Octokuro Drukhari !exclusive! -

She reached out and touched the Archon’s cheek. He tried to move. Could not. Octokuro’s gaze held him frozen.

He was wrong.

The Archon laughed, raising his splinter pistol. “You wish to challenge me? I made you!” octokuro drukhari

In the sub-realms of Commorragh, where agony is art and betrayal is currency, the name Octokuro is whispered only in the most shadowed of spires. She reached out and touched the Archon’s cheek

It hung from the ceiling of Vhane’s trophy chamber, a nightmare of polished bone and liquid darkness. Eight opal lenses, each the size of a human skull, ringed a central maw of razor-claws. No sound escaped it. No breath. Only a slow, geometric rotation of its eyes, tracking everything. geometric rotation of its eyes