This is Gorgonna. She never agreed with her sister’s idea of pillaging from the Night Elves:
- “Let me ask you this, Hellscream: have you really seen this city? Yes, the marketplace overflows. But where does it come from? Where are the farms in Durotar?”
Garrosh narrowed his eyes. He knew there were a few on the outskirts of Orgrimmar, but they raised mostly swine and certainly brought no harvest of grain or fruit.
“Exactly!” she continued. “There are none. All we have is hauled in from miles away.” She glared at the bag where she stored her net. “Or what we can wrest from the desert. As for safety!” She laughed. “The Alliance encroaches farther into our land daily. If you can call this red rock ‘land’ anyway! To the north is Ashenvale Forest, full of everything we could ever need, but did we settle there? No! Instead we live in a desert! So tell me, Hellscream, why would the good warchief, who loves his people so, condemn us to this wasteland when just up the river there is far more bounty? He is either corrupt or incompetent, or both, and you seem to fit right in!”
That was the last straw.
“Treason!” Garrosh roared. He took a step toward her menacingly. “You dare insult the warchief? Shut your mouth, traitor, or I will shut it for you!”
“Go ahead and—" she began, clenching her hands into fists, bracing against the anticipated blow.
“No! Krenna!” a new voice yelled. Garrosh looked over: another orc was running toward them.
“Krenna, you hold your tongue!” she continued, stepping in between the two of them.
The one with the eye patch—Krenna—glared at the person who addressed her, then snorted and stood down.
“I’ll be on my way, then, Gorgonna.” She heaved her bag over her shoulder and left without another word to either of them. Garrosh made to follow her, but Gorgonna immediately turned and grabbed his arm.
“Please stop,” she said. “I am sorry about my sister. She does not mean what she says!”
“She better not,” Garrosh growled. Gorgonna sighed, releasing her grasp.
“She and I spent our childhoods in the internment camps after the Second War. She is grateful that the warchief liberated us, but…" She hesitated, then added quietly, “She thinks he does not do enough.”
“And you?” Garrosh demanded. Gorgonna looked down the path that Krenna had gone and did not immediately speak.
“Our parents fought in the wars,” she said slowly. “They drank the blood of Mannoroth like your father did, and they were parties to its curse. They committed terrible acts in the name of the Horde. They attacked and murdered the innocent.”
Garrosh bristled. His father was no murderer. “They did what they believed necessary! Do you defile the name of your own blood?”
“I honor my parents’ memory—make no mistake!” she cried. “But what they believed was wrong. What all the orcs believed was wrong. We must suffer for it. The warchief understands this, as do I. My sister does not.”
And as we know, Gorgonna had to put down her sister at the Grizzly Hills.