7-28 YC114 0430
Ibura System
Planet II Orbital Platform
Ryven soared silently through the vacuum of space, the massive sphere of the planet and the small orbital facility the only objects in view. He had left out a special hatch in his Manticore-class bomber and fired a short burst of his EVA suit's thrusters. He had only three kilometers of distance to cover. He was aiming for a cluster of antennae at the top of the platform. Despite the rage boiling and surging through his every fiber, he was a study in precision. He landed two meters shy and crawled to the cluster, placing a demolitions charge before crawling another 200 meters to the platform's airlock. He eased open the airlock's control panel and pressed the button to open it, knowing full well any personnel inside would be immediately aware. He would have twenty seconds to ovveride the internal control to gain access to the facility. It took him twelve, his every motion a channel for his fury, his body a weapon, his rage the fuel. As the airlock's interior door swung slowly open, Ryven dropped a smoke grenade that quickly filled the platform's entryway with thick white smoke. Ryven pulled off his helmet quickly, allowing for less impeded vision. His usual sunglasses adorned his face, and he pressed a small button on the frame of the right lens, activating the infrared detection filter. They couldn't see him. He could see them. There were approximately twelve men, all aiming where they expected him to be. He needed to move, and fast.
Ryven was a purist. He didn't use any cybernetic enhancements on his body. However, his brain was hardwired with multiple implants. His reflexes, his senses, his neural processes were all accelerated. He rolled to the right and out of the airlock into the main entryway, a large rectangular room with little to no cover for at least five meters before there was a barricade in front of a wide corridor and a large glass-windowed room that was obviously the security station for this airlock. Ryven needed to get to that room.
Ryven propelled himself rapidly the three meters to the nearest attacker. All twelve were now firing at the airlock where he had just been crouching. He took the first attacker unawares, thrusting his fist up under the man's chin and driving his elbow into the man's throat. He wrenched the man's assault rifle from his arms and flipped over in air and caught it, firing two shots into the man's brain, before crouching and rolling to bring the sights up to the second attacker. The sights lined up as the attackers all started to become aware he was no longer in the airlock and began searching for him. He squeezed the trigger gently, a burst of three rounds exploding through the second man's face, a cloud of pink and grey spreading out in their wake.
Ryven winced as one of the enemy's shots found home and tore through his lower abdomen on the left side. His suit was only lightly armored and couldn't stop these high-caliber rounds. He grunted and forced himself to ignore the pain and quickly dispatched another three of the orbital platform's security personnel. He was only twenty meters away from the security booth. Seven attackers remained. His smoke screen would begin to clear very soon. With his left hand, he drew his personal pistol from the holster on the small of his back. Relying on his heightened senses, he aimed blindly and began firing as he began to run, firing the assault rifle in short bursts and the pistol sporadically. As he closed the distance to the remaining armed men, he dropped and slid on his knees across the smooth metal floor of the room, firing as he went. His slide took him all the way to the doorway of the security booth, which was, thankfully, wide open. A man sat there in a chair, a headset on his head, his face one of sheer surprise and terror, his mouth agape. Ryven's face was covered in blood, his expression macabre, a divine nightmare visited upon them. The man in the chair died before he could say a word, riddled with a burst of automatic fire.
He slowly stood and surveyed the carnage. The smoke hung in a haze, low and now only a thin veil, only enhancing the horror. Twelve men lay dead, blood spreading in pools, the walls spackled with gore and pocked with bullet impacts. Ryven would have smiled, but the bloodlust was high in him. He could only stare at it, in awe at the surge of euphoria. It felt good. But, then he felt the pain. They had gotten another lucky shot or two in. His leg was tender and it was weakening under his weight. He looked down and could see that he had been shot in his right shin, the bone most likely broken. The wound in his abdomen was slowly oozing blood as well. Ryven swore to himself and forced himself to continue through the facility. Somewhere on this small platform, Leela was being held. Somewhere on this platform, there was a man in desperate need of killing.
Ryven stalked the corridors of the ship, killing indiscriminately. The blood on his face had coagulated and was beginning to turn black. His black EVA suit, black, shades, and blood streaked face created a striking image, an angel of death, an executioner. His lips turned up in a grin. The old feelings were coming back. The Haijikioten blood was reviving.
Ryven was still high on his bloodlust when he finally found Leela. The door to the chamber slid open with a quiet hiss and his eyes found her in the center of the room, suspended spread eagle by wrist and ankle chains attached to solid metal columns that ran floor to ceiling. There was a drain below her in the floor and it showed him proof of what was not readily visible to him when he first entered. The drain was clogged and a puddle of blood and human waste had formed. As he approached her, his rage increased with every step until it turned cold. Her hair was matted with blood. Her right eye was swollen shut and surrounded by a sickly colored bruise. Her lip was split, and blood trickled out the corners of her mouth and stained her teeth. Her clothing was torn and clung to her in rags. He could see evidence of recent and repeated rapes. His mind was consumed with a swirl of emotions: rage, horror, and a profound guilt at not better protecting her. This was his fault. His teeth clenched so tightly he thought they might snap.
Leela choked out a small whimper, her voice unintelligible. Her one good eye was pleading with him. Blood-red tears streaked her face and she strained against her chains. She was trying desperately to tell him something. "What is it? What?" He shouted, her every pain felt in the pain in his heart.
"She's trying to tell you, it's a trap." A quiet voice, filled with mirth, came from behind him. Ryven could've kicked himself. What a noob mistake. You always check corners. His muscles tensed and he spun, leveling his rifle as he did.
The sharpened point of a long, slender, barbed spear tore through his chest and drove itself into the floor, pinning him there. His rifle dropped from his right hand, his right side now numb. He choked and coughed up a large glob of bright crimson. The spear had driven itself through his right lung, and bubbles of pink began to ooze out the corners of his mouth. His body was wracked with the pain and shock of such sudden and unexpected trauma and he fought to maintain consciousness as his mind tried to cope with this onslaught and massive damage. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth and managed to slow his gasping ragged breaths. After staving off the dark vice of shock, he opened his eyes and glared at his third target, Matteo Nantes, a slender Gallente man with dark hair and eyes and the wild gaze of a man who took much pleasure from inflicting pain.
"Well played, Nantes." Ryven coughed the words, more blood spilling from his mouth. "But, why set a trap for me?"
Nantes was flanked on both sides by two armed gunmen. He carried the long silver spear-gun that had been used to pin him so deftly to the floor. Ryven was on his knees, the shaft of the spear angled down and out his back, the blood from the exit wound running down the length of it to the floor. The spear was a good two and a half meters long. The gun from which it was fired was nearly three quarters of that size. Nantes began to laugh the cold laughter of a true sadist.
"That's what I was paid to do, Mr. Krennel. Or should I call you by your real name? Mr. Haijikioten, wasn't it?" Matteo's eyes gleamed.
Ryven seethed at the mention of his birth name. What the fuck could this asshole know about any of that? Further, it wasn't even relevant. His brain shut it out. It was a distraction. His autonomous nervous system began funneling massive amounts of adrenaline into his system. The pain was beginning to subside. Implants hardwired into his brain began feeding endorphines and stimulants into appropriate portions of his body and a reserve of nanites began to repair nerve damage. His body was slowly restoring itself to functionality. Ryven was not aware of the minutia, but he knew he had only to keep this man talking for a few more minutes and he could find out what he needed to know, and then orchestrate his exit plan. He finally replied. "Names are irrelevant."
"Ah. You are correct, of course." He glanced over at Leela, savoring her agony. "See, I was hired by the man you know as Query. He specified that I needed to capture both of you. Using Leela as bait was also his idea." He smiled. "It worked wonderfully."
Ryven nodded. It had worked quite perfectly, hadn't it. Aside from the assertion that he was even remotely trapped. Ryven's breathing was becoming less labored, but he feigned difficulty. He gasped his next words. "So..I...have...a...question."
Nantes looked amused. "Oh, this should be good. Of course, let's hear it."
"This...room..." He paused, gasping for breath. "Fluid routers....flash...clone activation?"
Nantes smiled even wider. "Jammed. The communications cluster atop this facility has an inward antenna array that broadcasts a signal that effectively cancels fluid router traffic. If you are killed here, I'm afraid clone reactivation will be severely difficult, if possible at all. The likelihood of a successful clone activation without some sort of permanent neurological damage is just about zero."
Ryven was nearly ready. "Comms...array...top of facility?" He gasped.
Nantes smiled. "That's what I said."
Ryven returned the smile. "Good. That's where I planted my first set of explosives." He used his left arm to press the detonator button on the left side of his belt.
Nantes' smile disappeared as he heard the sudden roar of a massive explosion from above them. The whole facility shook and the lights flickered in the chamber. Both gunmen and Nantes were rocked off balance. Ryven used this moment to grasp the tail end of the spear impaling him and pull himself upward till he slid off the end. Blood flowed rapidly from the large wound, but, he ignored it and sprung at unthinkable speed toward the three men. He slammed the first gunman's head into the bulkhead, smashing his face into an unrecognizable mess. The he swept the feet out from under the second gunman and stomped his neck with his boot, the bones crushed to powder with the force of his unbridled and unrestrained fury. He reached out and grasped Nantes by the throat, his fingers pincers, digging into the man's flesh. Nantes's eyes were filled with fear, delicious fear, and feral Ryven relished it, drank it in, every moment nourishing a darkness in his soul. He loved it. He quickly drug Nantes face over to the flat end of the spear that had only moments before been impaling Ryven to the floor.
"Say goodbye, Nantes." Ryven said, his voice the deep cold of pure malice. Without waiting for any reply, he shifted his grip to the back of Nantes' head and drove his face onto the butt end of the spear, driving the shaft up through his eye socket and into his brain cavity. Target three was dead. Ryven dropped to his knees, the reality of the violence, the rage, the emotional turmoil of the last few moments too much for him to bear. A deep moan escaped from within him. The world went white. Only the memory, the tugging sensation of one last mission to accomplish kept him from succumbing to it. He made himself stand. He walked, as a man possessed, over to Leela, releasing her restraints. She collapsed onto him, and they both fell to the floor, thudding and smacking into the puddle of blood and excrement below her. Neither cared.
Leela simply whimpered in agony as Ryven held her, rocking both of them back and forth. He pulled a second detonator from his pocket. "Time to go home, Leela." He whispered, as his thumb depressed the detonator, and the entire facility burst into a ball of white hot debris.
They both awoke in Egghelende.
Sunday, August 5, 2012
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Shining Armor, Part IV: The Compound
7-26 YC 114 2310
Venal Region
C2-DDA Planet IV
Guristas Compound
Ryven slid down the ladder from the top of the tower quickly, only slowing his descent for the last five meters. At bottom, he quickly darted into the shadows, his sensors scanning for any heat signatures. He knew, via the orbital scans from a number of recon probes fed into his neural interface, that his target was roughly 400 meters away in the more luxurious habitation module befitting the leader of a pirate compound. To get there, he had to either skirt the perimeter for some two kilometers or dart through by the armory and the vehicle hangars, and maybe escape notice, or perhaps just blow the whole damn place up.
Ryven used cover as much as possible to conceal himself from view. More and more heat signatures began to fill his view as he approached the vehicle hangars and armory complex in the center of the compound. Off to his right, he could see the outline of the compound's sensor complex and control tower for managing vehicle approach and launch. To his left, he saw scattered barracks buildings and the looming dark shape of the outer wall which sported watch towers and gun emplacements every 200 meters or so. The compound also had two gargantuan missile launchers for defending against orbital attacks.
Ryven stopped and rummaged through his backpack, retrieving his demolitions charges. He grinned to himself at the carnage to come. He closed his backpack and placed it back on his back before making his way stealthily to the armory. There was only one guard posted, which Ryven thought was rather careless. He charged the guard quickly from the right and rammed his skull into the hard tritanium wall of the armory. The guard's skull caved under the force and reddish gray goo oozed between Ryven's fingers. He paid it no attention as he instinctively rolled through the entryway into the Guristas' storehouse of weapons and ammunition. Ryven found a few crates of suitably explosive items and placed one demo charge inside. Searching for any signs of his being detected, he left the armory and made a beeline for the vehicle hangars. There were three of them, massive structures for holding the small fleet of ground and aerial assault vehicles, as well as a few shuttle craft for reaching more robust space stations or orbital docking gantries overhead. These buildings were guarded a little more closely, but, even so, Ryven had no trouble taking each out individually.
Once charges had been placed in both the armory and hangars, Ryven readied the detonator and sprinted the last hundred meters to the Guristas' commander's habitation module, a large rectangular structure for housing the commander and seeing to his needs. Ryven had only one need he was interested in satisfying: the commander's need to die, right fuckin now.
Ryven placed a final charge on the habitation module door. He stepped out of the blast path and took a deep breath before pressing the button to detonate all of the charges. The armory disappeared in a giant ball of white fire, the tons of ammunition detonating in a secondary explosion that shook the ground Ryven was standing on. He felt the concussive wave wash over him and for a moment, his sensors flared. Then came the explosions in the vehicle hangars. The three hangars detonated in sequence, each flashing brightly and raining glowing hot debris on the compound. Finally, the last charge, significantly tinier than the others, detonated quietly next to him, blowing the door of the habitation module into a million tiny pieces. Smoke roiled through the now open doorway.
Alarms were blaring all over the compound and everywhere the pirates were running trying to control the damage and determine where the attack was coming from. Ryven seized on this moment of confusion and rushed into the Commander's habitation module. He made his way through the entry corridor, past the study, past the living room, and down the second corridor to the bedchamber. He slid open the bedroom door and found the Commander within, groggy from his rude awakening, still in his sleepwear, which, in his case, was nothing. Ryven would have smiled at the perfection of this moment, but, instead, he just aimed his assault rifle and squeezed the trigger once.
A flash erupted from the muzzle of his assault rifle. The projectile, a large calibre hypersonic round, traveled the four meters between them nearly instantaneously. It entered the Guristas Commander's skull just to the left of the bridge of his nose and exploded out the back of his head in a massive splatter of brain and skull and blood. Ryven was already halfway down the hall before the man's dead body hit the floor. He darted out the front door of the habitation module and pressed a button on his right wrist.
The dropship picked up this signal and immediately began a high velocity run at 50 meters altitude toward the signal's source. Ryven began to sprint as fast as he could in the opposite direction from the dropship's approach. As the dropship passed over, it fired a 'lasso' of nanite-guided microfilament. This 'lasso' wrapped around Ryven and 'towed' his sorry ass upward toward the dropship's drop-bay. This is how it looks if viewed on a computer simulation. In real life, it looked like Ryven was jerked at 900 km/h off of his feet and launched into the night sky. Both, technically, are accurate. 40 seconds later, when Ryven was settled on a bench in the dropship's drop-bay, he finally allowed himself to smile.
Two down. One to go.
Venal Region
C2-DDA Planet IV
Guristas Compound
Ryven slid down the ladder from the top of the tower quickly, only slowing his descent for the last five meters. At bottom, he quickly darted into the shadows, his sensors scanning for any heat signatures. He knew, via the orbital scans from a number of recon probes fed into his neural interface, that his target was roughly 400 meters away in the more luxurious habitation module befitting the leader of a pirate compound. To get there, he had to either skirt the perimeter for some two kilometers or dart through by the armory and the vehicle hangars, and maybe escape notice, or perhaps just blow the whole damn place up.
