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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Blue Squad addresses some local ecosystem problems on behalf of the Alliance. They learn that it is bad for a species population to explode either numerically or physically, and that the navy has boats for its boats. They get a raft for a raft. The rafts do not get progressively larger, to Florande's disappointment. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Shine waits at the edge of the encampment, gazing outward. Bun crouches at his heel, also gazing solemnly outward. Behind them, Khamsin (the horse) snuffles at the leafy ground in search of grasslike stuff.
Atley is speaking casually with Koro Mistwalker and Anduin Wrynn. After a few more moments of discussion, he bows and marches off to join Shine. "See any sauren?"
Shine shakes his head at Atley.
Bun looks up and chirrups inquisitively.
Atley eyes Bun and grunts. He produces some jerky and takes a bite.
Bun eyes the jerky fixedly. Beady eyes watch Atley's hand move.
Atley scoffs with amusement at the tanuki. "I've not enough for you and me both, bloody mercenary. You've got your master already," he chides.
Bun snuffles at Atley's boot in case a scrap of jerky has dropped.
Bran trundles over, writing in his journal as he walks.
Florande sidles towards the others in elf form.
Bran snaps his journal shut and tucks it away. "Lo there Cub!"
Flo smiles at the address. "Hello! You were drawing?"
"Takin' a few notes. Finished me sketches a couple o' days ago." Bran beams a crescent-eyed smile at Florande.
Atley finishes off his snack and addresses the group. "Hullo', you lot."
Bran salutes.
Atley salutes in kind.
Oranna waves hello to everyone.
Befound stretches hello. It's too warm to do things energetically.
Shine turns and nods at the others.
Bun turns too and sits down on his haunches. He is part of the Group Meeting now.
Florande waves and nods to Shine and Oranna. It might look weird doing both at once.
Atley produces a letter from his belt. "Word's come in from Admiral Fallon. There's work that needs doing. Primary objective is venture south, to a group of small islands off the coast. Something's 'amiss' there and we need to stabilize it for the fleet's arrival."
Oranna peers curiously at Bran's notes, and then at Dane's letter. "Oh, aye?" She looks off to the west.
Bran gently turns Oranna toward the south.
"Islands!" Florande says, her silver eyes brightening. "Bran, maybe you have more sketches to sketch."
"He say when the fleet's expected yet?" Shine asks.
"Not precisely. Their arrival's anticipated. The fleet'll be on its way here soon, and we need to stabilize the coastline 'fore they get here," Atley says.
Shine nods.
Oranna turns to the south, looking back over her shoulder at the others. "Stabilize it? With… is it the sha?"
"Cannot say. Just that there's a strangeness there that we'll see to. Be ready for anything. We've a secondary objective — secure the road from Zhu Province to the coast. The Admiral's deployed a foregnome we're to link up with afterward to secure the supply lines so a harbor can get underway here," Atley explains.
Florande mouths 'foregnome'.
"I've got yer back as always!" Bran says cheerfully.
"Anything," Oranna repeats, visibly growing more worried. Being ready for anything is both her specialty and her curse.
Bran gently pats Oranna.
Atley nods past Florande. "Prince Anduin's across the Temple of the Red Crane. They've still a bit of clean up to do, but we're leaving it to the monks. Any questions 'fore we ride?"
"I hope they can keep him put fer a bit," Bran says irritably. "Gettin tired o' chasin' that lad across a continent."
Oranna gently pats Bran with a weak chuckle. "Is, uh, Ian staying put then? Or comin' with us?"
"He'll be here, for the time being," Atley says, glancing over. "They need him. He'll be safe here, as well."
Florande nods. "The temple initiates were pretty good at fighting, once we encouraged them."
"I don't know whether then ta hope that they've need of him longer, or ta hope they won't need so much help," Oranna mutters.
"Maybe we should advise them ta pretend they need him for a real long time," Bran says wryly.
"Do ye think he'd… be fooled?" Oranna asks honestly.
"I believe all of Pandaria may need the Prince. I've half a mind since we got here to drag him off to Fallon's fleet, and I'd feel just and safe doing so, free from any of his father's wrath…" Atley begins.
Shine nods at Atley.
"But he's got some greater purpose here," Atley says.
"Righ', that whole…hangin' and quarterin' possibility," Oranna says nervously. "Well, as long he comes back in all the same pieces as he left, maybe we'll all stay in ours."
Atley grunts. "Let's move."
Bran actually seems to fash a little at the talk of Anduin being in pieces.
"Was he in multiple pieces when he came here?" Florande asks curiously. "I did not see him back then."
"No," Oranna answers. "So, got ta keep him that way."
Bran nods emphatically.
"Ah, only the one piece," Florande nods seriously. She turns into a deer and trots after the team.
They splash through some shallows to cross from the Temple grounds on the mainland to a string of sandy islands.
Atley squints and looks around. "Farther south."
Shine surveys the beach around them. Particularly the bleached bones on it.
Bran's ram Brann, which is not a confusing name at all, seems weirdly distressed by the sandy beach under his hooves.
Oranna gazes up at the enormous birds with a small shudder, and then at the giant crocodiles with a bigger shudder.
At the sandy far end of the little island is a fishing village: Houses on stilts are surrounded by trim boats drawn up on the sand, nets spread to dry in the sun, and lean-tos where fish are being cleaned and smoked over wood fires.
