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Khaldorn Murino
Reikoku
Band of Brothers
Posted - 2004.12.03 11:12:00 - [1]
 

Edited by: Khaldorn Murino on 03/12/2004 11:22:29
<This thread is meant for the pilots of the Ushra'khan alliance. We would ask that it please be kept so, and free of taunts and flames. It was also asked that people keep to the theme of the thread and post in a 3rd person style.>

Night fell upon the plains of Matar as Khaldorn strode up the hill with his comrades. As they approached the peak, they slowed.. Khaldorn took a deep breath, it seemed like eons ago since he had been to this sacred place. He looked across and noticed the Matari amongst them pausing slightly as well, lost in thoughts. This place held many memories for them all. WitchDoctor, who had since long been used to his Matari friends spiritual ways, looked around enquiringly.

Maggots head rose from its reverie "Its ok Witch, this sacred place.. it holds special memories for us all. Please, continue" he motioned.

And then as they reached the summit, they saw a great plain before them. Fires streched out into the night, and the occassional tent had been erected, but as Khaldorns eyes rose to the scene he remembered well, they all stopped before a flat plateau of crystalised rock streching perhaps a quarter of a kilometer.
Please visit your user settings to re-enable images.
The Sacred Ground. A shiver ran down Khaldorns spine as his eyes lit upon it, images surging through his mind as he remembered that night when he got his mark.

Fires and tents were all that was allowed this close to the sacred ground, and the plateau was bare, apart from one sign that had been painted upon it, but he could not make it out from this distance.

They all took a while to take it all in. Some of the non matari amongst them, who were not so familiar with the ways of his people, looked strangely at the sight before them. It had been explained to them, when the call had come, how sacred this place was, how dear it was held in his peoples hearts. This was the first time anyone could remember that the elders had allowed non matari to this place.

Maggot had told him that when the rebellion leaders had gone to the elders to request this gathering, they had expected to be denied, to be told that this most sacred of places was for Matari only. But the elders had simply risen up and approached the non matari present and looked at them all deeply for some time. Sforza had told him later that it was as if his very soul was under scrutiny. And then, the stepped back and had simply said
"We have heard tale of these peoples deeds, they have given hope to those who had none, they have shed blood for them. And now we see them here, we see the conviction in them. They are welcome."

Khaldorn was taken from his thoughts as he felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked around to see Darius.
"Its time Khal" he said.
Khaldorn nodded, and they all began to walk down the slope of the hill towards the nearest tent. Last time he had been here, Khaldorn thought, his family had accompanied him. And now, he came with a different family; the pilots of FU2. He was closer to these people now than he was to his own kin. Such were the bounds forged in this struggle.

As they approached the campfire outside the nearest tent the light showed familiar faces, and a chorus of greetings issued forth as they joined field of warriors present for the Gathering.

jules winnfield
Minmatar
Void Spiders
Fate Weavers
Posted - 2004.12.03 12:11:00 - [2]
 

Jules stood with the pilots of VBS and looked around at the pilots gathered before him, Minmatar, Gallente, Caldari even Amarr were present here. All with one purpose, with one word etched in there minds FREEDOM.

In this place and time a new force would rise, dedicated to ending slavery and ensuring freedom for all people. Those gathered here stood together ignoring racial lines for this great purpose.

Jules' great heart swelled with pride that he was to be counted amongst such company, and yet he felt sadness that one who had become his greatest friend and ally would not be present at this gathering, "the time of your return will be one of great celebration old friend, fly safe" he thought. Just then Lord Juss appeared at his shoulder "The time has come" Jules nodded and they walked out ready to forge and bond that would never be broken at this greatest of gatherings.

zoolkhan
Minmatar
Mirkur Draug'Tyr
Ushra'Khan
Posted - 2004.12.03 13:14:00 - [3]
 

Zool walked in the group together with Khaldorn to the summit.
He remained silent. This is not the first time he saw something like
this, but this time the audience was quite different..

