The scratching sound of pen on paper stopped, and it seemed as though the tent had suddenly tensed. Tyrion looked from his numbers, a reproach on his tongue for the lazy dullards surrounding him. He noticed that all of the scribes' attention was directed to one corner of the tent, the one where Brown Ben Plumm reigned. Tyrion turned his head, expecting to see a new prisoner, a new brother, or a thief to be punished. Instead he found himself gazing upon an intriguing figure.
She was not a proper lady, a fact which her masculine stance made quite apparent. Her breasts were obscured, to his disappointment, by a large and unfitted blouse. The garment, open to her collarbone, was a deep violet color. It was tucked into her breeches. The boots she wore were soft and well-used. Unlike the other men and women in the company, he noticed that she carried no weapons. Curious.
He couldn't help but notice that her thighs nearly filled her breeches. Her body was wrought of iron-hard muscle. Her left hand was wrapped in bloodstained linen.
"You beckoned?"
Her soft lilt and harsh consonants reminded him of the crashing sea. Her hair was her softest feature. Unlike that of the insipid women he was used to, hers had been cut to her mid-back. It was a warm, dense waterfall of curls. He noted that her eyes, grey and cold, were shrouded by thick, black brows. Her nose was broken and crooked, her cheeks high, and her jaw square, strong. Her lips were obscenely full. When he looked at them he thought of how they'd look wrapped around his prick. It was a sudden, but not unwelcome, thought.
"Would you mind telling me what this is?"
Plumm's tone was sharp, Tyrion noted, as he waved something small and bloody in her face.
She smirked.
"Would that belong to our dear, charming friend Bokkoko?"
The captain, growled testily, "Control your temper around my men. This conversation is becoming tiresome. Do not try me again, "
Her grin dropped. Her sensuous mouth firmed into a tight line, making her cheekbones sharper. She looked dangerous. She leaned in close, and whispered just loud enough for her words to carry in the unusually still room,
"Why don't you inform Bokkoko that the next time he tries to shove that ugly little cock into my mouth, I'll take it with me, along with his remaining testicle."
She slowly straightened and cast her gaze around the room. Tyrion had to give her credit; the look she fixed upon his scribes did more to get them working than any words he'd ever wasted on them. Then she trained her eyes on him, meeting his stare.
She was unnerving, and he couldn't find the strength to look away.
She abruptly turned on her heel and left the tent, leaving his cock hard and his interest piqued.
A/N: I know this chapter is short. Most of the chapters will be on the shorter side due to my writing process, but all of them will be longer than this one. I just needed an introductory chapter to get my brain going, set the theme for the narrative, and introduce my OC. How did I do? Did I go into too much detail?