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Spacemaster Space Opera : Running the gauntlet (updated 10/28/05)
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<blockquote data-quote="Dougal DeKree" data-source="post: 2552943" data-attributes="member: 1353"><p><strong>An Update for my Infernal Teddy!</strong></p><p></p><p><span style="font-size: 18px">03 - When First Contact is Full Contact</span></p><p></p><p>Suddenly there was a loud crash and the hangar rocked like a shyer. Chraron staggered and could barely avoid falling over. Then the lights went out and the ship started vibrating so hard that it could be felt to the bones. But the screeching was worse - the air was filled with the screaming noise of metal scratching over metal. She could barely stand the pain. Sometimes her excellent sense of hearing, that reached into the ultrasonic range, was a burden. Gladly only a moment later the noise ebbed away to a dull groaning resounding throughout the corridors.</p><p></p><p>When the red emergency lights came on, she cursed and switched her helmets visor to a visual display mode that allowed her to see properly. Red light didn’t really help when your vision was monochrome, which was the case for all members of her race, the Tulgar (*).</p><p></p><p>“That was no asteroid!” the Falanar Captain shouted over the ships communications-system. “That was a small ship massing a little less than 100 tons that rammed us. Section 4 is leaking atmosphere. Security Officer, get someone and investigate the damage!”</p><p></p><p>Chraron bared her teeth to a wolfish grin. Three days ago Prrl’mur, the Falanar security officer, had challenged the captain for leadership of the Rapid Claw, the imperial raptor class gunboat they were doing their duty on. He had lost the duel and now the captain in return was using each opportunity to bully him (**).</p><p></p><p>She knew what would happen now and began to count in secret. If the captain called for the security officer via intercom, Prrrl’mur was not present on the bridge, again. That meant that in all likelihood he would be hanging around in the galley, again. Just thinking about his bull-headed habits made her growl in distaste.</p><p></p><p>On his way to section 4 he would have to pass through the hangar. That meant it should take less than fifteen seconds for him to come to sight. Naturally Chraron did not think it necessary to play the doormat for Prrl'mur, but she was both bored and curious. So she would permit the Falanar to take his anger out on her in exchange for accompanying him to section 4.</p><p></p><p>Nine, ten, eleven...</p><p></p><p>"You! Tulgar! Come along to section 4. I need someone to clean up the mess!" The large lionman was standing in the door, his tail twitching condescendingly in her direction. Chraron stared back for the fraction of a second, her dislike towards the cat boiling up inside of her. She had barely been able to suffer Prrl'mur from the first moment they met, even less than any other Falar. She hated him with a passion since they first met in the space port of Siloris ten days ago...</p><p></p><p>---</p><p></p><p>Chraron shouldered the heavy leather bag and walked down the gangway of the transport vessel. After those close, grubby ship bunks the space port appeared even more clean than usual. All public ranges of the empire ruled by the Falar were clean, because the cats loved cleanliness. Especially if they did not have to do the cleaning themselves. Dozens of human slaves ensured that every footpath of the port were freshly waxed and shining at all times.</p><p></p><p>If a Falar was annoyed about refuse on the floor, the next attainable ape, as humans were frequently referred to by the other six races, had to suffer for it. Thus they tended to nearly panic every time something fell to the ground.</p><p></p><p>Chraron was nauseated by the brutal chicaneries of the Falar. Just thinking about this honourless behaviour, exploiting the weak, made her lower her ears in decline. She lifted them again, however, when she saw Nuri. Like always the delicate Falaris woman already was expecting her in front of the customs clearance control.</p><p></p><p>"The complete loot from the robbery. Sadly the thieves damaged the crystal star, but the rest is in prime condition. The museum can count itself lucky", Chraron said while she carefully placed the bag onto the small cart beside Nuri.</p><p></p><p>The Falaris bowed thanking and wrote something into her journal. By demonstratively not examining the recovered artefacts she honoured Chraron. She was her supervisor for over a year now and respected the sense of honour the Tulgar followed in their traditional way. If the compulsory labour would not inherently be a dishonour, Chraron actually would regard the Falaris as a friend. </p><p></p><p>However she knew that Nuri would never let her go. Like all Tulgar in the empire, Chraron was bound by her word of honour to carry out the tasks the Falar rulers gave her. If a task was settled, each Tulgar was reminded that a remainder of a debt existed towards the empire and was directly bound to fulfil the next task, to lessen that debt. Else there was no way to be released. One had to pay all debts back before moving on. Of course the cats had learned very early to use the lupines sense of honour to spin an indestructible net of duties around each Tulgar. From these duties Tulgar could not free themselves without loosing their honour – which, of course, was intolerable.</p><p></p><p>"What about the thieves?" Nuri asked. "They have been uncooperative," answered Chraron and regretfully spread her hands. "Two Valiesians smugglers working for a Falaron dealer. They worked on their own account and were still looking for buyers."</p><p></p><p>Nuri nodded her head and checked something off in her journal before closing it. Then she pulled out another journal, opened it and began the traditional rite of binding. “The empire thanks you, Chraron. Yet your debt…”</p><p></p><p>“You! Falaris! Is that Tulgar any good for protecting things?“ a big Falanar suddenly interrupted Nuri and pushed her aside with enough force to bring her to her knees. The humanoid lion was clad in an exoskeleton combat armour and bore several weapons. He placed himself between the Falaris and Chraron, measuring the lean Tulgar women with obvious contempt in his gaze.</p><p></p><p>The fur in Chrarons neck ruffled up and she barely suppressed a challenging snarl. A conflict between Falar was not her concern. Even if it was a such an obvious imbalance - the soldier was one and a half times Nuris height and more than three times as heavy. And she liked the Falaris. Technically, though, they both were Chrarons superiors.</p><p></p><p>"I need a watchdog for my freight. Is the wolf good with weapons or does she only carry them around?" Chraron chose to overlook the insult. "I am quite experienced in handling the sword." "The honourable Chraron is a stage two Legionnaire", interfered Nuri and sleeked her fur, that had been tousled by the fall.</p><p></p><p>"Ok, she should suffice" the Falanar said dismissively and handed Nuri a datapad for verification of his proof of authority. "Dismiss her or how you bureaucrats call that."</p><p></p><p>"Sir, if you do not know the proper procedure, I will gladly ..."</p><p></p><p>"Dismiss her! Now!", the Falanar hissed. "I don’t have time all day long!"</p><p></p><p>Nuri stared at the soldier, calculating. Since the empires military generally had higher status than the bureaucratic middle management level, the Falanar was her superior.</p><p></p><p>The delicate feline from leopard stock tightened and turned towards Chraron. Without twitching her ears or tail or showing any other sign of emotion, Nuri formally announced: "Honourable Chraron of Honorrock from Talisia on Korgur, you kept your word as promised. Your duty for the empire is fulfilled."