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64. Growing Dread
🕑 Added 2025-06-07 16:28:58 +0000 UTCThe Worgen Curse was fascinating for many reasons. It was remote self replicating transfiguration, there was a lot to learn here.
And the study of it reminded me of when I was with Groot, distant to what it once was, having anyone close to a peer on a project had been… fulfilling.
This dark undertones aside, worgen puzzled me.
Or the pack form to be precise, every form druids or shaman leaning to Nature used was based on an existing 'blueprint.'
It could be gifted, taken or whatever possibilities, but it existed and was tied to the Dreaming.
Localized change with shapeshifting was the exception, and it was limited to 'simple' morphological aspects for the most part. Biology was complex, magic involving it was following that logic.
It was what the blueprint you obtained from the Emerald Dream were for.
And a theory was crafted on the basis that worgen were an extinct species of Goldrinn creation.
It would make logical sense even without the glaring connections, most Wild Gods did, and a wolf demi-god? He would want a pack.
But that was all guess work, the Wolf Ancient didn't help in any of that. Preferring to watch us from afar.
The Rekindling showed it was pretty much the case though.
To put it simply, we recalibrated the Worgen Curse to not stop halfway, eliminating the majority of its effects right here by subsuming the destabilizing non-worgen part.
It was a rebirth; the philosophical concerns further than this weren't mine to care.
Like this we made it possible for worgen to bear children that won't be of the former species they were.
Otherwise it would be as any reproduction done shapeshifted–and it was done, ten millennia had things happen–the internal finer details of reproductive organs didn't fundamentally change.
It was even why pregnancy wasn't a concern as long as the transformation in question wasn't too incompatible. If it was the latter, then it would fail, and if forced… it got very ugly, very fast.
Kobolds had been an example to that since they could virtually be mistaken for regular rats for particularly small females.
This was how we knew we succeeded with the worgen, at least on that part.
People did what people did, now with potent instincts that were natural. The first signs of a pregnancy were glaringly obvious by smell alone if the deed itself wasn't enough.
Another point to worgen existing before was the pack form innate 'madness.'
What druids did was try to become a sapient being straight up. Moonkins were the exceptions, not the rules, Elune was helping here.
They didn't know at the time, still the pack form was forbidden for a reason.
It was why Druids of the Claws didn't take the shape of furbolgs, even if this was a desire some strongly had. We embodied their ways.
But none did, the brain alteration tended to mesh badly when the form was getting more and more mentally complex.
Notably getting stuck depending on which part of the brain get fucked, which became a reality for the new worgen for different reason.
"There must be an alternative! I ca-can't remain a monster-my husband, my daughter, I can't see them like this! Please!" My muzzle scrunched up and I breathed deeply at the female worgen erratic behavior.
It was far less worse than when the first batch of worgen arrived, both anciently humans and kaldorei.
The collection process of the worgen through the Wild and Gilneas' little deal didn't help the confused, traumatized, and terrified newly minted wolf people.
It was violent and that would be putting it lightly.
But it couldn't be done gently outside of a Wild surprise attack involving sleeping agents.
Be that as it may, it wasn't the norm since we wanted to limit resentment. Talking was the first option.
But it often failed, and cooperation was rare. Either worgen thought we were going to murder them and fought to the bitter end, or were difficult for a hundred different reasons.
Many of which were entirely valid.
They were getting captured, I wouldn't stay idle if I was in their places. But it was for their safety and those around.
Curse or not, they had fangs, claws and at best on average were in a state of existential crisis.
I didn't manage this unpleasant task, but as the one currently leading the Wild Home, our camp now vilage build around Tal'doren. I got these mental crises daily. It was there where worgen were brought and tended.
And by the ancestors, it was tiring.
I wasn't a therapist.
But I wasn't alone, the Newmoon pack, the first worgen to have been hit by the Rekindling, were here as guide. The same was for Belysra who was the de facto psychologue for the worgen.
But I remained the greatest authority, and I was available when outside my lab. I would answer questions or help the guards if I was close, punting the dumb ones.
