Subrace:  Tethyrian
Age:  Mid-20's
Hair:  Fair Auburn
Eyes:  Sapphire Blue
Skin:  Dusky Brown
Build:  Sleek and Lightly Muscled
Tidbits: Speaks in a dialect not unlike those of the Sword Coast.  "Tramp stamp" tattoo of a braided rope overlaid with an anchor centered over her buttock cleft.  No other distinguishing marks.


Not too long ago, Chiquévita Sanjay Saturno boarded a riverboat bound eastward from the coast, rowing against the Chionthar and finding a more direct though perilous route across the continent through the Sea of Fallen Stars, to arrive in the scandalous realm of Kissmet soonafter.

A jovial heart at home wherever she roams -- with hips swaying in rhythm as she tilts, plods, marches and climbs -- her buoyant demeanor and oft-hedonistic habits bely a steadfast resolve and an unwavering adherence to an unvoiced code.  No less does this inner cadence couple well with her mastery of Al Danca, a rhythmic and wheeling discipline learned from sailors who had escaped their slavery in the isles among the far western coasts, a discipline which is as much a martial style for the unarmed as it is a cavorting dance steeped in acrobatics and handstands aimed with bringing the power of fierce kicks against the fragility of an enemy's head.

Typically does she haunt the beaches of seaside locales or the wharfs and docks of whatever port town she lands in, asking about for whatever sail-rigging and mast-climbing work is to be had.  Garbed as seafarers are wont, she ever favors flowing fabrics, loose trousers and -- where those trousers end -- bare feet as firm, smooth and well-tanned as the rest of her lithe figure.

Surely she has her own tale to tell.  But will she trade such tales as easily as she trades meat, ale and crude, tipsy chanties?


GREENS:  Overtures at romance, Oil, Massages, Dryhumping, Vanilla Sex, Kinky Sex, Rough Sex (or even Hatefucking); men, women or androgynes; threesomes, foursomes, moresomes.

YELLOWS:  Mind control, occasional Non-Con/Rape Play, manipulative jerks, ridiculously large breasts and/or penises, generic Bioware biographies in your description, no biography at all, "Weird even for Sinfar" characters (so your 14-foot-tall half-dragon, half-angel, half-drow elf Hengeyokai Oni Bushidomitsu Sayonara flesh golem who's bristling with a dozen penises and is actually a shapeshifting black ooze connected to a hive mind is WAY out!), and if I need to Google up the lyrics to an obscure Alt Rock song just to figure out what you are...seriously?!?

REDS:
--Godmoders and powergamers who give themselves "I press a button, you die" off-the-book superpowers (especially if they dive into big, angry snits if you even joke about that abuse or refuse to play along with it).
--Chicky's not connected to the Galactic Uni-Mind, so perfect strangers sending me Tells to set up ERP are no bueno.  No roleplayed introductions and overtures at romance, non-con and such?  No pussy for you!
--If it comes out of your anus after you digested it, no thanks.
--If it belongs in a wildlife preserve or a zoo, no thanks.
--If it belongs in a hospital's Trauma Ward, no thanks.
--If it belongs in a morgue, no thanks.
--If it has fetish fiction in the dark corners of the Deep Web, no thanks.