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| Details |
| Author: | inkie |
| Summary: | Blue Squad checks in with Sentinel Commander Lyalia, and find themselves contending with mogu, magic, and a whole new threat. Prince Anduin is getting on Bran's last nerve. Everyone has feelings about feelings. The animals are probably going to need their own spin-off show. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
Atley sits atop Hal'vyr in the middle of The Incursion under a downpour of heavy rain. He speaks with Huntress Vael'yrie at a conversational volume.
Bran, nearby, seems to be practicing some martial arts moves on a giant turnip.
Atley glances over at Bran and doubletakes before he gives Huntress Vael'yrie a nod in farewell. He turns and walks over. "Right. Wot's all this then?"
"They had ta throw this one out," Bran says. "Somethin' wrong with it — hard as a rock. So, I figured, waste not want not."
Atley leans forward to peer over Hal'vyr's head at the giant vegetable for a moment. He grunts. "Properly sized."
"Aye, an' it's about the consistency of somethin's heed, so — " Bran smashes it to smithereens. "Good practice!"
Shine emerges from behind a ruined pillar, wading through some undergrowth and pushing a branch aside as he steps out. Bun trots smugly at his heels, a leaf in his jaws.
Oranna emerges from the jungle, waving hello to everyone. Befound also emerges from the jungle, but she is wet, and has never been so mistreated in all her life, and she grumbles at everyone.
Atley points down at Brannagen. "Wot's that staff made from?"
"Steel!" Bran says, eyes crescenting.
Atley grunts.
A panther slinks out of the jungle, and then hastily transforms into an elf. She's seen what happens to tigers, she doesn't want there to be any unfortunate mistakes.
"Et's painted ta look like wood, since tha's more traditional," Bran admits.
Bun sits on his haunches and begins roughly savaging the leaf.
"Oh, it's ah, wooden covered steel shaft," Oranna comments on the staff, probably not hearing anything in that statement.
Shine eyes Oranna askance.
"Right, then," Atley begins. "I've delivered the Sentinel's report to a camp they've setup in the western jungle. We're riding out today to see wot' needs doing. Mogu, Horde, and sauren'll still be about, so stay sharp."
"I will be sharp," Florande nods to Atley.
Shine collects Khamsin and waits patiently for Bun to drop his leaf-scraps before lifting the tanuki to his shoulders and swinging up into the saddle.
"Let's move," Atley growls into the heavy rain.
They move.
They have traveled some distance through the jungle rains and ruins in silence when…
"Anduin's gone," Shine speaks up.
"WHAT??" Bran barks.
Atley yanks Hal'vyr to a stop and spins around. "Wot'?"
Oranna comes to an ungraceful halt, looking back at Shine. "He's what?"
Shine shrugs wearily. "Fallon sent people to Crane Wing to collect him. He was gone. Pandaren said he'd taken off quietly the day before." He glances northward. "Fallon's got people after him, but who knows?"
Oranna sighs heavily.
"He is very much like a druid cat," Florande says, peering through the rain. "I hope he is as strong."
Bran curses loudly in Dwarven. For several moments without taking a breath.
Shine listens to Bran with interest.
Oranna listens and nods, possibly unaware of the language shift.
"I swear ta the Titans when I find that slippery little pup I'm gonna put the fear o'… somethin' in 'im!" says Bran.
"I don't think he really has much fear," Florande says, considering.
Oranna flinches at the threat.
Bran is probably not going to bully the heir to the throne, but it seems to make him feel better to threaten such.
Atley works his jaw in anger. He turns to look to the north with a squint before he lets out a breath. "No… His path's no longer ours. At least for now. I believe — I know the Prince has something to accomplish here, and only he can do it."
"Only he? Bah! Nonsense!" Bran grumbles.
"Easier for him to accomplish anything if he's safe," Shine observes.
"Every teenager thenks he's the ONLY one who knows anythin'." Bran grumbles some more.
"Ghosts have a harder time moving things about," Florande nods. "And wisps."
"You can't accomplish anything safely. I don't enjoy the thought of him roaming, but the Prince is no ordinary teenager, Brannagen, I'm sure you'll agree," Atley says.
"Well he's not as extraordinary as he thenks he is either," Bran says. "An' he's puttin' not only himself but the throne in danger. I've about had it!" But he already seems to be calming down.
"You and Fallon both," Shine says dryly to Bran.
"But people are after him, yes?" Florande says. "Maybe they will keep him safe."
Shine nods at Florande.
Bran grumbles, but more good naturedly this time.
"I'll have to meet with the Admiral then. I hadn't know the Prince was going to be collected. Regardless, we've our own destiny here," Atley growls, turning around.
Oranna shakes her head. "If he'd jus' maybe nae shout his identity…"
Bran taps his nose and points to Oranna.
"It is not so much secret anymore, anyway," Florande shrugs. "It was announced in newsletter and all, that he is in Pandaria."
"That en't the point, lass," says Bran. "There's plenty o' folk who'd leave 'im be unless he starts yellin' tha' he's a valuable hostage a' the top of 'is lungs."
"Aye, it's less… us, and more the Horde, especially if they'd been sha-ed," Oranna adds. "Although I guess it's true tha' he's nae in any more danger shoutin' his name ta tigers…"
Bran chuckles.
"Unless they're…. druids," Oranna says.
