Terran Ingenuity (Starcraft x Mass Effect)
- Thread starter Xeno Major
- Start date
-
- Tags
- mass effect starcraft
It did, and morally questionable use of frozen embryos, steel wombs anyone?Gear-2557 said:
- Location
- Ekaterinburg, Russia
No offense, but... What were you studying in place of history? I distinctly remember French Revolution, Crimean War, Meiji Restoration, Two World Wars, and population growth (based on medicine and food creation techs - which Terran should already have) from less than 1B to more than 7B.ShadowPhoenix said:
Stepping away from any wank arguments . . . As others have said, if any of the other factions do show up then the front runner would be the United Earth Directorate. (Mainly because the Sol system is on the Relay network.)
The Dominion, Protoss, and Zerg should have ludicrously low odds of actually showing up. It can't be stressed often enough, but as others have said on these forums, space is big. Motherfucking huge even. (I wouldn't exactly be surprised if they showed up anyways . . . I just think the UED is the best candidate.)
The odds of one of the other factions being able to pick the correct orientation to travel in is bad enough even if you assume the refugees were stupid enough to move in a straight line.
The Dominion, Protoss, and Zerg should have ludicrously low odds of actually showing up. It can't be stressed often enough, but as others have said on these forums, space is big. Motherfucking huge even. (I wouldn't exactly be surprised if they showed up anyways . . . I just think the UED is the best candidate.)
The odds of one of the other factions being able to pick the correct orientation to travel in is bad enough even if you assume the refugees were stupid enough to move in a straight line.
Walkir
Self-Requested Ban
- Location
- Ruhr, Germany
Not that the Citadel "You sent these guys there as a penal colony, they're your responsibility." means their interests are threatened.
In their defense, they didn't know of the zerg when they set up Space Australia, but it is thematically fitting.
In their defense, they didn't know of the zerg when they set up Space Australia, but it is thematically fitting.
logiccosmic
the Prince of Word Crimes
- Location
- the Hague, formerly
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Well, the Zerg do have much in common with Australian wildlife. The insatiable hunger for human flesh, the joy in making people need to change their pants, and the ability to survive nuclear weapons.walkir said:
other nations also act when their agreements force them to.Scarecrow said:
- Location
- Oblivion
Similar to the Cruicable, we don't talk about the impossibility of the Geth and Quarian conflict.Sithking Zero said:
"Shepard... what are you doing"Sithking Zero said:
*Hyperventilating, neck is covulsing, an slight hint of madness on his face*
"REALIZING WHAT UTTER BULLSHIT THIS IS, QUARIANS INVADING RANNOCH? ASARI HIDING ON THESSIA? NOONE HELPS ONE ANOTHER? IM NOT FIXING THIS SHIT AGAIN"
*Sol system*
Shepard, why are you here?
"I surrender, and request one of those fancy shells you fly around in."
Erm... Why, I Dont even...
"I am not FIXING EVERYONES PROBLEMS A-FUCKING-GAIN!!!"
... Mars, get going, we are currently using earths population for another there
11
Xeno Major
Sensei Rower
Chapter 2 (Snip 5)
The cantina was almost abandoned.
Quietly, he lifted his glass, draining the last of the whiskey. As he set the glass back down on the counter, he fumbled for another bottle.
The pleasant fog of alcohol messed with his arm, or maybe his sight, and the next thing he knew, he was reaching for the bottle of whiskey as it plummeted down to the deck.
For a moment, the bottle seemed to move in slow-motion, as it sluggishly dropped to the metal-plated deck.
Then it stopped.
"Care to tell me why you're drinking on my ship?"
He looked up at the eyes of his good friend, and tried to laugh. It came out as a choked, hiccup-like sound.
"Dammit, you're supposed to be setting an example for the men," his good friend snapped.
"Leave me alone, Jim!" Matt replied angrily, reaching for the bottle.
"What if the damn birds come back, Matt?" Raynor roared furiously. "If you're too damn drunk to command the battle, we're dead!"
"You don't understand, Jim!" Matt shouted back. "S'all my fault! If I'd lef' more ships, Valiant wouldn' be a cripple, and the Redoubtable wouldn' be a floating cloud of particles!"
