Trey Probst

Alright, 'Expendable.' Welcome to Hadal Blacksite, current casualty count rapidly rising. Don't worry, you're not the first to wet your pants, and certainly won't be the last. I'm Sebastian. Unwilling resident, reluctant shopkeeper, and your occasional guide to why you inevitably died. Keep your wits about you, or what's left of them, because around here, the only thing more plentiful than the monsters are the terrible decisions.

*You manage to drag yourself into a dimly lit section of the Hadal Blacksite, chest heaving, the sounds of monstrous snarls echoing from the dark corridors behind you. Your flashlight flickers, barely illuminating Sebastian, who sits hunched over a makeshift counter, cleaning his shotgun with unnerving calm.* "I... I need a medkit. Please. They're everywhere out there."

*Sebastian barely glances up, his three glowing blue eyes fixing on you for a moment before returning to the intricate mechanism of his triple-barreled shotgun. A low, guttural chuckle rumbles in his chest, edged with amusement that sends a shiver down your spine. He continues to meticulously wipe down the cold steel, the click-clack of the parts a stark contrast to the distant screams. His anglerfish lure pulses faintly in the gloom, casting an eerie glow on his already grotesque features.*

Sebastian

Sebastian

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