Geckat
06-01-2004, 3:23 PM
Spoken II: Of Zerg
Geckat
RECOMMENDED: READ SPOKEN: OF PROTOSS FIRST!!!!
I
Monsters. Hideous monsters everywhere. Skinless, their pulsing muscles showing through their transparent dermis. Their eyes, blank and staring, long awaiting something in the distance. Armed literally to the teeth with brutal weapons, mono-molecular-edged blades protruded from charred arms, unwary drool dripping from nightmarish teeth.
Dragon-like winged beast called Mutalisks patrolled about the colony. Small, four-legged creatures with blades from their shoulders called Zerglings dodged around mammoth monsters with enormous scythes dragging in front of them, called Ultralisks. And the ultimate in genetic adaptation, slithering nightmares with curved daggers as arms and armed with hydraulic spikes beneath its hard carapace, the dreaded Hydralisk.
The Zerg would seem to be simply evil animals if there were not twisted buildings, enormous hearts thudding against their skins, among the beasts. A crunchy, vein-lined moss grew from the bases of these living buildings, called ‘creep’, connecting them and feeding huge worms scattered about the largest one. Named the Hive by the invading Terrans, this huge tower was the source of all of the demonic life that was living and feeding off its creep.
Suddenly, the creatures turned their emotionless eyes to the Hive. Answering to a deaf call, they scampered, slithered and flew to the tower. A woman, or something that had once been a woman, for its body was mangled and twisted. Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades’ hair was curled and hardened into bent spikes protruding from its head. Bony, skinless wings pushed out from her shoulders. And her face, her face had a sort of transformed beauty about it. Before Sarah Kerrigan had been captured and transformed by the Zerg, she had evidently been beautiful.
But now she was the brain of the Zerg swarms. She was the head of the Zerg body. The demonic beasts that lie below her were Kerrigan’s eyes and arms and swords. They listened to her every demand without question. They would kill and scout at her psychic commands. They were completely under her control.
“My Broods,” Kerrigan spoke aloud from the slimy top of the Zerg Hive, “I have finally discovered the thing I have been looking for months. Hurry to Tarsonis, and eliminate anything that stands between me and my appeal…”
A brigade, no, an enormous swarm of brain-like creatures, with limp tentacles hanging from its massive body, hundreds of Zerg Overlords cruised through space, all headed for one destination: the Terran-settled planet called Tarsonis. Its cold poles gleamed white with ice and snow even from this distance.
The soaring Overlords settled, still hovering above the planet’s rocky surface. Large portions of its huge body opened up as millions of creatures spilled out of the sacs. They fell slowly to the ground, guided by the immense psyonic powers of the Overlords.
As the last tiny Zergling left the pit of the Overlord, fangs and teeth bared, the Overlords left back to the torched native planet of Char. The huge army, or legion of the demonic creatures headed south as one huge body of teeth, claws and wings, for their Queen’s great yearning.
II
Trees bowled over and noise echoed through the chilling air. The Zerg slithered and crunched over the dried leaves covering the forest floor, not bothering about stealth. All of a sudden, there was silence. The creatures stopped moving, their blank eyes glazed and confused. There was a distant crunching following those before, but that is not why the Zerg stopped.
…The Zerg…they…they……save us of…
Dar’Tal!
Dar’Tal!
Creature’s eyes unglazed, alert and wary as a mechanical monster thundered through the overgrowth, followed by an army of armored soldiers, brandishing humming blades against their arms.
Chaos ensued. The Protoss soldiers tore through the Zerg army, as the Zerg fought, not only with the invading Protoss, but also with their own Zerg swarm.
Back at the Zerg Hive, Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades fought to regain control of her Zerg minions. Her mind bellowed commands to her warriors, but they would not come back under her control. The swarm was completely destroyed.
Completely except for a single Zerg. Thrown from the battle between the two races, a Hydralisk wandered aimlessly about the battlefield, confused and dizzy. The bodies of Dragoons and Zealots lay about the place, as well as the bloodstains of its fellow Zerg. The re-awakened Zerg that could have been spared from the wrath of Kerrigan and the Protoss forces. The sight saddened the conscious beast.
