Like most of the lands where the sons of Cenarius remained in influence, Stonetalon peak was an oasis of nature. The jagged rocks gave way to soft, cool grass, and the sickly logs that passed for trees were rejuvenated into lush green bastions of shade. The wildlife moved about peacefully, unphased by Shia's presence as he made his way down the road to an old temple of Elune, now the base of a small group of Cenarion herbalists.
One of the herbalists, a daughter of Cenarius named Andesara, noticed Shia's approach and bounded fourth to meet him. Like all children of Cenarius, Andesara sported the body of a dear, in her case a young doe, up to her waist, where her figure changed into that of a young woman of the forest. Her skin was pale and green. Her hair was red and coarse like autumn leaves, and from her head sprouted two small fine grained horns that recalled oak. She pranced about Shiawase, her doe tail waving.
"Shia! It's been months since you visited! Have you brought us anything from your adventures?"
The druid smiled and pat Andesara on the shoulder. "I'm afraid not. I've got to travel light you know."
"You could at least have thought to pick a leaf from the crater of Un Goro, or some such tidbit."
"That's an excellent idea, I'll be sure to do that next time."
Some of the other Daughters of Cenarius had noticed Shia standing there by that time and had trotted over.
"Brother Druid, how are you?"
"You must be exhausted from your trip!"
"What are the humans like brother?"
"What about the dwarves?"
"Have you fought any Undead?"
"Don't be silly!"
"Settle down, settle down!"
The Daughters had Shia surrounded, and were pressing in with their questions, but an old botanist, Fadegreen Thellsmir had somehow managed to push through and grabbed Shia by the arm in an attempt to tug him out of his perdiciment. "Don't crowd the poor man, let him have his room."
The mob reluctantly gave way and let the two elves out, but not before a number of the Daughters had thrown Fadegreen dirty looks. Andesara trotted next to Shia as he followed Fadegreen to the circle Keeper Albagorm often lingered by.
Albagorm was there, as expected, along with a small group of four other elves, all sitting in a small semi circle in front of him. As he noticed Fadegreen and Shia arriving he waved them over and motioned them to sit.
"Good evening Druid. It's auspicious that you've come to us at this point in time. As you can see a number of your peers have graced us with their presence as well."
The four sitting druids turned to the newcomers and nodded curt greetings before turning back to Albagorm. Another meeting was not what Shiawase was looking forward to, but there was no choice but to remain silent and comply in respect to the Keeper's wishes.
"I'm afraid you've missed a good part of the news already, so let me recap for you quickly. There have been reports from other druids that something is amiss in the Emerald Dream. Those who remain Dreamers have started to become afflicted with an odd malady. Not all of them, only a few, but the symptoms resemble that of an unnatural nightmare. And druids that have woken recently have seemed reluctant to speak of their experiences in the Dream. As this world struggles to maintain its natural beauty against the ignorant mortals who destroy its resources, the Emerald Dream has been a point of refuge for us and our kin, and to hear of its possible perversion is an extremely upsetting point.
"Alone here as I am, I know nothing of these developments beyond what I hear from traveling druids like yourselves. To enter the Dream myself would be to leave Stonetalon Peak defenseless against the Horde threat. But... "
Albagorm's hooves tapped at the ground and the Keeper shook his head. "My dreams have been uneasy of late too. I've spent so much time in this world, I feel it's taxing my spirit, and if I were to grow weak then it wouldn't matter if I were here to defend Stonetalon or not. I would be no match for the Horde. And so I've decided to return to the Emerald Dream for a time and let a brother take my place. Until then, the Peak will have to be defended, and this is why I have summoned you four. You have all done me great services in the past in the name of Cenarius. I ask that you allow me to fall deeper into your debt and stand guard over this land while I contact my replacement in the Dream."
One of the Druids, a stout man with a full white beard and dark, almost maroon skin, nodded curtly and said, "You shouldn't have to ask brother. Cenarius' will is the druids' will." The other three nodded solemnly in agreement. Shia found himself nodding with them, although his attention was on the Daughters playing a game of chase off in the distance.
