The gutting was okay, the killing was rather enjoyable; heck, even the constant fleeing was entertaining. The only thing that was completely dreadful would be bath time, when men and women would bathe in the same area; at the same time – with the same embarrassment. Elune knew just how many times the women flashed their privates at the unsuspecting men. And only Elune knew just how many raging erections were visible for the unsuspecting female. But, at least, they equally ignored each other, trying to act as if nothing was out of place. Unlike the figure that stood outside the water, hair matted with mud crust and blood streaks. She was downright filthy, but none of that bothered the druid, as filth was part of nature. And nature was-

"You reek like a rotting corpse, Laria. It's not like there's much to look at, anyway," Tholon, the one in charge of the camp, announced with a very professional tone. His eyes, though, betrayed his voice, as they lingered on her chest more than necessary. She snorted, taking a good whiff of her scent. Definitely not the scent of roses, but close enough… alright, maybe rotted roses. She was still not convinced of the bathing arrangements, but Tholon said that it was the 'safest' way.

Laria leaned back on the tree, untangling her filthy hair with her fingertip. The purple strands of hair were glued to each other, causing her fingers to get tangled up. She tried pulling her hand away, only to yank her hair in the process. "Oh, for the love of Elune…" she tugged harder, causing her head to jerk sideways. She gave out a hiss of annoyance, snaring the bathing members' attention. Soon, everyone was witnessing Laria's battle for dominance. She ended up on the ground hissing and spitting, rolling on the dirt, yanking her hair. The view would've been amusing, if not, downright hilarious; but Laria had the reputation of a Death Knight. Mess with her and pray you get out alive.

After several failed attempts, Laria simply laid there, feeling ridiculous. She slowly untangled her fingers, muttering curses under her breath. "Reconsidering that bath, Laria?" Tholon chuckled with open amusement. The male Night Elf had the reputation of a man-whore, but of course, none would say such thing out loud. Laria decided to avoid his question and leave the lake. She was in charge of patrolling the area, anyway. Horde was coming quite frequently, killing off any Alliance member that wandered more than 3 meters away from camp. Laria, although, was the only person –from very few- that was granted the liberty to go anywhere her heart desired; without leaving neutral grounds.

Trudging through mud and grime, Laria optioned to morph into her travel form. She decided against it, as hunters commonly mistook her as a stray lioness and tried to 'tame' her. She'd seen a good share of shocked faces; mostly when she morphed back to her normal self. Making a face of disgust, she masked herself with a feathery helm. The helmet possessed black splotches of dried blood, and it smelled just as bad as Laria's hair. Her hair was another matter altogether, as the once silky strands of hair were now dreadlocks of filth and grime. Her skin was coated with dust and mud, her boots doing no better. The camp's tailor shop owner had been killed by a rogue; only the blacksmith remained to amend the broken armor. It had been days since Laria had completed any kind of mission, and the closest bank was weeks away, at best. Short on money and filthy as a pig, Laria had no option than comply with Tholon's wishes and stay under the camp's hospitality. It didn't bother Laria that much, but the bathing schedule was something ludicrous.

Finding a remote clearing, Laria removed her heavy leather armor; leaving only her dagger. The Horde were a bunch of cowards that enjoyed ambushing the enemy, but they'd soon know that Laria was no simple traveler. She was a battle-experienced warrior that was fleeing from her duties, as the Priestess Whisperwind wanted to send her to Northrend. The druid excused herself, stating that she was pregnant. Maybe this unfortunate bathing arrangement was Elune's punishment? It did not matter anymore. Laria was not going to have it.

Patrolling was a very boring duty, as rogues were practically shadows and hunters made sure to veer away from the alliance camp. Even the filthy scourge would stay away from the camp. But, they stalked the lake, picking out any individual that wanted to take a short bath. After twenty five unfortunate casualties, Tholon decided to ban any person to bathe alone. No matter how much Laria argued, Tholon was not going to have it. He just wanted to see her strip and get an erection. Laria was disgusted with his antics, but decided to keep her thoughts to herself. He'd die if he had to die, but for now, he was harmless.

