Undying
07-14-2006, 02:01 PM
Yeah, so, I'm writing two fics, one about Warcraft and the other about Starcraft. Be aware that I do not own any of the said programs, I have no rights to distribute them and hardly own any of the original characters. I own you ass though =P.
Starcraft - Story of the Hybrid
Prologue:
Prologue - What space hides
Space. A vast, seemingly endless, seemingy empty, dark stretch. Seemingly empty, for it hides many a danger and many surprises. Humans would often gaze to that endless stretch of darkness, dotted with shiny dots and wonder: are we alone, here upon the Earth, or are there any others there, others like us, perhaps, or perhaps different? With them, can we find a mutual language, perhaps, and thus become friends, or shall they fulfill our fantasies of endless wars and conquest? These questions remained unanswered until the 22nd century, when humans finaly launched into space, seeking to colonize it and to conquer it. Little did the humans know that this voyage, this experiment of a young and ambitious scientist, now dead, would turn into a horror story, worse than anything humanity has ever experienced.
The Zerg. A species of bug-like creatures, is one of those species humanity sought. A great folly indeed, as the Zerg are, and always were, bent upon one thing only: conquering and assimilating all species into themselves, to enrich their own gene pool and thus become the greatest species ever created. Normally, the Zerg would've destroyed and annihilated the inferior humans, but the Zerg had an enemy. An enemy created by the very same "god" that has created the Zerg. This arch-nemesis of the Zerg, going by the name "Protoss," or "The Firstborn", was far too powerful a foe, even for the unstoppable and gargantuan swarm of the Zerg. Thus, the Zerg decided to assimilate humanity into themselves, seeking to expoilt the latent ability the human gene pool hid: psionic powers, powerful enough that in a few generations, had the humans been allowed to live, they would be powerful enough to fight on even fround against the Zerg.
The story of the Zerg's, the Protoss', and the human's, "Terrans" as they were called by the Protoss and Zerg, war was already told, concluded by the great victory - or so they believed - of the Zerg Swarm, now led by Kerrigan, Queen of the Zerg. However, the victory was not complete, not in Kerrigan's mind. She sensed that something was amiss, following the dissappearance of Duran, her so-called great supporter and greatest advisor, and the escape of the Protoss fleet, along with that of Jim Raynor and several scores of his militia, as well as several colonies.
Of the Protoss, whom she believed were smashed and defeated, fled Zeratul, leader of the Dark Templar, and Artanis, the yound preator of the Templar foces.
Although she believed her enemies to be defeated, scattered across the vast and seemingly empty space, a dark cloud of fear loomed upon the horizon of Kerrigan's mind. However, confident as she was in her swarm's prowess, she let her thoughts wander and contemplated herself with sending several probe drones to several planets and their moons. Little did she know that her enemies were right below her nose, and worse for herself, little did she know that a far worse enemy was hiding deep inside her very own swarm.
A ripple cut across the vast darkness of space, a strange ripple. For had there been a watcher there, he would see an almost round, elliptic shape, yet perfectly transparent, as though a ripple has passed across the black blanket that was space. Of course, no watcher was standing in this deep and abandoned part of space, and as none saw as the shape began to glow, and inside that elliptic shape, blueish lines moved and warped. A second later, the shape revealed itself to be a Protoss Carrier ship, moving silently and quickly through the darkness.
Inside, many, many shapes moved about, Protoss cought within their thoughts, pondering the unthinkable situation, for not only did the Protoss' mighty fleet suffer a defeat by the Zerg, but the Protoss forces, in the tumult of esape, were thrown into such dissaray that they separated, and now they were searching frantically for their brethren, desperately hoping that Artanis and his troops were not dead.
One Protoss in particular, a lanky-armed, slender and tall one, its face covered by a piece of back, tattered cloth, seemed more uneasy than the rest. For this was no simple soldier, even though he still thought of himself as such, but the leader of this remnant of an army, a rag-tag remainder of the once mighty and proud Protoss fleet, Zeratul by name. His dark eyes, two black, liquid-black in colour and pupil-less, shifted uneasily from side to side as he looked through one of the many screens that served as windows.
