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44. Wanderer and Healer
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 15:50:00 +0000 UTCI blinked, and my claws were effortlessly yanked out of the stone I had been pummeling. Chen only raised an eyebrow at that; he was as unruffled as it was physically possible.
"Ohto of the Greenweald, shaman and ursa totemic, what are you? You're no furbolg. I have an idea, but your kind had not been seen in millennia. It is… strange to have you here," I said, studying his reaction.
"Very blunt, then. I like that. And an astute observation: I'm a pandaren and quite the oddball among them! After all, you are facing the one and only explorer that my people have seen in many generations." He explained.
There was a flicker of bitter sadness that vanished as fast as it was replaced by the merry tone of before.
In the same heartbeat, he planted his stave adorned with a teapot and three colorful gourds full of some kind of liquid–most certainly alcohol–in the soil.
Then, from his assortment of backpacks, he took a flat rectangle of bamboo, which unfolded into a small four-legged table.
He set the large barrel from his back next to it with a thud, then retrieved a smaller one from inside.
Then he took two cups and poured himself one with the smaller barrel.
The strong yet complex smell permeated the air, and I knew it was pretty good by it alone.
Alas, I couldn't wait as much as I wanted to talk to the exotic ursine for longer—I needed to fly back.
But as my feet began to move, my index finger was caught, and I stared at the pandaren with an incredulous head tilt.
Surprise aside, I couldn't have stopped it, and it piqued my interest.
'Fast. Very fast.' I thought, impressed, 'And bold.'
But before I freed myself from his grasp, he was back sitting cross-legged where he was and filled the second cup—for me, I reasoned.
Oh, it wasn't instantaneous or anything, but it was swift, as if he became the breeze. It was a form of magic, internal it may be.
"Why such haste? My offer remains undistilled, or is your presence wherever you must go of immediate necessity? If so, I would not stop you, not that I think I can, hahahaha." He hummed, bringing his cup to his small black nose, appreciating the smell.
I stopped, my eyes locked on his greenish-yellow ones, then to the ale cup. He smirked, birthing a mix of amusement and mild annoyance in me.
Not everyone would or could do what he just did. He had balls of steel. That was a certainty.
Or was it just reckless, though who was I to judge?
"I see the wear and tear from exhaustion, my furbolg friend. Those impressive eye bags behind all that splendid dark fur are as clear as the stars on a cloudless night. Working to the brink serves none but tragedy." The pandaren added, tapping the ground with his free paw.
And as if on cue, I yawned. My heartbeat slowed to its normal rhythm, as did my breathing—though I was still catching my breath, it was better than outright panting.
I paused, considering his words. I wanted to deny them, but I couldn't. It wasn't just exhaustion, either.
This Stormstout wasn't wrong… I felt like shit, even with my mana coursing through me.
I could do much to go beyond my metabolism's limits, but today's escapade was the tipping point over multiple virtually sleepless days atop much more.
So I relented, my stubbornness faltering. And with a deep breath, I sat in front of Chen on the orange grass without further fanfare.
The contrast in size was almost comical, especially since his entire paw was barely wrapped around a single one of my digits. It didn't matter that my fingers weren't thin by any stretch of the terms, as were my paws.
He wasn't small. He was smaller than your average female, but that was it.
But that didn't make the difference less flagrant since even the biggest tauren would be several heads smaller than me. That was height alone, and weight was exponentially higher.
And I wasn't alone in noticing the obvious difference.
"Ah, it seems we won't have enough ale even to loosen up a bit. I hope it's not a problem." Chen let out, which got a snort of amusement from me as I shook my head.
"Nah, that's not a problem," I reassured.
My body slowed down, and my muscles began to ache from the build-up of weariness hitting all at once. I had diffused the magic constantly flowing in them, and it was the result.
"Great! Still, I must ask, are all furbolgs that huge? And glowing with blades attached to their paws? I know little of your kind beyond our physical likeness and that we are connoisseurs of liquid joy." He asked with genuine curiosity as he took an ample sip of his drink.
I delicately picked up the cup with the tip of my claws to avoid scratching his possession and did the same.
My eyes widened by a fraction. It was good—really good even. It wasn't the best I had ever had, given that it seemed to be quite young, but it was Ursoc praise be, a great drink.
My reaction didn't go unnoticed, and I answered with a faint smile mirroring his: "No, no. If that were the case, furbolgs would rule the world. And truth be told, explaining it all would make even the most prideful dragon seem humble."
The panda man nodded, and his eyes went up as he began laughing. I immediately knew what was going on as I felt the shape of the flat cone hat mimicking Chen's, just far smaller.
"That's Groot, a treant and a dear if cheeky friend," I said, gently poking my buddy with a claw.
The pandaren calmed down, edging to ask me more questions by the looks of his face. But it was my turn.
"How long have you been in Kalimdor?" I didn't ask how he found me. It was evident, given how loud I got. And I doubted he had a lousy sense of smell.
