Home, the Nest, Jargh, all these things Alater had painfully pushed to the side over the years of captivity and service to the Empire, but now they surfaced again. Every five to ten years or so Barabels generally head home, but Alater had been gone his whole life without return. Now he was being called home, but by what disturbed him.




Alater chuckled as he thought of how he would like sweating. The silly pinkskins wet themselves when they exercised, but not him. Being cold blooded had a few advantages, amongst them the ability to adapt to most temperatures, which his scales helped with. At the moment Alater had just finished besting most of his squad in hand to hand combat. It really wasn't fair though. Alater was larger and stronger than all of them, and his eyes let him detect even the slightest change in core temperature or stress and exploit it.

At the moment he was beginning a spar with DeathLeader Doc. The small man was equipped with a durasteel blade, and a smaller dagger in his left hand. Alater chuckled and prepared himself while mocking his leader.

"You are aware that this is pointless correct? Armed or not you cannot defeat me, you are just a Pinkskin, though a DeathLeader." Alater said with as much sneer in his tone as was possible in such a strange language.

"You just wait Alater, I'll get you yet." Doc said as they began to circle. Alater nodded and Doc lunged forth, fast for a man of his size, but he still stood no chance. As they danced Doc struck over and over, quick blow after blow, but Alater was too strong, his scales too hard. In a break in Docs guard Alater struck, blocking Doc's sword while bringing his tail around. The thick appendage made purely of muscle and scale struck Doc like a hammer, throwing him to the ground, the clattering noises of his weapons followed.

Alater chuckled a bit before reaching down to help Doc. "I am sorry DeathLeader, but I told you I would defeat you, and a Barabel does not go back on his word. Mabye next time you won't get hurt so bad yes?" He said with a chuckle.

Doc laughed and winced as Alater jerked him to his feet. Before Doc could say anything a Corporal came into the exercise room, holding what looked like a scroll. Alater's eyes narrowed and then widened as the man approached, and handed the package to him. Upon opening it Alater recognized the writing style and read quickly through the message of guttural Barabese. Alater nearly fell and found a seat to sit down and read the message again before dropping it to the floor.

"What is it Private? I can't read this stuff." Doc said as he tried to read the message. Jelly and Wicket passed it around too, but nobody could read it. Alater recovered quickly and responded.

"It's my family, specifically my Nest Brother. This is a message from the Elders of my tribe, telling me to come home. Every five to ten cycles Barabels are called home to retell their tales of the Hunt, but I have yet to return as I was busy serving the Empire. Now it says here that many of the Brethren have been killed, along with some very nasty creatures, and my Nest Brother was called home to find out why, and he has yet to return." Alater finished, before grabbing the scroll and headed to the cantina for a strong drink.

Alater blinked as he stared down into his drink. His homeworld of Barab-I was one of the harsher inhabited planet's. Its six hours of daylight so close to the red dwarf of a sun caused most species to burn or dry up in minutes of exposure, and the constant radiation was a problem to many, but maybe Doc was right. He would probably need help on this.

"I thank you for your kindness DeathLeader, but I don't think you are prepared for this. We Barabels are strong, stronger than most, yet whatever the problem is has easily slain both our kind, and the Durgolosks. It is a great honor amongst my people to slay such a mighty beast, and yet this message indicates something much stronger." Alater said as he downed another drink, his sixth, and ordered another.

"Look, Alater, whatever this is you need help, face it. You may be strong, and fast, but what if you need some technical expertise? Or a doctor? You're going to need help, and not just mine. Plus, I really do want to try and learn Barabese." Doc said jokingly.

Alater finished yet another drink and thought about it. The Durgolosk was possibly the mightiest land predator in the galaxy, maybe besting the Krayt Dragon, and yet they were being slain. The idea was something Alater couldn't wrap his head around. As a Youngling he had faced down one of these mighty beasts and barely lived to remove its head as a trophy. This left great respect for the animal.

With a crack of his knuckles Alater extended his claws and Doc looked a little startled, but Alater just continued. With a small howl at the stress Alater punctured the scales on his left arm and coated a claw in the blood, and held it out before Doc.

