Etsi made her way towards the Alliance camp on silent paws, her muzzle curling and nose wrinkling to try and block some of the old, rotting blood scents coming from the trolls in the east and the strange elf-fish smell of the Naga drifting along the sea breeze from the west. Eyes that saw better in the dead of night than the brightness of midday flicked around, noting positions of everything as she traveled. We’ll need more supply ships if we’re increasing the size of the camp and that’s going to require driving back the Naga. Normal barricades to the east won’t work so well against blood trolls since they’re fanatic enough to impale themselves and climb over the dying bodies. We’ll need to be inventive. She stopped then shook her head an gave a silent sigh. It was entirely too easy for her to slide back into her military mentality. An inaudible grumble filled her throat. Seems like no matter how often she tried to distance herself from it, she always got drawn back. Maybe I should shatter Ace’s legs.
Despite being somewhat lost in her thoughts, her mind continued to catalogue her surroundings as she moved. Something odd broke her reverie and it took a minute for her to finally understand why. When she did, her ears pinned flat against her head while her lips peeled back to reveal white fangs in an enraged, but silent snarl. Where are the guards? With enemies as close as they were to the base, there should’ve been multiple sets of men patrolling at all times, particularly at night since humans didn’t see as well in the dark as the foes around them. Not only patrolling, but calling out to check in on a regular basis to ensure the safety of the camp. Sinking lower to the ground, she crept along the perimeter, noting the positions of the few guards at the entrances. It didn’t take long to learn and memorize the scents of the men and make mental notes of the ones actually attempting to pay attention and focus on their duty.
She didn’t know Corporal Orebender very well and, admittedly, she’d hoped he was being overly paranoid or exaggerating the ineptitude of the officer in charge, Captain McCormick, when he spoke to her and Ace. Obviously, he wasn’t. Fury gave way to an almost sadistic humor as she easily evaded the few men on guard duty and made her way into the camp. Locating Halonan’s familiar scent, she edged up to his tent and gave a silent grunt of approval at hearing him rustling around, roused by her presence though she knew he couldn’t see her. Ace’ll be happy to know his field promotion wasn’t in vain. Another rustling had her lips curling to expose her fangs again – Orebender mentioned he had a worgen bunkmate. Apparently the worgen was as alert as the human. Giving her head another shake, she tried to dislodge her instant aggressiveness at the thought of another worgen, a male worgen at that, being present.
Her sadistic humor rose to replace the aggression as she neared the command tent. The snoring coming from inside caused her ears to flick back and an amused rumble to vibrate in her chest. This bastard sleeps so soundly I could walk in without rousing him even if I wasn’t sneaking around. Keeping in mind Ace’s admonition of “I don’t want to know about it”, she kept to the shadows in the tent until she reached the chest that gave the strongest scent of parchment and ink. The amusement faded as a careful nudge revealed the container wasn’t locked. Her eyes narrowed in fury as they flicked to the sleeping captain. How dare he risk not only his men’s lives, but potentially the lives of other soldiers stationed around Zandalar by not keeping communications protected …
She forced the killing rage back down and turned to the chest. The captain’s disregard for military security protocols would work to her advantage. Easing the lid up, she quietly scanned through the documents and folders until she came across a file titled “Halonan Orebender”. Got it. Taking another few minutes to gather other documents, most of which were marked ‘classified’, the druid silently closed the chest and slipped out of the captain’s tent, papers tucked safely away between her jaws.
Warnings sounded through the camp as the sky’s color lightened from black to pale blue and pink. The Kaldorei approached the camp, military uniform and insignia clean and well-tended but bearing the marks of combat. Wary eyes followed the Knight-Champion along with the prerequisite salutes for her rank while she made her way into the camp. Pulling out a parchment, she unscrolled part of it, looked at the writing, the raised her eyes to the nearest soldier. “Private! Where’s Captain McCormick?”
Wide-eyed, the private pointed towards the largest of the tents where a young man hastily donning his armor was exiting. Another man, this one slightly older with a florid appearance, trotted over and gave her a salute. “Knight-Champion. We, ah, weren’t expecting you for some time.”
Etsi’s cold silver gaze raked up and down the sergeant’s body. “Sergeant, if you ever approach me with your uniform and armor in that state again, you’ll be gutting and cleaning fish until you reach retirement age. This. Is. A. War. Zone.”
Sergeant Barrett blanched and saluted again. “Yes, sir. Ma’am.” His hand went to his armor in a pathetic attempt to right some of the pieces as the captain approached.
“Knight-Champion Bearwalker I presume?” Captain McCormick’s easy-going smile and posture belied the nervousness in his eyes. The Kaldorei’s gaze shifted from the sergeant to the captain’s outstretched hand and then to meet his.
“Last time I checked, captain, it’s customary to salute a superior officer.”
“Ah, yes, si- ma’am.” Saluting, the captain tried his charm again. “Since we’re so far out here we tend not to be quite so formal.”
Cool eyes took in his appearance. “Apparently not since you allow your men to dress like they’re heading to a drunken party instead of like they’re in hostile territory surrounded by enemies.”
A crimson flush spread across the captain’s face. “You’re right of course, Knight-Champion.” Clearing his throat, he waved towards the command tent. “Would you care to look over the latest reports?” At her curt nod, lead her towards the tent, stepping aside and holding the flap open for her. As she began to enter the tent, the captain brushed up against her from behind. An instant later, he was pinned to the ground staring into the her worgen jaws.
“If you ever touch me again, there won’t be enough of you left to send home in a bag.”
“M-my apologies, Kn-knight Champion. I didn’t mean-“
Etsi’s clawed hand tightened further on the young man’s throat, cutting off his words and breaking the skin enough to send tiny rivulets of blood leaking down to drip on the sand below him. “I didn’t ask you for an explanation. Are we clear?”
At the captain’s frightened nod, the clawed hand relaxed and released him. Before he could pick himself off the ground, the Kaldorei tossed the tent flap aside and walked in. A few terrified looks passed between the captain and sergeant as the young officer turned to enter.
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