A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

A/N: If you've enjoyed reading this story, please check out The Soul Engine for me! It would mean a lot to me!

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All was NOT well that ended well. Mostly because at the end of the day… nothing ever truly ended on Azeroth. There was always something new.
 
“Greetings, Envoys of the Horde. I am Velonara, Dark Ranger and faithful servant of the Banshee Queen. The Dark Lady is currently in council with her advisers. Your… expediated arrival has surprised us. Please wait here and she will be able to see you shortly.”
 
“I refuse.”
 
Velonara’s red eyes widen at that as Rognak begins to stomp past her. When she and the Royal Dreadguards lining the Hall leading into the Royal Quarter all move to stop him, Rognak lifts a hand… and brings it crashing down. Out of the stone walls all around them comes the first true life that the Undercity has seen in quite some time he suspects. Thick, thorny, gnarled roots grab undead flesh and yank it back.
 
In moments, the path is clear before them and Rognak leads his Warsong Druids deeper into the Royal Quarter… into the Hall of the Dark Lady.
 
Heh. Envoys of the Horde. If it weren’t so damn fucked, Rognak would probably have cracked a smile or laughed. But alas… he wasn’t here for jokes.
 
Turned out, that little trip to Northrend to ‘visit’ with Ysera and Alexstrasza had taken a bit longer than Rognak had thought. To the tune of SIX FUCKING MONTHS. At first he’d been outraged, thinking that it was Chromie’s fault. That somehow the little bitch of a Bronze Dragon had fucked up the time travel and brought him back later.
 
But no. As it turned out… he’d lost track of time. Massively. To be fair, it wasn’t Rognak’s fault. Or at least, not entirely. When you’re a mortal left at the whims of Dragon Aspects, all you can really do is try to survive, right?
 
Put simply, once Alexstrasza blessed him with her flames, things had gotten… rather crazy. And they’d literally fucked for six months straight. Rognak knew this because when he got back, he found out that Ysera had been ‘kind enough’ to step away a handful of times over the course of those six months to let the applicable parties know he was alright but also away on important business for her and that he wouldn’t be coming back just yet.
 
Yeah.
 
Now, while that was rather irritating to learn, it wasn’t the end of the world in and of itself. Everyone had kept on working in his absence. The world had kept on spinning. The things he’d set in motion had continued moving forward. THAT wasn’t the problem.
 
The problem was that in his time away, certain things had been set in motion that Rognak normally would NOT have allowed to be set in motion. Namely… a certain Hamuul Runetotem had finished his druidic training in the Moonglade, learning from Cenarius himself this time instead of Malfurion. And then the Tauren Druid had caught wind of a certain missive that had been sent all the way from Lordaeron to the Horde’s Warchief.
 
And of course, just like Rognak’s memories said would happen, when Hamuul Runetotem had heard about the plight of the Forsaken, he’d been overcome with emotion and gone straight to Thrall, beseeching him to reconsider his stance on undead and send the Forsaken the Horde’s aid.
 
As it turned out, the Forsaken were finding themselves pressed a lot earlier this time around. Rather than it being the humans and dwarves of Stormwind and Ironforge from the South… it was the Blood Elves of Quel’Thalas under the leadership if a zealous Kael’thas pushing down from the North. Apparently, the Forsaken’s Blood Elf neighbors weren’t quite so… amenable as Rognak remembered them being in another time. But then, in that other version of events, Kael’thas had fucked off to Outlands with something like an entire sixth of the remaining Blood Elf population.
 
This time around, the Prince had stayed on Azeroth and apparently made it his and his people’s mission to begin zealously clearing out not just the Ghostlands, and not just the Plaguelands, but also encroach upon Tirisfal Glades itself while the Forsaken were still trying to get their footing.
 
Hamuul had taken this and ran with it, begging Thrall to consider the Forsaken’s plight and allow them to join the Horde. And Thrall, being the big damn softy that he was… had eventually begun considering it.
 
If Rognak hadn’t been drowning in fucking dragon pussy during that time period, he probably could have shut Hamuul’s shit down. Nothing good would come from the Forsaken joining the Horde. He KNEW that to be a fact. In fact, nothing good would come from the Forsaken at all. They were better off dead.
 
