Chp 2. A forced hunt

Thwei al'Nagara stared out of his ship at the giant blue ball that was N'ithya, or Earth in the ooman tongue. He growled angrily as he stared at it. This was the planet that was to be his exile. He growled again at the thought of his exile, he had been falsely accused of dishonor and the Yautja conspiring had provided fake proof that had swayed the elders against him. The two brothers Gaun bhrak-chei and Halkrath chakt-ra had framed him for stealing the elders spear for a hunt. He however had been lucky, as a high ranking Yautja he had been good friends with the elder who could not believe that he had truly stolen the spear. However even the Elder could not wave away the crime and allow him a pardon without consequence. Thus the elder had exiled him to N'ithya until such a time as he hunted down and acquired nain-desintje-de over the most powerful prey on their world. However anyone else would have been executed or branded a bad blood and exiled, so Thwei was much more pleased with this outcome. The sliding door behind him opened with a hiss and another Yautja entered the room. Nracha-dte ki'cti-pa stepped into the room and stood beside Thwei. He was clad fully in his hunting armour and weapons and looked at Thwei who was clad only in a simple loincloth. "You should be preparing." Nracha growled. Thwei clicked his mandibles and shook his head. "Wished to try and reach zazin before departure. In case I finally undertake dhi'ki-de on this hunt." Nracha looked to Thwei and clamped his hand upon the hunter's shoulder and shook it. "You will be fine old friend." He growled sincerely. Thwei was not so sure. He still thought of most oomans as soft, weak, and petty. However he knew first hand of their ability to summon their native element in battle. Only a youngblood fool would underestimate such a skill. Thwei knew that Nracha was as angry about his exile as he was, if not more so. It had outraged him when the accusation had been leveled at Thwei and he had almost challenged both the brothers to a thei-de dtai'kai'-dte in his anger. Thwei had stopped him from doing so, though it had angered him greatly and it had required all his self restraint not to take one of their heads for mounting on his trophy wall. Thwei looked to his oldest friend and hunting partner and placed a hand on his shoulder in turn. "It is in Paya's hands now old friend." Was his only response before he left to his chambers to dress in his armour and acquire his weapons. In his quarters he found his armour on its rack where it always was and lovingly ran his hand about his mask. The scarred and blasted silver armour had been through so much with him. To a Yuatja his armour, like his weapons, is part of his soul. A Yuatja could live throughout all their long lives without ever changing their armour, indeed some of the elders wear such beaten and worn armour because they will not part with the remains of their old set. Even when several pieces of it are missing. Some Yautja even use how damaged another's armour is as a way to tell age or rank. His own set had seen significant damage in his centuries of life. He placed each piece upon his body with such great care and delicacy that it could be seen as reverence. Once he was finished he placed his mask securely upon his face and he looked towards his weapon wall. On it were his most prized weapons, his wrist blades that he placed securely into his wrist device. His combi stick that he extended and inspected before replacing it upon his back in its compact form. His plasma caster was modified to shoot bigger plasma bolts that caused more destruction with the exchange of a longer charge up period. Instead of a smart disk he carried two shuriken preferring them for their ability to transition between a close range and long range fighting weapon. His final piece of weaponry and by far his most beloved was his sword. It was an odd weapon for a Yautja to be sure, many others would substitute a more traditional weapon like a wipe or a spear gun. However on one of his various trips to earth he had observed the dexterous fighting style of well trained oomans and could not help but admire it. He returned to his homeworld with the goal to craft a sword of his own and he did. Its blade was made from the finest Yautja steel he could acquire, so strong that even hard meat blood could not melt it. It even had a compacted form much like the combi stick where the blade retracted into the hilt and he could bring it out in varying lengths for maximum dexterity. He griped the hilt with a touch of reverence and after a quick inspection of the blade he placed it lovingly on his belt in its retracted form. With his armour and tools he quickly grabbed a pouch containing a small medkit, a whetstone, and several mines. He quickly affixed all these things to his belt and walked from his quarters to the pods. Nracha was waiting for him with an angered look on his maskless face. "It is time." He stated and pointed to the pod Thwei was to use. The Yautja nodded, he was ready to begin his exile and find his prey. Thwei stepped into the black pod and placed his arms over chest in a sign that he was ready for it to shut and to be off. Nracha looked to Thwei and said. "Paya keep you old friend." Before signaling the doors to shut and the pod to launch. If the Yautja succeeded he would see his old friend again soon, Nracha would orbit the planet and wait for his mission to be completed. Once he had completed his mission Thwei would signal the ship and he would come to pick him and his latest trophy up so that he might bring it to the elder and reclaim his honor, "Shortly before I challenge and kill those blasted brothers in a duel." Thwei grumbled. He had two earth cycles or years to find his prey and take his head. If the signal was not sent by then, Nracha would return to the elder and tell of my failure, whether he lived but failed to perform his task or if he simply died would either have him branded a bad blood or have him remembered as an honored Yautja who died in the search for glory. Regardless his fate was to be decided on this ball of dirt. The capsule smashed into the ground and the impact nearly threw his tendriled head against its metal door as it crashed into the earth. He pushed open the metal door and stepped into the blinding sunlight of the world around him, his sandaled feet made contact with the soft dirt ground and sunk slightly du to his weight. Jumping to the nearest tree, he breathed in the hot jungle air as his pod exploded behind him. With its destruction there was no turning back and the hunt for the Avatar had begun.