Avatar of Afina
  • Last Seen: 7 yrs ago
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    1. Afina 11 yrs ago

Status

Recent Statuses

11 yrs ago
Spotify has a unique sense of humor, let's see how this plays out.
3 likes
11 yrs ago
Time to decide if I keep writing this story or to stop, only time will tell.
11 yrs ago
Happy All Saints Day
11 yrs ago
Oh so done with today, time to sleep ~passes out on the keyboard~ djeicjdjsididjdk
11 yrs ago
If you knock on my door in costume and are over 15.. I will so give you candy, lol The older tue more I fork over, :p

Bio

Now known as @Lady Amalthea

Most Recent Posts

Name: Regalia Montoya

Age: 47

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Personality: Regalia is an older woman and with age comes patience, to a point. Her outward demeanor is calm and collected, much more proper in her speech than one of her background would one would think. She is ever calculating in both her words and her movements, always weighing all the possible options before her before she acts or speaks. Though time has taught her that sometimes all the patience in the world cannot accomplish things and has been known to turn completely in her demeanor at a moment notice to get the job at hand done. Not surprisingly these outbursts have cause new issues to arrive but in the end they get the job done and her point across. Regalia will fight for how ever can afford her skills and will do as she must to fulfill her contractual obligations. Her word is her bond as long as those she is signed too do the same. When not under contract she will do what she needs to survive as best she can and has a tendency to push herself into situations that have nothing to do with her if she feels that some injustice is being dealt.

Religion: None. Being born and raised on the high seas one would think that she would have a head full of superstitions but she has found little use for them over the course of her lifetime. Seeing the damage and divide that various religions have caused, she has chosen to remain neutral when it comes to these manners. She has never been able to grasp the need to blame a God or Goddess for death or peace. Life is life and if she is going to go through life, she plans to do it on her own terms and not on the whispered answers to those who claim to speak for the powers that be.

Political Stance: Regalia has none, she feels not allegiance to any kingdom. Alliances can change at the drop of the hat or at the flip of a coin. She is from the sea, ever changing, and acts like the sea. She wanders through her life as the winds direct her. Sometimes the times are rough and brutal; at others they are clam and make your marvel at your surroundings. In her life, she has only ever sworn her allegiance to one and it was not for God or Country, it was for ideals. That was long ago though and now the only allegiance she has it to the coin until she finds a cause worthy of her attention.

Magics: None

Appearance: Regalia is an older woman, though not the less stunning; standing 5 foot 7 inches tall without her boots, with an athletic build. Long raven hair falls from a side part on the crown of her head, it speckled with grey and white strands that bring out her cobalt eyes. Though she has long left the sea behind, she still dresses as she would when she was a captain. Somethings never change. She has sharp features but time and age have softened her over all appearance. She speaks in a soft yet commanding voice, never wanting to be mistaken as an easy target. She is too old for such trivial games.


Dragon and Gun, not included, accessories sold separately.

Possessions: The Schiavona that she carries was her fathers, beautiful as it is deadly, crafted by her grandfather long before she was born. A well crafted blade, it moves quickly through the air when swung and never let Regalia down. On her person, she has a small satchel attached to her belt that holds her papers of identification, her title as Wizard, some money for day to day expenses and letters of recommendation from various people of nobility she has worked for over the years. When traveling, she rides an Ebony stallion that has been with her for years and knows how to deal with her riding style. The saddle bags hold changes of clothing, dried foods, skins of water and wine, grooming and cleaning materials as well as a few odds and ends like parchment, coal, wax and her seal. Tied to the back of the saddle rests her sleeping items and a small canvas tent she can set up if the rains hit.

Skills/Abilities: Being raised on the sea she knows all there is to know about running a ship, having captained The Maelstrom for nearly a decade before she retired. A Pirate at heart, she is a true swashbuckler, a skilled swimmer and diver. She knows how to raise the sails, control the crew and has a vast knowledge of knots. (What else is a girl do to when out at sea for months on end.) She has commanded fleets at sea and is a walking encyclopedia of Sea Warfare. A skilled fencer, one of the few to obtain the title of Wizard, she is deadly and quick with her Schiavona, following in her families footsteps. The fact that she is ambidextrous doesn’t hurt.

