[B] Lobster Berries (RBF, Rock Lobster)

[Scaramouche Fandango]

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... ncert3.png[/imgleft] Real Big Fish loved innovation about as much as she loved cooperation– which was to say, she loved it a lot. Today found her hock-deep in brine near the shore, trying out a new tool she'd devised for lobster fishing. It was a sharp stick with several notches in the end that created a barb. She'd made several of them, then hardened the ends over a fire. The idea was that the sticks would smash through the creatures' shells and make it possible to drag them from their holes. Brutal, yes, but effective. Definitely effective.

She was so engrossed in her task that she almost didn't realize when another totoma came by.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

[imgleft]https://www.matope-swamp.com/images/pho ... uncert.png[/imgleft] From a stony outcrop on the shore, Rock Lobster watched the other totoma work. Tracking her down hadn't been too hard– she was an extremely conspicuous person. But the next part– approaching her– was a bit more puzzling. From asking around, he was well aware that there was no singular way to do this. Some of the Swamp's chosen were finickier than others when it came to blessing new parents. Some kin offered gifts, or were asked to do some task. Would she appreciate being bothered while she was working? Would she get mad at him for interfering? Would she throw a lobster at him out of irritation?

Actually, that might not be so bad. Lobsters were tasty. Maybe he should just offer assistance– that way even if he didn't get a blessing, he could get lunch. "Need any help?" he called.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Fish jerked her head up, lobster spear still in her mouth. Spitting it out, she hollered back a resounding "Yes!" As the buck splashed over, she pointed her muzzle at the array of pointed sticks sticking out of the sand. "Hop down here and hunt some lobster with me. Don't bother looking down, the turbidity is too high. Too much sand kicked up. Instead, just kinda use the sharp end to probe. If you feel a depression, stab down fast and hard. You'll know if you got one pretty quickly. Yank it up and then bam, you've got a lobster. Which- huh." She looked him up and down, looked at the armor along his back, the chitinous tendrils on his face. "Hm. Hm hm hm."

She wasn't going to point out the obvious. But he DID look like a giant lobster himself.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

"I know," he chuckled. "I look like a giant lobster. But that doesn't mean I won't eat them. It's just how I look, it's not what I am." He took a stick and started probing the soft sand that hid the tasty sea bugs.

They worked in relative silence for a time, with the occasional grunt or whoop of surprise. It was impossible to talk with a stick in your mouth, and so he didn't try. The quiet suited him just fine, as it gave him time to think about what he wanted to ask. When he'd found out about impending fatherhood, he knew that this was the best thing to do. He wanted to give his kids the best potential chance in life, and if somebody could help, he had no problems with asking. It was just the question of what and how to ask.

He crunched through a hard shell, harder than the rest he'd found so far. With a hard pull, he brought up an extremely large lobster. It thrashed its fanned tail and snapped its claws as he brought it up– the last gasp of a dying thing.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

At first the sight of the largest lobster to ever lob was exciting to Fish, but the excitement soon turned sour when she realized why the lobster was so large. She was an old sea bug, laden heavy with roe. Lobster females carried their gelatinous eggs with them, sometimes almost as long as a year, and this one was heavily berried. Thick masses of black eggs clung to her underside, obscuring the silhouette of her undercarriage. For a lobster this size, there was no way to count the eggs– they were like the stars in the sky, and for every counted egg there were two more in the mass. But even with this many eggs, probably only four or five would survive to adulthood.

And now, none of them would.

Dammit.

It wasn't his fault, there's no way he could have known. She could just as easily have speared this lobster, because this method was entirely non-selective. It was random, and that was the problem with it. She'd have to rework it. But for now, they needed to stop. If there was one breeding female in this area, there were probably more.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

His excitement turned to confusion as he saw her face drop. Something was wrong, he just couldn't tell what. She was staring at the lobster he'd pulled up. It looked... strange. Was it sick? Had he punctured its guts?

"Is something wrong with the lobster?" he said, having wedged the spear on its blunt end in the sand. The huge lobster dripped water and sludge as it hung.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

"It's... it's not your fault, but that's not a good lobster to take. See the eggs? It's... not great to take the breeding females. They carry their eggs- it's not like with fish, where they just leave them behind. This is on me- I messed up and let greed drive my methods, rather than thinking of what's best for the environment. It's ok to hunt the males, they're dispensable. And the females, too, when they're not carrying. But this isn't right."

Fish was quiet for a moment, thinking. "We need to eat her right away, so that at least she doesn't go to waste. Or you can take her, if you know someone who needs the strength. The eggs are rich with fat and protein; they're easy to eat and are packed with nutrients."

[Scaramouche Fandango]

Huh. Wow. That was a lot to take in. He'd gone from something triumphant to something tragic in the span of seconds. But the description of the eggs reminded him immediately of why he was here. "I... think I know somebody, yes."

[Scaramouche Fandango]

OH.

She'd been so engrossed with lobster fishing that she hadn't even realized. Now that she was paying attention, it was obvious what he was doing here. This wasn't just a fishing buddy– this was a new parent! A father-to-be! And here he was, spearing pregnant lobsters in a very, very weird bout of symbolism!

If Fish could blush, she'd be blushing. "You should take ALL the lobsters. Growing babies is hard work, and she'll need the nutrients. Take them and go, with my blessing. May your kids never know hunger... and may they ALWAYS know good judgement."

[Scaramouche Fandango]

"Th-thank you! You mean it? There's like fifteen lobsters here!" This would definitely help, as would the blessing. He felt bad that she seemed so upset by the accidental take, but not bad enough that he was going to turn down fifteen lobsters.

[Scaramouche Fandango]

"Yeah, take 'em all! You're going to have... little baby lobsters... running around soon..." she trailed off as she looked him up and down again. Motherfather above, he really did look like a giant lobster.

"I never got your name," she said lamely. "I'm Real Big Fish. Sorry about how depressing this got."

[Scaramouche Fandango]

"No worries!" he said brightly. "It all worked out in the end, I think, thanks to your generosity. I'm Rock Lobster. It's nice to meet you, Real Big Fish."

[Scaramouche Fandango]

"You need to pick those up and get moving," she said, tugging a few of the lobsters into a broadleaf carrier sack. "But someday, you need to come back and find me and tell me how you got that name. Until then, Rock Lobster!"

She watched as he trundled away. He'd make it back with the lobsters and share them with the doe. Their kids would be nourished by the unfortunate lobster and her offspring that would never be. Things would be ok. The lobster population would recover from her mistake. Sometimes things didn't turn out the way you wanted, but they still turned out ok.

Now, to figure out what to do with those barbed spears. What could you use them for that wasn't so indiscriminate? Keeping crocodiles at bay? Breaking open turtle shells? Or perhaps anchoring them in the muck, where the barbs would hold them in place. You could tie things to them, or loosely weave vines to make a sort of water pen to keep things in. There were lots of possibilities. There always were.