EPTOn the other end, a drone could be seen slouching lazily behind its comrades for the messiah, who was slouching lazily in his chair himself, with a slight hint of disdainful boredom residing on his face. But that could not hide the uncanny murderous intent his eyes betrayed.
The game progressed accordingly, a typical 3 hatch for savior against stork's corsair aggression. Aggression literally, for at the time the first one was nearly built two zealots and a goon were already on the march.
The proud zealots had to pause a bit though while the goon zapped at an overlord somehow forgotten directly in their path, giving the commentators ample opportunity to execute their trademark 'WAAAAAAAAH??!' just before it was fried by the goon's very last shot before it could escape. At the same time, the now built corsair began murdering another floating mass of sensory zerg control in savior's base, bound to succeed due to the yet dormant hydras hatching in their eggs.
When the hydras did hatch, they were quickly sidetracked by being forced to defend along a very minimalist zergling force against the toss ground assault now consisting of 3 zealots and the mentioned heroic goon. A cruel click by the observer answered the obvious question of why the babybringer would commit such a small force that couldn't realistically inflict much damage, as now two flyers were butchering *yet another* ovi in the zerg main with impunity.
Savior at last fought off the invading force, while the for such an early time in the game impressive number of three corsairs wreaked further havoc upon him. At the time the battle was over, stork could chalk up, I kid you not, an unbelievable number of 6 overlord kills! A group of 6 ovis getting slain by a bunch of stimmed marines even mid to late game is quite an impressive sight, but the ipxzerg lost s to the ix of them as fast as it is humanly possible to lose 6 ovis! Not to mention he had to divert the precious free supply left to him to hydras so he could, you know, barely survive. Storky, just in case he perhaps failed to do enough damage, tried to make the wound fester by throwing his air force at yet another ovi, but this time failed by single hp digits, losing his pirates of space in the process.
A glance at the protoss stronghold revealed power; the forge, archives and pylon at the natural being warped in bode no good omens for the competition the suffocated zerg economy could provide in the near future.
An inevitable DT followed, chasing the group of now speed upgraded hydras a little before being countered by fast ovis, getting chased back in return and giving savior map control for the time being. Instead of drones, more hydralisks kept spawning, which, along with their speed, convinced me that a desperate all-in hydra attack was soon to come. And a reasonable group of them did try to pick a fight at the now warping in protoss expansion. Right then, if you listened real good, you could hear snowballs in hell laughing at their chances against the bunch of zealots backed by a bunch of cannons backed by a bunch of high templar at the very slim mineral choke of desperado. Their commander obviously not wishing to be disgraced by such a mundane loss of his entire army, they were quickly ordered back.
Thoughts like Dammit man, doing such silly obvious shit. If you went mutas, with some insane micro you might have at least had an infinitesimally small chance of pulling it off. If you had gone for it right away, your spire would be about finished right now! went through my mind. Stork was seemingly thinking along the same lines, as three cannons warped in at his main nexus just then. Would've been no good either, eh. Well, you can't win 'em all.
But the maestro tended to disagree.
The two groups of hydras and ovis massing at both his main and the plateau west of and suspiciously close to stork's expansion hinted frontal suicide might not have been his plan all along. And indeed, flesh was sucked in and the floating leviathans growled something to the effect of 'It's payback time' as they dropped eight hydras at stork's expansion, forcing his forces to deal with them and buying the bulk of the army that was carried to the very protoss main just enough time to take out the nexus before being incinerated by two gorgeous storms.
Wait, did you say desperado? As in, two geysers in main and none whatsoever at the expansion? Yup, taking out that nexus then will sure go a long way in leveling things up for the zerg, right boy?
Yeah, this might've taken stork's edge, forcing him to rebuild and perhaps try something original himself.
But every action has a consequence, as the wooden plank with a mean face on it was patronized by the French snob. Let's take a step back. Do you remember when the young star in the protoss sky valiantly tried to kick savior while he was down by attempting to kill that one more ovi? In what has to be the single greatest example of symbolic irony ever witnessed in the history of starcraft, stork might find more love in his heart for the cute yellow air-superiority birds he had sacrificed.
Perhaps he did see in his mind's eye how he would have enjoyed their pretty, constantly flashing neutron flares while he was frantically fending off wave after wave after wave of hydras, zerglings and lurkers being constantly ferried into his main by the unchallenged zerg floaters, harassing his expansion, assaulting his main, being microed mercilessly; dancing to the tune of the vicious requiem unleashed upon him. Observers were killed, nearly dead hydras retreated into lurker cocoons, nearly dead lurkers unburrowed and were saved by overlords, 3 hydralisks blocked the way to a mortally wounded lurker launching spikes at group of zealots. And when it almost seemed stork would survive the manic assault, a hydra was ingeniously morphed on stork's ramp while his army was topside, allowing a transported force to chip away at the expansion nexus and a lurker to take it down with his very last volley of spikes.
Yet although by now his face didn't exactly make him appear willing to bet his five bucks on protoss in this game, Stork would not stand being slowly grinded into submission without so much as an attempt to strike at his opponent. So he amassed his army and marched them off proudly, which incidentally enabled Savior to finish the whole affair in style; taking out the largely undefended final nexus in the protoss main and sending an overwhelming number of lurks to defend. Stork's comparingly pitiful army did put up a valiant fight, with a templar nicely storming a whole bunch of hydras into oblivion. As nice as the gesture was, nothing could stop the brilliant cerebrate attacking
from the rear and bringing in the big evil mass of lurkers in from the front.
The long white beard of the oldest, wisest of them was carelessly mopping up sauce as he was struggling with the meat on his plate, while the rest of the assembled congregation of genius that were his colleagues struggled with the sole question pestering the mind of every man and woman for decades. Having concluded their fruitless speculations about pollution and biological warfare, all eyes finally rested on the only man who hadn't yet uttered a single word.
'Sir,' a young scientist spoke up, 'why do you think humanity has been rendered infertile?'
'I really don't have a clue, son. But this *is* a bloody good ...' Well, you get the idea.
At that last grill party thing I kinda thought a box of mine could be
