Planet: Buluakey

City: Kualtal Capital

Kulah bars were notoriously fun for all species so long as it was understood that if you started something then you’d better finish it, and the loser, if they were able, would be buying the next round. Sometimes this happened, other times it wasn’t possible. If there was a fatality it was understood that both combatants entered the brawl on their own terms, none were ever allowed to interfere and if they did, then every last one of them was turned out onto the street where they could finish it or wait for the local authorities to show up and lock them all away. There were few rules to fighting on Buluakey when it was in public, and the only rule that anyone seemed to adhere to had to do with keeping the Kulah happy.

They were fun race, but they weren’t stupid or weak because of this. Their tough,wiry yellow bodies were hardened from generations of working in mines, in high-risk occupations, and from constantly being on the go. The entire race loved to get up and move every so often, as physical activity was a daily part of their lives no matter what it was. But fighting, that was something every Kulah was born ready to do, and the one rule on Buluakey that all other races were made aware of was that you didn’t get Kulah mad.

It wasn’t a good way to enjoy one’s night. But every now and again, someone forgot the rule, or decided to disregard it.

Tonight it had been a dim-witted spacefarer that had gotten it in his head that he could out-drink one of the locals, which was a dumb thing to think, let alone try. The amount of alcohol the average Kulah could consume was nearly triple or more what most other beings could handle. Even the large and fearsome dracons, humanoid creatures with great appetites, heavily-scaled bodies, and a voracious appetite for good food and drink, wouldn’t take on a Kulah without good reason. When a Kulah decided to get into a drinking contest it could last for well onto a day or more, and by that time only the hardiest of opponents would be left standing, which usually meant the Kulah.

This spacefarer, a wolf-faced Canin, had decided he knew better however, and before he’d even mentioned that he was a heavy drinker he’d dared to risk the ire of the entire bar by challenging anyone, ANYONE to a contest to prove him wrong. Well of course several Kulah had chuckled, but one of them had decided to teach him a lesson. Nal figured it was the least he could do as the resident drinking champion of his district.

(to be continued)

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