Ryven used cover as much as possible to conceal himself from view. More and more heat signatures began to fill his view as he approached the vehicle hangars and armory complex in the center of the compound. Off to his right, he could see the outline of the compound's sensor complex and control tower for managing vehicle approach and launch. To his left, he saw scattered barracks buildings and the looming dark shape of the outer wall which sported watch towers and gun emplacements every 200 meters or so. The compound also had two gargantuan missile launchers for defending against orbital attacks.
Ryven stopped and rummaged through his backpack, retrieving his demolitions charges. He grinned to himself at the carnage to come. He closed his backpack and placed it back on his back before making his way stealthily to the armory. There was only one guard posted, which Ryven thought was rather careless. He charged the guard quickly from the right and rammed his skull into the hard tritanium wall of the armory. The guard's skull caved under the force and reddish gray goo oozed between Ryven's fingers. He paid it no attention as he instinctively rolled through the entryway into the Guristas' storehouse of weapons and ammunition. Ryven found a few crates of suitably explosive items and placed one demo charge inside. Searching for any signs of his being detected, he left the armory and made a beeline for the vehicle hangars. There were three of them, massive structures for holding the small fleet of ground and aerial assault vehicles, as well as a few shuttle craft for reaching more robust space stations or orbital docking gantries overhead. These buildings were guarded a little more closely, but, even so, Ryven had no trouble taking each out individually.
Once charges had been placed in both the armory and hangars, Ryven readied the detonator and sprinted the last hundred meters to the Guristas' commander's habitation module, a large rectangular structure for housing the commander and seeing to his needs. Ryven had only one need he was interested in satisfying: the commander's need to die, right fuckin now.
Ryven placed a final charge on the habitation module door. He stepped out of the blast path and took a deep breath before pressing the button to detonate all of the charges. The armory disappeared in a giant ball of white fire, the tons of ammunition detonating in a secondary explosion that shook the ground Ryven was standing on. He felt the concussive wave wash over him and for a moment, his sensors flared. Then came the explosions in the vehicle hangars. The three hangars detonated in sequence, each flashing brightly and raining glowing hot debris on the compound. Finally, the last charge, significantly tinier than the others, detonated quietly next to him, blowing the door of the habitation module into a million tiny pieces. Smoke roiled through the now open doorway.
Alarms were blaring all over the compound and everywhere the pirates were running trying to control the damage and determine where the attack was coming from. Ryven seized on this moment of confusion and rushed into the Commander's habitation module. He made his way through the entry corridor, past the study, past the living room, and down the second corridor to the bedchamber. He slid open the bedroom door and found the Commander within, groggy from his rude awakening, still in his sleepwear, which, in his case, was nothing. Ryven would have smiled at the perfection of this moment, but, instead, he just aimed his assault rifle and squeezed the trigger once.
A flash erupted from the muzzle of his assault rifle. The projectile, a large calibre hypersonic round, traveled the four meters between them nearly instantaneously. It entered the Guristas Commander's skull just to the left of the bridge of his nose and exploded out the back of his head in a massive splatter of brain and skull and blood. Ryven was already halfway down the hall before the man's dead body hit the floor. He darted out the front door of the habitation module and pressed a button on his right wrist.
The dropship picked up this signal and immediately began a high velocity run at 50 meters altitude toward the signal's source. Ryven began to sprint as fast as he could in the opposite direction from the dropship's approach. As the dropship passed over, it fired a 'lasso' of nanite-guided microfilament. This 'lasso' wrapped around Ryven and 'towed' his sorry ass upward toward the dropship's drop-bay. This is how it looks if viewed on a computer simulation. In real life, it looked like Ryven was jerked at 900 km/h off of his feet and launched into the night sky. Both, technically, are accurate. 40 seconds later, when Ryven was settled on a bench in the dropship's drop-bay, he finally allowed himself to smile.
Two down. One to go.
Shining Armor, Part VI: Game Changer
7-27 YC114 2310
Interrogation Room
Ryven's Flagship
"Princess Shalee"
Revelation-class Dreadnaught
The man spoke through cracked lips, smoke still curling in wisps away from his tortured flesh. He looked a nightmare, blood and fluid from broken blisters and exposed muscle drained from his torso and limbs. His voice belied his pain.
"You were played. The man who gave you the intel, he wanted to get you away from Leela. He sent you out to do some of his dirty work while he and my boss took her unawares."
Ryven's blood ran cold.
"They captured her last night."
Ryven's face was a mask. Only his eyes told the truth of his fury. He spoke calmly and evenly, each word the tolling of a funeral bell. "The only words I better hear out of your mouth is her location."
"Ibura. Planet 2. Orbital platform."
Ryven nodded. He cranked the heat to maximum and left the room. The screaming still hadn't faded when he disembarked to board his stealth bomber and sped at best speed for the Ibura system.
Interrogation Room
Ryven's Flagship
"Princess Shalee"
Revelation-class Dreadnaught
The man spoke through cracked lips, smoke still curling in wisps away from his tortured flesh. He looked a nightmare, blood and fluid from broken blisters and exposed muscle drained from his torso and limbs. His voice belied his pain.
"You were played. The man who gave you the intel, he wanted to get you away from Leela. He sent you out to do some of his dirty work while he and my boss took her unawares."
Ryven's blood ran cold.
"They captured her last night."
Ryven's face was a mask. Only his eyes told the truth of his fury. He spoke calmly and evenly, each word the tolling of a funeral bell. "The only words I better hear out of your mouth is her location."
"Ibura. Planet 2. Orbital platform."
Ryven nodded. He cranked the heat to maximum and left the room. The screaming still hadn't faded when he disembarked to board his stealth bomber and sped at best speed for the Ibura system.
Shining Armor, Part V: Interrogation
7-27 YC114 2300
Interrogation Room
Ryven's Flagship
"Princess Shalee"
Revelation Class Dreadnaught
Ryven stared at the man across the cold metal table. The room was dimly lit and undecorated unless you counted the table, two chairs, and the assortment of torture devices decoration, in which case, it was perfectly arranged to give the torturee the appropriate level of despair.
The man across from Ryven was strapped to the chair with heated wire. The chair itself had internal heating coils. The level of heat was entirely controlled by a controller in Ryven's hand. He could near-instantaneously heat the wires and coils to 110 degrees Celsius.
The man seated in this ungodly device was target three's second in command. Target three had gone off the grid. Ryven needed his location ASAP.
"So." Ryven began, taking a moment to puff on a large cigar. "I'll ask again. Where is Mr. Nantes?"
This had been going on for seven hours. The man was already covered in blistered burns that were beginning to rupture. He was completely unclothed, and the agony was beginning to show through in the man's ragged breaths, wild eyes, and clenched teeth. Still, he remained silent. Ryven again pressed the controller. The man strained against the wires, his back arched. Every muscle in his body tight cords. The air reeked with the smell of burning flesh. Ryven smoked dispassionately for a good three minutes before deactivating the burn.
The man gasped, the wires on his chest had burned down to the muscles. His wristbones had begun to charr, his arteries cauterized. His hands would necrotize soon, lacking a supply of blood.
"You have held out admirably. Know this: if you die without giving me the information I seek, I will hunt down everyone dear to you and inflict a suffering you cannot imagine upon them."Ryven's gaze was stone. His eyes telegraphing his resolve. "I am a capsuleer. You know I will do it. So, again, tell me what I wish to know, and your family will be left alone, and you will die swiftly."
The man slumped, his resolve finally broken. He finally broke his silence, and what he said shocked Ryven to his very core and filled him with a white hot rage he had never before known.
Interrogation Room
Ryven's Flagship
"Princess Shalee"
Revelation Class Dreadnaught
Ryven stared at the man across the cold metal table. The room was dimly lit and undecorated unless you counted the table, two chairs, and the assortment of torture devices decoration, in which case, it was perfectly arranged to give the torturee the appropriate level of despair.
The man across from Ryven was strapped to the chair with heated wire. The chair itself had internal heating coils. The level of heat was entirely controlled by a controller in Ryven's hand. He could near-instantaneously heat the wires and coils to 110 degrees Celsius.
The man seated in this ungodly device was target three's second in command. Target three had gone off the grid. Ryven needed his location ASAP.
"So." Ryven began, taking a moment to puff on a large cigar. "I'll ask again. Where is Mr. Nantes?"
This had been going on for seven hours. The man was already covered in blistered burns that were beginning to rupture. He was completely unclothed, and the agony was beginning to show through in the man's ragged breaths, wild eyes, and clenched teeth. Still, he remained silent. Ryven again pressed the controller. The man strained against the wires, his back arched. Every muscle in his body tight cords. The air reeked with the smell of burning flesh. Ryven smoked dispassionately for a good three minutes before deactivating the burn.
The man gasped, the wires on his chest had burned down to the muscles. His wristbones had begun to charr, his arteries cauterized. His hands would necrotize soon, lacking a supply of blood.
"You have held out admirably. Know this: if you die without giving me the information I seek, I will hunt down everyone dear to you and inflict a suffering you cannot imagine upon them."Ryven's gaze was stone. His eyes telegraphing his resolve. "I am a capsuleer. You know I will do it. So, again, tell me what I wish to know, and your family will be left alone, and you will die swiftly."
The man slumped, his resolve finally broken. He finally broke his silence, and what he said shocked Ryven to his very core and filled him with a white hot rage he had never before known.
Shining Armor, Part III: The Drop
7-26 YC 114 2248
Venal Region
C2-DDA Planet IV
9km Altitude
Ryven hadn't worn a combat dropsuit in years, but familiarity flooded over him as he prepped for drop. He carried an assault rifle in his right hand and a pistol on a hip holster. His back-mounted pack carried spare magazines of ammunition, demolitions charges, and a variety of grenades, as well as a few canisters of nanites for first aid. He wore a bandolier of ammunition and grenades across his chest as well. His dropsuit was light, but sported decent protective armor against most small arms and blades. His helmet was similarly high tech and the optics and sensors were integrated to his capsuleer implants and neural interface to allow for instantaneous neural input and rapid reaction times. The dropship's location over the temperate planet's surface and the decreasing distance to the drop zone were fed into his neural interface and he knew his drop was less than a minute away.
He moved toward the exit door in the floor of the dropship and prepared himself to jump out into the darkness. The door slid open slowly and the atmosphere of the planet rushed into the dropship at nearly 900 km/h as the ship zoomed through the lower atmosphere. A buzzer sounded and Ryven jumped through the exit door and dropped rapidly through the night, an altimeter display on his helmet's viewscreen. He watched as the digital counter rolled, counting down from the 9km altitude of his drop down to his planned time to activate inertial dampers and retro-thrusters to slow his descent to a safe speed and cushion his impact. The air rushing past him as he fell through the night sky was a cacophany, but there was no sign at the compound below of his being detected. The forest canopy rushed toward him from below and the altimeter registered 400 meters till impact. He fired off his thrusters and activate his dampers. The thrusters slowed his speed to roughly 50km/h and the dampers soaked up the majority of the force of impact as he slammed into the forest floor, a massive cloud of dust and plant matter occluding him as he crouched and immediately rolled to shed excess momentum. He came out of the roll in a crouch position, weapon drawn, his senses tuned to his dropsuit's array of sensors. All was quiet.
He slowly began to make his way toward the compound where his second target was located. The Guristas camp was a quiet one at this hour, the pirates believing they were safe here in their home regions in a system out of the way, isolated from the usual pathways used by capsuleers. Ryven was not interested in the usual pathways, however, and these pirates were in for a reckoning. Their leader was one of Leela's more ruthless clients, and he was not pleased to have her services suddenly rendered unavailable in the past year. He wished her captured, and likely tortured mercilessly. The audacity of these assholes, Ryven thought to himself, to think they could capture and harm a capsuleer, especially one so dear to him.
Ryven silently maneuvered the 2 kilometers to the compound's perimeter, and dropped to the prone position. The dropsuit's optics were automatically feeding his optic nerve images in the infrared spectrum, and in the cool night air, the enemy sentries stood out bright white against the cool bluish gray background. There were two guards he would have to neutralize before he could make his way into the enemy's compound. Both stood on a parapet at the corner of the outer tritanium wall of their base. Ryven crawled to a small ditch roughly twenty meters from the parapet. The guards were lazily chatting to each other, neither paying attention to what was approaching.
Ryven crawled on his belly toward the tower wall. Though neither guard was paying attention, the motion of a man sprinting across an open space of ground would draw their attention. The human eye was attracted to motion, especially at night. So, he took his time and closed the distance before beginning to climb the wall at the base of the tower and ascend toward the guards' parapet. His suit made such a climb possible by engaging a set of tiny, but ultra-strong spikes that gripped the outer layers of tritanium plating. The climb was slow, but, the distance was only around thirty meters and he managed it in just under three minutes. The parapet was wider in diameter than the tower, so Ryven had to leap one meter backward to grab the lip of the parapet's platform and lift himself up over the edge. He did so in one fluid motion and launched himself silently over the parapet rail, driving his armored fist into the nearest guard and flinging a throwing knife at the other. The knife sank deeply into the guard's throat and Ryven drove his elbow onto the windpipe of the first guard. The entire maneuver ended in under two seconds. He smiled to himself.
"I've still got it."
Venal Region
C2-DDA Planet IV
9km Altitude
Ryven hadn't worn a combat dropsuit in years, but familiarity flooded over him as he prepped for drop. He carried an assault rifle in his right hand and a pistol on a hip holster. His back-mounted pack carried spare magazines of ammunition, demolitions charges, and a variety of grenades, as well as a few canisters of nanites for first aid. He wore a bandolier of ammunition and grenades across his chest as well. His dropsuit was light, but sported decent protective armor against most small arms and blades. His helmet was similarly high tech and the optics and sensors were integrated to his capsuleer implants and neural interface to allow for instantaneous neural input and rapid reaction times. The dropship's location over the temperate planet's surface and the decreasing distance to the drop zone were fed into his neural interface and he knew his drop was less than a minute away.
He moved toward the exit door in the floor of the dropship and prepared himself to jump out into the darkness. The door slid open slowly and the atmosphere of the planet rushed into the dropship at nearly 900 km/h as the ship zoomed through the lower atmosphere. A buzzer sounded and Ryven jumped through the exit door and dropped rapidly through the night, an altimeter display on his helmet's viewscreen. He watched as the digital counter rolled, counting down from the 9km altitude of his drop down to his planned time to activate inertial dampers and retro-thrusters to slow his descent to a safe speed and cushion his impact. The air rushing past him as he fell through the night sky was a cacophany, but there was no sign at the compound below of his being detected. The forest canopy rushed toward him from below and the altimeter registered 400 meters till impact. He fired off his thrusters and activate his dampers. The thrusters slowed his speed to roughly 50km/h and the dampers soaked up the majority of the force of impact as he slammed into the forest floor, a massive cloud of dust and plant matter occluding him as he crouched and immediately rolled to shed excess momentum. He came out of the roll in a crouch position, weapon drawn, his senses tuned to his dropsuit's array of sensors. All was quiet.
