After the fact, when he and Shandris are done and a certain… clarity of mind returns to him, Rognak can’t help but wonder why Jaina would be watching them. He probably shouldn’t have just let it go in the moment, but… well, with Shandris telling him that she’d fled the moment that the Sentinel made it clear they knew she was watching, Rognak had just let it go.
But now? In the harsh light of the next day, he wondered if he should say or do something. But Shandris had asked him not to… had told him it was fine in fact. Which was weird, but in the end he supposed it was better to just let it go? If she wasn’t upset that Jaina had been watching, it felt weird for him to get upset about it.
And it wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of other things on his plate as it was. So, for the next few days, neither he nor Shandris went so far as to confront Jaina, as far as he was aware. And Jaina didn’t actually confront either of them either. That said, on the handful of times that they ended up sharing the same space, the leader of the human faction couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, which Rognak took as evidence that Shandris had been telling the truth about just who she caught watching.
It was what it was. And Rognak had students to teach anyways. His first ever students in the way of druidism in fact, a group of young druidic neophytes from within the Warsong Clan. Rognak wanted to make sure he was doing right by them, so he spent a lot of each day on working with them to help each and every one of the orcs find their connection to nature.
… That, it turned out, was easier said than done. Not because orcs were diametrically opposed to nature or anything like that. No, that wasn’t the case. In fact, the orc blood curse wasn’t even a thing anymore, something Rognak had initially forgotten about in the slaying of Mannoroth and everything else that happened afterwards.
With their people freed by Mannoroth’s death, those who wanted to explore druidism were actually taking to it quite well. They just weren’t taking to it as well as he had.
It turned out… Rognak was sort of ‘too good’ at druidism to be a proper teacher to the Warsong neophytes who wanted to learn from him. In the end, he’d become something of a teacher’s assistant, as he and his Clan relied upon Cenarius more and more to do the actual teaching. Initially, it had been a source of pure frustration for him… until the Lord of the Forest had explained it all.
Essentially, Rognak was a natural. It was almost like he was born a druid, even. He couldn’t remember his earliest years any better than anyone else could in spite of his second set of memories, but at the same time… there wasn’t a time when he couldn’t call upon nature magic. All his life, he’d been able to do a lot. And yes, some of the things he’d tried had come from that second set of memories slowly asserting itself over time… but he’d never tried something and failed. He was always successful.
Growing up in something of a vacuum as he had, Rognak had always assumed that was just how things were. Those who were capable of druidism would pick it up insanely fast and those who weren’t meant for it… wouldn’t. This was not the case. You did not have to be predisposed to Nature Magic to learn how to use it, though obviously it helped a lot.
It still rankled a little bit… but because of all of that, Rognak wasn’t the best teacher for his would-be students. He could show them what he was capable of and ask them to try and repeat it, but he couldn’t explain HOW he did anything he did. It came to him naturally in a way it didn’t really come to most.
Obviously, Cenarius was also something of a natural. The Lord of the Forest was a Demigod born of Elune and Malorne after all, so yeah, it came naturally to him as well. However, where they differed was in terms of age and experience. Cenarius had thousands upon thousands of years on Rognak and had taught plenty of students before. In the end, he was simply a better teacher than Rognak could ever hope to be.
Rognak couldn’t bring himself to be too mad about that, however. Because for the first time in his life, he had a teacher too. And while his prodigal talent with Nature Magic might have carried him this far, he was learning so much more than he would have thought possible from the Lord of the Forest.
Honestly, he was almost falling into a sort of routine. Learning from Cenarius, trying to teach his fellow orcs, watching Cenarius help shore up the deficiencies in his lessons… and every other day or so, finding himself with Shandris. The Night Elf Sentinel didn’t approach him nightly, perhaps to maintain some level of distance in their relationship… but she did it frequently enough that Rognak was beginning to wonder if they were truly just ‘friends with benefits’.
Before he could figure that out, before anything more could really happen between them… the monotony of the past week was broken by a new arrival.
