Breathing

Grommash had never seen this man before. Even the scent in the air was unfamiliar to him. He could only be certain that the other man was a helper Taran Zhu had brought in. Moreover, the slight reaction from Sal'ratho indicated that this fellow was dangerous, capable of threatening him.

"Who are you?" Garrosh wanted to know the Undead's name. At the same time, he suspected that perhaps he simply had not recognized him.

"I recognize those fangs." Nathanos pointed at the handrails on either side of the chieftain's throne steps. At first glance, they seemed unremarkable, but anyone who had seen them before or looked closely would realize they were a pair of long, twisted tusks from a demon. "But those seem to be your father's glory."

It was far too easy to provoke Grommash. Merely mentioning Grom was enough to make the chieftain's brow knot tightly.

When Garrosh did not answer, Nathanos raised his gaze to the heart hanging overhead. "Your father was the first to lead others in drinking Demon Blood. And you chose the Old Gods. Most importantly, both of you believed you could control the power you obtained. In truth, you had already become slaves."

Nathanos rapidly calculated how Garrosh would defend himself, but the other man answered with an ear-splitting roar, a war cry as overwhelming as his name. Faster than Nathanos had expected, the Orc charged him.

Nathanos stood firm and motionless, allowing the Great Chief, now wreathed in Sha energy, to rush toward him. Garrosh raised the sharp Sal'ratho above his head. The Witherer heard the axe blade howl.

This weapon was not Gorehowl, nor did it have its grooves, yet it possessed the same qualities as Gorehowl. The Witherer did not want to admit it, but the sound made his heart