"En taro Tassadar, noble Zeratul," came a telepathic message, the "voice" sounding deep and resoanant within Zeratul's mind. He turned, studying his companion. No less lanky than himself, this one had the glowing orange eyes of a Templar, coupled with the entire armour of one. The armour served not only as a psi-collector - for Protoss fed not only upon food that could nutriate humans but also upon energy that emanated from the now even more prized Khaldryan Crystals, but also enahnced his ability to channel that very same power he drew from his own mind. Incidentaly, the suit also nearly doubled the size and weight of the Protoss High Templar to nearly twice his original lanky frame, which slowed them considerably. Seeming to glide forward - in a way indeed he glided, for part of his mobility was given to him by a small motor on the back of the suit, or "glider" as it was aptly named.
"What is it, Rangarsar?" requested the Dark Templar, his own "voice" slightly deeper and yet somehow sadder, for the many centuries he spent in hiding and escaping from his own people gave him a sadness greater than any could understand.
"We have detected.... something," came the reply, and Zeratul noted the slight hesitation before the "something", as though the soldier intended to say something else.
"Something? What exactly?" he inquired, his curiosity sparked. Perhaps they've located Artanis, or perhaps some evidence as to their fate.
"It is a life-pod, a human one, but we are unable to discern its signal."
"What? I do not understand," Zeratul's telepathic message was filled with bewilderment.
"It is a human life-pod, that much is known. However, the life-pulses we are recieving from it are unlike anything we have ever encountered before. No Protoss, no Terran, and no Zerg gives out such signals."
Zeratul's black liquid pools of eyes widened with shock, and Rangarsar got the impression that had his leader had a mouth, it would be hanging open. The Protoss soldier did not know of what transpired through Zeratul's mind that moment, of course, for he knew not of the being Zeratul have encountered during his search for for his Protoss brethern.
Zeratul felt as though someone had just hit him over the face with a hammer. Duran's last words played through his mind.
"I've planted the hybrid upon many, many worlds... and you shall never know of its awakening..." that nearly made Zeratul sag to the floor in despair. Was that time upon him already? Did his deepest fears came true, and he was now faced with a great and terrible danger, far, far worse than what the Zerg could have ever be? Those thoughts swirling through his troubled mind, the Protoss leader made a decision that, although he did not know of it at the time, altered the course of fate itself.
"Rescue that life-pod and check what is inside."
"Are... are you certain? What... what if..." he never completed the thought before Zeratul silenced him with a raised hand.
"We must know for sure. Whatever it is, it cannot be big enough to kill over five hundred trained Protoss soldiers, can it now?"
"Indeed, I understand. Forgive the lack of faith," said Rangarsar, turning and gliding to the main command room, sending his thoughts forward and telling the crew of the ship Zeratul's orders.
A few hours later, the life-pod, finally fished out from the gravitationa pull of a nearby asteroid, laid in the ship's lower hull, or "guts", as it was named by the few humans ever to traverse it. The hatch of the pod was swiftly opened by a Zealot, and inside... a human child. Thin, almost skinny, although still muscled, his hair dark blond, and his eye closed. And his was emanating something that made Zeratul cringe with fear. A darkness so solid, it felt as though an odor like that of a rotting body in fetid water was spilling from it.
"Well? What is it?" another Protoss, Cangrah by name, asked. A Zealot, his battle prowess were legendary among his comrades, and his potential rivaled that of the mighty Phenix, the former preator.
"I... I do not know," replied Zeratul, his thoughts swirling. It was not the same as the hybrid, to be sure, but the incredible darkness seemed somewhat similar to the psionic emanations coming from the Dark-Templar's psionic blades. The child stirred slightly, and Zertul's compassionate heart bade him to look past that strange darkness, to look at the suffering, cold and dying specimen of a race that fought along him, aiding him in saving his beloved homeplanet of Aiur.
"Take him to an infirmary, and treat him well," he commanded, still a half a mind to slice this thing and kill it. Some instinctual part of him screamed at him to do it, to rip this abomination. He shut that part up.
Two hours later, the child, well fed - he ate like three men thrice his size, and drank gallons of water! - seemed to be much healthier.
Zeratul looked at him for a few moments, trying to control himself and murder the human where he lay.
