Garrosh got his wish: one final glorious battle.
Atop Grommashar Fortress, the airship meant for emergency evacuation had been completely destroyed. His Warsong guard were nowhere to be seen. Only a green-skinned orc stood quietly before the burning wreckage—an old friend from days gone by.
Thrall.
Garrosh stared blankly at the green-skinned orc before him for a moment, then broke into a grin. Whether it held relief or mockery was impossible to say. Perhaps it was both.
The evacuation airship had been destroyed, and his path of escape had been cut off. For Garrosh, perhaps this was exactly the ending he wanted.
The former Warchief might have done many wrong things, but he had never been a coward, had he?
"Looks like you're the final executioner chosen by the World of Azeroth. Has your hypocritical trial in absentia finally ended?"
Thrall fell silent for a moment, then shook his head, still gripping Doomhammer tightly.
"Garrosh, it's over. Don't force my hand. Put down your weapon now and come back with me. I'll request a retrial for you."
Thrall still tried to save him. He truly did not want Garrosh to meet such an end, especially not at his own hands.
"It was you who brought me into the Horde army."
Garrosh smiled. Rather than answer Thrall, he gripped his battle-axe and began pacing back and forth.
"It was you who made me the Horde's glorious High Overlord, who taught me what it meant to fight for the Horde."
"It was you who let me meet so many brothers and sisters who shared my beliefs."
"It was you who made me Warchief of the Horde! I was willing to give everything for that, because it was all for the Horde!"
Garrosh's voice grew louder and louder, his expression increasingly agitated as