Fishing Stories

((What follows are a series of conversations - mostly conceived and written by Ekanos’s player - that occurred between the two while they were in hiding. It’s not everything they spoke about - for example, the deep conversations about what was really going on tended to be in the evening, staring up at the stars - but it was a writing challenge to try to convey a sense of what they were up to almost entirely through text. There is exactly one line of non-dialogue in this story, and only because we could figure out no better way to present it. Imagine these as snapshot moments which break up hours of silently staring at the water.))


. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Yeff, Diyof?”
. . . . . “Do... Do you have to do that?”
. . . . . “Do what?”
. . . . . “Eat...like that.”
. . . . . “Like what?”
. . . . . “The fish is still alive, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “What?” The elf cracked the fish against the trunk of the tree he was leaning on. “No, it isn’t.”
. . . . . “Well not now. Couldn’t you at least cook it?”
. . . . . “But...then it loses all the flavor!”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos?”
. . . . . “Yes, Diyos?”
. . . . . “What’cha readin’?”
. . . . . “A scroll about abnormal tumors in the human body.”
. . . . . “What’s a ‘normal’ tumor?”
. . . . . “I...don’t know, Diyos. That’s a really good question.”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Yes, Diyos?”
. . . . . “How old are you?”
. . . . . “Ooh, I’ve around since the Well, so...about 11,417.”
. . . . . “Wow. That's pretty good, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “It’s nothing to write home about. How old are you?”
. . . . . “I’ve never really thought of it in terms of the human numbering system.”
. . . . . “Diyos.”
. . . . . “Twenty-thousand, one-hundred, and thirty-three years.”
. . . . . “…And how much ‘tail’ have you chased in those years?”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos?”
. . . . . “Yeah, Diyos?”
. . . . . “I’m really sorry your scroll got wet.”
. . . . . “It’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting the number to be that high.”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Yes, Diyos?”
. . . . . “Do you have mushrooms on this world?”
. . . . . “Of course.”
. . . . . “I haven’t seen any. I’ve been looking around all over, and I just see houses on the ground.”
. . . . . “Our mushrooms are small, Diyos. We eat them.”
. . . . . “Eat – your world is weird.”

. . . . . “Ekanos...”
. . . . . “Yes, Diyos?”
. . . . . “How old’s your sister?”
. . . . . “...Why are you asking?”
. . . . . “No reason.”
. . . . . “I would hope so. She doesn’t have a tail to chase, Diyos.”
. . . . . “Azsha doesn’t have a tail!”
. . . . . “Most of the time.”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos?”
. . . . . “Yeah, Diyos?”
. . . . . “Do you have anything to drink?”
. . . . . “I’ve got some honeymint tea here.”
. . . . . “I meant alcoholic.”
. . . . . “Oh. No, just tea and medicines.”
. . . . . “How about that jug on your pack that looks like a kungaloosh jar?”
. . . . . “That’s for medicinal use!”
. . . . . “Mmhm.”

. . . . . “I need to visit the bushes. I’ll be right back.”
. . . . . “Okay, Ekanos. …… Hm, if I cast at just the right angle… Careful now! Aha! Got it. Sweet, sweet kungaloosh…”

. . . . . “I’m back. I was thinking that maybe your hoof’s healed enough that we can head out for a bit. Maybe visit Brewfe-… Diyos? Diyos!”
. . . . . “Zzzzzz……”

. . . . . “Hey, Diyos.”
. . . . . “Yeah, Ekanos?”
. . . . . “Do you have any medicinal allergies I should know about? Perhaps something that makes you fall asleep?”
. . . . . “No. Why?”
. . . . . “No reason.”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Yes, Diyos?”
. . . . . “Is the lake water...steaming?”
. . . . . “Uh. It looks like it is.”
. . . . . “I...guess you're cooking your meal after all, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “...You know what, we should go to Brewfest!”
. . . . . “Ekanos...”
. . . . . “What? It’ll be fun! We can wear disguises! I can eat mandu!”
. . . . . “Ekanos, it’s just cooking-”
. . . . . “There’s plenty of free beer.”
. . . . . “Oh. Well, let’s go then!”

