A Savage Nature (Warcraft)

Mannoroth was dead. Not permanently, that much Rognak knew from his other set of memories. Demons couldn’t be killed permanently, at least not in this world without some very specific circumstances. If they died on Azeroth, they were sent kicking and screaming back to the Twisting Nether. Still, the more powerful they were, the harder it could be for them to pull themselves back together again.
 
The Pit Lord was always destined to die here on Kalimdor in this time period. But Rognak’s actions had not only significantly moved up the time table for Mannoroth’s death while also safeguarding Cenarius’ life, they’d also resulted in a lot less corruption as a result of the Pit Lord’s demise. All thanks to the blessing that Cenarius had given Hellscream’s axe.
 
… His axe now. Looking down at the weapon, holding it in his hands, Rognak felt it to his very core. This axe was his axe. It was like it was bound to his very soul. In fact, it might not even be appropriate to call it Gorehowl any longer, though what he was going to call this new weapon instead still eluded him.
 
Whatever Cenarius had done to it, it had become a conduit for nature energy. Which was a little surprising, because on the one hand, druids and large bladed weapons didn’t mix. You could have something large, or you could have something bladed as a druid. Not one or the other. You could have a staff, or you could wield a dagger. It was a trade-off, to be sure.
 
And yet… at the same time, the two-handed war-axe like he was holding in his hands right now was the epitome of orc culture. Almost all of his warriors wielded axes, as a matter of fact. So in the end, if an orc druid WAS going to buck the trend, then it made sense that he would do so with an axe like this one. And indeed, if the Lord of the Forest was going to enchant a weapon for their fight against Mannoroth, then Rognak supposed it would be an axe… given what he recalled of the Axe of Cenarius, created ten-thousand years ago but not due to show up in this world for another few years.
 
Ugh, time travel. Best for him not to think about it too hard. He had more than enough on his plate at this point. Neither the Bronze nor the Infinite had come after him yet. Not in the twenty years he’d spent in Lordaeron, and not on this day, after he’d so dramatically changed the events that might have taken place here.
 
If the Bronze were going to show up, he figures they would have now. Though maybe that was just him telling himself that to feel better about the situation. Ultimately, he wasn’t going to let their policies stop him. He was going to do what was best for his people, no matter what.
 
Luckily, that seemed to be working pretty well so far. Mannoroth’s pool had been destroyed without a single member of the Warsong Clan drinking from the corrupted demonic blood. Not for lack of trying, but the clan had come together and stopped those who could not stop themselves until he was done.
 
Then… Mannoroth himself had been destroyed in a battle that should have seen all of their deaths. Only the timely arrival of the Night Elf Sentinels and Cenarius himself had seen the day saved. Only the Lord of the Forest’s blessing had allowed him to deliver not just the finishing blow to Mannoroth, but also erase the Pit Lord’s disgusting remains from their world before they could do any harm to the forest of Ashenvale.
 
Letting out a low sigh, Rognak turns his thoughts towards the Night Elf Sentinels who had fought with them. By this point in time, the enmity between their two peoples should have already started. By now, Cenarius should have been dead and the Sentinels in full retreat from demonically infused Fel Orcs. But that hadn’t happened. And now… now he didn’t know what the future would hold.
 
Needless to say, he’d been more than a little nervous about the Warsong Clan comingling with the Sentinels this early. Were they ready for such a thing? In the wake of their shared victory, it made sense to celebrate a hard-fought battle. Only a handful of orcs had died, but they’d quickly seen to their funeral rites, burning them each on pyres. Among them was Grommash Hellscream, his remains brought with them from the site of the Mak’gora where he fell.
 
As the former Chieftain, Grom had earned the center spot on the pyre. It was the least Rognak could do, all things considered. He’d stolen the other orc’s story, ended his tale before he could even err in the first place, let alone be redeemed by Thrall. Saying a few words about the honor and valor of their dead was the bare minimum expected of Rognak before all was said and done.
 
Then, the revelry had begun in earnest. Fresh fires were lit with wood provided by Cenarius, and meat was also procured by a hunt performed by the Sentinels. The orcs provided the booze, having brought no small amount of it in favor of water that could more easily get dirty and undrinkable on a journey like this.
 
