Don't Poke The Bear! (Warcraft/Furbolg)

I stared incredulously at the masterfully crafted bracelet Ursol made for me in person, resting in my paws.

The clear recollection of what happened changed little about how… giddy? Yes, something like that was what I felt, along with managing to meet him and reveal a hint of the future.

I was a bit in a euphoric daze. I hadn't felt this good in far too long; it was the most crucial step, and I succeeded!

Meeting and convincing the Bear of Wisdom: the simple fact that I was aware of the World Tree in Northrend and its corruption was enough, and I was right to believe so from his reaction.

He wasn't suspicious about it, too, likely believing me as some kind of seer, not that it wasn't wholly inaccurate, just not traditionally speaking. And I won't correct the misunderstanding.

Insinuating that I had knowledge from some kind of vision passed far more easily than admitting to reincarnation from another universe where this one was fictitious. It was hard even for me to conceive.

"Just have to wait for him to call back," I mumbled, and that was one of the prices. I don't doubt it will take time to resolve, considering Nordrassil's size.

Even if we divide it by a few times and all the nightmarish management involved, it won't be done by tomorrow.

But when Ursol got the time, we needed to talk, and I hope he will be receptive to my ideas, such as warning the night elves and furbolgs as a whole—the first he likely could do quickly enough. And to help me with a plan aimed at sheltering furbolgs–prioritizing the cubs–until things calmed down, selfish yes, I put the safety of my species above that of others.

Ultimately, there weren't many options for the coming demonic invasion but to soldier on and reduce our losses.

Simpler said than done and on a shaky foundation, but I couldn't do anything else aside from growing in power and knowledge.

As for the orcs, humans, dwarves, and others that would come during the next twenty years at most… I wasn't sure. Frankly, I would prefer they never come, but my preference didn't bend reality or make me irrational.

It won't be simple. Be it winning and picking the pieces afterward or otherwise.

Like that, half of my joy was evaporated by the harsh ray of reality.

"Argh fuck you brain…" I groaned loudly, one thing done and twenty-five more to do. At least my goals were relatively self-centered beyond subverting myself, my tribe, and, by extension, my kind corruption and culling. Again, it was easier said than done, but there was a distinction.

"This should help, though." I grinned, centimeters before my elbow, placing Ursol's gift around my forearm. After a few minutes of work, I tied the two ends together, following the same criss-crossed knot pattern.

'Huh… Interesting.' I paused, sensing the bracelet trying to draw magical energies, mine or otherwise; without hesitation, I gave it, and it hungrily gulped it all. The idea that it might be cursed was as ridiculous as it was short-lived. In an instant, the hundreds of dim runes lit up, the knots I made reorganized neatly into better ones, and I felt a shift.

I could hear and see in a way that was beyond my bodily senses. Voices, howls, growls, chirps, sounds of branches snapping, and all that was of life. And I stood there stunned at the surprisingly pleasant, harmonious cacophony as my ears twitched.

It wasn't new, but without being in a certain mindset, at a certain place and time, having consumed some kind of drugs or certain rituals–it also depended on the spirits and locations in question–it was overall not a cacophony like now. I could sense them all the same if I focused, but that wasn't the same.

My awareness had never been this strong outside of some of the above, an awareness aimed at the spirits of the wild and nature of the ancestral variety in particular. Their reactions ranged from joyful to befuddled by their whisper in my ears, all directed at yours truly.

It was interesting.

It transformed me into a beacon of sorts from the attention I was getting, partly at least. I never was ignored, but there was this and that. But since I didn't want everyone and their grandma to know what I was doing and where I was, I stopped intentionally feeding it mana. Not that I had the ability to pump power indefinitely.

My sense and presence returned to normal, if slightly above what they were. But that it seemed to passively use my mana residue even after I stopped feeding it, mana hinted at other qualities, such as this elegant film of mana around my head.

Protection against mind magic, corruption, maybe, or others? I didn't know. I trusted Ursol that this was to my benefit, though.

"No matter… if I use it should save me." I thought out loud, studying the ivory bear-shaped whistle built for muzzle owners, how to activate it, but what it would do not so much.

