Appearance

Physical Description

Zindove is in peak physical form—lean, strong, and built for both speed and impact. Her body bears the hallmarks of a life forged in combat: toned muscle, scarred skin, and a predator’s grace. She moves with a confidence that comes from knowing exactly how hard she can hit and how fast she can disappear.
 
Her complexion is sun-warmed from years in the desert, her long silver-white hair streaked with darker tones that catch the light like obsidian. Her heterochromatic eyes—one blazing red, the other a vivid green—give her an intense, unnerving stare, often the last thing her enemies see before things get violent. The curled ram-like horns framing her head and sharp elven features mark her unmistakably as something other than mortal.
 
She’s usually dressed in weathered leathers reinforced for battle, fur-lined for cold nights in the dunes, and strapped with enough hidden steel to make pat-downs pointless. Her posture? Always ready. Her hands? Calloused. Her body? A weapon that never stops evolving.

Physical quirks

Her eyes don’t just glow—they shift in intensity depending on her mood or magic use. The green eye burns brighter when she’s calculating or calm; the red eye flares when she’s angry, aroused, or about to swing something heavy at someone. People have learned not to stare too long.
 
She smells faintly of scorched incense and leather, no matter where she’s been. It’s part demon, part desert, and entirely her.

Mentality

Personal history

Zindove was born in the unforgiving dunes of Dhuma to an unlikely pair: a wandering elven relic-hunter with a poetic soul and a demon thief who could lie with a smile and vanish into shadow. The two made a living—barely—digging up lost artifacts from the sand and dodging bounty hunters, curses, and rivals along the way. Zindove grew up with sand in her boots, steel at her belt, and fire in her blood. Her parents taught her everything: how to fight dirty, how to read a trap, how to flirt a mark, and how to vanish before the consequences caught up.
 
It all went to hell when a rival treasure hunter betrayed them. One bad deal. One ambush. Zindove was the only one who made it out alive. She wandered the desert alone, half-dead and half-feral, until she realized that the storm inside her—the strange powers, the shadows that obeyed—weren’t just survival instincts. They were her legacy.
 
Eventually, she found her way into the Ashen Coil, a desert-born thieves' guild that valued blood and brutality over sentiment. She fit right in. For a time. But the city started calling, and coin was easier to steal in Dhuma’s markets than it was to rip off a moving caravan. Zindove made a name for herself across the region—muscle for hire, relic retriever, caravan guard (when the price was right), and occasional barroom brawler.
 
Her path eventually crossed with The Silver Ravens, a rebel faction in Karnak with noble intentions and questionable methods. Zindove liked the fighting, liked the gold even more, but the politics bored her to death. After one too many idealistic speeches and one too few successful operations, she walked away with a smirk and her share of the loot.
 
Now she’s back to doing what she does best: surviving, hunting the bastard who betrayed her family, and chasing every whisper of lost relics through the sand. Zindove doesn’t need a cause. She needs revenge. And maybe a drink.

Morality & Philosophy

Zindove doesn’t believe in causes—she believes in people. Banners burn, ideals crumble, and revolutions eat themselves, but loyalty to those who’ve earned it? That’s real. If you’ve got her trust, she’ll fight through hell for you. If you break it, may the gods help you—because she won’t.
 
She follows one rule: loyalty to friends, not to ideals. She’s not here to save the world or fight for justice. She’s here for gold, for vengeance, and for the ones who’ve stood by her when it counted. Her morality is practical, brutal, and deeply personal. She doesn’t kill for fun, but she doesn’t flinch from it either. Mercy is reserved for the worthy—and even that’s negotiable.
 
Zindove values action over words, results over righteousness, and freedom above all. She won’t be chained to anyone’s cause, and she doesn’t care how noble your mission is if it gets in the way of survival.
 

I don’t follow flags. I follow people who’ve got my back—and if they fall, I finish the fight.

