The next day, the Draenei gathered atop the city walls early as usual, waiting for a new round of attacks just as they had every day before.
But this time, they found that the Orcs below the walls were different from before.
Compared to their previous loose formations, ragged armor, and uneven quality, the Orc army now gathered beneath the city was completely different.
Orc warriors in heavy armor, wolf riders mounted on fearsome beasts, two-headed wyvern riders, towering Ogres, and even taller Ogron and Gronn filled the far side beneath Shattrath's walls by the tens of thousands, packed together so densely they resembled black clouds stretching beyond sight. The plains reeked with a foul stench, while the Horde's horns and clamor carried for miles without end.
The banners standing there this time were different as well. No longer were they the ragged, scribbled banners of miscellaneous clans, but many finely made and familiar standards:
The Frostwolf Clan banner, bearing a wolf's head upon a wolf pelt; the Shattered Hand Clan banner with its blood-red palm; the Blackrock Clan banner marked by black mountains; the Warsong Clan banner, red with white patterns and a terrifying roaring face...
The appearance of these banners meant one thing: the great clans, the Horde's elites and main force, would no longer use lesser clans and slaves to wear down the Draenei. This time, they would personally launch the siege.
Behind the banners of those great clans stood countless banners of smaller tribes. Evil skull braziers and ritual arrays were everywhere. This was the work of the warlocks, who were preparing vile spells, while the fel energy spilling forth desecrated Draenor's land.
At the sight of this, even the dullest person realized that a great battle was about to begin.
For a time, every Draenei