One Destiny
Author's Note: This tale was written with no personal profit in mind aside from self satisfaction. The story is based off of elements from the games Warcraft and Starcraft, both of which are owned by Blizzard Entertainment.
She sat in meditative silence at the apex of the massive pyramid. The rising sun cast a cool crimson glow upon her face as a gentle wind began to stir. The ebony nerve appendages extending from the back of her elongated skull twitching, the Protoss Matriarch performed her morning meditation. Slender and shapely for one of her kind, she had gray skin, an extremely thin waist, and a face that lacked all features save moderately slanted eyes. However, she wasn't as bony as much of her kind, smooth curves replacing the relatively hard edges common to most Protoss. She was the Matriarch, the leader, of a race of Elder beings on the edge of extinction; the reminders never left her, even as her mind entered the eternal void.
Both pairs of eyes opened; one pair bright amber, the other shone with starlight. They both sat cross-legged, facing each other, a fire burning an icy blue between them. On one side, sat a lithe, slender figure; her lavender skin and wispy midnight-blue hair showed her to be a Night Elf, or Kaldorei. Arrayed in a gossamer veil that looked like it was made from moonlight, she seemed to have an ageless, yet curious aura about her. Her stockier counterpart couldn't have looked more different. His intense amber eyes and ebony hair spoke of both wisdom and youthful energy. Green skin and muscular build notwithstanding, the Orc looked surprisingly Human. The Orc blinked in surprise, otherwise barely moving. "These visions," he said his deep voice unusually smooth for one of his kind. "They are quite unusual." "Is there something amiss, Warchief?" said the Kaldorei, her voice like forest mist; drifting and ethereal. "Your foresight never ceases to amaze, Priestess." He thought back to the images that sailed through his head; a world wrapped in eternal twilight, as if it had been smothered in a dark cloak. A vast structure towered over the flat landscape; the artificial mountain dwarfing the hundreds of structures at its base. Then the scene had changed to show a figure in long, brown robes. There, the images had stopped. "You are better at reading the visions than I am, Warchief. Is the vision a harbinger of what is to come?" "I do not think there is any real question to that, Priestess," said the Orc, chuckling. "I suppose not," said the Elf, her eyes alight with slight humor. "But what could it mean?"
"Indeed, what could it mean," came the wise, grating voice in her mind. The Protoss, whose name was Qaaldoras, rose to meet the Elder. The Elder Protoss had dark blue skin and the sharp edges at his joints told of both great age and great activity. His eyes were alight with muted blue flame, while his long brown cloak fluttered in the breeze. "En Taro Adun, Zeratul," said Qaaldoras to his mind, her voice carrying the familiar reverse reverb effect that made humans uneasy. She rose and gave her mentor a slight bow of respect. "The visions have come again?" Qaaldoras nodded affirmative. "So," said Zeratul, giving the telepathic equivalent of a sigh, "the time is right again. There is a disturbance in the Void; the Natures are unbalanced." "There is something coming." Her response came out as a statement, not a question. "Without a doubt Matriarch, without a doubt."
"Without a doubt, old friend," said the Kaldorei tiredly. "I wouldn't have come to you otherwise." The massive, towering figure standing behind her gave a great sigh burdened with a century of life. The immense being stood a great deal taller than the Elf standing in front of him on the grassy hill, his Minotauren features caked with long years and half-forgotten scars. "I have seen many visions over my long life, Khali; the visions you describe are beyond my knowledge. I am sorry." Khali, the Kaldorei gave the elder Tauren a friendly smile. "It's alright, Thrall was able to tell me enough to try and interpret it on my own. Besides, I wanted to talk to you again." Cairne Bloodhoof, chieftain of the Tauren, couldn't help but smile.
