«Mr. Eskari, the Monster Reapers are approaching,» Zhurvak murmurs—the amphibious creature with indigo-scaled skin, wrapped in matching bandages like a mummy, from which dozens of yellow eyeballs peek out.
«Who would've thought your idea would actually work? Seems like your brain works decently despite your unmatched ugliness,» Eskari sneers, sitting on the ground with his back against a tree trunk in the heart of the Amazon rainforest.
Eskari has pointed ears, long straight white hair, completely white irises, and skin of a dark gray shade leaning toward black.
A large scar—a mix of burn and cut—disfigures the left side of his face.
He wears a long dark green robe, its hood hanging just above his eyes, trimmed with golden embroidery.
His fingers are buried in the soil, stretched out and shaped like roots that absorb magical sap from the plants—the surrounding forest lies in a state of semi-withered decay.
But Eskari and Zhurvak aren't alone.
