ABOUT
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Ｓ Ｍ Ｕ Ｇ Ｇ Ｌ Ｅ Ｒ
noun
Someone who imports or exports (goods) secretly, in violation of the law, especially without payment of legal duty.
NAME
Samia Alvar Taw'riqeAGE
28RACE
HumanPROFESSION
Smuggler, ThiefCLASS
(NULL)RESIDENCE
(PORT CITY)
HAIR
Black as coffee, waved and chopped short to just inches beneath her chin.
EYES
Grey, almond and heavy-lidded.
COSMETICS
Dark, dramatic lines of kohl and smudges of eye powder. Plucked, arched brows and glossed wet lips.
BODY | COMPLEXION
Pear-shaped, modest breasts. Average waist that sinks into ample hips and a thick, prominent rear.
Dusky of tone with a coppery sheen.
TATTOOS | MARKINGS | JEWELRY
A sprawling sleeve of black vines and flowers to cover her left arm and shoulder, curling about her neck.
Her earlobes are studded with gold and pearls.
She is missing her right pinky.
Though a frail and scrawny thing in her youth none imagined surviving, to their displeasure, Samia has lived. Now in the prime of youth and vigor, the smuggler is a sight to drink as any glass of rum. Dusky-skinned with hair the black of coffee, her heritage is often pegged as some distant desert, or island haven. Her lips are large and ripe, softness against a slender and sharper face. It is not uncommon to see a pick protruding from their corners. Her grey eyes are often half-lidded and laughing, often slow to assume something more grave. Truly, an unassuming and insouciant woman that does not anger quickly. When she speaks, her voice is tinged in rasps to hit the ear as smooth as the fragrant smoke of incense, plumes of it that burst in loud cries of revelry.
Where once her modest breasts gave cause to envy the bosomy sirens wandering the port, Samia has endeared herself to her thickset rear and thighs, swelling high into hips wide as her shoulders. Unsurprisingly, though she is not one for skirts nor dresses, she tends to dress in whatever might fit snug around the curves of her bottom. Provocative ensembles aside, she dresses for the weather that her skin might breathe and drink the warmth of the sun and cool sea breezes. Notably, she prefers tops to expose the tattooed vines at her left arm. Where the barbed vines are black, there are flowers adorned throughout, bursting in various colors of blue, red, and green.
When her boots do not sound her coming, it is the jingling bangles at her wrists. Sparing in adornments, she wears but these dangling bracelets and gilded studs at her earlobes.
➣H A U N T S ▪ In any port city, the slums comprise Samia's stomping grounds, though she has been known to wander the cleaner streets if only to vex her social betters. Tavernkeepers are her closest friends and even brothels keep out a sharp eye, as her lady of the hour is considered a lucky one. To be expected, wherever one might find ne'er-do-wells, Samia is a common sight. And if you can't find her in the places mentioned, she likely doesn't want to be found. ➣D E B A U C H E R Y▪ An indulgent creature, Samia is unabashed in where her coin goes. Astoundingly, her loud and brazen ways endear her to the softer maidens visiting the port, and who might blame them? Adventure has all but branded her. She herself has warmed the bed of a few wayward buccaneers and captains, man or woman. Let it never be said they forget her when they should next return to the port.
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➣FRIEND TO ALL▪ To hear it told, Samia has no serious enemies. Her friends are boundless, always seeming to procure their wants and needs within days. From the pilfering street orphans to the brothel Madame, there is a companion of hers around every corner. She smiles often and drinks even more so, quick to speak even a tactless truth. She will walk you home from the tavern and ensure your pockets are as full as when you left. How could any find rivals or enemies in a woman so warm of character? ➣M O N E Y E D▪ Though she might jokingly plead a friend to pick up her bill at any establishment, Samia is known to quickly pay her debts come the next day. Assumedly, she is never wanting for coin, as per her indulgent lifestyle. Her flintlocks are also maintained thusly, with a cutlass sheathed in leather as shiny and embossed as any lord's. Most often don't try their luck at robbing her, either because they find no gold on or they stand at afore the barrel of her iron guns.
