The planet of Aiur stood out like a rare blue and green jewel in the sea of stars that makes up the galaxy. As it is bathed in the twin glow of the stars of the system, the planet seems calm and at peace. Upon closer inspection, the truth is made clear as the forces of the Protoss and the Zerg charge across the open plains of Antioch and prepare to do battle on a colossal scale. Today is the day upon which Aiur’s future and that of the Protoss will be decided. The fate of a civilization and the survival of a species is at stake and those that fight for Aiur know this. Despite the overwhelming odds arraigned against them, the Protoss warriors valiantly charge the swarm that has been gathered in defense of the cerebrate.
Like a thunderous mass on the horizon, thousands of Zerg advance recklessly on the forces of the Protoss. Their wild screeches and cries fill the air and the full fury of the Zerg is laid bare. Their very sounds threaten to overwhelm everything if it were not for the fierce cries of the charging Protoss matching their ferocity. Hundreds of troops charging the approaching swarm are practically masked by the clouds of dust created by their advance across the bare soil. Energy blades flash to existence as they are activated in preparation of battle. With a shimmering of light, the shields of the warriors materialize over them to encase them in its protective shell.
Amongst the Protoss forces, dozens of high templars prepared themselves for the coming swarm. Eyes flare brightly, as the templars stand ready to unleash the growing energies within them. Gesturing almost as one, the high templars focused their energies on the Zerg and the results are devastating. The air fills with the sounds of crackling raw energy as dozens of psionic storms are created. Those Zerg caught within the storms are literally ripped apart by the fierce psychic emanations. The smell of ozone, burning flesh and boiling blood filters through the air. The stench of death flows over the battlefield like an evil wave. Thousands of Zerg are felled by the storms alone yet they still continue to advance on the Protoss. The high templars continue to lash out at large clusters of the offending creatures in order to whittle their vast numbers down. Undeterred by their losses, the Zerg charge heedless of their survival to close with the Protoss army. Their energies spent, the high templars fall back to replenish their powers. The first wave of the Zerg will be reaching the warriors in a matter of moments.
Zeratul advances swiftly along with the forward line as Artanis’ forces rocket ahead to engage the flying forces of the Zerg. All around him, he is surrounded by the fierce cries of his fellow Protoss. His breathing becomes rapid as he feels the lust for battle fill his soul and take control. With an animalistic cry of his own, Zeratul lashes into the first Zerg encountered. With a thunderous crash that shakes the very ground, the forces of the Zerg and the Protoss collide in a display of muscle and sinew. The battlefield is filled with the cries of pain and fury as the Protoss wades into battle. Several zealots ahead of him run headlong into a cluster of Hydralisks. Their shields glow white-hot as they absorb the damage from the hundreds of spikes flying towards them. The group of zealots reaches the hydras and with a flashing of blades, slashes at the Zerg armored forms and proceeds to render them limb from limb. Several zealots are killed by the fierce barrage and fall to the ground and flare brightly as their life force leaves them. One zealot’s shields fail him and the lethal projectiles pierce his form. The zealot is literally lifted up from the impact of dozens of spikes and drops to the ground. He is immediately pounced upon by two Zerglings. Despite his massive injuries, he howls with fury and stabs a blade through the head of one of his attackers. The Zergling slumps off of him as he jams both blades into the body of the other; it squirms wildly in agony and its cries fill the air as it shudders in its death throes. The wounded zealot proceeds to stand with great difficulty and seeks to continue the attack as several Zerglings approach him from the side.
“Beware warrior! Threats on your flank!” bellows Zeratul in warning as he rushes to aid a wounded comrade. The zealot turns to face the approaching threat and attacks the first Zergling. He slashes at the first and misses as they topple him. Zeratul sidesteps and slashes at a Zergling leaping past him. The Zergling is cleaved in half and drops to the ground quivering. The cries of pain of the wounded zealot fills the air as the small creatures’ tear into his body. Zeratul leaps upon one of the creatures as another zealot aids him. He slashes at a Zergling as he kicks another off their downed comrade. The other Zerglings are dispatched quickly between the both of them. All around him, his forces continue to wade through the ranks of the Zerg. Zeratul takes time to lean next to the severely wounded zealot as the other stands guard.
