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80. Buried in Doubts
🕑 Added 2025-08-09 15:25:58 +0000 UTCEverything that could go wrong will go wrong.
A pessimistic saying Ursol had heard his little adopted brother say, among others, in one of their numerous debates.
Those were great times that grew sparser as of late. They weren't just great for the depth of their debates, which was present, but for their sheer novelty.
Ohto's mind worked rather uniquely, and his temperament followed suit. He spoke back to the Dragon Queen with no reverence or gentleness and lived to tell the tale.
Unsurprisingly, with how he always spoke to him and his twin, never once did he utter the word 'Lord' to address them. Or anyone else, not even Cenarius. A quirk that wasn't random and disrespectful if looked into.
It might appear as folly and blind arrogance to many, and the Wise Bear would lend himself to agree to an extent. Things were rarely as simple.
This was a creature who faced Death, blinded him not once but twice by stabbing him in one eye the second time.
The once-furbolg wasn't always right, far from it, too hasty to judge and enact upon it, but generally, he tended to be correct.
And Ohto's saying that everything that could go wrong would inevitably do so seemed vindicated today.
The bear demi-god felt it, and the spirits wailed in warning of a catastrophe. Through their helpful warnings, he reduced the damage caused by the collapse around his and Ursoc's sections.
However, this wasn't the 'usual'; this had been extreme, akin to a natural disaster rarely seen outside geologically active places—an earthquake. And not a light one by any stretch of the word.
It broke the pattern, making it either a random event or something predetermined with unknown goals.
Ursol was hoping for the first but knew it wasn't. Luck was fickle; perhaps he would have believed otherwise if Ohto hadn't been there.
But the Bear of Resilience was at the heart of it, very evidently the target. One of the Wild's beating hearts. He didn't think one instant the stubborn semi-divine jalgar was dead, even without their spiritual tie.
And if Ohto succumbed… it wouldn't have been the last time he walked Azeroth. If one thing was absolute for the Wise Bear was how right his younger counterpart's title was earned.
Regardless, the present was bitter, as could be due to the younger's near disappearance.
"We shouldn't have trusted them!" Ursoc roared from behind, the ground breaking from his paws and wind booming like a snowstorm.
"Brother, anger will help none—right your mind to a clearer path. I understand and agree, but the Horde cannot have caused this. Not alone. Not without ample preparation and cooperation with Ahn'Qiraj." Ursol said softly, head flicking back to observe his twin frowning.
"Can't refute that, but since this little alliance began, I can't help but notice a rise in tunnels collapsing. Their metal beasts and love of explosion are undoubtedly at fault." The Mighty Bear responded with a frigid anger to his tone.
He may be the pure warrior of the trio, but he was anything but a simpleton meathead. It had been the undoing of many to underestimate the Wild God in that department.
Ursol agreed to that statement.
Yet it wasn't so simple, so cut and dry, but indeed, the tunnel network's integrity was weakening. Rapidly, and it wasn't slowing down. It was to question if the Veiled Sea would swallow that section of Silithus.
But destruction of the silithid bio-structures was the main reason when flora had yet to be grown outside of some battles involving mainly the Horde, again.
It was a known problem, only amplified by the infernal arthropods finding it a viable strategy when all was lost. That also played a role in the destabilization.
The calmest of the three Bear Lords was no fonder of the Horde, but ignoring those truths wasn't his philosophy.
"Still, I advise you to hold barbs… this is delicate. We aren't friends, but we face a far greater threat. This fine line of enmity cannot be crossed yet. However… if they are guilty, Azeroth would be better off by the disappearance of an invasive species." Ursol's almost rasped voice turned into a growl no less emotional than the larger demi-god.
There was no wavering in his words. The nature of the Orcs was never forgotten; they were alien, which wasn't a problem in and of itself. But they were a destabilizing force.
Morality was a concept to be careful about when applying it to the Wild God. Even one such as him, particularly for one such as him.ph
They arrived in front of the Horde Co-supreme Commander already in what might be a glaring contest with his Wild counterpart, Shandris Feathermoon.
Only the female kaldorei was glowering with any conviction at the impassive helplessness of the old yet massively younger orc.
Her silvery eyes were burning with distrust and hatred barely contained from turning into disaster by her ten millennia of discipline and the iron grip of her body.