Some were very daring and were high on their power since they were conscious now.
It was quickly corrected by ripping them in half, then they would wake up chained by roots harder than steel in a cell until they learned their lessons.
If the worst offenders kept doing it… well, fertilizer was always in high demand. It wasn't good, but some limit couldn't be crossed.
We weren't holding them hostage, it was closer to a temporary enforced hospital stay. Genn was fully in the know, and if their king allowed it, we were free to act.
Not like we were torturing, or experimenting on them. Neither were they sleeping in the mud with a scoop of gruel a day while we worked them to the bones.
If he was planning to abandon them was a mystery given Brightwaggle words on his squirminess. We were bringing the once kaldorei back to Kalimdor that was for sure. That they wanted it or not.
And to be honest, the Gilnean worgen were a mixed bag. The noble above all else were astonishingly infuriating.
Though in this female worgen case it was a different story.
I stopped my march, turned around, staring down at her, and spoke calmly, "I would like to say what you want me to say. I really do. Alas, I can't."
The hope that was born at my first words was murdered right away and she looked like a kicked puppy.
Only far worse. I wasn't that cold, it was heart wrenching even if I didn't show it, this was bothering me. I hated what I couldn't heal.
She lost everything, a sight I was far too familiar with, both from others and myself and as such able to face.
And that would be hypocritical as it was only an inconvenience for me while she was the victim.
"But my Lord, you can shape flesh-" I stopped her right here with a tap of a metal claw on her snoot and sighed.
I didn't like to do that. But my preference hardly mattered. I couldn't put it softly nor was I inclined and patient enough to.
"Yes, but no. I don't know what you looked like, inns and outs, your biology isn't human anymore, and I can't rewire the entirety of a brain. Aside from a thousand possible complications, each worse than the last. I don't do miracles, this is your life now. Get used to it fast and the better it will be. Your family is alive, aim to see them again." I said matter of factly, "Was there anything else?"
She stuttered to find a counter argument but only hiccupped, triangular ears flattened, eyes moist and her smell told many things. Yeah, she wasn't well.
"That's it then. There is a hunt planned tonight, I recommend you go. It will clear your mind." I said and went back on my way.
I heard the unnaturally silent tap of cloven hooves of a dryad escorting the worgen away while speaking sweet nothing to her ears.
I half-lied. Technically she could become human again, a rare few were tied to the Emerald Dream if very weakly by our knowledge.
And they were right here in this human kingdom, though I knew from out of universe insight others should be on Kul Tiras. But that wasn't for now.
As to Gilneas, those were harvest-witches, and in fact we got some among the once human.
The Wild was going to keep tabs on them from now on with some small bonus. And they were pretty excited, the understatement of the century, it solidified one of our footholds in the Eastern Kingdoms.
And their multi-millenium of existence meant at least a few human nature spirits resided in the Emerald Dream. And we had confirmation from studying their words.
My point was, human form was available if this grieving worgen managed to convince their spirits but humans–most, as was for all races, as some found way to beg belief–were sapient.
Beyond the risk involved, she would likely not look like how she once was. Shape reflected us in a new body, but now she was a worgen.
A human form would be based on what she is, not what she was. Futile hope was a dangerous thing better teared off before its roots spread.
Belysra's ritual could have made that a possibility but that was so big of a maybe it might as well round back to a no.
My walk continued for some time, my eyes trailing from people to people, noting the quilboars and dark trolls recruits among the other newbies in training. Newbie in relation to the Wild Hunt standard.
It was a recent development, the trolls being still in the middle of transition to the Wild.
But they weren't the first new member of the Wild proper. With Cenarius in the Council the fifth race to join was his 'children.'
This dryad wasn't here purely out of kindness, even if I didn't doubt it was exactly that. She was part of the Wild, not just one of its greatest allies. It was her job now.
And it was indeed fifth, not sixth.
The children of Cenarius–dryads and keepers of the groves, with their less gentle variants like nymphs–were the same species. They weren't all actual children fathered by the Lord of the Forest either.
He did get around but not this much.
