Two Cuts One Stroke

Two Cuts, One Stroke

The problem, Krelle reflected bitterly as she kicked an old Kodo bone across the dusty ground, was that she just wasn't very intimidating. She could handle "unsettling" or even "creepy" if it was night-time, but frankly she wasn't that decrepit either, as Forsaken go. The thugs in the Undercity and the Cleft of shadows knew her by carefully-cultivated reputation, but when it came to dealing with the belligerent Sergeant Twocuts in the middle of the Desolace wasteland, she was at a loss.

The little rogue sighed, sitting on a bleached skull in the vast kodo graveyard as the sun set behind the mountains to the West. She'd come to this light-forsaken wasteland in search of work - honest work, even! - and had met with nothing but resistance from the hard-bitten Orcish veterans who manned the garrison at Ghostwalker outpost. While the Tauren had seemed willing to give her a chance, sending her out with a bounty on demon-tails, Sergent Twocuts had stubbornly refused to offer her the standard bounty on centaur ears. He'd insisted that it was "too dangerous" and claimed she was too small to "make it" in the desert - nevermind that goblin traders shorter than her came and went each day.

She'd spent a few days out in the wilderness ambushing demon scouts and eventually returned with a sack full of tails to prove her kills. At that point Twocuts was forced to relent lest he offend the Tauren officers by implying that centaur were more dangerous than the Satyr which infested the northern reaches of the wastes. And so, assured that she would receive fair compensation, Krelle had gone out in search of centaur ears.

Centaur, on the whole, were much easier to hunt then demons. For one thing they were more likely to travel alone, often ranging out from the herds to scout the nearby territories for enemy tribesman. For another, well, they were just centaur. Not, y'know. Demons. (Plus one of the Tauren had promised to show her how to make centaur jerky!)

On the whole, she was expecting it to be a profitable little jaunt. She returned after three days in high spirits with a sack of thirty ears and went straight to Twocuts to get her pay. It should have been a simple transaction - five silver an ear. More than enough to cover her third of the down-payment on the new apartment in the 'Bay.

Instead she had been met with a suspicious look, and questions. Where had she found so many centaur so soon? How had she managed to kill them? Did she have help? The questions irritated Krelle, and her answers became more tart as the Sergeant became more suspicious.

"Look, I don't see why you're making a big deal out of this. The point is that thirty centaur are dead, so you owe me a gold-fifty."

The Sergeant had glowered at her, though whether in honest suspicion or just angered at being proven wrong about her abilities, she couldn't tell. Finally he pointed at one of the ears. "This looks like a human ear!"

"What?" she'd demanded. "It's pointy!"

"There's no hair on it. It could be some other kind of ear. I'm only paying for centaur ears."

Despite her protests, he had methodically gone through the ears, discarding over half of them for various reasons. In the end, he offered her seventy silver for the lot. She was incensed at the manoeuvre, but his smug grin made it clear she'd get nothing better from him. What was worse, she was certain that he would send off all of the ears to Orgrimmar for reimbursement of the bounty and keep the difference, thus making himself a neat profit on her hard work.

So now she sat, glaring out at the rapidly-cooling desert as she considered her options. Despite her reputation in certain quarters, Krelle did not usually kill people who tried to take advantage of her. It just happened too often. She couldn't really blame them, most of the time - with her tiny frame and childish face she looked like an easy mark. Fel, I'd try to cheat me, she thought ruefully. No, much better to show them the error of their ways and have a properly-subdued associate for future dealings. Many of her best contacts were the results of such a process.

The thing was, this orc wasn't worth training. Desolace was uglier than the sewers of the Undercity and twice as foul-smelling. The terrain was inhospitable and the local populace was comprised almost entirely of dangerous war veterans. No, she wouldn't be sticking around. No point in going to extremes to show this Twocuts what a short-sighted idiot he was.

Pride, however, dictated that she not let him get away with it. That, and she needed the money. So she sat in the shadows of the mountains, throwing rocks at buzzards and trying to think of an appropriate revenge.

In her line of work, the simplest answer was usually the wrong one. She couldn't just kill him. For one thing, she might not be able to - he was in charge of operations in Desolace for a reason - and for another, she had no desire to become a wanted felon in Orcish cities should the attack be discovered. Plus it was tacky - the sort of thing an amateur street-hood would try.

