He knelt in the shadow of a great black banner, clutching the skull between his hands like a dead lover. It radiated power -the kind Shun Yin Yao had called "maho"- whatever that meant. The traveler from the Wandering Isle had proven a useful addition to the cult's inner circle, one had to admit; his knowledge of the ancient, long-forbidden magiks of this realm was staggering by anyone's standards, but Orm, son of Zha, was a Shadowmoon clansman -- he didn't need some pandaren filth instructing him in the ways of the Shadow and Flame: It was he alone who had recovered the Skull of Jergosh from the black depths of Ragefire Chasm! It was he alone who had used it to rally and stitch together the scattered remnants of the Searing Blade and the Argus Wake! And it was he alone would soon use it to topple the false Horde by sundering the very foundations of its capital!
He peeled his eyes away from the skull's empty sockets and turned his head from the banner. Sweat gathered at the furl of his brow and slowly dripped down the rough contours of his face like honeyed venom. Shun Yin Yao was nowhere to be seen. Good, he thought, pressing himself up from the ashes to stand before the Moon and Bones, slink away into the shadows, you serpent, and leave this business to me. In place of the pandaren, it was the blood elf, Hymerian, who met his gaze instead.
"My Lord," spoke the elf as he humbled himself before the great orc, "it has been done! Your servants have located the girl called Roma, and have identified her as a suitable candidate for the ritual." He rose slowly from his knees, but kept his eyes safely averted from Orm's own.
This one knows his place.
"The hour of your ascendance is near, my Lord. Soon, the ritual will be completed, and you shall rise from this black pit as a terrible savior to your people! You shall rend the red earth beneath their feet, and bury Hellscream beneath the very foundations of his ill-begotten kingdom! And all eyes shall turn to you, my Lord. And every voice shall call to you. They will call you 'Warchief', my Lord, or they will feel the burning lash of your exalted fury!" Hymerian risked a glance toward the orc's powerful gaze and was met with a look that sent his cowardly elvish eyes darting back toward the blood-stained earth beneath their feet.
Orm smiled a black smile. It slithered its way out from between his broken tusks like a snake, languidly twisting out of its burrow and into the light. "Go then," he commanded, waving the elf away dismissively.
"See to it that she is brought to me within the moon's turn. And do not dare to fail me, Hymerian; I intend to lay a thousand traitorous corpses at the bloody foundations of my new city -- and I won't think twice about adding just one more."