[Behemoth]

'And it was the greatest of parties until they ruined it all,' thought the yellow-eyed Tangi as he trudged towards the sparring arena, dragging his sword behind him like a child's toy.

It's not that he disliked battle; perhaps he didn't dedicate his sole purpose in life to killing like so many of these aliens seemed to. It's just that he'd found himself, yet again, dragged kicking and screaming into a war he didn't quite understand on a planet he didn't quite care about and he didn't even pick the side that looked the best. At least things would probably turn out okay. Probably. If the revolution failed, he'd just hide out back home for awhile. If Behel was good at anything, it was hiding.

Not that you'd know it if you looked at him. A string of coral beads and the occasional masquerade pearl glimmered against his sleek, dark hair and elaborately painted face, helping to hold up a rather impressive pair of horns taken from a beast from his homeland. More gemstones shone from his many rings, necklaces, and earrings; he'd even found a way to decorate his many buckles -Behel thought more buckles on his boots made him more important- with them, though some strands of pearls had been cut in recent skirmishes. Why not? The Queen had that handsome guard who shone like a thousand suns, so he decided that if the rebels had any hope of winning the war, they needed someone twice as handsome.

Of course, despite the fixation with shiny rocks and hair product, there was evidence that he was a warrior after all. The hilt of his short sword was battered and worn with age, wrapped with scraps of cloth for a more secure grip and a trio of small skulls -a treasured trophy from his earliest hunts- hung from his belt. If one looked close, they'd realize that no amount of polishing his scales would hide the wayward scars that dotted his body; an old animal bite here, a few scales torn in a fight fight, the place on his shoulder where he'd taken a sword during the last disaster of a war. You couldn't grow up in the fiercest wilderness in Deivai and not learn a thing or two about defense, often the hard way.

Before long, Behel found himself at the arena and, finally holding his sword like a proper warrior and not a boy pouting over the premature end of the best party he'd been to on this miserable planet, sauntered inside. The first thing he noticed wasn't the woman herself but rather, the large wings she sported. Despite being and living amongst the beastmen of his world, he hadn't yet run into that many winged creatures, though as he understood, this planet was crawling with them. Ascent Arco, if he recalled correctly, one of the creatures that this planet's queen enslaved. Perhaps she'd let him examine her wings, strictly for science, of course. He had so many questions.

"If I may say without interrupting," said Behel, striding closer. "because I do so hate to interrupt anything, you have lovely form, though I do so wonder if your wings ever get in the way of combat. Do they? I admit that though I am a rebel -tried and true to the cause, trust me!- I lack familiarity with the creatures of this world. But lovely form, really. Do you ever spar? Because I do."