So that was it.
Raynor sighed, putting the bottle back under the counter as he sat down next to Matt at the disused bar, which had been left abandoned since Cooper had 'left' them.
From his own experience with the bottle, Raynor knew that confronting Matt directly would only make the problem worse.
But God-dammit, Matt had dealt with Raynor's own alcoholism for four years, and Raynor would be damned to the same hell as Mengsk and the Confederacy if he didn't own Matt a debt for that.
"Matt, you know that Governor Maxwell proposed the fleet's movements. We all agreed that it one Battlecruiser would be enough to defend Shanxi." Raynor replied quietly. "If anything, it's my fault for not insistin' that we leave more cruisers here."
"Redoubtable… six-thousan', four hun'erd and fifty six…" Matt murmured under his breath. "Valiant… eight-thousand and twenty four…"
"Matt, let it go…" Raynor said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You'll just burn yourself up if you keep doin' this."
"I could have jumped farther out - If I'd tac-jumped farther away after dropping off Benning's men, then I could've taken out that fleet without losing those men!"
"And in that time, the birds could'a bombed our men into the ground," Raynor argued. "If the birds had a choice between chasing your ships around or providin' orbital support for the ground troops, then you know they would've destroyed our base, then fled to FTL before your ships could blast 'em."
Raynor patted Matt on the back, but his hand froze as Matt spoke again.
"…You didn't see the report… did you Jim?"
Raynor averted his eyes. He didn't respond.
"One. Hundred. Thousand." Matt ground out, painstakingly enunciating every syllable. "They're still combing through the rubble. You know that number is only going to climb."
For a moment, Raynor thought about the uncounted billions dead in the numerous wars that had plagued the Koprulu Sector.
Statistically, Raynor should be used to such horror. He should shrug off the relatively small losses as acceptable casualties.
Raynor clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as he remembered the colonists from Mar Sara devoured by the alien zerg, the rebels on Antiga gunned down by the uncaring Confederates, and all the people killed when Mengsk had lure the damned zerg to Tarsonis to annihilation.
All the bodies he'd seen over the years, burned into his memory – all the screams he'd heard, over the comm. or in person – all the dead men, women, and children who had lost their lives…
And just when they had thought theywere safe, just when everything was looking good, another group of alien bastards just had to attack.
"If we don't do somethin', Matt, then we're gonna see a whole lot more death." Raynor muttered to his friend. "We got work to do, Matt. Let's get to it."
Xxxx
"I. Can't. Eat. That." Kuril growled, glaring at the white-coated woman.
The woman replied in her language, speaking with the same calm tone that Asari doctors did. She gestured at the plate of warm food, then took an exaggerated bite, as if to show that the food wasn't poisoned.
"For. The. Last. Time." Kuril snarled. "I. Can't. Eat. That."
For added effect, he mimed retching, like he had seen a Terran do, but the woman merely looked confused behind her glasses.
Kuril sighed, shrugging his shoulders to show the Terrans that he was tired of this, rattling his restraints as he did.
The woman nodded once, jabbered some more words, and stood up. She moved away from the thin metal table and quickly crossed the small spartan cell.
Depressing a small button and reciting some code, the door unlocked with a pneumatic hiss while the doctor shook her head, causing the matt of black fur on her head to bob back and forth.
"Spirits, doctor." Kuril told her quietly, his words soft. "If you don't figure this out soon, then my men are going to starve. Please, for their sakes, figure it out."
The doctor looked back at the restrained, her expressions curious, but it was clear to Kuril that she didn't understand.
The woman spoke again, her words unintelligible to Kuril. If only he still had his omni-tool and the rudimentary translation software that Commander Victus had designed, then maybe he could tell the Terrans about the difference in their respective biology.
Or was it physiology? Kuril used to remember, but after two days of starvation, he was staring to get a little light-headed.
"You know, this would all be easier if you could understand me." Kuril muttered tiredly.
The woman didn't respond, choosing instead to close the door.
Kuril sighed once more, as he recalled the impossible sight of that gigantic Terran cruiser landing outside of his command center at the starport.
Well, at least the Terrans had accepted his surrender. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if the Terrans had killed his men. He thanked the Spirits the Terrans had some honor.