“I must speak with the Lord of the Forest! Where is Cenarius?!”
The ruckus that’s being made draws Rognak’s attention, as it draws the attention of almost everyone important in the encampment. Moving towards the voice, he turns a corner only to behold what can only be Tyrande Whisperwind at the head of a bedraggled-looking group of Night Elf Sentinels. From her forest green hair to her white attire, there’s no doubt in his mind who this is.
Of course, if he DID have any doubt, then Shandris running up would have settled it right then and there.
“High Priestess! What… what are you doing here? What’s happened?”
Before Tyrande can answer, Cenarius arrives as well. The Forest Demigod moves forward with a frown on his face, taking in the sight of Tyrande and the Sentinels with her. Rognak does the same… and finds himself also frowning in worry. They look hunted and weary, as if they’ve been chased here by something.
Off to the sides, Rognak is aware of Thrall and Jaina, along with Cairne and the other leaders from their two forces. All are watching this exchange with grim expressions, able to tell that something terrible has happened even before Tyrande finally speaks.
When she does, the High Priestess of Elune does not address the crowd nor her adoptive daughter. Though she clasps arms with Shandris, taking quiet comfort from the other Night Elf’s presence, her eyes are only for Cenarius in this moment.
“The Legion has returned, Lord Cenarius. I know not how… but the Defiler, Archimonde himself walks Azeroth once more.”
Cenarius inhales sharply at that, looking more drawn and worn then he has ever looked so far. The Lord of the Forest’s broad shoulders slump as he lets out a low breath.
“I had feared… but I held hope that my fears were incorrect.”
Tyrande shakes her head, lips thinned out. There are tears in her eyes, though not tears of fear Rognak doesn’t think. Rather, they are tears of anguish and grief for the people she has lost.
“Astranaar has fallen. Demons roam the forests of Ashenvale in increasing numbers. The undead serve as their fodder, to allow them to destroy us all the faster.”
Rognak grimaces. This was… too early wasn’t it? But his second set of memories wasn’t always reliable. And trying to consult them now leaves him with a sense of vagueness. In that other life, he’d been aware of a timeline of sorts for this world. But that timeline wasn’t always so exact. He knew in a general way when some things were meant to happen, but not usually to the day. Not unless he was there for the events or had a way of making them happen.
That all said, this still felt too early for Archimonde and the Legion to be terrorizing the Night Elves. Then again, maybe not. Maybe it was all happening at the exact same time. Of course, there was another possibility niggling at the back of Rognak’s mind…
“You bring grim tidings, High Priestess… but necessary tidings as well. Come, let us move to somewhere more private so that you might speak on what you have seen and meet the leaders of our new allies properly.”
Ah. Rognak blinks, realizing that Cenarius is right. If they keep talking about shit like this out in the open, it’ll probably only hurt morale. This conversation is one that needs to take place between only a select few people. To his surprise, when he makes up a quick list in his head… he’s on it. Well, the perils of being a leader, he supposed.
-x-X-x-
They’re in a slightly more private setting a few minutes later. It’s Cenarius, Tyrande, and Shandris on the Night Elf’s side, Jaina and the paladin Duke Lionheart on the human’s side, and Thrall, Cairne, and Rognak himself on the Horde’s side. Introductions are quickly taken care of, and if Tyrande’s eyes linger on Rognak for a second longer than any of the others… well, he’s not going to say anything.
Once introductions are out of the way, Tyrande explains in a short, clipped tone what the Legion is, while Thrall and Jaina both explain how they were drawn to Stonetalon by a man they know only as the Prophet and told they needed to work to face down the Legion together. Tyrande holds herself together with remarkable aplomb, but Rognak thinks he can see some relief in her gaze that the Night Elves are not alone in this.
“Your assistance is most appreciated. Defeating the Burning Legion ten thousand years ago was not the work of just one people either… it seems a good omen that we, the people of Kalimdor both old and new are united once more in the face of this threat.”