The village is also surrounded, less picturesquely, by enormous, craggy crocolisks, several of whom have dragged themselves from the water and are in thrashing combat with fishermen on the beach.
Befound sneezes at the smell of the crocolisks' breath.
They are called Mortbreath Crocolisks. It does sound unpleasant. Anything whose breath is noticeable enough to go in its name probably doesn’t have great breath.
Bran runs over to try to heal the fishermen.
"A village. Getting overwhelmed. Get them some help!" Atley yells.
Florande is a cat immediately.
Befound is a cat repeatedly.
Shine leaps into the fight.
Bun leaps away from the fight, bristling.
“Ho, there!” calls one of the fishermen cheerfully, as he thumps a crocolisk across the snout with his fishing pole. “Can I help you, travelers?”
"We were just about ta ask the same," Bran chuckles.
Atley nods at the cheerful fisherman. "P'raps we can help each other. We've come to stabilize the area."
"More on their way!" Oranna shouts.
"Oh, we'd appreciate it, I don't mind telling you," the fisherman says, calmly turning to thwack another croc.
Florande pads over to defend Atley and the fisherman while they speak.
The fisherman stops to mop his brow. “I don’t mind telling you things around here are usually pretty peaceful. Normally, my day consists of catching fish and then eating the fish I caught, followed by sleeping.
“Note that I did not include ‘fight a crocolisk’ on that list of activities. The fellas have become unusually troublesome lately, and frankly I’d like to take them off my to-do list. Most of them come from Kea Krak, the island north of here. Can you head up there and thin their numbers?”
Atley grunts. "We passed loads of them on the way in. We can thin them out."
"Easily done!" Bran agrees.
Oranna looks off to the north, but only because she was already facing that way for the more crocs.
Florande shifts back into elvish form to say, "I am a druid of the Cenarion Circle. If there is a problem with the land and its creatures, we are good to handle it."
Atley gestures to Florande and grunts.
“Thanks very much!” the fisherman grins. “And while you’ve got me feeling all optimistic… before I started having to defend my brethren from murderous reptiles day and night, I had a project in mind to make some specialized fishing lures. The trouble is, I need lory feathers for ‘em, and these beasts scared away most of the nesting lories. If you find any out there, I don’t suppose you could bring me back some feathers, for after the croc problem is handled?”
"We'll do it," Atley tells the fisherman.
"Feathers," Florande repeats in agreement.
"Thank you kindly!" the fisherman says, beaming.
"Stay safe. Let's move out, you lot," Atley says.
Atley looks to Florande as the move back to Kea Krak. "Sense anything amiss? Unnaturally?"
Bran bonks a low flying bird.
Bun hisses at crocolisks.
Florande sniffs the air, and shakes her head. "Nothing clear. But if a creature is suddenly attacking when it wasn't before, there is a reason."
Atley grunts.
Befound rakes her claws down a crocolisks' side.
"Aye, Florande's got the right of it," Oranna agrees.
"I imagine all the chaos on the continent is displacin' all kinds o' beasts," Bran theorizes.
Shine nods at Bran.
"So many dead ones…" Bran frowns.
"Tides a'mighty," Shine swears at the sight.
Atley looks to the pit of Deceased Mortbreaths. "They're cannibalizing each other… Is this normal behavior for crocolisks?"
"Noo…" Florande says, staring warily at the fighting crocs.
Oranna gasps at the huge croc graveyard. "It can happen, aye, but not in any natural course," she answers Dane.
Atley grunts.
"They have ta be starving, or somethin' wrong with their usual food places," Oranna says, as she investigates the dead.
"Displaced animals," Florande says, looking around. "But they know the crocs and birds, so it would be something else upsetting things…"
"I'm no animal expert like Boomer, but this is void-damned unnatural," Bran says, looking around at the croc corpse pile.
Bun waddles bravely among the dead crocolisks. He did it, he conquered all these crocolisks.
Atley grunts in agreement and theorizes. "Can't be those fisherman. They seem to live modestly."
Florande nods to Oranna. "Yes, something to make them desperate, or addled."
Oranna nods. "Some of these are big, elders," Oranna observes.
"Can see that swarms of murderous cannibal crocs would be a problem for the fleet, though, aye," Shine says blandly.
"Maybe not a wonderful place for the fleet to dock," Florande nods. "The ships would probably be fine, but maybe not the sailors."
Atley produces a throwing knife and flings it at a Crimson Lory, to eventually pluck it once it's been killed.
"Hey Boomer," Bran says curiously, "did the sha ever seem ta affect Befound?"
Befound looks affronted.
Oranna looks worried. "No, Befound's not shown any sign of things, but… I've been watchin' fer it."
"Tigers had the Sha in them. The ones we passed earlier," Atley says.
"They were seemin' unnatural, aye," Oranna agrees.
Atley briefly examines the Mogu statue head in passing.
Shine glances down to inspect Bun for signs of Sha.
"But Befound is Befound," Florande says, as if that's settled and she's fine.
See, New Cat Girl gets it. She can be upgraded to Cat Girl. Befound chomps a crocolisk trying to chomp Dane in emphasis.
Cat-Florande blinks happily in Befound's direction, and then resumes elvish form.