The door hissed again, and Kuril looked up to see another Terran entering the room.
This one was male, and clad in a set of faded blue cloth pants, a dirty white shirt, and a tattered dark leather vest. His face was worn, and his dark fur was fading into grey in some spots. The man had a hard, determined look in his eyes, and he stared straight back at Kuril without any hint of fear.
The thin metal chair screeched against the ground as the Terran pulled it back. After he sat down, the Terran slowly ran his eyes over Kuril's features.
"I know I'm not much to look at, but that's more your fault than mine." Kuril replied quietly, shifting around as much as his restraints let him and shrugging, showing off the ill-fitting clothes the Terrans had given him streching across his chest and hanging loose around his waist.
The Terran seemed to understand, because he chuckled just like an asari did.
"Raynor," the Terran said, pointing at himself. "Ray-nor."
Then he pointed at Kuril.
"Kuril," he said, understanding what this 'Raynor' wanted. "Ku-ril."
The Terran grinned, and Kuril once again noted just how similar these Terrans were to the asari. So far, asari gestures seemed to match up, but he didn't know if he could rely on those similarities to properly judge Raynor's mood.
Then his brain processed what Raynor had said, and he realized that he was talking to.
"Jim… Ray-nor?" Kuril questioned, slowly enunciating the syllables.
Raynor's eyes widened, and he grinned again.
"Jim Raynor," the Terran repeated, nodding.
"I heard you on the broadcast." Kuril mentioned casually, though he knew that Raynor wouldn't understand.
Sure enough, Raynor's grin went out, and he shook his head.
"Damn." Kuril grunted.
"Damn."
Kuril sat there awkwardly for a moment, before his stomach started aching again.
Wincing at the pain, Kuril stared directly into Raynor's eyes, then flicked his gaze down towards his shackled talons.
Raynor looked confused for a moment, then comprehension dawned.
"No." Raynor denied, shaking his head.
Kuril stared into Raynor's eyes again, then deliberately blinked once. Then he glanced down to his right talon.
Raynor looked at him for a few seconds, his eyes narrowed.
Then Raynor spoke, loudly and clearly. His gazes shifted over to the mirror on the wall, and Kuril somehow knew that Raynor wasn't talking to him.
With a click and a hiss, the door in the back opened up again. Another human entered the room, with darker skin, bulkier muscles, and long braided fur.
Raynor twisted in his seat, glancing over his shoulder as he greeted the other Terran. The two conversed openly, and after a minute, the newcomer nodded once, then took up position behind Kuril.
Neither of the Terrans moved towards his shackles, but when Kuril glanced back at Raynor, the Terran merely held up a single finger, which was a gesture that Kuril had never seen before.
With a pneumatic hiss, the bolts holding the restraint clamps on his right arm loosened, and Kuril could move his arm again.
But Kuril still couldn't communicate, since he doubted that Terrans understood turian signal-code.
After stretching his arm for a moment to get the kinks out, he tapped on the table, miming the act of drawing something with a single talon.
Without another word, Raynor plucked a metal stylus from his pocket and placed it in front of Kuril.
It took Kuril a few moments to adequately grasp and understand the stylus, with one end letting out some kind of ink when pressed against the table.
Slowly, Kuril meticulously traced a zigzagging line on the table, cursing as the stylus slipped through his talons.
Raynor grabbed the stylus, and moved to place it back in his pocket, when Kuril held up a single talon, like he'd seen Raynor do earlier, to tell him to wait.
Slowly, with narrowed eyes, Raynor pushed the stylus back over to Kuril. After he'd picked it back up, Kuril started drawing an identical line, zigzagging back and forth across the first line.
Raynor leaned forward, one of the odd lines of fur over his eyes quirking upwards.
"De en ay," Raynor said, tapping the ink figure.
Kuril didn't know what that meant, but he nodded anyway.
Slowly, Kuril began drawing again, gaining speed and dexterity as he grew accustomed to the stylus's odd cylindrical shape.
After finishing, he dropped the stylus, tapped the drawing once more, then pulled is arm back.
Raynor stood up and walked over to Kuril's side of the table, speaking quickly to the other human as he did.
