The brown-skinned orc facing Blackhand was his deputy, Orgrim Doomhammer!
Orgrim, wielding his ancestral warhammer, unleashed a relentless assault on his former superior. Each strike of the Doomhammer against Blackhand's Destroyer made it increasingly difficult for Blackhand to parry.
Blackhand was quickly overwhelmed. The aging orc, hardened by battles against the Gorons and ogres in his youth, and decades of war against the draenei, was past his prime. Though still an epic warrior, his body was failing him.
Orgrim, the Blackrock clan's second-in-command, was only around thirty - the prime of an orc's life. The Doomhammer's power further tilted the duel in his favor.
"Wake up, Blackhand! Stop being so stubborn! Gul'dan is using our people and has never cared about our future!"
Orgrim had discovered Durotan's battleaxe in Gul'dan's camp, confirming his friend's and his wife's grim fate.
He had bided his time, secretly purging his guards of Gul'dan's influence.
When Gul'dan inexplicably fell into a coma after breaching the human defenses, Orgrim seized his chance.
He challenged Warchief Blackhand to a Mak'gora, intending to take control of the Horde, end Gul'dan's dark reign, and guide the orcs back to the path of honor.
Now, victory was within reach.
"You little whelp! Don't forget who took you in when your father died! Who taught you to fight! Who gave you your rank?"
A previous wound on Blackhand's right side, sustained at Stone Watch Lake against the human commander Bolvar, reopened, gushing blood.
Blackhand had endured the injury, but Bolvar had fared worse, his chest crushed by the Destroyer. His guards had barely managed to carry him back to Goldshire.
Unlike Bolvar, who had priests to heal him, Blackhand had no such aid. The orcs had abandoned shamanism for warlock magic, and with Gul'dan incapacitated, Blackhand relied on ineffective tribal remedies.
Orgrim's onslaught reopened the wound. Even fel-enhanced flesh couldn't heal it in days.
"I am grateful for your kindness, Blackhand," Orgrim said, "but you taught me orcish honor. We fight for honor, not to turn our blades against our own! What did the Frostwolf and Whiteclaw clans do to deserve their fate?"
"The Blackhand I knew was a hero, beloved by the tribe, who led us to victory against the ogres, not Gul'dan's puppet who abandons honor, betrays faith, and assassinates his own people!" Orgrim's heart ached. The Warchief he once admired was lost.
"Grant me a dignified end. Continue the duel!"
"As you wish!"
Both warriors abandoned defense, trading brutal blows.
The surrounding orcs roared, fueling the intensity.
Finally, Blackhand, weakened by blood loss, dropped his warhammer and fell to Orgrim's attack.
"Ugh... cough cough... Orgrim, you've won. The future of the orcs, the future of the Blackrock... I leave it to you!"
With a final surge of strength, Blackhand grasped Orgrim's arm, gasped out his last words, and died.
"Roar!" Orgrim roared in grief, his eyes closed in sorrow, while the surrounding orcs cheered.
"Warchief! Warchief!"
"Long live Orgrim!"
Ignoring the cheers, Orgrim ordered his guards to prepare a traditional burial for Blackhand. Then, he entered the Warchief's tent.
Surrounded by Blackhand's possessions, Orgrim was consumed by memories and rage. The elements within the Doomhammer surged.
"Gul'dan!"
Bang!
The Doomhammer shattered the old wooden table.
"I will make you wish you had never been born! And wish you could die!"
... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
As intelligence from Stormwind arrived, Galen was assembling a fleet. Transport ships were the cheapest option, so he ordered a thousand.
Each ship, about forty meters long and seven meters wide, could carry roughly three hundred tons, or three hundred people with some crowding.
The Scarlet Legion, under Amor, had already departed for Stormwind. This fleet would transport food. However, instead of simply loading the holds, Galen placed eighty soldiers, with food-filled packs, on each ship, in addition to the crew.
He also sent two hundred battleships as escorts. The resulting fleet of twelve hundred ships was beyond Stromgarde's capabilities, and even Stormwind would struggle to match it.
Only Kul Tiras, and perhaps a hidden troll kingdom, could easily field such a force.
Aragorn would lead the fleet, first meeting Derek of Kul Tiras in the northwest of Dun Morogh. Galen's father, Thoras, had convinced Daelin Proudmoore to send Derek with a supply convoy of ten battleships and twenty transports.
Galen's primary goal was to evacuate Stormwind's civilians and some of the Stormwind Cathedral's relics.
The news that Orgrim had become Warchief signaled to Galen that:
Stormwind's fall was imminent!