A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

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“Cairne, brother! Good to have you with us.”
 
“Warchief. Good to be able to answer the call. Your battles are our battles.”
 
Thrall smiles as he clasps arms with the Bloodhoof Chieftain, feeling bolstered by Cairne’s very presence. The Tauren Brave has been a source of stability for as long as Thrall has known him, and he has always welcomed Cairne’s advice. Perhaps his words will be of some use here… at the very least, it can’t hurt to have a fresh set of eyes on the problem at hand.
 
“Well, we’re still trying to figure out if there will even be a battle, I must admit. Come, let me show you to the command tent.”
 
Cairne grunts, waving off the rest of the Tauren to set up camp nearby. The warriors that the Tauren Chieftain has brought along with him are only the latest arrivals to a series of camps that sprawls across the lower coast of Durotar as well as the coast of the Barrens at this point. The small goblin trading post of Ratchet has all but been commandeered at this point as well, with the natural harbor it’s being built on becoming their cove for the Night Elf Fleet that journeyed down from Nendis.
 
Ratchet’s leader, a goblin named Gazlowe, was thoroughly unimpressed by the army suddenly parked not just on his doorstep, but literally in his home. But Thrall didn’t really feel all that bad about it because Ratchet itself was built on the gold that Gazlowe had made by fleecing Thrall to hell and back on the early construction of Orgrimmar.
 
Of course, Rognak was even less concerned with the idea of ‘goblin property’ and Gazlowe had quickly learned to make himself quite scarce around the Warsong Chieftain. Rognak might not hate goblins as much as he hated warlocks and undead, but he made no secret of his intense distaste for the money-grubbing race all the same. According to him, the vast majority of goblins would literally bring about the end of the world if it would make them some extra gold.
 
In this particular case, Thrall and Rognak did not entirely agree. Sure, goblins were greedy to a fault more often than not, but at least they hadn’t sided with the Burning Legion. Yes, they’d only agreed to work for the Horde AFTER Thrall had paid them exorbitant amounts of gold, but at the very least they’d stepped up and hadn’t failed to do their part.
 
Still, as said, Rognak didn’t hate goblins so much that he had tried to convince Thrall to ban them from Horde lands as fel magic and necromancy were banned. But there was no denying that the orc druid was enjoying invading goblin space a little too much… perhaps because it took his mind off of the situation at hand.
 
Leading Cairne into a large war tent, they come to find the other leaders of this growing army waiting for them. On one side of the tent is Vol’jin, quietly watching as Rognak pours over maps set across a table showing the latest numbers of Kul Tiran vessels and Theramore’s defenses. On the other side of the table and tent are High Priestess Whisperwind and General Feathermoon, the two Night Elves having arrived with their fleet just a couple of days ago.
 
“Rognak, Cairne has arrived.”
 
Glancing up, Rognak blinks at the sight of the large Tauren Chieftain before distractedly nodding.
 
“Good.”
 
His gruff one word response makes Thrall bristle… but he lets it slide. The Warchief may not understand personally what Rognak is going through right now, but he doesn’t need to have experienced parenthood himself to sympathize with Rognak’s plight. His pregnant mate is trapped behind enemy lines. That’s more than enough to give the other orc some leeway here.
 
Cairne, meanwhile, steps forward and clears his throat, the older Tauren bowing his head in Rognak’s direction.
 
“I understand the panic you feel, young Rognak. If my son Baine were taken from me, if he were lost to me… I do not know what I would do. My heart would die with my son I imagine, and I would become an empty husk unfit for the title of Chieftain.”
 
Ah, that was right. Cairne was a father to a young tauren male, wasn’t he? Thrall had never met the boy, but he’d heard plenty of good things about him. Still, he was a couple years too young to go to war, wasn’t he?
 
Rognak startles at Cairne’s words and suddenly looks up from the maps, his eyes wide as if he’s just seeing Cairne for the first time. Thrall furrows his brow, wondering at the expression on the druid’s face.
 
“Baine… yes… how goes your resettlement of Mulgore, High Chieftain?”
 
Cairne rears back a little bit in surprise, clearly taken aback.
 
“… I am surprised you’d heard about that. Yes, things go well in Mulgore. Thunder Bluff is settled and I have been named High Chieftain of the Tauren as well as Chieftain of the Bloodhoof Tribe.”
 
Cairne looks to Thrall and inclines his head apologetically.
 
