Garrosh kneeled with humility, for perhaps the first and final time in his life, before the son of Bloodhoof. "I was played for a fool by one who would dishonour the Horde. For my pride, my axe and my kill has been tainted by cowardice. For my arrogance, the Horde has lost a brother, your people have lost a great leader, and you have lost your father. For my redemption, I offer you my--
*CRUNCH*
The salt-bed beneath Baine's hooves drank the quick, red ooze urgently flowing from the puddle that had been the skull of Garrosh Hellscream. Baine suppressed any sense of retributory glee as he cut short such grovelling that did not suit the petulant Hellscream whelp. The Horde could only be misled by one so easily massaged into manipulation. Word of Magatha's treachery had already spread throughout the cities and villages of Kalimdor and so too had the tales of how one Tauren had ignited the honour of those he rallied and avenged his father and liberated his people. This, Baine noted, was the spirit the Horde would need to endure the coming storm. He did not wish for power, nor leadership, and would sooner defer and deliberate until a common path was found, but he would always be decisive when his actions felt true.
The Orcish peoples were proud and traditioned. Garrosh was a hero to them, true, but Baine had won his right in law, to lead the Horde in Garrosh's derliction, with strength and honour.