Alas, by the time Rognak had returned to Orgrimmar, Thrall had been swayed. He wanted to send envoys of all things… just to test the waters and see if it was possible that they could coexist. COEXIST! WITH UNDEAD! To say Rognak was peeved would be an understatement. He might have challenged Thrall to Mak’gora and seized control of the Horde right then and there if not for one small thing…
 
The fucking time travel. Chromie’s bullshit little quest might not have contributed to Rognak’s delayed return home, but it had given him some… additional perspective. And yeah, he was half-convinced that was almost the point of it. He was very suspicious about the fact that he’d literally wound up saving the Windrunner Sisters (and then fucking them) just before returning home to find out that a now-undead Sylvanas Windrunner had sent a message to his Warchief.
 
Chromie had definitely planned it. Rognak might be a conspiracy theorist for thinking so, but when it came to Azeroth every-fucking-thing was connected.
 
In the end, rather than challenge Thrall to Mak’gora, Rognak had decided HE would go to the ruins of Lordaeron, to the Undercity, and ‘treat’ with Sylvanas Windrunner himself. He’d demanded the right to be the Horde’s Envoy, something that Thrall had eventually granted him after days of badgering following days of futile attempts to make Thrall give up on this crazy idea in the first place.
 
Privately, even as he strides down the hall to Sylvanas’ Throne Room, Rognak still believes that it would have been better for the Horde to stick to Kalimdor and leave the Blood Elves and the Forsaken to it. If Kael’thas wanted to wipe out the Forsaken, he damn well could as far as Rognak was concerned. But… here he was all the same. And admittedly, deep down inside… he felt like he needed to do this. For closure if nothing else.
 
Finally entering the Throne Room, Rognak doesn’t have to do anything as surprised guards move to stop him and his entourage. The Warsong Druids he’s brought with him act before they can reach him, sending the guards flying and binding them to the walls, ceiling, and floor with roots that erupt out of the cobbled stone surfaces.
 
Rognak, meanwhile, ascends the steps of Sylvanas’ dais and finds himself facing off across the Banshee Queen herself… and her two greatest advisors. Sylvanas’ glowing red eyes study him as her lips thin out in silence. Her companions on the other hand do not hesitate to speak up.
 
“It is as I’ve been telling you, my Queen. The orcs are savages, one and all. They are not the allies you should be seeking at this point in time.”
 
Varimathras is as quick to capitalize as ever, of course. No doubt the Dreadlord is hoping to convince Sylvanas to ally with the Burning Legion against her foes. After all, if Kil’Jaeden couldn’t have Kael’thas, then why not go after the Banshee Queen and her Forsaken, right? It would make plenty of sense… as far as the Deceiver was concerned, Ner’zhul had never betrayed him before his death unlike in the original version of events. So the Scourge and undead in general probably weren’t viewed as the threat to the Legion’s advance that they could become.
 
At the same time…
 
“Dark Lady, these living interlopers seek to make a mockery of your authority. Allow me to show them to my labs and give them some proper… hospitality. We shall see if they can be made to be more respect-urk!”
 
Rognak doesn’t hesitate. Knowing what he knows about Grand Apothecary Putress, he doesn’t even let the bastard finish his last sentence. Instead, he pulls Wolfsong from his back faster than anyone can react and sends it flying through the air, cleaving Putress’ head and torso in twain. Connected to him via a vine wrapped around his wrist, Rognak then channels pure Life Magic down the length of the vine, sending it through the convulsing undead.
 
He's not stupid enough to believe that a single blow to the head will ‘kill’ Putress. Nor is he foolish enough to leave whatever failsafes the Grand Apothecary has in the event of his death free to activate. Instead, he burns every trace of Putress away with his power, watching as the Grand Apothecary is reduced to ash in moments.
 
Varimathras is quick to react to the ‘unprovoked’ assault, the Dreadlord roaring and stepping forward with his claws outstretched. No doubt he assumes Sylvanas will back him up from range as the stance he takes is one of someone trying to gain the enemy’s focus so that his ally has a chance to line up the perfect shot.
 
Amusingly, Sylvanas is doing nothing. She’s just standing there, even as Rognak pulls Wolfsong back to his grasp and lets out a roar of his own, stepping into the middle of the dais to meet Varimathras’ charge. As he does so, he grows another foot in height and the draconic features conferred to him by his Blessing of Life all manifest themselves. Horns, claws, tail, and scales.
 
