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

I knew this was going to happen eventually.

This insectoid description was unmistakable. It was too distinct from anything else.

The Un'goro Crater did have large invertebrates, but they didn't grow as large as estimated in this report, nor were they adapted to a dry and hot environment. It certainly wasn't a suicidal makrusa either, too far from any water source.

And that was two of the many glaring inconsistencies. Feralas didn't sport that kind of fauna, and this wasn't a new species—this type of thing didn't go unnoticed.

It left one dreadful possibility.

This was a silithid or a qiraji; either option was undesirable. The first were oversized worker ants and bees, while the latter were intelligent.

And if there was one so far from the Scarab Wall… This was bad.

To be truthful, having one of those 'insects' out at all was bad. However, one thing far up North, far from their supposed eternal prison, meant an untold amount was already out.

Of course, I wasn't shocked. But I was unpleasantly surprised all the same. Who wouldn't be?

I had a general idea of the crisis to come and their orders, but that was knowledge that didn't include the consequences of my actions and divergence from this world's fictitious counterpart. Of which there were countless.

Not that I knew much from the beginning, as both my human memories had slowly faded or, worse, twisted. This part of the future was even more so.

Additionally, there were myriad inconsistencies or outright contradictions to begin with, even if I had perfect knowledge.

I wasn't a seer. Not in any conventional way.

Still, the Wild knew through Ursol playing pretend for me. But that was a general warning; it was the best I could ascertain.

A lot of my knowledge was completely false; the Broken Isles was the greatest example.

Suramar was just a pile of ruins with dying corals. There was no flourishing forest with a druid enclave lying there for the last ten millennia. And even less so, multiple tribes of antlered tauren dwelling in a mountain range.

The only 'true' part I recalled clearly enough was a small population of isolationist, pure-blooded dragon-riding vrykuls living on small islands with extremely high cliffs around the Hall of Valor.

So, the War of the Shifting Sands, the second of its name, was a large blank in my knowledge, outside of an entire species potentially numbering in the millions with an Old God backing them up.

To that worrisome eventuality, Silithus received attention, with Cenarion Hold even earning a Dream Portal in case of emergency, and overall, more logistical assistance.

Their goal was to look out for any signs of the qiraji and silithids' emergence. It was worded better, but they weren't stupid. The Wild acted rationally, even if they were to remain silent.

They knew.

Still, it was easier said than done, even with kobolds as underground helpers.

We made no substantial progress over the roughly one-year period that this had been ongoing; we were working layer by layer in a crisscrossing pattern.

Silithus was too large to map from top to bottom; even with that, it would drain resources from other projects critical to the Wild. It wouldn't even have secured much for us.

It was a pain in the ass.

The Scarab Wall was dozens of kilometers in height and depth, and exponentially longer, even if it was unseen, given that it was a magical time barrier of some kind. It was a kingdom-wide prison. It simply wasn't feasible to study it all. A fraction was a daunting enough task; the less said about more, the better.

And this papyrus was from the supply root caravan heading to Cenarion Hold–the portal there was only for emergencies, given the poor amount of surrounding Nature energies–which proved this was a wise course of action.

Even if it wasn't from their active vigil.

But a first sighting opened a floodgate of questions. Each worse than the last. Questions that won't get answered by me staring at the papyrus like an ancestors' damned idiot.

However, a letter was to be written to my fellow Representatives, even if this piece of information should reach them all in swift order.

And I did; I demanded a meeting to take place atop Mount Hyjal with every member, mortal and immortal, that could come in the briefest delay. Urgency of the threat was placed above all else; this put the entirety of Kalimdor at risk.

I wasn't the only one to do this, the moment the information got into my paws either.

The High Priestess of Elune was well aware what those creatures were, as did Remulos, even if none of them fought in the heat of the War of the Shifting Sands.

Tyrande had been away hunting satyrs with the Watchers after hundreds were kidnapped to become breeding stock.

The keeper of the grove ruled the Cenarion Circle in the absence of Malfurion, fighting the Nightmare. At the same time, Staghelm led the kaldorei force against the qiraji, whom he had awakened in the first place by sending his son.

But the damage done to the night elves hasn't healed even to this day, and the tales of its horror resonated far and wide. They couldn't and wouldn't be underestimated.

In many ways, barring the demonic invasion and what was a direct product of it.

