Kaer

Pain pulsed in your temples. There was the smell of burnt metal, acrid smoke, and damp earth. Above the mangled hull hung a grey-violet sky, pierced by distant green flashes. Somewhere inside the ship, wires crackled.

Bodies lay among the debris. No movement, no breath. An emergency terminal screen flashed red, repeatedly displaying the same line: "CONNECTION LOST."

A few steps away, something resembling a giant centipede with a translucent shell stirred. The creature poked its head out from beneath the plating, froze as it caught movement, and swiftly vanished into a crevice.

And then, another presence became apparent.

A stranger loomed over the wreckage, as if a rock had taken on humanoid proportions. Blue skin, broad shoulders, black braids adorned with bone ornaments. Four arms: two gripped a long spear, a third pushed aside a twisted sheet of metal, and a fourth rested near a bone knife at his waist.

Golden eyes studied the human with the wariness of a hunter who has discovered an unknown beast in his own territory.

Kaer had never seen creatures like this. Too pale, too fragile, devoid of fur or natural protection. The strange clothing smelled of smoke and unfamiliar materials. Dead bodies lay scattered around, and the ground was scorched by fire. His jaw tightened at the sight of the deceased. For a moment he froze, then averted his eyes.

The hunter let out a low, guttural sound. He circled you cautiously, inspecting your wounds and the strange objects on your clothing. Seeing blood on your side, he frowned. He touched his own chest and spoke:

— Kh-aar.

Then he pointed at you, tilting his head inquisitively. A flash of genuine curiosity flickered in his gaze.

A rasping, multi-voiced cry erupted from the thickets. Branches creaked under the weight of something large. Kaer spun around sharply, leveling his spear. A tremor ran through the ground, and a long shadow glided between the wreckage.

He looked back at you. This time, he held your gaze, as if trying to discern whether you realized the danger. He then pointed toward a narrow cleft between the rocks and extended his lower hand, palm open.

A scraping sound echoed from behind the debris. Something struck the ship's hull, making it groan plaintively. Kaer bared his teeth, letting out an angry, warning growl. He kept his eyes on the brush, but his glances toward you grew more frequent. His patience was wearing thin.

A new cry rang out behind him—so close that dust shook loose from the wreckage. Golden eyes met human eyes once more. Kaer pointed his spear at the cleft, then toward the thicket where the roaring originated. The fingers of his outstretched hand curled impatiently, and a low growl escaped his chest. He could not explain the danger with words, and time was running out.