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| Xeogaming Forums - Story Realm - Khaeleas (Starcraft Fan-fic) |
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The Accidental Protege Iggy Koopa I\"m your accidental protege... The gift, the blood, the thrownaway...\"         Since: 03-08-05 From: Marching on the city of Southern Cross Since last post: 962 days Last activity: 962 days |
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| Prologue
The malicious Zerg have commenced their attack upon the peaceful Protoss homeworld of Aiur. Warriors from across the planet have gathered to check the attack of the insectoid invaders; Templars, Vindicators, veterans, even townsfolk and civilians have taken up arms to defend their planet. War now ravages across the plains of the rainforest-like paradise, pitting Protoss against Zerg in one of the bloodiest galactic battles ever. One young Protoss girl specifically, has been particularly fervent about defending her homeworld. Her name was Khaeleas. What follows is her story. Chapter 1 The Psionic-holo Orb hovered several feet off the floor, displaying the graphic, violent nature of the Zerg overrunning some desperate Protoss warriors in a dense rainforest. The sphere glowed with psychic energy as a young child viewed the events of the war. Her deep, blue, enigmatic eyes reflected deep sorrow in heart, but at the same time, contempt and hatred for the nightmarish creatures that devoured her brethren. She had already lost one brother to this struggle for supremacy. Her brother, Dhak'nal, met a bloody death at the hands of an Ultralisk. The beast's Kaiser Blades literally ripped the Templar in half. The news of her brother's death eventually reached Khaeleas and her father deep within the heart of a Protoss megalopolis. They were deeply saddened by the loss of their son and brother, but he has reached the Khala's end, which, in Protoss belief, is the highest honor a Templar warrior can receive. In seek of retribution for her brother's death, she vowed to destroy the Zerg on Aiur. Khaeleas severed her psychic connection with the Psionic-holo Orb, and rose up from her kneeling position. She was a beautiful young girl, by Protoss standards. Her skin was a light blue, and her eyes a deep midnight blue, in contrast to her paler skin. Her scales and scale plates were smooth and barely visible, a keen sign of beauty to the Protoss. She was 163 years old, very young to want to fight in a battlefield full of hungry, savage bloodthirsty monstrosities. Her arms and legs were long and slender; she had a perfect form that most of her friends were very jealous of. The nerve appendages on the back of her head were not fully-grown yet because of her age. But they are thick and full of psychic energy, making her a very advanced youth, psionically speaking. She wore little; merely an average upper body shawl that is common for most Protoss to wear, an ornamental shoulder piece, and a small bit of clothing to cover her torso and upper legs. She took long strides as she walked through her home to find her father. She was going to tell him something; something she's been meaning to tell him for some time, but has been unsure how to say it. Though calm and collected on the outside, inside she was afraid of what her father may think of her decision and how he'd react. *Regardless of what he thinks of my choice,* she thought to herself, *I will follow through with it, no matter what the cost.* Her father, Khas, was seated at the far edge of the house, viewing the orb, which, apparently, floated over to him after his daughter was finished with it. She approached him calmly and smoothly and spoke (well, telepathically communicated, for the Protoss have no mouths or voice boxes) to him unfaltering, with stern decision in her voice. "Father, I know how you feel about Dhak'nal's death and the destruction of our planet and our valiant brethren's sacrifices, but I want you hear me and respect my decision." She could feel tensions rise and the proverbial psionic and parental noose begin to tighten. "I wish to fight for our homeworld to rid Aiur of the Zerg and to avenge my brother's death." Dumbfounded, Khas rose up from his resting-place and spoke very sternly to her. "As much as I am glad to hear you wish to fight for Aiur's survival, I must object; I have already lost one of my children to this war. I refuse to lose another one. You are my daughter, and I love you very much. I cannot and will not march my only child out to her doom!" A look of discontent grew over her face and she scowled. "Whether