He heard yelling. Psychic calls and pleads echoed around the bloodstained forest. The Hydralisk awoke from his reverie and crawled towards the source of the noise.
A single Protoss Zealot, its blades extinguished, knelt before a bearded Terran, packing a large rifle on his back. The Zealot’s body was buzzing with painful psyonic waves as the Terran grinned maliciously.
“Stop!” screamed the Zealot, and its psychic bounced through the wide, bloody battlegrounds; “I secede. No more…”
The Terran smiled, then looked behind him at two armed marines, “Take this one here.” He said simply. The marines obeyed and grabbed one arm of the Zealot, who removed his protective armor.
The sight of the helpless Zealot made the Hydralisk somehow sympathetic to this warrior. He was about to follow when a grinding voice hit through his head,
He is the Protoss. He is the one who killed so many of your kind. You are Zerg, and you have no right to feel sorry for your natural enemies.
The Hydralisk treaded on.
“Hmmm. What’s this?” a rolling, teasing voice spoke behind the Hydralisk, “a lone Zerg? What might you be doing so far from your infested den?”
The Hydralisk looked daggers at the cocky Terran and slithered on.
“Do not ignore me, Hydralisk.” Said the man, “I know you can hear me and understand me. Come here.”
The Hydralisk continued, paying no heed to the man’s calls. Everything about this man told it that he was not to be trusted.
But the man tore in front, his eyes fiery, “Come, Hydralisk. I need you to come with me.”
The Hydralisk brandished his scythes, but the Terran was fast and gripped its neck, and it collapsed.
III
Karul’Dai! Dar’Tal! We…Karul’Dai!
No!
“Dar’Tal!”
The Hydralisk’s eyes opened. A tube surrounded it. Unbiased anger flooded through it and it shattered the compressed glass with one slash of its bony scythe. Marines came from all doors in the room as the hardened shoulder carapace of the maddened Hydralisk pulled open and needles whizzed through the air, piercing the marine’s light armor before they could even raise their weapons. The annoying bell continued to blare through the dark halls as the Hydralisk crawled fast through the corridors, taking out his awakened rage on anything that moved. His head hurt as ‘Karul’Dai! Dar’Tal!’ bounced around in it.
Soon the voice subsided and the Hydralisk tired. Blood lie all about it and it spattered his lethal blades. Now new voices started through his brain.
You were awakened from Kerrigan’s gory reign, and this is what you do with your freedom?
The Zerg are terrible and bloodthirsty. Live up to your name. Fear and respect is your natural goal in life.
A new example should be set. Lead the Zerg to a new lifestyle. Start the new Zerg race, where your brothers can, for once, think for themselves.
The Hydralisk let out a terrible scream and his head ached intensely. He was the odd one out. He was released from Kerrigan’s grip, so he could think for himself. Now he felt no better than she was, as new thoughts flooded his mind. His mind was so clouded that he did not resist when three Terrans gripped him and dragged him into a dark hole, a neosteel dungeon.
“Duran said this one should just be shot. Piece o' shit's just gonna wreck the place.”
IV
The Hydralisk awoke, refreshed from his first sleep as a free Zerg. No commanding dreams from Cerebrates haunted him that night; no images of Overlords clouded his rest.
It was about to close its eyes and bask once more in free sleep when a cry echoed about the dungeon. Lights flickered on and off in front of it as more psyonic calls howled through the Hydralisk’s mind, somehow relaxed just seconds ago. He bared his fangs as the source of the noise tore out of the shadows and lunged at him. The Hydralisk tore at the attacker and flipped it to the ground, not managing to penetrate from the glistening armor.
The Hydralisk looked at its would be attacker. A Protoss Zealot lay beaten on the floor, his eyes wide and crazed.
“Sharnis,” it said, speaking the word for Hydralisk by the Protoss. The Zealot paused as the Hydralisk’s mind fought with its instinct. Its carapace remained closed, as it was determined to stay docile. The Zealot screamed into the silence, “Why don’t you kill me, Zerg?” and it began to sob through its head, “why don’t they just let him kill me?”
