Warcraft King of the World

**WARNING: Do not read this is you are squeamish, faint of heart, or happen to be a fan of Garrosh Hellscream. If none on the above apply, fill free to continue. If they do and you do still read this; well… you've been warned.**

Garrosh was feeling god-like. The mighty, yet haughty, orc paced about Grommash Hold pondering how the Horde war machine would crush the Alliance next. The orc sat at his throne, wrapping one of his meaty fists around a mug of ale. Garrosh brought the mug to his lips to drink but found himself paused. His nostrils flared at the drink, but soon convinced himself that it was the brand and took a big ole swig.

A big mistake on the warchief's part. The orc dropped the mug and grabbed his throat. Wheezing, he fell on the floor. His vision was failing. The last thing the warchief saw was a blurry, chisel-chinned figure cackling him a dark lullaby.

Garrosh awake which seems like an eternity later. His groggy eyes fluttered as he tried to move his stiff limbs but they stayed in place. Starting to panic, Garrosh flailed his arms and legs. The only thing the flailing accomplished was coughing a bell to start to ring.

"Ah, you're awake," a masculine voiced laced with malice cooed softly from the door.

That voice. Garrosh's eyes narrowed in disgust. "Wrynn," the orc bluntly growled.

Varian stepped into the dim lantern light. His ice blue eyes were wide with anticipation and had dark circles ringing around them. The human king also had a disturbed grin on his face. The expression was made all the more terrifying by his famous scars. His normal wardrobe of think plate armor was exchanged for stained, ratty blank linen trousers and shirt.

Garrosh's eyes widened with the realization that the opposing ruler had finally snapped.

Varian cocked his head to the left, still giving the orc a Cheshire-Cat-grin. "What's the matter, warchief?" Varian paced over to his prisoner, taking a blood-stained clothe in hand.

Garrosh managed to control his body from shaking, but his eyes gave the crazed king enough to cause the man to cackle.

"Just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show, Hellscream." Varian tied the gag around the orcs mouth and patted him on the face.

Garrosh produced a muffled growl as the insane king waltzed over to another table and scratched his chin, the rough stubble resisting against his fingers. Varian rattled some metallic objects before returning over to the orc. He grinned, setting down a large dagger and twirling a scalpel in his fingers. "You know, Hellscream," Varian caught the scalpel and held it to Garrosh's right shoulder. "I've never really cared for these _disgusting_ tattoos." Varian, slowly and steadily, began tracing all of his tattoos with the dull blade.

Garrosh made several whimpering noises. This only urged Varian to go slower.

"I've been practicing for _you_, Hellscream!" the demented king spoke in an overwrought, cursory fashion, madness dancing in his eyes. "Take a look! Take a look around you, Hellscream!"

Garrosh's eyes darted about the room, even though they were blurred with tears . The shed was littered with dozens of dismembered orc corpses, with aghast looks forever etched into their faces, they all must have suffered and died from the same way: severe torture.

"Like a bandage!" Varian squawked in lunacy as he pinched one of Garrosh's tattoos.

_Riiiip!_

Garrosh let out a deadened screech as Varian literally ripped the tattoos off his body, one by one. Tears of misery and anguish poured from his eyes as blood ran all over his entire body.

Varian grabbed his face with bloody hands and gave him a deathly smile. "Did that hurt, Hellscream?" Varian's facetious comment was still heavily laced with his lunacy. The mad king showed Garrosh his dagger, smirking wildly. "Now it's time to get down and dirty!" Varian plunged the dagger into the base of the orc's neck and dragged it down his body and stopped at his pants' line.

Garrosh howled when Varian dug his fingers into the wound and began to tug.

The sounds of cracking ribs echoed throughout the shed as Varian finally managed to pry open the warchief's chest.

"I feel like a child in a candy store!" Varian cheered in an unpleasant manner as he dug in.

Garrosh was starting to go into shock with Varian was showing him mounds of his own innards.

Varian went to reach for the heart when it suddenly stopped beating. He frowned. "What's wrong, Hellscream?" Varian seized the heart and pulled it from the body. Varian looked his victim in the face.

Blood dribbled out of his mouth and his eyes were rolled back in his head.

"Weakling." Varian squeezed the heart until it popped, blood squirting down his arms.

The king cleaned himself up in a water basin and changed his clothed into a fresh white shirt and black trousers. Varian stepped out of his torture shed and locked it.

"Father?"

Varian did not freeze or flinch, but he calmly turned and gave his beautiful son a fatherly smile and also managed to his the insanity in his eyes.

"Father... what were you doing in the shed?" Anduin eyes gazed up and down his father.

"No reason," Varian's voice shook as he smirked. "Just warming up. Stay out of my training barn." Varian walked past the young man.

Anduin eyes the shed, then followed his dad back indoors. The prince did take note of all the pesky flies buzzing around the keep now.


End file.

Warcraft, Horror