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"We're travelers," Bernon added, "Passing through from the southwest. We came across some pretty serious trouble a few miles back, and we wanted to warn anyone living nearby."
One of the fishermen sitting nearby leaned forward. "What trouble are you on about? If it's bandits, we know how to deal with them."
Tanrial shook her head, “No, not bandits. A lot worse then that,” Sha ran ahand through her hair, “To sum up a very long story, this guy wants to wipe out anyone who isn’t human, and we wanted to talk to the head of this town, see what they know and if they can help… do you know who they are and where they are?” She asked.
The second fisherman leaned around the first to get a better look at them. "My wife runs On-Th'-Tario. That's our village. If you want our help, you'll have to ask her. But first, we need to know we can trust you." He sat back. "Leave your weapons here, and I'll take you over."
Tanrial shrugged, “Alright then.” Taking off her bow, arrows and any other daggers and her sword she was carrying, she placed them on the table near by, indicating for Bernon and Mike to do the same.
They added their knives to the pile wordlessly. The fisherman eyed them for a moment longer, then nodded and stepped away from the counter. "Follow me." Leaving the tavern, he led them to one of the boats tethered to the dock and hopped in. "Watch your step. I just brought in the day's catch, so it'll be a little slimy in here."
Tanrial nodded and stepped in after the man, watching her step and trying not to slip. Once she was in, she carefully made room for the others.
The fisherman waited until they all got settled, then untied the boat and unfolded its small sail, allowing it to catch the breeze. They started to drift away from the shore and out into open water, slowly drawing closer to the floating village.
"Name's Ozrig," the man said after a short silence. "And you lot?"
“I’m Tanrial…” She said, offering Ozrig a small smile.
"I'm Bernon," Bernon added. "And this is Mike, and this little lady–" he motioned to Snatch curled up in the hood of his jacket. "–is….Snapdragon, our pet."
Ozrig frowned at Snatch. "What the heck kind of critter is that?"
“She’s a cat. Some kind of cat, not sure what type but she’s friendly.” Well, Tanrial wasn’t wrong, “She won’t harm anyone. Generally she’d sleeping or looking for food.”
"Hmm. Just as long as she steers clear of our boat cats. They're not too partial to strangers."
Mike nodded. So how long have you guys been out in the middle of the lake? I passed through a while ago and you all lived on the shore."
"Really. You must have come by quite a while ago, sonny. We've lived on the water for almost three years now. The bandits don't know how to make good boats, and even if they do, we can shoot them out of the water before they get close."
"Sounds smart," Bernon remarked. "Is the fishing any good?"
"If it weren't, we wouldn't be here, would we? Sure the fish here are a bit different than in other lakes, but they stay down and you get used to the taste. Some travelers say our lake is sick, but it never hurt any of us."
“Well, in this day and age adaption is good. If you can’t get used to it then,” She shrugged, “Oh well. How different actually is the fish?”
Ozrig returned the shrug. "Well, I grew up here, so I don't know what other lakes are like. It's mostly a taste thing, but sometimes you notice a fish that's a little weird. Blind maybe, or born without fins, or colored different. We throw 'em in with the others, they taste just the same. This season there's been a lot more odd ones, but my wife says it's probably just evolution doing it job. She knows all about that stuff. She's real smart, she is." His expression softened just slightly for the briefest of moments.
Tanrial nodded, “That makes sense,” She paused for a moment, “Do you think it could be something else? Other then evolution?”
He scowled. "Are you sayin' my wife is wrong? Because Missy, she's never wrong."
“No, no I’m not saying she’s wrong I just want to know what you think on the matter.” She said.
"Eh. I think she's right. And even if she not, by some crazy fluke, I doubt there's anything to worry about. So a few people have gotten sick, but that happens everywhere. Doesn't mean it has anything to do with the lake."
Tanrial nodded slightly, “Yeah I guess that’s true. Sorry if I offended you or her in anyway.”
"You're all right. Didn't mean to snap at you there." Ozrig adjusted the rudder and glanced over is shoulder. "We're here. Get ready to jump on that porch up ahead when I get us close enough."
(brb, gotta go have supper)
Tanrial nodded, “Alright, yeah, okay.” She got ready to jump when Ozrig gave the signal.
(Okay)
A few moments later the prow of the boat scraped against soggy wood and Ozrig nodded. "Okay, up you go. I'll tie the boat round back and meet you at the door."
Tanrial quickly climbed out of the boat and onto the deck, trying not to slip as she went. Eventually she was standing steady on the wood.
Mike and Bernon joined her, crowding in close so the all fit on the small, rickety porch. The house itself was more like a two-room hut, with a thatched roof and a little smokestack sticking out of it. Despite its unimpressive appearance, compared to the other floating huts around them it was fairly large and well-made. There was the sound of someone moving around inside, and the smell of frying fish wafted through the open window.
“Well, Ozrig is… nice?” She muttered, glancing sidelong at Bernon and Mike as they waited for Ozrig to join them.