"They're coming from the right!". Shouts the sentry at the top of the watchtower.
His desperate voice is cracking, almost on the verge of becoming hoarse, as sixteen hours have passed, since the start of the incessant attacks of the invaders, taking a toll on the outpost's residents.
The Intruders are the Tarzöns. Tall and strong Warrioresses with a coal black skin. Their Species is constituted solely by women.
A gene in their DNA makes their offspring to always be Females. A feature that has win them two reputations.
Excellent «Breeding Slaves», and terrifying «Nympho Kidnappers», because they tend to capture strong males from other Species to reproduce and get stronger.
This is thanks to the « Perk», they have from bird «Motherhood». Making them able to acquire a permanent boost to their maximum Storage Capacity of Empiric Energy, and this buff is better with every descendant they gave birth to, but simultaneously based on how blessed is said descendant.
Still, even without the benefits of the Emen (Empiric Energy), the Tarzöns are known warmongers with plenty of clans and tribes across the massive world of Dhägna'Hür.
Creating new alliances to gather troops and harass the settlements of other species.
Which caused the usage of outposts. Fake towns filled with only combatants.
Soldiers, Mercenaries, Warriors, Criminals or Civilians who doesn't have a place to live. As long as they are willing to fight. Everyone is welcomed in an outpost of the Zindrack Conglomerate.
This coalition of Nations, Kingdoms and two Empires, work together to face the annoying threat the barbarian tribes reorder. But the main purpose, is to eradicate the armies that can sprout out from the unpredictable vortexes of the Zones.
This isolated locations are small mazes that can become large dungeons filled with traps and creatures foreign to the world of Dhägna'Hür.
N'Ïrk Ignay'Thus, a young man with maroon hair and green emerald eyes with black sclera. That has entered in several Zones. But in one of them. He acquired his most trustworthy companions.
«The Tyrant's Grasp». A pair of armored gauntlets that can augment the speed and range of N'Ïrk's energy attacks, functioning like an immaterial barrel, with the added function of turning into ethereal floating blades for melee fights.
"Die, Barbarian!". Screams with hatred the Marksman to N'Ïrk's left, Pulling the trigger of his Carabine and shooting a Shö'Thöm, a blue bolt of energy that pierces the head of the large white wolf that a Tarzön is riding.
The woman leaps from the dying animal, grabbing her bow and pulling back the string.
A golden energy arrow materializes out of thin air. Letting go the immaterial object, flying for a few hundred meters, and separating into a volley of projectiles that pierce the outpost's palisade.
The damage is severe, destroying the wooden construction, unleashing a burst of splinters and shrapnel that cause as much chaos as the ethereal golden arrows.
N'Ïrk, grunts. The Marksman is dead, having been shot three times by the split arrow.
The man who just died is the scout N'Ïrk had been working with for the previous eight months.
Unlike the young man who is yet to turn twenty years old. The deceased Marksman was a grown man, family waiting for him, a wife, a daughter and a son, even his mother was living in the same home.
A house he built with his own hands. And one of the few things that N'Ïrk envied the man for, because it's a task he has never done, and a goal he probably would never achieve.
On the contrary, N'Ïrk is a beast of destruction that can wreak havoc with a single attack of Empiric Energy.
Which is why he is feared and revered by his comrades and enemies alike.
Yet, that is irrelevant. The day before was supposed to be the last day on the outpost, but a delay on the alignment of the crew, followed by an administrative error, has provoked that the Floating Frigate was dispatched later.
With no reinforcements, no medicine, and scarce supplies. The awaited extraction for those who complete their «Military Service» or had fulfilled their «Prison Sentence». Are the only incentives to continue their fierce resistance.
N'Ïrk stands up, raising the Carabine of his dead comrade, four narrow rectangles of translucent white energy float from the metal protecting his forearm, to the front of the weapon's barrel.
«Ignay'Thus». Pronounce N'Ïrk, his own last name is powerful ammunition, emitting an encapsulated bolt of maroon golden plasma that is accelerated furthermore as it passes between the rectangles.
The hypersonic strike hits Tarzön's belly, throwing her back a couple of tens of meters away without killing her.
The woman's robust muscular body is well protected by a thick Emeneld (Empiric Energy Shield).
The translucent golden forcefield around her seductive but dangerous silhouette is greatly illuminated, making her whimper in pain as a second «Ignay'Thus» strikes her in the chest, popping up the Emeneld like a soap bubble, and letting her defenseless against the terrific precision and power of N'Ïrk's shots.
The young man readjust his posture, aiming with a naked eye to a target seven hundred meters away is not an easy task, even with the small screen of amplification he has access, due to his gauntlets.
He pulls the trigger. *Tch-tk*. No plasma is emitted. He repeats the motion. But to no avail. "I am on «Zeros»!". Murmurs N'Ïrk with fury and disbelief.
The absence of an incoming attack makes the Chief Tarzön to withdraw from the long assault, retreating into the thick, fog-covered forests.
The other Tarzöns do the same, scaping as soon as they heard the whistle of the big flying vehicle approaching.
The Floating Frigate has arrived. Firing its cannons a few times and scaring the few Tarzöns who initially refused to flee.
This leaves a bitter taste on N'Ïrk's mouth, who closes the eyes of his fallen comrade, waiting for a Priest or Cleric to heal the mutilated body. Because that is the only consolation they can provide before returning the corpse to the family.
For his part. N'Ïrk puts the rifle once again in the Marksman's hands, and jumps off the palisade, walking to the Floating Frigate that has landed in the middle of the town.
"Until we encounter again". Says the young man, boarding the vehicle to travel into the safety lands of his future home.
The nascent Nation of Laidders, where N'Ïrk would attend the Intercultural Academy, as part of the integration program stipulated by the experts of the Zindrack Conglomerate…