Kuril took a moment to appreciate the rough sketch he'd created. On one side, there was the familiar caricature of a turian, like what a child would draw. A single line connected the figure to one half of the 'DNA' strand, and on the other side, there was a crude stick figure of a human, touching the other half.
He may not be an artist, but Kuril was pretty damn proud of that sketch.
Another hiss, and the door to the outside opened again, admitting the female doctor in the white lab coat. The doctor talked excitedly with Raynor, pointing at Kuril's sketch and gesturing with her hands.
"I wish I could understand what you're saying." Kuril told the doctor honestly, shrugging. "Spirits, I wish you could understand what I'm saying."
"I am afraid that my friends are not capable of understanding your language," boomed a loud voice.
The voice seemed to echo all over the room, as if it had come from a set of hidden speakers in the ceiling.
"Who's there?" Kuril demanded, twisting his head frantically to see who was speaking.
All three of the Terrans had stopped their chattering, and were all looking towards the doorway.
Raynor spoke, but he didn't look at either of the two Terrans.
"Yes, James Raynor. I am indeed in communication with General Kuril," boomed the voice again, making Kuril wince at the sheer volume. "He is aggravated that he cannot converse with you."
Kuril's mandibles dropped down, as his eyes widened in shock. He tried to speak, but the words refused to come out.
Sluggishly, Kuril turned to look at the door of his cell, which hadn't closed when the female doctor had entered.
A grey hand reached past the darkness of the door and grasped the other side.
Kuril's horrified eyes stared at the hand, as his mind noted just how long those fingers were.
"What are you?" Kuril demanded, as another figure entered the cell, its high-crowned grey head barely passing underneath the door.
The shadows dispersed as it entered the room with booming steps, revealing the alien in all its bizarre magnificence.
Its golden armor was odd, almost archaic looking, with what appeared to be blue gems inlaid in symmetrical grooves in his armor.
Its face was long, more akin to a Turian's than to a Terran's short face, and its eyes were a blazing blue, as if on fire.
But what terrified Kuril the most was the fact that it had no mouth, and was somehow speaking.
"Do not be afraid, General Kuril, for I mean you no harm," the voice boomed again, while the figure bowed formally at the waist.
Kuril stared, dumbstruck, at the alien being before him.
"Who are you?" Kuril whispered.
"I am Artanis, Hierarch of the Protoss."
The cantina was almost abandoned.
Quietly, he lifted his glass, draining the last of the whiskey. As he set the glass back down on the counter, he fumbled for another bottle.
The pleasant fog of alcohol messed with his arm, or maybe his sight, and the next thing he knew, he was reaching for the bottle of whiskey as it plummeted down to the deck.
For a moment, the bottle seemed to move in slow-motion, as it sluggishly dropped to the metal-plated deck.
Then it stopped.
"Care to tell me why you're drinking on my ship?"
He looked up at the eyes of his good friend, and tried to laugh. It came out as a choked, hiccup-like sound.
"Dammit, you're supposed to be setting an example for the men," his good friend snapped.
"Leave me alone, Jim!" Matt replied angrily, reaching for the bottle.
"What if the damn birds come back, Matt?" Raynor roared furiously. "If you're too damn drunk to command the battle, we're dead!"
"You don't understand, Jim!" Matt shouted back. "S'all my fault! If I'd lef' more ships, Valiant wouldn' be a cripple, and the Redoubtable wouldn' be a floating cloud of particles!"
So that was it.
Raynor sighed, putting the bottle back under the counter as he sat down next to Matt at the disused bar, which had been left abandoned since Cooper had 'left' them.
From his own experience with the bottle, Raynor knew that confronting Matt directly would only make the problem worse.
But God-dammit, Matt had dealt with Raynor's own alcoholism for four years, and Raynor would be damned to the same hell as Mengsk and the Confederacy if he didn't own Matt a debt for that.
"Matt, you know that Governor Maxwell proposed the fleet's movements. We all agreed that it one Battlecruiser would be enough to defend Shanxi." Raynor replied quietly. "If anything, it's my fault for not insistin' that we leave more cruisers here."
