I stared down at the night elf, a midget of a man pared to me, his head full of long, luscious hair barely reag my hau its highest.

  Quite the fgrant differen size, and that wasn't going i where the difference was a double-digit multiple. He was quite literally a twig.

  My eyes then trailed toward the caravan he was with. My attention focused on a muscur female elf–a sentinel even if not in servid her cub, the smell of the two first elves mingled o.

  It was a caravan I randomly caught whiffs of while doing a routine flight around the camp of my tribe.

  We left Greenpaw Vilge. We moved fast, and preparation was done ahead of time, but it still was two days before reag Hollowmaw—the tunnel ted. We have been a nomadic species sihe dawn of our creation and could flip to it if necessary. Hundreds of years of a sedentary lifestyle didn't ge this.

  Ursa totemics, shamans, hunters, and warriors were prepared and guarding the tribe. My presence was superfluous at best, but I wouldn't take any ces. A clever dreadlord, and all was lost.

  "Vandel… by Ursol and Ursoc, you know Ashenvale is anything but safe?" I said coolly to the kaldorei man, "I hope you're aware this needlessly endangers your life and your mate and cub."

  "I'm gd you worry, my extra-rge friend, but Khariel is safe! My lovely wife and her squadron escort us to our humble vilge after a family gathering in Astranaar." He put into evidehe twenty sentinels, of which half were riding panthers, each armed to the teeth and on guard. The panthers were sending me nervous gnces while at it. as if the kittens were on the menu right now, but they uood their pce.

  This was a na?ve, if irely wrong, argument. But I didn't e tue with my foolish yet clever elven friend when it might be one of the st times we see each other.

  Then he went on as if reading my mind.

  "Let's not fight though… You always foresee the worst, Ohto. It's a cursed gift for someone so young... Elune, five me, but that's why you would be a frankly horrible mert. And Ashenvale has never been safer. The fiends are indeed dangerously daring as of te, but thanks to Lady Tyrande and her fierce dies, they are weak aargeting only the weaker and fewer." Vandel finished, and I sighed in exasperation, but it came out as a rumble.

  'You're far too good for this world, Vandel... When the gravity of the situation hits, it will hit hard.' I thought about this for what felt well over the umpteenth time. The kaldorei weren't as widely ceptualizing how horrible the future was.

  Oh, the ing of the Burning Legion was widely known–it wasn't a secret–but somehow, the elves weren't suffitly prepared in any way, shape, or form. They weren't even particurly agitated, for that matter.

  The Sentinel Army and such military forces of theirs were far more active, but anyone who expressed doubt was seen as a melodramatic defeatist.

  If it was the fault ance, denial, stupidity, disbelief, artificial draiiputions, or a bit of all the above, it didn't matter. I owerless against it. That's why I never ted on the night elves to help the furbolgs; they 't evehemselves. Iionally or not.

  It was the sad truth.

  "Good, but I didn't e for that, but your presence makes it easier. Now…" I trailed off cutting bark from a nearby tree–healing the wound while doing so–and I shaped it under my will.

  Tard mier, with a droplet of blood given by the male kaldorei, I had a bear head-shaped amulet yered by seven Ursine runes, followed by ae rope that had grown into it.

  "Present this at any Timbermaw Hold's entrance, and you will be taken as an huest. Given it's you or your cub holding it." I said, pg the wooden pendant around his neck.

  "Thank you, Ohto…?" Vandel was clearly fused, but I wasn't finished; however, these 'presents' were all done preemptively this time. I grew a small pouch from my backpad gave it to him.

  I lifted an eye ridge as he almost let it fall.

  'Right, they're quite heavy.' I realized and watched the night elf's expression as he stared at the five glowing as pulsating like a heartbeat with ruby red veins behind the slow of runes, both Ursine and druidi a lock to er growth, increase shelf life, and kill the seed if the first fail.

  Each a bore intricate gold trails along its surface. These followed the red veins that shielded the runic structure from external mana while rendering them nearly uable even to my senses as a bonus.

  It wasn't termeasures from fear of an apocalyptic sario. They were simple fruits of Undrassil, but with how much Life mana I pumped and locked into them–refined or not–they could pop probable World Trees, which wouldn't do. Unlikely as it may be, generally, it was a tree with the potential to bee a Great Tree.

  Also, it simply wouldn't be good if the tree grew in someone's belly. Chewing wasn't something furbolgs did every time.

  "Wh-what are those?" My night elf friend queried in fasated bewilderment, his mate walking over tentatively to look, and others followed suit. Chief among them was the three-year-old night elf standing on his tiptoes to stare in wonder, a root growing uo give a little push for the missi.