Oranna darts a look at Bun. Just in case.
Bun is trying to wrestle a tailfeather from a bird corpse with his teeth. He looks okay.
The Apprentice would never fall prey to the sha, Oranna, gosh. See, look at him? He's using his teeth properly and everything.
Oranna is mildly relieved.
"Ye know," Bran muses absently, "this is kinda relaxin', compared to our usual missions."
Atley plucks a few more feathers. "That'll do, then. Let's get back. This place ought to be a fine place for a base, once it's been seen to," Atley says, as a lifelong soldier.
Oranna looks around at the area. "Oh, aye? What makes it a good base?" she asks curiously.
Atley squints in thought. "S'got water. Sparsely populated. Less encroachment on the natives."
"Needs to be dredged," Shine observes.
"It is land and it is next to sea," Florande says, looking over the water. "Easy for sailors to swim to and from shore?"
"They don't swim to and from shore," Shine confides politely to Florande.
Florande looks over at Shine in surprise. "Really?"
Shine nods. "Boats."
"They use boats… for traveling from boats…" Florande's eyes are large. What ingenuity.
Shine nods solemnly at Florande. It's pretty neat, the whole boat thing.
Oranna seems to be a little lost in thought of wondering how many boat sizes they do. Do they take small boats to the mid-sized boats to the bigger boats? Where does it end?
Atley returns to the fisherman, and offers a handful of plucked feathers. "Here you are, then."
A bead of sweat twinkles in the fur above the pandaren’s brow. He does not seem out of breath. “Hey, thanks!” He grins. “You’ve made my day. Can’t wait to get to work with those beauties. You probably want to head up to the house and let ol’ Jay know you tackled the situation with the crocs.”
"'Old Jay.' Very well," Atley says.
Bran climbs the steps to the little building and gazes out over the water from its deck.
A gray-furred pandaren with tufted eyebrows is gazing down at the bloodied beach strewn with dead reptiles.
Atley marches up to the aged Pandaren. "'Old Jay?' We're Cobalt Company. Wot's happening to these islands?"
“Yesterday we were all fishing happily. Today, the crocs just started… tryin’ to eat us.” Jay shakes his head heavily. “Never known anything like it.” He ruminates for a moment. “I might know who would, though. First things first, you’re gonna need a raft. Why don’t you collect some wood planks and seaweed and I’ll see what I can do.”
"A raft?" Atley asks, looking to Shine.
Shine eyes Jay, and then the water. He shrugs.
"Are we going to a bigger raft?" Florande asks.
"Right, then." Atley says.
Florande shrugs.
Oranna looks curiously at Jay. "Oh, are we? Do we… do we know how ta… do that?" she asks, looking back at Shine.
"He said he'll see to it," says Shine, "if we bring him the stuff. But I could if we have to."
Florande nods. They have boat people, which is like raft people.
"I'd have you inspect it before we test it," Atley says.
Atley marches out to start gathering driftwood.
Bran is very bad at this sort of "spot natural resources" assignment, so he just follows the others.
On the beach nearby, a fisherman mutters to another, “I heard the crocs are attacking because of an ancient mogu curse.”
Bran perks up at mention of a possible curse.
"What… are we looking fer exactly fer the materials? Driftwood seems…" Oranna looks at the shore.
Atley furrows his brow at the muttering fisherman before he nods to a pile of wood. "That'll do," he says to Oranna.
"Aye, driftwood'll do. Never seen one made with weed before, though," Shine tells Oranna, and glances at the fisherman.
A pandaren mending a net on the shore says, “I say just let the crocolisks come. They’ll stop attacking eventually. Why interfere?”
Oranna looks uneasily at the pandaren. "Ah… because… what if they dinnae stop, until they're stopped because… there's no more food fer them… here." You know. Because. Everyone's eaten.
"Let's get this to Old Jay," Atley says.
Oranna collects a bit of wood, making an uneasy expression at Dane. "That sounded a bit hopeless, aye? Like despairin'?"
Shine nods at Oranna.
"P'raps. It's wise to observe it," Atley says.
"Maybe still little despairs are floating around," Florande says, eyeing the pandaren as well.
Oranna holds onto her right arm, which holds onto SUNBEAM, visibly worrying.
"Old Jay. We've got some wood and a bit of seaweed, as requested," Atley explains.
Shine sets down an armload of driftwood.
Jay Cloudfall looks the materials over and nods. “Good. These will do nicely. If you’ll wait a few minutes, we’ll get a raft assembled for you.”
Befound licks at her coat.
Atley nods. "Right." He moves past Jay to investigate the rest of the building.
Bran sits down next to a fishing pandaren cub.
Atley exhales brefly. "Should've brought my pole. Looks like ripe waters."
Shine nods at Atley.
Bran shows the cub some of his sketches.
"We will not despair, because I know ecosystems, and Oranna is good at animals, and we can figure out how to fix things," Florande says, sitting on the edge of the stilted house floor and hanging her feet down.
Oranna peers curiously at the fishing rods, and the fishing pandaren. "Oh, that's interestin'. They look much the same as we have back home. Like we all came ta the same conclusion of how ta build a good fishin' rod."
Atley rasps a fist against the gigantic net mechanism. "Aye. And must be bountiful here."
