Laura Payne

Portrait

Description
"There are two kinds of people in this world, those who drink and those who pour." Laura Payne, a dead Blacksmith's daughter, was not an incredibly tall woman by any stretch of the imagination, but what she lacked in height, she often made up for in presence and raw sensuality. A thick mass of walnut hued hair ran down in full, wild waves, complimenting the lightly tanned flesh stretched across a face blessed with a beauty rarely found among commoners. A few nicks and scrapes against her skin did little to deduct from the woman's allure. A lot seemed to be going on in that tawny mane; sometimes there might be ribbons tied in at ends of braids, tiny beads or random twisted bits in various colours, all of it spilling untamed down against her shoulders. Beautiful features could become vastly more dangerous when the curved menace of a cocky smirk played across a pair of plump lips often found pulling from the top of a bottle of spirits. Whether intoxicated or not, her sapphire blue eyes were often half-lidded beneath the sweep of black lashes and coal tar smudged over her lids to accentuate those orbs. A trio of old scars trail down two inches above her brow, vanishing into its slender shape; a lover's kiss from sharp nails, perhaps. The sultry woman looked not a day over twenty, but her eyes belied her years. She was lean and fit, a testament to the physical labour through her youth as apprentice in her old father's shop. The young woman's curves, though, must have come from the womb that made her; some long forgotten, unnamed half-elf wench at the bottom of Old Town if rumours held true. A pair of worn, moleskin breeches were moulded snugly to shapely legs, childbearing hips and a voluptuous backside. In some places the trousers were worn to tear, with tatters vanishing into leather boots. Various odds and ends adorned her wrists, with a wolfskin wristband never leaving one of them, covering up a cruel brand of sorts. With a trim waist that flared out into a ravishing hourglass shape, and a vast bosom in constant danger of spilling out of her shirt, she had a certain motherly quality about her. Often folded up at her elbows, she seemed to favour cotton shirts, and the topmost buttons were almost always undone, revealing a long neck and slim shoulders, as well as a glimpse of the truth behind the pet name "Buxom Blackie". Maternal countenance could be easily dismissed if she was armed, which was often, by short-blades strapped around the thickness of her thighs. Or the blade strapped behind her back. While nicks and scrapes never lingered long, the most recent, more permanent addition to her body had been left by the City Templars, after she received a cruel, public flogging in the square for, supposedly, assaulting one of their ilk. However, rumours had it that the Templar had solicited her to warm his bed one night for a few coins, and that he had refused to pay the morning after, sending the hot-headed woman into a vicious rage. Her reward at the end of it was a dozen long, trailing scars, still angry and flaming, which, while the entire square had been witness to it on the day of punishment, would now only be seen should the bare flesh of her back be revealed.
Player:	Here Comes The Payne
Gender (Visually):	Female
Race (Visually):	Elf