"Well? I'd say that you'd like to tear me to shreds now, but you don't. What is it, then?" the child's voice deep enough to sound like that of a grown man - and indeed he appeared to be nearing adulthood, perhaps sventeen or eighteen by age - but it held a sadness that resonated with Zeratul's own.
"We have rescued you, because we are interested in some answers. We know not of any human ships or colonies in the near vicinity, and thus, we know that the Zerg wouldn't come here by choice. So what are you doing here? How long have you been here? And why, above all else, are you alone?"
The child considered that for a moment.
"I am - was - a part of a small entourage, aimed to search for a suitable - and Zergless - place for us to settle. We are - were - colonists of what once was the Confederacy's captial planet, Tarsonis. We were attacked by Zerg some time ago - I cannot remember, I've been unconcsious for a long time now - and most or all of us were killed. I saw one of our ships - a cruiser - go dow, felled by the Zerg's Scourge troops. The ship where I was - a drop ship filled with supplies and several Marine soldiers, what was left of the supply depots of the Tarsoian Merchant's Guild - was attacked by Mutalisks, and after they've managed to blast big enough a whole through our ship's hull they've sent in their suicide human mutants.
"That is all I remember, my good Protoss, you may rest assured. I managed to get to a life-pod - they are now installed on Dropships also, a new addition - and for three days, my pod drifted through space. I lost consciousness after those three days, for my supplies - particulary water - and the heat source were done for."
Zeratul considered the all-too-familiar tale of the tradegy. Such attacks on the fleeing humans weren't a rarity, but why didn't the Zerg - every bit as attuned to such emanations as the Protoss - didn't sense that darkness and attacked? Was it some Zerg trap? A notion came to Zeratul's mind, fluttering like dark winds. There was a way to scour the child's mind and discover the truth, but not only was it forbidden, but to noble Zeratul, the mere thought assaulted his sense of right and wrong. But, perhaps...
"Child, I must do something now, something that you may not like..." he began, his telepathic message carefull. The child raised his eyebrows.
"Mind being clearer?" he requested, his tone becoming a bit callous.
"I will scour your mind, to discover whatever I can about what has happened. I cannot - will not - allow any danger to come to my people, and I fear that I must do it."
"A mental intrusion? Well, I cannot say I will enjoy such a thing - if half the tales I've heard are half correct, it is an unpleasent thing - but I owe as much to you. Please, go ahead."
Zeratul was relieved, a bit, and decided to act now, before his resolve to do such a thing - as abominate as anything he could think of - would waver. Clasping the child's head between his long-fingered, lanky arms, he focused, trying to get through to the child's brain. Immediatly, he was assaulted by images, so many and so quick that they flashed through his mind before he could catch them. Darkness, light, forms moved about, and above all, a great, no, a vast amount of dots of light and dark swirled through the child's mind. But one thing was clear: he told the truth. Releasing - escaping - the child's mind - Zeratul nodded.
"What is your name, child?" he asked, for he now knew that this was the answer. Had the Xel'Naga forseen this? For this was undoubtably something that they alone could do.
"Name? I? I have no such thing..." replied the child, a wry smile upon his face.
"No name, eh? Fine." Zeratul considered it for a moment, and an idea struck him. "You shall be named "Mushou".
"Mushou? What in the name of all that's holy?" askedthe child, obviously bewildered.
""Mushou" is a word that means "nameless". Such shall be thy name, nameless," clarified Zeratul, his mental message holding the smile his face could not.
"Nameless... eh?" the child tasted the word. "As good as any, I'd say.
Well then, what is your name, Protoss?" he asked, locking his blue-eyed gaze to Zeratul's black one.
"I am known as Zeratul," came the telepathic reply.
"Zeartul... I see. Well, Zeratul, may I ask one final question? For I feel that sleep has decided to take possession of me."
"Ask."
"Will you teach me? How to fight, I mean? I want revenge. I have no mother and father that I know of, yet some of the people killed were my dearest friends."
Zeratul was a touch preplexed - he intended to teach the child how to fightm indeed, but he never suspected such a notion to come from the child himself.
"Of course. You shall become a truly powerful warrior, Mushou. Now, sleep your eyes cannot hold open any longer." The child was fast asleep by the last word.
Zeratul left the room, to prepeare the training gorund. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was what he was looking for."
Thus began the story of the nameless warior.
