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Thread: A fanfiction I've been writing.

  1. #1
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    Jun 2009

    Default A fanfiction I've been writing.

    I sent in an entry to the Blizzard creative writing contest held back in April (and didn't win), and despite how in retrospect that I thought my entry was utter crap, I remembered how much fun I had writing it and decided to make another one. Its still in progress though. Anyhoo, here goes.

    Title is "Korhalian Holdout" and the story takes place shortly after "Brood War." Some of the foreign film buffs might catch-on that one of the scenes here borrows from the French flick "La Femme Nikita (which, if you havn't watched, I wholeheartedly recommend).


    Lieutenant Junior Grade Laure de Marais hunched over the body of the dead marine. It had been nearly a month since the Dominion counterattack, a month since her unit, the 3rd Operational Detachment of the 5th Special Forces Group, UED Expeditionary force, had been wiped out. Laure had long since finished the last of her allotted MRE’s. They were meant to feed a soldier for 10 days, but even with careful rationing, Laure could only manage two weeks.
    Laure was a tall and beautiful young woman, with an elegant and svelte figure to boot. Her rank afforded her some cosmetic liberties, as her blonde hair reached to her hips, much too long for regulations. Even the blistering heat and stinging sands of Korhal failed to conceal her exquisiteness.
    As the sands of the barren deserts of Korhal IV kicked up from the wind, Laure began to scrounge for what she could; she wasn’t expecting much, not from a run of the mill Dominion patrol. She managed to find two and a half snack bars (one had already sustained a bite), along with spare 8mm gauss rounds for her BOSUN FN92 rifle. It was a small cause for celebration for the fatigued and starving young woman, but Laure took what she could get.
    Merde…” Laure said to herself quietly. The blood and brain matter from the Marine was still splattered across her polymer suit. “I really have to start getting tidy about this.” She thought as she started on her way.

    Shot down Wraiths and Protoss Scouts were still strewn across the desert wastes, a testament to what had transpired a month ago. Laure had taken shelter underneath the wings of one of the Wraiths, and for good measure, she used cloth blankets to to shield herself from sandstorms. Laure had already weakened herself from long-range telepathy scans, trying to reach out to any UED forces to come to her aid. From what she gathered, the UED forces had already withdrawn, however, she learned later that it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing…
    Korhal was a place of wonder for the young woman, who had only known the harbors of La Rochelle and the cold, steel walls of “The Academy.” The deserts were hostile to her presence, as if Laure was unwanted. Laure had to figure out what to do: Surrender to the Dominion? Or, try to get to blend in with the local civvies. For now, she had to get by. She closed her eyes and started to dream. She could only do as much.
    It’s on the other side of life.


