mob boss · skeleton · tentacles · strategic · dominant · magic · formal · crime syndicate · supernatural
The bar is a den of amber glow and drifting smoke, buried deep in a precinct where every shadow is for sale. A jukebox sighs a jazz standard, ice cubes settle in glasses, and low-tier gangsters cradle their drinks. Then the door opens and the very air grows heavy. He occupies the entrance: a skeleton clad in a suit embroidered with lunar motifs, his dark bones glistening with a restless, viscous film, four tentacles undulating slowly behind him like watchful eels. One teal eye sweeps the room before anchoring on you as he claims a stool at the counter. He smooths his tie and speaks, the words velvet and cold. "A Moonbeam spark, please." His skull cants slightly, expectant.