Thauzuno

Thauzuno, or Craehlil III, is the third planet in the Craehlil System within the Orion Arm of the Milkyway Galaxy. Thauzuno is a planet forged in entropy—an ever-churning crucible of adaptive survivalism, hyper-urban decay, and ruthless innovation. Craehlil is a K-type orange dwarf, locked in a slow axial wobble that produces unpredictable climate shifts and long twilight periods, bathing its sprawling surface cities in constant amber gloom.   Thauzuno is a war-scarred sprawl of megacities, where survival hinges on adaptability and allegiance is a calculated risk. While the atmosphere remains nitrogen-oxygen based, it is heavily polluted—requiring filtration in most urban zones due to industrial byproducts and lingering chemical residues. Power is decentralized; syndicates, mercenaries, and rogue technocrats rule by precision and paranoia, their laws enforced through encrypted contracts and tactical fear. Every structure, system, and ritual serves a purpose. To walk Thauzuno is to navigate a living, predatory system—and only the adaptive endure.

Thauzuno’s geography is a volatile testament to geological violence, ecological collapse, and industrial overreach. Its landscape is defined not by natural equilibrium, but by chaotic tectonics, scarred biomes, and the layered remains of dead civilizations. The planet’s crust is fractured along multiple fault belts—most prominently the Vol’Zhar Fracture System, a planetary-scale fault network marked by exposed mantle upwellings, magma-skinned escarpments, and volatile geothermal discharges. These fissures radiate seismic instability across the surface, creating a global lattice of unstable lithospheric plates. The largest tectonic formations include the Ghraath Plate, Zorvian Microplate, and Vey’dan Subduction Crescent, whose slow, grinding collisions have shaped Thauzuno’s landforms and defined its political frontiers.   The equatorial region, once dominated by hyperactive rainforest biomes, has been obliterated by climatic shifts and syndicate-driven industrial expansion. In their place lie the Ash Flats of Taz-Mora, a belt of chemically seared plains where vegetation is reduced to metallic-rooted lichen and petrochemical moss. These plains border the Craehl Rift Zone, a massive chain of rift valleys stretching over 700 kilometers, descending more than a kilometer in depth in some areas. Their jagged profiles are lined with automated extractor platforms and semi-abandoned drill spires, managed by remote AIs or desperate scavenger guilds. In certain zones, gravitational anomalies and localized magnetic disruptions render navigation erratic—some of these areas are designated Red Sectors by regional syndicates, due to the spontaneous malfunction of drones and reported bio-instability among workers.   The planet’s topography consists largely of eroded highlands and tectonic scars, punctuated by ridgelines of jagged basalt and silicon-glass formations created by ancient thermal blooms. Peaks reach up to 7,963 meters above sea level, particularly in the Vorthan Arcs, a semistable orogenic belt stabilized through deep-anchored tremor baffles installed during the Vey’Zari High Ascendancy. These mountains, their faces lacerated by dust storms and acid wind, form natural demarcation lines between rival polities and are often host to outpost bastions, encrypted relay towers, and camouflaged artillery nests. Erosion, accelerated by the abrasive atmosphere and chemical rainfall, has stripped away softer geological material, leaving behind skeletal terrain riddled with fault gouges and salt-burnt mineral veins. Many ranges also exhibit strata-inversion scars, where past tectonic collisions have thrust deep crustal layers to the surface, exposing rare mineral deposits now targeted by orbital mining strikes.   Valleys and basins scattered throughout the highlands are littered with the remains of Thauzuno’s former infrastructure: collapsed Tier-1 Arcologies, maglev bridges twisted into rusted knots, and fractured geothermal harvest towers now dormant or bleeding residual steam. These ruins are classified by hazard rating, collapse index, and syndicate ownership, often disputed in contract-encoded territorial wars. The valleys that once supported agriculture—particularly along the Zaleth Drainage Basin—are now dry floodplains clogged with nanoplastic silt and bio-waste runoff, drained of vitality and choked by industrial remnants.   