Well, I got a general idea that it would call upon ancestral spirits to help me, but to what extent was a mystery, and I wasn't going to try, given it wasn't a toy as much as I wanted to see what it could do. I didn't even know if it could be used repeatedly.

As for today… Ah! Ah, yes, my genius idea before slumber won over my mind. Let's enact it, shall I?

And that is what I did in the following hour. Flying to Miel's den, I circled to ensure he wasn't there. It was surprisingly challenging, for he was the stealthiest creature I had ever encountered despite how big ursa totemics were—a warrior rogue. I was jealous, and by the ancestor, I couldn't reproduce even a fraction of his talent no matter what I tried.

Once this was done, the rest was easy. I knew where my martial teacher's stash was. Landing on a nearby tree, I used its roots to permanently borrow a sample without making a mess. It was unfairly simple. Like taking candy from a baby, it required control and concentration, but I had both in abundance. I have done this for the majority of my life, after all.

'To think I hated alcohol as a human…' I thought, grabbing the wooden bottle and immediately flying farther away to uncork it with a claw flick and drink in peace. Though calling it a bottle wasn't doing it justice, it was more of a barrel. It was admittedly a small one, fitting in my paw like a big mug, but still a barrel.

I didn't take a heftier one because it would be harder, and I knew I would ultimately be caught—the beating punishment hidden as training was worth it for the taste, but that wasn't a reason to push too far. Pissing off the asshole was hilarious, but still, I had standards. Whatever they may be.

Not that I feared the consequences, the opposite almost, but that would be mostly instincts speaking.

I savored the sweet aroma and soft bitterness among the bubbles of the honey beer; every part of it mapped in my brain thanks to my nose. And it was in quantities that would kill a human several times over.

Yet something that wouldn't do anything to my system. If I wanted to lose my balance and half my brain function, I needed to drink far more.

Which I wouldn't. I may not hate its smell and taste like I did back then. And while not being mentally all there was funny, the buzz was pleasant, and I couldn't get a hangover. It didn't mean I liked facing the consequences of the dumb shit I would do, so I refrained.

Amusingly, a quirk that got the same surprised and questioning gaze as I did as a human when I straight up refused to drink since I don't consume much alcohol for a furbolg my size and position.

"-SOC'S FURRY BALLS I'M GOING TO BREAK THE LILTE FUCK'S SKU-" My ears flattened at the roaring, nearly a kilometer away, from the sheer loudness of it. Miel does have a strong pair of lungs when angry. It might be time to retreat. I wouldn't want the poor tree I was resting on to be ripped off the ground, now do I?

After this event, four days later, I got found and earned many deep cuts and fractures open or otherwise healed soon after, all while returning several successful hits. No magic was allowed in that duel, not that it never happens. But when it was allowed, we could get taken in the excitement, though it got significantly... bloodier, yet at least the results weren't as one-sided.

Aside from that, I waited for Ursol to show signs during these days. Each night, I passed by the Dream for purposes beyond research, training, and lessons, yet no response.

Oh, and on the first day after my visit to Miel, it had been an amusing scene for the shamans with their cathartic shock and delight when they learned of whom I had met and got an object from, information from both me and the ancestors. Let's say the grumbling about my choice for a bat instead of a bear had immensely diminished, as well as the weird looks at the unconventional uses of my bones.

It wasn't shocking; intelligent spirits spoke a lot, and big things like what happened had waves. However, what was said as intended remained a mystery.

Still, none of that made Ursol answer, so I waited, rarefying my visit as days turned to weeks that turned to months until they numbered nearly half a year. I did not force things either, but I remained persistent, and it earned me Liande–the Ancient of Lore–to tell me that he was fine, just busy and needing mental focus.

I would know when he was ready to discuss, but I would meet him again in the year based on how things were advancing.

I placed a hot potato in his paws, which needed his immediate focus so I would be patient if displeased in my corner. That was on me. Alas, I couldn't trust anyone else, and the ones I could trust would be put in danger knowing; it sounded cliché, but that didn't make it untrue.

