Qyzen stood panting over his charge, vibrosword held firmly in his hand, slick with rancor blood. The massive beast lay motionless at his feet, hide still sizzling from the death strike. "Another worthy opponent." He growled out to no one in particular, taking a displaced claw as a trophy and tucking it away in his pocket. Then he scented something, past the blood and burn of flesh, a new comer. He turned and cast his gaze upon whoever approached him. "Soft thing, what business have you?"