If Cenarius himself had not ordered that they make camp together for the night, then Rognak might have ordered the clan to retreat out of the forest and not allowed them to set up camp until they were once more beyond the forest’s edge. He was worried they would all get into trouble, if he let them stay here in the woods, among the Night Elves and their sacred trees.
 
In hindsight, that would have been a mistake. It had taken them hours of traversing Ashenvale to locate the pool in the first place, followed by the fight with Mannoroth. While his orcs weren’t afraid of a little cardio, he still wouldn’t have won any friends by demanding they all march right back the way they came, as if they hadn’t earned the right to sleep under the canopies of the massive alien trees all around them. As if they hadn’t just defended these lands from a Pit Lord.
 
Yes, Rognak’s first instinct had been incorrect, and he was grateful now that Cenarius had unknowingly stopped him from following it. That said… he wasn’t blind. Even though his Orc Warriors and the Night Elf Sentinels could barely understand each other, they were still getting along like a house on fire in short order anyways.
 
Some were drinking together, while some were already engaging in shows of strength, agility, and cunning. They were making up little games to play against one another, while some of the Warsong Clan had set up a wrestling pit, just to show off their fighting prowess to the female creatures in their midst.
 
There was still some separation, but also plenty of visible interest between the two groups. Unfortunately, despite the way Rognak saw Night Elven eyes roaming over the muscles of some of his warriors, there were far fewer of them when compared to the Warsong Clan. Someone was going to end up slighted, and then shit might go south, fast.
 
In the end, sitting there watching everything happening… he really only saw one option to take. Okay, make that two options. Sure, he COULD have sat here all night waiting for shit to hit the fan and then stepping in himself. But he was only one mortal being, and he was damn tired after the day he’d had. Fighting Grommash Hellscream was one thing. Destroying that pool and then Mannoroth back to back? That was something else entirely. Rognak had never felt more drained in his life.
 
On the other hand, the option he HAD chosen to take involved Cenarius. The Lord of the Forest was a Demigod, and thus immortal. He also spent a ton of time in the Emerald Dream, so he probably didn’t need as much sleep as a mortal did, right? Seeing as it was Cenarius’ decision to have them all camp together in the first place… Rognak didn’t see anything wrong with meeting the Lord of the Forest’s eyes from across the camp and then rising to his feet.
 
He thinks he might even see a glimmer of amusement in the Lord of the Forest’s gaze, even as he breaks eye contact and looks around the camp.
 
“WARSONG CLAN!”
 
The attention of everyone in the camp snaps to him, first the orcs and then the night elves following when they realize how quiet it gets. Standing there, Rognak basks in their focus for a moment, knowing that Mannoroth’s defeat had gone a long way to furthering his claim over this clan. He had their respect and hopefully their obedience, and in time… perhaps he would even manage to convert them to druidism as he so desperately wanted.
 
For now though, he’d be glad if they could just get through the night without causing a diplomatic incident. With that said…
 
“We have defeated a great evil this day! With the help of Lord Cenarius and our new allies, we slew the great demon Mannoroth!”
 
At hearing their triumphs recounted to them, the warriors of the Warsong Clan do what any orc would do… they lift their arms over their heads and roar in victory. Rognak lets them have their moment, grinning savagely all the while. Only once they quiet down does he drop the grin and pin a few of the ones he considers the most likely to be problems with a glare.
 
“It’s late and I’m fucking tired. So I’m going to sleep. The Forest God is in charge. If you trespass, if you break the peace of these woods in any way… then I allow him to pass judgment on you in my stead. Whatever he decides is just punishment for your crimes, I shall back with all of my authority.”
 
There’s a pause at that, as more than a few orcs shoot contemplative glances towards Cenarius. They’ve never fought the Demigod, so they don’t know how strong he really is… but he certainly LOOKS powerful and dangerous. Making eye contact with the Lord of the Forest again, Rognak definitely sees the amusement in Cenarius’ eyes this time, as well as the slight nod that he’s given.
 
Grinning again, this time in relief, the orc druid raises a hand over his head and then brings it down.
 
“That’s all! Don’t fuck around, and you won’t have to find out! Now get back to celebrating!”
 