This was the Zealot who it saw submitting to the Terran. The Terran who had brought them both here. Another pang of unzerg-like sorrow pierced his body.
The Zealot continued to yell and the Hydralisk bent its fleshy tail to gaze at the trembling Protoss.
He is your enemy. He killed your brothers and he would as soon as kill you. You should kill him now, before he has a chance to do so.
The Protoss and Zerg are alike. Created by the ancient Xel’Naga as siblings. Treat your enemy as your sibling.
The Hydralisk backed away and the Zealot stood, confused. His eyes were weak and tired now as he stared at the Hydralisk. But he did not move. He simply stared at the withdrawn Hydralisk, who said slowly what had been twisting his mind since he recognized the troubled Zealot, “We share a common enemy.”
The Zealot stared at him, then his face hardened, “We share nothing you infested bastard.”
The old Zerg instincts bit at the Hydralisk, but he fought them with his freed mind. He trembled at the insult, but kept his gaze on the maddened Zealot. The Zealot stared back, his face still defiant. Hours past and neither Zerg nor Protoss moved an inch. Finally, the Zealot spoke, the psychic waves interrupting the long silence, “Duran.” The Hydralisk looked up to stare at the Zealot’s glowing eyes, “Duran?”
“The Terran. He does not control you?”
The Zealot’s face had softened, but he still looked suspicious. The Hydralisk confirmed him.
“Then you are his prisoner?”
The Hydralisk approved again.
“Then you must go,” said the Zealot. The Hydralisk watched the Zealot punch a large hole right through the neosteel with the warp blades on his arms. He was amazed. This Zealot was clearly powerful to have been able to tear through the reinforced metal. The Hydralisk slid easily through the tear, but then looked back to the Zealot, “You will not come?”
“Duran has changed me. Done awful things to me and it is better if I stay where I am. Just…”
Footsteps echoed through the dark halls. The Zealot’s psychic waves quieted to a whisper, “Just go, now.”
The Hydralisk obeyed. Far away, he looked back. He could still see the Zealot’s somber eyes, glowing yellow in the dark. One last farewell issued from the Zealot, “Goodbye, Sharnis.”
Sharnis…
V
Sharnis the Hydralisk was miles away from the dungeon and the stab of sympathy in his armored chest only became sharper and more painful as he grew farther from the kind Zealot. Soon, his new mind turned him back to the dungeons. He felt that it would not be right to be turned away from his friend who saved him. He would not leave the Zealot to Duran to be changed in however mad ways the Terrans did. He approached the base and a horrid sight met Sharnis’ eyes.
Blood was spattered along two bodies. One distorted figure was lying on its back, clearly dead, dripping blood from its muscular shoulder. Two armored Terrans were carrying another. Blood stained its long cloak, but the Protoss soldier could still be alive. It could even be the Protoss soldier that released Sharnis!
The great Hydralisk tore from the brush carapace lifted, exposing hundreds of spikes. They launched straight through the off-guard marine’s armor, nailing the bloody Terrans to the ground and killing them instantly. The Protoss was dropped, but he did not stir.
Sharnis leaned over the warrior, whose face was planted against the ground. The Hydralisk flipped him over to detect signs that the Zealot still lived, but was disappointed.
The face of the warrior was smooth and young; unlike the face Sharnis had seen days ago in a dark dungeon. Where was his savior? What could have happened to the Protoss in the dungeon?
Sharnis awoke from the painful thoughts as he felt movement. The warrior beneath him was stirring as the Hydralisk looked down at the warrior. He backed away slightly, just as he had done inside a dungeon what seemed years ago. The Zealot got to its feet, and his eyes were saddened and tired behind his dark cloak.
Then his eyes met Sharnis’. The Zealot tossed off the cloak and ignited his warp blades, but he did not attack. Sharnis kept still, easily fighting off the Zergish urges that yelled at him to fight.
The Protoss warrior glanced slightly toward the bleeding body that lay at his feet, and his glowing eyes ignited as anger flooded through every inch of his body. His gaze tore back to Sharnis.
