EPT
6’20”
“Hello everyone, I’m new here,” a shy voice rang out amidst the troops.
The enthusiastic Zealot immediately replied “Oh ho, haven’t seen anything like you before! All the new units coming out at this minute are important! So, don’t hold out on us, what’s your specialty?” The Zealot’s face lighted up with excitement.
“Well, actually, I don’t even know. The commander just told me to wait and see.”
“Oh, really? Hmm…well, my name’s the Zealot, what’s yours?”
“ALERT! Enemy attack incoming!” As the two talked, the vanguard already spotted the enemy troops. A wave of vicious Zerglings is headed straight for the Nexus.
“Defend the choke against the Zerglings! Do not let them enter the mineral lines, protect the Probes!” As the Zealot finished his instructions, he sprung up to the frontlines.
This is the new guy’s first time seeing enemy troops, and he was truly stunned. The Zerglings seem to be never-ending, and have relentlessly begun a vicious battle. The smell and sight of blood permeated the battlefield.
A particularly fierce group of Zerglings broke through a temporary hole in the defensive lines, and immediately ran in. Remembering the Zealot’s instructions to defend the choke, the new guy moved forth with his long blue shadow behind him, and stood in front of the Zerglings.
They showed no hesitation, and lurched straight at him. Helpless and clueless as to what to do, he barely had time to react before he felt a sharp pain throughout his body – the Zerglings are already all over him. Reflexively, he moved back. The Zealot quickly came to his aid and stood in front of him. A few strikes later, and two Zerglings fell in a pool of blood.
The danger is over for now. The new guy looked at the Zealot, and his eyes were filled with both confusion and gratitude.
“Don’t be down, mate. Chances are, you’re not meant to fight Zerglings. There’s a friend of mine called the Corsair, who usually runs around hunting Overlords, and when Mutalisks come to harass, we need to rely on him.” The Zealot patted him on the back. He nodded, silent.
To find out exactly what he was meant to do, he tried a lot of new things. When some Mutalisks came to harass, he jumped out in front of them, but ended up just staring at them, helpless, and almost got killed himself. He tried to heal his allies, and concentrated on their wounds for a minute to see nothing happen except their shields regenerate naturally. He even tried to mine minerals with the Probes. Even though the mineral chunks were small, he couldn’t lift them up. Hell, he couldn’t even outfight a Probe. When he tried to learn to be a detector with an Observer, he almost died to a Mine.
“Oh, right, we got interrupted last time, so what’s your name?” One evening, the Zealot, who’s guarding the mineral lines, started chatting with him again. Because he had no combat abilities, the new guy has just been standing next to the mineral lines with the Probes.
“My name is….,” as those words left his mouth, he smiled bitterly at himself. The honorable and glorious name he had, when compared to his actual abilities…hah, might as well call a retard Einstein…
The Zealot’s sunny smile couldn’t light up the shadows in his heart. He decided to make up a name at himself that basically describes all he does these days…
“My name is…my name is Blur!” He spat out.
Hearing these words, the troops and the Probes next to him flashed strange expressions – you know, the one where you try as hard as you can to not laugh. A few Probes couldn’t hold out and chuckled out loud. After all, what kind of a name is that?
He knew this would happen. But the embarrassment right now is nothing compared to the laughter he knew he would’ve gotten if he told them his real name. The irony, eh?
As the minutes pass, “Blur” continues to stand next to the mineral lines. He started asking himself if his only purpose was to maintain harmony. After all, since his appearance, many of the troops learned to forgive their own shortcomings: the Probes didn’t feel weak anymore, the Zealot no longer lamented his lack of anti-air, like how the Corsair no longer lamented his anti-ground. Even the self-conscious Observers are becoming more confident. After all, they’re all better than me, “Blur” thought.
Harmony, however, is not the theme of Starcraft.
9’11” – a group of Hydralisks started assaulting the front lines.
The bulk of the troops are away attacking the enemy home base, and cannot retreat to defend. The Probes in the mineral lines are being lined up for slaughter, and the only thing the Blur could do is use his frail body to try to block the incoming tide. The Hydralisks spared no sympathy on his defenseless self, and he could feel the sharp pain as the acid started corroding his body. His vision began to fade. Ah, well, it’s for the best, he thought. The useless me can, in this chaos, be lucky enough to die a hero’s death on the battlefield. I guess I should be happy for that.
A scream – but it was not his. It was his old friend the Zealot who fell the Hydralisk in front of him.
“I think this is the end for us. But we need to defend the Probes as best we can, and stall until the main forces return. You should retreat to the back with them. It’s probably the end for me, I’m glad to have met you,” the Zealot issued his last words as he continued to fight back the onslaught of Hydralisks.
Helplessness gripped his body…everyone is doing all they can to resist the enemy, and only he is here, standing alone, useless, and even need the help of others to protect him! He really wished he could self-destruct and take out some of the enemy while ending his pitiful life…
The Hydralisks are breaking through, and he saw the Zealot give him a glance and a sad smile.
“NO!!!” Unable to accept the incoming death of his friend, he needed to end it all. In that instant, lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Light erupted on the smoke-filled battlefield. The Hydralisks felt a momentary paralysis, and then their bodies broke apart. A nearby Mutalisk, some Zergling, and even a burrowed Lurker shared that fate. Everyone was stunned, and no one understood what happened.
“Wh-what happened? Who was that?” The luckily saved Zealot was confused. “That lightning…that thunder…was that you, Blur? Was that you??” Just these few seconds, the Zealot came within an inch of death, and now his friend is a giant hero!
“Y-yes…It was me. I…am not ‘Blur.’ I am…the High Templar. I am the HIGH TEMPLAR!”
10’21”, the High Templar and Psionic Storm have appeared.
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T/N: In Chinese, High Templars are just called "Lightnings." Unfortunately, this story was filled with a few expressions and terms (such as Lightning) that are unique to Chinese.I tried my best to find an English equivalent, or to insert my own phrasing to convey the original feel as best as I could. Cheers.
Note: I decided that I might as well translate all of them, and I guess I'll just do them in order. Next up is an encounter between an Observer and a Sci Vessel.
Story one - Zergling here!
