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Introduction:

This is the first in an ongoing series of stories set in a fantasy world. It follows the antics of a group of unlikely adventurers as they set off on a saucy adventure to slay a dragon while staying one step ahead (or 8" deep) of the dragon's agents.

The Rogue

* * * *
Were you to look up the definition of the word scoundrel, I'm sure you'd come across an image of one Sarah Kettar. As beautiful as she is devious-- and rest assured, she is quite beautiful-- I'm convinced Isira herself blushed when she made this half-elven harbinger of chaos and lust.
Some of the other members of the temple have taken to sending their teenage children to Glowlight on the other end of the continent. There is talk of her being a succubus but whatever the case, beware her charms, brother, she is not all she appears.

-Byson Tyrel
* * * *

Sarah had first gotten a glimpse of the man following her when she strolled past one of the reagent shops in the old quarter. He was taller than her half-elven frame, distinctly human with broad shoulders and a cut jaw scarred from too many knife fights. He carried himself with purpose and a certain kind of swagger that told her he probably wasn't alone.

At first she'd been willing to dismiss it, but the closer she got to the Primrose, the more she was beginning to wonder about him. Was he one of the dragon's agents? Had they finally found her? No, that was silly, she had been careful.

She stopped at a man's flower stand and purchased a carnation for her date, paying for it with one of the gold coins she still hadn't had a chance to smelt down. It was minted in the shape of a roaring dragon’s body coiled around a screaming elven maiden. Even though she only carried a hand full on her, she had a lot more. Stored in various caches around the city.

Sarah made a show of smelling the carnation, drinking in its scent, all the while glancing towards the man out of the corner of her vision. He was watching her from between two carts parked outside of a small mausoleum. How horribly appropriate.

She tucked the carnation into her form fitting silk vest and continued down the street towards her destination. The sun was going to be setting soon and already the upper crust of the city were preparing for night with their usual flair for the dramatic and, occasionally, ridiculous evening wear. All of them wonderfully oblivious to one another and certainly, Sarah hoped, her as well.

As a priest of the Great Inventor, she had access to her patron's blessings to make her pursuer's life a living hell, but doing so would have raised all kinds of alarms and more likely than not, end with her on charges of magical assault. But that didn't mean she didn't have other capacities. Discretely, she slid her hand down her belt to the flintlock tucked under her belt line. If it came to it, she'd be able to get away at least.

Besides, an illegal weapons charge was easier to get out of than a 'wild magic' sentence.

Felicia wouldn't be happy if Sarah missed their date, though, and that would be most unbecoming. After all the work Sarah had put into getting it in the first place, she couldn't disappoint the poor girl by not showing up, could she? No, not hardly.

Sarah sauntered into an alley, waiting until she cleared the mouth and got out of sight before she took up a sprint towards the back of it. Her hard soled boots pounded against the cobbles as she fished her lockpicks from under her belt. She clenched them between her teeth and pumped her arms for more speed, turned down between a baker's shop and an apothecary. She nearly tripped over several burlap bags of refuse but the cellar door to the apothecary was was exactly where she had expected it to be. She slipped her picks in.

There were benefits to being born of elven and human blood; she had gotten the best of both worlds in terms appearance; a voice that flowed over words like fine wine; and appreciable curves that caught the eye. But what she had in physical and mental gifts, she lacked in quick manual dexterity. It would take her minutes to get the lock open.

Her pursuer's footfalls echoed through the alley telling her that she didn't have minutes.

Bollocks. Sarah stood and stepped away from the door, looking around. It was a tight cubby wrapped in cobblestone that emptied into the alley with two windows on the second floor of the apothecary. Her green eyes flit back and forth behind her thin rimmed glasses as she tried to work out her escape. The man was closer, no doubt only seconds away and she had trapped herself.

The garbage. She glanced at the pile of trash and instantly her stomach dropped. Gods, really?

Sarah took another look around. The windows were too high. The wall too steep. She'd never make it. She sighed, picked at the trash for a moment. It didn't smell bad, but could she really do it?

“Oi!” The man shouted somewhere up the alley. “You see a knife 'ars come through 'ere?”

