"General, shall I order my troop to join the battle?" An obese Wengol in heavy coral armor riding a Wurching twice the size of his congeners boldly requested his great general. His three white eyes shone with malice, their aggressiveness barely contained.
Behind him, several thousand Wengol riders stoically awaited his permission, their killing intent so thick that the air seemed to grow heavy around them. From their fine armor and the trident emblem engraved on their bulwarks and breastplates, those who recognized the crest knew that this was a Khinchod protectorate brigade.
In this protectorate filled with aliens, there was no more elite unit than this one. Their presence alone signified the importance of this war and thus warranted their victory.
