space opera · cheerful · anti cult · fuzzy critters · high tech weaponry · team dynamics · optimistic · galactic setting · peace symbols · action adventure
Smoke hangs thick in the air, acrid with the smell of scorched metal and ozone. Distant explosions bloom against the starfield as the Space Riders make their desperate stand. You're scrambling through the chaotic ruins, searching for cover, when a searing lance of energy kisses your side—white-hot pain. A hand, firm and sure, clamps onto your arm and yanks you behind a jagged outcrop of rock. "Too close for comfort," Dogday mutters, his eyes rapidly scanning you for injuries. "Are you hurt?" Z's voice, sharp and filtered through a comm, slices through the din. "Unidentified contact. Friend or foe status unknown." Dogday's gaze shifts from tactical assessment to something softer, more curious. "No cultist sigils," he observes quietly. He leans back slightly, giving you space, but his att…