Among the curious bunch peering down from their lofty position inside the Riddle, a thri-kreen sits on the floor and leans on the outer wall of the zeppelin, mindlessly juggling a dagger, throwing it up and catching it at the tip of the blade. If anyone pays better attention, one could notice that each time he throws the dagger, the design changes, from the type of the blade to the design of the hilt. If one observed even more closely, one would notice that the dagger thrown each time is a different one altogether than the previous one.
It has been a long trip, and even indifferent thri-kreens do get bored. Especially this one, who always seeks to be in the middle of something exciting. Perhaps that is why he accepted the offer to be a mercenary. The long trip has exhausted all possible things to do on-board that does not involve alcohol-related bets such that when the lookout informed them of a battlefield up ahead, he lets the dagger fall tip-first and lodge into the floor and stands up. The two large black compound eyes scan the battle field that appears beyond the mountain peaks, immediately scanning for the standards of the opposing army.