The desert shaped him. Scouring winds and merciless heat and the denizens of the sands had wrought out of him a hunter of esteem, a brazen youth grown into a savagely formidable Blooded warrior that embodied the distinctions of the desert yautja Clans. He was without rival among their number, challenged often but always victorious. Even within the bounds of his Clan's code his barbarity was seen as remarkable, and it was that barbarity that earned him a much-coveted position in an off-world Hunt.
In the Clanship's kehrite he tested himself against his peers. He was one of the very few selected from the arid regions of the homeworld, something of a rarity in a Hunt such as this. The blatant physiological differences between himself and most of the other yautja warranted curiosity. He laid questions both unasked and asked to rest by defeating those who stepped forth to serve as his opponents. He respected the rules of the host Clan — first fall meant defeat. He never faltered and his actions while sparring earned him the reputation of being needlessly savage – more than one of his opponents left the kehrite with broken bones or missing talons or tusks. Other Blooded gave him the mantle of kha'bj-te. It bothered him not at all.
He observed the destination planet from the holographic display available to all Blooded within the communal quarters. Earth. It had seven continents with vastly differing biomes, so unlike the homeworld, but the true appeal of Earth to yautja was its apex species: humans, in possession of cunning and ingenuity and the ability to fight back. There was more to Hunt on this world other than the humans, far more, but humans were the main reason for this excursion. The kha'bj-te looked forward to Hunting all creatures he deemed worthy.
He was delivered to the planet alone. Some yautja on this trek had chosen to Hunt in groups. He disdained such a notion, greatly preferring to indulge in the pursuit of trophies on his own. His first hours on this strange planet were beset with an unfamiliar but not unpleasant fascination — the yautja homeworld was made of desert and jungle. Earth's environmental variety was unanticipated despite having prior knowledge and in one solar cycle he had traversed forest, grassland and swamp. He did not kill until the second day, when he had satiated his curiosity for his surroundings.
He started small. He studied predatory animals and their ways and then pit himself against them. None among them offered a challenge, but that particular gratification could wait until later. He peeled skin from muscle and bone and studied the texture, the thickness, the transparency. He collected skulls. He covered great distances by leaping from tree limb to tree limb, proceeding on foot only when tracking. The vision modes of his bio-mask served him well here.
It was three days before he needed to eat and he fed on the bones of a grey-furred canid he had defeated. He removed the biological matter from its skull and secured the trophy on his belt and was then beckoned by the sound of another canid nearby. He went in search of the sound. On the muddied bank of a stream he found a footprint that stirred his blood: human. He had seen some of them from afar but had not yet engaged, preferring an encounter of a more organic nature. He'd just been presented with the opportunity and he embarked on the Hunt he had been waiting for, his steps driven by a quiet and eager anticipation. It was time to discover if humans were the ultimate prey that veteran yautja claimed them to be.
He tracked the human through forest, plain, and swamp. In finally finding it he also encountered a pleasant surprise — another of Earth's predators, a massive four-legged ursine with bulk and power to match his own. The human, in an effort to evade the beast, had sought refuge within the wooden domicile of a semi-aquatic rodent. Not a very effective choice of action, but the kha'bj-te could appreciate the cleverness of the decision. He spared the human's life by drawing the attention of the beast and what followed was a true test of his might, a struggle between titans. The beast was a veteran of many battles and wore the scars of those victories upon its hide. It was a fierce opponent, its greater bulk to its advantage, and for the first time since setting foot on this planet the kha'bj-te experienced pain.
He emerged victorious, gutting the beast and hefting it over his head. It was much a declaration of triumph as it was a display of his prowess for the little human observing. As blood poured over his masked head and down his body, he watched as the human slipped into the river and let the current carry it away. There was no need to pursue it quite yet. He would claim his trophies and find it later.
.x.
Perched on a branch high above, the kha'bj-te watched as his human prey fought with others of its kind. The individual his prey battled was both taller and heavier, its bare chest revealing that it was male. Upon closer examination the kha'bj-te realized his prey was female. Surprising, that — in all the tales he'd heard told of time spent on Earth Hunting humans, males were always the warriors, the deadliest of the sexes. It was therefore fascinating that this little human female was proving to be such a fiery combatant — his click of approval as she tore a chunk of flesh from her aggressor's arm with her teeth was lost in the sound of conflict. He'd chosen well.
