With a small sigh, Anariell lay against the neck of her pink unarmored hawkstrider Kien’thal. His gait was smooth and steady, gentle bouncing on the dusty streets of Orgrimmar lulling his rider into a light stupor. Dressed in her fine read robes, white cloak with hood atop her gemmed saddle with numerous odd shaped saddle bags, she was quite the picture riding down the Drag to the Valley of Honor. Few Grunts and merchants called respectful greetings to her as she passed, which she acknowledge by raising her head.