Young Tassadar

Everyone said the temple was haunted, even the elders. The spirits of dead warriors were said to roam its halls, too restless to fall back into the Khala. None but a fool would dare enter the ancient place at night.

So, naturally, young Templar-in-training made a sport of it. They dared each other to prove their courage and manhood, teasing and prodding and giggling. Sometimes one would be gutsy enough to dart up and touch one of the crumbling old stone columns, and he'd win the awe and respect of his peers.

Tassadar thought the whole thing was ridiculous.

"There's nothing in there but rodents and old stone," he'd huff, crossing his bony little arms, "and I'll prove it."

So, with his friends wide-eyed, panicked, and begging him to change his mind, he climbed up the temple steps and walked boldly into the darkness.

Immediately, he regretted it. There was no sound but the soft pitter-patter of his footsteps on moss-covered stone, no light except the dim blue glow of his eyes. Tassadar considered turning back, but reminded himself that he was on a mission.

"Just a creepy old temple," he reassured himself, although he could not rid himself of the crawling sensation running up and down his pale grey back.

It was so quiet, so cold... So dark...

"Who's there?"

The young Templar jumped up and spun around, surpressing a rush of surprise. "Just me, that's all," he mentally squeaked.

From the shadows, a highly decorated warrior emerged. "What is a youngling like you doing in here? Don't you know this place is forbidden except for those who have reached the highest tiers of the Khala?"

Tassadar jumped again and bowed quickly. "Forgive me, sir, I'll be going."

The old soldier sighed. "Let me, guess, looking for ghosts? When will you children learn better? There are no such things as ghosts. Well, go on, get out of here; I was in the middle of meditation and I need solitude. Do not let me catch you in here again, all right?"

The boy bolted. His friends outside crowded around him.

"Did you see a ghost?"

"No, just some old warrior."

"What did he say?"

"He told me not to go in there."

"So there are no ghosts?"

"What did I tell you? No, there were not."

Later, Tassadar described the warrior he had seen to his instructor. The elder Protoss furrowed his brow.

"How odd," he mused. "That sounds just like Gantrithor. He died in combat half a century ago..."

Tassadar went pale, his sapphire eyes wide. "Oh..."

"Anyway, he was right. Children should not be playing around in that Temple. Do not go in there again."

"Yes, sir." He bowed obediently. "I will not."

He decided it was best to keep the information to himself. But he rather liked the name... Gantrithor...

Protoss/Tassadar are from Starcraft and (c) Blizzard Entertainment. Art and the accompanying story are (c) me.

EDIT: I am proud of this, both the drawing and the fact that I made that story up off the top of my head. I tried to color this, and I did a pretty good job, but I screwed up the background... Mneh.

ANOTHER EDIT: I give the StarCraft FanClub :iconStarCraftFanClub: permission to post this deviation.