AN- I had trouble with this one, sorry it's so contrived.
As far as situations were, Shadean mused, things could have been a lot better. Her fists were raw and bloodied as she sat on a stone, awaiting the dwarf who had guided her, laughing, toward the ruins of the old Arathi capital. The bearded man came out from behind the stone, still chuckling as he saw the human paladin experimentally flexing her fingers.
"Don' do that, lassie, ye'll open the wounds again," he chided, grabbing her hand and carefully wrapping it in the mageweave. "Ye're lucky Ah'm around, these blokes ain't exactly real friendly most of the time." He glared over his shoulder at the guard and then sighed once he had completed his work. "Not that I blame 'em they've got enough goin' on 'ere."
"I saw some ogres on our way in..." Shadean said with a leery look around. The undead were one thing, she could handle them, they were mostly the same size and usually brainless enough to just attack in suicide runs. Ogres, though, were a different story. Though not terribly clever, she had always heard that they were brutal warriors, and she wasn't particularly keen on finding herself unarmed against one of those brutes. Not to mention the concept that Ogres would eat just about anything, including each other.
"Aye, ogres, but they're not the worst bit," The dwarf said darkly, pointing over to another part of the ruins. "There's a group of brigands callin' themselves the 'Syndicate' that's been causin' troubles fer this lot."
"Anything I can help with?" The teenager asked, standing and examining the bandages on her hands. They were well made, though probably more than the wounds warranted, the extra care was appreciated. The dwarf looked at Shadean for a moment and laughed, rubbing the back of his head.
"Help? Ye? Lass, ye scratched up yer hands runnin' from the beasts here!" He guffawed again, and Shadean glared at him. "Nah, ye'd best be gettin' yerself south, head off to Stormwind and get yerself some trainin'."
"I've had training," Shadean protested, trying to look intimdating. It was difficult in borrowed armor with no weapon, however, and she slumped back onto the stone, sighing. The dwarf stopped laughing, likely out of pity and patted Shadean on the shoulder.
"Whether ye've had training or not, yer not experienced enough ta take out a bleedin' kobold out here." He pulled something out of his pack. It was a dull sword, but it was solid enough and could be sharpened into a workable weapon. He thwacked the flat of the blade against his palm and nodded. "Aye, this'll do ye until someone gets a better one crafted for ye. I know one of yer kind who works in Ironforge likes to make fine weapons fer youngsters like yew."
"Thanks," Shadean said greatfully, taking the hilt of the sword in her hand. It was heavier than she expected it to be and she listed slightly as she tried to stand with it. The dwarf straightened her up again and showed her quickly how to grip the hilt properly.
"Whatever trainin' ye've had, they ain't been trainin ye right! Ye are supposed tah be usin' one o' these with your skills. Hit hard, not fast. That's the key." He commanded as he watched the paladin take a few experimental swings with the blade. She was still teetering slightly with each slash, but she eventually got the hang of it. Assured that at least the paladin could defend herself properly from the beasts in the Wetlands and beyond, he guided her toward the exit.
"Take care of yourself, lass." He said as she went out on her own, traveling steadily South. With the blade strapped to her shoulders, she found the going a little rough, but the path was free of beasts and evil creatures.
After about twenty minutes, she found herself stumbling upon a caravan of what appeared to be circus preformers. There were goblins, trolls, humans and even undead amongst their ranks. A gnoll, wearing rags and feathers spotted her and barked at his compatriots, and soon a goblin trotted out and held out a green hand to her. Shadean took it warily, already searching for signs of some insane plot or contract he would quickly have her sign. She knew enough about goblins to recognize them as horrible opportunists: they'd rope anyone and everyone into their plots if they could.
"Welcome to the Darkmoon Faire!" He croaked, chuckling as he led Shadean into their camp. The various people in the caravan waved, or merely watched her, curious as to why someone had brought some human girl into their midst. "We're a traveling troupe of entertainers, catering to all in Azeroth who are willing to put aside their differences in exchange for a week long festival of drinking and sorts of merriment."
