He had removed the adornments from his hair years ago, feeling they represented too much of his old culture. The Koros bands were a yautja tradition that started at puberty. They signified more than mere decorations. But he was a rogue. The beads that held his parents names, marked the passing of his chiva, and signified learned skills were all worth nothing. They would never show his status in the community or win him females, as none of that existed for him anymore. His planet had cast him out as a Badblood and so he would live a life on the run, outside of yautja law. His dreads were now smooth, but felt uncomfortably bare.

It seemed he'd have to do without his necklace as well. It was a string of iridescent scales he'd collected from one of his kills on Yaut. He'd made the cord himself by twisting together delicate plant fibres. Over the years, the clasp had busted and the twine had frayed. He swept his palm across the table with a growl, knocking it to the floor. It was best not to remember that place anyway.

He had the basics at least. Still following protocol, he adorned the black mesh netting around his torso. It would maintain his optimal body temperature and other vitals. Armor, traditional weaponry, and a spiked copper bio mask completed his outfit. He was ready to explore, to hunt. Being confined to such a small ship had made him restless.

The spacecraft descended on the small planet, its surface mostly composed of blue water. Its reputation was one of fantasy and ancient history. Great chivas had once been held on the planet, but the beings that once worshiped the yautja race were long abandoned. The yautja had found more prime locations for the trials, as well as better prey.

However, the few that returned to the forgotten planet had come back with mixed opinions and stories of the oomans. Some said they had lost their value as prey, lost their ferocity and survival instincts. Others, came back with stories of oomans as surprising and intriguing beings worthy of being prey or even companions. On the home planet, oomans could be hunting partners or slaves. Mates or mere dinner.

The planet had since been under protection, similar to that of a conservation area. Permits were needed just to go near the planet, and few were allowed to hunt there. He did not care about the stories either way. But landing on the planet he had never been allowed admission to when he was a citizen was now wide open for exploration as a criminal. He hunted to keep his mind occupied, his stomach full, and his skills sharp...Though he was curious as to what sort of prey he would find there.

His waxy dreads swung as he sharply turned his head. His clawed hands tightened on the rough bark of the tree branch. He scanned, small lime green eyes shifting under a metal mask. An expansive tangle of vegetation surrounded him on every side-moss covered trees, palmed leaves, and spindly vines. It was an indistinguishable mess of vegetation until he changed his bio mask's vision mode-illuminating the world in an array of colors by their heat signatures.

Red blotches of various shapes and sizes now surrounded him. Creatures hiding even within a tree hollow were now obviously visible in the dense jungle. That being said, depth perception was a big skewed in this heat view and so he practiced with it often. A gangly animal high up in the canopies above him with five appendages and a head was closest. It possessed two big eyes and the fifth appendage was a sort of prehensile tail.

He slowly began to shift his position on the branch, careful not to make even the slightest sound. His homeostasis netting, besides maintaining body temperature, also produced his cloaking device—making him completely invisible. However, smell and sound could still give him away.

A rising excitement boiled inside him as he drew closer. The creature was getting suspicious, pausing its movements but head swiveling around. He did not know what kind of senses or defenses the alien animal had but he was confident he could catch it-and that was all that mattered.

Not a leaf stirred as he encroached on the animal, and the urge to kill was throbbing through his body like a crashing wave of desire. An instinct so hard to suppress. All of the animal's appendages were splayed out, gripping the branches around it, tense.

He was about ten foot away from the small creature, and he let his serrated twin blades slide out of his gauntlet with a dangerous metallic slide. The creature was frantic, scared, and he loved that even more. He wanted his prey to fear his invisible form; it was pure ecstasy knowing they knew death was imminent. It moved frantically from branch to branch, up and down in the general area and making low barking noises. He crept closer and closer to the nervous animal, his blades ready to slice into its delicate unprotected body.

The intoxicating thrill of the hunt was almost too much. His blood rushed through his veins and pounded in his heart...but he lowered his blades. Practice was all he would do. A deep breath calmed down his eagerness for the kill. The animal jumped away then, but stared back suspiciously. He moved on to find bigger and more worthy prey.

What he found next was not prey, but a source of amusement. He wasn't able to identify them. They had spikes for legs, tiny stalks for eyes, and carried shells around with them. When he got near them, they tucked themselves in their shells and fell over, seeming to faint at the sight of him. He crouched down and picked one up in his hand until it recuperated.

When it began to crawl, he poked at it and the claw of the little beast pinched onto his skin. He turned his hand upside down and let the little thing dangle there until it decided to let go of him. It hit the leaf litter and rolled. He followed it with his eyes until a different movement caught his attention.

