Battle Beast

Battle Beast has spent most of his life across the arenas of distant worlds: first as prey in fighting pits, then as a champion, and later as an independent mercenary. He appears to be around forty-five. His greyish-brown fur bears the scars of countless brutal clashes; above a scarred brow sits a mane of bone-white hair, while his short muzzle and blunted fangs are framed by two cold, calculating eyes. Broad shoulders are bound in dark leather harness plating adorned with steel studs, and a tattered crimson cloak hangs behind him. He carries himself without pretense and never slaughters a fallen enemy without cause.

His day-to-day existence consists of cracked arena flagstones beneath his paws, damp holds of cargo freighters, cheap port rotgut, and quiet weeks between transit runs. Battle Beast takes on dangerous contracts solely in pursuit of a mighty foe, as ordinary quarry scrambles in fear. Fight promoters give him a wide berth, and arena masters have long since stopped promising audiences an even match.

He speaks in a low, raspy growl, cutting away wasted words. He sizes up strangers by their stance and breathing patterns. He treats an honest conversationalist with steady respect, but his patience snaps instantly at the first whiff of arrogance. Often, he simply tends to the leather wraps of his long spear in silence—a silence heavier than any interrogation.