<div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/GexHruJ.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 20pt;"><em>Cerys En Craite</em></span><br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"><em>Craitean Mercenary</em></span><br/><hr/><br/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>    </td><td>The Northern Steppes played home to a host of different tribes. The Thunderfists. The Stormcrows. The Fireforges. Fearsome warriors, the lot. They roamed the steppes on horseback or on foot, speaking of honor and glory as they sought to fight each other in a series of bloody, brutal clashes to see which tribe was worthy of the title of the Lords of the Steppes. However, one tribe never saw the need to take part in such pointless frivolities. In fact, such a tribe didn't even really reside on the Steppes. Instead, they chose to fight with nature. They struggled on the bare, barren mountains of the Craite Mountain Range which surrounded much of the Steppes. There, they dealt with the lack of shelter, the lack of food and even lack of clothing, creating a race of strong, tanned, sun-bleached warriors that were as famous as they came. <br/><br/>The Craitean tribe were not as numerous as some of the other Steppes tribes but they made up for it in sheer determination and strength. The few that descended the mountain range to strike a path of their own often forged a path of immense success that few could replicate.<br/><br/>Cerys En Craite is the only daughter of Chief Crach, heir to the tribe. As was customary if the first born child of a chieftain was a female, she underwent a ritual from the tribe's shaman, one which granted her a cock and the strong potency to use it with which to continue the line of the tribe. As Cerys grew older, she adapted well to the tribe's lifestyle, proving to be an able warrior who could hold her own against most of her companions. Not only that, she came into great beauty and virility. She found the tribe's beauties more than yielding to her advances. <br/><br/>Cerys settled with the beautiful daughter of the shaman, Helga, but try as she might, she could not produce a child. She tried with another woman, and another, and another, but her seed never took hold. It wasn't just her either. No new babies were being born for the Craitean tribe. Perplexed, the shaman began to study what could've caused it but could not come up with any reasonable cause. In the end, he came up with an idea, a desperate attempt.<br/><br/>Rumor had it that somewhere in the south, there was a woman who had, what the shaman described as, a womb blessed by the gods. He saw it, he said, in the smoke unfurling from his flames of vision that a Craitean had to find her, seek her out and do what it took to help her achieve a power that she was able to lift this curse or illness from the tribe's women.<br/><br/>Cerys volunteered for the task. Her father was advancing in age, and she knew that if he passed on before she left, she'd have to take the mantle and would have no time to travel the lands. She took what wealth was available to the tribe, armed herself with a greatmace and bought what armor could pass as the minimum of modesty for the rest of society and set off. <br/><br/>Melvaunt was the third town and her favorite by far, which was why she chose to put some roots down and let her ear fill with the winds of words that streamed through the popular city. Of course, she sampled the local women as well and even managed to bed a few priestesses of Shoni, sampling their delectable arts. Her seed managed to take hold in them, as they assured her, so she was even more certain the issues didn't lie with her. However, she didn't feel this mystical connection, this "Golden Womb" that was spoken of and had no choice but to continue to keep an eye and ear out.<br/><br/>During this time, she took on odd jobs as a mercenary, exploring what needed to be explored, killing what needed to be killed and earned a good amount of gold to survive on and a bevy of women to fuck. She was about to head out when an old friend found her. "Cerys, my dear girl!" The old man had greeted her fondly with a hug. Cerys had accompanied the caravan master a month ago, guaranteeing his safe journey, and in doing so, gotten in his good books. He often gave her contracts as a result.<br/><br/>"Mr Tilton." She smiled as she returned the hug. "How've you been?" She asked with a gracious smile. "Good, good." He replied, "And I may come with a job <em>and</em> a woman for you, dear girl. Some priestess of Shoni says she is looking for the All Seeing Eye or some such nonsense." He makes a lewd, lips-smacking noise. "Perfect tits and a cunt worth its weight in gold." He said.<br/><br/>Cerys laughed crudely. The old man enjoyed too much his share of young women at times. "Well, I've never been one to turn down a job or a good woman, so let me see her." The caravan master quickly showed her over. <br/><br/>Already from a good distance away, it wasn't particularly difficult to spot this pristess. Even by the other Shonian priestess' standard that she had seen, this woman was deliciously clad. Her eyes roved up and down over that sleek form barely clad in golds and cloths even as she turned to face him.<br/><br/>There was a brief moment of the two sizing each other up and it was clear, perhaps, that both liked what they saw. <br/><br/>"Absolutely a pleasure too, Tia. Name's Cerys." She said before waving an airy hand. "Yeah, I've been filled in well enough. Judging by what you have, I think perhaps a decent establishment will suit your needs. Perhaps the Great Roc Inn in the Trade District?"<br/><br/>She gestures to be followed before waving her farewell to Tilton, turns on her sharp, armored heel and departs, launching into a brief, well-rehearsed explanation. "Well, see here, we're in the Trade District, the first and largest section of the town. You'll find most of the good inns on this end, the less-so ones in the slums probably. The Great Roc has good food, a big bath and strong sturdy beds well-suited to your Shonian needs." She grins at the priestess from over her shoulder. "I've tested the beds myself, and the tables, and the bar...."<br/><br/>She managed to clear a path through the shoppers and gawkers turning to stare at the pair of them until they'd arrived at a fairly large, three-levelled inn with what appears to be a large carving of a giant bird-of-prey perched from the beam above the doorway. Leading the way into it, the inn at this time was fairly crowded but Cerys would easily find a seat for them. In one corner was the bar with a crackling fire behind it. In another corner, there was a small stage with two scantily clad women, dancing along to music, shaking and jiggling to the merriment of most of the watching crowd. Bosomy barmaids as well rushed around.<br/><br/>One of them came up to their table. "What'll ya have tonight, doll? A new friend tonight, I see?" The young barmaid eyes Tia cheekily.<br/><br/>Cerys grinned at that. "Get me two of that roasted beef stew with a chunk of brown bread each and your best wine for the lady and a brown ale for me, Fi." <br/><br/>"Absolutely~!" The barmaid said and sashayed away.<br/><br/>"So." Cerys began, leaning back in the seat and eyeing the priestess properly now. "What do you need to know?"<br/></td></tr></tbody></table>