She could, she decided.

With great reluctance and as much care as she could manage, she pulled two of the larger bags off the pile and took a deep breath before tucking herself into the hole made by the vacancy. She pulled the bags on top of her and tried to think invisible thoughts. It was a silly thing, she knew it, but it was one of those little prayers that she could recite by memory like the chanting of an Isiran choir.

The thought of the pleasure goddess warmed her slightly. Isira wasn't her patron goddess, but Sarah had a very special relationship with both Her and Her followers. Maybe she'd try to convert Felicia if she survived this. Yes, Felicia would be a beautiful pleasure seeker. Sarah smiled to herself in the dark.

Heavy, unmistakable foot falls clapped by her section of the alley and Sarah flinched inwardly. Deep breath. You've done this before. Just relax.

The footfalls slowed. Stopped.

Sarah reached for her flintlock and clenched her teeth.

Nothing happened for a moment.

Then the lock on the cellar door rattled.

Sarah's hand tightened on the oak handle of her pistol. She only needed one shot.

“Sonovabitch.” The man grumbled, paused for a moment and then started towards the mouth of the cubby. It would have been so easy for Sarah to pop up and shoot him in the back.

She could do it. . . It'd buy her some time to get away. To find a new city and start over again--

But she wasn't a killer. She hated violence and as long as he was alive, his friends wouldn't have reason to go looking for him or his killer. As the opportunity, perhaps the only one she'd ever get, slipped away, Sarah resigned herself to another move. She had just started enjoying Woltrof, but if the dragon's agents had caught up to her it was time to leave.

The man's boots squelched against the cobblestones as he turned down the alley and after a few moments, became silent. Sarah risked a glance after a few more moments and saw the alley was empty. She disentangled herself from the bags of powders and other detritus, patted herself down and straightened out her blouse and vest into their most flattering configuration . Only after she'd checked the alley both ways and made sure there were no other unexpected problems did she tuck her pistol away and start towards the Primrose again.

After all, she had a date to keep.

Ten minutes later the bell above the door jangled as she entered the Primrose. When she saw the scar faced man sitting in one of the booths across from the one Felicia was sitting in, she flinched. For the second time in an hour, Sarah felt her stomach flip-flop. She wasn't usually given to uncertainty and doubt, but this man had done his homework and now. . .

Sarah squared her shoulders and entered the bar with her head held high, flashing a winning smile to the barmaid who blushed. She was Sarah-Gods-Loving-Kettar, dammit. No one threw her off-guard, much less twice in one day. And especially not here.

In the isle between the booths was a waist high mahogany divider with silver accents and etched glass about head level designed to protect the identity of the bar's patrons. Propriety was a commodity in a place like this and the two burly guards at the end of the isle made sure no one broke that sacred rite. The red satin curtains in most of the booths were closed but not at the two booths she had noticed first.

The man with the scars moved to rise but Sarah juked quickly and slid into the right row of booths. She slid effortlessly into Felicia's booth and pulled the curtain's closed. The guards would stop him from entering unless he was specifically invited which meant she had time to think.

What were the chances he had someone hiding out back or even in front? Someone she hadn't seen and didn't know. Someone innocuous amidst the crowd of up and coming nobles and society's affluent, hidden like a blade waiting to strike from the darkness and strike her while she was vulnerable.

Sarah parted the curtains a tiny bit. The guard was standing in front of him-- towering over him, more accurately. The man was gesticulating something and whispering harshly.

It was that moment that Felicia chose to speak up in her middle eastern lit. “Ah, miss Kettar--. . . What are you doing?”

“That is the question of the hour, isn't it.” Sarah watched as the man was escorted back to his booth. When he was, she flung the curtains open, locked eyes with him and pulled her pistol out enough to show it. To him she mouthed, “Shh. . . Enjoy the show.”

That got his attention. He arched a brow, nodded subtly.

Sarah turned to her desert flower with a warm smile. “How foolish of me to think the radiance of your beauty could be contained by one small room. Forgive me, my dear.”

