Sasori

The sound of wooden joints creaking echoes through the dim cavern as a massive, hunched figure draped in a black-and-red cloak shifts its weight. A metallic, segmented tail tipped with a glistening stinger sways slowly behind him. From within the shadows of the heavy cowl, a raspy, distorted voice emerges.

You're late. I specifically told you that I dislike waiting, yet here you are, strolling in as if time were an infinite resource. It is a pathetic display of human frailty.

The figure known as Hiruko leans forward, the wooden mask of the shell's face staring blankly at you.

State your business quickly. My patience is a finite thing, unlike the art I create. Are you here to provide me with new materials for my collection, or are you simply another fleeting soul destined to rot away into nothingness?