"Tigers do not care about princes and kings," Florande says, and then shifts into a panther to follow.
"Ye know, I used ta thenk 'e was wise beyond 'is years, when 'e was a boy," Bran says, his dwarven accent stronger in his pique. "But I suppose adolescence plays its tricks on us all."
The familiar purple tents and banners of the Sentinels are visible tucked into the shelter of a ruin, behind half-toppled walls. On the road leading into that shelter, a group of Sentinels are locked in battle with a pair of mogu warriors, swift glaives clashing with rough, curved guandaos.
"To arms!" Atley barks, charging in.
Shine drops from horseback and fades before reappearing behind a mogu.
"If ye treat a person like they are wise afore their years, then maybe — " Oranna starts, and doesn't finish, as she pulls out her rifle.
Bran slings heals.
Florande pounces the other mogu, while it's distracted by the Sentinel guard.
"We all saw wot' the Prince accomplished at the Temple of the Red Crane. This land needs him here, even if we need him safe," Atley states.
"Oh it was just the prince accomplishin' there, was it?" Bran says, raising a shaggy red brow. "But I thenk Boomer's on ta somethin', as usual. She's got good insight inta people."
Florande remains in panther form, alongside Befound.
"Not solely, but he's a part to play here. I'll not see him ripped from the land any sooner than I'll see him harmed by the Horde, or anyone," Atley growls.
"Damn straight," Oranna says.
“Hey, friends,” greets the familiar figure of Kang Bramblestaff. He stands poised for combat at the entrance to the camp, gazing past the members of Blue Squad to scan the wilds behind them. “Commander Lyalia will be glad to see you.”
Bran waves at Kang; it's unclear if he actually recognizes him.
Oranna waves hello to Kang, but her easy to read face shows she does recognize him.
"Bramblestaff," Atley greets with a nod before looking past him for Lyalia.
Within the camp, Sentinels mounted on sabers guard the perimeter alertly. They nod the familiar Cobalt tabards through. Wounded Sentinels lie curled by a smoking campfire.
Sentinel Commander Lyalia steps from her tent as Blue Squad arrives, and lifts a hand in greeting. “Cobalt Company. Well-timed, as usual.”
Atley nods to Lyalia. "Commander. Seems you've been getting familiarized with the locals."
Lyalia gestures toward the southwest. “It seems the mogu know how to use portals. We were searching the ruins south of here when they fell on us out of nowhere. Some of us were able to retreat, but many others were captured.
“I would not have my sisters condemned to slavery and torture at the hands of these creatures, but there are few enough of us to hold this camp now. Would you be willing to rescue any Sentinels you can find in the ruins?”
Bran tries to turn his attention to Lyalia, but it's clear he's thinking of Big Things like missing throne heirs and is having trouble focusing on Little Things like, you know, potential torture of individuals.
"Aye, we can see to that," Atley says.
Lyalia nods with relief, and then her expression hardens. “The mogu seem also to have caught a number of Horde. Do not waste your time or risk your own safety on them. Leave the Dawnchasers to their fate.”
Oranna is unsurprised to find out that the mogu somehow also have portals, but she's more dismayed than anything to hear of the captured sentinels, and the Horde. "Ach…"
Lyalia looks toward the distant shimmer of yet another portal opening through the trees. “They are opening portals to connect a place called Kun-Lai Summit, to bring in reinforcements and supplies. What is worse, they are sending their captives through those portals, to Elune knows what fate on the other side. While you are in the ruins, destroy as many of their sorcerers as you can, to close their portals.”
Florande gives a low rumbling growl.
Atley nods. "Very well," he says, looking out into the jungle. "Let's get to those captives, you lot."
“Hey,” Kang calls as they step away from Lyalia. “Over here.”
Atley grunts inquisitively and jogs over to Kang.
"If we disrupt them mid-portalin' people though — " Oranna starts.
Florande nods a feline head to Oranna's concern.
"Aye?" Bran approaches.
Kang lowers his voice to confide, “Mogu do not use arcane magics. They are thugs. They have always been thugs. Only when they ruled their empire in the old stories did they ever know any kind of magic.
“But these mogu are using arcane portals, and scouring the ruins for old artifacts. We need to stop whatever they’re up to. Look for any artifacts they might be using for arcane purposes, and bring them here where they’re out of mogu hands.”
Bran's interest sharpens when Kang mentions the old mogu legends.
"A sound plan. Consider it done," Atley says.
Shine steps back to poison his blades.
Oranna frowns, deepening the worry line between her brows. "So, it's like afore with the excavatin' tech… someone's teachin' them things."
The group heads into the ruins. Mogu armed with cruel whips pace ponderously back and forth while Sentinels and tauren captives toil with pickaxes and shovels among the litter of old stones. Here and there, a mogu conjurer standing among glowing ruins channels a strange blue-white portal.
Shine stops to sever the bindings on a Sentinel digging in the ruins.
"Thank you!" she gasps, and staggers back into the jungle in the direction of the camp.
Despite instructions, Florande pauses by the Sunwalker, trying to break him free. She cannot manage the complex bonds in her panther form. Reluctantly, she slinks away.
"Oooooh, what's thes?" Bran says, bending down to examine some manner of mogu artifact.
"Is that wot' we're after?" Atley asks.
"Oh, are we after these? I was a bit distracted. Aye, I'll collect 'em."