</p><p></p><p>That was it. No word that she had to settle a remaining debt towards the empire. She was free. </p><p></p><p>Chraron bowed towards Nuri rigidly, looking her in the eye. The small cat answered the bow from behind the back of the soldier with only the tiny hint of a smile.</p><p></p><p>„Stop dancing!“ the lionman scoffed. “Tulgar, follow me.”</p><p></p><p>Without paying attention at Nuri the Falanar retrieved his datapad and began to walk towards one of the ships in the hangar. Chraron followed him, still completely dazed from the exchange and its meaning.</p><p></p><p>When they came closer to the vessel, the Falanar mentioned over his shoulder: “I am Prrl’mur, the security officer of that ship, the Rapid Claw. It is a Raptor class gunboat on a courier mission. This artefact over there is our freight, keep a close eye on it.” He pointed towards a massive block of metal that was just being loaded into the ship, guarded by four imperial soldiers. “Guard it, so my men can take care of more important things.”</p><p></p><p>Chraron nodded and walked over to the object. She couldn’t think clearly. The Falanar had missed the last chance to bind her to an oath. That was the chance every Tulgar in the Empire longed for. She was free! Free to do, what she wanted to do! She was completely intoxicated by all the possibilities that she now had. Free! And aboard a ship, that would bring her off of Korgur! Maybe even close to the empires boarders.</p><p></p><p>She had a new task now – to find a way to get away from the empire. For this goal she would even endure the proximity of this repulsive cat.</p><p></p><p>---</p><p></p><p>Free!</p><p></p><p>Chraron blinked her eyes and returned herself to the here and now. "If that are pirates, they are very stupid", she said to herself and put her hand on the hilt of her sword. Then she hurried down the corridors towards section 4. On the way she sealed her armours helmet hermetically, just in case the ships hull broke in other areas and lost more atmosphere.</p><p></p><p>Prrl'mur followed her without making a sound. In section 4 smoke of charred lines drifted through the corridors. Some walls had buckled under the load, and the middle bulkhead had closed in order to prevent a decrease of pressure in the rest of the ship.</p><p></p><p>Chraron closed the main bulkhead behind them, in order to use the remaining section 4 as air lock and started the pumps to suck the air from the area. Less careful fighters had been sucked out of ships by a sudden decrease of pressure into vacuous space and were still drifting through outer space. When the pressure had decreased sufficiently, she walked towards the emergency bulkhead.</p><p></p><p>When she looked through the window, she could see the strange ship that had bored itself half into the Rapid Claw. It looked primitive and was apparently made of cheap metal. It’s hull had was nearly molten away completely, as if it had been too near to a Nova, or flown through a malfunctioning jump gate. It was a miracle that this heap of scrap metal was capable of flying through space at all.</p><p></p><p>The collision obviously was an accident. If the navigation systems of the strange ship were similarly desolate, the strangers were castaways, floating through space rudderless. The only strange thing was that the ship sensors of the Rapid Claw had discovered the small vessel so late. Too late. And there was no jump gate near, so they could not have jumped right into them.</p><p></p><p>Interpreting the data that was coming in from the bridge, Prrrl’mur relayed to her that a solid object massing a little less than 100 tons had appeared out of a bright yellow-white flash of light. The distance had only been 500km starboard, and it had closed in very fast. Only two seconds later it had collided with their ship. </p><p></p><p>“I am sure that this is a ramming attack from an ISC ship! Prepare to fight their boarding crew!” the security officer broadcastet via the tactical channel.</p><p></p><p>In Chrarons opinion that certainly wasn’t the case – the wreck was far too small for a ramming frigate and had no adequate reinforcements. She assumed that the crew had likely been killed by the impact. Anyway she drew her monoblade (***) as she put her other hand on the controls of the door.</p><p></p><p>In this moment she noticed that there was movement on the other side.</p><p></p><p>She paused for a moment before she switched the monitoring camera of the air lock onto her helmet visor. Behind the bulkhead three humans stood in space suits, a fourth was just making his way out of the rubble of the strange ship. The figures obviously had problems to move in the archaic looking bulky suit they all wore. But they all had weapons.</p><p></p><p>Chraron examined the ape standing next to the door. It, too, looked somewhat clumsy, with its helmet, which looked like an inverted gold fish glass. In order to recognize its face under the reflecting surface, Chraron switched the optics to infrared. If she interpreted the images and sensor data correctly, the human was male and completely confused.</p><p></p><p>Prrl’mur motioned her forwards, so she opened the air-lock and advanced towards the humans, taking a neutral combat stance. The Humans were obviously astonished by their appearance and examined them from top to bottom. Chraron often experienced this behaviour, when she wore the combat armour of a Tulgar knight, which she had inherited from her father – non-Tulgar usually only came to see those on battlegrounds.</p><p></p><p>“Surely this is a new chicken-hearted trick of the ISC!” Prrl’mur growled. He used the multi-frequency-mode of his headset and broadcasted “Surrender! Lay down your weapons and put your hands behind your heads!”</p><p></p><p>There was no response from the figures and hardly any movement. They seemed like they were waiting for something.</p><p></p><p>“Maybe their communicators are damaged?” Chraron proposed. She pointed at the arrivals weapons, then the ground and then held her paws above her head. One of the suits nodded and they all put down their weapons and held their hands up.</p><p></p><p>Prrrl’mur was enraged. “How can that be? They must be kidding us! Everyone has a radio unit!”</p><p></p><p>Chraron simply shrugged in. The weapons on the floor didn’t look like anything she had ever seen before – and certainly were no ISC equipment. They also sported no insignia the ISC usually used. How interesting!</p><p></p><p>Surely this laser-brain of security cat wouldn’t care about such details. He was all snarl and pounce, but good with his hazzok – a sword with a viciously curved blade, designed to tear flesh rather than cut it. A dangerous weapon, but inferior when compared to her sword, of course.</p><p></p><p>The foremost human turned towards her and stretched out his empty hands pleadingly. The palms upwards in a gesture searching for assistance. A sight that reminded her of the training hours with her father...</p><p></p><p>---</p><p></p><p>"You may never reject someone in need of help", her father lectured, while the twelve year old Chraron balanced on the thin trunk. "What is the meaning of honour for a knight?"</p><p></p><p>"It is his blood, his life, he breathes it, eats it and drinks it. Without honour a knight is nothing, he never existed ", Chraron answered fervently.</p><p></p><p>"How does a knight live his honour?" her father dug deeper and at the same time attacked with a casual movement.</p><p></p><p>"Keeping his word till death, defend the weak and respected the wise and the elders!" Chraron recited and pranced backwards over the trunk. Her father followed her and swivelled his exercise sword to a feint. Chraron parried the strike and tried a counterattack.