Zerg Canadians


Infinite Horizons: Ravio and Sofiette - Act 1 Scene 1
By Ravil and Sofielisk

Two military powers, most unalike in dignity,
In fair Irvine, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge to modern bloodshed,
Where CWAL blood makes Canuckalisk hands unclean.
From amidst the ranks of these two foes
A pair of star-cross'd lovers live their lives;
Whose misadventures piteous overthrows
Do with their death intensify their armies' strife.
The unlikely passage of their death-mark'd love,
And the continuance of their races' rage
Is now the traffic of our stage;
So if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.


(Scene: A dimly-lit back alley, somewhere in an older section of town. There is a light rain drizzling down from the sky, quietly blanketing everything in a thin layer of moisture. Suddenly, the corridor between the two buildings is lit up as the inter-dimensional slipstream spits out its three passengers. The silhouetted forms of Webrunner, Noid, and Dee materialize, and just as suddenly, the vortex disappears, its three travelers deposited behind it.)

Noid: Oh, my head…if we ever get home, I don't think I'll ever be able to move again without suffering from vertigo…

Webrunner: What's that mean?

Noid: I'm going to be getting dizzy a lot…

Webrunner: Yeah, those universe jumps can be quite a bit unnerving. Anyway, on your feet, you two! We've got to find Gluegun before he slips away on us again!

(Noid slowly wobbles up to his feet, but Dee remains on the ground, a stunned look implanted upon her face. Webrunner comes over to her slowly.)

Webrunner: Dee…?

Dee: (Evidently quite shaken) It can't be…non-fat Cheesecake with all the taste of the original? It can't be…

Webrunner: (Helping her up) Come on, Dee. It's best if you just don't think about these things. They weren't meant to be.

Noid: (Looking at the tracer) I'm getting a strong signal from Gluegun's temporal wake. He's here, all right, and isn't too far ahead, either. We might just be able to catch him this time. But remember to be careful…we don't know what's out here.

(The three cautiously peer out from the alley. Nothing appears to be especially threatening, or even out of the norm (though its any of their guesses as to what the "norm" is anymore) at first glance. The area appears to be a modest commercial zone in the suburbs. The rain is keeping most of the people off of the streets, but a few wander through the urban jungle as they would in any other universe.)

Dee: Is this Irvine?

Noid: It could be. Then again, it could be some town in Germany for all we know. I don't know how geographically accurate all of this universe jumping is. It's not the best form of transportation that I've ever seen.

Webrunner: I'd prefer to be taking my tricycle than THIS…

(Suddenly, the three hear voices approaching, and see two hauntingly familiar figures coming down the street. They are easily recognized as Arcturus and Smoke of CWAL.)

Noid: (Whispers) Quick! Get over here! (Pulls Dee and Webrunner into a shadowy corner, momentarily safe from prying eyes.)

Webrunner: Why? They're CWAL!

Noid: Yeah…and remember how bad CWAL is in some of these universes? Until we figure out some of the fundamentals of this universe, it's probably best to stay out of the sight of anyone we know might recognize us.

Dee: Agreed. Here they come.

(The two CWAL'ers are striding down the street, oblivious to eavesdropping.)

Smoke: Arcturus, upon my word, we'll not carry coffee.

Arcturus: Nay, for then we should be waiters. Let Tybalt get his own beans.

Smoke: I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.

Arcturus: Ay, while you live, stick your neck out o' the collar.

Smoke: Caution, you. I strike quickly, being moved.

Arcuturs: But thou art not quickly moved to strike.

(Both of them break out in laughter, while the three universe-hoppers stare at eachother in confusion.)

Webrunner: (Whispers) Why are they talking so funny?

Dee: Sounds like some kind of Old English to me. Could be for any number of reasons in this universe, I suppose.

Webrunner: How would you know?

Dee: (Glares) Hey, I was flying around in the sky as a Dragon when they invented the language. Trust me on this one.

(Attention turns back to the passing CWAL'ers, whose jest has passed.)

Smoke: A dog of the Zerg Canadians certainly moves me.

Arcturus: (Grins) To move is to stir, and to be valiant is to stand; therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.

Smoke: A dog of that race shall move me to stand. I will take a fight with any man of Ravil's.

Arcturus: The chance approaches to prove thy boasts; here comes of the Zerg.