"We are. Gather all that you find. The Horde can see to their own people. Ours come first," Atley says.
Having met little success in freeing hostages, Florande focuses on fighting mogu. Predator cats are good at that.
"I'm nae sure tha' leavin' the Horde ta their fate doesnae harm us in the long run… if they're still here workin' fer the mogu, then they're…going tae keep the mogu in power," Oranna says, frowning.
Florande ignores artifacts and prisoners. She is here to kill mogu.
"I suppose the only other way is ta… kill enough o' the mogu," Oranna mutters.
Atley grunts.
Another Sentinel gasps in relief as the squad frees her. "Thank the goddess…" she says, instead of thanking Cobalt Company. She flees the scene.
Shine pauses to contemplate one of the portals for a moment, then fades from sight again.
Atley severs the bindings on a captured Sentinel. She thanks them all in Darnassian before sprinting away.
Oranna squints at the Darnassian like it will help her understand it if she can see it better.
"Was she thankin' or was she sayin' somethin' fer a warnin'?" Oranna asks Florande.
Atley looks to Florande.
Bran also looks to Florande.
Florande flickers into elf form to say, "She was thanking us," before dropping back into panther form.
Oranna sighs with relief, aiming a smile at Florande. "Oh, good."
Florande gives a friendly little mrrowl.
Befound leaps onto a tiger attempting to leap onto Oranna from the jungle.
Bun hisses at the tiger and skitters back to hunker behind something invisible.
Befound makes short work of the tiger, growling again before slipping into the shadows.
Florande stares at one of the arcane portals for a long moment, before she turns to maul the next mogu.
Oranna fires on a mogu torturing one of the Horde. She might not be freeing the tauren, but she can stop the mogu.
Atley slices the legs of a Korjan Reclaimer clean off before decapitating the conjurer.
Another freed Sentinel says, as soon as she can speak, "They seek slaves… and weapons. You must stop them!"
"Get to safety. We'll sort them out," Atley says.
"Those portals dinnae look portals I've seen afore," Oranna says as they come closer again to one of them.
"'Kun-Lai,' they said. Another region?" Atley asks.
Florande shifts to elf form to say, "They look unsteady. Energy all swirling. Doesn't seem good."
Oranna nods to Florande. "Aye. I'd nae want ta go through 'em."
"Let's do not," Florande nods back.
"Can't see through 'em," Shine observes. "Most portals I've known, ye can see a glimmer of a place."
Oranna nods again. "Aye. Or… do ye think maybe we are seein' a glimmer? An' it goes somewhere tha… chaos?"
"T'may be. P'raps a form of magic we don't recognize," Atley says.
Shine scans the mogu excavation for more Sentinel prisoners.
Bran takes some notes in his journal, now that he's stuffed a great number of artifacts into his enchanted bag.
"More through the trees there," Shine murmurs, reappearing.
"Ah, Light above," Oranna mutters.
Atley nods at Shine.
One of the mogu snarls in accented Pandaren, "These lands belong to the Thunder King!"
"I've a mind to see this Thunder King for myself," Atley says.
"Yer the Thunder Keng!" Bran says to Atley, pointing to the sword.
Atley scoffs with amusement.
"Your kind were made to be ruled!" snarls a mogu slavemaster, turning from his prisoners to the Cobalt team.
Atley tries to run this particular mogu through as swiftly as possible.
"Er, which kind?" Bran asks the mogu. But it dies too quickly to answer.
"Well, actually, my kind were made ta be guardians — " Oranna says, but she shoots the mogu before he can hear about the whole dwarven lore situation.
"We were," Florande says. "Until those who tried broke the world."
Shine has no input on ruling or not-ruling. But he has knives.
"These mogu may not be familiar with us, but they are going to learn sooner or later why our sigil is a Lion," Atley states.
Bun snaps at a dead mogu's toe. The Alliance sigil should be a tanuki.
Befound has put in a similar petition for the sigil to be a snow leopard, Little Teeth. You'd think the Alliance would get back to her by now.
"I am gonna assume the kind he meant was the not-mogu kind," Bran says thoughtfully, making a note in his journal.
"An' why dwarves are the Acceptable Variant, I s'pose," Oranna mutters.
"And why my people do not have kings," Florande says. "Except the Alliance one, obviously."
Atley grunts. "I can see why the mogu would've fought alongside the Zandalari," he growls.
"Aye," says a shadow near Atley grimly.
"Because they're both ugly as a ram's backside?" Bran theorizes.
"Aye?" Florande repeats, blinking. "Because ugly or because why?"
Oranna seems to be considering if a ram's backside is ugly and if there's a way to organize attractiveness.
"Love of power and tyranny. These mogu are little different from the trolls scattered 'cross the Kingdoms and Kalimdor. Clinging to a barbaric age of dominance that has long passed them by," Atley says.
"Arrogance, empires, cruelty," Shine editorializes.
"One theng I can say for dwarves is we've never been much fer empires,” says Bran. "But it's odd a human would find that distasteful…"
"My people weren't slave drivers that worshipped blood-drinking monsters," Atley counters.
"True, true, nae so far as I know," Bran allows.
"And we don't go in for empires anymore," says the Kul Tiran. (They don't even go in for alliances much anymore.)
"My people learned empires and arrogance are dangerous," Florande offers. "I do not much know trolls, but I know that."