The Dreadlord only has a moment’s time to go wide-eyed at this development, before Rognak sheathes his axe and instead GRABS Varimathras by the shoulders, yanking him in… and breathing draconic flames all over him. Howling in response, the Nathrezim struggles in Rognak’s hold but it’s no use… in the end, the last of the Dreadlord Brothers who helped bring Lordaeron and the old Alliance to its knees is gone, burnt to ash right alongside Putress and sent screaming back to the Twisting Nether.
 
Rognak hoped that when Varimathras reconstituted himself in the Nether, his superiors would make his pain for not just betraying them but failing them so utterly positively legendary.
 
But for now… he simply looks to Sylvanas as the Banshee Queen looks back at him. Her bow remains strapped to her back and she makes no effort to fight him. Instead, she looks almost… pleased at the sight of him. At seeing him in his full draconic glory.
 
Rognak, meanwhile, is seeing something in Sylvanas that he wouldn’t have thought possible. Namely… her intact soul. She’s not fully attached to her body, though she IS wearing her own corpse he notes absently. But her soul… it should be damaged beyond repair. When Arthas slew her with Frostmourne, it should have left her sundered. It was part of WHY the Banshee Queen was always a broken woman who couldn’t help but eventually betray the Living.
 
And yet… against all odds, her soul is whole. Is it because of how Frostmourne was destroyed? Rognak remembers the stream of souls going in every direction that day in the forest. Had Sylvanas’ soul repaired itself over these last couple of years? And if her soul was fully intact and she’d recovered her body… was all hope truly lost to her?
 
Before Rognak can think any further on the answers to those questions, the walls suddenly come alive with ghostly screams as the Banshee Queen’s Dark Rangers, having abandoned their corporeal bodies, come flying out in their proper Banshee Forms. Rognak’s Warsong Druids tense up in preparation to do battle with the spectral spirits, but before that can happen…
 
“Stop!”
 
Sylvanas finally breaks her silence, lifting a single hand and stopping her Dark Rangers in their tracks. Her eyes remain fixated on Rognak himself while she stands there surrounded by the ashes of her former subordinates. And yet… her words are not of hostility or battle.
 
“Leave us. All of you. I will speak with the Horde’s Envoy alone.”
 
In that moment, Rognak knows Sylvanas remembers him. Despite over a hundred years of time, despite death itself… she remembers. Otherwise, this would be the heart of folly, assuming words could be exchanged after he’d quite literally dusted her two advisers like this. Still, when her Dark Rangers follow their Mistress’ will… Rognak turns and nods to his Warsong Druids. All of whom look a little confused but nevertheless file out of the room, taking the trussed up Royal Dreadguards they’ve captured with them.
 
And just like that, it’s Rognak and Sylvanas alone in her throne room…
 
After a moment of silence, Sylvanas makes the first move, stepping forward. Rognak goes still, allowing the Banshee Queen to approach. Her glowing red eyes are fixed not on his face… but on his chest, what little is visible of it from under his druidic robes. Her fingers come up and brush against the dragon scales that can be seen beneath his collar.
 
“… When I first heard your name, I did not dare to hope it would actually be you, Sir Rognak. And yet here you are all the same. Over a hundred years and you haven’t changed a bit. I suppose my little sister was right, wasn’t she? You were a dragon in mortal disguise all along.”
 
For a brief second he considers letting her believe that lie. That might make this all easier, if she thought she was talking to some ancient immortal being that had been old when her civilization was still young. Except… no. That was no way to start this off.
 
“No, Sylvanas.”
 
Blinking, Sylvanas finally looks up at him, a little confused. Feeling slightly bashful, Rognak sighs.
 
“It did involve dragons; I won’t lie to you about that. Specifically the Bronze Dragonflight. They… well, they deal in time and time travel and one of them sent me back in time to save you and your sisters and then brought me back to this time. My proper time. I really am an orc… I’m a little over two decades old. These… draconic features are the result of another dragon granting me a blessing, see. One of the Aspects breathed her life-giving fire down my throat and… and the more I talk the more I’m starting to realize the truth sounds utterly ridiculous compared to the lie, doesn’t it?”
 
As he groans and rubs his brow with his fingers, Sylvanas lets out a laugh before withdrawing her hand from his chest. She looks to her left and right at the ash piles that remain of her Grand Apothecary and her Dreadlord Advisor. Feeling slightly self-conscious but also defensive, Rognak grunts and speaks in a gruff tone.
 