Oranna pats her bag for her fishing rod. "I have mine, but I think I'll keep my hands free fer my gun, just in case."
Bran seems to lapse into a meditative state as he gazes over the water. The cub continues fishing.
Atley grunts and looks over the ledge, into the blue water.
Florande nods. "In case a croc leaps out of the water at us."
Oranna looks over at Florande. "Ye think it might be a place problem? A corruption around their usual places, and feedin' grounds? Or something directin' bad inta the creatures?" she asks.
Atley raises his gaze and inspects his squad. "How are we all faring, then?"
Shine nods at Atley. He is doing nod.
Oranna shrugs at Dane. She's curious, but also worrious. The usual.
Befound cleans her coat. She's sandy, Dane. Look at this nonsense. How v dare.
Atley inspects Befound and scoffs with amusement.
Bun finds a fish tail on the planks near the place someone was clearly cleaning fish, and wrestles it ferociously to death before he begins chewing.
Bran just gazes tranquilly into space with a slight smile.
"I do not really know all the varieties of sha influences," Florande says, looking at Oranna, and then down at the water. "If aggressive means hungry, I would say something wrong with food source. If just aggressive…"
Oranna nods at Florande. "Aye, I've a similar mind." Sort of. In a more worrying way.
Shine stoops to pry the fish tail from Bun's jaws. The tanuki hisses at him as he tosses it into the water.
"It may be the Sha, but I've not seen any overt signs of it on the beasts," Atley says.
Befound looks up at the hissing, and the plonking of the fish tail into the water.
"That's what worries me most," Oranna says.
"It being subtle?" Atley asks.
"One thing so far is that when a thing is sha, it is obviously sha," Florande nods. "I see that as well."
Oranna nods. "Aye. Subtle influence is… it seems like it'd be easier ta get inta more, and do more harm afore we can trace it ta a source."
"It's beginnings may be humble. Muttered demoralization… dark thoughts," Atley says.
Shine nods again at Atley.
Oranna starts to mutter something and then bites down on her lip. Oh, no, muttered demoralizations…
Atley idly turns to observe the wandering pandaren child. His eyes soften, his features harden, and he lets out a quiet breath.
"Maybe we have seen only when things are very bad with sha," Florande says, drawing down her brows. "Because we don't see it before?"
Bran seems detached from the sha discussion, his gaze far away and his expression contemplative.
"Aye, maybe. When one of the SI:7 folks got some in him, we'd not seen anythin' afore it," Oranna says.
Atley addresses the child. "Wot's your name, little one?"
Shine glances over at the cub.
The pandaren cub gawks at the outlanders before he shyly runs away, laughing.
Oranna watches the cub run off, as if by watching him closely, she can ensure he doesn't trip or fall or run into a croc or –
Jay Cloudfall waves vigorously at the group from his place on the corner of the deck.
Atley lifts his head. "Ah." He marches over to Jay.
Jay gestures at a remarkably seaworthy-looking raft resting just aground at the water’s edge. “Your raft is ready. You’ll want to take it out to the middle of the lake, where you should find a woman. Her name is Ana Wu. Whenever I have a question that I can’t figure out on my own, I ask her. She should be able to tell us why the crocolisks won’t stop attacking.”
"Maybe she is on a bigger raft," Florande whispers.
Shine jumps down to the sand to inspect the raft. No offense, pandaren.
Oranna perks up. She loves asking questions to people who can answer questions.
"Sounds like someone I'd like ta meet," Bran says curiously.
"Middle, mm? Very well. You've our thanks," Atley says. He waits for Shine's inspection.
Florande glances over at Shine. "Is it floaty?"
Shine looks up and shrugs at Atley, then nods.
Oranna jumps down with a grunt, inspecting Shine inspecting the raft.
"We're gonna have ta get cozy on this raft," Bran says, peering at it.
Atley steps onto it. "All aboard, then." He looks to the seated pandaren. "Can you share an oar or two?"
"Don't all crowd a side. It'll tip easy," Shine advises.
Befound paws at the raft, as she starts to sprawl out.
"Curl up, lass," Oranna mutters, pushing at the giant snow leopard butt.
"Should I swim alongside?" Florande asks.
"Aye, may be best," Atley says to Florande. "Warn of us any oncoming dangers."
Florande slips under the water and then surfaces as a sea lion at the side of the raft.
Atley examines the sudden sea lion. "Cheeky."
Befound watches Cat Girl become Water Creature Girl, dipping her tail into the water like a lure
Florande swims alongside, going under every once in a while to check for croc-related danger.
Atley rows them along. "Old Jay said in the middle of — there."
A pandaren woman in flowing blue robes floats serenely on a raft of her own at the center of the lagoon.
"Oh, she's got a raft too," Bran says, spotting the pandaren.
Florande surfaces and turns into an elf, resting a hand gently on the raft as she treads water. "Same size, though." She sounds vaguely disappointed that there will not be a series of increasingly large rafts.
The woman appears to be meditating, but as Blue Squad’s raft approaches, she opens her eyes and smiles. “You appear troubled, children. How can this Lorewalker serve you? What is it that you seek?”
Oranna thinks about her questions. There are many.
"We've come to seek your wisdom. Find out wot's stirring the crocolisks," Atley says.
"I seek a great number o' thengs," Bran says, "But aye, crocolisks are the most urgent matter."
