Friendly Doomhammer

Feralas, Doomhammer Arena, North District

After the Second War, no one knew how the Ogres had crossed the Endless Sea and spread from the Eastern Kingdoms to Kalimdor, seizing vast territories along the way. It was neither scientific nor magical. It was just absurd.

The ancient arena was littered with collapsed rubble. King Gordok, the Ogre chieftain who occupied the northern district, had nothing to do every day but wait for the annual arena tournament.

But that day, a group of unfamiliar visitors who had teleported in shattered the peace.

"This is my territory! You lot are courting death—" Gordok immediately charged at the strangers who had suddenly appeared, shouting his battle cry as he ran.

Then he saw powerful humanoid beings among them, an archmage radiating arcane brilliance, and an Orc Shaman who looked rather familiar.

"Oh, my old friend, Rehgar!" Gordok skidded to a stop before the crowd, swiftly hiding his greatsword behind his back as he greeted Rehgar warmly. "What wind blew you here, and with so many friends too?"

"Gordok, my old friend, how have you been?" Rehgar naturally knew what Gordok was worried about and immediately introduced them. "Some distinguished guests from Theramore wanted to watch an arena match. I thought your place would be perfect, so I brought them over to broaden their horizons. You won't blame me, will you?"

"Of course not, of course not!" Gordok was exceedingly friendly. He waved away the Ogre underlings who had gathered to watch and said gently, "Is there anything you need help with? My arena is empty anyway. I can arrange matches whenever you want."

"Come, old friend, take a look at my newly formed three-person arena team." Rehgar pointed at Valeera. "This is the High Elf rogue Valeera, an old acquaintance."

Knowing she would be