“This is your fault,” the Zealot growled, and the youth in his voice was interrupted by his fury, “you and your entire race is filth!” he was yelling now, “I should kill you all for what you’ve done to my master!”
Sharnis had barely any time to react. The Zealot threw himself toward the Hydralisk propelled by sheer anger. But mere inches away from Sharnis, the warrior collapsed upon himself. Sharnis doubled backwards as fast as he could as the Zealot leaped up, dazed, and reignited his blades.
Sharnis had time to react this time. His front carapace flew open in defence and pelted the Zealot with a barrage of grooved spikes. The spines tore through the feeble Protoss shield and a trickle of bluish blood opened between the warrior’s dented armour.
Yet the damage seemed only to enrage the Zealot even more. Before Sharnis could launch a second assault the Zealot had torn through Sharnis’ unprotected belly. For the first time in his entire life, the Hydralisk felt physical pain. For the first time he realized that viscous blood coursed down through the cut in his chest. Sharnis looked up. The Zealot was a few feet away, standing quite still, but his chest was heaving.
The Hydralisk mind ran mad. A terrible howl escaped Sharnis’ mouth as he tore toward the Zealot, scythes flailing toward the enemy. The stinging in his chest prevented the use of his spines, but he would tear the Zealot to pieces all the same. The Zealot raised a grey arm for a counter to Sharnis’ flailing blades, but it proved of little use. The two angered warrior’s blades cut against each other, but Sharnis’ strength and rage forced the attacker to the ground.
He stabbed toward the grounded Zealot, but the warrior was fast and rolled away. Sharnis felt another pain, this time in his back. The Zealot had ripped through the Hydralisk’s fleshy, defenceless tail. Another pained bellow echoed around the Terran base as Sharnis was thrown to the ground, not able to recover due to the intense pain in his tail. A blow to his already aching chest rolled him over. Every breath weakened him more.
Through the blood and gunk in his eyes, Sharnis could see the Zealot standing triumphantly above him. A single glowing blade was held against Sharnis’ blood-spattered throat. Warm blood seeped across his side, but he realized that it was not his.
The dead, bleeding body was still dripping beside him, and the Zealot’s telepathic voice hissed to the broken Hydralisk, “Do you know what you and your filthy race have wrought? The entire universe could crumble because of you. And I will make the whole Zerg race regrets the day they decided to infest my master.”
Sharnis looked slowly to his right. The bloody body laid completely motionless, blood spouting slowly from its left shoulder.
“You see what you have done? My master, Dar’Tal, lies dead because of the Zerg. And you should give me one good reason for me to bottle my anger and spare your worthless kind.”
Sharnis’ slitted eyes dilated as his clouded eyes strained to focus on the dead body. The dead face looked horribly familiar. An aged, stony face was staring blankly at him. The eyes, half open, had a lasting, pained expression.
There was no mistaking the Protoss warrior who had saved Sharnis from the Terrans.
“Duran.”
“What?” snapped the warrior.
“Duran did this. My fellow Zerg had nothing to do with the death of your master. The death of Dar’Tal was entirely Duran’s fault.”
“You are a liar.”
“Your master himself told me that Duran had done terrible things to him. The Zerg could never have infested him. They were sent to…to retrieve…something for Kerrigan”
“You have spoken to Dar’Tal?” the Zealot’s voice had lost its murderous talent.
“In the dungeon. He also freed me. I owe my entire life to him.”
The Zealot paused for a moment, then slowly said, “You are different from the other Zerg, Sharnis.”
The psyonic blade lifted from Sharnis’ throat, but he did not get up. The pain in his tail kept him low to the snowy ground.
The Zealot clutched underneath Sharnis’ left shoulder and tugged him up. Sharnis growled in pain again, but the Zealot pulled the immense weight of the Hydralisk up to his full height. The Zealot kept his face close to Sharnis’, and rose.
“If you are indeed a friend of Dar’Tal, then you are a friend of mine.” The Zealot said cooly, and he nodded his head in greeting, “Karul’Dai. If we are to avenge the death of our friend against Samir Duran, we should do it now.