“You must leave this field warrior. You have fought bravely but you require immediate aid,” pleads Zeratul as he looks upon the battered form
As blood flows forth like water from dozens of wounds, the zealot rasps his answer. “I have not… fought enough… for Aiur. The Zerg still… inhabit our... world.”
“You are wounded greatly my friend. Allow to be returned to the base so that you may continue the fight for Aiur again. You do our people no good if you perish here today." Gesturing towards the other zealot, he orders him to evacuate the wounded to the rear. “What is your name warrior,” asks Zeratul.
“Bretaz…” rasps the zealot.
“Rest now Bretaz so that you may fight bravely for Aiur another day.” Zeratul watches as the zealot carries Bretaz to the rear. Taking a look at the carnage around him, Zeratul continues forward to join the others. He glances skyward just as Artanis’ forces slam into the wall of Zerg flyers.
***
In the skies above Aiur, a pitched battle of another kind is taking place. The Zerg threaten to fill the entire sky and block all visible light. Despite the incredible odds opposing them, the fighter groups of the Protoss rush headlong into the living wall and fire into their numbers with an almost insane fury. Artanis zeros in on a targeted devourer and lets loose a volley of anti-matter missiles. The missiles streak like small comets until they impact on the side of the devourer. With a shower of sparks and a brilliant flash of light, the missiles blast the creature into a red cloud of expanding matter. Artanis howls with glee as he flies through the formations of the Zerg. He spots a flight of Mutalisks and devourers drop onto his tail as he lines up and blasts a Mutalisk from the skies. Bloody parts of the blasted creature rain down on the ground below. He pulls his scout into a punishing climbing turn to shake his pursuers. His fighter screams in protest to the abuse inflicted on it. Despite the difficult maneuver, his tormenters remain behind him. His shields flare like a small nova from the impacts of their attack. A call from one of his fighters issues forth from his link.
“Turn towards our group Praetor,” announces a corsair pilot. “We shall clear the threat for you.”
“You have my thanks.” Artanis violently throws his fighter over to a new heading even as he fires yet another series of missiles to explode among a group of overlords. The Zerg are hot on his tail firing insanely. Faking a roll left and then snapping right, he pulls his foes right into the path of the incoming corsairs. “Hold your formations my brethren,” orders Artanis. “I wish the Zerg to meet you personally.” Rolling his scout on its side, he flies down the center of the corsair formation as they open fire on the trailing Zerg. Neutron cannons flare on the noses of the corsairs as their fire ripples through the ranks of the Mutalisks and devourers. The energy blasts strike the bodies of the Zerg and tear into their forms. They shudder madly from the blasts and appear to stop in midair. The volley from the corsairs shreds them as they disappear in clouds of expanding matter. The corsairs fly through the space once occupied by the now vaporized Zerg as Artanis takes up formation with them. Ahead, a large mass of flying Zerg is attacking their ground forces with a withering barrage.
“Our brothers on the ground are in need of our help,” alerts Artanis. “Let us not keep them waiting.” On command, engines flare brightly as the fighters around him accelerate to assist their beleaguered comrades on the ground. Artanis howls with delight as he blasts one Zerg after another from the skies. Glancing briefly to his side, he spots a trio of passing devourers fire upon a nearby scout. He banks his fighter over to assist his comrade and watches the target craft shudders from the vicious assault. The fighter is immediately coated with a thick layer of secreted fluid that begins to dissolve the hull of the craft. Numerous burn marks and scorches stain the hull black as the scout pilot struggles to break his pursuers. The evasive efforts of the pilot are ended as a scourge rams into the exposed belly of the damaged craft and shatters the craft into dozens of flaming pieces. Artanis can barely contain his burning rage as he tears into the Zerg with a mad zeal.
Below, the soil is stained with the blood of friend and foe alike from the fierce combat. The shattered and shredded forms of the dead and dying litter the field as far as the eye can see. Despite the losses suffered thus far, the Protoss warriors continue to advance relentlessly on the Zerg colony towards the cerebrate. Blades flash and the sound of hydra spikes slicing through the air is everywhere. All along the line of advance Zerg and Protoss continue to fall. Nagol along with his fellow templars and escorts continue to lash out at the Zerg. Psionic storms continue to punish the Zerg with great frequency.