Also it was the time of the young and strong ones, time they find they way -
nothing zool wanted to disturb.

zool felt this clone was getting old, and unfortunately the tradition
to be transferred into clones of the same physically age and condition
as the previous one has some disadvantages.

zool did not desire the infinite live, he will one time be as old as
his friend corin - a condition when the pod becomes vital.

the group were looking around, nodding to the countless friends and allies
assembled at this place.
However, the arrival of the fu2 group had to follow some ceremonial rules
and so zool remained inline until the group arrived..
he would leave the talking to khaldorn and hijack christa for a spartanic
dinner he decided...

Finally. Arrived at one of the rare places where no guards are needed.

Planetary defenses he muttered..


Phennick Vronsky
Gallente
V I R I I
Posted - 2004.12.03 13:39:00 - [4]
 

Phennick scanned the gathering for foreign faces such as his own. They were few and far between.

While honoured to be invited to this gathering of Matari courageous enough to fight for their people, his heart carried a secret shame that less of his own people were present.

Of course, the Minmatar knew better than most how slavery could tear families apart and rip whole tribes asunder.

But the freedom-loving Gallente had always talked the talked too. Phen thought back to his college days, the righteously indignant voices charged with anger as students and lecturers alike debated slavery in their seminars.

His Caille classmates had vowed to do something about the Amarrians' arrogant dismissal of the views of the other great nations once they had graduated.

But how many were here today? Pitifully few, he feared. This should have been a great day for the old alliance, Minmatar and Gallente working together for the common good, embracing all those who would fight the inequity and injustice of Imperial feudalism.

Instead, it was a day that highlighted the wekness of both states' governments and their refusal to stand up against the brutal excesses of the slavers.

It was a day that showed that when it came to turning fine words into honourable action, most Gallente lacked the backbone.

No matter, because it was also a day to celebrate the brave.

A day that would go down in history.

As he sipped his spice wine and settled in for what looked set to be long night of speeches, Phennick reflected that these men and women whose ethics overcame their fear of danger were his people now.

His home was no longer that quiet patch of Everyshore where he had grown up, but the battlefields of the disputed borderlands that separated the defenders of a decaying empire from the shining warriors who would tear it down, brick by brick, ship by ship until all the slaves huddled within were finally released.

Vicarrah
Minmatar
Posted - 2004.12.03 14:00:00 - [5]
 

Vicarrah sat quietly, resting in the multi-hued shade. All around were her friends and allies, some staunch supporters, some relatively unknown, all were welcome at this time and for this purpose.

Her Tahiri grouped around her, fierce determination evident upon their faces, today was a day the Matari had never seen before, the influx of people into the sacred places was unprecedented, and she still couldn't quite believe that some Amarrians were here. "Still, they fight our fight, they deserve to be represented" she thought.

A sense of urgency came over her as she remebered the fleet reports, more than ever they were beset by larger, stronger forces, new tactics and plans were needed, and she calmed herself thinking about the upcoming discussion. "We will adapt" was the mantra running through her enhanced mind as more and more notorious freedom fighters joined the throng.

"Sarkos", she called over to her Kuusa, "Are we all here?"
"Seth is just bringing the Articles of Faith, he will be here shortly" her Kuusa replied.
"Then bring the Tahiri. We go to stand under the banner of the Ushra'Khan. Kiongozi and the other Masuat'aa will be following along, I want to be there first."

Another bridge was crossed, another milestone reached, and the Tahiri path still stretched in front of the Matriarch, littered with the bodies of dead slavers.


