Teija Croft

Her father had been evil, their was no doubt about that. Drove her mother to an early grave, gallivanted from bed to bed, without care for his daughter. Then on her eighteenth birthday he decided to make a woman out of her. She had escaped his touch, with a brutal kick to his groin, and fled to the town. The people had loved her, and helped her take a stage coach to escape his miserable clutches.

Teija put the letter down and walked over to the full length mirror in her room. Her long brown hair hung down past her shoulders, while her soulful brown eyes stared out beyond her dark tresses. Her huge breasts stood out, with the barest amount of sag, her small pink nipples hard from the coolness of the room. Her athletic body was sleek, smooth, and curvy. Her stomach was nice and tight, while her derriere was just pump enough to get a good grip. Her long sexy legs pushed her sexy body up to its five foot eight frame.

Men were often lost in her beauty, and she understood why her father had wanted her all those years ago. But she couldn't, wouldn't forgive him. So she wouldn't answer the letter for him. She would answer the letter for her, to restore her once noble line. She would brave the terrors of her childhood, to find closure once and for all.

Teija slipped a pristine white thong up her smooth legs, and then a set of tight leather pants, that accentuated her firm ass. Placing a set of soft leather boots on, she then placed a white bra over her huge breasts, then a tight green shirt, that clung to her large assets, and exposed a deep valley. Sex was a weapon, it made people underestimate her. However she didn't want to seem defenseless, so she strapped a large dagger to each thigh, to complete the look.

If she was going to do this, she needed a bodyguard. Word had surfaced that the old road was over run with brigands. So some muscle for backup was a good idea. Besides it sounded like their was trouble at the manor itself. It wouldn't hurt to have backup for that as well.

Heading down to the tavern room below, she stopped at the bar to get a drink of water, and look the crowd over. Mercenaries were slim picking tonight, and she couldn't waist time. Maybe she should just go alone. She was powerful, even if it wasn't obvious to most. Her eyes looked over the crowd and settled on a the roughest looking man in the bar. The man was dressed in scarred plate armor, that covered his torso, arms, and legs. The joints were exposed, and only protected by cloth, a sacrifice of protection for mobility. He wore an exotic menpo that protected his face from below the eyes down to the jaw. Though somewhat useful, she guessed it to be more aesthetic, then protective. He had a short blade on his left hip, and another strapped over his left shoulder.

Teija considered the man for a moment wondering if he would benefit her mission, or hinder it.