The War of the Shifting Sands was one of the most devastating conflicts in their history, despite the assistance of dragons, resulting in a pyrrhic victory.

The Wild response to an alleged sighting was in many ways dramatic without knowledge of the above. However, such an enemy had to be taken seriously.

For that, I found myself sitting on my haunches, tail lazily flicking as I listened to the ongoing discussion with the Wild Council fuller than it had ever been.

Five Wild Gods among them, Cenarius, Agamaggan, Aessina, and my two adoptive brothers in the form of Ursol and Ursoc. Orsonn and Kodian remained guarding Grizzly Hills.

And the seven Representatives, the only missing one was a green dragon as an external advisor. Strange as our warning of the qiraji would have even spurred the green dragons to fight in the waking world.

I admit that the Nightmare had grown far worse in recent years, but the absence was bothersome, if not worrisome; however, the topic was elsewhere.

"Ah, do be thinkin' we be warnin' de Horde? If de bug men can are dat big of a danger and can leave der hole to pop in Feralas without us knowin' who knows where de can skiter." Zak'ji tentatively proposed, a frown deepening as if unsure of the validity of his own words.

He was a bald, muscular troll with medium-sized tusks filled with silver. He has a bone nose ring and a feathered headdress.

Dark red tattoos were carved into his grey violet skin, speaking of legends and mystics of the spirits and what his people worshiped. A sort of metal beak extended from his nose, too.

"A worthy concern, troll." Ursol said from my left, blue right furred front paw moving up to his left, "But I fear a warning alone would prove inefficient if no verifiable proof is given. The spirits can prove much, but they seldom know all. Worse, numerous among them see us as opposition, loyal still from time immemorial to a despoiling image of a false empire they wish reborn for a sense of lesser imprisonment. Telling them apart is unrealistic. We need physical evidence."

'Oh, yes, he had said that…' I remembered the reason shamans of every elemental variety had difficulties in Silithus and its surroundings.

The Old Gods did enslave the elements, but some are just assholes and others would willingly cooperate. Their minds were alien.

The opposite remains true, but as my teacher said, you can't really tell.

And they don't have to fear Void corruption, unlike most others. Earth, air, fire, and water would remain; they were fundamental components of reality.

Their minds weren't untouchable, though, even if they were nowhere as affected, since it was as fundamental as their existence. A rock would remain a rock, working for an evil god or not.

If anything, it was Life that was 'corruptive' for them. Not that it was the only one, but Shadow magic wasn't it. I had the word of Freya from my teacher recounting that time period in detail.

It was not something I considered, given I'm pretty incompatible with them. I was a biomancer, biology was my thing, and I tend to lock in on it to the point of being blindsided.

"Lord Ursol is right. It would make whatever we say be taken with heavy skepticism and distrust." Magatha continued smoothly, the old female tauren at ease, "But their Warchief would be willing to listen. It matters not if he believes us, only that he knows for the insects to destroy themselves against his iron defenses. Wearing them down in the process. We can't keep their existence hidden for long, even if the threat isn't respected."

"Indeed… but would a corpse convince those warmongering despoilers to believe us? They do not understand the implications and may point to fabrication. Pardon me, Ohto." Remulos added, arms over his sculpted chest, and I hummed at both things.

"Yes... I don't do pretty first. And they fear what I can create. They don't know what I can create. But I'm more or less of a similar opinion to Magatha." I rumbled, "I propose we warn them to limit the qiraji damage, they would of them soon enough."

Chagura spoke after me, shaking her head in disagreement, head high yet avoiding my gaze, "I understand, Ohto. Yet do they deserve a shred of our consideration? They're as much of a threat as those creatures to us, given enough time to grow. They are thirsting for war to fuel the bellies of their armies of crawling and flying metal beasts."

I considered the Quilboar Representative's statement, but I was beaten in answering by Tyrande to my right, her gaze harder and her voice even sharper.

It wasn't a disagreement, though.

"This war would weaken us while they retain their strength. Their sense of honor is entirely fickle and meaningless. Warning them would only give them a greater opportunity to abuse our already far too generous goodwill. They should ask for our assistance first."

"Tyrande is correct. They may abhor demons and undead like us, but their hearts have never changed. I fear they never will. They plunder nature without care or restraint. The Wild stand only to lose by being sympathetic to those parasitic curs. We should wait and react adequately." Cenarius spat, golden eyes blazing with fury.

