Thu Mar 24, 2011 2:54 pm by Sarius, The Mad Fisherman
*As Sarius wandered down to the shore where his boat was tied, his mind drifted towards the time of his first remembering. It felt like an age ago, though in truth had only been a handful of years. He remembered awakening in a sea of smoke and flame, surrounded by sparking machinery, bleeding from numerous cuts. His ship had crashed on the planet, whose name he had not yet ascertained, though why he couldn't say. How he knew it was a ship was another mystery. Everything before that was either blank or extremely fuzzy. Occasionally he saw flashes of ice and snow, of fellow people with smooth blue skin and glowing red eyes. The names were always beyond his ability to grasp. Irksome to say the least.*
*By the time he had reached his makeshift pier, his senses were fully awake. The waves were hard today, slapping the cliff face hard before receding. It would be a hard day he knew, though there was little choice left in the matter. He could sit out and wait for the next day, but his rations were already depleted. Every day without food meant another day he would grow weaker. That he could not allow. Leaping from the stone path to his wooden dingy, Sarius boarded the tiny ship and began to untie the rope securing it to the mooring. Once free he grabbed and oar and began to push off. His muscles strained as he fought against the tide, pushing the craft further and further from shore. Once a safe distance away from the cliff face, he dropped the sails and lets the wind do the rest of the work.*
*There were nets already in place from the day before. Thankfully the waters had been calmer then. The winds this time of year were generally more even tempered, though why today they chose to act up he couldn't say. Something in the air wasn't quite right, that much he was certain about. Sarius moved over to the starboard side and began to mull around the floor until his blue heavily calloused hands grasped the wooden haft of his trident. It was tipped with three stone spear points he had fashioned himself. Not the most impressive of tools, though more than capable of spearing fish when need be. For the last few weeks back at the shack he had been working on making use of the metal from his crashed ship, though the process was slow, especially as he had no idea what he was doing. Making the boat and hunting tools, again, all one big mystery.*
"No time for troubled thoughts. The nets are just ahead."
*There was no one else around to hear him, which brought to question why he was talking aloud. Truth be told he didn't know. Perhaps he was going a bit mad after all this time spent alone. It had been what, six years since the crash? He only knew that because the ship he had been on was equipped with a still working calender. Galactic Standard Time, they called it. Well, good bit of luck that did him. It was clear the calender didn't account for the world he was on. Winters were warm here while the summers were cold. He took a moment to spit over the side, clearing the taste of salt water from his mouth. Again his mulled about around the bottom of the boat, this time coming back up with a wineskin. It was a brew he had made himself from some of the local plants mixed with honey. Pig swill he called it, for it tasted horrible, but the drink did his body good. Sometimes while fully engorged on the substance, Sarius swore his memory began to clear.*
*He placed the skin to his lips and leaned his head back, letting the honey liquor trickle down into his mouth and burn his throat. Once done he replaced it on the ground and began to search the sea for signs of his nets. There should be a buoy just up ahead, a floating marker to tell him where he cast his nets the day before. Sharp eyes scanned the horizon, until a flash of something metallic caught his eye. A shard from his ship, designed to catch the sun. A clear enough signal if ever there was one. Getting back behind the wheel he turned his boat about, heading straight for the floating sign.*