A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

A/N: If you've enjoyed reading this story and want to hop on board my next story right at the moment of its conception, please check out The Soul Engine for me! It just started and I'm really excited for it~

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Needless to say, Rognak does not go down into the Cleft of Shadow alone. He’s not an idiot. Instead, he makes a stop by the Warsong Grove and gathers up a collection of his students, pulling mostly from those who had NOT gone with him to Northrend. The veterans of the Northrend Campaign deserved their rest and Rognak turned away the few who were still in the area and offered to join him. They weren’t the ones who had let this rot fester right under their noses the same as the Warchief did. Let those who had stayed on Kalimdor prove themselves was his thinking.
 
Rolling up on the Cleft of Shadow with a posse, Rognak reflects upon his ‘memories’ of the area as they descend into the shadowed depths. In the game, the Cleft had been home to rogues and warlocks. It was a place occupied by all of Orgrimmar’s less savory citizens and was commonly considered dangerous in a way most of the rest of the city was not.
 
Of course, that was a video game. This was the real world. In reality, the Cleft of Shadow is not just one underground cavern, but a whole series of caves. There is still the main cavern, but with so many winding paths splitting off from it, finding what he wanted wasn’t going to be easy. Especially because there was no gaping hole leading to Ragefire Chasm like in the game.
 
Obviously they’d hidden it, which was why Thrall didn’t know of its existence in the first place.
 
… Clearly, Rognak’s actions had had unforeseen consequences yet again. The Searing Blade Cult wasn’t supposed to be a problem for a few more years. Or at the very least, they weren’t supposed to fall on Thrall’s radar for a few more years. However, Rognak suspected that the outlawing of Fel Magic and Demonology had… propelled these dissidents along. By banning warlocks from the Horde, they’d inadvertently pushed said demonologists right into the hands of the Legion, causing the Searing Blade to pop up much earlier than before.
 
Either that or they had always been around this early in time and the banning of warlocks had simply made their discovery all the faster. Whichever one it was… in the end it didn’t really matter, did it? The fact was, Rognak was confident that Ragefire Chasm still existed and that if the Searing Blade also existed, the cult was hiding out in its depths. It would be embarrassing if he was wrong of course, but in the end there was only one way to find out.
 
As he and his Warsong Druids come to a stop in the center of the main cavern within the Cleft of Shadow, Rognak pulls Wolfsong off of his back and reaches down towards the earth. Even here, in the depths of shadow, Nature exists. Mushrooms. Mosses. Other sorts of plant life. Ah… but it’s all too easy for someone like him to make something… more.
 
While there are no warlocks visible from where he stands in the center of the main cavern, there are still plenty of ne’er dowels about. Orcs and trolls mostly, but Rognak even sees the odd tauren here and there. All of them are looking at him and his Warsong Druids with confusion, distrust, and vague hostility in their gazes… but it simply doesn’t matter.
 
“I am Rognak, Chieftain of the Warsong Clan! You may think that because Warchief Thrall is too busy building our people a new home that he has willingly turned a blind eye to your nefarious actions. You would be wrong.”
 
Immediately, the gathered roguish types all bristle and glare harder at that. One of them even has the gall to step forward and snarl.
 
“Who are you to tell us our business, huh? Ain’t no chieftains or warchiefs down here!”
 
Rognak grins a big, toothy grin. Sometimes they made it too damn easy.
 
“There is now.”
 
And with that, he acts. Bringing a glowing Wolfsong down into the ground in front of him, Rognak slashes at the ground for seemingly no reason. However, the Nature Energy wafting off of his Blessed Axe seeps into the earth… and a moment later the wound he makes sprouts new life as a massive tree begins to grow out of the dirt at his feet.
 
Shouts of shock and surprise as criminals and vagabonds alike rear back abound. Especially because it’s not just Rognak and his tree. The entire main cavern of the Cleft comes alive with nature as roots sprout from the earth, leafy green plant life coming from every direction. His fellow druids watch in awe as the criminal elements who made the Cleft their home all cry out in confusion.
 
It takes them a moment to realize he’s not actually attacking them… At least not directly. Not a single hair on their heads is harmed. Not a single one of them is struck. Instead… Rognak is attacking their bolt holes. Their hiding places. Their very way of life, despicable as it is.
 
As more and more plant life grows from the walls, ceiling, and floor, the whole Cleft of Shadow loses its namesake. The shadows are obliterated by glowing lichen and iridescent moss. Everywhere you look, bioluminescent plants come to life, making it impossible to hide anything.
 