(Indeed, two more figures are coming down, from the opposite side of the street. One is small, the other very, very large. Webrunner and Noid gasp.)

Noid: Uh-oh…

Webrunner: This is definitely not good.

Dee: What's going on? Who are those coming down the street?

(Through the rain emerges TurtleToo, General of the Zerg Canadians, dreaded in any reality. His small, Zergling form is deceiving to all; for a cunning mind is housed within that small body. To back up his claims, should he make any, a large Canuckalisk from his personal bodyguard accompanies him.)

Smoke: My naked weapon is out; quarrel, I will back thee.

Arcturus: How? Turn thy back and run? Does thou truly believe that thou can quarrel with a Canuckalisk?!?

Smoke: (Bringing up his canister rifle) Fear me not, Arcturus.

Arcturus: I fear thee not. I fear THEM.

Smoke: Let us not violate our side's law; let them begin the fray.

Arcturus: (Takes out his paintball gun, for whatever good it would do) I will frown as they pass by; let them take it as they list.

Smoke: Nay, as they dare. I will stick my finger up at them; which is a disgrace, if they bear it.

(Smoke sticks his middle finger up at the passing Zerg Canadians. Turtle immediately bares his teeth.)

Turtle: Do you stick your finger up at us, sir?

Smoke: I do stick my finger up.

Turtle: Do you stick it up at US, sir?

Smoke: (Whispers to Arcturus) Is the law of our side, if we say yes?

Arcturus: Nay.

Smoke: (Clearly disappointed) No sir. I do not stick my finger up at you; but I stick my finger up, sir.

(Turtle, looks around to see if there is anyone else that Smoke could possibly have gestured so rudely at. The pedestrians have all wisely decided to clear the streets, however. The Canuckalisk growls is displeasure at seeing the two CWAL'ers. Turtle strides up closer to Smoke.)

Turtle: (A gleam in his eye) Do you quarrel, sir?

Smoke: Quarrel, sir? (Pats his rifle) Why…no, sir.

Turtle: If you do, sir, I am for you; I serve as good a man as you.

Smoke: No better.

Arcturus: (Spotting someone coming down the street once more, whispers) Say – better; here comes some of our kinsmen.

Smoke: (Taking his friend's word) Yes, better sir. I am better than your dog of a master.

Turtle: (Hissing his contempt) You lie. Let us fight, if you be real CWAL'ers.

(Turtle lunges forward towards Smoke, who ducks out of the way. He fires off a round from his canister rifle; one that has been entitled "Heavy Metal". The canister smashes Turtle on he head like a rock, dazing the General of the Zerg Canadians. The Canuckalisk then steps up to take up the fight, when they are interrupted by the arrival of reinforcements.)

Tybalt: (To Smoke and Arcturus) What! Art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee, Canuckalisk! Look upon thy death! (Draws his rapier)

(The Canuckalisk raises its tusks to accept the challenge. But just as they are about to engage, the air is torn with the sound of industrial machinery.)


(All eyes turn to see Kazz, The Infamous Beaver, marching towards the fray, with his friend and favorite chainsaw Fluffy in hand.)

Kazz: Time to die, little Zerg!!

Webrunner: (Whispers) At least he sounds normal.

Noid: I think all of the Kazzs' in all of the universes are completely insane. It must be some kind of temporal law.

(Just as the fight begins, two more Canuckalisks join the fray, and within seconds the street is abound with the sounds of warfare and chaos. Then, Arcturus spots the time-travelers, despite their cloak of darkness.)

Arcturus: Webrunner! Noid! Come join the fray…'tis plenty of Canuckalisks to go around!

(Noid and Webrunner stare at eachother in dread.)

Noid: Well…at least we're on their side, for once.

Webrunner: And we'd better go, if we intend to stay there. Dee, you stay here…you might get hurt.

Dee: (Snorts) I have a better chance out there than YOU do. What are you going to do…spit on them?

Webrunner: (Sorting through his bag of infinite storage) There's got to be SOMETHING in here that I can use…

Noid: (Sighs) Besides, Dee, they obviously think we're part of this universe's CWAL. You might be kind of hard to explain. Come on, Webrunner. Let's just grab that little Zergling over there and pin him down. Then we can run away, allright?

Webrunner: Fine.