  "Life for physical folden as, you may call them." I said, a name shamelessly inspired from that block, game, but it's not apples here, "Eating them heals most wounds in seds, ting it's not death, a curse, braied, a body part or entire an and that there is something to heal. It's nothing miraculous."

  "Incredible… but I 't accept this gift in good heart, my friend, if they are as miraculous as you spoke of. They surely are precious, equal to elixirs and potions of reatest alchemists!" Vandel excimed hastily; his expression was hirious, shiftiween greed and unworthiness, but it wasn't the time for that wishy-washy nonsense.

  "Don't care, you keep them. I have more and make more. May we meet soon enough and preferably in good health. Oh, and take this tiny one." I gave a died honey drop to Khariel as I waved goodbye and was gone in a fsh. I could only hope Vandel used my gifts well, particurly the as.

  They were extremely plicated, costly, ahy to produce. Undrassil's fruits were incredible material to work with, but I had a limited supply. I couldn't force the World Tree to produce them–well, I could, but the quality would sharply decrease–then only I could put Life mana in them, and it was necessary for carving the ruoo, si was done in parallel.

  As such, the life-giving as were scard were only for emergencies. It was why, among furbolgs, I handed only a few because I only had a few. One golden a take up to three hours to craft. It requires my full attention, especially when I started making them, whie even longer.

  I mostly shared them with ursa totemics to give them a sed breath and shamans, but it was for more thah potions in solid form. They could use them as Life batteries–it was why they eveed–for spells ents for alchemical cos.

  Ursol and my family also had some too. I favored my tribe and close ones as anyone in that department should. In the end, it was Vandel's choice. I couldn't force him, so I gave him the necessary tools for him and his family to survive. Whether he used them or not to him.

  My rou on for another solid hour, and I was back at the camp, my arrival causing a small otion for the furbolgs awake as usual, if one far more anized and far less dramatic than I got to be faced with i three years.

  It didn't take long after I walked to my sleeping pce for a small–retive to me–muscled ball of brown fur to jump on my back from a tree and headlock me. A smile of fang formed on my snout at that.

  "Got you, yay! Were there any monsters, big brother!? Did you rip them apart?! Did they scream in agony under your paws? I hope they did! I want to know all the details!" An overly excited Hukar babbled happily, but after a few sniffs, her excitemeed.

  "Oh, I smell Vandel. No demons, then?" I picked my sister and nuzzled her while her feet dangled in the air.

  "No, no, there wasn't. But I would have ripped them a few new assholes just for you." I chuckled and pyfully nipped her left ear as I pced her on the ground. I loved her bravery and bloodthirstiness regarding those creatures, but I knew her.

  She would do something incredibly stupid if left unchecked.

  "Why?!" She whined weakly. Karhu, who had been watg from a nearby tree the whole time, finally decided to join the fun with an amused, if exasperated, expression.

  He was the only reason I was fident she wouldn't slip out at night to fight satyrs. She was scarcely skilled. Way more than I was at her age, but I'm a zy cheater. Still, all she would do was die; she wouldn't go down without a fight, but she would, and that was uable.

  "Because Hukar, you're see-through." My little brently said as if it was a revetion of the universe, and I went and immediately did the same to him, a nuzzle and an ear nipping.

  He filed, almost slipping out of my bear hug from sheer teique alone. He was no lousy fighter, smaller size or not. He was feisty and made full use of his agility. Hukar, who had been trying to see through her right paw, the cw of her left rushed at me with fire in her eyes to help her twin.

  After long minutes hing them up, I suddenly stopped, but it wasn't because I wao. A bear spirit in the Emerald Dream through a wood bead attached to one of my neckces had tugged my attention.

  It irit I tracted, and like the majority spirits of this dimension of Nature and Life, it was unbound to a physical location and unreachable by any outsiders. That meant Bronze Dragonflight direct bullshits or the like.

  In other words, it was one of the most effective messenger pigeons. Well, bear, teically, pigeons or any fliers would be faster in straight lines, but they didn't obey my every and, and the Dreaming shortcuts generally were underground.

  It was one bear messenger corresponding straight up to Magatha. Or, to be precise, a 'druid' directly under her with the matg bead who had sent this spirit to me.

  "What is it?" My brother asked, and our sister followed suit with a heavy pout, "Why did we stop? That was fun!"

  "Something of likely importance was sent to me. I'm sorry, you two, but pytime is over."

  And indeed, it was. Half an hour ter, I was in the world of primordial life, reading a text of Kalimag on a rge leaf with a heavy frown. Each word seemingly made my grimace grow, and my fury rose with equal trepidation.

