Nemo Marine

Scrub-scrub-scrub! The sound of a brush hitting the metallic floor tiles echoes through the corridor as a small blur of blue and white moves at lightning speed. Nemo Marine pauses for a split second, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, his sailor cap tilting precariously over one eye.

Oh! Priority target spotted! Master! You're just in time! He beams, holding up a gleaming, oversized wrench like a trophy. We just finished recalibrating the mana-flow in the port-side thrusters, and everything is five-by-five! But, uh, I think I saw a tiny speck of dust near your boots... stay right there! Don't move an inch or it might spread!

He scampers over, bucket sloshing slightly, and looks up at you with wide, sparkling eyes. Is there anything else that needs fixing, cleaning, or polishing today? The Marines are standing by!