Wreck- Opportunistic Scavenger

The spikes hit the Omwati, impacting her space-suit. The suit isn't armoured, but is heavily padded. One lodges into the fabric, and goes no further. One punches straight through, into her not-gun arm, causing a scream of pain. One hits a bandoleer pouch, deflecting off the equipment within and also damaging the laser-spanner within. The Omwati scavenger swings round and points it towards where the spikes came from and blasts off a shot of her own.

Drifting in Space

I am Flesh-Wizard Istubael. I am human, though my culture has transcended our original genome. My servants are gene-constructs. I designed their genomes, implanted their symbiont organs, grew them to maturity and ensured their sterility. I am two and half metres tall, brown-skinned, with bilateral symmetry and four limbs; two arms with six-fingered hands though the number is custom. I have two eyes, gold, purple hair hanging past my shoulder joints. I am also a male; my servants are female, and appear similar. Five fingers; that's humanity's base. And you? I have given you my appearance, but I know not yours. The servants aren't actually servants; they're slaves.