Wrathion hums in thought, moving to sit a little more behind Anduin so he can rest his chin on his shoulder. He considers the droid, one arm lazily beginning to slide around the priest's middle while the other still holds his tea.

"So a virtue of some kind, something admirable and fitting for your guard dog."

He thinks a long moment, considering the creature.

"Strength is a little literal, and runs the risk of you sounding like a Horde warrior when you shout it too much."