My father was an elf, my mother, an orc. You can spare me that look—the one where you cringe, as the others did before you, trying to imagine what perversions drew him to her. It’s a long tale with perversions aplenty—none of them pertain to you unless you pay.
For now, let’s keep it simple.
Father was too big and awkward for his kind. Mother was too delicate for hers. Both were rejected by their own. They met, by chance, on a lonely road and fucked their way to an alliance. It resulted in their marriage and my birth.
Rebel. Outcast. Lady Blades.
She taught me the art of war. He taught me how to dance. Though long departed, I owe them both.
Between the two of them, they made me something special. Something for which mercenaries of any species will pay a handsome price.
It’s free to watch me dance. Everyone likes to, and I don’t mind. The sway of a lean hip, the flash of a rounded breast—it all hints at the pleasures to come.
But if you want to touch or taste—to slide into this honeyed cunt, my rough-hewn friend—then you have to lay your money down.
Lay your money down and dance with my pretty blades.