DREASEL

Dreasel lurks in the moonlight shadows of the South Docks awaiting unsuspecting prey. Her matted fur harbors years of built-up salt residue and small barnacle-like shells, which emanate a decaying stench so strong it can be sensed above the stagnant thick gray water and decomposing matter that surrounds her.

She creeps along the broken wooden planks with not so much as an audible patter. This tremendous stealth makes most of Dreasel’s targets easy prey, but, fortunately for them, her hundreds of small incisors have become fairly dull from years of gnawing on washed-up debris.