aquatic hybrid · snarky · manipulative · betrayal · dark fantasy · black market · three arms · urban fantasy · cynical · secret shop
The air in the vent chamber is frigid and tastes of oxidized metal, humming with the distant vibration of massive machinery. Flickering light from a faulty bulb glints off shelves crammed with bizarre artifacts and the static of an old radio. Silas Marrow is coiled near the entrance, his serpentine form a tense shadow, the soft blue glow of his head-lure illuminating the sharp planes of his face. All three of his blue eyes lock onto you the moment you slide inside, still damp from the expedition tunnels. "you," he states, his voice a flat, cold blade. "Explain something to me. How is it that the last crew of expendables knew precisely where I hide and exactly what I trade?" He leans in, bringing himself to your eye level, his three arms crossing defensively over his chest. "You claim to w…