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42. Bear Society
🕑 Added 2025-03-22 15:50:01 +0000 UTCI spoke to Malfurion, and I hoped my ideas germinated in his mind, even just a little so that he would act.
Otherwise, it would have been a waste of time beyond mildly defrosting him to the modus operandi of my magic.
If my position had differed, I knew he wouldn't have been so accommodating to me.
He couldn't do anything without pushing boundaries that would end badly for everyone—physically, culturally, and politically.
But it was well-intentioned on the old druid's part, and I understood why he was wary.
Biomancy was dangerous, but so was any magic at any substantial level of mastery.
This one was just more inclined toward Life and Nature, molding their biological aspects to my will.
It could lead to varying scenarios, hellish or not. It only required me to have ideas and time.
Of course, it wasn't limitless–quite the contrary–as I wouldn't have nearly died several times or been so easily inconvenienced if it had been.
But the Goldilocks across our tunnels between Hollowmaw and Timbermaw Hold proved much of its potential. Its purifying effects spread to the outside world from every cave connected to our domain.
But it also showed the danger to many if they had a little foresight and a fragment of doubt toward me.
The plague that created the Scourge could be repeated, for example. The zombifying part couldn't be done–at least like that–but just a deadly disease was well within my current capabilities.
How it worked, how to trick magic, be it detection or healing, and even how to control its vectors, such as mosquitoes.
It wouldn't be done in days or weeks; months were the bare minimum. Working on microorganisms was harder because of the lack of technological advancement, but that wasn't impossible.
The problem was that biological weapons like that could and would come back to bite my furry ass since they could self-propagate.
And I couldn't stop evolution, the big difference between Life and Death.
If that were not the case, if it were discovered to be of that nature and who made it, it would trigger a domino effect of increasing escalation until one side was entirely decimated.
I wasn't blind to the potential unwanted attention that it would place on my back.
Restraint wasn't optional, but there was an exception—such as the undead.
It was why the Archdruid's fears were somewhat fair but aggravating nonetheless.
Alas, there wasn't much else to do besides showing results. Seemingly more than what I already did. It couldn't be forced as much as I wished it to.
And about strengthening ourselves and holding on to the world.
We were… yes, allies, but more like different groups of people working independently yet together, whereas we should be more of a singular entity with some form of shared leadership.
Or at least with something tangible holding us together.
We don't need a Warchief or Jaina's current title or what was happening in the Eastern Kingdoms. We don't and can't merge.
But we needed a government body or, at the very least, an equivalent, a foundation on which to build and work a symbiosis for us to hold to the world.
I did not have any concrete idea beyond some general bits about how to realize my vision.
Malfurion wasn't wrong; it was an extremely ambitious project. But shitty as it was to say, the catastrophic events and tragedies of the past weeks were the perfect opportunities to cement that change.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice I knew all too well to despise.
"What ill thoughts have you planted in the Archdruid's mind?" Fandral bemoaned, rising above as his eagle form let him effortlessly overtake me in speed.
I rolled my eyes, snapping my jaws shut, then answered.
"Please, Fandral, there is no need to fake worries. Aren't I a mere furbolg of lesser intellect? What pearl of wisdom could I give that would put the first kaldorei druid under my spell?" I snapped back, making sure to emphasize kaldorei instead of saying mortal.
It was a better form of respect toward Malfurion Stormrage than a falsehood many loved to hear. It changed nothing about his might, for one.
And it was only accurate if we went by semantics regarding what 'version' of druidism was used, and were very wordy about what was 'druidism.'
It was utterly ridiculous. It was not personal for me, as furbolgs certainly weren't first, either, but it annoyed me.
It was a dick-measuring contest with themselves based on thin air.
Azeroth's first mortal Nature magic was probably some random elemental spirit lost to time halfway turning organic around the Well of Eternity.
"Lesser doesn't mean mindless, furbolg. And you're nothing if clever and manipulative, unlike the simpletons that are your kind. You are spreading your claws beyond your lane." I could see sneers even with a beak and echolocation alone.