In the end she was subdued through trickery, bound and hauled off by the others. The kha'bj-te followed along, fully intending to deal with her captors in order to test her mettle himself. It was pathetically easy to dispatch the leader among them. The remaining two provided some entertainment and gave him the opportunity to use weapons he hadn't had cause to use yet. The separable combistick, its two parts wielded in both hands, proved far deadlier than their rudimentary spears and arrows. When the last had fallen he turned his head to look at his prey. Human eyes were large by default and hers even more so as she beheld him towering over the legless corpse. He pulled his mace free. She bolted.
She was smart to do so. His pursuit was leisurely. She had a weapon and it was as primitive as those the other humans had wielded, but he was certain she was capable of wielding it. He anticipated seeing just what kind of damage she could inflict. He followed the heat trail she'd left behind, pausing as the forest gave way to a field of tall grass. He could spot her easily and noted that she was no longer alone. Her companion moved slowly, drawing his ranged weapon taut. The kha'bj-te withdrew his bolt gun and activated his laser sights. Once this one was dealt with, he would attack the female —
She pushed the male aside at the last moment. The kha'bj-te's irritation carried on the breeze in a rolling growl. The humans fled across the field. He closed the distance between himself and the human male quickly, leaping the last dozen feet with his ki'cti-pa extended. He shredded the human, exposing spine and skull and dampening the surrounding grass with its blood. When it was done he raced after the female. One of his strides was nearly equal to three of her own, his speed and endurance far greater than hers. He wouldn't kill her as he had the other — no, she and he would battle face to face.
She hit the trees on the other side of the field, fleet for a human. Suddenly she went down with a cry and he slowed nearly to a halt, watching as she desperately attempted to remove something from her lower leg. He realized it was a hunter's trap, crude but effective. The metal teeth had her firmly in their grip even as she tried to loosen them. She fell still as he drew near. At this proximity she would be able to see him despite the cloak, though his form would still be obscured. He reached down and picked up the chain attached to the trap, studying the links. This level of craftsmanship was beyond the technology of these nomadic people, which meant—
Voices. He dropped to a crouch. The female stared at him, breathing hard, before twisting around to see who approached. More humans, these ones with pale skin. The kha'bj-te was intrigued by their weaponry, which was of a more sophisticated nature. He backed away slowly and observed as the newcomers spoke in their own language before knocking the female unconscious. He followed as they picked her up and carried her with them, his priorities shifting in the process. The lone female could be worthy prey. A large group of armed men would be even more so.
.x.
The pale men had set a portion of forest ablaze to flush out something they considered dangerous. The kha'bj-te did not think it was himself; it was more likely a fellow yautja had been Hunting some among their number. The kha'bj-te was unbothered by the possibility. He was here now and here he would remain. The female and one of her people had been tied to a tree in a misguided attempt to bait him. She no longer held his interest. His attention was for the men with the firearms, all of them trophies waiting to be claimed.
The ash from the fire rendered his cloak useless. He had expected traps, but not their efficacy against him given their primitive nature. Snapping metal teeth drew blood from his leg and arm and he proceeded to decimate the ranks of his attackers with the same barbarousness that had earned him a place Hunting on this planet. He was struck more than once by their projectiles but they were insignificant wounds, easily enough mended later. He used his shield to great effect and mines to deal with the remainder of the pale men. He left before the mines detonated, confident in their destructive capacity.
He took time to tend to his wounds, using the tools in his medicomp. When he was finished he headed for the camp of the pale men, intent on eliminating their remainder.
.x.
The female and her companion had survived the battle in the ashes. The female had gained a firearm and attempted to use it on the kha'bj-te. Nothing happened. He was amused by her failure. The female's companion, a male, then provided the kha'bj-te with the first real challenge since arriving on this planet. He was lissome and swift, knocking the kha'bj-te's mask from his head and interrupting the trajectory of the projectiles fired from the bolt gun. The human scored several wounds and sustained none, a considerable blow to the kha'bj-te's pride. The kha'bj-te's resulting ire led him to trigger his cloak in order to regroup, circling around and watching as the two humans conversed in low, hushed tones.
