Author Topic: Fishing In Norway  (Read 348 times)

Porkins

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Fishing In Norway
« on: December 15, 2016, 08:22:42 PM »
Was in the mood to write something with my dude, so I did this. Might never be something but ya knowwwwww

also idk if this is canon or just me writing yet so bare with lmao
_________________________________

Reine was a quiant place in Norway. It was one of those places that people saw pictures of on the internet and thought was the epitome of beauty. However, the village was very normal in Norway. It was a little fishing village along the coast of Norway that kept to itself. Fishing was a key part of its identity, as most of those who worked in Reine were fishers. Money was there to be made in Norway when it came to fishing as they weren't bogged down in rules and regulations. The fishers fished as much as they wanted or needed and there was no one to step them.

Roy Leif, however, was a bartender. He worked in one of very few bars within the village and many fishermen went there whenever they weren't out in the middle of the ocean. Roy saw many of the same faces in the bar as they all looked the same; gruff, old and had not shaved in quite some time. He didn't really care, though. Why would he? Whatever they looked like didn't really have anything to do with him. He just gave them their alcohol and he took their money. They had enough on their plate out in the waters to be dealing with keeping their image up to date. Roy respected that, in an odd way.

Because of this, Roy always noticed when something, or someone, was out of place. It was rare to see many new faces in the bar because not many people moved to Reine or came to the village on holiday. Whenever they did, it was so obvious they weren't from around Reine. They walked around taking pictures of the place and looking awestruck. Roy didn't like outsiders.When Roy noticed the newest person to join their community he noticed something was off from the start. The man was different than most who moved to the village. One day he wasn't in Reine, the next he was. He had moved into a house beside the sea and bought a boat all in the space of a night. He kept to himself, never attempting to integrate with the village people. He was either out at sea fishing or he was in his house. The man would work, then rest, then work, then rest and nothing ever changed. Roy had to have some respect for him.

Yet Roy couldn't help but feel unsettled by the man. He had seen him three, maybe four times up close since he had moved to the village. Each time was the same; he walked into the bar, ordered the same type of whiskey, drank it, ordered another and did this for an hour or so before leaving. He never spoke only pointing at the whiskey he wanted. He had an odd look about him. He always wore the same thing when he came to the bar; brown boots, thermal pants and top with his fishing overalls and a brown winter jacket. He had a beard and his hair was dark and thick. To most he looked like any average fisherman. Yet Roy knew better. The more he saw him, the more he realised the differences. The way his beard was kept, the way his hair was styled. Everything was...neat. Beginning to get scruffy, but still neat. The man definitely had not lived this life for long.

On a Saturday night, the man entered the bar once more. Roy followed him with his eyes the moment he entered until he was sitting on a stool, a mere couple of feet from where Roy stood. The man, as usual, did not speak and, as usual, opted to point to the whiskey he wanted. Roy, however, had already moved towards the whiskey bottle before the man had pointed to it. He knew by now what he wanted. He set a glass down in front of the man and proceeded to pour the liquor into it. As he poured the whiskey, Roy decided to break the silence. "How were the waters?" He said, speaking in the best English he had. He assumed the man did not speak Norwegian. The man did not answer immediately, and once Roy had finished pouring the whiskey, the man grabbed the glass and lifted it to his lips. "Cold" The man said, before knocking back the glass. Roy was surprised, to say the least. The man's voice was, like nearly everything else about him, odd. At first Roy immediately went to American. He had heard that accent before. Yet there was a hint of something a little more local. Was it Danish? It was hard to tell from so few little words spoke. The man's voice was rough and, apparently like the waters, cold.

"Couple of the boys were saying there were many fish tonight" Roy spoke nonchalantly, keeping his English simple. The man put the empty glass down on the counter and Roy proceeded to fill it up once more. "They weren't wrong" The man spoke again, and this time Roy definitely heard some Danish in that American accent. He was right, the man definitely wasn't from around here. Roy decided to be a little more bold with his questions. "So where are you from?". This time, the man only drank half of the contents within the glass. "West" The man said simply, clearly telling Roy that was all he was getting. Roy nodded to himself and turned his back to the man.

