The heavy, deep-sea diamond doors of the House of Odds sealed shut behind us. The absolute, screaming breakdown of the Mermaid nobility was instantly replaced by the ambient, humming thrum of the Golden Turtle's financial district.
Krave was vibrating. There was no other word for it. The ancient, divine kraken was practically humming with a manic, hyper-capitalist frequency. She tossed the glowing obsidian cylinder—the deed to the Sunless Vents—from hand to hand, completely ignoring the fact that she was currently holding the economic equivalent of a mid-sized surface kingdom.
"That was fun."
Krave said, her dark eyes wide and shining with profound, malicious joy.
"You really bullied them a lot; one word from you and they would have willingly given it all up, though."
I replied mildly, steering us smoothly around a frantic group of dwarven brokers who were currently weeping openly on the platinum pavement.
"I am hungry. Let me eat some beings."