"Counting time is a surefire way of worrying about its passing, and souring the enjoyment of the moment. In other words, I don't know, but it hasn't been long. Though it is as harsh as it is beautiful." He finished his cup, burped loudly, and poured himself a second without a care in the world.
"Well, it used to be far wilder and beautiful. We're near the Barrens, so the difference is minimal… but even then, demons are prowling from their defeat. I would be extra careful since one of the generals, a dreadlord, remains." I rattled with a snarl.
"A dreadlord… oh… Was it the source of your emergency?" My cute interlocutor said his levity vanished, and his eyes hardened.
It was a pleasant surprise, might I say, and he grasped the situation.
But given he was a warrior–a monk, if I was right–he wasn't just a happy-go-lucky furball. Or a dumb brute, for that matter.
"A part of me wishes it would be simpler, Chen. Mauling those abominations is less annoying than politics. But I don't think your interest lies there?" I trailed off, finishing my cup, humming at the pleasant burn.
Yeah, it was great stuff.
"Aaahh, no. It's an endless well of frustration. Punches and kicks are far more favorable, as you've put it, Ohto." And I slowly nodded in agreement at his oh so wise words.
And so our talks continued for hours under the twin moons as we drank—I even grew fruits and vegetables with a helping of cured meat from my bag.
Chen's keg was rapidly emptied in the process, and most of what he had followed.
Some of his stuff… let's say, was utterly foul. Revolting. He experimented a lot with his brewing for the better or the worse by throwing shit and seeing what stuck.
But he tested it as well, so it evened things out.
It prompted me to speak about my own experiments, the ones regarding plants and fungi.
To say the pandaren was hooked on them would be an understatement of the century.
Mainly the fungus part—yeast was a sizable aspect of the art of brewing, after all. Given how fast they developed even in sub-optimal conditions, I cultivated multiple varieties across the years.
The Wandering Isle–a place I very vaguely recalled that seemed quite wonderful from what I heard–where Chen was from wasn't foreign to that.
The opposite, in fact, but from what I got. It was apparently stagnant.
Of course, I shared what alcohol I had on me, too, even if I carried far less.
It was a number of small kegs of plain, regular honey beer, but it was solid and strong, hitting all the right spots.
It was why I carried some on me without fault beyond the fact it was easier to conserve than water. It wouldn't have been enough to get me tipsy, nevertheless drunk, but that was in normal situations.
This problem had long since been fixed; the same was true for hangovers and drunkenness. Here, I could have my salmon and eat it, too.
The first was relatively simple.
It was managing my digestive system and, by extension, what was filtered in my blood.
The second was a more advanced cleansing spell with a dose of healing but nothing complex directly involving the brain.
As such, even with the little quantity of alcohol we had, Chen wasn't the only one to enjoy the first of its effects.
Groot was there as the alarm if things went sideways—not that much would dare to attack us, demons included.
After that, it got blurry as exhaustion caught me with my partly inebriated brain.
I fell asleep, only to awaken to the sun high in the sky, assaulting my poor eyes and my stomach grumbling in hunger. My tongue was brought back in, and thirst followed soon after I licked my muzzle.
I softly groaned, articulation pleasantly popping as awareness rapidly came to me as it always did.
By the Bear Lords… I felt great and relaxed in a way I hadn't felt in far too long, now that I thought about it. It was freeing.
And it wasn't only from my effort to build after the demonic invasion. I barely remember having felt that way.
The wind against my fur, the smell of the earth with dying embers, and a deep floral tone in the background. It felt new, yet it wasn't as if I had unlocked long-past memories.
The song of birds with the motion of the waves in the far distance. It was so simple, and yet… It was profoundly calming.
Not that I didn't find joy in Hollowmaw, all the contrary, but it was different.
It reminded me of a simpler time, of Ashenvale as a cub, where all of this was a future concern or was not even conceived in my mind.
And the forest was far from cleansed, and whose progress would be slowed down. Like that, all buzzing happiness flowed like water between my padded fingers.
'Urg, ancestors damn you brain…' I complained mirthlessly as I slowly pushed myself up.
I sat on my rump, careful not to crush the nub that was becoming a tail.
It had happened far too many times for how shortly I had it. It was embarrassing as it was unpleasant.
"Awake are you, my furbolg friend? Would you like tea to dissipate the alcoholic fugue?" My ears turned to the source of the voice, and my gaze followed suit.
Here was the pandaren sitting cross-legged on a flat stone, drinking from a porcelain cup with pretty flowers delicately held in his paw.
I huffed at the rhetorical question, standing up and tightening my loincloth in the process. Now that I think about it, I would need to bathe later, and grooming would be a must, too.
"Did you carry this stone here?" I blurted out. I didn't remember everything from last night, but this stone was clearly out of place.
It didn't smell from here, for one, and the plants weren't claiming.
His serene and wise demeanor shattered at my comment as he guffawed, sputtering tea everywhere, trying and failing to regain his shattered image.
It made the scene all the more amusing.
I chuckled, Groot using roots as tentacles crawled to me in the meanwhile—all my stuff with him as the backpack appropriately reformed.
