Lillith Glavestriker (CR 2)

'Cutthroat Lil':

"I was born Lillith Glavestriker. Me mum, Lillian Windsong, died o'the pox when I was two. Don't know if that's true but that's what me brothers told me." The young woman pauses for a moment in the dim light, her eyes almost shining with emotion. "Ah, me dear brothers. Both o'em nearly six foot tall and broader than a barn, with sea green eyes and sunshine hair. Identical twins they is... though anyone what met 'em once could tell 'em apart. Garth had him a nasty huntin' accident involving a bow when he was a lad... wore a patch over 'is left eye ever since. Come to think of it... he ain't much liked huntin' ever since. Still they was both lookers. Us youngin's was lucky. Must'a got our looks from Mum."

"Our pa? Oh, aye we had one. Mathis Glavestriker, nasty scoundrel that he was. If he was breathin' he was drinkin'. An&' if he was drinkin' he was gamblin'. An' for shore, if he was gamblin' the old dawg was losin'. Jared and Garth was smart. Got outta pa's house quick as they could. Got work aboard a trade ship outta Freeport as deck hands. I last seen 'em when I was eight... or mebbe seven."

"Pa was a smith. Supposedly some kinda fancy-shmancy weapons master, though the last years I was with him, I didn't see him smith a damn thing, just swill rotgut and lose at cards. He lost the family business. Lost the horse and buggy. But before he lost the house... he lost his only daughter. Yessir, you heard right. The son-of-a-whore lost his nine year-old girl in a game of Pharaoh. Lucky fer me, the wench he was playin' wasn't into beddin' babies. She took me on as a kitchen girl on her boat and that's the last I saw of dear ol' pa."

"That wench turned out to be Captain Grace Meredith of the Bawdy Gale, a pirate ship that razed the Sea of Fire for years thereafter. Of course, all good things do come to an end and the captain lost her ship and crew to a nasty misunderstandin' concernin' a nobleman and some rather rare goods. Captain Meredith took the remains o'her fortune, which turned out to be the clothes on her back and one scrawny kitchen girl, and made a trade with a no-good slaver in a back alley of Freeport. I guess I was nearly twelve at the time."

"I was sold to some rich old noble in a big house and was tossed in the kitchen to turn spits and tend fires... something I was damned used to by then. I might have been content to be peaceable and make a go of the situation, had not the old bugger turned out to be a pedophile. He had his maid bathe me and dress me up in a frothy dress the color o'seafoam. I was suspicious from the get-go, but the table I sat at to eat had more food on it than I'd ever seen and I lost track of what the old man was saying or where his hands were - that is, 'til I found 'em up my skirt. So I did as Jared had showed me years ago and stuck my steak knife hilt-deep in the son-of-whore's throat. He didn't even make any noise, just gurgled a bit before tipping over out of his chair."

"Well, of course, I knew I was in deep then. I ran like hell for the door and never looked back. I stole me some clothes off a line in the slums and lived on the streets for weeks after that. I filched a knife and cut my hair short, then made my way back down towards the docks to see if I could hire on as a deck hand on a ship... maybe get outta Freeport a while. I worked that way for a few summers 'til the ship was boarded by pirates... Captain Gale Meredith to be exact."

"She killed most folks that she couldn't ransom, but I sweet talked her into lettin' me serve on her ship. Y'know... reminded her what a good kitchen girl I was when I was younger and assured her I was a damn good deck hand at age fifteen. Besides, I knew the old bitch was a softy for young gals, and there's worse folk to have to warm the covers with. But that was the beginin' of my career as a full blown pirate."

"What brings me here?" she asks looking out through the iron bars of her tiny, dark cell. "Well now, lad, that's a good question. We ahh... we had a bad go of things on this last run. We sailed into a bad bank o'fog and when we came out the other side, we was in the midst of damned war fleet. I don't know where in the nine hells they came from or where they were going, but we was surrounded and boarded by a damned general or some such fancy-pants military pig. Damn lousy way to end a career, gettin' hauled in by the whole damn Freeport navy."

