I thought for a long second about how to answer Rexxar. It was for me to do it as a member of the Wild Council.
I couldn't say whatever I wanted without impacting the livelihood of millions.
Still, a part of what the beastmaster said peeved me off something fierce. And this type of thing couldn't be ignored.
I needed to be careful. We were walking on a pane of glass, and I was holding the hammer. And I wasn't the only one wanting to rectify that.
But Shandris was a disciplined woman, and I was her superior, even if it wasn't I, the one who led the sentinels behind us. She kept her lips tight, but I knew she had a word or two to say.
"Horde's territory? That's a bold claim. Very bold. Dangerous and stupid, too. Words lack wisdom if your might is insufficient to make them effective." I said, the air almost shaking.
I studied the mok'nathal, and there was nothing beyond tensing a little more with Misha hunching a tad.
Both were hopelessly dead if a fight broke out, but they remained steadfast. It was praiseworthy, but a single step separated courage and idiocy.
I knew from experience.
But that wasn't what I wanted here.
So, I didn't hammer any further; the discussion was on something else. But the ancestors knew I wished the opposite.
"This aside, why are we here? The Scourge. We have only come to purge them." I said without saying the truly important part.
The Horde knew Cenarius was back; they had spies, and there were loud festivities at the Lord of the Forest's return.
That I was involved in reviving the demi-god wasn't a secret, but how I did it was.
It wouldn't take a genius to deduce if it was known why we were beelining straight to the quilboar capital or the Razorfen Kraul, where legends spoke about the Great Boar's remains.
A lot of that was getting the body without violence, though.
We were already in contact with the Great Boar. He was an important Loa to the majority of the dark trolls tribe, and he was among the most loved.
He was very onboard about living again, as were his followers. And it might have helped explain why the quilboars' side agreed so fast.
Still, I retained doubt. As the race currently was, the ideal of Agamaggan wasn't the most strived for. Confusing fervent protectiveness and blind aggression are the biggest offenders.
There might not be much communication.
But like Ursol and Ursoc, I would bet on the Great Boar, known for his protective nature, appreciating if we stopped his children from getting massacred by abominations.
"Where and when?" Rexxar immediately demanded with urgency, slipping in his tone. I was pleased by how seriously the threat of the undead was taken.
Hopefully, they wouldn't act when the 'peaceful' and 'non-monstrous' freed undead of Lordaeron get purged.
The lands those dregs tainted were felt through the Dreaming and not by a little. By Malfurion's estimates, it was significantly worse than Desolace and growing worse by the day.
The Wild wouldn't stay put on that front; the initial innocence didn't matter. A disease wasn't evil, but it killed regardless.
"This is none of the Horde's concern. We are passing through to reach and destroy our target. You need not know more." I said, leaving no option for argument.
Apparently, the message didn't go through his thick skull, or he was too stubborn to relent, but he pressed on.
"The Horde won't sit still against this threat, even if it's in the quilboars' domain. The threat is too great. You can keep watch of us like you are presently doing, but I won't let those monsters roam free. The army you bring is important, and so is the threat." My ears and tail flicked, and my lips curled up, showing a fraction of my fangs.
Now, this was getting tiring.
It wasn't anything about him guessing our destination or spotting our kobold spies. That was barely an annoyance, if anything.
That was what we expected. Rexxar was among the best and most experienced hunters; this was his beer and honey. Someone didn't need to be particularly bright to know where we were going.
We could still be going somewhere else, but we wouldn't be moving like this or without being so obvious, which limited the options.
No, he was pressing on, and there wasn't a reasonable way for me to argue out of it. He was right.
From what I said, this was the logical course of action. The Scourge was a reason enough to work together; in fact, we had a sort of pact around it, as with demons.
Our mutual dislike wasn't even equal, with the Wild having most of it to the Horde, and our hatred for the Legion and their once slave eclipsed any between us by a hilarious amount.
My categorical no wasn't good and didn't make any sense.
And a more basic part of my brain was greatly annoyed by that fact. It couldn't maul this type of adversary.
There was no debating that kind of thing away without revealing too much or appearing as an unhinged dumbass.
If it wasn't already suspicious enough, now my refusal made it even more strange.
It was an impasse.
"This isn't a negotiation. You won't come with us." I rumbled, and Chen huddled forward, his deep green eyes flicking to me as he spoke.
"Can I, my friend?" I paused, thinking for a long second as my gaze landed on the pandaren.
A soft, silent sigh left my mouth as I relented with a nod.
"Go."
"There is an alternative, a third path. This is a delicate affair. Pure destruction is unwarranted, and… the Horde is anything but mindful. Yet our arms and legs are not endless. The undead will slip through our grasp and the thorns and scatter across the four winds; there, you may act to your heart's content." Chen finished, his gaze serene and unflinching as he kept eye contact with the half-ogre.
There was a moment of silence where Rexxar was in deep thought, but ultimately, he grunted and spoke, "If that is your wish, so be it. I won't interfere and tell Thrall this much."
And he walked away to the flying contraption, his bear quick to follow him as they moved back to their floating ship that departed soon after.