"I appreciate the offer, Chen, I truly do, and last night was… liberating. For that, I'm grateful. But I must quickly go back to Hollowmaw." I said, pursing my lips.
A part of me felt bad for leaving in the first place, no matter how short it was. I didn't even go to the Dreaming to check any reports; I just left a blank.
I wasn't the beating heart of furbolgs society and what I helped build. But my vanishing act after my earlier panic… it would have ripples.
The Wise Bear was informed, and I trusted Liande to have done it. But my teacher was, despite his tie to me and assistance with my plan, not Hollowmaw's warden.
He had left Kalimdor some time ago. Grizzly Hills was his territory, and he had put it in the care of his nephews for years while he focused on me.
But they wouldn't stand a chance against the neighboring multiple Wild Gods of the troll empire.
Since the empire in question should be destabilized from the undead, the risk involved became even more blatant. It was one thing of many, the undead again, and Vordrassil was still a concern.
I would also prefer avoiding calling for him, given that he wouldn't come for nothing. I would be vindicated, but at what price? I wanted the Cenarion Circle to remain.
"Ah, I understand. But there is no necessity for goodbyes if I may accompany you." Chen proposed standing up with agility that belied his shape.
Not that he was unhealthy even before I fixed all the nascent consequences of enjoying drinking a bit too hard after most inhibitions went away.
He wasn't a blob of fat, either. I mean, it was there, but he was a bear. And I wasn't quite sure of how closely related furbolgs were with them, but we certainly were.
As such, we shared the qualities of being very deceptive with the muscle ratio in us. And a wandering master monk brewmaster was anything but a slob.
For his words… I pondered them for a bit, and a conclusion was reached.
"Why not, but you would have to help. There's no free honey, but I don't see that being a problem for you." I shrugged, not hiding that I was far from unhappy at him coming.
"Excellent! Wait a bit till I'm ready, Ohto!" The pandaren grinned, clapping his paws in excitement like a cub, and with measured haste, gathered his stuff with immense care.
However, he briefly froze as I took on my bat form, but he was back as usual soon after, if even more excited and jolly. It was a bit intoxicating, honestly.
A moment later, he was under me in a basket of vines and roots, all his belongings secured.
I liked him, and he was pretty cute, but I wasn't going to play the mount—not like this, anyway.
Regardless, I took flight, and the entire voyage back to Blackmaw Hold passed faster than the first time.
Arriving was when things became interesting, as I wasn't the center of attention for once. A pandaren wasn't something you saw every day.
But we didn't stay long. Chen wanted to, but a quick reminder was enough.
Well, unless he wanted to remain there. I wouldn't have stopped him, and he would have access to Hollowmaw. A guide would have been necessary, though.
A problem that never came for him since I took that role as we traveled into the belly of Mount Hyjal.
Then, the more obvious signs of the Goldilocks became known through the increasingly varied and complex bioluminescent flora.
It wasn't the occasional fungus anymore, not that Goldilocks wasn't there. But it was still expanding. And without shamans, it took longer.
"Beautiful," Chen said, and I grinned, answering with pride, "Oh, this is nothing. Have you seen a World Tree?"
His reaction was unforgettable, and it wasn't just Undrassil that left him in awe. And it felt great. It wasn't my work alone; it was a symbol, something that was the sum of all our past, present, and future efforts.
As we went into Hollowmaw, beyond the ruckus caused by my arrival and the curiosity that was Stormstout's appearance, something came to me.
It was a piece of news I would have preferred not ever to hear reached me.
It wasn't Fandral or anything related to the kaldorei society at large, yet it remained tied to a night elf. One I was personally invested in.
It had come from the muzzle of my little sister.
"Vandel is gone!"
The male of the pair, Karhu, gave me a clearer picture, avoiding the potential extreme case of infiltration.
Vandel left soon after I did, taking only a few supplies and not much else beyond the necessities and some extra for good measures. All that was his, but he was clever in the way he did it.
He vanished without a trace, no smell or anything beyond a letter confirming much. It wasn't suicide, but it might as well be the same given the circumstances.
He would take his vengeance with his own hands or die trying. The bastard even thanked me for all I did for him, but he couldn't wait anymore.
Fucking coward. It would be a lie to say I wasn't both impressed and disappointed.
And I was virtually powerless to stop him unless I mobilized every bear head guard, not that I would. It was his choice, and I wasn't his jailer in any way, shape, or form.
It did little to reduce the anger at his stupidity, for I knew what he would do.
The only warmth was that he was no weakling anymore, had ample equipment, and had the satchel of golden acorns I had given him.
I could only hope he survived what destiny he chose for himself. And if he dies, I would bring him back and kill the pointy-eared dumbass myself by wringing his neck with his own intestine.
I would do that either way, anyway.
Comments
Bat
Chen will be good to have around for Ohto. Feel like he needs wise council that isn’t a furbolg who will just do what he says or a wild god who has different priorities compared to the mortal furbolgs.
Asura
Thanks for the chapter 👋🔥