Somehow the male was aware of his approach despite his stealthy tread. He turned to attack but the kha'bj-te was faster, impaling him on the ki'cti-pa blades. He hoisted the male high for the female to see, releasing an exulting roar. He discarded the male and dropped his cloak, stepping toward her. The language of her face, alien as it was, clearly displayed her anguish for the fate of her companion. The kha'bj-te enjoyed the sight of it. He stepped closer, rattling out a goading taunt in order to provoke her into attacking.
Pain jerked his attention around. The male wasn't dead and had stabbed the kha'bj-te with the canid skull he'd taken from the kha'bj-te's own belt. More anger flooded through the kha'bj-te at the audacity of such a creature to touch another's trophies, to have used one so. His retaliation was swift and fatal as he drove the bladed end of his combistick directly through the male's head. He whipped his head around.
The female was gone.
.x.
He made a trophy of the human warrior's skull, admiring it once the biological matter was removed. The dull gleam of bone as he turned it this way and that resonated with him — this was the type of trophy the veteran yautja had spoken of. A pity the other nomadic warriors had failed to impress him as much as this one had, but this world was large and its people many. He was confident he would encounter another with such prowess eventually.
He removed and consumed choice bones from the dead warrior, swiftly stripping them of their gristle with his teeth and tusks, satisfying the hunger he had let grow in order to hone his awareness. In the desert one went hungry often; the sands were reluctant to reveal their bounty and when they did it was ofttimes deadly quarry. Hunger sharpened wits and emphasized a need for survival. He had come to welcome its pangs.
At night he roamed the forest, intent now on finding more human encampments in search of worthy prey. Shouting drew his attention and he altered course, walking up a stony incline. At the top was a glow that indicated a heat source and as he crested the rise he saw the fire, the flames leaping high into the night. Next to it was a human, one of the pale faced men, brandishing a firearm. The human was apparently speaking to itself, spitting out words low and fast, and the kha'bj-te noticed it was missing one of its legs. A survivor, most likely, of the battle in the ashes. The kha'bj-te used the combistick's bladed end to extinguish this one's life, a singular slash to remove its head. He lifted the head in both hands, gauging its weight, observing the strange facial fur. Another addition to his rapidly growing collection —
There was a percussive boom and pain ripped through his skull, his bio-mask clattering to the ground. This was agony unlike any he'd ever known and it drove him to one knee, blood dripping down his face and spattering against the ground. Through the tortured haze that had fallen over his vision he made out a shape darting in and grabbing his bio-mask. The details were lost to him but the small body was familiar. The human female!
Pursuit was currently beyond him. He reached for the medicomp riding on his back. The unrelenting pain made his hand unsteady and he dropped the kit before him. His fingers fumbled to open it and then fumbled again to find and pick up the instruments he needed. He was no stranger to injuries — no Blooded yautja was — but this was something else entirely and he knew had the human's aim been slightly more centered he would now be dead. That knowledge enkindled a deep and primal fury within him, so powerful that his breath rasped with it. A hole in the head was not that easily mended in the field, so he injected himself with a potent dose of fluid that would protect him from any foreign bacteria. He took nothing for the pain. He would use that as he used hunger, to focus his anger into deadly precision.
Without the bio-mask he was forced to rely on his own eyesight to track. The human had made it easy by way of a blood trail that glistened wetly in the light of the moon. That he was being led into a trap was obvious but he was unconcerned. What he'd seen of human ingenuity thus far hadn't impressed him. On the ground before him was a severed human limb and he paused, anticipating an attack from either direction and readying himself for it. He was faster and he was stronger and he was fueled now by a searing wrath. The human could try. He would end her.
She leapt onto him from above, startling him. She struck at him with her axe in a flurry before he was able to rip her away and hurl her from him. She landed hard and took a moment to recover and he pulled her weapon free of his flesh with a snarl, tossing it to the ground. His attempt to skewer her with his combistick was thwarted by her canine companion, another contribution to the inferno of anger that now drove him. She ran and he pursued, leaping from above only to puncture himself on a trap she'd rigged to a tree. His breath spilled from him in a roar as he went after her again.
