Thvar was doing his rounds of his planet capital, Mora City. Despite what the galaxy may think, they weren’t completely against technological advancement. With an enemy like Ninope, tribal weapons wouldn’t be enough.

He stopped, holding a hand out behind him to warn the others behind him to stop as well. A space ship. One that crashed on the wastelands of Mora. He narrowed his eyes, which then hardened. Ninopian Ship.

He quickly approached it, taking the ships scarps and throwing them to the side with complete ease as he scanned the ground for the person. She was conscious, alive on the ground and scared.

He scoffed. He picked her up by the waist, lifting her up to his eye level. Most Tarwal averaged on 12 or 13 feet tall, she was tiny, his cold, completely neon turquoise eyes stared into hers. “What business does a Ninopian woman have here?!” He asked sharply, he scanned her. She was beautiful, he wondered if she would be good enough to severe as a High Priestess for the temple at Mora. It would be a mockery towards the Ninopian.