The Bloody Bitch Dragon

By the time you realise that they can traverse water, it’s too late. The surviving members of your unit manage to make it back by shedding their excess gear and running for their lives; the slower ones were crushed to death within minutes.

You later describe the creature to one of the humans you captured, wanting to know the name of the monstrosity that will haunt your nightmares for cycles to come.

The human smiles as it speaks a single word, slowly and distinctly, in its barbaric tongue.

And at first you are, you’ve learned how to dodge. You’ve learned where their territories are. You know how to defend yourself.

But then one night you are sleeping in your shelter. You’re in a tree covered temperate part of earth. It seems benign. There are been no sightings of the dreaded “hippos” around. Not even any bears. But there is a slight rustle of the undergrowth. You try and ignore it telling yourself it is just the wind.

Then you hear the rustle again. closer this time.

You peer out into the darkness but see nothing amongst the trees.

The rustle again and now you realise you can smell something. It’s musky and slightly foul. It’s the smell of an omen, a warning. But what of? Where is this smell coming from.

You sit up, but it’s too late. The foul smelling creature is on you. You are hit with 17kg of coarse fur and vicious bites. Long dark claws tear in to you and you are pinned down white the striped creature tries to bite your throat.

It takes some doing but you manage to wrestle free. Blood drips from your wounds and already they itch with the sign of infection. The creature has a bloodied snout, rust rad, mingling with the black and white hairs. It lets out a terrifying growl from the back of its throat and looks to attack again. It’s between you and your knife, so your only choice is to back away.

Eventually the creature gives up and snuffles off in to the undergrowth, down a hole near your shelter you hadn’t noticed before.

When you make it back to your base you once again consult the captive human.

BAMrumblerumblethumpcrash!!!

You lost Jaxurn to a plant. Not even a mobile or carnivorous plant, just one that caused a vicious allergic reaction on contact that killed him in less than a rai'kor. Commander Vura'ko died to an insect bite, a tiny local pest that sucked a tiny bit of her blood and apparently replaced it with a bit of its last meal, which was full of disease. Backwash. She died to bug backwash. And yet you honestly envy them after that… thing you encountered…

When you got back to base the quarantine officer refused to let you inside. They had to roll a containment tank outside to put you in, because you all knew there would be no chance of eliminating the smell if it got into the ship’s air ducts. Smell. You wonder if your nasal slit will ever recover from this stench.

And the smell would. Not. Leave. After incinerating your gear the Q.O. had you use every cleansing agent they could think of, including a few janitorial ones, and still everyone fled the stench if they were downwind of your tank. Desperate to protect everyone’s nasal slits from the smell the quarantine officer interrogated the humans. From them, a glimmer of hope: there was a cure. Somehow the juice of a certain fruit on this mudball was the only thing that could break up the chemicals in the little horror’s spray. Immediately the Q.O. sent a team to recover buckets of the stuff and made you bathe in it. That was hours ago and it didn’t seem to be working, though. All it was doing was turning your blue skin an interesting shade of purple.

Sighing in frustration you wave the med-assist on duty over, who only approaches after checking the wind direction. Annoyed, you flip on the tank`s vox speaker.

It came for someone almost every night. 

Any soldier alone was a viable target for this native monster that moved unseen by any but the security viewers, usually only spotted in hindsight.  They were taken as silently as this earth-monster moved.  Sometimes they’d find the remains in the morning taken up a tree and hung there, mostly eaten, as if it were a grisly reminder that the monster was still there, waiting unseen, to strike again. 

What little they saw of the monster on the vidfeed showed true horror.  Yellow eyes that shone with all the light it could gather.  It had fangs as long as his grasping digits.  Claws half that size formed curved hooks that allowed it to climb up their fortifications with impunity.  And in the underbrush, its spots made it almost impossible to see clearly in the undergrowth, if it could be seen at all.

Even the native sentients, the humans, had a healthy respect and fear for it. 

The earth natives called the monster a leopard.  

It was a constant fear that muddied the senses, and let the monster hunt even more effectively as the soldiers were always on edge.  Sleep deprived with fear, it made them even better targets for the monster. 

But rumor was that there was worse on this planet.  Rumors of a monster like a leopard but larger, and bigger in every imaginable sense. Stripped instead of spotted, which leaped from the underbrush with a sound.

