Eitrigg was among the first Veterans to cross the Dark Portal, having experienced both Orcs Wars and stained his hands with the blood of all races of Azeroth. He was a ruthless executioner. Vol'jin, on the other hand, was a native Darkspear Trolls, known for his cruelty, cunning, and resourcefulness.
Compared to these two, Garrosh from Nagrand in Outland, while not lacking in cunning and scheming, unfortunately lacks sufficient understanding of Azeroth and is still relying on hearsay.
In Garrosh's mind, the Drakkari Frost Trolls were a backward race that lacked food and clothing, was dirt poor, and had no redeeming qualities other than savagery and ferocity.
Garrosh disdained the Blue Dragonflight and looked down on the weak Drakkari Frost Trolls.
In his plan, as long as the brave and noble Orcs army marched into the Zul'Drak Empire, the Drakkari Trolls would be terrified, scatter and flee, and kneel on the ground to offer their flesh and blood.
Garrosh contacted the Red Dragonflight, forcing the Red Dragon Queen to cooperate, and at the same time pressured Rhonin to send some Dalaran Mages, leading the remaining New Warsong Legion, towards the Drak'Tharon Keep of the Zul'Drak Empire.
He saw Vol'jin and Eitrigg's hesitation as a sign of cowardice and weakness.
It's no wonder Garrosh was reckless. He'd had it too easy in recent years, even trampling Savior under his feet, Thrall gradually fueled his arrogance. As a result, he suffered a setback in the Blue Dragonflight, and he was unwilling to swallow his pride and was eager to turn the tide.
High Prophet Moorabi, who was in charge of the Horde to the Horde, ran headlong into Garrosh's army. Looking at this small Orcs Legion of less than 10,000 men, Moorabi initially thought it was the vanguard of the Orcs army. However, when he heard that the commander was General Garrosh, he was immediately confused.
Upon learning that the envoy was from the Zul'Drak Empire, Garrosh beamed and took the initiative to entertain this high-ranking Priest, for subduing the enemy without a fight was, of course, the best outcome.
Garrosh led Moorabi on a tour of his Legion, his manner somewhat reminiscent of showing off to his impoverished relatives, pointing to the well-disciplined Orcs Legion and saying:
"Prophet, is my Legion mighty and mighty?"
Moorabi glanced at the Orcs army, his expression changing drastically.
It must be admitted that the Orcs soldiers were all dressed in thick armor, carrying sharp Battle Axes, each one imposing and majestic, with piercing eyes, like demons ready to devour their prey. The poorly clothed and starved Drakkari Trolls paled in comparison.
Moorabi a deep breath and said from the bottom of his heart, "General, the elite of the Orcs army truly lives up to its reputation. My Zul'Drak Empire is far inferior."
Garrosh chuckled smugly and led Moorabi forward. In the very center of the camp, under heavy protection, lay a mountain of siege equipment.
Catapults, siege towers, battering rams—they had it all, plus terrifying Goblin creations: cannons of all calibers and giant bombs, many of which were mechanical creations Moorabi couldn't name.
"Prophet, has the Zul'Drak Empire ever seen such advanced weaponry?"
Moorabi's face flushed, and he said with some shame:
"My Zul'Drak Empire is located in a harsh and cold land, with barren soil and insufficient produce. It is difficult to even feed ourselves. Even in such harsh weather, many soldiers are still wearing only thin clothing, and it is not even possible to guarantee that each person has a weapon. Where have we ever seen such a terrifying killing weapon? I am ashamed, I am ashamed."
A group of richly dressed Dalaran Mages emerged from their tent and bowed respectfully to Garrosh. Garrosh, brimming with confidence and pride, asked:
"The Dalaran Mages, the finest mage order in Azeroth. I've heard that the Drakkari Trolls have some Shaman, and even Priest like yourself. Can you compare to the Dalaran Mages?"
Moorabi distressed and almost cried.
"How can our meager magical power compare to that of the Shaman of Dalaran Mages? Mastering magic requires Wealth, and the Zul'Drak Empire is too poor to train Shaman."
The two continued on their way, Garrosh pointed to a Dragon skeleton in the camp, saying:
"It's not about the quantity of an army, but its quality. Even the Blue Dragonflight was defeated by us Orcs. Hundreds of thousands of our subjects were slaughtered, skinned, and dismembered. Are the Loa of Drakkari comparable to adult Blue Dragonflight?"
Gazing at the lifelike Dragon skeleton, Moorabi first astonished, then filled with shame. "The lowly Loa dares not compare himself to the noble Blue Dragonflight."
Garrosh laughed heartily upon hearing this, patting Moorabi on the shoulder and saying:
"Go back and tell Frost King Malakk that we Orcs have come to save Azeroth. If you offer half of the Drakkari Trolls as provisions and the other half as our livestock, the Zul'Drak Empire can be preserved, Horde will protect you for eternity."
"Livestock?"
Moorabi dumbfounded. Although the Drakkari Trolls were extremely savage—for example, they would not hesitate to eat the corpses of their enemies—they still maintained enough respect to treat their enemies with the same respect they would show to family.
"What does it mean to be domesticated?"
Moorabi impassive, and after a series of Proficiency flatteries, Garrosh became somewhat smug, as if he could already see the Zul'Drak Empire at his feet.
Moorabi rested with his men in the Orcs Camp, dismissing his attendants. He stayed alone in his tent, took out a sharp dagger, and cut a wound on his arm. Blood flowed freely. Moorabi's face was serious as he dipped his own blood into the ground and drew Runes.
A mysterious, eerie wind swirled inside the tent, and Blood Runes lit up one by one. A swarm of horseflies the size of eggs flew in from outside the tent, greedily devouring the blood.
The gadflies of Northrend are able to pierce the skin of Mammoths and are much larger than ordinary gadflies. Moorabi was the Chief Priest of Mam'toth, the god of mammoths. His years of hard work finally paid off, Mam'toth granted him the ability to communicate with the gadflies.
Moorabi slowly closed his eyes, and as the blood entered the gadflies' bellies, these gadflies became his eyes and ears. A large swarm of gadflies flew out and carefully scouted the camp.
He saw a large group of Orcs eating. Unlike the majestic and powerful Orcs he had just seen, the Orcs were generally listless and dispirited after removing their heavy armor.
Upon seeing the Orcs soldiers' food, Moorabi understood: each Orcs received only a small, dark, fist-sized lump of mixed food with a foul, fishy smell.
"It seems the rumors about the Orcs lacking military rations are true; their imposing and majestic appearance during the day was all an act." Moorabi secretly felt lucky, having almost fallen for Garrosh's trick.
Even the strongest army is useless without provisions.
The Gadfly flew to the war machine camp and observed it up close. Moorabi then discovered that most of the war machines were damaged. Perhaps due to the forced march and the Orcs' lack of technical expertise, these precious machines were severely neglected.
"Most of the Orcs' siege equipment is unusable, Drak'Tharon Keep is safe." Moorabi breathed a sigh of relief.
Leading the gadfly cautiously closer to the Dalaran Mages's tent, Moorabi overheard the Dalaran Mages muttering curses against Garrosh for his barbarity, cruelty, and indiscriminate killing.
"So the Dalaran Mages had long been at odds with Garrosh." Moorabi secretly delighted; it seemed the Orcs army was having a tough time.