The man continued to sip on his drink, and the remnants of their conversation was swallowed up by the bar's atmosphere.

---

The night had dragged on since Roy had spoken to the foreign stranger. He had continued to serve the regulars, sometimes participating in small talk. Yet, as his shift moved forward, he found himself constantly gazing at the strange man. He sat completely still as he drank, staring forward with no focus. He seemed deep in thought, which deterred Roy from going up to him and continuing their conversation. However, the more he looked at the man, the more he picked up on something. He wasn't sure what it was but it was...something. It was as if he could feel something coming from the man. The more he looked, the more he felt it. It took Roy some time to recognise the feeling, but it was one he was definitely familiar with. Misery. The man shone with grief and pain and Roy felt uncomfortable as he watched the Western man. He felt like he was invading his privacy. He shouldn't be seeing this, yet the man sat in public. How could Roy not notice it?

The man finished his drink and moved the glass forward. Roy immediately walked over to his side of the bar. He grabbed the bottle that had been supplying the man his drink and began to pour it into the glass. He stole a glance up at the man as he poured him his drink. The man continued to stare forward, not even noticing Roy's presence. As he finished pouring the drink, Roy pushed the glass back towards the man. He stood completely still, trying to decide if he should try to speak to him again. As the man picked the glass up to take a swig, Roy had finally built up the confidence to ask him another question.

"So...you said you were from the West...where exactly?" He asked slowly, treating the foreigner like a badly tempered Lion.

"Why do you ask?" The man replied, his voice void of emotion.

Roy couldn't tell if the man was annoyed by his question, so he pushed forward. "Well, it's just that we don't get a lot of new people around here, especially ones who stay".

The man took another swig of the drink, lightly placing the glass back on the counter. "I guess I'm special then".

Roy forced a laugh but the man didn't seem like he had meant it as a joke. Roy quickly stopped and the air fell silent again. Just before Roy could put forth another question, he heard the door to the bar open.

Two men walked in and Roy was immediately confused. They were both tall, lean men with perfect postures. Their hair was immaculately styled and their skin was smooth and pampered. They both wore the exact same clothes; dark blue trousers with a white sweatshirt on top with a dark blue jacket over it. With one look Roy could tell the clothes were expensive. These men weren't from around here, that was for sure. They approached the bar, one sitting to the left of the foreign man, the other to the right. The western man didn't seem fazed by their presence and continued to drink.

"We'll both have a pint of whatever is your most Norweigan beer, please and thanks" The man on the left said with a hefty dose of charisma. His accent was one of a stereotypical New York Businessman that Roy would have seen in a movie, which confirmed his suspicions of them being foreigners. Why would an American be in his bar? Roy nodded slowly and turned away to grab two pint glasses. He went to the tap and began pouring the beers, keeping an eye on the two men.

The man on right looked around the bar, but as he did so he began to gently speak to the western man. "So, Norway, huh? Interesting spot to hide" He said, his accent identical to the man on the left's. The western man gave no reaction, taking another sip of his drink. Roy was confused as he eavesdropped. Hide? Why was the strange foreigner hiding?

"Y'know, you had us for a while" The man on the left added. "The boss was real stumped for a while. Christ, he was pissed. We had no idea where you were, but here you are".

Again, the western man gave no reaction.

"Did you really think we'd never find you, dipunpleasant excrement? Did ya think you could just sit on your fishing boat and go fishing for the rest of your life?" The man on the right said, a grin appearing on his face.

"Whelp, that's over now. You little vacation is no more. So, let's have a drink before we get you outta here" The man on the left said, and when Roy brought the two pints over he threw a dollar bill his way.

Roy picked the bill up confusedly and held it up to the man. "This won't do sir-" He began before he was cut off by the man interjecting. "Shut the llama up, if you know what's best for ya".