She graces them all with a smile and a grateful nod, and Rognak can’t deny that he gets why she’s the Night Elves’ leader. She has a way with words. Of course, no sooner has Tyrande lifted the spirits of everyone in the room with her words, does Cenarius speaks up, promptly bringing them all back down with his.
“Archimonde’s true goal must be Nordrassil. He must mean to drain the energies of the World Tree, not only robbing your people of your immortality, but also gaining enough strength to open the way for the rest of the Burning Legion once again.”
Something twinges at the back of Rognak’s mind at that. Something about ulterior motives on Archimonde’s part. The World Tree isn’t his true goal, or his only goal or… or something. But Rognak isn’t sure it really matters. Protecting Nordrassil and stopping Archimonde from reaching it is still the end-goal, he’s sure of it.
Just as he’s also sure that they don’t have time to waste. Not anymore. The last several days have been nice, but now they’re on a clock. Luckily, Cenarius is still alive. So they have that going for them at least.
“What should we do next, Cenarius? All of our forces are gathered. Where do we go from here?”
All eyes turn towards him, but Rognak keeps his head high and his shoulders squared. He might not be Warchief, but if they invite him to a council like this, he’s going to cut straight to the chase. Especially since… well, part of him is left wondering if this is all his fault.
That was the thought that had been niggling at him since earlier. While it was entirely possible that some of the events his other set of memories had told him about had simply happened at or around the same time… it was also possible that Mannoroth’s early demise, and more importantly his failure to kill Cenarius… had caused Archimonde to move up his time table. That the invasion of Kalimdor was in an accelerated state because of Rognak’s interference was a distinct possibility.
As he’s wrapping his head around that, it’s not Cenarius who answers his question, but Tyrande herself. Before the Lord of the Forest can respond, Elune’s High Priestess leans forward, her glowing eyes blazing.
“We must awaken the druids, Lord Cenarius. I think you will agree that without Malfurion and the others, we stand no chance of stopping Archimonde.”
At here, she pauses for a moment and looks slightly embarrassed.
“I almost went straight to Moonglade to awaken them myself, but I knew it was not my place… and that the trek would be incredibly treacherous and dangerous. Seeing as you have found us allies, I thought we all might move as one, to bring you to the Horn so that you might wake our other forces from their slumber.”
Finally, Thrall speaks up, the Warchief grunting as he narrows his eyes.
“Your druids sleep so deeply that they require a horn to wake up? I do not understand.”
A chuckle sounds from Cenarius at that, the Forest Demigod shaking his head.
“The High Priestess and her people have responsibilities beyond just this world. The Emerald Dream exists parallel to this world, a realm of ever-changing and untamed nature. There, the Night Elf Druids spend much of their time, serving the Great Cycle as is their purpose. Alas, while they toil away in the Emerald Dream, their physical bodies in this world must slumber. No one can be two places at once.”
Thrall slowly takes this in, before nodding in comprehension. Rognak can tell that the other orc doesn’t fully understand, but that he’s doing his best. Better than most orcs really, seeing how most orcs had never even stopped to try to understand another people’s culture before.
Rolling his shoulders, Cenarius nods to Tyrande.
“The High Priestess is right. We will have need of the druids if we are to put a stop to Archimonde’s plans once and for all. Tyrande, I would not have begrudged you your decision if you had gone to your mate’s side instead of coming here and used my Horn in my stead. But I believe you made the right decision coming here first. If we move as one, the Defiler’s forces cannot ambush us or divide us. Together, I feel we can stand against any force he sends our way, save for the Defiler himself.”
Tyrande nods sharply at that, her countenance grim but hopeful. Everyone else looks bolstered by Cenarius’ words as well… even Rognak himself. This is what he’d been working towards. The Invasion of Kalimdor, but with Cenarius still alive and capable of helping things turn out better than they had before. From there, their course was set and all that was left was to hammer out logistics as they moved their allied forces Northward. It was all going about as well as Rognak ever could have expected, truth be told.
So then… why did the orc druid have a bad feeling, lingering in the back of his mind?