He slowly began to make his way toward the compound where his second target was located. The Guristas camp was a quiet one at this hour, the pirates believing they were safe here in their home regions in a system out of the way, isolated from the usual pathways used by capsuleers. Ryven was not interested in the usual pathways, however, and these pirates were in for a reckoning. Their leader was one of Leela's more ruthless clients, and he was not pleased to have her services suddenly rendered unavailable in the past year. He wished her captured, and likely tortured mercilessly. The audacity of these assholes, Ryven thought to himself, to think they could capture and harm a capsuleer, especially one so dear to him.
Ryven silently maneuvered the 2 kilometers to the compound's perimeter, and dropped to the prone position. The dropsuit's optics were automatically feeding his optic nerve images in the infrared spectrum, and in the cool night air, the enemy sentries stood out bright white against the cool bluish gray background. There were two guards he would have to neutralize before he could make his way into the enemy's compound. Both stood on a parapet at the corner of the outer tritanium wall of their base. Ryven crawled to a small ditch roughly twenty meters from the parapet. The guards were lazily chatting to each other, neither paying attention to what was approaching.
Ryven crawled on his belly toward the tower wall. Though neither guard was paying attention, the motion of a man sprinting across an open space of ground would draw their attention. The human eye was attracted to motion, especially at night. So, he took his time and closed the distance before beginning to climb the wall at the base of the tower and ascend toward the guards' parapet. His suit made such a climb possible by engaging a set of tiny, but ultra-strong spikes that gripped the outer layers of tritanium plating. The climb was slow, but, the distance was only around thirty meters and he managed it in just under three minutes. The parapet was wider in diameter than the tower, so Ryven had to leap one meter backward to grab the lip of the parapet's platform and lift himself up over the edge. He did so in one fluid motion and launched himself silently over the parapet rail, driving his armored fist into the nearest guard and flinging a throwing knife at the other. The knife sank deeply into the guard's throat and Ryven drove his elbow onto the windpipe of the first guard. The entire maneuver ended in under two seconds. He smiled to himself.
"I've still got it."
Shining Armor, Part II: A Blade in the Dark
7-25 YC114 0127
Villore System
Inys Senchelle's Penthouse
Inys Senchelle had survived, a cutthroat amongst cutthroats, for nearly thirty years, by being paranoid. Everyone was a threat. Everyone was a potential betrayal. He paid generously and widely in hopes of creating a network of failsafes to ensure his survival. If he had the physical and mental ability to become a capsuleer, he would have. Unfortunately for him, he was of average mental aptitude and subpar physicality. His paranoia, it had been speculated, might have stemmed from underlying psychological disorders and social dysfunction.
This evening, Inys was even more paranoid than usual. He had requested a hit be put out on the information broker he had used almost exclusively for the past decade. He hadn't even known her name until a few days ago, when he had hired a different broker, known to him only as the Query, to gather information on Ms. Yttria, formerly Mrs. Krennel. She had never told Inys her name. She had always been Codex Red to him. Now, she was a target. Query was handling the contract through a series of associates who, he assured Mr. Senchelle, would be able to permanently kill a capsuleer. Senchelle suspected these associates were either Raiders or Sansha's. Senchelle shuddered at the thought of either one of those groups hunting him.
Inys sat down on his luxurious sofa in his massive penthouse apartment. The apartment was lavishly decorated in Gallentean fashion. Plants and fountains and works of Gallentean sculpture adorned the living room where he sat. He felt safe here in his home, high above the riff-raff. No one could touch him here. He finally was able to relax. He leaned his head back to rest it on the top of the sofa, his arms stretched out to each side. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and allowed himself to smile. The Leela girl would be gone soon, and with her death, a large risk to his safety and security would disappear. He could rest easy. He opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the mirrored ceiling. He had splurged to make the entire ceiling of his apartment one giant mirror a few years ago and had always enjoyed looking at himself, the illusion of staring down at himself was irresistible. He smiled now at the effect. He was about to look away when he saw something that made his blood run cold, and the smile fade from his face. There, in the mirror, he saw his doom. A tall man, a Civire by the looks of him, was crouched behind his sofa staring up at the mirror ceiling. Their eyes met in the mirror and Ryven smiled and winked. Inys screamed as Ryven, faster than Inys thought possible, stood, drew a large blade from his jacket, and plunged it directly into Inys's heart. The pain was beyond anything Inys ever could have imagined and he gasped as Ryven jerked the blade out of his chest, blood spurting after it. Inys's eyes drooped as his lifeblood poured out of him in a torrent. Ryven simply walked away, wiping the bloody blade on the finest artwork he could find on the way out.
One down. Two to go.
Villore System
Inys Senchelle's Penthouse
Inys Senchelle had survived, a cutthroat amongst cutthroats, for nearly thirty years, by being paranoid. Everyone was a threat. Everyone was a potential betrayal. He paid generously and widely in hopes of creating a network of failsafes to ensure his survival. If he had the physical and mental ability to become a capsuleer, he would have. Unfortunately for him, he was of average mental aptitude and subpar physicality. His paranoia, it had been speculated, might have stemmed from underlying psychological disorders and social dysfunction.
This evening, Inys was even more paranoid than usual. He had requested a hit be put out on the information broker he had used almost exclusively for the past decade. He hadn't even known her name until a few days ago, when he had hired a different broker, known to him only as the Query, to gather information on Ms. Yttria, formerly Mrs. Krennel. She had never told Inys her name. She had always been Codex Red to him. Now, she was a target. Query was handling the contract through a series of associates who, he assured Mr. Senchelle, would be able to permanently kill a capsuleer. Senchelle suspected these associates were either Raiders or Sansha's. Senchelle shuddered at the thought of either one of those groups hunting him.
Inys sat down on his luxurious sofa in his massive penthouse apartment. The apartment was lavishly decorated in Gallentean fashion. Plants and fountains and works of Gallentean sculpture adorned the living room where he sat. He felt safe here in his home, high above the riff-raff. No one could touch him here. He finally was able to relax. He leaned his head back to rest it on the top of the sofa, his arms stretched out to each side. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly and allowed himself to smile. The Leela girl would be gone soon, and with her death, a large risk to his safety and security would disappear. He could rest easy. He opened his eyes slowly, staring up at the mirrored ceiling. He had splurged to make the entire ceiling of his apartment one giant mirror a few years ago and had always enjoyed looking at himself, the illusion of staring down at himself was irresistible. He smiled now at the effect. He was about to look away when he saw something that made his blood run cold, and the smile fade from his face. There, in the mirror, he saw his doom. A tall man, a Civire by the looks of him, was crouched behind his sofa staring up at the mirror ceiling. Their eyes met in the mirror and Ryven smiled and winked. Inys screamed as Ryven, faster than Inys thought possible, stood, drew a large blade from his jacket, and plunged it directly into Inys's heart. The pain was beyond anything Inys ever could have imagined and he gasped as Ryven jerked the blade out of his chest, blood spurting after it. Inys's eyes drooped as his lifeblood poured out of him in a torrent. Ryven simply walked away, wiping the bloody blade on the finest artwork he could find on the way out.
One down. Two to go.
Shining Armor, Part I: The Message
7-20 YC 114 0200
Ryven's eyes had adjusted to the darkness of his quarters at Cerra Manor. The air was thick with the smoke from a half dozen cigarettes he had smoked in succession. His eyes had not wavered from the imagined spot on the wall his gaze stared straight through and beyond into a darker world where his plans unfolded and unraveled and played out to their ends. His mind, the enhanced mind of a capsuleer, could process tactics and such at an accelerated rate, but even so, he had been sitting with his back against the wall for nearly three hours without moving. It had taken him these three hours to come to a decision, formulate a plan, and calmly accept the possible ramifications.
Four hours earlier:
Ryven's neocom buzzed to alert him to an incoming call. "Speak." He answered, gruffly.
The voice on the other end was immediately familiar, belonging to a man Ryven had only made use of twice in the past. Once was when he was trying to free Leela from her father. The second time was when he was planning to murder Leela's father. The man was his informant where matters of Leela's former occupation were concerned. He traveled the same circles, knew the same people, and was, incidentally, hired by those people to track down and deliver similar information on Leela, which was the reason he was making this call.
"They're coming after her, Mr. K." He spoke, emotionless. "Is this information of interest to you? Or should I perhaps keep it to myself?" The bastard never gave you anything for free.
"You already know the answer to that." Ryven was impatient and had no time for the usual games. "The standard rate?"
"Ha!" The man laughed without any trace of mirth. "I have you by the balls, Mr. K. I know she is quite special to you." The line was quiet, and Ryven could almost see the man on the other end of the line: tall, dark skinned, gold teeth, his lips sneering as he imagined Ryven squirming at the other end. This made Ryven smile. Imagine, Ryven squirming. He'd have laughed if the man hadn't finally spoken. "Triple."
Ryven thought for a moment before finally replying. "I'll pay you four times your usual rate."
The man seemed startled by this. "And why am I shown such generosity?"
"Because you're going to give me all the information you have. All of it." Ryven spoke, his voice like ice.
The man on the other end of the line considered the terms for a full twenty seconds before finally agreeing. The information was transmitted to Ryven's neocom almost twenty minutes after the call ended.
4 Hours Later:
Ryven had read over all the information. Leela's previous occupation, acquiring and selling information on some of the cluster's most interesting and dangerously wealthy individuals to other interesting and dangerously wealthy individuals had made her the unfortunate owner of a wealth of knowledge on all sorts of criminal activities. Ryven's informant's information showed Leela was currently the target of three different organizations, one of which wanted her dead. Two wanted her captured. Ryven realized the futility of either of those actions. Leela was a capsuleer, and capsuleers were just about unkillable and damn hard to capture. However, if her clone were to be sabotaged or her ressurection routines rerouted.... well, Ryven couldn't risk that.
He tapped a few buttons on his neocom and the image of a middle-aged Gallentean man hovered over the small table in his sparsely decorated quarters. The man had close ties with the Serpentis, not that that mattered much to Ryven. This operation was going down whether it was legal or not. Leela may be his ex-wife, but he still cared for her. She needed his help, even though she would never ask for it. Ryven pulled a pistol from a nearby drawer and lined the sights up with the floating ethereal head of his first target.
"See you soon."
Ryven's eyes had adjusted to the darkness of his quarters at Cerra Manor. The air was thick with the smoke from a half dozen cigarettes he had smoked in succession. His eyes had not wavered from the imagined spot on the wall his gaze stared straight through and beyond into a darker world where his plans unfolded and unraveled and played out to their ends. His mind, the enhanced mind of a capsuleer, could process tactics and such at an accelerated rate, but even so, he had been sitting with his back against the wall for nearly three hours without moving. It had taken him these three hours to come to a decision, formulate a plan, and calmly accept the possible ramifications.
Four hours earlier:
Ryven's neocom buzzed to alert him to an incoming call. "Speak." He answered, gruffly.
The voice on the other end was immediately familiar, belonging to a man Ryven had only made use of twice in the past. Once was when he was trying to free Leela from her father. The second time was when he was planning to murder Leela's father. The man was his informant where matters of Leela's former occupation were concerned. He traveled the same circles, knew the same people, and was, incidentally, hired by those people to track down and deliver similar information on Leela, which was the reason he was making this call.
"They're coming after her, Mr. K." He spoke, emotionless. "Is this information of interest to you? Or should I perhaps keep it to myself?" The bastard never gave you anything for free.
"You already know the answer to that." Ryven was impatient and had no time for the usual games. "The standard rate?"
"Ha!" The man laughed without any trace of mirth. "I have you by the balls, Mr. K. I know she is quite special to you." The line was quiet, and Ryven could almost see the man on the other end of the line: tall, dark skinned, gold teeth, his lips sneering as he imagined Ryven squirming at the other end. This made Ryven smile. Imagine, Ryven squirming. He'd have laughed if the man hadn't finally spoken. "Triple."
Ryven thought for a moment before finally replying. "I'll pay you four times your usual rate."
The man seemed startled by this. "And why am I shown such generosity?"
"Because you're going to give me all the information you have. All of it." Ryven spoke, his voice like ice.
The man on the other end of the line considered the terms for a full twenty seconds before finally agreeing. The information was transmitted to Ryven's neocom almost twenty minutes after the call ended.
4 Hours Later:
Ryven had read over all the information. Leela's previous occupation, acquiring and selling information on some of the cluster's most interesting and dangerously wealthy individuals to other interesting and dangerously wealthy individuals had made her the unfortunate owner of a wealth of knowledge on all sorts of criminal activities. Ryven's informant's information showed Leela was currently the target of three different organizations, one of which wanted her dead. Two wanted her captured. Ryven realized the futility of either of those actions. Leela was a capsuleer, and capsuleers were just about unkillable and damn hard to capture. However, if her clone were to be sabotaged or her ressurection routines rerouted.... well, Ryven couldn't risk that.
He tapped a few buttons on his neocom and the image of a middle-aged Gallentean man hovered over the small table in his sparsely decorated quarters. The man had close ties with the Serpentis, not that that mattered much to Ryven. This operation was going down whether it was legal or not. Leela may be his ex-wife, but he still cared for her. She needed his help, even though she would never ask for it. Ryven pulled a pistol from a nearby drawer and lined the sights up with the floating ethereal head of his first target.
"See you soon."
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Assassination
Ryven lay in his bed in the spacious cabin of his Revelation-class dreadnaught, Princess Shalee. His skin was the smooth, pale skin of a fresh clone. His wooden pipe, formerly Titus's pipe, hung from his lips and he puffed away at it, the bluish smoke drifting up and hanging a few feet below the overhead. He had a grin on his face. It had all gone as he had hoped it would. He had just been assassinated.
He had been sitting in the Broken Piano bar, relaxing and keeping his eyes out for any familiar faces, but mostly just wanting to be alone. He hadn't been there very long when his neocom chirped and he received the call he had been expecting from Matthaios Panthera. Panthera had sent him a discreet mail around a week ago asking him to meet. Matthaios said he had information about Tigerfish Torpedo that might save Ryven's life. Ryven was curious, and as far as he could tell, this was a win-win situation. If Matthaios turned out to be legit, then he would gain some possibly crucial information. If Matthaios turned out to be something else entirely, then Ryven would get a chance to show Shalee he was serious. Chicks dig it when you die for them.
So, when Matthaios asked where to meet, he of course chose the Rowdy Stray Jazz Bar, owned by his close friend Zhou Liang, knowing full well it would be empty and knowing full well there would be no security.
When Ryven arrived at the Rowdy Stray, the bar was empty, as he knew it would be. He walked over to his favorite booth and had a seat. He pulled a pack of his personal brand of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one in his mouth. He lit the end and took a long slow drag before leaning back and waiting for Matthaios to arrive. He didn't have to wait long.
Matthaios came strolling through the entrance and looked over to Ryven. Ryven examined him, his face passive. Matthaios wore a full robe, and his features were mostly hidden. He had a somewhat unsavory look about him. Matthaios looked nervous and asked, "Ryven?"
Ryven waved him over. "I'm Ryven." He took a long deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled a trail of bluish-white smoke. He gestured to the bartender to bring two drinks.
Matthaios moved in quickly and to sit down beside Ryven in the booth, blocking him in. "Nice to finally meet you." He said.