I fear I'm gonna double post a lot here - these chapters tend to get long! - so pardong me. Character count per post...damn.
Starcraft - Story of the Hybrid
Prologue:
Prologue - What space hides
Space. A vast, seemingly endless, seemingy empty, dark stretch. Seemingly empty, for it hides many a danger and many surprises. Humans would often gaze to that endless stretch of darkness, dotted with shiny dots and wonder: are we alone, here upon the Earth, or are there any others there, others like us, perhaps, or perhaps different? With them, can we find a mutual language, perhaps, and thus become friends, or shall they fulfill our fantasies of endless wars and conquest? These questions remained unanswered until the 22nd century, when humans finaly launched into space, seeking to colonize it and to conquer it. Little did the humans know that this voyage, this experiment of a young and ambitious scientist, now dead, would turn into a horror story, worse than anything humanity has ever experienced.
The Zerg. A species of bug-like creatures, is one of those species humanity sought. A great folly indeed, as the Zerg are, and always were, bent upon one thing only: conquering and assimilating all species into themselves, to enrich their own gene pool and thus become the greatest species ever created. Normally, the Zerg would've destroyed and annihilated the inferior humans, but the Zerg had an enemy. An enemy created by the very same "god" that has created the Zerg. This arch-nemesis of the Zerg, going by the name "Protoss," or "The Firstborn", was far too powerful a foe, even for the unstoppable and gargantuan swarm of the Zerg. Thus, the Zerg decided to assimilate humanity into themselves, seeking to expoilt the latent ability the human gene pool hid: psionic powers, powerful enough that in a few generations, had the humans been allowed to live, they would be powerful enough to fight on even fround against the Zerg.
The story of the Zerg's, the Protoss', and the human's, "Terrans" as they were called by the Protoss and Zerg, war was already told, concluded by the great victory - or so they believed - of the Zerg Swarm, now led by Kerrigan, Queen of the Zerg. However, the victory was not complete, not in Kerrigan's mind. She sensed that something was amiss, following the dissappearance of Duran, her so-called great supporter and greatest advisor, and the escape of the Protoss fleet, along with that of Jim Raynor and several scores of his militia, as well as several colonies.
Of the Protoss, whom she believed were smashed and defeated, fled Zeratul, leader of the Dark Templar, and Artanis, the yound preator of the Templar foces.
Although she believed her enemies to be defeated, scattered across the vast and seemingly empty space, a dark cloud of fear loomed upon the horizon of Kerrigan's mind. However, confident as she was in her swarm's prowess, she let her thoughts wander and contemplated herself with sending several probe drones to several planets and their moons. Little did she know that her enemies were right below her nose, and worse for herself, little did she know that a far worse enemy was hiding deep inside her very own swarm.
A ripple cut across the vast darkness of space, a strange ripple. For had there been a watcher there, he would see an almost round, elliptic shape, yet perfectly transparent, as though a ripple has passed across the black blanket that was space. Of course, no watcher was standing in this deep and abandoned part of space, and as none saw as the shape began to glow, and inside that elliptic shape, blueish lines moved and warped. A second later, the shape revealed itself to be a Protoss Carrier ship, moving silently and quickly through the darkness.
Inside, many, many shapes moved about, Protoss cought within their thoughts, pondering the unthinkable situation, for not only did the Protoss' mighty fleet suffer a defeat by the Zerg, but the Protoss forces, in the tumult of esape, were thrown into such dissaray that they separated, and now they were searching frantically for their brethren, desperately hoping that Artanis and his troops were not dead.
One Protoss in particular, a lanky-armed, slender and tall one, its face covered by a piece of back, tattered cloth, seemed more uneasy than the rest. For this was no simple soldier, even though he still thought of himself as such, but the leader of this remnant of an army, a rag-tag remainder of the once mighty and proud Protoss fleet, Zeratul by name. His dark eyes, two black, liquid-black in colour and pupil-less, shifted uneasily from side to side as he looked through one of the many screens that served as windows.
