What would our Creature Feature series be without a giant honkin’ dinosaur-analog?
Like many other planets, Halcyon is home to a creature known locally as a terrorsaur. At ten to twelve meters long and five to seven tonnes of surly, nearly-indestructible lizard-analog, Halcyon’s terrorsaur is absolutely worthy of the name.
A terrorsaur’s head is around a meter long and filled with serrated fifteen-centimeter teeth capable of biting a human in half. Their tails end in an impressive collection of spikes long enough to pierce completely through a human with room to spare or smash a tree into splinters. Its forelimbs have a two-meter reach and end in powerful claws capable of ripping a man’s chest open to the spine with a causal swipe, while its powerfully-muscled hindlimbs can step high and forcefully enough to stomp on and immobilize a truck.
Those mighty rear legs allow it to run at nearly 55kph, and a few have been clocked at just shy of 65kph. A terrorsaur’s powerful muscles, great mass, and sheer orneriness make nearly any tree with a trunk less than a third of a meter a mere inconvenience, and enraged terrorsaurs have been known to smash “roads” through the jungle while chasing whatever annoyed it.
Terrorsaurs have tiny, primitive brains largely hardwired for “find prey, catch prey, eat prey.” However, they aren’t stupid by any means and have figured out humans can and will kill them. Being a top-end predator – they’d be considered a land-dwelling apex predator if it wasn’t for humans – they’re more than happy to hunt humans in return. Of course, when you’re an apex predator “I’m going to eat that critter over there” isn’t really something that requires thinking; it’s more of a default setting.
Their hunting style is largely focused on sudden devastating attacks on smaller prey. Terrorsaurs have incredible senses of hearing and smell, and can detect a human at half a kilometer even in dense jungle. They’re also a lot sneakier than they have any right to be, and a terrorsaur’s meal or snack often has no idea what hit them, just a sudden explosion of shattered tree limbs and vegetation followed by a flash of yellow teeth and horrific halitosis. Most humans killed by terrorsaurs simply disappear, gear and all, except for what they were holding in their hands and dropped as they were eaten.
However, they run hot and glow like a bonfire on passive infrared sensors and thermographs. Their stench, while not detectable by the human nose from far enough away to be useful, will also show up on appropriate chemical sensors.
Terrorsaur meat is edible, if gamy. The difficulty in taking one down has made Terrorsaur steak a status dish. Its high yield has also made it a staple meat when one can be killed without the use of an antitank missile or artillery piece. A Terrorsaur hunting party is usually composed of several families working together, but each family will take home several hundred kilos of meat. The bones and skins are also useful for various purposes.
Their hide is covered in scales the size of an average human’s palm and 7 or 8 millimeters thick. These scales are made of a keratin analog stiffened with minerals from local rocks. Terrorsaur bones have similar mineral strengthening, with silica and iron replacing some of the calcium. Terrorsaurs swallow rocks to help digest their food in the same manner as some Earth species. Thanks to the Terrorsaur’s powerful digestive acids, these rocks are dissolved in short order and their minerals used to strengthen the beast’s scales and bones.
This mineral impregnation makes terrorsaur scales and bones incredibly resistant to damage. Most military rifle rounds will penetrate a scale and hide, but typically lack sufficient power to do real damage to its innards. Hunters are advised to use light antiarmor weapons to ensure a kill as merely injuring one will only make it angry, and an irate terrorsaur can lay waste to a town.
For this reason, most terrorsaur hunting parties will include one member with an antitank weapon. His job is to inflict such heinous damage to the terrorsaur it is killed immediately and messily where it stands without regard for meat or hide if things get too far out of hand. He may never fire it on a hunt – if he does so the hunt is considered an abject failure – but collects a full share of meat and other resources. Pest control teams are usually militia squads with antiarmor weapons, although militias have been known to go after them with light armored vehicles when terrain permits.
Similarly, an enraged terrorsaur approaching a settlement will be fired upon by the militia’s heavy weapons. Under such circumstances, examples of terrorsaurs being killed by armored vehicles are commonplace. Most town militias have no qualms whatsoever of engaging one with a tank if one is available.
Scenarios involving terrorsaurs involve one of two things: hunting terrorsaurs and being hunted by terrorsaurs. And the former becomes the latter with alarming frequency.
As noted above, terrorsaurs are easily detectable with modern sensors. These sensors are the primary reason terrorsaur hunting isn’t considered outright suicide. Any member of a hunting party that wants to stay alive will have a thermograph visor. The party itself will also usually include a member with even better sensors whose only job is to keep an eye out not just for terrorsaurs, but other predators. These sensor operators are usually in the middle of the group right next to the guy with the antitank weapon and a couple of bodyguards. Like the heavy backup, the sensor tech gets a full share despite never firing a weapon on the hunt.
Some hunting parties employ spotter aircraft, usually surplus militia reconnaissance planes, but these are rare. Not only are they expensive, but the best terrorsaur hunting is on remote islands without the facilities necessary to keep delicate sensor equipment running.
Rumors of giant, mutant, fire-breathing armored terrorsaurs have yet to be substantiated.