Retreat

Of course, although their battle cries were chaotic, the Horde's army was remarkably well-organized, with clear divisions between its units. Their attack wasn't a mindless charge; it was a layered assault, with each unit playing its role to the fullest. This greatly increased their combat effectiveness, and watching the Horde fight gave Alleria a feeling of surprise and admiration.

As commanders of the Horde, they had never believed in staying back at the center of the army. To them, commanding from the center meant launching an attack alongside the troops there. The senior Warmaster commanding the fifty thousand Horde soldiers, Garrosh Hellscream, was no different. This was something the Horde could never lose—and something Leiluo didn't want to change. Hardship made one strong, while comfort bred weakness. Leiluo didn't want the Horde's leaders to become bloated "generals who sat behind the lines." He would rather see a pack of "wolf-like, tiger-hearted commanders." So although Garrosh had learned many tactical skills under Leiluo's guidance, when he reached the battlefield, he still led his troops into the fray. It was a kind of romance, a romance unique to men.

Garrosh hadn't charged in with the Worg Riders. He waited until they had reached the enemy lines before leading the Tauren into the fray. Riding a Worg, Garrosh had charged at the head of his men, but once he plunged into the enemy ranks, the Tauren followed close behind. On the battlefield, the Tauren showed the High Elves what a true warrior was. Those frail skeletons were no match for a Tauren warrior. If they were struck by a swinging totem pole, they were smashed to pieces. Then they were either trampled under the Tauren's iron hooves or carried off by Worg Riders roaming nearby.

With fifty thousand reinforcements, even the Scourge had