The Last of His Kind

A good story has both a beginning and an end. Some beginnings are happy, that make you feel happy for the protagonist. Some beginnings are sad, that make you weep over the tragedies that befall the hero. This story is the second, come closer my children and hear the tale of The Last of His Kind.

Zae'kyal1 stared at the endless stars, wondering how life had turned out this way. He was lonely, so very lonely. Of course that's to be expected when you're the last of your kind, the last of the Nal'thyak2. His thoughts turned inwards, his cat-slit silver colored eyes closing in anger.

*Flashback*

Running, Running. Everyone was running, they were destroying everything. Fire, death, destruction. Dead bodies lay where those too slow fell, drawing their last breath. Behind him, the invaders swarmed like Vya'gar3 bugs. Everything was destroyed before them, the Cal'nyar4, the destroyers. With a form like grotesque, misshapen Gal'thyan5, they spewed blue fire from their beaks.

Beside him, another Nal'thyak fell burning as she caught fire.Some of his kin ran towards the invaders wielding black-ice spears. They were swatted aside with metal coated tentacles with contemptuous ease. Their strength was ten times the strongest of Nal'thyak warriors, their armor deflecting aside spears like a rock deflected water.

Cal'nyar swatted aside a Nal'thyak warrior his kin's body slamming into a nearby hut. Another warrior screamed as his body burned, the blue fire resisting all attempts to put it out. One of the Cal'nyar raised a strangely shaped spear and with a flash of harsh red light, a third warrior was gone, not even ash remained. Another Cal'nyar leaped upon another of his kin, the sharp beak tearing into flash, the Nal'thyak screaming as his body poured green blood.

More blasts of fire and red light, more Nal'thyak fell. One of the Cal'nyar flung a strange orb near him, it exploded with a plume of fire. The explosion flung him into a small niche in the cliff face. His eyes had spots, his hearing rang, blackness took him.

When he woke, the Cal'nyar were gone, his village was destroyed. He left the small cave looking around his decimated village. Bodies of Nal'thyak littered the ground, most burned or crushed beyond recognition.

He saw one body that was undamaged enough for him to recognize. He rushed forwards, curses to the gods on his tongue. He fell to his backside-facing knees, clawed feet scraping the ground. His lengthy tail swished back and forth in anguish, his three clawed hand cradled the body. His breath coming out in huffs as he sobbed in grief over the body.

Tears leaked from his almond-shaped eyes as he raised his scaled head to the smoke-blackened skies and screamed in agony at the tragedy before him. His Tyo'lek6, his life-mate, was dead. He screamed long and loud. He screamed for his Tyo'lek, he screamed for his village, and he screamed for his kin, the Nal'thyak. He screamed until his throat was soar and his body exhausted. He fell asleep next to the body of his life-mate.

*End flashback*

Zae'kyal opened his eyes, tears leaking from them once more, his claws curling up as the memories flitted through his mind. He stood, walking towards the body of another of his kin. Finding an undamaged black-ice spear he picked it up. looking at the blood-blessed weapon, he vowed to find meaning, to find a way to fill the void in his Kyan'nue7. He turned his back to his village, walking away, never to return.

He had walked for hours, his clawed feet ached, his body exhausted. he looked up from the battle-scared ground in wary surprise as a chiming sound reached his ears. Before him a glowing ball on ethereal energy swirled in chaotic ways. The ball glowed every color his kind had name for, and some that were strange to his eyes. It chimed and chirped with strange music that was pleasing to his ears.

The orb seemed to call to him, echoing in his Kyan'nue. Reaching out his three clawed hand, spear ready in the other, he touched the orb. Like falling into water, the orb engulfed him in its strange energies. He felt like he was falling and moving forwards falling at once. The sensation like being squeezed through a small tunnel filled with honey surrounded him. With a jolt the sensations faltered.

He shook his, head not believing his eyes. He was in a forest, the trees close together, making him feel closed in. before him was a small hut, wooden in nature and decorated with strange effigies that looked like faces. Bottles filled with strange fluids hung from string around the roof.

He heard a crackling noise to his right, and spun around, his spear at the ready. What he saw made him pause, it seemed familiar and strange all at once. It was a striped, four-legged Hyat'ket8. What happened next surprised him enough that he almost dropped his spear. The Hyat'ket spoke.

"What is this I see before my home, a creature from beyond that has roamed? Lower your weapon, I mean you no harm, only knowledge do I wish to farm."

He blinked, words escaping him, he understood the Hyat'ket. UNDERSTOOD it, he wondered if it would understand him. He was about to speak when the Hyat'ket beat him to it.

"Zecora is my name, of you, I would ask the same."

He spoke, his voice coming out in a tentative tone. "I am Zae'kyal. I am sorry for pointing my spear a you, I was surprised. Normally Hyat'ket do not speak."

The Hyat'ket named Zecora smiled. "No offense is taken, you are new here if i am not mistaken?"

He nodded. "Yes."

"Come into my home, you need not roam. Come and let me lend an ear, put to rest all your fears."

Zae'kyal sighed. "Thank you, Zecora. Perhaps you can help me find a town in which to begin anew, to fill this void within my kyan'nue."

"To help I will, but this word I do not know, my knowledge will you fill?"

Zae'kyal nodded as he followed Zecora into her hut. He hoped all that if this world was populated with others like her, that they would be as kind.