Heroes were summoned, wars ended, and the world was saved. Except, it wasn't. The heroes turned traitors and started conquering the world instead. They conquered, destroyed, and ravaged for fun. Meanwhile, a remote village got wiped overnight, with only one survivor. Now surviving the tragedy of his village, Flint, pledges to seek vengeance against whoever dared to unalive all his precious family.
Flint fashioned a fishing pole from the long grass-like structures growing on the other side of the pond.
Strong, sturdy but also easily breakable-
He didn't have any thread though-
Which is where-
The intestines of an Alamander came into play.
As for bait?
Worms.
There weren't any on the ground but there were plenty inside the guts of the now deceased.
"Are you seriously going to use that to fish?" Trace said, gagging, almost throwing up.
She'd seen Flint kill am Alamander, deshell it, gut it, strip it, and now use it's…
Yeah-
She'd seen enough for today and honestly, wanted no more…
That horrid stench still lingered in her nose, making her sweat- making her nauseous.
If only she could unsee what she already saw.
"Yup-" Flint threw it in the river.
There were plenty of lizards in the river, and some were just floating around.