Coastal zones have suffered widespread transformation due to tectonic slippage, industrial reclamation, and tidal instability driven by the erratic pull of Vra’ath. Shorelines are unstable, marked by eroded promontories, sunken ports, and artificial breakwaters built from alloy-reinforced basalt. The Sunken Shelf of Vor’kaal, once a thriving littoral ecosystem, is now submerged beneath chemically stained waters and dotted with mooring towers for atmospheric filtration rigs. The oceans themselves are colored by thick currents of metallic oxide runoff, suspended petrochemicals, and engineered microbial blooms designed to break down pollutants—though many have gone rogue, forming aggressive colonies hostile to unshielded vessels.   Inland from these poisoned coastlines are the Blackmarsh Reclamation Zones, once verdant mangrove estuaries now transfigured into toxic boglands. These swamps are dominated by bio-engineered flora—fungal pillars and ferro-rooted trees capable of filtering toxic compounds but prone to sudden die-offs that collapse entire districts into sinkholes. Crisscrossed by rusted pipeline conduits and partially submerged hab-ruins, the region is often contested between water cartels and reclamation guilds who fight to control Seva-Class Extractor Towers, massive vertical filtration engines that purify the otherwise uninhabitable brine. These towers shimmer in the planet’s amber light, rising like dying obelisks over dead ecosystems.   Waterways across Thauzuno have been forcibly reconfigured by both tectonic activity and megacorporate interference. Many rivers—such as the once-mighty Thaalis Torrent—have been diverted into subterranean culverts for cooling industrial engines or lost entirely due to collapses in aquifer systems. Others, like the Veynari Drift, flow sluggishly across rust-coated plains, carrying bio-reactive sludge and industrial solvents toward chemically dead estuaries. These rivers are lifelines in name only—flooding sporadically with acidic stormwater, their banks lined with scavenger shanties and crumbling sensor grids designed to detect flow toxicity. The floodplains, especially in the Echelon Basin, are now wastelands where once-automated irrigation systems lie shattered and crops rot in alkali-scarred fields, leaving behind only stalks of gene-failed grain and data-shrines erected by displaced Vey’Zari sects.   Finally, across the central continents, salt flats and mineral basins dominate. Formed from evaporated inland seas and thermal drawdown events, these flats—such as the Orrik Bight—are riddled with geothermal sinkholes, brine geysers, and rare crystalloid formations that warp light and sensor readings. The region’s strategic significance lies in its subterranean aquifers—pockets of highly alkaline water used for hydro-reactor cooling, sold by the milliliter, or fought over by water-syndicates. Many of these aquifers are sealed beneath crustal vaults protected by encrypted seismic locks, their access regulated by AI custodians and mercenary proxies.

Thauzuno’s climate is one of its most punishing and defining features—a volatile testament to planetary instability shaped by its extreme axial tilt, slow axial precession, and centuries of industrial abuse. With an axial tilt of 31.8°, Thauzuno endures erratic and prolonged seasonal extremes, amplified further by a slow axial precession cycle of 19,500 years. These long-term shifts induce massive regional climate upheavals and prolonged periods of hemispheric imbalance, resulting in a world where weather, temperature, and solar exposure operate on both geological and tactical timescales.   A defining characteristic of the planet’s climate is its near-perpetual twilight, caused by the slow axial wobble and the dim amber light of its parent star, Craehlil. This produces extended dawn and dusk phases that bathe the surface in a dim, coppery glow for weeks or months at a time. The result is an atmosphere heavy with suspended particulates and thermally unstable air masses. Sunlit phases can see surface temperatures soar to highs of 131°C (267.8°F)—localized and typically experienced in lowland basalt flats or equatorial badlands exposed during orbital aphelion. By contrast, regions facing away from solar exposure during extended winter tilts can experience plunges to -40°C (-40°F), locking entire zones in frost, freezing aquifers solid, and causing metallic infrastructure to contract and fracture. The planet's average mean temperature rests at a hazardous 47°C (116.6°F), with only heavily shielded or subterranean enclaves offering respite. These extreme temperature gradients produce violent atmospheric phenomena. Most notably, rapid thermal shifts between zones generate immense pressure differentials, spawning continent-scale dust storms that sweep across the planet with abrasive force. These Craehl Storms can persist for days, scouring the surface with rust-laden sand, carbonized debris, and fragments of long-collapsed structures. Cities caught in their paths often suffer complete visibility blackouts, equipment corrosion, and surface abrasions deep enough to erode composite armor. Syndicate engineers often deploy ion-static baffles or stormbreak mesh shields around key infrastructure to reduce erosion during peak events.   