Don't Poke The Bear! (Warcraft/Furbolg)

Today was what could be called my first birthday, though that's not quite correct to call it that. It wasn't a birthday per se; it didn't exist as a concept to furbolgs, but there was an equivalent.

It was tied to the annual celestial event called the Eclipse of the Two Brothers. The two brothers in question were the Bear Lords Ursol and Ursoc, and it was called this because furbolgs named the two moons after their main characteristic. The larger, whiter moon was Ursoc's Might, and the smaller, brighter blue one was Ursol's Wisdom. However, the eclipse part was related to an eclipse… but it wasn't the kind many knew existed. It was a mutual eclipse between Ursol's Wisdom and Ursoc's Might, where the former aligned with the latter by passing over it. There wasn't anything else involved.

An important fact was that once roughly every four centuries or so, the moons were perfectly aligned, and the next would be in this lifetime. Tonight wasn't a full one. Putting aside this point. Since it wasn't a solar or lunar eclipse, I could behold it straight up without burning my retinas, unlike so many did back on Earth on the earlier mentioned due to dubious intelligence prowess. 

Free from smog and pollution, the night sky gleamed with distant stars and unknown constellations against the purest dark. The blue moon almost entirely covered the white, creating a striking halo of light that bathed us.

Usually, it was beautiful–barring bad weather, and even then, it remained breathtaking–the beauty seen only in remote Earth photos. But tonight, it was even more than that. It was breathtakingly magnificent. It was surreal and hammered one more time that I was in another world of danger and beauty in equal amounts.

The higher vantage point from my father's shoulder provided an even better view, but there was more to it than just the sight. It wasn't just a pretty celestial event happening once a year. It was a thing of significance as it was when the Communion of the Twins began. 

It was where you aged by one year–a communion, even if we still use our version of the year for time–no matter when you were actually born. It was a communal birthday. It simplified age counting to the extreme and meant there was no need to remember individual birthdays! One of the miscellaneous plagues of my past life.

It wasn't solely a not-birthday, though. It was a festive ceremony to the spirits of the ancestors and nature, for they were closer to the earthly realm at that time, and for some, it's an event where one's path in life truly begins, the most important day of their lives.

It marked the beginning of adulthood—a sort of cultural rite of passage where the ancestors offered invaluable guidance. Whatever it was supposed to mean.

The ones coming of age during the Communion of the Twins were twelve teenagers sitting cross-legged in a circle at the center of our village, aptly named the Greenpaw Village. Not differing from anyone present, they wore an unusual amount of clothing–your average furbolgs at best wore loincloth with the signature neck feathers–or more like ornaments from their parents in this case.

As they prepared themselves, I studied their surroundings. Totems of bears adorned with complementary runes and trinkets surrounded them, while the intertwined light of the moons bathed the entire area in their soothing presence thanks to the guidance of our shamans. Raw energy coalesced, and ethereal beings slipped from one or multiple realms to here. It was incredible to feel this much.

To the shamans themselves, they weren't in the strictest sense if I were to compare them to the typical shamans seen in the games. An expected difference among many I was sure to discover. From my observation, they dipped in a mix of druidism and shamanism but leaned more on the former. Also, I found that furbolgs didn't make a difference between the two disciplines. A shaman was a shaman, and a druid was a shaman; there wasn't a distinction as far as I have seen. 

I agreed with the logic to some extent. Ultimately, they dealt with nature, just different aspects of it, so that it could be simplified. Using one class didn't forbid someone from using the other. It wasn't a video game with strict, arbitrary limits for balance, but life and reality made it so no one could be perfect at all.

But in the end, I didn't know enough to say if it was a gross oversimplification or something else. It was all new and exciting!

As for what I was seeing… I admit that in my past life, these types of religious and spiritual displays–cultural significance or not–were hard to see as anything else but theatrical performances to put as respectfully as I could. I hadn't been the most religious. 

This view hadn't fundamentally changed with my rebirth. It had just evolved. I didn't know the reasons behind my situation. I had loosely constructed guesses but not anything else to become a worshiper to a higher being that might also just be a freak cosmic event or a mistake. I just didn't know. 

With magic and superpowered beings abound, my view adapted to its new environment, but in the end, it was only an aspect of this reality and, as such, something to be understood, studied, and rationalized, not mystified. Or it was just my past life seeping in and making me unable to worship anything; it felt wrong, unlike what all my fellow kindreds were currently displaying at the unfolding scene. 

