EPTAnd so came Heart of the Swarm, mocking us with it's Zerg name whilst endowing the Protoss with their most scrotal of gifts. The Mothership-core. She laughed at us from her golden girdle, wrapped around her glowing blue softness. Tickling away our scouting units she pranced above the battlefield, laughing with a pure, child-like bliss. We disregarded her, we ignored her, for what strength could a floating ball truly hold? We rushed into the exposed Protoss lands, our horde of zerg triumphantly rushing in and pressing their claws and teeth against the great Protoss bastion. We felt the rush of success, knowing this was our battle, this was our strength, this was where we once again subjugated Protoss to the disrespect of our overlords trailing droppings over the shattered shells of their homes.
And then, with the taste of victory thick in our mouths, a great and sudden crack split the sky in half. Stunned, we looked up, and beheld a wholly terrifying sight. The upper section of the great Protoss bastion was engulfed in a dark and terrible energy, gathering tighter and tighter into a peak of pure black death. From the centre of that pitch, death struck out, again and again, striking our zerglings down like empty sock-puppets. We felt a steep panic begin to rise, harder and harder into our throats. We redoubled our efforts, trying desperately to break through the bastion, scratching and biting frantically we had crushed through the shields, cracks were beginning to appear at the base, the lights were flickering on and off on the nexus and blue psi-flames began to erupt. But glancing upwards we saw the black force, spewing death upon us with a mad fervor that was unconcerned with our efforts. More and more of our swarm-brothers were being ripped to shreds around us until our numbers grew thin. Until there was but a handful of us left. Scratching, clawing and biting frantically we had exposed the structural beams and were almost through! We only needed a few more bites, and the dozen or so zerglings left would break this foul bastion before it could kill us all.
I bit hard and deep into the last beam, feeling the dry taste of Protoss ceramics break away in my mouth. The entire structure shuddered, creaked, and then settled like a dismembered arm hanging to a torso by a single, thick vein. I knew it would take just one more fierce bite, one more swipe of my claws. As I raised my body up and triumphantly brought down my force I felt victory torn away from me as I was thrown back two-dozen feet through the air. Jumping back to my feet and shaking my head to clear the stunned feeling I looked around me. There, right where I had been standing was a thick shining ethereal wall of translucent white. That most classic of dark Protoss magics, the forcefield had thrown me back just moments from me severing the life-chord of this great Protoss bastion. I leapt forwards, fervently hoping to close the distance and win this battle for the swarm. Even as I moved faster than I ever had before everything seemed to slow around me. I saw a field, littered in dead zerg, and the bastion standing by that thread, but with it's black eye looking ominous as ever. A dark bolt of energy lanced past me and threw away the last of my comrades, her body flailing like a mosquito slapped by a mad god and slowly sliding to rest with the mound of dead. I knew I was the last, and I knew what I had to do. I felt my body surge into the air to close the last few feet, my claws rising and stretching out. Even as I saw that last support beam draw close I felt a surge, a reversal, and suddenly was outside my body, watching me fly backwards, soaring through the air and coming to slide, empty and torn, to rest in the field of fallen zerg.
A dark sadness fell across the battlefield as the collective consciousness of so many slain zerg floated into nothingness, their heat slowly fading away. The moment was sad, but somewhat reverent, almost beautiful - like the wake of a truly extraordinary person, where the stories of those touched by their life bounce about in a room of a sort of somber celebration of what once was great. It would have been beautiful, if not for the light, ringing laughter of the Mothership-core, as she floated back into view from behind the bastion. She cavorted above the battlefield, and proceeded to stream a trail of bright blue energy onto the field of dead zerg, her scintillating laughter ringing in our ears.
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