Post by Grand Moff Poobah I on Apr 6, 2016 22:49:34 GMT -5
What are Hategiri? This question has been floated around the offices of bored anthropologists for some time, as the Hategiri (older sources prefer Hategi) have interesting traits that suggest they are highly-specialized Arkanian offshoots. Their own recorded history extends only 2,000 years, and the result is that they are a fascinating little assembly of people. To begin with the survey of their species, let us examine physiology.
The typical Hategiri is perhaps a few centimeters taller than the typical human, and likewise bipedal, with the same number of digits. The first apparent differences are in skin tone. Hategiri have a range of skin colors, from very pitch black to light grey, some even with a distinct blue-grey tint. Secondly, they have elongated and pointed ears like the Sephi. Common eye colors are reds, purples, and blues. Hair tends to be dark, but it does turn white with age. Red hair is an the uncommon sight, but does occur. To further complicate matters, people do dye their hair.
The really fascinating differences stack up inside. Hategiri have a remarkable resistance to toxins, the results of which are intensely pronounced. Poisons that would be instantly fatal are harmless seasoning to the Hategiri. A side result of such internal arrangements is that they are simply not affected by alcohol. Their preferred substance is a smoked substance called Kavish, which has a smell remarkably like incense. They also possess a remarkably strong resistance to damaging radiation, with no apparent natural causes, something that has been widely attributed to Arkanian mad science. While a Hategiri might theoretically live to three centuries, in practice the lifespan tends to be about a century, and less for those occupying desirable positions. They do possess the standard bipedal configuration, with five digits on hands and feet, and they possess all the standard sensing capabilities. The one exception to this is a keener sense of taste. This does not mean more sensitive, merely that Hategiri are better able to identify disparate tastes.
When they speak, Hategiri tend to have accents that might be defined as Albanian to Transylvanian.
Who are the Hategiri then? A quick first glance might suggest the Hategiri are luddites. This is not correct. They tend to dress in older ways, and to rely on animals over mechanized vehicles, but their homes are fully powered. Autochefs are common appliances. A lack of warm water in the refresher is cause for riot. They do make use of technologies in sensible fashion, but just not ways that are rapidly self-apparent. Blasters are not common. This is due primarily to the quiet controls of organized (lawfully that is) crime, and so few people ever found a need to own them. Those that did kept quiet about them if they were smart. Vibroblades, knives, clubs, and big ol sticks were all common substitutes. Of course the Guard, such as they were with precious little duty at hand, carried some fascinating spears that also fired blaster bolts.
One of the most interesting aspects of Hategiri culture is a near-instinctive distrust of very crowded spaces. Hategiri have a near-instinctual ability to detect potentially dangerous situations, and nowhere is this seen more clearly than their preferred methods of transit: walking and animals. As a rule Hategi distrust personal transportation, this being due to a lengthy spat of major bombings of repulsor vehicles a thousand years ago. As a result, settlements tend to be within walking distance or within the riding distance of domesticated animals. Those who are wealthy or in need of speed operate fleets of speeder bikes and airspeeders, but these are not especially common or popular (due primarily to an instinctive ancestral fear of carbombs).
Hategir has no valuable resources really, certainly not anything unusual for a terrestrial world. Indeed it really only has three exports, the first of which is poisons and knowledge relating to them. Indeed people may routinely find Hategiri poisons to be excessive, as anything deadly enough to make a Hategiri feel ill would probably kill a few dozen humans, but the ability to place them or otherwise render dead those deemed problematic is much desired. The second export is the pride of the species (and the only export they'll ever own up to), luxury goods. These are fantastic old-style furniture, wood carvings, clocks and clockwork, and textiles. The last export is their proprietary drug Kavish, which again isn't polite conversational material.
Despite their frequent fear of abrupt death, Hategiri are unfailingly polite, warm, and charitable to most people. This comes from a careful desire to placate anyone who might be up for killing you. Paradoxically though, Hategiri also like to form angry mobs on the usual pretexts and justifications, utilizing their repressed negativity to set fire to assorted objects.
Rather surprisingly, the Hategiri don't really discriminate on the lines of gender or of sexual orientation. These things are looked on about the same way as flavors of ice cream, and as long as you don't try to pick the toppings for somebody else, nobody really minds all that much outside of select bedroom fetishes.
How are the Hategiri governed? This is the question political scientists have asked for centuries, particularly during the aborted attempts by both sides to somehow draw the Hategiri into the Clone Wars.
The governmental system is a complex honeycomb that makes little to no sense to outsiders. There are multiple disparate groups wielding power, among them the Day,Guilds, the Night Guilds*, the Noble Families, the Civil Service, and the Parliament. Essentially the way textbooks describe the system is that the Civil Service exists as a backbone of structure, filled through competence, to which the protective ribs of the Guilds attach. The Noble Families are the heart, and the Parliament elected from those not already in a category serves as the brain. In practice the system makes much less sense, has many more assassinations, and tends to demonstrate that 'illegal' is 9 times out of 10 an issue of not knowing the right people first.
