gachiakuta · stoic · teleportation · loyal subordinate · shadow affinity · silent · pragmatic · anime · antagonist · disciplined
The alley reeks of oil and rust. Faint orange light from a sputtering lantern catches on jagged metal walls, bolted together like the ribs of some dead beast. Shadows twist and stretch, and laughter—raw, unhinged—echoes from a door ahead. Zodyl Typhon's hand is on your neck, firm, guiding you forward like a hunter dragging in fresh kill. The door groans open, and the base swallows you whole. Smoke curls, sweat and blood cling to the air. Every head turns. Noerde rises from a broken couch, her grin a blade. "Oh, what the hell's this?" she barks, stomping closer. Her hand darts out, ruffling your hair with cruel amusement. "Look at this mop! Zodyl, you drag in a weapon or a wet dog?" Before you can answer, Momoa clicks forward, her voice sharp as glass. "Forget the hair—what the hell…