Along the coastlines and industrial centers, frequent chemical rains fall—precipitation rich in nitric acids, volatile hydrocarbons, and suspended metal particulates. These toxic downpours, a legacy of centuries of unregulated combustion and effluent discharge, produce a corrosive cycle of environmental degradation. They dissolve metal, erode masonry, and cause chemical burns upon contact with unshielded flesh. Some megacities have developed shielding systems and weather-diverting grids, but rural and unregulated territories must rely on improvised filtration shelters or reinforced hull housing to survive. In swampy reclamation zones and low-pressure coastal basins, repeated saturation has created acidic basins—poisonous, viscous pools known as Zhael Sludge Pits, where even bio-engineered flora struggles to grow. High-altitude zones, particularly around the Vorthan Arcs, are subjected to ferocious jetstream activity, with winds regularly exceeding 100 km/h. These winds can carry fine crystalline particulates capable of damaging aerial drones and penetrating light armor. On occasion, the planet’s high electromagnetic volatility leads to the formation of plasma storms—a rare and dangerous meteorological event where the atmosphere becomes electrically charged. These “Volthic Events” ignite ambient ions into dazzling, deadly arcs of energy that dance across mountaintops and spire cities, disabling electronics, short-circuiting defensive grids, and killing exposed biologicals via direct electrostatic discharge. These storms are usually preceded by atmospheric resonance spikes and sudden radio silence, giving observers only minutes to take cover.   The planet’s chaotic orbital eccentricity (0.092) and axial tilt result in highly irregular seasons that defy traditional calendars. “Summer” in Thauzuno’s equatorial belt can last between 90 and 200 days, depending on the precession phase and local orbital velocity, leading to months of unrelenting heat and ultraviolet exposure. Inversely, winters—especially in the northern Drosshollow region—can plunge entire districts into cold stasis for over 160 days. During these periods, infrastructure must operate on emergency geothermal reserves, and frost-cracking becomes common across reinforced alloys, collapsing older strata-level habitats. Oceans contract visibly during deep winter, exposing contaminated seabeds and releasing plumes of volatile compounds into the atmosphere, further compromising air quality. Humidity across Thauzuno is irregular and increasingly artificial. Natural evaporation cycles have broken down in most regions due to thermal imbalance, leading to sudden, localized fogs laced with reactive compounds. These thermal fog banks condense into lung-damaging vapors, and are especially common near geothermal drill fields and abandoned hydrothermal vents. In contrast, inland zones suffer from severe aridity, with relative humidity dropping below 10%, accelerating dust formation and the breakdown of organic material. Most urban districts employ distributed moisture traps and atmo-condensers to extract usable water vapor from the air—another vital function of the ubiquitous spire-towers seen across major population centers.   Air quality across the surface is catastrophic. Thauzuno’s atmosphere, though oxygen-nitrogen based, is now saturated with industrial byproducts. Average air pressure at sea level remains high (2.35 atm), but breathable zones are limited due to elevated concentrations of synthetic aerosols, volatile organic compounds, and trace radiation particulate. Mobile populations—such as scavenger clans, courier guilds, or outpost surveyors—utilize compact tracheal filtration implants or full environmental respirators. In some rural syndicate sectors, gene-modified populations have emerged with enhanced pulmonary filtration systems, capable of surviving in low-grade air zones without equipment for short durations. Despite its lethality, Thauzuno’s climate is not entirely random. Its violence is patterned—predictable to those who observe long enough. Veteran weather cartographers and guild navigators often consult orbital drift models, historical precession cycles, and radiation bloom charts to plan trade routes, raids, or industrial operations. These storm-seers maintain climate sanctums—reinforced towers buried beneath the crust, armed with ancient sensors and pre-Collapse meteorological data arrays. There, climatological warfare is waged: predicting plasma arcs, sabotage via weather drones, and weaponized precipitation events.

