The Unfound Thing

Nathanos smiled where Vol'jin could not see him. He was laughing at Garrosh. Why had that Orc sent only one assassin to kill this Troll—just one? Had Garrosh become so delirious?

"My terms... are simple." Nathanos deliberately paused, making Vol'jin feel that what he wanted would not be so easily granted.

"Let's hear them."

"For six months after Garrosh's complete defeat... the Horde cannot become enemies with the Forsaken."

The Troll kept a straight face as he analyzed the Witherer's demand. Why such a condition? The Horde had never openly declared war on the Forsaken.

"I don't understand what you mean," Vol'jin said cautiously. "Are you planning to do something harmful to the Horde? Do you want to use this deal to buy time?"

Nathanos let out a cold, harsh laugh. "Harmful would be overstating it. I merely want one less enemy. I only hope that when the time comes, the Horde will not stand in the Forsaken's way."

He might make his move while Garrosh was locked in battle.

"Can you guarantee that our agreement will be fair?"

The Undead slowly nodded. "A Forsaken force will aid you. We will not slaughter prisoners, seize even an inch of land, or destroy things wantonly. Once the war is over, they will withdraw immediately, leaving behind not a single soldier."

"It sounds quite good, but I don't believe you're that generous." Vol'jin did his best to shrug. The mysterious magic in Nathanos's hand could only keep his throat in its future state; the rest of his body still had no strength. "I'd rather know what you stand to gain."

"What I gain will not be something belonging to the Horde, but it will make you afraid. Many people will lose sleep over it."

Vol'jin very much wanted to know exactly whom