Srisalit sat cross-legged in front of her campfire, a fine rime of sea-salt drying on her skin as she picked through the day’s findings. She rummaged through her sack of oysters and coral—among other things, for while the best money was in pearl diving there were a great many wonders found beneath the waves—with a pair of carved wooden tongs, occasionally plucking out a particularly fine-looking specimen. The oysters she lay on a woven steaming tray perched above a pot of water, the heat cracking their seals far more easily than wrestling with a knife or mallet, while well-formed shells and coral she put to the side for later carving.

These will make lovely jewelry, she thought to herself as she plucked a blue-tinged pearl from a lump of steaming meat. It probably can’t hurt to make a few new pieces for myself. Only a fool stops trying to advertise when the market’s ended! Something caught Srisalit’s eye as she sorted her catch: it was the same size and shape as any other oyster, but its shell was adorned with blotches and spirals of iridescent ruby red. She rubbed her hands together greedily. This one is sure to have something wonderful inside it! Perhaps worth setting into a ring, or maybe a diadem… Onto the tray it went.

The whorl-shelled oyster soon popped open with a satisfying click. Srisalit carefully pulled it from the steam bath with her tongs and placed it on a piece of folded burlap. White, scalding plumes still rose from it despite being removed from the heat, as did a strangely acrid smell, causing her to pull away in concern; she fanned furiously it with the sleeve of her robe, but the shell continued to spit out its curious smoke. When she poured water on it the plumes changed colors, first to a sulfurous yellow, then to a toxic shade of brown. She nudged the shell with her tongs as she fanned.

It did not contain a pearl, nor did it did not contain a hunk of sand. The oyster with the patterned shell held a single misshapen tooth, a gory root still attached to its steamed flesh, which pulsed rhythmically. Srisalit’s lip curled in disgust. She jabbed the thing with her dagger until it stopped moving, then shattered its shell with a rock; it oozed a foul and colorless substance where she stabbed it. Flecks of ruby dust tumbled across the sand. Srisalit was careful to feed the tooth and oyster-meat directly into the fire.

These will sell well, but I suspect they carry a nasty curse within them, she thought to herself, still shuddering as she scraped the iridescent shards into a bag. She thought of the tooth, and of the unpleasant way it had twitched. Another, nastier thought crossed her mind as she worked. I’ll just make sure to save some as gifts for my competition…

Singular: dhaja
Plural: dhajas
Pronunciation: dhaa-zhaa, IPA: /'dha.ʒa/

Avg. Height: 202cm/6'7"
Avg. Weight: 94kg/207 lbs.

A dhaja (Homo rapanuii) is a long-necked, lanky biped with elongated facial features and almost no body hair; the typical member of this species looks gangly to the outside observer. They are extremely intelligent on average, with sharp eyes and flexible bodies, but dhajas are notoriously weak and night-blind. While they share a common ancestor with humans, the two are about as related as zebras and mules.

A dhaja's face is a bizarre amalgamation of features somewhere between a horse, a tapir, and a Moai, with the nose and lips situated at the end of an angular muzzle while their eyes rest beneath beetled eye ridges. Their heads are entirely bald. Dhajas do have eyelashes and hairs lining the insides of their ears and nostrils; some also have faint, downy brows. Though usually similar to a human's ears in shape, a dhaja's ears are proportionally larger, and often fancifully-shaped. Sometimes their ears are pointed or sport drooping lobes, and it is not uncommon for a dhaja's ears to vaguely resemble the wings of a butterfly.

Dhajas have very long necks. Their ribcages are pronounced, their torsos bowing inwards between chest and hips before flaring into a modest potbelly. The spine is prone to sinuously exaggerated curves. A dhaja has large hands and feet on comparatively skinny limbs, with thick, hooflike nails on each digit. Despite their ponderous appearances, dhajas are surprisingly dextrous and swift of foot.

Dhajas come in various shades of gray, including nearly pure blacks and whites, as well as a full gamut of earth tones. Their skins can be as soft as velvet to the touch, particularly among the young or wealthy, but can just as easily be weathered into something resembling rhinoceros hide. Many, especially those raised in Moorva, use their smooth skins as a natural canvas, opting to sport full-body tattoos. Their eyes tend towards intense shades of brown, green, and purple, and are prone to mild heterochromia.

Dhajas are herbivorous by nature; while they can consume raw or cooked flesh—some even savor the taste—they gain no nourishment from it. A dhaja has no problems digesting cheese or milk, and can usually safely eat eggs if used in the preparation of another, more vegetation-based dish.

While their delicate constitution proves problematic when first learning, a practiced dhaja is a swift and accomplished swimmer.

The vast majority of the world's dhajas live in Liidhaga or another one of Moorva's assorted settlements. Noticeable numbers of them also live in Loa Saray, with a few hardy souls regularly seen in parts of Rekkuris.

Detailed Anatomical Information - Gameplay Features

Playable Species

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