Soon, two of his men brought Ragnaros two fishing rods. He picked up one himself and handed the other to Deren.
"Want to have a contest and see who catches more?" the Black Dragon Prince was brimming with confidence. As a mighty black dragon, he was certain he would never lose to a seemingly ordinary human.
In his eyes, Deren could not even compare to the Ravenholdt assassins under his command. He truly could not understand why that arrogant elder black dragon sister of his had taken a fancy to this human "pet."
"Sure," Deren agreed at once. Standing on the deck and enjoying the sea breeze was better than being cooped up in the cabin.
He picked up the fishing rod, skillfully threaded the bait onto the hook, then flicked his wrist and cast the line far out into the sea.
"Did you fish often before?" Seeing how practiced his movements were, Ragnaros could not help asking curiously. His intelligence had never mentioned Deren having this sort of hobby.
"Ah! Well—" Deren was momentarily at a loss for words. Fishing had been a hobby from before he transmigrated, from those times when, after work, he had gone with senior colleagues from the company to countryside farms to fish.
After transmigrating, he had been too busy struggling to survive and had long since cast that leisurely pastime to the back of his mind.
Now that life had settled down, he had been staying in Theramore the whole time and had not thought of going to the seaside either.
Of course, he also had to consider that the seas of Azeroth were inhabited by Naga, Murlocs, and, failing that, man-eating crabs and lobsters.
There was no need for him to turn a little hobby into monster grinding. It really was not