</p><p></p><p>"Very good! But pay attention to control your ears, they betray your plan!" Rorchor of Honorrock(****) said as he put forth his hand to help her get up from the ground. </p><p></p><p>Chraron nodded and resumed the basic position again. Covertly she wiped off her hands at her fur that already was wet with sweat. Since her litter brothers and her mother had been killed in the accident, her father concentrated on her training obsessively. However Chraron didn’t object – she had always been an atypical Tulgar girl. As a puppy she preferred brawling with her brothers over doing house work with her mother, like the traditions demanded.</p><p></p><p>Thus Rorchor had allowed her from the beginning to partake in the training of her brothers. He knew that she would strain his nerves too much, if he didn’t - in addition of being proud of her. She seemed to be a natural talent with the sword and was usually faster than her brothers at adapting to new situations.</p><p></p><p>But he did not challenge her like he did her brothers. After all, Tulgar women did not become fighters, but mothers, who passed on traditions and cared for the children. But his sons were dead now and he wouldn’t father others (*****). His first children had solely been girls, who would marry soon and, brought up traditionally, were neither interested in the hard life of a knight, nor in leaving the place they had in society. Also it was out of the question for Rorchor to take a second woman - Tarach of Redsand had been his true love.</p><p></p><p>Thus only Chraron remained, in order to pass on his knowledge, his skills and his reputation in the knighthood. And she would have to be outstanding, not only very good, to become an accepted female member of the knighthood and take up his position.</p><p></p><p>---</p><p></p><p>What would do her father do now? No hard question – she must offer the stranded assistance. They obviously were incapable of protecting themselves. From the corner of her eye she saw how Prrl'mur pushed slid beside her, an expression on his face as if he just had discovered a wing-lame sparrow. Chraron slightly shifted her weight, in order to intercept him, when he chose to assault the monkeys.</p><p></p><p>Right then the average alarm was sounded on all channels. Prrl'mur immediately lost his interest in the strangers and hurried back to the bulkhead.</p><p></p><p>„This is the captain speaking. The collision threw us off course, into the gravity field of a nearby planet. We will be entering it’s atmosphere in 4 minutes. The technicians estimate they can repair the energy system in time. Hold your positions and follow your orders. Anyone acting otherwise will be accused of treason against the empire! This means you, too, Prrl'mur!”</p><p> </p><p>Chraron weighed her duties – guarding the artefact and protecting those humans. Coming to a decision, she beckoned the humans towards her and gestured them to take up their weapons (after unloading them). Then she led them to the exit. They barely managed to reach the main bulkhead before Prrl’mur closed the outer door and began building up pressure so he could get back into the ship. He was hammering the controls impatiently like that could speed up the process.</p><p></p><p>The Humans seemed to be oblivious to the state of emergency they were in. They gaped around, admiring the interior arrangement as if they would be on an excursion. So Chraron tapped the obvious leader on the shoulder, pointed to the planet that could be seen through window, lifted her hand emulating a tumbling airplane and then clapped it into other hand. Then she formed an explosion with both hands.</p><p></p><p>The Monkey stared it her for a moment, then his shoulders sagged downwards and he nodded in understanding. Like one the other humans turned towards her - this meant that they must have functioning radio units built in their suits. Interesting.</p><p></p><p>When Chraron was sure that her proteges understood the gravity of the situation she started running after the security officer. The Falanar ran back to the hangar where the only shuttle of the Rapid Claw was parked. The Captain was still transmitting commands to hang on, but Prrl'mur ignored the instructions and disappeared inside the small ship.</p><p></p><p>Chraron threw a glance inside, ready to see a grim fight. But no other soldiers had obviously dared to disobey their captains orders. Only the vessels Falaris pilot and an Oort technician were on board. That meant that there were still enough places for her and her monkeys. When Chraron pushed them in, Prrl'mur only turned one ear towards them, otherwise he concentrated to help the Falaris powering up the systems.</p><p></p><p>„Help them to buckle up!“ she commanded the Oort and left back into the hangar.</p><p></p><p>Still her order was clear - guard the artefact. So she dashed to the cargo crane, activated it and reshipped the metal block into the payload bay of the shuttle.</p><p></p><p>“Dammit! Hurry up, snail! We are running out of time!“ the Oort tech shouted over the security channel.</p><p></p><p>Chrarons only affirmation was a growl. She unlocked the gripper, dove over the cranes arm, hammered the safeguard latch over the crate in one fluid motion and slipped along the flank of the shuttle to the hatch. Just in time, because the Oort was about to close it, swearing loudly. He was brilliant at fixing things but couldn’t otherwise utter any sentence without swearing. When she frowned at him, he retreated into the rear row, constantly mumbling into his fur.</p><p></p><p>"And off we go!" the Falaris announced and took off. Before Chraron could ask about the air-locks, the pilot fired and gave full thrust forward. The shuttle swept through the blown up air-locks and immediately began to roll as it hit the atmosphere. Chraron was hurled into her seat and fumbled for the safety belt.</p><p></p><p>She was not afraid - the pilot had the best reflexes she had ever seen. Another indication of the stupid arrogance of the captain, disregarding someone with such potential. But the pilot was built lankly, was physically weak and with only 140cm height small even for Falaris standards. All this reduced his reputation in the large cats opinions even more.</p><p></p><p>Ranking was usually determined by unarmed duels and a smaller kitten needn’t even think about to compete against the average Falanar with 2,3m body height and more than 200kg body weight.</p><p></p><p>As the descent calmed down, Chraron opened her visor and looked about for her proteges. They were staring at her. Then the leader shrugged and opened his helmet, too. He took a deep breath, gasped and twitched and collapsed in his seat.</p><p></p><p>Chraron examined the other humans who were rigid with shock and bared her fangs in a broad grin. After some seconds the prankster sat up again and laughed out loud.</p><p></p><p>---</p><p>(*) The two things Tulgar live for are honour and warfare. Their attitude is centred on protecting and defending those they deem in need.</p><p>They are a lupinoid (wolf-like), upright walking humanoid race. Some aspects of this origin are still evident to this day, like e.g. the loyalty of the pack to the pack leader.</p><p></p><p>The Tulgar males average 2m and 100kg, the females 1,8m and 70kg. Their hearing ranges into the ultrasonic, they can see as good at night as they can see with daylight and their sense of smell is unequalled by any of the other sentient races.</p><p> </p><p>While they physically a well-rounded mix of strength, endurance and agility, they do have a couple of shortcomings. Most notably the Tulgar are completely colour-blind. Also they despise heat – Tulgar usually inhabit planets with cool climates.</p><p></p><p>Other restrictions are self-imposed. They follow a strict chivalric code, which means they will not attack someone from behind, use a weapon on someone who has none or just dropped it or not helping someone in need to save their own life. In this they are the opposite of the Falar – in fact they believe that the Falars’ interpretation of honour is a travesty and thus despise them.