you like it or not, my decision is final! I will fight, and there is nothing you can do about it!" Her father was livid at this point. "Such insolence! You're mother and I did not raise you like this! You would be marching to your death; do you not realize that? Even if you were of age, you are a woman. You're place is not on the battlefield. It is here, at home! And it is where you shall remain!" Khaeleas then did something her father never could have expected. "Then I shall retreat to Shakuras and become a Dark Templar, where I will not judged by my sex. What do you say to that, father?" Khas was all in a huff. He didn't want to say what came next, but politically, it was the right thing in his mind, and most others' minds. "Consorting with the fallen ones is heresy! I will never permit any daughter of mine to go to that barren rock to carve out a life among the dark ones! I forbid it! I'd rather have no daughter at all than have a daughter taken in by those outcasts!" "Then consider yourself childless, father." She turned and walked off, leaving her gray-skinned father to ponder her decision and stew in his words of hate. He scratched the back of his head and sunk back into his seat. With that, his green-blue eyes glowed with intensity over the mixed emotions he felt. Could he bear losing another child? What if she doesn't die? What if she is revered as a hero throughout Protoss lore for generations to come? Then, Khas thought the worst: What if she becomes infested? It would be worse that death, being physically and mentally twisted to the whims of the Zerg as the Overmind slowly warps her brain to force her to do his bidding... He clasped his large head with his hands and began to weep over the thought of losing another child to the Zerg. Chapter 2 Khas woke up early next morning after a restless sleep. He had a dream; a dream of the future, perhaps, he thought. In it, he saw his daughter, grown up and stronger, with a veil over her face, her nerve appendages severed and a cloak across her back, and wearing elegant Dark Templar armor, as she held a large blade with a handle made out of Khalis Crystal in one hand and a dead Hydralisk in the other. Then, shortly after he saw her as an accomplished hero, she was engulfed in flames, as her armor, cloak and veil burned off her body, and was left naked in the darkness. Then, horrid, disgusting parasitic appendages jutted out of her skin, as her eyes turned a blood red and large spikes formed across her back. Razor like scythes ripped her skin as they grew out of her arms and legs. Then, as the transformation ended, Khas awoke from his nightmare in flurry of emotions. He was in a cold sweat, and rose from his bed, rubbing his eyes. He groggily wandered into his daughter's room to see if she was fine in reality. In actuality, she was not there. Only a small orb was left on the bed on which she slept. Khas was upset. He knew where she went, but he could not stop her. It is her decision, he thought. Let her make the best of it. He aroused some of his psionic energy and directed it towards the orb. It activated, and a holographic image of Khaeleas rose from the center of the sphere in a three-dimensional view. It was a message. The hologram of Khas' daughter spoke to him in her voice. "Father, I know you are upset because of my choice, but that is what it is: my choice. Not you or anyone else can make that for me. I have left for Shakuras, but you probably already know that. Do not come after me; I can handle myself perfectly fine. As I make progress in my quest, I will contact you via Observers. The robot will relay my message to you, along with my coordinates. You may do the same, if you wish. I love you, father. I will message you again as soon as I reach Shakuras. Goodbye." Khas was saddened greatly by his daughter's departure. He cried for a good two hours, thinking he would never see her again. But Khaeleas was having mixed feelings as well; she did not want to leave, knowing she may never see her father again, but she figured that it was what she had to do. After all, she made an oath, and oaths cannot be broken. So she continued on, to find a ride to Shakuras. * * * * The Protoss city is an awesome sight. Gargantuan scyscrapers towered over the depths of the city as flying transportation vehicals flew by in swarms in the busiest parts of the megalopolis. It was almost aglow with psychic energy, as well. It gave off an aura as not felt anywhere else in the universe; the aura of millions of Protoss all gathered in one place. In the dark depths of the city where the streets