AsheRaven
Minmatar
Blood Raiders Initiate
BLOOD EMPIRE
Posted - 2004.12.03 14:07:00 - [6]
 

Ashe felt a wash of prid fall over him as he guided his blinded charge, the half breed Neris, Ashka, into the tent. He was awash with so many emotions as he scanned the great gathering. Not even the dark prophecies of his blinded charge could mute the importance of this very moment. Many of the younger eyes were drawn on the blinded Neris. It was a greater mystery amongst the Matari as to why, after she took upon herself the Neris initiation, not only she but her clones took on the condition of blindness. Blindness was a mark of respect amongst the Brutor, and eventually, even the greatest doubters took this as a sign of acceptance and embraced has truly Brutor.

Corin was sat amongest the Masuat'aa Matari. He nodded a gesture of welcome to the two Raven entoragues. Ashke Nodded in return, uncanny response that suggested their was more to her blindness then simply an affliction of the sight. He noted amongst the Masuat'aa Matari entorague, many of them still wore Corin's bloody hand on their chest plates. A symbol of unity paid for in Matari blood. A symbol that bought them to this time, this place, this great undertaking.

Sah Tori and Denn were sitting upright in the Noehazard section of the tent. Surprsingly they had been given a good place, between the Freelance and the Vronsky Bros entorage. It seemed Darius Shakor, Maggot and Phennick were very insistant on that. They even challenged the mighty Corin, who eventually aquiesed.

It was a good feeling. His small corp was appriciated. Maybe size didn't matter after all. It was the spirit that counted here. As he helped his charge to sit, Sah and Denn rose and bowed respectfully to the Neris sister as she kneeled. She reached out and took their hands, and smiled as her white eyes seemd to break theirs. Tears streamed gently from them as she spoke softly the words that were but a whisper on near everyone's tongue that night.

"Finally," she choked gently, "We ar one!"

Cairhien
Minmatar
Tribal Liberation Force
Posted - 2004.12.03 18:26:00 - [7]
 

Edited by: Cairhien on 03/12/2004 18:30:58
A cold wind came across the sacred ground picking up the smell of camp fires and roasting meat. Cairhien knew he was getting close, memories of past battles and lost friends came to the forefront of his thoughts. He rememered the day Sarkos had freed him from his slave master and his joining the Oracle Tribe, dedicating his life to free others as he had been freed.

Cairhien was not sure if the tears running down his cheeks was from the cold wind or lost comrades. Names came to mind, Hippey, Acwron, Dark and Kal to name a few. Names which will live forever in the history of Oracle and in his heart.

Cairhien picked up his pace, food, drink and friends were waiting at this sacred gathering. And hope to finally bring freedom to his brothers and sisters still living in bondage and death to the slave masters.

Darius Shakor
Minmatar
Re-Awakened Technologies Inc
Posted - 2004.12.03 19:59:00 - [8]
 

Darius gently lowered himself into his seat. The hike to the sacred gathering on Matar had been long, and he felt himself getting fatigued with each kilometre they passed. In itself a sign of the old meeting the new, he thought, as it was a simple curse of being a pod pilot. Physical fitness was always going to suffer from the conditions of such a position. However, it was not just the toll of the travel that caused him to sit so gently, it was what he carried upon his back. Wrapped in a shimmering cloth pouch, a large bulky object was strapped to his back. This was his clans most revered ceremonial artefact, rarely brandished to the eyes of others.

Darius pulled the cord to release the upper flap and slid the cloth wrap off, letting it fall to the floor as if it were withering away in fright to reveal a Khumaak. Not in itself entirely unusual at such gatherings as most of his brothers were openly resting a Khumaak at their side. And this Khumaak was entirely unimpressive by comparison, graced with a simplistic design and very little decoration. Though this Khumaak was over a hundred years old. It was formerly the property of his late Uncle Gol’dar Shakor, the last leader of the Shakor Clan, and one of the first ever Minmatar made Khumaaks of the rebellion against the Amarr. Never since the rebellion ended had the clan Khumaak been taken out of the clan hall, where it formerly rested on the wall of the great dining hall. He felt honoured to not only carry this symbol of freedom to the gathering, but to carry it amongst his brothers in arms.

