Garrosh was speechless with despair, and could only curse silently:
"Fraud!"
"Traitor!"
"Orcs scum!"
He kept saying he would "slay Ogres of Draenor, eat their flesh, and drink their blood," but in the end, he secretly colluded with the Ogres and betrayed his people.
Garrosh regretted it, feeling like a complete idiot.
Of the Seven Heroes of Draenor, which one is truly kind?
They speak sweet words while doing filthy and vile things; this is probably the norm for Orcs chieftains.
Durotan received a bag of gold coins with a clattering sound, bowed and scraped as he left. Not long after, an Ogre walked in, grabbed Garrosh's leg, and dragged him into the next room.
Garrosh was thrown into a pool of water, washed clean, and had all his hair shaved off.
The Ogre Chef had Garrosh strapped to the dining table, his body covered in various delicious sauces.
He will suffer excruciating torture before being devoured by the Ogre guest.
Garrosh was not alone; six Orcs were also on the table with him.
According to the Chef, the dishes include braised, steamed, grilled, and boiled.
Garrosh was eaten alive; whether that was lucky or unlucky was hard to say. All the other Orcs were cooked, but he was the only one who survived.
When the distinguished guest took his seat, Garrosh looked closely and was immediately relieved to see that it was Grimak.
Grimak seemed not to recognize Garrosh, grabbing a piece of fragrant roasted Orcs meat and chewing it, nodding repeatedly.
Lord Gorsog of Dota accompanied him, smiling as he pointed at Garrosh and said:
"My lord, in our Ogre culture, eating them alive is a fine tradition. This is an Orcs from the Warsong Clan, considered strong for Orcs. Please, my lord, have a taste."
Grimak looked at Garrosh with a smile:
"Gorsog, how much Orcs food does your gold-plating kiln sell in a year?"
Upon hearing this, Gorsog immediately slumped and complained:
"Previously, the Frostwolf Clan and the Thunderlord Clan supplied us with Orcs, and business was always very good, selling thousands of Orcs every year. But ever since Fenris, the wolf cub, seized power in the Thunderlord Clan, they've refused to supply us with Orcs. These little dwarves don't know their own limitations. I've sent men to attack them several times, but the Thunderlord Clan, possessing mysterious power, has suffered heavy losses, and we don't know what to do."
Grimak shook his head and said:
"Dealing with Orcs cannot rely solely on force; strategy is also necessary. Frostwolf Clan Chief Garad has a good idea, thinking he can unite the Orcs of Frostfire Ridge. Little does he know that the infighting among brothers will only make things more brutal. If necessary, we can support the Frostwolf Clan and suppress Lei Shen. I think Durotan would be a good choice."
Gorsog took a deep breath and suddenly realized:
"The master's reprimand is correct. He really underestimated these little guys. Garad used his eldest son Fenris to control the Thunderlord Clan, and his second son Jarnal inherited the chieftainship of the Frostwolf Clan. Only his third son, Durotan, got nothing and has long harbored resentment. This man may seem to be indulging in drinking and having fun, but in fact, he has been holding a fire in his heart for a long time."
Grimak laughed, "It's time to unleash Durotan's fury, enough to set Frostfire Ridge ablaze."
Garrosh was deeply upset after hearing this.
He hoped that Durotan would launch a desperate counterattack, kill his two brothers, and weaken the Thunderlord Clan.
But Durotan turned him into food on the table. Should Garrosh take revenge? He was torn.
Boom!
A series of war drums sounded, and shouts of battle filled the air outside the window.
Gorsog's expression changed drastically, and he slammed his fist hard on the dining table.
"The Thunderlord Clan is becoming increasingly audacious, daring to launch a sneak attack on my fortress. My lord, please wait a moment while I repel the enemy before we join you."
Grimak glanced at Garrosh deliberately, and said with interest:
"I'm quite eager to see what the Thunderlord Clan can do. Let's go together."
Garrosh was soon left alone in the large room, struggling to escape, but the Ogre Chef's restraints were extremely strong.
Soft footsteps approached, and a veiled female Orcs quietly approached Garrosh and released him from his restraints.
Although he couldn't see her face, Garrosh immediately recognized her by her familiar braids and beautiful, melancholic eyes:
"Agatha, it's you."
"Shh!"
Agatha whispered, "Put on your clothes and come with me."
Garrosh found an Ogre's robe, haphazardly draped it over his shoulders, and followed Agatha out of the room.
Chaos had already broken out outside, with Orcs launching aerial attacks from two-headed dragons and setting fires everywhere.
The Ogres, under Gorsog's command, retaliated with crossbow bolts.
Among the large group of two-headed dragons, one stood out, its size as enormous as an adult Dragon, with an Orcs in a gray robe standing on its back.
The gray-robed Orcs was thin, like a javelin, with a chiseled face that, instead of being ferocious, possessed a rare elegance. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and he muttered to himself as if reciting poetry.
Behind the gray-robed Orcs was a semi-transparent gray spirit, shaped like an octopus, with countless tentacles swaying back and forth, constantly knocking down the Ogre's crossbow bolts.
Garrosh guessed that this must be the mysterious power of Gromgal, so the identity of the refined Orcs was not hard to guess.
Seeing Agatha's infatuated expression, Garrosh asked with a hint of jealousy:
"He's a poet?"
Agatha nodded, her gaze fervent. "Yes, he is the poet, Fenris Ironwolf."
No wonder Agatha was so enamored; with such terrifying power, what female Orcs wouldn't be tempted?
A two-headed dragon descended, carrying Agatha and Garrosh into the sky. Fenris waved his hand, and the Thunderlord Clan slowly retreated.
The Thunderlord Clan's army rested at a nearby camp. Fenris jumped off the two-headed dragon and stared into Garrosh's eyes.
"I have received a prophecy that you are the one who can change Draenor."
Garrosh trembled slightly and said cautiously, "You flatter me. I'm just an ordinary Orcs."
Fenris shook his head:
"You possess an aura that transcends this era; you will bring about change for us."
Garrosh didn't know how to answer and remained silent.
"Your choice is crucial to the Orcs."
Fenris said in a deep voice:
"I saw two forks in the prophecy: either abandon your prejudices, sacrifice your own interests for the greater good, or..."
Fenris sighed and said, "Perhaps we will all die."
Garrosh gazed at the snow-covered path:
"I have my own ideas, and I only trust my own judgment. Fenris, do you want to become the Warlords of Draenor?"
Fenris paused for a moment, then said, "I admit my ambition. Who wouldn't want to be the Warlords of Draenor? It's just a matter of who is more suitable for that position."
Garrosh grinned. "I hope you can convince me that the Warlords of Draenor must be a great Orcs, fair, impartial, and with all Orcs in his heart."
Fenris turned and walked towards the camp, leaving behind a single sentence:
"I will prove it to you."
Garrosh leaned against a pillar, sizing up the two-headed dragon beside him, secretly pondering a countermeasure.
Stay by Fenris's side, gain his trust, and then take the opportunity to kill him.
It was as if everything was pre-arranged.
What Orcs could be kind?
Even if Fenris was good by nature, once he tasted the power, he was no different.
Fenris was unaware that Garrosh had already reached that conclusion from the very beginning.