Starcraft : The Rise of Mankind

[FungKu]

Somewhere, In the galaxy, A lone battlecruiser, The greatest ship of all terran units. Was floating on auto-pilot. Heading for nowhere, For they have no actual destination. Not yet that is. The occupier off the ship, Is the terran confederacy's number one wanted faction. The only faction that has the capabilities to bring down the corrupt confederate of the Terrans and it's leader. Mengsk. The galaxy was vast. Mostly you can see little asteroids and comets just passing by. And also, The battleship was close to one of the big planets, Char.


Inside the battleship, There was a quarrel between men. A quarrel where they decide what their next plan of action would be. Their great leader, Or the one who can lead them with wisdom and non-hesitance, Jim Raynor, Was greatly injured from their last affair in their last base of operations in Tarsonis. He was shot in lungs, Luckily, He was able to survive the affair. But, Jim remained in a Coma. No one knows when he will wake up. Or will he ever wake up at all ?


" We can't send any more men back at the Tarsonis, We are running low on supplies ! " A man who seems to be the Second in command before Jim was arguing with another man.


" But Stark, All our supplies, Our units, Our weapons, Everything ! Are back there in Tarsonis ! " The man was fighting back against his superior named Stark.


" No, We will move on, Going back to Tarsonis is a suicide Mission. We will settle down in this battleship for now, Until we find a new planet for our base of operations " Stark said, And what seemed to be the final order.


The man remained quiet and bit his lip as he walked away from the bridge. There was no more point in arguing with him. He really made up his mind.


Then Stark looked back infront and commanded one of the officers to turn on the Destination Setter, As the man obeyed and tapped on his console as a Holographic screen appeared showing planets and a little blue dot showing where they are.


" Set a course to Mar Sara, We will gather up some supplies there " Stark commanded his crew as they obeyed without further hesitation.


Meanwhile, The man who was arguing with stark was still pissed. Most of their supplies were left behind on Tarsonis. And especially weapons that they really need, Siege tanks, Ammunitions, and Gas. Right now, They are running on fumes and they all don't know how long they can last.


" Jim.. What should we do " He thought as he sat down on one of the benches in the hall. Burying his face on the palms of his hands. He really doesn't know what to do now. He doesn't trust stark completely. His trust and loyalty lies at Jim, His Savior and father figure.


Then the Com link went on, " Attention, All available units head to the briefing room. I repeat, All available units head to the briefing room. " An android's voice said.


" Hey Mach, Let's go " One of his comrades call out to him as Mach nodded, Standing up from his bench and followed him.

 

[Octavius]

Lukart was sitting in the barracks meditating and getting somewhat strange looks from other soldiers that were loyal to Raynor or at least appeared to be anyways. He sat there deep in thought some of the soldiers joked about how he was probably dead which Lukart heard but simply ignored then suddenly the android's voice went off, breaking his meditation and putting him into focus. Lukart began walking his way to the briefing room with the soldiers that were making fun of him earlier behind him "See I'm not dead" he said in a dull way, He was'int there for to make friends, he is here to join Raynor and serve him. The little group made it to the breifing room and Lukart stood there awaiting the information and next set of orders.

 

[Sol]

Loco awoke to the sounds of an adjutant calling all the reserves to the briefing room. He woke up in cold sweat as the memory of Mar Sara occupied his dreams, the screams and the unholy sound of a thousand zerglings descending on the last bastion of defense for Mar Sara. As if on cue, the Sons of Korhal arrived in their ships laying waste to the oncoming rush as civilians filed into the transports that landed on the ground, each of them lifting off packed full of refugees. He was able to board the last ship, he turned to see the rest of his squad signal the transport to lift off, he had caught on to what they had attempted too late. I assume they wanted me to carry on in their names. He muttered a silent prayer and hopped off his bunk bed, slipping on a grey shirt and walking down the corridor to the briefing room.


He walked out into a steel corridor that was designed intricately, with lines and such crisscrossing to make a facade of sorts. Loco had no real interest in architecture, but he knew the Hyperion was the flagship of Mengsk, right before he took part in hijacking it of course. He continued on his way to the briefing room located a few floors up from the living quarters. As he ascended onto the proper level of the ship, he noticed that activity had grown around the vicinity of the briefing room, no doubt support staff relaying information and sorting it out for the briefing that was to take place.


Loco entered the briefing room, not many have assembled yet or perhaps there weren't many reserve at all. Not after that recent stunt on Tarsonis. "The Reaper Man cometh. Corporal Calderon, Reaper division, reporting in." He said as he stepped into the briefing room. He may be a crazy homicidal maniac but he knew the importance of discipline, respect and obedience. A cohesive unit was an effective unit.

 

[Ineffectivd]

Ashford looked at the one-way visor of his helmet and turned it around in her hands, her curled red hair brushing past her eyes as she examined the scars that ran across the side of the blue paint. Dented by multiple sources and scratched by even more, Ashford could do nothing but cherish every moment of this. This was what she lived for, what he had signed up for. This was in his blood now to do. Those resoc tanks did nothing to stem his innate need for xeno blood. Ashford set aside her helmet and ran a finger along her Impaler. What a beaut. She grasped the grip and brought it to his body and embraced it. The one and only thing she can ever rely on. But even then, it might just be turned on him at any given second, no matter how much she loved it. It was a weapon, a tool. Anyone could use it. There aren't a lot of people she can trust it seems, not even her gun. But Raynor. Raynor could be trusted. He trusted Raynor. That man was a man of his word and a man he would happily die fighting for.


The announcement came, blaring across the speakers. Ashford sat the helmet upon his head and took up her Impaler. She checked the presence of her handgun by her side, before setting off for the briefing room. Her entrance was quiet, if not only accentuated by her footsteps, as she slid in between the door and a Reaper. His voice distorted and muffled by the helmet that he wore, Ashford only uttered his name and took her place at one corner of the briefing room, her gun at ready and awaiting further orders.

 

[Bard]

Thud, thudthud, thud. Thud. The creaking of an old chain. Styx pulled away from the worn punching bag after steadying it, and pulled the dirty towel from his shoulders and wiped down the mass of scarred flesh that he called his body. The callout to report in at the briefing room sounded out only moments before, and he moved to the row of lockers set off to the side of the gym. He pulled the zipper on his duffle bag, which sat on a nearby bench, and produced an off-white wifebeater, pulling it on over his head before making his way out. Seems he'd have to finish his training regiment some other time.


He continued to dab at his face and arms with the towel as he casually made his way through the halls of the flagship, docking arms with fellow soldiers in the cramped quarters. It wasn't long before Styx made his entrance in silence, eyes scanning the room behind those aviators he always wore, the shine of the fluorescent light reflecting off the lens. Familiar forms gathered here for debriefing, yet he made no acknowledgement to any of them. His only loyalty lay with the one man who had the gall to lead them, who now sat in a coma, and left them all like sheep that cannot be led away from wolves without a shepherd.


Styx hung the towel on the back of his neck, hands clenched around either end as he wordlessly awaited what came next. Fire burned in his heart. He hoped he could get out and about once again, and let loose what he felt from the spout of his Perdition flamethrower. That was the only place he felt at ease - right in the heat of battle. Not cooped up on some ship, wasting away, hiding from Mengsk and his dogs.