They reproduced like any others. Their distinct appearance and qualities were the result of sexual dimorphism, and while remarkable, it was nowhere the most extreme.
They were called this because he was their ancestor, also they grew fast and parenthood was a distant concept.
To the sixth… it wasn't the dark trolls in spite of them working toward that since the Third War. Remulos was chosen as the Representative.
The simple fact was, they weren't united, they could join the Wild but to have a Representative something substantial needed to be represented first.
Symbiosis weren't exclusively sympathetic.
There were a bunch of criteria and population was just one and variable but each of the three major tribes–Shadowtooth, Nightveil, and Moonstrike–and dozens smaller ones weren't getting a seat each in the Wild Council.
It was one Representative per race after a certain population mass was reached using the average size of the people and a few other parameters.
It was a strict yet malleable set of required regulations for the good functioning of the Wild.
The dark trolls just didn't meet the requirements until about two months ago.
The tribes allied and merged through ritualistic duels making their shared population just enough to enter.
And the majority of those duels were without a drop of blood of the adversary spilled as they were dance based.
Literal dance battle, though it remained violent and extreme for what I witnessed. They use their enhanced regeneration to the fullest.
The Representative was the Shadowtooth chieftain and witch doctor, a middle aged male called Zak'ji.
But the trolls weren't the sixth to join, those were the quilboars. Agamaggan was of great help here, he was a pacifying force to their prickly nature, not that there wasn't a lot of work done already with them.
They weren't ungrateful.
Chagura was the Representative for them, though not the leader, this remained her mother even if it would be a bit of simplification. Charlga would have prefered to be both but that wasn't for her to decide.
The Wild Council chooses its members, not the other way around.
And those shared training were part of integrating them into the Wild.
It wasn't all sunshine and rainbow, cultures differed immensely even if similar in many points within the Wild. That made minute differences stand out and the same was for species.
It was very grey.
There was some friction, be it between dark trolls and night elves or taurens and quilboars. Or any others, furbolgs weren't above that.
It was mostly competitiveness and banter. Well, that was what was encouraged since compensating for each shortcoming was a key component of the Wild.
Giving and receiving was pretty important for a healthy relationship.
But anything truly malicious that broke the Wild's laws? By and large, those were rare, but punishment wasn't light when it was caught.
The worgen were next on the chopping board, so to say. They were under Tyrande and Malfurion's care right now, the ones that were night elves at least.
It was a temporary arrangement. Yet until their population grew enough and they stabilized as a species, no Representative would be elected.
This was also part of my tasks as I strode in my humble, paperwork was a bane. It was so dull and yet needed my full attention, the smallest mistakes would cost dearly.
Bringing the worgen into the fold was my idea, the bulk of the wolf people's paperworks fell on Malfurion's shoulder but a part of it remained on me.
It wasn't large and mostly delegated, but by Ursol, it was such a mind-numbing chore.
Though that wouldn't be fair to the worgen, they were a small part of the documents I had to skim over while simultaneously understanding them fully.
At least I didn't have to scribble on paper with my big paws and a feather pen. I made sure of that.
The effort put into logistics and bureaucracy were not in vain. Information flowed extremely fast from one side of the planet to another while simultaneously organized, treated, reviewed, and corrected to have a flourishing forest that was the Wild.
This was the largest source of my influence in the Council that wasn't from me being me. The Repository of Leaves was the beating heart of our bureaucracy and it was in Undrassil.
Being able to say your opinion was one thing, being able to do anything concrete with it was another. Politics was waving the bigger stick with the sweetest honey.
On paper Zak'ji and Chagura had the same rank as me for the above or Tyrande but in practice, this was anything but.
We couldn't be overthrown so easily in case of betrayal or mind control.
The night elves were the backbone of the Wild. Their expertise and experience were vital while the Sentinel Army, Cenarion Circle, Watchers and Children of Elune were mainly composed of kaldorei.
The High Priestess was half of their diarch.
Baring the last, the three first by laws directly obeyed to the Wild Council, but authority needed prerogative.
Tyrande had this in drove. Only the Watchers were a weak link.
