Man I can’t believe this, a real live human! He can even (kind of) understand me! I mean, he’s not the prettiest fellow I’ve ever seen, and his clothes are, lets say “well loved,” but this opens up so many possibilities. He’s probably part of the Alliance, maybe even from Stormwind, and should know the general state of the world. If I can get him proficient in sign language, he could probably get me up to date on the goings on, at least in the local area.

Good thing I’m currently swimming away from the canoe Nat is sitting in, because a full murloc smile, teeth and all, is not the most pleasant thing to look at. Oh, this is so exciting! I’ve never seen a human before as a murloc.

Wait, I’ve never seen a human before. In fact, I’ve never met another intelligent race that didn’t want to split my skull open like a melon and chow down, and I bet it’s the same for the rest of the village. They’re probably not going to be the most welcoming of people, especially with the gnoll attack fresh in their minds. I can’t just show up with a human and expect them to roll out the red carpet.

So what were my options? Technically, Glrmgrlr was in charge while Mrgglr and Chieftain Glrrm were away, which basically gave him complete control over the defense of the village. If he wanted, he could tell everybody to mind their own business, and ignore the human. But just because they weren’t physically encountering him didn’t mean they wouldn’t be worried, and paranoia can make people do stupid things.

Should we go somewhere else, away from the village? We could find a clear spot a bit down the beach and call over people one by one to introduce them to Nat. It would probably freak them out less than just bringing him straight into the village. But that would defeat the whole purpose of leaving the fishing spot, and I wanted to get back inside. If I could use the clay in Mrgglr’s hut, I could add pictures to my repertoire of non-verbal communications.

Maybe we could do this all stealthy? Have him lie down in the boat and throw a blanket over him, say we just found an abandoned canoe? That would probably work, but it doesn’t really paint a friendly picture to Nat. I want this to be the start of something bigger, not just an affirmation of whatever ideas humans already have towards Murlocs.

No, this was a bridge, one we would have to cross eventually. It would be better to do it now, with someone this unassuming. He could hardly be considered a credible threat to the village alone, with his lanky build and lack of any real weapons. It wouldn’t be a good idea to take him to the spawning pool, but if we just had a chat in Mrgglr’s hut, there shouldn’t be too much backlash.

Yah, that should work. Plus having Glrmgrlr there would reassure the village. He’s not the most pleasant man, but he does know how to use a spear, and has little qualms about using it against humanoids. I’m pretty sure he killed one of the gnolls from the previous attack, threw a spear right through its head. If anything went wrong, he could handle it, or at least that’s what the average villager would think.

As I finished up my ponderings on what to do, we reached the beach in front of the village, me and Glrmgrlr dragging the canoe a bit further onto the beach. Nat hopped onto the sand, leaving his fishing rod inside the boat. For about half a minute he just stood there, watching the Murloc in the village moving about, just living their lives. Then, he looked at me and Glrmgrlr, and after a nod from me, we walked into the village proper.

~

Nat was sitting on the floor of one of the bigger huts in the village, in a circle with the smaller, nice Murloc and the bigger, not-so-nice Murloc. While the exterior didn’t inspire much hope in Nat’s mind about the safety of this hut, the interior was a different matter altogether. It was decorated extensively with all manner of shells, bones and carvings, there was even a pelt to sit on in the middle of the room.

This was way outside his expectations. Most of what he had heard and seen of Murlocs was how aggressive they were, and to be honest they had kind of fulfilled that idea. When he had first entered the village, it was like someone had just dropped a fermenting mud snapper at the altar of the Cathedral of Light. The Murlocs who saw him mostly just stopped and stared, until one of the larger ones with a spear yelled something. After that, everyone just exploded into a cacophony of movement and yelling.

It had taken a lot of talking and hand waving on the smaller Murloc’s part, but eventually the trio managed to get past the crowd of Murlocs and reach their apparent destination, the hut they were currently sitting in.

“Soooo… what did you want to talk about?”

Instead of the hand signs Nat had expected, the smaller murloc grabbed a piece of wet clay, and started drawing on it. Once the sketch was finished, Nat was handed the tablet. It looked to be a little person, with an arrow pointing towards a decidedly non-human face.

Nat sighed, then took another look at the drawing. Man, I always sucked at this game.

The person had a stick in its hand, and the other held what seemed to be some kind of fish. Okay, I guess that’s me, fishing rod and all. The face had a triangle nose and what looked to be whiskers, with straight lines pointing outward, forming a ring around the face. It kind of looked like a cat, or maybe… A lion! They’re asking if I’m from Stormwind. Wait, how would they even know about Stormwind, let alone its heraldry?

As Nat was pondering that thought, he spotted a familiar blue cloth hanging on the wall. It was a deep blue, outlined with accents of gold, forming the face of a lion. That was an Alliance tabard, much like the ones Nat had seen all his life being worn by the Stormwind Guard. That was not a good sign, most soldiers wouldn’t give away their tabards willingly, that would have earned them a right stern talking to, plus a deduction in their salary until they paid it off. So they either stole it, killed a Stormwind Soldier, or found the armor someone had abandoned.

