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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.

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