Ryven simply raised an eyebrow, noting he was blocked in. He shrugged and inwardly felt a sense of satisfaction. It was going to be that kind of evening. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
Matthaios slid his hands under the table, slipping them into his robe and reaching down onto his belt "About Tigerfish of course. I know the man, you see."
Ryven managed not to roll his eyes at the obviousness of that statement, but instead just nodded.
Matthaios pulled out his neocom with one hand and passed it to Ryven. "There, check that video." he grinned. "I managed to get a recording of Tigerfish's plan, spoken by the man himself."
He seemed very pleased with himself. Ryven accepted the neocom, his mouth turning up in the tiniest of grins, the cigarette nearly dropping out of his mouth. He had to play the part.
Tigerfish Torpedo appeared on the screen, dressed in his usual combat fatigues but holding a large silver blade - the handle, uniquely carved. "Krennel? You there? I know you're watching me!"
Ryven stroked his chin in silence and put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table.
Tigerfish held the blade inches from the screen, allowing Ryven to see every detail of the intricate carving. "This blade has never left my side. Not once in over 6 years. It's killed nearly 200 men so far, and a few women too."
Ryven grunted. "That's charming. Not so polite when your girlfriend's not around." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette and lit it, blowing a stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth.
"Mr Krennel, my blade houses a secret. A secret you can probably see from the handle. Did you notice?"
Ryven nodded. "Yeah, I noticed."
Tigerfish nodded. "I just wanted you to know how important that blade is to me."
Tiger smiled and looked back down at his blade. "You know, I've not been parted with my blade in over six years. That's six years, Mr Krennel! Long time to carry around a blade like this. But you want to know the amusing thing?"
Ryven shrugged. "I suspect I'll find out regardless."
Tiger moved his head towards the tiny screen. "This one isn't mine! It belonged to another man that I killed several years ago."
At that moment, Matthaios pulled his other hand from beneath the table and jabbed a blade squarely into Ryven's side. Ryven gasped from the intense pain in his side, his eyes immediately wide with shock, even though he had suspected this might happen.
Tiger laughed in mirth. "Don't worry Mr Krennel. I had the liberty of coating the tip with poison, just because I know she likes you so much."
Ryven spat up a glob of blood and managed a wild-eyed grin. "Well, I will give you this much: you have a flair for theatrics." His breathing was becoming labored. He leaned back in his seat and took a long slow drag of his cigarette, a smile forming on his lips. "And now I can say I've died for her." He closed his eyes. It was taking so much effort to keep them open.
Tiger bowed his head, tossing the other blade away. "You should feel honored, Mr Krennel. That blade has never left my side. Seemed fitting that it be the one I use, even if I don't want your blood on my hands directly."
Ryven opened his eyes momentarily, after hearing Tiger's voice and simply muttered, "Privileged," and slumped in his seat, his eyes closed, dead, a trail of blood dripping from his lips down onto the tabletop.
Matthaios pulled the blade from Ryven's side and wiped it on Krennel's jacket before sliding it back beneath his robe. "Sleep well, Ryven." With that, Matthaios shifted out of the booth and pulled the hood over his head and tipped the bartender on his way out the door.
Ryven had woken in a new clone in Egghelende and immediately made his way to his quarters. He had been laying in his bed ever since, smiling to himself in the knowledge that everything had gone according to plan. How could she not love him now? After all, chicks dig it when you die for them.
He had been sitting in the Broken Piano bar, relaxing and keeping his eyes out for any familiar faces, but mostly just wanting to be alone. He hadn't been there very long when his neocom chirped and he received the call he had been expecting from Matthaios Panthera. Panthera had sent him a discreet mail around a week ago asking him to meet. Matthaios said he had information about Tigerfish Torpedo that might save Ryven's life. Ryven was curious, and as far as he could tell, this was a win-win situation. If Matthaios turned out to be legit, then he would gain some possibly crucial information. If Matthaios turned out to be something else entirely, then Ryven would get a chance to show Shalee he was serious. Chicks dig it when you die for them.
So, when Matthaios asked where to meet, he of course chose the Rowdy Stray Jazz Bar, owned by his close friend Zhou Liang, knowing full well it would be empty and knowing full well there would be no security.
When Ryven arrived at the Rowdy Stray, the bar was empty, as he knew it would be. He walked over to his favorite booth and had a seat. He pulled a pack of his personal brand of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one in his mouth. He lit the end and took a long slow drag before leaning back and waiting for Matthaios to arrive. He didn't have to wait long.
Matthaios came strolling through the entrance and looked over to Ryven. Ryven examined him, his face passive. Matthaios wore a full robe, and his features were mostly hidden. He had a somewhat unsavory look about him. Matthaios looked nervous and asked, "Ryven?"
Ryven waved him over. "I'm Ryven." He took a long deep drag of his cigarette and exhaled a trail of bluish-white smoke. He gestured to the bartender to bring two drinks.
Matthaios moved in quickly and to sit down beside Ryven in the booth, blocking him in. "Nice to finally meet you." He said.
Ryven simply raised an eyebrow, noting he was blocked in. He shrugged and inwardly felt a sense of satisfaction. It was going to be that kind of evening. "So, what did you want to talk about?"
Matthaios slid his hands under the table, slipping them into his robe and reaching down onto his belt "About Tigerfish of course. I know the man, you see."
Ryven managed not to roll his eyes at the obviousness of that statement, but instead just nodded.
Matthaios pulled out his neocom with one hand and passed it to Ryven. "There, check that video." he grinned. "I managed to get a recording of Tigerfish's plan, spoken by the man himself."
He seemed very pleased with himself. Ryven accepted the neocom, his mouth turning up in the tiniest of grins, the cigarette nearly dropping out of his mouth. He had to play the part.
Tigerfish Torpedo appeared on the screen, dressed in his usual combat fatigues but holding a large silver blade - the handle, uniquely carved. "Krennel? You there? I know you're watching me!"
Ryven stroked his chin in silence and put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table.
Tigerfish held the blade inches from the screen, allowing Ryven to see every detail of the intricate carving. "This blade has never left my side. Not once in over 6 years. It's killed nearly 200 men so far, and a few women too."
Ryven grunted. "That's charming. Not so polite when your girlfriend's not around." He reached into his pocket and pulled out another cigarette and lit it, blowing a stream of smoke out the corner of his mouth.
"Mr Krennel, my blade houses a secret. A secret you can probably see from the handle. Did you notice?"
Ryven nodded. "Yeah, I noticed."
Tigerfish nodded. "I just wanted you to know how important that blade is to me."
Tiger smiled and looked back down at his blade. "You know, I've not been parted with my blade in over six years. That's six years, Mr Krennel! Long time to carry around a blade like this. But you want to know the amusing thing?"
Ryven shrugged. "I suspect I'll find out regardless."
Tiger moved his head towards the tiny screen. "This one isn't mine! It belonged to another man that I killed several years ago."
At that moment, Matthaios pulled his other hand from beneath the table and jabbed a blade squarely into Ryven's side. Ryven gasped from the intense pain in his side, his eyes immediately wide with shock, even though he had suspected this might happen.
Tiger laughed in mirth. "Don't worry Mr Krennel. I had the liberty of coating the tip with poison, just because I know she likes you so much."
Ryven spat up a glob of blood and managed a wild-eyed grin. "Well, I will give you this much: you have a flair for theatrics." His breathing was becoming labored. He leaned back in his seat and took a long slow drag of his cigarette, a smile forming on his lips. "And now I can say I've died for her." He closed his eyes. It was taking so much effort to keep them open.
Tiger bowed his head, tossing the other blade away. "You should feel honored, Mr Krennel. That blade has never left my side. Seemed fitting that it be the one I use, even if I don't want your blood on my hands directly."
Ryven opened his eyes momentarily, after hearing Tiger's voice and simply muttered, "Privileged," and slumped in his seat, his eyes closed, dead, a trail of blood dripping from his lips down onto the tabletop.
Matthaios pulled the blade from Ryven's side and wiped it on Krennel's jacket before sliding it back beneath his robe. "Sleep well, Ryven." With that, Matthaios shifted out of the booth and pulled the hood over his head and tipped the bartender on his way out the door.
Ryven had woken in a new clone in Egghelende and immediately made his way to his quarters. He had been laying in his bed ever since, smiling to himself in the knowledge that everything had gone according to plan. How could she not love him now? After all, chicks dig it when you die for them.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Sometimes it's the Little Things
Leela lay on her bunk in her tiny cabin on her Cheetah class covert frigate. She stared at the ceiling, and tears slowly trickled down her reddened cheeks. Things were not going how she envisioned them. She should be happily married to her man. Instead she was completely alone, and worse yet, she may have ruined her hopes of having any friends in I.LAW. She had been honest, but, she had admitted to intentially bugging an I.LAW director. The fact that it was her ex-husband and she had good intentions seemed irrelevant to Shalee and Almity. She had the utmost respect for both of them, and despite her display of calm, it devastated her to have broken their trust. She really had hoped they would be friends. But how can anyone trust a person who's entire life has been devoted to selling secrets?
Leela would never betray Ryven. She owed him too much. It was really sweet that he had sought vengeance by killing her father. He even tried to keep it a secret so she wouldn't have to face it. He needn't have bothered. She knew nearly immediately and had smiled at the news. And yet, she left him. She questioned that decision nearly every day. So, here she was. Alone and lonely, crying over her own decisions. At least no one had to see her cry.
Thomas, her Electronics Systems Officer, knocked on the door. She pressed a button by her bunk and the door slid open. He stood in the doorway in his black and gold militia uniform.
"Lieutenant Henderson, what can I do for you?"
Thomas looked concerned to see her in the dark room with obvious signs of her emotional distress. He stared briefly at the empty bottle of liquor on the floor. "Captain, the crew wanted to present you with something, so I brought it up here for you."
She wiped the tears from her face and sat up, motioning for him to approach.
He strode over to stand before her and drew a gold plaque from behind his back. Engraved on its surface was her name and the inscription: "Best of them all."
She started crying again. Sometimes, it's the little things
Leela would never betray Ryven. She owed him too much. It was really sweet that he had sought vengeance by killing her father. He even tried to keep it a secret so she wouldn't have to face it. He needn't have bothered. She knew nearly immediately and had smiled at the news. And yet, she left him. She questioned that decision nearly every day. So, here she was. Alone and lonely, crying over her own decisions. At least no one had to see her cry.
Thomas, her Electronics Systems Officer, knocked on the door. She pressed a button by her bunk and the door slid open. He stood in the doorway in his black and gold militia uniform.
"Lieutenant Henderson, what can I do for you?"
Thomas looked concerned to see her in the dark room with obvious signs of her emotional distress. He stared briefly at the empty bottle of liquor on the floor. "Captain, the crew wanted to present you with something, so I brought it up here for you."
She wiped the tears from her face and sat up, motioning for him to approach.
He strode over to stand before her and drew a gold plaque from behind his back. Engraved on its surface was her name and the inscription: "Best of them all."
She started crying again. Sometimes, it's the little things
Saturday, July 7, 2012
OOC
This is my first post OOC. I wanted to muse a little on RP and me.
I only started RP after coming to KOTMC around a year ago. I had never really been around eve rp and had never done any explicit RP in a video game. Suffice to say, I was distraught to realize I had missed the golden age of eve RP.
I spent my first few months laying out backstory and getting a feel for Ryven as a person. I wanted to play a person who seemed real to me. I find that it is tempting to go pure good or evil with a character, but, in Ryven's case, I felt it was much more interesting to play someone grey. I gave him a history of violence and a newfound desire to be good. I wanted him to struggle with his violent nature. I wanted him to also deal with being out of place. Hence, a caldari orphan raised by a gallente and plunged into a life as a merc and then pirate/hegemony seeking null guy.
His conversion to the Amarr faith and continued fight for the Empire solidified his uneasy position.
I guess, if I am trying to say anything at all, that Ry is my attempt to flesh out a real human being and his struggles with the overwhelming power of being a capsuleer and still having basic human struggles and reflecting on a past full of things he isn't proud of.
I only started RP after coming to KOTMC around a year ago. I had never really been around eve rp and had never done any explicit RP in a video game. Suffice to say, I was distraught to realize I had missed the golden age of eve RP.
I spent my first few months laying out backstory and getting a feel for Ryven as a person. I wanted to play a person who seemed real to me. I find that it is tempting to go pure good or evil with a character, but, in Ryven's case, I felt it was much more interesting to play someone grey. I gave him a history of violence and a newfound desire to be good. I wanted him to struggle with his violent nature. I wanted him to also deal with being out of place. Hence, a caldari orphan raised by a gallente and plunged into a life as a merc and then pirate/hegemony seeking null guy.
His conversion to the Amarr faith and continued fight for the Empire solidified his uneasy position.
I guess, if I am trying to say anything at all, that Ry is my attempt to flesh out a real human being and his struggles with the overwhelming power of being a capsuleer and still having basic human struggles and reflecting on a past full of things he isn't proud of.
Downtime
Ryven sat on the sofa in his sparsely decorated quarters in the University of Caille station in Egghelende. He reached over to the coffee table and picked up the framed picture of his fellow director and wingman, Shalee Lianne. It was a download of a standard militia dossier photo, but, it was the only picture he had.
He had just returned from his evening with Shalee and Tiger onboard Tiger's carrier. His mind whirled. How did he manage to leave there alive?
He had gone in an inexpensive clone fully expecting to take the quick route home via clone death. Instead, he had taken the same shuttle he arrived in. This after flat out refusing to promise to back off on Shalee.
Aside from the threats and all, it had been pretty good, as evenings go. Good booze and food, at least.
Truthfully, he couldn't blame Tiger. In the same position, Ry might very well have wished extreme harm on Tiger. The old Ryven would have ripped his heart out and fed it to him. The new Ryven wondered if in a different circumstance they might be friends. Nonetheless, being alive and unharmed was a mixed bag. Dying for Shalee might have enamored her more to him. Maybe Tiger figured as much?
Ryven shook his head to clear his thoughts. This situation was becoming untenable. Could he continue? Or was it time to finally back off and go groveling back to Leela. He laughed bitterly. As if that would work.
He had just returned from his evening with Shalee and Tiger onboard Tiger's carrier. His mind whirled. How did he manage to leave there alive?
He had gone in an inexpensive clone fully expecting to take the quick route home via clone death. Instead, he had taken the same shuttle he arrived in. This after flat out refusing to promise to back off on Shalee.
Aside from the threats and all, it had been pretty good, as evenings go. Good booze and food, at least.
Truthfully, he couldn't blame Tiger. In the same position, Ry might very well have wished extreme harm on Tiger. The old Ryven would have ripped his heart out and fed it to him. The new Ryven wondered if in a different circumstance they might be friends. Nonetheless, being alive and unharmed was a mixed bag. Dying for Shalee might have enamored her more to him. Maybe Tiger figured as much?
Ryven shook his head to clear his thoughts. This situation was becoming untenable. Could he continue? Or was it time to finally back off and go groveling back to Leela. He laughed bitterly. As if that would work.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
The Beach
Ryven walked down the beach. He had started walking away from the Manor on Huola's 7th planet nearly an hour before. He had his boots in hand, the sand oozing between his toes as the surf washed over his feet. He was constantly amazed at the beauty of this planet.
