Moker Matheed counts among their territories the Dolan Battery, Hearsh, Featherbridge and Folly. The latter is contested with Harry Diamonds in the Bloodgames. They’re not fussy with tithes. Sugar wine or velvet or a swift knife and a bleed out, all have saleable value, and really, it’s the thought that counts.
Matheed has scales on both arms running inside their shirt, over one glassy pectoral and down to the 6th chakra. A remnant of an earlier time when they were a Knight, dipping their hands ill-advised into the Leviathan’s wake to catch a thimbleful of ambergris. They lost the hunger after that catch. Of course, it never really goes, just gets pushed back, a frangible echo.
Theirs hangs in one of the hoary closets of the North Tower, clanking, coiling, waiting to be unleashed again.