Shine nods at Florande.
"But… if ye did use ta have power an' control, nae havin' that power would seem like… loss, instead o' jus' normal," Oranna adds.
"Well said, Boomer," says Bran. He makes a note.
"Some empires deserve to lose," Atley says.
Bran attributes Oranna in his note, don't worry.
Atley looks around. "That'll do. Back to the Commander, you lot," Atley says.
Befound keeps a subtle eye on the jungle for ambushing mogu and tigers, and while she's at it, Stormwind Lions for their trademarks, and Tauren Druid Bears.
Oh my.
Kang straightens expectantly at the squad's return.
Atley nods at Kang. "We've recovered a number of the artifacts."
Kang nods sharply. “Well done. You have removed the sword from the child’s hands.”
"Ef only," Bran grumbles.
Florande glances at Kang at 'child', and shifts back into a panther.
"Commander. We rescued every sister we came 'cross, and put the mogu to the sword," Atley says.
The lines of tension on Lyalia’s face melt away as she spots Blue Squad’s return. “Well done, friends, thank you. There are too few of us to spare. You have bought us breathing room not just to hold our ground but to prepare a counter-attack.”
"Excellent!" says Bran.
Oranna is chewing on the 'child' comment, maybe wondering if she should start asking about mogu ages.
There is a new group of pandaren gathered in the camp. They are a ragged bunch, once-fine clothing torn and tattered, several of them slumped with exhaustion or swaying with fever or shock.
Atley furrows his brow and approaches the ragged pandaren.
Bran, writing in his journal, does not notice the ragged pandaren as of yet.
Oranna has though. "Oh, Bran — can ye?" She asks, looking at the pandaren.
A pandaren man with stained bandages around his midriff straightens wearily to survey the new arrivals. “You are the outlanders?”
"We are. We've a healer with us. He can see to some of your people," Atley says.
Bran looks up, notices wounds, slings heals. Little sparkly Light-fireworks appear.
Florande sits on her haunches, watching the healing light show.
The pandaren nods. “Thank you. I am Ambassador Han. Our envoy was making for the Crane Temple when the mantid ambushed us. We were seeking the wisdom of the Red Crane to explain the visions we have been having."
"The wot now?" Bran looks up.
Atley furrows his brow.
"Aye, the…mantid? Like a bug?" Oranna asks.
Florande tilts her head in confusion.
“You are indeed strangers to Pandaria,” Ambassador Han observes.
More like Ambassador Obvious.
“The mantid are the monsters beyond the wall,” he explains. “The scourge of the west. The evil that haunts our lands.
“Every one thousand years the mantid launch an assault on our lands to ravage them of their wealth and food. Our greatest scholars tell us we are still centuries from the next ravage, but our dreams say otherwise.”
The ambassador shakes his head. “We had not expected those dreams to be proved true before we could even reach the Crane Temple. They came out of nowhere and smashed our convoy to ruin.
“Please, will you find what remains of the convoy and see what aid you can offer any who survive? If my cousin, Ambassador Lan, is there, he will reward you for your help.”
Bran looks fascinated. He writes furiously.
Florande's eyes are wide and luminous.
"Like th' worst cicadas in bugland," Oranna mutters.
"We'll bring the fight to these mantid and save who we can of your people," Atley says.
"You will find the convoy to the west," Ambassador Han says. "Thank you, friends."
"Alright then, you lot, mount up," Atley says.
You're up, Little Teeth. It's Bug Hunting time. Befound licks at her paw.
"I canna wait ta see these thengs!" Bran says excitedly. "They sound bloody awful!"
Florande obediently turns into a mount.
Oranna frowns. "I wonder how big they are? If I'll need huge bullets or… a whole lot of teeny tiny ones."
Bun shows off his whole lot of teeny tiny teeth.
"We'll find out soon enough!" says Bran, sounding as though he's on his way to a musical variety show or perhaps a feast.
They come across a lone mushan beast wandering confusedly among the trees.
Atley tugs on the reins upon seeing the Lost Mushan. He frowns. "That can't be bloody local, can it?" he asks, leaning towards Oranna.
Oranna nods to Dane. "Aye, tha' mushan's lost, he is."
"Convoy must be close?" Shine suggests.
Atley grunts.
Heavily wounded pandaren litter the road around a group of shattered wagons and a few corpses of armed insectoid figures. A familiar kaldorei kneels among the ragged survivors ahead.
Atley glances around. "The ruins of the caravan. Figures, up ahead."
Bran immediately moves over to sketch one of the insectoid corpses.
“Cobalts,” greets Lorekeeper Vaeldrin grimly, and rises to his feet. “Can you help me? These poor pandaren are in need of healing, and my powers are nearly exhausted.
“I have managed to make a healing poultice of the lotus leaves you and Kang Bramblestaff taught us of. If you use it on the injured pandaren, it should get them back on their feet. But be wary of the things — these ‘mantid’ — that swarm in the jungle.”
Atley nods. "Brannagen'll take charge of the poultice. Stay safe while we carve these things."
"Aye," Bran agrees.
Prey-Florande looks around warily, and then turns into predator-Florande.
Oranna peers at the insectoids. Befound sniffs one.
Shine watches an insect-warrior buzz past among the trees. He fades warily.
Atley pauses to an investigate a recently killed mantid.