"If you will have it be so DeathLeader, from this moment on we may be BloodBrothers, bound together in The Hunt. May both of us fall if we both do. Our honor to be bound."

"Brother, I am glad you can join me on this, but I believe more assistance would be welcome. A normal Hunt Party consists of five members, obviously Barabel, but we may make an exception. With you as my Blood Brother, that makes two, which is all that is required. If you know any of our Death Members that would like to accompany us, gather them."

Alater said as he stood up, finishing his tenth drink. The drinking hadn't affected him at all, and he walked straight for the door. Doc quickly caught up with him and turned him around.

"What are you going to do Alater? We still need to get there, and it's almost two weeks or more from Tadath to Barab-I. That's a long while for cramped space." Doc said as he continued to make a list of things that would be needed.

"Let's just say I have a few friends I've made in a few places. We Barabels may war with each other constantly, but we are all Kin. Our transportation shouldn't really be a problem, but if anybody you get wants to take their vehicle that's fine, as ours will be set for a little warm for most creatures. The food will be mostly meat too." Alater said as he headed towards the Eclipse barracks with Doc right behind him. They discussed flight time, and some things that one did or did not do around Barabels, and Alater's past came up once or twice.

As they reached the barracks Alater told Doc to prepare for anything and everything, but to leave any droids behind. Alater grabbed all his weaponry and explosives, and had to order for a lift as he was also taking something he'd been working on for a while. The box was covered, but it didn't seem to be big, but weight quite a lot. As Alater finished he headed for the hangar where he was met by two shorter Barabels, both with dark green hues. They both hissed lightly and clasped their arms to their chest in salute.

"Be strong Kin, for today we head home." Alater said in Barabese.

"Indeed we due Kin. May your claws remain sharp." They responded and headed aboard. Alater stowed his items inside and returned to examine the ship. It was a beautiful Mindabaal Yacht that looked like it had seen home before. It had been custom fitted with high grav repulsorlifts and extra shielding, and he thought he saw a few hidden blasters too. Either way, this was their ship.

OOC:

This post will be short because I only have a couple minutes on here.

Lucky jogged on the boarding ramp, and helped load the gear on the ship. Contrary to what others thought, she was stronger than some men in the army, because of what she had been doing before joining the VE, and because she worked out on a regular basis.

She hoisted crates full of munitions in one pf the cargo holds , made sure everything was secure once all was loaded and went to sit with her companions for the trib to Barab-I.

She had visited the planet, and knew how the Barabel kept encounters with strangers to a minimum. Even thoug she had a bit more knowledge  of the kind than some of her fellow Troopers, she still took out her datapad and started to read up a little more on the Barabels while they were waiting for departure.

Alater felt the long pull of the trip even before they left. When a Barabel is called home, ignoring the call is unacceptable and often times, impossible. Being away from home, and from Kin and Brothers was hard enough, but given the chance to come back, most of his kind did, but for some reason Alater felt no need to go back. Maybe it was his past, what had happened to him. He was the last of his Clan, the last of the tallest and biggest of his species, and when he left still the strongest amongst them. None of that had changed, but he had. Here with the Empire he had a new life, and a new family.

"Tell me Kin, is it true what you've told us about your Death Leader?"

One of the smaller two, dark green, Barabel's asked. Alater looked up from his saddened state to be met with two eager, tooth filled faces. It was strange to hear somebody besides himself speaking Barabel, as it was next to impossible for those without tails to learn, but they could compensate with more language than sign.

"About his...profession? Yes, it is true. My Death Leader keeps Warriors from dying on The Hunt, stripping them of honor."

Alater responded sadly, to hisses of contempt and surprise. Alater hung his head a bit while thinking of a response. He looked over at Doc, and then back to his two Kin.

"It is not as bad as it sounds. I think he does it because his kind finds that the...moral? thing to do. They believe it's right, just as we do not use our teeth in The Hunt. We see it as barbaric, as they see our contempt for loss of life. Not all is bad with these Pink Skins."

