Taratel fell 10 meters away from the creature, and he felt as if that fall had shattered his body. The vile creature lay there, unconscious and embeded between additional rubble from the fall. Taratel slowly began to pick his battered body from the ground. Soon, with both hands raised, psi blades extended, he took on the ancient warrior battle pose. the hydralisk began to steer. This would be his last and the greatest hunt of his life.

Taratel was the greatest warrior the Protoss have ever given birth to. His achievements could not be matched, nor could his warrior prowess. He was unequaled. He was the best and strongest of his clan, none had survived as many battles or killed as many as Taratel had. This had been the way of Taratel's life for centuries.

But being the best required Taratel to prove himself time and time again. The lower caste was always looking for a way to dishonor those of higher reputation, merely to increase their own standing within the clan. That was the way things were. But Taratel had always proven himself.

Taratel was the best because he wanted to be the best. He did not just study battle, he lived it. Every day he trained. Everyday he tried to fine tune his skills, pushing himself to the limit. He would never stop until he had reached perfection. He did not just undertand the Zerg, he was the Zerg. countless years he has spent studying, watching, fighting, and even mimicking them. Of course, this was all standard if he wanted to attain the statis of a Zerg Hunter. His clan sought out Zerg colonies and ravaged them. Hunting was honor, killing the Zerg was honorable, their was nothing else.

But, as time went by, Taratel, as all things do, began to age. His speed was not as it used to be. None had achieved more honor then he, but it was not enough. Taratel needed to cement his place in Protoss history. He needed one final grand hunt, a hunting campaign like no other. He brought forth his finest warriors and set out to the most populated planet in the system.

They had all fought and died bravely. In the end, a colony of this magnitude was just to much for the strongest of the group. Finally, Taratel stood alone, fiending off three hydralisks. His speed was beyond measure, his agility acute, but his age betrayed his true strength. The creatures rushed him at once, clustering around him. He took down one in an instance, but was merely able to stun the second. The third slashed it's spiked claws down hard upon Taratel, diminishing much of his shield. The next image the creature saw was an picture of the world upside down as it's head rolled along the ground. Taratel's blades decapitated it in one fell swoop. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the blur of the stunned hydralisk flying toward him. He spun about, attempting a counter, and rose his blades, but his reaction was a fraction to slow. The hydralisk pounded onto Taratel and tackled him down. They both rolled over in a ballet of strength and fury. Taratel could scarecly remember rolling off the cliff.

Before the hydralisk could free itself of all the rocks Taratel leapt into the air and descended upon the beast. With both psi blades now protruding through the back of it's skull the hydralisk could only give a slight screech as it's body fell, convusling to the ground.

Taratel collasped in a bout of exhaustion, as his blades seemlessly decipated into the air. After a minute of rest he lurched his sore body foward with the thought of getting back to his ship.

The climb back uphill was a tiring one, but there was no other way. As his gritty hands reached for the edge Taratel began hearing noises. As he brought himself up over the cliffside he began to survey the land, where he could see his ship in the distance. He could also see the Zerg swarm descending upon it, and watched helplessly as his ship was destroyed, ending all hope of escape.

As Taratel silently brooded over the disaster he noticed the swarm was headed in his direction.
1000 meters...
900 meters...it speedily approached him.

The sound of a thousand rampaging Zerg felled the air with a thunderous sound. The sky seemed to become blotted out as a cloud of dust and swarm strecthed over the horizon.

With imminent doom facing him and no chance of survival Taratel did the only thing he could think of: redrew his psi blades and charged head on into the swarm. This would be, indeed, his greatest and final battle. With eyes blazing the fury of Aiur he summoned all his strength and leaped valiantly into the dark mass of the swarm.

One mile above the planet, a single observer watches as the shimmer of blue is lost within the dark foreboding cloud, never to shimmer again.

The legend of the warrior and his clan travel throughout Protoss society. His acts of bravery and courage in the face of danger inspire faith and hope into millions. A warrior, a hero.

*Dedictaed to the rescuers who have died after bravely putting themselves at danger to help those in need.*

A Diluvio Production