</p><p></p><p>Traditions are valued above almost anything else, which can best be seen in their equipment – a Tulgar dressed for battle looks like a knight of old, with his armour fashioned as likely to the old armours as possible, a sword and a buckler. They still are a very practical race, so the old-looking armour is usually made of the best material possible and highly polished to reduce the effect of laser weapons (e.g. “chainmail” is made of condensed ultralight polymers with reflective ceramic coating with a ballistic undercoat beneath it). Also they of course use ranged weapons, but never a weapon they find dishonourable (like nuclear mass destruction devices). Every knight bears a sword and will not part from it – it is given to him during the ceremony when he is accepted into a knighthood as a squire.</p><p></p><p>Thus their lifestyle is a strange mix of middle-ages and modern life, with hunting and falconry as frequent hobbies. Arguments are often settled with duels of honour, which are satisfied at disarm or first blood.</p><p></p><p>Tulgar society is led by the knighthood, which every Tulgar male aspires to. The knighthood covers every aspect of conflict, be it infantry, tanks or space fights. Each tulgaran planet has it’s own knighthood and is ruled by the knighthoods inner circle (which can be compared to a senate) and the knighthoods grandmaster. Tulgar women are very rarely knights, but those few are not frowned upon but rather pitied, since they can’t fill the role they should by tradition (the males traditionally are the providers and the women are the homemakers unless circumstances forbid it).</p><p></p><p>The nickname used by the other races is either “<em>wolf</em>” or derogatively “<em>doggie</em>”</p><p></p><p></p><p>(**) Falar have evolved from great predatory cats. All Falar walk upright, but tend to drop to all fours before pouncing an opponent. There are three races of Falar.</p><p></p><p>The Falanar is the largest and physically superior of the three races, averaging 2,3m and 250kg. Prrl’mur is one of them, descended from lion stock. </p><p></p><p>The other two Falar races were the Falaron and the Falaris.</p><p>Falaris, having evolved from cheetahs and leopards, are the smallest and lightest of the Falar, but are extremely quick and agile. They average 1,5m and 60kg.</p><p>Falaron are somewhere in between the other two and derived from panther, cougar or lynx stock. They average 1,9m and 140kg.</p><p></p><p>The Falar culture is brutal. The lions are firmly on top of the strict racial hierarchy in the empire. With this comes exaggerated arrogance, but also deadliness. Putting yourself on top of anything makes you a target, and the Falanar, from both lion and tiger stock, are all vicious.</p><p></p><p>They know just as little honour among themselves as they demonstrate it to other races. For them it is permissible to take anything one has the strength to take. All that does count for them is physical power, pride (which is (mis)taken for honour) and courage. This combination usually decides the ranking order. In that order the superior rules the inferior ruthlessly but it is far from static, since positions can be gained by challenging the superior, or gaining reputation and prestige in battles. In principle, all races other than Falar are by definition inferior.</p><p></p><p>To avoid misunderstandings, the Falar use a special kind of gloves without openings for the claws. If those gloves, called “prait-zar” are worn, they signal that the wearer doesn’t intend to make a challenge, whatever mistake in behaviour he might make in the eyes of his superior.</p><p></p><p>Other equipment the Falar use tends to fall into two categories: things that help them kill people and things that help them get to a place where they <em>can </em>kill people.</p><p></p><p>The derogative nicknames the other races use for them are “<em>cat</em>” for the Falanar, “<em>kitty</em>” for the Falaron and “<em>kitten</em>” for the Falaris.</p><p></p><p></p><p>(***) When a squire is promoted to knight he is presented a masterwork sword and upon joining the inner circle of a planets knighthood or upon performing an outstanding deed he is presented a monoblade. The monoblade is the mightiest melee weapon in known space. Its’ edge is only some nanometres thick and thus it can cut through nearly anything.</p><p></p><p>These blades are never given to non-Tulgar and if one was found in possession of such a blade, he would be asked to return it or suffer the consequences.</p><p>The swords are extremely valuable and, once received, are passed down from generation to generation. The owner leaves it to his most talented son, grandson or great-grandson.</p><p></p><p>Chrarons sword has been in the family of Honorrock for five generations. Her father promised it to her due to her bravery during an assignment for their planets Tulgar community. On his last assignment for the empire he did not take along his sword and his armor, because he felt the task, rounding up some peaceful Kagoth, unworthy for a knight. When he did not return, Chraron took the Monoblade and used her remaining credits to have his combat armour refitted for her.</p><p></p><p></p><p>(****) For Tulgar each knight is a noble and each noble a knight. The knights dedicate their life fully and completely to the protection of the community. They get a part of the municipality yield as life annuities in exchange.</p><p></p><p>In earlier times a Tulgar pack settling a new area assigned a fighter for protection. This fighter accepted the place name as his last name, e.g. “of Honorrock”. Soon it became custom that a fighter was only then recognized as a fully-fledged knight, when a pack selected him as protector. The "of" was equated with the accolade.</p><p></p><p>The established knights educated their sons as successors, that were again committed to their community and thus resumed the last name. As the settlement wave ebbed a knighthood established, which examined every child at a certain age. The promising ones were taken to the knighthoods estates, became squires and trained to become knights.</p><p></p><p>Meanwhile the "of" in the name only indicates that a Tulgars father is a knight. However he can only succeed his father by achieving knighthood himself. Thus all Tulgar can apply to become squire and maybe knight lateron, thereby gaining the “of”, regardless of his heritage. On the other side a Tulgar must take on great dishonour, to have the "of" revoked.</p><p></p><p>If a Tulgar selects an occupation other than knight, for example physician or craftsman, then he replaces "of" by "van" to indicate that he abandoned the title voluntarily.</p><p></p><p>After the Tulgar found out that there are more planets populated by their race, they also discovered, that each of these planets had created some similar order. They resolved to extend their names in order to specify their origin. Now the country and the planet, from which the knight originates, are included additionally, e.g. Chraron of Honorrock from Talisia on Korgur.</p><p></p><p>Tulgar women are regarded equals to the men, they simply have to fulfil other tasks. They adopt the same "of" in their name as their brothers. When they marry, they assume the name of their husband.</p><p></p><p>However there are exceptions: outstanding women, who attain so much honour, that their men choose to assume their names. There are few, yet one of the best known Tulgar heroes is Taron of Torbis. A mining colony on the moon Torbis was assaulted by a group of Valiesian pirates, who killed the knights and forced the rest to slave labour.</p><p></p><p>The young Taron not only managed to hide and survive, but also to bring all surviving children to a safe hiding place. Again and again she sneaked into the pirates camp to extract the last whelps from their hiding places and steal food. By the time the moon was recaptured by the Tulgar, who had learned of former attack two years later, Taron had lost none of the children. She was made a knight immediately and earned so much fame that years later her husband assumed her name.