Although now that he looked at it, the colors seemed to be off. The blue was a bit too washed out, and the gold was a different hue altogether. That did give credence to his theory of “it fell off the back of a wagon,” or at least made it less likely they killed someone recently.

He put a checkmark on the clay and handed it back, eliciting a wide, toothy smile from the small Murloc. They exchanged words with the larger one, and started a new drawing. This time, it was the same lion face, but instead of Nat, the person had a distinct hunched back and three fingers on their hands, obviously a Murloc. Are they asking if there are Murlocs in Stormwind, or if Mulocs can enter Stormwind? I guess the answer is the same either way, so it doesn’t really matter.

He marked an x on the tablet, and the small Murloc frowned a bit when they saw it. They sighed, and scraped the clay clean. After a few seconds, they started talking to the other Murloc, who got up and yelled something down the ladder. A few minutes of silence later, another Murloc climbed up the ladder, carrying something in a small pouch. The contents were dumped onto the floor, and three oysters came tumbling out.

Nat watched as both Murlocs picked up one oyster, and then the smaller one motioned for him to grab one as well. The larger murloc took a small rock that had also been in the pouch, and started to tap the shell, seemingly looking for a good spot to smash it. Nat didn’t want to seem rude, so he dug through his pouch until he found his pocket knife. It was tiny, not useful for much more than whittling and cutting a tangled line, but it could shuck oysters. Before he could start, the small Murloc started pointing towards the knife and making “give me” motions.

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Nat shot the larger Murloc a look, but they just gave a disinterested look and went back to smashing the shell. He held the knife by the blade and passed it over to the small Murloc.

They took the knife gingerly, and to Nat’s surprise, started to shuck the oyster they were holding. That was weird, considering the obviously older Murloc hadn’t tried anything before just resorting to smashing the shell with a rock, but nothing about this situation was normal. Normally, Nat shouldn’t be in Westfall, he shouldn’t be in a Murloc village, and he certainly shouldn’t be talking to said Murloc. So a bit of shucking was the least of his worries.

Once they had managed to get the shell loose, they didn’t open the shell. Instead, they set it aside, still closed, and moved over to the larger Murloc. They exchanged some words, then the small one took the oyster and opened it with little trouble. Handing the knife back to Nat, he shucked his own in much the same way, making sure to keep it closed like they had.

Once they all had opened oysters, the small one mimed extending one hand, palm up, into the middle of the circle, and with the other opening the oyster. Okay, so some kind of ceremony then, Nat could work with that.

They all held the oysters out and opened them up at the same time, the shell blocking their view of what was inside. Before Nat could do anything, a grunt came from the large Murloc, his eyes open a bit wider than normal. The small one put down their oyster and took Nat’s, turning it around to show him the pearl that was sitting inside.

Nat took the pearl between his fingers. He wasn’t the biggest fan of jewelry, always thought it was a waste of money, so he didn’t have too much experience with pearls or any other kind of precious material, but it certainly looked pretty. As he raised it up to the beams of light that made it through some of the cracks in the ceiling, the pearl shimmered with a pattern of colors.

While Nat inspected his prize, Glrmgrlr was making his way to the gathering of Murlocs in the village center. They were undoubtedly worried, but the news of such an auspicious sign from the Deep Mother would calm their nerves. Glrmgrlr hadn’t seen such a radiant pearl since his visit to the Deep Shrine in his youth, and especially not from any Murloc in recent times. Maybe this human wont be so bad after all.

~

The Grand Council was about what Mrgglr had expected, what with Old-Murk Eyes involvement. The first half was mostly filled with a bunch of confirmations of how amazing he was and how the gnolls wouldn’t dare attack again, out of fear of his stupendous wrath. After that was done though, and when the main meal arrived spotting a sufficiently impressive platter of finger food and one large Shore Crawler, Old-Murk Eye seemed pleased enough to allow the various chieftains to start discussing the threat seriously.

A chieftain, one of the ones Mrgglr had seen on his trip over, was currently voicing his concerns. “Look, I never said your village didn’t suffer, we all did. I’m just saying my people had to fight off three waves of these gnolls, and somehow no Coastrunners showed up throughout the entire ordeal!”

Another chieftain, one of Old-Murk Eye’s lackeys, spoke up. “Look, we didn’t expect these attacks to be so widespread. Most Coastrunners converged on the few initial ones, and they couldn’t return to their assigned villages in time. It was a mistake, one we have taken steps to correct.”

Another Murloc, an oracle going by the various symbols carved out of bone hanging around their neck, raised their voice. “Oh yes, do tell how you put a bunch of armed, twitchy Coastrunners in our villages. I’ve had to break up 3 brawls already, and in the last one they broke the leg of one of my carvers.”

One of the few Tidehunters sitting at the table chimed in. “They keep demanding to eat oysters and eels, like they own the place or something. I’m telling you, I don’t even eat those things everyday, and I’m the one that catches them.”

Mrgglr stood up, tapping his staff on the ground to get their attention. “People, please, let us be calm. We all gathered here today to solve a problem through unity, not to create more of them through strife. Does anyone know why these attacks happened?”