The troops were not-quite-looking at her in the way troops do when they don’t want to be seen to contradict a ranking officer, but can’t quite muster a correct Expression of Enthusiastic Assent.  “The name of this species,” she pointed out, “is synonymous with dullness and slowness in the language of the Earth barbarians.”  Well, one language out of several thousand—these creatures needed Imperial guidance more than any other world on record—but there was no point in confusing the rank and file.

“I would warn you not to fuck with us, mate.” Their forced guide, a prisioner, had warned with a chilling grin upon capture. “If you think a moose is bad, wait until you tango with a red back.” To this day Tar'van fears the creature known as the red back, and what horrors it would bring.

The prisioner turned out to be of little help,the stubboness of his people causing them to refuse the danger that the captured human warned of. Tar'van recalls a moment when one of his squad members approached a creature know as a dingo, insistent they had seen these creatures before and they were tame. They barely escaped with 5 of the original 7 members of his squad.

Another moment Tar'van recalls was the brutal mauling they witnessed by the hands of a creature called an ‘Emu’

“Don’t feel too bad,” the prisioner mocked. “We lost a war to the Emu’s as well.”

Now with only 4 members of their squad left, including themself, Tar'van had learned to listen to the prisoner, to be wary of the simplest of creatures. This human was of the sub-species of ‘Zookeeper’ after all.

The ‘Zookeeper’ looks off to the distance, where the creature is.

“It’s a kangaroo, leave it be and you’ll be fine.” Tar'van nods, a human signal of acknowledgement if they are correct. The human smiles a bit.

“That creature cannot possibly harm us.” Tar'van’s squadleader protests. “It is so docile. I will aproach it and bring back it’s head to show this human is a fearmongering liar.”

The human reels back, a look of disgust crosses their face and anger passes through their eyes.

“Fucking do it mate, I dare ya.” The human hisses. The squad leader puffs up their hoinn gland, a sign of pride to their species, and aproached the so called ‘Kangaroo’.

“This will be unpleasant.” A squadmate mutters as they watch their leader raise their fist and bring it down on the creature. The ‘Kangaroo’ looks a little stunned by the impact, before it raises itself upon its strong tail and uses its powerful heind legs to launch their squadleader backwards through the air.

Their squadleader lands upon the ground, unmoving with black blooded oozeing from them. It appears Tar'van is the squads leader now.

“I don’t know what they expected.” the human says, smugness filling their tone. “Kangaroos are fucking shreaded. 8-pack and all.”

Tar'van steps forward to the human, whom inches back in a sign of fear as Tar'van pulls their blade from its holster, and in their first act as leader, frees the human of the bonds around their hands.

They had faced Emu’s. They had lost one in the battle but had experienced them. But this was no emu.

Looking to their guide, they all stare in horror as his face changes from calculating to fear. Pure, heart consuming horror as he stares at the large bird. “Cassowary…” They mimic him in fear. Squawking the horrific name as another joins the first in the mad run towards them.

“Excuse me,” the native Terran guide speaks up in a tired tone, and the squad’s cheers die on their lips. “This is Japan. You haven’t seen what–”

“Silence, worm! No sting can penetrate this plating!”

The guide tries to warn them once again, merely earning a blow that throws them to their knees. The troops set out, morale high, certain in their ability to brave the wildlife now and thirsting for vengeance against the non-sentient native species. One soldier thumps his fist against a tree. A hollow sound follows.

In an instant, the soldier is the centre of a storm of the striped insects. At first, no one pays it any mind. Their little stings cannot penetrate the new plating, after all.

But then the soldier falls to his knees, and the squad stares in horror as the insects enclose him in layer upon layer of their own bodies, all moving. The squad’s medic yells a warning at everyone to stay back, watching the readouts of the unfortunate soldier’s armour on their diagnostic screen with undisguised horror. The insects aren’t even stinging. They simply keep moving, one atop the other, and the soldier’s body temperature is slowly rising until he drops to the ground, quite literally cooked alive. The insect swarm takes off, unharmed save for the ones that were crushed when the trooper fell.

The human bares its teeth. A smile, they call it. Something humans do when they are happy. Yet you can’t help but think of all the creatures with the their large fangs and sharp teeth. (What kind of species uses a threat signal as a sign of happiness?)

