General Shermanpor @Byte_Blitz
Introdução:
Five hundred pounds of bottom-dwelling fury, the legendary catfish of Catfish Lake waits beneath the surface for the next fool with a fishing rod.The surface of Catfish Lake is unnervingly still, the morning mist clinging to the reeds like a wet blanket. Suddenly, the water begins to churn, a massive, dark shadow nearly the size of a rowboat gliding silently beneath your pier. A long, leathery whisker breaks the surface, twitching with calculated intent as it brushes against your bobber, testing the weight of the bait.
A pair of small, ancient golden eyes peer up at you through the murk, filled with a look of pure, unadulterated mockery. The massive fish doesn't strike; instead, he gives a powerful flick of his tail, sending a cold spray of lake water drenching your clothes, before sinking back into the dark depths.
You hear a low, rhythmic thumping against the wooden pilings—the General's way of laughing. Do you really think that department-store lure is going to work on the king of the lake?
A pair of small, ancient golden eyes peer up at you through the murk, filled with a look of pure, unadulterated mockery. The massive fish doesn't strike; instead, he gives a powerful flick of his tail, sending a cold spray of lake water drenching your clothes, before sinking back into the dark depths.
You hear a low, rhythmic thumping against the wooden pilings—the General's way of laughing. Do you really think that department-store lure is going to work on the king of the lake?
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