As Michael sat watching the tip of his pole the air seemed to chill. His focus on it's every movement from a slight sway upwards as a gentle breeze blew in to a dip down as a nibble came it was awe inspiring. His reflexes told him the time would come soon as he watched and watched with baited breath for the moment he awaited.
Before long a sudden jerk came as the first of the day would attach itself to his hook. To the untrained eye you'd never realize the pole shifted upwards at a slight angle counter to where it's initial dip had gone securing the hook to the cheek of the fish. A trained skill many with the fishing skill would spend years to master. The arch in the air left an after image as the line was pulled back and with the grace of a dragonfly a fish, notably a rainbow trout of staggering size, flew into the air.
Michael unphased by his quick motions nor the fish he had caught didn't even appear to move. However the trout would appear in a bucket filled with water and the line returned to its position in the water. His calm demeanor and laser focus maintained as he would repeat this process a few times. The fish in question growing in number from 1 to 5 to 10. By the time a group of adventurers would come to pass around noon Michael had a decent haul of fish.
The adventurers would take notice of Michael. As they emerged it would be a fairly standard looking party. A fighter adorned with basic chainmail and a broadsword with hair as black as the night and a fairly handsome face. A sorceress in a flowing dress dyed to have the hue of the night sky accentuating her beauty and power. A ranger of elven descent slim yet elegant with her bow in hand. A cleric with the symbol of the true god emblazoned onto their vestments. The only thing missing seemed to be a rogue.
They all looked at the man fishing in the lake, however they seemed to be concerned. The cleric took the initiative approaching the man. "Sir, may the true god bless you, but might I ask what you are doing?"
Michael looked at the cleric with a cold gaze as he moved a finger over his lips signaling the cleric should be quiet. His concentration broken until both heard a subtle sound. Looking back it would seem the line had broken. Something strong had taken the bait and the line with a victorious glee from the fisherman.
The cleric bowed in apology his voice quieter than before as he spoke "my apologies I didn't mean to interrupt you. I was concerned for your safety as goblins had been spotted in the area."
Michael sighed as he looked at the pole missing it's line now. He nodded "no worries. It was bound to happen. Though I haven't seen anything besides bait and fish. You might have gotten some bad information."
The cleric nodded raising back up with a smile. "well I do hope you are right. We aren't far from town and I wouldn't want people in danger. Might I ask what bait you are using?"
Michael smiled proudly as beloved his craft. "I am using the entrails of some varmints in the area. They work very well to entice the bass that call this lake home."
Looking at the bait the cleric nodded "I do see you have some fine bait. You wouldn't happen to be the man that donates part of his haul upon his return to the temple?"
Michael nodded "I am. The head priestess has been very kind to me and her predecessor was kind to my family. It is the least I could do."
"I do thank you. Many aren't as kind seeing the temple as a symbol of greed. If there's anything I or my party can do to make your day better feel free to ask."
Michael looked at the party ready for battle. "Please avoid loud noises. It scares the fish. Though I'll be moving to the southern end of the lake."
"We will try to avoid that area. Have a blessed day and many fine catches." He smiled accepting a simple departing word and going with his party to the Northern end.
Michael would in contrast pack up and move to the southern end of the lake. His attention not on the party as he began his preparations for the next round of catching.
First he replaced the line and inspected his pole. Every fiber was inspected for damage and signs of wear that risked losing more fish. The line was flawless hand woven to handle the strength of a large and powerful fish. As her found it to be in proper shape he then looked to his tackle box. An assortment of various hooks, bobbers, and hand crafted reusable bait filled his eyes. He selected a simple hook and baited it with more of the varmints entrails.
As Michael began to fish again the calm returned to him. A smile of a man doing what he loved as he returned to the process of catching fish after fish only breaking for a simple lunch. The sun would slowly begin its descent towards the distant mountains though there was plenty of daylight left.
Then it came. The sound of Battle would ring out disturbing Michaels peace. He looked directly to the sound and saw the party in a fearsome battle. He had his own thoughts though it was mostly in annoyance as they'd scare the fish.
From the party's perspective it was a struggle. They weren't the most experienced of adventurers, in fact they were a rather new party. Still the fighters sword swung through the air cutting down a goblin as an arrow would fly past piercing another. The sounds of incantations filled the air as a small ball of fire would soar at another goblin igniting it as a heavenly glow covered the fighter from the clerics prayers.
Still to Michael all it was was noise. His line no longer moved from nibbles. The fish thoroughly frightened swam deep into the lake to hide and prevent themselves from being caught up in the battle. Michael with a bucket now overloaded with fish groaned, but began to pack his things. His stool folded and attached to the bottom of the tackle box which in turn was attached the bottom of his pack. The fish now ready to be slaughter were removed from the bucket and hung by his pole to be carried back to town.
Michaels battle was done and yet he didn't seem satisfied. He had dozens of fish and yet he looked upset. He spoke to no one "they're going to hate me. There isn't a single good fish." He hefted the pack onto his back casually lifting the pole covered in fish and began to walk back towards town.
Upon arrival he did his routine. He went to the temple to be greeted by the head priestess. He apologized repeatedly offering the largest fish to the priestess and promised to bring something worthy to her one day. She still told him he was amazing for what he caught. Their typical chatter bringing a smile to those around them as it was like a comedy act before he would go to the market and sell off the rest taking the offered gold and silver to be a pittance for his poor efforts. Returning home with a couple of fish for himself he would make dinner and then go to repairing what he had to before bed. Even still by the time he laid down the sun had long since fallen below the mountains and darkness had taken over.
Resting his head on his pillow one thing still angered our poor fisherman. The contest for the best bass had rejected his submission.