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Description
OVERVIEW

Zila la Roja is a bit of a difficult one to fully describe. Not because she has a particularly complex personality, which she by design doesn't. Rather, it's because she has two rather different origins depending on the setting I put her in. As such, I'll be including a special section here covering her homeworld in the grim darkness of the 41st millenia, Morningstar. But first, let's get the basics sorted out.

Zila has primarily two versions of her, one for Warhammer 40k and one for more "modern world" games like Feng Shui or the World of Darkness. Though her origins differ slightly, the core remains the same. She is what you get when I and Jackmackhack watch a few too many episodes of Black Lagoon, a dozern or so Arnie flicks and have us a bit of brainstorming. She's tall, she's muscular and she packs one heck of a mean punch. A dedicated killer nearly from birth, she's as ruthless as they come and twice as bloodthirsty in combat. Yet in spite of that, Zila has a calm, laid-back demenour that would make her a great drinking buddy if it wasn't for the fact that she could quite literally eat you.

ORIGINS

Before we get into the nitty-gritty details, let's cover Zila's two points of origin. First we have the original iteration, made for a Feng Shui game that never quite got off the ground. Back then she was little more than a collection of stats and loose ideas, so her backstory was likewise sparse. I kept it that way as I liked the idea of her bloody history being more myth and legend than fact. But the gist of it was that Zila la Roja was a woman from the dangerous parts of Colombia's infamous drug cartels. She had no real name, or at least none that was known, but only her assumed name of Zila and the nickname she earned - The Red. A name she earned for the viciousness and brutality she showed in her work both as an enforcer for the drug cartels and as a freelance mercenary.

She was rumored to have been part of a specific part of said cartels, a group of killers trained to a comparable level of elite soldiers and die-hard guerilla fighters. That wasn't what earned them their dreaded reputation, however. It was their ressurection of old Aztec trappings such as ritual scarrification, ritual sacrifice and, perhaps worst of all, ruthless cannibalism of their enemies. What better way to give yourself a dreaded reputation and create a sense of unity than a cult-like behaviour? Especially when your members actually buy into the dogma and superstition, thinking themselves stronger warriors for feasting on worthy opponents.

Now, when it came time to transfer Zila to a Rogue Trader game, I likewise saw fit to upgrade her background. Rather than a mere diehard sect of cartel goons, she was now from an entire planet of such bloodthirsty beliefs. So I created Morningstar, a Death World on the fringes of the Imperium of Man. Filled to the brim with dangerous and poisonous flora and fauna, it was a jungle world so bad as to be comparable to the fabled Catachan. Only a few, scattered mega-cities provide any real protection from the wilds, what with their fortified walls and ziggurats bristling with weapons. Seeing as the Planetary Governor seldom, if ever, leaves the orbital spacestation he resided on, these temple-cities are largely left to squabble amongst themselves and to fullfill their tithes and taxes best they can.

While each city is a theocracy onto its own, ruled over by Priest-Kings that worship the blood-red sun as a manifestation of the God-Emperor, they have little direct power over the surrounding countryside. A problem, when most of their exports come from the farms and fields that provide anything from more or less legal drugs to simple coffee and cocoa. They solved this by forming pacts with the surrounding, semi-nomadic tribes that roam the jungles. In return for protecting the farmers and their produce, the tribes would gain all manner of guns and technology to make their hideously dangerous lives a little bit easier. Aside for the odd skirmishes over turf by the tribes every now and then, this worked out quite well for everyone involved.

Which brings us to the Redcaps, one such tribe named for their practice of ritualistically dyeing their hair in the blood of their enemies after every major battle. A practice they emulate in daily life by dyeing their hair crimson with local berries, as it marks their own as a uniform group. As a tribe, the Redcaps form a close-knit community, where children are raised communaly as parents or child may die at any time from the brutal lifestyle they endure. Cannibalism is common, both as a practical necessity (It's hard to come by meat that isn't inherently poisonous) and as a religious devoution to the God-Emperor. As the blood-red sun is his avatar, so is the human heart that of Man's martial spirit. Letting the warrior prowess of a worthy enemy go to waste is a great sin indeed, for how else is Man to grow strong enough to face its myriad enemies that await in the galaxy?

Zila grew up in the Redcap tribe, giving her both the combat prowess and the laid-back demenour that she would become known for. She has learnt their ways well, for she is both as silent as the saber-jaguars of the jungle as she is overwhelming like the Landsharks of the rivers. Which brings us back to her.