“They were both going to betray you eventually. And even if they weren’t… they were each a blight on this world in their own way. I won’t apologize.”
 
Sylvanas is quiet for a moment before finally looking back at him with a smile.
 
“I know. I was aware that they were already conspiring against me behind my back. Their plans were so long-term that I just didn’t care. It was easier to make use of their unique skill sets for the time being and prepare for their inevitable betrayal later.”
 
Huh. He’d always wondered about that. It’d been contested among ‘fans’ in his past life whether Sylvanas had known what Putress and Varimathras were up to or not and just… let it happen anyways.
 
“Not that it matters anymore, does it? After all… you’re here to kill me.”
 
She says it so nonchalantly, so matter-of-factly, that Rognak takes a moment to respond.
 
“… I was.”
 
One of the Banshee Queen’s eyebrows lifts at that and Rognak just shrugs, unrepentant.
 
“As it currently stands, your existence is a blight on this world, Sylvanas. You and all of your Forsaken. I won’t hear some argument about you lot having a ‘right to live’… for one, you aren’t alive anymore to begin with. Undeath is wrong. Necromancy is wrong, especially the kind that the Scourge practiced and that created all of you in the first place. As you all exist right now… you are wrong.”
 
He expects her to get angry at that. To rant and rage at him in response. It’s surprising that she’s so calm about it. Almost as though she WANTS him to end it… to end her. Except he’s already said he changed his mind though not in so many words. That’s what Sylvanas focuses on, her red eyes narrowing.
 
“What’s changed? If all you say is true… why are you not slaying me where I stand, Sir Rognak?”
 
With a sigh, Rognak peers closely at Sylvanas. Not just at the undead banshee inhabiting her own body standing before him… but at her soul. The Blessing of Life has made him a lot more powerful than he once was. He’s a lot more powerful than Alexstrasza likely ever intended him to be too. Because it’s not just her blessing swirling around inside of him, but also fragments of power from everyone else even remotely related to Nature. And all that power… it’s not additive. It feels more multiplicative than anything. Maybe… maybe even exponential.
 
Alright so at this point he’s stretching the math metaphors to their breaking point and really not making much sense anymore. Really… he just needs to get on with it.
 
“I’m going to try something. Please don’t fight it.”
 
Sylvanas lifts another eyebrow, her favorite past time with him it would seem. But she doesn’t do anything as he reaches for her and takes ahold of her cold lifeless body. Inhabiting her own corpse… well, it’s better than inhabiting someone else’s corpse he supposes. With a shuddering sigh, Rognak focuses… and tries to make things work.
 
Yeah okay, so that’s a terrible explanation. Look, the truth is he has no fucking clue what he’s doing. Closing his eyes, he focuses on Sylvanas’ body and soul and his own incredibly powerful connection to Nature and now Life. Sylvanas spent most of her life as a High Elf, drawing upon the Arcane Might of the Sunwell. Then she was killed by Frostmourne, her soul sundered and Sylvanas herself brought back as a Banshee for Arthas Menethil to torment.
 
But when Frostmourne was shattered, something weird happened. Something Rognak is pretty sure didn’t happen in his other memories. Sylvanas’ soul… was repaired long before it ever should have been possible. And while she wasn’t really connected to her body on account of it being a corpse still… well…
 
Sylvanas suddenly inhales sharply and Rognak’s eyes snap open. What he sees is… not QUITE what he was going for. However, it’s also not a complete failure. Standing before him with glowing green veins, flowers growing out of her hair… and bright verdant green eyes instead of red, is what Rognak can only call a Nature-Forged Undead.
 
Her heart thumps in her chest with the help of vines wrapped around it, forcing it to beat. Oozing sap flows through her veins in place of blood. And yet… for all that she’s effectively on life support, a facsimile of living… Sylvanas Windrunner breathes again. And as she breathes, Rognak feels warmth returning to her flesh under his touch.
 
For a long moment, the Banshee Queen stares at him in amazement. Then, while he’s still struggling to fully understand what the fuck he just did to her, Sylvanas lunges at him. Rognak grunts as he’s taken to his back, but he needn’t worry about it being an attack… not when the former Ranger-General has grabbed hold of his draconic horns and is kissing him deeply, showing her appreciation in the best way she knows possible.
 
As more and more life and warmth returns to her undead flesh, the Dark Lady, now infused with Nature Magic, squirms atop him for a moment before pulling back.
 
