Episode 40- Where pacing is out of whack, as always.
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"You need to COMMAND them to move. No please or thanks, just pure force."
Dobromir watched her steeled face and clenched fist held in the air. Then at the mass of tentacles occupying the whole room.
A few steps back. A deeeeep breath. And then "FUS, RO DAH!" nothing happened. Even the shockway was absent. Then after five seconds, the whole room was taken by EX-PLOSION! Dobromir wiped away the offending filth from his eyes. The walls themself were fine, just… EVERYTHING was coated in vicious, purple and orange vile goo. It makes the two of them look like a target of thrown paint balloons. Thrown by kids. For hours.
He looked at Kerrigan, expecting a rather obvious anger. To his eternal surprise, there was none. She just wiped the gunk off her face. "Wrong kind of force. You must force them to obey, not to splatter."
"Hmmm… I'll try." They took a few steps, stopping before another room over-fleshed? By those zergy appendages. This time, he put his hands into the non-existing gap in the air, and slowly, with tensed muscles and trembling arms, started to spread the imaginary door. This time, all the tentacles started slowly withdrawing, without anything unpleasant happening. Finally, the turned over lockers and broken beds showed themselves, meaning more garbage clearing in the future.
Bent over with hands on knees, Dobromir tried to catch his breath. "I - 'Wheeze' - never, really -'wheeze'- ordered something -'wheeze'- or someone -'wheeze'- with force. Before becoming the zerg, I led people who already knew what they were doing."
"The swarm consists of two: the leaders, and the unthinking rest. That's probably why you have only zerglings, infested and drones following you. Those are the lowest of the low, nobody cares about a few stragglers. You need to be strong, ruthless, domineering and somewhat aloof. You can't expect your terran sensibilities to help you in this cauldron of monsters."
He raised up, standing eye to eye with Kerrigan(and her stilettos), and put a hand on her shoulder. "I must stay true to myself, otherwise my imagination would go stale. Kerrigan, I don't want to just lead extendable cannon fodder, with new mutations or types of zerg. Not only to survive, but to THRIVE!"
He took a step back, looking into the non-existent distance with a thousand yard stare. "Walls, with cannons manned by people. Me, at the tip of riders, crashing into the lines of enemies. Actual zerg ships, and not some flying shits! And shapeshifters, can't miss the goblins attacking ironclad marines! Or a troop of elves shooting from afar! Those are just some ideas, but I will, at last, make zerg look better."
"Do what you want. I expect only your loyalty. I, on the other hand, must stand upon the firm ground of reality, and slay those damned cerebrates."
Dobromir looked back at her, and said one, last, comment. "Being rooted too deeply in reality will damage your creativity. You will say what you need or want, but Abathur, this damned slug, will make it for you. I can promise you this: my wildly trashing about mind will be to your eternal service. If you need ideas, I am your man."
She stopped her trek at the entrance of the canteen. No one really noticed the giant fox lady, mostly because of the wild party with booze being gulped down everywhere you could look. To be fair, even if there were more men overall, it didn't mean women were absent. Some general groups formed in the rather spacious room, and looking by the garb, they were just what you would expect.
The biggest group was composed of more or less beefy guys & gals. They were the infantry, as in Marines and Firebats. All were out of their armors, of course. Clad only in their skin tight suits and some normal clothes thrown over them. Being the biggest representation, they practically owned a quarter of the whole space.
You could also witness the second biggest group, the technicians. Standard drill, they have a wide range of jobs. From repairing the vehicles, the starships, to battlecruisers, and operating ERK, they do it all. In their standard overalls, it was very easy to distinguish them from all the rest.
Rest of the groups were a rather mixed case. Pilots mostly sat together. They consisted of Wraith, Dropship, Valkyrie and Goliath operators. It was a tight knit group, which additionally sipped their drinks in moderation.
The tank pilots sat only with themselves, the same as vulture riders. The first had a rather dubious reputation of friendly fire, which was partially true. The second had the stereotype of being rather unhinged, and it usually wasn't far from truth.
The medics were mixed everywhere, it mostly depended on where they were deployed. And, at one of the corners, around a rather small (compared to the rest) table, judging by their lab coats, sat eggheads. They were taking something much harder than some percentage. Coffee, black as the night, its smell wafted to the entrance.
The fox cataloged all the groups positions, and their probable reasons for being in them. Next she moved towards the pilot's table. On the way, the nimble giant had to wave between some stumbling drunkards, her tails rubbing against them briefly. Despite her apparent size, reaching the table was met with only one true obstacle.
Four drunkards appeared! They are leaning against each other, and probably are seeing double.
Drunkards use: Stumble forwards.
Foxy lady uses: Jump.
Drunkards: Mesmerized. They try to follow after her with their heads. Critical hit! The stupid drunkards after trying to look up, fall over, and fall into unconsciousness.