used to exist, Khaeleas found herself walking alone with only her bare nessecities with her in a single bag. The undercity, as it was called, was a dank place, filled with shady looking Protoss. Gazing at the crusty-looking foundations of the skyscrapers that towered overhead, her thoughts of the place became even more insecure. The poor, rebelious and criminal types dwell down in these places where law has abandoned. She slowly walked forth, seaching for a docking bay. "Harnius, look over there, at that girl." A creepy looking grey-skinned Protoss leaning against a wall spoke to his friend as he was eyeing the girl. She grew uneasy. "She looks like she's new here and afraid; why don't you make her feel more at home, eh?" His friend nodded. Khaeleas began to feel incredibly insecure as she eavesdropped on the Protoss bum. She began to quicken her pace, eager to leave that alley and, eventually, the planet. *They're probably after my body or money,* she thought to herself. Harnius, the Protoss bum's friend caught up with her though, and walked next to her. "We don't get too many people from the upper city down here, girl. You must have a good reason... Don't look so afraid. Come! Come with me and my friend here, and sit down with us and we'll have a drink, eh? Oh! By the way, my name is Harnius, and my buddy here is Lardonil." "I...It's nice to meet you, but I really must be on my way. I have a very important schedule to maintain," answered Khaeleas. Lardonil caught up with the pair as they were walking down the dingy street. "Oh, come on. A drink would do you good! There is no need to fear us; were were once Zealots, noble Templar, fighting on the battlefields, right there on Char. Our scars show the proof! See?" Lardonil and Harnious both moved their faces nearer towards Khaeleas, who inspected them. *They're right; the scars are obviously reminiscant of Zergling and Hydralisk attacks... They must have seem a lot,* she thought as she assesed the situation. "Very well. My name is Khaeleas, just so you know. I suppose I have some time to sit with you. Besides, there don't seem to be any docking bays around here..." "Ah ha! That's the spirit, Khaeleas! This place here is a cantina. We can have a drink here, right, Lardonil?" His friend gave a nod. Indeed, it was true that the place they stood outside of at that moment was a cantina, so they may not have been the criminals that Khaeleas thought them to be in the first place. They walked in and looked like an odd trio; two washed up Zealot bums and a young, higher class girl whose nerve appendages dwarfed the grown men's. The cantina itself was nothing much to look at. It was basically just a run down, dark building whose lights flickered on and off, pipes leaking. Fans were going all the time, bringing in stale smelling air, but at least it was cool. The padded seats were losing their fabric due to age, and no one bothered to reupholster them. Everyone inside kept to themselves and stayed reclusive, especially when they saw Khaeleas enter. It was a big deal when someone from the upper city visited a lower city cantina, so everyone was agahst, and therefore, wanted nothing to do with her and shyed away. The bar was located at the back, and a older, shady, dark-green skinned Protoss male stood behind the counter. He stared at Khaeleas as she approched with her two new comrades. "Brought a friend with you this time, huh, guys? An upper city kid..." He shook his head. "You must really be drunk off your asses this time." The bartender seemed like a grim old man, disinterested in the affairs of the upper city; his apathy showed in his eyes "Heh! Using Terran slang... You're the one who must be 'drunk off your ass'. We found her wandering the streets, so we decided to treat her to a drink. She's an ok girl, all in all." Khaeleas wasn't sure what to make of all this, mainly because she has never heard Terran terminology, such as 'drunk', 'ass', and 'ok'. She just sat down and decided it was better not to ask questions. The bartender then spoke to all three off them after they were seated. "What'll you have?" Chapter 3 "So, young Khaeleas, what brings you here?" asked Lardonil between sips of his glomdoid juice. "I ran from home. My brother was killed in the rainforest by a Zerg, so I decided to flee to Shakuras and learn the ways of the-" Harnius cut her off. "Shh! Shhhh! You musn't speak of such things here in the lower city. You may get killed for talking in such a manner! I knew a male who spoke of just knowing a... Dark Templar... and he was killed by an angry bystander!" whispered