Geckat
RECOMMENDED: READ SPOKEN: OF PROTOSS FIRST!!!!
I
Monsters. Hideous monsters everywhere. Skinless, their pulsing muscles showing through their transparent dermis. Their eyes, blank and staring, long awaiting something in the distance. Armed literally to the teeth with brutal weapons, mono-molecular-edged blades protruded from charred arms, unwary drool dripping from nightmarish teeth.
Dragon-like winged beast called Mutalisks patrolled about the colony. Small, four-legged creatures with blades from their shoulders called Zerglings dodged around mammoth monsters with enormous scythes dragging in front of them, called Ultralisks. And the ultimate in genetic adaptation, slithering nightmares with curved daggers as arms and armed with hydraulic spikes beneath its hard carapace, the dreaded Hydralisk.
The Zerg would seem to be simply evil animals if there were not twisted buildings, enormous hearts thudding against their skins, among the beasts. A crunchy, vein-lined moss grew from the bases of these living buildings, called ‘creep’, connecting them and feeding huge worms scattered about the largest one. Named the Hive by the invading Terrans, this huge tower was the source of all of the demonic life that was living and feeding off its creep.
Suddenly, the creatures turned their emotionless eyes to the Hive. Answering to a deaf call, they scampered, slithered and flew to the tower. A woman, or something that had once been a woman, for its body was mangled and twisted. Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades’ hair was curled and hardened into bent spikes protruding from its head. Bony, skinless wings pushed out from her shoulders. And her face, her face had a sort of transformed beauty about it. Before Sarah Kerrigan had been captured and transformed by the Zerg, she had evidently been beautiful.
But now she was the brain of the Zerg swarms. She was the head of the Zerg body. The demonic beasts that lie below her were Kerrigan’s eyes and arms and swords. They listened to her every demand without question. They would kill and scout at her psychic commands. They were completely under her control.
“My Broods,” Kerrigan spoke aloud from the slimy top of the Zerg Hive, “I have finally discovered the thing I have been looking for months. Hurry to Tarsonis, and eliminate anything that stands between me and my appeal…”
A brigade, no, an enormous swarm of brain-like creatures, with limp tentacles hanging from its massive body, hundreds of Zerg Overlords cruised through space, all headed for one destination: the Terran-settled planet called Tarsonis. Its cold poles gleamed white with ice and snow even from this distance.
The soaring Overlords settled, still hovering above the planet’s rocky surface. Large portions of its huge body opened up as millions of creatures spilled out of the sacs. They fell slowly to the ground, guided by the immense psyonic powers of the Overlords.
As the last tiny Zergling left the pit of the Overlord, fangs and teeth bared, the Overlords left back to the torched native planet of Char. The huge army, or legion of the demonic creatures headed south as one huge body of teeth, claws and wings, for their Queen’s great yearning.
II
Trees bowled over and noise echoed through the chilling air. The Zerg slithered and crunched over the dried leaves covering the forest floor, not bothering about stealth. All of a sudden, there was silence. The creatures stopped moving, their blank eyes glazed and confused. There was a distant crunching following those before, but that is not why the Zerg stopped.
…The Zerg…they…they……save us of…
Dar’Tal!
Dar’Tal!
Creature’s eyes unglazed, alert and wary as a mechanical monster thundered through the overgrowth, followed by an army of armored soldiers, brandishing humming blades against their arms.
Chaos ensued. The Protoss soldiers tore through the Zerg army, as the Zerg fought, not only with the invading Protoss, but also with their own Zerg swarm.
Back at the Zerg Hive, Kerrigan, the Queen of Blades fought to regain control of her Zerg minions. Her mind bellowed commands to her warriors, but they would not come back under her control. The swarm was completely destroyed.
Completely except for a single Zerg. Thrown from the battle between the two races, a Hydralisk wandered aimlessly about the battlefield, confused and dizzy. The bodies of Dragoons and Zealots lay about the place, as well as the bloodstains of its fellow Zerg. The re-awakened Zerg that could have been spared from the wrath of Kerrigan and the Protoss forces. The sight saddened the conscious beast.
