Tired of Floran savagery, you have taken to the stars to pursue a more honourable hunt. Your ship has run out of fuel in orbit of an unknown planet. For too long, your people have been content with hunting small prey. Not you. You Long to stab, but not just any old thing. You have honour. Integrity. A basic level of literacy. You want more out of life, and when you return, triumphant, your cocoonkin will no longer call you weird, and hiss at you. You can feel it in your stems.