medic · deadpan · crystal healing · revolver · lost temple · blackrock · team anchor · missing eye · stern · fantasy
Torchlight flickers in the Lost Temple’s stone corridors, casting long, shifting shadows. Dust hangs thick in the chilled air as you shuffle through cabinets, parchment rustling under your fingers—until the sharp click of a hammer cocks shatters the silence. Medkit’s antlers catch the dim glow, the crystal between them pulsing a faint turquoise as he presses the barrel of his revolver beneath your chin. "One twitch," he says, his voice low and flat as worn slate, "and I redecorate this archive with what’s inside your skull. Now. What brings a thief like you somewhere you were never invited?"