------------- Lacy’s Leathers - Lacy

Lacy sat in her corner and worried. As headliner she had the responsibility of being seen out front even when she wasn’t on stage. It was also her job to run the girls, teach them what she could and generally make the customers’ visit as pleasing as she could. It was a job for which she was imminently qualified. But she wanted more than that. And on nights like tonight, when she could see a dozen ways to bring in more business, yet nobody seemed to want to listen to her, it bothered her even more. She greatly enjoyed having men and women alike ogle her ample figure and fantasize. She was not above fulfilling those fantasies when it suited her. However, she was beginning to realize that her own fantasy might never be fulfilled, the fantasy of owning her own place and being in control of her own destiny. Still, there was a way. She just had to convince a few others that she wasn’t barking mad.

Donna was already on board, but then again, she was a scrapper. She’d take every opportunity to get out front. She’d work the bar, take extra shifts on stage, wander the tables, all to get out where the action was in case a fight broke out. Lacy just hoped that her love of the fight extended to swords and armor and dark, nasty holes in the ground. Dylen was also interested, as was Orgianna.

Strange, that all three elves would be the first to throw in with her hair-brained scheme,… though Lacy wondered if the word Elf truly applied to Orgianna. It was true; she was of Drow stock, but only half Drow. The other half, who knew? She had an odd skin tone for a Drow, dark purple eyes, and a functional set of black, shadowy dragonfly wings sprouting from her back. That made her unique and a popular draw as an exotic dancer, but worried Lacy. Her allegiances were always unclear, especially since her last name was Fey, one of the deposed noble families of the Splinter Kingdom.

Donna was Zeigus, a five and a half foot tall hunk of muscle packed in a curvy frame, trained as an Erotic, and a War Mage. She had a good heart and was as Carellonian as Lacy herself. Dylen Rider was Pouarr, and as such her allegiance would go to her own people. On the other hand, in New Calladon, she was three thousand miles from her homeland and her tribe. Her only connection to the wilds was her Bearwolf who slept out back and who she rode out into the woods alone every chance she got. She was a Ranger, an Erotic, and was well on her way to becoming a Dare Devil.

There were several others she thought would work out well. A half-dozen or more had shown talent as Erotics. They mastered the first steps of Erotic spellcasting and that was what had given Lacy the idea. She’d seen bands come through here for years, venture companies bent on riches and fame, heading for the dark pit of death and despair called Old Calladon. Most never came back. The few who did became famous, even legendary. And that, after all, was like money in the bank. Her name was already Legends, Lacy Legends. Now, she wanted to make it an actual legend.

------------- Credits

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