It was a small, fat, brown thing. Its skin was covered in bumps. When he crept towards the animal, it tried to hop away. He picked up its soft body and flipped it over to examine it. A liquid puddled in his hand. It had evacuated on him. He tossed the fat creature behind him with a disgusted grunt. It was odd, but not prey, so he pressed on.

Up in the trees again, he began to hunt. One of his mask settings picked up on chemical traces, illuminating animal urine amongst the forest like glowing spots of varying colors of yellow. That, combined with the tracks, led him to his next target. A wild boar was rooting around in the mud with its large tusks, coating its coarse mat of hairs in thick sludge. It would be an unusually shaped skull, and fierce looking with its tusks, yet his mask identified the animal as aggressive-but a herbivore. Only other predators, carnivores, were worthy trophies.

He could kill to eat, yet he was not hungry, so it would only be practice again, which disappointed him some. He dropped out of the tree silently, and stood crouched and ready with his combi-stick in hand. He let his cloaking device drop, and produced an airy clicking noise to gain the animals attention. The boar turned, snuffling the air, and stared him down. His combi-stick extended into a spear-like weapon. When he charged, the boar ran away but quickly circled back to protect its territory.

He teased the animal at first-when it finally charged he merely moved out of its way and gave it a slap with the combi-stick to anger it. It grew more fierce and began taking swifter turns. Its hooves dug into the mud and its curved tusks aimed for his calves to gouge his muscles and bring him falling. It would never happen.

Though he was no expert with the weapon he held, he could easily beat a 250lb wild boar. They tussled in circles for several minutes before he grew bored. The boar would not give up its attack, though, and on impulse he shoved the spear down between its shoulder blades. It squealed and ran then wobbled and fell, dead. He removed the spear, and stared down at his kill.

It was not an honorable kill, but he was not following those laws any longer. Still, it did not make him feel better to have killed it, and he'd come to loathe his compulsiveness. It was what had gotten him marked a badblood in the first place. He left the body to the jungle, to allow nature to decompose and consume his mistake.

He lounged on a branch, flipping through the different vision modes in search of another target. As he scanned the forest, he fiddled with a soft yellow bird feather between his fingers. However, it was not something he saw that caught his attention. No, it was a beautiful and strange noise that held his interest...light and flowing, smooth and heavenly, loud but soft. It drew him closer.

Climbing was something all yautjas were good at. He leapt from tree to tree, using the branches and vines until he ran out of jungle. He descended from the tree and dropped with a thud, sending colorful insects in a scatter. He was eager to see what alien creature made such a noise and if it was worthy of being killed.

The song had carried him to the very edge of the jungle, where bright sunlight filtered through the leaves. He swept the foliage away as he took a step forward, but then dropped his head. He stared down at the sand with loathing. It was such a horrid ground, uncomfortable and shifting.

After some hesitation, he left the jungle behind. An endless expanse of bobbing water lay before him with only a small strip of beach to walk. He had to admit the heat from the tiny, ground up rocks was nice though. They complemented the rays shining down from the burning star above.

He moved slowly through the sand, searching for whatever generated the music he liked so much. Down the stretch of beach, and on the very edge of the water he finally spotted two animals. They possessed lithe bodies, were cladly dressed, hairless for the most part, and tan.

They looked innocent, harmless. However, he knew these species-they were the most prevalent ones on this planet. They were not as defenseless as they looked. He watched them, waiting for the sound to continue. There was a small noise coming from a small box high up on the beach, somewhat similar to what he had heard, but not as pretty. It was a combination of beats and noises and singing all blurred together that ruined it...It was the voice that rose above it that he loved...and soon the song erupted again, a beautiful, fluid, melody.

The creature had long flowing hair so unlike his own. It possessed a healthy sheen, making it look like thin strands of gold. Her mouth moved only slightly while producing the tones-making it look so easy. The sound filled his chest and he was content. He sat down in the sand just to watch the pair.

They ate, played, and the female sang a lot. He only wished he knew the purpose of the singing. Courting the male? A sign of happiness? A sign of fertility? Possibly all three...

He'd seen and experienced a lot on many, many different planets. Amazing creatures so huge and beautiful that their polished skulls were a trophy fit for gods. Their essence, their battle, their memories, their death forever captured in their bones and recorded by his bio mask. Though maybe not worthy in battle, the creatures song was beautiful. That alone made him want this animal's skull. His expanse of lean muscle tensed, ready for the hunt.

But already he had failed.