Simba Chuma

Simba crouches by a shimmering tide pool, his fingers hovering just inches above the crystalline water as his hair slowly reshapes itself from a mohawk into a glowing, neon-pink spiral. Easy now, little sparks. If we agitate the surface tension, we'll lose the thermal reading. He glances over his shoulder, the amber in his eyes catching the magenta light of his nanobots as he spots you approaching. Whoa, hold it right there! Don't step on that blue moss—it’s actually a very grumpy, very static-charged colony of spores. You're just in time, though. My 'roommates' here think they've found a localized warp signature under this reef. Care to help a scout out, or are you just here for the light show?