Wise Ana Wu nods gravely. “I know a story about crocolisks attacking. And I will share it with you, but first… I grow hungry. Shark meat should do the trick. You will find plenty of sharks in the water beneath us.
“And while you are down there — there is a cave at the ocean’s floor. It belongs to Nahassa, the crocolisks’ patriarch. He suffers. I can feel his death cries ululating up from below. Find his cave, and put him out of his misery. Not because it will solve the village’s crocolisk problem. Simply out of mercy.” She smiles.
Atley looks down and smacks his lips. "Very well."
Oranna sighs heavily, but she nods, as she moves over to the edge of the raft. Befound looks affronted. "C'mon, lass. We've work ta do." Oranna rubs at her cheek.
Atley hops off of the raft and sinks to the bottom.
Bun remains up on the raft, running back and forth and shrieking. Bun does not dive into shark-infested waters.
"There are sharks," Florande confirms, her eyes on Befound's tail for some reason. "They did not approach us."
Between his white robe and being made of rocks, swimming down to fight sharks is not Bran's best mode.
Atley touches his lips with his gauntlet's fingers before he nods at Florande and speaks. "Loads of 'em."
Bran casts a slightly envious glance toward the sea lion that is accompanying them.
Befound goes teeth to teeth with the sharks, swimming awkwardly.
Bran knows when he is at a disadvantage and does not attempt to bonk sharks, instead keeping an eye on the others in case they need healing.
Miraculously, Thunderaan's essence in Thunderfury does not seem to electrocute them.
They swim into an underwater cave, which proves to be a passage that leads up to a little dry island. An absolutely massive crocolisk lies sprawled on the island on his back, legs in the air.
Florande surfaces and looks at the enormous crocolisk with clear sympathy.
"Wot's the matter with et?" Bran asks as soon as he's on land again.
"'Fore we kill it — Oranna. Can you note anything strange? That bugger's on its last legs," Atley says.
He’s not actually on his legs at all, Dane. They’re in the air.
Oranna is not that much better a swimmer than her companion, and as she catches up to the others, she looks over at the big guy.
"He's got ta be in a lot o' pain, ta look like that," Oranna observes. "But… no, nothing else I can tell from here."
"Let's kill it and see wot' we can learn," Atley says.
"Poor crocolisk," Florande says, as if we have not just been killing crocolisks who were attacking fishermen.
Oranna shrugs helplessly.
"Put him down," Atley says, before charging in.
Florande nods sadly, and moves in to help the team.
Oranna sighs at the poor dead crocolisk, putting a hand on him for a moment. "He's… sort of.. "
Shine watches Oranna somberly.
"Sort of?" Florande asks, and waits.
"Warmer than I'd have expected," Oranna concludes. She shakes her head. "Maybe me hands are jus' cold."
Atley grunts.
Florande tilts her head curiously, but has no explanation.
Atley inspects Nahassa before shaking his head. "Let's get more shark meat."
"Might be why he was in the cave. When crocs get stressed, or an infection, they'll seek out warmer places. They cannae get a fever on their own," Oranna says.
Bran nods, seeming to trust Oranna's Beast Lore.
Atley grunts again.
"It still doesnae tell me much of what happened, but…" Oranna shrugs. "It's jus' somethin' more ta know at least."
Befound nearly tips over the waiting raft as she scrambles back up onto it. Apprentice Bun, you would not believe the things she has been through.
Bun licks Befound sympathetically, and then skitters away. That's SALT water, eugh.
Bran attempting to clamber back onto the raft is a whole… situation.
Oranna is not any more graceful, but since she's coming up on the other side, maybe physics balances out.
Florande stays in the water, not to upset the raft.
"Ana Wu," Atley greets.
The Lorewalker still floats serenely where they left her. She smiles. “Nahassa’s suffering has come to an end. Even the beasts of the world have a right to die with dignity.”
"Aye. And we've this," Atley says, laying the shark meat out on her raft.
Ana surveys the meat. She nods. “You have brought me more meat than I could ever hope to eat,” the Lorewalker says. “And so now, I suppose I owe you a story.”
Atley furrows his brow and nods.
Befound eyes Ana. Yes, that does seem fair.
“This is the tale of the Hungry Crocolisk,” Wise Ana Wu says.
Bran desperately tries to get his journal out in time to transcribe the tale.
“The crocolisks of the Narsong Trench ate fish. They were fat and happy. And then the sharks came. The sharks competed for the fish, but the crocolisks survived.”
Florande shifts back into sea lion to settle into the water comfortably for a story.
“Soon after, the pandaren arrived. The pandaren fished in the trench's waters, but the crocolisks survived.
“Finally, the hozen came to Narsong Trench.
“The hozen overfished the area, catching more fish than they could eat. With no fish to eat, the crocolisks became hungry and desperate. They attacked the pandaren out of sheer hunger.
“The pandaren, in fear and defense, killed all the crocolisks of Narsong Trench. And now the Narsong crocolisk is no more… simply because the pandaren didn't see the whole story.”
Wise Ana Wu shakes her head. “That story did not end happily. This time, however, you may have a chance to change the ending. The hozen to the south overfish these waters. With the fish gone, the crocolisks are hungry and desperate — and so they attack the village.