“I wished to tell you later, Warchief. My people are unified and ready to serve the Horde. I have not just brought Bloodhoof Braves, but warriors and hunters from every tribe who wish to fight for the Horde that has in turn fought for us.”
 
Thrall just nods, a little surprised to hear that Cairne was able to unify the tribes so fast. Also a little surprised that Rognak knew before he did, but then…
 
“Except the threat isn’t truly passed, is it? The centaur still roam the plains, if in smaller numbers.”
 
Rognak’s words resound through the war tent, causing Cairne to narrow his eyes at the orc druid.
 
“Hm. Indeed. But not for long, young Chieftain. I assure you of that.”
 
A crooked smile spreads across Rognak’s face as he steps away from the table for what might be the first time in hours and thrusts out a hand for Cairne to take. As the two clasp arms, Rognak’s eyes are solemn.
 
“Agreed. Once we’re done here… once we’ve saved Lady Proudmoore and freed Theramore from her father’s tyranny, my Warsong Druids and I shall journey back to Mulgore with you and assist you in cleaning the centaur from your plains. They have been a threat to the balance and a blight on the natural beauty of Mulgore for long enough.”
 
Now Cairne looks both surprised and touched as he slowly inclines his head at Rognak’s words. Thrall, meanwhile, is just staring strangely at his fellow orc. This is another vision thing, isn’t it? Has Nature itself given Rognak some indication of something that might happen concerning the centaur and Cairne in the future? It certainly seems so if Rognak is so intent on intervening. Still…
 
“Have there been any changes since the last report?”
 
Thrall’s words get them back on track as Rognak releases Cairne’s arm and lets out a huff of frustration, spinning back to the table.
 
“… No. Theramore remains a fortress surrounded by the Kul Tiran Fleet. There have been no attacks, no aggressive moves of any kind. They’ve all pulled back to the waters surrounding Theramore Isle and are in a holding pattern there. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
 
Thrall frowns as he comes to stand beside Rognak, looking down at the maps and the reports. By all rights, the fleet of ships from Kul Tiras was massive. They could have easily defended Theramore AND started harassing the Horde’s coastline at this point. And everything that they knew of Lord Admiral Proudmoore said he should have done exactly that. And yet… he was acting scared. Or at least far more conservatively then any of them would have expected.
 
“Maybe da hoomans be scared, mon. Dey know dey can’t face us in da open, so dey hidin’.”
 
Vol’jin’s opinion comes tinged with a hint of irritation and annoyance. One of the first things they’d asked the Darkspear Trolls to do was evacuate some of their coastal villages out of fear that the Kul Tiran Fleet would charge in and destroy them before the Horde’s growing army could respond. But the days had gone by and no such attacks had emerged.
 
The Trolls had seemingly evacuated for nothing, though Thrall knew that Vol’jin at least understood it was better to be safe than sorry. Still, it was likely that the Darkspear Chieftain was having to field all sorts of complaints from his own people, leading to the irritation bleeding through here and now. Thrall isn’t sure Rognak even hears it though as the other orc waves his hand dismissively.
 
“That’s not it. The Kul Tiran Marines are armed with rifles of the same make that Jaina’s people used to great effect during the Invasion of Kalimdor. And their ships are all armed to the teeth with as many cannons as they can safely pack on them. They aren’t scared of a fight. Or at least, they shouldn’t be.”
 
Stepping up to the table, Tyrande presses her lips tightly together.
 
“There have been no altercations between these… Kul Tiran vessels and my own. They’ve definitely seen us from a distance, but we’ve made no move to get closer and they’ve made no efforts to pursue or fire upon our ships. I do not know if that would be the case if we were more obviously allied with the Horde or not… but it is telling.”
 
Thrall had to agree that it was. What exactly was going through Daelin Proudmoore’s mind? Why was the Lord Admiral acting as though he could simply hole up in Theramore and defend it against all comers? Frowning, Thrall voices that thought in particular.
 
“He’s acting almost like he’s here on a mission of salvation, not war. As though he thinks he has to protect his daughter and all she’s built from something… us, perhaps?”
 
Rognak just growls.
 
“That doesn’t make any sense. Neither Jaina nor Theramore have been in any danger from us. We’ve fought side by side and had zero altercations between our peoples in the last year. Theramore isn’t some beleaguered city state assailed on all sides and even if the Lord Admiral thought it was, he should have realized by now that it was fine and begun attacking us.”
 
