What I want to hear:
-Grammar Critique
-any discrepancies with the SC canon
-any questions about word choice
-what parts of the story you find confusing
-what you like and find interesting
-what you dont like and find uninteresting
What I don't want to hear:
-criticism without a point
-lol'ing (there will be NO HAPPINESS IN THIS BLOG)
-these exact words: "oh kurtistheturtle you are the best writer I have ever read"
ok for real my story is about this protoss dude killing something. I assume that everybody reading this knows protoss lore.
+ Show Spoiler +
If history had taught him anything, Aurioch knew he could know nothing about something until he was willing to destroy it. Adun had taught him this valuable lesson back on Auir. Through carefully obeying his orders, he had observed his enemy and made unclouded judgment on the rogue tribes. Close-minded as they were, the Conclave had been the catalyst for the advancement of his kind in ways they couldn’t even comprehend. My old brethren will no longer accept me, he suspected. They are too far behind.
Trained from a young age in the ways of the Khala, Aurioch was technically a high templar. Despite that, he had other abilities. Millenia ago he had been part of the force Adun was given to destroy the rogue tribes. He had observed the teachings Adun administered on drawing from different fountains of power, and from those teachings arrived at techniques even before Adun had taught them. He had always been this way, but he dared not show this aptitude back then on Auir.
Even now, running through the very heart of a Zerg hive, he relied on techniques modified from the basic precepts taught back then. Everything was in front of them, in plain sight. But only he had taken the next step. The Khala condemned everything outside of its narrow views. His brethren in the rogue tribes denied their ancestry. Only Tassadar had glimpsed the potential when the two merged, but he gave himself for his own personal Khala too quickly to realize the power he might wield.
The divining thought, the one concept that divided them, how Tassadar started down his path, was astonishingly simple. Everything is temporary. His old teachers tried beating this “fatalism” out of him. They only succeeded in making him hide it. But once he had flowed in the full vulgarity of the universe for the first time, that first horrible time, he knew he would never be able to close his mind. So he had thrown himself into the dimensional riptide of the universe, not caring where he exited. It was utterly terrifying, belittling, and hinted of dankness so horrible he couldn’t even comprehend it.
This was when Aurioch discovered something amazing. This is why we were created. We are capable of navigating this maelstrom. He was latently accustomed to balance on the floes and whims of the universe. It was almost like navigating one of the stormy seas of Auir, but so much more…encompassing. And violent. All of this in front of us for so many eons and I am the first to try. Perhaps this is why the old teachers left.
Through these travels he discovered new balances and perspectives, one of which he used right now. He ran past a group of mulling ultralisks, their occasional movements shaking the ground. Overlords dotted the sky to the horizon, yet nothing even registered him. He wasn’t merely bending light around himself, it was something much more perfect than that. He, technically, wasn’t there.
Aurioch came upon a giant, sinewy membrane. It pulsed and glistened with some sort of coating. He phased back, appearing right beside the giant nervous system. I pity you, cerebrate. You are only trying to find your own version of happiness. With a slight flick of his hand, the alarmed mass of consciousness had a split second to touch the mind of this assailant. How was the mind of this Protoss so attuned to the Zerg? Before erupting into a mass of blood, it felt a thing so foreign all other processes inside stopped. Beauty? Awe? Longing?
No, cerebrate. It’s called compassion.
Trained from a young age in the ways of the Khala, Aurioch was technically a high templar. Despite that, he had other abilities. Millenia ago he had been part of the force Adun was given to destroy the rogue tribes. He had observed the teachings Adun administered on drawing from different fountains of power, and from those teachings arrived at techniques even before Adun had taught them. He had always been this way, but he dared not show this aptitude back then on Auir.
Even now, running through the very heart of a Zerg hive, he relied on techniques modified from the basic precepts taught back then. Everything was in front of them, in plain sight. But only he had taken the next step. The Khala condemned everything outside of its narrow views. His brethren in the rogue tribes denied their ancestry. Only Tassadar had glimpsed the potential when the two merged, but he gave himself for his own personal Khala too quickly to realize the power he might wield.
The divining thought, the one concept that divided them, how Tassadar started down his path, was astonishingly simple. Everything is temporary. His old teachers tried beating this “fatalism” out of him. They only succeeded in making him hide it. But once he had flowed in the full vulgarity of the universe for the first time, that first horrible time, he knew he would never be able to close his mind. So he had thrown himself into the dimensional riptide of the universe, not caring where he exited. It was utterly terrifying, belittling, and hinted of dankness so horrible he couldn’t even comprehend it.
This was when Aurioch discovered something amazing. This is why we were created. We are capable of navigating this maelstrom. He was latently accustomed to balance on the floes and whims of the universe. It was almost like navigating one of the stormy seas of Auir, but so much more…encompassing. And violent. All of this in front of us for so many eons and I am the first to try. Perhaps this is why the old teachers left.
Through these travels he discovered new balances and perspectives, one of which he used right now. He ran past a group of mulling ultralisks, their occasional movements shaking the ground. Overlords dotted the sky to the horizon, yet nothing even registered him. He wasn’t merely bending light around himself, it was something much more perfect than that. He, technically, wasn’t there.
Aurioch came upon a giant, sinewy membrane. It pulsed and glistened with some sort of coating. He phased back, appearing right beside the giant nervous system. I pity you, cerebrate. You are only trying to find your own version of happiness. With a slight flick of his hand, the alarmed mass of consciousness had a split second to touch the mind of this assailant. How was the mind of this Protoss so attuned to the Zerg? Before erupting into a mass of blood, it felt a thing so foreign all other processes inside stopped. Beauty? Awe? Longing?
No, cerebrate. It’s called compassion.