At every turn she thwarted him, using his greater might against him. He severed his own arm deflecting a strike she made with his weapon. This too was a new pain and he stepped back, caught up entirely in the swell of agonized fury as he observed his severed limb still attached by the ki'cti-pa to the trunk of a tree. To have been so thoroughly swept up in his prey to have lost focus, to have done this to himself – her manipulation of him was utterly demeaning, another novel experience he immediately reviled… and yet he was bound up in the expectation of what she might do to him next, an unfamiliar thrill as potent as the exhilaration of the Hunt itself. It wasn't just rage driving him now, no, but the knowledge of how his body was reacting was too perplexing, too distracting and the whole of his attention was required to deal with the human before him.
Their battle continued and even without an arm he was a greater threat to her than anything else on this world. He was greater — he was yautja, and he would emerge the victor. His blood sang as he smote her with his shield, as she retaliated with the blade of the combistick, his elation merging with rage to form something different than the typical anticipation he experienced during most Hunts. She ripped one of his lower tusks from his face and stabbed him with it and he reeled under the onslaught as she scrambled up and dashed away. His breathing was rough, uneven, his body alight with pain, his mind roiling in a furious frenzy and beneath it all —
—beneath it all a blazing streak of lust that stampeded over him, hardening his cock and momentarily stealing his breath —
And she stood before him small and fragile, yes, but determined and grim, her body decorated with blotches of his own blood, her rapid exhalations rising as mist on the cold air. She tipped her chin up, her strange dark eyes steady upon him. She was unafraid but he would remedy that, he would instill the fear, he would tear it from her —!
— but they were interrupted by the fire of gunshots. One of them struck him high on the shoulder of his remaining arm. The pale men he hadn't yet found had found him instead, come to attempt revenge on behalf of their butchered comrades. The female had already sprinted away to avoid being caught in the barrage but she paused to look back at him standing in the clearing, bleeding from numerous wounds. The expression she wore was familiar to him despite the strangeness of her face — it was one of victory. She thought him defeated. She thought him prey for the pale men, a wounded animal to be put down. He'd seen a rival from his Clan wear a similar expression during a fight over a female yautja. The kha'bj-te had taken great pleasure in watching that expression fade after ramming his wristblades into his rival's throat.
His sides swelled as he bellowed his rage, blood flying from the wound that marked where his tusk had been. His body was tight with the tumult of his contradictory urges — to tear her apart, to know more pain by her hand, to throw her body down beneath his and take her as he would not dare to take any female yautja, to have her take him instead —
His mind was riven by the newness of these thoughts and wants, by how much he simultaneously loathed and desired them. He could act on none of them, though — the pale men were a distinct threat given his current state. The female was gone and her canine companion with her. The kha'bj-te turned to face his attackers, activating the shield as he advanced.
.x.
He stood in the midst of many bodies, victorious once more… and yet he wasn't beset by the usual wild, vicious elation. Blood dripped slowly from the stump that had been his arm and seeped from the holes made by the weapons of the pale men. A yautja's tolerance for pain was considerable and he was no less a warrior for his wounds, but his mind was entirely clouded by savage rage and intense curiosity, both centered around the little female.
His life and the many conquests within it had instilled in him a warranted arrogance. He'd been wounded before, yes, but never like this. Never so thoroughly. Never in such a debasing manner. She'd used his own weapons against him, had riled him so completely that his own brutal impulses had led to his detriment. He was more a creature of instinct than strategy but that shouldn't have mattered here on this primitive planet, Hunting its primitive people – but she was the singular vexing exception. And the most maddening, confounding aspect to it all had been the surge of raw lust he'd felt in knowing she was besting him– it had been as powerful a desire as what he'd known when mating with females of his own kind.
He considered this, still breathing hard in the aftermath of dealing with the pale men, steam billowing from his mouth in the cold air. He could signal the Clanship and return with his trophies, successful in the Hunt despite the loss of his arm. He was not the first to sustain such an injury and there were effective methods of replacement available. Returning to the ship meant the end of his time on this planet and he was not ready for that. Not yet. Had things gone differently – had he conquered the little female – he may have been content to bring things to their natural conclusion. Now, however…
There was a price to be paid by the human, a reckoning she would not recover from. Her death wasn't the only goal, but the rest of what he intended to do remained formless, actions half-realized and shadowed, spurred by the animalistic intensity he'd just experienced while battling her. Fascination and loathing combined made for a powerful motivator. He would surrender himself to it and let it carry him where it would.
.x.