EPTContest Winners
Contest Winners /the_story_of_joe]Lighthearted story that I recommend for text averse readers[/url]http://vilegaming.com/forums/topics/23088/the_story_of_joe]Lighthearted entry[/url]
This was my first attempt at writing a fanfic. I would like suggestions on how to improve: I sepnt a lot of time on this, and I wasn't close to being good enough. =)
In the silence of minds
Introduction: This is inspired partially by Blizzard's Broken Wide, a Terran medic's viewpoint on the new development of Zerg units. The short story here details a Protoss Immortal's perspective at the beginning of SC2, and hopes to give new players a glimpse of the rich lore and backstory of SC universe.
Cratonis signaled to the other Protoss to retreat. The raid was a resounding success. Everything went according to plan cleanly, like a surgeon excising the Zerg infestation. It had to be so. The wars were draining on the Protoss, never a prolific race. So now every Immortal, a shell designed to house crippled warriors, has improved hardened shields for survival. Personally, he would have preferred more guns - the shell was not limited to a weapon in each hand!
The thrill of combat, not to mention the joy of Zerg blood spattering, had always excited him and most Protoss. Not today. Instead, unease haunted him. Realizing belatedly that his thoughts may be broadcast to the troops, Cratonis hid his psionic link, a form of telepathy. As a commander, more important than competence was confidence. The troops won't follow an unsure commander. Everyone would soon end up as toast, or more likely, some Zerg’s breakfast.
His unease did not escape Serene ,his second-in-command, though. She was cursed with sensitivity, and way too inquisitive for her own good. No sooner were they back to base before Serene started prying into Cratonis's brooding mind. Cratonis understood that his superiors thought this arrangement would be beneficial: she would be a counterbalance for his tendency to over think things. That did not mean he had to like it. Or her for that matter, who never seemed to be able to hold two thoughts in her head at once.
Among her other faults, Serene also happened to be too stubborn to give up. Conversing with her could pass time, Cratonis thought. He had always styled himself as a thinker. When exciting new developments in military units were occurring elsewhere, he was stuck here, because the leaders insisted that his unique expertise in lightning guerrilla warfare could not be spared. A mere hundred years ago, this field of military history was obsolete and not worth studying even for the long-lived Protoss. After all, Protoss might of technology had always proved adequate to any threat. Until now. How fitting that the Zerg are the greatest threat in Protoss history.
In fact, Cratonis had doubts growing by the day that his attacks were anything but effective. That dark pink Zerg creep, slowly spreading over the planet like a tumor, was a constant, mocking reminder of failure. More and more, the ground was covered in that gooey, sickening mass. The planet groaned under the weight. Cratonis knew that he was not the only one who despaired. Morale among the troops was slipping, slowly eroding like the solid ground beneath them.
Cratonis knew the solution. The proud Protoss were never meant to skulk around like assassins or fugitives. What they needed as an overwhelming victory, to reaffirm the Protoss superiority over the Zerg bugs and the short Terrans. What they needed was the promise of the new age that Tassadar the dawnbringer hinted at. It is not like the new Protoss command led by the hero Artanis was lacking. It is just that nothing ever seemed enough - the Zerg always had a response. The Zerg were a worthy opponent, Cratonis had to admit, worthy of the attentions of their common creator the XelNaga.
“We are under attack!” A voice boomed through his psionic link. Serene parted with thoughts of continuing the conversation after this distraction. Cratonis spared a brief mental chuckle at her wry humor. Serene always knew the exact thing to say. Say what you will about her, but female Protoss had to be amazingly talented to be in positions of responsibility.
Cratonis strode out of the command tent, into the setting sun and into a wall of giant slugs. The pink, slobbering, hunchback lumps crawling along on spindly stumps were eyesores. Armed with multiple mouths, these clumsy creatures seemed to be mere gluttons. Despite failing to see how combat effective these misshapen, almost pathetic, creatures can be, instinct screamed otherwise. These creatures had to be good for something. Until Cratonis knew what, he was not going to risk the important hammer of the Immortals. He immediately barked out orders of retreat.
Only to find out that he couldn’t move. And that he was covered in some yellowish growth that he assumed to be the cause of all his trouble. Annoyingly, those slugs were just out of the range of his weapons. Cratonis boiled at his inability to act out his frustration on them and split them into chunks of jelly. He was not in the brightest of moods already. Thankfully, the growth seemed to be clearing up. Just a few moments more…
Meanwhile, a snakelike object was edging closer and closer. It seemed to be the slug’s tongue. Monster! The tongue caressed him lovingly, leaving a slimy trail over that shiny protoss armor. At that instant, Cratonis was plagued with an alien presence contesting for his mind.
I may be a prisoner inside this shell, but I will never be a prisoner to another, Cratonis thought fiercely. He began to repeat the Khala, the Protoss religion, to himself. My faith will keep me safe against the worm squirming inside me. The barriers I erected will stand! Maybe the Terrans became your playthings, but I. Am. Protosss!!!
What a shock it was to him that the Khala's traditional defenses against mental attacks were failing. In the battle of minds, he was slowly being worn away, slowly being made irrelevant and powerless. He was quickly becoming ignored, like an unwelcome guest in his own house. The creature, as if trying to test out its control over his body, tried pointing the weapons at Serene.
Never! It is my responsibility to protect her and my troops. I will never betray them. You can take away my life, or even my homeplanet Aiur, but never my honor! With pure force of will, Cratonis terminated himself, his life escaping like a brilliant blue spark of flame. Leaving behind only an empty, broken shell.
The tongue stopped, almost as if in respect of the warrior’s courage. Then it went on its way, seeking out other victims.