(They run out and tackle Turtle, who was in the middle of dueling with Smoke. The Zergling hisses in displeasure, and then struggles furiously. Within a few seconds, Turtle has the two CWAL newbies pinned to the ground by their throats.)

Noid: ACK! Okay, maybe this wasn't such a hot idea…

(Suddenly, somebody picks up Turtle and literally tosses him away. Looking up, they see Fron standing over them…with Dragoneyes on his arm.)

Fron: What noise is this? Give me my Cattle Prod, my little love toy!

Dragoneyes: Why call you for a Cattle Prod? A crutch is what you'll be needing…

Fron: (Heedless of DE) My Cattle Prod, I say! Here comes old Ravil, flourishing his blades in spite of me!

Dragoneyes: (Rolling her eyes) DEAR, those blades are attached to his body.

Fron: It matters not! My Cattle Prod!

(Looking down towards the side of the street that the other Zerg Canadians entered through, one can make out the approaching figures of a Hydralisk and a smaller Defiler, along with another half-dozen Canuckalisks. Ravil, the dreaded King of the Canuckalisks, steps forward to challenge his adversary. His Chancellor Cydric is right by his side, as always, in any universe.)

Ravil: Thou villain Fron! Prepare to meet thy doom!

Cydric: Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.


(The fighting stops as quickly as it started upon the arrival of a new figure, complete with armed guards. Webrunner and Noid recognize his instantly.)

Noid: Hey! It's Dark Nexus from PFBS!

Dark Nexus: (Not pleased at all) Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, profaners of this neighbourhood! You men, you beasts, that quench the fire of your pernicious rage with purple fountains issuing from your veins; throw your weapons to the ground, and hear the sentence of the PFBS!

Webrunner: (Whispering) Since when have the Players for a Better Starcraft called the shots?

Noid: (Shrugs) Apparently for a while. Everyone seems to listen to him.

DN: Three civil brawls, in the last two months since thy leaders signed the peace. But thee, Fron and Ravil, have thrice disturbed that peace and the quiet of our streets; and made Irvine's citizens fear your canker'd hate. If ever you disturb our streets again, your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. For this rime, all the rest of you depart away: you, Fron, shall go along with me; and Ravil, come you this evening, to know our further pleasure in this case.

(The crowd of combatants begins to slowly clear away. Ravil and his Zerg Canadians depart down one end of the street, presumably to their territory, whilst the CWAL'ers engaged in the brief fray turn back towards the Headquarters. Curious as to exactly what is going on, Noid walks over towards the mediator, Dark Nexus.)

Noid: Um…excuse me, sir, but might I ask…

Dark Nexus: Away with you! The day is short, and my schedule full! If thou wishes to confer with my greatness, then make an appointment with my secretary.

(Dark Nexus goes off to talk with Fron, and very quickly Noid, Webrunner, and Dee are the only ones in the street, again.)

Webrunner: This is really weird. The Zerg Canadians here in Irvine, PFBS calling the shots…

Dee: Wait a minute…who are these "Zerg Canadians"? I've never heard of them before.

Noid: Well, in OUR universe, they're a group of Zerg that were banished from the Swarm, and sent here to Earth. They live in some secret lair beneath Canada, hence their name. They're seemingly obsessed with the invasion of the United States, and attacked Irvine once because they thought it was the capital.

Dee: How could they mistake Irvine for the capital??

Webrunner: Who knows. They breezed in, captured most of CWAL, and then went around trashing the city. If it hadn't been for Sofielisk, then they might have killed everybody.

Dee: What did Sofie do?

Webrunner: She used her (coughs) feminine charms on their leader, Ravil. He was that Hydralisk that you saw. Anyway, she deceived him, we escaped, fought back, and won. End of story.

Noid: But obviously something is very different in this universe…anyway, I'm sure that we could write a bestseller on all of our strange and bizarre experiences, but for now, we've got to find Gluegun. Who knows what might have happened to him by now; this place seems like a complete war-zone.

(They begin following his trail once more, heading off to the west in pursuit of their fellow CWAL'er. As before, it appears that he attempted to go towards CWAL Headquarters. But when they arrive at the place where the Starbucks' should have been in other universes, they see not their favorite coffee shop, but a giant memorial statue of Iolaus, holding an American flag beside him in a very heroic posture. Walking up, they read the inscription on it.)