Though she is not a Corsair anymore, she has taken the last decade coming to grips with her land legs and has spent that time training in various fighting form. Having had to learn to brawl at the high seas, she is knowledgeable in close quarter hand to hand combat and knife throwing, but that is not enough to the lands. Over the years she has worked on keeping her footing both on deck and off, slowly transitioning to being a woman of solid terrain but has never lost her abilities to fight during even the roughest of storms the seas can bring.

Having to rely now on a steed instead of her ship to get around, much of her first years on land were spent becoming skilled with riding and fighting on horseback as well as wilderness survival and land military tactics. Her skills have been utilized by many an army and her ability to think differently than most who are in such positions, due to her upbringing and gender, she has proven time and time again to be a valuable asset.

Having seen and participated in so much over the course of her life and remaining in no one place for too long, she has become well versed in the art of diplomacy and tact, never using her female wiles to accomplish the job. She prefers tactics where she does not have to worry about some young fledgling subterfuging.

History: Regalia was born on the high seas to the Captain and one of his flings, aboard The Maelstrom. During a hurricane while she was young her mother was tossed overboard, never to be retrieved. Her father was anything but the parental type, especially to a daughter. He had no idea how to raise her and was tempted for a time to leave her at the first orphanage he could find at the next port.

Packing her bags he was about to lead her off the deck when she picked up his Schiavona to hand to him and began to play around like children do. He found it amusing and yet it was time to go, reaching for the Schiavona she quickly side stepped him and switch hands with the blade, swinging it around with equal skill in her other. This intrigued him, seeing something in her for the first time that reminded him of himself. The decision had been made and he would raise her.

Over the years he trained her as any apprentice, never giving her any breaks due to her blood or gender. In fact he pushed her so much harder than what was needed, fearing that she would be at a disadvantage. She proved him wrong and the day when she was presented to his Fencing Master for testing she received the rank of Wizard. As she received the title she remembers looking at her father and for the first time in her life, she saw pride. From that moment on her life was set; she would take over for him when he passed.

The next few years were spent teaching her everything he knew about the seas and The Maelstrom. The crew, having known her since she was small, was ever faithful to her and her father. She was the daughter so many of them never had and did all they could to make sure she was ready when the day came. It came peacefully one night when out on calm waters. Entering the captains’ room, she dropped the tray of food she had brought him for dinner when she saw him hunched over his desk atop of his maps. Finding he had passed away, she kissed his brow and had him buried at sea. She was now the Captain of The Maelstrom.

Life was good on the High Seas, even finding love in her first mate Tseng but it was not to last. During a battle in one of the many unnamed wars for God and Country, he fell to cannon fire as it ripped through the main deck. In one fell swoop, she lost her ship, her love and her home. Swimming to shore she decided that unless mountains were moved, she would not step back on the deck of a ship. She hasn’t since.

Since that fateful day she has wandered the lands, selling her skills and knowledge to whomever she felt was worthy or, in desperate times, whoever paid the best.
Ramara


Ramara nodded towards Derrix hearing his thanks and then looked up in frustration as Inyata spit out her rum. Inyata had known what the drink was before it was even served or had she been struck deaf as well? There was no need for that disgusting display as far as Ramara was concerned and it seemed that things were not going to get any better when Wade wobbled over to their table. The stench from him and the bucket was nearly over whelming and for the first time since she had rested herself in place she moved, rearing back slightly in her set as her hand waved the smell away from her face. Rising quickly she shot the man a look before looking at Ishmael. “I suggest he be bathed and his mouth rinsed out with jasmine before he goes anywhere,” she said flatly.

