Fishing is my favorite pastime, even more enjoyable than adding to my heart collection.

[Translator's Note: The Undercrypt Heart Collection is currently on display at a University of undisclosed location. – B]

An Incident at the Lake

I heard the man splashing along the shore in the darkness, heading my direction. He was clearly lost, and his look of relief when he finally glanced down and noticed me was just short of pathetic. "Good sir," he began. Wrong on both counts, I thought to myself. "If you would be so kind as to direct me towards the nearest dwelling, I would be most grateful."

I almost smiled as I stared out over the lake. "The nearest dwelling is the house of the dead, and you are very nearly there."

The look of relief melted away from his face like dripping wax. "I meant... the nearest town. If you please. Sir."

"The nearest town," I replied without bothering to glance up, "is of little use to someone as close to death as yourself."

He stumbled back. "Death?" Nervousness entered his voice now, and the very edge of fear. "Surely, ah, the essence of life flows through this land and this water, and, ah, no death will come to us... this... um... night..."

"Oh, yes," I said in my best scary voice. "There will be death here. Tonight. Now." I watched him step back with the sweet gleam of terror in his eyes as I chuckled, gestured with my hands... and pulled in another fish.

A Fisher of Souls

My name is Morty. I am a Necromancer. And I fish.

Some of my more philosophical friends have questioned my pastime. "Morty," they say, "you are a fearsome deliverer of bloodshed and pain, the very incarnation of that grim darkness we call mortality." (You can see why I keep such friends around.) "Why do you pursue a hobby that even an illiterate barbarian can excel in, when you could be spreading unholy terror throughout the world?"

"Completeness," I tell them. "It's important to kill the little things, too."

It began simply enough. I was sitting on a pier near the Mines of Malfunction, passing the time by looking through my grub collection. (Yes, my grub collection. Getting the perfect level of decay for a corpse absolutely demands having the proper grubs around. Trust me, every Necromancer has a grub collection and can talk about it for hours. If they deny it, they're lying to you.) One of the grubs slipped through my fingers and into the water, where it was almost immediately devoured by a passing fish. Of course... here was my solution to the outrageous prices charged by the food merchants. A simple fishing pole and a few specimens from my collection would save me quite a bit of coin.

After sitting a while on the docks, I began to contemplate the deeper meaning of my newfound hobby. I impale the grub on a hook, consigning it to a writhing, squirming death. I use the grub's death throes to attract a fish, which I pull out of the water to its gasping, wheezing end. Another fish that I will never see has lost its meal, and is now heading for starvation. So much fatality, merely to provide me with a simple snack. It was irresistible. Naming the grubs after the food merchants only made it more enjoyable.

And so now throughout the course of my travels, wherever I may be, I make sure to spend a few hours slaughtering the scaly inhabitants of the deep. It's the least I can do.