Shadean was quickly settled down by a fire and given a mug of dark colored brew, the foam looking solid as stone above the brownish liquor. She took a quick drink after being goaded a few times by a rather large Tauren bull, only to find herself sputtering and doubled over from the powerful alcohol. He laughed, pointing and clapping one three fingered hand against his knee, speaking in deep tones Shadean didn't regonize before taking the mug away from her, downing it in one gulp. Wiping his mouth with the back of his fuzzy hand, he refilled the mug with something a lot less vile looking, speaking again in his strange language.
"He says light-weights should start out on something a little less potent," came a quiet voice from behind Shadean, causing the young woman to jerk her head in that direction. It was one of the Forsaken, a female with her face crossed by leather straps, more likely to hold her rotting jaw in place than for any asthetic reason. "That's for you." She added, pointing at the mug the Tauren had in his hands.
Shadean uncertainly took the mug from the tauren as she watched the undead woman sit on the log next to her. Sniffing at the drink in her hand, she sighed and took another sip, this one going down much smoother, but still causing her to sputter a bit as she pulled it away. The tauren made a gesture as if he was giving up and slumped back onto his log. The undead woman spoke in low, gutteral tones Shadean recognized as orcish. She knew a few words, here and there, of the language, though she made little sense of the conversation her two compatriots were having.
Shadean took her mug, thanking the two with a bow and wandered off toward another part of the camp. A blonde human woman was busy lifting weighted staves and a gnome was nearby tinkering with something, but Shadean wasn't entirely sure what it was. She found herself sitting by the edge of the faire's camp when a thundering series of footsteps came her way. Panicking, she turned dumping out the little left in her mug, drawing the dulled blade and finding herself face to face with an ogre of magnificent stature.
"Why you stick poker at me?" He stated slowly, all the intellect of his race channeled into this one being. Rubbing at his tiny little head, he poked one finger on the end of Shadean's blade, carelessly pushing the weapon downward, knocking it out of Shadean's hand. "Burth just wanna know you is not gonna hurt Mister Silas with shiny poker." He prodded at the heavy weapon, picking it up with two fingers and shaking it vigorously. Cowering in fear, Shadean whimpered something about not wanting to be eaten as the brute played with her weapon.
"Easy there, Burth, you'll put your eye out and then I'll have a one-eyed, no-brained bodyguard. What use would that be?" Came a higher, more friendly voice from behind the massive brute. Shadean straightened out to look at the newcomer and found herself mostly face to face with a very well-dressed gnome. He bowed to her with a flourish of his cap and smiled, holding out a hand.
"That's just Burth," he said with a genteel drawl, smiling at the human. "Burth, give our guest back her sword." The ogre looked sheepish and gently handed Shadean back her blade, almost shoving it into her arms. She struggled with it for a moment and slung it back over her shoulder, taking the gnome's hand in hers greatfully. .
"I'm Silas Darkmoon, and this is my traveling troupe of misfits. I understand you've already gotten a brief introduction from our ticketmaster. He likes to pretend he's in charge," he stage-whispered to Shadean and she giggled. He gestured for Shadean to have a seat on a nearby stone and hopped up on his own perch.
"What's your name, girl?" He asked, taking off his hat and rubbing at his head a bit. Shadean smiled and bowed her head slightly.
"Forgive me, I'm Shadean Dresner. I'm traveling...to Stormwind...I think." She said uncertainly, frowning and biting at her lower lip. The gnome nodded his head and hopped off his rock, holding out his hand to her again.
"Well this is no place for a kid to be wandering about all alone. If you don't mind doing a little work for your keep, we'll take you along with us. We're headed to Elwynn anyway, so it's certainly not out of our way." The gnome said as Shadean took his hand. "I know there's always something to do around here, and you can help us get set up when we reach our destination."
"Fair enough, Mister Darkmoon," Shadean said, shaking the gnome's hand a little too firmly, sending the little man a little off balance. Still, he caught himself with an aire of grace and laughed at Shadean as she pulled back in embarassment.
"Right, since you've clearly got some muscle in that body of yours, you can help us pack up. And you can call me Silas. No point in having you call me "Mister" anything." He said and then promptly guided her over to where a stack of crates filled with a variety of things stood. She quickly found herself hefting the crates into nearby caravans. It was tiring work, but it was good for her, and after several hours of work, the troupe was off, heading south along undoubtedly perilous paths.