"Goliaths look much more badass than they actually are"
-Bob_The_Newt
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| After Brood War: Prologue | | | Author: | | | IP: | 221.226.XXXX | | Date: | 06/05/05 09:06 | | Game Type: | Starcraft | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 5, Min: 5
Lifetime Rating for MidnightGladius: 5.4000 |  | After Brood War This was originally a fanfiction I submitted to SC.org that I was forced to stop due to time constraints on another project. Well, now that I’m stuck in China and have plenty of time, here we go! (Note: may contain spoilers for Starcraft: Broodwar. Of course, if you didn’t beat the campaign, it isn’t my fault). --- Prologue: The Need After the great battle of Omega, the Zerg forces in the Koprulu Sector had regained utter dominance. With the independent Terran forces led by Arcturus Mengsk scattered in disarray and the UED completely decimated, the former Terran colonies such as Braxis and Umoja became vulnerable, and thus assimilated by the Zerg Swarms. The Protoss had also been routed, with the Praetor Artanis taking refuge on Shakuras, the Xel’Naga Temple there making them invincible to Zerg patrols. Marshall Jim Raynor had lost the bulk of his armies, and he was scavenging the dark stars for mercenaries to join his ragtag forces. Prelate Zeratul of the Dark Templar was also traveling the planets, hunting the Stasis Cells planted by the mysterious Samir Duran. --- Primary Citadel, Shakuras… “Brother, I do not believe this action of ours to be for the greater good,” Klithon directed through his subcounscious mental link. Though in the past they had severed the nerves needed to speak so, they had been replaced ever since the two branches joined. Prelate of the Dark Templar in Zeratul’s stead and absence, Klithon was a brilliant general and a good friend. Though he didn’t wear the heavy mantle of the Prelate, he did carry the authority and direction of his people. Artanis, the only other being in the room, immediately stood from his seat and began pacing. “I am worried, Klithon. My High Templar already forget the crises we have passed…together. They whisper in corners of returning to Aiur, of erasing our alliance from the chronicles. Thankfully, our Dark Templar brethren show no animosity, though they see and hear, and take notice. I have no way to keep the bond alive except through what I am doing.” Artanis, the last Praetor of Aiur, was the guardian of the Khalis Crystal; the elaborate red-and-gold robes of his office belied his deviousness and ferocity in battle. Klithon barely let Artanis finish before he replied. “You cannot move your soldiers to Thanduras. The Zerg will seize upon the division and consume us both.” Artanis let his grief pass through his mind as he gave the Protoss equivalent of a sigh. “I cannot risk a civil war either. And that is what we will be faced with if I force the Templar to stay. The short-mindedness of the Templar astounds me, as does their tendency for forceful reconciliation. One would almost think them Terrans, constantly shifting alliances and betraying one another.” Klithon let his eyes flash, a sign of anger. “The last time we united, we used a crisis. That is what we need now.” They spoke the last words together. “A crisis.” A wind rose outside, mournful and despairing. --- Hyperion, Orbiting Near Nilok III… “So, you’ll be joining us?” Jim Raynor called to the face on the com-screen. His face was that of a hard man, made harder by times and circumstance. The expression on his usually jovial face was that of bitter rage and hatred. The man looking back at him, his face grimy with soot, thought for a while before speaking up. “Well, I don’t know. The men’ll be wanting their pay, y’know.” Raynor looked to the side, muttering several expletives. “Light man, we just saw you through a Zerg attack! What more do you need? Money? You’ll get your money; every bar and tank of it! You’re fighting for a great cause, man! The destruction of the Zerg! You know what they want; every last one of us dead! Do you want to wait here for your death? Join us, and we’ll be fighting back! I will not rest until I see Kerrigan dead, and I don’t expect anyone who joins us to think otherwise. Now come on, I don’t have all day. Get on, or get off!” Raynor had said that to almost everyone they had encountered. The emotions in his words were still fervent, though. Few wanted to fight, and those few did for inexplicable reasons. The man on the ground still seemed hesitant, but suddenly voices piped up from behind him. “I’m with you, Admiral!” shouted a Marine, running towards Raynor’s Dropships and hoisting his gun up high in a salute. Several of his comrades joined him, leaving the rest more doubtful than before. Soon, the trickle became a veritable a flood, men and vehicles piling up before the Dropships could finish the return journey. This was one of the bigger groups, with perhaps a hundred assorted soldiers. The few Wraiths flew up directly to the Hyperion, which anchored in low atmosphere above the lush planet. Eventually, only the commander was left, his men shouting at him to get aboard. “All right, Raynor. Count me in. My name’s Ulysses Rogers.” As the last Dropships veered up into the Hyperion’s docking bays with a burst of fuel, the great behemoth began thrusting to enter space. A single set of eyes followed the ship’s course until it became a mere speck, and then its bearer floated away. --- Gantrithor II, Traveling on Course 21; 44; 15… "Are you sure the energy signals are clear, Templar?” Zeratul didn’t bother away from his commander’s display. He was sure, but he needed something to distract him. The dark cloak of the Prelate brought with it a mountain of