Foxy lady:
Flexibility rises to: 89
Cunning rises to: 78
With satisfaction written all across her muzzle, the first of her kind finally arrives just behind her target. And then, lays her head gently atop the noggin of the boat steerman.
When the old man emerged from his own dark portal, he saw the two facing back and forth. Standing rather close, was a purple tent, clad in many stars. In the close distance was a rather neat city, on the opposite way was forest. The sky was clear and the grass was green, reality in nutshell.
Walking over, the bearded man asked "So, care to explain the hurry?"
Trixie turned his way, showing no surprise. "It's a distress beacon, and between me, and my friend over there, no one can help. We already alerted everyone, but it still can take over half an hour." Worry was clearly written on her face. Add the restless hands, which changed position every few seconds, and the smug demeanor seemed to vanish completely.
Putting his hand to his sides, and raising his head a little, he exclaimed "I can help. The school of destruction is very dear to me."
"No, no, no." Thrown in the man with the red pulsing tendril of magic extending from his back. "The beacon will draw enemies towards it. That's a safety measure for the help caller, but added danger for the support. Even if you want to help, you still need to wait for the support."
"Isn't the person on the opposite side in danger? How long do we have to wait for help?"
'Uff' "Thankfully" said Trixie, turning towards the speeding figures closing in on their positions, "Not for long."
From the city, a pair of vulture's was hurrying over. A little to the left, another pair of people were flying on the carpet. A little to the right, another another pair of people were speeding in their direction, hovering skateboards under their feet. From the direction of the forest, soft rumbling could be heard & felt.
"Yes, this will be enough to take on a small army."
From the portal stumbled the young guy from earlier, rather disoriented with the nature surrounding him all of sudden.
Wit discovered something new today. The protoss didn't have any ground transport. That's mostly because they teleported everywhere, with the use of gates or ships of all sizes, or they walked.
Right now, because warping was tuned only to the protoss (for now), the young shroom man was sited somewhere on the inside of a quick, small protoss ship. Somewhere, because there obviously were no windows. And the inside… certainly wasn't anywhere similar to the terran one. A small pylon in the middle, some screens just floating in mid air, and a table to the side. Why would anyone use it if there was no seats in the whole… room? Who knows? Probably the protoss.
Buut… he was sitting alone. Every other protoss used the warp gates, and the pilot's cabin wasn't even connected to the passenger space. Besides the hat on his head, and clothes on his back, Ziemowit had only the 'Tick Tock' sword on his back, and nothing else. The only thing left to do was… watch something grow. In this case, his leg. It was slowly taking a shape, but it still was far from done.
'Oh, it's pink nara, hello! Thank you for helping the Vana (forest), unfortunately, the danger still persists.'
Pixie looked at the little floating fairy. It was mostly brownish, with a frayed mushroom hat. It had four flying leafs, a plant mustache, and a little cane. The other floating fairies paid her more or less attention, but stayed mostly silent.
"Err… hello. Why was I lead here, and who are you?" The griffon beneath her laid down, and put its head on its hand talons, looking at them with her rider.
'We are Aranara, familiars of the Lord of Verdure. I am Araja, the Village chef. You were led here to get away from Death. The dark tendrils slowly spread, taking over the remains of the Vana.'
"You mean zerg? Don't worry, I called in reinforcements. Soon, a small army will come to wipe them out."
'Those meanies are only half the problem, pink nara. The rebirth of the Vana (forest) can't happen if the earth changes into valuka (desert). Marana (withering) is spreading, and it could reach our Tree of Dreams. The Tree maintains the dream of Vanarana (home of aranara), giving us safety. If it falls, our lord would be in danger.'
Pixie tried to mull over the new words, which surprisingly came with instant translation in her mind. Having an alignment with plants was even more useful than she thought. "I… would help, but I am out of energy, and my white friend is all banged up. As you can see." Her companion let out a 'Caw' in agreement. "Let's just wait for the rest of the gang."
'I am sorry pink nara, but Marana is spreading more rapidly than the last time. It started affecting the Meanies too, making them even stronger. Aranara, and your family will need your help. I can send Arabalika with you, his Ararakalari is very powerful, and Aranakin, he will lead you to the places that would need your help.'
'I will help you fight too!' Suddenly added her little guide. 'I hate sand, it's coarse, and cruel. We can't let vana change into valuka!'
Pixie got a little familiar feeling after hearing his name, but brushed it aside. "Okay, okay. If the danger is that big, I will do as much as I can. But still, do you have something to eat? I need any kind of energy."
'Of course pink nara, I will show you our zaytun peaches, and ajilenakh nuts, and apples, and…' Aranaking was practically dancing through the air.
Pixie just urged her feathered friend to rise and follow. Seems she would need to use a certain special technique to replenish her energy for magic more quickly.