But it was slowly mending as new members didn't suffer her action in the past war and the ones dumb enough to act on it were executed or jailed in the Barrow Deeps.
It was simple yet with layers of complexity. Politics was disgusting but naïveté was ten times worse.
We would have to see how the new Representatives proved themselves, and they would. Parasites weren't welcomed.
Remulos wasn't concerned by it. He was already a known respected figure equal to the Archdruid in standing in the Cenarion Circle and right under Cenarion as his chief advisor.
I skimmed over papyrus that mentioned this and that, writing using my mana as signature depending on which was which.
They went from Feralas where the city built around the Dream Bought on the island of Jademir Lake asked for a new batch of quilboar thorns seed, to report from Grizzly Hills again regarding growing undead underground activities.
Then I paused, the words was about humans wielding the Light with unbridled wrath and conviction against the abominations of the Plaguelands.
They weren't unknown, they were the Scarlet Crusade but we only ever watched them.
It had changed this morning.
A small squad leaving from the Dream Portal of Seradane sent to gather undead for one of my projects involving necrophage fungus had an encounter with this crusade of zealots.
It didn't end up in a total massacre surprisingly enough. There were a lot of details but the gist of it was the two sides parted ways on rather non-hostile terms after purging a host of undead.
My knowledge was spotty but it was enough to see this organization was rotten to the core, not the fanatics, there was some kind of demonic influence.
One I was only reminded of by kobolds spies sent systematically disappearing after going through certain points of the Scarlet Monastery.
Nothing was random, those were the quarter of a certain Grand Crusader and the place he frequented.
The Light this humans wielded wasn't capable of spotting Brightwaggle's spies, nevertheless without line sight or any evidence.
Those were wards, we had similar complications regarding infiltrating Dalaran, but the magic city didn't have Fel involved.
We knew he knew that we knew, only that he just couldn't act when viewed by his 'fellow' crusaders.
He couldn't go ripping the walls to kill what for all intent and purpose were rats. Death didn't make the druids shift back.
His cultists were fanatically loyal, but it was more to the cause than the 'man' itself. He wasn't a messiah.
A neutral first contact was both good and bad, the Scarlet Crusade wasn't a lost cause yet. We shared goals and even beliefs, to a certain extent.
And full on friendship wasn't necessary in culling the Scourge and Forsaken with a loose canon. Additionally, their knowledge of the Holy Light was far superior to our.
The Kobold Representative was very much interested in it.
But it meant we didn't have much time to strike before this 'Saidan Dathrohan' decided to abandon all glamor and theatrics.
Frankly, I wasn't optimistic in the Wild capturing what was likely a dreadlord with it knowing about us. It was infuriating.
The one that fled after Archimonde explosive departure was still missing. The Forsaken were suspected with solid proof to have one. And now the Scarlet Crusade puppet leader.
Where they one and the same? Two? Three? Or more? We didn't know!
And those were demons individually powerful, intelligent and knowledgeable enough to summon the Burning Legion. whenever they wanted.
I felt a poke and my eyes shifted to the roots of Kile, an Ancient of Lore serving as intermediary with the flow of information in the Dreaming.
And my blood ran cold as I readd the papyrus that grew from it mentioning strange oversized insecticides sighting at the mountainous Southern borders of Feralas. It might as well be in Silithus.
And this one was extremely fresh and urgent.
"Fuck…" That was the only word that left my muzzle yet it meant library worth.
Comments
Noknok
The wild really need a faction that wields arcane, they are strong, that is true, but firepower is in arcane. Maybe contact surviving nerubians or they will add the elfs from dire maul.
Asura
Thanks for the chapter 👋🔥
TITOO
It's in the border between Feralas and Silithus
ThatGuy
Were there Qiraji in Feralas? No, it was Silithids who made a hive there. They are a species made from the Qiraji, and could be considered scouts. Other hives include one in the barrens. Though the horde probably slaughtered them if they had arrived already. Taranis, Thousand needles and ungoro crater have them as well.
Gal Anonim
Qiraji returned?