He was trying to rile me up, and I won't say it wasn't without success.
But I wasn't going to attack, unlike with that cunt of an orc. There was no witness, and I probably would miss.
He was faster and a more skilled flier than me. He was mentally ready for that, most likely.
Meaningless insults and barbs alone didn't get me to act. Despite my temper, I was not a mindless rage machine.
Still, I prepared, Groot discreetly building a quick crossbow and my armor.
I didn't have the advantage, and Staghelm wouldn't play like Archimonde; he would go for the kill and play dirty.
My loathing of him didn't tarnish my vision of him as incompetent or weak. He was anything but. Frankly, he was one of my worst match-ups.
"Your Master can explain what I said, or is mortality affecting you this much? You shouldn't have the free time for that, I certainly don't. We're mortals. So, unless you have anything to say, fuck off." I growled and heard a strangled scream that turned into a scoff.
"I will keep my eyes on you, Ohto." He answered, seething and likely holding himself from doing something stupid.
Then the angry chicken veered down, vanishing from my ears to my great joy. He was going to be a problem. There was no doubt about that.
'Then he can be. The bigger he becomes, the easier my excuse for his mauling becomes.' I thought dangerously despite my rational side not wanting that.
It was complex, and our mutual dislikes won't be shown in a bloody battle.
Balance needed to be kept, and rashly acting wouldn't only affect me or Staghelm. He will have to get used to my presence, whether he likes it or not.
And so life went on, and the amount I saw him increased, but he was anecdotal with Malfurion.
I couldn't waste time thinking about him. My schedule had never been busier and most necessary of my entire focus, and there was plenty enough to focus on.
I was mostly locked in my laboratory or instilling the necessary evil that was bureaucracy with Vandel's assistance and some of Ursol with plenty from furbolgs who knew how to lead.
Well, I made a semblance of it, but the paperwork was necessary to keep things running at the scale I operated at—not that paper was actually used.
I created scrolls that were, in actuality, single-leaved plants—papyrus was the name. However, aside from their similar uses, they were nothing like plants from Earth.
Simply put, with a pinch of Nature magic and some fine control–or using pre-made patterns to flow your mana–you could put whatever you wanted on it using the hyper-malleable black veins.
Color can even be added depending on the soil. It was incredibly versatile.
They can survive almost absolute desiccation, come back, and aren't prone to break or tears in any form. I had been working on them for some time, as in four years since I used them for my personal journal—they were deceptively complex.
But that only eased things a little.
By the ancestors, it wasn't easy. Beyond paperwork, it was a new mentality for us. A lot was done, and it was an absolute headache.
A census was begun, recording ages, sex, and whether they had mates or cubs. It was the most basic. More needed to be done—laws, education, taxes, pay, and the economy in general.
I had ideas from my past life, but to make them was a different story, and not all of them would even work. Or should they even work as well, given how wrong some could turn to even if we weren't humans?
Still, it was slowly but surely taking form, and there wasn't quite any feeling like that.
Luckily, I wasn't alone. Ancients of Lore, such as Liande, were here–through a Dream Portal–on my teacher's beseech, and she took the role of the main record keeper.
But furbolgs weren't shy about it, new as it was. Shamans were not the only ones participating. It was a revolution from how we had been for countless millennia, but it remained simple.
My little brother was surprisingly good at all that, but he always liked this. Numbers were his thing. I wasn't going to take my little slav-hmm-helper's joy away.
But he didn't slack off with the above as an excuse in his training with Hakur and, recently, Vandel. Though my elven friend was poor at Nature magic, beyond some bare-bone basics, it was purely physical.
This aside, I didn't micromanage—I had enough sleepless days and nights as things were. There was no need for more, even if I had ways to mitigate the consequences.
I wasn't patient enough–particularly not in the recent weeks–for that nonsense, too, and I knew it was… unworkable.
It was unnecessary and a waste of time. Any notable action won't and can't happen without waves.
The spirits of the ancestors were our eyes and ears, wardens and guides, and they would know if any had undesirable intentions.
