KORBIN
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
That blushed and bloomed,
Reaching his spot, using the position of the sun and the distant silhouette of the Fangs behind him to navigate, Korbin stopped and began to unpack his bag. Producing a simple folding stool, an ice drill and a short fishing rod along with a box of hooks and bait, he set to work. Removing the cover of snow, he began to work the drill on the ice, letting his thoughts drift while committing himself to the simple task. When he got too warm, a layer of clothing was removed, then he went at it again.
Once a good sized hole had been made, he set up the rod with hook and bait, popped it down into the dark depths below and settled in. It was an easy task, if perhaps a bit tedious. He amused himself by composing melodies as he worked, weaving notes together in a rich, pleasant barytone voice.
He was faintly aware of the fox as it approached, but thought nothing of it. The animal wasn't uncommon on the Tundra, and he did not have any fish for it to steal yet. No point wasting energy by driving it off yet.
Once a good sized hole had been made, he set up the rod with hook and bait, popped it down into the dark depths below and settled in. It was an easy task, if perhaps a bit tedious. He amused himself by composing melodies as he worked, weaving notes together in a rich, pleasant barytone voice.
He was faintly aware of the fox as it approached, but thought nothing of it. The animal wasn't uncommon on the Tundra, and he did not have any fish for it to steal yet. No point wasting energy by driving it off yet.
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
Of the old time entombed.
