Behel was normally a calm and collected man, but he normally didn’t wake up inside a strange building with no clue how he got there. The last thing he remembered was settling in to wait out the hot part of the day in one of the small shacks he set up in his stretch of the expansive Deivai desert. When he woke up, he found himself in a strange room and on further inspection of the strange inn, he felt he no longer was on his home planet at all.
So why? The Tangi man could offer no definite answer. Certainly, no one who knew him could say he wasn’t without enemies -you couldn’t hang around with poachers and water-thieves without a few distrustful glances every now and then- but as far as Behel knew, he hadn’t made anyone angry who was rich and determined enough to transport him off the planet. On the contrary, he liked to make friends in high places. Furthermore, as hard as he was trying to find a rich patron to fund a survey of the other planets’ technology, he never left the planet, so if he somehow made foreign enemies, he had no clue how that might have happened.
After exploring the halls for several minutes and peeking outside, he finally crawled into the bar. In a daze, Behel found his way to an empty bar stool and all but collapsed, yellow eyes, half-hidden as they were behind his dusty, scratched glasses, darting about like a scared animal. Perhaps animal as an apt comparison; after all, he was a Tangi, one of the desert planet’s beastmen. In his case, he took after a very spiny, very poisonous fish that lurked in the coastal shallows. From a distance, his skin looked as smooth as the Isilme he occasionally encountered far from their home, but up close it was evident that he was covered in small, gleaming scales occasionally punctuated by the odd red patch.
It was evident that he had changed out of his normally baggy, protective clothing to receive guests before waking up here. He wore a handmade black shirt of a very thin, very expensive material with trousers of a similar colour, though truthfully not much of them could be seen under the high boots swathed in tiny buckles and kid leather straps. Red gemstones -not as rare as he would like, but certainly pretty enough for him- glittered from his ears while his neck was decorated with a collar with gleaming studs and a large quartz pendant. Bronze rings gleamed from his clawed fingers, and his lips were painted a deep, dark red like the flowers that sprouted when the monsoons came. A string of coral beads decorated his forehead, gleaming bright against the carefully drawn spots of chalk-white makeup, and, with the help of wire and a whole lot of luck, held up the massive but quite light horns that made up his headdress. Overall, he thought he looked quite dashing, though Behel tended to think whatever cost the most to procure meant it was better. Still, fashion was the least on his mind at the moment.
What would he do now? What if whatever brought him here wanted to finish him off? With the long handled knife in its scabbard on his belt, right next to the trio of skulls, the spiny fins jutting from his wrists, (the ones near his ankles and the long dorsal fin along his back were carefully folded under his clothes and currently useless unless he stripped down), and a set of very sharp teeth, he felt well protected against the creatures he normally encountered in his homeland, but he was far from home. Fierce as he could be and poisonous too, he knew he was small at barely five feet and as far as he knew, every other place in the universe was stocked with creatures that wanted to eat him.
If he wasn’t certain that whatever this place was stocked with must be some sort of deadly poison, he’d pour himself a drink to assuage the panic bubbling up within. He’d never been this frightened in his life and nothing had even hurt him...yet
((If anyone wants to RP, they can post now.))