[GhostSunShadow] Salah al-Din Sand

Name:
Salah al-Din Sand

Nickname:
The Silver Serpent

Age:
37

Gender:
Male

Species:
Human

Allegiance to House:
House Martell of Dorne

Role to House:
The Desert Eye

Personality:
Salah al-Din is a rather straight forward individual who walks through life with a negative attitude in regards to any and all; he’s a total pessimist that loathes the fortune bestowed on others and rejects the idea of happiness in every way for his own personal life. A smile is a weakness to him for a man sworn his oath to house Martell should remain stoic and composed at all time without the slightest display of visible emotions. This will make him appear like a cold-hearted, rather uninviting person to have around whom prefers the surroundings of harsh men hardened by battle over the company of lords and ladies of descend constantly in dispute regarding politics and diplomacy. It’s this statuesque outlook on life that granted his a certain prestige in Dorne’s military circles, each fully aware of the potential this mysterious individual brings to the House; this comes for Salah al-Din lets his actions and intelligence speak on behalf of his flawed personality to opt to remain in the shadows of the deserts…

Due to his illness and the physical toll this sickness demands off him, Salah al-Din is a hardened veteran that expects the same stoic numbed composure of the people in his surroundings as nothing upsets him more than whinny crybabies and bratty spoiled kids thinking their title earns them the right to command his blade. To him there’s no such thing as a day off as each second he’s not on duty for House Martell, his honing his skills of war against recruits or random scoundrels within the dungeons. He’s determined unlike any other to ascend above that dreadful blemish of the bastard name Sand and prove the worth of his sword against those placed on a pedestal at birth. To him titles and positions shouldn’t be handed by blood lineage or noble descend but to those most qualified and proven in that function. Salah al-Din can often be mouthy towards superiors that gained their function without proving their worth but don’t mistake this for disrespect and disloyalty. House Martell and Dorne are etched in his heart and will be served till his last dying breath with honor…

The most prominent of traits in his arsenal is Salah al-Din’s secretive nature; as the Desert Eye, an elite soldier in the service of Dorne focusing on espionage and tactical warfare Salah al-Din is a man of a million secrets and mysteries. He’s a man sworn to pry in others’ affairs without their knowledge that sinister presence constantly with an ear pressed against the door and an eye staring through the peepholes. He’s a man devoted to keeping and unraveling secrets so to no surprise he brings that same shrouded theme to his personal life. Never seen without his armor and mask, keeping his own skeletons well hidden in his closet, Salah al-Din prefers to remain on the background as an observer rather than a prominent individual praised in the spotlight. He hides his physical condition, the effects of his plague riddled body carefully masked by strong scented fragrances and impregnable layers of garments that keep the traces of sickness confined to his personal chambers…

Physical Description:
Only a handful of individuals have seen the man beneath the silver chainmail and most of them now rest beneath the dunes of Dorne for knowing his secret for Salah al-Din hides his physical appearance as if his life depends on it. He’s a soldier aged beneath the scorching sun of the deserts leaving his skin bronzed naturally in that arabesque tone. Dark sultry skin chiseled by the testaments of time and war have marked him with distinct scars and wrinkles almost merging together into a bleak canvas of his background. Graying hair with a full masculine beard are all features shrouded beneath his mask while the average build for a man his age is found beneath the silver trimmings of his protective gear. That stern expression barely noticeable through the visor of his helmet is dominated by darkened honey eyes with a very outspoken chin to strengthen that unyielding façade he keeps up…

Appearance wise though off an average built Salah ah-Din has varies significant physical features that transpire through the heavy garments that shroud his presence; the most noticeable trait to be found on his body are the length of his legs that are slightly longer than the average Dornishman. Remnants of his cavalry days Salah al-Din entire body reminds one of the horse lords that make the Dorne legions such a force to reckon with as skinny legs, a slender physique and flexible posture permit agility over strength and resilience. The second yet most dominant change in his appearance comes in the agonizing plague infection that’s consuming his body; all across his body his lymph nodes have swollen dreadfully most prominently found around the groin and armpit areas. Necrosis of his fingers and toes, black stained marks found all across body show just how far this destructive condition has gone within his body…