After the fact, when he and Shandris are done and a certain… clarity of mind returns to him, Rognak can’t help but wonder why Jaina would be watching them. He probably shouldn’t have just let it go in the moment, but… well, with Shandris telling him that she’d fled the moment that the Sentinel made it clear they knew she was watching, Rognak had just let it go.
But now? In the harsh light of the next day, he wondered if he should say or do something. But Shandris had asked him not to… had told him it was fine in fact. Which was weird, but in the end he supposed it was better to just let it go? If she wasn’t upset that Jaina had been watching, it felt weird for him to get upset about it.
And it wasn’t like he didn’t have plenty of other things on his plate as it was. So, for the next few days, neither he nor Shandris went so far as to confront Jaina, as far as he was aware. And Jaina didn’t actually confront either of them either. That said, on the handful of times that they ended up sharing the same space, the leader of the human faction couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes, which Rognak took as evidence that Shandris had been telling the truth about just who she caught watching.
It was what it was. And Rognak had students to teach anyways. His first ever students in the way of druidism in fact, a group of young druidic neophytes from within the Warsong Clan. Rognak wanted to make sure he was doing right by them, so he spent a lot of each day on working with them to help each and every one of the orcs find their connection to nature.
… That, it turned out, was easier said than done. Not because orcs were diametrically opposed to nature or anything like that. No, that wasn’t the case. In fact, the orc blood curse wasn’t even a thing anymore, something Rognak had initially forgotten about in the slaying of Mannoroth and everything else that happened afterwards.
With their people freed by Mannoroth’s death, those who wanted to explore druidism were actually taking to it quite well. They just weren’t taking to it as well as he had.
It turned out… Rognak was sort of ‘too good’ at druidism to be a proper teacher to the Warsong neophytes who wanted to learn from him. In the end, he’d become something of a teacher’s assistant, as he and his Clan relied upon Cenarius more and more to do the actual teaching. Initially, it had been a source of pure frustration for him… until the Lord of the Forest had explained it all.
Essentially, Rognak was a natural. It was almost like he was born a druid, even. He couldn’t remember his earliest years any better than anyone else could in spite of his second set of memories, but at the same time… there wasn’t a time when he couldn’t call upon nature magic. All his life, he’d been able to do a lot. And yes, some of the things he’d tried had come from that second set of memories slowly asserting itself over time… but he’d never tried something and failed. He was always successful.
Growing up in something of a vacuum as he had, Rognak had always assumed that was just how things were. Those who were capable of druidism would pick it up insanely fast and those who weren’t meant for it… wouldn’t. This was not the case. You did not have to be predisposed to Nature Magic to learn how to use it, though obviously it helped a lot.
It still rankled a little bit… but because of all of that, Rognak wasn’t the best teacher for his would-be students. He could show them what he was capable of and ask them to try and repeat it, but he couldn’t explain HOW he did anything he did. It came to him naturally in a way it didn’t really come to most.
Obviously, Cenarius was also something of a natural. The Lord of the Forest was a Demigod born of Elune and Malorne after all, so yeah, it came naturally to him as well. However, where they differed was in terms of age and experience. Cenarius had thousands upon thousands of years on Rognak and had taught plenty of students before. In the end, he was simply a better teacher than Rognak could ever hope to be.
Rognak couldn’t bring himself to be too mad about that, however. Because for the first time in his life, he had a teacher too. And while his prodigal talent with Nature Magic might have carried him this far, he was learning so much more than he would have thought possible from the Lord of the Forest.
Honestly, he was almost falling into a sort of routine. Learning from Cenarius, trying to teach his fellow orcs, watching Cenarius help shore up the deficiencies in his lessons… and every other day or so, finding himself with Shandris. The Night Elf Sentinel didn’t approach him nightly, perhaps to maintain some level of distance in their relationship… but she did it frequently enough that Rognak was beginning to wonder if they were truly just ‘friends with benefits’.
Before he could figure that out, before anything more could really happen between them… the monotony of the past week was broken by a new arrival.
