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A tale regarded as irrefutable mythos, mouthed in hushed whisperings, passed fisherman to fisherman. Rivulets and rivers that lie lost and afar amidst an island's stymied, blighted woodlands, replenishing the lives of the fish that lie within and bolstering their biology in the name of longevity and being a beacon atop and through otherwise tainted soils. But in recent years it was regarded as truth - rumoured to be a magi's own working. Why? Bereavement for his fallen fish tank flourishing into something more. And there stands one sole reason as to why such has been divulged.

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The magi lost his fish.

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His huge, huge, huge, huge, building-sized behemoth of a fish.

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Pinned parchment discloses the sorry fate; they are spread, and spread, and spread. Billboards to billboards. Eyes discern as false truth - or had done, for their abundance finally prompts many to believe such an absurd tale may be true. It claws into the potential reasonings for such theft and where the big boye may lie in waiting. Why would Ektu ever, ever refuse pursuing such a fish . .

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she has to catch that fish.

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The current lead is a 'cult' formulated on a neighbouring isle that have misidentified the sizeable boye to be nothing other than a deity that, when appeased, will grant otherwise empty waters with a bountiful array of marine life. It lies deep within a swampy marsh that houses deeper waters in it's center. The hurdle is tip-toe'ing over all those dangers that may lurk. .