The two men took a gulp of their pints. As they rested the drinks on the counter, they both let out sounds of approval. The western man drained the final dregs of his glass, before sliding it towards Roy. He looked up at Roy, finally making eye contact with him. "Thank you for your kind service, Roy" He said, and Roy was taken aback. The man had never said his name until then. Before Roy could sputter out an answer, the western man suddenly swung his arms back, his elbows connecting with both New Yorker's jaws.

The men fell off their stools, hitting the ground with a thud. They seemed shocked by the sudden act of violence by the man, who calmly slid off his stool and walked over to the men. The man who had been sitting on his left, who Roy had decided to dub "New Yorker #1", attempted to pull himself to his feet. The foreigner walked over to him, grabbing him by the throat and the back of his jacket. He heaved the man into the air, before letting out a grunt as he tossed him across the room. The man hit the ground before slamming into the foot of a table. The other people in the bar before to stand up and back away from the fight, some yelling at the man in Norweigan. New Yorker #2 was now on his feet, glaring angrily at the man. He reached into his coat, pulling out a small handgun. Roy didn't know much about guns so he couldn't say what kind of gun it was but it spelt danger. New Yorker #2 aimed the gun at the foreigner but the man seemed to have seen this coming. He spun around to face the New Yorker and kicked the gun out of his hand. He grabbed the man by the shirt and punched him with all his might and New Yorker #2 slumped in the foreigner's hand.

"Adrian! Roy heard New Yorker #1 yell, who had pulled himself to his feet. "If you're not going to come quietly, then we'll just have to take you by force!". Roy was surprised to finally learn that the foreigner's name was Adrian but he didn't have time to really register this piece of information. New Yorker #1 snapped his fingers and suddenly, before Roy's eyes, a small ball of fire sat in the palm of his hand. The man opened his hand and as he did so the ball expanded. New Yorker #1 then threw his arm back and as if he was throwing a baseball, hurled the ball of fire towards Adrian.

Roy was absolutely dumbfounded. He had to have seen that wrong. His mind had to be playing tricks, he absolutely did not just see New Yorker #1 somehow create a fireball with his hands and then throw it at Adrian. Yet, he must have, because Adrian dropped to one knee and rolled forward. The ball of fire soared over his Adrian and hit the wall behind, scorching the concrete wall behind him. Adrian rose from his crouching position, his expression stern and focused as he looked at New Yorker #1. "You won't gain anything here. Leave now" He said, his voice as stern as his face.

The command didn't seem to register with the man, who once again ignited a fireball (It sounded ridiculous, but what else could Roy describe it as?) and hurled it towards the man who they named Adrian. Adrian dodged again with ease, yet he had not seen that New Yorker #2 had stirred once again. The man raised his hand and made a pushing motion towards Adrian and when he did so the fisherman flew across the room as if he had been catapulted by a sling. He crashed into New Yorker #1, who grunted as he hit the ground once more. This gained New Yorker #2 enough time to retrieve his handgun.

The air sang with the song of bullets.

New Yorker #2 was clearly still disorientated from the punch he had received and so his aim was not good. Roy dived down behind the bar as the man fired wildly, glasses and bottles of alcohol exploding above him. Roy could hear the cries of his patrons as they were hit with stray bullets. Roy peered around the edge of the bar and his vision filled with the carnage that had consumed his bar. Chairs and tables had been overturned, bullet holes had appeared on the wall behind Adrian and he could see bodies slumped on the ground. Innocent patrons caught up in the violence. Roy had peered around just in time to see Adrian heave New Yorker #1 up in front of him, with such ease you would think the man was a cardboard box. He was lucky too, as New Yorker #2 finally had his aim right and shot at Adrian, yet instead of the fisherman catching the bullet it was the arm of the first New Yorker who was unfortunate. New Yorker #1 screamed in pain and hit the ground as Adrian released him.