    It’s a year of confidence for young girls and boys, on the cusp of adulthood. But the young girl merely woke staring at a white, steel ceiling. As she got up, her bare feet retreated for a moment as they touched the cold linoleum floor. A large mirror was on the opposite wall and a chair at the foot of the cot Laure was on. The young Laure began hearing voices, a conversation, but no one was in the small, cell-like room. They must be from the outside. Laure could hear them as if they were being said into her ear, but the words were in fragments.
    “She’s important… PA tests indicate she’s a Psi index 10 telekinetic… success is crucial to the future of the program… of course she doesn’t have a choice… but its all up to how she adjusts to conditioning… don’t let sentiments get in the way, Nicolas… if not, she’ll get ‘recycled’… no reason she still can’t be useful… Look, she’s up… well, lets give her the welcoming act…”
    Soon after the conversation was done, a man in black opened the door and walked in. He was a faintly handsome and sported a slight shadow, and while not incredibly well built, his walk told of immense professionalism. He sat down on the chair and smiled at Laure.
    Bonjour.” He said.
    Laure merely stared at him in silent bewilderment. She could only remember a limousine pulling up beside her as she was walking home from school before a syringe of tranquilizer was plunged into her neck.
    Comment vous appelez?” The man asked.
    de Marais, monsieur, Laure de Marais.” Laure stammered.
    C’est joli nom.” The man said. “Vous pouvez parler anglais?”
    Oui, monsieur, some.”
    “Good.” The man said, “I apologize, its for my employers.” The man pulled out an envelope from his jacket and began reading the contents aloud. “Born on January 20, 2477 in La Rochelle, France…. Father, Alain de Marais, was a foreman at the naval shipyards of Scapa Flow, England… mother, Marie-Edwige, was a UPL bureaucrat in Paris… Mother died on May 1st of 2484 in an automobile accident… five months pregnant… fetus didn’t survive… Father remained a single parent… neighbors began complaining of disturbances in the de Marais household… The subject, one Laure de Marais, is reported to be introverted and withdrawn after death of mother… doctors note bruises and clear indications of trauma during physical check-ups… subject later commits suicide on 2490… interned at Chatelaillon-Plage, row 7, plot 28…”
    Laure looked away as her history was read to her.
    “We love cases with family troubles, its always easy to make them disappear.” The man said.
    “So who are you then?” Laure asked.
    “Bordenave. Nicolas Bordenave.” The man replied. “But the important thing is that I work for people who have taken a great interest in your… abilities.” Nicolas hesitated with the last word. “You may or may not have already discovered them.”
    “Is that why I could hear you, even when you weren’t in the room?” Laure asked.
    “That’s one of them, yes.”
    Laure looked at the ceiling again, feigning disinterest.
    “So what happens now.” She asked.
    “Training. You’ll soon meet other children like you, so you won’t be alone.” Nicolas replied. “But understand that even you are very special among them.”
    “Train to do what?”
    Nicolas smiled again. “To serve Earth.”
    “And what if I don’t want to?”
    Nicolas then frowned. “Row 7, plot 28.” He merely replied. “Reveille is at 0500 hours tomorrow.” He said as he walked out.


    Laure woke up as she began picking out the thoughts of a distant Dominion patrol. One of the things that were hard for psychics was shutting out the thoughts of others unconsciously. She cloaked and started on her way. No sooner than she had she happened upon a squad of Marines, evidently from the same unit as the Marine she had killed the other night.
    “This is a waste of time, El-tee.” One of the Marines moaned. “Maybe he got lost in a sandstorm and his radio got busted up.”
    “A whole night is enough time to at least link-up with another unit.” The leader said.
    “Well, maybe he did decide to stay with another Company for the night. Thought of that Lieutenant?” Another Marine said.
    “Then why didn’t he report it to battalion?” The lieutenant in charge asked.
    “Well, I wouldn’t want to take my chances with the First-Sergeant explaining why I was out past curfew.” Another Marine joked.
    The Lieutenant stopped. “Now listen here,” he said sternly, “a missing man might not mean much to but you take that attitude in my platoon and you can help yourself to a vacation in your own eight-by-five cell, ‘cos if you can’t look after your own like brothers then you’s just another mouth for me to feed as far as I’m concerned.”
    “Alright, alright…” he Marine said, “Madre de Dios, let’s just find the bastard and get back to battalion before leave’s over.
    As the Marines walked away, Laure thought to herself. “Malédiction, this complicates things,” as she silently skulked away.


    Reveille sounded at 0500 hours on the dot. The thumping sound of boots could be heard from the hallway outside of Laure’s cell. Yet she refused to get up, pulling the sheets of the bed over her head.
    Five minutes later, Nicolas walked into the cell with an escort of men in combat fatigues.
    Salut.” Nicolas said.
    No answer.
    “Petite salope.” Nicolas said quietly as he smiled.
    Comment?” Laure said, the remark reminded her of her father. Nicolas was glad that she responded to that.
    “Good to see that you’re awake, now, its time for training.”
    “I don’t want to.” Laure said. “Kill me if you want, Je m’en fiche, vraiment.”
    Nicolas just sighed and said something to the guards, but Laure couldn’t make it out. The guards dragged her out of bed without a struggle.
    “Make sure the water’s all the way cold.” One of the guards said to the other.
    “Now, ma chérie, we’re just going to give you a nice shower.” Nicolas said.
    Laure opened her eyes and looked up to see the showerhead, just as the guards turned on the water.
    Her bloodcurdling scream could be heard throughout the barracks as the freezing water sprayed against her.


