Stranded on a Tiny Planet

Morning...

Traynar was startled awake by a loud mechanical [CLANG!]. His dark iridescent plumage flew up with alarm. It apparently startled the mercenaries too as they both sat up and looked at the ceiling of their ship.

A second [CLANG!] rang out.

Cresh lowered his goggles back down over his four eyes and they activated, “Hm. Think we’ve got company, Gurt.” He smirked, “Perhaps some more of our little friends come to make our hunt easier?”

The scaly behemoth rose up, back spikes rattling with a morning shake. His thick neck rolled a bit making a horrible cracking noise and then he tasted the air.

“Sounds like someone with a death wish.” He growled.

“Alive Gurt. We need them alive. Remember... eating our profits is bad for business.” Cresh chided, reaching for a couple devices and weapons from the adjacent ship wall. He tossed three purplish black discs the size of coasters to Gurt, “Here. Use those instead of your teeth this time.”

The Gret’nal caught the discs in a scaly hand and blinked at them, “Stun disks, huh?”

“Exactly. Just put it to the lowest setting, wide range, throw it and it should stun anything that’s moving in front of you. Might make it easier since these little buggers fly.” Cresh explained, dialing in his discs’ settings.

Traynar watched as the two huge mercenaries seemed to prep themselves. A third [CLANG!] hit the outside of the ship. The tall white mercenary passed his clear box and tapped the top.

“Don’t worry little fella...we’ll bring you some company.”

They lowered the ramp to the ship and disappeared. Traynar could only helplessly watch as they left, leaving him alone and trapped.

...

Cresh scanned the air, his high-tech eye pieces trying to detect the signatures of the little flying creatures. Something was hitting the outside of their ship; rocks from the sound of it. Their small size would make seeing them challenging even with the eye pieces, especially since they were pretty fast.

“Hmm...well where are you?” he murmured, head turning slowly.

Gurt’s tongue was flicking, scenting the air.

And then both of them were hit with dozens of little objects that popped loudly upon hitting them in the back and head. Cresh flinched, head ducking down from the sharp noise and mild pain along the bare parts of his head, but Gurt didn’t act like he felt anything, merely turning his head toward the loud pops.

“OW! What the-?” Cresh whipped around, catching a brief glimpse of several little figures darting to the topside of their ship.

He grimaced, massaging the back part of his head which procured a bit of his milky pink colored blood, “Why you little... they’re throwing grenades!”

“Still don’t want me to eat them?” Gurt growled, undeterred by the explosives since his skin was too tough.

Cresh touched his eye pieces, setting them to a different parameter which allowed him to have “eyes” in the back of his head.

“No. Not until we catch a few.” He rubbed the blood between his fingers and said slyly. “Just walk that way a bit...when I tell you, turn and throw one of your discs. Let’s see if they’ll try that little tactic again.”

Seeming to pay no mind to the attack the two mercenaries walked away from their ship with Cresh monitoring through his eye pieces. They hadn’t taken four steps when suddenly he spotted several signatures appear as bright white lights and shoot toward them.

“Ready...now!” Cresh barked, turning fast and throwing a disc up high behind him.

Gurt did the same.

The discs flew up, glowed with green lights, and flashed brightly with two tight circles of stunning energy. Everything within the green circles dropped to the ground. Then the discs hit the purplish sand with two thuds.

Cresh smirked and walked toward the stunned figures laying on the ground, “Well! Got a few of em...and we didn’t even have to go far.”

But suddenly more figures descended from high in the air, picked up their fallen comrades, and shot up into the sky again. Cresh and Gurt tried to catch them but they were already well over their heads and flying back into the trees. They could see some fly left and another group fly right, splitting up.

Cresh ground his dental ridges with frustration, ”Ok...guess this won’t be as easy as that.” He sighed a bit but smirked again, “But I’ll bet they can’t fly very long with the extra weight. Might get more than we initially thought.”

His Gret’nal partner rattled his back spikes, tongue flicking. The blue Mohawked mercenary retrieved his discs, placing them in a recharging port on his belt since they were only good for a stun before they needed charged again.

“I’ll take the ones that went left and you go after the ones that went right.”

Gurt nodded and began stalking toward the trees, scenting the air for his prey. Cresh frowned and adjusted his goggles’ settings. He sure hoped the extra work would be worth it.

...

Later at Bent Peak...

Merco waited, pensively turning the knife between his fingers. He never thought he’d have to be in combat again; never thought he’d be sitting quietly psyching himself up to plunge a knife into an enemy. Oddly, much like a glove, the old Merco he’d long since shoved to the back of his psyche was reemerging. That Merco knew what to do when facing an enemy hand-to-hand. Of course, facing a Gret’nal in a fight was not something he hoped to ever add to his list of “life accomplishments”...or perhaps written on his tombstone.

Nearby Anu was perched over his head on the rocks. In light of her mate’s death she opted to keep close to Merco and aid him if she could. She wasn’t a combatant but she was his ambassador and as such she would help him in any way she could. Kriees and Boroxle were nearby as well on the ground. Amazingly, Coroc (whose legs had mended) had a small squadron of his own standing by. It pleased and also surprised Merco when he arrived and offered his skills to aid him rather than attack him.