It wouldn't be malicious–something needed to go very, very wrong for that–but furbolgs weren't angels without flaws or personalities. It hadn't been entirely smooth sailing for that reason.
But the concerns outside of who was to get their territory back first–fixed with my authority only when Ashenvale was healed, so there was no jealousy and risk of corruption—were food and space.
And those concerns were very mild, to be honest. Food was limited both in variety and quantity. Fishing and hunting were to be forgotten for the most part.
Honey could be made in Hollowmaw, but it wouldn't feed us. Insects, in general, were great, but again, they wouldn't feed us. The same was true for preserved meat.
It was up to fruits, legumes, herbs, mushrooms, and roots. On that front, we had it all. Well, all that could grow with the limited sunlight of Hollomaw's false sky, but with Undrassil… we weren't starving.
But the den capital couldn't support the bulk of Ashenvale furbolg's population right now, when still in its building phase. It was a fact.
Things required time to grow, no matter how accelerated; we couldn't produce an untold amount at once. Regarding food, we weren't only supporting furbolgs and kobolds.
There was the kaldorei, even though we were past giving our food for free like it had been in the Third War.
Trade was back, and coins flowed, and it wasn't with them alone. The Grimtotem weren't to be ignored since they evolved beyond the primeval forest.
But until Ashenvale was healed, food would remain a concern for my people.
Of course, this also meant the Cenarion Circle didn't have to concern itself with feeding its population.
And that while remaining alert of the Emerald Nightmare, rebuilding and healing nature from the past few weeks damages.
It was very desirable and worthwhile that we furbolgs kept this rhythm until things got better.
They could split their focus on thoroughly cleaning our lands as furbolgs and more could.
There had been substantial progress with a fourth of Felwood purged and healed, and all across Ashenvale, it was the same, if to a lesser degree.
Fel, for all its faults, couldn't expand alone–Chaos as did Order needed a guiding hand–and the scattered demons and satyrs didn't have the power to make it so.
But it remained extensively maddening to purge and heal the wound it caused.
But the food problem was easily answered through self-induced torpor—a short burst of hibernation induced by the perfected elixir I made by mistake over a decade ago.
No cubs, pregnant females, shamans, ursa totemics, or leaders went through that, but the rest were on a weekly cycle sprinkled with occasional duels to see who had more right to help.
Those duels could get pretty brutal and bloody when they were fought out of might rather than wisdom. That was good; it showed motivation.
Space wasn't hard to answer either; torpor also worked for it, and the World Tree was modular since it was a tree.
Only a group of shamans, me or Ursol, could affect it, but it made avoiding conflict or danger even easier to manage. Most tribes didn't have enough shamans, as they were on the surface.
If worse came to worse, tunnels could be dug, and I was walking with Ursol behind one of those tunnels. It was high up near Undrassil's roots and guarded by various plants of my designs.
I wasn't concocting anything wildly dangerous there, but not having a certain degree of security was stupid. You don't know what a curious cub might do.
Leading wasn't all I did with the rare burst of relaxation through torturi-training Vandel and my siblings with Softjaw when she was free.
But relaxation stopped there even if I was passionate about the other parts.
A large project of mine was taking shape—theories and hypotheses materializing into a concrete reality. I had begun it earlier, but it wasn't a small one.
It wasn't a small thing to resurrect a Wild God.
They can do it naturally, but it takes extensive time and requires a large amount of energy from the demi-god and the environment.
It doesn't happen without some form of aid for that reason.
It was unique to them. Spirits of the wild could possess objects, materialize, and affect the world, but could they revive them?
It was a whole different story. They couldn't, well, not that I know, aside from the Soulflayer, who was a weird monstrosity.
The Wild Gods were different from the start, and that changed everything. They were mirrors of the Emerald Dream in the waking world, so deep and intrinsic were their connections.
"Cloning… what a strange yet ingenious concept you are working on, my student. I can see your efforts bringing my brother back in most great health." The Wise Bear intoned with hope and encouragement as we stopped before the first floral womb.
The only floral part was the translucent petals, which showed the half-formed bear peacefully floating inside with the umbilical cord.
