Social Rank: 9
Concept: Quiet Bruiser
Fealty: Crownsworn
Family: none
Gender: female
Marital Status: single
Age: 20
Birthday: 10/22
Religion: pantheon
Vocation: Criminal
Height: tall
Hair Color: silvery ebony
Eye Color: slate gray
Skintone: bluish black

Description: Broad at the shoulders and stretching to an easy six three, Sparzla is strong and lean, with the sinew and bone and sharp angles of a carnivore that needs to consume its weight in flesh daily. Her complexion is a shade of black so dark it shades into blue, her round skull shaved almost completely smooth with just a faint hint of silver-streaked ebony stubble. Wide cheekbones, square jaw, broken nose, full hard mouth, skeptical brows over deepset oblique eyes the color and empathy of slate. Her hands are long fingered, rough and calloused, wide wrists braceleted with old scars. Indeed, she's got a multitude of scars from head to toe, ranging from tiny pin pricks to burns to slashes, and a jagged crescent mark by her left nostril.

Personality: Quiet. Taciturn. Reticent. Dour. Brooding. Antisocial. Laconic. Curt. Dumb. Tight-lipped. Withdrawn. The impression of Sparzla's personality or lack thereof is usually fairly consistant in style, if differing somewhat in flavor. She almost seems hand made to play the part of the bouncer, bodyguard or goon given her size, strength and preference to keep mum.

Background: Some fifteen years ago there was a mighty fierce winter storm, and a strange looking ship from far distant shores was brought in on the unrelenting winds - only to be smashed to smithereens against the welcoming rocky arms of the Bay of Thrax. There were no known survivors, only a few broken pieces washed up on the shores. A little while later, a little girl, hardly more than a toddler, was left abandoned in a tavern. As she refused to speak, and seemed both mute and deaf, the only clue to her origins was the exotic garments she was wrapped in. With noone to speak for her she was given over to the Tragedy orphanage, and some time later the clothes were gone. As it turned out there was nothing wrong with her ears, though she stayed seemingly mute for far longer. She grew quickly, and always seemed to be hungry. Eventually she discovered she could find more to eat by her own power outside the orphanage walls than she could waiting inside, and one day she simply stopped going back. She started out doing odd jobs, but with her size and strength those were often more combat oriented than not - and usually shady. At one point she decided to try and go against the growing tide and got herself in as an apprentice to a local smith, Sumakre. It was two good years, but then he started acting strange. Nervous, fretful, almost scared of the dark. Sometimes he said he'd found something he shouldn't have, and he'd go on weird rambles to her about not looking into things needlessly. He started drinking, and money started getting scarce. Then one day he told her to stay away from the smithy for the next week or so, as he'd gotten a special order for his eyes only, and that this was the big one that would turn their luck around. She did as told - and the next night the smithy was ablaze. Sumakre's body was found inside, a charred skeleton broken by something more than just fire. Whispers went around about smiling shadows. It's been less than a year since, and Sparzla's been sort of adrift ever since. She is back to taking the odd jobs, part-time bouncer at local taverns, makeshift bodyguard, grim-faced looming muscle.