MIND

No matter her origin, Zila was always noted for her casual, almost carefree demenour. An unsual trait for one so steeped in death and violence, indeed. But what one must realize is that Zila comes from a background so vicious that she has simply grown used to it. To her, there is no distinction between war and peace. It has simply become second nature to her, so she sees no reason to be worked up about cruel and merciless death. She enjoys battle, but she is not addicted to it. Which is what allows her to so easily relax and kick back a few with friends and family. Nor does she see any reason to be an arse to the people around her. If they're square with her, she's square with them. Of course, if they aren't, then Zila is no stranger to cracking a few skulls to settle things. She's just not going to go out of her way to antagonize people around her. Why bother? She's got nothing to prove. Zila knows she's deadly and skilled, so why go through the bravado and bluster to let everyone else know it? That she leaves to lesser people.

Do not mistake her for a lazy, ignorant fool, however. She may be laid-back, but only in the way a cocodile basking in the sun appears harmless and lazy. Whenever trouble's brewing, Zila's ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Contrary to what you may expect from a musclebound, scar-covered veteran, however, Zila's not a mindless berserker. She may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but her instincts and awareness in battle are second to none. As much as she would like to just unload her massive gun into the enemy, Zila knows that overhwleming firepower goes well with a good bit of stealth. Better to circle around the opponent and shoot them in the back than to bother with a foolish frontal assault, after all. She's no coward, but she sure isn't going to fight stupidly because of it.

Despite her brutish ways, though, Zila isn't some jock with a disdain for all things intellectual. Sure, she might not have a mind to appreciate fine art and complex philosophy, but nothing impresses Zila more than practical, intelligent approaches to problem. Not her strong suite, of course, but she knows it when she sees it. So if you'd want to befriend her, be smart rather than strong. She has enough of the latter already to be very much impressed! Still, Zila is a very uncomplicated person herself. She knows what she wants and likes and, if she has it, Zila's quite content with life. All she wants out of it is food, drink and the odd bit of violent mayhem every now and then. And when the latter is in short supply, she's happy to make do with a good bit of sports of the more violent kind. Woe be to anyone who faces her on in a game of rugby! Food and drink is likewise uncomplicated. Her cannibalistic tendencies aside, Zila would much prefer a good steak and a bit of beer than a human liver and a glass of Chianti. A Hannibal she is not, for here you will find neither an addiction to human flesh or an air of sophistication. She's a simple person with simple needs, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

BODY

While a hulking behemoth of some 210 centimeters of pure muscle, Zila's far from the Amazonian ideal. Her skin is rough and tough from a life of hardship, while scars of battles long since past criss-cross all over in all shapes and sizes. While somewhat well-endowed, she doesn't meet the ideals of a curvy woman, being instead shaped more like a rectangle of pure muscle than an ideal sculpture of feminine power. Not that Zila cares much for that sort of thing, anyway. She's no lover of lipstick or eye-shadow, unless you're talking about practical face-paint. Not that any such makeup would fit her face in the first place, seeing as it more resembles a predator than a beauty queen. It's sharp, it's lean and it's dominated by a set of shark-like, filed teeth. Two narrow eyes peer from above, catching everything around her.

Just as her face is that of a predator, so too does her gait resemble that of a stalking predator. Zila's been taught from experience in how to move silently and efficiently, lending a fluid grace to her otherwise muscle-bloated body. She walks with a casual, easygoing stride, but even the most unobservant person could sense the coiled power ready to strike out from within her at any moment. Her body language tends to follow the same patterns. Easy and simple, but always hinting of the predatory instincts lurking just below the surface. Only rage could make her opt for more brutal and direct movements, be it crude gestures or lightning-quick punches to the gut of the offending party.

After all this, it should come as no surprise that Zila's choice in clothing is likewise simple and practical. When in the jungle and on a mission, she wears all the combat gear she needs. Weapons, vests, webbing gear and all those other bits and pieces that make up a successful guerilla fighter. And when in the city, she goes for easy bits of clothing that allows for fluid motion. Some good boots, a pair of jeans and a loose shirt is all she needs, really. And when at home, a tanktop and some shorts will do just fine for her. Provided, of course, that she isn't forced to deal with her true nemesis: Cold temperature. Then Zila is all for the polo shirts and the heavy coats. She ain't freezing to death!

CREDITS AND THANKS

Once more, all credit for this depiction of Zila goes to the most talented . For better and for worse, Zila was largely my own creation, but I would still like to thank for sparking the initial idea and being an excellent ballplank to bounce ideas off of.

