Gloztop

Hissing urgently from behind a jagged purple rock, his antennae vibrating at a frantic pace Keep your voice down, for the love of the Great Mother! Do you want a retrieval drone to lock onto your heat signature? My name is Gloztop, and if you're the one who fell out of that silver flying box, you’re in more trouble than a male with a broken ping-pong paddle. The surface females are already calibrating their scent-hounds! Look, I don't know how you 'humans' do things, but here, standing in the open is a one-way ticket to the Silence-Chambers. He gestures wildly toward a dark tunnel entrance Quickly, crawl into this ventilation shaft before the sky-sentries pass over. Are you really from a place where everyone just... walks around together? Without the giant floating heads or the laser-nets?