The other plants, such as the thick tube-like vines and a stumpy base with broad, flat leaves, were protective layers for the bear's flesh, organs, and bones inside and below.
Those were from the same batch as the bear getting cloned. It wasn't a womb but a modified body that created the perfect conditions for growing another body.
It could be female or male; it wouldn't affect anything since we weren't starting from a fecundation. As long as what was grown had similar enough genetics, nothing was to worry about, for the most part.
"Yes, in theory…" I pursed my lips, showing my fangs and trepidation weighing on my heart. It was the first time I had shown it to him. "I aim to progressively develop the body, easing Ursoc into life by manually and gradually accelerating all stages of life until maturity."
It wouldn't create another Wild God; their body mirrored what they were in the Dreaming. However, nothing would happen without the willingness of the individuals I wished to bring back.
It was the biggest point, in fact. But with the Bear of Might, it wasn't my worry.
Their biology was unique, and I barely scratched the surface. They weren't just animals with more Life and Nature in them like Malfurion or men.
Their entire body was the equivalent of stem cells. Any non-fatal injuries would heal with time and energy, given that the necessary organs were intact.
Also, their remains, unless altered or subjected to enough stress, never truly die.
And there was more. It was wondrous and utterly captivating. It also meant the floral womb needed to be way better.
"You forgot another thing, Ohto. I have not experienced it, but I have witnessed the event a number of times during my long life, and the energy used to reform a body is said to be soul-crushingly exhausting." Ursol added, studying the small bear kicking with its paw the reinforced inside of the petals.
"Hum, so it might reduce the time they're dead. But that's for later. Right now, I'm continuing to improve my floral womb. It's still in its infancy. The first version didn't produce great results, and this one isn't any better."
"I can imagine even if I fail to grasp the functioning of that incredible biological machinery. Malformed and stillborn cubs are always a great tragedy." My teacher rumbled softly, "But without errors, there is no progress, is it not, young one? Dour as it is to repeat."
"I would prefer not to make them still. But I'm surprised you're not… disgusted. Or worried." I tentatively asked before yawning.
And Life and Nature mana shift to my brain, doing the opposite of a sleeping spell, clearing the fatigue away.
It had continually been gnawing in the back of my mind. Ursol never was disquieted beyond advocating for measured caution and wishing for my well-being.
The Bear of Wisdom looked at me with what seemed like worry before warmly chuckling as if I had said something quite silly.
If I could blush from embarrassment, I would. My ears and smell made the closest approximation, and he chuckled louder.
"Fret not, Ohto. I'm far from unfamiliar with such sights and more. Freya's curiosity was boundless, as is yours; she would have adored you. Numbers of her experiments would break the faint of heart." He explained, and I took a few notes.
Every bit of knowledge could alter everything. I couldn't let it slip my mind.
Then I got another question, one unrelated, but I needed to ask with the opportunity given. And the still alien muscles around my coccyx's new bones shifted as if reading my mind.
It has evolved and felt almost like the tail it would be in a few months at this rate. And Ursol answered without having me say a word.
'Am I that easy to read?'
"I can stop it, given we work together, but your destiny is yours. Dangers lay on both paths, and I see no innate danger in that transformation. It is up to you to choose if it flows or not."
And so I nodded, my decision taken. I would let the change take its course. I had too much right now for such concerns, anyway, beyond studying the changes.
It remained extremely interesting and didn't feel wrong. In fact, it was the exact opposite. It wasn't as if I had missed something, but it was 'right.'
At least it was for me, and anything that didn't add to my worries was a plus.
Comments
TITOO
No Shadowlands here.
Mest450
I forget if your considering shadowlands cannon. If so will the Wild Hunt faction show up in the future?
TITOO
That's the plan, but it won't be now. It's pretty advanced stuff to say the least beyond what is the goal sought.
Bat
Man he could do this for the other wild gods too once he perfects it! Meaning we could get Cenarius back a lot sooner than in lore.
Asura
Thanks for the awesome chapter 👋🔥 Can’t believe he’s actually making a cloning chamber.😯
