Put One Under Your Pillow

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to get out of bed.

The job was simple enough. One of the goblins in Booty Bay had some scheme set up to dupe people into thinking troll tusks were some sort of semi-precious ivory and needed a fair amount of them to work his con.

The dubious nature of her task didn't bother her at all, what's that old saying: "let the buyer beware". Well, anyone who doesn't heed that bit of advice, especially when dealing with goblins, is just asking to get ripped off. And quite frankly... Soubrette had always thought there were too many trolls in Stranglethorn for her taste, and they really don't like giving up their tusks, so it's best to remove them postmortem, which kinda accomplishes both goals.

So she set off. And as it stands you can pretty much throw a rock in any direction and hit a troll in the Vale, so it only took a few moments for Soubrette to find a clutch of the blue devils milling about some jumbled collection of stones that she supposed used to be their once great empire.

Soubrette crouched amid a large bush for a few minutes getting an idea of their movements. Watching the patrols come and go. Noting the enchantments the shamans would apply to their hunters. Trying to get a bead on their strength. Also kept a bead on which of the buggers had nicer tusks. Figure maybe there'd be room to negotiate payment from the goblin if she brought him superior specimens.

But not one for waiting, especially with fresh poison just drying on her blades Soubrette moved in on a troll hunter who'd strayed a bit from the more commonly used paths to overlook a ridge above the main road in Stranglethorn. Soubrette moved clockwise to his position, staying in the shadows of the trees and using the plants to cover her advance. The other trolls assembled among the ruins were focused on their own affairs so she put her back to them, secure in her hunch that they'd never hear what was about to befall their comrade watching the road.

True enough, the trolls in the ruins didn't hear, nor did the hunter she was creeping up on. His eyes were fixed, as it turned out, on a human priest who'd stopped down on the road to collect herbs from the brush just off the path. His attention so fixed on the seemingly helpless priest that he never heard Soubrette's approaching footsteps. And whatever voodoo spirits guard the trolls did nothing to warn this poor fool, for while he stood watching the priest... idly tightening the grip on his hatchet, Soubrette was keeping her attention split between the places on his armor most likely to let a blade slip by, and his nice pointy tusks.

When the timing seemed right Soubrette pounced! Leaping from cover and driving her shoulder into the troll knocking him off balance. Hooking her arm around the troll Soubrette drew the stumbling troll towards her and as his body turned, presenting Soubrette with the widest possible opening in his armor, she drove a dagger deep into his side. The troll let out a muffled curse in his strange language. His attempts to call out for help were hampered by the blood now rushing into his lungs and the slowing poison mixed in there for good measure. Realizing the danger, the troll tried to shake Soubrette loose, but his thrashing only aided her in gutting him even more. His movements became even more panicked as blood came out his mouth along with his garbled speech. Soubrette took the opportunity to use the troll's flailing to her advantage. She brought her second dagger up under his throat and on his next turn let herself be flung from his back. Tearing a clean gash across his neck as she was tossed from the troll.

Landing in the grass a few feet from the troll square on her backside, Soubrette had a moment to admire her handy work. The troll stood there, seemingly glad to finally have the human off his back but still having no idea how badly it was hurt. Blood streamed from the wound at his throat, and a sickly green smoke issued out of the wound on his side. The realization that it was mortally wounded began to register in the trolls eyes as even the simple task of raising his axe was not possible.

Soubrette smiled as she got up. The troll swaying helplessly on its feet. Lacking the strength to attack or even defend, its lifeblood slipping ever faster from the wounds inflicted upon it. Soubrette had initially thought deal one final attack to the troll, but she decided to let it just bleed out, and not risk any damage to the tusks she'd need later. After a few more seconds, and a clumsy attempt to advance towards her the troll fell, passing out from the loss of blood, never to wake again.

Soubrette then quickly used one of her daggers to cut away and excise the tusks from the troll’s mouth. What was left of the troll was a gruesome mess, and she stashed the corpse behind a fern. When she came back from behind the plant Soubrette caught the eyes of the priest below, glaring up. The priest wore an expression of disgust on her face. Soubrette covered in blood and gore from both killing the troll and then performing dental work on it, must have looked a sight but having probably just saved that priest a bit of pain at the hands of an ambushing troll...Soubrette simply gave a curtsy from atop the ridge and then slipped back into the shadows.

