4 members
Knights Tempura / TEMPURA
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Infiltration -
Scouting
A dish best served warm.
History
The Crispy Dawn of the Order
In the year 2950, deep within the Sector of Sizzlar Prime, the Knights Tempura were born—not of nobility or prophecy, but from a deep-fryer mishap at a medieval-themed ramen bar on Terra. Sir Crispalot the Greasy, a disgraced line cook turned self-proclaimed “Paladin of Panko,” gathered a crew of like-minded fools who believed the ancient code of chivalry could, nay should, be breaded and launched into space. Armed with ladles, laser lances, and a questionable grasp on physics, they swore to conquer the stars in the name of flavor and glory.
The Batter Crusades
Their first conquest was the unclaimed moon of Yumiko-7, where they established the Fryhold Keep, a castle-shaped orbital station complete with a drawbridge and automated gravy moat. From there, the Knights Tempura launched the Batter Crusades—missions to spread their creed of justice, honor, and deep-fried diplomacy. They clashed with pirates, bureaucrats, and a rogue AI named “Airfryer Prime,” whose goal was to de-oil the galaxy. Many tempura ships were lost, usually due to poor design—turrets mounted on rotisserie motors, for example—but the Order pressed on, draped in golden breading and blind courage.
The Great Sauce Wars
Trouble boiled over during the Great Sauce Wars of 2957. The Knights split into factions over the One True Dipping Sauce—some swore by spicy mayo, others by sweet soy, and one heretical rogue knight, Sir Ranchalot, championed ranch dressing. The internal conflict nearly tore the Order apart. Fortunately, the diplomatic intervention of Lady Teriyaki the Wise, who offered a sampler platter of unity, restored peace. Since then, the Knights have adopted the creed: “All sauces are sacred, but none more than the one currently in your hand.”
Modern Heroics and Extra Napkins
Today, the Knights Tempura roam the stars in ships shaped like jousting lances and medieval turkey legs. They accept all recruits—noble, goofy, or just hungry—so long as they swear the Fried Oath: “To batter boldly, to sizzle with honor, and to never double-dip.” Whether patrolling lawless systems or crashing galas they were definitely not invited to, the Knights Tempura leave a trail of justice, crumbs, and questionable culinary choices. Their legend grows with every misadventure, proving once and for all that in the cold, unforgiving void of space… sometimes, the universe just needs a little more crunch.
Manifesto
Manifesto of the Knights Tempura
We, the gallant crunch-lords of the cosmos, do hereby declare our sacred mission: to voyage boldly where no fryer has bubbled before! Bound by the ancient Code of Crispening and armed with chopsticks of justice, we bring honor, batter, and a questionable sense of medieval fashion to the stars. We stand firm against tyranny, sogginess, and all who would dare serve cold fries. Let it be known—our quest is eternal, our helmets are greasy, and our hearts are lightly seasoned with garlic salt.
We pledge our loyalty to no empire but the Empire of Flavor, our allegiance to no king but King Tempura the Golden-Crusted. With every star conquered and every galactic gala we accidentally deep-fry, we spread the word of righteous ridiculousness. Whether in peace talks or food fights, we charge forward with valor and vinegar. For in this vast, sauce-stained universe, only one truth remains: justice must be crispy… and served with a side of style.
Charter
Charter of the Knights Tempura
Let it be known throughout the stars, grease clouds, and fried nebulae: the Knights Tempura do solemnly found this Order upon the twin pillars of Honor and Extra Crispy. Our sacred duty is to uphold the ancient chivalric code of the Deep Fry, exploring the unknowns of space in search of glory, justice, and the mythical Perfect Dipping Sauce. All members, whether Squire of the Side Dish or Grand Admiral of the Grease Fleet, shall conduct themselves with gallantry, absurdity, and a minimum of three types of breading.
The Knights Tempura swear to defend the battered, bring balance to the lunch tray, and never, ever microwave leftovers. Our keep shall be mobile, our crusades entirely improvised, and our policies delightfully flaky. We shall form alliances over shared appetizers and wage wars with great dramatic flair and poorly maintained jet-lances. To all who hunger for purpose and possess a noble heart (or at least a functioning fryer), we say: join us, and become the crumb-coated legend you were destined to be.