“A cluster of Zerg advancing from your side Laconis!” bellows Nagol. The Executor’s eyes flash with intensity as he directs a massive fury of energy on the hapless Zerg. The Zerg writhe in agony as their bodies and minds are ripped asunder.
“My thanks Executor,” replies Laconis with relief. “I did not see their approach.”
“You are welcome templar but thank me after the battle is won,” replies Nagol as he gestures and unleashes yet another storm of energy on the Zerg. The stench of burning flesh and piercing cries fills the air. “We still have much to accomplish today.”
With that exchange, both warriors return to the grim task at hand. As Nagol turns his attention back to the Zerg, a queen slams past their escorts and launches a cocoon at a fellow templar. Before he can alert his comrade of the approaching danger, the cocoon pierces the body of the templar. The doomed templar has a look of disbelief in his eyes for a brief moment that fades to darkness as a mass of tendrils begin to sprout forth from the wound. The tendrils quickly slither all over the corpse of the now dead templar and incase it within their vile sheath. With a host to feed upon, the spawned creatures of the queen will eventually burst forth to wreck havoc unless destroyed immediately. Nagol screams with rage as the vile queen is on the verge of escaping after the kill. Suddenly, the queen lets out a shriek of pain and falters in its escape. It then disappears in a cloud of exploding matter. Stunned, Nagol can only wonder as to the demise of the creature. He looks to his left and his answer is revealed; a Dark Archon hovers recovering from energies spent.
“You have avenged our fallen comrade dark one, you have my thanks,” says Nagol. The Archon merely nods and continues forward with the advance.
Ahead of Nagol, a group of archons move to block the advance of a large group of Zerglings and Hydralisks on the templars. Heedless of their own survival, the Zerglings rush the massive energy warriors as the hydras begin pelting their energy forms with spikes. The Archons unleash a barrage of charged energy on the small creatures and they are vaporized from the blasts. With the Zerglings eliminated, the Archons turn their attention on the offending hydras. Their shields glow brilliantly from the attacks as they close the distance towards the threats. Two Archons are felled by the massive barrage and disappear in a blindly flash of light as their energy is spent. The remaining Archons close and unleash their fury on the Zerg. An unfortunate hydra takes a blast in the center mass and goes sprawling onto the ground; a smoking hole smolders where once its chest was. The rest are promptly annihilated from the assault.
Ahead of the advance, Zeratul moves along with the leading forces as they continue to wade through the Zerg colony. Several dragoons shift position to engage a row of the Zerg’s bizarre sunken colonies. Anti-matter particles issue forth from the goons to impact on the structures in a shower of sparks and release of massive energy. Pieces of the bizarre structures are blasted off and shower the surrounding creep as the Sunkens turn on their attackers. Zeratul watches with grim fascination as a number of tentacles sprout from the ground to pierce the goons. One goon succumbs to the attack and explodes as several appendages spear the central pod. Blue fluid spills from the ruptured form and coats the ground as several Sunkens are blasted out of existence by the surviving goons. A shuttle roaring overhead disgorges a pair of reveres to clear the remaining Sunkens and then takes off in support of the attack. The massive automatons unleash their scarabs on the structures upon landing. A volley of explosive charges drop from open bays and with a blinding flare, streak ahead to impact on their targets. They explode violently as their devastating electromagnetic energies are vented on their targets. The colonies explode upwards to rain their debris and fluid on the ground forces. Tearing his attention away from the blasted Sunkens, Zeratul spots some zealots under attack and rushes ahead to assist them.
“Nishala, I require your assistance,” orders Zeratul over the din of the battlefield. “Several zealots on the flank are under severe attack and require help.”
“You shall have what you ask Prelate,” she replies as she stabs her blade through a hydra and pulls the energy weapon across the poor creature. The hydra’s visceral mass spills forth from the massive wound onto the ground as the now gutted creature shrieks in agony. Running along side of Zeratul, she spots a zealot holding a Zergling at bay with his blades. She takes a blade and jams it into the front limbs of the Zergling. The zealot with his arms now free slashes at the exposed belly of the creature. The Zergling topples to the ground as Nishala adds the finishing blow.
