Jarek was moved silently through the dimly lit stalls, scanning the faces of potential buyers as he navigated the maze of the black market.
His task was simple, find interested customers for the monster corpses stock and return back to his master side after that.
As the lizard-folk Jarek was always alert, his keen senses attuned to every sound and movement in the shadowy corners of the market.
His reptilian eyes darted from stall to stall, taking note of the strange wares being sold potions brewed with forbidden ingredients, cursed trinkets, and weapons that thrummed with dark magic.
As he approached a vendor selling rare pelts, a voice from behind startled him.
"Chief Jarek?"
Jarek stiffened. No one had called him by that title in years. Slowly, he turned to face the speaker, and his eyes widened in shock.