Shandris was the first to speak.
"Truly an odd man, and thank you, monk. My arrows would have been bloodied if he proved a hint as arrogant and mad as that axe-swinging demon-loving bastard."
"Ohoho, that was nothing, a simple diversion. He would do what he would have done. And indeed, odd, but none here is quite normal, hm." The pandaren monk hummed, his paws going to his beer keg as he took a big swig.
"The same for me, Chen. I don't know how you do it, but you work wonders." I let out, mentally weary, "Now let's go; we are rested and wasted enough time."
This charade was done and ready, and we took off fifteen minutes later.
Hours later, I felt we reached our destination earlier than my eyes, more focused on the setting sun far away among the Thousand Needles, did.
It was a beautiful sight of nature, like most of Azeroth, yet it never got old. However, the pestilence was unmistakable. It wasn't in any way as powerfully revolting as I recalled from the last war.
But the aura was unmistakable. It was of a similar stink, and it was growing ever so slowly but surely every moment that passed.
'It's recent…' I internally noted. But it could be something else.
Or maybe it just looked that way through magical wards. Not even the wisdom of Ursol was enough without looking closer.
And closer we got. Razorfen Downs was impressive, with thorns comparable in thickness to the larger tree of Ashenvale stretching and dividing for kilometers within the confines of hills and mountains.
It was a veritable fortress, and the thorny dome was only the top. There were multiple caverns below. It was no wonder Thrall had yet to attack there.
There was no active defense against airstrikes, but the cost of resources to destroy such a formation would be immense, and it would be temporary.
This was the Razorfen, the pure, unaltered plant, and not the distant offshoot that was the quilboar thorns I modified and commonly used.
Due to a lack of direct contact and time constraints, I hadn't studied these vines. I couldn't be everywhere, but by all accounts, it was evidently anything but your average weed.
'A weed bigger than a World Tree…' I amusedly thought. And the comparison, while faulty, wasn't baseless.
It had quite the presence in the Emerald Dream from our records, and it wasn't any different as we approached. It wasn't raw life force per se; it had plenty of it, though.
It was its robustness.
It was remarkable that it wasn't rapidly rotting away or corrupted with undead within. No average plant would resist this so well.
It probably was the reason the Scourge chose this place as their foothold. The Razorfen would hold, and the quilboars would fight until they could only surrender or be raised in undeath while the Scourge worked on whatever omnicidal plan they had going on.
Funnily, this thorny bouquet had many of the characteristics of a potentially invasive species if it went loose. Only the quilboars and Agamaggan, depending on the second's influence over the Razorfen, were the chain holding a disaster.
Landing only proved this point about the invasive parts. It wasn't a malicious entity, but in its current state, it threatened the surrounding ecosystem.
"A rose without petals…" My ears swiveled to the druid who said that, and I rumbled an agreement in the form of vines of nerves and plants.
They dug deep, my senses plunging into the dry, hard soil like mud. I found no roots but those of the Razorfen; any others were long choked out, or on their way, it might as well be the same.
"What a dreadful herbage. There is naught but its deathly hold, as if it had devoured all that breathe and bloom." General Feathermoon spoke in a soft, saddened tone, and I nodded.
Particularly for now, fresh remains of plants indicated it was worse than usual.
These details were discernible by the composition of the ground, and it was instinctive to me since Groot's loss—one of his many gifts to me.
"You're closer to the truth than you might wish to be. Let's join our Grimtotem liaison and enter." I said, knuckles and paws crushing the dead grass as I strode forward.
Our liaison came in the form of a middle-aged female tauren named Tisha. She escorted us to the entrance of Razorfen Downs proper.
To my unsurprising disappointment, it was a rock formation and not the literal jaws of the Great Boar.
Then there came the first quilboars without Tisha informing them.
An old male led them with weathered scars covered with swirling tattoos that seemed to almost glow under the twin moons' light.
'They knew we arrived for some time then.' I pondered without much shock as I studied the bipedal boars.
At the same time, I cast the translation spell on me, Shandris, and Chen, but also anyone in range, such as suspiciously courageous vultures—our spies.
The biggest of the advancing quilboar was that tattooed male. He was almost comparable to a tauren in size and far more muscular, with a distinct smell from the other.
The resemblance to an ursa totemic was unmistakable, but whether it was more than surface level was left to be seen.
His eyes tried to hide nervousness, but his stink and the smaller body language cues betrayed him. Though there wasn't real fear, it was evident his confidence was shaken.
Accompanying him was a far younger female dressed in a rough robe with bones and thorn ornaments. Orbiting behind her were two small, faintly glowing crystals, one brown and one orange.
I couldn't say with certainty if she was a shaman or geomancer.
The differences were semantics for the most part, and flexible, changing with each tribe and species. Sometimes, the two words meant the same thing. But with quilboars, it was likely the latter.
And given that she was seemingly passively floating gemstones, she was skilled. How much, I didn't know, not nearly enough, that was for sure.
Her reaction was far less restrained, with wide eyes and rapid shifting eyes between the muscle-bound elder and me. And his muffled response to her silent question didn't seem to calm her down.