Turning slightly she eyed where her dagger had landed in the rafters and moved quickly; a foot landing on the banister of the stairs leading to the second floor before pushing off gracefully into the air and flipping up into the rafters. Grasping her blade and pulling it out of the wood as she crouched down in the rafters. Once it was secured in her belt she simply leaned forward and fell through the air and landed back on the main tavern floor. She didn’t make a sound when she moved; just a gentle swish of the air could be heard. She was about to rejoin the group when she heard the sound of strings and bells. “Ceceria,” she said in a low voice about the time the jester clad woman made her entrance. Seeing Ishmael rise and prepare to leave Ramara decided it was a good time to place some distance between her and the drunk. Pushing outside she made her way to her horse and took the reins into her hand leading it over to the cart. She was about to actually speak when she noticed an older female approaching the tavern and the woman did not look happy.

Regalia

“Yes, I will need these things. I have a few days travel ahead of me sir,” a respectful voice said to the local grocer. The voice came from an older woman but even with the advanced years she still appeared splendid. Sensual features paired with pleasing frame that was complimented with long ebony locks and piercing eyes the color of the sea. The only thing that truly gave away her age was the streaks of gray that were woven into her dark tendrils. She was dressed as a Corsair but did not carry herself as your average pirate. She was refined and courteous, spoke well and carried herself with pride and distinction. The grocer smiled widely at her and gathered her things quickly, it wasn’t every day he was called sir, especially by someone of such high standing and reputation as the former Captain before him.

“Yes of course Ms. Montoya. My pleasure,” he chimed in as he gathered everything she needed. Regalia was about to thank him for his courtesy towards her when someone else ran into the market and started raving about a pirate that had caused a brawl in the tavern that was broken up by a paladin. Regalia took a long moment and sighed. Why was it always like this? Why did those of her background have to run around causing issues? Not all that took to the sea where uneducated ruffians and those that were only made things harder on the ones that were not; much of the time Regalia had seen the sea faring judged before a word left their mouths. It was unacceptable and Regalia had had it.

“Please take these to my horse and thank you for your time,” Regalia said in a kind voice before placing payment on the counter plus some extra for the inconvenience of the grocer having to pack her horse for her. He smiled brightly and assured her that he would take care of everything as Regalia left the market. It was not hard to find where the disturbance had happened. People were talking, as they often did on such things, and quickly Regalia made her way towards the tavern. Stopping in her tracks before she even reached the tavern her eyes fell on Inyata. It was obvious what she was and she sighed. “She’s but a child!” she said to herself before taking a deep breath and making her way towards the younger Corsair.

Seeing the Paladin she stopped before him and bowed deeply out of respect. “Sword Wizard and Corsair Regalia Montoya,” she said as she rose and looked at him. “I am sorry to intrude but I have to have words with your,” she began stopping to look over Inyata for a brief moment. “Acquaintance?” she asked quizzically before moving past him to Inyata. “You good child could use a few days in the brig for your transgression young lady. A corsair, especially a woman, does not carry herself as a loud boisterous braggart! She does not cause a tavern brawl, she ends it. Shameful,” Regalia scolded. Her words were quick and to the point and yet they were not vile in tone but laced with concern. It had been some many a year since Regalia had seen another female of the seas. They were a rare breed.

Drawing a deep sigh she rubbed her temples slightly before turning back to Ishmael, not waiting for the girl to respond even if she could. “Again, my apologies for the interruption; please have a pleasant rest of your day good sir,” she said with a bow.

“Ms. Montoya!” the grocer yelled as he walked over to her, her steed following behind him being led by its reins. “You are all packed up and ready to go,” he said as he handed the reins over to her. “Is there anything else I can do for you this fine day before you depart?”

“No, but I thank you again,” she said as she extended a white leather gloved hand to the man to shake. He took her hand and shook it vigorously as he told her to come back any time and that he hoped her travels were as smooth as calm waters. Regalia nodded in respect and chuckled a little as the man darted off back to his shop.
Sana rested there on the fur as she watched Hugh, waiting for him to lay down. As he did, pulling her against him she went willingly; letting her head rest on his chest as her body curled against his. Her legs wrapping around his thigh as a hand draped over him. She sighed contently as she pulled herself closer to him, felling the warmth of his embrace and hearing the beating of his heart. For the first time in days she felt safe, letting the trials and tribulations of what had transpired pass into distant memory for now and just letting herself enjoy the moment; a moment she was sure they both desperately needed.