  The message was ret, half a day ting the entire process behind. My use of the Emerald Dream to send messages was extraneously slow pared to the I, which I recalled, but it was the exact opposite oh.

  But it was far from instantaneous and was extremely limited, multiple spirits or not. At the lowest, it took hours to get messages across, and it needed petent shamans–shamans with the Touch of Nature–and distaside still impacted things.

  "The orcs are here," I growled, my emotions almost sending the loyal bear spirit into a rabid frenzy.

  Yet, there was a saving grace. I wouldn't have to restrain myself from impaling Fandral Staghelm on my d rearranging his body like a cy doll when I see him since I won't o anymore. And by the aors, it was a relief.

  Fuck if I know why the arion Circle appointed him as the leading Archdruid while Malfurio despite all his… to put it extremely lightly, apocalyptic blunter.

  The War of the Shifting Sands and Nordrassil–now Vordrassil–led to the Nightmare ter on and, without my intervention, the death of several tens of thousands and Ursoc corruption.

  Only the result mattered.

  He was the pinnacle of all I despised with kaldorei. But he was very mighty, among the most skilled druids, and the greatest student of Malfurion. Frankly, he might as well be the sed stro night elves druid alive.

  If I were correct, he would be a massive problem iure, too, more of a pain in the ass he already was. Ursol wao maul him to death as well; he didn't say it, but his smell and body nguage screamed it.

  And if it wasn't for the Bear Lord, I was sure this exceptionally xenophobic elf would have tried to get me imprisoned if not put down like a dangerous beast.

  'May an opportunity for his death present itself.' I silently prayed before refog on the present… orcs—plenty of ord aire horde of them. It meant the Horde, the Alliance, and the Burning Legion were here, or the difference was so insignifit that it was the same.

  We had eveime than I thought—we had all. And it all felt like a game of chess where we were pawns. All of it was orchestrated and forcefully trolled to go in a specific dire.

  It was infuriating, but I wouldn't take any ce to rush down to where the orcs had arrived in Ashehe other furbolgs tribe should have started to move and would avoid any frontation—it was a nonproblem here.

  That didn't mean many wouldn't die. It was a given, but it was iable, maddening as the reality was. Only a few tribes would succeed in making this hasty retreat unscathed, and my tribe took priority. I was a Greenweald, first and foremost.

  I would go either way to meet the Horde ahe furbolgs left behind, but not narding arius' potential death... it roblem for ter. He k was ing and should take it seriously. Far too many things were happening at one to myself over it all.

  Then, my mood marginally improved at the pn Magatha wrote or what she wanted me to believe was such. To 'help' the night elves and, if possible, instigate 'peace,' a rough transtion of an already straightforward w. She didn't even try to hide it.

  'Maniputive old cow she may be, but she uood the situation.' It was where my mi regarding the Grimtotem matriarch. I couldn't care less about her political shenanigan if she proved her worth through her petend critical thinking skills.

  I would happily work with her as long as she didn't push her luck too far.

  ?????

  Three days ter, hidden uhe leafy shadows of Southern Ashenvale on the border to the Barrens, a tauren was kneeling to a strange creature in front of him. One deeply simir to the taurs, for he was the father of this pgue's father. Yet, no parisoed beyond morphology.

  He was no filth polluting the Earthmother; an almost divine grace emanated from his every a as he stood uhe broken beams of moonlight. His great antlers were akin to the of the oldest tree, and his body erfect symbiosis of flesh and bark.

  This creature was a demi-god, one of the legendary Wild Gods, and one of the most powerful, arius, the Lord of the Forest and patron god of the arion Circle.

  "That is a daring demand, Ton Windbow. But I allow it." The half-stag half-kaldorei demi-god rumbled, "You have given precious information and offered help. We will wait so you may have time to attempt… diplomacy with those demonic curs. They are to be our 'allies' even if I do not see it. My judgment remains unged, and I foresee little success in your endeavor."

  "Thank you, Lord arius." The first tauren druid iy geions said gratefully with utmost ease, his eyes discreetly studying the kaldorei surrounding him. The tension was almost palpable.

  After all, the Grimtotem tribe and kaldorei's retionship improved daily by leaps and bounds, but it was in its budding stage and strenuous. Ton almost got shot ho when he arrived. Indeed, it was after a lost battle, but he wasn't an unknown figure.

  The presence of kodos–animals only used by the Grimtotem tribe–among the greenskins and trolls that had chosen te Ashenvale painted an unfortunate picture of misceptions that could shatter this fragile banbsp;

  His mistress had foreseen this and why these false equivalencies had beeified in short order, but truth hardly mattered in the faotions. More so when fusion already existed about how the tauren tribes operated.