“You have my gratitude dark one,” replies the zealot.
“Come with us son of Aiur as we aid others.” She gestures towards some zealots ahead and runs to rejoin Zeratul with the zealot in tow.
Zeratul watches in anguish as several zealots perish before he can reach them. Several massive Ultralisks with accompanying Zerglings are on the verge of overwhelming the detachment of zealots. A zealot strikes at a leaping Zergling and slays it but is struck from behind by an Ultralisk. Massive blades from the creature catch the poor warrior and rip him in half tossing his upper torso into the air. The remaining warriors fallback from the onslaught of the Zerg.
Zeratul spots several dark Archons move into position beside him and gesture toward the Zerg mass. Brilliant energy cascades down on their foes as dozens are held in place despite their efforts to move. Several high templars follow up with a massive display of Psionic storms. The Zerg are unable to flee and thus are shredded by the mental emanations of the templars. Most of the immediate threat have been eliminated but for a few Ultralisks. Even as he charges on one creature, he spots two dark Archons gesture yet again. Massive energy surges forth from them and their Psionic shields collapse. Two Ultralisks seems to falter in their advance and then begin to turn on their fellow Zerg. A sly feeling sets in, as Zeratul knows that the Ultralisks fights for the Protoss now. The nearby zealots and Nishala tear into the remaining Zerg with the help of their new allies.
“Continue the advance my brethren!” bellows Zeratul. “The Zerg shall perish this day.” Even as he speaks those words, a forward section of the advance is engulfed in a noxious cloud of red chemicals. Dozens of troops are coated with the vile fluid and suffer from its deadly affects. The agonizing cries of the now infected Protoss warriors fills the air as their bodies begun to dissolve. Their bodies infected and weakened, they are quickly overwhelmed by nearby Zerg and perish beneath their claws and fangs.
“Defilers… ahead my… brethren! Bewar--” cries a dying warrior as he is set upon by several Zerglings and violently ripped apart. A passing observer spots the offending creatures and relays their position. Several supporting dark Archons nearby direct their energies on the disgusting creatures. Their powers unleashed upon themselves, the Defilers explode violently outward staining the ground with a putrid gore.
As the Protoss forces drive relentlessly towards the central hive, the Zerg forces begin to increase the ferocity of their attacks. Several guardians crest over a nearby hive and begin to assault the ground forces. Dozens of warriors disappear in bright flashes of light as the acid globules impact upon their forms. The ground is pocketed from the intense barrage. Several goons attempt to engage the aerial threats but the fire is too intense, many disappear in violent explosions showering the ground troops with debris.
“Artanis,” screams Zeratul as he rolls to evade a blast, “we must have the guardians cleared from the skies. Their fire is punishing our forces!”
“Moving in now Zeratul! They will soon be ours!”
With a roar that rattles the very ground, Artanis’ fighters blast overhead and tear into the guardians. Anti-matter missiles and neutron flares erupt forth to explode viciously amongst the Zerg. High pitched screeches fill the air as the offending creatures are battered by the intense fire. Dozens disappear in rapidly expanding clouds of blood and gore. A massive wall of Zerg flyers tears into the passing fighters. A scourge rams into the side of a corsair and the small fighter is tossed as if it was kicked from behind. Showers of sparks and fire stream from the wounded craft as it cartwheels across the sky. The pilot regains just enough control to aim his crippled craft at the central hive and rams into it. A large portion of the hive is blasted upwards from the violent explosion and an enormous opening has been created.
“There is our entrance my brethren,” bellows Nagol. “The cerebrate awaits us within.” With a fierce battle cry, the Protoss warriors surge into the very heart of the Zerg structure seeking their goal.
As Zeratul finishes off yet another foul creature, he looks towards the warriors advancing into the hive. Gesturing towards a dark templar, he speaks. “Come Nishala, they will need our help with the creature.”
Hundreds of warriors continue to swarm the vile living fortress as those outside attempt to secure the perimeter and clear the remaining Zergs. “This world will be ours once again Prelate,” she replies proudly as they both run towards the breach in the hive.