His thoughts drifted over the years of his life up to this point. He had come a long way from being a rowdy orphan with naught but a first name. So much of his life had been spent on pointless bloodshed. He wondered if he had finally begun to atone. Sure, he was still a killer. Thousands died every week at his hands. But he wasn't in it for profit or even enjoyment anymore. Now, he fought for the cause of his God. And unlike in the past, he now felt the awful gravity of every soul he sent to the beyond. Now he had a conscience. The evil of the Haijikiotens was beginning to wash clean.
Then there was his latest trouble, one that nagged him constantly. He had lost one love for the love of another. Shalee. Why couldn't he love someone more attainable? Further, Tigerfish, her fiance, was bound to exact some sort of vengeance. She had told Tiger, of course. It was the right thing to do. But, where did that leave him? Alone, still, even though he had spent several wonderful evenings with her, he was still alone, and now with an axe dangling over his neck. He had really gotten himself into the shit this time. What could he do, though? You don't choose what your heart desires.
And then Leela. He hadn't seen her in weeks other than the curt chatter over comms when she cyno'd him into Kamela in his newest acquisition. That had been a very short and terse discussion limited only to essential information.
He was running a gamble for love, and the stakes were his two closest friends and loves of his life. Ryven sighed and gazed across the waves as the sun set on his troubles with no resolution in sight. The night would bring no solace, and the new day promised only the unknown.
His thoughts drifted over the years of his life up to this point. He had come a long way from being a rowdy orphan with naught but a first name. So much of his life had been spent on pointless bloodshed. He wondered if he had finally begun to atone. Sure, he was still a killer. Thousands died every week at his hands. But he wasn't in it for profit or even enjoyment anymore. Now, he fought for the cause of his God. And unlike in the past, he now felt the awful gravity of every soul he sent to the beyond. Now he had a conscience. The evil of the Haijikiotens was beginning to wash clean.
Then there was his latest trouble, one that nagged him constantly. He had lost one love for the love of another. Shalee. Why couldn't he love someone more attainable? Further, Tigerfish, her fiance, was bound to exact some sort of vengeance. She had told Tiger, of course. It was the right thing to do. But, where did that leave him? Alone, still, even though he had spent several wonderful evenings with her, he was still alone, and now with an axe dangling over his neck. He had really gotten himself into the shit this time. What could he do, though? You don't choose what your heart desires.
And then Leela. He hadn't seen her in weeks other than the curt chatter over comms when she cyno'd him into Kamela in his newest acquisition. That had been a very short and terse discussion limited only to essential information.
He was running a gamble for love, and the stakes were his two closest friends and loves of his life. Ryven sighed and gazed across the waves as the sun set on his troubles with no resolution in sight. The night would bring no solace, and the new day promised only the unknown.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Drinking the Fire
Journal Entry of Ryven Krennel
Onboard Revelation-class Dreadnaught: "Princess Shalee"
Titus always used to refer to a certain feeling a man can get sometimes. He finds himself caught between one difficult situation and another. He said all a man can do when encircled in flames is to just drink the fire. I feel I've been drinking the fire lately.
I fell in a little over a year ago with someone that it was probably unwise to fall for. We've flown together now for probably hundreds of patrols. When the Knighthood fell apart, she was the reason I joined the Imperial Outlaws. I've followed her all over this warzone, from one battle to the next. Until less than a week ago, I kept my silence, and even got married to another woman. Leela, probably the most insanely tough and courageous woman I know, sat me down and ended our marriage over it, because she saw what I didn't see. She knew our lies were going to kill us in the long run, and that I had to finally just go for it. So, I did.
This was probably an insanely stupid thing to do. But, what else could I do, really? If I kept my silence, then what would that do? I would stew and fester and wither, losing one love over another that I could never attain. Now I've told her, and I am likely going to pay a steep price for this revelation. Her rather charming boyfriend is not exactly going to be terribly friendly about this. She already told him about my pronouncement of my feelings. And I have been invited by said fiance to have a drink onboard his flagship. I am likely walking into an evening of ample unpleasantries.
So, here I am. I find myself in a situation where everywhere I look, there are flames closing in. The only option I have is to just drink the fire, and laugh at the devil. I can't turn back now.
Onboard Revelation-class Dreadnaught: "Princess Shalee"
Titus always used to refer to a certain feeling a man can get sometimes. He finds himself caught between one difficult situation and another. He said all a man can do when encircled in flames is to just drink the fire. I feel I've been drinking the fire lately.
I fell in a little over a year ago with someone that it was probably unwise to fall for. We've flown together now for probably hundreds of patrols. When the Knighthood fell apart, she was the reason I joined the Imperial Outlaws. I've followed her all over this warzone, from one battle to the next. Until less than a week ago, I kept my silence, and even got married to another woman. Leela, probably the most insanely tough and courageous woman I know, sat me down and ended our marriage over it, because she saw what I didn't see. She knew our lies were going to kill us in the long run, and that I had to finally just go for it. So, I did.
This was probably an insanely stupid thing to do. But, what else could I do, really? If I kept my silence, then what would that do? I would stew and fester and wither, losing one love over another that I could never attain. Now I've told her, and I am likely going to pay a steep price for this revelation. Her rather charming boyfriend is not exactly going to be terribly friendly about this. She already told him about my pronouncement of my feelings. And I have been invited by said fiance to have a drink onboard his flagship. I am likely walking into an evening of ample unpleasantries.
So, here I am. I find myself in a situation where everywhere I look, there are flames closing in. The only option I have is to just drink the fire, and laugh at the devil. I can't turn back now.
The Lies We Tell Ourselves
Ryven and Leela's quarters were dark and heavy with a tension that Ryven could almost taste in the air as he walked through the entryway door. The lights were dimmed, and a layer of smoke hung dank in the air. Leela sat, cross-legged, leaning forward in a metal chair. She gestured for him to sit in the other chair directly in front of hers. He sat down and she clasped his hands in her own. He immediately tensed up, knowing only trouble could be coming. She licked her lips nervously and bit her lip before finally speaking.
"You know we need to talk." She stated, a hint of ice in her voice. "And I think you know what we need to talk about." Her eyes bored holes in his forehead.
Ryven stared back at her blankly. He honestly had no clue what she was talking about. "I actually have no idea, so, why don't you lay it out for me."
She seemed frustrated by his obtuseness, but sighed and decided to go ahead and explain. "You still love her." Her eyes flashed.
Ryven's heart sank, and he felt a lump growing in his throat. Of course he did. He had, almost as long as he had known her. He had hoped it would go away after he married Leela. And it wasn't like he didn't love Leela. But, those loves were leagues away from being the same. He loved Leela, but never like he loved her. Not trusting himself to speak, he just nodded.
Leela, nodding at his silent admission, continued, a tear running down her cheek. "I can't even be mad, Ry. I knew you loved her when I agreed to marry you. I thought, maybe, just maybe, you could get her out of your head. I thought maybe I would be the woman in your life. The one you wanted to be with. The one you wanted to spend your life together with." The tears began to flow more steadily, and she quickly stifled them and wiped her eyes. "But these are just pretty lies we tell ourselves. Lies we want to hear. Lies that help us to ignore the painful facts in front of our faces."
Ryven felt a tear of his own running down his cheek. He couldn't even make eye contact with her. She was right. He had been deluding himself into thinking he could make it work.
He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes meeting hers. "You're leaving me, aren't you?"
She nodded, her mouth turning up in a weak and utterly joyless smile. "What choice do I have? You know I love you. You're the only man I can say that about. I can't be with someone who doesn't feel the same way. It's not fair to me, and I won't stand for it. So, I'm letting you go."
Ryven cradled his head in his hands, the room suddenly swirling around him. He really was a bastard, wasn't he? She spoke only the truth, the truth he hadn't been willing to see. He was still in love with her. The right thing to do would be not to keep leading Leela on. Besides, Leela was still young, attractive, and undeniably a good woman. She wouldn't be alone for long. Still, the finality of this was a dagger straight through his heart. His chest felt heavy and breathing became much more difficult. His eyes stung from the unfamiliar tears that suddenly filled them. "So. This is it then? What will you do now?"
She nodded. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. I like it here, in I.LAW. This is my place, now. Honestly, I won't want to be around you for a while. But, and I know this sounds cliche, I think we could still be good friends, once some time passes. You've done so much for me, and I can't ever forget that."
Ryven crossed the short space between them and embraced her. The only words he could think to use were: "Thank you."
She had saved them from the lies they told themselves.
"You know we need to talk." She stated, a hint of ice in her voice. "And I think you know what we need to talk about." Her eyes bored holes in his forehead.
Ryven stared back at her blankly. He honestly had no clue what she was talking about. "I actually have no idea, so, why don't you lay it out for me."
She seemed frustrated by his obtuseness, but sighed and decided to go ahead and explain. "You still love her." Her eyes flashed.
Ryven's heart sank, and he felt a lump growing in his throat. Of course he did. He had, almost as long as he had known her. He had hoped it would go away after he married Leela. And it wasn't like he didn't love Leela. But, those loves were leagues away from being the same. He loved Leela, but never like he loved her. Not trusting himself to speak, he just nodded.
Leela, nodding at his silent admission, continued, a tear running down her cheek. "I can't even be mad, Ry. I knew you loved her when I agreed to marry you. I thought, maybe, just maybe, you could get her out of your head. I thought maybe I would be the woman in your life. The one you wanted to be with. The one you wanted to spend your life together with." The tears began to flow more steadily, and she quickly stifled them and wiped her eyes. "But these are just pretty lies we tell ourselves. Lies we want to hear. Lies that help us to ignore the painful facts in front of our faces."
Ryven felt a tear of his own running down his cheek. He couldn't even make eye contact with her. She was right. He had been deluding himself into thinking he could make it work.
He raised his head and looked at her, his eyes meeting hers. "You're leaving me, aren't you?"
She nodded, her mouth turning up in a weak and utterly joyless smile. "What choice do I have? You know I love you. You're the only man I can say that about. I can't be with someone who doesn't feel the same way. It's not fair to me, and I won't stand for it. So, I'm letting you go."
Ryven cradled his head in his hands, the room suddenly swirling around him. He really was a bastard, wasn't he? She spoke only the truth, the truth he hadn't been willing to see. He was still in love with her. The right thing to do would be not to keep leading Leela on. Besides, Leela was still young, attractive, and undeniably a good woman. She wouldn't be alone for long. Still, the finality of this was a dagger straight through his heart. His chest felt heavy and breathing became much more difficult. His eyes stung from the unfamiliar tears that suddenly filled them. "So. This is it then? What will you do now?"
She nodded. "Well, I'm not going anywhere. I like it here, in I.LAW. This is my place, now. Honestly, I won't want to be around you for a while. But, and I know this sounds cliche, I think we could still be good friends, once some time passes. You've done so much for me, and I can't ever forget that."
Ryven crossed the short space between them and embraced her. The only words he could think to use were: "Thank you."
She had saved them from the lies they told themselves.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
TotHB: Division
Titus was sitting in his office, the only light coming from the distant star of the Torrinos system coming through the window. Haijikioten Security Group rented an office in a small Caldari station owned by Home Guard. He was going over the payroll and smoking his pipe. The bluish smoke wreathed his face, the red embers enhancing the gleam in his eyes. It had been a good year.
The door slid open, and the air seemed to grow much more electric. Kalus stood in the doorway, his slender form silhouetted by the light in the anteroom. Titus could smell the booze on him and scowled.
"What's wrong, Titus? No love for your brother?" Kalus slurred, stumbling into the office and crashing onto the sofa against the wall.
"Just wondering what my dear brother would be wanting this time."
Kalus frowned dramatically. "You really are a fucking dick, you know."
Titus simply stared.
After a few moments, the tension in the room at its zenith, Kalus spoke. "I want you to buy me out."
Titus was shocked. Buy him out? "What are you talking about?"
Kalus sat up straight. "I want you to pay me my portion of HSG. I am leaving to start my own company."
Titus stood, anger consuming him. "You piece of shit. Why the hell would you want to do something stupid like that? You've got no head for running a company!"
Kalus sprung up from the sofa and punched Titus hard on the mouth. "How would you know?" He screamed, kicking Titus as he tried to get up from the floor. "You've never let me try!"
He kicked Titus some more. "You've always looked down on me. You've been holding me back. You've been getting richer and richer while I've been scraping by on what scraps you'd give me! No more!"Tears streamed down his face. "It's my time, damnit!"
This was more than booze, Titus saw. Some drug, likely as not. His heart ached for his brother, but Titus knew he could help him no longer.
Titus stayed on the floor. He typed onto his datapad. He transferred exactly 50% of HSG's net worth to Kalus's account. He sighed. "Fine. It's done. Now get out before I kill you where you stand."
Kalus stiffened, saw the look in Titus's eyes, and walked quickly out the door.
Titus saw the door close, and wept.
The door slid open, and the air seemed to grow much more electric. Kalus stood in the doorway, his slender form silhouetted by the light in the anteroom. Titus could smell the booze on him and scowled.
"What's wrong, Titus? No love for your brother?" Kalus slurred, stumbling into the office and crashing onto the sofa against the wall.
"Just wondering what my dear brother would be wanting this time."
Kalus frowned dramatically. "You really are a fucking dick, you know."
Titus simply stared.
After a few moments, the tension in the room at its zenith, Kalus spoke. "I want you to buy me out."
Titus was shocked. Buy him out? "What are you talking about?"
Kalus sat up straight. "I want you to pay me my portion of HSG. I am leaving to start my own company."
Titus stood, anger consuming him. "You piece of shit. Why the hell would you want to do something stupid like that? You've got no head for running a company!"
Kalus sprung up from the sofa and punched Titus hard on the mouth. "How would you know?" He screamed, kicking Titus as he tried to get up from the floor. "You've never let me try!"
He kicked Titus some more. "You've always looked down on me. You've been holding me back. You've been getting richer and richer while I've been scraping by on what scraps you'd give me! No more!"Tears streamed down his face. "It's my time, damnit!"
This was more than booze, Titus saw. Some drug, likely as not. His heart ached for his brother, but Titus knew he could help him no longer.
Titus stayed on the floor. He typed onto his datapad. He transferred exactly 50% of HSG's net worth to Kalus's account. He sighed. "Fine. It's done. Now get out before I kill you where you stand."
Kalus stiffened, saw the look in Titus's eyes, and walked quickly out the door.
Titus saw the door close, and wept.
Saturday, May 19, 2012
Tales of the Haijikioten Brothers: Business
Titus and Kalus were as different as two brothers could be. Kalus was lanky and gaunt, with burning eyes and a head of black hair. Titus was broad and stocky, with icy eyes and a calm demeanor. Kalus always rushed headlong into fights. Titus was calm and murderously effective at finishing the fights Kalus started.
Both were raised on ships. Both learned the mercenary way of life early. Both were seasoned in war before they had thier first woman.
Kalus was astoundingly daring. Nothing caused him to fear. Titus was a shrewd man, cultivating contacts and developing a head for business. When thier father died during a routtine contract, Titus convinced his brother that it was time to start thier own security firm. So, with the casual persuasion of Titus, they obtained a loan, and bought a Lynx-class frigate and converted her for thier kind of operations.
