AVP Hunters Planet 1

Dtai'k-dte sa-de nav'g-kon dtain'aun bpide.

"The fight begun would not end until the end."

"Tarei'hasan" shit.

Nat'ka'pu illustrated how silly the old yautja saying was by feinting to the left, then slipping around the sparring spear thrust out by his opponent. With astonishing speed the Leader followed through with a lightning lunge, grasping the edge of the student's mask and ripping it off his face, shearing off a couple of tightly bound ringlets of hair in the process. Yellow eyes blazed with surprise.

Mandibles clicked with shame. The student yawked with displeasure, attempting to slap Nat'ka'pu back with the blunt side of the spear. But with a creaking heave of his armor the Master took advantage of the cocky student's bad positioning, hacking down on the elbow with the blunt edge of his leather gauntlet, forcing the weapon to slap down onto the floor. Then, before the snot-nosed fool could even begin another sorry howl, the expert reached in and boxed the warrior's right tusk so hard that it looked to the others as though the young one's head would be ripped from his muscle-grieved neck. The student could only give to the force so adroitly positioned. With a gasp
he toppled to his knees.

"Nain-desintje-da."

The pure win, of course. Nat'ka'pu expected nothing less of himself. However, he spat upon his victim with open contempt. The fool should have lasted longer in battle. For all his young pride and strength, he was one of the more thoughtless sparring partners that the Leader had ever faced.

"You have much work before you if you wish to feel the sting of the Hard Meat's thwei upon your brow-if you survive that long."

The student-a snarly, oily fellow named Ki'vik'-non- just glared back silently and woodenly.

"Get away from my sight," snapped the Leader. "Go and wash disgrace and defeat from your eyes. And cleanse your ears as well. You smell of childbearer's musk. Hurry, Ki'vik'non-or your betters will wish to mate with you."

The cruel joke set the others on the deck of the ship into a braying, clicking laughter-derision. With as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances, the fallen would-be warrior rose to his feet with a clatter and creak of his awu'asa. Sunken deep in their orbs, his yellow eyes shone hatred and disrespect before he clanked back into the ranks.-Chpt.Prologue pg.279-280