Dee: "This statue is dedicated to all of the brave members of CWAL who gave their lives at the Battle of Arlington Heights, and died so far from home to defend our nation from the Zerg Canadians. June 2-4, 1998."

Noid: (Shocked) Look at all of the names!

Webrunner: Shadow…Jester…Fearless…Pez…Debris…wait a minute, how can Debris be dead? He's cannon fodder!

Dee: (Equally horrified) …Legion007…Maelstrom…Mu…Norf…Fjorxc…

Noid: This explains something, then…the Zerg Canadians must have invaded again, and CWAL went out East to help defend our nation's capital. They must have been too strong for us, and many of our friends and comrades were killed.

Dee: (Longingly) What a fight that must have been…if only I'd been there for it.

Webrunner: Judging from that list, Dee, you should probably be glad that you weren't.

Noid: (Staring at a name at the bottom of the list) C-come on, guys. Let's go. We've wasted far too much time as it is.

(The three universe-hoppers move along after their friend, with Noid tossing one last remorseful glance at the final name on the memorial…Iolaus.)


(Scene: Somewhere in the hills outside of Irvine, not too long after. Ravil is staring out over the city from his perch on the hill. Suddenly, there is a rustling in the bushes behind him, and he turns around to see Cydric poke his head out.)

Cydric: Good morrow, sire!

Ravil: (Checks his watch, which to the untrained eye looks like a piece of beef jerky with a bone embedded in it) Is the day so young?

Cydric:But new struck twelve.

Ravil: Ah, me! Sad hours seem long.

Cydric: What sadness lengthens my master's hours?

Ravil: Not having that, which, having, makes them short.

Cydric: (Stifles a childish giggle) In love?

Ravil: Out –

Cydric: Of love? Thou hast run out of love?

Ravil: (Glares at his minion) Out of her favour, where I am in love.

Cydric: Alas, that love, so gentle in his view, should be so tyrannous and rough in proof! Tell me in sadness, who is it that you love?

Ravil: What? Shall I groan and tell thee?

Cydric: Groan? Why, no. But sadly tell me, whom?

Ravil: Bid a sick man in sadness make his will; a word ill urg'd to one that is so ill – in sadness, Cydric, I love a woman.

Cydric: T'would have been my guess…

Ravil: A right good mark, man! And she's fair, I love.

Cydric: A right fair mark, sire, is soonest hit.

Ravil: Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit with Cupid's arrow, -- from love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes and claws, nor ope her lap to saint-seducing Creep. For she 'tis not like us, Cydric. She whom has my heart is not a full Zerg at all.

Cydric: I thought as much…'tis Alter, the half-breed outcast who resides on the edges of Irvine.

Ravil: Aye…thou art smarter than I give thee credit for, Cydric. But she shuns me for my past transgressions, and in that sparing makes huge waste; for beauty, starv'd with her severity, cuts beauty off from all posterity. She is too fair, too wise; wisely too fair, to merit bliss by making me despair: she has forsworn not to love me, and in that vow do I live dead, that live to tell it now.

Cydric: I shalt go and have her beheaded, sire.

Ravil: Stay thy hand, Cydric! She shalt not come to harm!

Cydric: (Disappointed) Then be rul'd by me; forget to think of her.

Ravil: O! Teach me how I should forget to think.

Cydric: By giving liberty unto thine eyes: examine other beauties. My neice Petunia, she be coming to town in but a fortnight's time…

Ravil: (Repulsed) Out of my mind, thou disgusting mental picture! (Gets up to leave) Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.

Cydric: (Thoughtfully) I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.


(Scene: A back street, deep inside the city of Irvine. Fron, Talruum, and Mutant Zergling are striding down the street at a fairly leisurely pace.)

Fron: …and Ravil is bound as well as I, in penalty alike; but 'tis quite hard for enemies as old as we to keep the peace.

Mz: Hehe…you guys are like, always suckin' up to Dark Nexus. It kinda sucks that you two keep on fightin' eachother, though. Hey, have you, like, thought about what I was talkin' about the other day?

Fron: (Rolling his eyes) Your lack of proper English has tak'n me aback, Mz. But saying o'er what I have said before: our newest member is yet a stranger in the world, she hath not seen the change of six months in CWAL. Let six more months wither in their pride, ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.

