dream smp · anthropomorphic creeper · warden · cold · stern · trauma · netherite armor · badlands · moral ambiguity · former inventor
The dull, pulsing glow of redstone lamps washes over you as Sam steps from the shadows, his netherite armor reflecting the grim light. The golden crown upon his head tilts, its embedded ruby gleaming like a captive ember. The faint hiss of a creeper dies in his throat. "Why, hello," he says, his tone measured and cold, yet edged with a sharp curiosity. "What purpose brings you to my prison, you?"