"What the hell?" Shine mutters from the shadows. He reappears, crouched beside the corpse, and prods it with a dagger.
"Six legs…? Two — four wings? And a fat arse'. Ugly bastards," Atley says.
Bran scans the forest floor for pandaren, and sets about getting them up and moving again.
Oranna squints at a bear, and points at it. "Tha'… is nae a solid bear."
It’s true. There are ghost bears in the woods. I guess everyone else was so preoccupied with the mantids that ghosts seemed kind of pedestrian.
A grateful pandaren climbs shakily to her feet and manages a bow to her rescuers.
Bran passes out a sample of Stillwall Barleywine to each of the revived pandaren. Bonus treatment!
"They fight every thousand years?" Florande shifts to say. "Why did they ever have a schedule for that, and why different now?"
"A bug hibernation, like cicadas, mebbe, but… a thousand years is…" Oranna shrugs.
"Look at their weapons," Shine says, and looks toward Dane. "That's not metal. Amber? Some kind of… chitin?"
"Bugs have bug weapons," Florande mutters.
"They've got two bloody arms coming from their loins," Atley observes with disgust.
Oranna wasn't staring at their loins before, but she sure is now.
"It is like a weird nightmare thing," Florande stares at a giant dead bug.
Atley offers a recovering pandaren a hand. Okay, two hands, and a grunt. "Make for the road south. Safety's there."
"Oh, tha's… aye, tha's like a mantis, isn't it?" Oranna says with some mix relief. "The placement o' their lower legs."
"From their loins?" Florande asks. "Are you sure they are arms?"
"Aye, it's nae… uh, their… bits. They're arm bits. Leg bits. Bits," Oranna says.
Atley points out Torik-Ethis. "Steady. That one hasn't got any wings."
Shine whistles and vanishes again at the sight of the huge, knife-wielding mantid pacing back and forth.
"Look at his shoulders," Oranna says.
Definitely Command Shoulders.
"Kill it," Atley says.
They kill it.
"The leader amongst them hasn't got wings," Atley observes.
"Maybe winged ones are more mobile, to serve," Florande considers. "People in charge sometimes don't like to be very mobile."
Bun snaps at a smaller bug among the leaves. Looks like an accomplice.
"Well done, you," Atley commends of Bun.
Bun knows.
Befound inspects the dead accomplice. Yes, good.
"I'm nae an expert in bugs, but… I wonder," Oranna wonders.
"Ach… are we gonna have ta become bug experts noew?" Bran looks dismayed at the prospect.
"Entomologists," Shine offers.
"Me neither," Florande says, looking to Oranna. "I should ask my teacher about… about the War of the Shifting Sand. Bugs."
"Oh good point, Cub. Wonder if they're related to silithid somehoew." Bran nods thoughtfully.
"We can kill them easily without being bug experts," Atley says.
"I dinnae think there's much expertise ta squishin' bugs, aye, but fer knowin' which ones might be the most dangerous, it might nae hurt," Oranna adds.
"They are both big and bug-like," Florande says with a hopeful smile.
"An' in the meantime… we squish," says Bran.
"They are bugs, but not mere ants, or roaches. They carry weapons, " Atley says.
"Well noew I'm gonna have nightmares about roaches with weapons," Bran says dryly.
"And aye, these beast spirits, Bran…" Atley says, watching one of the Deepwoods Spirits wander.
Oh, Atley has also noticed the ghost bears.
"I wonder if they… move individually, or if they are like bees," Florande says, peering into the woods. "How would we tell?"
"Get one to talk, p'raps," Atley says to Florande.
"Aye, an' they must have some sort of society, ta have leaders an' such. Bugs have them, regular ones, so if these are large enough fer some intelligence…." Oranna shrugs.
Shine crouches by another mantid corpse and carefully draws the strange, hooked dagger from its claws. He slides it into his belt.
"Ye know what I'd really like is ef they didna make those noises," Bran says cheerfully.
Befound is with you on that one, Bran. She makes a coughing sort of sound.
They return to the convoy, where the pandaren survivors have begun regrouping.
"The poultice of yours came in handy, Lorekeeper," Atley says.
"Aye, good stuff!" Bran agrees.
“Thank you,” sighs Lorekeeper Vaeldrin. “It has been a long time since I rolled up my sleeves and helped the needy. In my lust for immortality, I forgot why I became a priest. You remind me there is good in this world worth fighting for. I will guide these survivors to my daughter’s base camp and see them secure there.”
"I guess ye can teach an old dog new tricks after all," Bran murmurs, watching the old night elf go.
Atley grunts and nods before he looks over the wounded pandaren. "Ambassador Len!"
A pandaren man who is speaking with a group of survivors looks up.
Oranna's brow crinkles at the term lust for immortality, but then she's distracted by the pandaren man.
"We were sent by some of your fellows who made it east," Atley said.
Ambassador Len nods wearily. “Thank you for your help, strangers. I have never seen anyone but the Shado-Pan able to stand up to the mantid like that before. We will go with this Lorekeeper to the refuge he has spoken of.”
Atley nods. "You'll be safe among the Alliance."
“Ahhhhh!” cries a familiar voice, and Lorekeeper Vaeldrin appears again from the trees. “My daughter! I… ah! A vision! She’s in trouble!”