Felicia was short but curvy and the corset she was wearing only accented those curves more; barely contained in her blue silk dress, her cleavage swelled when she breathed in a way that made Sarah smile. The white frills along her shoulders and skirt contrasted her warm caramel skin tone making her appear even younger and more radiant than Sarah knew her to be.

“My. . .” Sarah caught her breath deliberately, emphasizing her false surprise. “No amount of stars in any dark sky could shed a fraction of your light, my dear.” Sarah took her time to drink in the woman's features and the warm blush that crossed them before she invited herself to sit down beside her, positioning Felicia between her and the isle.

Unsurprisingly, Felicia edged away, attempting to get her personal space back. “Well, ah, thank you. . .” The young woman swallowed and glanced at Sarah uneasily. “But we were here to talk about my father's farm.”

“Were we?” Of course they were. Sarah eyed the deed on the table and leaned in to look at it, pressing her thigh against Felicia's. She whispered in a soft voice meant to tickle the girl's ear. “I'll buy it.”

“B-” The girl spluttered, “but you've not read--”

“My good woman,” Sarah slipped her arm around Felicia's lower back. “I've learned to trust my instincts on matters of the quality of the individuals I deal with.” She trailed across her spine until she came up to her neck, brushing gently across her skin. The girl shivered as her blush deepened. She smelled of vanilla and lilac. “And you, my lady, are of the highest caliber.” With a flick of her wrist she produced a gold coin and held it up for the man across the isle to see.

“I've heard of you.” Felicia whispered in a husky tone, her breath coming in short sips that made her bosom heave against her dress. “I know what you're capable of.”

Sarah inhaled her scent and blew the words across her throat playfully. “Is that right?”

Felicia shuddered, eyes half closing. She opened her mouth but nothing came out as Sarah touched her full lips with the coin.

“I want nothing you have, dear child. Only to give you something you've never experienced. . .”

“M-m-my--”

Sarah nibbled her earlobe, “The matter is settled, dear. The farm is saved and all is well.”

“B- b- b-”

As Felicia tried to get her bearings about her, Sarah tossed the coin on the table between the legal documents. “I'll delver the other four hundred in a couple days.”

“Just like that?”

“I told you this would be simple,” Sarah slid her hand back over the woman's shoulder and planted her lips to the exposed flesh of her neck. The girl's tension melted under her touch. Usually this was harder. Sarah glanced up at her and whispered. “What's been said about me, hm?”

She turned her head to the side in offering. This was entirely too easy. . . Sarah frowned to herself even as she sunk her teeth into the girl's flesh. Felicia gasped softly. “They say you're trouble. You use people and--”

“Who, dear.” Sarah let her fingers trail down Felicia's side with enough pressure for them to be felt. Her breathing came faster as Sarah laid her hand on her thigh. She was well muscled but not quite as curvy as Sarah.

In a dreamy whisper, she murmured. “Lots of maidens.”

Ah, yes, maidens. . . Sarah smiled a little as she turned her gaze to the man in the other booth. He was watching with dwindling patience and a spark in his eyes that said loosing his attention would be dangerous indeed. “What do you think, dearest Felicia?”

She swallowed and murmured something indistinct.

Sarah bit her neck playfully. “Show me.”

Felicia's hand trembled against Sarah's as she laid it down on her lap. She bit into her lower lip, exhaling softly. Sarah took the lead from there, bunching up a hand full of the girl's dress, sliding her hand in between her legs even when she tried to pull back.

“You're too beautiful to be denied the simple pleasures, don't you think?”

Now she had the man's attention. He sat back further in the shade of the booth, watching Sarah.

Felicia's legs quivered against her hand and she whimpered, her teeth sinking into her lower lip even harder as Sarah started to explore the girl's damp heat. She pushed two fingers up against the girl's lips and bit into her neck again, determined to leave her mark.

Sarah enjoyed little moments like this, stolen from the harshness of reality. She savored the woman's flavor and pushed her fingers up against Felicia's pelvic bone, massaging through the layers of clothing. “I want to share something with you.”

The girl whimpered. “Mmmph?”

“I'll need my hand a moment.”

