Well it was official, Waterford was the most poorly named place since smile town (which to be fair being the cannibal capital of the world did involve plenty of bare teeth, though very few smiling visitors.) As they crossed the ditch that was probably the former ford, albeit now with decidedly less hydration, and a hell of a lot more sand, and entered a town of houses on stilts.
This place gave Mibbet the creeps, she had never seen a place more suitable as a froggy graveyard with buildings more obviously modelled with water in mind. In the middle of the area between the stilt houses sat thee husks of shallow bottomed, and obviously high end fishing boats that had obviously been afloat so recently that the tar on their hull was barely dry. Yet she felt like if she was any dryer she could eat a packet of unbuttered salt crackers for hydration.
There were even about a dozen buoys out there sat in the middle of the sand, surrounded by decidedly unhappy looking bullrushes in desperate need of a drink.
To call the town itself a ghost town would be to insult mortally challenged sheet wearers everywhere, this place wasn’t abandoned. It looked like everybody had just stopped going out. The houses were well built and clearly still in use, albeit not built to handle the heat that was hitting the area at the moment, a challenge the locals had met as best they could with improvised gizmos bodged together out of scraps of wood bolted to hinges, then swung like oversized fans by the strategic use of rope in order to waft cool air into the buildings albeit briefly.
This was clearly not to many of the local residents liking either, as Mibbet quickly figured out on meeting her first newtkin, the town mayor.
“Well look here, seems we got ourselves some visitors, most unfortunate timing. Most unfortunate, but welcome anyway, name’s Rainton Uppacrust, The Third. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I am afraid if you are here to join the boat club you are out of luck.” At that he gave a nervous little chuckle.
“Princess Rosalind Von Harmsworth” replied Mibbet, extending her hand, and politely pretending not to notice their host’s colour drain at the information that had just landed in his lap. Though in all fairness he did seem to rally quickly, as he pulled a little bell from somewhere and ring it, as they suddenly found themselves surrounded by other newtkin dressed in what were clearly butler and maids apparel.
“I’m afraid you have caught us in rather awkward circumstances Princess, as our main tourist attraction has drained dry due to this drought. We know the cause but it is beyond us to rectify, and if we don’t reach a solution soon this town is ruined.”
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“OK then why don’t we take a seat somewhere out of the sun and you can tell me all about it sir? Mibbet asked looking for any good reason to get the hell out of the sun. As a former frog frying was not on her to do list for the day, and her instincts as a frog were screaming at her she needed shelter, mud, and/or water. Whichever came first was fine.
Soon enough they found themselves lead inside, and presented with a cup each of tea, (at least the people who needed to eat and drink to live, so about half of their group. Excluding the horses who had had quite enough to drink in the recent spell related fiasco thank you very much, though they wouldn’t mind a proper groom and preen if anybody was offering, which unfortunately they weren’t. They would have to take care of that amongst themselves, which to be fair if they could stand each others presence without screaming bloody murder, and kicking hell out of each other would make for an excellent team building activity.) Mibbet couldn’t help noticing the almost reluctant look on the face of Rainton as he handed over the cups, which gave a serious indicator of how badly the drought had hit this area. Which was a bit suspicious given that a lot of areas were far less impacted by it. Giving a hint that if there was a cause it was probably somewhere around this area.
“So Mister Rainton, I can’t help noticing how hard the drought has hit this particular area. Do you have any idea as to the cause?”
“Unfortunately I do Princess, You see this marshland is artificial, and the machinery is maintained by Mandy the Sand Witch. But when the machinery that powers all this broke down, well she went all to pieces. Now without the water to help her keep her powers in check, well things are getting messy. I suppose that’s what we get relying on god power. But what else were we supposed to do? This machinery has been here working just fine for generations, and without it, well the sand is building up, and clogging things up even further. You know how sand is, it gets into every crack.”
“Tell me about it” Mumbled Sir Leeroy fidgeting awkwardly, and further verifying Rainton’s statement, albeit in a different context which the others politely tried not to think too much about.
“So if we fix this the water comes back? You think it will help in other areas? Or just local.”
“Just locally, at least at first” Rainton replied, a little hope in his voice, (though it was hard to tell, he could be reporting the death of your granny, wearing your favourite shirt, and your grandpa, and your horse in a high speed collision involving your favourite carriage and an orphanage, while they were transporting a cargo of puppies to a retirement home on the same day you got the news you’d failed all your exams with no resits possible, and somehow he would still manage to make it sound chipper, it was almost creepy really.)
Really? Mibbet asked, she definitely felt some sympathy for the people round here as fellow amphibians (even if they were a species she had been in a few turf wars with she wouldn’t wish dying by drying on her worst enemy.) “Tell me more”