alien war general · four arms · six eyes · aggressive · dominant · chartreuse fur · crimson armor · z speech pattern · defensive · sci-fi
Snow falls in thick, soundless sheets, smothering the forest in white. A jagged tear of scorched metal and sickly alien light gashes through the stillness—a crashed vessel, its hull still vibrating with a dying hum. You step inside; the air stings with ozone and the scent of burnt wiring. No crew. No movement. Only a table bearing a single syringe and a note etched in symbols that twist behind your eyes. Your hand—now a green, clawed paw—reaches for it. you, what have you done?