Soubrette settled into a nice routine. The pattern she established on the first troll worked well on many of the subsequent ones. There were enough of them scattered throughout the jungle that she rarely ever needed confront more than one at a time. Some of the trolls, although quick to die, were somewhat stubborn when it came to giving up their tusks. Soubrette tried to be careful, sometimes making a bloody mess of the recently deceased, but one out of every four tusks would end in an un-usable specimen.

The troll shaman were a bit riskier, they normally traveled with an escort and cast lightning spells as well as minor curses. Soubrette could deal with the lightning well enough. Her leather armor didn't conduct the electricity and often times only left her a little singed. The curses were what made Soubrette nervous. There was no defense she had against a hex. And while fighting a bit burnt around the edges wasn't fun, it was easier to manage than coping with sapped strength or a slowing curse.

But Soubrette was making progress. She needed approximately 30 tusks to meet the goblin's quota and was well on her way. Another three or four trolls and she'd be done playing dentist.

As Soubrette made her way back towards the set of ruins she initially came across she spotted a quartet of trolls making its way down the path. There was a witchdoctor flanked by a shaman and two hunters and while Soubrette normally never took more risk than was necessary to achieve an objective her gut told her the witchdoctor was someone of importance. Soubrette after all was a member of the Alliance, it was her duty to safeguard the realm from evil and the staff the witchdoctor carried looked like it'd fetch a fair price on the Auction House as well.

Four of them would be tough though. Soubrette had fought as many as three trolls at once so far sometimes barely coming away with her life. Her gut told her she could probably pull this off, which was good... after spending so much time skulking through the jungle cutting tusks off trolls the last thing she wanted was one of those inconvenient little deaths to worry about.

Soubrette crept along the path, keeping out of sight. Trying to find a place to best launch her assault. She found a thick tree near a bend in the path and decided to stop there and ready her supplies. If the group of trolls kept on its current meanderings, the tree would be Soubrette's best chance to get the drop on them. Soubrette quickly reapplied poisons to her daggers, going with her new more potent anti-magic poison as well as a deadly toxin on her offhand blade. She also slipped a few throwing daggers into the loops on her chest armor and added a vial of healing potion just for luck. Just as the group of trolls drew near her position Soubrette felt in her pouches for the familiar devices for distraction and vanishing she had come to rely on. She also made sure she had a handful of blinding powder within easy reach.

As ready as she could be... Soubrette mumbled a quick prayer for luck and crept out onto the path, just behind the group of trolls.

Her first move was an easy choice, she maneuvered behind one of the hunters and matching his stride struck him incredibly hard on the back of his head with the butt of her dagger. This sent the hunter to the ground in a useless pile...Soubrette was sure, with as hard as she hit him, he would be contributing anything to this fight for some time.

The sudden collapse of their guard drew the attention of the other three trolls, but Soubrette had managed to find moderate cover behind a set of rocks. She quickly tossed a tiny explosive charge opposite her position to distract the trolls and moved in for the real fight.

The shaman seemed to be her prime target. She wasn't about to use any cheap tricks on the witchdoctor. Soubrette’s odd sense of honor would allow her to enjoy the spoils of victory if the fight wasn't on even terms. But she didn't want the witchdoctor to benefit from the shaman's magic either...so he had to be the first to die. Soubrette quickly closed the distance between the shaman and her... coming up directly behind him.

She managed to get right up behind him, and using all her strength she plunged her dagger into the shaman's back sliding neatly between its ribs and twisting into its lungs. The troll shaman screamed in sudden shock as Soubrette's attack hit home. The anti-magic poison took, but Soubrette had no intention of needing it. Her plan was to use up most of her tricks dealing with the witchdoctor's guards, and fight the boss-man on even terms.

So to that effect, Soubrette wasted no time in dropping a smoke bomb, vanishing in the cloud of stinging smoke. Only to come up seconds later directly behind the shaman again...laying in a second deadly ambush... this time burying her dagger down into the shaman from the soft joint of neck and shoulder. And with that the shaman was done for... when Soubrette withdrew her blade from the shaman a massive gush of blood jetted from the wound, splashing the witchdoctor in the face with the hot lifeblood of his apprentice.

