Sal Domingo
Fighter, Samurai
Sal Domingo
Species
Human
Appearance
Sal Domingo is a lean, heavily muscled man whose body has been pared down by decades of travel, fasting, and sword practice. His shoulders are broad, his waist narrow, and his hands are knotted with old fractures. He is almost bald, with a gray-black fringe above his ears and a small braided lock at the back of his skull that he refuses to cut. A black leather eye patch covers his left eye, while his remaining eye is a clear, watchful brown shot through with amber near the pupil. His face is weathered like sun-baked leather, but his smile is unexpectedly gentle. He moves with unnerving economy, never quite walking in a straight line, as if every step is already part of a duel. The contradictory impression he leaves is that of a brutal veteran who handles fragile objects with the care of a midwife.
“His voice is low, rough, and measured, with a mountain-country cadence. He pauses before names and insults alike, as if weighing their balance.”
Ability Scores
Alignment
Distinguishing Features
Black leather eye patch over the left eye, stitched with red thread.
A narrow scar runs from the missing eye to the corner of his mouth.
Almost bald, with a single gray-black braid tied at the back of his head.
The first two fingers of his sword hand are visibly crooked from old breaks.
A red ribbon is tied to the hilt of his katana-like longsword, Fang.
He smells faintly of cedar oil, iron, and mountain rain.
Voice
“A low, gravelly baritone with a dry warmth, like stones shifting under a mountain stream”
Clothing
A sleeveless charcoal traveling coat over a faded rust-red tunic, wrapped trousers, soft-soled boots, and a weatherproof shoulder cape pinned with a bone clasp. His belt carries small repair tools, dried fruit, and a strip of red cloth from every worthy opponent he has defeated. His left sleeve is reinforced with layered leather despite the rest of his clothing being plain.
Body Language
Sal keeps his chin slightly lowered, presenting the patch rather than the eye. His sword hand hangs loose and open, never clenched until violence begins. He leans toward people when they speak, but angles his body toward exits and high ground. When amused, he taps two fingers against his thigh in the rhythm of a distant marching song.
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