“I must speak with the Lord of the Forest! Where is Cenarius?!”
The ruckus that’s being made draws Rognak’s attention, as it draws the attention of almost everyone important in the encampment. Moving towards the voice, he turns a corner only to behold what can only be Tyrande Whisperwind at the head of a bedraggled-looking group of Night Elf Sentinels. From her forest green hair to her white attire, there’s no doubt in his mind who this is.
Of course, if he DID have any doubt, then Shandris running up would have settled it right then and there.
“High Priestess! What… what are you doing here? What’s happened?”
Before Tyrande can answer, Cenarius arrives as well. The Forest Demigod moves forward with a frown on his face, taking in the sight of Tyrande and the Sentinels with her. Rognak does the same… and finds himself also frowning in worry. They look hunted and weary, as if they’ve been chased here by something.
Off to the sides, Rognak is aware of Thrall and Jaina, along with Cairne and the other leaders from their two forces. All are watching this exchange with grim expressions, able to tell that something terrible has happened even before Tyrande finally speaks.
When she does, the High Priestess of Elune does not address the crowd nor her adoptive daughter. Though she clasps arms with Shandris, taking quiet comfort from the other Night Elf’s presence, her eyes are only for Cenarius in this moment.
“The Legion has returned, Lord Cenarius. I know not how… but the Defiler, Archimonde himself walks Azeroth once more.”
Cenarius inhales sharply at that, looking more drawn and worn then he has ever looked so far. The Lord of the Forest’s broad shoulders slump as he lets out a low breath.
“I had feared… but I held hope that my fears were incorrect.”
Tyrande shakes her head, lips thinned out. There are tears in her eyes, though not tears of fear Rognak doesn’t think. Rather, they are tears of anguish and grief for the people she has lost.
“Astranaar has fallen. Demons roam the forests of Ashenvale in increasing numbers. The undead serve as their fodder, to allow them to destroy us all the faster.”
Rognak grimaces. This was… too early wasn’t it? But his second set of memories wasn’t always reliable. And trying to consult them now leaves him with a sense of vagueness. In that other life, he’d been aware of a timeline of sorts for this world. But that timeline wasn’t always so exact. He knew in a general way when some things were meant to happen, but not usually to the day. Not unless he was there for the events or had a way of making them happen.
That all said, this still felt too early for Archimonde and the Legion to be terrorizing the Night Elves. Then again, maybe not. Maybe it was all happening at the exact same time. Of course, there was another possibility niggling at the back of Rognak’s mind…
“You bring grim tidings, High Priestess… but necessary tidings as well. Come, let us move to somewhere more private so that you might speak on what you have seen and meet the leaders of our new allies properly.”
Ah. Rognak blinks, realizing that Cenarius is right. If they keep talking about shit like this out in the open, it’ll probably only hurt morale. This conversation is one that needs to take place between only a select few people. To his surprise, when he makes up a quick list in his head… he’s on it. Well, the perils of being a leader, he supposed.
-x-X-x-
They’re in a slightly more private setting a few minutes later. It’s Cenarius, Tyrande, and Shandris on the Night Elf’s side, Jaina and the paladin Duke Lionheart on the human’s side, and Thrall, Cairne, and Rognak himself on the Horde’s side. Introductions are quickly taken care of, and if Tyrande’s eyes linger on Rognak for a second longer than any of the others… well, he’s not going to say anything.
Once introductions are out of the way, Tyrande explains in a short, clipped tone what the Legion is, while Thrall and Jaina both explain how they were drawn to Stonetalon by a man they know only as the Prophet and told they needed to work to face down the Legion together. Tyrande holds herself together with remarkable aplomb, but Rognak thinks he can see some relief in her gaze that the Night Elves are not alone in this.
“Your assistance is most appreciated. Defeating the Burning Legion ten thousand years ago was not the work of just one people either… it seems a good omen that we, the people of Kalimdor both old and new are united once more in the face of this threat.”
