A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

He wakes up the next morning to find himself alone. It takes him a second to remember what happened the night before and the fact that he’d gone to sleep with a certain Night Elf laid out on his chest. Once he does, Rognak immediately sits up, looking around the tent to make sure he actually IS alone. But he is. It seems that Shandris Feathermoon is an early riser. She’s also an absolute hellion in bed.
 
Still reeling a little bit at the fact that he just spent the night with Tyrande Whisperwind’s right-hand woman and adoptive daughter, Rognak slowly rises to his feet. He doesn’t… he’s not entirely sure, but he doesn’t think he’s supposed to take some bigger connection from things. Looking back on the interaction, he’s pretty sure Shandris was just looking for a way to blow off steam and he was not only convenient, but a large reason she was so pent-up in the first place.
 
That in mind, he decides not to take it personally that she hadn’t waited for him to wake up before getting out of dodge. They would probably see each other again soon enough, but there was no reason to make things awkward. Besides, Rognak had so much else on his plate right now. Sure, yesterday had been a big day, but just because Grom and Mannoroth were both dead didn’t mean everything was suddenly all sunshine and rainbows.
 
No, this wasn’t a damn story and even if it was, Azeroth wasn’t the kind of place where the story came to a close with a ‘And they all lived Happily Ever After’. No, when it came to Azeroth, the stories tended to end in one of two ways. Either in death, or with a ‘And they survived… for now’. With that in mind, Rognak knew that shit was just ramping up. Mannoroth was only the beginning and while he was tempted to go racing off to try and find and fight Archimonde right this moment… he knew that wouldn’t end well for him or the Clan if he tried to drag his Warsong Warriors into that sort of battle.
 
Mannoroth was one thing. Archimonde would require support. He would require a damn army, and even then… it would probably still take the destruction of Nordrassil to make his defeat stick. That meant Thrall had to show up with his new human allies. Though it would at least be fairly different this time. Instead of the orcs and humans being at odds with the Night Elves thanks to Grom’s actions, he hoped that HIS actions had swayed the tide in the other direction.
 
With that in the forefront of his thoughts, Rognak pushes his way out of his tent to see what state Orc-Night Elf relations might be in after a night of festivities and revelry. He’d left Cenarius in charge and he had been allowed to sleep through the entire night, so hopefully there weren’t too many fires to put out.
 
What he sees as he gazes out upon the shared camp… is acceptable, Rognak decides. There are a couple of Night Elf Sentinels and Orc Warriors that are showing… affection to one another out in the open. Nothing overtly crass, but they’ve certainly hit it off and maybe in a more permanent, deeper way than he and Shandris had. There are also probably more pairings out of sight if he had to guess, and a few Night Elves and Orcs who, while not engaging with anyone directly, are walking with a certain swagger Rognak decides means they got laid.
 
However, there are also about a half dozen of his orcs who have been… restrained. A couple of them are quite literally melded into the trunk of a tree, while others are rooted to the ground by… well, big and thick roots that restrict their movement and force their arms and legs in every direction. Rognak can tell they’ve been like that for some hours, as none of them are actually fighting it. Some have even fallen asleep like that.
 
When he meets the eyes of those who are awake, they avert their gazes, shame filling them as they look away. Rognak slowly nods at that, honestly a little satisfied. The fact that none of the tied up orcs look angry and none of them try to demand he get them released immediately… tells him that they know their actions were shameful and likely fueled by orcish grog. Likewise, the fact that they’re all still alive tells him that none of them got far enough to cause a true incident.
 
He'd left Cenarius in charge, after all. If any orc had gotten handsy enough with one of the Sentinels to warrant death, he would have backed the Lord of the Forest all the way. Instead, he could only hope these six were rowdy, but not too rowdy. Letting out a sigh, Rognak shakes his head while reflecting that it definitely could have been worse. Then, leaving the half-dozen orcs to the, heh, natural consequences of their actions, he makes his way over to Cenarius.
 
