Undead. Everywhere. Walking, standing, staring off into nothing. Waiting.

They patrolled Orr, watching for any adventurers or explorers, any creatures with the potential to serve the mighty Zhaitan. They wanted to sink their rotten teeth into soft, pink flesh. They craved it, thrived in their servitude.

Their stench, like a carcass left in the baking sun, was thick in the air. It was an aroma that was so . . . refreshing. Exhilarating. Here she had her choicest pick. She could take any one she wanted, and they would be hers. All hers.

The small, lithe charr licked her maw in anticipation. Her muscles jerked slightly, but she remained hidden in her perch, studying them. One walked idly by, an easy few feet, a bound away. She tensed. Not that one. Though the hanging jaw was oh so enticing to her, she had her eyes on another.

It stood just a few more bounds out of reach, moaning oh so beautifully. Portions of deteriorated muscle twitched oddly when it moved. The left arm was useless to it, left swaying at its side. The other was no different, really, with no indication of any surviving motor function. One of its legs looked twisted around, and she wondered how it was still standing. Its stringy, matted hair reached its tilted hips, brushing coarsely against its skin. The skin. That must have been the best part. It was so rich with decay. Alluringly dark. Just magnificent.

Her skin crawled, and it wasn't from fear.

Crouching, she prepared herself. That was the one she wanted. It was perfect. She could just imagine the feel of it beneath her paws, how her claws would slice into it, the satisfying, squishing sound it would make. She shivered.

A thought. That's all it took. Her movements were swift, unnoticed. The creature's moaning ceased, but its neighbors took no notice. She licked the neck of her victim slowly.

Delicious.

Perfect.