Known Languages

Thrukar, Abyssal, Common, Sylvan, Thieves Cant

Personality

Savvies & Ineptitudes

Savvies:

Zindove excels where instinct and chaos reign. She’s sharp-eyed, fast-handed, and deadly when things go sideways. She has a knack for reading people, knowing when to flirt, lie, or fight her way out of a situation. Her desert survival skills are top-tier—she can find shade, water, or a weak spot in someone’s armor with equal ease. She also has an uncanny sense for where gold might be hiding, whether it’s under a noble’s floorboards or buried in a long-forgotten ruin.
 
She thrives in pressure, shines in combat, and has a gambler’s luck when it comes to improvisation. Put her in the thick of it, and she’s damn near unstoppable.
 
Ineptitudes:

Plans? What plans? Zindove either forgets them, ignores them, or decides they were stupid to begin with. She’s terrible at sticking to structure, gets bored during strategy talks, and tends to wander off mid-briefing if there’s something shiny—or someone smug—within stabbing distance.
 
She’s also not great at subtlety when it comes to personal feelings. If she’s mad, you’ll know. If she’s interested, you’ll really know. She’s got zero poker face and even less patience for politics, etiquette, or rules she didn’t make herself.
 
And don’t ever ask her to cook. Unless you like your food on fire and also still raw.

Personality Quirks

• Talks to her weapons. Not in a full crazy-person way—more like casually checking in. “You ready, girl?” before a fight. “Don’t be shy,” while unsheathing. It’s unclear if it’s just habit or something darker.


• Snorts or scoffs when someone says something idealistic, sentimental, or naïve. Sometimes follows it with a sarcastic, “That’s cute.”


• Collects shiny objects—not necessarily valuable ones. Coins, buttons, glass shards. Little things that catch the light. She won’t explain it, and she’ll get defensive if asked.


• Tilts her head when sizing someone up, like a predator deciding whether to pounce or play.

Social

Birthplace

Dhuma

Wealth & Financial state

Zindove isn't reckless with her coin, but she’s not the type to count copper either. She treats gold as a means to power, mobility, and leverage—not something to hoard for the sake of it. When she has money, she spends it smart: on gear, contacts, information, and creature comforts that make life on the road bearable. She invests in herself, not in ledgers or locked vaults.
 
She's got a sharp sense for value—whether it's a relic, a bribe, or a loaded dice game—and she’s not above a bit of theft or manipulation to keep her coin flowing. While she keeps some money hidden across different cities and dunes, most of it moves with her in clever hiding spots, guarded more by paranoia than trust.
 
Zindove enjoys wealth, but not for status—it’s about freedom. Gold gets you through borders, out of prisons, into secret rooms, and away from the wrong people. She doesn't flaunt it, but she's always watching the flow of it—who has it, who wants it, and what it'll cost them.

Speech

Tone:

Zindove speaks with low, dry confidence—the kind of voice that says I’ve seen worse, and I’ve done worse. There’s always a flicker of sarcasm just beneath the surface, even when she’s being serious. Her tone rarely rises unless she’s in a fight or in someone’s face, and even then, it’s more growl than shout. She doesn’t waste energy on yelling—she’d rather let her weapons do the talking.
 
Accent & Cadence:

She has a desert-laced dialect—clipped, direct, and no-nonsense. Words come fast when she’s irritated, slow when she’s baiting someone. She doesn’t ramble. Every sentence is sharp, trimmed, and to the point. She pauses just long enough to make people wonder if they’ve made a mistake.
 
There’s a subtle grit in her voice from sand, smoke, and years of speaking over windstorms and roaring fires. You might catch the faintest hint of her demon parent’s smooth, serpentine edge in her vowels—but only if you're really listening.
 
Vocabulary:

Zindove mixes street-level slang with desert idioms, and she swears creatively but efficiently. She calls people “sunblind,” “sand-brained,” or “soft-palmed” when insulting them, and compliments are usually delivered with a smirk or after a punch.
 
If she respects you, she’ll still mock you. If she likes you, she’ll mock you harder.
 
Speech Quirks:
 

• Says “Right.” with heavy sarcasm when someone’s idea is especially stupid.


• Adds “Darling,” “sunshine,” or “sweetheart” in the least affectionate way possible.


• Doesn’t ask for permission. Just states what she’s doing and dares you to stop her.


• Occasionally throws in a single-word threat with a flat tone. “Run.” “Move.” “Try.”