A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

To Fandral’s credit, Archimonde’s opening salvo, while maiming, does not immediately take the Archdruid and his Tree of Eternity out of the fight. Even as fel flames flicker at the stump where the Tree of Eternity’s arm used to be, keeping the Night Elf Druids within the hulking Ancient from repairing it with their Nature Magic, Fandral lets out a roar of challenge… and begins to charge forward.
 
Rognak can only blink before cursing under his breath at the reckless display. Aren’t he and his supposed to be the savages here? Hell, Fandral can’t possibly want to die here, he has too much to do for his dark masters still! But regardless, as much as Rognak might want to leave the treacherous Archdruid to his fate, to let the Defiler slaughter him… he has to intervene.
 
For one, Tyrande has yet to sound the retreat. This means this is still a delaying action. They still have to buy time for Cenarius to prepare the trap for Archimonde. For two, Fandral is not the only Night Elf piloting his Tree of Eternity. And those innocents do not deserve to die simply because Fandral is being a reckless idiot.
 
“Axe!”
 
As Fandral pilots his one armed ancient towards an amused Defiler, Rognak calls out to his own crew of orc druids and begins moving HIS ancient forward at a more reasonable pace. He only has them start picking up speed as wood begins to grow from the Tree of Eternity’s clawing branches, forming into the haft of an axe in rapid order, and growing further on until the ‘blade’ is crafted as well.
 
Made entirely of wood, it is nevertheless supernaturally sharp. A more massive version of Broxigar’s Axe of Cenarius, Rognak can’t help but reflect as he takes hold of the new construct with the ancient’s second hand as well, moving them faster in the direction of Fandral and Archimonde.
 
The Defiler raises a hand, clearly preparing to do away with Fandral’s damaged Tree of Eternity in one wave of fel magic, but before he can do so, Rognak is there, his giant wooden axe suffused with the power of Nordrassil itself coming down towards the Eredar Overlord’s unprotected wrist. To his credit, Archimonde responds with rapid alacrity, clearly sensing the danger as he yanks his arm back out of the way and even takes a step back to give himself space.
 
The Defiler’s eyes narrow and Rognak gets ready to bring up the axe to block another eye beam attack, but rather than immediately strike, Archimonde’s lips merely curl into a savage, vile grin as he locks gazes with the orc druid.
 
“You. The little druid usurper. You’re the one who killed Grommash Hellscream. You’re the reason Mannoroth’s scheme failed. The orcish horde were always Kil’Jaedan pet project more than mine, but even still, to see such… capable foot soldiers weaken themselves with this pathetic tree-hugging is truly a sad sight.”
 
Rognak’s eyes narrow at the obvious provocation. Indeed, he can feel how much Archimonde’s insidious, silken words rankle his fellow orcs, down in the bowels of the Tree of Eternity. But Rognak doesn’t let it get to him. Holding his head high he has his ancient hoist the mammoth-sized wooden axe up in the air.
 
“This pathetic tree-hugger certainly seems to give you pause enough, Defiler.”
 
The massive Demon Lord stiffens at that. It’s immediately obvious he can dish it out but not take it, as he snarls and begins to lean forward. But Rognak isn’t surprised by that. Someone like Archimonde would not be used to being talked back to.
 
Of course, equally true was the fact that someone like Fandral Staghelm was not used to being ignored. There is no warning, as Fandral’s ancient suddenly smashes into Archimonde’s side in a repeat of his earlier maneuver. Unfortunately, this time around it’s not nearly as effective. Unlike Azgalor the Pit Fiend, Archimonde does not go tumbling ass over end. He grunts, catching Fandral’s Tree on its remaining arm and smoldering shoulder as he’s sent skidding back across the ground.
 
From that moment on… battle is joined. Rognak would like to say that he and Fandral fight together, as one but that would be a lie. Their respective ‘crews’ had done no training together. While the concept behind their Trees of Eternity is the same, the execution is far from it. Rognak is the pilot while his crew is each trusted with their own work. Fandral, meanwhile, has taken complete control, with his own fellow Night Elf Druids relegated to feeding their energy into him.
 
It's eerily reminiscent of what Rognak remembers from Fandral’s later actions, and he resolves to make sure that Cenarius checks over the living members of Fandral’s crew after the battle is won… if the battle is won.
 
While Fandral’s direct control allows him faster reaction time, it does not allow for nearly as much adaptability. More than that, the Archdruid’s Tree of Eternity is already maimed by Archimonde’s opening gambit, the fel flames on its stump never going out. In the end, it’s not long before, even facing off against the both of them, Archimonde slams a fist straight through the chest of Fandral Staghelm’s ancient, burning it from the inside out.
 
Only the druids in the arm and legs survive the ensuing sickly green conflagration as the Tree of Eternity itself dies in a blazing explosion. Well, them and Fandral himself, regrettably. Rognak notes the Archdruid shouting as his weakened, smoking form is dragged back from the battlefield. Archimonde would likely have finished them all off, but he still had Rognak to contend with. Rognak and his ranged support.
 
