[[Coulda figured my two mains would be first. Two removed off list. Also, going to be speeding ahead to post resurrection for Brag. Though, no drawbacks shall be had, for fairness.]]
Azshara was an odd place. Shivala knew that the War of the Ancients had taken place partially here, yet she still had yet to see any signs of war. Perhaps the multitude of depressions on the side of the road gave a large enough hint as to the harm this land had endured 10,000 years ago. Of course, she hadn't been there, so she wouldn't know. Of course, anyone that had been there probably wouldn't remember.
Urelle and Seleza hadn't told her much when she'd pestered them as a child, so she had assumed that this was the case for all of them. Of course, her inner conscience knew that someday she would be proven wrong by a Dragonsworn or something, yet nonetheless, her outer conscience believed this with all it's heart.
Her new bow had finished, the last one cracking in a failed parachute test. Luckily, it had still worked, albeit horribly, and saved her from a few broken bones. Or, possibly, worse, although she liked to be optimistic. Optimism was a good thing in such a down and drab world as Azeroth. So few had it, so many needed it. Then, of course, we had all the want to be heroes.
These were way too common. Of course, Shivala, in her minds eye, had never been one. She only wanted the perfect world. Her plan was simple, flawless, even. Except for the fact that it included exterminating everything that wasn't a Kaldorei. People had problems with this, and Shivala had gone to the next best plan. Find someone who wants them all dead and offer her services to them.
The first person to find her was Sagi. A Night Elf Priest, who had taken her under his wing in a Circus. It was all well and dandy until the lack of respect began to piss Shivala off. She'd left, gone back, fallen in love with a Demon Hunter, left again and gotten trained as a Dead Shot. All in a matter of months.
She amazed herself, although, then she remembered the negatives. She'd died, she'd gotten exiled from her homeland, she'd fallen in love with a Demon Hunter, she'd been forced to work with Humans. She went back to the task at home, continuing her walk to Azshara Crater and whistling. After a bit, she saw an Orc, an axe comprised of shadow and bone in his hand. She also noticed that she'd put falling in love with a Demon Hunter as both good and bad.
Originally, she only pondered the latter. She thought, before becoming satisfied with her answer and snapping back to reality.
She realized that she was staring at the Orc. Then she realized the Orc was staring at her. Then she saw the Shadow axe in his hand, and the other axe hilt over his back.
She offered a feeble wave, whistling innocently. Her whistles failed, and she turned down, going to continue her walk.
Warlock? Death Knight? She looked over her shoulder at the Orc, eyes narrowing at the Draenei's skull on his second axe's hilt,
Horde.
Slowly, she turned, hands reaching for arrow and bow simultaneously. The Orc stopped, standing rigid. Her finger moved, and the arrow hurtled towards its destination.
~
Damn guards.
The Sentinels of Azshara Crater had forced him to leave his axe outside of the crater, due to their no evil policy, or something. Bragdana obliged, but not before ranting on them like the elder he was slowly becoming. They had persevered, nodding to him as he finally went into the crater, still mumbling. They had sighed, placing his axe far away and returning to their posts.
Finally inside, Bragdana continued grumbling. He was met at the bar by nothing other then a drink, and he had, for the first time in years, drank away the horrors he had witnessed. He'd then paid for his drink, leaving no tip, and walked out. He met the Night Elves outside, grumbling evermore about disrespectful youngsters, even though they were over 10 times his age. They pointed him to his axe. The grumbling Orc picked up his axe and went on the road back to Ashenvale.
Along the way, he'd sobered from his drunken walking, holding the axe closer as he got farther from the crater. The Night Elf was not the first one that he'd encountered on the road, yet she was the first that stared at him. So, he'd stared back. A perfectly reasonable response, given the circumstances.
She'd shaken her head, he'd mentally facepalmed, and they continued. Only when she stopped walking did he stop. The slight strain of a bowstring met his ears, and he dived for the side, an arrow whizzing overhead.
~
The Orc pushed himself up, automatically charging at Shivala. She grabbed another arrow, realized it was useless, and got ready to dodge. He swung, she ducked and she went an uppercut. It caught his jaw square, sending him reeling back as she loading the previously retrieved arrow, firing it at his chest.
Then, she realized he had a chest piece on. The arrow bounced off harmlessly, the Orc swinging again. This, Shivala was not prepared, and she barely afforded a punch at the tip of the axe, causing it to shear painfully off her forearm. She growled, clutching the wound and backing up. The Orc followed, swinging as he ran, and each one she barely dodged. Finally, as he finished a swing, she charged, her shoulder smashing him full on in the face.
He reeled back, swinging the axe at her again. The momentum in her favor, she ducked beneath, sending another punch for his face and grabbing the axe's hilt between her two hands to prevent him from using it. He dropped the new axe, grabbing the one off his back and attacking her. She fumbled with his old axe, barely putting it up in defense. It slammed into her axe's hilt, sending her, and the axe, flying in different directions.
Shivala rolled a few feet away, quickly getting to a crouching position. Her eyes drifted from the Shadow axe, which was pulsing weakly with the matter that held it together, to the Orc, chest heaving up and down as he glared at her, and finally to her bow, laying 5 feet from the Orc.
Her eyes returned to the Orc, gripping the dagger at her side before charging the larger.