At the risk of double posting, here's a taste of what the fight against the [i]Hatan[/i] was. Warning: Graphic violence ahead.

[hider=Omake 1][color=778899]Several moons ago, in far off isles[/color][hr]After a week of rest forced unto them by their pack-leaders, they had been itching for some slaughter. Some had even taken to scarring themselves and other hunters to reduce the itch for blood yet nothing was as satisfying as the [i]hunt[/i]. The adrenaline of chasing prey, watching their small circular eyes enlarge as their kin was struck down with knife, gun and powerful [i]Hatanexhix[/i] hands. But the previous [i]monxhei[/i] cowered like animals in their dens, wishing, praying and begging for salvation when they came. Blood was spilt, little ones drained of their lifeforce, elders drained of whatever blood they had left, impudent males and females struck down when they tried to fight. But there was no [i]relief[/i], no adrenaline filled their systems, muscles did not strain, lives were not at stake as with a proper chase.

But here, their hearts pounded in their ears, determined eyes scanning the surroundings as they revelled in a proper [i]hunt[/i]. The primitives of these isles were of a cleverer sort than the last, fleeing their coastal huts at the first sign of their prowlers in the distance. They could have bombed them with their superior guns, killed them all without the slightest bit of effort. But what these [i]monxhei[/i] seem to have realised was that us [i]Hatanexhix[/i] did not enjoy such systematic, detached killings. They lived for the soft underbrush underneath their feet, bounding above entangled vines and tripping roots as they hunted for their prey. The primates found that they could survive longer when they hid in these jungles.

And how [i]fun[/i] and [i]satisfying[/i] to partake in the thrill of the predator and prey. 

Nexhi, a hunter of many years, was broken out of his introspection as his hunting party paused for a small break. They had taken to taking the corpses of the little ones as cloaks, locking small hands around their necks through skin grafting, enjoying the smell of innocent death which followed them. This typically enraged the [i]monxhei[/i] enough to attacking them recklessly but the primitives on this island had yet to take the bait.

Not a single ambush nor trap. No footprints in the underbrush, no fallen branches broken in a hurried flight. There was nothing to track with. A snarling voice broke the silence of the breaking hunters.

One of the younger hunters, frustrated with the lack of blood, carved a small cut along his furred forearm, the movement disturbing the swarm of insects which settled on the child corpse cloak. “Where are these [i]monxhei[/i]? We have been looping around this [i]Axtesh[/i]-damned jungle for a spin and a half!” 

Another, burlier and older [i]Hatanexhix[/i] snorted. “Maybe if you had not broken the silence with your complaining, we might have found some primates to kill.”

The younger one threw his arms in the air, tearing the withered arms off his neck and letting the body drop unceremoniously on to the ground. “If we did not have these heavy cloaks, we would have caught up to them by now.”

“Our skin-carver fell into a pit trap two islands ago, we do not have anyone skilled enough in the art of [i]haxax[/i] to make leather out of skin. We must make do.”

“Why do we not place skulls upon our belts?! This is like carrying an [i]oxox[/i] on your back when we run for this long.”

“You have become a cowardly complainer since you lost that fight against Xheti.”

“That ingrate cut off my finger! My blade would have struck true if it wasn’t for his cowardice.”

“You mean he was simpler smarter than you?”

“You [i]Axteshi[/i], decrepit, pile of bones-“

Nexhi spat in the younger one’s face, interrupting the conversation before it created a murderous altercation which could spread among the group. The bloodlust is addicting and fuelled their endless hunting but they could not afford disagreements this deep in [i]monxhei[/i] lands.

“Enough complaining. They have simply ran longer and have become familiar with these lands. They can run but they cannot hide. We will find them soon.”

Astoundingly, the rabble rouser pinned his attentions on the pack-leader, pointing a finger at Nexhi’s chest. “If only you could track as well as you can breed with an [i]oxox[/i], we would have found them by now!”

Before the hunting leader could lay into the dissenter and rip his throat, the young complainer kicked the head of his discarded cloak. Rotting muscle and flesh careened into the air, striking a large tree at the opposite side of the clearing. 

The sound of breaking bones and shattering wood was smothered by the ground collapsing underneath them. Nexhi, the elder and several others on the periphery of the clearing quickly jumped away from the opening earth. Some were not as lucky.

Silence shattering shrieks broke the relative peace of the jungle as [i]Hatanexhix[/i] impaled themselves on 3-meter-long spikes. Most died instantly, hearts pulverised by the piercing wood, brains splattering the muddy pit. One unfortunate soul, the argumentative young one, had pierced his leg on a spike and dangled like a sack of flesh from the wooden appendage, pained screams making such an annoying [i]racket[/i]. A quick nod from Nexhi across the clearing allowed the elder one to put the boy hunter out of his misery, a sliver of satisfaction flashing on the elder’s face.

