As he sat on his makeshift chair, trying and failing to catch some fish, Nat Pagle sighed. He had been fishing for a good twenty years, and still he couldn’t focus on his pole for more than a minute. That inattention had cost him a catch, and a lost catch meant less fish to bring back to market in Stormwind. Less fish meant less money to buy booze, and less booze meant he might have to fish while sober!

On that disturbing note, Nat raised the waterskin beside him to take another gulp of dwarven stout, but discovered it held less than half a mouthful of the dark ale.

Sighing even louder, he threw the waterskin over his shoulder and raised a hand to his head, massaging his temples. Man, this is not my day.

Even with the discount Elly promised on the dwarven stout, he might not make enough today to cover his costs. It certainly didn’t help that he had to cut his fishing session short to make it back to Stormwind before the harbor merchants packed up for the night. Why did he have to come to Westfall? He had heard from the other fishermen that there were giant schools of oily blackmouth, just ripe for the picking. The weird purple-scaled fish were always in demand, as the oil alchemists made from them was essential to the Alliance's military. Gnomish technology and weaponry almost required a regular slathering of the stuff to work smoothly. If he managed to catch even half a dozen oil blackmouths, he would be set for the next couple days. There would be no pressure to make a profit, just a couple relaxing sessions of fishing and drinking.

But here he was, miles away from a safe harbor, sitting like an idiot watching fish steal his bait. He had only caught a few slitherskin mackerel, and he ate one of them for breakfast. But it was still early, and there was time for his fortunes to change. Yes, he shouldn’t be admitting defeat so easily! He would be the best fisherman in all of Azeroth, and those stupid oil blackmouths wouldn’t know what… crap there was a fish pulling at the line. Okay, just gotta reel it in slowly and, well there it goes with half my line.

Getting up from the crate he was sitting on, Nat got out another replacement line and started the process of stringing it to his fishing pole. As he did, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking towards a large rock, he noticed a spear laying on the ground, poking out from behind the cover. There must be someone hiding behind the rock. But hiding from whom? From Nat, an unarmed fisherman? It was probably a child, separated from their family. There had been stories and rumors floating about from fleeing refugees, talk of bandits and gnolls roaming the lands of Westfall, burning and pillaging everywhere they went. If that was true, the child must have been terrified.

Sitting back down, Nat thought the situation over. If it was a scared kid, he could probably get them back to Stormwind. He had rented a small boat, more of a canoe than a fishing vessel, and it had room for another person. If they had family in Stormwind, perfect. If not, the orphanage wasn’t the best place, but it was better than nothing, and certainly better than running for your life.

Looking over to the rock, Nat called out. “Hey, I know you’re there. Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Hopefully the kid wouldn’t be spooked and bolt off. He wouldn’t be able to find them in the dense forest. Soon, movement could be heard from behind the rock. Well, looks like they’re going to come on out. Lets see how bad the situation... is… is that a murloc?

What came out was not, as he had expected, a human child, but rather a murloc… well Nat wasn’t really sure if it was a child or not. But before he could react physically, they raised their hands above their head, as if they were a soldier, surrendering to their foe. Slowly, the murloc started making its way over to Nat, in small, clearly telegraphed steps.

Staring in disbelief at the unusual sight, Nat shook his head and gave his eyes a quick rub. What was in that stout? He had met a few murlocs in the past while traveling through the rivers of Elwynn Forest, and they were not this calm. Rather they had been very energetic, croaking and thrusting spears at him menacingly. Something to do with trespassing and being anything but a murloc, the scholars had said. But here was a murloc acting almost fearful of him, or maybe trying to calm his nerves.

The strange murloc had gotten halfway across the beach while he had been pondering, and they were only getting closer. Standing up, Nat put down his fishing pole and rotated his body to face the new arrival. He certainly wasn’t going to start anything, not without any weapons and while in unknown territory. For all he knew, a whole tribe could be waiting behind that rock, weapons at the ready.

As if on cue, another murloc stepped onto the sand, although this one more resembled the ones Nat had met before. They carried a spear that seemed to have been made from a scavenged sword blade, the metal having been driven into a long shaft of wood, along with a sling, a stone already nestled into its pouch. The new murloc seemed much less happy to see a human, and quickly jogged to the first murloc’s position. They exchanged a flurry of words Nat couldn’t understand, then both approached together.

The pair stopped a couple meters away from where Nat was sitting, with the smaller murloc standing a bit closer. It took a deep breath, then started slowly moving its hands around in front of it.

Was it casting a spell? Nat had once seen one of those fancy wizards back in Stormwind throw a firework spell when the city was reconstructed, and it consisted of a lot of gibberish and hand movements. The visual spectacle was pretty when it exploded in the night sky, not so much when it was pointed at a group of rioters a few months later though. But no spell, at least not a visible one, came from the murloc in front of me.

Well, now they were just repeating the same movements, slower and more exaggerated. What are they doing? Is this a game or something, like I got to mimic it or something? Okay, well lets see. Point forward, thumb up and rotate the other forearm back and forth. Point forward, thumb up and rotate the other forearm back and forth. Point forw… point to myself? Point to myself, thumb up and shake the other hand? Well that made them nod their head a bunch, so I’m probably on the right track.