Zeratul couldn't help but feel proud of Qaaldoras as they both stood there on top of the pyramid, watching the amber sphere climb into a dark sky. He upon the conversation he had with her only moments before. "You are our Matriarch, Qaaldoras; they will follow your word." Qaaldoras let out a sigh in his mind. "I know Zeratul; it is so much to comprehend. I still cannot entirely fathom why you stepped down as Patriarch." Gentle laughter rippled through the fabric of her consciousness. "For over six centuries, I have been a warrior and a wanderer. Beyond the battlefield I have little claim as a leader. Experience I have, but not the knowledge to put it to any use. Zeratul placed his hand on her shoulder. "You have that knowledge. I can only be an advisor, whereas you have the strength to lead what is left of our race; an Elder I may be, but you are the one they will look to."
The slightest noise above the stream's burbling elicited a response. He turned, his midnight-blue waterfall of hair swirled with him. The shaft of wood and steel in his hands swept a luminant trail of reflected moon through the darkness. Illumined night shimmered over smooth lavender skin glistening with silent perspiration. His starlight eyes focused on his as his dance came to a close. "Gantrith." The Night Elf put down his weapon and went to her. "Priestess Khali," he returned, bowing. "Please, don't do that. I came to speak to you as a friend." Gantrith slowly straightened concern in his eyes. "You are troubled." It was not a question. Khali sighed. "Yes," she said, "I feel I cannot handle my burden as well as I would like. I represent what is left of out race; what happens if I make a mistake?" A warm comforting arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Do you remember what Priestess Tyrande told you? You have shown yourself as a powerful leader, a leader with a special gift that you are cultivating even now. You have abilities that Arch Druid Malfurion himself couldn't dream of. You are our leader; there has never been one more capable."
Two beings; two races, two worlds. The threads of fate woven by lost creators of ages bygone are about to meet and intertwine. The Elder races of both worlds must rise to the challenge. For a third time, Chaos bears down upon the Order that the long-lost Titans had created. A Second Sundering is at hand, with all creation hanging in the balance. Qaaldoras; Khali; they are leaders. Two leaders; two races; one Destiny.
Author's Note: This tale was written with no personal profit in mind aside from self satisfaction. The story is based off of elements from the games Warcraft and Starcraft, both of which are owned by Blizzard Entertainment.
She sat in meditative silence at the apex of the massive pyramid. The rising sun cast a cool crimson glow upon her face as a gentle wind began to stir. The ebony nerve appendages extending from the back of her elongated skull twitching, the Protoss Matriarch performed her morning meditation. Slender and shapely for one of her kind, she had gray skin, an extremely thin waist, and a face that lacked all features save moderately slanted eyes. However, she wasn't as bony as much of her kind, smooth curves replacing the relatively hard edges common to most Protoss. She was the Matriarch, the leader, of a race of Elder beings on the edge of extinction; the reminders never left her, even as her mind entered the eternal void.
Both pairs of eyes opened; one pair bright amber, the other shone with starlight. They both sat cross-legged, facing each other, a fire burning an icy blue between them. On one side, sat a lithe, slender figure; her lavender skin and wispy midnight-blue hair showed her to be a Night Elf, or Kaldorei. Arrayed in a gossamer veil that looked like it was made from moonlight, she seemed to have an ageless, yet curious aura about her. Her stockier counterpart couldn't have looked more different. His intense amber eyes and ebony hair spoke of both wisdom and youthful energy. Green skin and muscular build notwithstanding, the Orc looked surprisingly Human. The Orc blinked in surprise, otherwise barely moving. "These visions," he said his deep voice unusually smooth for one of his kind. "They are quite unusual." "Is there something amiss, Warchief?" said the Kaldorei, her voice like forest mist; drifting and ethereal. "Your foresight never ceases to amaze, Priestess." He thought back to the images that sailed through his head; a world wrapped in eternal twilight, as if it had been smothered in a dark cloak. A vast structure towered over the flat landscape; the artificial mountain dwarfing the hundreds of structures at its base. Then the scene had changed to show a figure in long, brown robes. There, the images had stopped. "You are better at reading the visions than I am, Warchief. Is the vision a harbinger of what is to come?" "I do not think there is any real question to that, Priestess," said the Orc, chuckling. "I suppose not," said the Elf, her eyes alight with slight humor. "But what could it mean?"