With the roots tearing up the walls and ground, it doesn’t take Rognak long to find what he’s REALLY looking for. His grin widens as he turns to a certain part of the main cavern’s wall, his eyes glittering as he lifts Wolfsong… and throws it. The axe whips through the air and slams into and then through the wall, weakened ahead of time by his entangling roots. The wall crumbles, revealing a dark passage that leads deep into the earth… deep into Ragefire Chasm itself.
 
Looking around, Rognak can see that most of the Cleft’s less-than-savory denizens are already beating a hasty retreat. Gathering up their things, they’re fleeing from the central cavern. Some make for the main tunnel back to the surface… those are the smart ones. Others head for the smaller tunnels and the side caverns, where they’ll find that Rognak has been very thorough. There are no more shadows in the Cleft. Only light. Only life.
 
Some remain though, he’s pleased to note. Not ALL of the people who called the Cleft home were criminals. Some were just trying to get by… and given its location, the Cleft was a cheap place to live. He sees these types actually sticking around, showing the sort of fearlessness that only those with absolutely nothing to lose have to them.
 
Turning to his fellow druids, Rognak nods his head towards the remaining denizens of the Cleft.
 
“Tend to the lost, brothers. Make sure they are fed and comfortable. Show them how to appreciate what this cavern can now give to them and show them how to give back.”
 
His students all bow their heads in acceptance, though one does speak up, his brow furrowed.
 
“… What will you be doing, Chieftain?”
 
Rognak grins and turns back to the entrance to Ragefire Chasm.
 
“Taking out the trash.”
 
Then, yanking Wolfsong back into his hand via vine, he hoists his trusty axe up onto his shoulder and descends into the Chasm’s depths. Suffer not the Warlock to live. Slay the Demon. Purge Fel from this world wherever it was found. These tenets were tenets Rognak was more than happy to live by. And they were tenets he would hopefully be fulfilling quite soon indeed.
 
-x-X-x-
 
“Intruder!”
 
“What?! How many?!”
 
“Just one, but he-urk!”
 
Rognak laughs. It’s not a nice laugh, but he can’t help himself. He has to admit, he’s more than a little pleased to be proven so dramatically right. As he rampages through Ragefire Chasm on a solo extermination mission, he does so with a massive grin on his face… and fury in his eyes.
 
On the one hand, he’s all too pleased to be proven completely and categorically right. The Searing Blade WAS hidden away in Ragefire Chasm, tucked beneath Orgrimmar like an infestation. On the other hand… he hated to be right. He hated that a bunch of filthy warlocks had managed to start a cult right under their noses.
 
More than anything… he hated all of them and their demon-worshipping asses. As he cuts and cleaves his way through cultist after cultist, fighting deeper and deeper into the Chasm, Rognak lets himself let go. He doesn’t hold back even slightly. And as a result… it’s not a remotely fair fight. Some of them have Fel Magic that they try and throw at him of course, but most of them are novices. Most of them can’t do more than summon a regular old arcane fireball or try and attack him with a dagger.
 
Yeah. Needless to say, dagger does not beat axe. Certainly not the axe that used to belong to Grommash Hellscream, that used to be called Gorehowl of all things.
 
Rognak barely even has to use his druidic abilities save for against the larger groups when they try to swarm him. He keeps track of just how many he kills at first but stops counting over a couple dozen. Hopefully this is most of the orc warlocks left on Kalimdor concentrated here, but Rognak knows he’s not that lucky. Still…
 
“You! How did you find us?!”
 
Ah, and there it is. Rognak pulls himself to a stop and turns to find all three of the Searing Blade’s leaders have chosen to confront him as one. How nice of them to make it easy for him. He regards the trio for a moment. His second set of memories helpfully supplies him with their names.
 
Taragaman the Hungerer is a Felguard, an exceedingly muscular demon with a massive felblade in his hands. Bazzalan is a Satyr, one of those goat-like demons that could trace their origins back to the now-deceased Nightmare Lord. And finally, last and probably least among them is the only orc… Jergosh the Invoker. Likely their pet if Rognak had to put his money on things. Demons didn’t like to share power after all, and Jergosh had all the markings of a warlock who had gone in too deep and wound up on the wrong end of the leash.
 
Chuckling darkly, Rognak regards the three of them quietly for a moment, watching as they all tense up upon realizing he has no intention of answering the question. Before they can attack however, he DOES break the silence to say something else.
 
“You know… I recently found myself in Northrend. Terribly cold place. You all wouldn’t know anything about it, I suspect.”
 
He glances around at the lava pointedly, leaving them all confused at what the fuck he was even talking about. Rognak DID have a point to his words though. Trust him.
 