She could steal something from him. That was a bit better. Problem was there wasn't much he had that was both valuable and portable enough to be worth stealing. Plus there's the issue of fencing - the only other trading post within a day's walk was a small goblin one, and they were mean bargainers on stolen goods - she'd be lucky to get a tenth of the value, but she didn't plan on going all the way back to Shadowprey just to hawk a sword or something.

She took off her floppy leather hat, running a hand through the short dirty-blond regrowth of hair, letting her thoughts wander back to the battle with the warlock. She smiled for a moment as she imagined calling Nerrok in, and how sick the expression on the sergeant's face would be… she chuckled, shaking her head. Definitely overkill. Plus it would be embarrassing to ask someone for help with such a minor matter. It was just a few ears.

Krelle paused, then grinned evilly. She crammed her hat back on her head, sliding into stealth as she crept slowly back up the steep hill to the darkened tents above.

She knew exactly what she'd steal.

Scout Fizzlecrank peered warily ahead at the small figure in the distance. The day was hot - weren't they all - and he had to wipe the sweat from his eyes as he tried to make out who it was that waited at the side of the road. Too small to be a demon. A traveller, perhaps, looking to get supplies? He gave the head teamster a nod then rode on ahead of the caravan to see what waited for them.

"Ho there, trader!" the figure hollered in Orcish as he approached.

He was a bit surprised to see a lone Forsaken - there weren't many of them in Desolace - but she seemed harmless enough. A courier, judging by her clothes. He nodded, pulling up in front of her.

"Hey there," he greeted her. "What can we do for you?"

"Just seeking news. How're the road conditions up your way?"

"Passable. If you're headed to Feralas then you've picked a good time - the rains haven't set in yet, so the path is clear. You'll want to watch out for Ogres in the forest though," he added, eyeing her speculatively. The ogres would definitely make short work of her if she wasn't careful.

The girl nodded gratefully for the news. "Your posse headed up to the Outpost?" she asked, eyeing the caravan behind him. "I just came from there."

"You guessed it, kid. How're the trails?"

"Eh, they're still there. The centaur are being a mighty nuisance though. You hear there's a bounty on their ears?"

"Yeah. They usually know better than to mess with a whole caravan though."

"I bet. I ought to time my travels better and tag along next time. Too bad the mail can't wait," she said sourly. "You wouldn't believe the trouble I had with them lately. Honestly, it's hardly worth the price of the messages."

The goblin nodded. "Kill any?" he asked casually, as if only mildly curious.

The girl grinned knowingly at him. "Aye, and I got the ears." She paused, thinking of something. "I was gonna return next week ta collect but... If you're headed up there you could save me the trip. My messages are urgent and I can't go back yet. What'cha say, wanna buy some ears?"

Fizzlecrank glanced behind him. The caravan was still far enough away. "What's the going rate on ears?" he asked, already knowing the answer. The bounty was general knowledge in the plains.

"Five silver," she answered honestly. "But I'll give 'em to you for four fifty since you're doin' me a favour."

"Hardly worth my while to carry those disgusting things for so little!"

"Bah, there's fifty of 'em in this sack, you'd be makin' an easy twenty five silver!"

"I'll give you four."

She frowned stubbornly. "Fifty silver proft? For that I'd just come back. Four twenty five, and if that's not to your liking, I bet your buddy wearin' the hat would have a better offer."

He glanced over his shoulder involuntarily at the approaching Kodos then cursed himself for being so transparent. Irritably, he shrugged. "Oh fine," he said, abandoning pretense. "Two gold for the sack."

She grinned. "Two twelve, fifty copper, actually. But you can keep the copper, it weighs me down."

He grit his teeth, but didn't want to share the easy profits with his fellow travellers. Better to make the deal quickly and lose a little then to dawdle and lose half. He gave her the two gold and twelve silver. He'd just made himself 38 silver, and he'd only have to carry the bag another day or so for his trouble. He pawed quickly through the sack she tossed him, then, satisfied, tied it on to his saddlebags. He gave her a nod. "Anything else I should watch out for on the trail ahead?"

"Yeah. Steer clear of Sergeant Twocuts when you get to the outpost, if you can. He's had a bad week."