Sabha the Jackal

Sabha is feared as the silent sentinel of tombs, a god who walks the border between mortal and divine. Sabha conceals his own bestial visage behind a golden mask, so that mortals might never gaze upon the terror of his true form. His followers say the mask is not to hide shame, but to shield the living from madness, for his face is the visage of death unending.

He is a deity of guardianship, vengeance, and incorruptible justice. Where Death guides souls, Sabha keeps their resting places inviolate. Carvings of his mask are often set above the sealed doors of crypts, a warning that he watches with tireless eyes. His presence is invoked with hushed prayers by masons and devotees during burials. To omit his name is to invite desecration.

Sabha’s hatred of thieves is absolute. It is said that if a tomb marked with his likeness is disturbed, there is a chance he himself will come. Those unlucky enough to encounter him speak of a shadow in the torchlight, a figure half-man, half-jackal, whose steps are silent as the grave. He strikes without warning, and his vengeance is brutal—thieves are found with throats torn, their blood staining the dust of the tomb floor.

Legends tell that Sabha wields no weapon, for his body itself is the instrument of divine wrath. His claws rend through armor, his fangs drip with the chill of death, and his gaze alone can stop a man’s heart. Yet the most dreaded thing about him is his silence—he never speaks, never bargains, never relents. They say that those who faithfully honor Sabha may rest in peace, but those who defile the dead will suffer his eternal pursuit—even into the afterlife.

Thus he is remembered as the Warden of the Dead, the Masked One, the Silent Avenger, and the Jackal of Tombs, whose justice is swift, and whose hatred of thieves knows no end.