Alater finished and clapped the smaller of the two on the back as he got up, almost knocking him over. Alater walked a little farther up the ship, and felt the climate change if just a bit. Here it was slightly cooler than the back, but the humans still seemed to be having a rough time. Alater lounged back on one of the large cushions set out, and glanced at Doc.

The circle was everything, outside the circle nothing exists. This is the simplest form of combat, the most personal. Here there is only your enemy, and you. You have only your claws and your muscles. This is life. This is Death. As Alater moved, his blade moved with him, they were one in the same. His arm extended to its full length gave the great longsword a full ten foot range. Amongst his people Alater had always been the best with a sword, which was not saying much. Barabel's did not treasure the blades as most other species did. They were seen as a symbol at best, a thing for the weak or disabled, and the Long Fang.

The first Long Fang had been centuries ago, an old Barabel whose claws had all been broken or ruined in combat over the decades, but he was still a strong leader. The great forge of his Den, though used rarely, was lit for his purpose. There the first Barabel blade was forged, and named Long Blade. Ever since the leaders of the Barabel clans had been named Long Blade and been given or forged a sword. These blades were always long, cruel, and heavy. Their length gave reminder to the Clan's enemies that the reach of the Barabel was long. The cruelty of the blade gave reminder to the Barabel Clan that the Hunt had its price for all. The weight gave reminder to the leader that the title of Long Fang carried much responsibility. All of these things were to be remembered.

As Alater flowed outside of the first circle, things changed. Here, the blade became more than a weapon, it became his eyes. Here the vibrations of the ground, the blade, the enemy, all became visible. Here the entire fight could be watched, and flowed through. Movements became less direct, and more like air, with blade and body moving quickly from one enemy to the next. There was more though, here you could easily be tricked, and directed where your enemy wanted you to. This was not the ultimate form, and Alater resented fighting this way as he was normally forced to with his squad. Quickly Alater flowed to the next.

The third and final form was one of complete awareness. This was only used by leaders, or some of the greatest warriors. A battlefield could be felt through this method, and Long Fangs always acceled in this kind of combat. Here you could almost hear the thoughts of your fellow Kin, their pain, their rage, their death. You were all linked, yet seperate. The battlefield became one fight, a struggle between wills, rather than muscle. As Alater flowed out of this form to a stop, he realised he was panting. His muscled ached, and he nearlly fell over. It had been years since he had gone through his forms, and the weight of the blade, especially in AG, was immense. The responsibilty he had fled from would never be forgotten.

As the ship lurched out of hyperspace, Alater immurged from the rear quarters to find only Doc awake and ready. The trip had been harder on the others than expected apparently. Alater turned to him and smiled a crooked smile as he fashioned on his blade. The trip down to the surface was going to be hell.

Stepping out of the shuttle into a large cavern hangar, Riqimo slung his rifle over his back and glanced at the cavernous mouth of the grotto.  Outside, the heavy downpour that had made their ride down particularly dangerous and just plain annoying, was continuing and the waters would be rapidly evaporated in the coming six hours of dim daylight.  Then when the searing  heat of the red dwarf passed on, the sudden heavy downpours would continue.

Such was the way of life on Barab I, living in caverns a majority of the time to escape the radiation of Barab for 6 hours, then spend a good bit waiting for the downpour to settle in the early hours of the 54 hour night, from then on, the brave souls, foolish minds, and, more frequently, some combination of foolishness and bravery faced the dangers outside.

Sighing, Riqimo turned from the waterworks flowing over the entrance like a waterfall to Alater, who was discussing some matters with green scaled Barabel, one that Riq assumed to be a friend of the Eclipse trooper.  Riq was not able to quite understand the hissing and occasional growl, but body language revealed that Alater was upset in some manner, and the other Barabel, a full six inches shorter than Alater, was attempting to say something in a way as not to distress his companion too much.

Riq's eyes dashed back and forth from Alater's midnight scaled face to the lighter green of the other Barabel.  The language was unknown, but Riqimo still attempted to translate the conversation from a distance.  It seemed somewhat similar to the grunts and howls of the Tusken language, only replaced with hisses and growls that bared rather razor-sharp teeth.