He heard yelling. Psychic calls and pleads echoed around the bloodstained forest. The Hydralisk awoke from his reverie and crawled towards the source of the noise.
A single Protoss Zealot, its blades extinguished, knelt before a bearded Terran, packing a large rifle on his back. The Zealot’s body was buzzing with painful psyonic waves as the Terran grinned maliciously.
“Stop!” screamed the Zealot, and its psychic bounced through the wide, bloody battlegrounds; “I secede. No more…”
The Terran smiled, then looked behind him at two armed marines, “Take this one here.” He said simply. The marines obeyed and grabbed one arm of the Zealot, who removed his protective armor.
The sight of the helpless Zealot made the Hydralisk somehow sympathetic to this warrior. He was about to follow when a grinding voice hit through his head,
He is the Protoss. He is the one who killed so many of your kind. You are Zerg, and you have no right to feel sorry for your natural enemies.
The Hydralisk treaded on.
“Hmmm. What’s this?” a rolling, teasing voice spoke behind the Hydralisk, “a lone Zerg? What might you be doing so far from your infested den?”
The Hydralisk looked daggers at the cocky Terran and slithered on.
“Do not ignore me, Hydralisk.” Said the man, “I know you can hear me and understand me. Come here.”
The Hydralisk continued, paying no heed to the man’s calls. Everything about this man told it that he was not to be trusted.
But the man tore in front, his eyes fiery, “Come, Hydralisk. I need you to come with me.”
The Hydralisk brandished his scythes, but the Terran was fast and gripped its neck, and it collapsed.
III
Karul’Dai! Dar’Tal! We…Karul’Dai!
No!
“Dar’Tal!”
The Hydralisk’s eyes opened. A tube surrounded it. Unbiased anger flooded through it and it shattered the compressed glass with one slash of its bony scythe. Marines came from all doors in the room as the hardened shoulder carapace of the maddened Hydralisk pulled open and needles whizzed through the air, piercing the marine’s light armor before they could even raise their weapons. The annoying bell continued to blare through the dark halls as the Hydralisk crawled fast through the corridors, taking out his awakened rage on anything that moved. His head hurt as ‘Karul’Dai! Dar’Tal!’ bounced around in it.
Soon the voice subsided and the Hydralisk tired. Blood lie all about it and it spattered his lethal blades. Now new voices started through his brain.
You were awakened from Kerrigan’s gory reign, and this is what you do with your freedom?
The Zerg are terrible and bloodthirsty. Live up to your name. Fear and respect is your natural goal in life.
A new example should be set. Lead the Zerg to a new lifestyle. Start the new Zerg race, where your brothers can, for once, think for themselves.
The Hydralisk let out a terrible scream and his head ached intensely. He was the odd one out. He was released from Kerrigan’s grip, so he could think for himself. Now he felt no better than she was, as new thoughts flooded his mind. His mind was so clouded that he did not resist when three Terrans gripped him and dragged him into a dark hole, a neosteel dungeon.
“Duran said this one should just be shot. Piece o' shit's just gonna wreck the place.”
IV
The Hydralisk awoke, refreshed from his first sleep as a free Zerg. No commanding dreams from Cerebrates haunted him that night; no images of Overlords clouded his rest.
It was about to close its eyes and bask once more in free sleep when a cry echoed about the dungeon. Lights flickered on and off in front of it as more psyonic calls howled through the Hydralisk’s mind, somehow relaxed just seconds ago. He bared his fangs as the source of the noise tore out of the shadows and lunged at him. The Hydralisk tore at the attacker and flipped it to the ground, not managing to penetrate from the glistening armor.
The Hydralisk looked at its would be attacker. A Protoss Zealot lay beaten on the floor, his eyes wide and crazed.
“Sharnis,” it said, speaking the word for Hydralisk by the Protoss. The Zealot paused as the Hydralisk’s mind fought with its instinct. Its carapace remained closed, as it was determined to stay docile. The Zealot screamed into the silence, “Why don’t you kill me, Zerg?” and it began to sob through its head, “why don’t they just let him kill me?”