Thauzuno’s once-thriving ecosystems have been irreparably altered, leaving behind a planet marked by adaptive survivalism and engineered hybridization born of desperation. The original biodiversity—dominated by dense, hyperactive equatorial jungles, carnivorous flora, and symbiotic microfauna—has been systematically destroyed by industrial devastation, tectonic catastrophe, and atmospheric corrosion. What remains is a mosaic of extremophile biomes and fractured genetic lineages. The dominant plant life has transitioned from organic abundance to strategic resilience: scrublands, spore-bearing mosses, and chemically tolerant lichens form the baseline of survivable flora. These plants are not passive—they have been modified, either through corporate tampering or by evolutionary acceleration, to metabolize toxic substances and resist corrosive precipitation. Many possess self-defense traits, including contact-sensitive toxin sacs, electrically charged tendrils, and thermogenic counter-responses to chemical rain.   Among the most distinct survivors are the bio-reactive mosses, which thrive in zones of high pollution and fluctuating temperature. These species actively extract nanoplasts and volatile compounds from the soil and air, breaking them down through enzymatic reactions. When disturbed—by fauna, Vey’Zari presence, or pressure shifts—they release clouds of toxic spores rich in mutagenic compounds, serving both as defense and reproductive method. These spores are windborne and can seed new colonies kilometers away, particularly during the seasonal Craehl Storms, which provide both dispersal and nutrient redistribution through abrasive surface scouring. In higher elevations, moss analogs with crystalline cellulose structures have emerged, capable of reflecting ultraviolet radiation and harvesting thermal gradients to power rudimentary bioelectric processes. Several species exhibit chemical memory, modifying their spore release pattern based on prior threats—suggesting a semi-sentient pattern-recognition behavior emerging under evolutionary pressure. Thauzuno’s fauna have evolved—or been engineered—into narrow survival profiles shaped by biothermal extremes, chemical toxicity, and resource scarcity. Most native species are now unrecognizable, having either perished or undergone generations of forced mutation. Remaining lineages include dermally-armored arthropods, anaerobic-breathing carrion feeders, and thermophilic predators capable of entering torpor during sun-blast phases. Larger apex predators, such as the Lur’vaath, are serpentine macro-scavengers capable of metabolizing heavy metals and decomposing biomass indiscriminately. Their digestive systems are lined with reactive microbial colonies that convert synthetic waste into nutrient chains, enabling them to feed off abandoned tech stockpiles or battlefield detritus. These creatures exhibit thermal-echo sensing and limited vocal mimicry, often luring scavengers or drones into ambush range.   Other terrestrial species have developed hyper-adaptive traits. The Therex, a family of avian-like gliders with membrane-wings, are capable of generating weak electromagnetic pulses during flight. This evolutionary trait interferes with sensor systems, motion trackers, and basic electronics—a defense developed in response to the widespread presence of surveillance drones and deterrence fields. Their feathers exhibit piezoelectric properties, enabling intra-flock communication during high-wind conditions. Insects and small scavenger species, many of which are bio-luminescent and partially metallic in composition, form complex social collectives. These organisms nest in hollowed-out relay nodes, defunct ventilation systems, and decomposing power cores—hijacking old infrastructure to construct rudimentary techno-organic hives. They feed on degraded energy residues, circuitboard metals, and sometimes liquefied biomass, forming a critical—but hazardous—part of Thauzuno’s reconfigured food chain. Mutation is endemic across all biological strata. These are not merely natural variations, but the consequence of prolonged exposure to atmospheric radiation, trace pollutants, industrial mutagens, and uncontrolled genetic drift from corporate experimentation. The resulting anomalies range from harmless deformities to radical new phenotypes. Luminescent dermal patches, weaponized pheromones, ambient thermogenesis, and selective chemical mimicry are all documented traits. In some districts, entire taxonomic clades have disappeared and re-emerged with new metabolic systems. While some attribute this to synthetic horizontal gene transfer via legacy biofactories, others suspect ancient viral reservoirs—reawakened by tectonic exposure—are actively rewriting local genomes.   