Chapter 1: Hunting Party

Author Note: After reading this chapter, I think you’ll learn who the main character is going to be, what his species is, and whose descendant is he. I personally love the species/character and I thought it’d be a better twist then to stick with the traditional human main character. It may seem like a slow start but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.

_____________________________________________________________________

Chapter 1: Hunting Party

“Xiom, duck!”

A gust of air rushed by a novice warrior on the sandy shore as he turned and side-stepped; heading his hunting companion’s words. The tip of his race’s customary warrior spear grazed a leathery flap of a large airborne monster’s wing.

The one named Xiom got to his feet once more, the silhouette of his image expanded in the planet’s descending horizon. His hunting partner felt his ally’s grace as the sun beat down on him and both returned to arms; at attention to the hunt at hand.

“Brushed him,” his hunting partner commented, gazing out upon the terrorizing, prehistoric like kite-beast that hovered over the shoreline of the ocean in recuperation of its flight.

Xiom’s attention immediately went to a familiar, ominous hissing that erupted from the shores. It was a beaked serpentine beast. Its tail was striped of black and white while the other majority of its bulk was a crisp, browning orange. The beast snapped its beak threateningly at Xiom, bearing its jagged teeth.

“Jomaen, stay on the Mumuu!” Xiom ordered. He twirled his spear in his right hand aggressively as he began his approach on the serpentine, muttering to himself, “The Karabbac is mine.”

After a slow approach, Xiom felt his legs bolt with energy as he sprinted instantaneously for the element of surprise. The Karabbac was stunned by the sudden move for a moment before it responded by a hungry hiss and met its foe, slithering forward.

The two came into distance and Xiom made his move as he leapt from the sandy shores and followed into a aerial cleave upon the Karabbac. The feeling of a grainy touchdown was displeasing and frustrating to Xiom as the Karabbac swiveled its fragile neck from Xiom’s spear.

Xiom roared in pain as the Karabbac clamped its jagged beak around his calf.

In blind furry and haste Xiom made another jab at the aquatic beast, yet it had anticipated and evaded once more. It was then Xiom felt his legs buckle by the beasts constricting pressure as it wrapped its whole body around him.

The warrior collapsed into the shore, his body tumbling deeper and deeper into the water. The salt of the ocean burned his golden eyes for a moment until he managed his sight back and was met by the sea demon’s elongated beak gawked open ready to crush his skull.

Inches away from death, Xiom managed a burst of raging strength to escape from the beast’s grasp and pushed off from it. He felt his body drift away by the ocean’s current and he steadily kicked at the surface, plunging himself deeper and further away trying his best to give himself distance and time.

His prey swiveled in the sea, cocking its head back and forth lost in a cloud of blood that had been from the cut the beast left on his leg. It finally found its prey’s trail and slithered through the depths after it.

Xiom felt his lungs heave, begging him to return to the surface for air. Even for his own species, whom had come over time to learn how to swim, were no better at holding their breaths then humans.

The warrior grasped his spear tightly, hoping to make it a quick victory; the Karabback swam vigorously towards him. Xiom watched the beast carefully, not wanting to fail to meet his fatal strike again.

Closer and closer the beast came, wriggling in the salty water after him. As it neared close to striking distance and opened its menacing beak Xiom side kicked his way out of the beasts way. As it just skimmed by him Xiom used the opportunity to strike.

His spear tore into the creature’s rubbery skin and its momentum carried the rest of its body across Xiom’s spear, ripping open an even larger gash. With the water full of his prey now, Xiom made his way to the surface, knowing the beast would follow.

Xiom made way to the shallow part, and turned as his head bobbed the surface. Again he was met by a close call from the beast’s beak and dodged out of its way and delivered the final strike; impaling his spear through its neck.

Xiom gazed at the beast; it wriggled helplessly, its death inevitable. Once it made its final stagger and seized to move again Xiom howled in victory.

“XIOM LOOK OUT!”

Xiom quickly ended his celebrating roar as he focused on Jomaen’s warning. The familiar beast that had assaulted before reared its petrifying, bony face in Xiom’s direction as it dove down upon him, jaws gaped.

With desperate haste, Xiom removed the hide of his last victim from his spear and raised it to his descending foe.

Blood splashed across Xiom’s maroon coarse skin as the spear impaled the beast; straight through its vitals. The leathery kite fell limp on its fateful pole and the warrior hoisted in both his trophies.

“Nice killings,” Jomaen commented.

“I don’t see why the Mumuu wasn’t yours, however,” Xiom remarked, walking upon the sandy shore once more, dropping the prehistoric looking kite which was dubbed the Mumuu, at Jomaen’s feet.

“First off, I already scored my trophy,” Jomaen replied, nodding behind him where in a messy pile rested the carcass of another Mumuu, “Secondly, if you’ll check the bullet wound in your trophies wing, you’ll see that I had assisted your kill.”

Xiom cocked his head curiously at his hunting partner and checked his Mumuu for the presumed bullet wound and sure enough its left wing flap had a precise, smoldering hole in it.