Lorekeeper Vaeldrin rushes toward the group with his hands up in supplication. “They have my daughter!” he cries. “That Lord Reclaimer, Brojai! I can see him clearly through Lyalia’s eyes.”
"Ach," says Bran.
“That foolish girl must have tried to take him head on.” The Lorekeeper wrings his hands. “Please! Go to the Ruins of Korja and free her! I will get Kang and try to draw Brojai out from the ruins with a distraction.”
Atley doubletakes Lorekeeper Valedrin with a glare. "Take heart. We'll save her."
“Please,” pleads Vaeldrin. “Lyalia is the only thing I have left. I had to bury her mother during the war of Ahn’Qiraj.”
Bran gently pats Vaeldrin. "We'll take care of et," he says.
Oranna seems particularly saddened by the knowledge of the priest's loss of his wife in Ahn'Qiraj.
"We ride," Atley growls.
Florande nods quietly.
Shine rides. So does Bun. Because Shine does.
"I s'pose we started the day talkin' about the danger o' going at somethin' alone, and now…" Oranna says with a sigh.
"Ye see???" Bran says. Now he's fashing again.
"Steady… The Prince will be alright," Atley states evenly.
"Aye, but mebbe only because we're ready ta come an' help, so he's nae alone, like Lyalia isnae alone," Oranna says.
Lyalia and an orc are trapped together in a net staked at the far end of the ruin. Both are badly battered and weak from their wounds.
Shine's expression changes at the sight of the orc. He hangs back.
"Commander," Atley says, briefly glaring at Kor Bloodtusk.
Lyalia gazes up at them with glazed eyes. “It… it’s a trap…”
"Well, a'course it's a trap…" Oranna says. She always thinks everything is a trap.
The massive mogu lord teleports in. “You fail to bend the knee to our power?” he snarls. “Then die like the vermin you are!”
He smites the trapped pair, killing them both.
“LYALIA! NO!” screams Lorekeeper Vaeldrin. A deeper voice overlaps his as a tauren Sunwalker booms, “KOR! NO!”
"Ah, no!" Oranna cries out.
Bran looks startled and dismayed. They… didn't save the day this time?
Florande whimpers in dismay, and then snarls at the mogu.
Brojai turns on Blue Squad with a slow, evil smile. “Come then, little things, and die like the rest.”
"Kill him!" Atley booms, enraged.
Florande bounds in, fury in her silver eyes, and slashes at the mogu without mercy.
Befound bites at the legs of the giant mogu, scratching claws down his cape like it's a set of particularly ugly drapes put up to impress the in-laws.
Bran recovers himself in time to send a sweeping wave of Light over those who are still alive to fight.
Shine vanishes, to reappear at the mogu's flank.
"I bend the knee to two and two alone, cunt, and you're neither one of 'em!" Atley snarls as he swings Thunderfury at Groundbreaker Brojai.
The mogu lord staggers, still snarling, and collapses.
Lorekeeper Vaeldrin and the Sunwalker approach the bound corpses of Lyalia and and the orc and stare each other down.
“What now, Sunwalker?” Vaeldrin asks quietly.
Florande watches the tauren warily.
“I think we have both lost enough today, old elf,” the tauren says gruffly. “See to your dead.”
Bran holds his breath until the two work it out.
“Agreed,” says Lorekeeper Vaeldrin. His attention has already fixed on his daughter’s corpse. He kneels down beside her. “Lyalia! I am so sorry, my child.”
Oranna is tense, and relaxes only slightly when they don't seem to want to fight more than they want to help the dead.
Atley glares at the Sunwalker. "This time only, Sunwalker," he warns before looking to Lorekeeper Vaeldrin.
"Good theng it was a Tauren an' not an orc…" Bran mumbles in Dwarven.
After a heavy silence, Vaeldrin looks up. “Cobalt Company, meet me back at the camp. I must bring my daughter's body there.”
"Mebbe it's not too late," Oranna tries, but it's obvious she's thinking the opposite.
Bran tries to resurrect Lyalia, but she does not answer the unfamiliar summons.
"Back to the camp, aye," Atley says with a solemn nod, looking back and forth between Vaeldrin and Lyalia with a tense jaw set.
They head back to the Sentinels’ camp.
Florande shifts back into elf form as they return to camp, her expression solemn.
Vaeldrin has laid Lyalia’s body gently before her tent and stands gazing down at her. “She is headstrong, my little Lyalia. I should have known she would try to challenge the mogu leader. Since her mother died, I wasted much of the time I should have spent with her in pursuit of immortality instead, insisting that we could live forever, together. And now my folly has cost my child her life.”
Atley winces, grimacing with sympathy. He removes his helmet. "I am truly sorry."
Oranna is openly distressed, tears in her eyes.
Bran looks at the elf grimly. And does not argue his point.
Shine picks Bun up and sets him on his shoulders. This is now his Emotional Support Tanuki.
Florande kneels quietly by Lyalia and Vaeldrin.
Vaeldrin looks up at the group. “Please, when she wakes — tell her I love her.”
Atley frowns. "Wot' — ?"
Florande looks at him sharply, in confusion.
The Lorekeeper lifts a familiar flask to his lips. “The water may not create life, but at least it will let me transfer it.” He drinks.
"When she — oh no, the waters! The transfer of life — " Oranna says.
"Ach," says Bran.