Adrian began to stride towards New Yorker #2. What the hell is he doing?!? Roy thought. He was gonna get shot! Yet, when New Yorker #2 aimed at Adrian and pulled the trigger, there was no bang. No, there was nothing but a small and surprising click. New Yorker #2 looked at the gun dumbfounded as if he thought bullets were unlimited. His shock had consumed him to the point that he seemed to have forgotten Adrian's presence, who was now standing in front of him and had a hold of the New Yorker's sweatshirt. He lifted the man into the air, who dropped the gun and tossed him across the room and the man landed beside his compatriot.

Roy watched as Adrian picked the gun up from the ground and turned back to the two men. New Yorker #1 was trying to rise to his feet but his legs were visibly shaking. Blood had seeped through his jacket sleeve. Adrian raised the gun and as he did so Roy could see it...changing.What was once a handgun seemed...different. It was longer now, the handle was the same but the barrel was larger and thicker. Barrels, not barrel Roy realised as he looked at the gun again, noticing that the gun now possessed double barrels. Most significantly, it seemed the gun somehow had been reloaded because when Adrian aimed his new shotgun/handgun and pulled the trigger, the bar was filled with the explosion sound of bullets flying from the barrel.

New Yorker #1 caught the bullets square in the chest, and the impact lifted him off his feet. He collapsed back onto one of the booths within the bar, knocking a table over as he did so. Blood soaked through his sweatshirt as he released his last breath. Adrian turned his aim to the other man, who had propped his upper body up on one elbow. New Yorker #2 lifted his hand once more, but this time it seemed to be a sign of mercy. "Please don't, wait-" He managed to plead before Adrian pulled the trigger one last time. Roy watched in horror as the man's head seemed to explode and he dropped down flat on the ground, blood pouring from the wreckage that was once his head.

Roy used the edge of the bar to pull himself to his feet. He couldn't speak at first, but after a few seconds managed to whisper "Oh my god...". Adrian walked over to the two bodies, checking their pockets. He pulled out their wallets and other miscellaneous items, stuffing them into the pockets of his own jacket. "Oh my god" Roy stammered once more, this time catching Adrian's attention.

Adrian stood up straight, showing his stature to Roy once again. The gun was in his right hand, which had reverted itself back into the handgun which it had been when New Yorker #2 had first revealed it. He looked Roy directly in this eyes, stern and cold as ever, yet Roy thought he could see a slight softness to his gaze.

"Leave. Now".
« Last Edit: December 26, 2018, 07:14:36 PM by Porkins »

Flint

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #1 on: December 15, 2016, 08:30:01 PM »
Nice job, I really liked this.

Charlotte

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #2 on: December 15, 2016, 09:10:10 PM »
Is this in the right place, Porky? xD
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Dregran Entropy

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #3 on: December 15, 2016, 09:30:17 PM »
Moved to General Works for ya, Pork. ;)
Your writing has definitely improved since you first joined.
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Porkins

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #4 on: December 15, 2016, 09:33:07 PM »
it's kinda a solo rp rn but it might become something proper soon if i keep interest lmao

yeah have it in general works if it leads somewhere i can start something in the rp section

Amy

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #5 on: December 15, 2016, 09:35:43 PM »
ooh this is nice

Andro

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #6 on: January 03, 2017, 01:52:29 AM »
Kinda wanna have Rannoch Linnet turn up and be like "get the llama out of my country you piece of unpleasant excrement"
*casually falls in love with a face*

~I'm too scared, and he's too straight~

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Porkins

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #7 on: December 26, 2018, 07:16:32 PM »
So, uh, I completed a second part to this.

I wrote like half of the second part months ago on a whim and just suddenly decided to complete it.

So now if I never write any more of it it does have an ending, though I could write more at a later date.

Feedback would be nice.

Charlotte

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #8 on: December 27, 2018, 09:43:40 PM »
your writing has skyrocketed mate, that's honestly really good!
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Porkins

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Re: Fishing In Norway
« Reply #9 on: December 29, 2018, 04:28:57 PM »
your writing has skyrocketed mate, that's honestly really good!

Thanks dude, really appreciate that! Though it’s not hard to be better than the writing level I was at when I wrote here frequently. I had good ideas, i would say, but my writing suuuucked