He was an Elder, a member of one of the oldest and well-known clans of his species.
He had lived over a thousand years on the cusp of retirement, and after all this time, he thought he had seen everything, at least until one ooman changed all that he knew.
It had all started off as a simple hunting expedition, where they were hunting ooman Bad Bloods, ones that had slaughtered the males of a ooman colony. Normally the yautja tried not to attract too much attention, favoring not just the hunt but a form of anonymity that long ago they had been able to afford, but no longer could.
Oomans evolved and adapted more quickly than expected, and certainly evolved faster than most prey. The rate they did so was astonishing, and something to witness from afar save for the times they were to be hunted. To destroy that sort of dangerous prey would be troublesome…
They were in a land dry and heated to the point that there was very little water, the sands coating the ground leaving largely clear land in the area save for the demolished constructs having been crafted by oomans over time. Ruins lay in the heart of the wake of battle, homes destroyed and bodies lay on the ground.
The yautja there would have killed the Bad Bloods, easily, if other oomans hadn’t interfered. These ones were also hunters of the criminals, seeking to liberate the prisoners. The primary issue with this notion was that the yautja had already claimed them.
And the secondary issue?
There was this one ooman that was seriously starting to irritate them all.
It was a male, one who had ‘curly’ dark hair. His skin either dark through genetics, or from being out in the sun. Strangely, his appearance reminded the Elder of warriors from a place distant to the one they resided in at the moment, one with lakes and deep waters, full of green and vibrance. A land full of temples and caves and worthy prey.
Much of Earth had changed since then, but the blood of warriors still flowed through the veins of the ancient oomans’ descendants, one could see it more clearly in some than others.
The Elder was starting to think the warrior’s blood had miraculously skipped a generation. Or at least that there was some sort of defect in the creature’s brain.
“Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad. Other things just make you swear or curse-!”
The ooman was tied up, bound and against a wall with at least two guns pointed at his head. And yet, he was singing .
One of the Bad Bloods shouted something at the ooman, smacking him in the back of the head with a gun. The ooman muttered something that the mask couldn’t pick up. The Bad Blood shoved their gun into the male’s face. Another male approached with weapons not meant for hunting, but for torture. The females and young ones nearby were surrounded by Bad Bloods, being forced to witness what was about to occur.
They demanded something of the ooman male, causing the ooman to grimace, his body tensing.
One of the Bad Bloods separated, rolling out a cloth and lighting the end of it before inhaling its fumes.
The yautja disposed of them easily.
All within the camp froze as a scream burst into the air. Several of the terrorists ran in the direction of the sound, leaving the captive an opportune moment to escape.
Fully severing the bonds around his wrists that he had been cutting off his circulation, the human hostage escaped, rounding a corner into what used to be an alleyway. There, he sensed something following him. He knew well what it felt like when someone or something was watching him.
When whatever it was got close enough, he swung his leg out low, knocking it onto its back. Whatever it was, it was big, had been invisible and as it became visible it was more clear that it was humanoid in shape... And covered in bones. On the jawline of the mask was an actual jawbone attached, parts of skeletons of who knew what decorating the guy all over the body. It would’ve been kind of badass if not for the skin-tight fishnet leggings.
So, while the others yelled and screamed in terror, the human found himself smirking at the body-builder wannabe with a raised eyebrow.
He’d have paid more attention in that moment to such a new part of his life if his priorities hadn’t laid elsewhere. So what if the guy was eight feet or so tall? So what if he sounded like a lion when he roared in fury? The human didn’t have any time to lose, not when there was so much at stake. Instead, when the creature came at him, throwing punches and talons, the human sidestepped and dodged each blow carefully, his eyes measuring every strike.
A foot finally swung out at him, and the human grinned, startling the other male. Jumping back, the human landing on his feet, hands up as he awaited for another hit. The creature tilted its head, getting into its own stance. Shadows and sunlight fell on them, the cacophony of screams and battle cries and weaponry still filling the air. The strange being ran at the human in a manner that would've been considered almost obscenely fast to most of his kind, but the human paid little attention.
Instead, when another hand reached for him, the human ducked. One human hand jabbed harshly into the approximate solar plexus of the creature, knocking the air out of him only to come back once more before either could blink, not allowing the giant to regain any breath. His opposite fist reach up, the heel pounding into the sternum. Whatever the thing was, he began to curve over, his shoulders hunching in, falling faster once the male human, tugged at his dreadlocks, forcing the being downwards as he brought his knee up into the creature's gut.
As it fell, the human kicked off the mask, ready to deliver the finishing blow, only to find himself staring.
Underneath was a face that the human wasn’t quite sure how to process at first. On its face were appendages that were reminiscent of mandibles, almost insect-like in nature. That on its own should've been disturbing, but for some reason it was also the least distracting aspect. There were bright, yellow eyes that felt almost serpentine in nature. The skin looked like it was a cross between leather and scales, and the tones reminded the human of a sunset full of reds and oranges and grays, with occasional freckles and beauty marks like an open sky. The being was colored like the skies that the human used to dream about when things were simpler, maybe a bit kinder.
So enthralled in what was before him, the human didn’t even flinch when the creature roared, mandibles flaring. The sight was a mixture of terrifyingly pants-wetting, freaky, and…
“Holy shit, you’re gorgeous," the human rasped breathlessly.
Both still as the the two realized what the fuck the human had said out loud.
The human woke out of the reverie first, and scooped up sand at his feet, and tossed it into the creature’s face. Blinded, the ceature roared once more. The human ran for his puny little life, trying to refocus his attention to the mission at hand.
Holy fuck, what was that thing and did he just flirt with it?
Did that annoying ooman just flirt with him?!