These vile and disraught creatures suffer none but their own. They will stop at nothing to fufill a grudge, and have laid waist to countless empires in doing so. Their very presence on and off the battle field, defines the feeling of death, and death folowes in their path. No one can describe them, because the few that they did leave alive during their bloody seiges never spoke again. If you are ever attacked, you will be lucky if you die a quick death, for the ones who dont... may god have mercy on their souls. They are tireless beasts, and mate so as to produce specific offspring, and are not bound by the ties of marige, so as to make a more effecient race. The smart mate with the smart, who learn under the experienced, and the strong mate with the strong, who train under the battle hardend, and the sleek and quick mate with the sleek and quick to make the pilots, and agents, which then train under the tacticans and the experinced. All they need they get from killing, and all they need to do is kill.