The reports of what unfolded were spread fast across the Wild.
Casualties were quickly tallied, including the Furbolg Representative, his most promising student's potential brain death, and the disappearance of two others in the ongoing earthquake.
And there were thousands more; many tunnels remained inaccessible.
The only good thing was that such collapses were indiscriminate, and the Kingdom of Ahn'Qiraj suffered tenfold, even if it was a minor inconvenience, comparatively.
And casualties weren't the last of concerns.
Panic didn't rise, nor did chaos; the flow of information was controlled and spread per protocols prepared in such dreaded eventualities.
Drilled tactics were enacted, and the adequate response was soon to be decided.
It wasn't to be by Shandris; however, few were her hierarchical superior, but all were part of the Wild Council. Ursol was naturally the most apt for a venture of that variety.
A war wasn't what he desired at present. His arrival with his brother put an end to this growing tension between the two sides.
It wouldn't explode into a brawl, at least the Bear of Wisdom didn't believe so, but the ramifications of a dispute weren't any better. Tensions were already sky high before.
They needed to focus on what mattered, rescuing Ohto of the Greenweald. Hypocritical and guided by bias, but that was the truth if either of the two powers wished to survive the next five years.
"Greetings, be at rest. Everyone." His clipped voice carried through the wind to everyone present, the shamans of the Horde having the greatest reactions.
Most were shockingly goblins, even if shaman wasn't the appropriate term in his opinion.
They were far closer to warlocks in how they operated; it was purely a transaction for their odd machines to operate.
It wasn't wrong, but it could prove incredibly unstable.
Elemental spirits that could readily agree to most of their demands would do the opposite at their convenient leisure. But that was a common risk with shamanism, if far less so, given that trust and loyalty would have been cultivated for years otherwise.
Regardless, the principles behind their technology were novel if highly controversial.
And they weren't to be ignored beyond their threat; some aspects would benefit the Wild if retrofitted.
Be that as it may, it was not the time or place, even less so, as that branch of engineering certainly led to the present.
Elements responded to that kind of thing, and far too many were deluded in a promised freedom that would never come if they obeyed the Old Gods' twisted edicts. It served only as an additional motivator.
"Infighting is what our shared enemies wish above all. Let us not give them that. Now we must act accordingly…"
And plans began to be created, of which saving the Resilient Bear stood out, but couldn't exist in a vacuum.
Healing the wounded, clearing the tunnels, holding their ground, mapping the new terrains, and more were to be done in tandem if a semblance of stability was to be regained.
It would be a long, grueling, and thankless affair, but a vital one. Once the dragons were fully intent on assisting.
•••••
I roared one final time as my claw severed the head of a qiraji general. I stared at the corpse, the many corpses, as my wounds knitted, my armor fixed itself, and my mana somewhat stabilized.
Somewhat being generous. It wasn't actively pouring into the world like I was a fountain.
Not even their bodily fluid and pieces remained, sliding off my form like the trash it was. Absorbing them was the same as eating, and I was careful not to.
My breath slowed down, yet my senses were on high alert. The sound in the empty cavern was of buzzing, dripping ichor, and my own heartbeats.
I didn't escape after I fled the Emerald Dream. The insects had found me and dug to eat my gut, so I dug upward faster. I wouldn't have been able to fight properly otherwise.
Alas, haste made waste, and I breached a tunnel. I couldn't work as smoothly and breached a tunnel I noticed too late.
So I fought, my head felt like it was splitting open, with my magical energies acting rampant if I didn't pay attention. It wasn't Xavius' fault; no, not directly, it was the consequence of my attempts to escape.
An annoyance more than anything for what I had to do, but it was a pain all the same. I knew the theory behind what happened, I did force a bit, but still… it felt more like something opened than tore.
Something I couldn't exactly put a stop to.
Right at that time, it was far from my primary concern, however, and it still wasn't until I was out. Facing a swarm of titan constructs accompanied by silithids and qiraji was taxing.
Well, more of the former. It was relatively effortless with the vorpal bees and my various spores and pollens killing the purely biological.
Stone and metals were a different story. You can't choke, poison, or do a myriad equally deadly things to them. Only brute force worked. Good thing I excelled at that, too.
It just was decidedly less effective than magic and trickery in this scenario. Still, this was a problem given they never came alone. I was only alive through my ample preparation.
