A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

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As they ascend the steps of Icecrown Citadel, much smaller than the version Rognak remembered from his other life, no one speaks. Which… is fair enough honestly. Rognak doesn’t have much to say at the moment either.
 
The battle against Sapphiron and the rest of the Scourge Forces had been exhilarating. With Ysera’s help and his renewed connection to the Drakkari Loa, Rognak had been able to switch between their forms at the drop of a hat, moving back and forth across the battlefield without hesitation and with zero ‘lag’ so to speak. He had torn through a full-sized Spider Lord with Mam’toth’s tusks once more, and ripped half a dozen Nerubian Spellcasters to pieces with Har’koa’s claws the next.
 
He had utilized each and every one of the Loa in that titanic battle, with their presence pressing down on him but no longer suffocating, their connection strengthened by a powerful, shimmering bridge of emerald energy. Of course, as he and his allies had made their way further North after the destruction of Sapphiron, the Loa had gotten quiet. Until ultimately, they’d stopped speaking into his mind altogether. Even dying, the Lich King’s presence disquieted them enough that they’d ultimately pulled away.
 
Rognak couldn’t blame them. The conversation that he and the others had just had with Balnazzar and Kel’thuzad was… disquieting to say the least. It wasn’t that surprising that Kil’Jaedan would have Balnazzar lie to Kel’thuzad, to be fair. He was called ‘The Deceiver’ for a reason, after all. But the fact that Kel’thuzad’s phylactery had been retrieved and taken to the Twisting Nether… and that Kil’Jaedan had been pleased enough with Balnazzar’s service to personally retrieve him through Cenarius’ ward… that was disturbing.
 
More than disturbing, it made it clear to Rognak that none of this was truly over. Even if they killed the Lich King today, even if they ended the Scourge’s Master here and now and finished what he’d started by making sure Arthas died on Kalimdor all those months ago… it wouldn’t really be over and done with. The Burning Legion would still be out there. And they would still be coming for Azeroth eventually, one way or another.
 
But then, that was the way this universe worked, didn’t it? Rognak had always known as much, though perhaps he hadn’t truly thought too deeply about it, nor had he wanted to acknowledge it. Azeroth was bit a microcosm of the grander whole… and the grander whole was death and destruction on a massive scale. Frankly, the world Rognak now found himself firmly connected to in a myriad of ways was probably the best place to be in a universe that had otherwise gone completely dark from Legion Interference and Void Corruption.
 
And yet, even then… Azeroth was still a Death World, with a hundred different things that wanted to kill him, and a dozen Big Bads who all wanted their fair share of the pie. Unfortunately, as far as they were all concerned, their ‘fair share’ was ALL of it.
 
Rognak had done what he could to mitigate things where he thought he was able to. And his talk with Ysera would hopefully help even further in the coming years. But in the long run, what exactly would happen to Azeroth with all the changes he’d made so far? Who would rise and who would fall? Would the world be able to withstand everything coming for it?
 
Unfortunately, he doesn’t get any longer to contemplate the future than that. Icecrown Citadel in this time is barely a castle compared to what Rognak’s memories of this place as a ‘video game’ said it would have turned into. Rather than fortifications spanning the entirety of the top portion of Northrend, there was just the dark Saronite of the Citadel itself, and at the top… the spire that would lead up to the Frozen Throne.
 
As the rest of the expeditionary forces spread out and secure the surroundings, Rognak finds himself ascending to the Frozen Throne alongside the other leaders. Ysera takes on her humanoid Night Elf form again, not even a shiver to be seen despite her state of undress, and together they all make their way upwards.
 
So then… at long last, you have come. I wonder though. Are you to be my executioners… or my saviors?
 
Rognak jolts as a dark, twisted voice echoes through his mind. Judging by the reactions of the others, the Lich King broadcasts those thoughts to all of them at the same time. As they reach the top of the spire, as they come to stand before the Frozen Throne at the peak of Icecrown Citadel… it is to see what has become or Ner’zhul in the absence of Frostmourne.
 
His prison is in disrepair. Much worse than even Rognak’s other memories could envision it. Within the prison, the Helm of Domination remains untouched… but Ner’zhul himself radiates pain. Agony. He cannot even hold it back, could not restrain what he is projecting even if he wanted to. Or at least, that’s the impression that Rognak gets, even as Tyrande steps forward, already her bow back, a radiant arrow forming in her fingertips as she sneers at the entity trapped in the ice.
 
“You are a monster, Lich King. An abomination of the highest order. There is no salvation for a creature such as you.”
 
… Perhaps you are right.
 
The Lich King’s easy agreement gives Tyrande pause, causing the Priestess of Elune to hesitate long enough for him to have a chance to speak.
 
I was not always this twisted wraith you see before you now. I was not always the Legion’s puppet, their ‘Lich King’. As was the case with many before me, I was deceived. And yet… even after the veil over my eyes was lifted, even after the deception broken and my freedom restored to me, I did not make amends. I continued to make mistake after mistake, until my decisions led me here, to this point.
 