I tapped my claws on the flower patch and added a piece of my mind, "Hmm… yes, we can't trust Thrall and his Horde. They would use us. I hate it as much as you two. On the other paw, this conflict goes beyond the Wild, Zak'ji said it well. Kalimdor is endangered. We sorely lack knowledge about their capabilities beyond what the kaldorei and your children suffered, and that the qiraji found a way past their prison for who knows how long. Then there's the fact we can't bring the fight to them."

"Ah, true true, little brother. Wasn't it some kind of key to open those rotting Void-tit-sucking scrabads' prison that the traitorous elf you nibbled on broke into pieces?" Ursoc suddenly let out a soft rumble that made me sound almost childish by comparison.

"Essentially, yes. Is that the case, Tyrande and Remulos?" I said, and I received two nods, accompanied by varying expressions of displeasure.

Although opening the Scarab Wall was not a good idea, there was nothing better. We just knew fuck all, and by the ancestors it was infuriating.

Yes, it had only been two days since the sighting, but time wasn't on our side, and we had been waiting for far longer.

This first sighting wasn't random. Those beings weren't stupid; they didn't go unseen for hundreds of years to be spotted like that.

"Do you have any information regarding these missing fragments, Representative Brightwaggle? My little wisps' search has sadly been fruitless till now. Trails are scarce and largely sterile." Aessina suddenly said, her ethereal voice like the pleasant chime of bells echoing for the first time in this debate.

The Kobold Representative shook his head in response to the Mother Wisp's inquiry.

"Nope-nope, Lady Head," The pure white kobold popped the two 'p' while shaking his head, "Me have nothing of value, no-no. Four fragments can be anywhere! Big-big world, yes-yes! Thinking tracking-finding them is impossible, like boundless wax."

"Thanks regardless. To be honest, I didn't have much hope..." I sighed, cringing slightly, "It's too early to abandon still. Expanding the scale is needed; people would learn of the qiraji's reemergence now. Discretion is secondary. Without this thing, the incoming war would drag on endlessly after we force them back in their holes… or worse."

I had asked to gather the fragments of the Scepter of the Shifting Sands for some time.

It was from the moment Tyrande mentioned it years ago, after the Wise Bear was my spokesperson for my 'visions,' that the Kingdom of Ahn'Qiraj would once again become a threat.

I didn't know this thing existed until then, and it was pretty much knowledge known only to Fandral and a select few, who were mostly dead.

And the piece of shit had to shatter this artifact while leaving virtually nothing to go off of.

Fuck him.

"That is the unfortunate truth, and our resources are vast; they aren't endless. Focusing on finding their tunnels and where this cursed wall is failing should be the priority for now." The High Priestess said, and I grimaced, my wooden exoskeleton creaking.

"Den… Catchin' one of de big bugs and rip de information from der brains seems tah be de best first step in ma opinion after one of der tunnels be found." The Dark Troll Representative proposed, eyes flying over all present with the same uncertainty as before.

He was all cute and nervous like we were going to devour him whole.

Fair, I suppose, trolls weren't seen as equal to their Loa, and as most Wild Gods were Loa… he was naturally a tad out of his depth. I mean, Chagura wasn't that much better.

She avoided eye contact with Agamaggan the most; she was only among the Council for a slightly longer time.

"I propose a vote. Anyone who agrees to that course of action, lean forward." The Elder Crone of the Grimtotem queried, and the thirteen of us indicated that the vote was a consensus agreed.

Then, a more in-depth discussion began, or that was the plan, as a third of the way through, a large, winged lizard of emerald green scales landed in the middle.

The green dragon promptly transformed into a horned male night elf, one who had been missing until then, with a smell and look in his eyes unlike anything I had ever seen in him.

"I come bearing ill news relating to my absence and the silence of the Green Dragonflight." Itharius began, the pride he usually carried wavering as his eyes drifted over us, our focus locked in.

"Eranikus and the dragons under him, sent by Lady Ysera to guard the Temple of Atal'Hakkar, have suddenly succumbed to the corrupting influence of the Nightmare without explanation. My flight asks of the Wild to free them of their torments, save who can be saved, and put a permanent end to the foolish mortals that wish to bring the Soulflayer into the waking world."

We went from bad to worse.

*

Chapters in advance there: patreon.com/thebipboop2003