She graces them all with a smile and a grateful nod, and Rognak can’t deny that he gets why she’s the Night Elves’ leader. She has a way with words. Of course, no sooner has Tyrande lifted the spirits of everyone in the room with her words, does Cenarius speaks up, promptly bringing them all back down with his.
“Archimonde’s true goal must be Nordrassil. He must mean to drain the energies of the World Tree, not only robbing your people of your immortality, but also gaining enough strength to open the way for the rest of the Burning Legion once again.”
Something twinges at the back of Rognak’s mind at that. Something about ulterior motives on Archimonde’s part. The World Tree isn’t his true goal, or his only goal or… or something. But Rognak isn’t sure it really matters. Protecting Nordrassil and stopping Archimonde from reaching it is still the end-goal, he’s sure of it.
Just as he’s also sure that they don’t have time to waste. Not anymore. The last several days have been nice, but now they’re on a clock. Luckily, Cenarius is still alive. So they have that going for them at least.
“What should we do next, Cenarius? All of our forces are gathered. Where do we go from here?”
All eyes turn towards him, but Rognak keeps his head high and his shoulders squared. He might not be Warchief, but if they invite him to a council like this, he’s going to cut straight to the chase. Especially since… well, part of him is left wondering if this is all his fault.
That was the thought that had been niggling at him since earlier. While it was entirely possible that some of the events his other set of memories had told him about had simply happened at or around the same time… it was also possible that Mannoroth’s early demise, and more importantly his failure to kill Cenarius… had caused Archimonde to move up his time table. That the invasion of Kalimdor was in an accelerated state because of Rognak’s interference was a distinct possibility.
As he’s wrapping his head around that, it’s not Cenarius who answers his question, but Tyrande herself. Before the Lord of the Forest can respond, Elune’s High Priestess leans forward, her glowing eyes blazing.
“We must awaken the druids, Lord Cenarius. I think you will agree that without Malfurion and the others, we stand no chance of stopping Archimonde.”
At here, she pauses for a moment and looks slightly embarrassed.
“I almost went straight to Moonglade to awaken them myself, but I knew it was not my place… and that the trek would be incredibly treacherous and dangerous. Seeing as you have found us allies, I thought we all might move as one, to bring you to the Horn so that you might wake our other forces from their slumber.”
Finally, Thrall speaks up, the Warchief grunting as he narrows his eyes.
“Your druids sleep so deeply that they require a horn to wake up? I do not understand.”
A chuckle sounds from Cenarius at that, the Forest Demigod shaking his head.
“The High Priestess and her people have responsibilities beyond just this world. The Emerald Dream exists parallel to this world, a realm of ever-changing and untamed nature. There, the Night Elf Druids spend much of their time, serving the Great Cycle as is their purpose. Alas, while they toil away in the Emerald Dream, their physical bodies in this world must slumber. No one can be two places at once.”
Thrall slowly takes this in, before nodding in comprehension. Rognak can tell that the other orc doesn’t fully understand, but that he’s doing his best. Better than most orcs really, seeing how most orcs had never even stopped to try to understand another people’s culture before.
Rolling his shoulders, Cenarius nods to Tyrande.
“The High Priestess is right. We will have need of the druids if we are to put a stop to Archimonde’s plans once and for all. Tyrande, I would not have begrudged you your decision if you had gone to your mate’s side instead of coming here and used my Horn in my stead. But I believe you made the right decision coming here first. If we move as one, the Defiler’s forces cannot ambush us or divide us. Together, I feel we can stand against any force he sends our way, save for the Defiler himself.”
Tyrande nods sharply at that, her countenance grim but hopeful. Everyone else looks bolstered by Cenarius’ words as well… even Rognak himself. This is what he’d been working towards. The Invasion of Kalimdor, but with Cenarius still alive and capable of helping things turn out better than they had before. From there, their course was set and all that was left was to hammer out logistics as they moved their allied forces Northward. It was all going about as well as Rognak ever could have expected, truth be told.
So then… why did the orc druid have a bad feeling, lingering in the back of his mind?
