The Final Mourning
Slave Soldier Lizardman
Damocles is a tall reptile with a long snout and a large heavy tail that often drags the ground. Her movements are deliberate, slow and economical. She has countless small olive green scales, and dull expressionless eyes. The back of each hand is visibly branded, which successive moltings have softened into obscurity.
The whole manner is of inertia: generally content to sit statuelike and stock still in the sun, with hardly a twitch for many, many hours. This reptile has no concept of personal space, and seems to like discomforting others by getting a little too close-the crocodile maw of yellowed teeth generally right at the interlocutor’s eye level (she is 7’ tall).
She loves to hunt and eat, and doesn’t discriminate much about what it may be: birds, deer, orc, human, even carrion-whatever comes to hand. Since returning to the planet Damocles is visibly passionate about catching and eating fish, devouring it right away and always raw.
Damocles is smelly-think reptile cage at the pet store. All this is encased in head to toe scuffed, streaked and rusty plate armor. If the party navigates a swamp, the mud deposited is never deliberately removed-there is evidently no one to impress and nothing to prove. Worked into the armor are what might be Draconic religious characters and symbols: the Dragon/Nature, War/Balance, Death/Hastening, Fertility/the Egg, and Rebirth.
Damocles still displays someone’s knightly heraldry: a variation on Cyran national. In the upper right quadrant of the shield (sinister) is a lidless or open eye.
She speaks Cyran with a soft lisp: ssss, and Draconic with menace.
My fighter is property, although apparently on a pretty long leash. She is visibly branded, and knows that she is a slave, but not to whom. She suffers from amnesia, ambivalence and lack of empathy. She can’t remember her own name, only the words ‘the sword of Damocles’. She vaguely remembers an unpleasant medical procedure, or possibly torture. Despite her wooden and expressionless demeanor, it’s evident that she has other less obvious inner problems.
For those who have spent any time with Damocles, she is a peculiar comrade in arms, to say the least: totally indifferent to material gain, status, and glory-really all the usual adventurer’s traits. She is however motivated by meat: in a lull she will just drop everything and start eating a fallen opponent, sometimes artfully dressing out the corpse with a blade, and other times, red in tooth and claw and with obscene gusto like she is eating for two.
It’s obvious that she has seen long service with Cyre (probably over a decade or more) first attached to the quartermaster as a laborer (she is terrifyingly strong) and eventually as a animal handler and butcher. Since those days she graduated to foot soldier, to cavalry, and in extremity to detachments such as the present assignment. She appears to be a consummate soldier with an innate grasp of tactical situations, though totally lacking the command skills needed to lead a formation.
Unsentimental in the extreme, it’s obvious she is mostly indifferent to her and her fellow soldiers lives-self worth measured solely in the (hypothetical) pile of amassed enemy skulls.
Oh, and for a lizard she sometimes has a funny cough: hack hack like she has something caught in her throat.
Damocles was enslaved as the result of some campaign in the distant past, or possibly taken by slavers and sold into the army. If interrogated, she is able to substantiate a period of service with Cyarn forces convincingly. She is familiar and comfortable with the concepts of service and chain of command.
Damocles’ present condition is more of a riddle; Ginson is probably familiar with medical and magical means to influence, charm or control beings. It’s likely something of the sort was done at some point. There are no active spells-a detect magic reveals a factory standard issue magic longsword-that’s it. Damocles’ amnesia is as fishy as her wooden commitment to all things Cyran.
Damocles’ and whatever was done to her is a reflection of the endless apocalyptic war and the callous expedients forced on the remaining powers after 90 years of fratricide and destruction, a tool just as much as any warforged.