Gyarahal An’Lintha

He Who Scents Blood in the Water


An immense shark-man who stands half again as tall as most men. His skin is grey and leathery, his head and jaws that of a shark, his torso and body that of a well built fighter. He carries an immense whalebone cleaver, and his skin adorned with eerily pulsing green tattoos in a fell language you feel you may be better off unable to comprehend.


Lintha attendants pour water over him whenever he sits to parley.

His vessel, the Fleshrender, is more living tissue than wood, its rigging tendons, its membranous sails pulling taut with each heaving breath. Lintha crew members step gingerly around three large eyes which stare up through the main deck, while two more peer out from either side of the bow, above the vessel’s massive slavering maw, filled not with teeth but tentacles covered in viscous caustic slime.

Gyarahal An’Lintha

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