"I need to move…" I rasped and went up right after; there was no point in staying here any longer.
So I dug up and up, dodging tunnels and unstable ground until I couldn't advance anymore. Not for lack of trying, but it didn't matter at some point.
I couldn't dig through the titan research station. It didn't take long to figure that one out, if the energy that blasted me the instant my roots tried to pry it open by mistake.
This was Ahn'Qiraj, not the name of this insectoid kingdom we were at war with, but a part of the titan structure itself. I had no verifiable way of knowing where I was, but this couldn't be close to the Scarab Wall.
I wasn't deep enough to have missed it.
That wasn't surprising in and of itself. Titans liked to build big, shocking. No. However, what this entailed was a different story.
'Does this lead to the leak? One at least… I doubt the barrier cuts through the facility and is homogeneous.' I thought with a frown, equally from my headache and internal debate.
I didn't hold the seal made by the bronze dragons with the explicit purpose to fuck everyone later in high regard. This felt like the exact type of shit those lizards would do.
The chance this might point to a breach in the Scarab Wall was far too enticing to consider being left abandoned. However, that didn't mean going in my state alone like a moron to satiate my curiosity.
I had a rough idea of the Scarab Wall direction since I had made myself an internal compass, but it was blurry so deep underground. Another reason is not to explore beyond my current state.
From my paw pad, a pure golden thread of mycelium, the thickness of a kaldorei secondary aorta, weaved itself. It wasn't anything special, barring its resistance and self-regeneration properties.
It was a tie.
I wouldn't lose this potential solution to shorten this asinine war. This was my honey trail, and I wasn't limiting myself to one as I dug around the smaller part of this building.
It was immense, almost mind-boggling, but that it was a de facto Old God prison put things into perspective. We were specks of dust, microorganisms of no consequence, or so they would believe.
Bacteria were infinitely smaller and weaker as individuals than a run-of-the-mill multicellular organism. Yet that didn't stop the former from winning time and time again.
The same logic applied on a bigger scale.
But we had to make those pretty words more than a moral boost based on pretense, so we wouldn't get fucked over both ways if an Old God was freed, just partly as well.
However, if I could say that, the good thing was that this Old God was still sealed in the titan facility. I would have sensed it otherwise, or would have heard voices that weren't mine at the very least.
It meant the qiraji couldn't access the keys to free their master entirely.
I hoped.
I knew, evidently, close to nothing about how titanic techno magic worked, but I was certain the near continent-sized Void spawn horror wouldn't stay content compressed in its cell if it could crawl out.
By virtue of logic, it was still trapped. Now, for how long that remained a mystery, and what extent its influence was, I couldn't say. The same was for its intelligence.
It was certainly vast, and working with its two brethren–if there weren't more, and I didn't count that dagger–all with thousands of their millions of eyes on me as if I were a prize.
A prize they believed was already wrapped in their tentacles, they could puppet as they pleased.
It was equally terrifying and infuriating, and frankly, probably true to an extent I wouldn't grasp until far too late. I wasn't stupid enough for it to be put like this, which was uncomfortable and distressing.
They weren't going to watch without reacting; this wasn't a video game where each piece was forgotten or added to the whims of a company to print money.
But I understood enough.
For all their semblance of Lovecraftian aesthetics, they weren't incomprehensible. Insanity inducing, yes, but it wasn't from them being able to pop and eat universes. It was mind manipulation and a desire to consume and expand.
Or that might be my arrogance speaking. I couldn't know. I didn't know. Even if I did, the knowledge might be incomplete, misleading, or biased, preventing accurate interpretation.
If there was one such thing to begin with. The Void couldn't be understood by a sane individual living in a normal space.
I might already be corrupted, or in the process of being.
The Nightmare worked on the perception of reality first and foremost; it wasn't dumb madness, it didn't diminish intelligence or rationality.
It twisted them. The stronger the individual, the worse and more convincing it was. Worse even, it could be unnoticed, and awareness of it meant nothing if touched.
I needed Brightwaggle and Tyrande. And to be put in isolation, fast. Extremely fast.
So I dug with that singular goal in mind, everything and anything wanting to put a stop to my ascension was to be in a world of pain.
Then we are going to stop playing little games. Big words, but I needed them. False bravado and righteous fury were better than the despair they wished for me to drown into.
They took me far and were tried and true.
