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Badlands
UPC Territory
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A little over an hour has passed since the arrival of the Dragonfang armies, the UPC's outlying defenses threw all they could muster towards the advancing horde, sniper, assault rifle and carbine rounds, bunkered machine guns, artillery strikes, mortars and anything else they could think of, and still wasn't enough. They had dented the horde, no doubt about it, thousands of Grogar were torn to shreds, even a Mutant Titan fell before the impressive firepower, but there too many for them to handle, and had eventually had broken through.... 

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Grogar Imps led by the much taller Superiors streamed towards the trenches in endless numbers as hundreds of the vile, disgusting vermin came hoping their way into the firing range, several bunkers litting up as machine guns sparked with life, spewing bullets against the imps. But the disfigured monstrosities pressed on, ever more driven, less they be put to death by the Chieftain.

From within one of the bunkers, a formerly confident machine gunner was beginning to panic as the enemy's numbers swelled before his eyes, as more and more Grogar emerged from the smokes and craters. "Why won't these fuckers run and die!?!" he screamed in a panic just before several Imps had bypassed his sight, crawling into the Bunker and grappling the man, dragging him out of the building and out the trenches as he screamed in terror. 

His brief glimpse of the outside was less then pleasant, few of his brothers and sisters in arms remained in the trenches and engaged in an all-out melee against Grogar that had penetrated their defense, but many more had begun to flee en-mass, sensing their inevitable defeat. 

At out nowhere the Imps ceased, loosing their grip of the soldier as he quickly stood up, scanning his surroundings, thousands of grogar continuing their advance, paying no mind to the UPC soldier in the center of the Horde. It was surreal and was all the more disturbing to him. "What's happening.." he whispered to himself, the answer however, would be the end of him. In the instant the man felt a searing pain in his chest, looking down to see a rusty blade protruding from out his chest. 

He clasped his body, falling into a fetal position from the sheer pain. The soldier looked to see his assailant, Nog the Scarred looking over him with a look of disgust, all the while he was aiming a rifle to his face. "Pathetic." Nog said. " 'No more games, no more stalling' is what papa said. And I'm gonna enjoy burning you lot!" Nog proceeded to pull the trigger for one clean shot through the unfortunate soldier's forehead. "Alright boys! We got burning to do!"