“Looks like you will be getting your warriors mask today, after all,” Xiom commented, as he hefted both bodies over his shoulders again.

He waited for Jomaen to retrieve his own carcass and they both strolled off in the direction of their home.

“So, even if I didn’t score that other one,” Jomaen began, “You wouldn’t let me have your Mumuu’s skull?”

Xiom smirked beneath his own bone cobbled warrior mask, “I already told you. I need my own mask…not my dad’s old one.”

“What’s wrong with your dads?” Jomaen questioned, his coarse brown face not having a mask like Xiom’s to veil his own face.

“It wasn’t past down from generation to generation like the true warrior bloodline,” Xiom replied simply, “My dad had to hunt for his own…not passed down from grandpa.”

“Most of his body was incinerated in the crash though,” Jomaen reminded, “Before they made him a cyborg.”

Xiom didn’t speak. He had grieved so much for his grandfather’s death, for his transformation, for the sacrifice he made to his people. He’d do anything to meet him.

“Xiom ale Sheelal…grandson of General Grievous, greatest war hero of our planet,” Jomaen stated musically, each word having a high ringing of pride to it, “Who needs his old mask when you’ve got his bloodline? Do you know how many people would give up everything for being his descendant on Kalee?”

“I suppose your right,” Xiom replied softly.

Both Kaleesh warriors continued their walk silently, dragging back their trophies to Xiom’s hut where Jomaen had been living in despite their lack of blood relation.


Protocol for most adolescent Kaleesh on the verge of adulthood was to go out on their first official hunt and bring back the carcass of a Mumuu and Karabbac so they may receive their official warrior attire or warrior blood markings.

For Xiom and Jomaen it was a sporting hunt, yet both hoping to come back with a nicer trophy then their previous prey. Xiom had fit under the Kaleesh culture where passing down a family mask was the way to knight Kaleesh kin into adulthood, while Jomaen had fit under those whom had found more pride and individuality in hunting for their own. Not only that, but Jomaen had no longer a family to have such things passed down to.

Jomaen’s family had both been slaughtered by a Huk raid while Jomaen had shared his first hunt with Xiom. The Huk’s were a rivalry insectoid species to the Kaleesh, whose planet neighbored the blood stained yet paradise imaging Kalee. War had been waged for years between the two species, and despite that war had ended long ago, hate and bloodshed between the two still existed.

Ever since Xiom had treated Jomaen as part of the family, and dubbed him as his personal hunting companion. The two were a flawless combo; Xiom the vigorous close-combat fighter while Jomaen practiced accuracy and ranged combat with his Sharpshooter Rifle he had received from his father just before he was killed…strangely enough, the rifle he received was lacking a scope yet Jomaen learned on his own how to get in a precise shot.

Like true patriots to their planet, Xiom and Jomaen held their race with much honor and dignity. Their four clawed, brown-red skinned, reptilian race had always been known for their potential in definition to a true warrior. Despite their lust for combat and fighting, the Kaleesh were a pretty primitive race having little technology at their hands (save for what they gathered from the Trade Federation and other sources that they had been able to scavenge technology from). They acted as nomads and hunters on their planet. But Kalee was a beautiful planet when the scars of battle and war could not be seen, and it was no wonder that the Kaleesh people traveled so much; to see the entire beauty of their planet for what it truly was.

The two bold warriors had finally reached the familiar hut that they both called home and entered eagerly, dragging in their trophies as they entered.

“Xiom ale Sheelal!” Roared a familiar, furious voice, “Why in the name of your grandfather are you soaking wet?!”

Xiom’s mother, no surprise, was the first to greet them from their journey back, scolding him for his drenched, brown tanned-hide vest and soaking black tanned-hide pants.

“Karabbac troubles, mom,” Xiom replied simply heaving the carcass of the slippery serpentine’s body in front of his mother. Xiom then motioned to his injured leg, “He took me in…this one was fast. But at least we’ve got supper.”

“You and your battle scars, Xiom,” his mother said in a nagging tone, examining his wound, “I’ll fix it up…and leave your father to your…trophies.”

“Did I hear trophies?”

Xiom’s father entered the main room, his skin full of dirt and grease.

“Good job on the hunt, guys,” his father said, examining the trophies closely, “I’ll start cleaning the Karabbac and as for the Mumuus…”

“Forget about it dad,” Xiom said, removing his mask and tossing it over to his father, “Me and Jomaen will take care of the Mumuu. We’d like to design our own warrior masks and capes.”

He shrugged, grabbing a hold of their supper by the tail, “Fine by me. I can see your taking interest in the responsibilities of a warrior.”

“It’s what I was meant for,” Xiom replied, as he hefted his Mumuu over his shoulder once more, and escorted Jomaen into a more proper room for the preparations of their Kaleesh warrior masks and capes.

The following night Xiom dreamt not of his new mask, not of his hunt, not of his planet…but of the galaxy he had wondered so much about…