Alicia Stormborn sighed as she rose from her bed, and washed in the cold water of the bowl in her chamber. It was four nights now since that pig, Royster had used her last, and once more her courage had failed her from slitting his throat as he slept. He had hurt her before, and would do so again. She was tough, but not tough enough to face him down.
She looked at her body in the full length mirror. She knew how beautiful she was: bards had sung of her, men desired her, some women desired her too. Alicia swung her Raven dark hair, and admired her lithe body, her smooth shapely legs, her cute shapely butt and her small breasts. Her skin was tanned and perfect, and she examined the strange tattoos, inscribed by the witch of the moors. The treasure map that made her desirable, the twirling abstract that fortified her from physical harm, the dream catcher that protected her from fear, the blade on her left arm that protected her from physical harm, the stormcloud that allowed her to throw her shocking grasp and the mermaid above her left inner thigh that allowed her to swim as the sirens of the sea. Alicia thought she was perfect. Shame about her life situation!
She cast her mind back to Ianthe, the witch who had taught her magic, had inscribed her naked body with magical tattoos, had done plenty else to her naked body too. Her three months with the older girl had been amazing, but Alicia had wanted more than the uplands of Varisia, and they had parted. She still loved her in a way. Alicia was twenty now so Ianthe would be twenty five.
Then Absalom; greatest city of Golarion. Delicious pit of intrigue with money to steal, fools to exploit, fun, music, easy drugs, easier sex. She loved Absalom, until the Daegarin scandal made it dangerous. Duke Adras Daegarin was the Chelaxian ambassador. Even Alicia wouldn’t go near someone that powerful, but his son, Evran was easy game to the seductive thief: he’d even wanted to buy her the expensive presents. Maybe seducing his younger sister, Layana, hadn’t been such a wise move, but the girl had been very pretty in that pale Chelaxian way. The two young women had made love every day and every way, until Duke Adras had discovered the liaison. Chelaxian nobles are not forgiving and they control Devils.
She’d needed a fast ship out, and the dashing pirate captain had been a wonderful answer, not to mention a wonderful lover. Surely the Shackles were beyond the reach of angry Chelaxians? The pirate life had been fun too; she didn’t especially enjoy the fear of their targets, but that was life sadly, as long as it didn’t happen to her.
Maybe she’d even loved Bertrand a bit, but then it had all gone wrong and that creature Harrigan, abetted by the pig Royster had murdered him. They would die for that! And even worse, they ignored her wiles. They “fucked” her for their own enjoyment with no thought to hers, but showed no inclination of bowing to her will. It was so frustrating, and even a little scary.
Alicia hated to admit it, but it looked like she actually needed help…….
And help duly arrived, though it needed a little manipulation in order to be fit for purpose.
A ship arrived, allegedly of friends to the odious Harrigan, though clearly way too nice for that. The captain, a young Chelaxian called Avery was interesting, and pretty fit too. Then there was a powerfully built lizard man called Tua Tura, who seemed disposed to loyalty, which is always a good thing. Black Hand, or Black Mane, or Black Head…..Black something anyway was pretty dense, but a handy fighter.
One self-inflicted bruise stirred their emotions, one letter delivered by her tattoo familiar, Lady Marmalade, turned their hearts and one final plan (clever touch putting a kiss on it) and the scary Royster lay dead and headless, and Tidewater Rock was hers once more. Alicia’s Rock; Alicia rocks!
It was a shame the hostage had to be sacrificed as part of her plan, but Alicia considered that a price worth paying. She was beautiful and important. He hadn’t been, so it was a worthwhile death.
Life got even better when she and Avery discussed the new working partnership. Wide eyes gazing into his, the rise and fall of her small but perfectly formed breasts, a shy smile and she was in his arms. He was a wonderful lover, and she enjoyed the experience immensely, two nights in a row. He was ambitious too, and hard working. Alicia could get to like him.
Of course, she was still who she was, and there was an interesting red headed priestess in their crew. Sandara Quinn was the woman’s name, a few years older than Alicia, but clearly an interesting story behind her. Alicia turned on her flirt techniques, and the older woman was clearly both a little shocked and more than a little interested. Alicia had never slept with a redhead, and Sandara was pretty. Would Avery be the jealous type?
Oh well, she would find out soon enough.
In the meantime, her new friends re-embarked on their piratical career, chasing down a Chelaxian vessel. Did it have to be Chelaxian? The loot was good, but the important passenger now proved both threat and opportunity. She hoped Avery could sort this out to all their benefits.
A cloud crossed the sun and Alicia felt a chill on the wounded Chelaxian ship. An unwelcome memory of Duke Adras Daegarin crossed her mind and she shivered in fear. A memory too of the gorgeous Layana Daegarin; much more welcome. A different kind of shiver.
Alicia returned to the moment. Avery was busy itemising the haul. Sandara’s eyes were on her; Alicia smiled, and pursed her lips in a kiss gesture. The other woman blushed and looked away. Life was good.