The contracts came in and the brothers expanded thier fleet. Titus invested his money wisely, increasing his holdings and expanding his business. Kalus loved drink and women, and was jealous of his brother's ability to accrue wealth. Titus tried to counsel his brother, but eventually grew tired.
The years passed, and thier relations grew much colder. They purchased a Rokh-class battleship, the Tovil-toba, and Titus assumed command of the ship, and the business. He knew troubled times were ahead.
Both were raised on ships. Both learned the mercenary way of life early. Both were seasoned in war before they had thier first woman.
Kalus was astoundingly daring. Nothing caused him to fear. Titus was a shrewd man, cultivating contacts and developing a head for business. When thier father died during a routtine contract, Titus convinced his brother that it was time to start thier own security firm. So, with the casual persuasion of Titus, they obtained a loan, and bought a Lynx-class frigate and converted her for thier kind of operations.
The contracts came in and the brothers expanded thier fleet. Titus invested his money wisely, increasing his holdings and expanding his business. Kalus loved drink and women, and was jealous of his brother's ability to accrue wealth. Titus tried to counsel his brother, but eventually grew tired.
The years passed, and thier relations grew much colder. They purchased a Rokh-class battleship, the Tovil-toba, and Titus assumed command of the ship, and the business. He knew troubled times were ahead.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Skin of My Teeth
Ryven activated his warp drive along with the rest of Almity's small gang of frigates and destroyers. He watched as the others disappeared in streaks, engine trails fading behind them. He frantically searched his overview for whatever was preventing his warp from activating. There was a glitch. There must be a glitch. He finally caught glimpse of the Ishtar, or Vexor, or whatever it was, and his overview finally updated. "Sneaky Noob." Dumbass name. Decent pilot. Definitely a pain in the ass. Definitely matching him for speed. Ryven double checked to see if his repairs were keeping up with what damage he was taking. Ryven grinned. He was maintaining armor levels near 99.9%. He quickly overheated all of his mid-power modules. He needed to gain an extra boost of speed. He watched as the range began to open. It might be just enough. The rest of the Minmatar gang was far behind, except for this Ishtar/Vexor, and a Malediction that was closing rapidly. Ryven hoped he would be able to escape in time, and saw warning indicators informing him that his modules were sustaining heavy damage from overheating. He crossed his fingers mentally. The heat indicator had reached maximum level right as he broke out of the warp disruptor's range. With lightning speed, he activated his warp drive...
...the orange target indicators flashed out of view. Space flew by around him in ripples. He was vaguely aware that his microwarpdrive had been destroyed. If he'd waited half a second longer to activate his warp drive, he would not have escaped. He felt exhiliration the moment he landed on station. The Malediction followed, but, Ryven was able to dock safely. He laughed long and hard.
...the orange target indicators flashed out of view. Space flew by around him in ripples. He was vaguely aware that his microwarpdrive had been destroyed. If he'd waited half a second longer to activate his warp drive, he would not have escaped. He felt exhiliration the moment he landed on station. The Malediction followed, but, Ryven was able to dock safely. He laughed long and hard.
Hit n Run
After decades of fighting in space, I have concluded that my favorite tactics are not the massive set-piece battles, but the hit and run and ambush operations. I have been involved in some massive fleet actions involving a thousand or more ships slugging it out, but, as awe-inspiring as it is seeing that much destructive potential in action, it is actually mind numbing in its execution. Hit and run is far more exhilirating. Dart in, make your attack, warp out before reinforcements arrive. Coordinate and execute. Adjust on the fly. Stick and move. Ambushes similarly require coordination, and the moment the ambush is sprung is sublime.
Last night was a hit and run operation. We managed to bloody a few noses under Almity's command before the Minmatar main fleet arrived in ludicrously overwhelming force (not PL levels of ludicrous, but still pretty laughable). Almity managed to complete our operation and get us home. The point, I guess, is that these smash and roll ops are growing on me.
Last night was a hit and run operation. We managed to bloody a few noses under Almity's command before the Minmatar main fleet arrived in ludicrously overwhelming force (not PL levels of ludicrous, but still pretty laughable). Almity managed to complete our operation and get us home. The point, I guess, is that these smash and roll ops are growing on me.
Friday, May 11, 2012
War Diary: Rifterlings and the Battle of Kourmonen
I was straggling behind the fleet in a laser fit Ferox-class battlecruiser which I had just borrowed from my old comrade, Raphael Saint. The fleet was making a push to try to regain the Kourmonen system, and the Matari had been fighting back every step of the way. Two engagements had already taken place, and I had survived both. A new strategic objective had been broadcast, so, I needed a bigger ship. I had to fly to Arzad to get it. Thus, my tardiness.
I jumped into the Lamaa system, just one jump from my rendezvous with the main body of the fleet. I warped to the Kourmonen gate, and jumped. When my display finally loaded, I knew I was in trouble. A Claw-class interceptor was waiting for me. I engaged my warp drive to try to make a break for the complex my fleet was assaulting. Unfortunately, the Ferox was sluggish, and I saw the familiar indicator of my warp drive being disrupted. So, I made a mad dash for the stargate back to the Lamaa system. The Claw could stop my warp, but couldn't stop me jumping through the gate. I made it back with little to no damage, but found several of the Claw's friends waiting for me. This time, they hit me with stasis webs and warp scramblers. I tried to make it back to the gate, but was essentially frozen in place. That's when I noticed the Blackbird class cruiser ten kilometers away. Like most insane people, I smiled.
I locked up the blackbird and disrupted its warp drive before opening fire with my battery of pulse lasers. Yes, that's right. A Caldari hull with pulse lasers. Get over it. The blackbird was not equipped to deal with that much electromagnetic energy on its shields and began to pull range. Tragically, I had no way to keep the blackbird close enough. That and the bastard kept jamming my targeting systems, which had the effect of pissing me off. Once I had targeting back, I engaged the Claw, which had rejoined the fight, and the Vengeance class assault frigate that was trying to damage my ship's rather strong shield. Neither these Matari, the Rifterlings, nor my ferox seemed to be making much headway. I opened up comms to the fleet commander and informed him of my situation. The fleet commander decided to send aid. So, I waited. Mostly, I just didn't feel like having to sit there for the ridiculous amount of time it would take for the Rifterlings to destroy my ship. It was only a moment or two before the familiar purple squares signifying my friends began to populate my display. The blackbird, recognizing impending doom, warped way quickly, as did the claw. The vengeance, however, was locked down, imprisoned by my warp disruptor and that of likely three or four others. He disintegrated rapidly.
I thanked the fleet and we quickly headed for the complex to assault it. We managed to get set up at range and waited for their arrival. They didn't keep us waiting very long.
My tactical overview began to fill up with the familiar flashing orange boxes I had come to love. The fleet commander's orders began to fill my ears and our fleet aligned to the system's star with microwarpdrives on. Engagement orders piled in and comms and space both seemed to fill with the furor of battle. Ship after ship was engaged and destroyed on both sides, before finally, our fleet realized we had to leave. I left in my capsule, the ferox a cloud of debris floating in dead space.
In the end, we lost over 50 ships to some 40 minmatar kills. ISK wise, we came out ahead. I would say, truly, it was a monetary victory, a tactical defeat, and a strategic victory. We showed that we still have the ability to fight. We showed we can do it in lesser ships. So, despite our losses, I feel it was an overall victory. Most importantly, it was a good night.
I jumped into the Lamaa system, just one jump from my rendezvous with the main body of the fleet. I warped to the Kourmonen gate, and jumped. When my display finally loaded, I knew I was in trouble. A Claw-class interceptor was waiting for me. I engaged my warp drive to try to make a break for the complex my fleet was assaulting. Unfortunately, the Ferox was sluggish, and I saw the familiar indicator of my warp drive being disrupted. So, I made a mad dash for the stargate back to the Lamaa system. The Claw could stop my warp, but couldn't stop me jumping through the gate. I made it back with little to no damage, but found several of the Claw's friends waiting for me. This time, they hit me with stasis webs and warp scramblers. I tried to make it back to the gate, but was essentially frozen in place. That's when I noticed the Blackbird class cruiser ten kilometers away. Like most insane people, I smiled.
I locked up the blackbird and disrupted its warp drive before opening fire with my battery of pulse lasers. Yes, that's right. A Caldari hull with pulse lasers. Get over it. The blackbird was not equipped to deal with that much electromagnetic energy on its shields and began to pull range. Tragically, I had no way to keep the blackbird close enough. That and the bastard kept jamming my targeting systems, which had the effect of pissing me off. Once I had targeting back, I engaged the Claw, which had rejoined the fight, and the Vengeance class assault frigate that was trying to damage my ship's rather strong shield. Neither these Matari, the Rifterlings, nor my ferox seemed to be making much headway. I opened up comms to the fleet commander and informed him of my situation. The fleet commander decided to send aid. So, I waited. Mostly, I just didn't feel like having to sit there for the ridiculous amount of time it would take for the Rifterlings to destroy my ship. It was only a moment or two before the familiar purple squares signifying my friends began to populate my display. The blackbird, recognizing impending doom, warped way quickly, as did the claw. The vengeance, however, was locked down, imprisoned by my warp disruptor and that of likely three or four others. He disintegrated rapidly.
I thanked the fleet and we quickly headed for the complex to assault it. We managed to get set up at range and waited for their arrival. They didn't keep us waiting very long.
My tactical overview began to fill up with the familiar flashing orange boxes I had come to love. The fleet commander's orders began to fill my ears and our fleet aligned to the system's star with microwarpdrives on. Engagement orders piled in and comms and space both seemed to fill with the furor of battle. Ship after ship was engaged and destroyed on both sides, before finally, our fleet realized we had to leave. I left in my capsule, the ferox a cloud of debris floating in dead space.
In the end, we lost over 50 ships to some 40 minmatar kills. ISK wise, we came out ahead. I would say, truly, it was a monetary victory, a tactical defeat, and a strategic victory. We showed that we still have the ability to fight. We showed we can do it in lesser ships. So, despite our losses, I feel it was an overall victory. Most importantly, it was a good night.
The Wedding
Ryven and Leela cuddled cozily on a lounger together on the terrace at Cerra Manor, drinks in hand. The light of Huola's star had sunk below the horizon and the night air was cool on their skin. They were alone and silent, comfortable in each other's company. Ryven reflected on their history together.
Leela had been a contact of his during his more turbulent years, before he found his home fighting for the Amarr. She had an affinity for obtaining information through a long list of personal contacts throughout New Eden. Over several years of working together, he had developed an affection for the young woman, beautiful as she was, and full of confidence and vigor. She excited him. He chafed at her virtual imprisonment under the strict rule of her father, Garta Yttria. He was abusive, controlling, and a certifiable sadist. Ryven developed a keen hatred for the man. So, when Leela came to him asking for help, he was happy to oblige. He was not as happy to let Garta live.
Fresh from this escape, Ryven devoted the remains of his inheritance from Titus to financing Leela's training as a capsuleer. He paid her way, helped train her, and then made a huge life change. He found God. He became a crusader. In light of his new faith, he knew he had to set her free from him as well. This wasn't easy for him, but, morality never is. So, he met with her, and discussed the future. She surprised him. She agreed to forsake her people and join him in fighting for the Empire. She chose Ryven. Ryven never forgot.
Over the months together fighting the Minmatar, their bond had strengthened. She could cut through his bullshit, melt away his worries, and render him completely vulnerable. Most surprisingly, he didn't mind. Now, he couldn't imagine ever losing her.
At this point in his musings, Ryven reached a conclusion. He looked down at Leela's head on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing, her red hair waving in the light breeze. She must have felt his gaze, because she turned and gazed up at him, her eyes meeting his.
"See something you like?" She gave him an adorable smirk.
"You have no idea." He smiled involuntarily. She was always drawing smiles out of him.
"Oh, I don't know. I think I have a pretty good idea." She gave him a mischievous grin and looked around to see if there were any onlookers.
"As much as I would love to take you down to the beach and, well, you know, I have something else in mind."
"Oh?" She looked extremely curious.
"Marry me."
Her eyes shot wide open. Her mouth dropped open. Her face turned bright red.
"Make that face all you want. I still want you to marry me."
Her shocked expression slowly melted away into one full of mirth. "Are you sure?" She smiled. "I'm not very domesticated."
"Absolutely certain. I wouldn't have you any other way."
"Well, can't say I didn't warn you." She shrugged. "Okay, then. Yes. Let's get all married and shit."
Ryven laughed. "You know, you could act at least a little bit excited about it."
She wrapped her arm around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss. "That better?"
Ryven smiled wide. "Much better. Now let's go down to the beach and do this."
"Right now?" She looked amused. "Not gonna invite all your crazy ass friends and throw a huge bash and parade me around?"
"Does that sound like me?"
Her expression softened into one that spoke volumes of love. "No. Which is why I love you."
He carried her in his arms down to the beach, set her down on the sand, and opened up his neocom. Five minutes later, they were officially married. Two hours later, the marriage was well and duly consummated.
Ryven's afternote: It took two days to get all that sand out. That stuff gets everywhere. ;)
Leela had been a contact of his during his more turbulent years, before he found his home fighting for the Amarr. She had an affinity for obtaining information through a long list of personal contacts throughout New Eden. Over several years of working together, he had developed an affection for the young woman, beautiful as she was, and full of confidence and vigor. She excited him. He chafed at her virtual imprisonment under the strict rule of her father, Garta Yttria. He was abusive, controlling, and a certifiable sadist. Ryven developed a keen hatred for the man. So, when Leela came to him asking for help, he was happy to oblige. He was not as happy to let Garta live.
Fresh from this escape, Ryven devoted the remains of his inheritance from Titus to financing Leela's training as a capsuleer. He paid her way, helped train her, and then made a huge life change. He found God. He became a crusader. In light of his new faith, he knew he had to set her free from him as well. This wasn't easy for him, but, morality never is. So, he met with her, and discussed the future. She surprised him. She agreed to forsake her people and join him in fighting for the Empire. She chose Ryven. Ryven never forgot.
Over the months together fighting the Minmatar, their bond had strengthened. She could cut through his bullshit, melt away his worries, and render him completely vulnerable. Most surprisingly, he didn't mind. Now, he couldn't imagine ever losing her.
At this point in his musings, Ryven reached a conclusion. He looked down at Leela's head on his chest, rising and falling with his breathing, her red hair waving in the light breeze. She must have felt his gaze, because she turned and gazed up at him, her eyes meeting his.
"See something you like?" She gave him an adorable smirk.
"You have no idea." He smiled involuntarily. She was always drawing smiles out of him.
"Oh, I don't know. I think I have a pretty good idea." She gave him a mischievous grin and looked around to see if there were any onlookers.
"As much as I would love to take you down to the beach and, well, you know, I have something else in mind."
"Oh?" She looked extremely curious.
"Marry me."
Her eyes shot wide open. Her mouth dropped open. Her face turned bright red.
"Make that face all you want. I still want you to marry me."
Her shocked expression slowly melted away into one full of mirth. "Are you sure?" She smiled. "I'm not very domesticated."
"Absolutely certain. I wouldn't have you any other way."
"Well, can't say I didn't warn you." She shrugged. "Okay, then. Yes. Let's get all married and shit."
Ryven laughed. "You know, you could act at least a little bit excited about it."
