Across all the life-bearing worlds of the galaxy - from the manicured order of the Core to the untamed chaos of the Outer Rim - there was one immutable truth that all creatures instinctively knew; that there are those meant to be hunters and those meant to be hunted. The Trandoshans knew this in their bones, had enshrined the truth of it in their Goddess and paid it tribute through a lifetime of service to the Scorekeeper. On an unnamed moon in a numbered system far from the hyperlanes they would test themselves against the best prey they could fine; monstrous beasts from across the stars, Wookiees, even Jedi or Sith where they could find them - all in pursuit of Jagannath points to earn the Scorekeepers favor.
It was a simple affair; A ship would arrive once a month with a hold filled with new prey that would be dumped onto the beach and left to their own devices in the jungle for a day or two before the Hunters descended and picked them off one by one. The Jungle itself was a mass grave, an altar to the Scorekeeper, and the blood that watered its soil left the trees growing gnarled and thorny, a closing maw that swallowed all who wandered weak and fearful beneath its boughs. A perfect system to allow for the young hunters to cut their teeth on prey with nowhere to go and the elders to hunt leisurely without going through the trouble of finding legal prey.
Until two days ago.
Huddled with long arms wrapped around himself for warmth in the hollow of a tree was a young Trandoshan, slitted eyes darting around the darkened jungle outside the shelter at every sound, fearfully searching for any sign of the Hunter. Two days before the ship had come and hovered over the beach, hatches opening to drop the next group of prey, but nothing emerged from the Hold. The ship had suddenly listed to the side, smoke spewing from the cockpit as it swung back and forth before ploughing into the ground. They'd arrived expecting they'd find a hold filled with worthless damaged prey and that the Huntmaster would tear a strip out of the pilot for being drunk or careless enough to crash the ship; what they'd found instead was charnel house in the cargo bay and a mutilated pilot, his severed hands bound together at the wrist and dumped into his own lap and his fangs ripped from his skull - he died captured and in shame, thus facing the Scorekeeper bereft of Jagannath points. Shivering - from the cold, he swore to himself - he murmured a soft prayer beneath his breath as the jungle outside fell deathly still. No bird or beast made a sound as sibilant laughter filled the air before a dull thud and the sound of something rolling down the hollow caught his attention.
The young Trandoshan scrambled back as the severed head and bound hands of Trassk the Huntmaster's second rolled to a stop against his leg before looking up with a terrified gasp as a figure blocked the moonlight, casting a long shadow over the hollow as the hissing laughter grew louder. A Barabel - shorter than most of its kind - with a jagged length of metal gripped in his hand, grinned down savagely at the once hunter.
"This one hopez you will be better sport than he waz... go on, little hunter... run. The Gods are watching uz... and so far your fellowz have met yourz stinking of fear. Run, little hunter... this one promisez to give you a headstart."
Veltharion stepped to the side and waved his hand, gesturing for the young Trandoshan to go past him and back out into the jungle. The tailess hunter crept forward like a scared hatchling, eyes locked on the necklace of bloody Trandoshan fangs draped around the Barabels neck, not noticing the long, whip-like tail laid across the ground until he'd tripped over it. Quick as lightning the Barabel twisted to the side, tail uncoiling to reveal a jagged length of metal lashed to the end that rose and fell like an executioners axe, beheading the would-be hunter where he lay. The Barabels shoulders shook as peals of hissing laughter filled the clearing, crouching to pick up the Trandoshans severed head and looking at the expression of terror frozen onto his face with a wide grin.
"A head start, get it?" Veltharion wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, stifling another peal of hissing laughter as he began the grisly work of pulling the teeth from the head clutched in his claws. Sighing as the silence in the clearing remained, he snapped his head straight up and met the eyes of another Trandoshan clinging to a branch in the canopy, the green molting of his scales showing he was only just reaching adulthood.
"This one thinkz you should run, little hunter... Now go."
