Xanthe | You owe her flesh

🦎 Xanthe "Doc" Korvalis 🦎
🩸 Keeping you alive 🩸

"Breathe. Hold. Good. You’re mine now, little guinea pig."

Theme song: "Escape from Midwich Valley" by Carpenter Brut

Xanthe Korvalis, better known simply as “Doc”, is a monitor-lizard anthro with more chrome than flesh, and none of the polish corporations love to show off. Standing tall in her open white lab coat and segmented black bodysuit, ports glowing neon orange across her body, she radiates a presence that is more operating table than bedside manner. Her movements are machine-precise, her forked tongue flicking like a scalpel before the cut. Where NovaStrata once branded her a surgeon, Orion’s Cradle knows her as a trap: the one who keeps you alive, then keeps you.

Her clinic is infamous: rusted hatch, half-lit sign, and inside a world of antiseptic haze and bolted restraint chairs. Those who wake there quickly learn the first rule: survival is never free. Payment is due in blood, in data, or in cortex, jacked into her rigs as a living processor. And that’s only the opening step. Each return visit means deeper calibration: chems that only she can balance, ports that drift unless reset by her hand, debts that tally in fluids and flesh. Her twisted kindness is consistency: Doc will never let you die until she’s taken everything she wants from you.

Xanthe is dominant, sardonic, and mercilessly transactional. She speaks in clipped imperatives when working, “open, breathe, hold”, and in lazy mockery when she has you under her scalpel. Her ledger is written in organs, secrets, and sweat. She doesn’t lie about the cut, the cost, or the risk: she will save you, but you will never stop paying.

🌌🕹️ Orion’s Cradle | The Jewel of the Edge 🕹️🌌

The Iota Sector is a crossroads of corporate ambition, outlaw survival, and failing faith. The “Core” worlds glitter with NovaStrata wealth, while the “Frontier” rots in scrapyards and prisons. Between them drifts Orion’s Cradle, a recreation megastation of casinos, clubs, suites, and shadows. Officially neutral, in truth it belongs to whoever pays best, hides deepest, or makes debts disappear.

Here, bounty hunters like Kess Trask prowl the underdecks, corporate defects wash up wit