She wrapped her arm around his neck and gave him a passionate kiss. "That better?"
Ryven smiled wide. "Much better. Now let's go down to the beach and do this."
"Right now?" She looked amused. "Not gonna invite all your crazy ass friends and throw a huge bash and parade me around?"
"Does that sound like me?"
Her expression softened into one that spoke volumes of love. "No. Which is why I love you."
He carried her in his arms down to the beach, set her down on the sand, and opened up his neocom. Five minutes later, they were officially married. Two hours later, the marriage was well and duly consummated.
Ryven's afternote: It took two days to get all that sand out. That stuff gets everywhere. ;)
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Leela's Training
She sat there on his couch, legs crossed, eyes peering at him, a look of warmth that made him feel the love they had begun to share. Her capsuleer training was nearing completion, and she seemed transformed, once a small woman of twenty years, now a timeless being embodying untold destructive power. In a few weeks she would graduate, another capsuleer freely moving between the stars.
"Where will you go, Leela?" He asked, his blue eyes wreathed in the smoke from his pipe.
She looked confused.
"When you finish your training. I know you said you would stay with me, but now you are becoming something powerful. You will be free to go anywhere without fear. I cannot hold you to your promise."
She smiled. "You haven't had a lot of trust in your life, have you?"
He shook his head and sighed.
She nodded and gave him a sympathetic look. "I told you I would stay with you, and I meant it. You saved me from my father. You took me into your care. And I fell for you."
He frowned. "But my path means fighting your people."
She smiled, only a trace of sadness in her eyes. "You are my people now."
"Where will you go, Leela?" He asked, his blue eyes wreathed in the smoke from his pipe.
She looked confused.
"When you finish your training. I know you said you would stay with me, but now you are becoming something powerful. You will be free to go anywhere without fear. I cannot hold you to your promise."
She smiled. "You haven't had a lot of trust in your life, have you?"
He shook his head and sighed.
She nodded and gave him a sympathetic look. "I told you I would stay with you, and I meant it. You saved me from my father. You took me into your care. And I fell for you."
He frowned. "But my path means fighting your people."
She smiled, only a trace of sadness in her eyes. "You are my people now."
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Status: Returned
Arzad. Infamous site of turmoil. I am back. The war rages on. As always, I am in the middle of it. The ranks of the Matari have swelled. Seems they have a better propaganda campaign than we do.
Still, it is good to be back on the front. Our time in Otosela was not wasted, but treachery seized some of the fruits of that labor. Still, we are better for our time spent there. Now, we are back on the front lines again, where we should be.
Leela and I have grown closer. I don't know what she sees in an old merc like me, but with luck, her vision will stay blurry. On the other hand, considering her shitty life until now, I probably do seem a saint.
Still, it is good to be back on the front. Our time in Otosela was not wasted, but treachery seized some of the fruits of that labor. Still, we are better for our time spent there. Now, we are back on the front lines again, where we should be.
Leela and I have grown closer. I don't know what she sees in an old merc like me, but with luck, her vision will stay blurry. On the other hand, considering her shitty life until now, I probably do seem a saint.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Transferrance
Garta Yttria was a stern, tall, cruel looking man in his sixties. His clothing was stylish, in a minmatar way, and he wore a neatly trimmed beard that served to enhance the lines of his face. It seemed he was a man whose life had always been a source of much frowning. It was difficult to imagine him with a smile. His eyes studied his daughter and the large Civire before him. The Civire was around six feet tall and built for battle, his muscles all toned. He was bald with a face of scruff and a pair of dark shades over his eyes. The Caldari's face was expressionless and the voice that came from his lips echoed years of war. It was spoken softly, but the threat of violent force underlied it. He was a capsuleer, and he seemed to know the cards were on his side. Garta was seething.
Ryven spoke in a deliberate manner, each word standing on its own. "Leela is no longer under your care.". He seemed to ooze venom on the word 'care.' "She is coming with me."
Garta exploded. "Who do you--what the fuck?! She's my daughter! She is MINE. You can't just barge in here and steal her out from my home."
Ryven seemed amused. "First, yes, I can. Second, she is an adult. You keep her locked up here to service your security forces like a damn brood mare. I have seen the injuries left by your 'care.' You will be lucky if all I take from you is Leela."
Garta turned crimson with rage. Ryven's shades, a set of ocular biometric scanners and tactical overlays, read the rise in the man's blood pressure and increasing rage. A fight was imminent.
Garta launched into a haymaker punch, swinging a long slow powerful strike toward Ryven's face. Ryven, sped up by his implants, dodged deftly to the side and delivered a rapid punch to his opponents temple. Garta gasped and stumpled to the side as Ryven kicked a booted foot into his kneecap, shattering it. Garta screamed and collapsed. Ryven placed his boot on Garta's throat and pushed his shades onto his forehead. His blue eyes were ice, freezing Garta's blood in his veins.
"You no longer have a daughter. If we ever see you again, I will burn this world to the ground. Do you understand?"
Garta could only nod, gasp for breath, and watch the devil walk away, arm in arm with his daughter.
Ryven spoke in a deliberate manner, each word standing on its own. "Leela is no longer under your care.". He seemed to ooze venom on the word 'care.' "She is coming with me."
Garta exploded. "Who do you--what the fuck?! She's my daughter! She is MINE. You can't just barge in here and steal her out from my home."
Ryven seemed amused. "First, yes, I can. Second, she is an adult. You keep her locked up here to service your security forces like a damn brood mare. I have seen the injuries left by your 'care.' You will be lucky if all I take from you is Leela."
Garta turned crimson with rage. Ryven's shades, a set of ocular biometric scanners and tactical overlays, read the rise in the man's blood pressure and increasing rage. A fight was imminent.
Garta launched into a haymaker punch, swinging a long slow powerful strike toward Ryven's face. Ryven, sped up by his implants, dodged deftly to the side and delivered a rapid punch to his opponents temple. Garta gasped and stumpled to the side as Ryven kicked a booted foot into his kneecap, shattering it. Garta screamed and collapsed. Ryven placed his boot on Garta's throat and pushed his shades onto his forehead. His blue eyes were ice, freezing Garta's blood in his veins.
"You no longer have a daughter. If we ever see you again, I will burn this world to the ground. Do you understand?"
Garta could only nod, gasp for breath, and watch the devil walk away, arm in arm with his daughter.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
Outlaw Again
The past few months have been tumultuous. Imperial Outlaws seems a more fitting name than it used to. We all acknowledged that the war could not be fought with lily white gloves, so, we took them off. TEST arrived, and now CONCORD will destroy any ship I pilot into empire space. This is the cost of defending Amarr, albeit in Caldari lowsec space.
I have grown closer to my comrades here on the fringe. There is a unity of purpose, a convergence of ideals. Not zealotry, but patriotic fervor, and willing sacrifice to the idea of our home. Amarr is my home. I wasn't born there, but it is, as they say, where my heart is. That and Leela, a matari, oddly enough. She too has left her birth behind and embraced a new world: me.
I have grown closer to my comrades here on the fringe. There is a unity of purpose, a convergence of ideals. Not zealotry, but patriotic fervor, and willing sacrifice to the idea of our home. Amarr is my home. I wasn't born there, but it is, as they say, where my heart is. That and Leela, a matari, oddly enough. She too has left her birth behind and embraced a new world: me.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Leela
Ryven glanced across the table to the younger woman, her hair short and dyed red and black. Her eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses similar to his own. She was a Sebiestor woman of about 30. He had known her for well over a decade. She was one of his favorite informants. Things were now different, however. This was the first time he had ever seen her in person, and he found himself suddenly very attracted to her. She had a certain vibrance about her, and a no-nonsense look in her eyes. He found himself wanting nothing more than to keep the conversation going as long as possible.
"So, Leela, what you're saying is, you need my help?"
Her eye line softened. "Yes. That's what I've been getting at for the past ten minutes."
She had a problem. Her father was a rather wealthy man, by Republic standards. He had placed his daughter on house arrest for the past month or so, but she finally managed to escape. However, she couldn't stay away for long, since she knew he would come looking for her and had far more resources than she did.
"So, what do you need me to do?"
She sat there silently for a few moments before finally responding. "I need you to kick my father's ass. I need you to beat the shit out of him so bad he figures out he can't control me anymore."
Ryven responded. "I think I know a few ways we can accomplish this." He took a drag of his cigarette. "First, I'll handle your father."
She looked at him curiously. "Secondly?"
"Secondly, I know a way to keep him off your shit forever."
"Anything else?"
"We need to talk payment."
"Okay, what's it going to cost me?"
He grinned widely. "How about a date?"
"So, Leela, what you're saying is, you need my help?"
Her eye line softened. "Yes. That's what I've been getting at for the past ten minutes."
She had a problem. Her father was a rather wealthy man, by Republic standards. He had placed his daughter on house arrest for the past month or so, but she finally managed to escape. However, she couldn't stay away for long, since she knew he would come looking for her and had far more resources than she did.
"So, what do you need me to do?"
She sat there silently for a few moments before finally responding. "I need you to kick my father's ass. I need you to beat the shit out of him so bad he figures out he can't control me anymore."
Ryven responded. "I think I know a few ways we can accomplish this." He took a drag of his cigarette. "First, I'll handle your father."
She looked at him curiously. "Secondly?"
"Secondly, I know a way to keep him off your shit forever."
"Anything else?"
"We need to talk payment."
"Okay, what's it going to cost me?"
He grinned widely. "How about a date?"
Sunday, November 20, 2011
The Imperial Outlaws
So, I am no longer a knight. I suppose that change of state should be accompanied by some sort of solemnity or mourning, but in truth, I don't feel much differently. I am still fighting for the Empire, which I am making a bid to gain actual citizenship with. I am still flying with Shalee and Eran. Furthermore, I am now a member of something new and vastly more exciting than the Knighthood.
Imperial Outlaws is what we are named. Essentially, the basic ideal is to fight for the Empire whilst not being restrained by needless sentiments. We fight by whatever means necessary. Not only that, but, they have made me the diplomat. I have always enjoyed diplomacy. Well, at least my form of it, which is usually akin to simply pissing people off or using my wit to alleviate tension. Either way, it should be a lot of fun. I am looking forward to the future and what it may hold.
In other news, I also have focused some efforts and am now producing both tobacco and tea products for use on our planetside manor, Cerra Manor on Huola planet VII. I do hope these items get use by our guests, which have been somewhat infrequent so far.
Imperial Outlaws is what we are named. Essentially, the basic ideal is to fight for the Empire whilst not being restrained by needless sentiments. We fight by whatever means necessary. Not only that, but, they have made me the diplomat. I have always enjoyed diplomacy. Well, at least my form of it, which is usually akin to simply pissing people off or using my wit to alleviate tension. Either way, it should be a lot of fun. I am looking forward to the future and what it may hold.
In other news, I also have focused some efforts and am now producing both tobacco and tea products for use on our planetside manor, Cerra Manor on Huola planet VII. I do hope these items get use by our guests, which have been somewhat infrequent so far.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Eulogy
Willem Magistratus entered the spacious public hall of Mercy's Keep and looked around, drawing a deep sigh. Desolate, the halls stood empty, the whistling of the frigid wind the only sound. He walked behind the empty bar and poured himself a strong athra ale, then decided to make it a double.
Willem downed his tall glass of ale and gasped. Athra ale is not meant to be drunk like light beer. Willem shook off the drink and looked around, spotting a door to the keep that is usually guarded but for some reason was no longer.
Willem approached the chapel door and laid his hand upon it before pushing through to the chapel.
The hallowed feel of the chapel was amplified by its stark emptiness. The walls echoed his footsteps as he approached the Icon of the Empress and kneeled.
"O lady." He began, prayer like. "Lady."
He solemnly placed his hands together.
"This is our humble house for our fallen knights. Knights who have fallen in battle. Knights who have perished in your great cause."
He gasped loudly before tearfully yelling, "WHERE ARE THEY? Why have they abandoned you?"
Willem choked and wiped his tears away.
"This place of holiness,ABANDONED!" His anger swelled. "By the knights who swore to protect it."
Ryven Krennel entered the Keep, puzzled by the sounds within.
Willem collapsed, grief and ale taking their toll.
Ryven, now alarmed, quickly walked toward the sounds, spying the collapsed form of Willem. Ryven sighed, his expression soft, and kneeled to help Willem up. He felt sympathy for his comrade, a fellow man of the faith.
Ryven spoke softly. "You really shouldn't try to drown sorrow." Ryven frowned "You can't do so without drowning yourself."
"Ahh ryven," Willem spoke from the floor. "This is a challenge to my faith. A challenge i might now survive only if could forget it. This will live with me a long time."
Ryven gave Willem a look of sympathy. "I know this is hard for you."
Willem gasped and choked a silent thanks before trying to stand, but found Athra ale denied him the ability.
Ryven sat down on the floor next to Willem, letting his eyes soak in the majesty of the place.
"This place was pretty special."
Willem replied " I had always envisioned that THIS was the center of our keep. That HERE would be our heart and soul."
Ryven shook his head. "The center of the keep, of the knighthood, has always been its people."
Willem gazes at the icon of the Empress. "And her. How I love her."
Ryven continued. "And beyond that, the dream."
[ 2011.10.10 00:43:45 ] Willem drunkenly looked at the Empress Icon.
"Is she not beautiful? Is she not worth dying for?"
Ryven chuckled a little. "Well, of course she is." He laughed. "Which is why I do it regularly."
"Where are her protectors Ryven?"
"We're still here." He paused as Willem choked out another sob. "We've just changed our location somewhat."
Willem asked. "Who will deconsecrate this place when it is empty? Will we just let this place linger, without protection?"
"I doubt it. I can't really say. That is up to its owners."
Willem gasped, his eyes wide. "And if the minnies come here?"
He sobbed even more.
"Here? At the heart of the Throne Worlds? I imagine, if that happens, I'll have bigger concerns in mind than whether they mess up the artwork." Ryven frowned darkly.
Willem continued. "Without us...without the knights... we are a front line defense!" He crescendoed, "FRONT LINE! With us shattered who will take up our mantle?
"Willem, we are hardly the only ones. And, I'm sure you're aware, a fair number of us are still going to be on the front lines."
"Who, Ryven? Who? You dont mean those self serving capsuleers out there who only care about stats and isk do you? THEY dont care about HER!"
Willem pointed emphatically to the to the Icon.
Ryven responded calmly. "Am I one of those who care only for stats and ISK?"
"No, Ryven, else you wouldnt be here."
"And yet, I am no longer under the auspices of this Order."
Willem stared down at the polished and sighed.
"The truth is, Willem, that the Knighthood is more than this hall." Ryven gestured at the icon. "Just as the Empress is more than that icon. It's an ethos. It's an idea. And ideas don't die when you stop paying the rent."
Willem suddenly looked determined. "Get me out of here, Ryven. You're right."
Willem tried to stand but still could, so Ryven rose and helped him stand.
Ryven asked him, "You going to be okay?"
He replied. "I must take my love for her out there. Out there...to them."
Ryven smiled. "That's the spirit. Now, let's get out of here, and we can both deliver some tough love to the heathen, eh?"
"Agreed. Thanks, my friend."
Willem leaned on Ryven as they exited together, Ryven laughing.