The canopy shook as the Trandoshan fled along the branches, leaves showering down onto the once captive Barabel and the body of the Hunter turned prey. When the last leaf fluttered to the floor the Barabel was gone, the hands of the Trandoshan corpse bound and laid over his chest. He would go to the Scorekeeper bereft of points... and the Hungry One would feed.
It was a simple affair; A ship would arrive once a month with a hold filled with new prey that would be dumped onto the beach and left to their own devices in the jungle for a day or two before the Hunters descended and picked them off one by one. The Jungle itself was a mass grave, an altar to the Scorekeeper, and the blood that watered its soil left the trees growing gnarled and thorny, a closing maw that swallowed all who wandered weak and fearful beneath its boughs. A perfect system to allow for the young hunters to cut their teeth on prey with nowhere to go and the elders to hunt leisurely without going through the trouble of finding legal prey.
Until two days ago.
Huddled with long arms wrapped around himself for warmth in the hollow of a tree was a young Trandoshan, slitted eyes darting around the darkened jungle outside the shelter at every sound, fearfully searching for any sign of the Hunter. Two days before the ship had come and hovered over the beach, hatches opening to drop the next group of prey, but nothing emerged from the Hold. The ship had suddenly listed to the side, smoke spewing from the cockpit as it swung back and forth before ploughing into the ground. They'd arrived expecting they'd find a hold filled with worthless damaged prey and that the Huntmaster would tear a strip out of the pilot for being drunk or careless enough to crash the ship; what they'd found instead was charnel house in the cargo bay and a mutilated pilot, his severed hands bound together at the wrist and dumped into his own lap and his fangs ripped from his skull - he died captured and in shame, thus facing the Scorekeeper bereft of Jagannath points. Shivering - from the cold, he swore to himself - he murmured a soft prayer beneath his breath as the jungle outside fell deathly still. No bird or beast made a sound as sibilant laughter filled the air before a dull thud and the sound of something rolling down the hollow caught his attention.
The young Trandoshan scrambled back as the severed head and bound hands of Trassk the Huntmaster's second rolled to a stop against his leg before looking up with a terrified gasp as a figure blocked the moonlight, casting a long shadow over the hollow as the hissing laughter grew louder. A Barabel - shorter than most of its kind - with a jagged length of metal gripped in his hand, grinned down savagely at the once hunter.
"This one hopez you will be better sport than he waz... go on, little hunter... run. The Gods are watching uz... and so far your fellowz have met yourz stinking of fear. Run, little hunter... this one promisez to give you a headstart."
Veltharion stepped to the side and waved his hand, gesturing for the young Trandoshan to go past him and back out into the jungle. The tailess hunter crept forward like a scared hatchling, eyes locked on the necklace of bloody Trandoshan fangs draped around the Barabels neck, not noticing the long, whip-like tail laid across the ground until he'd tripped over it. Quick as lightning the Barabel twisted to the side, tail uncoiling to reveal a jagged length of metal lashed to the end that rose and fell like an executioners axe, beheading the would-be hunter where he lay. The Barabels shoulders shook as peals of hissing laughter filled the clearing, crouching to pick up the Trandoshans severed head and looking at the expression of terror frozen onto his face with a wide grin.
"A head start, get it?" Veltharion wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, stifling another peal of hissing laughter as he began the grisly work of pulling the teeth from the head clutched in his claws. Sighing as the silence in the clearing remained, he snapped his head straight up and met the eyes of another Trandoshan clinging to a branch in the canopy, the green molting of his scales showing he was only just reaching adulthood.
"This one thinkz you should run, little hunter... Now go."
The canopy shook as the Trandoshan fled along the branches, leaves showering down onto the once captive Barabel and the body of the Hunter turned prey. When the last leaf fluttered to the floor the Barabel was gone, the hands of the Trandoshan corpse bound and laid over his chest. He would go to the Scorekeeper bereft of points... and the Hungry One would feed.