"I can't assure you that a replacement will be quick in coming. With such news about the Emerald Dream, it's anyone's guess as to what's going on in there. I may find myself trapped there as well, and then there's no telling when you might be relieved of this task."
"Our priority is the forest," said another druid. "There is nothing more important than that, and I'll remain here for the rest of my life defending it if need be." Shia felt the hair raise on his back as the druid spoke in the firm tone of someone accustomed to being right and turned his attention from the scenery in the distance to the Elf speaking before him.
The Druid’s skin was the color of dark granite, and his muscles were taut and defined as if they had been chiseled into being. His face likewise was rough and lined with the pronounced furrows of a permanent frown. His short cropped, dark green hair was pulled back in a utilitarian ponytail, and his thick beard was immaculately tended, like some Darnassian shrub. From the top of his head to the bottom of the soles of his leathery feet, this Druid seemed to radiate authority. The other three Elves in attendance were cubs compared to this bear of a man sitting like a statue in front of Shia. The younger Elf was gripped with the urge to do what he always did when he encountered an old Druid of the establishment, tuck tail and run.
The Keeper did not seem to share Shia’s distaste for his company. The Son of Cenarius smiled and said, "Then I leave this bastion of life in your hands. I return to the Dream at midnight tonight, and a Son of Cenarius should appear to you shortly afterwards, if all goes as planned."
Albagorm turned to Shiawase. "Now young druid, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"
All attention was turned on Shia. The reserved, appraising look that the green haired Elf cast him compelled Shiawase to show some respect. So he pushed himself off the ground, brushed the grass from his behind, and bowed.
"Greetings Keeper Albagorm. I'm sorry to have disturbed you at such a busy time, but I was trying to return to the Eastern Kingdoms when a body of Horde blocked my path, and I thought it safer to return here and wait than to risk confrontation."
The stone faced druid snorted softly.
"A Horde force? Where were they headed?" asked Albagorm.
"I'm not sure. There was no cover in the pass and I thought it prudent to get out of their way before they saw me."
"And so you didn't even make note of what this force was comprised of?" This was the maroon skinned one speaking.
"I'm afraid not sir."
"What is your name brother?"
"Shiawase Deeproots sir."
"Shiawase? How long since you awoke from the dream?"
"Three months sir."
"Three months!" The stone faced Druid blurted. "What is a Druid three months out of the dream doing in Horde territory?"
"Well, I was returning from Ashenvale to the Eastern Kingdoms."
"There is an Alliance dock North of that forest that you can take safely. Why run South?"
"Well... Ah... it's more interesting that way."
"More interesting! Running into the heart of Horde territory is more interesting! Did you hear that Thendil?" A third elf was staring up at Shiawase with a look of amusement spread across his face. Shia found himself going red and staring at the ground. How he hated old Druids.
"I did." Said the third druid, who had been silent until then.
"And you say the horde didn't notice you?"
"No, not at all." It would be best not to mention his run in with the Troll hunter.
"This is not a game brother. This is war. If you make a false step it's not only you who dies, but the people you compromise."
"I apologize brother, ah..."
"Jakabi Stormrage."
Stormrage! Stormrage! Not only did Shia have to deal with an old fogy Druid, but it was an old fogey Druid from the most fogey clan of them all! Stormrage! The only thing that could possibly be worse would be a Staghelm! Shia's expression of shock and dismay seemed to be interpreted by Stormrage as one of shock and respect, because the old Elf's scowl softened a tad as he leaned back on his hands into the grass.
"Ah, Brother Stormrage. I really am sorry. It wasn't my intention to cause any trouble for this grove. I hadn't expected so much difficulty on the way. I've used the pass before and managed to slip by with no problem."
"Whether or not you intended anything, the fact is that -"
"Now now." Keeper Albagorm's deep, melodic voice cut into the conversation. "Let's not berate our brother so harshly for something so minor. It's nothing new that the Horde is swarming all about the South, and even if they had noticed him, it would have made no difference. Alliance troops try to slip into the Barrens through the Stonetalon Mountains all the time. It's nothing special. We should instead thank our good luck that circumstances have brought another ally to us."