Wait, now they’re just staring at me. Are you waiting for something? What would they be waiting on… A response! That’s it, they were trying to talk with their hands. Okay, so what do the gestures mean?

Point to me, so me, or I guess you from their perspective. Thumb up, gonna assume that’s good, or maybe yes. What's the rotating for? Like, am I hurt maybe? So it’s ‘you something good’. That doesn’t seem right. Maybe murloc grammar is weird, wouldn’t be the first time another race had a language that sounded like it had been ordered by a drunken ogre. ‘Good something you?’ No, that doesn’t make sense. ‘Something you good?’ Now that sounded better, the ‘something’ could be a question, like are. Then it would be ‘are you good.’

Giving a thumbs up, Nat watched the smaller murloc’s face light up with the largest smile he had ever seen. It was a bit disconcerting given how sharp their teeth were, but a good sign. He might make it out of this alive.

~

This was great! He got the meaning on the first try, if his response was anything to go by. There was always the possibility that he didn’t understand and was just acting friendly, But let's go with glass half full, and assume he understood me.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Now I just had to figure out what to do with my newfound powers of communication. Honestly, I hadn’t expected to have to use my sign language this quickly, so a lot of the rules and signs aren’t set in stone yet. I’ve basically been flying by the seat of my pants, but if I project a sense of confidence, they shouldn’t notice.

As I pondered what to try and mime next, Glrmgrlr leaned in closer to me and whispered. “What’s going on? Are you doing something?”

“You don’t need to whisper, he can’t understand us when we speak.”

Glrmgrlr straightened and crossed his arms. “I know that, I was trying to be polite.”

“Well this man wouldn’t know if that is polite or not. He might think we are discussing how to kill him. In fact, that’s the problem I’m trying to solve. I figured out a sort of hand language, where I can mimic things to convey information to people that can’t speak Nerglish.”

He took a quick look at my hand, then stepped back while shaking his head. “If he does anything weird, I’m still going to stab him. We can’t take any chances, not with the gnolls running around in the forest.”

Shesh, he just had to chip in. I was all excited and happy that my sign language worked, and that comment did as much good for my mood as a roaring fire does for a murloc. Namely, it kills them, quite brutally.

No time to dwell on that though, a real, actual human is standing before me, waiting for what I say next. New goal, try and get him to come back to the village. There I could dedicate more time to conversing, as I would be available to respond quickly if an emergency arrived. Plus Glrmgrlr did make a good point, we were dangerously isolated from any backup, and while I am sure Glrmgrlr could hold his own against Gnolls, I’m not as confident in my or my new human friend’s chances.

Okay, let's see if this works twice. I hold my palm straight up and use two fingers on my other hand to mimic walking. “Come.” Then I point in the direction of the village. “Over there.” I make a roof with my hands. “Shelter.”

After a few cycles, he seems to catch on. The man stares in the direction I pointed, seemingly pondering the idea. After what seems like a minute of hearing nothing but the lapping waves, he nods and gives me a thumbs up. Standing up, he picks up the box he was using as a seat and his fishing rod, and deposits them in the boat.

Glrmrgr noticed the movement and steps forward, spear at the ready. “What was that? What did you say?”

“I invited him to the village.”

He shot me an incredulous look, like I had just told him I was a human from another world in the body of a murloc. “Why would you do that? I just said it would be dangerous, what if he’s working for the gnolls?”

As he spoke, I watched the man accidentally drop the boat on his foot, eliciting a yell and a string of what I can only assume to be curses. “I highly doubt that. Not every land race is working together. Humans and Gnolls fight all the time.”

“And you would know this how? This would be the perfect trap. He gets inside and sets the village on fire, causes a panic, maybe even steals a tadpole or two.”

That… wasn’t the craziest theory, given how the murloc view of the world splits the myriad races of Azeroth into murlocs and everyone else. “Look, just trust me, okay? If anything happens, you’ll be there to stop him.”

That seemed to placate Glrmrglr, at least for now. As we were talking, the human had managed to push his boat into the water, and was sitting in it, paddle in hand. Looks like he was waiting for us to lead the way.

Walking into the water, I swam up to the side of his boat and grabbed the edge. I pointed towards the village, then started to swim, guiding the boat away from the shore. Once we got far enough away that there was little chance of running aground, I released and pushed off, maintaining a steady lead.

As we moved, I heard a sound coming from the boat. It was high pitched, and melodic. Looking behind me, I saw the man whistling as he paddled, a jaunty tune emanating from his lips. Looks like he was taking this in stride, even with how weird I must seem to the average human. I was really lucky to run into this human, someone who was smart enough and friendly enough to listen to a random murloc.

When he got to the chorus of the song again, I joined in. Murloc lips were not designed to whistle, but I was able to get a decent pitch out of my teeth. He seemed surprised initially, but continued the tune. We entered sight of the village like that, two strangers sharing a happy song.