Well, worship was a strong word. My tribe wasn't acting like pious zealot cultists. It was more of a strong display of reverence, but it wasn't that far off. Nature wasn't worshiped, as we considered ourselves a part of it. I fully agreed, but the rest was a different matter and where I mentally blocked at times.

Respect and acknowledgment were one thing, but beyond… Yeah, no, it just didn't click right. It was odd. Maybe I was arrogant to be this way, but I struggled with the idea. I could never do that before, and it didn't differ here.

I felt slightly out of place, like the alien I technically was. If it was bad or good, I didn't know; it was only a statement. Going 'native' wasn't necessarily what I needed to do. I already was due to not being an unchanging machine, but I don't think I could, wanted, or should even go to the deep end of that route. 

The furbolgs had a knack for being easily corrupted. It was a highly worrying piece of information. We were an indicator species with how intrinsically we were tied to our environment.

This was why I didn't think embracing this new culture in its entirety was wise. I just had to pick what I liked and go on. But it was easier said than done. I hadn't been that long since my rebirth, so it could and would change, but caution was the mother of safety.

My thoughts were interrupted by a gentle yet firm tap from my mother's claws, snapping me back to attention.

I must have looked off or uninterested if her disapproving gaze was any indication. I tended to get the same distant look as in my past life when lost in thought. Whatever, it shall be fixed, or I won't have candied smoked fish for days, and that would be terrible! 

"On this esteemed night, the spirits of our elders, our venerable mothers and fathers, and tonight gather under the enlightened gaze of Ursol the Wise and the mighty embrace of Ursoc the Mighty to offer their guidance to the young of their blood and flesh in the paths in life to walk upon," Oakpaw spoke grandly at the center of the circle, his glowing green paws wide open, facing the sky. He was one of the elders and the most respected shaman of our tribe, the Greenweald.

The potent energies in the air thrummed after he finished talking, my fur bristling. At the same time, my small round ear moved around, noticing the pregnant silence of the primeval forest, whether from its inhabitants or the climates. The sounds of the wild I grew so familiar with were gone. There was no more buzz of bugs, hoots of owls, or the shifting of leaves and branches by strong gusts.

There was nothing, no sound of any kind from the wild.

Nature had become deathly silent. It was as if it knew not to interrupt and was a polite audience, and it was pretty likely to be literally the case here.

Then, the eerie peace was broken by the appearance of hundreds upon hundreds of glowing wisps. The presence I had felt earlier materializing into those ghostly ethereal apparitions of varying size and shape, always with features reminiscent of furbolg. Some were heads, some had half their body, and others had whole bodies with different transparency.

It was an incredible sight.

They vaguely reminded me of the wisps I occasionally saw at dawn and dusk. It wasn't just a reminiscence. They seemed to be the same in essence–spirits of the dead–just from a different species. These were not the souls of dead night elves or random wildlife. They had distinct differences in appearance, behaviors, sounds, and vibes.

"Beautiful…" I blurted out, sniffing and playing with the ethereal energy gathering around my outstretched paws. My eyes immediately darted to my mother for a potential reprimand for my blunder, but there was none. Father and mother were mute on the matter, staring at me with wide eyes like everyone else present too.

Then my ears twitched. I heard the winds, a voice, no, voices, young and old, masculine and feminine, in a complex array of emotions. It was the ancestors speaking, all at once, in a harmonious ghostly chorus. It was so much more as well; I felt them, saw from their eyes, heard from their ears... It was almost overwhelming. 

~Life embraces you, Ohto of the Greenweald... most puzzling and unique descendants of ours.~

~It is not for us to know, however. May the future reveal it...~

~We are the guides of time immemorial and shall abide by our duty once more, young as you may be...~

~Grand is your potential… In their truest essence, the honorable Paths of Wisdom and Might of the Bear Lords are for you to tread upon, young cub! Be proud, be wise, and be mighty!~

And with that gospel, they floated away, their presence lingering and focus elsewhere yet never leaving. It didn't take long for me to realize that the attention of the entire tribe was on me. I squirmed uncomfortably while the implications began to dawn on me.

I wanted to hide, but I couldn't. I was trembling, I wasn't afraid, but I still trembled.