So I would wait for the Bear Lord and that the horrors coming were known by everyone through his assistance, utterly blocking any possible pruning since time magic by all accounts wasn't omnipotent. It had rules and limitations. What were they? I had no clue, but they were here. They must.

I was aware that it might all be for nothing, and that was because of three possibilities.

First, I was known, and there wasn't any problem, so my paranoia was pointless. Second, they know and are debating or fighting about my fate or can't do anything. Third, they don't know, or alternate four, I fail by dying, being corrupted and enslaved–not specifically in that order–and there was no need to intervene.

The worst were unknown forces such as the Old Gods and–whatever their name–windchimes of Light. Both have seers and were involved in time shenanigans—no matter when the three above applied, if I was even in their sight.

It's an arrogant point of view to believe I would.

The problem was this wasn't fiction. I was too ignorant and weak, so the third was the safest bet for whatever it was worth.

Until then… I have other plans.

"Ohto? Are you there? As I said, my beautiful wife is pregna-" A soft male voice with a tentative poke at my paw brought me back to reality, and I blinked at Vandel. The night elf, content with my rejuvenated focus, went back on joyfully babbling about his marital life.

He was a good acquaintance, if not a friend at this point. Unironically, Vandel is my only one. He was always kind. But he could get annoying when he got rolling and couldn't take any hints to close his mouth. It was insane, a rambling young old man.

It wasn't as if I hadn't told him to be silent more or less politely, and distancing myself didn't have the intended result. The only permanent solution was violence, and it was one of the cases where it wasn't optimal, verbal or physical.

"That's great, Vandel. Congratulations to her. May he have a long and successful life." I said with a faint, if weary smile, the guttural nature of my deep voice and bear-like morphology, even with my relatively good Darnasian breaking all its natural musicality and rhythm.

He nodded, enthusiastically going on about how his baby boy was due in a year and a half, and he went on and on about inviting me and the likes. For the tenth time might I had.

I did pay attention. I liked the guy, but his never-ending monolog was almost the snapping point… to make me regret going with him to Astranaar instead of my lonesome, but I didn't want accidents happening. I didn't like going alone either.

Luckily for my sanity, I only endured for half an hour more as we arrived, evident by how nature parted from the path to an immense crystal-clear lake. The wisps and pale moonlights of the two moons bathes it in its entirety, transitioning to perfection with the atmosphere of Ashenvale.

Soon, a town of elegantly composed green and purplish wooden buildings and trees could be seen in harmony. It was atop an island, creating a scene not dissimilar to Venice in essence.

It was nothing like the little I recalled of it in World of Warcraft, and it wasn't a dozen dingy houses but a bustling fantastical city of a smaller size compared to what I was used to on Earth.

"Welcome to Astranaar, dear friend! Come!" Vandel exclaimed, jumping down from his caravan to one of the sentinels serving as guards of the bridge to the town, who gaped at me as I followed the night elf. However, they weren't the only ones to mimic goldfish; civilians and even a priestess from her robe.

It wasn't fear, but stupefaction with curiosity was a close enough comparison, and I could hear them. Most never having seen furbolgs from the sound of it.

"Wow, by Elune, is that a real furbolg? It's so much bigger than I imagined!"

"What an elegant eye color."

"Incredible… someone tamed one."

"Do you believe we can pet it? The fur seems soft if in need of grooming."

"The books never said they could have glowing tattoos!"

"Yes, they did, Eldryn, but shouldn't they be a scarce breed? It's smaller than I imagined, too. Or a pup."

"Oh! Can it do tricks or maybe speak? I heard they could if trained."

It was… clear how they viewed things. Not all were these ways, but the ones weren't a minority, and they stood out.

It wasn't ill-intentioned, but this knowledge wasn't stopping my fur from visibly bristling, my ears from twitching, and my displeasure and irritation from rising. At least it wasn't panic like I would have felt back then to be stared at by so many. I was still socially as delicate as a jackhammer.

The guard sentinels only noticed my warning signs, but they wisely stood in their lane. That was an excellent call on their part. I wasn't going to attack; I was just annoyed.