Brothers. He glanced around the tent and saw many Minmatar faces. He could feel their energy and passion for their combined cause coursing through him. Darius continued to scan the room and, despite their smaller number, the non-Minmatar freedom fighters felt no different to him than his own kin. To the Minmatar, blood relations mean much and could not be weighed against anything else. But the integrity of the soul was as equality important and where shared created a bond as great as blood in his eyes. They shared the same goals, either Gallente, Amarr or Caldari. And he thanked them for it deeply, having nothing but respect for their selfless devotion to the cause of freedom. With that, Darius had no doubt in his heart that before him lay a band of true warriors.

Darius continued to gaze around the tent, acknowledging several nods from many, including his fellow corp members whom he had come to know well over the last few months. He glanced to his side and saw another old and dear friend, AsheRaven, who was conversing with his adopted daughter Ashka. It took him a moment before he finally realised that she was staring right at him as a sly smile crept across her face. To say the least, he was taken back by it for a second given her condition, before he bowed to her, smiling back. He was truly honoured to be amongst allies, and friends.

Vir Freeman
Minmatar
Posted - 2004.12.03 22:32:00 - [9]
 

Vir gazed at the sacred place but found his gaze drifting more to his companions.
Brave fighters, whose friendships were forged in battle.
They took in this , not alone , but as a group .. a tribe.

Vir swallowed and shifted his gaze to the sacred place.
He should probably feel something now, he should probably understand what made this sacred and cherished.
Any Minmatar would .. or should.

His feelings had been detatched ever since he completed his special training. This was likely a spiritually important moment.. Even the people from the other races seemed to draw something from this moment.
Noone looked at Vir, they had their own thoughts and their friends. Vir was a newcomer and still untested in battle.

Vir really felt alone this moment. Had he been too long in the Empire? Had his trials there been too much ?

Heaving a great sigh his gaze lifted again to the sacred place, but was again drawn to the small group nearby.
There he saw the great names of his group of Freedom Fighters talking, they noticed his gaze and gave him a small nod.

Vir looked at the Sacred place. This was Matar, this was home .. this was his new familiy .. this was a start

Makkar
Kinda'Shujaa
Posted - 2004.12.04 04:39:00 - [10]
 

Edited by: Makkar on 04/12/2004 07:51:39

Towards the outskirts of the growing encampment sat a lone figure, staring into the glow of his small campfire, flight jacket zipped and collar turned up against the chill night air blowing down from the snowcapped mountains in the distance. Lazily, the figure took up a nearby stick and probed the embers at the fire's base, as if the answers to his unvoiced questions might be suddenly revealed under the next smouldering coal, but it wasn't to be.

The sound of laughter, oddly distant, filtered over the c.rackling of the fire, and the brutor looked up toward the noise. He could not help but be impressed at the scale of the gathering, and the mood was bouyant enough, but Makkar felt deep down that the war had changed somehow... Become more... Nasty, he supposed, although he was not sure the word truly fit his mind. After all, war was a nasty business and it was to be expected, but much of the respect, albeit sometimes grudging, seemed to be absent on both sides of the conflict of late. The brutor wondered if things could ever be the same.

He shook his head. His fears would either be confirmed in the coming months, or they would not, and he hoped against hope that they would not. Normally, Makkar railed against such binary thinking; There was always some grey area or compromise in which the troubled soul could find refuge; But tonight the only solace he could find in his own mind was that it would be, or it would not. In either case, he knew what his next step would be, and that in itself gave him a level of comfort.

In the blink of an eye, it seemed, the freedom fighter had become part of something much larger than his humble beginnings raiding convoys in Khopa, and dodging paramilitary patrols. All around him was hope for a brighter future, and despite his melancholy it was infectious. Slowly he rose to his feet and made his way toward the gathering warriors. Better to be on the inside looking out, than the ouside looking in, he thought.

The embers could keep their secrets.

