Glâúa looked down at her list, her brow furrowing as she absent-mindedly patted Frostmane's snout. The timber wolf in question poked her hand with a small whimper and licked it, its haunches bunched up as its ears twitched in anticipation.
"Easy does it, boy," she said soothingly, scratching the wolf behind the ears. "I know you're eager to be off, but let me check what we have to do first..."
Looking back down at her list, she saw that if she wanted to progress to Master First Aid, she'd have to seek our Aresella at Falcon Watch. Where was that supposed to be? She didn't recall it being in Kalimdor or in the Eastern Kingdoms. If memory served her, someone had mentioned something about a Hellfire Peninsula...
With an aggravated sigh, she pulled out her map and began to inspect it.
After several long moments, she cursed harshly, nearly crumpling up the map in her aggravation. "It's in the Outlands!? How the crap am I gonna get there?!" The Outlands weren't just on a different continent; they were an altogether different world, the floating remains of what used to be the homeworld of the orcs. There was no way she could go there any time soon; she wasn't strong enough yet, not by a long shot.
"There's gotta be another way..." she grumbled, stuffing the map back into her bag as she set off on foot, walking down the narrow path towards Ogrimmar's main gate. Frostmane trailed along behind her, tail wagging as it eagerly anticipated to be off and out of the orc capitol. "Maybe there's another trainer somewhere else..."
But her musings were interrupted when she suddenly heard a voice seeming to reverberate from all around, announcing, "Greetings, pathetic life forms. Your planet is now my planet. Some of you will die, and the rest of you will wish you were dead. But I require entertainment, so I will take some people off your planet to transfer them to my location. Do not be jealous of them, they probably won't fare too well here either."
She, along with several others lingering around the main gates, were astonished to see a large metallic ship darken the sky. Was it the Draenei's starships? Glâúa wondered why the Draenei would try to strike at Ogrimmar, but had no time to contemplate the matter further when shouts and screams filled the air; something was happening, and something big.
Frostmane growled beside her, barring its large teeth as its white fur bristled.
"Wanna fight, boy?" Glâúa's lips quirked as she drew a deep breath, forming a smirk as electricity crackled through her fingers. "I thought you'd never ask."
She only released one bolt--that was enough--when a shadow fell upon her from behind. There had been no forewarning; she only managed to hear Frostmane's yelp as something slammed into the back of her head and blackness swallowed her up.
((I feel like this is a cliché/corny way to end this scene, but do tell me what you think. First-time posts for me are always the hardest.))