Rognak frowns, more aware than most of the people here of Ner’zhul’s tale. The Tragedy of Ner’zhul the Deceived, one might call it. Even still… he knew that the spirit was playing some sort of game here. And yet… everything else he knew had him wondering at Balnazzar’s final words. Was it truly okay to kill Ner’zhul? Was it truly okay to shatter the Helm of Domination as they had Frostmourne?
 
“… You expect us to pity you? The Scourge’s crimes are many and varied, against ALL our peoples.”
 
Maiev’s words cut in from the side, the Warden sneering at Ner’zhul in disbelief. But of course, Ner’zhul just hums in response.
 

Pity? No… no, I’m far past pity. What I expect is for you all to understand. I never truly wished to serve the Burning Legion. From the very beginning, my hope was to find an opportunity to fight them, to shed their shackles. The one you know as Arthas was my initial attempt at that. My Champion… he and I served the Legion’s purposes, it’s true… but only because we had no choice.
 
Rognak expects an outburst from Kael’thas at that. After all, of everyone here, Tyrande included, the Sunstrider Prince had arguably suffered the most at Arthas’ hands, and thus as Ner’zhul’s hands as well. And yet, when the orc druid glances over at Kael’thas, it’s to find the Blood Elf deep in thought, surprisingly enough.
 
Given the choice… given the choice, I would gladly side with you and yours. The Burning Legion took everything from me. I would do anything for the chance to destroy them.
 
So that was Ner’zhul’s plan. His… ploy. Of course, it prompts a quick scoff from Cenarius.
 
“You seek common cause with us, but your presence has plagued Azeroth enough already. The Scourge are a blight upon this world, and have caused nothing but corruption, disease, and heartbreak wherever they have gone.”
 
Only under the Legion’s direction. Only by the Legion’s command. As I said, there was no choice. And yet… if you kill me now, what do you think will happen? You think that your world has suffered from the Scourge’s presence already? Imagine a Scourge with no master. Imagine a tide of undeath washing over your world, ravenous and hungry and uncontrolled in its relentless, unending onslaught. Death without end. That is all you have to look forward to if you slay me now.
 
“… What if he’s right?”
 
All eyes turn towards Kael’thas as the Sunstrider Prince finally speaks up… in defense of the creature who has taken everything from him. True to his pedigree and high-breeding, Kael’thas does not quail or backdown in the face of their stares. He holds his head high and sets his jaw, stepping forward and gesturing to the Frozen Throne and the Helm of Domination within it.
 
“What if he’s right? What if ending him here and now does not end the threat of the Scourge? What if they do wash over all of Azeroth in the wake of his demise, until not a single drop of life is left on this world? What if we rush to destroy him, only to ruin everything and cause even more loss, more destruction?”
 
Rognak grimaces, because part of him isn’t entirely sure Kael’thas is wrong. There must always be a Lich King. That was the phrase, wasn’t it? The sentence that had been rattling around in Rognak’s mind for… a while now. Ever since before they even came to Northrend, in fact. But… who then?
 
Seizing upon Kael’thas’ support, Ner’zhul speaks again.
 
Yesss… though it will not be as easy as merely letting me live. Arthas was to be more than my Champion. He was to be my bearer. I am dying even now. If you do nothing, then I will cease to exist soon enough and the Scourge will rampage all across Azeroth. However, if one of you were to don the Helm… if we were to become one, then we could control them together. We could turn the Scourge into a force for good… a force that even the Burning Legion will tremble in fear of.
 
It's so fucking obvious that Ner’zhul is playing them. Rognak KNOWS that. However, he also knows… other things. Things that leave him considering the dead orc’s offer all the same. What if this is it? What if this is the only way to secure Azeroth’s future? Someone taking the Helm for themselves and making the ultimate sacrifice several years earlier could give them a leg-up on what was coming for them. Except there was no Bolvar here to make that sacrifice.
 
… Would it have to be Rognak? Was this his purpose? Was this as far as he went?
 
“I’ll do it.”
 
And again, Kael’thas draws everyone’s attention, Rognak’s most of all. The Sunstrider Prince has a look of pure determination and resolve on his face as he looks around at all of them.
 
“I know more than most the pain the Scourge have caused. And I must admit… I fear what more damage they can bring to Azeroth. I want… I wish to see my people prosper. I wish to see them rebuild. If that means I must don the Helm, then so be it. All I ask is that in return, you help my people. You help the Blood Elves avoid their Wretched Fate.”
 
He’s talking as though it’s already decided. Then again, maybe it is? Rognak doesn’t see another way. He doesn’t see another option. There must always be a Lich King. There-
 
“Enough.”
 
Ysera’s commanding voice cuts through the fog that Rognak hadn’t even noticed descending over his thoughts. The Dragon Aspect steps forward and swipes a hand through the air, dispelling an effect that none of them had honestly realized had been cast upon them. An insidious spell, perhaps based on proximity, which had come along with the Lich King’s whispering voice in their minds.
 
As the Mistress of Dreams breaks the enthrallment, Ner’zhul hisses, his presence rearing back even if he himself is still trapped in the Helm which is in turn trapped in the Frozen Throne. All of them, Kael’thas included, pull away from the ice, which now radiates such malevolence that Rognak isn’t sure how they didn’t feel it before.
 