Short, sweet, and to the point. That’s the way orcs like it, and Rognak can tell he wins a few more fans with his amusing euphemism. He turns his back on chuckling orcs and makes his way to a personal tent. As the Chieftain of the Warsong Clan, he’s entitled to one of the only personal tents in the entire camp. It was one Grom’s tent… but now it belonged to him.
 
Perhaps he would have felt weirder about sleeping on the furs of a dead orc, but he was done with today. He was tired, and he was ready to sleep. Unfortunately… it was not to be. Just as he’s laying his head down on the furs, just as he’s closing his eyes… the tent flap opens once again, forcing him to sit up.
 
He half-expects it to be some impatient idiot trying to catch him off guard in an assassination attempt. He’d hoped that Mannoroth’s defeat would stave off any underhanded, honorless curs for a little while, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if it didn’t.
 
However… it’s not one of his orcs. It’s one of the Night Elves. And though she pauses for a moment as his eyes fall upon her, she doesn’t hesitate for long. Smiling softly, she steps into the tent, standing before him with a curious look on her face and a tilt to her head.
 
… Somehow sensing he’s not going to be getting sleep any time soon, Rognak surreptitiously lowers one hand to the ground, while pressing the other to his chest. As her gaze follows the latter, he uses the former to draw a bit of nature energy from the earth beneath him, pulling some of the life from the root system that rests just beneath Ashenvale’s forest floor. Not enough to harm any of the plants around here, but just enough to help him get through this conversation.
 
Meanwhile, the hand on his chest presses in as he grunts at the Night Elf.
 
“Rognak.”
 
He wishes he had an easier way of communicating with her, but since they don’t speak the same language, this is what he’ll have to do for now. Judging by the way her eyes shine with amusement, her soft smile growing a little wider, she understands him at least. Carefully, the Night Elf reaches up in turn and does the same thing with a hand on her own chest. Smiling toothily now, she chuckles, a melodic sound that catches quite nicely on his ears.
 
“Shandris. A pleasure to meet you properly, Rognak.”
 
Recognizing the name, Rognak can only go wide-eyed. Shandris seems to take that as shock over her ability to communicate fluently with him, which is also a surprise but not nearly as much of one as coming face to face with THE Shandris Feathermoon quite so soon.
 
“I see you are surprised. I asked Lord Cenarius if he could help me and my sisters in our bid to… communicate with your people, in order to facilitate closer relations between you orcs and us night elves. Luckily, he was more than happy to accommodate us. I noticed that you were keeping yourself apart from the revelries, so I suppose you didn’t hear my fellow Sentinels engaging your warriors in conversation.”
 
… No. No he had not. He’d been watching them, but he’d been so lost in his own thoughts and caught up in his own head that he hadn’t actually been LISTENING. Truly, he was a thick-skulled idiot, wasn’t he? That said… he was still reeling from the realization that this was Shandris Feathermoon. Not a General yet, obviously… but even still, she was Tyrande Whisperwind’s second in command and adoptive daughter. Definitely not small potatoes.
 
Standing up and squaring his shoulders, Rognak grunts as he bows his head in acknowledgment of her words.
 
“Well met then, Shandris. Your assistance was greatly appreciated in the battle today. Without your help, I do not think my clan would have survived Mannoroth.”
 
Shandris hums, finally moving forward. Rognak tenses, not entirely sure why she’s approaching or what exactly it is she wants from him. Eventually, she stops directly in front of him, her head tilting back so she can look him in the eye.
 
“I don’t know about that. Perhaps Lord Cenarius’ assistance helped to carry the day, but it feels as though my sisters and I did very little comparatively. I must admit… watching you and your warriors do battle was quite exhilarating. You are a savage people, aren’t you?”
 
He… honestly wasn’t sure whether that was an insult or a compliment. Perhaps both, perhaps it was a backhanded compliment. Frowning a little bit, Rognak shakes his head.
 
“What can I do for you, Shandris?”
 
Rather than respond with words, Shandris makes her intentions clear through actions instead. By placing a hand on his chest, right where his much larger hand had been mere moments before. Running her light, comparatively dainty fingers along his bared chest, the Sentinel smiles at him questioningly, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a silent offer as she tilts her head to the side again.
 
