The mountain was high, but the prize, the Orb of Azeroth, at the top was worth it. His glowing blue eyes flashed, and narrowed meeting the glowing orange set directly across from him. The grey-skinned male with the dark grey hair and the metal brace on his jawbone growled. The first contender glared, pulled on his helmet, covering his white hair with the black metal crown-like headgear, and gripped the hilt of his sword, the runes on the blade glowing the same color as his eyes. It was on! Both warriors attacked the mountain between them, kicking and swinging swords, trying to knock the other off. They ascended the peak at the same time, still squabbling, and yelling.
Suddenly a third competitor came flying up the mountain, a bandage around his glowing green eyes, purple skin with swirls of green carved into his chest and shoulders. Large curving horns swept back over his head and wide, vicious wings spread from his back to help his balance. His black hair, in a ponytail, streamed behind him as he shifted the grip on his double-bladed sabre-style blades in both hands. The blades cut down the other two, and he dove on the orb that awaited the three on top of the mountain.
The white-haired 'king' gritted his teeth, gripping the hilt of his runeblade tighter. The draconic other rolled his shoulders, settling the rock-like armor around his body better. Both pounced the demonic-elf, fighting and growling as the three tumbled towards the ball on the pedestal.
"Azeroth is mine!" The first growled, swinging his blade. "Frostmourne hungers!"
The second roared. "Look upon me and you see death incarnate: The Unmaker of Worlds! It is mine!"
The three clashed again and the third used his wings to block the other two, knocking them to the ground at the base of the mountain. Standing victorious over the orb. "You are not prepared!" He shouted, holding the sphere aloft. "The world is mine!"
Suddenly a voice broke out over the raging of the two at the base of the mountain. "Boys! Time to come in!" The three froze, glaring at the offensive intruder. "Arthas, Illidan, Neltharion! Don't make me call you twice!"
As one the three sighed. Neltharion took off the cardboard armor that was colored to look like lava flowing through rocks. Arthas stabbed the stick he'd painted with blue symbols into the ground. Above them, on the hill, Illidan clutched the ball to him and pouted, as the other two trudged towards the kitchen door.
"Illidan…" The voice threatened again.
The dark-haired boy pouted, and threw the dark yellow and blue ball to the ground, ripping off the bandanna with attached sticks from around his head and throwing the paper towel tubes in his hands after the ball as it rolled away. He looked at the kitchen door and sighed, shrugging out of the backpack that was ducktaped to a pair of broken fan blades that the three had found in the junkyard nearby. He trudged into the house, under the watchful eye of the voice.
"Now, now, don't be upset. You can play Conquer the World later, now it's time for dinner. Even all powerful super villains have to eat one in a while, and wash off that paint from your arms before you come to the table."
A/N: I was inspired by my brother's comment that assuming the villains of WoW won, would the big bads then turn to each other to squabble who got to keep the world? Which made me think of small children arguing over a ball, and thus, this drabble was born. =D