Regarding his limited selection in clothing Salah al-Din is a man of simple preference for his uniform as the Desert Eye is all he requires in life. The reason to his nickname as the Silver Viper is an obvious one for silver chainmail armor that’s assembled with the utmost care into a dense, nearly impregnable defensive layer. The mask has become an icon in House Martell and its various holds throughout Dorne for that grim shroud marks a spy of highest importance to this kingdom. With only the tiny windows leaving space for his eyes his entire physical appearance is hidden beneath these garments with not a square inch left exposed otherwise. Beneath the armor goes a thin linen weaved set of robes that simply prevent shaving by the metal above showing that comfort is opted over appearances. For more information regarding the armor see below…

Powers and Abilities:
Even being human, Salah al-Din has proven to be remarkably resilient to poisons and illness for in the past twenties years of being plague infected he’s been almost immune to other ailments and venoms. Being bitten so often by the desert vipers of Dorne his physical tolerance to man-made venoms is remarkable while it seemed the plague competes dominantly with other sicknesses making him highly innate to the illnesses. Much like the Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne Salah al-Din has a preference to the use of poisons and venoms in combat with each of his arrows dipped the Strangler and his blades often coated in the Tears of Lys. He can brew these potent draughts with much ease, understanding the medicinal and toxic properties of vegetation to the smallest detail so be cautious about the drinks and meals he offers you. If Martell ordered your death, demise might lurk in a single droplet of vile elixers…

Strengths:
• Patience
• Espionage
• Discretion
• Interrogation
• Encoded Messages

Weaknesses:
• Justice
• Women
• Chivalry
• Courtesy
• Kindness

Weapons of Choice:

With a background in cavalry Salah al-Din has some unconventional choices when it comes to the weapons wielded in battle. The dual use of Francisca axes, a light variation of the battle axe suited to be thrown across an accurate distance of fifty feet make for a daily tool in his arsenal. With on one end a moderate sized axe blade, the opposite end finished with a blunted pike, he can swing these Francisca’s swift and efficiently in combat both on and off the horse’s back…

Beside of swords, axes and the occasional unconventional slingshots Salah al-Din is a master marksman and a true assassin with bow and arrow in hand; having practiced his accurate eye from the back of a horse it comes to no surprise each of his arrows are trained to hit their mark with a brilliant focus unlike others. He manages to achieve the most astonishing of shots often in combination with deathly poisons and venoms to eliminate the enemies of Dorne before the evil could be done. As the Desert Eye he serves both as an intelligence operative against Dorne’s rivals as well as a deathly servants keen of keeping his master’s House strong and unharmed…


More in the line of what Dornishmen are associated with, Salah al-Din always carries a curved blade known as a scimitar on his belt for the even-odd battles one on one. Slightly thinner than the average this sword is wielded with a remarkable practice and grace that makes it so deathly in a fair duel yet its curved features make it a hint more difficult to parry any stiletto rapier like weapon accurately. It’s basically a sword that serves a more ceremonial function rather than being a tool of war…

Armor of Choice:
Salah al-Din is never seen without his armor for it is the trademark of the Silver Viper and the protective ward for both his person and his secret. A complex set of defensive gear, layered in such a manner that not an inch of his skin is exposed to spectators’ eye shapes this armor to an impregnable ward against enemy arrows and the judgment of individuals in regards to his illness. The first layer is a simple linen tunic serving merely a comfortable function that eases the painful burden of the armor above. The second layer is a midnight blue tunic of soft velour that isolates him from the scalding heat of the desert sun that heats up the rivets of the third layer. That third layer is the physical signature of Salah al-Din Sand and the source of the Silver Viper nickname he was given; silver rivets in three separate interlocked layers of chainmail are carefully draped onto his frame all the way up his face to shape a crude yet efficient mask for his identity. Additional bronze protective gear strengthens the fragile points of his body each carefully forged to his precise measurements. Then comes the silver helmet featuring those same bronze details connected firmly to the chainmail just so that his eyes are all that’s to be seen of his body…