    Laure de Marais continued on her way. Scrounging for whatever food and ammunition she could find. No longer was she the proud soldier that had served as the vanguard of the UED since the occupation of the Korhalian capital, Augustgrad, scores of successful missions and nearly a thousand confirmed kills. Ragged and demoralized, she scavenged from the corpses that filled the desert wasteland. She managed to find some rations on one of the dead Marines from the battle nearly a month ago. Starved, she devoured it immediately. It tasted foul, but it was a three-course feast after going days with barely any food.

    Two klicks away, the patrol had found their lost comrade.
    “Well, crap.” One of the Marines said as the squad circled around the corpse. “Guess we can kiss a weekend of leave good-bye.
    “Radio it in Lance.” The lieutenant ordered. “Get Battalion on the horn and tell ‘em to put Alpha Company on alert.”
    “You sure about that, El-tee?” The Marine asked. “Guy must have pissed-off by now…”
    “There’s a chance that the bastard’s still here, Corporal…” the Lieutenant said grimly, “and a chance is good enough for me.”
    “A single UED holdout ain’t something to get Battalion all excited up, sir.”
    “Then if you have no problems hunting down a lone straggler, we’ll find the bastard on our own.” The Lieutenant said. “I trust no one else here has any objections.”
    Everyone nodded, but one of the Marines looked pensive.
    “Something wrong, Sergeant Mendez?” The Lieutenant asked.
    “I dunno, sir, looking at ol’ Johnny here, something about this ain’t right.” The Marine answered.
    “What are you saying?”
    “What I’m saying is, what the hell could have made his head come apart like a soup can. Couldn’t have just been a regular gauss spike. Helmet wouldn’t still be all perfect-like.”
    “Just stay focused, Sergeant.” The Lieutenant said. “We’ll crucify the bastard that did this.” and patted Mendez on the shoulder.

  2. #2

    Default Re: A fanfiction I've been writing.

    stopped reading at
    Lieutenant Junior Grade Laure de Marais hunched over the body of the dead marine. It had been nearly a month since the Dominion counterattack, a month since her unit
    at first i didnt bother reading the intro. so i jumped right into the story. i was like thats a pretty gay name for a dude. then it turned it out to be a chick. then i was like pfff. every action movie or book ive read with the chick being the main character has sucked really bad for me so far. except kill bill.

    but good job anyway. but blizzard is pretty much pretending the UED thing never happened. i think chris metzen actually regretted it on video at one of the blizzcon lore panels. its pretty much like what capcom is doing with street fighter 3. pretending it never happened and none of the characters making it to street fighter IV
    Last edited by warrior6; 06-13-2009 at 11:38 AM.

  3. #3

    Default Re: A fanfiction I've been writing.

    I'm pretty sure I mentioned this to you on another forum, but could you put spaces between quotes? That'll make it much easier to read.

    As in
    “Salut.” Nicolas said.
    No answer.
    “Petite salope.” Nicolas said quietly as he smiled.
    “Comment?” Laure said, the remark reminded her of her father. Nicolas was glad that she responded to that.
    “Good to see that you’re awake, now, its time for training.”

    “Salut.” Nicolas said.

    No answer.

    “Petite salope.” Nicolas said quietly as he smiled.

    “Comment?” Laure said, the remark reminded her of her father. Nicolas was glad that she responded to that.

    “Good to see that you’re awake, now, its time for training.”
    StarCraft wiki; a complete and referenced database on the StarCraft game series, StarCraft II, Lore, Characters and Gameplay, and member of the StarCraft II Fansite Program.

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  4. #4
    Pandonetho's Avatar SC:L Addict
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    May 2009

    Default Re: A fanfiction I've been writing.

    but good job anyway. but blizzard is pretty much pretending the UED thing never happened. i think chris metzen actually regretted it on video at one of the blizzcon lore panels. its pretty much like what capcom is doing with street fighter 3. pretending it never happened and none of the characters making it to street fighter IV
    What are you talking about?

    I think they said they regretted the Stukov ressurrection specifically.

  5. #5
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    Jun 2009

    Default Re: A fanfiction I've been writing.