"Anyway, if I'd still been a kitchen gal, maybe they'da just tossed me in a cell for a few years, but ahh... seein' as how I was on deck when we was boarded... an' seein' how I was brandishin' a cutlass an' givin' them military types a bloody welcome... well, 'tis to be the gallows for me, lad. Come sunup tomorrow, I'll have me pretty neck stretched alongside me captain and me mates."

The young, cold beauty grins and steps up to the bars, arching her back to stretch from sitting, her breasts pressing seductively against her gown for a moment. "Ah but what the hell. I've burned ships, skewered men, raided trader vessels and pillaged villages. And damn if it ain't a load of fun!"

"Aw, but don't look like that. I ain't all evil," she says with a lusty pout. "I raided for money and don't never kill for pleasure. And if I've burned ships at sea, 'twas only enemy ships. Well, you call 'em generals or constables, but I'm a pirate and to me they's the enemy. Most folks would call me a outlaw and I'll be proud to hear it. But I live by me own code and by some rights it's a more honest life than most."

She pauses for a moment to lean on the bars and sigh. Her head tilts to the side curiously as she eyes the handsome young guard that has pretended not to hear her while sneaking what he thought were unseen glances at her. She smiles a half smile and runs a finger slowly down the bodice of her dusty, blood-stained gown. "Look here, lad. A girl like me's due a last request, ain't she? I'll be off to the gallows in the mornin'. My last meal weren't fit for a half-starved bitch. But I got a request you might could help me out with."

She takes a step back and puts one small, booted foot up on the cot in her cell. Using both hands she slowly hikes her skirts up to her thigh as she glances over her shoulder at the young guard. "Just use them keys there on your belt and come on in this cell. We'd probably break this creeky old cot, but the straw's pretty-near fresh and a randy whore like me could use one last good ride before she's off to Hell."

She slides one hand under her skirt and her lusty eyes close halfway. She licks her lips and speaks in a husky voice. "What d'ya say there, lad... feel like a quick poke? I promise I don't bite," she says wearing a grin that bares her teeth. "Less'n ya like that way."

-----------------------

The Cock's Nest was the seediest pub in the nastiest slum of Freeport. Located on the corner of Bilge street and Longdagger Drive, it was close enough to the docks to smell of rotting fish but never close enough for a breeze to blow away the stench. Given the violent disposition of the locals towards the city watch, it was a rare and eerie sight to see a city guard stroll confidently into the Cock's Nest. Every eye in the tavern turned toward him and every voice stopped at once. Bar maids reached for clay mugs and hidden daggers beneath their skirts and men began to rise slowly out of the chairs as the sounds of blades leaving their sheaths rang softly throughout the room. Suddenly, the guard tipped his hat back and tossed it high in the air. Grinning from ear to ear with green eyes sparkling and long blond hair raining down her back stood the infamous 'Cutthroat Lil.' Curses and laughter filled the room as everyone realized the guard was not a guard at all, but one of the unfortunate lasses doomed to have their necks stretched that they had been drinking a toast to mere moments before.

Lil sidled along the bar, receiving a congratulatory word and pat on the back from various patrons as she went. A private word with the barkeep afforded her passage behind the bar and entrance to the back room. Lil hated this room. She'd done some nasty business from time to time and most of it had come from orders she'd received in this room. The man sitting behind a beer-stained desk swilling rotgut out of chipped mug like a man dying of thirst was Royson, a fat little toad of a man with more connections in the muck of Freeport than any thief or murder had a right to have - and her ticket to freedom.

Lil had good street smarts. She knew that eventually she was going to get pinched and someone, be it an angry ship captain or the city watch, was going to come looking for her. She also knew the value of a favor, so a year ago when she'd been in port, some bad trouble went down involving a young guard at the Cock's Nest. Knowing that her profession would keep her away from interested ears, Royson selected Lil, asking her to deal with the two witnesses. Once the dirty deed was done, Royson had asked her what she wanted in return. With a sly smile, Lil said... "just keep me in mind should I ever need a favor." Greedy pig that he was, he agreed... hell, the kind of life she lead, Lil might not return to port to cash in, in which case there would be no coin out of his purse.