responsibility, and the mountain was especially heavy of late. This was no way to live, warping from planet to planet to hunt out Duran’s “nests”. Though his soldiers knew the need involved in their task, that same duty and obligation was weighing upon them heavily. The Templar he was referring to spoke in surprise, “Of course I am sure, Prelate. Should I inform the brothers to prepare for landing?” Zeratul hesitated to say the obvious, the same words he had said for almost a hundred days and the same words he would probably be saying for a much longer time, when a mental alarm sounded clearly in his mind. Unlike the Terran’s absurd system of red flashing lights, the Protoss way was far more efficient. Zeratul drew his finger to activate a switch as soon as the ping rang through the ship. Red figures became situated in three dimensions on top of the operation table, deadly specks that were speeding his way. Even as he watched, blue spheres became visible on the screen, exiting from the titan that was the Gantrithor II. Zeratul immediately began activating switches, determined to show the Zerg he was no easy target. His good friend Raynor had shown him the virtues of the Battlecruiser, and the ship he piloted was the first of the new “Battle Carriers”. As soon as the Scourge and Mutalisks closed within range, hundreds of laser batteries opened and began opening fire, a withering storm that tore the Zerg apart. This “point defense” system that Raynor had helped implement was a grand benefit, destroying Scourge long before the posed a threat to the hull. The assorted ships under his command, Scouts and Corsairs, did their jobs as well, Anti-matter Missiles leaving bright scintillations in their path as they struck home and Neutron Flares flaring and blossoming on the enemy, invoking shrieks of rage and pain. As the last red specks broke the engagement and fled, the blue also returned to the enlarged Interceptor chambers. “Report!” Zeratul snapped as soon as the threat was gone. “The enemy lost sixteen Mutalisks and thirty-seven Scourge,” spoke a Templar at a distant wall panel, totally engrossed in the stream of numbers passing through his screen. “On our side, six Scouts and nine Corsairs have been destroyed, and eleven more Scouts have taken damage to their hulls. The same can be said of three additional Corsairs. The ship lost twenty-three percent of its shields, and an additional fourteen percent was diverted to the point defense system. The losses in shields are currently being charged by onboard Shield Batteries.” Zeratul let annoyance register in his mind; he was not given to overt displays of emotion. The Zerg losses he didn’t care about; Kerrigan could replace Broods faster than he could destroy them. It was his own dead that worried him. He had not left Shakuras with a full force, and it wasn’t getting any larger. The numbers were alarming; he would not be able to proceed with these minimized defenders. “Change course to 86; 62; 47.” Zeratul knew of the planet called Thanduras, a sister of the Shakuran system. He would be able to set up a base there, avoiding Shakuras for the administrative duties he would have to face there. Zeratul wished he could have brought the Uraj Crystal with him; it would have made so many things less wearing, relieving difficulties of the past, alleviating hardships of the present, and lessening challenges in the future. “Change course, and divert all non-vital energy to the engine.” --- Underground, Forald VI… “I can understand your unease, Cerebrate. Rest assured that the path we embark upon today will be for the greater good.” The being he shared his Hive with shuddered lightly. “Yharg, the Queen is watching and listening. Do not speak foolishness where her ears can hear.” Yharg snorted in disdain as he replied, “Trezel, we are safe here. I discovered this forsaken planet on a routine patrol, yet something about it shields us from Kerrigan’s grasp. In any case, I have severed my connection, and have severed yours.” That provoked the obvious statement. “You have severed me, Yharg? How do we live, if not through the Queen’s blessings?” Yharg growled in response. “Kerrigan, Trezel! Not the Queen. She is our Queen no longer. Soon, she will be no one’s Queen.” Yharg calmed down visibly, the surface of his body no longer shaking. “We live through our own. I have discovered rich veins of Minerals on this rock, as well as several underground supplies of Vespene Gas. My Drones have taken this planet with the Creep, and all I need is time to build up my forces.” Trezel shuddered again, in outrage this time. “Then what need have you of me? Do you simply want to stand with another when the…Kerrigan takes our heads?” Yharg was tiring of this discourse, speaking wearily. “Trezel, do not be so foolish as to bore me. You command a powerful Brood, one of the most powerful, in fact. You also were one of those Daggoth used to attempt a reformation of the Overmind. The first made you valuable as an ally. The second made you open to my summons. We both share a hate of Kerrigan. I was freed through ignorance; you will be freed through hate. Together, we will strike Kerrigan down from her throne of the damned.” Trezel spoke once more in a quiet voice. “Then what?” Yharg exuded confidence that belied his next words. “We will consider that when Kerrigan is dead.” Trezel shook with bitter laughter. “So be it, Yharg. We are one to see the death of Kerrigan. We are one, to the death.” --- Well, I hope you (the collective community) liked this. I was weighing between either releasing this as one big project, or distributing it as many small segments. I obviously chose the latter. Cheers, MidnightGladius
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