As one, the hunters disregarded their now lifeless comrades and scanned the surrounding forests. A trap this well-timed as to kill most of the party had to have a triggering [i]monxhei[/i] behind it. The pattering of light feet and laboured breathing was all Nexhi needed to start his chase. With a holler, he set off into the thick undergrowth with the whooping, grinning hunters quickly following behind them.

As infuriatingly endurance-oriented these [i]monxhei[/i] were, they could not keep up with a [i]Hatanexhix[/i] at their top speed. The hunter leader set upon the first straggler, a white-faced primate looking at death with terror. A swipe with his chain-blade and the primitive’s jaw flung onto the wide leaves, dropping lifelessly in the mud. Another swipe rent his splitting body in two to make sure there would be no peace for that cowardly ape. A few paces later, the next primate turned to face him, shouting in his- no, [i]her[/i]- disgustingly guttural language in a pitiful challenge. She seemed to be protecting an even smaller [i]monxhei[/i], gripping a neon-edged blade of good make. 

The older one charged at him, lunging with both arms outreaching, one bladed and deadly while the other seeking to grapple him. Nexhi simply sidestepped the girl and bisected her in two from head to pelvis, titanium-toothed blades splashing viscera on his light armour. Smiling in amusement, he turned to the other primitive nearby.

Shaking like a leaf, the younger girl had a jade club which he had seen handled proficiently by many a [i]monxhei[/i] warrior, often used to scalp his brethren and leave them writhing in pain.

The girl was no warrior and was quickly rent into four pieces where she shook, revolving chain-blades singing bloody murder in the trees as others also set upon their targets.  The leader laughed boisterously, thoughts flinging back to the young fool in the trap who had missed out in such delight and revelry. 

Out of the foliage, a roaring young boy flung himself at the hunter, wooden pan-shaped club in hand, foaming at the mouth. Nexhi parried the club with the back of his chain-blade, shifting the boy’s momentum into a blood-soaked tree. Before he could set upon the primitive, the boy scrambled away from screaming hooked chains which embedded itself in tough wood.

The [i]Hatanexhix[/i] laughed harder, discarding his chain blade and kicked the dead girl’s jade club up into his hands. He stalked his prey, hyperventilating with how hard he laughed at the boy’s narrowing eyes and his subsequent about turn into the shrubbery.

Quickly leaving his other fellows, Nexhi gave chase with murderous glee. He slowed his pace so he was just out of the wild backward swipes of this humiliation in front of him. What a pathetic specimen, running when the adrenaline left his body, evidently realising his doomed fate.

The hunter leader followed the boy up a small hill and unto a clearing of grass, edged by a cliff. The prey turned swiftly to face his opponent, determination in his eyes despite the clear soiling in his flax skirts. It was so humorous that Nexhi almost cried laughing at the site.

“[i]Boy![/i]” He shouted between laughter, twisting his serpentine tongue to occupy the tongue of these wretched primitives. “[i]You turn tail with the first xlaughter. You are more pitiable than the girl I had just split in xuarters. Xhe wielded your[/i] mere[i] with no skill but at least xhe did not run like a coward![/i]”

The boy opened his mouth like a gaping fish, nearly sending the [i]Hatanexhix[/i] into hysterics. “[i]You speak the language of our ancestors.[/i]”

“[i]Of course,[/i]” Nexhi boasted, a wide shit-eating grin threatening to split his face in half “[i]xlaughtering a pig is more fun when you know what the animal is xaying.[/i]”

Little or not, the dark-skinned primitive set his mouth in a thin line, gripping the wooden pan-club tighter as he stalked forward in a deliciously proud way. 

“[i]You are not worthy of their tongue.[/i]”

“[i]And you,[/i] monxhei[i] are not worthy of the ground your corpse xhall fall on.[/i]”

“It will not be my corpse falling to the earth, [i]Hatan[/i]. I am Xhota, son of Xhashi, and your death will bring glee to my ancestors.”

The hunter howled uproariously at the upstart, twirling the primitive club between dextrous fingers as he set upon his prey.

The two set launched themselves against each other, one howling with surprised glee, the other grim-faced and set with immovable will. This small, almost forgettable duel among many hundreds fought on this planet would have repercussions upon the future. The singing willpower, the cacophonous strength, the determination to move mountains which ran through Ngarewarewa’s blood would start here. On a small atoll, of no interest for many of the great leaders at the time, between a murderer and a child. A hunter and his prey.[hr][/hider]