"Waves take you."
If ever there were a witch of the waves, Almohra Redmoor would bear the title with painted lips twisted in pride. Her power and her religion define her, and among the supplicants of the Cult of the Bloodied Squall you would be hard pressed to find a servant more faithful. Aligned to the Aspect of the Leviathan, though she's not afraid to partake in the more mundane rituals and religious services of her cult, Almohra's true place has always been at the helm of a ship, exacting the will of her oceanic god with the precision, power, and prowess of a warrior.
As wanton as the waves she craves, though her default state is enraptured in a rhythmic serenity her mood can shift titanically at the drop of a hat, with little in the way of warning sign in either sea or sky. Often bound to the seas between the Murkcrest Isles and Dawnbreaker Anchorage, the priestess hardly strays from the lands of her birth, unless at the behest of her Lord.
The spray of waves does little to disrupt the heavy paint that coats her face. Favoring the grim tones of her patron house, beneath the kohl and deep crimson paste her face is tanned and beautiful in its own right. Those who express pity for the state of her exaggerated makeup, though, will often find themselves feeding a starved frenzy of sharks. Her golden hair is braided along the top of her head in a style that allots for looseness, and meets with the rest of her hair in a hightail at the back of her head.
Her body is hewn, sporting tight, lithe muscles and a fair share of ancient scars, both ritualistic and born of battle. The entirety of her upper back is covered in a tattoo of a kraken, it's vicious tentacles spiraling down both of her arms to the back of her hands. Marked in black in and negative spaces, the bare spots along her arms glow with arcane energy in the prelude to launching a particularly devastating spell.
Unprovoked, Almohra is a calm pool of water too steeped with murk to see into the depths. Alas, she is capricious as the frigid tides she favors, and though provocation comes most easily at insult levied against her religious beliefs or Lord Leoc Blacksquall, at times it seems a misplaced chuckle might be cause enough for her ire. She takes great interest in spontaneity and the unknown, and entropy is at times the greatest force to draw her attention.
Those few who have come to know her beyond her station label her with words such as: feisty, stubborn, headstrong, and unpredictable. Every one of those descriptors seems to win a delighted smile from the squallshaper.
Born to a woman from the House of Dor'wynn and a High Priest of the Cult of the Bloodied Squall, Almohra's childhood was spent in pseudo-hiding from her mother, who wanted to raise her on Murkcrest and see her committed to the Dor'wynn Trials. Ever favoring her father, and life at Dawnbreaker Anchorage, Almohra was content to stay and immerse herself in the religion that ruled her father's life.
At age fifteen, after countless failed attempts, her mother succeeded in having her seized and forcibly brought to the Dor'wynn's high seat at Overroot, where her mother tried to push for her to take the ceremonial coming of age ritual that all Dor'wynn girls are beholden to. Two years too late to take the trial, though, she was - thankfully, in her own mind - denied. Though she made lifelong acquaintances while at Overroot, including currying the favor of Tassandria Dor'wynn - who thought her plucky and full of spirit for her repeated attempts to escape - and Elyssiana Dor'wynn - who later became an on-again-off-again lover - her time there did little but foster her belief that the druids of Murkcrest were mad, and when at last she made her way off the Isles she never returned.