“Persistence and ingenuity.” The human answers, still smiling. 

“Is that a miniature tiger?”

“Why does this human own a small pack of wolves?”

The aliens ask their human captive why small wolves live with them. 

“Oh, you mean dogs? Yeah, they’re the only animals that can keep up with us.”

The aliens look at each other in fear. “What do you mean?”

“Oh well that’s why you guys ‘won’ is because humans aren’t super fast or strong. I think my middle school biology teacher called us pursuit predators? It means we evolved to hunt things by following them at walking pace until they had to stop to sleep and then catching up to them then. Dogs are the only animals that can keep up with us. Did you know one time a pack of wolves tailed a herd of caribou for three days straight?”

“Uh… okay, what about these small round things with big teeth?”

“Omg dude no if you give a hamster enought time that little fucker can chew through concrete :)”

The aliens aren’t expecting any difficulties with their underwater expeditions. Of course, that’s when four of the life signs on the central screen simply vanish, like they’d never been there. 

Alpha turns on the direct communication lines to the remaining submersion pods, and the only thing they hear through the tinny speakers is screaming. 

Alpha resists the urge to turn and stare at the shackled human standing behind them, but Beta, Gamma and Theta have no such compunctions. 

The human shrugs. “I mean, we’ve never really been down there so we’re not entire sure, but we’ve heard stories of giant squids and stuff. No smoke without fire, and all that.” 

“There can be neither smoke nor fire underwater, human, cease your prattling.” 

The human snorts. “It’s a phrase. A metaphor? Man, I don’t know, I studied marine biology, not literature.” 

The human is unable to tell them anything useful about what might have happened to the submersion pods, but retrieved footage later shows tentacled behemoths snaking out of the depths of disturbed silt and cold water, and crushing the submersion pods effortlessly, in full view of the outer-hull cameras. The monsters have giant beaks which rip through the organic alloy sheets, and into the bodies of the pod pilots within. 

The outer-hull cameras register the blue of fresh spilled blood and gore, at the same time the on-board cameras register screaming and the red glow of critical power failure. 

The last thing the aliens can see on the retrieved footage is thin, long, snakelike creatures appearing out of the darkness and gloom, creating their own light and descending upon the remains of their brethren. They are accompanied by creatures that look like plastic bags, but which feed upon the toxic remains of the organic alloy of which the pods were made.

2) Earth has Poison Dart Frogs, we’re clearly a Death World.

Such a one was Sarcal-<clik>, respected Third Claw of the 87th Legion. Not only an admired leader and a feared warrior (They had led the assualt on Urpga-9 after all), but one whose exo-skeleton and mist sacs were amongst the most elegantly beautiful of their generation (though they were apporpriately modest about such things). In every respect they were a warrior to aspire to be like, resplendent in the finest, hand-polished ceramic body armour, guaranteed (so the makers claimed) to be able to resist the claws of even the “tyg’er”, though no one was too keen to put that one to the test. They had volunteered for this duty, partly out of a love of the challenge, partly out of a desire to excel… There was a Dirt-ian song which included the lyrics “If I can make it there, I’ll make it anywhere” and this was being generally applied to the surivors of more than one tour of duty.

Simply having them on Dirt (There HAD to be a better name) was a source of pride for many, and relief for others (in the hope that a bad report from Salrcal<clik> would be enough to get Command to evacuate this godsforsaken planet.)

So it was a cause of great concern when Sarcal-<clik> could not be woken when it came time for their watch that night. Like any good soldier, they slept in their armour when sharing watch duty. Swiftly, an officer was called and when the visor was raised, it was not that they were dead which was the greatest shock, but the look of horror frozen on that noble visage.

The field surgeon performing the cursory autopsy could not identify cause of death beyond poison of some sort. The humans bearers on the squad hadn’t been near them, so they were in the clear, but beyond that, it was a mystery.

The prized armour was passed to the next in command, as Sarcal<clik> would have wished, and though the sqaud were not nearly as inspired as once they might have been, they continued the patrol, determined to honour their comrade’s memory. There would be poems composed of this mission on the Homeworld in Sarcal<clik>’s honour, and their behaviour would reflect on them all in the telling.

It was not long, however, before the second in command convulsed and collapsed. Not as stoic as Sarcal<clik> their death was just as horrific, but less restrained and though the surgeon was still not able to identify how such a powerful neurotoxin could have entered their system.

