Roughdragon1 — Roleplayer Guild

Plutonian Outpost, 588th Army of Humanity

All hope seemed to be lost. The Griks surrounded them, and grunts were falling left and right from falling axes and blades. The Brumak seemed unstoppable, the soldiers’ bullets bouncing off its hide like rubber. Barry’s mind raced at light speed trying to discern what was going on around him, and the choices he had. He didn’t know whether to focus on the orders given by the officers, shoot at the Griks, help injured soldiers, or just curl up and die. As more soldiers were mercilessly purged by the savage aliens, the latter choice seemed more and more appealing with every passing second.

Barry felt something crash into his helmet, and he fell flat on his back, dazed. The broken helmet rolled away, trailing bits of brittle metal as it went along. A particularly nasty Grik towered over him, club in hand. The thing snarled and gnashed its rotted teeth, and Barry could smell the pastry bread scent emanating from the otherwise ferocious beast. He raised his rifle to fire, but it clicked. No ammo. Dropping his empty rifle, he couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle. 

Heh, I guess I made the mistake of thinking I’d live through all this. Who wouldn’t?

With that final thought, Barry closed his eyes as the Grik swung the club, and smashed in his skull. 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Captain Faraday

“Come on, you fucking pastries! Just try to kill me!” 

Captain Faraday smashed her rifle’s stock against a Grik’s face, stunning it for a few seconds before shooting it, spraying black blood and bits of bone across the masses behind it. However, even with her boasting, even she knew that they couldn’t hold out forever. They were down to about a thousand soldiers from their original 100,000, including other sectors and outposts that had retreated to the same position. 

Faraday reloaded her gun, cocked it, and was about to jump into the fray when a maelstrom of bullets nearly decimated the entire Grik advance. Utterly shocked, she looked around to see the source of the supporting fire, and found her answer when she looked up. She saw dozens upon dozens of troop transport ships arrive from orbit, and the one that had just saved them opened its hatch, and four figures flew--no-- leaped out, and landed on the plutonian surface with seemingly little issue. 

All four of them were fully encased in gleaming metallic armor. Despite their strange look, there was no doubt to the grunts that these four were superior to them in every way, shape, and form. In an instant, they fanned out in four directions, slaughtering every single Grik in the way. Their speed, their precision, their strength… There was no way that it could’ve been possible. Every trigger pull from their impeccably maintained and diverse weapons resulted in one or two Grik deaths. Even when the Grik came into melee distance, they were still no match for the armor-clad warriors, as the banana-scented aliens were beaten into bloody dough when they got too close. 

The transport ships landed and opened, letting in the tides of soldiers who wanted so desperately to leave. Faraday refused to leave until all of the soldiers in her company were “safe” aboard the transport ships. Instead, she tried to resume shooting the Griks, but all of the ones previously in range were now dead. All that was left was the Brumak, which swung its chain in a wild arc towards the newcomers. She made her way to one of the transport ships, knowing she’d be of no use to the remainder of the fight.

One of the four, a large brute in his own right, wielded a massive gun which had sparks of electrical power dancing off it like a lightning storm. He set it up on the ground, angling the open barrel to face the Brumak, which only came closer. The gun seemed to charge up, and with a second’s delay, let loose a literal lightning storm. The thunderous bolts of pure voltage drained all surrounding light and struck the Brumak in the head, and detonated its skull, chunks of molten rock raining down upon the dwindling Grik. 

Cheers from the grunts and soldiers pierced the silent fighting, whoops and yells emerging from inside the transport ships. Faraday, as well as the other commanding officers, were just as amazed and dumbfounded by this show of absolute military turnover. Before, the Griks were about to massacre all of the soldiers, no matter how hard they fought. However, with the arrival of this small squad of four, the Griks and Brumak were rendered null and void almost instantaneously. It was a miracle. Almost. 

As Faraday continued to stand there amazed, she noticed something on the horizon. It wasn’t an army, but a lone, dark figure; barely recognizable as a humanoid. It held something, and pointed it at the four. It was too late to say anything. A blue bolt of light shot from the silhouette, and travelled at an impossible speed. Faraday barely had time to think of shouting “Look out!” before the bolt slammed into the leader of the newcomers, who flew back into the transport ship Faraday was in.

Shit, this isn’t good.

The blue bolt had burned a hole into the newcomer’s armor, exposing charred skin and flesh. The three others ran back into the transport ship to check on the injured leader. One of them took off their helmet, revealing an angular, feminine face topped by auburn hair and dull green eyes. She had a small bottle in her hand, and applied some kind of foam onto the affected area. She looked up at one of her companions, the previously unmentioned one who carried a sniper rifle in his hands, with a bland business-like demeanor. 

“Go tell the pilot that the Argon are here.” 

He gave an almost imperceptible nod, and made for the cockpit, the mass of soldiers parting way for him as he did. He opened the door, exchanged a few words, and immediately they were off, the hatch closing.
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