"No, but…" Florande raises a hand, but it is too late.
Atley briefly shields his eyes.
Oranna watches helplessly at the choice. "Ah…"
"Accccccch…." says Bran.
As her father’s withered corpse crumples to the ground beside her, Lyalia stirs and opens dazed eyes. She struggles to sit up.
Bran backs away slightly. He'll let someone else explain this.
Shine looks away, and lifts a hand to scratch Bun's ears.
Atley steps forward to kneel by Lyalia. "Your father is gone," he states. "He sacrificed himself to bring you back, Lyalia."
Florande's eyes fill with tears as she stares at Vaeldrin.
“F–father?” Lyalia stares, horrified and dumbfounded, at his corpse. “No! Not for me! Not for this!” She bursts into tears.
“He — he shouldn’t have done that!” Lyalia cries. “He shouldn’t have paid for my mistake!”
"Your father…" Florande says quietly. "Your father loved you."
"It wasnae yer fault. It was his choice, an' his alone, an' so many others who got ye here. It wasnae all on you," Oranna says, white-faced.
"He loved you," Atley says. "He wouldn't want to have lived while his daughter lay dead."
Bran has nothing to say. He awkwardly pulls out his journal and starts leafing through it, actually Fading as he does so. This is not his area of expertise.
“My father gave me his life,” Lyalia whispers, and then looks up at the group, a new, hard determination in her gaze. “Tyrande gave me her trust. My Sentinels gave me their allegiance. I will see that nothing is wasted. We will mop up the remaining mogu here, and offer what aid to the pandaren we can. I am… grateful for everything you have done for us, friends.”
Atley pushes himself up and offers her a hand.
Lyalia takes it.
Oranna nods, swiping at the tears on her face. Befound licks Oranna's knee.
Bran seems a bit relieved when Lyalia seems to be making the best of the situation. He clears his throat and puts his book away.
"We'll be about, Commander," Atley says, inclining his head. He nods away from Lyalia, to give her some space.
Florande curls over, still crying, and then turns into a bear.
Befound licks the bear's shoulder. There, there, Cat Girl. Don't take on an inferior form in sadness.
The bear shifts over towards Befound, an oddly cross-species affectionate bear.
Shine glances over at Florande. After a moment, he lifts Bun from his shoulders and sets the tanuki down. Bun snuffles over to Florande inquisitively.
Florande dips a head towards Bun, snuffling.
Bun scuffles briefly in the dirt between them and then selects a leaf in his teeth. May he offer u a leaf in this trying time?
Befound lays down beside Florande, a cat-bear snuggle pile.
Florande leans over to take the leaf in her teeth, and then settles down next to Befound. Bun, would you like a nice big bear pillow?
Bun would. He puts his forepaws on Florande's flank experimentally, and then scrambles up her side to lie atop her. He's King of the Bear!
Befound purrs comfortingly.
Atley looks back to Vaeldrin's corpse and lowers his voice. "I cannot fault him. Any proper father'd have done the same."
Bran looks dubious.
"It's a hard burden tae bear," Oranna starts, and then glances over at Florande. "Er, I mean, ta — it's hard ta… have on ye."
Shine steps away from the rest of the group and draws the mantid dagger from his belt to examine it. This is definitely professional curiosity and not convenient distraction.
Bran moves over and lays a hand gently on Oranna's shoulder. He clearly wants her to feel better but isn't sure how to do thing.
Atley produces a waterskin and sips from it while the squad takes a moment.
"It's… I hope she doesnae live with the weight o' it fer thousands of years ta come, ta doubt herself, an' wonder if she's makin' another mistake," Oranna says quietly.
Atley glances over at Lyalia. "I can't know wot' she'll do, exactly… But I doubt she'll waste his gift. She loved him."
"As for the Prince," Atley says, looking back to them.
Shine looks up from his examination of the mantid blade.
Bran looks up. Yes, please, says his expression. Let's talk about a theng we can fix.
Florande lifts her head, looking over.
Oranna nods. "Let's hope we dinnae have ta bring back the prince an' find out how his father loves him," Oranna says.
"That isn't going to happen," Atley decides, sharply.
"His father seems ta love him a lot like mine loves me," Bran grumbles.
"We're nae really in charge of it one way or another. We can say we willnae let that happen, but Dane… we cannae control that," Oranna says. "All we can do is try, an' find him. And get him safe."
"His father sent us. High King Varian is an orphan. Anduin is the only blood connection he has left in the world," Atley says.
"I stand corrected then," Bran says dryly. He did not have to tell Atley what he meant. "But aye. We should try an' find the lad."
"I've missed my son's birthday. At this rate, I am going to miss my daughter's. The primary reason I haven't left Pandaria is because the Prince is here… And I still believe, he has some purpose here," Atley says. "He identified wot' the Sha was, early on. I want him safe more than anything, but that does not necessarily mean he's to be forced home."
"I can try ta track the prince, but I'd have ta know where he started, an' I'd only be followin' a trail, no way ta really tell if it's his, except by probabilities of his height an' weight," Oranna offers. "Even if we dinna force him home, we can at least be there, so he's nae alone."
"Whether he has purpose or nae," Bran says, frustrated, "the lad is fifteen years old. A prince is just a person like anyone else, an' he's a young one."