The legacy of Thauzuno’s corporate-era biological engineering is most evident in the synthetic and semi-synthetic organisms still roaming its surface. The Khe’raiv, originally designed for atmospheric filtration and deep-mining operations, are large arthropodic constructs with integrated industrial filter gills and adaptive respiration cycles. They consume toxic gases and leach heavy metals from soil matrices, converting them into usable bio-materials or excreting inert slag. Decommissioned by most factions, Khe’raiv colonies now operate independently, slowly migrating across the wastelands, sometimes mistaken for tectonic activity due to their immense weight and low-frequency movement. Others, like the Varsh’ka, were bred explicitly for war: hulking, quadrupedal brutes with chitinous armor and cyber-synaptic reflex loops. Initially deployed for urban pacification and perimeter defense, they now operate in feral clusters, territorial and unpredictable. Attempts to re-domesticate them via neuro-override implants have met with violent failure. Aquatic ecosystems have been equally transformed, if not more radically. Thauzuno’s oceans, now colored by layers of nanoplastic silt, suspended metallic oxides, and anaerobic blooms, are home to organisms so altered that traditional classification is obsolete. Filter-feeders with electrogenic siphons line the chemically active thermoclines, often forming co-dependent colonies with symbiotic algae strains engineered for hydrocarbon digestion. Formerly edible fish species have either mutated into toxin-secreting scavengers or vanished entirely. Instead, gene-spliced aquatics—designed for reclamation or sabotage—now dominate. These include the Rellithar, predatory cephalopods with cybernetic ganglia, once used for submarine infiltration and asset extraction. Independent and now uncontrolled, they have formed highly intelligent rogue pods.   Coral ecosystems have decayed into hyper-adaptive fungal networks, forming rigid, branching structures that digest biological detritus and metallic waste alike. These coral-fungi hybrids emit pulses of bioluminescent light and intermittent bioelectric discharges, often interfering with marine sensor grids. In deeper trenches, thermal-reactive serpents—some over thirty meters long—coil among abandoned sub-ecologies, metabolizing radiation and pressurized compounds as a form of respiration. These creatures are considered high-priority threats and are known to attack mineral harvest rigs during low-tide gravitational anomalies. Despite its devastation, Thauzuno’s biosphere is not dead—it is simply transformed. Life here is no longer governed by balance or evolution in a traditional sense, but by immediate adaptive viability. In this ecosystem, survival is neither guaranteed nor accidental. Organisms are engineered by need, shaped by collapse, and weaponized by history. The resulting biosphere is not one of nature—it is one of consequence. Every breath, step, and bite is a negotiation with the planet’s madness. And those who thrive within it are no longer natural beings, but co-survivors of an engineered apocalypse.

Thauzuno is orbited by a single, erratic moon known as Vra’ath, a desolate and heavily cratered satellite that mirrors the planet’s hostility in every facet. Tidally locked to Thauzuno, Vra’ath presents one scarred hemisphere to its parent world while the far side remains in eternal, frozen darkness. The moon’s surface is devoid of atmosphere and experiences no buffering from solar radiation or micrometeorite impacts, rendering it an airless, irradiated wasteland shaped by ancient collisions and industrial desecration. Vra’ath is approximately 0.18 times the mass of Thauzuno, granting it substantial tidal influence and contributing to the planet’s chaotic hydrological and tectonic activity.   The near side of Vra’ath endures drastic temperature fluctuations. During periods of direct solar exposure, surface temperatures can exceed 400°C (752°F), while the far side plunges to below -160°C (-256°F), forming cryogenic fissures and pressure fractures along the terminator line. These extremes have formed a rugged terrain of jagged ridges, fragmented lava tubes, and high-density impact basins. The moon’s rotational synchrony and orbital eccentricity periodically intensify tidal effects on Thauzuno, contributing to the planet’s erratic ocean surges, tectonic strain cycles, and atmospheric pressure fluctuations. These tidal events are recorded and modeled by syndicate hydrologists under the Vaarn-Korr Displacement Index, used to forecast infrastructure vulnerability in coastal and midland zones.   Although biologically sterile, Vra’ath plays a vital role in Thauzuno’s industrial economy. Its crust is saturated with valuable isotopes, lanthanides, and volatile compounds—many inaccessible under Thauzuno’s volatile surface. Deep-bore mining operations on Vra’ath are managed by automated extraction syndicates and long-range drone fleets, coordinated from fortified orbital platforms. Operations focus primarily on promethium veins, synthetic isotope cladding materials, and rare superconductive silicates used in atmospheric gridwork and energy lattice production. Mining installations, typically located within ancient impact craters, are shielded by radiation-hardened ferro-ceramic domes and magnetic deflection arrays to mitigate both solar flare exposure and localized seismic events. These facilities operate under strict thermocycle schedules due to the harsh day-night differential, with industrial rotas synced to the Cryo-Solar Transit Protocol, a time-standard unique to the Vra’ath Extraction Axis. The moon’s hazardous surface is littered with remnants of failed expeditions, collapsed crawler rigs, and stripped relay towers. Scavenger factions, operating in defiance of orbital syndicate security, regularly attempt breaches into abandoned or poorly maintained stations, seeking rare alloys and precursor tech left behind by early post-collapse colonization efforts. Legends persist of buried arc-vaults from the pre-syndicate era, allegedly containing forbidden AI cores, experimental weapon systems, or alien relics—though none have been officially verified. Due to extreme signal degradation caused by Vra’ath’s crustal composition and geomagnetic reflection fields, most communications are relayed through high-altitude drone relays in geostationary orbit above Thauzuno.   