Jakabi Stormrage nodded in consent, but shot Shiawase a look that proved he was hardly in agreement. "You -will- be staying to defend the grove won't you?"
"Ah... well..."
"Where did you say you were going again?" another Druid asked.
"Back to the Eastern Kingdoms."
"And for what purpose?"
"I assist the Retribution of Arathor."
"Arathor?" The Druid's eyes narrowed. "Wasn't that a human kingdom?"
Shiawase could see where the conversation was heading. He would admit that he spent all his time with the other races, and the Elves in front of him would boil in righteous indignation and lecture him on his priorities. If he didn't figure out how to veer things off the path they were heading in he'd be in for the usual self righteous earful.
"Brother Bearwalker sent me to them to assist in reclaiming the land and restoring the area to its natural beauty."
"Did he?" One of the Druid's mouth twitched in what Shia assumed was a suppressed sneer, and Stormrage shook his head.
"Bearwalker should know better." Stormrage said. "What is he doing sending our people to assist mortals when our forces are stretched in protecting our own lands?"
"We're mortal too." Shia murmured, and even before the words had escaped his lips he wanted to hit himself. Stormrage sent him a look that suggested Shia would be in a world of hurt if he so much as considered mentioning such a thing again. The elf called Thendil was rolling his eyes and the other two Druids were obviously uneasy.
Shia swallowed and said, "Humans are our kin in this world. Why shouldn't we protect them?"
"Because we, oh never mind. Someone like you wouldn't understand." Stormrage turned to his comrades. "Druids like these are why we've lost so much territory already and are loosing more by the minute. Tell me, -brother-, are you one of those Elves that pity the unwashed horde and let their children run about free because you think they aren't a threat?"
Shiawase clenched his teeth. "I fight when the fight is brought to me. I protect
that which I hold dear and I obey the sanctity of nature."
"-Here- is nature. -Here- is what you should hold dear!” Stormrage stood up and jabbed his finger at the ground. “Not some raggedy bunch of short lived pink children that are half times no better than Orcs in their disrespect for Elune's creation!”
Shiawase tried to draw himself up to compete with Stormrage’s figure, but he was almost a head shorter than the other Elf. He had to look up just to meet Stormrage in the eye.
“Do you think you’re doing anyone any good running this way and that? If you truly take your calling as a Druid seriously you will remain here and serve Cenarius, not run off drinking and dancing with those races in the East. You know this to be true.” Stormrage’s voice was devoid of question.
Shiawase shifted in place and said, “None the less, I’ll be returning to the Retribution.”
A pause of dead silence passed over the group, not unlike the wave of caught breath that washes over two armies the moment before they throw themselves screaming towards each other. The hairs on the back of Shia’s neck bristled and he took a self-preserving step backwards. Stormrage’s cheeks had gone red, like stone over a fire.
“Then you are a fool elf, and Cenarius protect you.” Stormrage’s voice was low, quivering with barely contained fury. “May you learn where your loyalty belongs before you loose all that really matters in this world.”
The silence returned until Thendil pat Stormrage on the back and turned to Keeper Albagorm. "Well, in any case, our time with you, Keeper, is short. Let's not waste it on debate and eat together."
"An excellent suggestion Druid. Prepare the meal you four. I'd like to speak to young Shiawase for a moment."
The other Druids bowed and left. Shia was left alone with Albagorm to silently stew over his embarrassment. Albagorm considered his companion for a moment before chuckling and placing one of his barky, long fingered hands on Shia’s shoulder.
"The weight of this world has burdened those four with worry. You may be surprised when I say this, but there was a time when the Emerald Dream radiated from them like the glow of the moon, and their passion was all bent toward the joy of life. You shouldn't begrudge them too much. In a few years you'll find yourself changed too."
"I don't begrudge them at all Keeper. They're more experienced than me and I know it."
"And yet you feel as if you’ve been wronged tonight, that your path is the more genuine, yes?"