"Redoubtable… six-thousan', four hun'erd and fifty six…" Matt murmured under his breath. "Valiant… eight-thousand and twenty four…"
"Matt, let it go…" Raynor said softly, laying a hand on his shoulder. "You'll just burn yourself up if you keep doin' this."
"I could have jumped farther out - If I'd tac-jumped farther away after dropping off Benning's men, then I could've taken out that fleet without losing those men!"
"And in that time, the birds could'a bombed our men into the ground," Raynor argued. "If the birds had a choice between chasing your ships around or providin' orbital support for the ground troops, then you know they would've destroyed our base, then fled to FTL before your ships could blast 'em."
Raynor patted Matt on the back, but his hand froze as Matt spoke again.
"…You didn't see the report… did you Jim?"
Raynor averted his eyes. He didn't respond.
"One. Hundred. Thousand." Matt ground out, painstakingly enunciating every syllable. "They're still combing through the rubble. You know that number is only going to climb."
For a moment, Raynor thought about the uncounted billions dead in the numerous wars that had plagued the Koprulu Sector.
Statistically, Raynor should be used to such horror. He should shrug off the relatively small losses as acceptable casualties.
Raynor clenched his fists, gritting his teeth as he remembered the colonists from Mar Sara devoured by the alien zerg, the rebels on Antiga gunned down by the uncaring Confederates, and all the people killed when Mengsk had lure the damned zerg to Tarsonis to annihilation.
All the bodies he'd seen over the years, burned into his memory – all the screams he'd heard, over the comm. or in person – all the dead men, women, and children who had lost their lives…
And just when they had thought theywere safe, just when everything was looking good, another group of alien bastards just had to attack.
"If we don't do somethin', Matt, then we're gonna see a whole lot more death." Raynor muttered to his friend. "We got work to do, Matt. Let's get to it."
Xxxx
"I. Can't. Eat. That." Kuril growled, glaring at the white-coated woman.
The woman replied in her language, speaking with the same calm tone that Asari doctors did. She gestured at the plate of warm food, then took an exaggerated bite, as if to show that the food wasn't poisoned.
"For. The. Last. Time." Kuril snarled. "I. Can't. Eat. That."
For added effect, he mimed retching, like he had seen a Terran do, but the woman merely looked confused behind her glasses.
Kuril sighed, shrugging his shoulders to show the Terrans that he was tired of this, rattling his restraints as he did.
The woman nodded once, jabbered some more words, and stood up. She moved away from the thin metal table and quickly crossed the small spartan cell.
Depressing a small button and reciting some code, the door unlocked with a pneumatic hiss while the doctor shook her head, causing the matt of black fur on her head to bob back and forth.
"Spirits, doctor." Kuril told her quietly, his words soft. "If you don't figure this out soon, then my men are going to starve. Please, for their sakes, figure it out."
The doctor looked back at the restrained, her expressions curious, but it was clear to Kuril that she didn't understand.
The woman spoke again, her words unintelligible to Kuril. If only he still had his omni-tool and the rudimentary translation software that Commander Victus had designed, then maybe he could tell the Terrans about the difference in their respective biology.
Or was it physiology? Kuril used to remember, but after two days of starvation, he was staring to get a little light-headed.
"You know, this would all be easier if you could understand me." Kuril muttered tiredly.
The woman didn't respond, choosing instead to close the door.
Kuril sighed once more, as he recalled the impossible sight of that gigantic Terran cruiser landing outside of his command center at the starport.
Well, at least the Terrans had accepted his surrender. He didn't even want to think about what would have happened if the Terrans had killed his men. He thanked the Spirits the Terrans had some honor.
The door hissed again, and Kuril looked up to see another Terran entering the room.
This one was male, and clad in a set of faded blue cloth pants, a dirty white shirt, and a tattered dark leather vest. His face was worn, and his dark fur was fading into grey in some spots. The man had a hard, determined look in his eyes, and he stared straight back at Kuril without any hint of fear.
The thin metal chair screeched against the ground as the Terran pulled it back. After he sat down, the Terran slowly ran his eyes over Kuril's features.
