Night, the best time of day in her opinion while staring into the night, resting near her campfire.

By their side, was her pack of supplies and gems she carried with her.

One containing her soul while the other, could heal her injuries if she sustained any.

On the opposite side of her, was her faithful demonic servant.

A creature of great strength, and very admirable as it stood. Having only the job of keeping its guard up for anyone who planned to attack in the night.

Sadly, the two of them wished someone would.

She has wandered for several days in Alterac Valley, hunting for some foul creature to appease the dwarves.

She often wondered why she had taken the task.

Was it for money?

Fame?

Glory?

To train her skills in the dark arts?

She was unsure, however, there were rumors of the horde wandering the area as well.

The very thought, brought glee as she was itching to battle. Any excuse the young woman could get for fighting a great opponent, made her smirk darkly.

She also could feel her servant's blood boil as much as her own. Closing her eyes, picturing the dead nearby stained in red, as her servant had beaten them to a pile of bone and flesh.

If a Death Knight was nearby, she was sure the body would make a great servant for the damned. When she opened her eyes once again, she noted that her servant had suddenly become alert.

Standing up, her dark robes blew lightly in the wind carrying an icy chill. She knew what was happening and knew what was lurking.

She could smell them and their foul stench as much as her servant, who took a stance in front of its master.

The young woman stared into the bushes as she saw the figure moving within.

Making out its shadowy shape, she knew she had found an orc.

From the looks of it, she could say it was probably a rogue slipping through the night.

On instinct alone, the young girl looked to her servant whispering too softly for one to hear. Suddenly, her servant rushed in, attacking from behind.

The young woman stood, focusing her power to her hands as she fired spell after spell. The rogue never knew what hit him, for he died before he could find out.

As the demon servant returned, the woman could smell the stench of blood. Cringing, she dealt with the smell of orcs blood, it was the worst kind of smell.

Taking her seat back next to the fire, her servant once again stood guard; awaiting for anything else to attack in the night.