Throughout the battle, the rest of the Night Elves have not stood idly by as he and Fandral piloted their Trees of Eternity against the Legion Commanders. But until now, Shandris, Tyrande, and their Sentinels have been focused on taking down the undead and lesser demons threatening to overwhelm the Night Elf base.
 
However, as Archimonde and Rognak face off against one another, the Defiler’s face split into a confident grin filled with surety and certainty of his impending victory… a barrage of arrows comes flying and strikes him across the face. Some of them are glowing with the radiant light of Elune as well, making the Eredar Overlord rear back for a moment, snarling in fury and rage.
 
Before he can turn his attention their direction however, Rognak urges his Tree forward, getting right in the Defiler’s face and slamming the massive axe in the ancient’s gnarled branches down into Archimonde’s chest. Unfortunately, the Demon Lord has adapted to that, and a shield of fel-fire collected in his palm blocks the axe blow, while his other hand comes up and more fel splatters across the Tree of Eternity’s face and chest.
 
Even still, Rognak doesn’t back down.
 
“Your battle is with ME, Defiler!”
 
Archimonde just chuckles lowly, knowing what they both know… this battle is already almost over.
 
Rognak would like to say that the supporting arrow fire from range helped. That it somehow turned the tide and gave him what he needed to hold Archimonde back indefinitely. But the Eredar Overlord of the Legion was not so easily beaten. He was not so easily held at bay.
 
The Tree of Eternity that Cenarius helped him and his student repurpose for this battle… does not last much longer than Fandral’s did. In the end, Rognak is barely able to force the disengage when Archimonde’s clawing hand comes for the Tree’s chest, just as it did with the Archdruid’s. While the desperate maneuver means that Defiler doesn’t manage to punch straight through the wooden ancient’s chest, the explosion of fel magic is still enough to blast the Tree of Eternity back a hundred yards, falling to the ground half-destroyed and in pieces.
 
Rognak forces himself out from under the dying Tree’s head, his eyes closing for a moment as he sends a pulse of satisfaction and pride through the pilot’s ‘controls’ one final time. The Trees of Eternity that he and Fandral had used in this battle… they were alive. Sapient creatures who had consented to being utilized in this fashion. They were as much casualties of this battle as any of their other losses.
 
… But they’d done well. They’d done well, and Rognak insists on making sure his Tree knows that, before finally pulling free of it and climbing to his feet. As he unslings Wolfsong from his back, Rognak looks around for a moment, letting out an orcish huff at what he sees. If he does not growl, he will whine. If he does not snarl, he will cry.
 
Everywhere he looks, fel flames lick upon Night Elf fortifications. The battlefield is littered with bodies. Far more of the enemy lie dead, the Scourge re-killed in the hundreds if not the thousands by this point. But plenty of Night Elves have been slain. Orcs as well. And he knows… too many of them. Far, far too many of them.
 
His earlier thoughts return to him. This is not a game. These are not ‘units’, nor ‘NPCs’. They are people, individuals who Rognak has come to know. Some, quite well. They have names. Families. Wants and desires. This isn’t a story, damn it… this is the end of the world.
 
Archimonde, in the wake of his triumph over Rognak and the Tree of Eternity, has taken a moment to stop and gloat over his impending victory.
 
“Bahahaha! This?! This is what you Night Elves mustered?! If I had known it would be this easy, I would have returned to your world to crush you all CENTURIES ago!”
 
Spreading his arms wide, smiling wickedly, Archimonde’s eyes flash a sickly green.
 
“Come! Where is your fire, mortals?! Where is your passion?! Ten THOUSAND years, and this is all you can muster?!”
 
Rognak knows, of course, that there’s a reason they’re not fighting with all they have. It’s for the trap. It’s all for the trap. But the trap isn’t ready yet… and Archimonde’s words rankle something fierce.
 
For most of his life, Rognak has not felt the orcish bloodlust like most of his kind. He was born with a fel taint that was cleansed by his connection to Nature, and so he did not share in the same curse that Grommash and so many others shared in before Mannoroth’s death.
 
And yet… in that moment, surrounded by bodies, both of elves and orcs, Rognak thinks he might know what it feels like, to be overcome with an orcish rage. He thinks he might know what true fury means to an orc. It starts low in his belly, before expanding upwards into his chest. It starts with huffing and growling and snarling as his grip on Wolfsong tightens and he slowly begins to move forward.
 
What starts as plodding, pained steps becomes a more rapid movement in short order. Archimonde has just begun to turn away as Rognak propels himself forward, sprinting at the hulking Demon Lord by this point.
 
“ARCHIMONDE!”
 
As the Defiler starts to turn back, Rognak is already transforming, taking on the same form he took when he slew Mannoroth. The power in the back legs alone is enough to allow him to leap high into the air, though Archimonde towers over even the Pit Fiend he killed in height. And yet… there’s enough height for Rognak to reach the Eredar Overlord’s chest. Enough height for him to reach the blackened, charred spot on his exposed blue flesh where Thrall’s lightning bolt struck true not too long ago.
 
“YOUR BATTLE… IS WITH ME!”
 