Soubrette had a split second to decide what to do next. The second hunter, now finally seeing his target made a charge with his spear at the ready. Soubrette was vastly more agile than the hunter though, and kicked aside his spear thrust and countered with two rapid strikes to the hunter's abdomen. The pain of those two attacks would hinder the movement of the hunter and this allowed Soubrette to easily dance in and around his assault. Soubrette had just managed to come behind the hunter, ready to deliver a fatal backstab when a bolt of lighting hit her square in the back.

The pain of the bolt was nothing compared to the grim fear that went through Soubrette as her left side went numb. She'd counted on her quickness and agility to see her through this fight. If she couldn't move, she damn sure couldn't be nimble. And the few seconds it took Soubrette to regain her feet after eating the blast of electricity was time enough for the hunter to get the drop on her. Her numb limbs barely deflected one thrust of the hunter's spear... and failed on the second. The hunter's strike pierced her armor just below her shoulder.

She had the quickest thought that now she knew how the shaman felt as the hunter's spear plunged deeply into her body. But the hunter drew back, and brought the tip of the spear with him. It came loose of Soubrette's body with a disconcerting wet sound, which could only mean Soubrette was hurt bad.

As bad as it was, the pain of the wound brought Soubrette's body back to full attention. The adrenaline was flowing, and she went into high gear. She closed on the hunter again, shortening the distance between the two, making his spear less useful. Also keeping the hunter between her and the witchdoctor provided a bit of protection from the near constant bolts of lightning that began to come arcing her way.

The troll hunter lunged wildly at Soubrette, showing signs of desperation, and although it took a couple of attempts to give Soubrette the opening she needed, eventually the hunter made a big enough mistake to cost himself his life. As the hunter lunged again, Soubrette caught the thrust of the spear deftly between her arm and body, using the leverage of the spear pinned harmlessly against her to penetrate the hunter's guard. She drove one blade right into his chest, leaving it there as the sick scent of poison took to the air, and slashed a nice neat cut along the hunter's neck with the other. Now bleeding as badly as her, if not worse, it was a simple trick to then slam a handful of blinding powder in the hunter's face, withdraw her other blade... and leave the bastard to bleed to death in darkness.

As the second hunter stumbled off to die, this left Soubrette alone with the witchdoctor. She caught his eyes scan the surrounding scene of carnage and he uttered some gibberish in his native tongue. Assuming it was nothing polite Soubrette simply gave a curtsy and slung the blood off her daggers.

The witchdoctor mumbled again, but this time bright orange light framed his body, obviously signifying some spell. Soubrette cursed her stupidity for giving the witchdoctor time to cast and quickly charged into melee range. It became apparent that the orange light did something to the witchdoctor's reflexes because he dodged and ducked away from nearly all of Soubrette's strikes.

And as her frustration grew, Soubrette also noticed she was getting slower. The blood loss from her shoulder was affecting her and she'd yet to even connect with this witchdoctor. The witchdoctor on the other hand seemed to get only faster. His blows came with incredible force, and he used his pretty staff to strike at Soubrette in tender places. Striking her knees and chest, more than once causing her to stumble or loose her wind. Soubrette began to think the healing potion may be necessity on this fight, more so than idle luck charm.

Soubrette had just taken another friendly lighting bolt to the chest when a crushing backhand strike of that staff sent her flying.

Pain raced through Soubrette's body, and as she fixed her eyes back on the witchdoctor it didn't escape her notice that there were now three wavy versions of the witchdoctor where only one solid one had been moments before. And although Soubrette knew very little about magic, she was pretty sure that this effect had more to do with getting her ass kicked, than any ancient arcane art.

Seeing her obvious weakness the witchdoctor merely laughed. Laughter, especially laughter that's meant to taunt, translates across all languages. Soubrette was even fairly sure, that if air elementals wanted to talk trash, their taunting laughter would take on the form of flatulence but as it stood, this witchdoctor’s gruff laughter was about as bad.

The witchdoctor began to charge a spell and Soubrette took that moment to waste no time getting to her feet. She'd had just about enough of lightning bolts of one afternoon. Gaining her feet, and with the witchdoctor still prepping some spell, Soubrette rocketed toward him.

Springing into the air just a few feet in front of him to lay a straight mule kick right in his face.

