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General Information

  • Basic Info

    • Name: Sala, Daughter of Mamut, of the People of the Tongra River.
    • Sex: Female.
    • Age: Somewhere around thirties or forties.
    • Height: 6ft 1in / 185cm.
    • Weight: 155lb / 70kg.
    • Hair: Black.
    • Eyes: Brown.
    • Complexion: Rich Chocolate.
    • Body Type: Muscular / Athletic.
    • Nature: Careful, cunning, observant, relentless.
    • Demeanor: Convivial, friendly, lighthearted, outgoing.
    • Proficients: Hunting, linguistics, stealth, tracking.
    • Deficients: Audacity, impiousness, societally-withdrawn, stubbornness.
    • Mother: Mamut (deceased).
    • Father: D'San (deceased).
    • Brother: Tshawa (deceased).
    • Nationality: Tongra D'Aku Na; "People of the Tongra River"
    • Sexual Orientation: Bisexual
    • Dragon Companion: Suthra; image album here.

  • Background at a Glance

    The People of the Tongra River lived along the eponymous river, from its waterfalls in the mountains to where it joined other rivers in the plains. The matriarchal community traveled up and down the river with the seasons, never hunting or fishing in one area for too long. Long before the modern time, they forged a friendship with legiana, a particular breed of dragon. The dragons were friends, companions--the babies and hatchlings were raised side-by-side, with the village looking on all adults, draconic or human, as parental figures.

    Sala, Daughter of Mamut was no different. Her mother was village co-leader, shared with the dragon Saju, though leadership never really interested her. She had forged a bond with Suthra, a drake who hatched the same night she was born, Saju's egg hatching just feet away from Mamut giving birth. Sala and Suthra were inseparable, and when Suthra grew too big to fit inside Sala's home, she slept with him amongst the other dragons, and there were more than a few humans who couldn't leave their own dragon companions there as well.

    All was well, until it wasn't. Sometime in her twenty-fifth summer, the enemy came. They were armored, carrying weapons the River People had never seen, with dragons that were larger and stronger than their own. Sala and Suthra were amongst the so very few survivors left in the burning ashes of their village.

    Head swimming, Sala lay limply on the ground, leading the conquerors to believe she were another of the dead. She was coherent enough to hear and remember three names, the leader of the assault and his lieutenants: Astoth the leader, and Gyliam and Thilas, his subordinates. When she was fully conscious, Sala swore to Suthra and her ancestors that she would find these men and make them pay.

    Over the next decade or so, she hunted across the world for them, learning the languages of the barbarians, learning their ways. It rarely failed to surprise them when she spoke clearly in their own tongue; it rarely failed to amuse her that the people who saw themselves as cultured and developed were the most barbarous and savage. It reflected in their cities, the sprawling masses of people that always made her skin crawl. She hated them; people all crammed together, fighting each other for scraps of food, for rags, for no real reason at all. Suthra tolerated them better than she, though sometimes she thought he was putting on a façade just to tease her. She wouldn't have put it past him.

    Years after she started her quest for vengeance, she found Thilas leading a regiment of his own. After forcing him to reveal what he knew about the other two men, she killed him and left his body to be discovered as a warning.

    And so she hunts for Gyliam and Astoth, to avenge her village and send them to join Thilas in the afterlife. Her travels took her anywhere and everywhere, and though she'd learned to be more easy-going in demeanor, the hunt was never far from her mind. The need for vengeance never wavered,

  • The Hunt

    The Jaal Plains, a large hilltop overlooking the Tilry River. Roughly two hundred soldiers made merry around campfires or patrolled the perimeter. The few-dozen non-combatants milled around, cooking food, cleaning weapons and armor, repairing tents, tending to wounds. It was a clear night, but the moons hadn't risen yet, so no one saw the silhouette streaking by overhead. Anyone looking up only saw the briefest absence of stars, not recognized as anything more than stars twinkling.

    Some time later, a dark silhouette scurried silently between tents, using the shadows to avoid being seen. A pebble flicked to the far side of a campfire distracted a group of men long enough for the shape to scurry past unnoticed. A pair of men patrolling stepped within inches of the shape hunkered low against a stack of crates, without ever knowing anything was amiss. Arriving at the largest tent in the camp, the figure silently cut two of the anchor ropes, then pulled up the wall of the tent just enough to slither under.

    Inside that tent, Captain Thilas, nobility by marriage to Ophelia of the Baygrove Wilhams and promoted only a fortnight prior, sat at a table and read over reports, comparing them with a large map of the area with wooden markers on it. After quickly dipping his quill in an ink pot, he worked on a letter--then paused. What was that? He thought he heard something. Looking around, he saw nothing but the shadows cast by flickering candles.

    A shake of the head, then he returned his attention to his letter--only to go stock-still. The tip of a very sharp blade was resting against the back of his neck, just beneath the skull. He was further startled by a chillingly-calm whisper next to his left ear; "My name is Sala, daughter of Mamut. You killed my people. Prepare to die."

    In the morning, the guards found him staked to a tent pole through the chest with his own sword, his head cut off and set purposefully on the table.

  • Gallery

    All images except the very last created with artificial intelligence.