*These being polite euphemisms describing the difference between engraving and say, assassinations.
In practice, government is a nasty sort of affair that only ever works quickly if something is literally on fire. Other than that it's generally a question of finding a stance that appeals to enough different people that it doesn't cause riots, and it makes everyone more or less tolerate it. Foreign policy as a matter of course is doubly confusing, and not of much interest, and as such Hategir maintains the same foreign policy it has always had: Neutrality and a nominal commitment to share whatever values you, esteemed foreigner, hold dear.
What do the Hategiri like? The Hategiri have been established as disliking vehicles, but what do they actually find enjoyment in? The answer is a wide variety of things, but succinctly they can be condensed to four. Food, drink, gambling, and collecting. Hategiri have devised a fine galaxy-renowned cuisine. Galaxy-renowned for the sheer lethality of it, Hategiri have grown so used to assorted poisons and toxins that they're accepted as a flavor along with 'sweet, spicy, salty, etc.' They do mark non-toxic dishes on menus in the name of tourism, and they gravitate towards intensely spicy foods frequently. Their beverage preferences are widespread. Like most beings, they enjoy caf, but they also enjoy any number of teas. In the field of alcoholic, their primary base fermentable is honey. Meads, melomels, and any number of other beverages are preferences. Some are herbal, some are poisoned. In fact the best way to assassinate an idiot is simply to present him with a gift bottle of Hategiri Metheglin.
When it comes to gambling the equation changes a little. Cockfighting, or some variant, is popular on most any world. It's considered acceptable on Hategir, but is usually seen as boring. Any number of personally slighted people agree to duels on Hategir, and their fights are carried out in an arena that always results in excited betting. Other topics of betting include odds of assassination for high profile figures, commodity prices, slogans for the planetary tourism campaign, and anything else you can remotely think of gambling over. Needless to say casinos and card games are often a major temptation.
A Hategiri and his collection are not soon parted. The Hategiri are, with few exceptions, collectors of things, ideas, or people. A Hategiri might have a collection of tapestries, or of political buttons, or of pins, or of ancient artifacts, or of instruments, or possibly just of various lengths of wire. Collections are always a good topic to praise if you want to get on the good side of a Hategiri, though be advised if they follow the teachings of the Brothers of Kvisha they consider such physical collections degrading to the soul (please compliment their collection of spiritualist knowledge instead).
Other popular past-times are equally in evidence. Folk dancing, festivals, sporting events of all kinds, etc. Music is also popular, and tends to fall into either the category of dancing in a tavern to an accordion, or else a mad scientist playing a pipe organ as lightning streaks down from the sky.
The typical Hategiri is perhaps a few centimeters taller than the typical human, and likewise bipedal, with the same number of digits. The first apparent differences are in skin tone. Hategiri have a range of skin colors, from very pitch black to light grey, some even with a distinct blue-grey tint. Secondly, they have elongated and pointed ears like the Sephi. Common eye colors are reds, purples, and blues. Hair tends to be dark, but it does turn white with age. Red hair is an the uncommon sight, but does occur. To further complicate matters, people do dye their hair.
The really fascinating differences stack up inside. Hategiri have a remarkable resistance to toxins, the results of which are intensely pronounced. Poisons that would be instantly fatal are harmless seasoning to the Hategiri. A side result of such internal arrangements is that they are simply not affected by alcohol. Their preferred substance is a smoked substance called Kavish, which has a smell remarkably like incense. They also possess a remarkably strong resistance to damaging radiation, with no apparent natural causes, something that has been widely attributed to Arkanian mad science. While a Hategiri might theoretically live to three centuries, in practice the lifespan tends to be about a century, and less for those occupying desirable positions. They do possess the standard bipedal configuration, with five digits on hands and feet, and they possess all the standard sensing capabilities. The one exception to this is a keener sense of taste. This does not mean more sensitive, merely that Hategiri are better able to identify disparate tastes.
When they speak, Hategiri tend to have accents that might be defined as Albanian to Transylvanian.
Who are the Hategiri then? A quick first glance might suggest the Hategiri are luddites. This is not correct. They tend to dress in older ways, and to rely on animals over mechanized vehicles, but their homes are fully powered. Autochefs are common appliances. A lack of warm water in the refresher is cause for riot. They do make use of technologies in sensible fashion, but just not ways that are rapidly self-apparent. Blasters are not common. This is due primarily to the quiet controls of organized (lawfully that is) crime, and so few people ever found a need to own them. Those that did kept quiet about them if they were smart. Vibroblades, knives, clubs, and big ol sticks were all common substitutes. Of course the Guard, such as they were with precious little duty at hand, carried some fascinating spears that also fired blaster bolts.
