The Whoremongers Of Misty Mountain
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Tier-6 Paladin-Confessor Protectorate Blackshot opened his eyes as soon as the single-entry drop pod had hit the ground. He lifted his armored hand; his power armor groaned in protest as soon as he does so. He reached for the red lever on the left wall of the cramped cockpit and pulled it down.

The front door of the drop pod shot outwards and landed on the lip of the crater with a muffled 'thud!' He inclined, the sky illuminated by Lamex reflected from his black and gold armor. He stretched his arms and legs with a yawn and climbed from the cockpit to the top of his opened drop pod.

"Protectorate Blackshot, " he spoke from his helmet, its radio frequency opened to all available channels, "reporting for duty as ordered, brothers. Do you read me?"

A burst of static answered in reply. None. He took a moment to study his alien environment with a sweep of his gaze.

He was standing above his would-be sarcophagus had he not woke up. It was dark and damp, with only the jagged surface of rocks and sheets of snow being the only view available. The steel hull of his drop pod has started to collect snow that seemed to fall from above.

He glanced up and saw a circular light, which he realized to be the mouth of the crater that his drop pod made. Snow started to fall from it. He wondered, had he fallen that far from their ship?

"Dammit, Forward Force was not in contact range." He muttered to no one in particular as he unsheathed his combat knife. He turned back to his drop pod and extracted valuable things: ration bars, his personal canteen, his standard issued Blast Rifle and Ray Pistol, a machete and some spare ammunition.

He began his trek upwards; weaponry and essentials attached to the magnetic harnesses and belts of his suit. Him, being a supernaturally-powered entity that he is, only took twenty minutes to reach the top of the crater. He glanced back, it was a long drop below.

He glanced up, at Cradus' bluish-purple sky where constellations of stars can be seen. He saw some stars moving, leaving streaks of light. The Fleet of Battlegroup Benjamin, he thought. It was where his ship came from before his superiors decided to send him topside for a scouting mission, along with the rest of the Forward Force.

In the horizon at east, Lamex was slowly rising. Her radiant light bathing the mountains in front of her in a golden glow. Behind him, to the west, the triplet moons of Cadus was setting to give way for the Mother Sun.

Around him was a snow-covered ground surrounded by dead mammals with six limbs and grey fur. What a way to start the day, huh?

Blackshot pulled the Blast Rifle from his back and hefted it. He made a fist in front of his face and pumped it downwards. The helmet that enclosed his head parted; the steam module on the back of his neck ejected streams of hot air.

The cold winterly breeze kissed the skin of his face. He grinned, glowing brown eyes scanned the view further for any little details that he might have missed.

From afar, he saw a pillar of black smoke rising to the sky. Civilization, he thought. He began to move towards the direction of the fire with his finger inside the trigger guard. His breed was not exactly suited for scout-type missions but for the security of Human scout soldiers or envoy officials, he, and a handful of his brothers were deployed along with them.

"Battle Computer," he spoke to the artificial intelligence residing in his suit. He hated it when someone tampered with his Praetorian Battle Gear suit but for the purpose of this mission, he let the technicians install one for him, to aid him in his journey across the Multiverse and its galaxies. Its database was filled with almost everything about alien races, fauna, cultures, delicacies, animals, etc. "Cradus, race."

"The inhabitants of Cradus," it began with a monotonous voice. "was known to our database as the Whoremongers of the Misty Mountain. They were humanoid in appearance, possessing only a slight deviation to the Human physiology."

"And that is?"

"Their grey skin, purple eyes and, the reddish color of their hair."

"Ha, I hope I could find some red-headed girl to wherever we're heading," Blackshot replied humorously as he descended a slope with careful steps.

"For a Holy Protectorate, you do show your human side, unlike your brothers."

"Some of them do," Blackshot replied, sweeping the area with the muzzle of his rifle as soon as he reached the base of the slope. "I mean, after all, we're still Humans. Our DNAs were just mixed with angelic genetic code."

He continued his advance towards the rising black smoke. Ahead, he scanned for threats and his eyes caught sight of it: a multi-limbed muscled creature with grey fur. There was no point in hiding from it now that it also detected him. The creature charged at him on all fours with ferocious speed. Blackshot aimed for its hairy face and fired four times.

Balls of superheated plasma were dispensed from the hollowed muzzle of his rifle and cauterized its entire face. It fell in a heap, face-first, in the snow. Geysers rose from its burning face as snow cooled it off.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The Battle Computer said.

"Why?"

"Engloars traveled in groups of four."

"That's what they were called, Engloars? Sounds like it came from a '90s sci-fi novel." Blackshot said as soon as he heard three more roars.

Across, its companions appeared from below. The Battle Computer briefly explained that Engloars took shelter underneath snow-covered grounds. For whatever reason, Blackshot didn't know as the Battle Computer did not offer any explanation.

He placed a knee on the ground, a genuflected position, and raised his Blast Rifle at the direction of the incoming threats. He aimed at the nearest one's face, that wore a feral snarl. He calmly opened fire; his aim jumped to the next one as soon as his target hit the ground.

The last one fell in a heap just like the others.

"Threat cleared," Blackshot spoke to no one in particular as he continued.

Minutes bled into hours as he tirelessly moved from one slope to another. Soon, the scent of burning wood waffled in his nose, accompanied by the smell of cooked meat and…warm cocoa?

He climbed up the hill, ready to fire at any Engloars or Whoremongers that might show hostility but to his dismay, he saw large cottages after another, surrounded in palisades of wood along with hot pools and restaurant establishments. Whoremongers walked to and fro in their large coats, sheltering their grey bodies from the cold temperature. One of them flashed a smile at him; he waved back unwittingly. Sounds of cheers and children playing emanated from the settlement in front of him.

Farther ahead, he saw a large hill where a large number of Whoremongers and even other alien races were seen skiing.

This was a goddamned recreational world.

Why the hell did they sent him and the Forward Force here?

And speaking of the Forward Force, he found a few of them on one of the cottages with beer bottles on their hands.

"Damn Humans," Blackshot muttered.

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