"Lil, my dove, you're alive!" he said, throwing his arms dramatically up in the air. "We heard you were in the dungeon waitin' for a lovely hemp necklace to wear at sun-up, but I see you're as resourceful as ever."

"Don't 'dove' me, Royson you smelly ol' whore's git," she said with a grin. Royson stank, but loved to flirt. "I'm in a pinch and need to call in a favor."

Royson nodded, no longer smiling. His face was suddenly all business. "There's limits on my favors, girl, but I pay my debts in my own way. What do you need Lil?"

"Clothes, weapons, armor and a way out of town," she said, ticking items off on her fingers as she went. Lil paused and slowly a smile crept across her face, growing until it almost split her head in two. Her eyes sparkled with an obviously devious idea. "And a fiddle..."

Lillith 'Lil' Glavestriker
Female human rog 2:
Medium humanoid (human); CR 2; HD 2d6; 12 hp; Init +3; Spd 30 ft. (6 squares); AC 15 (Dex +3, Armor +2), 13 touch, 12 flat-footed; BAB/Grapple +1/+1; Atk +1 melee (1d6/19-20x2 cutlass (short sword) ) or +1 melee (1d4/19-20x2 dagger) or +4 ranged (1d4/19-20x2 dagger) or +4 ranged (1d4 dart); SA sneak attack +1d6; SQ evasion, trapfinding; AL CN; SV Fort +1, Ref +6, Will +1; Str 10, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 10, Wis 12, Cha 14.
Skills and Feats: Appraise +1, Balance +4, Bluff +3, Climb +1, Decipher Script +1, Diplomacy +3, Disable Device +1, Disguise +3, Escape Artist +4, Gather Information +3, Intimidate +3, Listen +5, Move Silently +7, Open Lock +7, Perform (fiddle) +3, Profession (sailor) +3, Profession (cook) +2, Sense Motive +2, Sleight of Hand +4, Speak Language (Common, Elven, Orc), Spot +5, Swim +4, Tumble +4, Use Magic Device +3, Use Rope +7; Dodge, Mobility.
Evasion (Ex): Any time Lil makes a successful Reflex saving throw against a damage-dealing effect that normally deals half damage on a successful save, she takes no damage instead.
Sneak Attack: Lil adds 5d6 damage to any successful attack made while her target is denied his dexterity bonus to AC or is flanked by her.
Trapfinding: Lil can use the Search skill to locate traps with a DC higher than 20. Additionally, she may also use the Disable Device skill to disarm magical traps. If Lil beats a trap's DC by 10 or more can bypass the trap without disarming it.
Possessions: Artisan outfit, backpack, bedroll, beltpouch (x3), cutlass (x2), dagger, dart (x4), fiddle, hooded lantern, leather armor, mug, oil flask (x9), scroll case, tindertwig, theives' tools, trail rations (x6), waterskin, whetstone, 520gp, 164sp, 4cp

Roleplaying with Lil:
Lil is tall for a girl and skinny for her height, though she always describes herself using the terms 'willowy' or 'lithe.' She appears younger than her actual age of eighteen years, but her eyes can sometimes sparkle with a coldness that offers a taste of the hard life she's lived. She's quick on her feet and not the least bit shy. "I've never met a stranger" is a saying she's fond of. She carries a fiddle and is a fair hand at sea chanties and jogs, though she's no master musician. What she lacks in pure talent, she more than makes up for in bawdy language and lusty enthusiasm.

When met, she'll most likely be playing for her supper in the common room of some tavern or bar. She might instead be camping along the roadside (and subsequently starving), as she usually doesn't have any money and very little experience providing for herself outside the familiar city. She'll introduce herself as Lillith Fairesong to most, and will never use her real name. She's had a few bad encounters with animals and lone bandits since being chased out of the city and would certainly welcome a few traveling companions if they looked like they could hold their own in a fight - or had any money.