They weren't pleased by their fellow night elves showing, though I was sure it wasn't the same as me, probably because of the recklessness and lack of awareness. I didn't see them caring much about my hurting wee little feelings.

'I didn't bear expectations, but I'm still disappointed…' I thought, breathing out to cool down.

Placing two fingers on the shoulder–taking all the place while at it–of a furious borderline explosive Vandel, stopping him from violently correcting the crowd. He was ready to throw hands. It was an appreciated but ultimately unneeded action.

At least it was mostly limited to the city dweller folks, the ones who would seldom see our hyper-reclusive furry asses, so excusable to a degree if I squint.

I also noticed the ones I would expect to hear these comments from were absent: children and teenagers beside a young female apprentice who came with us.

Even my nose, with the wind in the right direction, failed to pick up notable signs of them from the shockingly not pungent city. At best, my estimate told me they have a dozen cubs, laughably and worryingly small for a place inhabited by thousands upon thousands.

I mean, I knew their negative birth rate was a problem due to their culture and biology. They had two-year-long pregnancies and limited time per year to procreate, but if one of the largest night-elven settlements held so few scents of non-adults, then that raised questions. Not of the good variety.

But the problem of their pure desire to go extinct wasn't why I spoke aloud.

"I can verily hear and understand you all." two-thirds of the growing crowd were shell-shocked, eyes widened, and mouths nearly comically falling. I smirked, my mood immediately improving. I won't say I hated that reaction.

But I wasn't finished.

"Yes, I can fluently speak your tongue as well. And as a matter of fact, I'm not a mere pet. Now, if you lack the common decency and respect to see me as a person, can you at least swiftly disperse? I'm not an attraction to be gawked at. Kindly back off, or I will force you." I rumbled loudly, my voice carrying far and wide like thunder.

Their response was a heavy, stunned silence, too dumbfounded to do anything but stare dumbly with wide eyes, their brains likely processing what I said. It was cathartic no matter what they concluded from my outburst.

Regardless, accompanied by a squadron of elven women, a higher-graded member of the Sentinel Army from her bare-bone uniform came running. It was an interesting choice of 'armor,' like the others.

They were very lucky to have blessed immunity to diseases and most parasites.

'Though… Why must the Sentinel be exclusively female? Lost opportunity and stupidity given form.' I briefly complained about the tragedy of no buff elf men in impractically skimpy armor as she stopped a few meters before me. Her hardened face looked up to me due to the significant size difference. Her visage was one of great confusion as her glowing eyes shifted from my tattoo to my neck feathers.

'Oh, I see.'

She was wondering what I was, my age, sex, and from what tribe I hailed as all that can be gleaned by my 'trinkets.' She was a knowledgeable kaldorei in furbolg traditions from the looks of it. She seemed to recognize me vaguely... It must be from some of her reports, I guess. I wasn't forgettable.

"Greetings, I'm Ohto of the Greenweald, and I have come to read from your library." I bluntly stated. The decorated sentinel relaxed at that, but she remained just as confused. I wasn't here to request military aid, and that was what I assumed she assumed. "Would it be okay to do so? Ah, by the way, who am I speaking to?"

"Ishnu-alah… Shaman…?" I nodded; I didn't need her to break her head when choosing my title. "I'm Sentinel Captain Alennah Starsong. Worry not; we will see to accommodate your wish. Lieutenant Daleryn Summermoon shall be your escort to the library. You may ask her any questions, but please... stay calm. Most are not used to the sight of view and may act without afterthought."

"I will try, but no promises, Alennah. Ah, and thank you. Also, if there is a need for a healer, I can help," I said, swiftly going on the bridge. Daleryn awkwardly ran ahead of me, motioning me toward my goal, knowledge. As always, it was power.

Asking for books by proxy was good, but doing the research myself would yield better results. I won't find the most esoteric lore since they must be in Moonglade, but more information was always welcomed in my position. Wikipedia and the World Wide Web didn't exist here.

If one thing kaldorei did perfectly was store, protect, and respect knowledge.

*

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