"En taro Tassadar, noble Zeratul," came a telepathic message, the "voice" sounding deep and resoanant within Zeratul's mind. He turned, studying his companion. No less lanky than himself, this one had the glowing orange eyes of a Templar, coupled with the entire armour of one. The armour served not only as a psi-collector - for Protoss fed not only upon food that could nutriate humans but also upon energy that emanated from the now even more prized Khaldryan Crystals, but also enahnced his ability to channel that very same power he drew from his own mind. Incidentaly, the suit also nearly doubled the size and weight of the Protoss High Templar to nearly twice his original lanky frame, which slowed them considerably. Seeming to glide forward - in a way indeed he glided, for part of his mobility was given to him by a small motor on the back of the suit, or "glider" as it was aptly named.
"What is it, Rangarsar?" requested the Dark Templar, his own "voice" slightly deeper and yet somehow sadder, for the many centuries he spent in hiding and escaping from his own people gave him a sadness greater than any could understand.
"We have detected.... something," came the reply, and Zeratul noted the slight hesitation before the "something", as though the soldier intended to say something else.
"Something? What exactly?" he inquired, his curiosity sparked. Perhaps they've located Artanis, or perhaps some evidence as to their fate.
"It is a life-pod, a human one, but we are unable to discern its signal."
"What? I do not understand," Zeratul's telepathic message was filled with bewilderment.
"It is a human life-pod, that much is known. However, the life-pulses we are recieving from it are unlike anything we have ever encountered before. No Protoss, no Terran, and no Zerg gives out such signals."
Zeratul's black liquid pools of eyes widened with shock, and Rangarsar got the impression that had his leader had a mouth, it would be hanging open. The Protoss soldier did not know of what transpired through Zeratul's mind that moment, of course, for he knew not of the being Zeratul have encountered during his search for for his Protoss brethern.
Zeratul felt as though someone had just hit him over the face with a hammer. Duran's last words played through his mind.
"I've planted the hybrid upon many, many worlds... and you shall never know of its awakening..." that nearly made Zeratul sag to the floor in despair. Was that time upon him already? Did his deepest fears came true, and he was now faced with a great and terrible danger, far, far worse than what the Zerg could have ever be? Those thoughts swirling through his troubled mind, the Protoss leader made a decision that, although he did not know of it at the time, altered the course of fate itself.
"Rescue that life-pod and check what is inside."
"Are... are you certain? What... what if..." he never completed the thought before Zeratul silenced him with a raised hand.
"We must know for sure. Whatever it is, it cannot be big enough to kill over five hundred trained Protoss soldiers, can it now?"
"Indeed, I understand. Forgive the lack of faith," said Rangarsar, turning and gliding to the main command room, sending his thoughts forward and telling the crew of the ship Zeratul's orders.
A few hours later, the life-pod, finally fished out from the gravitationa pull of a nearby asteroid, laid in the ship's lower hull, or "guts", as it was named by the few humans ever to traverse it. The hatch of the pod was swiftly opened by a Zealot, and inside... a human child. Thin, almost skinny, although still muscled, his hair dark blond, and his eye closed. And his was emanating something that made Zeratul cringe with fear. A darkness so solid, it felt as though an odor like that of a rotting body in fetid water was spilling from it.
"Well? What is it?" another Protoss, Cangrah by name, asked. A Zealot, his battle prowess were legendary among his comrades, and his potential rivaled that of the mighty Phenix, the former preator.
"I... I do not know," replied Zeratul, his thoughts swirling. It was not the same as the hybrid, to be sure, but the incredible darkness seemed somewhat similar to the psionic emanations coming from the Dark-Templar's psionic blades. The child stirred slightly, and Zertul's compassionate heart bade him to look past that strange darkness, to look at the suffering, cold and dying specimen of a race that fought along him, aiding him in saving his beloved homeplanet of Aiur.
"Take him to an infirmary, and treat him well," he commanded, still a half a mind to slice this thing and kill it. Some instinctual part of him screamed at him to do it, to rip this abomination. He shut that part up.
Two hours later, the child, well fed - he ate like three men thrice his size, and drank gallons of water! - seemed to be much healthier.
Zeratul looked at him for a few moments, trying to control himself and murder the human where he lay.
"Well? I'd say that you'd like to tear me to shreds now, but you don't. What is it, then?" the child's voice deep enough to sound like that of a grown man - and indeed he appeared to be nearing adulthood, perhaps sventeen or eighteen by age - but it held a sadness that resonated with Zeratul's own.