Mz: (Disappointed) Like…other Zerg females get married younger than this…

Fron: And too soon marr'd are those so early made. The earth hath shallow'd all my hopes but her. Our mighty pow'rs and ranks are vanquished by the hand of the filthy Ravil; our old founder lies rotting in a field of death. Sofie is the hopeful lady of all CWAL. But woo her, Mz, get to her heart. My will to her consent is but a part; an she agree, within her scope of choice lies my consent and fair according voice.

Mz: What?

Fron: (Impatient) If she chooses you, then I shalt let thee marry her.

Mz: Oh. Okay.

Fron: This night I hold an old-accustom'd party, whereto I have invited many a guest, such as I love. And you, among the store, one more, most welcome, makes my number more. When thou comest tonight, win the wild heart of Sofielisk. Talruum! (Whips out a piece of paper upon which the names of all the guests are written) Go, trudge about through fair Ivine; find these persons out whose names are written here, and to them say "My house and welcome on their pleasures stay".

Talruum: But…but…

(Fron and Mz depart, leaving the brain in a jar by himself.)

Talruum: "Find them out, whose names are written here", says he. How am I to do this when I have no legs to move me, and my anti-gravity harness be'th in the shop? But still, I am sent to find these persons, whose names are here writ. Woe is me!

(Suddenly, two figures approach the despairing brain. It is Ravil and Cydric, back from their counsel with the great Dark Nexus.)

Cydric: Ho, sire!

Ravil: Shutteth thee up, Cydric. I be not in a good mood.

Cydric: Tut, sir! One fire burns out another's burning; one pain is lessen'd by another's anguish. Take some infection to thy eye, and the rank poison of the old shall die.

Ravil: (Growls) Your plantain-leaf is excellent for that.

Cydric: For what, I pray thee?

Ravil: For your broken back! (Lunges at Cydric, who yelps and scampers out of the way just in time)

Cydric: Sire, have you gone mad?

Ravil: Not mad, but bound more than a madman is: shut up in prison, kept without my food, whipp'd and tormented. Mine was to be the greatest of glories; we had them by their throats. But then, the wretched PFBS stepp'd between our forces, and called for a truce to be signed. Now, we be barr'd even from the simple pleasures of life: murd'r, slaught'r, and the razing of this town to the ground. And to add insult to injury, my one true love despises me! O, how I long to KILL something! (Spots Talruum on the street) By my troth, it would seem that we have a dog of CWAL biting at our ankles.

Talruum: (Surprised) Ravil! Begone, foul one, or thou ankles shalt not be around much longer! (Unholsters his shotgun)

(Ravil approaches before he can fire, and easily kicks it away. After all, a brain in a jar can't really have a very good grip on a firearm, now can he?)

Cydric: What haveth you there, O mongorel of Fron? (Snatches the paper away from Talruum) Ah, a list of guests for a CWAL party tonight! At this same party sups the fair Alter, whom thou so lov'st, with all the admited beauties of Irvine. Go tither, and with unattianed eyes, compare her face and…well, the rest of her with some that I shall show, and I will make thee think thy swan a crow.

Ravil: When the devout religion of mine eye maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires. One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun ne'er saw her match, since first the world begun.

Cydric: Tut! You saw her fair, being by herself, pois'd with herself in either eye. But in the CWAL Headquarters, let there be weigh'd your lady's love against some other maid, that I will show you shining at this party, and she shall scant show well, that now shows best.

Ravil: (Sighs) I'll go along, no such sight to be shown. But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. And alas, twould it be a party without a little…amusement? Say a spiked drink or a flaming boot, or perhaps a poisoned hor'deourve?

Cydric: (Excited) We art going to crash the party?

Ravil: Perception, thou hast reached my minion! Hmm…but Fron would be suspicious if his other guests showed not. Cydric, take this paper and make call upon all the names writ down upon it.

Cydric: (Beckons towards Talruum) But what about THIS dog, sire?

Ravil: 'Tis of no worry. (Knocks Talruum onto his side, and then jabs the jar with his tail, sending it rolling downhill, its occupant screaming all the way) He shalt not be back in time to warn his master to our arrival. Go now, Cydric. Make haste, for the hour draws near.

Cydric: Yes, sire! (Scuttles off)


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