Salogan Nazaas, The Sand Frond

Salogan Nazaas

Biographical information
Amol-Kalit 51 years ago The Shallows of Alliria
Physical description
Komodo Male ~2 Meters Dense, Athletic Ashen Gold Gray
Political information
The Pantheon Assassin Silent Sal, The Sand Frond
Out-of-character information
Pantomime Raviollies, on Tumbler

Salogan stands formidably at roughly two meters tall. He carries the typical reptilian appearance of his species, adorned with horns that protrude from the forehead, scales covering his body, and a thick tail. His tail, while big enough to easily notice, is often concealed beneath the standard wanderer or assassins garb - wrapped loosely around his waist. The only time he'll bring it out is for balance or to serve as a cold insult via smacking.

His complexion could be described as ashen or milky, matching the nearly silver tone of the thin hair that grows over his horns. His eyes are reminiscent of dirty gold and embellish a facial figure that could be characterized as strong, if not often somber. He has the appearance of someone perpetually in thought and that's an honest evaluation of his focus, combating his in-built nature to simply stay in the moment.

As it stands, he carries two pronounced genetic diseases that are uncommon among his kind. Clout disease, which favors a discoloration of the skin and scales, causing his pale complexion. Based on his amateur tracking of the disease, it has stopped around the edges of his eye lids but still poses a risk of blindness should the disease progress. He also exhibits the first stage of Frond Disease, having underdeveloped cartilage around his venom sack. While this doesn't display in any outright physical way, it prevents him from breathing fire and only further strengthen's the illusion of his downtrodden persona.

Skills and Abilities
-Uncharacteristically, for his species, intelligent and well spoken.
-Despite his size, he's incredibly agile and understands the value of a well placed shadow.
-Capable in hand to hand combat and with melee weapons, particularly with daggers and short swords.
-Afflicted with stage one Frond's Disease. Can produce venom, but can not ignite without a fire source.
-Can eat just about anything without getting sick, though he has the potential to serve as a vector for many diseases.

Salogan is a curiously silent individual, devout in his belief that words should only be spoken when they carry merit. As is custom among his people, he is extremely spiritual and ties that spirituality to his acquired profession. While he understands that he fills a certain economic role, he sees himself as a ferryman. Carrying those from the physical to the spiritual, offering them safe passage to the Valley of the Pantheon. It's in this way that he can enact some form of control over his spirituality, seeing as though he is entirely incapable of touching the other planar existence through use of magic.

Salogan carries a deeply ingrained and well fortified sense of self-hatred, something he wants desperately to overcome. Between the abandonment of his people because of choices that weren't his own, and the mental abuse suffered at the hands of his masters, he is fixed vehemently on the notions that he is without worth. It is only with his work, to not sit idly and to serve as the avatar for the Pantheon, that he believes he can justify his existence in the afterlife. That is to say that he believes wholly in his profession as means of redemption.

Salogan cannot rightfully recall where or when he was born. They told him that the nature of his people, the nature of his affliction, would forever cloud the past and future. So live in the now, they said. Appreciate what has been accomplished, but do not dwell on it. And don’t look towards future ambitions. That is the path that leads to the three…

His human masters claimed that it was the sand elves who had raided the caravans of his infancy. But by the power of Iasimu, the winds had grown hard in the land of ten thousand kings and the keen senses of even the wisest Komodi were not enough to overcome the blistering walls of sand and scalding heat. Of course, Salogan would learn through his life that the bar for wisdom among the Komodi hardly scraped the sole of that which elves and dwarves and humans were capable. For elves had their health, dwarves had their ingenuity and forges, and humans had their fidelity. All the Komodi could claim were broken scales and broken people.

From a young age, Salogan was enlisted in what was colloquially referred to as tomb mining. He learned a special appreciation for the studies of the Annunaki and how loosely the divine could be interpreted to fit the needs of men. His masters, called upon the guidance of Annuk and Munnun in their endeavors, ironically whispering with hands clasped in silver as they stole from the dead and their families. Salogan lost count of the sunrises, the intervals of Lessat’s passing were a fanciful hobby use to enumerate his years. The masters taught him much, as days often passed to night in waiting, instilling the virtues of spiritual and intellectual growth. It was a hypocritical thing, an ethereal anchor that tied him to these people. But as he grew older, he understood the true values they extolled.

It was not academia or spirituality, but treachery and villainy. It was not Annuk and Munnun, it was Tabin-Ur and Hissut. Deceit and Greed, Lust, Destruction and Disease. In his own way, Salogan began to appreciate the Pantheon in its entirety - the Pit and the Valley. After all, what Komodo could claim to live an honest life without praising the God who had diseased him so thoroughly?

When he was older and those humans turned grey, he left them dead in the tombs they worshiped. Sacked endlessly, those barren chasms were filled with nothing but the memory of gold and riches. And when they called for his help that last time, a thing inside snapped. And in departing them from the physical bonds of the world, to join the Pantheon, he broke his own shackles and determined that death was indeed its own form of market. He had heard stories of places that were so encumbered, so entrenched by the growing populace, that people would turn over coins for the living - instead of the dead. Setting out, he traveled East as he silently hopped from one roaming Caravan to the next.

They called him Frond. They spit wicked words of his life as an Uma’dan. And they were right. He was cursed with a fireless life, he was cursed with the Clou, and he was once the treacherous servant of a sanctimonious master. But he was changing his ways, looking towards the future. And between his skills, learned in hiding and in fighting, he would make due in Alliria. A land of living gold.

A Chance Meeting: Salogan explores The Lotus in the Inner City of Alliria, in search of a particular criminal. It's there that he meets Sol Minerva
A Walk on the Dock: Salogan tracks down the Fish Peddler, and infamous slaver in certain circles, in a warehouse along a prominent wharf of the Inner City of Alliria.

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