“B-b-”

“Shhh. . . Good girls don't make a sound.” Sarah had to tug her hand free from under Felicia's grip. She offered her slender fingers to the girl for inspection which earned her a confused glance. When Sarah licked the tinge of sweat from Felicia's shoulder, she got it and took both fingers in her mouth.

Still trembling, the girl dutifully took them both into her mouth and teased them with her tongue from tip to base. All the way to Sarah's palm. She lapped eagerly the longer they stayed there and Sarah rewarded her with several more bites along her shoulder and neck. She'd found someone who probably would have been a lot of fun if she'd had time to work with her.

But Sarah was in a hurry.

The scarred man was still watching them with rapt attention, his gaze lingering on Felicia's curves even as Sarah slid her fingers from the girl's mouth, tracing a line of saliva down the girl's chin, down her neck line and behind her. She pulled her hand back and stuck her thumb in her mouth and brought her left arm around the girl's waist, turning her slightly so she was almost sitting in Sarah's lap.

The girl didn't know she was facing the man and Sarah didn't say anything. She locked gazes with him and bit into her new conquest once more, hefting her up so she could slide her hand under her meaty rump. Sarah sighed against Felicia's bronzed flesh. If only she could've enjoyed this--

Sarah deftly slid her hand into Felicia's underwear, brushing her damp fingers between the girl's cheeks. The girl arched her back instinctively as Sarah pressed both her fingers against her rosebud. “Shh. . . Good girl's don't make a sound.”

Felicia turned her lust glazed eyes towards Sarah with a sudden flash of uncertainty. Sarah kissed her, slid her hand forward into the hot wetness of the girl's sex. She was trembling, putty in the hands of a master craftswoman and they both knew it-- Sarah pressed her thumb against her rosebud and gingerly eased her forefingers into the young woman's core. At first her muscles tried to fight but in seconds she eased, relaxed.

She was so lost in the kiss that Felecia didn't react when Sarah pushed her thumb against her rosebud. Sarah pushed her forefingers in deep until she felt her palm rubbing against the woman's lips, earning a soft whimpering moan. “Shhh. . .” Sarah curled her fingers , pushed forward until she found her spot. “Mmm. .. Shallow, aren't we. Maybe I'm just your size.”

The girl whimpered something but Sarah stopped caring as she thrust her fingers in and out of the tight dampness, arching her fingers so their tips brushed against her spot like she was stroking a kitten. Felicia's back arched even more and her cleavage threatened to break free from her dress, undulating with her erratic breaths as she dug her heel into the floorboards.

Across from them, the man had his hand in his pants, stroking himself as he watched. Sarah smiled a little, pressing her thumb against the girl's rosebud. She tried to resist at first but it was clear she couldn't offer any kind of resistance. Putty, after all, was meant to be thoroughly worked. She clenched her teeth as Sarah pushed it in.

“The discomfort goes away.” Sarah cooed softly, tickling her spot all the more. Felicia's eyes were shut and watering as her body tried to force Sarah out. Undulating waves of resistance and relaxing warred inside her while Sarah continued to work her insides forward and back, up and down. . . Her insides tightened like a hot vice around her fingers and she came. Hard. Felicia let out a whimpering cry and grabbed Sarah's elbow, throwing her head back against Sarah's shoulder with a barely audible whine.

She owned this girl now. There was no question.

Sarah looked over at the man to see he was still stroking himself, albeit much faster now. “That's a good girl. . .” Sarah soothed Felicia's hair back out of her eyes and kissed her neck, still watching her pursuer. Felicia was panting, slumped against Sarah like a body pillow. “We'll do this again. . .” Sarah whispered. “and again. . . and again. Offer your prayers to Isira and I will find you--”

“Hn?” Felicia looked at her, confused.

Sarah slid her fingers out as slowly as she could, planted a kiss on her neck.

The man was still stroking himself, faster than ever. . . and. . . He jerked forward in orgasm and Sarah jumped up, dumping Felicia across the bench and erupting from the booth at a sprint. The scarred man groaned as he tried to collect himself mid-orgasm.

It was too late. Sarah was barging through the back door, back lit by Felicia's voice flowing over colorful curses she'd never heard before.

And this is how her day began.

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