Sisxisus and his clan originate in a large system of swamp and marsh area
deep south west of Valour. Mostly cut off from the rest of the world, this
faction of slith people are so far removed that basic tribalism is their
very nature. The ideas of agriculture and cities are as foreign to them as
they are to the rest of Serin. They have some form of hierarchy to which
they follow, a female shaman to lead the people in spiritual guidance and a
clan chief to which the day to day running's of the camp is left to. Their
life is very simple, it consisted of hunting or fishing with spears and
survival. They had no need for laws or rules because of this simplicity.
Sisxisus was different though, he was more advanced than his kin. His skill
with the spear was uncanny compared to the rest of his ilk. He spoke with
much less of a slurr as well. He had a knack for strategy as well, coming
up with new ways to track and herd the animals they hunted making life more
comfortable. But this was also a very cunning front, with this intelligence
came a sinister side, something far more evil than any of them could
imagine. As he grew older, he began to realise that there was no future in
this environment. All they did was survive. That knowledge hitting him
like a well-aimed spear, he disappeared.
Description:
Patterned scales encompasses the entirety of his body. From the tip of
his tale, to the top of his head. A dark shade of grey at the foot, flowing
into a deep black at the top of his head. His eyes are slit vertically,
dilating side to side. A snub nose, pointed and upward protruding pulls
back his upper lip revealing a grotesque set of fangs. A forked tongue,
intermittently flickers from between them. His arms and legs are stout and
well-muscled, battle hardened and ready. Standing with a slouch, Sisxisus
still would look a human in the eyes.
[reply to Kedaleam]