The look in her eyes makes it abundantly clear what he can do for her.
 
-x-X-x-

It’s strange. She’s seen him in so many different situations over the past day. First, she’d seen him take a stand against his leader, and fight an honor duel for command of his clan. Then, she’d seen him talk to that very same clan, appealing to whatever he could appeal to. After that, she’d watched him lead his clan into battle against demons, wiping out Satyr, cleansing a corrupted pool, and ultimately killing the largest demon this forest had seen since the War of the Ancients.
 
Yes, Shandris has seen multiple facets of this druid standing before her now. This… Rognak. But now she’s seeing something new. She’s watched him put his abilities to good use, watched him unleash his savagery upon those who deserve it. She’s watched him roar and watched his muscles bulge and ripple, his veins positively popping from then.
 
But now she watches him go completely still. It’s quite unusual, the Night Elf has to admit. The way he’s frozen in place at her touch, staring at her. It’s as though he’s afraid to breathe. Or maybe he’s just afraid to breathe on her? Does he think she’s fragile, just because she’s a bit smaller than him? Grinning openly now, Shandris tilts her head to the side… and leans up on her tip toes, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
 
Her lips land along one of his orcish tusks, even as she watches him go even stiller, if that’s possible. She doesn’t get the impression that he’s rejecting her though. She doesn’t think he finds her disgusting or anything like that. It’s more like he’s holding himself back. He really is afraid of hurting her, isn’t he?
 
Letting out a scoff, Shandris pulls back from him and proceeds to punch Rognak in the center of his chest. She puts a considerable amount of strength into the blow, but only succeeds at making him grunt and rock back. She’d hoped to make him stumble at least a bit, but she’d take the wounded look on his face, she supposed.
 
“What was that for?!”
 
Smirking now, her eyes dancing with mirth, she circles around him, watching as he turns with her, keeping her in his view at all times.
 
“Your thoughts were written all over your face. You think I’m weak, don’t you? You think I can’t handle you?”
 
It’s Rognak’s turn to scoff as he begins to shake his head.
 
“Of course not! I-!”
 
Shandris doesn’t bother waiting for him to finish lying to her. Instead, she leaps at him. This time she puts her whole body into it. This time, she has every intention of taking him down, specifically to that bed of furs now positioned right behind him. Unfortunately… well, he’s ready for her now. And so, even as she flings herself at him, he manages to set himself in place and catch her.
 
Her limbs twine around his, her legs wrapping around his massive waist, and his huge green hands go to her ass, gripping down on it to hold her weight. Shandris grins as she lays her hands upon his hulking shoulders. She’s always been adaptable… so she does what she does best. She adapts.
 
“Then prove it.”
 
Her half-purr, half-growl causes the orc druid to go still again. But only for a moment this time. Then, he’s suddenly spinning around and laying HER upon his bed of furs. Shandris gasps, the air forcibly expelled from her lungs as she lands hard. But she doesn’t care, because she’s not letting go of his waist, which means he’s forced to come with her. He might have her pinned beneath his impressive bulk, but she’s refusing to let him go, clinging to him for dear life as she shimmies, wiggling in place and getting comfortable.
 
A huff of hot breath exits his nose, expelled right into her face as his nostrils flare.
 
“Why? You want me to fuck you? Then tell me why.”
 
Shandris furrows her brow somewhat incredulously at that. What sort of insecurities was this orc operating under that he had to ask WHY? Had he seen himself? Had he seen himself in BATTLE? Rather than ask why… the question should definitely be ‘why NOT?’. Alas, she can tell that wouldn’t work for him. He wants more. He wants an explanation.

Reaching up, Shandris grabs one of the orc’s tusks, yanking it down so that their faces are mere inches apart.
 
“Why? Because watching you stand up against your leader impressed me. Because you honored and respected not just Lord Cenarius, but the forests of Ashenvale, my home. Because watching you kill that demon lit a fire in my loins and I’ll be damned if I don’t see if you’re just as savage in bed as you are on the battlefield!”
 
As he blinks at her, Shandris lets out a loud growl before letting her head fall back as she pouts expressively.
 
“Am I so unappealing to you, Rognak? Does my appearance disgust you?”
 
