Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft, or Blizzard...unfortunately.
This is based off of two of my characters in WoW.
Razor Hill was a small orcish town in Durotar. It was on the outskirts of Orgrimmar, capital for the Orcs, and home of the mighty Warchief Thrall. Despite it's strategic position, it had few guards who had any sufficient skill in siege warfare. The reason for this was Durotar itself. A hot a rugged country which would leave any army who came unprepared in full retreat within a few weeks. Several armies of the Alliance have come several times in an attempt to destroy Durotar. They were always repelled by both the Horde and the land. They often brought too little water, being unprepared for the scorching heat.
As such, the only kind of disturbances that the guards in Razor Hill ever had to worry about were the internal ones, such as the one happening in the bar at that very moment.
"You fire-fueled, power hungry, coward!" Thrakham growled at the warlock across from him. He and Guldrog had met in the tavern and were having a drink, but as what is usually the case with Warlocks and Shamans, meetings don't go very well after awhile.
Guldrog fumed to himself. "Thrakham, you speak in circles whenever anyone came and asked you for advice while I've just been enjoying my drink. I did not come here burn the town to a crisp more than the sun already does! I have not summoned any of my minions, I have not cast any spells. I have fought alongside you against the Burning Blade on multiples occasions! I am not suspicious here." the Warlock growled in defense. To an orc, being called a coward was one of the worst insults to get. It often resulted in a duel to the death. Honor was what any orc valued above all else...well most orcs anyway. Why couldn't that stuffy shaman see that they were on the same side?
The shaman in question had paused and was feeling the spirits around him, calming him. "Guldrog, we have fought side by side on a few occasions, but few does not make up for the many. Every time we have fought the Burning Blade, they had been supported by warlocks. You are a warlock. Neeru Fireblade himself professes to aid Thrall but is secretly leader of the Burning Blade. You were with me when Thrall told us. How can I trust you when so many other warlocks make the same promises you have and come up short?"
Slamming his drink down, Guldrog roared loudly at Thrakham. "You question my honor! I should kill you where you stand!"
"I didn't know Warlocks cared for honor." Thrakham eyed his companion in front of him with steely eyes, his hand reaching for his axe. Unlike most Shamans, he favored using a very large axe. It required both hands to use, but he liked the feel of it in his hands. The power of fire coursing through the blade. The slow swing helped him out in the long run with the Fire spirit as his ally. "You use fire without understanding its true nature. It's more than destruction and not just for battle."
Guldrog pulled out his dirk. "There you go again! You shamans are all alike. You say something but whenever anyone asks you to say what you mean, you answer with a riddle, or just don't answer! Why do you have to be this way?"
Thrakham hefted his axe, laying it on his shoulder, his hand clutching the grip tightly. "You will know the answer to that when you no longer need to ask it." Roaring in fury, the warlock shook his head, mowhawk on his head breezing like the sea by his violent head shake.
"Thrakham, you overbearing, stuffed up, yellow toothed human-lover!" Thrakham felt himself stiffen up from the jibe. Before he could retort, four guards had rushed in, two on either one of them.
"Take this outside, fight with honor if you must, but outside!" One of the guards, a huge Orc, even in their standards, said with his hands on a very large sword. Guldrog pushed himself out of the guards grips.
"Fine by me! I was just leaving anyway." The warlock left quickly, summoning an imp on the way out. Thrakham finished up his drink, keeping an eye on the entrance, just in case that nuisance ever came back in. Paying the barkeep, he left the bar. Walking slowly out the west gate, Thrakham kept his eyes open for that warlock. He found him leaning against the wall just outside of the gate. Guldrog smiled when he saw Thrakham come out of Razor Hill. "It's about time you got here. You order another drink or something?"
Thrakham smiled. "No, just finished up my drink then helped an orcling across the street, bought more food, and rescued a troll while I was at it. No of course not!" Guldrog laughed at the shaman.
"Nice to know you still have your touch...how much do I owe you again?" Thrakham pulled out a thick sheet of paper, full of numbers and locations. "6 gold eh, sorry but I don't have it on me." Thrakham glared at the warlock. Shrugging, Guldrog reached inside a pouch and handing him the gold. "But I do have it with me." He smiled brightly.
Thrakham smiled himself. When the warlock asked him where he was headed next, he pulled out a map. "Stonetalon Mountains. The spirits are troubled by the goings on there. I need to put a stop to it. What about you?" Guldrog looked over the map carefully.
"Ashenvale. The Warsong Clan is being attacked again. I'm headed to fight in Warsong Gulch." The two of them nodded at each other. "Well brother, I guess I should buy a few drinks for you. Those were some choice insults."
"Likewise my friend, likewise." Thrakham smiled cheerfully. "I'll see you next month at the Crossroads. I wager...uh...seven gold that it will take a half hour to be asked or kicked out of the bar."
A loud laugh boomed from the Warlock. "The Crossroads it is. But you are really overestimating the efficiency there. It's the prime target of the Alliance. They are used to fighting. I give it nine gold on a full hour at least. See you later brother...we're off on our own again."
"Yeah...you know, it's hard to believe. As children the only time I was alone was the five minutes I was born before you. Now here we are, completely opposite paths, yet still good pals."
"It's the fact that we're brothers." Guldrog smiled. With that, the two twins headed to the Barrens to pursue their own adventures until it came for the time of their wager at the next bar.