"We have rescued you, because we are interested in some answers. We know not of any human ships or colonies in the near vicinity, and thus, we know that the Zerg wouldn't come here by choice. So what are you doing here? How long have you been here? And why, above all else, are you alone?"
The child considered that for a moment.
"I am - was - a part of a small entourage, aimed to search for a suitable - and Zergless - place for us to settle. We are - were - colonists of what once was the Confederacy's captial planet, Tarsonis. We were attacked by Zerg some time ago - I cannot remember, I've been unconcsious for a long time now - and most or all of us were killed. I saw one of our ships - a cruiser - go dow, felled by the Zerg's Scourge troops. The ship where I was - a drop ship filled with supplies and several Marine soldiers, what was left of the supply depots of the Tarsoian Merchant's Guild - was attacked by Mutalisks, and after they've managed to blast big enough a whole through our ship's hull they've sent in their suicide human mutants.
"That is all I remember, my good Protoss, you may rest assured. I managed to get to a life-pod - they are now installed on Dropships also, a new addition - and for three days, my pod drifted through space. I lost consciousness after those three days, for my supplies - particulary water - and the heat source were done for."
Zeratul considered the all-too-familiar tale of the tradegy. Such attacks on the fleeing humans weren't a rarity, but why didn't the Zerg - every bit as attuned to such emanations as the Protoss - didn't sense that darkness and attacked? Was it some Zerg trap? A notion came to Zeratul's mind, fluttering like dark winds. There was a way to scour the child's mind and discover the truth, but not only was it forbidden, but to noble Zeratul, the mere thought assaulted his sense of right and wrong. But, perhaps...
"Child, I must do something now, something that you may not like..." he began, his telepathic message carefull. The child raised his eyebrows.
"Mind being clearer?" he requested, his tone becoming a bit callous.
"I will scour your mind, to discover whatever I can about what has happened. I cannot - will not - allow any danger to come to my people, and I fear that I must do it."
"A mental intrusion? Well, I cannot say I will enjoy such a thing - if half the tales I've heard are half correct, it is an unpleasent thing - but I owe as much to you. Please, go ahead."
Zeratul was relieved, a bit, and decided to act now, before his resolve to do such a thing - as abominate as anything he could think of - would waver. Clasping the child's head between his long-fingered, lanky arms, he focused, trying to get through to the child's brain. Immediatly, he was assaulted by images, so many and so quick that they flashed through his mind before he could catch them. Darkness, light, forms moved about, and above all, a great, no, a vast amount of dots of light and dark swirled through the child's mind. But one thing was clear: he told the truth. Releasing - escaping - the child's mind - Zeratul nodded.
"What is your name, child?" he asked, for he now knew that this was the answer. Had the Xel'Naga forseen this? For this was undoubtably something that they alone could do.
"Name? I? I have no such thing..." replied the child, a wry smile upon his face.
"No name, eh? Fine." Zeratul considered it for a moment, and an idea struck him. "You shall be named "Mushou".
"Mushou? What in the name of all that's holy?" askedthe child, obviously bewildered.
""Mushou" is a word that means "nameless". Such shall be thy name, nameless," clarified Zeratul, his mental message holding the smile his face could not.
"Nameless... eh?" the child tasted the word. "As good as any, I'd say.
Well then, what is your name, Protoss?" he asked, locking his blue-eyed gaze to Zeratul's black one.
"I am known as Zeratul," came the telepathic reply.
"Zeartul... I see. Well, Zeratul, may I ask one final question? For I feel that sleep has decided to take possession of me."
"Ask."
"Will you teach me? How to fight, I mean? I want revenge. I have no mother and father that I know of, yet some of the people killed were my dearest friends."
Zeratul was a touch preplexed - he intended to teach the child how to fightm indeed, but he never suspected such a notion to come from the child himself.
"Of course. You shall become a truly powerful warrior, Mushou. Now, sleep your eyes cannot hold open any longer." The child was fast asleep by the last word.
Zeratul left the room, to prepeare the training gorund. He had a sneaking suspicion that this was what he was looking for."
Thus began the story of the nameless warior.
I fear I'm gonna double post a lot here - these chapters tend to get long! - so pardong me. Character count per post...damn.