"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 more powerful.
This is thanks to the « Perk», they have from birth, «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, is 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 any species they encounter in their nomadic path.
Which caused the popularized 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 represent. 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 dark pastel peach skin, maroon hair and green emerald eyes with black sclera. Has enter in several Zones. But in one of them. He acquired his most trustworthy companion.
«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 capacity 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 firing 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, and an instant later, she let go the immaterial object, flying for a few hundred meters, and separating into a crowded volley of projectiles that pierce the outpost's palisade.
The damage is severe, destroying the wooden construction, and unleashing a burst of splinters, shrapnel and debris that cause as much chaos as the ethereal golden arrows.
N'Ïrk, grunts. The Marksman is dead, having been shot three times by the divided 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 in a distant land, a wife, a daughter and a son, even his mother was living under the same roof.
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, though he tends to contain his attacks to not endanger his allies.
Which is why he is feared and revered by his comrades and enemies alike.
Yet, for the meantime, such fact 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 several hours 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 protections covering his forearms, to the front of the weapon's barrel.
«Ignay'Thus». Pronounce N'Ïrk, his own last name is a powerful ammunition, emitting an encapsulated bolt of maroon golden plasma that is accelerated furthermore as it passes between the immaterial rectangles.
The hypersonic strike hits the 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 weak soap bubble, letting her vulnerable and totally defenseless against the terrific precision and sheer potency of N'Ïrk's shots.
The young man readjust his posture, aiming with a naked eye is hard, specially to a target that is seven hundred meters away, even if he has access to a small screen of amplification, due to his marvelous gauntlets.
The young man pulls the trigger. *Tch-tk*. No plasma is emitted from the Carabine. He repeats the motion. But to no avail whatsoever. "I am on «Zeros»!". Murmurs N'Ïrk with fury and disbelief.
The absence of an incoming attack makes the Chieftess of the 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, hopeful for the presence of 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 of the valiant deceased.
For his part. N'Ïrk puts the Carabine once again on the Marksman's hands, jumping off the palisade, walking to the Floating Frigate that has landed in the middle of the outpost.
"Until we encounter again". Says the young man, waving his hand to his allies while 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…