Description
OVERVIEW

Zila la Roja is a bit of a difficult one to fully describe. Not because she has a particularly complex personality, which she by design doesn't. Rather, it's because she has two rather different origins depending on the setting I put her in. As such, I'll be including a special section here covering her homeworld in the grim darkness of the 41st millenia, Morningstar. But first, let's get the basics sorted out.

Zila has primarily two versions of her, one for Warhammer 40k and one for more "modern world" games like Feng Shui or the World of Darkness. Though her origins differ slightly, the core remains the same. She is what you get when I and Jackmackhack watch a few too many episodes of Black Lagoon, a dozern or so Arnie flicks and have us a bit of brainstorming. She's tall, she's muscular and she packs one heck of a mean punch. A dedicated killer nearly from birth, she's as ruthless as they come and twice as bloodthirsty in combat. Yet in spite of that, Zila has a calm, laid-back demenour that would make her a great drinking buddy if it wasn't for the fact that she could quite literally eat you.

ORIGINS

Before we get into the nitty-gritty details, let's cover Zila's two points of origin. First we have the original iteration, made for a Feng Shui game that never quite got off the ground. Back then she was little more than a collection of stats and loose ideas, so her backstory was likewise sparse. I kept it that way as I liked the idea of her bloody history being more myth and legend than fact. But the gist of it was that Zila la Roja was a woman from the dangerous parts of Colombia's infamous drug cartels. She had no real name, or at least none that was known, but only her assumed name of Zila and the nickname she earned - The Red. A name she earned for the viciousness and brutality she showed in her work both as an enforcer for the drug cartels and as a freelance mercenary.

She was rumored to have been part of a specific part of said cartels, a group of killers trained to a comparable level of elite soldiers and die-hard guerilla fighters. That wasn't what earned them their dreaded reputation, however. It was their ressurection of old Aztec trappings such as ritual scarrification, ritual sacrifice and, perhaps worst of all, ruthless cannibalism of their enemies. What better way to give yourself a dreaded reputation and create a sense of unity than a cult-like behaviour? Especially when your members actually buy into the dogma and superstition, thinking themselves stronger warriors for feasting on worthy opponents.

Now, when it came time to transfer Zila to a Rogue Trader game, I likewise saw fit to upgrade her background. Rather than a mere diehard sect of cartel goons, she was now from an entire planet of such bloodthirsty beliefs. So I created Morningstar, a Death World on the fringes of the Imperium of Man. Filled to the brim with dangerous and poisonous flora and fauna, it was a jungle world so bad as to be comparable to the fabled Catachan. Only a few, scattered mega-cities provide any real protection from the wilds, what with their fortified walls and ziggurats bristling with weapons. Seeing as the Planetary Governor seldom, if ever, leaves the orbital spacestation he resided on, these temple-cities are largely left to squabble amongst themselves and to fullfill their tithes and taxes best they can.

While each city is a theocracy onto its own, ruled over by Priest-Kings that worship the blood-red sun as a manifestation of the God-Emperor, they have little direct power over the surrounding countryside. A problem, when most of their exports come from the farms and fields that provide anything from more or less legal drugs to simple coffee and cocoa. They solved this by forming pacts with the surrounding, semi-nomadic tribes that roam the jungles. In return for protecting the farmers and their produce, the tribes would gain all manner of guns and technology to make their hideously dangerous lives a little bit easier. Aside for the odd skirmishes over turf by the tribes every now and then, this worked out quite well for everyone involved.

Which brings us to the Redcaps, one such tribe named for their practice of ritualistically dyeing their hair in the blood of their enemies after every major battle. A practice they emulate in daily life by dyeing their hair crimson with local berries, as it marks their own as a uniform group. As a tribe, the Redcaps form a close-knit community, where children are raised communaly as parents or child may die at any time from the brutal lifestyle they endure. Cannibalism is common, both as a practical necessity (It's hard to come by meat that isn't inherently poisonous) and as a religious devoution to the God-Emperor. As the blood-red sun is his avatar, so is the human heart that of Man's martial spirit. Letting the warrior prowess of a worthy enemy go to waste is a great sin indeed, for how else is Man to grow strong enough to face its myriad enemies that await in the galaxy?

Zila grew up in the Redcap tribe, giving her both the combat prowess and the laid-back demenour that she would become known for. She has learnt their ways well, for she is both as silent as the saber-jaguars of the jungle as she is overwhelming like the Landsharks of the rivers. Which brings us back to her.