Edit: Flow

Red Six
Reikoku
Band of Brothers
Posted - 2004.12.04 05:28:00 - [11]
 

Edited by: Red Six on 04/12/2004 07:36:00
Looking up from the latest village Red Six had helped with the essentials from the money he had earned in his time spent as a pod pilot, a call was heard by his soul, "The tribe is gathering return to us brother." He stopped in mid stride and looked up at the stars. Why now? In a week the harvest would be here and he knew his help would be very useful.

The village matriarch who had been walking with him stopped, looked and asked, "What's wrong Red?"

"The Voshoud calls, matriarch. The tribe is gathering in the holy place."

"Go, you know you have no choice brother," she said with a sad smile. "I have not met your Voshoud but all know of him. He would not call you if it were not time. He understands your work."

Red Six looked at the matriarch then simply opened his arms and gave her a hug saying, "Tell them goodbye for me." Turning Red Six then began the journey to the spaceport to catch a shuttle up to his Stabber in one of the space stations above Amamake.

At the space station he looked at his Stabber, most of his crew had returned before he had and had started to bring the fleet ship back to readiness standards. Inside of six hours his Stabber, simply called Gunship was fully crewed and ready to return to space. Red Six went through the familiar routines as if four months had not passed since he last flew. He was pleased with the response of the crew and his own responses. A quick check of corporate information showed that not much had changed in the time he had been away. He set course for the gathering and set the autopilot...

Arriving at the gathering he looked around from the edges not making himself seen. It had been four months since he had walked away from the fight needing to cleanse his soul by helping his people in a manner other than violence. He thought back of all the villages he and his crew had helped. This year those villages will feed themselves, next year they would feed their neighbors and the year after that they would feed their planet. The thought of what he had done left him at peace with himself and he wondered if he truly belonged as a warrior amongst this group anymore.

As he pondered his decision of joining the Gathering of warriors or returning to the peaceful life of helping his people a single man with eyes of milky white colour turned to look directly at him. The Voshoud, Kiongozi, motioned for him to join the group, a small smile on his face. Red Six smiled and walked into the gathering of friends and allies he had not seen in months.

The Voshoud said "You have done well but now is the time to rejoin your family brother." Red Six simply nodded and smiled because he knew the Voshoud was correct, this was his family here at the Gathering and it was time.

Sarkos
Minmatar
Posted - 2004.12.04 07:41:00 - [12]
 

He could sense the spirits around him as he limped towards the gathering. Before him was arayed tents and campires, a multitude of friends, old and new all here not as members of thier individual tribes, but as Minmatar. How proud he was tonight to witness something he could only dream of for so long, a unified allaince of Minmatar.

Answering the Matriarchs request, he snapped back to the events unfolding. The air was alive with the cachaphony of joy and laughter as greetings were made and old friends, long seperated met once more. Spotting his final destination, his slow advance through the milling throng was slowed even further by the backslaps and greetings of Makkar, Caldicott, Ris, Crusa and many others.

As he finally arrived at the fire where the other Tahiri gathered, Sarkos cast his eyes to the bright stars. He located the area of the Amarr Empire and as the emotion of the moment overcame him, tears of joy flowed as he thought of all those that had been lost thus far, and now he knew thier sacrifice had not been in vain.

Wiping the trars away, he looked upon the growing gathering and made ready for what was to come.


Junkzinat0r
Minmatar
Owwww My Eye
Posted - 2004.12.04 10:06:00 - [13]
 

Junkzinat0r stood a short distance away from his Tahiri bretheren. While he was familiar to most in his clan and they always greeted him warmly, he still felt a distance between them. Often he was surrounded by the fierce and noble veteran warriors. Most treating him as equal and offering their wisdom and knowledge, but still he felt a separation.

His ambition and determination was not in question, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what is was that caused his unease...

His musings were severed by the smells of flame cooked spiced meats and the sound of tribal drums across the plain. This was the evening of unification and he turned his attention back to the moment and the new bonds to be forged.

his mind set, he returned to the throng. He would prove himself worthy.