"I know I'm not much to look at, but that's more your fault than mine." Kuril replied quietly, shifting around as much as his restraints let him and shrugging, showing off the ill-fitting clothes the Terrans had given him streching across his chest and hanging loose around his waist.
The Terran seemed to understand, because he chuckled just like an asari did.
"Raynor," the Terran said, pointing at himself. "Ray-nor."
Then he pointed at Kuril.
"Kuril," he said, understanding what this 'Raynor' wanted. "Ku-ril."
The Terran grinned, and Kuril once again noted just how similar these Terrans were to the asari. So far, asari gestures seemed to match up, but he didn't know if he could rely on those similarities to properly judge Raynor's mood.
Then his brain processed what Raynor had said, and he realized that he was talking to.
"Jim… Ray-nor?" Kuril questioned, slowly enunciating the syllables.
Raynor's eyes widened, and he grinned again.
"Jim Raynor," the Terran repeated, nodding.
"I heard you on the broadcast." Kuril mentioned casually, though he knew that Raynor wouldn't understand.
Sure enough, Raynor's grin went out, and he shook his head.
"Damn." Kuril grunted.
"Damn."
Kuril sat there awkwardly for a moment, before his stomach started aching again.
Wincing at the pain, Kuril stared directly into Raynor's eyes, then flicked his gaze down towards his shackled talons.
Raynor looked confused for a moment, then comprehension dawned.
"No." Raynor denied, shaking his head.
Kuril stared into Raynor's eyes again, then deliberately blinked once. Then he glanced down to his right talon.
Raynor looked at him for a few seconds, his eyes narrowed.
Then Raynor spoke, loudly and clearly. His gazes shifted over to the mirror on the wall, and Kuril somehow knew that Raynor wasn't talking to him.
With a click and a hiss, the door in the back opened up again. Another human entered the room, with darker skin, bulkier muscles, and long braided fur.
Raynor twisted in his seat, glancing over his shoulder as he greeted the other Terran. The two conversed openly, and after a minute, the newcomer nodded once, then took up position behind Kuril.
Neither of the Terrans moved towards his shackles, but when Kuril glanced back at Raynor, the Terran merely held up a single finger, which was a gesture that Kuril had never seen before.
With a pneumatic hiss, the bolts holding the restraint clamps on his right arm loosened, and Kuril could move his arm again.
But Kuril still couldn't communicate, since he doubted that Terrans understood turian signal-code.
After stretching his arm for a moment to get the kinks out, he tapped on the table, miming the act of drawing something with a single talon.
Without another word, Raynor plucked a metal stylus from his pocket and placed it in front of Kuril.
It took Kuril a few moments to adequately grasp and understand the stylus, with one end letting out some kind of ink when pressed against the table.
Slowly, Kuril meticulously traced a zigzagging line on the table, cursing as the stylus slipped through his talons.
Raynor grabbed the stylus, and moved to place it back in his pocket, when Kuril held up a single talon, like he'd seen Raynor do earlier, to tell him to wait.
Slowly, with narrowed eyes, Raynor pushed the stylus back over to Kuril. After he'd picked it back up, Kuril started drawing an identical line, zigzagging back and forth across the first line.
Raynor leaned forward, one of the odd lines of fur over his eyes quirking upwards.
"De en ay," Raynor said, tapping the ink figure.
Kuril didn't know what that meant, but he nodded anyway.
Slowly, Kuril began drawing again, gaining speed and dexterity as he grew accustomed to the stylus's odd cylindrical shape.
After finishing, he dropped the stylus, tapped the drawing once more, then pulled is arm back.
Raynor stood up and walked over to Kuril's side of the table, speaking quickly to the other human as he did.
Kuril took a moment to appreciate the rough sketch he'd created. On one side, there was the familiar caricature of a turian, like what a child would draw. A single line connected the figure to one half of the 'DNA' strand, and on the other side, there was a crude stick figure of a human, touching the other half.
He may not be an artist, but Kuril was pretty damn proud of that sketch.
Another hiss, and the door to the outside opened again, admitting the female doctor in the white lab coat. The doctor talked excitedly with Raynor, pointing at Kuril's sketch and gesturing with her hands.
"I wish I could understand what you're saying." Kuril told the doctor honestly, shrugging. "Spirits, I wish you could understand what I'm saying."
