It's the Murloc Life for Me [A Warcraft Isekai]

Chapter 8: 👋✌👌

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 he still couldn't focus on his pole for more than a minute. That inattention had cost him a catch, and a lost catch meant fewer fish to bring back to the 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 were 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 of days. There would be no pressure to make a profit, just a couple of 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 a fish was 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. Let's 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 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.