The Forest Demigod looks down at him curiously, a brow raised as Rognak approaches. Immediately, he can tell that Cenarius knows exactly what he and Shandris got up to last night. But then, of course he does. She and her sisters apparently approached the Lord of the Forest to receive assistance in surpassing the language barrier from him.
 
“Good morning, young druid. Sleep well?
 
Rognak considers that for a moment before snorting derisively.
 
“Like a baby.”
 
If Cenarius is insulted or feels disrespected by his brazenness, he doesn’t show it. Instead, the Demigod just hums for a moment before inclining his head.
 
“What can I do for you this morning, druid?”
 
Inhaling and then exhaling sharply, Rognak plants his hands on his hips as he does a quick turn, surveying the camp his warriors and the Night Elf Sentinels had hastily constructed the night before.
 
“… My Warchief sent the Warsong Clan here for lumber, as I told you previously. If he shows up here and I have not completed that mission, I do not know what he will do. I’d hoped you would make good on your promise and show me how my clan might harvest wood from this forest without doing harm to it or the Night Elves.”

 
Cenarius is quiet for a moment. Rognak turns to him expectantly, but rather than get straight to business, the Lord of the Forest tilts his head to the side.
 
“This Warchief of yours. Would he truly be that upset with you, if instead of lumber you came to him with new allies and a tale of the demon you slew?”
 
Rognak frowns, lowering his gaze to the ground for a moment in thought. Finally, he shakes his head.
 
“As I said, I do not know. Thrall is… a good orc. As good as us orcs can get, all things considered. He has his flaws. His faults. He is not perfect, but then none of us are.”
 
As he speaks on the Horde’s Warchief, the words ‘orc jesus’ and ‘green jesus’ flit through his mind’s eye and it takes everything in Rognak’s power not to snort derisively. It wouldn’t be appropriate right now.
 
“If he is as good as you say, then I am sure he would not mind a lack of lumber. After all, your Horde stands to gain so much more from the alliance with the Night Elf People, does it not?”
 
Rognak nods, not disagreeing in the least.
 
“It does. And I don’t think Thrall would disagree with that sentiment on the face of it either. However, coming from me… he might be tempted to try. After all, Grommash Hellscream was his friend. And though they were estranged because of Grom’s actions, I still killed his friend. I do not know how he will react to that news.”
 
Orcs were a proud, emotional people. Prone to reckless bouts of fury, even at the best of times. And while Thrall might be ‘green jesus’, even he could get angry. Even he could become enraged. The death of Hellscream under these circumstances, with Grom not slain in a redeeming act while killing Mannoroth but instead killed in a Mak’gora… Thrall would react. Somehow. Rognak just didn’t know what that reaction would be, or how he would have to respond in turn.
 
“… You wish to make your new position unassailable, is that it? By carrying out his orders to the letter, you leave your Warchief no room to question your choices. After all, if you have the lumber he demanded, then the Warsong Clan has completed its mission, regardless of its abrupt change in leadership.”
 
Letting out an explosive breath, Rognak nods. Then, his eyes narrow as he looks at Cenarius, noting something in his tone.
 
“Yes. But then… you already knew my reasoning, didn’t you?”
 
The Lord of the Forest smiles at that, tilting his head in acknowledgment even as he chuckles softly.
 
“Indeed, young druid. Still, it can help to talk things through. I wished to make sure YOU knew your own reasoning as well before we continued.”
 
It was way too early in the morning for him to be schooled, literally, by a Wild God. Even still, Rognak bows his head as is proper.
 
“… I appreciate the lesson, Lord of the Forest.”
 
No doubt sensing his slight irritation and discontentment, Cenarius just smiles some more before waving one of his branch-like hands.
 
“Come, young one. I will teach you what you desire. You wish to know how the Night Elves extract wood from Ashenvale without harming the forest… it is simple, really. But you will play a part in that. A druid’s magic is uniquely suited for such things.”
 
Oh. Now this was something else entirely. Actual lessons in MAGIC from the Lord of the Forest were definitely not something Rognak could afford to pass up, nor did he even want to. His breath catching as excitement swells in his chest, he holds up a hand before Cenarius can truly begin moving away.
 