His eyes widen.
 
“What?! No!”
 
“Then what the fuck are you waiting for?!”
 
There’s the briefest of pauses more, the moment hanging on what feels like a knife’s edge. Will he get over himself and give her what they BOTH clearly want, or will he reject this for whatever reason sees him holding back when he has a willing and available female right under him?
 
Luckily, it’s the former. The moment passes, and Rognak snarls before leaning down and capturing Shandris’ mouth with his own. She happily kisses him back, running her hands up and down his chest for a moment. Then, they pull apart… and clothes start flying. Shandris wastes no time in getting out of her traditional Sentinel Garb. Exposing her light-purple skin feels good… even better when Rognak’s eyes feast upon it.
 
The Demon Slaying Druid is as hungry for her flesh as she thought he might be. Now that she’s gotten past his hang-ups, he’s not nearly as reserved about showing it, thankfully. Why he felt the need to play so hard to get when she was offering him everything from the start, Shandris can’t begin to say. But it doesn’t matter anymore, because now… now they’re both going to get what they want.
 
Though, it’s Shandris’ turn to go still when his cock finally comes out. It’s big and green, as anticipated. In fact, it’s size and appearance are downright expected. However, expecting something and actually experiencing it first hand are two very different things. His cock, already half-hard, flops out from beneath his loincloth and slaps down with a meaty smack against her equally exposed abdomen and crotch.
 
Shandris’ breath hitches, as she sees just how… big he is compared to her. How deep inside of her he might be able to go. Staring down at his member, not even fully erect but laid out across her belly button, she feels a tingle in her navel. Meanwhile, Rognak pauses, as if just realizing the difference in their size himself.
 
“Fuck… there’s no way that’s going to fit.”
 
Hah! Wasn’t that supposed to be her line?! Scoffing loudly, she draws his gaze up to her face. Looking him dead in the eye, Shandris doesn’t back down. She refuses to do so, especially now when they’ve already come this far.
 
“It’ll fit. Come on. Don’t back down on me now.”
 
Her appeal to his masculine pride seems to do the trick, though he’s still a little hesitant. Frowning as he slides his cock down between her legs, Shandris watches. Her chiseled abs ripple as she steadily breathes in and out, and her lower lips, already drooling a bit from aroused anticipation, part around the incredibly large and bulbous head of his green cock. Stroking up and down his shaft for a few moments, he gets himself a little harder… and then begins to push in.
 
Even then, he’s still a little hesitant. As though any moment, he’s going to hurt her. As though she’s going to suddenly cry out and beg him to stop or pull out. Shandris refuses to even consider such a thing. Besides, his cock feels… good. Big, of course. Very big. Stretching her beyond anything that’s been inside of her before kind of big, even.
 
But Shandris has never been one to let something like that stop her. Bit by bit, he pushes into her. Half-inch by half-inch, he slowly yet steadily makes his way forward. A shuddering breath leaves Shandris’ lips, causing him to pause for a moment, but she just glares at him when he glances to her face to make sure she’s okay.
 
Finally, he’s about halfway inside of her when he stops. She’s about to tell him to keep going, but before she can… he pulls back, only to thrust in again. The words die on her lips as she lets out a choked gasp, air forcibly expelled from her lungs for the second time in the last few minutes. Its like a punch to the guts… but in a good way. Impossible to really describe it. All Shandris knows is that she wants more… and she’s getting really sick of those concerned looks Rognak keeps shooting her.
 
Reaching up, she grabs the orc by his shoulders and wraps her legs back around his thick tree-trunk of a waist. Then, she lifts herself up off of the furs, bringing her face right up to his this time instead of the other way around.
 
“Fuck me, you big dicked bastard. Fuck me, and don’t you dare fucking stop until we’re both finished. Got it?”
 
Rognak looks at her for a long moment… and then finally nods.
 
“Got it.”
 
Shandris opens her mouth to say ‘good’, but never gets the word out. True to his word, Rognak does indeed ‘get it’. From that moment on, she doesn’t get another coherent word out at all. Instead, every noise out of her mouth sounds like it comes from something bestial and primal as the hulking green-skinned orc truly begins to fuck her.
 
