Arena

Deceiving Grommash Hellscream was courting death. That was practically an ironclad rule, one even his son dared not break. So Grommash still did not know the identity of Garrosh, who had helped him establish the Iron Horde.

"I will explain everything to you, but that day has not yet come. Before then, I must first prove my worth to the Warsong Clan."

Garrosh understood that one day, he would have to tell his father everything. But it had to be done step by step; he could not rush it. To Grommash, anything that sounded absurd would be dismissed as a lie. Gorehowl would take a liar's head.

Thus, Garrosh had focused on getting things done—actions spoke louder than empty words. He had gradually earned Grommash's trust: improving Orc weapons, exposing Gul'dan's plot, and providing a way to defeat Mannoroth the Destructor. His achievements had won the trust of the Warsong Clan's members. Now, when he approached Grommash's fortress, the two guards at the entrance no longer searched him for weapons. Instead, they placed fists over their chests and saluted him.

Garrosh showed no surprise. He merely nodded slightly to the two Orcs whose skin was the same color as his own, then passed between them.

Metal had been embedded into both the outer perimeter and inner walls of the fortress. Not a single furnace or Blacksmith in Grommash's Hold was cold, and most of the heat they gave off was absorbed within. The sweltering heat inside the fortress was familiar to Garrosh, reminding him of Grommash Hold in Orgrimmar. Though both bore his father's name, this fortress, completed only recently, felt even more familiar to him. He knew why.

There are only Orcs here!

Many people came to see Grommash every day, and when Garrosh arrived, someone had already beaten