To make a name for oneself

[Mazara]

Setting out on the plains of Nagrand felt refreshing. No armor to wear you down, no need to keep an eye on the orcs beside you. Just you, the wind at your back and your hunt. It didn't matter that Mazara didn't really have any idea of what she was hunting for, the whole point was the hunt itself. Unknown to her at the time, the spirits had deemed her worthy of a task that was to be hers. While she ran the plains, she headed further and further northeast, close to the elemental throne. As she came closer, she felt the calling of the elements, beckoning her closer. However, it wasn't further north, to the elemental throne that she was called. It was eastward. She new then what she was to hunt, and why. The spirits' motives suddenly came clear to her. She had been lead here.

Further up the hill, Mazara started to feel the smell of ash. Of burnt things. Not much smoke rose from behind the hill, but enough for her to know what was going on. Finally, when on top of the hill she could see what task the elements had before her. A furious fire elemental raged around the area. Appearantly, the recent encroachment of the Saberons had riled this elemental up and caused it to go berserk. Trees were burned (but not burning) and trails of black had been made in the grass. Critters lay scattered, burned to crisps. There was hardly anything to hide behind, so Mazara was forced to lay on her stomach in the grass.

The elemental sizzled and crackled with fiery rage, it's "muscle" bulging with power and it's claws as sharp as flames lashing upward in a bonfire. This was not going to be easy.
Grasping her axe tightly in her hand, she waited for the elemental to get close. Sure enough, it's chaotic raging eventually lead it straight in front of her. Rising with a yell, she struck at the fiery body of the elemental. The axe hit it's mark and for a moment the elemental had to stop to hold itself together. But she had done nothing but stirr the flame. Now the elemental had something to focus all it's rage on, and waited no further to lash out at the she-orc that had dared invoke it's wrath. Blow after blow she managed to dodge or parry, but only barely (if she had worn her armor she would have been hit multiple times). Calling upon the elements of water for aid, she had to turn some of her focus from the elemental to communing with the spirits. She succeeded, but not before the raging being struck her across the chest, causing a wide charred gash straight across from her right keybone to her lowermost left rib. Unleashing the power the element of water had given her, the fire was pushed back. Struggling through the sizzling pain, she doused the elemental in water and raised her fire-enchanted axe to deliver blow after blow to the elemental's unstable body. After every hack and slash, the fire calmed and staggered, it's body being torn piece by piece until at last, there was but an ember holding the charred plates that once was it's "muscles" together.

Panting heavily and weary with pain, Mazara looked down on the struggling elemental. It no longer fought back. It was too consumed in trying to keep itself together, to not implode upon itself. With the swift stroke of her axe, the elemental let out a howl that could only be described as a massive fire being drowned. At the end of the shriek, when the smoke cleared, there lay a single piece of hardened ash. Picking it up as her trophy, she scanned the scene. The land would heal, and soon there would be no testament to this rogue elemental but the charred clump in her hand. In pain, but proud, Mazara turned to journey back to camp. Her task to the spirits was completed, and she would return to her tribe with a tale to tell.

She would be given a name.