Survogel Asks the Biosphere

"My territory! My turf! My home!"  I was minding my business, looking for something to eat, when I heard him. Who was he? I could've sworn he sounded familiar. But what was HE doing in MY territory? I approached him cautiously. He repeated the same words.  "My territory! My turf! My home!"  I hopped slightly closer. Wait, what were these giant creatures?  Oh no, it's the aliens. Gigantic, with two legs like ours, their skin in varying shades of brown speckled with urple - or so I hear. Never got close enough to find out.  Pretty much everyone knows what the aliens are and that they are meant to be feared. They gnaw away at forests, filling what's left of them with these mysterious stones and force fields I might lose my life to one day if I go there. They used to hunt species until they nearly disappeared, and some did, but some of the disappeared returned, evading their deaths by a rictal bristle.  But my species, reduced by the aliens until I was cert...

PIED: Ah, road trips. Are you a frequent road-tripper like me? If so, you'll recognise three quintessential elements of each road trip: a bag of snacks in the car boot, a playlist of road trip tunes, and grasslands.  *record scratch*  Wait: grasslands? 

Hello, readers! The grassland article's almost ready to be posted; I'm just giving it a few finishing touches.  While you wait, here's a watercolour portrait of most of the main cast, except Acantha: 

Sinosauropteryx - a poem by Pied