This was the Zealot who it saw submitting to the Terran. The Terran who had brought them both here. Another pang of unzerg-like sorrow pierced his body.
The Zealot continued to yell and the Hydralisk bent its fleshy tail to gaze at the trembling Protoss.
He is your enemy. He killed your brothers and he would as soon as kill you. You should kill him now, before he has a chance to do so.
The Protoss and Zerg are alike. Created by the ancient Xel’Naga as siblings. Treat your enemy as your sibling.
The Hydralisk backed away and the Zealot stood, confused. His eyes were weak and tired now as he stared at the Hydralisk. But he did not move. He simply stared at the withdrawn Hydralisk, who said slowly what had been twisting his mind since he recognized the troubled Zealot, “We share a common enemy.”
The Zealot stared at him, then his face hardened, “We share nothing you infested bastard.”
The old Zerg instincts bit at the Hydralisk, but he fought them with his freed mind. He trembled at the insult, but kept his gaze on the maddened Zealot. The Zealot stared back, his face still defiant. Hours past and neither Zerg nor Protoss moved an inch. Finally, the Zealot spoke, the psychic waves interrupting the long silence, “Duran.” The Hydralisk looked up to stare at the Zealot’s glowing eyes, “Duran?”
“The Terran. He does not control you?”
The Zealot’s face had softened, but he still looked suspicious. The Hydralisk confirmed him.
“Then you are his prisoner?”
The Hydralisk approved again.
“Then you must go,” said the Zealot. The Hydralisk watched the Zealot punch a large hole right through the neosteel with the warp blades on his arms. He was amazed. This Zealot was clearly powerful to have been able to tear through the reinforced metal. The Hydralisk slid easily through the tear, but then looked back to the Zealot, “You will not come?”
“Duran has changed me. Done awful things to me and it is better if I stay where I am. Just…”
Footsteps echoed through the dark halls. The Zealot’s psychic waves quieted to a whisper, “Just go, now.”
The Hydralisk obeyed. Far away, he looked back. He could still see the Zealot’s somber eyes, glowing yellow in the dark. One last farewell issued from the Zealot, “Goodbye, Sharnis.”
Sharnis…
V
Sharnis the Hydralisk was miles away from the dungeon and the stab of sympathy in his armored chest only became sharper and more painful as he grew farther from the kind Zealot. Soon, his new mind turned him back to the dungeons. He felt that it would not be right to be turned away from his friend who saved him. He would not leave the Zealot to Duran to be changed in however mad ways the Terrans did. He approached the base and a horrid sight met Sharnis’ eyes.
Blood was spattered along two bodies. One distorted figure was lying on its back, clearly dead, dripping blood from its muscular shoulder. Two armored Terrans were carrying another. Blood stained its long cloak, but the Protoss soldier could still be alive. It could even be the Protoss soldier that released Sharnis!
The great Hydralisk tore from the brush carapace lifted, exposing hundreds of spikes. They launched straight through the off-guard marine’s armor, nailing the bloody Terrans to the ground and killing them instantly. The Protoss was dropped, but he did not stir.
Sharnis leaned over the warrior, whose face was planted against the ground. The Hydralisk flipped him over to detect signs that the Zealot still lived, but was disappointed.
The face of the warrior was smooth and young; unlike the face Sharnis had seen days ago in a dark dungeon. Where was his savior? What could have happened to the Protoss in the dungeon?
Sharnis awoke from the painful thoughts as he felt movement. The warrior beneath him was stirring as the Hydralisk looked down at the warrior. He backed away slightly, just as he had done inside a dungeon what seemed years ago. The Zealot got to its feet, and his eyes were saddened and tired behind his dark cloak.
Then his eyes met Sharnis’. The Zealot tossed off the cloak and ignited his warp blades, but he did not attack. Sharnis kept still, easily fighting off the Zergish urges that yelled at him to fight.
The Protoss warrior glanced slightly toward the bleeding body that lay at his feet, and his glowing eyes ignited as anger flooded through every inch of his body. His gaze tore back to Sharnis.