~

Mrgglr sat on the beach, eyes closed and staff laid across his legs, as he listened to the waves flow around him. He was sitting at the edge of the water, where the tide would advance and recede around him. It was a familiar exercise, one meant to divine the whims and wiles of the Deep Mother. He had not performed it in recent times, as it was not wise to commune with a being as overwhelming as the Deep Mother for idle fancies, but there were too many unanswered questions wrapped up in the grand council for Mrgglr’s liking.

Questions like why the Blueteeth of all tribes were receiving preferential treatment, being taken into the supposedly full lighthouse minutes after arriving. The Blueteeth hadn’t done anything noteworthy in generations, in fact they had cut themselves off from the rest of the Longshore, refusing to trade or even talk with the other villages. Now here they were, being treated like a close ally.

Maybe Old-Murk Eye wanted to pull them back into the fold, make them feel appreciated and perhaps motivate the chief, show him the benefits of cooperation. Mrgglr had been given lessons from his father about the family business in his youth, and one of the first things he was taught was that a gift of shells can make the impossible possible.

As he sat pondering, there was the sound of someone approaching, the footsteps getting louder and louder, until they stopped a few meters away. “Are you Mrgglr?”

Opening his eyes, Mrgglr twisted his head to see a young murloc, on the cusp of maturity. A trainee, most likely, or perhaps one of the family of his hosts. “Yes, I am. For what do you seek me?”

The young boy pointed towards the lighthouse, his voice a bit apprehensive. “I was told to bring you to the kitchen, immediately.”

With a heavy sigh Mrgglr stood up and started walking towards the lighthouse. “It’s about the Sea Crawler, correct?”

“I believe so, Oracle. Although it doesn’t look right to me, got a big black part on the underside. Chef said to check with you before feeding it to the shark.”

Now that was strange, a black part on the bottom of a Sea Crawler? Some parts of their shell was black, the most obvious portion being the carapace covering the top of its head, but the underside should have been a lighter blue. The only reason a Sea Crawler would be black was if it was covered in ink from a failed attempt at hunting a squid, or…

Picking up his waking pace, Mrgglr rushed past another group of murloc who had just arrived and were being escorted to the circle of tents beside the lighthouse. There were a pair of Coastrunners guarding the entrance to the hut built into the lighthouse, but they let Mrgglr past without any impediment. It was fairly easy to spot the kitchen, seeing as a corner of the room had been taken over by a group of four murlocs, each furiously working on some type of dish. One was mashing a mixture of fish scraps and stranglekelp into a paste, occasionally pouring in a palms worth of blood. Another was butchering the largest catfish Mrgglr had ever seen, removing the bones and carefully extracting the choicest cuts. The final two were arranging a variety of small morsels on a large wooden dish. There was a ring of shrimp, slugs, snails within their shells, even a few chunks of Lightning Eel, and a massive center where nothing sat.

When he entered the room, one of the cooks had looked up from their work and addressed him. “If you’re here to ask for some food, go bother one of the guards. We’re too busy to make you a snack.”

“No, I was asked to come and help out, my name is Mrgglr? Old-Murk Eye said you had a Sea Crawler and wanted me to check it over and make sure it’s good.”

Another cook turned around, the various bones strung along a string around his neck clacking together. That was probably the Chef, and an experienced one by the looks of things. He had worked on shark, Oil Blackmouth, there was even a tusk Mrgglr recognized as coming from a boar, one of the more dangerous creatures found inland. “Oh, that would be great. I’ve never really worked with Sea Crawlers, and it's got all these weird black spots on the bottom.”

The Sea Crawler was easy to find, it had been placed on a counter and flipped onto its back. Even at a glance I realized what they were talking about. There was indeed a cluster of black on the underside of the carapace, clinging to the Sea Crawler. Small, black sphere that Mrgglr remembered well from his father’s teaching. Eggs, specifically eggs about to hatch and disgorge a mass of crabs ready to have their first meal, often a sibling or two.

“How long ago was this killed?”

The Chef responded immediately, not bothering to turn around. “Oh, well a Tidehunter brought it in yesterday, said it found it dead in a trap. Probably no more than two days old.”

Two days, that was a surprising amount of time for a clutch of Sea Crawler eggs to survive, but Mrgglr had seen stranger things in his life. Pulling out a large clam shell, Mrgglr carefully scraped the eggs off the carapace, depositing them into the clam. Once he had removed all the eggs, the shell was closed and deposited back into his pouch.

He turned and placed the crab on the main worktable. “It should be fine from what I can see. There was just a bit of gunk stuck on the bottom, but I cleaned it out.”

“That's a relief. We would have had to find a replacement for the centerpiece of the appetizer tray, and I had no idea what would be as eye catching. Maybe some Rainbow Fin Albacore, but it would have been a tough order to get them before dinner tonight.”

Exiting the hut, Mrgglr’s mind was racing. There hadn’t been any large consortiums of Sea Crawlers on the Longshore in years, largely due to how infrequently the females had clutches. But now a golden opportunity had fallen into his lap. An entire clutch of eggs, almost ready to hatch. He might not have the time to fully maintain a Sea Crawler ranch of any scale, but he had the knowledge. Plus Brgllrm was a quick learner, she would be able to take over at times when Mrgglr was unavailable. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was definitely feasible.

Looks like crab’s back on the menu.