gearshift48 The insectoid flicks the rods, the electricity disappearing, and walks up to the bike, waiting for them to exit. A few of the regular people come close. One of them speaks up. "Guns? Wow, you bast***s must be lucky to be able to use those!" A few of the others laugh. They are not in any threatening pose, but look a bit tipsy. The insectoid shushes them, and they leave.
"Sorry about that. I'm Radiant Priest Whitnyl, who may you be?" He asks, his antennae flopping forward with his respectable bow, flopping back when he stands straight. A weird sword-pick-spear weapon is on his back, the blade golden.