The laughter gone, the spell prep wasted, Soubrette smiled again and spit blood at the witchdoctor's feet. The tactic worked. The witchdoctor's next strike went wide left and was easily avoided. It gave Soubrette enough opening to lay a glancing slash across the witchdoctor's face. The shock of a dagger in your eyes is enough to disorient anyone, and the witchdoctor was no exception.

Soubrette got behind him quickly and planted a blade directly into the upper area of his ribcage.

Three consecutive attacks and Soubrette was feeling her oats. She attacked with reckless abandon. Her strikes coming increasingly faster as the witchdoctor tried to defend the ever quickening barrage of attacks.

Loosing ground, the witchdoctor tripped over the still unconscious first hunter and the momentary stumble was all the chance Soubrette needed. She unleashed a crippling strike, eviscerating the witchdoctor and leaving him seconds from death.

The witchdoctor collapsed to his knees, his stomach left open, his life winking out, Soubrette dropped her guard and took a second to catch her breath. A foolish mistake, one Soubrette paid dearly for. With his last breath the witchdoctor took one final swing at Soubrette, rounding with his staff and bringing it to bear right on her jaw.

Bright red light filled Soubrette's vision as the blow hit. She had the briefest knowledge of bone shattering and teeth coming loose as blood filled her mouth.

The witchdoctor fell to the ground dead and Soubrette wasn't far behind him. As blackness crept in around her, Soubrette had the sense to pull the healing potion from the loop on her armor, and using lips that we split and bleeding managed to remove the stopper from the vial and drink down the potion.

It's healing liquid mixed with her blood as she swallowed it down, and a wave of salty sickness washed over her. But the comforting golden glow of life magic soon enveloped her and the potion had done its trick.

Giving Soubrette just enough strength to regain her feet, she quickly wrapped her shoulder in a mage weave bandage. Staunching her more serious injury Soubrette made a quick survey of the battlefield. The first hunter still lay prostrate on the path, knocked cold from her initial attack. The shaman came to rest in a pool of his own blood a short distance away... and the second hunter had maybe made it a few feet further before dropping dead himself. The witchdoctor lie dead, his feet tangled up beneath him, near the unconscious hunter. Soubrette walked over to his body and retrieved her new staff. She then made quick work of their smiles and collected the remaining tusks she needed.

With her task done, and her body spent, Soubrette made a quick exit, gaining the relative safety of the road and then making her way back towards Booty Bay.

The trip back was short, but something about the broken jaw and spear through the chest made it seem a little longer. Eventually though, Soubrette reached the comforting shark jaw entrance to Booty Bay and made limping progress along the docks to inn where her impromptu goblin employer waited for her return.

She interrupted the dicing game the goblin was engaged in by first slamming down a blood soaked pouch jingling with troll teeth, followed by jamming the tip of her dagger into the table. As the grumblings of the other gamblers began to ooze forth, Soubrette then carved the words "Pay ME" into the table in quick jagged strokes. She would have also added some sort of cheerful explicative directed towards the other people at the table for their rudeness but again... the broken jaw was inhibiting Soubrette's inherent nature to be chatty.

The goblin, taking note of Soubrette's demeanor, quickly snatched up the pouch and counted out the teeth. Satisfied with the take he then slid Soubrette a small stack of silver coins, thus shrinking his gambling stake... eliciting further moans from the table. The goblin also tossed a troll tusk back across the table towards Soubrette.

"What am I supposed to do with that?" asked Soubrette. "Put it under your pillow tonight, mayhap it'll bring ya luck." replied the goblin. Which brought laughter from the assorted low life's at the gambling table. To which Soubrette responded by spitting a viscous glob of bloody spit right onto the dice. The one sod brave enough to take offense decided better after Soubrette removed her dagger from the table and put it quickly against the gambler's throat.

"For luck..." Soubrette said, glancing toward the dice. And then sheathing her blade, she walked upstairs to her waiting room.

Once in her room she laid down, put in a call for a bottle of rum to be sent up, and then got into bed. She spent the night spitting out blood and soothing her aching jaw with alcohol. The next day, she'll go looking for a priest to heal her properly. But for the night, she’ll sleep... using the rum to ease her off to dreamland, and a troll tooth under her pillow for luck.

But as she slipped into sleep, her eyes fell last on the stack of coins on her dresser. Some days, it really doesn't pay to get out of bed.