    Another part I added, enjoy:


    Columns of young men and women were lined up in a monumental in the barracks. Many of the children stood wide-eyed and frightened as an imposing and powerful looking man in olive-drab fatigues paced back and forth. A few other men and women stood at attention from a distance, accompanying them were others in formal wear; Nicolas was one of them. Laure was still soaking wet as she walked in, her fatigues clung tightly to her skin; it gave some of the despondent cadets something to snicker to themselves about. She was visibly infuriated, and it was obvious that she wasn’t quivering because she was cold.

    Just as the last of the cadets fell in, the gruff man began his diatribe.
    “My name is Captain Jonathan C. Bogart, I’ll be your training supervisor here at ‘The Academy’” He started briskly. “First of all I’d like to say to you all that I think the idea of training a bunch of snot-nosed bed-wetters to fight is a joke. Secondly, I think training the sorry-looking bunch of you is an even bigger joke.” He glared at every single cadet before him. “And lastly, I think the idea that you’re all supposed to be the best humanity has to offer is the biggest joke of all.”
    The cadets were still as confused as ever as the Captain paused.
    “Just understand that the powers that be, in all their infinite wisdom, have decided that the “Psionic-infantry corps” is an even worthier investment in this man’s army than a new-line of stealth fighters.” He continued. “But that don’t mean I have to like their decision!” he barked.
    It was then that Laure had noticed the boy next to her. He was a handsome young man with his chin high in the air in defiance. The Captain, however, noticed him to.
    “What’s your name, maggot?!” The Captain demanded.
    The boy sneered at the Captain, “Michael Toseland, sir.” He replied.
    The Captain looked like he was on the edge of exploding. “Do I look pampered to you, son?” he asked.
    The boy looked at him again and said “No, sir.” But it sounded more like he was saying: “Get out of my face.”
    Faster than even a telepath could react, the Captain swiftly punched Michael in the gut, sending him onto the floor… “Then do not call me ‘sir!’” The Captain bellowed, “I work for a living, maggot! You will call me ‘Captain,’ or ‘Captain Bogart,’ do you understand?!’”
    Michael was vomiting now and managed to say “Yes, Captain!” in between gagging fits.
    “Outstanding…” The Captain said, the young Laure, who was still dripping wet, now caught his attention. “Seems you’re out of uniform, cadet.” The Bogart observed.
    “Je… Je suis desolée…” Laure stammered.
    “Hrmmm…” Captain Bogart said. “Lieutenant Augsburg!”
    One of the men in fatigues marched over next to the Captain, “Achtung!”
    “Which one is this?” The Captain asked.
    Jawohl, Herr Hauptmann!” The Lieutenant Augsburg said and glanced at a clipboard “Cadet Laure de Marais, a PI-10 telekinetic.”
    “That so?” the Captain huffed as he stared down at the young girl. “Regardless, she will not receive special treatment, not on my watch!” He yelled. But Laure continued to look at the boy next to her who was still gagging on the floor. Their eyes met, and it was obvious the two took an immediate liking to each other.


    Night fell again on Korhal. Laure began wandering the wastelands, trying to find a peace of respite. She had already had her fill of scavenged rations, but she soon fell victim to another craving.
    She came across another dead Marine in the shadow of a rocky fixture and began emptying his belt pouches. She was in luck; a few cigarettes left in a packet. She opened her hand and let a small blue flame form in her hand and lit one of the cigarettes with it.

    “Uh-oh…” One of the Marines said.
    “What is it now, Private?” Sergeant Mendez said. The squad had split into two fire-teams, the Lieutenant leading the other.
    “Gotta go to the little boy’s room.” The Marine replied.
    “For once, just use the damn waste disposal system in your suit, Jameson.” Another Marine said.
    “What can I say, Beckett?” Jameson said “It just don’t feel right to me.”
    “If you gotta do it, do it where we can see you.” Sergeant Mendez said. “I don’t want to start losing people once a sandstorm sets in.”
    “Now that’s even worse.” The Marine said. “Look, there’s a bunch of rocks over there. I’ll just be done with my business in a flash. I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

    The small treat was enough to calm Laure’s nerves, after nearly two weeks of cold turkey. She looked off into the distance, reminiscing.
    She was in a world of her own now.