“This is your fault,” the Zealot growled, and the youth in his voice was interrupted by his fury, “you and your entire race is filth!” he was yelling now, “I should kill you all for what you’ve done to my master!”
Sharnis had barely any time to react. The Zealot threw himself toward the Hydralisk propelled by sheer anger. But mere inches away from Sharnis, the warrior collapsed upon himself. Sharnis doubled backwards as fast as he could as the Zealot leaped up, dazed, and reignited his blades.
Sharnis had time to react this time. His front carapace flew open in defence and pelted the Zealot with a barrage of grooved spikes. The spines tore through the feeble Protoss shield and a trickle of bluish blood opened between the warrior’s dented armour.
Yet the damage seemed only to enrage the Zealot even more. Before Sharnis could launch a second assault the Zealot had torn through Sharnis’ unprotected belly. For the first time in his entire life, the Hydralisk felt physical pain. For the first time he realized that viscous blood coursed down through the cut in his chest. Sharnis looked up. The Zealot was a few feet away, standing quite still, but his chest was heaving.
The Hydralisk mind ran mad. A terrible howl escaped Sharnis’ mouth as he tore toward the Zealot, scythes flailing toward the enemy. The stinging in his chest prevented the use of his spines, but he would tear the Zealot to pieces all the same. The Zealot raised a grey arm for a counter to Sharnis’ flailing blades, but it proved of little use. The two angered warrior’s blades cut against each other, but Sharnis’ strength and rage forced the attacker to the ground.
He stabbed toward the grounded Zealot, but the warrior was fast and rolled away. Sharnis felt another pain, this time in his back. The Zealot had ripped through the Hydralisk’s fleshy, defenceless tail. Another pained bellow echoed around the Terran base as Sharnis was thrown to the ground, not able to recover due to the intense pain in his tail. A blow to his already aching chest rolled him over. Every breath weakened him more.
Through the blood and gunk in his eyes, Sharnis could see the Zealot standing triumphantly above him. A single glowing blade was held against Sharnis’ blood-spattered throat. Warm blood seeped across his side, but he realized that it was not his.
The dead, bleeding body was still dripping beside him, and the Zealot’s telepathic voice hissed to the broken Hydralisk, “Do you know what you and your filthy race have wrought? The entire universe could crumble because of you. And I will make the whole Zerg race regrets the day they decided to infest my master.”
Sharnis looked slowly to his right. The bloody body laid completely motionless, blood spouting slowly from its left shoulder.
“You see what you have done? My master, Dar’Tal, lies dead because of the Zerg. And you should give me one good reason for me to bottle my anger and spare your worthless kind.”
Sharnis’ slitted eyes dilated as his clouded eyes strained to focus on the dead body. The dead face looked horribly familiar. An aged, stony face was staring blankly at him. The eyes, half open, had a lasting, pained expression.
There was no mistaking the Protoss warrior who had saved Sharnis from the Terrans.
“Duran.”
“What?” snapped the warrior.
“Duran did this. My fellow Zerg had nothing to do with the death of your master. The death of Dar’Tal was entirely Duran’s fault.”
“You are a liar.”
“Your master himself told me that Duran had done terrible things to him. The Zerg could never have infested him. They were sent to…to retrieve…something for Kerrigan”
“You have spoken to Dar’Tal?” the Zealot’s voice had lost its murderous talent.
“In the dungeon. He also freed me. I owe my entire life to him.”
The Zealot paused for a moment, then slowly said, “You are different from the other Zerg, Sharnis.”
The psyonic blade lifted from Sharnis’ throat, but he did not get up. The pain in his tail kept him low to the snowy ground.
The Zealot clutched underneath Sharnis’ left shoulder and tugged him up. Sharnis growled in pain again, but the Zealot pulled the immense weight of the Hydralisk up to his full height. The Zealot kept his face close to Sharnis’, and rose.
“If you are indeed a friend of Dar’Tal, then you are a friend of mine.” The Zealot said cooly, and he nodded his head in greeting, “Karul’Dai. If we are to avenge the death of our friend against Samir Duran, we should do it now.