Shiawase frowned and said nothing. Albagorm chuckled. "The spirit of the Dream is all over you Druid. You remind me of a young kitten with how freely your spirit expresses itself."
"I may have only been awake for a few months, but I've held my own."
"You see? You reply in hurt pride like a insistent child." Albagorm laughed and pat Shia on the shoulder, who for his part could think of no way to reply. He -had- responded in immature pride. The Keeper was right to admonish him.
"You've yet to learn that this world is much different from the Emerald Dream. There are grudges here, and animosity and ambition and abstract feelings that seem to conflict with the natural way of things. This is not a world where survival is a simple one on one battle for food and scars are quick to heal. The wounds here run deep, and the concerns of the world have grown to an immense proportion.
"But don't think that I'm scolding you brother. When I look at you I think fondly of my own young self and my time in the Emerald Dream. If only this world were as innocent and pure as that one, there would not be the suffering there is. But there is something to these -civilized- races that removes them from Cenarius' embrace and causes them to commit violence against each other. This is the sad truth of things, and you must learn that you cannot run about this world without being conscious of that. You must teach your mind to look further than your next meal and see the direction that this world is taking."
"Yes, I know. I'm sorry I've caused you trouble today, and at a time when you're about to leave for so long."
"You've caused me no trouble Druid." Albagorm's hand tightened on Shiawase's shoulder for a moment before the Keeper let go and turned. "If anything, you and your young brothers give me hope that the purity of the Dream may yet penetrate this world and improve it. Now let's eat. It won't do to dwell on things like this."
That night, after Keeper Albagorm had returned to the slumber of the Emerald Dream, and the four Druids he had called on to protect the Peak were busy inspecting the land and discussing the future, Shia retreated to a comfortable tree and settled into one of its welcoming branches for the night. Tomorrow he would try the southern pass again. He had no choice but to keep trying to return to his station on the other continent, and besides, remaining around the other Druids was hardly an appetizing notion.
Innocent was he? He had killed and seen comrades die. He had participated in offensives and in the defense of the Gulch. He had seen the dirtiness of war with his own eyes and felt the blood of it trickling past his own paws. Just because he found no point to being deadly stern didn't mean that he didn't understand what was at stake in this war.
The old Elves seemed so convinced that the world was on the brink of great disaster, and Shia couldn't understand it. The world lived in cycles. The great destruction wrought in this era would eventually heal over, and all traces of this civilization would disappear, the Night Elves included, now that their immortality was gone. It was only natural that great peace might be followed by great conflict, and then returned to balance yet again. How long had the current conflict been raging? Ten years, if that? And how long had the Night Elves been around? No, it wasn’t Shia that couldn’t think ahead. It was Stormrage and his ilk that were trapped in the concerns of the moment.
Well, let the other elves agonize all about it. Shiawase would not be bothered by it. In fact, he was forgetting the unpleasantness of that night already. His mind slipped into dreams of chasing deer and diving atop waterfalls as the Druid fell into deep sleep.
Chapter 4
The second attempt down the ravine to the Barrens was much more successful than the first. Shia's run in with the Troll sniper seemed to have not been alarming enough to convince the Horde to beef up security, or they simply didn't have the time or manpower to properly guard a relatively minor entrance into their territory. Shia had the feeling it was the later. But the reason was irrelevant anyway. The important thing was that there was no one hiding in the rocks waiting to jump the Druid as he dashed down the narrow path and emerged out of the mountain range into the arid plains that made up the heartland of Horde territory.
Even though the Barrens was controlled by the Horde, a lone Druid running around in it remained relatively safe, for the lack of cover gave Shia more than enough warning if an enemy were to approach, and there were few things in the world that could outrun a Druid in travel form, drawing on the very power of the earth to propel him forward. And besides, there were some things in the Barrens you simply couldn't get anywhere else. deviate fish, for example.