“I want… I need you inside of me Sir Rognak. P-Please?”
 
With a huff and a chuckle, Rognak nods. That’s all Sylvanas needs to all but tear her armor away and pull his robes open. His orcish cock comes spilling out into open air, though he’s not really hard yet. After all, he didn’t come here with any intention of bedding an undead. He came here expecting to have to kill her.
 
But Sylvanas doesn’t let that deter her. Glowing emerald eyes filled with avarice, arousal, and excitement, she licks her lips and wraps her hands around his cock, stroking it up and down until he’s getting hard in her grasp. At the same time, she grinds her cunt into base of his dick… and as the rest of her bodily functions are coaxed into a state of half-life by the Nature Magic flowing through her, her pussy begins to moisten, to grow wet with arousal.
 
A moment later and she’s atop him properly, impaling herself on his cock much as she’d done over a hundred years previous in an underground hot spring that he himself had created.
 
Of course, the circumstances are everything and in this case the context of the situation is insanely different. Huffing, puffing, BREATHING for the first time since Arthas Menethil slid Frostmourne into her chest, Sylvanas Windrunner rides him hard and fast, slamming herself down onto his throbbing pole. At the same time, her fingers claw at his scaled chest, before ultimately moving up to his horns, grasping them again.
 
Leaning over him, she stares down into his eyes as she rides him, growling all the while.
 
“How? How have you done this? How do I live again?”
 
Rognak grunts, his hands going to her hips, his big orcish fingers cupping her ass. He doesn’t try and stop her or make her slow down, but he is brutally honest with her.
 
“You don’t. Not fully. I have… managed to force something more akin to Life upon your Undead Existence. However… in doing so, I believe that I can do more for you. I believe I can bring you back fully.”
 
Sylvanas’ eyes widen at that and she rides him even faster. But unlike any other woman who might stutter and stammer while bouncing up and down on a big fat orc cock, she does not. Even with how wet and slick her insides are, her voice remains even in tone… a telltale sign that all is not quite fixed with her even now.
 
“How? Can you do the same for all the others? For more of the Forsaken than just me?”
 
Rognak winces as he thinks about it. Once again, he finds he cannot lie to her. And not just because she’s impaled on his dick right now.
 
“… I don’t know. Probably not all of them. But maybe some? Look… I don’t know if I can even bring you back fully just yet. Or if I’ll be allowed to.”
 
That makes Sylvanas pause, her cunt clenching rhythmically around his cock even as she stares at him blankly for a moment.
 
“Why would you not be allowed to?”
 
Rognak sighs.
 
“Because… to fully bring you back, I believe I’ll need to use the Sunwell.”
 
Sylvanas’ eyes damn near bulge out of her head at that and the Nature-Infused Undead immediately tries to pull away from him. Having anticipated this, Rognak holds her tight, not letting her escape him as he keeps her close. Finally, Sylvanas stutters. She stammers. She’s damn near reduced to a catatonic mess.
 
“N-No… I w-won’t… I won’t let you use me to defile the Sunwell even further. I can’t… I-I already failed my people once, I cannot-!”
 
“Sylvanas! Sylvanas, calm yourself! I am not talking about defiling the Sunwell or Quel’Thalas in the same way Arthas did. I swear it to you.”
 
It takes a second for his words to get through to her, but eventually she slowly stops trying to struggle out of his grasp and listens to him.
 
“As it is right now, the corrupted Sunwell has been destroyed by Prince Kael’thas’ hands. However… I did not come East unprepared. Knowing I was coming to speak with you and that I would also likely wind up visiting the Blood Elves… well, let’s just say Kael’thas is going to want to hear us out. And that if everything goes according to plan, you won’t defile the Sunwell… you’ll be reborn alongside it, resurrected in full.”
 
Sylvanas blinks at that.
 
“How is that possible?”
 
With a smile, Rognak reveals what ELSE he’s hiding in his robes besides the big fat cock that Sylvanas is currently impaled on. When she sees the enchanted unbreakable vials filled with glistening water, the former Ranger-General of Silvermoon goes wide-eyed in shock… and then surges forward, kissing him once more.
 
Rognak just chuckles as they go back to wildly fucking the time away. They’d get to Quel’Thalas eventually. Kael and his Blood Elves could handle being Sunwell-less for a few more hours right?

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