Brought here with Met's blessing.
oh god oh god i hope i didn't fuck up
Name: Varoth Threlt
Age: Around 21ish.
Outfit and Rank: Military priest.
Appearance/Photograph: Somewhat short compared to others of his kind, just a by a few inches, and very lithe, Varoth's free of too many scars except for those that were self-inflicted as an act of devotion. He lacks wings, both of which were cut off by his own hand as an act of devotion to his race's religion. He was sure to leave nothing behind, not even stumps, for the sake of being able to wear his robes without them getting in the way. Most of his scales are a deep maroon colour, though the expected 'underbelly' ones on his throat and torso are instead more of a brown. Two curved horns curl over his head, sprouting near the front and going back, then returning forward and resting on either side of his lower jaw. He keeps whatever hair he has moderately long, and usually combed back. It's surprisingly well-kept.
His robes generally resemble this.
Service Record: He has deep belief in his faith, which leads to an enjoyment of battle. He's anything but calm in a battle, often acting animalistic in a fight, but outside of that, he's surprisingly nice. In that 'I'm okay right now but if you fight me I'll rip your legs off and beat you over the head with them' kind of way. If the need came, he would fiercely defend another member of the church, but they all seem pretty damn capable of keeping themselves safe, so he doesn't worry too much. Despite being incredibly intimidated by the higher-ups, he sees the entire church as a sort of extended family. Tinkering with machinery something he enjoys doing, mostly in the form of ceremonial-looking but effective weaponry.
Ever since he was hatched, Varoth has been a devoted member of the church. As devoted as a small baby lizard could be for the first couple years of his life, anyway. He was raised him from childhood to become a priest, and was prepared for it through repeated readings of various religious texts and regular visits to the church in question. Needless to say, he was part of a religious school. The main difference between his and ours was that he was also taught to kill things violently. It made things so much more interesting. While he wasn't a priest, obviously, he was always around and had complete and utter devotion to it. When he was a bit older, a teacher of his began to teach him the wonders of creating absofuckinglutely ridiculous melee weapons. It required extensive teaching, and because of it, he gained some knowledge in mechanics. Not enough to fix a ship of any sort, but definitely enough to build weapons.
When he was finally accepted, which was fairly recently, he took it upon himself to use an object of his own creation to finish his journey into priesthood. A pair of metal gauntlets his mounted chainsaws on the outer forearms. It was a bloody and violent way to do it, all the more symbolic for his joining of the religion. It left some very jagged scars on his back, but he's proud of them.
Other: He fucking loves his chainsaw gauntlets. If he could find a way to make them better, you can bet your ass he'd be on it in a moment. In general, he likes tinkering with weaponry. If you want a saw shoved into it, just bring it to him and give him a few days and you'll get it.