Eventually, Alater clamped his hand onto the other Barabel's shoulder and hissed something Riq assume to be a farewell and wish of good luck before heading back towards Riqimo.

" No worries" responded Lucky in a casual , but quieter than usual tone. She grabbed her gear that was on the ground and hoisted it onto her shoulders before turning around and scanning the unfamiliar scenery.

She knew that the cities or Dens as they were called here were far apart, from one another, so she didn't doubt it would take them awhile to find where the Barabels had taken refuge.

walking forward, she paced around in the grassy field, trying to think of a good way to find them. She suddenly stopped and looked at both Alater and Doc before finally saying.

"Alater, why don't we  walk around and you could see if you can find any trace that your Kin took that specific route?"

The treck through the jungle was hard on both Riqimo and Lucky. The harsh climate alone was enough to put most people on their backs, but the climate controlled stormtrooper suits helped a lot, but not their traction. The wet, swampy forest floor didn't do very well for the combat heavy boots of stormtrooper gear and Lucky and Doc had a bit of a hard time keeping up. Alater was having a bit of trouble himself. The area was atleast a little familar, as the entire planet did not change much.

After an hour, things changed. The erie silence had somehow intensified, and it worried Alater. He had started smelling, seeing, signs of a very bad thing. Every creature on Barab-I that survived was a fighter, even the herbavores had spiked hooves. There was one creature feared by all save the Barabel, and even these mighty hunters gave them respect: the Durgolosk.

Standing nearly 19 feet tall, the creatures were massive, and Alater had only faced a few, and he remembered everything about those fights, including their smell. He had told both Doc and Lucky of these creatures, and how nearly unstopable they were, and how to take them down, but now it became time to test it.

As Alater whipped around, he also ducked. The huge creature was also very stealthy. He had hidden himself, staying down wind until just before attacking. Alater immediantly lept, dodging the thorny barbs on the end of one of its whiplike tentacles. Immediantly he drew his sword, and began hacking at the tentacle.

"DURGALOSK!" Doc yelled as he drew one of his blaster pistols and began firing at the other tentacle. Lucky looked a little stunned, and began to fumble with her rifle.

Alater waited for nothing, and quickly disposed of the first tentacle, but that didn't slow the creature down. As it whipped out with its remaining appendage, its massive maw opened to snap down at Alater. Forced into a retreat, Alater rebounded against a tree, to roll under the durgolosk, only to find himself fending against two of its legs. This wasn't going good.

As Doc opened up fire with his other pistol, and Lucky begin unloading from her rifle, it put some pressure off of Alater. The Durgolosk had never evolved to blaster fire, and it gave Alater some time. With a quick motion he stabbed the length of one of his blades into the belly of the beast. As the creature reared back in pain Alater slammed himself into one of the legs, and with a wonderfull crunching sound, the knee broke. In a swift form Alater drove his blade quickly into, and out of, the bone of the next closest leg.

The creature was warry now, its attacks slower, its movements impaired. As Alater flowed from the first form to the second, he became more aware. Doc and Lucky became more than just random shots coming from outside of his range, but his DeathMates. As the circle got larger, Alater took more control of the situation.

"Doc, Lucky, aim at its remaining arm!" Alater yelled out, and dodged another swipe from the barbed tentacles, and parried those five inch fangs with his sword. As Lucky and Doc fired at the tentacle, leaving only the retreating head for Alater to deal with, Alater charged. Using his claws and climbed up the creature's back. As it twisted its flexable neck to snap at him, Lucky fired off a shot at the creature's head, and caught it in an eye. As it reared back with a screetch of pain, Alater drove Long Fang home, sheathing the blade in the brain and upper jaw of the Durgolosk.

With a mighty thud the creature fell to the ground, and Alater removed his sword. Whiping it clean on the fur of the creature, he turned to Doc and Lucky, both exhausted and a little scratched and bruised.

"Very good. We must keep moving, though we can rest here for a bit." Alater said, considering taking the head back with him as a trophy, but thought better of it.