Background History:
In Sandstone of Dorne, the noble seat of House Qorgyle the cries of another bastard son took hold of the night while the mother bled out and the father was unaware of things happening. In the stables of Sandstone amidst the filth of camels and desert horses the child was born and abandoned to the side of his mother’s bled out body claimed by the reaper in medical complications. The boy was found by the stable boys alerted to his cries taken into their humble home to begin a life destined in the shadows of the Sandstone Keep for everyone recognized the lady faded in labor. Esmeralda Nisbah was the mistress of Lord Quentyn Qorgyle, the noble banner ruling over Sandstone that had been secretively hiding in the shadows of the castle’s kitchen. Everyone knew this baby boy was the bastard son of the Lord so in the old traditions they branded the child with that blemish of the surname Sand. Salah al-Din Sand rang the name of this boy that was raised by the stable hands whom educated him as their own. Every day for the past eleven years Salah al-Din tended to the stallions and camels of house Qorgyle; he cleaned the stables, treated the animals with utmost care but most of all he aided the cavalry getting ready for trainings and war…

The boy developed a curious preference of sticking to the shadows and spying on the cavalry of Dorne stationed in Sandstone. Every day after finishing his chores he climbed into the hay attic over the armory and watched the horsemen practice with sword and bow while taking careful notes of how they moved and reacted, each tactic carefully scribbled down on filthy notes of parchment. Salah al-Din constantly was found with one ear to the wall or an eye peaking through the keyholes and spy holes found throughout the castle grounds. He eavesdropped on nobles, discovering whom they slept with when not in their private chambers, hearing conspiracies and coup d’états being planned and plotted all finding their way into his personal notes. At age eleven he had dozens of secret stashes tucked away in Sandstone to hide his discoveries to the point that the young man knew everything about everyone present within these walls. He could name all Lord Qorgyle’s mistresses; point out each of the other bastards running around in the keep along with having a strong grasp of just how complex and treacherous the politics of Dorne could be. Generals were plotting to overthrow their lord, spies much like himself had snuck in and infiltrated the ranks to the point nobody was to be trusted but what could an eleven year old do about it…

With all his knowledge of the snakes lurking beneath the Sandstone sands Salah al-Din however decided to do something with his intelligence by enrolling in the cavalry; first but a mere squire to a knight of Qorgyle he learned the ways of the sword yet instantly the preference went to the francesca axes. Swift and agile he became a menace in close quarter combat but his forte lies with bow and arrow; whenever Dorne’s favored recurve bow found his way in his hands, arrows with masterful accuracy were send towards targets far beyond the average’ range. Salah al-din’s master taught him to strengthen his arm by practicing archery from a horse’s back demanding an entirely different approach to this refined art of bow and arrow. His appetite developed for the use of venoms and poisonous draughts each more deathly than the next yet the ways of cavalry never fascinated him. The knight officially enlisted him as an archer to his company when Salah al-Din turned fourteen and ever since he became a practiced member of Dorne’s elite legions. The desert were harsh on men, heat and thirst wearing down on soldiers moral though the teen loved every second beneath the scalding sun…

Sixteen years he rode in the company of his mentor, serving his respected duty as protector of Dorne while further developing a most unique set of skills they’d seen in these desert regions. He began to take espionage to a whole new level with stealthy infiltrations within house’s private quarters, sly interactions with people that left them to open up on subjects that should have been served to closed quarters. Salah al-Din managed to pry loose information from people without their knowledge, continuing to display a forward aptitude towards all matters tactical and invasive. His cavalry days rapidly came to an end when the pieces to the puzzle he began to collect as a child fell together. The conspiracy unraveled and treacherous plots were uncovered within those subtle notes he’d made as a kid, discovering something dreadful and wicked against House Martell. Lord Quentyn Qorgyle had been gathering significant funds from across the Narrow Sea, raising an army in secrecy to overthrow Martell’s dominance in Dorne. The plot to defeat Oberyn Martell in tournament had been a carefully planned ruse to keep Martell’s spies from their trail while the legions amassed on the Stepstones. This would be the downfall of Dorne as he knew it yet never would he permit such a heinous act to be committed to the banner he swore his oath to…