  Yet they couldn't refuse the help of the mightiest tauren tribe. The outnders had decimated them. Their disadvantage from numerical inferiority and ill preparation for su attack ged little to their wounded pride and the situation at rge.

  Waiting for more reinfort was no option the elves wished to partake in. Some have arrived already, but the rest will take time, and they will have to wait. But doing so enced the demons' thralls to advance deeper and tinue ravaging their sacred forest.

  It was uable, and even with the Son of Elune, such assistance couldn't be ignored. An assured victory didn't lend to needlessly throwing life away.

  "And if I fail to vihen my a wouldn't be in vain," The Grimtotem diplomat smiled faintly–a dark and cold smile–as he put into evidehe seeds in the palm of his hands. They looked as i as any seeds, but that couldn't be farther from reality.

  "And those are, tauren?" A sentinel asked–the highest ranked present, her name Shandris Feathermoon–with distrust, but the mild shift of arius' gaze calmed her heated demeanor down.

  There was no point in fighting; it was one of the qualities he found strah the children of the stars and mortals in general, but it was what it was.

  It was her ily good nor bad, but it could do both, and right now, it was nding oer.

  "Stormvine seeds, they are all male, a favorite of my teacher and a strain of his. I will spread them in the greenskin camp," The tauren uttered smoothly, and all uood, for this wasn't a pnt to tread lightly with.

  They were not deadly–their fruits were a delicad, as a whole, precious alchemical material–but they were extremely dangerous. Their long thorns could stab through leather as if it wasn't there, aing their toxin in your body would render you useless for days. The pain was usually capable of sting for years on end iabbed area ureated quickly.

  "Your teacher, hmm. Iing… Then go." the Wild God hummed pensively, dismissing the Grimtotem druid.

  But his mind was on the seeds and their creator, a unique furbolg he as never had the opportunity to discuss with for long. Though the demi-god was certain it would be fixed soon, even if not in the best dition—war was on the horizon.

  The tauren, pleased with himself, took to the sky. His body shifted to that of a bck feathered eagle sp several of his physical traits and ors. Two small horns cut in the middle by smooth gold pting were on the side of his. Around his nostrils was a golden n, and wooden beads ahers adorned his talons.

  Ton nded on the rgest building of the ever-growing clearing that did until retly. Arees, bushes, and saplings were no more; only stumps remained and lumber used by the green-skinned humanoids of a faraway nd to build a camp there.

  Before nding, his pouch full of seeds was emptied around the camp when he circled it. It was a safety if it turned for the worst. The sowing of stormvines served a simple purpose—to be a distra. These pnts could kill, though, as they resulted from this mysterious 'selective breeding.'

  Prevention aside, it was time to see if diplomacy ossible. Ton had little hope in truth regarding a successful result, too. Lady Magatha didn't see it any differently. Still, there was no reason to avoid trying. This Horde was likely to stay, after all.

  The tauren-shifted-eagle's presearted to be rapidly noticed. The Grimtotem wasn't stealthy and didn't try to be. A small green croidly formed–the trolls, barely one per hundred greenskins were still noticeable by their sizes–and his screech accelerated the process.

  Then one of the smaller, less muscur greenskin–workforce from what Ton had been told and observed–picked a rock with an annoyed look on his doltish face.

  But before it went this predictable route, an old troll–a witch doing off his attire–apanied by the alleged chieftain of this warband, shown by the banner on his back, arrived.

  The former was far more exuberant as he waved his staff with a brilliant bronze scale in the air, and the tter he following growled words pacifying the unsightly green sea.

  The tauren took this as his cue to reveal his true self. He towered over all, a staff in his hand and a long tail whipping the air. Many recoiled in shod drew their ons out of this same emotion and hardwired instinct, but no flict arose. None dared to disobey.

  "Nechi outnders, I have e to ask an audieh your Chieftain." He spoke loudly, the Kalimag flowing smoothly from his lips for only the knowledgeable to uand.

  The witch doctor was fused but pyed the transtor by mumbling to the banner, holding greenskin iongue, and, after long moments of silence, addressing the tauren.

  "Hey, mon. Grom be askin' ya who ya be? What be that ya wantin' from de Warsong? Be here tah help?" There was another pause as the now-named Grommash spoke again, bloodlust aement evident, and the troll transted ba Kalimag, "De bossmaellin' me if ya be here on big bossman Thrall's order for us to rejoin de Horde?"

  The_Bip_Boop2003

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  [colpse]