Varian's mind was now entirely focused on how to win this war.
Tell me, what are the Orcs' weaknesses, and everything about them.
"Yes, sir."
The light in Maraad's eyes flickered, reflecting that painful memory, the Draenei's tragic past, and their scarred history.
"The first Orcs Warrior I want to talk about is Kargath. Kargath had no Clans; he was born a slave. If he wanted to escape the cruel Ogres and gain freedom, there was only one way: the Arena. Kargath was the champion of the Ogre Arena. His cruelty, ferocity, and methods of killing his own kind made even the Ogres tremble with fear."
Finally, Kargath faced his final battle, a decisive duel against a hundred. Kargath fought one hundred battle-hardened Orcs, trading their lives for freedom and gaining unprecedented glory. It was the most brutal Arena battle in history. Fighting, killing, cheering— Kargath was invincible, reaping the lives of the Orcs like harvesting wheat. In just ten minutes, the Arena was piled high with corpses, leaving only Kargath Orcs.
"But the Ogres broke their oath, Kargath paid with a hundred lives for his final reward: being forgotten in the Arena's dungeons. Freedom was a lie. But Kargath refused to be chained any longer. He picked up a sharp stone and smashed his left hand, which was bound by chains. What followed was a one-man show. With only one arm, he slaughtered thousands of Ogres, rescuing all the Orcs. From that moment on, he became a hero, a great warrior, Shattered Hand Clan was born."
Varian was terrified. Although he had heard of Kargath before, he was unaware of this particular experience.
"Such terrifying Orcs exist in this world?" Varian asked hastily.
"So what are the weaknesses of the Shattered Hand Clan?"
Maraad coldly replied, "Cruelty, slaughter, ruthlessness towards one's own kind—these are weaknesses that can be exploited."
Varian lowered his head again uneasily; this intelligence seemed to be of little value.
Maraad sighed and said, "We must admit, our opponents' will is as firm as a rock."
Draenor.
The Ogre Grimak brought Garrosh to the Highmaul.
Highmaul, the power center of the Ogre Empire Gorian Empire, is home to the largest Arena in Draenor World.
Every year, tens of thousands of Orcs are thrown into the Arena, their bloodshed and death providing amusement for the Ogres.
Grimak shook his large head and slowly said:
"Heroes hold great significance for a race; they are role models, a goal. Foolish people dream of becoming heroes, but they don't realize it's an unattainable destination, a fabricated lie, merely a means to deceive fools. Grom Hellscream was the first hero I nurtured, and I've prepared a grand performance for him. Now is not the time. You said Varian and Thrall were champions of the Arena."
Garrosh scoffed, "My lord, that's nothing but a hypocritical lie. In fact, neither of them ever stepped into the Arena."
Grimak said with a smile:
"Indeed, this proves my assessment of the hero was correct. It reminds me that a hero from the Arena, helping the Orcs break free from the Ogre's rule, is far more likely to inspire the Orcs to their deaths. Of course, he must be weak enough to remain under my control. A true hero would only be unruly and uncontrollable, which is not what I want."
Garrosh suddenly felt uneasy, realizing what was about to happen.
"You don't look well," Grimak asked, looking down.
Garrosh gave an awkward laugh, "I was just thinking about some unpleasant things from the past."
Grimak stared intently at Garrosh, then calmly said:
Even the Warchief can be deceived by history; you will soon see the truth.
Grimak was a distant cousin of Imperator Mar'gok, Ogre noble of high status. When he entered the Arena, the Arena's slave owners personally came out to greet him.
"I want to know, who is the weakest and most cowardly of the gladiators?" Grimak asked.
The slave owner said obsequiously, "Of course it's Kargath Weakfist, a cowardly wretch, the most incompetent Orcs I've ever seen. He's a clown, a master of slapstick, and the audience loves to see him being chased all over the arena by his opponents or wild beasts, looking utterly pathetic."
Garrosh's face darkened; he thought to himself, "Just as I thought."
Grimak turned to Garrosh and whispered:
"Everything you have seen today has actually happened in your world, only it was orchestrated by the Burning Legion, by the Pit Lord Mannoroth you know."
Garrosh recalled Mannoroth's fanged shoulders; very few knew that the origin of this armor was merely a hoax.
Grimak smiled and said to the slave owner, "How did such cowardly Orcs survive?"
The slave owner, with an obsequious air, said, "This man is utterly servile. A few days ago, I casually mentioned wanting to taste what Orcs's hand tasted like, and he actually cut off his own hand and gave it to me. Besides, he's my cash cow, how could I bear to let him die?"
Grimak showed interest. "Interesting. Take me to meet him."
Kargath's servility earned him a life of luxury. Among all the poorly clothed gladiators, only Kargath wore a proper robe and enjoyed more freedom than the others, even being able to beat and scold Orcs at will.
Upon being summoned by an Ogre noble, Kargath, displaying utter subservience, immediately knelt on the ground and kissed Grimak's feet.
Garrosh curled his lip. Could this be Kargath, one of the seven heroes of Draenor? The truth of history is indeed disgusting.
Grimak chuckled and said, "Kargath, what do you think of these gladiators? Do you pity their plight?"
Kargath paused for a moment, then asked in confusion:
"Why would I pity them? I hate them to the core; I wish I could kill all the Orcs."
Grimak's eyes darted around. "Oh, that's interesting. Tell me your reasoning."
Kargath said viciously:
"I was a slave from childhood, growing up among slaves. These cruel Orcs used every means to torture and humiliate me. In their eyes, I was less than a pitiful rat, merely a tool for their amusement. I grew up in endless hunger and pain. It was the Ogres who gave me a life of abundance, allowing me to wear fine clothes and enjoy the feeling of being well-fed. Now I can whip Orcs at will. Those who humiliated me and mocked me deserve to die. I hate the Orcs, this filthy race."
Grimak smiled with satisfaction, "This is exactly the person I need, Kargath. Tell me what you know about the Orcs' weaknesses."
Kargath thought for a moment, "They worship the strong. No matter how cruelly you treat them, as long as someone is stronger than them, they will willingly grovel on the ground."
Grimak's lips curled slightly:
"You understand very well, Kargath. If I made you a warrior who could take on a hundred men, ruling over these fools and making them die for you, what price would you be willing to pay?"
Kargath answered without hesitation, "Everything."