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In accordance with an eye for an eye.
I recently read a rather engaging, but incredibly horrifying story. Perhaps in the undead throes of my re-slaughered sanity, I had an idea for a story. Perhaps it'd be wise to share it, if only to continue its existience and processing. There may be errors here and there, but I attribute these to a lack of grammar and spelling checks.
...I wrote this in less than an hour, or so I believe. I caution you before reading, that this is a freaking dark story. The end is extremely nigh, and many worse things lie before a possible conclusion. Also, Jacob is not our protagonist. He's the first-read casualty, but I haven't gotten around to writing his demise yet.
Now, on to the story.
Jacob Farenz ran through the roughly carved cave, barely pausing to glance at the sharp rocks beneath his suit. Panting with exhaustion, he continued to dash as fast as his augumented legs could carry him over the debris. Taking a sharp corner around an abandoned structure, he all but collided head-first with a freshly-made metalic door, a strange silver something that stood out against the gloom of the abandoned cavern. Collapsing against its frame with a bark of victorious laughter, he slams the hand of his suit against the digilock.
And then the very thing he dreaded happened. That cursed metalic voice came from the damaged speaker, already overgrown with a strange, phosphorescent teal plant.
“Access denied,” an adjudant's voice announced amid the silence: “Multiple lifeforms present within scanning area. Please remove nearby biological agents and retry scanning procedure.” Jacob's breath caught amidst his throat, and he turned fast enough to set some toy tops to shame. Eyes trembling within their sockets in fear, he glanced amid the decrepit ruins of the former Terran encampment. A small number of rocks tumble from a nearby pile, sending his heart into a panicked race to his throat. He brought his C-14 to bear, even fully knowing the futility of the action against his likely foe.
...It happened fast. Nobody knew where 'It' came from, other than a place that was not entirely of our own. The Bloom spread from colony to colony, from planet to planet, infecting everything it touched. The Protoss were the first to fall, deciding to take their own lives quickly rather than be twisted into macabre beings that The Bloom assailed them with. Madness came all the quicker along the psionic strings of the Khala, a single warrior's failing sanity damning entire armies and divisions to wholesale slaughter of their kin.
The Zerg fell next, their pinnacle achievment being turned against them. Millions of Bloom spores fell across their homeworld of Char, felling their queen and wrecking their race as a whole. Many marines simply stationed across the Koprulu sector watched in both awe and horror as millions of zerg simply froze up and dissolved into formless messes of twisted flesh and armor. The falling of their Queen seemed to affect their race as a whole, their prized evolution being twisted into remote breeders for more and more of The Bloom, furthering its spread.
Then, the damnation of the Terran race came. Colonies began to fall silent across the sector, and only precious few transmissions across space were able to warn few who tried their hardest to listen. The Emperor tried his hardest to take control of his people, unaware of the threat that steadily roared towards the capital of humanity amongst the sector. He assured his people that they would stand firm, that the brave men and women of his army would hold fast against the approaching threat.
Then, it arrived.
The beautiful capital of Korhal fell swiftly, a tenth of its population wiped out within an hour. The Bloom spared none as its white spores rained down from the sky, delivered no doubt by some twisted, eldritch abomination hiding amongst the clouds. People screamed as they were twisted apart, their very beings being turned into creatures that could not be by any stretch called human. Sanities fled in horror at the monstrosities that crawled through the streets, the screams that punctured the silence and the gnarled fleshy tissue that flowed through the streets. Many a marine chose to blow out their lives with his very own rifle than put up with the spectacle before them, choosing suicide over remembering the horror that lay defiling the streets of their beautiful metropolis.
However, precious few survivors managed to escape. Taking to the abandoned tunnel systems, they desperately dug away at the life-saving rock that lay beneath their city, devising to seal themselves beneath The Bloom and hopefully wait it out. Approximately three percent of the entire Terran race managed to survive amongst the fresh horror that laid waste to their civilization, seeking shelter within the caves that fueled their society. Armed with SCVs that were poorly designed for such work and molecular fabricators, they took the very rocks they dug and twisted them into metals and materials that let them survive.
Sadly, that three percent was dwindled even smaller. It was discovered with horror that 'it' began seeking them. Wherever they erected walls and barricades against The Bloom, it would eventually tear them down and spread within. Those who witnessed the demise of their loved ones in The Great Dying could only watch in horror as the very force that claimed their family lay into them with the same ferocious teeth and claws.
Less than one percent of Korhal's populace managed to survive. Even fewer managed to get extra layers between them and The Bloom, trying desperately to stave off the inevitable end that sought after humanity's final stragglers. It was merely a question of what gave out first: the caves that supported them, the SCV's that fled for them, or the molecular fabricators that allowed them to survive amidst a harsh wasteland beneath the earth.
What few spare supplies were spared from fueling the ever-constant tunneling operations were spent on food and much-cherished goods. Alchohol abuse was wide-spread, and suicide was even more so. The ever-advancing predator that hunted the Terrans was forever-vigilant, never letting a single soul be free from its encroaching grasp.
Welcome to Hell.
Welcome to The End.
The RP's story will not be released until June 1st. But, I will give a quick teaser.
Yes, this is another Survival RP by me. It can contain SC lore but I'd like to stray from it a bit. It takes place on a barren planet with extremely uninhabitable climates scattered across the 3 continents. 2 of the 3 are connected, the other is quite small, but big enough to be a continent is known as a haven (name yet to be released). All people in the barren landmass of Terra (the continents names also remain un-released) are either infected with a pathogen that mutates the body, mind or both in very twisted manners. Down to genetic mutations that can create a new creature each time... The others have gone crazy from the apocalypse itself, or are the remaining survivors known as "The Chosen".
You are the chosen.
Will you follow Fate's path?
Or craft your life from the tools of the soul.
I will be answering any questions. (You may not like the answers at times)
Threats of violence. We take these seriously and will alert the proper authorities.
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