A chorus of chatter erupted from the Murloc at the table, each giving theories and rumors about what the gnolls’ goal was. Mrgglr waited a bit to see if any leading theories would present themselves, but most everyone had their own ideas. He sighed, and knocked his staff again.

“So we don’t know why this happened, other than them wanting to eat us?”

The Tidehunter that spoke previously stood up, drawing everyone's attention. “Why do we need to know more than that? That’s why the Makrura attacked us, and we beat them all the same. I say we head over to wherever they are and crush them once and for all.”

“What I’m saying is we need to know more about what we are facing before we act so rashly. Sure, we destroyed that Makrura tribe, but then two more came looking for revenge.”

“And what I’m saying is that we can take these gnolls, easily. Sure, they’re strong, but they’ve got the brains of a clam. The batch I fought just rushed towards me, completely missing the traps buried in the sand. Half of them were out of the fight before I even had to move.”

Mrgglr sighed, waving a hand in the air dismissively. “Be that as it may, how would we even find their camp? It’s not like we can get them to take us to it, we can’t even speak with them.”

A chieftain, one of the ones from a neighboring village to Mrgglr’s, raised his hand. “Uh, I might have something on that front. One of my gatherers was picking berries when he found a bunch of tracks leading to a structure built into a rock. He said there were a bunch of gnolls hanging around, all of them armed. I think it might be their base.”

The Tidehunter perked up. “Perfect, and they don’t know we have the location of their base. We can dish out a little payback and do a night raid. Hit them before they even know we’re there! Who’s with me!”

With that declaration, the table erupted into cheers and thumps on the wood. After a few seconds, Old-Murk Eye grunted loudly, silencing the crowd. He cleared his throat, then spoke to the assembled Murlocs.

“I just had a wonderful idea. What if we gathered together the best fighters of each village, and launched an attack on these gnolls. It would be the quickest way to restore peace to the Longshore Coast.”

One of the Murlocs standing behind him, a server by the looks of it, stepped forward and spoke more to the table than to Old-Murk Eye. “Brilliant idea, Grand Chief. Luckily, that scout you sent last week returned today with the location of the gnoll’s main base. It seems they are held up in a mine towards the North-Western side of the coast.”

“Well, that settles it then. Let's have a vote. All who are in favor of the attack, raise your hand.”

Before he had even finished his sentence, those seated around him had shot their hands straight up, with the rest of the table following suit. Mrgglr stared at Old-Murk Eye for a few seconds, then raised his hand as well. At least this plan has a chance of making the Longshore safer.

“Perfect, I’ll send word of when and where to meet. Expect it to be in the coming weeks, after you all return home.” He then returned to absolutely devouring an entire plate of eels, biting their heads off then slurping the rest of their bodies whole. He must have eaten an entire school of the things by now, a slightly impressive, if not disturbing, feat.

Mrgglr looked back down at his own plate of shrimp, picking one up to inspect it. It was large, bigger than any Mrgglr had seen on the northern coast of the Longshore. In fact, everything that was served seemed to be bigger than normal. That must have been a massive pain to do, only serving the best of the best. But it did paint a good picture of Old-Murk Eye if he was willing to go to such length to accommodate his guests. Or perhaps he just wanted to eat the best food around, Mrgglr couldn’t tell which.

~

A large gnoll, nearly a head taller than any of its fellows, stood hunched over a table, staring at a map spread across its surface. It had a pin stuck into it, showing their current location. He snarled as he surveyed the results of the recent raids. They had lost a good number of gnolls, and had little to show for it, and it was all the fault of those stupid frog-fuckers. How were they able to fend off so many attacks at once? He couldn’t understand why, and when he couldn’t understand something, he got angry.

The gnoll was about to smash the table when a voice came from the hallway, breaking him out of his rage. “Sargent Brashclaw, I do hope you weren’t going to destroy a piece of Defias equipment, one on loan no less.”

Brashclaw turned his attention towards the man who had just stepped into the room, a heavy cloak covering his features. “You said these Murlocs would be easy targets, said they couldn’t stand up to our might! What do you have to say now?”

“I have to say I obviously overestimated your little band of misfits. If they couldn’t even destroy a few villages, how are they going to destroy Stormwind?”

Brashclaw stood up, looming over the hooded agent. “You promised better weapons, where are they, Defias?”

“I have indeed brought weapons, just not of the physical variety. The Defias believe you and your gang are deserving of a little… let's say, lesson in the arcane arts.”

As he spoke, he raised his hand in front of Brashclaw, where a small fire danced along his fingertips. It seemed to follow his movements, swishing and swaying wherever his fingers went, but never going out or burning his skin.

Brashclaw smiled, his fangs on full display. “Now you’re speaking my language. Boys! Get a feast going, we’re going to have some fish for dinner.”

The gnolls sitting outside the room gave off a chorus of laughs and cheers, as they made their way to the storeroom. They retrieved a great many things, all carrying something. Spits, pots, knives, cuts of meat, whole boars, even a few vegetables for the human.

But one was carrying something special while licking his lips. It wasn’t everyday you had fresh meat, and none of the gnolls had tasted roasted Murloc before. This would certainly be a feast to remember.