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Description
Thriving in the relatively low gravity of Mars, the thulsa is a truly massive animal. It is one of the largest land animals on Mars, dwarfing most dinosaurs in size and nearly as massive as Earth’s blue whale. The largest thulsas are up to 70’ long and as tall as a four-story building. They are phenomenally strong and tough, and are capable of amazing feats of endurance. Though their wild counterparts are extremely tempermental and dangerous and should be given a wide berth, thulsas are also highly intelligent and social animals. Those thulsas raised in captivity are quite trainable, and serve the civilizations of Mars as unparalleled beasts of burden and mounts of war.

Unfortunately, it is exceedingly rare for domesticated thulsas to successfully breed, necessitating the constant introduction of new, wild babies into the domestic bloodlines. Separating a baby thulsa from its parent would seem impossible, given the adults’ ferocious defense of any babies in the herd, but the thulsa-breeders of Mars enrich their stock before the wild babies are even born. As paramamalians, thulsas still reproduce by laying large clutches of eggs deep in the sandy soil, then return months later to escort the new hatchlings into the herd. Crafty Martians take this opportunity to excavate choice eggs while the parents are away. Since more than half of the eggs laid are picked off by scavengers anyway, this provides the perfect opportunity to add new stock without depleting the natural population.

The uses for domesticate thulsas are many, but the most obvious are warfare, labor and transportation. A thulsa’s array of horns are extremely hard, providing a devastating weapon for both defense and attack. Their thick skin also allows them to body-slam seemingly immovable objects without harming themselves, as well as stomping structures into rubble. Trained war-thulsas are capable of reducing all but the most massive fortifications to ruins in a matter of minutes. Even in the most humble and peaceful of roles, a thulsa is a stunning and impressive sight. Wealthy merchants may move an entire caravan worth of goods on a single thulsa, including their shops and storehouses, as well as their staff, all housed in an extensive howdah-complex atop the beast’s ample back.

The only thing stopping the widespread use of these mighty powerhouses is the almost cataclysmic amount of food and water they require. Though they may go for long periods between drinking and eating, in the course of a year a thulsa eats so much food that it could easily devastate enough farmland to hobble a large city-state. Thulsas on the move must constantly stop to graze and drink at any opportunity, and it is extremely difficult to keep to a large-scale pre-planned route if there happens to be a shortage of natural foliage or fresh water along the way. If not for the limiting factor of nutrition, the civilizations of Mars might have leveled all their cities with war-thulsas, leaving only nomadic howdah-cities perched atop the colossal beast’s backs.

For those who care, the thulsa was originally inspired by a prehistoric mammal called an uintatherium, which was much, MUCH smaller than my fictional version, and in the end turned out to be a completely different beastie all together. This background was another experiment for me, as well, and I’m pretty happy with the result. And yes, the name is totally a tribute to James Earl Jones’ weirdo villain from Conan the Barbarian. Because James Earl Jones is awesome. He’s in ur city-state, crushin’ ur bildingz.

Description
Thriving in the relatively low gravity of Mars, the thulsa is a truly massive animal. It is one of the largest land animals on Mars, dwarfing most dinosaurs in size and nearly as massive as Earth’s blue whale. The largest thulsas are up to 70’ long and as tall as a four-story building. They are phenomenally strong and tough, and are capable of amazing feats of endurance. Though their wild counterparts are extremely tempermental and dangerous and should be given a wide berth, thulsas are also highly intelligent and social animals. Those thulsas raised in captivity are quite trainable, and serve the civilizations of Mars as unparalleled beasts of burden and mounts of war.

Unfortunately, it is exceedingly rare for domesticated thulsas to successfully breed, necessitating the constant introduction of new, wild babies into the domestic bloodlines. Separating a baby thulsa from its parent would seem impossible, given the adults’ ferocious defense of any babies in the herd, but the thulsa-breeders of Mars enrich their stock before the wild babies are even born. As paramamalians, thulsas still reproduce by laying large clutches of eggs deep in the sandy soil, then return months later to escort the new hatchlings into the herd. Crafty Martians take this opportunity to excavate choice eggs while the parents are away. Since more than half of the eggs laid are picked off by scavengers anyway, this provides the perfect opportunity to add new stock without depleting the natural population.

The uses for domesticate thulsas are many, but the most obvious are warfare, labor and transportation. A thulsa’s array of horns are extremely hard, providing a devastating weapon for both defense and attack. Their thick skin also allows them to body-slam seemingly immovable objects without harming themselves, as well as stomping structures into rubble. Trained war-thulsas are capable of reducing all but the most massive fortifications to ruins in a matter of minutes. Even in the most humble and peaceful of roles, a thulsa is a stunning and impressive sight. Wealthy merchants may move an entire caravan worth of goods on a single thulsa, including their shops and storehouses, as well as their staff, all housed in an extensive howdah-complex atop the beast’s ample back.

The only thing stopping the widespread use of these mighty powerhouses is the almost cataclysmic amount of food and water they require. Though they may go for long periods between drinking and eating, in the course of a year a thulsa eats so much food that it could easily devastate enough farmland to hobble a large city-state. Thulsas on the move must constantly stop to graze and drink at any opportunity, and it is extremely difficult to keep to a large-scale pre-planned route if there happens to be a shortage of natural foliage or fresh water along the way. If not for the limiting factor of nutrition, the civilizations of Mars might have leveled all their cities with war-thulsas, leaving only nomadic howdah-cities perched atop the colossal beast’s backs.

For those who care, the thulsa was originally inspired by a prehistoric mammal called an uintatherium, which was much, MUCH smaller than my fictional version, and in the end turned out to be a completely different beastie all together. This background was another experiment for me, as well, and I’m pretty happy with the result. And yes, the name is totally a tribute to James Earl Jones’ weirdo villain from Conan the Barbarian. Because James Earl Jones is awesome. He’s in ur city-state, crushin’ ur bildingz.