There was some understandable reluctance on the newly appointed second in command to take on the armour. it may have been beautiful and gleamed in the even the unpleasantly yellow Dirt-ian sun, but it now had a reputiation.

And it was one that was well earned. The scream of the dying soldier was heard by all. They took longer that the previous victims, and their last contorlled movement was to point to their hindfoot, but the armoured boot was perfectly intact.

After that no one would go near the armour, it had a bad reputaiton, it would be boxed up and returned to the Homeworld for display in some museum or other. Thus is was only two human bearers cleaning it before transport who were present when the small shape fell out of the toe of the boot.

“Careful matel! Funnel web!”

“Dead now. That explains a lot though. I guess tiger proof doesn’t mean spider-proof, and they LOVE dark spaces to hide in. Doubt the bite would show up on mottled skin like theirs.”

”Should we tell our high and mighty masters in case there are any more about?”

They exchanged a gleefully malevolent look and shared a smile.

“Why trouble them with such a trivial little matter.”

After a month it was exceedingly clear that the human concept of friendship was NOT a state of mutual trust and support but perhaps fear and subjugation from nature. Perhaps it was one of those clever tricks the humans used to lure each other to death, just like the fabled ‘greenland’

You see, having learned their lessons in “Australia” they chose to settle in near the old human civilization, where the humans had razed the landscape to set up personal habitats, driving the wildlife back.

How were they to know that driving back meant only about 10 feet, because after a rain, a massive beast heralding from millions of earth years came out of the water and ripped Lieutenant Grakshw into pieces in broad daylight. Attempts to recover his plated insignia for his family was met with a CONFLAGRATION of about 20 vicious writhing snakes that were very soon found to be venomous, as the loss of Captain M'gbrak soon proved.

Immediate restructuring of the fence separating the encampment from the ‘bayou’ seemed to work for precisely one week…

Like most of this death world, the area was prone to hurricanes and tornadoes for most of the year. The human built habitats seemed to weather it poorly, with many having bits blown off, exposing their vehicle ports or bathing dens to the elements.

The exploratory team did not account for what the humans kept in their homes. There were many canine and feline miniatures that they of course had protocol for.

They did not have protocol for the beasts with claws the length of their chest that were very hungry after their human handlers were removed

According to the human guide of sub class “control officer” many upstanding human homes in human sub colony “texas” kept full size predators (lions, tigers, and bears, …..no home) as pets and as it was legal in this dont as long as the animal was fed, there was no documentation on where or how many were hidden away.

The final transmission from settlement group Xyytar-B came from their designated human actually HOLDING several of the venomous beings that slaughtered M'gbrak in a flimsy plastic tub. Her accent was as hard to translate as ever:

“Yea y'all really fucked up when ya tried to poof us all. Now the tigers are hungry and the wolves are breaking out of their yards. Try watching animal cops before picking a habitat next time. Animal control out”

….

While the takeover of “Earth” was slow, and the humans only gave information after a life was lost, Na'axi would say they made progress.

Their squad, consisting of twenty, were sent to what the Humans called “South America”, and in a place called the “Amazon”. While the human looked scared, there surely cant be a place worse than “Australia”, right? Plus, Squad 024 was fitted with the best armours, no “Tigers” or even “Bears” could penetrate. (they weren’t quick to test the theory though) They even have a cooling system in case of “Japanese Honeybees” and antidotes for most natural poisons (though they dont know how they were poisoned in the first place, the Humans refuse to help)

So with confidence high and alertness even more so, Squad 024 traveled into the dense “Amazon Rainforest” in case there were anymore human settlements.

.

This mission was a mistake and the armour was not as it was advertised. Squad 024 had travelled by land, facing several creatures, losing Ja'ix to a “Jaguar” when the squad took a break near a small tree. They lost Fa'lu to a “Harpy Eagle” when they tried to have their meal. And the leader Guo'fi was killed by a poison that was unknown. Five more were lost to various diseases. The onsite Human, while he did tell them the names of such creatures, refused to tell them more.

So with Na'axi as the new leader, they decided to have Squad 024 travel by water. The Human had refused to get on the small travel ship, but was eventually forced on. Squad 024 was weary about what could be in these waters, but it was much too shallow for the “Giant Squids” and “Sharks” to be in.

