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Volume 4: Instances
Chapter 1: Communication is Key (Part 1)
"Damn it all, you little bastards just stood there watching me get hacked to pieces! What was that last line again? Oh yeah—'For fuck’s sake, help me already!'" (In cantonese)
Despite losing Clado's support temporarily, we managed to wipe out the remaining vampires without much trouble. Thankfully, while Longbow Sunshot could hardly be called a competent priest, he hadn’t entirely neglected his duties and had somehow learned the advanced spell “Gift of Life.” As soon as the battle ended, he promptly revived the fallen tauren shaman.
Clado, upon resurrection, was visibly agitated. The moment he scrambled to his feet, he began shouting at us in rapid-fire speech. His words tumbled out like marbles spilling from a jar, each syllable rushed and nasal-heavy—a hallmark of the tauren language. It was unmistakable; no other sentient race possessed such cavernous nasal cavities or tongues quite so unwieldy.
To be fair, though I understood none of what he said, the rhythm of his speech was captivating. Like an energetic percussion piece, it conveyed the vibrant vitality of tauren culture. Pleasant to listen to, yes—but utterly incomprehensible.
"What on earth is this guy even saying?" Longbow Sunshot asked, baffled.
"No idea," Long Triangle replied. After a brief pause, however, he offered a surprisingly plausible explanation:
"You did just bring him back to life. He’s probably thanking you."
We found this reasoning sound.
"Oh, that makes sense!" Longbow exclaimed, waving dismissively at Clado. "Don’t mention it—it’s what I’m here for!"
But Clado, ever the sentimental tauren, overflowed with gratitude. Even as Longbow repeatedly tried to brush off his thanks, the shaman continued pounding his chest and wailing dramatically, clearly frustrated by his inability to express himself fully:
"Man, what bad luck. Too busy raiding dungeons and now I’m stuck with a bunch of people who don’t speak Cantonese. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have left my old team..." (In cantonese)
While Clado and Longbow were still caught up in their exchange, Black Aurora, the elven mage who’d been quietly observing, finally stepped forward and tapped Clado on the shoulder.
"Are you done yet? Time’s running short—we should move on." He gestured toward the deeper recesses of the mausoleum. (In Shanghainese)
Clado seemed completely unprepared for Black Aurora’s interjection. He blinked in confusion before responding hesitantly:
"What are you even talking about? Slow down, will you? I’m from Guangdong—I can’t understand your Mandarin!" (In cantonese)
"Just stop talking already! Not a single word you say makes sense to me. Do you understand? This is pure nonsense..." Black Aurora retorted. (In Shanghainese)
"What do you want from me? Spit it out already! Don’t send me to die again, okay?" Clado spread his hands wide, trying to convey some sort of intent. (In cantonese)
"If you can’t speak proper Mandarin, fine—but not understanding anything we say either? How do you even function out here?" Black Aurora shook his long ears emphatically. (In Shanghainese)
"Excuse me! Your Mandarin is terrible—it’s worse than theirs, and I still couldn’t make heads or tails of it..." Clado pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning deeply. (In cantonese)
---
This scene was astonishing. Two beings from different races communicating in entirely distinct languages—and somehow, against all odds, making progress. Their argument was lively and structured, adhering loosely to some form of communicative... well, order. I wasn’t sure how much they understood each other, but their back-and-forth exchange felt infinitely more productive than our earlier silence.
Not everyone appreciated this display, though. Long Triangle looked as if he were on the verge of a mental breakdown, tormented by the endless babble. Watching the two bicker ceaselessly, the orc rogue finally snapped. With a roar brimming with orcish flair, he interrupted the bizarre dialogue:
"Oh shit, what the hell are you guys even saying?!" (In english)
Surprisingly, this absurd shout worked wonders. Both Clado and Black Aurora stopped mid-dispute, turning their attention to Long Triangle.
Clado’s expression transformed instantly, radiating joy and relief. Abandoning Black Aurora mid-conversation, he bounded over to Long Triangle, embracing him enthusiastically while exclaiming in fluent Orcish:
"Thank goodness! You speak English!"
From that point onward, the conversation shifted exclusively between Clado and Long Triangle. They chattered away in what sounded like bird calls, nodding frequently and occasionally bursting into laughter. The rest of us stood aside, exchanging awkward glances.
As usual, Longbow Sunshot grew impatient. Turning to Black Aurora, he asked:
"Hey, Shanghai guy, do you know what they’re talking about?"
Black Aurora shook his head blankly.
"Do you at least know any English?"
After a hesitant pause, he tentatively raised one finger.
"How much English do you know?"
"...I don’t know." (In english)
Black Aurora delivered this response with remarkable fluency. I wasn’t sure why Longbow immediately started banging his head against the wall.
"What about Mandarin? Can you say anything useful?"
Another hesitation, then another tentative finger raise:
"How much? Cheaper, please!"(in mandarin)
His pronunciation was less than stellar. At this rate, I feared Longbow might actually crack the tomb’s stone walls with his head.
"Can’t you say something else? Do you ever talk at all when you’re here?"
Black Aurora hesitated, looking uncertain. Then, in an even stranger accent, he ventured cautiously:
"Is anyone here fluent in Japanese?" (In Japanese)
"I know a little," Longbow replied, equally halting, wearing a pained expression halfway between laughter and tears. (In Japanese)
"Damn it all," the dwarf muttered under his breath. "We’re all supposedly Chinese, and yet we need foreign languages just to communicate..."
---
In the subsequent exploration, we found ourselves battling not only the hordes of vampires lurking within the tomb but also the persistent barrier of miscommunication among ourselves. In my opinion, the latter proved far more troublesome than the former.
"Cover me!" (En) Long Triangle shouted boldly, vanishing into stealth as he crept toward a leading "Vampire Baron." Before we could decipher his cryptic command, the burly orc rogue came stumbling back, his health bar nearly depleted, pursued by the grotesque figure of the vampire he’d ambushed. A mob of vicious undead trailed close behind.
"What are you idiots standing around for? Cover me!" Long Triangle barked.
"Why didn’t you explain yourself earlier? Who knows what gibberish you were yelling!" Longbow quickly cast a healing spell on him.
And so, amidst chaos both external and internal, our journey through the mausoleum continued—a testament to the challenges of teamwork across linguistic divides.
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