<i>I hate this</i>, she thought as she entered the tavern she had been requested at.<i>It goes against everything I believe in. Mercenaries? What in the name of the Light ever possessed me to attempt this?</i>In the back of her mind an inner voice replied,<i>your duty to help Azeroth</i>. The conflict played upon her face as she walked in, her features going from angry and annoyed to determined and resigned in an instant. Her crimson hair this night was let loose, falling down around her head and shoulders. Some of her red locks even disappeared beneath the set of heavy plate armour she was wearing. Even here - or possibly especially here - her sword was at her hip and her shield was on her back. A place such as Booty Bay was a cesspit of debauchery and violence. There was no way on Azeroth she wasn't entering this tavern armed.<br/><br/>She looked around as she came to a stop, but not for long. The place was packed, and instead of finding a seat to sit at she moved over to a corner of the room, standing by the wall in a position where no one could approach her without her seeing them and where she could survey the whole room uninterrupted. Hopefully this employer would arrive soon and she could get on her way to Pandaria.<i>It's the best way of getting there</i>, she told herself again.<i>If I go there as a member of the Alliance I will be dragged in to their war with the Horde, and that is not what I want. This is the best way.</i>She wished this employer would hurry up and arrive already.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>