MIND

No matter her origin, Zila was always noted for her casual, almost carefree demenour. An unsual trait for one so steeped in death and violence, indeed. But what one must realize is that Zila comes from a background so vicious that she has simply grown used to it. To her, there is no distinction between war and peace. It has simply become second nature to her, so she sees no reason to be worked up about cruel and merciless death. She enjoys battle, but she is not addicted to it. Which is what allows her to so easily relax and kick back a few with friends and family. Nor does she see any reason to be an arse to the people around her. If they're square with her, she's square with them. Of course, if they aren't, then Zila is no stranger to cracking a few skulls to settle things. She's just not going to go out of her way to antagonize people around her. Why bother? She's got nothing to prove. Zila knows she's deadly and skilled, so why go through the bravado and bluster to let everyone else know it? That she leaves to lesser people.

Do not mistake her for a lazy, ignorant fool, however. She may be laid-back, but only in the way a cocodile basking in the sun appears harmless and lazy. Whenever trouble's brewing, Zila's ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Contrary to what you may expect from a musclebound, scar-covered veteran, however, Zila's not a mindless berserker. She may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but her instincts and awareness in battle are second to none. As much as she would like to just unload her massive gun into the enemy, Zila knows that overhwleming firepower goes well with a good bit of stealth. Better to circle around the opponent and shoot them in the back than to bother with a foolish frontal assault, after all. She's no coward, but she sure isn't going to fight stupidly because of it.

Despite her brutish ways, though, Zila isn't some jock with a disdain for all things intellectual. Sure, she might not have a mind to appreciate fine art and complex philosophy, but nothing impresses Zila more than practical, intelligent approaches to problem. Not her strong suite, of course, but she knows it when she sees it. So if you'd want to befriend her, be smart rather than strong. She has enough of the latter already to be very much impressed! Still, Zila is a very uncomplicated person herself. She knows what she wants and likes and, if she has it, Zila's quite content with life. All she wants out of it is food, drink and the odd bit of violent mayhem every now and then. And when the latter is in short supply, she's happy to make do with a good bit of sports of the more violent kind. Woe be to anyone who faces her on in a game of rugby! Food and drink is likewise uncomplicated. Her cannibalistic tendencies aside, Zila would much prefer a good steak and a bit of beer than a human liver and a glass of Chianti. A Hannibal she is not, for here you will find neither an addiction to human flesh or an air of sophistication. She's a simple person with simple needs, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

BODY

While a hulking behemoth of some 210 centimeters of pure muscle, Zila's far from the Amazonian ideal. Her skin is rough and tough from a life of hardship, while scars of battles long since past criss-cross all over in all shapes and sizes. While somewhat well-endowed, she doesn't meet the ideals of a curvy woman, being instead shaped more like a rectangle of pure muscle than an ideal sculpture of feminine power. Not that Zila cares much for that sort of thing, anyway. She's no lover of lipstick or eye-shadow, unless you're talking about practical face-paint. Not that any such makeup would fit her face in the first place, seeing as it more resembles a predator than a beauty queen. It's sharp, it's lean and it's dominated by a set of shark-like, filed teeth. Two narrow eyes peer from above, catching everything around her.

Just as her face is that of a predator, so too does her gait resemble that of a stalking predator. Zila's been taught from experience in how to move silently and efficiently, lending a fluid grace to her otherwise muscle-bloated body. She walks with a casual, easygoing stride, but even the most unobservant person could sense the coiled power ready to strike out from within her at any moment. Her body language tends to follow the same patterns. Easy and simple, but always hinting of the predatory instincts lurking just below the surface. Only rage could make her opt for more brutal and direct movements, be it crude gestures or lightning-quick punches to the gut of the offending party.

After all this, it should come as no surprise that Zila's choice in clothing is likewise simple and practical. When in the jungle and on a mission, she wears all the combat gear she needs. Weapons, vests, webbing gear and all those other bits and pieces that make up a successful guerilla fighter. And when in the city, she goes for easy bits of clothing that allows for fluid motion. Some good boots, a pair of jeans and a loose shirt is all she needs, really. And when at home, a tanktop and some shorts will do just fine for her. Provided, of course, that she isn't forced to deal with her true nemesis: Cold temperature. Then Zila is all for the polo shirts and the heavy coats. She ain't freezing to death!

CREDITS AND THANKS

Once more, all credit for this depiction of Zila goes to the most talented . For better and for worse, Zila was largely my own creation, but I would still like to thank for sparking the initial idea and being an excellent ballplank to bounce ideas off of.