"Indeed, what could it mean," came the wise, grating voice in her mind. The Protoss, whose name was Qaaldoras, rose to meet the Elder. The Elder Protoss had dark blue skin and the sharp edges at his joints told of both great age and great activity. His eyes were alight with muted blue flame, while his long brown cloak fluttered in the breeze. "En Taro Adun, Zeratul," said Qaaldoras to his mind, her voice carrying the familiar reverse reverb effect that made humans uneasy. She rose and gave her mentor a slight bow of respect. "The visions have come again?" Qaaldoras nodded affirmative. "So," said Zeratul, giving the telepathic equivalent of a sigh, "the time is right again. There is a disturbance in the Void; the Natures are unbalanced." "There is something coming." Her response came out as a statement, not a question. "Without a doubt Matriarch, without a doubt."
"Without a doubt, old friend," said the Kaldorei tiredly. "I wouldn't have come to you otherwise." The massive, towering figure standing behind her gave a great sigh burdened with a century of life. The immense being stood a great deal taller than the Elf standing in front of him on the grassy hill, his Minotauren features caked with long years and half-forgotten scars. "I have seen many visions over my long life, Khali; the visions you describe are beyond my knowledge. I am sorry." Khali, the Kaldorei gave the elder Tauren a friendly smile. "It's alright, Thrall was able to tell me enough to try and interpret it on my own. Besides, I wanted to talk to you again." Cairne Bloodhoof, chieftain of the Tauren, couldn't help but smile.
Zeratul couldn't help but feel proud of Qaaldoras as they both stood there on top of the pyramid, watching the amber sphere climb into a dark sky. He upon the conversation he had with her only moments before. "You are our Matriarch, Qaaldoras; they will follow your word." Qaaldoras let out a sigh in his mind. "I know Zeratul; it is so much to comprehend. I still cannot entirely fathom why you stepped down as Patriarch." Gentle laughter rippled through the fabric of her consciousness. "For over six centuries, I have been a warrior and a wanderer. Beyond the battlefield I have little claim as a leader. Experience I have, but not the knowledge to put it to any use. Zeratul placed his hand on her shoulder. "You have that knowledge. I can only be an advisor, whereas you have the strength to lead what is left of our race; an Elder I may be, but you are the one they will look to."
The slightest noise above the stream's burbling elicited a response. He turned, his midnight-blue waterfall of hair swirled with him. The shaft of wood and steel in his hands swept a luminant trail of reflected moon through the darkness. Illumined night shimmered over smooth lavender skin glistening with silent perspiration. His starlight eyes focused on his as his dance came to a close. "Gantrith." The Night Elf put down his weapon and went to her. "Priestess Khali," he returned, bowing. "Please, don't do that. I came to speak to you as a friend." Gantrith slowly straightened concern in his eyes. "You are troubled." It was not a question. Khali sighed. "Yes," she said, "I feel I cannot handle my burden as well as I would like. I represent what is left of out race; what happens if I make a mistake?" A warm comforting arm wrapped around her shoulders. "Do you remember what Priestess Tyrande told you? You have shown yourself as a powerful leader, a leader with a special gift that you are cultivating even now. You have abilities that Arch Druid Malfurion himself couldn't dream of. You are our leader; there has never been one more capable."
Two beings; two races, two worlds. The threads of fate woven by lost creators of ages bygone are about to meet and intertwine. The Elder races of both worlds must rise to the challenge. For a third time, Chaos bears down upon the Order that the long-lost Titans had created. A Second Sundering is at hand, with all creation hanging in the balance. Qaaldoras; Khali; they are leaders. Two leaders; two races; one Destiny.