Chapter One
Aiur
Nerazim Forward Scout Report
Infestation on the surface of Aiur appears to be at a minimum. Zerg numbers have significantly decreased since the Overmind's demise. With the Golden Armada, orbital bombardment should minimize any casualties that we may incur. However, we would be wise to exercise caution. Any remaining zerg forces entrenched within the cities will pose a threat that cannot be eliminated with the Armada. Further more, there is an unusual amount of activity amongst formerly inactive hive clusters.
When the plan to reclaim Aiur was agreed upon, Nal'oss had been on a long excursion in the furthest reaches of the sector. It was when he returned to a remote but psionically connected world favored by voyagers like such as himself, that he learned of it. An apprehensive fog had settled over the small population of Nerazim that resided there.
Such a large and risky endeavor had not been considered, not since the straggled and weary survivors had arrived on Shakurus in their escape from the zerg.
But.. there was possibly a reason, or rather hundreds of reasons.
The Golden Armada.
Nal'oss turned a blind eye to the innumerable amount of ships that idled in orbit around Aiur. Instead of admiring the clearly ridiculous amount of warships that their Khalai brethren had amassed, he chose to inspect his blade. As he examined the worn surface of his psi gauntlet, placing a keen eye on the focuser in particular, his mind drifted to other things.
The Nerazim, colloquially referred to as the dark templar by the defunct Conclave and by the entire sector in general, had called the world of Shakurus their home for thousands of years now since their exile. They had found refuge on other worlds, but Shakurus possessed a sort of sentimentality to the Nerazim as a whole, which was unusual.
His people were travelers, explorers, seekers. They, unlike the Khalai, found little comfort in numbers.
So to think that they might be expected to live on Aiur amongst the descendants of the very ones that had exiled them before. It was a troubling thought.
He returned the psi gauntlet to his wrist and stood. Despite ship regulations specifically prohibiting the ignition of a psi blade in places other than a properly designated sparring area, he ignited his blade. Green fire erupted out of the focuser, sharpening into a solid construct of void and psionic energy.
The blade fizzled slightly after a short moment of activity, leading Nal'oss to do the mental equivalent of a frown. A malfunctioning psi blade could prove deadly. Even something as small as a momentary lapse, could be the difference between life or death.
A tinging presence a fair distance behind him signaled the proximity of another protoss, likely a zealot from the sharper than usual psionic emanation. The craftsman caste of the Khalai tended to be less direct, their minds more suited towards creation rather than slicing zerg apart with psi blades. Nal'oss shut off his blade, the emerald green light dissipating into nothing. The zealot passed by without so much as of a glance, their footfalls eventually fading into the background noise of the ship.
Even after the chaotic events of the Brood War, the death of their Matriarch, Raszagal, the protoss as a whole still struggled with old wounds. What brought them all together only did so for a short time. War and conflict swallowed up divisions, unifying by blood. So many fallen warriors, and still they were never truly a whole.
The new Matriarch, Vorazun, daughter of the late Raszagal, took a more.. unpredictable approach to politics when compared to her mother. Nal'oss still failed to truly understand her. On one occasion Matriarch Raszagal looked and acted dangerously close to the interests of the Hierarchy, and on the other..
Nal'oss supposed that one would have to be overly optimistic in times such as these.
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Down on the war ravaged surface of Aiur, they awaited the invasion with equal anticipation. New layers of creep covered the old, creeping over any and everything. Defensive spine and spore crawlers rooted themselves and formerly feral zerglings dashed in small packs across the newly assimilated ground. Any spots of forest or wildlife close to the awakening zerg hives that might have survived with the short peace, disappeared.
A new entity, or rather many new entities, drove this mobilization. They watched from the cover of obscurity from within the thickets of purposefully spared trees, rarely exposing themselves in the open. The voice had taken a leave shortly after it had spoken to them, and a new presence took its place. It whispered to them of danger from the skies and of safety in the shadows. They heeded these warnings with unwavering obedience and concealed themselves.
Many were eager, a new kind of twisted fervor coursing through them. They hungered to fight with these conceited beings, these.. protoss. But it never occurred to any of them where these emotions came from, or how strong the urges were to do something in particular. But how could they know? Much less understand, what they were?
They were young, juvenile, unversed, almost outright naive. Had there been more time, perhaps a different set of circumstances, maybe things could have been different.
Maybe.
A/N: Battle comes soon, actually soon might be.. ah forget it.
Thanks for reading.