer would make their way through the beetle nests just to find a fishing spot. The solitude brought him peace, which in this land was a rare and fleeting thing.
As he relaxed, he soon caught sight of a torch or lantern on the cliff edge above him. Peth doused the dwindling coals of his own fire and moved quickly out of sight. The light from the torch danced on the nearby rocks for a moment, then stopped moving. The sounds of distant conversation were intermingled with that of digging noises. It seems that Peth's peaceful respite had come to an end. He growled soft and low in irritation, then moved to get a better vantage of the intruders.
He could see two men, both of respectable build. One had long hair, the other worked the shovel. They were standing over one of several old mossy graves. After a short while, the second man tossed the shovel aside, and they both nodded before departing to the northwest. In an effort to follow them, the orckin searched the cliff face for a more direct route but decided against the climb after the loose rock crumbled away in his hand upon his first attempt. Wet and muddy, Peth made his way back along the shoreline grumbling under his breath.