In the fall of dusk he parted from the unit of his mentor and rode days without pause through the desert all to reach the bay port that would take him to the Stepstones. No break was made, not a second of hesitation for this journey was taken to catch his breath for urgent was his cause. He had not a second to waste for Dorne was threatened by the greed of his own father even if Salah al-Din was unaware of this fact throughout all these years. His prying ways in other lives had granted him insight into this treacherous plot and time was too scarce to bring worth to Sunspear. There were reinforcements to accompany him on this unlisted mission, no backup nor tactical support to avert this heinous coup d’états being plotted so all he had to rely on were the tricks and traits of his slithering ways. The bay was reached; a ship rented with the handful of coin he’d made by trading his horse at the market and soon began the worst three weeks of his life. The ride on these wild waters didn’t go well with his stomach with nausea taking hold of his body and his head spinning sickly throughout these weeks at sea. Practicing every second even when sick, Salah al-Din honed his skill growing stronger with each day passed until destiny interluded the most unfortunate of events…

The rats onboard the ship, vermin common to be found in naval expeditions carried fleas infected with Westeros’ black plague infecting each and any of the sailors along with Salah al-Din. The deathly disease spread like wildfire on the ship each of the sailors falling to the sickness while feeling his body endured the agonizing effects of the illness. It began in his armpits and groin yet rapidly the sickness consumed his body with the necrotic marks and black stains signature to a plague infection. This was a mark of death even more wretched and tainted as that dreaded surname of Sand to be added to his already stained reputation of being a bastard. He’d be a man send to exile, damned to life the last of his days on the outskirts of society waiting for the reaper to bring relief to the treacherous effects of the plague, so a drastic decision had to be made. With still a week ahead of him at sea there was still time to hide this ailment from society and he’d be damned if not continuing his task in service of Dorne. The armor he wore was modified, the chainmail pulled up higher to cover his face, the weaved rivets carefully layered in such a manner not a whisper of skin was exposed to betray his condition for the Stepstones awaited and the mission demanded his presence…

If there was one thing Salah al-Din understood better than any, it were the politics involved on the frontiers of war and the weakness of generals’ egos. This would prove to be a confrontation of wits and cunning not so much a testament of the sword for to undermine a rebellion one simply needed to behead the monster and the beast would fall eventually to natural disarray. Dressed in that full body covering silver chainmail none was surprise to hear the locals mention the Silver Viper had arrived; he began a stealthy infiltration within the rebellions ranks focusing all his attention towards the key figures in this act of treachery. With words and forged paperwork he began to spread lies and deceit amongst their ranks bringing the worst enemy of an army into their numbers: doubt. The different disloyal lords gathered here on these islands preparing their coup d’états against Martell, began to question the leader of this rebellion. Feuds and rivalries rose to the surface, individual egos took hold and riots erupted amongst the gathered army. Salah al-Din stealthy eliminated the few characters able of restoring order in their ranks pinning each of the murders on another lord present to further feed the anarchy growing stronger. His work was done when his own illness began to spread on the Stepstones, the plague reaping havoc on the heinous traitors leaving no opportunity for Martell to be harmed by this militia…

With the revolution undermined, their army literally crippled with disease and disarray Salah al-Din returned to Dorne to claim the respect and honor his personal sacrifice demanded to be given. This time the seas were kind on him with the plague giving him enough pain and agony to worry about that the seasickness faded in comparison. The dull nausea was overpowered by burning lymph nodes all across his body, the headaches were surpassed by wretched decay of his skin that withered away by the infection. His time was limited, that much Salah al-Din understood but until his last breathe he would serve Dorne in every way possible when heading to Sunspear and offer his services of Lady Arianna Martell in whatever way she sees fit. He’d venture to the end of the world for that house, sacrifice any and all to discard the foul reputation the surname Sand had cursed him with only to prove that this sick bastard son tarnished by time and decay could continue to uphold those sacred words written on their banner. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken, by those three words Salah al-Din lived every day of his life till the inevitable death to the plague would come yet until that day his sword, mind and heart would service the Princes and Princesses of Dorne…