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The Andromedian Fishing Competition

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Yamnothere

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A local man, hired to announce the competition begins;

'' People of Asulon, King Markus Powell and His new Wife Queen kifa, have commisioned me to tell you about the Andromedian fishing contest, The rules are simple, you turn up to the cloud temple on [ Saturday ] At [ 11 PM GMT ] Wish a rod, although this is not manditory you may even be previded with one, you will then be taken to a river widely known for its populace of fish, to which you will then be given a set time of [ 30 minuits ] to cast yer'lines and catch as much fish within the time..

For each fishing station there will be A Furnace behind you, to which in each will be a cirtain fuel, the fual does not matter, But you may cook the fish for double points

The winner at teh' end is the one with the most fish, keepin' in mind, a cooked fish is worth twice teh' Value of Just one. you will be payed for this,

Each fish are worth three minas each,

Cooked fish worth Five,

As for teh' winner, he shall take 'ome five hundred minas and if he does so chose, the ability to become andromeda's cheif fisherman,

All fish after teh' end will be distributed around Asulon, to feed the poor and weary, and many will be given to hungry travelers, down on their luck.

Taking the sack of minas he earned for announcing, he goes home happily and full.

[[ write your name down if you wish to participate. ]]

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Sylvia's stops mid-pace, her gaze transfixed on crier. She stares unwavering at the man, drinking in every word he has to say. As he finishes, she turns to her mother and tilts her head in the cutest way possible, a smile widening as her hands grip tightly around her fishing rod. "Momma?"

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*Listens to the cryer*

I think I will have to get in a bit of practice first.

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"If only I listend to my mother while she tried to teach me to cook my kills" Dash thinks to himself.

"This may not be the best competition for me to enter but I can never refuse, if the weather grants me a safe passage, I shall compete."

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* Signs up.

( Adrien. Herp )

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Sylvia's stops mid-pace, her gaze transfixed on crier. She stares unwavering at the man, drinking in every word he has to say. As he finishes, she turns to her mother and tilts her head in the cutest way possible, a smile widening as her hands grip tightly around her fishing rod. "Momma?"

Annabelle sighs reluctantly. "... G... go ahead."

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