Seth Fix
Minmatar
Sebiestor Tribe
Posted - 2004.12.04 12:31:00 - [14]
 

Large figure swept across the sand in a hurry.
As it exited the shadows cast upon the Sacred Grounds by surrounding mountain range,being illuminated by the moons,more could be seen.
Large figure was of a man carrying an ornate chest.Chest was large and it was situated on his right shoulder,but speed of a man didn't seem affected by it.
Inspecting his clothing it was clear that man was a Minmatar.Being large and brutish looking,most would think that it was a Brutor coming there way but after some time looking at him one could see that it was a Sebiestor,tho atypical.
At that moment Sebiestor stoped,rising his head.

"There is time...",Seth mumbled looking at the night sky,"...but still I can't be last to arrive".

He picked up the pace.
He started thinking about this day.
Being the Keeper,Articles of Faith were his responsibility.Crossing the mountain range with them was too risky and going without them was out of the question.So he had to take longer path to the Sacred Grounds.That path was much safer for the Articles but he had to leave his friends at dawn.
At the Library,chest was waiting for him.It was locked and the key was with Sarkos.He picked it up and made his way to Docking bay 41b,where his ship was waiting.
With chest in cargo hold,MMS Tribal Song III made his way out of the docking bay.
Trip was short.
As his ship was landing he could see it.Sacred Grounds.
From the landing spot,only way to get there was on foot.So he picked up the chest one more time and pushed ahead.It took him some time to get here.

But now Sacred Grounds were there in front of him....

Hakera
Freelance Unincorporated
Ushra'Khan
Posted - 2004.12.04 13:51:00 - [15]
 

A brief flash of light, nothing and then sensor data poured into his head once again.

"Stargate Jump Complete" came the familar voice of the AI computer inside my thoughts.

"Had it been so long!" Hakera thought to himself gazing at the great star.

<Open Log>

"I have returned early from a mission. i no not why, but my dreams had been troublesom of later. Their portent was of great change and the white wolf, the symbol of my people. It was running away towards the plains. It waited for me on the brow of the hill. I followed. I was being called home!

The galaxy was in a state of turmoil, new powers were rising from the fringe space and there was upheavel and a sense of change for everyone. Even in the darkest depths of deadpsace I could feel something was different now. Then my visions came. Matar was caling me back.

<End Log>

The Wolf hovered to land the all too familar roar of its engines grew silent. Hakera stepped out and gazed around, the wind was strong as he breathed deep. Knowing he was home. The stars lit up the nightsky and the land was dark except for one light froma fire on the hill.

Hakera started walking and as he drew nearer He felt tiredness leave him and a sense of pride and honour. He was walking with his father. Their spirits were close. Stopping by a river, Hakera stripped of his biosuit worn for spaceflight, washing himself in the river he changed to his traditional clothes he had not worn for in so long. The marks of his people visible across his body. Their story for all to see he strided up the hill.

"It is time!"

Kal Cyann
Minmatar
Brutor Tribe
Posted - 2004.12.06 00:57:00 - [16]
 

The shuttle docked an Kal got out, out into a light breeze carrying itself effortlessy accross the sunset.
Moving into the spaceport he got a shower dressed himself in his traditional clan clothing, combat pants with gun holsters an blade holders around the sides an down his legs with a sash accross his back for carrying his familys ancient blade, then turned an began walking towards the plain.
But something stopped him an he turned an focused on a set of buildings bearly several miles distant...his childhood home.
Now gone, a past better forgotten his familys graves still marked for all to see but overgrown from lack of care.
He stared then moved accross his fathers grave, he looked but did not linger nither did he shed a tear but paid his respects an moved on.

It was night before he reached the plain and it was cold. A light breeze carried itself erringly accross the plain as it had so many times before...but this time was different.

