No, it definitely wasn't love that brought me to this pass, thought Skarre, self-styled pirate Queen of the Satyx, shifting her position expertly as the Widower pitched and rolled in heavy seas. I’ll have to blame it on spring lust, pure and simple. The man of Cygnar had been cute, she would give him that. Handsome, youthful, strong, deadly with a sword, and somehow retaining enough strength to remain awake after their wild night and make good his escape while she slept. He had smelled strongly of arcane potential. I wonder if that is what helped him to get away?
She gnawed thoughtfully on a full lower lip as she kept a watchful eye on her crew while they set the storm sails. No one had questioned the fact that she had returned to the ship without an explanation of her absence. She was their dread captain, and no one dared question her motives too closely without risking life or limb, and the occasional pursuit of healthy human males was permitted when the opportunity presented itself. It was the only way the Satyxis had to renew their bloodlines. Dragonblight had changed the sorcerous women over the ages, giving them greater vitality and impressive horns, but weakening any male offspring to the point where they were no longer viable. So they hunted their mates abroad - on the nearby Scharde isles, or better yet, sought fresh breeding stock on the mainland of Immoren.
The ship rocked as a heavy crosswind tore at the sails. "Avast! Get that canvas reefed or I'll have yer worthless hides!"
"Aye-aye Cap’n!" The horned women who made up her crew redoubled their efforts and Skarre nodded in satisfaction as the ship's passage through the waves became smoother. Undead thralls were near useless in heavy weather like this and she was glad to have almost none left aboard after their raid up the coast.
She would never have admitted it out loud, but she was also thankful to have had the company of one of the older and more experienced Satyxis women to help her during her heavy labors last night. Now the dawn was approaching and she had left her cabin to sniff the fresh air as well as demonstrate her strength to her crew. The proof of that strength now lay in her arms, wrapped in warm dark cloth and sucking hungrily at her breast. Her first mate came up to her, dripping wet from rain and salt spray. Eyeing the bundle held in Skarre’s arms, she halted outside of sword’s reach and offered a sharp salute.
"All’s ship-shape, Cap’n. Is that the new one? She looks strong."
Skarre grinned. "Aye, that she is, strong as a kraken, my fine little blood-whelp." The infant's fuzz of hair glittered red gold in the light of the rising sun as it peeked through the storm wrack.
"Red hair?" The first mate peered at the baby in surprise. "Never seen that afore among our cubs."
"’Tis a first, all right.” With some difficulty Skarre detached the baby from one breast and shifted her to the other. The child resumed nursing without complaint. “Along with that red hair, her sire must have had more than a touch of the Art in his bones; I can feel the magic burning in her, young as she is." Skarre gently traced the small button of a nascent horn on the baby's head with one finger. "Lord Toruk willing, someday she'll captain the ship in my place." Her grin became predatory. "Won't the lords of Cygnar be surprised then?"