The army behind us, only a fifth of what we brought, didn't help. It wasn't a warband; our force was trained, professional, motivated, healthy, and utterly loyal.
And we had more. Magatha had an abundance of reinforcement prepared. We were ready against quilboars and undead alike.
"I'm Warlord Ramtusk, Commander of the Razorfen and Hand of the Crone Charlga Razorflank. This is her daughter, Chugara Razorflank; your leader may only enter fo-"
"No, the Wild have come to help you purge the undead and obtain what we agreed to. I'm not as patient as Magatha. We're coming in and speaking to Charlga. Our force can wait, but they do so inside with us." I said, my paws breaking a nearby rock with barely any strain.
I didn't come to negotiate, and there wasn't a gentle way to say it.
Negotiations were done with the earlier-mentioned old cow, and our conditions were set. The Wild was being extremely generous with them.
The Scourge can't wait, and I wouldn't agree to go into a potential trap. I wasn't unlikable, even less so my companion. I didn't do miracles.
Ramtusk sputtered, offended and angry, but awfully unable to do anything. The quilboars behind weren't much better. Most amusing was Chagura taking over with panic and a clear urgency in her eyes.
"I agree, that is fair. My mother awaits, and the Downs need help if it's not to fall to those monstrosities." She said in what felt like one breath.
She was scared.
"Lead the way, Chugara. I only bite my foe." I rumbled with the faintest of playful smirks, and she hastened her steps.
I restrained a chuckle as I felt a stick gently poke the space between my ribs, and my living bark carapace fused.
I weakly glared back at Chen's amused smile, and I deflated. He mouthed something along the lines of not biting our host, no matter how they would taste like pork.
"I will try." I mouthed back with a head tilt.
And we entered.
My eyes were never locked on an area for long as I walked on the cleared path of the Razorfen. The revolting smell of undeath was strong in the air, even with the quilboar magic trying to purge it away.
Soon enough, I was spotting more and more quilboars; they watched warily and moved away. But that would be the lucky ones. There were numerous quilboars, all in various states of injury.
I couldn't help myself and walked to the closest gravely wounded. He was a sleeping cub, heavy and unsteady, breathing with an agonizing expression as he clutched his necrotizing arm.
It didn't make my blood boil, but I wasn't unaffected. It was an innocent life soon to be snuffed by abominations and probably raised as one later down the line.
It was unacceptable
If I weren't here, that young one wouldn't have lived two days at most.
"The Scourge, as you call it, had do-" Chugara began to speak but stopped as my paws glowed a brilliant ruby and emerald light.
My ears perked up at an approaching quilboar swine, the cub's mother most likely, but Chen placed himself between us. I ignored the growing commotion, and my work was uninterrupted.
In one instant, the quilboar cub's breathing settled, his dead limb fell off, and from it, a new one grew. Bones, tendons, and muscles emerged and were soon complemented by veins, nerves, and finally, fat, skin, and fur.
There was a gasp, which only grew as I did the last touch, waking up the cub.
He was confused until his eyes locked onto mine with a growing terror, but his mother hugging him shattered the nascent panic attack.
"The legends were true…" I heard the 'Warlord' mutter in shocked disbelief. But I wasn't done.
I lifted my right paw, and it became a small sun of mixed crimson red and verdant green, golden light shining through like my eyes.
Mana pulsed to the rhythm of my heartbeat, and I held the spell high, infusing more power and will into its intricate structure.
Then I flicked it to the ceiling of sharp thorns. The kobold-sized ball of Life and Nature spun and exploded into hundreds of shooting stars that slowly rained down on the wounded and dying.
Injuries glowed and closed, breathing stabilized, and the gasps of pain quieted down. More complex injuries with lost limbs and wrecked organs didn't have those fully healed, but their owners would live.
Natural diseases and infections were boosted, but the enhanced immune systems killed them. And one of Death energies imploded into nothing.
Otherwise, the others grunted and confusedly looked around as they stood up, and it wasn't only for the bedridden. Few were unscathed.
"Where's your mother?" I turned as if I did nothing of greater importance.
The Razorflank junior stumbled upon her words, but the subject of my question came with a weary breath from running, trying to pass as the opposite. She was clearly caught off guard.
The three hovering crystals of green, red, and brown with thorns curling around them, each the size of her head, were a telltale of her identity.
This was the Crone, Charlga Razorflank, and she immediately reminded me of Magatha… only lesser, from everything I saw until now.
But who knows? I couldn't be hasty in my judgment. And it was a compliment; Magatha Grimtotem was the Tauren Representative and the strongest and most skilled shaman of the Wild.
"Welcome, Ohto of the Greenweald, to my Razorfen Downs, the ancestral hold of my people. I did not foresee you arriving so quickly and with such force." It almost sounded admonishing.
Yes, I was forceful and more, but I couldn't care less. I didn't come to play around.
"Greetings, Charlga. I have come as requested. Now… to the action. The Scourge cannot be left free to devour you. Let's learn from you, strategize, and launch our counterattack." I stated in a matter-of-fact tone.
*
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