Protozoan ([color=7ea7d8]3[/color], [color=ed1c24]4[/color], [color=a2d39c]5[/color])

Protozoan stared at himself in his room's mirror, admiring his newest form. Around six feet tall, mottled brown carapace, rigid arms almost as big as tree trunks, insect-like head complete with mandibles and iridescent segmented eyes. [i]Nice[/i], he thought to himself; first time in a while he'd had an insectile form. Those tended to be smoother, chitin tended to cover up the rougher edges.

A sound from the kitchen caught his ears - or whatever he had grown in place of them. One of the their employer's couriers had made his presence known, talking about a task. The condescending attitude of these people absolutely pissed him off. How [i]dare[/i] they speak to the Renegades like that. If Nathan wasn't there to hold him back, he might just-

[i]"Yo, get your asses to the kitchen. We got work, and a big payday!"[/i]

That snapped him out of his internal tirade. If Nathan needed something done, he needed to be there. With a huff he tossed his blue sash over his shoulder and started lumbering his way towards the kitchen, careful not to knock over any of the bits and bobs in his way. "I'[i]m her[/i][b]e, what'dya ne[/b]ed?" His voice cracked, the mandibles were clearly not designed for human speech.