Tilting her head back she gazed up at him wistfully, just taking him in before leaning up slightly and kissing his neck ever so gently; whispering "goodnight" against his skin as she did. Slowly trailing her wishes of a pleasant sleep with each kiss down his neck before curling back down against his frame; a smile playing on her lips as she lay encircled in his embrace. Sanas small frame looking nearly dainty resting there against Hugh.

A gypsy and a paladin, it was not something one would see often. Sana didn't care, they were both former versions of what they had once been. A middle ground that was some how established long before they knew each other had created one of those rare moments when one could find another. On some subconscious level Sana would always be grateful for what ever events and fates had brought them together. He needed her healing, she needed his strength. The smile on lips remained as her eyes began to feel heavy; closing slowly as sleep finally claimed her, a single word rolling over her tongue before it did. "Mine."
Ramara just sat there as Inyata stuck her tongue out at there, not giving the child a second thought. Giving attention to a temper tantrum would only encourage another one later on. She just hoped that the Corsair would mellow out during the journey but she doubted it. The sea faring weren’t exactly known for being quiet. As she heard Derrix mention that he was a poet without any ink she perked a brow. He didn’t appear the scholarly type but looks could be deceiving. When dressed as her people Ramara looked as unassuming as any other woman her age.

Reaching behind her into her pack she pulled out a small ink well that she carried with her to write to her family with from time to time to let them know she was still alive. With a flick of her wrist, she let the ink well loft in a high slow arch towards the man. Whether he caught it or not was up to him. For Ramara it wasn’t an act of kindness to give the man an inkwell, but a payment of debt since it had been the splintered wood of the chandelier she let loose that caused the loss of property. Thankfully she had another in her pack or she would not have been so generous.

Ramara still had not moved an inch from her initial resting place, only the single hand from one stone figure sitting in the chair moved. Resting her hand back in her lap she looked at Ishmael as he offered them food, drink and respite for the time. As the squire looked at her she spoke only two words. “Wine. Fruit.” Sitting there in silence after that she waited for her order to arrive and when it did simply sat there not touching it for a time. Listening to the paladin make clearly aware that it was not her or any of the others present job to protect him.

Ishmael was right, it wasn’t. A squire had to learn to defend himself if he ever wished to be something more. Yet, in a way Ishmael was wrong. In a battle, you watched the backs of those you fought with. So at least in part she would have to make sure Daniel didn’t die within the first five seconds of the first real battle. After that he was on his own if he didn’t prove himself useful. Serving food and drink when it could be obtained with a simple call out to the tavern wench was not useful, just convenient. Once the thought passed her mind she picked up her goblet and took a small sip before placing it back down.
Ramara sat there, hands in her lap as she listened to what transpired; a sly grin coming to her lips as she continued to look at the place in which the paladin had been sitting before their conversation was so rudely interrupted by the corsairs shenanigans. As the young woman played with the tip of her sword Ramara rolled her eyes slightly, this child was certainly going to be a handful and the only thought that she let escape her mind and move to her lips was “children should not play with knives” in near silent tone before taking a breath, her chest rising just ever so slightly as she did. They had not even left on their journey yet and she could feel her frustration building.

When Ishmael addressed the man about his ink Ramara mouthed the word whoops, true it was the pirate that had caused the bar fight but it was Ramaras dagger that had sent the chandelier on its course to meet its fate splintered on the floor and towards the walls where the ink well was knocked over. Apparently the Paladin was placing the fault on the one that had caused the commotion in the first place, thankful for that she thought. Ramara was brash and lashed out many a time but she knew better than to draw the wrath of one of the Holy Warriors. She wasn’t stupid.