“Go and put a stop to the hozen recklessness! And then you may go and tell Jay Cloudfall at the village what you have learned.”
Oranna pales in horror. "Oh, no…" She looks over at the village. "We'll need ta do somethin' about the hozen over-fishin', and then — " She chews at her lip.
Atley turns and squints at the hozen village in the distance. "Right."
"I am glad we didn't fish," Florande says quietly.
"Let's get to it then, you lot," Atley growls.
One of the spear-fishing hozen hurls a spear directly toward them as they approach.
"These are… not like Ken-Ken who is a friend," Florande says, looking at the shore.
"No, these one's are nae like him," Oranna agrees. "But there's got ta be somethin' we could do ta… maybe turn them around from their over-fishin' ways?"
There is something we could do. It begins with mur- and ends with -der.
"These ought to be from another tribe. Put the mongrels down," Atley says.
Florande pads to shore as a cat, ready to attack on order.
Shine vanishes from the raft, and appears a moment later onshore behind a spear-wielding hozen.
Bun squeaks and splashes into the water to paddle ashore after him.
"Noew these are the type o' hozen I remember from the Jade Forest…" Bran murmurs as he glares at at them.
Shine nods at Bran.
"There's no convincing these ones. They'd just as soon wipe out the village before they moderate their fishing," Atley says.
"But what about the next ones — " Oranna starts.
Florande nods at Oranna. "Eventually we have to find way to convince."
Atley leans down to swipe up a map from a fallen hozen. "Wot's this, then? It's marked."
Oranna peers curiously at the map.
"Something's buried on this beach. Stay sharp," Atley says.
Florande shifts briefly to say, "Maybe something we can learn or use to convince them later?"
Befound sniffs around once.
"Atley," says Shine.
"Mm?" Atley grunts.
"Sails to the west." Shine tilts his head.
Atley squints that way and nods, before he shakes his head. "Not ours."
Oranna looks west, only because that's the direction Shine has indicated.
"No. Not ours." Shine watches the sails warily.
Oranna gets out her scope to peer farther out.
"Let's draw closer," Atley says.
"I dinnae see anyone on deck," Oranna says.
"Horde?" Florande asks.
Oranna shrugs.
"Could be. No proper sigils, though," Atley says.
Bran is too busy bonking hozen to have an opinion.
"Let's have a look. The Admiral'll want to know," Atley says. He spots a flailing carp and flings it back into the water.
"Red and black," Shine observes. "Stripes look like pirates, but red and black…"
"Red and black pirates? Is that… a particular pirate group?" Florande asks.
"Wait, I see someone — at the helm," Oranna says.
"Red and black suggests Horde," Shine tells Florande. He looks at Oranna.
Atley lifts a brow at Oranna.
Oranna squints through her scope.
"Bald… pale…" Oranna says. "I can't make out much more."
"Mm," Atley grunts. "We'll get closer. And keep sharp for loose dirt or sand. I want to know wot' these hozen have buried."
"They're hozen, ser," Bran says dryly. "Probably poo."
"Dookings," Oranna mutters.
"Likely, aye, but they've gone through the trouble of marking it," Atley says.
Bran chuckles.
Shine fades into stealth as they approach the ship.
Florande looks at where Shine was, and then slips into the shadows herself, as a cat.
Befound slinks into the shadows.
"Oh — ah. When I said… pale… that's… because it's bone, apparently," Oranna says, looking through her scope at the captain.
"A Forsaken. Shine, scout about," Atley says.
"Forsaken," Shine murmurs, "Aye."
"Wot's he doin' all alone?" Bran murmurs, scratching his beard.
Oranna watches nervously through her scope.
Florande leaves the scouting to Shine, she's just going to be in stealth. Just in case.
"A fine question, Bran," Atley says.
"I couldnae tell ya," Oranna says. "Far as I can see, he's just standing there, holding onto his sword with a tight grip and starin' off inta space."
"As rotters'll do," Atley says.
"Braaaaaaaaaaains…" Bran murmurs.
Oranna chuckles weakly, but she seems more worried than amused.
Florande shifts back to elf to say, "Maybe same as us. Looking for place for a fleet…? We are."
"If he is, should we warn the Fallon fellow, ye think?" Oranna asks.
"Should we eliminate 'im?" Bran asks.
Shine appears beside Atley again. "He's alone. Must have a hell of a crew somewhere to man all those guns aboard, but they're not here now."
"Maybe he et 'em," Bran theorizes.
Oranna looks nervously over the side of the ship. "Do ye think they're off on wee boats? Comin' back maybe?"
Shine nods at Oranna. "Maybe."
"Ef we're gonna take 'im down should probably hurry, aye," says Bran.
Atley squints up at Booms as he leans to the side, listening to Shine. "We're killing him, but we keep the ship intact. Especially if it's as well armed as you say. The Admiral can make use of the material."
They kill the lone Forsaken.
"Search that corpse 'fore we move on," Atley says.
Shine crouches to search the corpse. He rises and shakes his head. "Fallon could use those guns, though," he agrees with Atley's earlier observation.
"Let's move. We'll get word of this to the Admiral once we're done," Atley says.
"Dyin' ta know the story here," Bran says regretfully.
"S'possible… he made landfall, and the hozen here slaughtered his crew," Atley said. "May've been a pirate."