The last memories he had of this place was as a child of his own Voluval; memories of his family an freinds treid to flood his mind but he ignored them.
In his own mind it took massive amounts of courage to come back to his land of birth, after the years past of his exploits his rebirth, his shaming, his disgraced self an finally been welcomed into the fold as a fighter once more.
He knew most did not trust him as once before an only did so as he fights, but he knew they would turn there guns on him in a sec if he even strayed.

He was'nt trusted, he knew it they knew it. Some did mostly old freinds but still he knew that with the history of the maggots attacking an enslaving his brethren hatred, directed anywhere, is not easily forgotten nor forgiven.
In that regard he had much work to do but he hoped to prove them all wrong.

But to put that aside for tonite he hoped as he walked towards the plain. The sun had set casting a familer cold glow over the entire landscape as he appraoched the hill overlookign the site.
He shaw others running past him, some Caldari some Gallente most Matari yet still he walked, his pace deliberate an slow.
Upon reaching he crest of the hill he spied a lone fire burning with a brutor sitting close by prodding it an keepign the fire ablaze with its lazy glow.
He walk towards it an stopped the figure looked up but did not speak, Kal looked down there eyes met then parted an Kal walked off.

The site was alive with a host of tents an fires burning an blazing ther way through the chill of the night. he shaw old faces, old freinds in the tents laughing an some crying yet he stopped an stared from his position on top of the ridge.
A familer face stepped out of 1 tent an looked up at him, he stared back as the figure beakoned him to come he remained still an did not budge, he started shaking an fell to his knees as though he felt the eyes of his ancestors was upon him. He tired to stand but lsot his footing an the next he knew was all blackness to match the cold stil ldrifitng through the sky...


(likly to be edited)

Aodha Khan
Minmatar
Posted - 2004.12.06 09:59:00 - [17]
 

The robed Paratwa scout walked to the top of the hill towards the bright lights that seemed to light up the dark sky around them. His identity concealed by the robe, his footsteps light. Hopping from one shadow to the next, every step taking him closer to the Sacred Grounds.

The lone figure stood watching the encampment before him, the fires burning, the tents filled with his brethren and others willing to fight for the Matari people. Mingling through the camps, his eyes scanning carefully around him, his ears picking up the voices of the occupants, some in tents, some sat around the fires in debate. Voices that were familiar to him...

Padaxes
Minmatar
Masuat'aa Matari
Ushra'Khan
Posted - 2004.12.07 17:07:00 - [18]
 

Padaxes padded silently through the shadows, his face hidden in the even deeper darkness of his hooded robe. The shame of his recent sequestration still weighed heavily on his soul and not even the prospect of the gathering ahead could lift it. Indeed the thought of being surrounded by his brethren and found wanting was almost more than he could bear, so instead of greeting his brothers and sisters he shunned company, avoiding the eyes of those making their own way towards the sacred hill.

He flitted between the many tents that dotted the plain, avoiding the flickering circles of light cast by campfires and cooking pits alike. He flinched away from the sounds of laughter and joyful reunion, from the cheers and war cries that emanated from the groups of warriors he passed.

Subconsciously one hand stole beneath his robe and clasped the serrated razorback tooth that hung on a leather cord around his neck and his fist clenched until a trickle of blood ran from between his fingers. The pain brought him back a little from the well of self-loathing that threatened to swallow him.

Then suddenly he was there, he stopped with a start as he rounded the base of the final rocky outcrop and instinctively crouched, totally hidden in the lea of the boulders. Before him was a large traditional Minmatar tent, large enough to qualify as a Marquee, the hide tied back to form a doorway at the front. This entrance faced up the hill and towards a roaring fire around which sat many of the warriors of the Masuatt’a, his tribe.

