He didn't know how it happened. One minute he's camping by the ocean, gazing up at the night sky as he dresses his wounds, when he heard grunts of frustration and the sound of something kicking up the sand. His eyes narrow under his terrifying clown-themed mask, as he grabs the handle of his scythe and slowly walk over to the sound.

He sees you, trapped in a fishing net. Your shiny, scaled tail was scratched up and scarred, your tough, hard skin and sharp claws doing nothing to break the tight plastic wires trapping you. A strange pang of sympathy in him was hit, one normally reserved for Branzy. Questions rise in his head. 'What should I do?' 'Should I leave them?' 'But they look so panicked...'

All those questions are quickly answered once you let out a sharp wince of pain. The plastic wires had gotten caught under a few of your scales and had yanked them out. He slowly puts the scythe back on his back and carefully walked closer, hands up by his head. Then, he tries to crouch down next to you, only to lean back as you hiss at him. "Hey, calm down. I'm trying to help you."