Nodding towards Ishmael as he readdressed her and asked if he had remembered her name right. “Yes,” she simple replied and listened to him continue with their conversation as she received the jist of what was going on. So the Lady had been taken, perhaps this wouldn’t be a waste of her time after all. She was sure the reward would be plenty and be enough to allow her to further her travels as she sought to find her sister Sana. As he commented on her blade work she almost laughed but instead let it go and shrugged. “We will see, it’s better not to underestimate any in battle, even the lowest bandit,” she said in a flat tone. “Or Corsair.”

Her eyes turned slightly as he addressed his squire. He had a point, what good was a squire that seemed to have fear just from a woman who sat with blade. She had seen his fear before she had even flung the dagger. For all the squire knew was that Ramara had them as decoration or to keep people at bay but had no knowledge of them and she certainly hadn’t threatened him. She sat there. Perhaps silence was unnerving to the unlearned one. Something he would have to get over rather quick if he was to be with them while rescuing the Lady. Ramara doubted it would be an easy task. Those that went after such high positioned people either were skilled themselves or were working for someone that was. Ramara perked a brow at the paladin as he massaged his forehead and her lips pursed to the side in agreement to the overall feeling. This was going to be frustrating on many levels.
Ramara sat there, on the edge of her chair in perfect repose; back straight, shoulders back and head level as she listened to Ishmail begin to explain who the two with him were. As he thanked her for taking interest in the mission she simply nodded and said not a word but a look of irritation came over her features as the fight broke out but she moved not; unbothered by the brawl even though she was tempted to take care of the two that had interrupted their conversation but left it to the Paladin since he seemed to be on top of the matter. Her lips thinned slightly as she sat there as her eyes jerked to one side to take a quick look at the one that Ishmael was addressing hanging from the chandelier over the middle of the room that had now cleared out.

Her eyes shifted to look over towards the squire as a smirk played on her lips. She still said not a word, nor seemed to move; not even the rise of chest as she breathed. Like a statue she sat there until suddenly a single hand came to one of her daggers and with a single flick of the wrist it went into the air; Ramara still looking the squire dead in the eye and not bothering to look where the blade flew. It hissed through the air slicing through the rope that had held the chandelier in place before embedding itself into one of the rafters. When she heard the telltale thunk of metal into wood she merely winked at the squire before lowering her arm that was still extended from the initial throw. The rest of her body had not moved an inch.

Her eyes faced forward again and stared towards the place the Paladin had been sitting, awaiting for him to return to his seat. As far as an explination of why she did what she did, she said only thing. “Just giving the lady a hand down,” she said to no one in particular as the chandelier crashed into the floor of the tavern. If the woman had gotten out of the way or not, she didn’t look nor did she care. Loud over bearing braggarts always left her in a bad mood and hearing the fact that the Paladin had just basically made her join left a bad taste in Raramas mouth.
Sana smiled as she watched Hugh approach her from his place on the wagon, sitting up as he came near and pulling her knees to her chest, arms wrapping around them. Gazing up at him she couldn’t but be impressed by him. When they had met she had thought him an imposing figure but he had shown many times that he was pretty much just a kind heart, a big teddy bear. That was until he was crossed and then all that faded away and showed how deadly he could truly be. The wrath he could unleash never seemed to last long, always slipping back into that softness that was hidden under the surface. All of that combined with the horrors he had told her he had faced and what she had picked up from various conversations she had overheard between him and others just added to the respect that she had formed for him. That he could endure so much and still be kind beneath it all. She doubted he would ever do anything to hurt her or hide anything from her.

Coming over to her and sitting down she perked a brow and then smirked as he pulled her from her spot and into his embrace. He seemed to move her effortlessly. Her arms draping over his shoulders as he did and sighing slightly as he pressed his forehead to hers; biting her bottom lip slightly as he held her tight and quivering lightly as she heard him say mine. Letting her fingers dance over the back of his neck lightly she simply nodded and returned the sentiment. “Mine,” she whispered before letting her lips brush against his with a feathers touch. The urge to deepen the kiss was broken as she heard the sound of wing beats in the distance and she pulled back, turning her head in the direction of the sound.

