IGS: A Story of Storm and Fish — Part I
Hello everyone,
It’s been a few weeks since I wrote anything. I actually have a few drafts I didn’t have time to complete and two podcasts that I’ll soon release. So I haven’t been *that* lazy!
Today I want to start a new Series called IGS, standing for Imagined Game Stories, where I will share short “scenes” that reflect my gaming experience, which is basically me imagining things in a game. Things that we usually overlook as part of “gameplay.” Today, it will be a scene from Heroes of the Storm (You’re shocked, aren’t you?) since we had a chat about it with a friend recently. So, enter my world:
The sun was warm and the grass felt nice under bare feet. A silhouette looked around, hiding in bushes. It looked calm. He snarled, narrowed his eyes and searched for a hidden foe. It wasn’t as calm before, as soldiers from each side had started their clash, but it seemed empty otherwise. The figure threw a small object toward the enemy soldiers and hopped out of the bushes.
Across the lane, in the bushes steadfast stood Zeratul. He seized his foe with his green, burning eyes. He was a leader among the space faring, ancient race known as Protoss. A leader among the exiled Dark Templar, Zeratul had a big role to play in his race’s past. He had faced the endless Zerg, had journeyed through the darkness between the most distant stars, beheld the births of negative-suns and borne witness to the entropy of entire realities, he held his own against the immensely powerful Queen of the Zerg multiple times and now, he had a considerable foe standing in front of him. Zeratul moved silently in his warp-cloak and assaulted his fearsome enemy.
Murky, reflectively, splashed everywhere in slime as he was cut deep by the blade. He knew mrggrldbr Zeratul would be gggllrllgring around! He ran away slowly, towards his soldiers, keeping enough distance to avoid the blades. But he was deep in the lane and he had just used his bubble against the towers! “GGGRRMMMGGLLLRG!!!” he cried to ask for help. And then he saw a strange movement from Zeratul. This was the time, the dark templar would blink behind him. Murky grinned and ran towards him to switch locations. To his dismay, it was a bluff. As Zeratul raised his blade to end his life, Murky noticed his egg was was near the fountain. “Mrggrldddgr” he thought.
Just before Zeratul’s blade found its target, he heard a big thump and from the bushes a giant figure came out, rushing towards him with incredible speed. Murky let out a husky whimper, looking at his savior. It was Diablo, the Lord of Terror and the leader of the three Prime Evils. The giant demon had pushed Zeratul towards the enemy base and was immediately punished by the enormous, dragon-inscribed towers. Just when he was out of their range, the ground shook and toppled beneath him and threw him back! A brash yell filled the air: “KNOW YOUR PLACE” as Garrosh Hellscream, grabbed Diablo, who’s three times his size; and threw him in the air! The Prime Evil landed right inside the enemy base, behind the gates that protected the keep. The demon was very tough, but the combined power of two towers and the keep would soon prove too much for him to handle.
Murky rushed in to help his friend, attacking the gate fiercely and dropping a pufferfish just at the front. His slime was burning through the already weakened gates, but it wouldn’t be enough, especially considering the blurry figure behind Diablo: Zeratul was about to rejoin the fight. Murky considered going back, but his principles and bravery dictated otherwise. Together they attacked the base. Diablo was covered in endless wounds. Suddenly, Murky noticed a movement behind him.
It was Auriel, the Archangel of Hope, the ancient enemy of Diablo, his brothers and all the evils they wrought upon sanctuary. Just recently, Diablo had sieged the Heaven’s gates and almost brought an end to it. Murky had no idea how he knew all this stuff, but he somehow did. Auriel‘s light-infused wings and arms danced gently in the air and suddenly, a streak of light went down the battlefield, sourcing from the Heaven.
Diablo was healed. With a slight movement of her hand, Diablo now carried a crown of light! His hope renewed, his power restored, Diablo opened his eyes sadistically, turned his back to the gates, opened his mouth and breathed deadly red lightning toward Zeratul and Garrosh. Garrosh attempted to grab him, but Diablo was so firmly held to the ground, the orc had no chance. The fury of the Hell, empowered by the compassion of the Heaven was unleashed on the unlucky heroes, as well as the group of soldiers rushing at the Prime Evil.
A long distance away in a different lane, another hero sensed something amiss. “You are all the same…” he thought. To himself he said “All my life I fought your kind… But I was imprisoned for ten thousand years… banished from my own homeland…” His voice raised as he kept talking. With a hint of revelation he said: “Sometimes… the hand of fate must be forced..”, followed by an explosive yell that rang through everyone’s ears in the battlefield: “FEEL THE HATRED OF TEN THOUSAND YEARS!”
Illidan rushed at the Prime Evil.
