[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/f1f21e70-f164-4365-aecc-8ba82a58476c.png[/img][/center]
[b][color=265828]Time:[/color][/b] Morning
[b][color=265828]Location:[/color][/b] River
[b][color=265828]Interactions:[/color][/b] None 
[b][color=265828]Mentions:[/color][/b] None
[b][color=265828]Equipment:[/color][/b] Longsword and Plate Armor[hr]
After that ordeal with the dark elf in town earlier, surely nothing would happen from now on, right? Well, he was surprisingly correct, for the most part. He just ventured to where he was supposed to go, did his business and quickly, as he physically possibly can, left. Now he could breathe relief for a moment, having something to live for a bit before the next inevitable menial labour he needed to do to keep his belly fed and equipment in check. In a way, it wasn't too different from his old clan's way of life: living on what they have until they inevitably have to raid for more. But at the very least, the self-exiled orc would not be causing any terror upon others. It's a civilized alternative to life, even if it was ultimately frugal and unfulfilling. 

Speaking of a fed belly, Barrock remembered that he hadn't had a meal yet. 

He didn't want to waste his money on the expensive shops and restaurants in this city. In fact, there was nothing here that could be considered cheap to him, being quite a prosperous town and all. The orc would simply get his own food instead, and to that it would be fishing.  

Sitting down by the riverside near the town, Barrock set up his little 'picnic' corner - a lone fishing pole and a nice flat area to sit, contemplate, reflect. With any small thing in this world instinctively triggering every desire to rage, to tear down whatever those annoyances are, these moments of silence provided much needed respite to combat such cursed roots. 
[hider=TLDR]
Barrock went [i]fishing[/i] in the nearby river, sitting there to meditate. 
[/hider]