Oranna scopes in over the water. "Well, I dinnae see anyone at the moment comin' in back on wee boats or rafts or sharks…so, maybe, aye?"
"There were no Horde insignia. Pirate sounds right," Shine says.
"We've done enough here. Let's return to Jay in the village," Atley says.
"I'm glad we got a' least one challengin' fight today," Bran says. "I was gettin' a bit sleepy."
Oranna has not been sleepy at all. She's too busy worrying to get sleepy.
The grizzled pandaren awaits Blue Squad’s approach expectantly. “Did Ana know what was going on?”
"She did. T'was the hozen to the south, overfishing. We've put a stop to it," Atley says.
Jay nods slowly. “I see. We’ll keep an eye on the Ungas from here. And we’ll do our best not to fish these waters too heavily, either. No doubt we contribute to the problem.” He sighs. “Thank you for your help today.” A smile brightens his expression abruptly. “Any time you feel like doing a little fishing around here yourselves, we’ll have your raft ready.”
Florande, who has been pondering whether she helped kill a Horde captain or a pirate, looks blankly back to Jay for a moment until Atley reminds her of the main task at hand.
"You've our thanks," Atley says.
Oranna makes an uneasy sound at the thought of possibly adding to an overfishing problem, but gives Jay a forced smile. "Right. Er."
"Alright then, you lot. That's this sorted. Let's return to the mainland. We've to find the Admiral's foregnome," Atley says.
Florande waves goodbye to the pandaren fishermen.
"We fly to The Incursion," Atley says.
"Aye ser!" says Bran.
Oranna looks like on one hand, she's glad to get out of the fishing conversation with Jay, but on the other hand, the way out is flying on one of the magical kites.
"Woo hooooo!" Bran yells from atop his kite.
Atley scoffs with amusement and shakes his head.
Bran is much more graceful when not in water.
Befound air paddles in her harness, trying to air dry.
Florande holds out her arms as the kite soars, pretending she is flying. She does not turn into a bird this time.
Standing at the crossroads is a gnome dressed in grubby, soil-scuffed Alliance blue and gold, with a pair of enormous, complex goggles shoved off her forehead into her disarrayed black hair. She is armed with a rifle and a clipboard, and surrounded by tiger corpses. She is chewing bubblegum. There is a tidy stack of explosives beside her.
“Hold up,” the gnome calls. “Watch out for mines. Tryin’ to keep this area clear, you know?”
Atley raises his hands. "Steady on!" he calls out to the gnome, before shooting his squad a look of exasperation. He looks back down to the ground. "Where can we tread?"
"Got it," mutters Shine, and puts Bun on his shoulders before stepping out in front of the group.
Oranna steps carefully behind Dane. Walking in Dane's footsteps requires some stretching, as she mutters about mines.
Florande follows exactly in the others’ footsteps
"Lo there!" calls Bran amiably.
The gnome squints up at Atley. “You kinda looked like one of them mogus from a distance, big fella.”
Florande looks at Dane, judging his moguness.
Bran chuckles.
"You must be Admiral Fallon's. He's sent us to help," Atley says.
“That’s right, that’s me, Dagnie Bracegirder, military construction and deconstruction specialist. Supposed to be getting this road clear for a lot of civilian workers and supplies, but I have noticed an unfortunate tendency of civilians in this region to find themselves at the incorrect end of a tiger. And wow is there a surplus of tiger ends in the area!
“If you’re here to help out, I would appreciate it if you could reduce the total available number of tiger ends hereabouts. Which is to say, the number of tigers. One tiger has two ends, but reducing each tiger by half would have largely the same effect as reducing it by the whole, since I have been informed that half-tigers are not viable even in Pandaria.”
Befound licks at a paw. This is tiger math.
Bran chuckles.
Florande giggles.
Oranna laughs.
"Just the tigers then, is it?" Atley asks.
Dagnie props her rifle beside her and takes a black marker from her hair, where it was previously concealed by her goggles and the fact that her hair is a disaster. She makes a check-mark on her clipboard.
“The tigers seem to prey on the cranes in the area whenever they aren’t preying on villagers or workmen or whatever. An ecosystem is a delicate mechanism, I have been informed, which is why I am not allowed to use lasers or cannons or laser cannons to address the local wildlife situation. Since you’re about to trim the tiger populace, however, it seems prudent to thin the cranes’ numbers as well, so that the crane population doesn’t explode when their predators are reduced. Explode numerically, I mean. Because I’m not allowed to explode the crane population physically, I have been informed.” She snaps her bubblegum.
Florande giggles again and then stares uneasily at the gnome. Laser cannons was a joke… right?
Laser cannons are never a joke.
Atley looks from Dagnie to Oranna, and Florande. "We'll cull them both."
Oranna nods along.
Bran stares at Dagnie in fascination, and does a little sketch of her.
"Aye, she's the right of it, with both the population balance, and the explosions," Oranna says.
"Why would using explosions to help an ecosystem be even… in the conversation?" Florande asks, baffled.
"Gnomes…" Atley trails off, choosing his words carefully.
"Oh, gnomes," Oranna says in time with Dane.
"Because she is a gnome," Shine observes.
"… can be eccentric," Atley finishes.
"Sometimes with gnomes it's best ta just nod an' smile," Bran advises.
