Jim Raynor Starcraft 2 Novels & Stories

​In the Physical World: The Freighter Core ​Liam screamed as a robotic sentry’s blade whistled past his ear, sparking against the steel wall. He was the only thing standing between my unconscious body and a swarm of Chrome-vultures. ​“Nora! Wake up!” he yelled, firing his last magazine into the chest of a multi-legged machine.

The cackling sounds followed, and every single thing happening flashed into my mind. I chanced a look to find Raynor licking the blood on his lips before dropping the lifeless maid onto the floor, then wiped the mouth that trickled down his chin with his thumb. He stared at me and smiled; revealing his red painted razors he called teeth. “Welcome to Gemini Coven!”

I rush towards one of the rooms with David while Raymart along go down and attract the zombie Jimboy and Bhlezy is on the other side the remaining group is our main combatant they will face the TANK and HUNTER simultaneously while slaying the remaining zombies ----------------------------------------------------- the remaining group immediately go the 2nd floor and hide to the +side Raymart who will be the acting bait now is in the vision of most of the zombies!! *RRROAARR!!!* RROARRR!!* *RRRRAAAAA!!*

Less than ten minutes later, Ray arrived at Fanghold's territory. He hadn't even gone full speed, yet this pace was more than enough. The entire complex was lit up, every window glowing. Tsk tsk… such a waste of free energy. Ray knew there were probably sentinel-type ability users still awake, monitoring the area. The moment they noticed his arrival, alarms would blare, and the experts would rush out to stop him. No problem. He activated spatial swap again, instantly striking into the compound, pulling a Jayzepanese soldier right into his view.

"Your 'Kernel-Panic' nearly fried the entire facility’s grid. You didn't just crash the game, Elara. You overloaded the hardware." The Defeat of the Architect In the corner of the room, slumped against a bank of smoking servers, was the "Real" Rhys. He wasn't the impeccably dressed corporate shark from the boardroom. He was a younger man, perhaps in his late thirties, his shirt-sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. He was staring at a handheld tablet, his face a mask of utter devastation.

he murmured to the silent room. That evening, he gathered his team. Mireya, Alesia, Kara, and Lyra stood before him in the strategy room. The map of Malora was no longer on the wall. All that was there were the faces of the four incredible women who had now become the foundation of his power. "I'm leaving," Rayden said, his voice calm and final, leaving no room for debate. He explained his plan briefly and clearly: to use the Spatial Key to open a gate to the Nebulon Expanse, the place where Brahma Angkara resided. He didn't know what he would face there. He didn't know how long he would be gone.

she commanded. The runes flared white-hot, then cracked apart like shattered stars. The archway collapsed inward, revealing a corridor of living magma. A wave of heat stormed forth, scorching her skin through her gown. Nyra drew a steadying breath and stepped forward. Ryker followed close behind, unsheathing his sword. “Stay close,” he whispered, voice rough with tension.

Who for a second looked away in form of held back fear, which he then seemingly cast aside by staring back at the Arbiter’s black visor. H-6 took a seat and bent over, leaning his elbows on his legs. He scanned for any changes in his target’s demeanor. None were present. “Who was running that show Mr. Nara” the Arbiter asked. The agent didn’t respond. “Joseph Nara, born 2092. City Militia for 3 years, participated in the Sector 337 Food Riots as part of a response detachment supporting a Thelma-Dionis security team protecting the Associate Manager of Corporate Affairs Wilson Torrance.

Fix. Restart. “You’re staring.” I didn’t look away from Lyra, but I was aware of the voice beside me. Ronan—no. Rowan? No I am Rowan. So speaker is another character. Use Tomas? No he's there. Use another warrior: Jarek maybe. Let's fix. Continue. “You’re staring.” I shifted my attention slightly to the side, where Jarek stood with his arms crossed, watching me with mild interest. “I’m observing,” I said.

Servers hummed low, blue light pulsing from behind blast doors. The core chamber was smaller than Berlin’s compact, vicious. A single console glowed: “Swarm 2.0 – Failsafe Node. Heir authentication required.” I stepped forward. Retinal scan flared painful blue sweeping my face. “Scan confirmed. Luca Volkov Marino. Primary heir. Swarm 2.0 online. Global dormant network awaiting activation command.” Dante leaned against the wall, breathing hard. Rocco stood at my shoulder, hand on my lower back.