A contempt sigh escaped her parted lips, as she settled against a tree. The forest around her started to hum a soft melody, one which she was accustomed to hear back in Darnassus. At that same moment, a feeling of home sickness engulfed her whole being. She wanted to go back to the magical forest and whisper to the trees. Nature was more alive back in her homeland, much more pure; over here, they were quiet and dead. No matter how much she tried to listen, all she heard were wails. Nature's songs lost their charm and struck nothing but sadness in her heart. She tried to heal the trees sorrowful soul, but found that it was useless. Only the trees back in her homeland would maintain their true essence, while the rest lost themselves in shadows.

Crack.

What a moron. Laria immediately shifted forms, turning into a slender feline with purple fur. Her silver orbs gleamed with anticipation, the trees growing silent. She scanned her surroundings, finding that everything was normal and quiet – odd. Nothing was out of place, the scent of mud and moist the same as before. At that moment, she felt like a fool, but still uneasy. That's when she heard the screams. If she weren't in her cat form, she would've never heard them. She thanked Mother Nature for warning her, whilst sprinting towards the main camp.

Not even a minute had passed and Laria was able to foresee her destination. Death's scent infested her sensitive nostrils, causing vile to go up her throat. She pressed onward, running as fast as her limbs could. Flames could be seen ahead, clouds of thick smoke drifting into the orange sky. Quick pants –caused by lack of breath- escaped her muzzle. She skidded to a halt, almost tripping over a familiar looking body. Tholon's dead orbs were wide open, blood trickling down his parted lips.

The camp was a blazing inferno; bodies unceremoniously sprawled across the ground. Laria saw a human female dart out of a burning tent, only to die in the hand of a troll. The sight was horrifying, for a lack of description. The stench of blood was enough to make Laria stagger, but the scent of Horde made her fur bristle with hate.

With practiced ease, Laria nimbly leaped over Tholon's corpse; silently giving him a prayer in Elune's name. She charged towards the closest enemy who happened to be a wounded Orc. Her claws raked across its neck, causing a stream of blood to gush out. With a strangled scream, the Orc collapsed on the ground. Feeling no remorse, the druid sprang towards the troll that killed the innocent woman. With a blink of an eye, her fangs were ripping off its head.

Kill them.

She swiftly turned around, coming face to face with a Tauren. The beast was twice the size of Laria, causing a ripple of fear go down her spine. She took a step back, nearly tripping over the corpse of a child. Her blood boiled with hate once again, causing her haunches to push her forward. Her claws came in contact with the Tauren's thick skin, but that did not stop her. A mace came in contact with her shoulder blade, dislocating it. Still, she clawed the Tauren's throat with wild ferocity, ripping its skin apart. Soon, another corpse joined the others.

Pain seared through her chest and she collapsed on the ground, thrashing wildly. Magic -dark magic- had infested her system, and her cat form was not able to ward it off. She tried to shift back to her rightful self, but felt her magic start to get sucked from her. This Warlock was experienced, as her system started to crash with startling speed. She gasped, hissed and roared with agony, trying to find the source of her pain. She spotted a Blood Elf standing less than a meter from her. She tried to stand, but collapsed when another wave of pain coursed through her body. The Warlock possessed high knowledge in magic, as he quickly removed any specks of magic that Laria might've had in her body.

When the Warlock approached Laria, she noticed that the man was carrying a bow. She was confused by this, as Warlock's did not go around carrying bows. It was then she noticed that the Blood Elf was actually a hunter. She hissed at his feet, too weak to put up a fight. More bodies surrounded her, most of them Blood Elves. Laria thought of herself as delirious, as she estimated their rank to be as high as hers. What were such people doing in this lesser place?

No questions were answered, as she drifted into a painful nightmare.