His voice comes out even more guttural than usual, but his words are clear all the same. With a howl, Rognak slams Wolfsong home into that crack in Archimonde’s skin, sinking his Nature-Blessed Axe into the Demon Lord’s chest. The Defiler’s eyes widen and he howls in true pain as Wolfsong bites DEEP. Rognak feels a sense of pure satisfaction to go along with his raw fury as he pumps every ounce of power he can claw from his connection to Nature into the move.
 
Unfortunately, what killed Mannoroth in a single blow is not enough to kill Archimonde. The Defiler certainly feels pain… but so does Rognak when the Demon Lord backhands him off a moment later, sending the druid flying into the ground, Wolfsong wrenched from his grasp and thrown far as well.
 
Disarmed, Rognak grunts as he lands on the forest floor, the air knocked out of his transformed lungs. He immediately begins healing, but not quickly enough… not by a long shot. As Archimonde looms over him, Rognak grits his teeth, glaring up at his doom.
 
“RETREAT! FALL BACK!”
 
… And there it is. A sense of relief washes over Rognak, even as the retreat is finally called. The signal that Cenarius is ready to go, that the trap for Archimonde is laid. Of course, it’s much too late for Rognak to get away. The call for retreat distracts Archimonde for only a moment, the Eredar Overlord looking away for a beat before looking back down at Rognak and chuckling darkly.
 
“The moment they see their Champion fall, they run away. Truly, the mortals of Azeroth have become weak in our absence. But you… you, little usurper, have earned my personal attention. I will enjoy killing you and then taking your soul back with me to the Nether. I’m curious what sort of demon you might become. But first…”
 
Archimonde reaches down, his hand moving to close around Rognak, likely to lift him up or even just smash or crush him. But while Rognak is disarmed… he is never truly defenseless. His claws pulse with Nature Energy the moment that Archimonde’s line of sight is cut off, and he takes a vicious sense of satisfaction in driving them up into the Eredar Overlord’s blue palm, channeling every bit of the patronage Cenarius said he could call upon in that moment.
 
Another howl leaves Archimonde’s lips as he rears back. He no longer looks amused or happy in the slightest after that. And instead of reaching for him again, he lifts up one of his hooves, intending on stomping Rognak into paste before making good on his word regarding the orc druid’s soul.
 
But then… if this is to be the end, so be it. Rognak can only hope that everything he’s done up to this point will give Azeroth more of a fighting chance. If he can have averted even a handful of the tragedies that will befall this world via his actions, then it will have been worth it.
 
As the hoof descends, blotting out his vision, Rognak lets his eyes drift shut and waits for the end to come.
 
… And yet, it never does. And when a second turns into five and Rognak is still conscious, albeit in pain, he finds himself opening his eyes again to see that he’s staring up, not at Archimonde’s rapidly approaching hoof… but at Lady Jaina Proudmoore, the blonde mage smiling a watery smile, having used the last drops of her magic to remove him from the battlefield.
 
“You… saved me.”
 
Jaina holds her head high, even as she gives him a tired but satisfied smile. Meanwhile, Thrall’s voice echoes from Rognak’s other side, making the orc druid realize that Horde’s Warchief is there as well.
 
“She saved all of us.”
 
Back straight, Jaina lets out a single explosive breath.
 
“Yes. Yes I did.”
 
She sounds very pleased with herself, but then… she damn well should. It was always the plan to have Jaina evacuate her people and then the Horde Base as well, but it was also understood that by the time the Night Elf Base fell, she would be completely out of mana. Those defending at the base of Nordrassil were expected to get out of the way all on their own, which was why Tyrande had to call a retreat in the first place.
 
Pushing himself up into a seated position through no small amount of effort and with some help from Thrall, Rognak looks off into the distance, just in time to see Archimonde growing even more massive than he already was. The Defiler’s voice rings across the Summit of Mount Hyjal in all directions.
 
“Pathetic cowards, all of you. Run and hide, mortals. You have failed. At long last, my victory is complete.”
 
And then…
 
BAROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
 
As Archimonde reaches for the World Tree, as he grows in size to match the majestic height of Nordrassil itself, Cenarius blows his horn… and sets off the trap they’d spent so many lives buying time for. Rognak watches as thousands upon thousands of burning wisps slam into Archimonde and Nordrassil, igniting the World Tree. The energy of which increases the resulting explosion a hundredfold, leaving the Defiler fully engulfed.
 
The Eredar Lord HOWLS, burning to ash along with the remains of his armies. Rognak can’t help but smile, a swell of pride filling his tired, aching, pained body. Though there’s also a hint of worry too. Did the others manage to-?
 
But just as he’s thinking that, there’s a commotion at the end of the evacuation point, as those who retreated from the Night Elf Base, including his remaining druidic students, finally arrive. Making eye contact with Shandris Feathermoon, Rognak can’t help the dopey smile that spreads across his face at seeing that she’s safe.
 
And then his eyes begin to droop close, and he passes out on the spot. His last thought before consciousness flees him is that he’s glad she’s alright.

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