In between the pass that Shia had just left and the neutral goblin dock of Ratchet sat an ancient cave outside one of the few oasis’s in an otherwise parched and lifeless area of the world. It was rumored that in that cave a clan of wayward druids had taken up residence and were plotting to overtake the world by some unnatural means, but nobody was impressed by the threat, and those Elves had been left in their slime infested caverns to plot in peace. Shia highly doubted that there were such things as evil Druids anyway.
Deep inside the cave, past a small series of winding tunnels, there bubbled a small pool, swarming with all manner of life. Its source came from somewhere deep within the earth, and the only illumination in the cave in which it sat came from a glowing mold that clung to every surface and made walking about a slippery, dangerous affair.
Shiawase pulled out the string and hook that he kept on himself at all times, found a perch that was relatively free of the slimy mold, and cast his line into the pool. Within moments there was a tug at the other end, and Shia yanked out a chubby fish, bright yellow in color with wide black eyes.
"Yes!"
For the next three hours Shia sat on his perch, dropping his line and pulling it up again, throwing back all manner of eels and fish and the occasional bundle of weeds, and keeping the occasional deviate that took his bait. As he caught them he sent a spark of energy into their flopping bodies, shocking their hearts to a stop and rendering them limp and controllable. Once he had himself a batch just small enough to carry with him, he bundled the fish up, hung them from a stout root, and made his way to Ratchet.
The walk back was slow and tiring, and halfway along the way Shia found himself a lone tree and scrambled up it with the intention of taking a nap, but before he could doze off he heard howling in the distance. From the horizon an Orc began making his way to the same tree, wolf companion in toe. Shia briefly considered making another run for it, but one glance at the heavy bundle of fish sitting next to him changed his mind. He wouldn't abandon his deviates after he had worked so hard to get them, and there was no telling when his next chance to fish for them might come. So a fight it was then.
But when the Orc began to get closer, Shia realized a fight was highly avoidable. The Orc's armor was nothing but studded cloth, and even that was hanging from his shoulders limply. In his hands was not a gun, but a bow of questionable craftsmanship, and his wolf looked to be just out of puppy hood. The two of them were trotting along at a decent pace, with the young wolf occasionally letting out a happy yip and bounding a few steps ahead before bounding back again. If Shia were to get into a scuffle with those two it would be no contest.
As silently as he could, Shia dropped from the tree on the other side of the trunk and turned himself into the shape of a bear. The Tauren worshiped the same bear totems, he knew, and his form would be distinguishable from that of a Horde Druid’s only to an experienced individual, which the Orc approaching did not seem to be. And if the Orc did see through Shiawase's disguise, a swat to the side would be enough to take him out of commission.
Confident in his trickery, Shia lumbered out from behind the tree and sat down in the shade, watching the pair approach. The wolf noticed him first, and with a high pitched bark came bounding forward. For a moment it looked as if he was about to pounce, and Shia found himself tensing involuntary, but at the last minute the wolf bounded to the right, yipping happily, and dancing about Shia's sitting form.
The Orc caught up shortly there after, waved to Shia good naturedly, and said something in his guttural native language. Shia grumbled in reply, which prompted a laugh from the Orc. The young hunter set his bow down against the tree and sat down next to the Druid.
It was obvious the Orc was making small talk, and Shia thanked Cenarius silently that as a bear he was incapable of speech. He let out the occasional grunt, or a slow nod or two, and the Orc seemed to be satisfied with that. The wolf meanwhile had been sniffing about and noticed the large bundle of deviate fish hanging from the tree above them. He began barking excitedly and clawing at the tree, until the Orc mumbled something angrily and slapped his pet on the behind. The wolf let out a half hearted growl, moved out of swinging range, and started his barking all over again, at which point the young Orc looked up and noticed the fish too.
From the excited look in his eyes, Shia’s partner knew exactly what sort of fish he was looking at. He stood up to get a closer look, considered for a minute, and then turned to Shiawase and said something. Shia nodded. The Orc took on an expression of absolute glee and said something else. When it was evident that he was waiting for a response, Shia nodded again. The Orc did a little hop, rubbed his hands together, and clambered up the tree.
