Before you stands a six-limbed thri-kreen wanderer with little more than a walking staff and patched armor of kank plates. Disconcertingly it's mid-arms dart this way and that fastening a clasp or adjusting a pouch. Out of the corner of your eye you think you saw a beetle scuttle in the folds of his brown desert cloak.
It turns it's head quizzically at an angle and asks, "are you my new clutch?"
It turns it's head quizzically at an angle and asks, "are you my new clutch?"