Harnius with great concern in her voice. "I see. I understand your situation quite well. You need a ride to Shakuras, do you not?" questioned Lardonil sitting in his musty booth. "Well... yes, of course! You know a way?" Khaeleas was suddenly more interested in the conversation. Things were looking up. "Yes, we do know a way... but first, you must do something for us." The girl sunk back down. She didn't want to do any mundane tasks. She just wanted to leave Aiur and be taught in art of Zerg slaying on Shakuras. "The deed to our home has been reposessed by a collection agency; an uncouth one, at that. We paid our debts, but the agency took our home anyway. We need you to infiltrate the agency's office and steal the deed back. Then kill the collection agent." Khaeleas couldn't believe her ears. These two noble Zealots actually wanted a 163 year old girl to kill another Protoss in cold blood? Especially when a bitter strife was underway between Zerg and Protoss? "Wh... why me? Why do you want me to kill one of my own race?" "I thought you would not understand; consider it practice for killing Zerg. The man is as malicious as them. Your nerve appendages are far more advanced than ours. You could do this easily. In fact, you can do it now." Lardonil reached into his bag and pulled out a psyblade; an old one, but a psyblade none the less. "This is a psyblade. It straps to your wrist and taps into you main psionic vein. The more psionic power you have the longer and stronger the blade. Besides, it's not like yo have a choice; the next docking bay isn't for another 400 kilometers. So you can either do this for us, or walk another 400 kilometers to a docking bay that probably wouldn't take you to Shakuras anyway!" I just dawned on her. He was right; seeing as how the the Dark Templar are avoided like a plague, no ship would take her to Shakuras. "Very well," she said solemnly. "Where is this place? * * * * The trio of Protoss stood outside a foundation of a building, metallic and run-down looking. "The collection agency is inside. The office is on the third door on the right in the hall you see as soon as you enter. Now, go!" Khaeleas slowly and quietly entered the building, psyblade strapped to her left wrist. *I can't believe I'm doing this,* she thought to herself. The building on the inside looked like the cantina; mungy, old and ill-kept. A desk was right in front, probably for reception. No one was seated in it at the moment. She crept down the hall and saw the third door on the right. As she took a step nearer, the floor squeaked loudly "Who's there? I heard the floor squeak!" A gruff voice emminated from the room. Khaeleas crouched and ran behind the desk, frightened that she'd get caught. The door opened and a humongous foot stepped out. *This male must be huge!* she thought to herself as she saw the foot while peeking out from under the desk. "I have a plasma cannon! Show yourself!" Khaeleas grew very concerned. As he grew nearer, cannon in hand, she acted in a desperate act of self-defense. Her large nerves pulsated and her eyes glowed. Suddenly the desk flew up, and for a moment, the enormous Protoss saw the girl. "What in the name of-" He never got a chance to finish his sentence; a heavy, rusty desk flew into him at high speed and knocked him head over heels. She activated her psyblade and swiftly dissabled the giant's plasma cannon in a few swift strokes. The blade was as long and powerful as the revered hero, Fenix's. It truely reflected her psychic capabilities. She lunged for the giant with her psyblade, but hesitated. She saw fear, pain and shock in his eyes; but she regained her senses and reminded herself that killing this male would be for a greater benefit, all in all. She closed her eyes, looked away and stabbed him in the face. As she pulled out her blade and deactivated it, her eyes filled up and she walked back down the hall and enterd the room. A sheet of paper, just as her acomplaces said, was right there on a table. It did, indeed, look as though it was a kind of land grant, or deed. She wiped the tears away from her eyes as she exited the building and handed the deed over to Lardonil and Harnius. "Now, tell me how to get to Shakuras," she pleaded them. Lardonil approched her. "Come back into the cantina with us, and we'll discuss your plan, young Khaeleas." He beamed over his pleasure of knowing she got the job done, and he can help her, all in one day. Chapters 4 through whatever coming soon! (Last edited by Clockworkz on 08-22-05 12:34 AM) |
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