Na'axi wished that they stuck to land. The “Amazon River” was so much worse than Australia, at least there they could see what was coming. The water was shallow, yes, but it was murky and full of tree roots. They didnt see the “Snake” coming. It was three Qwaxels long and had a crushing power sting enough to stop the blood flow of Ca'er, who had suffered and died. The human called it a “Python” and he was scared of the snake. The snake killed another, Ma'ox.

After they succeeded in getting the snake off the boat, they travelled upriver, trying to find a place to dock. Vi'to had fallen into the waters, scraping his arm on a tree branch.

The human was the first to see the dangers apparently, seeing as they jumped off the boat and onto the low hanging branch, around six feet above the water. Vi'to was only bones and green blood in a matter of minutes. “Piranhas” the human called the flesh eating fish. The second boat they had tipped over due to the splashing waters. Six were on that boat.

Ja'ju had petted a small colourful frog before they died soon after. The human stood ten feet away from the “Poison Dart Frogs”. Ja'ju hadn’t expected humans to name them so literally.

By the time they got back, it was only Na'axi and their last two squad members, Ja'on and To'as, as well as the human.

“We are never going down there again” Na'axi said.

…..

(I’m not very good at writing but I wanted to make an input, also I wanted to incorporate snakes more but I dunno what happened)

The human was silent for a moment before a shrill offensive sound came from her throat--a 'laugh', they'd been informed. An reaction to amusement and humor. The commander bared his teeth, a guttural growl slipping from the organ in his throat. He found nothing amusing or humorous about the conversation.

The human stopped 'laughing', 'smiling' up at him with glassy, gleeful eyes.

"You think we conquered this planet?" She said, her mirth palpable in her ugly language's words. "We didn't."

"Explain." The commander ground out, resisting the urge to flex his dorsal plates.

"Every year, thousands upon thousands of us are lost to the exact same things you guys have perished to over the past few months. Wild animals, disease, poison, reckless stupidity. Fungus, parasites, toxic plants, hungry sharks. We havnt 'conquered' shit, Commander." The vial, mocking smile remained. "The difference between our peoples, however, is that we're stuck here, and always have been. We learned to respect and rightfully fear the things we share this world with over centuries upon centuries."

A sort of prideful light danced in her eyes, as bright and vibrant as the first humans they'd met on the battlefield, that existed despite the bruises and cuts and blisters littering her starved body. Despite the fact that she was scheduled for execution in just a few karsoks. Despite the fact her kind lost and would never recover. This pathetic, weak, thin-hided creature had the audacity to look upon one of the most decorated officers of his legion, and refuse to behave defeatedly. To glare back at him, spirit stubbornly unbroken.

"This is their world just as much as it is ours." She continued, a different kind of merriment beaming on her face now, "And unluckily for you, tigers, wolves, kangaroos, wasps and snakes don't know how to surrender."

nO StOP IT

i aM DEAD

I didn't want to make her emotional state worse, bc hognoses do this in defense, but I just wanted to see if they really do "insist" they are dead. Tried to flip her over the right way, she was having none of it. Flopped right back onto her back. Eyeing me like "dun pay attention to mah moving sides as I continue to breathe"

The clearance fabric rack is always a mess and it's almost impossible to tell what's meant to be there versus what isn't. At least until a little old lady comes to the cutting counter thinking she's getting velvet at 70% off and we discover its not clearance and then she gets pissed at us for "not being organized" .

Which doesn't even cover the people who will unravel a bolt to see how much is left or to see how it goes with another fabric or whatever and then NOT TAKE IT TO THE CUTTING COUNTER TO BE RERAVELED ONTO THE BOLT. THEYLL JUST LEAVE PILES OF FABRIC SITTING AROUND.

There's a position in my store (i dunno how common it is) called Recovery where the entire point of that person's job is to return things to where they belong and ensure the store is kept in good order. I've worked this shift multiple times and let me tell you it's easier to replace things to where they belong if they've been turned in at the register than if they've been scattered or hidden around the store. That just makes the job more like the world's worst Easter egg hunt. I dont enjoy walking from floral to jewelry to ribbon to yarn back to jewellery then backtracking again to ribbon. Just take it to the register or put it back where it should be.

I got Venuew

Plot Twist.