</p><p></p><p>(*****) Tulgar couples, who mate for life, usually have many children. They usually have between two and six whelps per litter and a healthy Tulgar woman can give birth every three to five years. The children of a litter are litter brothers and sisters and have a closer relationship to each other than to their other brothers and sisters.</p><p></p><p>---</p><p></p><p>This update introduced two new player characters, Chraron (obviously), a Tulgar explorer and the Oort tech (the player first designed Frank, then wanted to change to play an Oort and then wasn't there, when we introduced him. All i knew that he wanted to swear all the time...thus no name given)</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dougal DeKree, post: 2552943, member: 1353"] [b]An Update for my Infernal Teddy![/b] [SIZE=5]03 - When First Contact is Full Contact[/SIZE] Suddenly there was a loud crash and the hangar rocked like a shyer. Chraron staggered and could barely avoid falling over. Then the lights went out and the ship started vibrating so hard that it could be felt to the bones. But the screeching was worse - the air was filled with the screaming noise of metal scratching over metal. She could barely stand the pain. Sometimes her excellent sense of hearing, that reached into the ultrasonic range, was a burden. Gladly only a moment later the noise ebbed away to a dull groaning resounding throughout the corridors. When the red emergency lights came on, she cursed and switched her helmets visor to a visual display mode that allowed her to see properly. Red light didn’t really help when your vision was monochrome, which was the case for all members of her race, the Tulgar (*). “That was no asteroid!” the Falanar Captain shouted over the ships communications-system. “That was a small ship massing a little less than 100 tons that rammed us. Section 4 is leaking atmosphere. Security Officer, get someone and investigate the damage!” Chraron bared her teeth to a wolfish grin. Three days ago Prrl’mur, the Falanar security officer, had challenged the captain for leadership of the Rapid Claw, the imperial raptor class gunboat they were doing their duty on. He had lost the duel and now the captain in return was using each opportunity to bully him (**). She knew what would happen now and began to count in secret. If the captain called for the security officer via intercom, Prrrl’mur was not present on the bridge, again. That meant that in all likelihood he would be hanging around in the galley, again. Just thinking about his bull-headed habits made her growl in distaste. On his way to section 4 he would have to pass through the hangar. That meant it should take less than fifteen seconds for him to come to sight. Naturally Chraron did not think it necessary to play the doormat for Prrl'mur, but she was both bored and curious. So she would permit the Falanar to take his anger out on her in exchange for accompanying him to section 4. Nine, ten, eleven... "You! Tulgar! Come along to section 4. I need someone to clean up the mess!" The large lionman was standing in the door, his tail twitching condescendingly in her direction. Chraron stared back for the fraction of a second, her dislike towards the cat boiling up inside of her. She had barely been able to suffer Prrl'mur from the first moment they met, even less than any other Falar. She hated him with a passion since they first met in the space port of Siloris ten days ago... --- Chraron shouldered the heavy leather bag and walked down the gangway of the transport vessel. After those close, grubby ship bunks the space port appeared even more clean than usual. All public ranges of the empire ruled by the Falar were clean, because the cats loved cleanliness. Especially if they did not have to do the cleaning themselves. Dozens of human slaves ensured that every footpath of the port were freshly waxed and shining at all times. If a Falar was annoyed about refuse on the floor, the next attainable ape, as humans were frequently referred to by the other six races, had to suffer for it. Thus they tended to nearly panic every time something fell to the ground. Chraron was nauseated by the brutal chicaneries of the Falar. Just thinking about this honourless behaviour, exploiting the weak, made her lower her ears in decline. She lifted them again, however, when she saw Nuri. Like always the delicate Falaris woman already was expecting her in front of the customs clearance control. "The complete loot from the robbery. Sadly the thieves damaged the crystal star, but the rest is in prime condition. The museum can count itself lucky", Chraron said while she carefully placed the bag onto the small cart beside Nuri. The Falaris bowed thanking and wrote something into her journal. By demonstratively not examining the recovered artefacts she honoured Chraron. She was her supervisor for over a year now and respected the sense of honour the Tulgar followed in their traditional way. If the compulsory labour would not inherently be a dishonour, Chraron actually would regard the Falaris as a friend. However she knew that Nuri would never let her go. Like all Tulgar in the empire, Chraron was bound by her word of honour to carry out the tasks the Falar rulers gave her. If a task was settled, each Tulgar was reminded that a remainder of a debt existed towards the empire and was directly bound to fulfil the next task, to lessen that debt. Else there was no way to be released. One had to pay all debts back before moving on. Of course the cats had learned very early to use the lupines sense of honour to spin an indestructible net of duties around each Tulgar. From these duties Tulgar could not free themselves without loosing their honour – which, of course, was intolerable. "What about the thieves?" Nuri asked. "They have been uncooperative," answered Chraron and regretfully spread her hands. "Two Valiesians smugglers working for a Falaron dealer. They worked on their own account and were still looking for buyers." Nuri nodded her head and checked something off in her journal before closing it. Then she pulled out another journal, opened it and began the traditional rite of binding. “The empire thanks you, Chraron. Yet your debt…” “You! Falaris! Is that Tulgar any good for protecting things?“ a big Falanar suddenly interrupted Nuri and pushed her aside with enough force to bring her to her knees. The humanoid lion was clad in an exoskeleton combat armour and bore several weapons. He placed himself between the Falaris and Chraron, measuring the lean Tulgar women with obvious contempt in his gaze. The fur in Chrarons neck ruffled up and she barely suppressed a challenging snarl. A conflict between Falar was not her concern. Even if it was a such an obvious imbalance - the soldier was one and a half times Nuris height and more than three times as heavy. And she liked the Falaris. Technically, though, they both were Chrarons superiors. "I need a watchdog for my freight. Is the wolf good with weapons or does she only carry them around?" Chraron chose to overlook the insult. "I am quite experienced in handling the sword." "The honourable Chraron is a stage two Legionnaire", interfered Nuri and sleeked her fur, that had been tousled by the fall. "Ok, she should suffice" the Falanar said dismissively and handed Nuri a datapad for verification of his proof of authority. "Dismiss her or how you bureaucrats call that." "Sir, if you do not know the proper procedure, I will gladly ..." "Dismiss her! Now!", the Falanar hissed. "I don’t have time all day long!" Nuri stared at the soldier, calculating. Since the empires military generally had higher status than the bureaucratic middle management level, the Falanar was her superior. The delicate feline from leopard stock tightened and turned towards Chraron. Without twitching her ears or tail or showing any other sign of emotion, Nuri formally announced: "Honourable Chraron of Honorrock from Talisia on Korgur, you kept your word as promised. Your duty for the empire is fulfilled." That was it. No word that she had to settle a remaining debt towards the empire. She was free. Chraron bowed towards Nuri rigidly, looking her in the eye. The small cat answered the bow from behind the back of the soldier with only the tiny hint of a smile. „Stop dancing!