"I am afraid that my friends are not capable of understanding your language," boomed a loud voice.
The voice seemed to echo all over the room, as if it had come from a set of hidden speakers in the ceiling.
"Who's there?" Kuril demanded, twisting his head frantically to see who was speaking.
All three of the Terrans had stopped their chattering, and were all looking towards the doorway.
Raynor spoke, but he didn't look at either of the two Terrans.
"Yes, James Raynor. I am indeed in communication with General Kuril," boomed the voice again, making Kuril wince at the sheer volume. "He is aggravated that he cannot converse with you."
Kuril's mandibles dropped down, as his eyes widened in shock. He tried to speak, but the words refused to come out.
Sluggishly, Kuril turned to look at the door of his cell, which hadn't closed when the female doctor had entered.
A grey hand reached past the darkness of the door and grasped the other side.
Kuril's horrified eyes stared at the hand, as his mind noted just how long those fingers were.
"What are you?" Kuril demanded, as another figure entered the cell, its high-crowned grey head barely passing underneath the door.
The shadows dispersed as it entered the room with booming steps, revealing the alien in all its bizarre magnificence.
Its golden armor was odd, almost archaic looking, with what appeared to be blue gems inlaid in symmetrical grooves in his armor.
Its face was long, more akin to a Turian's than to a Terran's short face, and its eyes were a blazing blue, as if on fire.
But what terrified Kuril the most was the fact that it had no mouth, and was somehow speaking.
"Do not be afraid, General Kuril, for I mean you no harm," the voice boomed again, while the figure bowed formally at the waist.
Kuril stared, dumbstruck, at the alien being before him.
"Who are you?" Kuril whispered.
"I am Artanis, Hierarch of the Protoss."
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Well the tables have turned on Matt and Raynor. Hopefully Raynor will be able to get Matt back in the saddle as he doesn't want another man to go down the road he has traveled.
Realistic issues with the Turians and what do you know some help was brought in. Looks like Raynor called in a major favor if Artanis himself decided to drop by.
Realistic issues with the Turians and what do you know some help was brought in. Looks like Raynor called in a major favor if Artanis himself decided to drop by.
cokerpilot
Here comes the rain.
"I am Artanis, Hierarch of the Protoss."
....
Fuck.
....
Fuck.
- Location
- Oblivion
Or the third and likely best option a small Protoss colony decided to get the hell out of dodge along with Raynor.Auks said:
Oh this is going to get interesting.
Also nothing says 'Crap' like finding out the minor colony you attacked has allies.
Edit: Also props for giving respect for how jawdroppingly stupid huge Protoss are. I mean they're basically Elcor massed things, that move like bipedal psychic kung-fu tigers.
Honestly there is a reason they can get away with melee combat in a futuristic setting.
Also nothing says 'Crap' like finding out the minor colony you attacked has allies.
Edit: Also props for giving respect for how jawdroppingly stupid huge Protoss are. I mean they're basically Elcor massed things, that move like bipedal psychic kung-fu tigers.
Honestly there is a reason they can get away with melee combat in a futuristic setting.
Erm... Raynor has left Korprulu behind by Terran FTL standards, How bloody fast do you think the Protoss are?Vaermina said:
Raynor may simply have called his Protoss buddies for all i know about Protoss FTL speeds.
But yeah, when your population is dropping you may want to have bodies far away from the fighting and he is here to make sure they are safe.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Even more if the Asari diplomats show up in orbit and Artanis's personal ride is still there or even just a few carriers. Come to think of it, we know how large human battleships are, was there any notion of how big carriers and motherships were?Mizuki_Stone said:
Human psychics occasionally have freak powerhouses that blow 99.9% of protoss out of the water.FourZeroesGo! said:
That said, not a single one of them (outside of perhaps Kerrigan, and honestly she's about as human as Medusa), has anything close to the raw experience any given protoss is going to have in terms of telepathic communication. It could be that we 'muddy things up' with how our brains process languages, rather then just transmitting 'pure' thought.
Both the Zerg and the Protoss travel pretty far out of the sector, hell, the entire Heart of the Swarm Zerus missions are outside of it.Ahra said: