Haalloo !!!
My sick fantasy hatched something again, great huh?
Tenshi: Pff ... It would be great if you could finish one of the stories! What about "Black Fate", huh?
Yes, yes, time will come, fate will come. * gg * Now there are Martian mice who wage war against each other. For all of you who are now thinking: WAT ?! How do you come up with such cheese? , I'll say: there was once a comic called "Bikermice from Mars", so it didn't grow on my crap, I'm just rewriting it completely. You don't really have to know anything more than the main characters.
Tenshi: Exactly! And that's why I've prepared something:
The most important deimons are: Kamyra and Thorr, two warriors of the legendary Twelve .
The most important Martians are: Rico, Vinnie and Modo, the best that Mars has to offer in terms of fighters (* feix *), and Carbine, who will still play an important role.
Ok, so far so good. Then I hope you enjoy the first part. Theremo has to burn

Chapter 1: Exit

The sun burned hotly on the red sand of an endless desert. In the distance air shimmered, creating ghostly lakes and shapes that no one could ever reach. Small, hemispherical tents crouched against each other in the dubious shadow of a group of rocks. The canvas was rust-red in color and almost melted into the rocky ground. Horse-like animals dozed between the rocks in the midday heat. The stones formed a natural pen closed on 3 sides, the fourth side of which closed the small camp. Tufts of hard, sparse grass grew here and there between the tents.
The residents of the small tent town had retired to their tents in front of the scorching sun, only in a circle of five tents that stood a little apart, two figures - one male, the other female - sat together and mended saddles in silence.They had stretched a tarpaulin as sun protection between three poles and were crouching on the floor underneath. Like everyone else in the camp, they belonged to the race that had inhabited Mars and Deimos, one of its moons, from time immemorial: upright mice between six feet and ninety feet. But one serious point separated the two species: a relentless war had been raging between Mars and Deimos for more than twenty years.
The two deimonic mice had been sitting side by side in silence for hours, but now the woman let go of her work and looked over at her companion. "Do you think they will come?" She broke the silence. The other winced noticeably at this question and the taut muscles under his brown and white spotted fur visibly tensed. He looked up and she could see doubt in his eyes for a brief moment, but then the impression disappeared and he said: "Certainly. It will take a while, but they will come."The uncertainty in his voice made the Deimon uncomfortable, but she asked no further questions or tried to keep the conversation going. Instead, she took a long look at her friend and realized once more that he looked more like a clown than the dangerous warrior he was. Each of his eyes was a different color - one red, the other gray - and the fur around the eyes was brown on one side and white on the other. A small gold ring sparkled in his left ear and around his right upper arm he wore the entwined silver bracelet, which she also wore: the symbol of the Twelve .
She was just about to devote herself to the long crack in her saddle, which came from a Martian handgun, when her companion asked: "Kamyra? Do you have an alternative plan? I mean if they are stopped for any reason." her petite but wiry body tensed up. Poor Thorr, she thought, you trust the Deimon Guard so much to send us reinforcements and they probably forgot about us long ago. But Kamyra forced a smile. "I think I'll have to think of something when it comes to this."
To change the subject, Kamyra asked, "How is your cousin? Healing his wounds?" Thorr nodded. "Yes. This morning you met him sitting upright at breakfast. He is recovering quickly thanks to your help." Kamyra waved him off. "You know yourself that I only stimulated his body to heal itself. But I am glad to hear that he is back on his feet." The thoughts of the young Deimonen who had been so badly wounded in battle , waves of anger struck Kamyra's heart. He was almost a child and still had to fight in this war, the reasons for which only those who had started it knew and even of that Kamyra was no longer so sure.Suddenly Kamyra turned her delicate ears to the wind and listened. Thorr also put his ears in this direction without turning his head. "Hoofbeat.", He finally said shortly and Kamyra nodded. Both warriors stood and Kamyra shaded her eyes against the bright light. In the distance she could make out the shadow of a rider. Probably one of their scouts. They waited patiently for the slowly trudging couple to come closer. As their outlines stabilized, Kamyra gasped audibly and ran toward the tired mount, closely followed by Thorr. Alerted by the hoofbeats, all the other soldiers had crawled out of their tents and were gathering on the edge of the camp.
The Myela shied away when Kamyra and Thorr ran up to it. It trotted away for a while, but seemed too distraught and exhausted to know what to do. Kamyra stopped and walked more slowly over to the animal, the rider hanging limply over the saddle.Murmuring reassuring words, she finally came so close to the frightened animal that she could grab the reins. Immediately the unpleasantly pungent odor of corpse rose into her sensitive nose. No wonder the animal reacted in such utter panic.
She motioned for Thorr to pull the dead man out of the saddle, which he did immediately. It was actually one of the scouts who had been sent out a week and a half ago. There was an ugly hole in his head and a message was pinned to his vest. Thorr read: “When it reaches you, we have found you.” He stared at Kamyra, who immediately looked around frantically, then jumped into the saddle of the tired Myelas and drove it to one last sprint.
At the tents she ordered everyone to the war mounts, jumped from the saddle of the snorting Myelas, and grabbed her patched saddle and Thorr's repaired bridle. After the others she ran to the rocks and whistled two different sequences of notes.A large, copper-colored merla stallion and an almost equally large myela stallion galloped towards them. She saddled the Myela, then the Merla, and mounted the latter's saddle. The Myela in tow trotted them through the camp towards Thorr's figure, who was running towards the camp. He jumped into the saddle of his stallion Heradod without using the stirrup. The camp disappeared in minutes under the skilled hands of those trained for such work. Kamyra stowed tent, provisions and all sorts of belongings, as well as weapons on the back of one of the packmerlas.
The supply force headed south while the warriors awaited the Martians. Standing tall, they sat proudly on the backs of their war merlas and waited with drawn swords for what was to come. At last low figures appeared on the horizon, moving rapidly forward. Kamyra narrowed her eyes to see how many they were dealing with, but the shimmering air made it almost impossible for her.Then they struck the small group of deimons like a thunderstorm. Suddenly Kamyra's people were surrounded by howling motorcycles, which circled them howling like wolves around their prey. The first shots were fired, but they only went into the air to unsettle the horses. The warriors huddled together, but then Kamyra's war cry rang out, was picked up by the others, and swelled to a murderous, eerie sound. The Deimons charged forward with thunderous hooves, fighting their way out of the ring the Martians had drawn around them.
Kamyra's sword whirled around her as fatally as the colossal hooves of her stallion, who soared, wedged, and smashed more than a skull. Through a red curtain of anger, Kamyra saw Martians die, almost cut in half by the blows of her sword. She heard nothing but the rush of blood in her ears, but she screamed, she screamed commands and curses. A laser grazed her stallion's shoulder and lower leg.The animal soared and screamed in pain, so that Kamyra struggled to keep his balance. But she brought the stallion back under control and chased him through the ranks of the Martians like a physical misfortune.
Through the red curtain of blood and thirst for vengeance, she heard someone shout "Withdraw! Withdraw!", But the calls ebbed with a choked gurgling. Kamyra was still wondering, then a tremendous jerk threw her from the saddle. She fell to the ground, rolled a little over the sand, and then lay there. All her nerves screamed at her to get up and finally she put her aching body back on her feet, pulled out her little dagger and looked around for the cause of her fall. Not far from her, a motorcycle lay on its side, the front wheel of which was still turning slowly. She looked around frantically for the driver, but didn't have to look long because a helmeted Martian pounced on her.
But unarmed, he was hardly a match for Kamyra.She parried a few badly executed kicks and punches, and then brought him down with ease. Kamyra threw herself at the enemy, tore his helmet off his head and pressed her dagger into the soft fur on the throat. Green eyes stared at the Deimon with hatred and Kamyra was surprised to see a woman her age, the first Martian she met on the battlefield. Until now, the Deimons had always joked that Martian women let fight for themselves. Without her wanting it, respect for this woman rose in Kamyra.
"Come on! Kill me, dirty Deimon bitch!" Shouted the Martian. Kamyra didn't understand much of the language of Mars, but enough to understand what the other was asking of her. In stumbling Martian she replied, "No, you are a prisoner." At that moment she felt uncivilized and stupid. Furious, she pushed the thought away, turned the