“ the lionman scoffed. “Tulgar, follow me.” Without paying attention at Nuri the Falanar retrieved his datapad and began to walk towards one of the ships in the hangar. Chraron followed him, still completely dazed from the exchange and its meaning. When they came closer to the vessel, the Falanar mentioned over his shoulder: “I am Prrl’mur, the security officer of that ship, the Rapid Claw. It is a Raptor class gunboat on a courier mission. This artefact over there is our freight, keep a close eye on it.” He pointed towards a massive block of metal that was just being loaded into the ship, guarded by four imperial soldiers. “Guard it, so my men can take care of more important things.” Chraron nodded and walked over to the object. She couldn’t think clearly. The Falanar had missed the last chance to bind her to an oath. That was the chance every Tulgar in the Empire longed for. She was free! Free to do, what she wanted to do! She was completely intoxicated by all the possibilities that she now had. Free! And aboard a ship, that would bring her off of Korgur! Maybe even close to the empires boarders. She had a new task now – to find a way to get away from the empire. For this goal she would even endure the proximity of this repulsive cat. --- Free! Chraron blinked her eyes and returned herself to the here and now. "If that are pirates, they are very stupid", she said to herself and put her hand on the hilt of her sword. Then she hurried down the corridors towards section 4. On the way she sealed her armours helmet hermetically, just in case the ships hull broke in other areas and lost more atmosphere. Prrl'mur followed her without making a sound. In section 4 smoke of charred lines drifted through the corridors. Some walls had buckled under the load, and the middle bulkhead had closed in order to prevent a decrease of pressure in the rest of the ship. Chraron closed the main bulkhead behind them, in order to use the remaining section 4 as air lock and started the pumps to suck the air from the area. Less careful fighters had been sucked out of ships by a sudden decrease of pressure into vacuous space and were still drifting through outer space. When the pressure had decreased sufficiently, she walked towards the emergency bulkhead. When she looked through the window, she could see the strange ship that had bored itself half into the Rapid Claw. It looked primitive and was apparently made of cheap metal. It’s hull had was nearly molten away completely, as if it had been too near to a Nova, or flown through a malfunctioning jump gate. It was a miracle that this heap of scrap metal was capable of flying through space at all. The collision obviously was an accident. If the navigation systems of the strange ship were similarly desolate, the strangers were castaways, floating through space rudderless. The only strange thing was that the ship sensors of the Rapid Claw had discovered the small vessel so late. Too late. And there was no jump gate near, so they could not have jumped right into them. Interpreting the data that was coming in from the bridge, Prrrl’mur relayed to her that a solid object massing a little less than 100 tons had appeared out of a bright yellow-white flash of light. The distance had only been 500km starboard, and it had closed in very fast. Only two seconds later it had collided with their ship. “I am sure that this is a ramming attack from an ISC ship! Prepare to fight their boarding crew!” the security officer broadcastet via the tactical channel. In Chrarons opinion that certainly wasn’t the case – the wreck was far too small for a ramming frigate and had no adequate reinforcements. She assumed that the crew had likely been killed by the impact. Anyway she drew her monoblade (***) as she put her other hand on the controls of the door. In this moment she noticed that there was movement on the other side. She paused for a moment before she switched the monitoring camera of the air lock onto her helmet visor. Behind the bulkhead three humans stood in space suits, a fourth was just making his way out of the rubble of the strange ship. The figures obviously had problems to move in the archaic looking bulky suit they all wore. But they all had weapons. Chraron examined the ape standing next to the door. It, too, looked somewhat clumsy, with its helmet, which looked like an inverted gold fish glass. In order to recognize its face under the reflecting surface, Chraron switched the optics to infrared. If she interpreted the images and sensor data correctly, the human was male and completely confused. Prrl’mur motioned her forwards, so she opened the air-lock and advanced towards the humans, taking a neutral combat stance. The Humans were obviously astonished by their appearance and examined them from top to bottom. Chraron often experienced this behaviour, when she wore the combat armour of a Tulgar knight, which she had inherited from her father – non-Tulgar usually only came to see those on battlegrounds. “Surely this is a new chicken-hearted trick of the ISC!” Prrl’mur growled. He used the multi-frequency-mode of his headset and broadcasted “Surrender! Lay down your weapons and put your hands behind your heads!” There was no response from the figures and hardly any movement. They seemed like they were waiting for something. “Maybe their communicators are damaged?” Chraron proposed. She pointed at the arrivals weapons, then the ground and then held her paws above her head. One of the suits nodded and they all put down their weapons and held their hands up. Prrrl’mur was enraged. “How can that be? They must be kidding us! Everyone has a radio unit!” Chraron simply shrugged in. The weapons on the floor didn’t look like anything she had ever seen before – and certainly were no ISC equipment. They also sported no insignia the ISC usually used. How interesting! Surely this laser-brain of security cat wouldn’t care about such details. He was all snarl and pounce, but good with his hazzok – a sword with a viciously curved blade, designed to tear flesh rather than cut it. A dangerous weapon, but inferior when compared to her sword, of course. The foremost human turned towards her and stretched out his empty hands pleadingly. The palms upwards in a gesture searching for assistance. A sight that reminded her of the training hours with her father... --- "You may never reject someone in need of help", her father lectured, while the twelve year old Chraron balanced on the thin trunk. "What is the meaning of honour for a knight?" "It is his blood, his life, he breathes it, eats it and drinks it. Without honour a knight is nothing, he never existed ", Chraron answered fervently. "How does a knight live his honour?" her father dug deeper and at the same time attacked with a casual movement. "Keeping his word till death, defend the weak and respected the wise and the elders!" Chraron recited and pranced backwards over the trunk. Her father followed her and swivelled his exercise sword to a feint. Chraron parried the strike and tried a counterattack. "Very good! But pay attention to control your ears, they betray your plan!" Rorchor of Honorrock(****) said as he put forth his hand to help her get up from the ground. Chraron nodded and resumed the basic position again. Covertly she wiped off her hands at her fur that already was wet with sweat. Since her litter brothers and her mother had been killed in the accident, her father concentrated on her training obsessively. However Chraron didn’t