One of the most interesting aspects of Hategiri culture is a near-instinctive distrust of very crowded spaces. Hategiri have a near-instinctual ability to detect potentially dangerous situations, and nowhere is this seen more clearly than their preferred methods of transit: walking and animals. As a rule Hategi distrust personal transportation, this being due to a lengthy spat of major bombings of repulsor vehicles a thousand years ago. As a result, settlements tend to be within walking distance or within the riding distance of domesticated animals. Those who are wealthy or in need of speed operate fleets of speeder bikes and airspeeders, but these are not especially common or popular (due primarily to an instinctive ancestral fear of carbombs).
Hategir has no valuable resources really, certainly not anything unusual for a terrestrial world. Indeed it really only has three exports, the first of which is poisons and knowledge relating to them. Indeed people may routinely find Hategiri poisons to be excessive, as anything deadly enough to make a Hategiri feel ill would probably kill a few dozen humans, but the ability to place them or otherwise render dead those deemed problematic is much desired. The second export is the pride of the species (and the only export they'll ever own up to), luxury goods. These are fantastic old-style furniture, wood carvings, clocks and clockwork, and textiles. The last export is their proprietary drug Kavish, which again isn't polite conversational material.
Despite their frequent fear of abrupt death, Hategiri are unfailingly polite, warm, and charitable to most people. This comes from a careful desire to placate anyone who might be up for killing you. Paradoxically though, Hategiri also like to form angry mobs on the usual pretexts and justifications, utilizing their repressed negativity to set fire to assorted objects.
Rather surprisingly, the Hategiri don't really discriminate on the lines of gender or of sexual orientation. These things are looked on about the same way as flavors of ice cream, and as long as you don't try to pick the toppings for somebody else, nobody really minds all that much outside of select bedroom fetishes.
How are the Hategiri governed? This is the question political scientists have asked for centuries, particularly during the aborted attempts by both sides to somehow draw the Hategiri into the Clone Wars.
The governmental system is a complex honeycomb that makes little to no sense to outsiders. There are multiple disparate groups wielding power, among them the Day,Guilds, the Night Guilds*, the Noble Families, the Civil Service, and the Parliament. Essentially the way textbooks describe the system is that the Civil Service exists as a backbone of structure, filled through competence, to which the protective ribs of the Guilds attach. The Noble Families are the heart, and the Parliament elected from those not already in a category serves as the brain. In practice the system makes much less sense, has many more assassinations, and tends to demonstrate that 'illegal' is 9 times out of 10 an issue of not knowing the right people first.
*These being polite euphemisms describing the difference between engraving and say, assassinations.
In practice, government is a nasty sort of affair that only ever works quickly if something is literally on fire. Other than that it's generally a question of finding a stance that appeals to enough different people that it doesn't cause riots, and it makes everyone more or less tolerate it. Foreign policy as a matter of course is doubly confusing, and not of much interest, and as such Hategir maintains the same foreign policy it has always had: Neutrality and a nominal commitment to share whatever values you, esteemed foreigner, hold dear.
What do the Hategiri like? The Hategiri have been established as disliking vehicles, but what do they actually find enjoyment in? The answer is a wide variety of things, but succinctly they can be condensed to four. Food, drink, gambling, and collecting. Hategiri have devised a fine galaxy-renowned cuisine. Galaxy-renowned for the sheer lethality of it, Hategiri have grown so used to assorted poisons and toxins that they're accepted as a flavor along with 'sweet, spicy, salty, etc.' They do mark non-toxic dishes on menus in the name of tourism, and they gravitate towards intensely spicy foods frequently. Their beverage preferences are widespread. Like most beings, they enjoy caf, but they also enjoy any number of teas. In the field of alcoholic, their primary base fermentable is honey. Meads, melomels, and any number of other beverages are preferences. Some are herbal, some are poisoned. In fact the best way to assassinate an idiot is simply to present him with a gift bottle of Hategiri Metheglin.
When it comes to gambling the equation changes a little. Cockfighting, or some variant, is popular on most any world. It's considered acceptable on Hategir, but is usually seen as boring. Any number of personally slighted people agree to duels on Hategir, and their fights are carried out in an arena that always results in excited betting. Other topics of betting include odds of assassination for high profile figures, commodity prices, slogans for the planetary tourism campaign, and anything else you can remotely think of gambling over. Needless to say casinos and card games are often a major temptation.
A Hategiri and his collection are not soon parted. The Hategiri are, with few exceptions, collectors of things, ideas, or people. A Hategiri might have a collection of tapestries, or of political buttons, or of pins, or of ancient artifacts, or of instruments, or possibly just of various lengths of wire. Collections are always a good topic to praise if you want to get on the good side of a Hategiri, though be advised if they follow the teachings of the Brothers of Kvisha they consider such physical collections degrading to the soul (please compliment their collection of spiritualist knowledge instead).
Other popular past-times are equally in evidence. Folk dancing, festivals, sporting events of all kinds, etc. Music is also popular, and tends to fall into either the category of dancing in a tavern to an accordion, or else a mad scientist playing a pipe organ as lightning streaks down from the sky.