Rising from her place in Hughs lap her eyes widened slightly to what she was seeing. “Ellis?” she muttered before looking around and taking note that the little one was gone. Groaning inwardly she walked over and read the note that he had left behind grimaced some. She hoped he was doing the right thing but she still had doubts. She did not know the Gods, she hadn’t trusted the Lich. Something pulled at her in the pit of her stomach that something wasn’t right. Was it Ellis or something more? She guessed she would just have to wait and see. Placing the note back down she hoped at least some of her concerns would be answered at the Oasis in three days. One thing in the note stood out to her. He had mentioned Ellyn and herself in the note individually but no one else was singled out. Was there meaning behind that?

Shaking the thought out of her head she walked back over to Hugh and curled up in his lap, letting her legs drape over one of his thighs as she leaned against him; her head tucked under his chin as she began to explain what was in the letter. Her hand rested on his chest as she spoke, fingers finding their way under the collar of his top and brushing his skin. “I guess we move out in the morning and head back to the Oasis,” she said before tilting her head back and looking up to him. “But that’s tomorrow, tonight we rest,” she said; her arm slinking up around his shoulder and pulling herself closer to him, kissing him softly as she let out a content sigh.

Leaning back she slipped from his lap, lying back down on the fur and running her fingers over his knee; small circles tracing it slowly as her free hand rested over her midsection. As much as she wanted a more intimate moment with him, they were still in the presence of others and they had not had a good rest in far too many days. She was not disappointed though, at least this evening she wouldn’t sleep sitting up in a wagon or alone on a bedroll, but next to him, in his arms she hoped; curled up against him.
k, post up and ready to go.
In the shadows a cloaked figure leaned back against the wall of a building across from the tavern watching the people bustle about; arms crossed and head covered by the hood of the mantle. the figure was smaller in stature and thin but that could barely been seen due to the shadow. It waited patiently as people went in and out of other buildings, going about their daily lives. A hand reached up and pulled the hood back. Long strands of hair the color of wheat, pearl blue eyes, peach hued skin kissed by the sun; had the womans hair been cut shorter and her eyes darker one could have easily mistaken her for another that was in another land. The traits of the Rawn Gypsy was strong and their women stronger. Taking a few leisurely steps Ramara emerged from the shadows and made her way over to the tavern proper, bushing past those that passed in her path without notice. She took no note of the bulletin board as she walked into the tavern. Preferring to get the lay of the land first before she did anything else.

Stepping inside and to the side of the entrance she made her way along the wall before approaching the bar and seated herself; a single finger raised in the air as her elbow rested on the wooden counter top. The bar tender walked over to her and smirked.

"The usual?" he asked with a toothy grin.

"Any word?" she said in a rough voice.

"Sorry Ramara, still nothing," he said. Ramara nodded slightly and told him to get her the usual. He left for a brief moment before returning with a pint of dark mead for her and setting it on the counter next to a few coins that she had placed there while he was fixing her drink. Leaning back in her seat she took a long drink before setting it back down empty and wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Rising from her spot and looking around again, taking note of who was there, who wasn't and what seemed off before making her way back out of the tavern and over to the bulletin board and checking out what jobs were currently available.

"Missing persons, relic recovery, lost goat?" she read out loud. "I ain't finding no goat," she muttered under her breath before taking note of a certain piece of parchment that the Holy Order was looking for adventurers for a quest. "Well better than nothing," she said as she turned and walked back into the tavern. Searching quickly for the one who had posted the notice, she found him quickly enough. He stood out as purity in a place that had none. Pushing her way through the crowd she walked over to him and tilted her head to the side slightly as she looked him over and raised a brow. "Ramara Rawn, at your service," she said quickly before taking a seat across from him at the table, taking note of the others with him perking a brow. "Friends of yours?"
@JerkchickenNo genocide is being looked at for this rp. It's not the theme or purpose of this RP. A character with that want would be an interesting mix in the rp itself but in the end would put it in the path of the main RP.
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