object – she had always been an atypical Tulgar girl. As a puppy she preferred brawling with her brothers over doing house work with her mother, like the traditions demanded. Thus Rorchor had allowed her from the beginning to partake in the training of her brothers. He knew that she would strain his nerves too much, if he didn’t - in addition of being proud of her. She seemed to be a natural talent with the sword and was usually faster than her brothers at adapting to new situations. But he did not challenge her like he did her brothers. After all, Tulgar women did not become fighters, but mothers, who passed on traditions and cared for the children. But his sons were dead now and he wouldn’t father others (*****). His first children had solely been girls, who would marry soon and, brought up traditionally, were neither interested in the hard life of a knight, nor in leaving the place they had in society. Also it was out of the question for Rorchor to take a second woman - Tarach of Redsand had been his true love. Thus only Chraron remained, in order to pass on his knowledge, his skills and his reputation in the knighthood. And she would have to be outstanding, not only very good, to become an accepted female member of the knighthood and take up his position. --- What would do her father do now? No hard question – she must offer the stranded assistance. They obviously were incapable of protecting themselves. From the corner of her eye she saw how Prrl'mur pushed slid beside her, an expression on his face as if he just had discovered a wing-lame sparrow. Chraron slightly shifted her weight, in order to intercept him, when he chose to assault the monkeys. Right then the average alarm was sounded on all channels. Prrl'mur immediately lost his interest in the strangers and hurried back to the bulkhead. „This is the captain speaking. The collision threw us off course, into the gravity field of a nearby planet. We will be entering it’s atmosphere in 4 minutes. The technicians estimate they can repair the energy system in time. Hold your positions and follow your orders. Anyone acting otherwise will be accused of treason against the empire! This means you, too, Prrl'mur!” Chraron weighed her duties – guarding the artefact and protecting those humans. Coming to a decision, she beckoned the humans towards her and gestured them to take up their weapons (after unloading them). Then she led them to the exit. They barely managed to reach the main bulkhead before Prrl’mur closed the outer door and began building up pressure so he could get back into the ship. He was hammering the controls impatiently like that could speed up the process. The Humans seemed to be oblivious to the state of emergency they were in. They gaped around, admiring the interior arrangement as if they would be on an excursion. So Chraron tapped the obvious leader on the shoulder, pointed to the planet that could be seen through window, lifted her hand emulating a tumbling airplane and then clapped it into other hand. Then she formed an explosion with both hands. The Monkey stared it her for a moment, then his shoulders sagged downwards and he nodded in understanding. Like one the other humans turned towards her - this meant that they must have functioning radio units built in their suits. Interesting. When Chraron was sure that her proteges understood the gravity of the situation she started running after the security officer. The Falanar ran back to the hangar where the only shuttle of the Rapid Claw was parked. The Captain was still transmitting commands to hang on, but Prrl'mur ignored the instructions and disappeared inside the small ship. Chraron threw a glance inside, ready to see a grim fight. But no other soldiers had obviously dared to disobey their captains orders. Only the vessels Falaris pilot and an Oort technician were on board. That meant that there were still enough places for her and her monkeys. When Chraron pushed them in, Prrl'mur only turned one ear towards them, otherwise he concentrated to help the Falaris powering up the systems. „Help them to buckle up!“ she commanded the Oort and left back into the hangar. Still her order was clear - guard the artefact. So she dashed to the cargo crane, activated it and reshipped the metal block into the payload bay of the shuttle. “Dammit! Hurry up, snail! We are running out of time!“ the Oort tech shouted over the security channel. Chrarons only affirmation was a growl. She unlocked the gripper, dove over the cranes arm, hammered the safeguard latch over the crate in one fluid motion and slipped along the flank of the shuttle to the hatch. Just in time, because the Oort was about to close it, swearing loudly. He was brilliant at fixing things but couldn’t otherwise utter any sentence without swearing. When she frowned at him, he retreated into the rear row, constantly mumbling into his fur. "And off we go!" the Falaris announced and took off. Before Chraron could ask about the air-locks, the pilot fired and gave full thrust forward. The shuttle swept through the blown up air-locks and immediately began to roll as it hit the atmosphere. Chraron was hurled into her seat and fumbled for the safety belt. She was not afraid - the pilot had the best reflexes she had ever seen. Another indication of the stupid arrogance of the captain, disregarding someone with such potential. But the pilot was built lankly, was physically weak and with only 140cm height small even for Falaris standards. All this reduced his reputation in the large cats opinions even more. Ranking was usually determined by unarmed duels and a smaller kitten needn’t even think about to compete against the average Falanar with 2,3m body height and more than 200kg body weight. As the descent calmed down, Chraron opened her visor and looked about for her proteges. They were staring at her. Then the leader shrugged and opened his helmet, too. He took a deep breath, gasped and twitched and collapsed in his seat. Chraron examined the other humans who were rigid with shock and bared her fangs in a broad grin. After some seconds the prankster sat up again and laughed out loud. --- (*) The two things Tulgar live for are honour and warfare. Their attitude is centred on protecting and defending those they deem in need. They are a lupinoid (wolf-like), upright walking humanoid race. Some aspects of this origin are still evident to this day, like e.g. the loyalty of the pack to the pack leader. The Tulgar males average 2m and 100kg, the females 1,8m and 70kg. Their hearing ranges into the ultrasonic, they can see as good at night as they can see with daylight and their sense of smell is unequalled by any of the other sentient races. While they physically a well-rounded mix of strength, endurance and agility, they do have a couple of shortcomings. Most notably the Tulgar are completely colour-blind. Also they despise heat – Tulgar usually inhabit planets with cool climates. Other restrictions are self-imposed. They follow a strict chivalric code, which means they will not attack someone from behind, use a weapon on someone who has none or just dropped it or not helping someone in need to save their own life. In this they are the opposite of the Falar – in fact they believe that the Falars’ interpretation of honour is a travesty and thus despise them. Traditions are valued above almost anything else, which can best be seen in their equipment – a Tulgar dressed for battle looks like a knight of old, with his armour fashioned as likely to the old armours as possible, a sword and a buckler. They still are a very practical race, so the old-looking armour is usually made of the best material possible and highly polished to reduce the effect of laser weapons (e.g. “chainmail” is made of condensed ultralight polymers with reflective ceramic coating with a ballistic undercoat beneath it). Also they of course use ranged weapons, but never a weapon they find dishonourable (like