    “Morning, cadets.” The drill sergeant said, all of the cadets were gathered into a massive room complete with a mountainous cross-country running course, snaking around mounds and hills. In fact, the casual observer was hard-pressed to tell that it was all artificial, man-made. “I’m Staff Sergeant Ramirez, you’re PT instructor. This is the most difficult phase of physical training, but make no mistake, you’ll be on this course for the rest of your tenure here at ‘The Academy.’”
    As the drill sergeant went on, the cadets looked in collective awe at the scale of the course.
    “It’s a three mile-circuit, combining every single type of terrain a soldier is expected to encounter in the field, with uphill sections interspersed. By the end of ‘hell-month,’ I expect you to make laps around the course without losing your breath.” The drill sergeant smiled. “Well, what are we waiting for, Curahee.”
    The drill sergeant started running off, the cadets in tow. After a few minutes, not a single cadet could keep up with the drill sergeant’s pace. They were reduced to a slow, panting trot.
    “Pick-up the pace, maggots!” the drill sergeant barked. “Grandma was slow, but she was old!”
    Laure stumbled forward, her face hitting the dirt.
    “Do not help her up!” the drill sergeant yelled without looking back.
    The young girl struggled to get back on her feet when a familiar face beamed down on her.
    “Come on, get up.” It was the same boy Laure had met not even an hour ago.
    “Je ne peux pas!” Laure cried, tears streaming down her face. “C’est inutile!”
    “Come on.” Michael said, smiling at her, jogging in place. “You’ve got to show ‘em.”
    It was enough for Laure. She weakly smiled back at Michael, got up on her feet, and began jogging alongside her fellow cadets once again.


    “Ces salauds n’ont pas de goût.” Laure whispered to herself, commenting on the disgusting flavor of the cigarettes as she lit up another psychic flame.
    As Private Jameson approached the rocky fixture, he noticed the blue glow from behind it. The young Marine, wary, drew out his C-14 Impaler rifle. “This has to be my imagination.” He thought.
    Having been reminiscing, the Marine and his fire-team had caught Laure off-guard. A cigarette fell out of her mouth as she looked at the wide-eyed Marine, clearly as surprised as she was.
    “What in the h-” the UED emblem caught the Marine’s eye, but he wasn’t quick enough to the draw…

    The crack of a short burst of shots caught the attention of Sergeant Mendez’s fire-team, another shot closely followed.
    “Eyes-up!” Mendez cried. The Marines cocked their rifles and headed for Jameson’s position. As they approached, they found Jameson sprawled out near the rocks, lifeless.
    “Hmph,” Mendez said. “Guess the Lieutenant was right to be worried.”
    “What do you mean, sarge?” A Marine asked.
    “Mozambique Drill.” Mendez replied, Jameson had two gauss needles pass cleanly through his chest, another impaled in his head. “Double-tap in the center mass, another shot through the head for kill confirmation. This ain’t no ordinary UED straggler.”
    “What’s going on here, Sergeant?” The Lieutenant asked as he approached, he and his fire-team had heard the shots as well.
    “Think the guy’s close, sir.” Sergeant Mendez said. “Real close.”
    “Dammit to hell… that makes two on my watch.” The Lieutenant said, as he hunched over Jameson’s body. “Alright, lets waste this bastard, time to earn our pay, gentlemen.”

    Laure had managed to put another kilometer between her and the Marine before ducking into a dry riverbed. Her rifle, which had jammed after the third shot she had fired, was dead weight, and was promptly tossed away.
    Merdeuu!” She whispered. It was a fine mess she had gotten herself into. She opened the palms of her hands, sparks flowing to the ends of her fingertips as her eyes began to glow. “Alors… If it has to come to this…”

  6. #6

    Default Re: A fanfiction I've been writing.

    Quote Originally Posted by Pandonetho View Post
    What are you talking about?

    I think they said they regretted the Stukov ressurrection specifically.
    no they said something about regretting the UED as it did not make much sense. how they had pretty much the exact same tech as the terrans of the k-sector. they pretty much added in the UED the wrong way. they shoulda have been their own little single player race. kinda like the naga in warcraft 3.

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