Shia suppressed a moan of despair as he watched the Orc cut five fish from his bundle. The wolf below was going mad with excitement, jumping and spinning and yipping his heart out, and the Orc barked something to it before clambering back down, holding up the fish with a smile.
Well, it was only five fish. There were still ten or more left for Shia.
The Orc pulled a branch off of the tree and hung the fish on it, and once he had propped them up like that he settled back down into the dead grass. From a pack on his back he took out a wooden box, and from that a large sandwich. He ripped the sandwich in half and handed one half to Shia, who swallowed the entire thing in one happy gulp. The bread was coarse and brittle, and the entire sandwich had been dusted with some sort of foreign spice that wafted up the Druid's nose and cleared his sinuses so fast he started to sneeze.
The Orc laughed, threw a piece of the sandwich to his wolf, and began to much on what was left.
Shia wanted that spice. More than anything at the moment he wanted to figure out some way to take the ingredients for whatever it was that he had eaten home with him. With a frustrated sigh he watched the Orc finish off his lunch and peered into the hunter’s bag, hoping for a glimpse of a spice pack or something of that sort. But there was nothing inside but a few bandages and flint.
With the sandwich completely eaten, the Orc stood up, picked up Shia's fish, and waved warmly towards the Druid as he began to move again, his wolf bounding about his heels. Shia waved back and waited for the two to sink into the horizon before shifting out of bear form, taking up what remained of the days catch, and making his hurried way to the docks. If he didn't arrive soon his deviates would go bad, and there would be nothing sadder than to have that happen.
The meeting with the Orc had put Shia far behind schedule, and there was no boat out of Ratchet for the rest of the night. It was alright. He was in no hurry to jump onto a floating bowl of dead wood anyway, and while he waited he could have his deviates prepared into the meal that made them so sought after all throughout the world. Eaten by themselves deviates were more than unhealthy. They would knock a person out for hours, and could inspire heart attacks to those sensitive to their poison. But properly prepared, they not only were delicious, but provided a unique high that seemed to wipe all worry from the mind and charge up the senses. Once his fish were prepared and packaged into a large sac, Shia stepped into the tavern in search of the spice he had been given a taste of that afternoon.
As usual, the Ratchet tavern was filled with Horde. Along the walls Goblin bruisers stood watch over the clients, guns and swords in hand, waiting for trouble. Upon Shia's entrance the entire room grew dead silent as the various Orcs and Undead regarded him, and more than a few bruisers rolled their eyes as they hefted their weapons. Shia cast the room what he hoped was a disarming smile and made his way to the bar.
An old goblin with a hairy wart on the dead center of his forehead looked up at Shia and in characteristic goblin fashion snapped, "Whattaya want?"
"I was wondering if you knew about this certain spice... It clears the sinuses rather quickly and has a peppery taste, although it isn't harsh at all, and has a yellow coloration."
"That's powdered wartroot, whattabout it?"
"Do you have any for sale?"
"What, by itself?"
"Yes, a pouch of it or something."
The goblin curled his nose at Shia before hopping off the stool on which he was standing and disappearing behind the counter. "Yeah, I got some. One gold coin."
"What was that?"
"A gold for a pouch."
"A gold?" Shia fingered the coins in his pocket. Without counting them he knew he had hardly a few silver pieces. "Could you bring that price down a bit?"
The goblin jumped back up on his stool and placed a fist sized pouch on the table. He looked Shia up and down before asking, "Whatta ya got?"
"Only a silver."
"Only a silver? What's in your bag?"
"Fish."
"What sort of fish?"
The deviates in Shia's pack were worth at least two gold by themselves.
"Longjaw snappers, for the boat ride."
"Tch, longjaws? What about jewelry, you got any'a that?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Well yer outta luck then kid."
"Well, wait..." Shiawase pulled out a shard of a gem, faintly glowing from the pure magic caught in it. "I do have this."