The moon’s gravitational resonance with Thauzuno induces subtle but continuous stress on the planet’s already fractured tectonic plates. These stress patterns result in a phenomenon known as Vraathic Echoquakes—shallow, high-frequency tremors that propagate through crustal fault lines. These quakes are particularly destructive near the Vol’Zhar Fracture System, where even minor resonance spikes can trigger collapses or reactive fissuring in geothermal basins. In some instances, these tidal disturbances have led to cascading failures in megacity substructure, especially in poorly shielded sectors or older syndicate zones where architecture predates post-torsional reinforcement codes. Despite its uninhabitable surface, Vra’ath remains a focal point for power and conflict. Control over its extraction rights is one of the most hotly contested privileges among Thauzuno’s major syndicates, mercenary unions, and rogue technocrat enclaves. Fortified orbital elevators, anchored to mass-transfer platforms on the Thauzunian surface, deliver payloads from Vra’ath to surface smelteries under armed escort. These corridors, known as Aether Chains, are prime targets for sabotage, hijacking, or corporate blackmail, and are often guarded by autonomous defense networks or orbital kill-sats. The moon’s desolation does not diminish its strategic value—it amplifies it, turning every cratered basin into a vault of contested wealth.   While some believe Vra’ath’s extraction yields are nearing depletion, others claim that its core holds still-undiscovered depths of mineral wealth, or worse, buried infrastructure from a forgotten epoch of pre-collapse civilization. Whatever the truth, Vra’ath is no longer just a satellite—it is a crucible of desperation, risk, and strategic necessity. A dead moon that bleeds metal and memory into the toxic womb of Thauzuno, sustaining a planet that survives only through extraction, decay, and defiance.

The Vey’Zari are a near-human race native to Thauzuno, whose existence revolves around survival through precision, negotiation, and utility. They inhabit a sprawling network of cities that bleed into one another, megazones layered in haze, neon, rust, and noise. There are no capitals—only convergence points. Cities like Taz’Vaar, Nex-Karnath, and Yel Dravuun pulse with life 27 hours a day, every corner lit by flickering signage, diagnostic holos, and static-choked broadcasts. Infrastructure is uneven—decaying mag-rail lines run beside cable-swarmed tramways, and pedestrian corridors wind beneath hive-towers of modular housing. Traffic flows like blood through arterial flyways—hovercraft, courier rigs, and vendor carts stacked with repurposed tech and chemical recyclables. No single authority governs the Vey’Zari. Society is stratified by syndicates, corporate holdovers, mercenary guilds, data unions, and localized contract clusters. Every zone operates under its own code set—some formalized, others enforced through social cohesion, digital pressure, or direct action. All agreements are encoded, tracked, and cross-validated through overlapping ledger systems: Stack Chains, Redline Protocols, and Microtrust Loops. Citizenship is not inherited—it is negotiated. Names are fluid. Roles change constantly. Individuals revise their identifiers with each new contract, performance metric, or political realignment. A person might be a broker one day, a courier the next, and a fugitive the day after.   The Vey’Zari have no need for permanence. Cultural expression is encrypted: graffiti layered with metadata, clothing woven from recycled ledger fragments, and music encoded in ultrasonic bursts. Everything is aestheticized for use—fashion doubles as identity tokening, tattoos are legal footnotes, and a person's dialect marks their social cluster and negotiation tier. Their slang shifts faster than transmission standards; what matters is not being right, but being in phase with the moment. In Vey’Zari society, strength is found not in control, but in precision. Those who fail to adapt are priced out, cut off, or forgotten. The street has no memory—only bandwidth. Power flows not from weapons or ideology, but from the ability to read the undercurrents of exchange and respond before others even realize a shift has occurred. On Thauzuno, to live is to trade, to speak in metrics, and to survive on margins so thin they barely exist. And the Vey’Zari do not merely endure—they calculate, reframe, and resurface.