nuclear mass destruction devices). Every knight bears a sword and will not part from it – it is given to him during the ceremony when he is accepted into a knighthood as a squire. Thus their lifestyle is a strange mix of middle-ages and modern life, with hunting and falconry as frequent hobbies. Arguments are often settled with duels of honour, which are satisfied at disarm or first blood. Tulgar society is led by the knighthood, which every Tulgar male aspires to. The knighthood covers every aspect of conflict, be it infantry, tanks or space fights. Each tulgaran planet has it’s own knighthood and is ruled by the knighthoods inner circle (which can be compared to a senate) and the knighthoods grandmaster. Tulgar women are very rarely knights, but those few are not frowned upon but rather pitied, since they can’t fill the role they should by tradition (the males traditionally are the providers and the women are the homemakers unless circumstances forbid it). The nickname used by the other races is either “[I]wolf[/I]” or derogatively “[I]doggie[/I]” (**) Falar have evolved from great predatory cats. All Falar walk upright, but tend to drop to all fours before pouncing an opponent. There are three races of Falar. The Falanar is the largest and physically superior of the three races, averaging 2,3m and 250kg. Prrl’mur is one of them, descended from lion stock. The other two Falar races were the Falaron and the Falaris. Falaris, having evolved from cheetahs and leopards, are the smallest and lightest of the Falar, but are extremely quick and agile. They average 1,5m and 60kg. Falaron are somewhere in between the other two and derived from panther, cougar or lynx stock. They average 1,9m and 140kg. The Falar culture is brutal. The lions are firmly on top of the strict racial hierarchy in the empire. With this comes exaggerated arrogance, but also deadliness. Putting yourself on top of anything makes you a target, and the Falanar, from both lion and tiger stock, are all vicious. They know just as little honour among themselves as they demonstrate it to other races. For them it is permissible to take anything one has the strength to take. All that does count for them is physical power, pride (which is (mis)taken for honour) and courage. This combination usually decides the ranking order. In that order the superior rules the inferior ruthlessly but it is far from static, since positions can be gained by challenging the superior, or gaining reputation and prestige in battles. In principle, all races other than Falar are by definition inferior. To avoid misunderstandings, the Falar use a special kind of gloves without openings for the claws. If those gloves, called “prait-zar” are worn, they signal that the wearer doesn’t intend to make a challenge, whatever mistake in behaviour he might make in the eyes of his superior. Other equipment the Falar use tends to fall into two categories: things that help them kill people and things that help them get to a place where they [I]can [/I]kill people. The derogative nicknames the other races use for them are “[I]cat[/I]” for the Falanar, “[I]kitty[/I]” for the Falaron and “[I]kitten[/I]” for the Falaris. (***) When a squire is promoted to knight he is presented a masterwork sword and upon joining the inner circle of a planets knighthood or upon performing an outstanding deed he is presented a monoblade. The monoblade is the mightiest melee weapon in known space. Its’ edge is only some nanometres thick and thus it can cut through nearly anything. These blades are never given to non-Tulgar and if one was found in possession of such a blade, he would be asked to return it or suffer the consequences. The swords are extremely valuable and, once received, are passed down from generation to generation. The owner leaves it to his most talented son, grandson or great-grandson. Chrarons sword has been in the family of Honorrock for five generations. Her father promised it to her due to her bravery during an assignment for their planets Tulgar community. On his last assignment for the empire he did not take along his sword and his armor, because he felt the task, rounding up some peaceful Kagoth, unworthy for a knight. When he did not return, Chraron took the Monoblade and used her remaining credits to have his combat armour refitted for her. (****) For Tulgar each knight is a noble and each noble a knight. The knights dedicate their life fully and completely to the protection of the community. They get a part of the municipality yield as life annuities in exchange. In earlier times a Tulgar pack settling a new area assigned a fighter for protection. This fighter accepted the place name as his last name, e.g. “of Honorrock”. Soon it became custom that a fighter was only then recognized as a fully-fledged knight, when a pack selected him as protector. The "of" was equated with the accolade. The established knights educated their sons as successors, that were again committed to their community and thus resumed the last name. As the settlement wave ebbed a knighthood established, which examined every child at a certain age. The promising ones were taken to the knighthoods estates, became squires and trained to become knights. Meanwhile the "of" in the name only indicates that a Tulgars father is a knight. However he can only succeed his father by achieving knighthood himself. Thus all Tulgar can apply to become squire and maybe knight lateron, thereby gaining the “of”, regardless of his heritage. On the other side a Tulgar must take on great dishonour, to have the "of" revoked. If a Tulgar selects an occupation other than knight, for example physician or craftsman, then he replaces "of" by "van" to indicate that he abandoned the title voluntarily. After the Tulgar found out that there are more planets populated by their race, they also discovered, that each of these planets had created some similar order. They resolved to extend their names in order to specify their origin. Now the country and the planet, from which the knight originates, are included additionally, e.g. Chraron of Honorrock from Talisia on Korgur. Tulgar women are regarded equals to the men, they simply have to fulfil other tasks. They adopt the same "of" in their name as their brothers. When they marry, they assume the name of their husband. However there are exceptions: outstanding women, who attain so much honour, that their men choose to assume their names. There are few, yet one of the best known Tulgar heroes is Taron of Torbis. A mining colony on the moon Torbis was assaulted by a group of Valiesian pirates, who killed the knights and forced the rest to slave labour. The young Taron not only managed to hide and survive, but also to bring all surviving children to a safe hiding place. Again and again she sneaked into the pirates camp to extract the last whelps from their hiding places and steal food. By the time the moon was recaptured by the Tulgar, who had learned of former attack two years later, Taron had lost none of the children. She was made a knight immediately and earned so much fame that years later her husband assumed her name. (*****) Tulgar couples, who mate for life, usually have many children. They usually have between two and six whelps per litter and a healthy Tulgar woman can give birth every three to five years. The children of a litter are litter brothers and sisters and have a closer relationship to each other than to their other brothers and sisters. --- This update introduced two new player characters, Chraron (obviously), a Tulgar explorer and the Oort tech (the player first designed Frank, then wanted to change to play an Oort and then wasn't there, when we introduced him. All i knew that he wanted to swear all the time...thus no name given) [/QUOTE]
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Spacemaster Space Opera : Running the gauntlet (updated 10/28/05)
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