Thrusting in and out of her, his cock stretching her insides wider than they’ve ever been stretched before, the orc druid really starts to put her through her paces. Shandris groans and moans as he fills her again and again. Her cunt clenches along his pistoning prick as best as it can, but in truth… she’s most definitely at the limits of her capacity. There’s practically no more room inside of her for anything else. No more room for squeezing, no more room for flexing.
 
The silver lining is that she must be amazingly tight all the same. Even if she can’t clench down properly with her inner muscles, she’s stretched around his throbbing cock and able to feel every pulsing vein along his impressively large member. As he fucks her, he even pushes a little deeper into her… until he’s pressing against her womb itself.
 
Shandris groans at the sensation. It’s beyond pleasurable. It’s intensity in its most basic form. It’s everything that Shandris wanted, but then, the phrase ‘be careful what you wish for’ comes to mind as her world is rocked by this hulking orc and his big fat green cock. He’s so deep inside of her that when she looks down between their bodies, she thinks her abs might be bulging just a little bit from his cock.
 
That’s probably not actually the case of course. If that WERE happening, she’d probably be in a lot more pain. Probably have ruptured something, even. But still, her belly looks distended, her chiseled abdomen bowed outwards just a couple of inches. He’s truly that huge and he’s fucking her like the savage she knew him to be.
 
Savage… but not a monster. No, this orc is a noble creature. She just doesn’t want a noble creature right now. She wants to be fucking plowed. She wants to be railed. She wants to be pounded.
 
Her legs, which had started out wrapped around his girthy waist as best as possible, have come undone. Instead, they’re straight up in the air, her toes curling in ecstasy as she cries out in a lewd fashion. It’s not long before he manages to bring her to climax. As her feet kick back and forth, her eyes threaten to roll back in her head. She squeals in a particularly undignified manner, her juices gushing down his cock… and making it all the easier for him to fuck her.
 
He slips even deeper inside of her, and Shandris chokes on her own spit. She damn near bites through her tongue at the feeling of him pressing just an inch into her womb itself. That was… he was… too deep. But she’d be damned if she told him to stop now. After everything? After all that shit she’d talked? Tyrande always liked to say Shandris’ mouth would get her in trouble.
 
Well, that was exactly what was happening now. And yet, it was the best kind of trouble Shandris could imagine. Better, even. Not even in her greatest fantasies or wildest dreams had she ever imagined something like this.
 
Shuddering, the Night Elf throws her head back, gurgling in the back of her throat as her body flexes and shivers, trembling around his cock. In response, Rognak keeps fucking her. She’d told him to. She’d told him to fuck her until they were BOTH satisfied, not truly understanding what that would mean. The druid isn’t just savage, he’s insatiable. He continues to fuck her until she cums a second time, and then a third. All the while, he remains rock hard inside of her. His massive balls slap against her taint, but even though they must be churning with the fattest load imaginable, he still doesn’t cum.
 
Shandris, delirious with pleasure, wonders if he ever will. Or maybe this is what the rest of eternity will be. Getting fucked by this orc druid and his big fat green cock.
 
Of course, just as she’s wondering that, not quite in her right mind by that point… Rognak lets out a hoarse groan and finally begins to cum. Shandris moans in response, shuddering as his seed fills her and fills her. It feels like no other lover she’s ever taken. But then, she’s never been with an orc before, now has she? As the druid seeds her, Shandris can only moan and mewl, her eyes lidded and half-rolled back in her head.
 
When, at long last, he’s done… his worried voice reaches her ears.
 
“Shandris? Are you okay?”
 
She’s not okay, but she’s not about to tell him that. She might be fucking addicted to him and his cock. But she’s not about to tell him THAT either. Instead, Shandris forces herself to think and then musters what little strength she has remaining to weakly slap him on his chest.
 
“C-Cuddles…”
 
… Yeah, not her proudest moment. But hey, at least it works. Rognak chuckles, and a moment later he’s pulled out of her only to drag her up onto his chest as he lays back on the furs. Shandris rests her cheek on one of his massive pecs… and happily passes out, her belly filled with warmth and her cunt clenching around a phantom orc cock that’s no longer there. For now, anyways.

-x-X-x-

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