“W-Wait. If… if at all possible, could I invite others of my clan to this lesson? I mean no disrespect… I only wish to spread your knowledge to my kin. I think… I think killing Mannoroth together was a step in the right direction, but by no means the last step on that path.”
 
Cenarius pauses at that and looks back at him curiously. There’s a long beat of silence in which the air almost feels heavy. Finally, the Lord of the Forest speaks.
 
“You wish to spread druidism to the members of your clan? To teach them the ways of nature?”
 
There’s no real inflection in Cenarius’ voice. Rognak can’t tell if he’s upset by the idea or pleased. But the fact that he doesn’t sound pleased makes the orc somewhat nervous. And yet… the answer is yes. Fully and completely… yes. And while part of Rognak shivers a little bit in the face of this Demigod who had so casually created an axe capable of killing a Pit Lord just the day before, Rognak nevertheless stands his ground.
 
“I do. I wish that very much.”
 
“Mm. You are largely untrained. You lean on your talent and natural gifts without the proper experience or tutelage to truly know what you are doing. And yet you believe yourself ready to shoulder the responsibility that would come with training your people? You think yourself prepared for such a burden?”
 
This feels like a test. But whatever the right answer is, Rognak isn’t going to lie. He’ll tell the truth and if it gets him smacked down… well, he’ll just have to rely on Cenarius’ benevolence keeping the ensuing lesson from being TOO painful.
 
“I do not know what I am ready for, Cenarius. But I know that my people need a new path. I know that we orcs have a sordid and terrible history. Here and now, in this forest… under your tutelage, we have a chance to change our fate. To make a new future for ourselves. For that… I believe it’s worth a try. I have to believe that, lest I go mad.”
 
He’s expecting a fierce rebuke of some sort, but instead Rognak watches in wonder as the beginnings of a smile spread across the Lord of the Forest’s face. Finally, Cenarius lets out another chuckle, this one deep and rich in its vibrancy. The very forest around him seems to come to life with his amusement as he gazes down at Rognak.
 
“Well said, young druid. You have as much a gift for words as you do for battle. Let us see if you can convince your kin of how great this need is, as you have convinced me.”
 
The way Cenarius’ eyes twinkle leaves Rognak thinking that maybe it really hadn’t been all that hard to convince the Demigod. Maybe, the Lord of the Forest hadn’t needed much convincing at all. Even still, he nods his head, setting his face in determination as he turns back to the camp, eager to see it done.
 
Gathering up his warriors, the whole of the Warsong Clan before him, Rognak speaks. And he’s gratified to see that as he speaks, they all listen. That doesn’t mean they’re all interested in what he and Cenarius have to offer of course, but at least they give him the time of day. In the end, only a dozen or so orcs take Rognak up on his offer to try and learn druidism, on how to connect with the nature around them. All of those twelve orcs are young, the new blood of the Warsong Clan that came from the internment camps they liberated back in Lordaeron.
 
But Rognak doesn’t let it get him down. As he and his new students learn at the feet of a literal demigod, he can’t help but smile in fact. A big, wide, savage grin. As they learn how to use the forest without hurting the forest, extracting wood without killing the tree and ultimately cultivating a relationship of mutual respect and honor with their surroundings, Rognak’s smile stays etched on his face all the while.
 
Cenarius is right about at least one thing. He’s never had a teacher before. Everything he’s figured out… is self-taught, albeit with the help of that second set of memories to let him cheat and seem more of a prodigal talent then he really thinks he is. But with Cenarius himself showing him what he’s been doing wrong and what he’s been doing right… he’s excited. Undeniably so. And with the Warsong Clan slowly coming around to his way of thinking, Rognak can’t wait to see what the future holds.
 
Well… actually, he knows some of what the future holds. But hey, one thing at a time. Archimonde will keep for now. The next hurdle to overcome will be Thrall. Rognak can only hope that the other orc will be able to see reason when he finally returns from Stonetalon. He’d rather not have to fight another Mak’gora any time soon. Killing his own people leaves a bad taste in his mouth… and besides, he really has no desire to lead the entire Horde.
 
He has more than enough on his plate as it is.

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