He watched for a while, studying their faces, some he knew as well as his own and others that he had never seen in the flesh before, out of their pods. Some were laughing or smiling, others looked grim and warlike, others had the aura of calm that comes with mastery of the Seven forms, but all were imbued with a sense of powerful purpose. In their actions and mannerisms Padaxes could read their camaraderie, their loyalty and their fierce devotion to a shared cause. He felt these feelings stir within himself and longed to step from the shadows and join them but could not, not yet. It was good to see so many of the tribe gathered together, but he could not prevent his thoughts from drifting to those that should have been there. He thought of Brother Wren whose teachings were the only reason he was here tonight, were indeed the only reason he was still alive or in control of his own body.

Soon they would begin the journey up the hill and Padaxes would follow behind in the darkness, it seems fitting for he is Mdoya and an adept of the Shadow Form. Using those skills now he picked out another figure standing hidden on the other side of the fire, as he watched the Voushod, who’s back was facing Padaxes gestured and Red Six stepped into the light. Despite himself Padaxes felt a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth, another returns to the fold.

Not long afterwards he sensed another figure in the gloom, from the gait he instantly recognised Makkar and as he hesitated just before entering that circle his face betrayed conflicting emotions and Padaxes felt a stab of empathy. He resolved then to rejoin his fellows and was about to step forward when suddenly a large group of the Masuatt’a stood, giving Padaxes pause. Of course it was the Tahiri, eager to ascend before the rest of the tribe. Padaxes sat back down on his haunches bitterness twisting his gut, driving the shame to the back of his mind for a few blessed minutes. He watched with hooded eyes as they disappeared into the night one by one, starting on the winding path up the rocky hillside following the Matriarch, leaving only a few of the tribe waiting for the remaining Urai to arrive. The Mdoya seemed forgotten, well no matter he thought to himself, secure in the knowledge that they would call when they needed some dirty work done, some task that would sully their precious Tahiri ways…

He turned his eyes skywards where the stars flickered faintly through the pall of wood smoke; he would join the gathering in his own time.

Bad Harlequin
Minmatar
Sebiestor Tribe
Posted - 2004.12.07 19:49:00 - [19]
 

A figure broods, silently contemplating status reports, shipscan results, side-by-side comparisions of recent tech advances, both of his fellow podpilots' shipyards as well as espionaeg reports on the enemy's. They range from confirmed-by-multiple-sources to blind-paranoid-hysteria, but the overall trend is clear.

A figure broods, gazing over starmaps and course plots, lines looking like a schizophrenic Amarr fanatic was trying to write in his mad God's own language all over them; attempts to find smuggler's routes for liberated slaves. Not to escape Amarrian space with, but to get IN to Minmatar Republic space with!

A figure broods over the railing of the dock's rented office, looking out onto the shiny spinning form of his new Destroyer parked there. He had to compliment the engineers on their less-haphazard arrangement of the solar panels, as well as the overall improvements in construction techniques. He couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps some of them were hoping vainly to catch or deflect a stray laser shot or two...

His smile faded as he considered the likelihood of this fine-looking ship actually ever seeing any combat. Outclassed before it even took the field, underpowered, this "frigate killer" was a glorified frigate itself in danger from anything more menacing than an Impairor. And never mind the ridiculous commonality of assault ships against which it could barely scratch the paint.

A figure broods in darkness, lit only by occasional flashes from screen and readout, and sees trends, and foresees ends. He considers the gathering now taking place on most hallowed ground, and... for the first time, is not stirred to rise, is not stirred to action. He feels stirred only to destruction, to rage, and the first creepings of useless despair.

A figure broods, fighting shadow and claw within that urge freedom of a different sort, the freedom from rules and false gentlemen's agreements from false gentlemen.

I wonder, he thinks, if any who gather are willing to contemplate a true guerilla's war. Before we crumble and erode into nothing. Before we die of old age waiting for balance to be restored to the universe. Power, strength, violence, these are rewarded and respected, all else is discarded and ignored, no matter what the pretty words or petty games of politician or Jove may say.

A figure broods and considers a gathering storm of his own.


 

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