"Mister Mayor, something is wrong, they aren't dying as fast as they should!" Stetmann continued to charge his tesla coil and shoot, hitting enemies, but not killing them with the first few hits.
"Seems it won't be as easy as we imagined it to be!" He kicked away one closing in zergling, and smashed others' faces with his wall shield, filled with spikes, spikes, and even more spikes. With the standard armor of the riders, he made a rather imposing figure. This stalwart defender was shielding his other half, perfectly might I add.
His wife didn't say anything, just continued to throw out vials of melting acid from her handheld, prototype replicator. It was very effective, and if those zerglings were normal, they would probably become liquid very quickly. As it is, their darker than normal hides were melted through after the third or fourth attempt, making it a rather slow process.
"Still, I didn't have this much fun in months!" The orphanage Matron pointed her larger than normal gauss rifle, and continued shooting at all the nearing monsters coming her way. She was the only one to wear Marine armor in this group, and probably the whole colony.
"So youre saying that they normally are weaker?" The gramps that tagged with them were calling over windstorms, raining fire, throwing ice, shooting lighting, making the earth move, sweeping enemies away with tides. But they still kept coming, very tough little monsters.
The youth who tagged along with him was desperately trying to protect their group, healing injuries, putting up shields, creating runes on the ground, very exhausting work.
The last member of their little defense was granny, sometimes quietly chuckling to herself, and one shooting her enemies. With a rather strongly modified sniper rifle C-10 in her hands, she would probably throw terror into their hearts, if they could think at all, that is. The zerg heads were pierced with bullets, which second later would explode, painting the ground and its comrades in red.
The other two that came with them rather quickly burrowed into the ground, to find the wayward (young) hag.
"Yes, what is it?" Mina felt the rumbling through her head, followed by small bark. The whole table was looking at her, or a little above her to be exact. Mina, on the other hand, was used to the show of superior height, done by their favorite (and only) fox.
The head retreated, returning a moment later with a communicator in its jaws. After laying it down on the table, the fox returned to showing her superiority. Sighing, Mina turned on the device, and read the briefing notes. "So that's why you come to me. I'll have to call our leader back."
"Ekhem." She looked up at the table full of pilots. "Nice furry friend you have there. Care to introduce us?" Most of the heads nodded along, they wanted to know too.
"Okay. Everyone, this is Foxy Lady, she currently doesn't carry a name." The head atop her head nodded.
"Lady, you say…" Some deep thought followed this question.
"You can talk to her later. Seems we have a mission, with mandatory attendance, I'm afraid." She stood up, at the furry being behind her took a step back. Soon, shoulder to shoulder, they walked towards their boat.
"Don't forget to tell us all about your adventure, okay?!"
"Yeah, yeah." Without turning around, she waved her hand. It was nice to speak with fellow professionals, even if it was an info gathering operation.
"Four legs? To be fair, I was subconsciously hoping for it. The zerg aren't birds! Give them some good looking proportions. But of course, functionality, efficiency and…"
Mr. Bit just stood there, his face positively glowing. It was his first official work, and a success too! Getting along with his new boss will definitely be easier. Some vague memories of faceless man shouting, danced in the back of his mind, even if for a brief moment.
Kerrigan, on the other hand, was leaning against the wall, with a somewhat bored look on the face. She could be somewhere else, in theory. In practice, looking at the four legged zerglings, big enough to ride upon, and the rant, was the most interesting thing happening on this giant command center.
They did activate the warp drive, it just wasn't as strong as in normal ships. Sometimes, and certainly now, Kerrigan had musings. She definitely was older than Dobromir, but it seemed that the role of cranky old man would fall on his shoulders. At last he had some good ideas, which sparked some of her own.
The Cerebrates are too outdated, too dependent and loyal only to the overmind. She would need to change the swarm. And, taking inspiration from Dobromir, Kerrigan will do what she Wants, not only needs. And the lack of any sensible feminine presence among the zerg was making her peeved.
Dobromir was… a tolerable company, and often rather entertaining. But he was a typical male, as in, dunce. Somewhat of an idiot, but the likable kind. But Kerrigan, she craved some competition, more violence, deathly cunning, she needed fellow Female generals.
And so, the the room was filled with a ranting dunce, glowing zerg architect, dreamy zerg queen, and the two newly evolved zerglings, which slowly started to understand a little bit more, even if the situation for mental development was very stable.
Side note:
I don't know how far will I go with the Po'Midorians, at the end of the day, it depends on the ideas I will, or won't have.
Other things, all the zergling have their front limbs ending in claws, without the ability to grab anything. Like a deadly, but handicapped kangaroo. It's true in all but one case. The zergling from warcraft 3 easter egg. They are a retexture of a hellhound, so they have four legs, and those bony things on their back.
Even the mount from Heroes of the Storm has only hind legs ending in zergy feet, which honestly looks just weird (for a mount).