. . . . . “Ekanos, these disguises are great!”
. . . . . “Keep your voice down! We don’t want to draw suspicion!”
. . . . . “Hey, is that Sam? He looks ma- OH NAARU, HE’S SHOOTING AT US!”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Yes, Diyos?”
. . . . . “You could’ve asked me to make some disguises for us. I am a tailor.”
. . . . . “I know, Diyos, but I didn’t want to stress you.”
. . . . . “Hmph. Where did you get them?”
. . . . . “I got a deal from a guy selling them near Ironforge. Very comfortable, colors you and I don’t wear, so nobody will bother us. They even came with cowls!”
. . . . . “How good a deal, Ekanos?”
. . . . . “Oh, two for a gold. I think it was an excellent find.”
. . . . . “Not so excellent, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Why not? Doesn’t it fit?”
. . . . . “It does, Ekanos, but-”
. . . . . “Do you not like the color?”
. . . . . “No, the color’s fine, but-”
. . . . . “Are you allergic to the fabric? Oh, I should have asked!”
. . . . . “No! The fabric is comfortable, but-”
. . . . . “Then what is it?”
. . . . . “They’re dryclean only.”
. . . . . “...AGH! I've been swindled!”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Yeah, Diyos?”
. . . . . “What do you think the secret ingredient is in the Gordok brew?”
. . . . . “Maltodextrin.”
. . . . . “What’s that, Ekanos?”
. . . . . “The ‘return to’ name on the shield in that mixer, Diyos.”
. . . . . “... I don’t like Gordok brew anymore.”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Yes, Diyos?”
. . . . . “Do you have sewing circles on this world?”
. . . . . “Of course, Diyos.”
. . . . . “Do they...talk about the subjugation of the sentient races of Azeroth?”
. . . . . “Not…usually. Why, Diyos?”
. . . . . “I was sitting in a sewing circle with a bunch of people wearing these robes like the ones you got, and that’s what they were talking about!”
. . . . . “Diyos...that’s not a sewing circle!”
. . . . . “What is it, then?”
. . . . . “A brewer’s concern.”
. . . . . “Oh. Well, then it all makes perfect sense.”

. . . . . “Hey, Ekanos.”
. . . . . “Mrrrfl?”
. . . . . “Why do you always get dumplings and mandu? You should expand your palette!”
. . . . . “But-”
. . . . . “Have a sausage with me! They're delectablicious.”
. . . . . “Diyos, I-”
. . . . . “I will not take no for an answer!”
. . . . . “Well, all righ-mrf! That’s good!”
. . . . . “You see, you should always broaden your hori-”
. . . . . “I mean, the intestinal casing really brings out the flavor of the coagulated blood inside! And how did they get the little bits of stem out of the sweetmeat?”
. . . . . “S...sweetmeat?”
. . . . . “The brains, heart or other innards. They’re really tender. This is good!”
. . . . . “Uh... Uhm...”
. . . . . “Diyos? Diyos, Draenei aren’t supposed to be that color!”

. . . . . “’Ey. Ekanos!”
. . . . . “Wha’?”
. . . . . “Shoul’ build a...tower! Yeah! A tower!”
. . . . . “Out...wha’?”
. . . . . “We take these...sampler mugs an’... Tower!”
. . . . . “Oh...Okay! Bu’...Diyos.”
. . . . . “Wha’?”
. . . . . “Wh’ ’appens when we run out?”
. . . . . “’S Brewfest! Not gon’ run out!”

. . . . . “Ye gods and little fishes... Ekanos. Ekanos!”
. . . . . “Huh? What? What is it?”
. . . . . “What were we doing? I remember a thousand samplers and some kind of plan.”
. . . . . “We, uh. We made art, Diyos.”
. . . . . “What? I remember a tower!”
. . . . . “Gnomes for the Arts calls it ‘A stunning fusion of Kaldorei and Draenei history.’”
. . . . . “...Wow! Look at that!”
. . . . . “Mhm. Better Scones in Beer Gardens calls it ‘A wonder of the modern age.’”
. . . . . “So what’s this paper?”
. . . . . “Oh, that’s the estimate of ticket sales to see it.”
. . . . . “In...credizing! What’s this one?”
. . . . . “The, uh...bill for materials use - Diyos, don’t land on your tai - not on the tail!”