The goblin leaned over the bar to inspect the stone, considered for a while, and then nodded. "That'll do." He outstretched his hand and Shia dropped the shard into it before scooping up his bag of spice. Before he left he dipped his finger into the powder and touched it to his tongue. A burst of sinus wiping deliciousness spread about his mouth. That was the stuff alright. A thousand recipe ideas began to simmer in his head as Shia considered all the different ways he could improve his cooking with something so potent.
The boat ride was a boat ride. Shia kept himself at the front of the ship, eyes firmly clenched shut, trying to think of things besides the constant summersaults his stomach was performing.
Within a few days the Southern shore of the Eastern Kingoms was slowly crawling towards them as the ship prepared to make landfall at Booty Bay. Unlike Ratchet, which sat snugly in Horde territory and thus was swarming with goblin enforcers, Booty Bay's harbor was on the southern tip of the Eastern Kingdoms, on a peninsula far removed from Alliance or Horde influence. This made it a perfect haven for anyone who wasn't welcome in either faction, namely, pirates, vagabonds, mercenaries, and outlaws. As Shia was none of these things, he had to tread about lightly as he prepared for the last long run that would take him to Alliance lands and eventually to Stormwind.
For fare Shia was forced to part with two more of his deviate delights, but it was a better deal than having to leave his fingers behind for being unable to pay for his ride. After sitting down for an unappetizing meal in a shady bar, Shia hefted his bag behind him and began the last leg of his journey.
There was a road from Booty Bay that lead north in a relatively direct fashion, but it was treacherous for a lone traveler, and besides, the river winding about parallel to it was always swarming with tasty fish and the occasional trinket fallen away from plundered bounty. Plus, there were pirates to tease.
The pirates of Stranglethorn Shore would have been a force to be reckoned with if only they didn't spend every moment on land stone drunk. As it was, they were more a danger to themselves than to anyone else, and Shia had already managed to convince a number of them that the coast was haunted with some sort of bear spirit who could only be appeased with a generous offering of ale.
Those same pirates, about ten of them, were cavorting around on the riverbank some miles to the north, swinging swords at each other and using their mugs of ale to block the blows. And sitting on the sand next to them were a number of ale kegs of an easily transportable size, piled up one on top of another. Shia watched the excitement from the trees for a while, and then slipped into his bear form and lumbered out onto the bank.
For a minute his hulking form wasn't even noticed. The pirates were two busy falling over themselves in their drunken stupor to see the massive pile of muscle and fur that had set itself next to their campfire. But then one of the pirates had the good sense to wonder what it was he had started using as a pillow, looked up, and saw the grinning, serrated mouth of a very large bear looming over him.
"AIIIIIEEEE!" Some of the pirates stopped and looked up, some of them just laughed and took another swig of their cup, and one was flat on the ground, passed out beyond recovery. Those that were sober enough to make sense of what was happening fell to their knees and began to bow furiously, or as furiously as they could without falling to their sides.
"Ooooh great bear spirit! Oooooh great bear spirit! Don't eat us! Don't eat us!"
One of the pirates, either the leader, or the most sober of the bunch, or both, smacked the two men on either side of him. "Get the keg!" He hissed, and his comrades wobbled to their feet and made their way to their pile of ale. From it they pulled out a single keg, with a leather strap that had been attached to the top. They had remembered the last time Shia had came, tried to roll a keg away in bear form, and broke their rowboat in frustration when he couldn’t get a grip. The druid smiled inwardly to himself. Getting a pack of pirates to worship him as a god was probably the best idea he had ever come up with, and they made such good ale!
For the purpose of keeping up the illusion, Shia stood up on his hind legs, and at his full height let out the most ferocious roar he could muster. One of the pirates went screaming towards the rowboats, and the rest stared up at the druid in awed silence. That would do. Setting himself back on all fours, Shia lumbered over to the keg the pirates had rolled out for him, picked it up in his jaws by the leather strap, and lumbered off again.
The ale was too heavy and troublesome to carry in any other form, so for the rest of his traveling time Shia was stuck as a bear. That was alright. He was in no hurry. That night he set up camp in a small cave hidden from the shore, fished until he could keep his eyes open no longer, and curled up next to his newly acquired keg.