Stepping forward, the Dreamer sneers at Ner’zhul’s hissing anger.
 
“You should not try to play games with people’s dreams when in the presence of one such as I, Lich King. Your lies are as foolish and easily seen through as any waning nightmare.”
 
Lifting up her clawed hands, the disguised Aspect clenches them into fists and in a display of raw power, massive green vines explode out of the ground all around them. Despite this being the cold, frozen wastes of Northrend’s northmost point, despite them being at the top of Icecrown Citadel, Ysera’s power over nature is manifest even here.
 
NO! You must NOT! I AM NOT- AGHHH!!!
 
Ner’zhul screams as the massive vines thrust into the Frozen Throne, shattering the ice and sending the Helm of Domination scattering down the steps to their feet. With the spell broken, however, Kael’thas pulls away from the thing in disgust and hatred, and so do all the others. All of the others… save for Tyrande.
 
Rognak had wondered why the Priestess of Elune had fallen silent early on. He’d thought when Ysera dispelled the Lich King’s enthrallment that she had merely been caught up in it, same as all of them. Now though? Now he knows better, because it’s not the Lich King that Tyrande found herself caught up by.
 
Eyes blazing with radiant moonlight, Tyrande Whisperwind, Chosen of Elune, steps forward and picks up the Helm of Domination. But not to wear it. Not to don it. As she holds it before her, a gasp and a shudder make their way through Tyrande’s body as she becomes a proper, full conduit for her Goddess. A beam of searing, radiant moonbeam shatters the dark clouds overhead and slices down through the air, pounding into the center of the platform and encompassing both Tyrande and the Helm of Domination in its radius.
 
NO! My vengeance! My ven… geance…
 
Ner’zhul’s final words echo from the Helm, even as his essence is seemingly purified. Rognak watches as the ghostly spirit of an old, weathered, orcish shaman slowly coalesces in the beam of radiant moonlight, appearing opposite of Tyrande as the High Priestess continues to hold onto the Helm with both hands.
 
For a brief moment, the orc shaman looks at the Helm… and then away, at all of them. And as he slowly fades from view, he smiles, finally allowed to rest at long last.
 
In the wake of this, Rognak isn’t sure how to feel. More than anything though, he’s afraid for a moment. Afraid that Elune will, using Tyrande as a conduit, destroy the Helm of Domination in the same way she destroyed Frostmourne all those months ago. And he’s worried, because there are certain memories that he doesn’t want to find out the truth of. Certain memories that his second life tells him he doesn’t want to learn the ‘canonicity’ of.
 
His heart leaps into his throat as Tyrande raises the Helm of Domination further up into the air… and then he blinks, because rather than tearing it apart, the High Priestess of Elune lets it go. Suddenly floating on its own, the Helm begins to drift upwards, carried on rays of moonlight higher and higher into the shining, starry night sky.
 
Stepping out of the Moon Beam, Tyrande turns to face them all… but the blinding white glow of her eyes along with the reverberation in her voice make it clear that it’s not the Night Elf Priestess doing the talking.
 
“The Helm of Domination will be taken far from Azeroth, to make sure that it can never be used to harm your world ever again.”
 
And that’s that. No discussion. No debate. But then to be fair… she is a fucking Moon Goddess. The Light fades from Tyrande’s eyes a moment later and she nearly collapses, but Rognak and Cenarius are both quick on the draw, the two rushing forward to keep her on her feet. As she clings to them both, Rognak finds himself looking over her shoulder up at the steadily retreating beam of moonlight and the captured Helm within it.
 
As it vanishes into the distance, on a course for Azeroth’s moon, Rognak is left wondering what this could possibly mean for the future. Kael’thas, meanwhile, voices the question on many of their minds.
 
“It was… all a lie? One last trick? I was so confident he was right. That he was telling the truth about the threat that the Scourge posed… but in the end, he was just trying to save himself, wasn’t he?”
 
Stepping up to the Blood Elf Prince, Ysera places a hand on his shoulder, looking from him to all of them as she shakes her head with a soft smile.
 
“The Scourge are not entirely vanquished… but they are not the threat that the Lich King would have liked us to see them as. They are no more a danger to life on Azeroth than any of the other myriad threats that the people of this world face. They will be dealt with in time, through the tenacity that each and every one of you has shown to reach this place today. The people of Azeroth are made of hardy stock… and one day the Scourge will be gone, and you and your descendants will remain.”
 
As they all unconsciously straighten up a little at that, even Rognak feeling pride swelling in his chest at her words, Ysera’s smile grows into a savage grin.
 
“And while the Scourge might not be gone… you can rest easy knowing that it is by all of your actions that this world suffers the presence of one less ‘Lich King’ after today. And that, my mortal friends, makes Azeroth all the brighter of a place.”
 
She’s right, Rognak realizes. And bolstered by her confidence, he thrusts a fist into the air and lets out an orcish roar, startling the others for a moment before they all laugh and thrust their fists into the air as well… even Kael’thas Sunstrider, a wide grin on the Blood Elf Prince’s face as he does it.

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