Silence falls for a long moment before Cairne speaks up.
 
“… Hm, perhaps he doesn’t know what to do.”
 
Eyes turn towards the Tauren High Chieftain, with Rognak’s eyes narrowing as he frowns most severely.
 
“Explain.”
 
Tilting his head to the side, Cairne shrugs.
 
“Perhaps the human leader is frozen in indecision. Perhaps he came to Kalimdor believing one thing, only to discover another. Lady Proudmoore’s state… do you think he knew about it before arriving?”
 
Rognak seems to mull that over for a long moment before finally shaking his head.
 
“… No, I don’t think so. The timing doesn’t quite add up. For him to be here because of her pregnancy, someone would have had to contact him directly via magic, I should think. It’s more likely that word finally reached Kul Tiras of Theramore’s collusion with the Horde.”
 
Cairne just nods along with that, before spreading his hands apart.
 
“Then perhaps the Lord Admiral came for one thing… and discovered something else entirely. Perhaps he finds himself frozen in indecision, torn between the hatred for your people you say he possesses, and the love for his daughter… who has taken an orc lover and will give birth to a half-orc child.”
 
Cairne’s words sit heavily in the war tent as Rognak processes them for a long moment. Thrall wonders if Cairne might be on to something. At the same time, everything he knows about the Kul Tiran Lord Admiral says that Daelin Proudmoore wasn’t the kind of man to hesitate. Not usually anyways…
 
“… I don’t know how the Lord Admiral would react to finding out Jaina is pregnant with my child. That is the wild card in this entire situation, I must admit. But… the Old Horde killed Daelin Proudmoore’s eldest son during the Second War. He advocated quite strongly for our destruction following that war, and while he didn’t pull out of the Alliance entirely when he didn’t get what he wanted, he and Kul Tiras were not happy about it.”
 
Letting out an explosive breath, Rognak looks back down at the maps and the reports and then looks to Thrall.
 
“… We need to move forward with the original plan, Warchief. With the Night Elf Fleet, we can ferry our troops along the coast out of sight of the Kul Tirans and set up our forces on the northern beaches of Dustwallow Marsh. The Night Elves have brought some of their glaive throwers, and I know we have some catapults from Orgrimmar as well, yes?”
 
Thrall grunts and nods.
 
“Indeed. And if we need to, we can procure more siege equipment from the goblins in Ratchet as well.”
 
Rognak snorts derisively at that.
 
“So long as ‘procure’ means ‘take without paying’, I’m on board with that plan. No need to pad those little money-grubbers’ pockets any further, I say.”
 
Thrall wisely doesn’t dignify that with a response. He’ll pay Gazlowe for any resources they have to take from Ratchet as they head south because it’s the right thing to do, Rognak’s biases notwithstanding. But the Warsong Chieftain doesn’t need to know that. Still glaring down at the maps, Rognak nods to himself.
 
“A show of overwhelming force. If the Lord Admiral IS hesitating out of some indecision or fear… then showing him just how outmatched he is might be our best chance of convincing him to stand down. There doesn’t need to be a war here. There doesn’t need to be a battle. Theramore Isle is safe. The civilized races of Kalimdor are united in peace. We can do this…”
 
If Thrall didn’t know any better, he’d say Rognak was mostly trying to convince himself more than anyone else in the tent. Perhaps that’s why the orc druid’s other lover, Shandris Feathermoon, steps forward and places a comforting hand on Rognak’s shoulder. And yet, Thrall still feels compelled to ask the obvious…
 
“Say that it works, Rognak. Say that we manage to get in position and display our overwhelming numbers to the Kul Tirans occupying Theramore. What then? Where do we go from there?”
 
Rognak’s shoulders hunch for a moment and he shoots Shandris a glance before throwing Thrall a crooked smile.
 
“… I have an idea, but you’re not going to like it.”
 
Thrall raises an eyebrow at that and everyone waits to hear what Rognak is going to say. When the orc druid finally explains, the Warchief quickly realizes he’s right. Thrall doesn’t like Rognak’s plan. Nor does anyone else. And yet… somehow the druid manages to convince them all to go along with it anyways. Too persuasive for his own good in the Warchief’s humble opinion.
 
Still, as they all move to carry out their parts of the plan, Thrall can’t help but wonder what was happening in Theramore during this time. What exactly was going through the Lord Admiral’s mind?

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