Merco’s plan was he would engage/jump whichever mercenary was led to Bent Peak. Whilst distracted, Coroc’s team would make an attack on their eyes. If they could blind the mercenary then Merco stood a better chance of winning.

It wasn’t long until he spotted movement just over the trees. The distinct humped shoulders and bulky stature left little doubt it was the Gret’nal. Merco’s heart began to pound with adrenaline. The feeling was all too familiar; exactly the same as preparing to sweep a building for enemies. Potential death and injury breathing its foul breath down his neck. His grip on the knife became intense.

“He’s coming...” Merco whispered, eyes never faltering from the figure in the distance.

“Is it the monster?” Kriees asked.

He nodded.

...

Anu couldn’t believe her mate was gone. Though he was a combatant and she understood the danger of the profession and the mission, it didn’t lessen the painful ache of loss. She had told him she loved him and to be safe, to which he replied the same in turn. But now it was just a memory; his voice, the shape of his tall plumage, the smiles that would break through his stoicism.

As she sat above Merco’s head she noticed the giant alien begin to become more intense. Typically, he acted relaxed and friendly, but now his hands were fiddling with the knife, turning and rolling it before holding it with a powerful grip. His eyes were almost blank but intense. She’d honestly never seen him look like that before. Merco had told them all of his experience in war but few had ever seen him act violently. And even his “violent” acts had been restrained. Anu had the distinct feeling there would be no restraint in the coming battle and a chill passed through her.

...

Soon thereafter...

Gurt had pursued the small group of little flying aliens through the trees but had no success in capturing any. The predatory part of him was of course exhilarated with the whole chase, but the more impatient side of him was starting to grow weary of this endeavor. He wasn’t sure if he cared how much money Cresh said these things might be worth. He’d never know if he ate a few more...they were tasty. As he stalked further through the small trees, they seemed to be retreating to a tall rocky landmass that jutted up above the forest as a natural marker. Perhaps that was where they lived and there’d be more?

It didn’t take him too long to reach the massive landmark and around it the small trees seemed to thin out into rocky upward ascending rocks. He could see several of the little aliens dart toward the rocky landmark and take shelter in the crevices and cracks. A bit more work than he first thought, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He stalked toward the rocks, scenting with his tongue which told him where each one was hiding. Everything living radiated some sort of scent and his species could discern each one as a hazy colored cloud. The brighter the color the closer the victim.

As he drew closer however a second scent caught his attention; one he didn’t expect at all. He lifted his head, tongue flicking rapidly to draw in as much information as he could to make sure he wasn’t mistaken...but he wasn’t. He smelled a human.

“There’s no way...”

And that’s when something sizable landed on his back.

Gurt instinctually bucked his head forward, tucking his throat down to try and throw the attacker clinging to his back off of him. He could feel a blade slashing and stabbing just behind his head, vying for his eyes and jaw. It hurt a bit but more than anything it made him mad. Gurt snarled and reached around and snagged what felt like the attacker’s shirt. He clawed harder and gripped flesh to which a grunt of pain rewarded him. With a hard toss he chucked the attacker over his shoulder and down the rocky slope.

His scenting didn’t lie to him...what he saw was a human male. He was dressed in a strangely colored short sleeved shirt, sported a full but tended beard and mustache, held a knife, and most notably to Gurt he saw the familiar black elbow-length glove.

“Son of a bitch...you survived.” He growled as the human recovered and righted himself in a crouched position, knife at the ready.

“Surprised?” the human retorted, maintaining his knife-fighting stance.

Gurt rumbled with enthusiasm and began circling, “Partly...but that can be fixed.”

The man shrugged, knife still ready, “I’m gonna need your ship.”

Gurt growled, “I’ll bet you do.”

“If you won’t surrender it to me I’ll take it by force.”

The Gret’nal flicked his tongue with bright eyes, “Tell ya what human. You can get a free ride on the ship. I’ll be sure to throw your body in the freezer to keep you fresh after I kill you.”

“Figured you’d say that.” The man conceded, “Just thought I’d give you a chance to surrender.”

...

Merco’s first attack was quick as he dropped down on the lizard creature’s broad back and began hacking at him with the knife. Dark red blood appeared as glistening marks of hope for victory. The Ansheetan and Rogashay onlookers kept themselves out of the way and hidden as the two titans briefly struggled. Coroc and his small squadron were ready but it didn’t take long for the Gret’nal to get a hold on Merco and with tremendous strength tossed him off of his back as if he weighed nothing. The mere act was terrifying and the very rocks seemed to shake from the huge body’s impact. Merco hit the rocky ground but seemed to soften it by rolling to his feet in a fighting stance.

Then the two titans began circling each other slowly, rumbling in a language none of them understood. It was tense and everyone seemed to be holding their breath. Watching them in close proximity it was never more clear that the Gret’nal out-sized Merco by a notable margin. It definitely put into perspective the caution Merco had voiced about facing this foe.

