No, don’t speak. I know what you are, and I don’t want to hear your voice buzzing in my ears. Let me tell you what you should know.
I am Rakhii. My name is Bubashuu (‘Bash’ to you, since none of your kind can pronounce my name properly) of the Dark Rift Den, third whelp of Gvobotha and Jyzu. I work this fifth-rock territory, and all of this craggy land is my domain. Here, you will treat my word as law. Here, you’d best believe it is.
I am the Quarry Master.
And I despise you humans.
Thanks to your planet being visited by slavers, a number of you alien females have been harvested and auctioned. The ruling race of my people, the Gryfala, took an unlikely interest in your welfare, you pitiful creatures, and as you know, they began to collect you, and foster you, and eventually they took on all you refugee aliens as a philanthropic welfare project.
Do-gooders.
Gryfala even began collecting you humans from unsavory individuals located all over the galaxy. Ones who did not want to be compensated for their alien purchases because they did not intend to sell their alien purchases. Therefore, the Gryfala began employing forceful methods of collection in order to obtain you from certain unsavory individuals.
To do this, they deployed spare (and by spare, I mean unmated and therefore somewhat disposable males, of which there are a great number because there are more males than females for both races on our planet) hobs and Rakhii to hunt and take all you strange alien females by whatever means necessary. Almost all hobs (the male counterpart to Gryfalas) become besotted with your people at first sight—or first scent—despite the fact that you aliens are significantly smaller, plainer, more vulnerable, wingless versions of Gryfala.
Unfortunately, Rakhii are just as susceptible to your strange human charms—even though humans appear even less like the females of our own kind than Gryfala do. Our females are like us: horns, scales, dorsal spines, and tails. Our people breathe fire. Our people take one mate and mate for life. For us, it’s natural.
If I’m forced to be fair, here is where humans present a surprising element: not all of you are soulless alien succubi. Some of your kind prefer to remain with a single partner.
Creator knows loyalty like this isn’t common with every race. Look at the Gryfala. Each princess keeps a harem of hobs. Many of them even toy with keeping a Rakhii as a rookery guardian. But Gryfalas don’t take ‘mates.’ Not in the sense that Rakhii do. Gryfala will love their males, but their males are expected to happily share, to coexist in harmony where they only get a slice of their female’s time. A princess does not experience the beauty of a true bond to their partners like a Rakhii will matebond to their love. Nor do Gryfala even go so far as to make promises of keeping her males for all of their lifespans.
Especially not her Rakhii.
In fact, the act of a Rakhii bonding to a Gryfala has long been an offense punishable by death. And the shame a Gryfala-bonded Rakhii brings to his family sticks for a lifetime.
Or… it did. You humans appeared, and you’ve changed everything. Rakhii have been knitting their souls with yours like you’re all bald but endearingly freakish Rakhii females, not aliens. Gryfala have been looking at us differently ever since.
They’ve been watching you too. Your ability to attract mates fascinates them. Even hobs bonded to you. Who knew any of them had the bonding instinct in them?
And most of the hobs true-bonded: there were males who didn’t want to share their human acquisitions with a slew of their hob brothers. You’ve turned our world upside-down.
And now you’re everywhere.
Oh, first it was just a little corner that you humans were to keep to, a little preserve no one was allowed to enter lest we frighten the supposedly meek and terrified aliens. Now I’m told you need a bigger preserve. Now I’m being ordered to build one for you.
[Bash spits fire. Flames crackle and hiss.]
If you think you’re in charge of me, I will slap sense into the spot between the malformed sprouts you call ears.
When your human leader arrived before me, bringing her papers with her drawings of your future village, her litany of specifications a lightyear long, demanding that you be allowed to take part in building your place of refuge, I could have throttled you all.
But diligent hands make quick work, thus I agreed.