'Midst Tangled Nets (Open!)
A stream of inaudible hisses and growls streamed from the creature's mouth as he struggled in the water's murky shallows. Somehow he'd become entangled in a fisherman's net, a situation only made worse by the constant ebb and flow of ocean tides. The nadder shifted his shelled head, hoping to avoid damage to his tender sea lily tendrils that adorned the sides of his head.
'Blast it all!' he thought to himself as he carefully wrestled with the net, 'if I don't get out of this soon, it's the Dogging pits for me!'
A brief cut of terror flashed within him as the image of standing in the circular arena of the dogging pit, armed with nothing but his shell and wits, against an enormous, slavering, bogle-hungry tykehound. As an everyman, he'd been privy to such events, men and women of both fair and foul repute betting on the lives of beast and bogle, often coming out pockets of coin or stark, empty purses.
Now with himself as the possible contestant, the nadder increased his struggle to get free in hopes of avoiding such a terrifying end.