“While I was there, I got to meet the Green Dragonflight. And me and my comrades impressed them enough that they taught us a little… trick.”
 
He lifts Wolfsong into the air… and sheathes it on his back, once again throwing the leaders of the Searing Blade for a loop. Then, he inhales deeply and opens his mouth. Taragaman is the only one to actually manage to act, the Felguard trying at the last second to surge forward and stop him. Unfortunately for the demon, he’s much too late.
 
Out of Rognak’s mouth unleashes a torrent of green flames all over the trio. They come spilling forth from deep within Rognak’s very essence, drawing upon his power… of which there is QUITE a lot. He roars as he does it, breathing a miniature version of a Green Dragon’s Fire Breath all over the three cult leaders. Wherever the flames land on the ground, they produce plant life. Grass. Flowers. All that great stuff.
 
But where they hit the demons and their warlock pet… they burn. They burn away the Fel like nothing else, tearing through the chaotic element and introducing the base concept of Nature in its place.
 
Neither Taragaman or Bazzalan survive the experience. Jergosh does… but he definitely wishes he didn’t, with how he’s left a wheezing, half-alive mess of an orc by the time it’s done. Stomping forward, Rognak towers over Jergosh, the warlock trying to say something… but ultimately failing. Rognak just snorts and unslings Wolfsong one last time before bringing it down on Jergosh’s head for a mercy kill.
 
“Yeah. I really don’t care.”
 
 THUNK.
 
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The only creatures he leaves alive when he finally departs from the Chasm is the Troggs. They didn’t do anything wrong as far as he’s concerned, so he sees no reason to slaughter Ragefire’s native population. Meanwhile, back in the Cleft, things are going great. The whole place has been transformed, and the remaining denizens of the caverns beneath Orgrimmar are learning at the feet of his Warsong Druids how to take care of their new home. Some might even decide to become druids one day, but Rognak will be happy if they simply learn to respect nature in general.
 
Leaving the Cleft behind, he makes his way back to Thrall and is quickly admitted to see the Warchief once he shows up. Before Thrall can even speak, Rognak tosses a bag of insignias onto the table next to the original one, letting it open and them spill out in a multitude.
 
“The Searing Blade is no more, Warchief. Those filthy demon lovers will not trouble the Horde… not ever again.”
 
Thrall stares at the insignias for a moment before letting out a low breath.
 
“… So then you were correct. They truly were hiding in that place you spoke of… this… Ragefire Chasm?”
 
Rognak nods solemnly.
 
“Indeed. But no more. The only creatures down there now are troggs and so long as we don’t intrude on their home any further, they’ll likely prove to be relatively harmless. As for the Cleft of Shadow… it’s undergone renovations. I believe my druids will be making it a second home away from the Grove from now on.”
 
He’s envisioning something akin to the Spirit Rise over in Thunderbluff that he remembers from his other life. A place where just because the sun doesn’t reach it, doesn’t mean it’s full of villains and malcontents. The Cleft can be more than just a criminal hangout spot, he figures.
 
Thrall stiffens for a moment… but then relaxes, nodding his head in agreement.
 
“Hm, very well. I suppose I should thank you for your help. Oh by the way… there’s a letter from Theramore for you. It came while you were away in Northrend.”
 
Wait what? Rognak blinks owlishly.
 
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
 
Thrall just raises an eyebrow, even as he finds the letter and carries it over to hand it to Rognak.
 
“The Searing Blade seemed like the more pressing matter to me. Jaina Proudmoore is a powerful mage after all. Whatever she had to tell you in a letter must not be overly time sensitive, right? Besides… once you found out about the warlocks, you left too fast for me to bring it up.”
 
Rognak can only nod at that. Thrall is right, he supposes. Not only had Rognak nearly blown a gasket and then rushed out of here as fast as he possibly could… well, Thrall was right, there was also no reason for Jaina to send a letter if it wasn’t important, right? They called it snail mail for a reason in his old world. She would have just used her magic to get word to him somehow instead if it was time sensitive, Rognak assumed.
 
Shrugging, the orc druid opens up the letter and begins to read, eyes darting back and forth across the page. Then, he stops, hitting upon a certain word. His eyes widen and his countenance pales.
 
Thrall frowns, tilting his head to the side.
 
“Rognak? Is everything okay?”
 
But even though it’s a breach in decorum… Rognak doesn’t answer the Warchief. He doesn’t even bother saying goodbye. He turns and runs out of the room as fast as his legs will carry him, and as soon as he’s under the open sky, he takes flight as a wyvern, moving as fast as his wings will carry him as well.
 
He… he has to get to Theramore. He has to get to Jaina. Nothing else matters.

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