It wasn't anything terrible, but I was young, and anything significant could and would send me haywire. I was one… I was a strange one-year-old, but I was still one measly year old…

I wasn't ready for any of that! I mean, I was excited, elated even, but also… I've only recently been weaned, and there was just a lot, too much. It was violently sudden! 

I didn't come prepared for any of that; I was here for the show and food, not to instead become the center of attention.

I wasn't some kind of individual capable of always being calm and collected in this type of situation where far too many pairs of eyes locked onto me. It didn't matter that it was in a positive light. It didn't matter that I was once an addict. 

It was too much, and I was properly overwhelmed, a wrecked ball of furry nervousness, my body's raging hormone with my age not helping. I was going to cry if I wasn't already.

"Calm down, young cub..." A caring, aged masculine voice snapped me out of my shock, and I noticed how the crowd split in two before the one who had spoken, Oakpaw, the Elder Shaman of the Greenweald. His piercing, glowing emerald eyes stared warmly at me.

A furbolg I often saw due to my peculiarities, he stood out among the crowd by his long, majestic braided beard and the leather cloak over his head.

One of his paws was delicately placed on my head, and I felt myself cool down as I let his soothing mana diffuse in my system. In a mere instant, the tears welling up in my eyes disappeared, and my breathing and heartbeat reduced to an acceptable level as I gazed into the old shaman's curious eyes, the question not needing word or answer for me or him to understand. He knew what was said, or they told it to him, likely both.

"The ancestors have spoken. An unprecedented event for one so young, a sign of a great shift is coming, and your place is central within. I declare you, a young cub, Ohto, son of Krolg and Tara, shall be a worthy vessel of the great ancestors' esteem and the Twin Bears' blessings. A guardian, a warrior, a guide, a healer, a champion—all facets of your destiny." He intoned softly, his voice seemingly reaching the entirety of the ursine audience at once while a gentle smile graced his muzzle.

'I need time to process this…' I thought numbly. Thanks to the earlier spell, I was calm, and the recoil would be violent when it wore off, but I could use this time to think a bit.

A great shift was coming. The few decades before the full mutual eclipse in relation to that random plot point with the Aspect of Magic, I somehow recall the little telling of the Sundering I got on how ancient it was… I might be reading too much in it, but I didn't delude myself by planting my head in the sand and ignoring the brilliant red flags.

Those weren't random words or meaningless babbles. Not on the surface, Azeroth with this method of delivery. Of course, there were several interpretations, and mine was one I considered to be realistic.

A war is coming, and I will have to face the brunt of it in the most literal sense, and it is most likely to be of the demonic kind. I didn't need to be the foremost expert in the lore to realize this much.

I was fucked, utterly and properly fucked. I knew it would have happened as I didn't intend for old age to take me, but this… It was horrifyingly bad. There was one positive: the prospect of death, enslavement, or both, and some more sprinkled in, was an excellent motivator. It was never repeated enough.

I didn't want to be a righteous hero or carry the burden of great responsibility—I just wanted to live. I just didn't want to experience death again. But I didn't want to run either; it was pointless at best, yet I didn't want to fight either… I was a random human thrown here, now a cub. I wasn't ready for any of that.

I would have to make choices, hard choices, both personal and impersonal, if I wanted not only to survive but thrive.

While my internal rambling went on, the aged furbolg had taken from his leather satchel two pairs of colorful wing feathers on a leather lace and put them around my neck in a way the feathers fanned outward behind my ears like a second pair of ears. They were sized for bigger heads, so I must have looked quite ridiculous with them on, but I was happy regardless.

And then the ceremony went on like nothing happened; each of the ones in the circle got a similar if less dramatic treatment from the spirits. However, what happened wasn't just brushed off by the eyes on me from everyone and the various wishes of goodwill given to my parents aimed at me.

It was strange having so much attention on me.

I wasn't quite there after, my mind drifting in and out of sleep halfway through the massive feast of honey, fruits, and meat when ales began to be chugged down by the hundreds of litters by everyone. 

Me included, it was all blurry, but I recall my mother enthusiastically filling my wooden cup with honey beer diluted in sweetened water like it was a run-of-the-mill bedtime drink. I had drunk it fully before realizing what it was. It was surprisingly good, but it was also the final nail in the coffin for the night as sleep took over.