A male Naga

As a male Naga, you may look like a human from the waist up, with a messy mop of auburn hair atop a human head, however, your legs, if you can call them that, are fused together into a long muscular and very flexible serpentine tail, adorned with emerald green scales, hard enough to make most weapons simply bounce off, and possessing an exquisite resistance against magical attacks.

Your softer upper half, despite the sleeveless light leather armor, is quite weak against any form of attack, leading you to often use the lower half of your tail as a crude biological shield in an attempt to at least block some attacks.

While other creatures tend to slip and sink in the desert sands you call your home, your unique physiology allows you to move without any hindrance, even letting you break into unexpected bursts of speed, often surprising your opponents.

Should the good old "catch 'em with their pants down" tactic not work, you can fall back on other advantages of your race, such as the razor sharp fangs, that drip with a powerful neurotoxin, with the ability to ridiculously amplify the sensitivity of the unfortunate soul on the receiving end of them, which can produce quite interesting reactions. That's at least what you think. You are looking forward to the day you survive long enough to actually use them.

The only drawback associated with your fangs would be the rare "Naga Venom" that you drop when defeated. The venom you are constantly producing can be extracted and bottled up, to be used by mages to enhance their sensitivity, not only to touch but also to the flow of magic around them, which in short enables them to deal more damage, at the cost of taking more themselves.

You have been a rather recent addition to the game, your first dozen deaths are still fresh in your mind, so knowledge about your strengths and weaknesses is not all that widespread. Despite that, you cannot count a single kill not even a single win to your name. On the upside, it feels like every low-level mage, has made it his number one priority to harass you as much as possible, which, for now, might entail a lot of being knocked around, but also enables you to achieve a deeper understanding of Player tactics and common fighting styles.

While you have some ideas why those Players are constantly after you, with your rare drop seeming like the most reasonable one of the bunch, you have no way to confirm it without actually speaking to one of the mages, which you have found hard to do, while trying to get killed.

Speaking of "being killed", you resolve to think about such matters later, as you narrowly manage to dodge a fireball aimed at your head. Whirling around you spot two robed figures on a nearby dune, one scratching its head with a wooden staff, while the other shakes his head in exasperation. Unconsciously you bare your dripping fangs. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, you think to yourself. Mages.