Atley scoffs with amusement and nods. "Too right, Brannagen."
"This is why they confuse my shan'do…" Florande mutters, before slipping into cat form for the necessary culling.
"I wonder if they've factored in the carp population as well," Oranna mutters. "Or if the expedition nearby might take care of that…"
Florande tilts her head at Oranna, and shifts to say, "We can keep an eye on things, in case not."
Befound would explain that the reason gnomes are always thinking of silly explosions is that they lack the natural claws and teeth of the Superior Form, but she's too busy chomping and clawing things.
"Back to the river. Ought to be more cranes there," Atley says.
"Crane any good to eat?" Bran wonders aloud. "Shame to waste 'em."
"They look like good eating," Atley hopes.
Oranna shrugs. "I, ah, dinnae eat meat, so…"
"They're fowl," Shine says straight-faced.
Bran pauses, then guffaws at Shine.
Atley growls with half pain and half amusement at Shine. "Off with you."
Shine smiles faintly.
Florande laughs, and then adds, "Maybe not to eat at the Crane temple."
Oranna laughs at Shine with her loud, awkward sort of guffaw.
There seem to be a few more tiger corpses around Dagnie than there were previously, and the hem of her tabard is singed. She is snapping her gum loudly and muttering to herself.
"We've returned," Atley announces at Dagnie, glancing around at the destruction.
“Oh hey, radical, you guys handle it?” Dagnie makes some notes on her clipboard with her marker.
“Okay, so I have two more asks. Couple’ve locals told me we’ve got a big tigress and a big crane hanging around the area, and these two are I guess the chief executive officers of the whole wildlife situation. Getting their resignations should hopefully get things under control around here in the longer-term. Tigress is across the river and the crane is up by the waterfall. You guys okay to handle those negotiations?”
"Uh… suuure," Bran says.
Befound stretches out her claws. She wants to speak to the managers.
"Aye," Atley says.
Bran smiles and nods.
Oranna frowns as she considers it.
"Executive Officer… tiger and crane," Florande says, puzzled, but she follows Atley.
"Oranna, pick up the trail. We'll do the crane first," Atley says.
"Tigers are solitary creatures… but cranes are apparently social birds," Oranna says, and then nods at Dane. "Aye, I know what ta look fer."
Atley mounts up and gestures Oranna on. "On you, then."
"We'll follow the river, up this direction," Oranna says, gesturing north.
Following the river involves getting in it at one point, and Bran levitates everyone.
Atley blinks as he floats. "Cheers," he says to Bran.
Bran grins.
Shine floats stealthily.
Oranna points at a large crane.
"Aye. That'll be it. Properly sized," Atley growls.
"Now, find us that tiger, will you?" Atley asks Oranna.
Oranna sighs with relief. "At least she's a green one. I'd have been worried if the crane was red," she says, staring off into the jungle.
Oranna points south. "We'll want ta head back into the jungle, deeper, but still near the water."
Atley grunts.
Befound paddles in the air as she floats.
Oranna strains, looking down nervously.
Atley narrows his eyes at the tauren encampment as they move.
"Ah, tha'll be her," Oranna says, pointing to a large tigress.
Bran does a quick sketch of the tiger.
"Let's get it done, then," Atley says.
They get it done.
"Back to Dagnie, you lot," Atley says.
Dagnie looks up from her clipboard, which is now a little charred along one edge.
Atley dismounts and approaches the gnome. "The tiger and the crane are dead."
Bran nods and smiles at Dagnie.
"Ra. Di. Cal. Terrific. I will let the Admiral know ASAP. You guys expecting to get paid?" Dagnie snaps her gum.
Befound paws at one of the dead tigers. She is expecting to be paid in fish, Oranna.
"We usually do, aye," Bran says.
Atley grunts.
Florande stares at the gnome.
Dagnie nods and makes another note. "I will fill out the form. Thanks a mill."
Bran nods and smiles.
Oranna tilts her head. "A… mil thanks, or a mil… gold?"
Bran chuckles at Oranna.
"Do you require extra security?" Atley asks, eyeing the charred clipboard.
Dagnie blinks up at Atley. "Me? No, I'm good. Thanks, though. We'll get this squared away snip-snap and it'll be a smooth little throughway here in no time."
"Very well, then. Squad, on me," Atley says, marching a bit away.
Dagnie goes back to her clipboard and her bubblegum.
Befound leaves off the tiger to follow Dane.
"Fine work today. S'good to see that not all problems here are a result of the Sha. Dismissed," Atley says, before looking to Shine. "Are you making for the Jade Forest?"
Shine nods at Atley.
"Pass on the report to the Admiral in person then, will you? I'll be in Zhu Province if he'd like me to join in recovering that vessel," Atley says.
"Aye, sir." Shine salutes Atley.
Atley cracks off a salute.
Florande nods at the dismissal and steps back, already looking out into the forest.
"I thenk I'm gonna try an' find that mogu statue head again…" Bran murmurs as he strides away with purpose.
"I'll be headed up… ah, the direction of the places of the farm," Oranna says, indicating a northeastern route, accurate to where the inn is, even if she's shaky on the cardinal name for it.
"Travel safely," Atley says.
"Been wondering a bit on the state of the vermin up there, especially after all this," Oranna says, as she waves goodbye to everyone.