Wrathion slips to sit up properly on the bed, long legs laid out along the cover as he takes a slow sip of his hot chocolate.

"It is certainly a heavy blade," he agrees, "something that takes strength to wield. No doubt the plate armour helps you build that strength."

It must be exhausting to move around in, but it does admittedly do the job of protecting his body. The human form has little in the way of natural armour. The skin is soft, the major organs ill protected. One strike of a blade in the right place and the whole thing simply fails in a matter of minutes. As cumbersome as the armour is, Wrathion cannot help but think Anduin might benefit from having it here if they get into more close combat.