It was the more simple things in life that mattered to Jax, the Grandmaster at Arms. A good fight here, a drink there, a challenge to be conquered elsewhere... it's what truly made life worth living. He had plenty of both, too. He was arguably considered the champion (or in his own words, 'Armsmaster') of the League of Legends, where he only wielded a brass lamppost against opponents, and when not bashing the heads of his enemies in on the Fields of Justice, he was having a round or six of wonderfully fermented alcoholic beverages with his old pal Gragas.
Currently, he decided he wanted to try out a new challenge the champ never really did as often as he thought he should: Fishing.
Normally dressed up in a more purple-colored attire, Jax had currently garbed himself in a light, algae-green getup, complete with a similar-colored hat and a dull red scarf, not unlike what most anglers of his native land of Ionia would wear. Hoisted over his shoulder was a stick-like fishing pole, and carried in the three-fingered grasp of his other hand was a wooden tackle boxy, holding all manner of sinkers, lures, and live bait in the form of worms.
Where he had arrived at was a lake not native to Runeterra. Truth be told, he often jumped between worlds at his own accord, and this land he was currently in, going by the native name of Equestria, was one he visited often. After approaching a lone, skinny, green-topped tree that sat on the shoreline, Jax took a look around at the environment he was in and admired its still, untouched beauty. In the cool, damp morning, through the gray clouds, shone the sun in a vibrant, comfortingly hazy yellow glow from behind a neighboring mountain. Its brightness illuminated the lake before him, revealing the marshy shore that outlined every bank it had and the blue, clear water.
Sitting down calmly beside the tree, Jax set his tackle box to the side and took out a worm. Lifting his hook up to it, he wrapped the squirming creature around it, and when the deed was done he cast the line into the water, though it only went a few feet from the shore. Patiently he waited for a nibble, keeping his six, glowing, eye-like holes on his mask focused on where it sat in the water.
A long time later, he finally felt something take the bait, and it was strong and sharp. Quickly, he set the hook and reeled it in with much vigor, only to discover something disappointing.
The line had been bitten off; bait, hook and all.
"Old Gurfo..." he chuckled to himself quietly in his typical, deep voice, saying the name of the fish he knew did the deed. Gurfo was an enormous catfish he had only met thrice before in this lake, and each time he managed to just barely escape his grasp by devouring whatever he put at the end of his hook. Taking the time to reattach another hook to the line (he brought plenty of spares for such an occasion), he placed another worm on it and cast it back into the water, just to see if this truly was the fish with the bottomless appetite he had come to know.
A few moments later, he felt another powerful tug. Quickly reeling it in again, he found the same result as before. The line was bitten off, and the hook was gone. Stroking the part of the mask that covered his chin, Jax began to think. He always wanted to catch Gurfo, and he wasn't going to give up until he had that fish reeled in and held like a magnificent, living trophy in his hands.
"Hmm..." he hummed. "I might need bigger bait for this. Not a hook, per se... that old fish never lets go of what he intends to eat. He's always managed to eat whole whatever I use, though. Hrm... what to do..."
And so he sat there, contemplating what had to be done next. Who knew? Maybe a miracle would come by...
Finally waking up, a changeling that went by the name of Weevil realized he had been lying in an uncomfortable bush. His mind was at first foggy, but he remembered how he got there vividly, and painfully. That invasion his hive staged at the wedding between Princess Cadence and Shining Armor at Canterlot ended in an utter disaster. The explosion of pure love that followed suit sent his hive and himself spinning into the horizon like cannonballs.
Weevil began to stumble around as he regained his full focus. Groaning, he felt as his stomach rumbled. He had been saving his appetite for the feast they were supposed to have in Canterlot, which was now not going to happen. Growling angrily, he walked around, searching the surrounding forest for anything to suck the intimate emotion he craved out of. Sadly (or just unfortunately, given their often contemptible nature), the changeling saw nothing. No squirrels, no birds... zero life, save for trees and grass.
Then, without any kind of warning whatsoever, a sweet, familiar stench only a changeling would smell wafted through the air, seemingly out of nowhere. Without so much as a second thought, Weevil followed it greedily, hoping to find its source. After but a few dozen seconds of dashing through the forest, he came upon a tree that lied before a lake. Cautiously, he peeked around the bark-laden plant's corner, and saw something that could only be described as odd.
There was an alien figure sitting there, fishing pole in hand, and its back facing the changeling. Its visage bore the likes of which he had never seen before. What kept him from being intimidated was the fact that love, mostly pure adoration from others, radiated off of this fishing creature like a thick, musty cloud. The sheer amount of it made Weevil drool.
Baring his teeth, the changeling lunged from the brush, mouth agape and horn glowing a malevolent green color, ready to take all that love by force. No sooner had he begun his attack, the angler suddenly turned around in the blink of an eye and yelled something to Weevil, catching him off-guard.
"Surprise!"
Weevil awoke a short time later, noticing his surroundings had become much more wet than before. His head was very sore and felt as though a certain spot on it was throbbing, most likely bruised in an area.
Fully regaining his senses, he saw, to his great confusion, that he was floating above the lake's water like a stranded ant. The last thing he remembered was the alien being he snuck up on yelling something as he attacked, then something hard and solid hitting his head, which was probably the fishing pole. Weevil groaned upon the realization that he had been knocked unconscious. There was something else troubling him as well, though.
Transparent wiring, which he noticed was fishing line, had been tied through and around his left leg-holes in a very tight knot. After swimming around for a brief moment; scattering a few ripples as he did so, he pulled on the line with a forehoof and let his compound eyes follow it to its source. Eventually he saw where the line began to extend into the air and connect to a pole.
There, holding the fishing pole and sitting by that same tree on the shoreline of the lake, slightly concealed by the reeds and cattails, sat the creature. The six, glowing, eye-like projections on the mask covering his face were looking in his direction.
"What... what have you done to me?" Weevil cried out, attempting to flutter his water-clogged wings. That whom he spoke to shrugged.
"Needed bigger bait," he began, in his gruff, deep voice. "You came along, so I... improvised."
"B-bait?!" Weevil shouted in an objecting tone, struggling to swim around more, as his chitinous body remained naturally buoyant and afloat. "Bait for what?!"
No sooner had he asked, Weevil let out a shout as something grabbed at his left foreleg. Looking down, his teal eyes widened in horror as they stared down at the single biggest fish he had ever seen. Old Gurfo, whose giant, gaping, toothless mouth had clamped over his leg, shook about in an effort to drag the changeling under; his several barbels swinging about in the water like whips, and small, beady eyes staring daggers at what he stubbornly believed would be his next meal.
Weevil let out a cry as he struggled to free himself, but the fish held firm and unrelenting. Before anything else could be done, they were both hoisted into the air as Jax tugged the pole, lifting it upward.
As he remained dangling in the air, the changeling was still screaming in abject terror, completely unsure of what was happening.
The fish remained clinging onto the changeling's leg, its massive jaws clamped down in an obstinate manner.
Jax, watching the whole sight unfold from the end of his fishing rod, was laughing heartily as he reeled them both in.