In an instant the fight was on. The huge Gret’nal charged in first, shaking the ground with his every movement. He swung a heavy arm in a clawing motion at Merco but the human was quicker and ducked to the side. Merco brought the knife back and stabbed repeatedly but the blade couldn’t find a soft spot in the Gret’nal’s tough hide and only managed to make small cuts along his side. In response, the Gret’nal bashed his huge shoulder and arm into Merco and flung him backward. With fast feet, Merco maintained his balance, keeping the knife in front of him, but the Gret’nal wasn’t giving him a moment to recover as he charged and slammed into the man, throwing him down the slope into the trees.

The deafening discord of snapping trees and quaking, earth tearing impacts shook the forest. Nothing could stand before the battling titans as the landscape was torn to pieces in their wake. It was almost so shockingly destructive that none of the natives could react beyond staring paralyzed at the scene below. To them, Merco was the most powerful being they’d ever met and to see him get thrown around and driven back was terrifying.

Anu looked over at Coroc and his squadron, “What are you waiting for?”

Coroc only gestured subtly as he analyzed the battle, “Not yet...we need a clear opening.”

Worry covered Anu’s face until, without hesitating, Boroxle and Kriees urged their sand dragons down the slope toward the battling titans.

Coroc swore and finally shot up into the sky, his squadron following him.

...

The pain was scraping and rocketing through Merco when the Gret’nal threw him down the slope near Bent Peak and into the trees below. The blow, nor the landing on his back were soft and his body felt it harshly. He knew the lizard humanoid would be strong but feeling his power firsthand was another matter; like getting hit by a truck at low speed. Even with the superior knife and surprise he only managed a few minor cuts as the Gret’nal’s scaly skin acted as armor. He couldn’t get a throat jab as the Gret’nal was leading his attacks with his thick arms and shoulders whilst tucking his head. Obviously he knew his own weakness and expertly kept himself guarded.

Merco’s heart was pounding loudly as he quickly pushed himself up from his awkward fall in the trees. But the Gret’nal was charging down the slope after him, not giving him any time to recover. He’d only sat up a bit when the Gret’nal swung a scaly fist down at him. Merco rolled to the side quickly, dodging the initial hit. With a fast slash he swiped the knife across the Gret’nal’s wrist. An angry hiss and a flash of blood rewarded him. Merco arched his back and brought his boot up fast, kicking the reptilian assailant in the head. The Gret’nal turned his head slightly against the blow, but certainly didn’t seem very injured from the kick.

“Cute...” the Gret’nal growled.

Suddenly his clawed hand swiped down at Merco, cuffing his legs out of the way. With an iron grip he seized Merco by the neck, effortlessly hauled him up, and threw him back further into the forest. Slamming to the ground hard, the man felt the sharp trees scrape unforgivingly across his sides and tear his skin roughly. He grimaced with pain, adrenaline forcing him to roll over and try to get to his feet.

That’s when he felt the sharp stabbing pain pierce his right shoulder in the front and back. Merco’s back arched reflexively and he cried out when he felt the abrupt scaly snout blowing hot air next to his neck and the hot sticky mixture of saliva and his own blood soaking his shoulder and arm. The Gret’nal had his shoulder in a deadly sharp-toothed bite. Through his teeth the reptilian growled and then violently shook his head. Merco tried to resist the attack but the sharp teeth tore his flesh mercilessly as he was shook from side to side like a rag in the jaws of a dog. White pain light exploded in his vision and a ringing clouded his ears. The hot wetness invaded his back and sides.

He was being shredded.

Just when Merco was certain his body could endure no more the Gret’nal’s bite released him. The lizard humanoid gave a shrieking rasp and stepped back. Merco heaved himself away from his opponent through pure adrenaline alone and turned to see the Gret’nal clawing at his left eye and whipping his head around. Dark blood and fluid appeared, running down the side of his face. Merco caught a glimpse of several blurs of maroon and one blue in the air. Coroc and his attack squadron had seized the moment and taken out one of the Gret’nal’s eyes.

Merco gripped the knife his right hand and the pain shot through the whole of his arm. The injury compromised his grip strength. His shirt was torn and blood soaked it across his chest and shoulder. As he painfully sat up a blip of movement entered his periphery and climbed up his side to stand on his gloved arm.

It was Boroxle, brandishing his combat spear.

He gestured strongly whilst shouting, “Merco! We have to enact my plan! Now!"

Merco winced trying to fight through the pain. Looming nearby, the Gret’nal shook his head and leaned so his good eye was directed at Merco. He snarled nastily, pain fueling his vengeful aggression to a new level.

Boroxle anchored a second spear into the leather of Merco’s glove and gripped onto it tightly. His yellowed eyes were intense and serious as he stared back at Merco. The man gave the small warrior a look that said he didn’t want to enact Boroxle’s suicidal plan but suddenly the Gret’nal lunged down at him, mouth agape. There wasn’t a choice now. Gritting his teeth, Merco thrust his mechanical forearm in front of him as a shield and an offering at the same time. Like a crocodile slamming its jaws down on the leg of a hapless wildebeest the Gret’nal clamped down on Merco’s prosthetic, engulfing it and Boroxle in one fierce bite.