He has a more or less shoulder-adjacent connection of arms to body, but they're not prominent like more human shoulders are. Closer to the way a rat's forelimbs join its body, in some ways. His ancestors weren't brachiators.

<I have my tailblade. That's all I need, and a second to use it,> he says darkly, cutting the air with his tail in a lashing, emphatic gesture. Given that he was just saying he doesn't think he can use it to kill a nightrender, he's absolutely not talking about fighting them.

Alloran's nostrils flare and his sides puff and subside with deep breaths as he signs something intricate and repetitive, performing a ritual to calm himself. He keeps doing it - palm down, palm up, fingers flickering while he traces up one arm to his elbow, hands together, spread apart - as he looks at Saturday out of one huge horizontal-pupilled green eye. <Are you all right? Leg aside.>