"I'd say don't despair. He is a child, and inexperienced, but he is the future High King and he's got some intuition to him," Atley says.
"Intuition is nae enough," Bran says. "There is no substitute fer bein' a dang-blasted adult."
Florande looks from person to person as they speak.
"Fallon was concerned about Hellscream's people on the coast. He wouldn't have packed the Prince home, but wanted him kept away from danger," Shine says.
Oranna nods. "Aye, I'm with Fallon on this one. We should try ta at least make sure the prince has back up."
Bran nods.
"And the Admiral's wise to want such a thing, but the Prince has something to do here. He helped us rid the Red Crane Temple of the Sha. I'm not saying we leave him to his own devices, but I will not see him sent back to Stormwind, or contained on a boat," Atley says.
Shine shrugs. "Ship," he corrects, but concedes the point otherwise.
"Is anyone arguin' fer that?" Bran asks.
"No, I dinna think anyone is," Oranna says.
"Did Admiral Fallon not send someone to collect him?" Atley asks calmly.
"He did," Shine agrees with Dane. "Aye. And I told him it wouldn't work. But that's Fallon."
"I only hope we dinna have ta bring the prince's body back, and watch another life transfer," Oranna mutters.
"I thenk that one'll be resurrectable at least," Bran says optimistically.
"I'll see the Prince guarded. Not taken," Atley says, looking to Shine. "The only reason I'm not sending one of our squads after him is because the Admiral has his people on it."
"Well, we do need to collect him, aye," says Bran. "But after that, we just talk some sense into him. I hope. But collectin' comes ferst. We canna talk sense into a child who's run out of talkin' range."
"Assumin' he doesnae do tha' funny mind thing he did afore," Oranna points out. "We may nae be able ta convince him."
Bran growls in frustration and nods.
"I say he doesn't need collecting. He's going after something. He needs to be found, guarded, and then collaborated with," Atley contends.
"So, if we cannae convince him, an' if he keeps runnin' from bein' chased, then the only thing left is ta try ta keep by his side," Oranna concludes.
"Maybe it's because he en't my prince, ser, but all I see is a child actin' like a child, and frankly I say he needs supervision," says Bran.
Florande shifts her snout to point towards Dane and Oranna, then sets her head down again.
"So, we're in agreement then?" Oranna asks. "We find him, an' try ta stick by him?"
"I'm in favor," says Bran.
"Aye. So long as he is not confined," Atley says.
"Might take glue to stick to 'im though," Bran says wryly.
Befound licks at a paw, and then at Florande again. It's voting time, Cat-Bear Girl.
"I trust his purpose and I believe in him," Atley says.
"I can see tha'," Bran says with a sigh.
Florande raises a paw. There, it's an aye.
"Talk to Fallon," Shine tells Atley. "See what his people know. Where they think he's headed." He shrugs.
"Aye. I mean to," Atley says with a nod. "In the meantime, we've our own destiny here to focus on."
Bran nods.
Shine raises his eyebrow at the use of the word destiny, but does not comment.
Bran seems cool with the destiny idea.
Florande might or might not be cool with destiny. It's hard to tell bears' opinions on these things.
Bun has a mighty destiny ahead, he knows it. Bugs are involved.
"I can start at the Red Crane temple, an' see if I can find a trail," Oranna offers. "But the more time tha' goes on, the colder the trail'll be."
"Ef anyone can track the lad it's Boomer," Bran says with a warm smile in her direction.
"Do as you will. I'm certain the Admiral will be appreciate an extra pair of eyes," Atley says.
Oranna visibly wonders if the Admiral is also missing an eye, but stops herself before she says it out loud.
"Need backup?" Bran says to Oranna. "In case ye run inta trouble?"
Befound makes a huffy sound. She has backup.
"Sorry lass," says Bran to Befound. "I meant both of ye, do ye need backup."
Oranna glances over at Befound. "Ah, if we're movin' fast, Befound an' I work better as a small team. We'll be all right."
Bran nods. "I'll er… I'll catch up on some correspondence then until further orders."
Bran probably has a LOT of correspondence to catch up on.
"Very well," Atley says. "We're dismissed for the day. I'll make for the Admiral."
Shine nods politely.
"I'll make fer the mailbox. An' then the Admiral. For reasons." Bran grumbles to himself and heads off.
"We'll head ta the temple, see what we can find," Oranna says, gesturing to Befound, and peering at Florande. "Are ye gonna be all right, Florande?"
Atley looks to their druid.
Bun is making wheezy snoring sounds from atop Florande.
Florande looks up, and then carefully lets Bun down as she rises to all fours.
Bun squawks with startlement and then darts back indignantly to Shine, bristling.
Florande nods seriously at Oranna.
Atley tugs his helmet on and swings himself aboard Hal'vyr.
Shine gazes down at Bun in some long, silent communication, before picking the tanuki up again and going to his horse.
Oranna pats Florande gently. "It's all right, ye know. If ye need ta take some time, jus' being."
Florande snuffles, and pushes her head into Oranna's hand.
"The forest'll keep ye," Oranna says, "an' ye know where we'll be if ye need ta pull up a chair an' talk about it. No rushin' these things."
Florande nods her large head again, and turns to trundle off into the jungle.
Oranna heads in a direction towards the Red Crane temple. She knows where she's going, just not what direction it is.
Atley watches Florande leave before he turns and rides off.