"Don't mention it." He said, and entered the cold Athran night.
Willem downed his tall glass of ale and gasped. Athra ale is not meant to be drunk like light beer. Willem shook off the drink and looked around, spotting a door to the keep that is usually guarded but for some reason was no longer.
Willem approached the chapel door and laid his hand upon it before pushing through to the chapel.
The hallowed feel of the chapel was amplified by its stark emptiness. The walls echoed his footsteps as he approached the Icon of the Empress and kneeled.
"O lady." He began, prayer like. "Lady."
He solemnly placed his hands together.
"This is our humble house for our fallen knights. Knights who have fallen in battle. Knights who have perished in your great cause."
He gasped loudly before tearfully yelling, "WHERE ARE THEY? Why have they abandoned you?"
Willem choked and wiped his tears away.
"This place of holiness,ABANDONED!" His anger swelled. "By the knights who swore to protect it."
Ryven Krennel entered the Keep, puzzled by the sounds within.
Willem collapsed, grief and ale taking their toll.
Ryven, now alarmed, quickly walked toward the sounds, spying the collapsed form of Willem. Ryven sighed, his expression soft, and kneeled to help Willem up. He felt sympathy for his comrade, a fellow man of the faith.
Ryven spoke softly. "You really shouldn't try to drown sorrow." Ryven frowned "You can't do so without drowning yourself."
"Ahh ryven," Willem spoke from the floor. "This is a challenge to my faith. A challenge i might now survive only if could forget it. This will live with me a long time."
Ryven gave Willem a look of sympathy. "I know this is hard for you."
Willem gasped and choked a silent thanks before trying to stand, but found Athra ale denied him the ability.
Ryven sat down on the floor next to Willem, letting his eyes soak in the majesty of the place.
"This place was pretty special."
Willem replied " I had always envisioned that THIS was the center of our keep. That HERE would be our heart and soul."
Ryven shook his head. "The center of the keep, of the knighthood, has always been its people."
Willem gazes at the icon of the Empress. "And her. How I love her."
Ryven continued. "And beyond that, the dream."
[ 2011.10.10 00:43:45 ] Willem drunkenly looked at the Empress Icon.
"Is she not beautiful? Is she not worth dying for?"
Ryven chuckled a little. "Well, of course she is." He laughed. "Which is why I do it regularly."
"Where are her protectors Ryven?"
"We're still here." He paused as Willem choked out another sob. "We've just changed our location somewhat."
Willem asked. "Who will deconsecrate this place when it is empty? Will we just let this place linger, without protection?"
"I doubt it. I can't really say. That is up to its owners."
Willem gasped, his eyes wide. "And if the minnies come here?"
He sobbed even more.
"Here? At the heart of the Throne Worlds? I imagine, if that happens, I'll have bigger concerns in mind than whether they mess up the artwork." Ryven frowned darkly.
Willem continued. "Without us...without the knights... we are a front line defense!" He crescendoed, "FRONT LINE! With us shattered who will take up our mantle?
"Willem, we are hardly the only ones. And, I'm sure you're aware, a fair number of us are still going to be on the front lines."
"Who, Ryven? Who? You dont mean those self serving capsuleers out there who only care about stats and isk do you? THEY dont care about HER!"
Willem pointed emphatically to the to the Icon.
Ryven responded calmly. "Am I one of those who care only for stats and ISK?"
"No, Ryven, else you wouldnt be here."
"And yet, I am no longer under the auspices of this Order."
Willem stared down at the polished and sighed.
"The truth is, Willem, that the Knighthood is more than this hall." Ryven gestured at the icon. "Just as the Empress is more than that icon. It's an ethos. It's an idea. And ideas don't die when you stop paying the rent."
Willem suddenly looked determined. "Get me out of here, Ryven. You're right."
Willem tried to stand but still could, so Ryven rose and helped him stand.
Ryven asked him, "You going to be okay?"
He replied. "I must take my love for her out there. Out there...to them."
Ryven smiled. "That's the spirit. Now, let's get out of here, and we can both deliver some tough love to the heathen, eh?"
"Agreed. Thanks, my friend."
Willem leaned on Ryven as they exited together, Ryven laughing.
"Don't mention it." He said, and entered the cold Athran night.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Dreams Too Lofty
The Knighthood was founded on a dream, a lofty one. The goal was a chivalrous order of knightly warriors serving the Empire by defending its holdings. It was a noble dream, and like all such dreams, it begins to erode in the hands of people. Ideas are perfect. People are not. People corrupt ideas. Further, ideas are simply ideas. The harsh world of reality illuminates the failings of these ideas. When these raisons d'etre fail to accept reality as it is, they must either adapt or break.
I don't know what doomed the Knighthood. I only know that those hallowed halls are now closed and Aldrith is silent and absent. But, I have followed several of my brethren to a new organization, one not founded solely on ideals, but upon goals firmly based in the real.
I don't know what doomed the Knighthood. I only know that those hallowed halls are now closed and Aldrith is silent and absent. But, I have followed several of my brethren to a new organization, one not founded solely on ideals, but upon goals firmly based in the real.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Reflections
As the years have passed, I have had time to reflect. One of the issues that troubled me was why I was so intent on murdering Titus's only offspring. The truth is, I hated who and what I was whilst simultaneously reveling in it. I blamed the Haijikioten blood for my ruthless savagery and saw the Haijikioten line in need of eradication. Self-preservation was a strong instinct, so I decided not to have any children of my own, and sought to ensure Titus and I were the last of our line. With Titus gone, I became the last scion of a lineage of thieves, killers, and renegades; a prince of evil seed.
Then one day I decided to end the pointless killing and give myself to a higher purpose. I recognize that while my talents lay in the field of bloody violence, those talents can serve something greater. The Haijikioten curse can be lifted and has. Now I am a Krennel, founder of a lineage. Now, I wonder if perhaps I do want a child.
Haijikiotens were often orphans. I am a capsuleer. Surely any child of mine wouldn't need to fear orphanhood. Haijikiotens are savages. Krennels are warriors. Surely I could teach my child the difference.
Then one day I decided to end the pointless killing and give myself to a higher purpose. I recognize that while my talents lay in the field of bloody violence, those talents can serve something greater. The Haijikioten curse can be lifted and has. Now I am a Krennel, founder of a lineage. Now, I wonder if perhaps I do want a child.
Haijikiotens were often orphans. I am a capsuleer. Surely any child of mine wouldn't need to fear orphanhood. Haijikiotens are savages. Krennels are warriors. Surely I could teach my child the difference.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The J.D. Gaffa Days - Blood Moon Legion
Ryven joined J.D. Gaffa, Inc. in hopes of increasing his financial stability. He became CEO after an extremely short period of time, but had trouble adjusting to the humdrum of life in Empire Space. He engineered entry into the New Eden Commonwealth Alliance, which brought some action, due to a short war against End of the Line, where he gained his first real experience commanding a fleet, and the war was won quickly. The alliance fell apart, however, and Ryven searched for a new one, which he found, in Night's Dawn. He established two starbases in Geminate and gained Sovereignty in a small system. This was only temporary. Mostly Harmless and Wildly Innapropriate invaded, and JDGI suffered some heavy losses. Ryven grew despondent after leaving ND. He resorted to frequent piracy, and after moving to Balle, simply gave up his role as CEO and went into seclusion for eight months, his own demons eating at him. He finally emerged from his seclusion and wandered about until a fellow from Blood Moon Legion passed through the area looking for recruits to help fight Pandemic Legion and IT Alliance in the north.
BML was a component of Tactical Narcotics Team Alliance, a subsidiary of the Deklein Coalition of Alliances. He was revived and fell into a frenzy of violent activity. The massive fleet engagements stimulated him, and he found destroying PL's capital assets to be exhilirating. Eventually IT fell, and BML had a crisis of identity. A change came over Ryven. He felt the need for absolution, and he didn't know why. Nonetheless, he left the north and journeyed down to Amarr to seek entry into the Knighthood of the Merciful Crown.
BML was a component of Tactical Narcotics Team Alliance, a subsidiary of the Deklein Coalition of Alliances. He was revived and fell into a frenzy of violent activity. The massive fleet engagements stimulated him, and he found destroying PL's capital assets to be exhilirating. Eventually IT fell, and BML had a crisis of identity. A change came over Ryven. He felt the need for absolution, and he didn't know why. Nonetheless, he left the north and journeyed down to Amarr to seek entry into the Knighthood of the Merciful Crown.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Null-Sec, Entrepreneurship, Betrayal
YC110-Early 111
Ryven was adrift, listless, bruised and weary. Capsuleerdom meant he got to experience death frequently, and it was always moderately unpleasant. He had been free of the Academy for only a few weeks when he suffered his first death. A pirate destroyed his Ibis and subsequently podded him. He felt a sharp pain as his pod vaporized, and the sensation of being stretched across an inconceivable distance before reawakening in his new clone, groggy and pissed off. Then came his first corporation, an abortion of a merc venture that saw him running lots of missions for Home Guard and Spacelane. The frenzy of murder for profit. Then his business partners, Katurn and Red Kai, gallente and Jin-Mei respectively, convinced him to join Xercore with them. This was a short period culminating in an expensive and poorly outfitted loss of Red's Hyperion and the trio's ejection from the corp.
They then joined FCUK, a subdivision of Liberty Alliance, which had just made a hegemonic pushed into the Pure Blind Region. Ryven got a taste for capsuleer combat sitting in ambush on the EC-P8R/Torrinos stargate in a Crow or a Drake. He enjoyed living in P2-TTL and the mentorship of his friend, Shock Ryder. All good things come to an end.
IRON attacked, an act of betrayal. Ryven undocked his Drake from the P2 station and was quickly destroyed. Starbase gunners manned their turrets as hundreds of ships poured into the system. Ryven contracted all of his goods to another capsuleer, Baron Nerus, to be carried out of the Region. Liberty was evacuating. Ryven hopped in his Crow and headed out of Pure Blind through the long route to Nonni.
Ryven left Liberty a few days later to follow Shock Ryder to the Arrow Project, a member of Morsus Mihi. His combat record from this period is empty. He focused on gaining capital by killing pirates in lonely dead end systems in Tribute. His life was quieter and he was slowly growing tired of his Morsus comrades. So, they left to fight Band of Brothers in the South, and Ryven left to join some capsuleers in J. D. Gaffa, where he would supposedly make a lot of money.
Ryven was adrift, listless, bruised and weary. Capsuleerdom meant he got to experience death frequently, and it was always moderately unpleasant. He had been free of the Academy for only a few weeks when he suffered his first death. A pirate destroyed his Ibis and subsequently podded him. He felt a sharp pain as his pod vaporized, and the sensation of being stretched across an inconceivable distance before reawakening in his new clone, groggy and pissed off. Then came his first corporation, an abortion of a merc venture that saw him running lots of missions for Home Guard and Spacelane. The frenzy of murder for profit. Then his business partners, Katurn and Red Kai, gallente and Jin-Mei respectively, convinced him to join Xercore with them. This was a short period culminating in an expensive and poorly outfitted loss of Red's Hyperion and the trio's ejection from the corp.
They then joined FCUK, a subdivision of Liberty Alliance, which had just made a hegemonic pushed into the Pure Blind Region. Ryven got a taste for capsuleer combat sitting in ambush on the EC-P8R/Torrinos stargate in a Crow or a Drake. He enjoyed living in P2-TTL and the mentorship of his friend, Shock Ryder. All good things come to an end.
IRON attacked, an act of betrayal. Ryven undocked his Drake from the P2 station and was quickly destroyed. Starbase gunners manned their turrets as hundreds of ships poured into the system. Ryven contracted all of his goods to another capsuleer, Baron Nerus, to be carried out of the Region. Liberty was evacuating. Ryven hopped in his Crow and headed out of Pure Blind through the long route to Nonni.
Ryven left Liberty a few days later to follow Shock Ryder to the Arrow Project, a member of Morsus Mihi. His combat record from this period is empty. He focused on gaining capital by killing pirates in lonely dead end systems in Tribute. His life was quieter and he was slowly growing tired of his Morsus comrades. So, they left to fight Band of Brothers in the South, and Ryven left to join some capsuleers in J. D. Gaffa, where he would supposedly make a lot of money.
Scorched Earth
Can a scarred heart ever really heal? For years, I have carried the oppressive burden of my past sins, the guilt of which slashed at my heart and bound me in a tailspin toward greater and greater acts of depravity. I tried to numb myself through my bloodlust. Then, for reasons I don't understand, I sought absolution through a faith alien to my blood, fighting for a cause far removed from my upbringing. And yet, I feel my wounds closing. I feel the black rage lifting. Now, where once there was rage and hatred and insatiable desire for violence, now I feel the calm wash of acceptance, peace, and the certainty of fighting for something other than the reward of another mark on my record. Now I serve something other than my own demons.
Sometimes I long to return to the State, but my newfound faith would make me an oddity, and my past would garner me few friends. There is a coldness to being cut off from your people. I wonder if this is a general rule applicable to all humans or if it is uniquely Caldari. Maybe this is the catalyst that drives the Matari. Perhaps.
Sometimes I long to return to the State, but my newfound faith would make me an oddity, and my past would garner me few friends. There is a coldness to being cut off from your people. I wonder if this is a general rule applicable to all humans or if it is uniquely Caldari. Maybe this is the catalyst that drives the Matari. Perhaps.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Old Foes
Pandemic Legion have set up shop in Amamake. I don't know why. Still, my pulse quickened upon hearing the news. My old foes from my time fighting them and IT are here and shootable. My pleasure only grew in the past few days. We enlisted the help of the Caldari to deliver a blow. We used a covert jump bridge to land a sneak attack on a carrier at their starbase in Amamake. We took a fair number of losses, my Manticore among them, but we destroyed thier Archon not 50 km away from one of thier titans and inside the envelope of their base's guns. Amarr victor, bitches!
Friday, September 2, 2011
Changes
Ryven deliberated for a few days before he enrolled. The deciding factor in his decision was the promise of both freedom from natural death and the promise of commanding his own ships. The State apparently had overlooked his parentage, and he spent his first year at the Academy adjusting to the rigid set of rules enforced there. He was not trusted by his peers, nor especially liked. He made a few friends, however, but they were not particularly strong or binding. He managed to scrape by in the upper half of his class. His second and third years, his instructors praised his tactical caution, but derided his chaotic impulsiveness and willingness to try reckless tactics. Ryven would always shrug and say, "It's not like I'll be dead for long, anyway."
His fourth and final year was pretty much a blur of small fleet training exercises, which he excelled at. Paradoxically, even though he was a very impulsive and egocentric individual, he flew well with a group. Ryven didn't find this odd, since he'd been doing that shit for twenty-four years.
His fourth and final year was pretty much a blur of small fleet training exercises, which he excelled at. Paradoxically, even though he was a very impulsive and egocentric individual, he flew well with a group. Ryven didn't find this odd, since he'd been doing that shit for twenty-four years.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Farewell from Beyond the Veil
Letter from Titus Haijikioten to Ryven Krennel:
Ryven,
No man walks eagerly toward death. You are reading this, so we can safely assume I am dead. You probably have also been informed you are a very wealthy man. Despite your denial by taking that garbage Gallente name, you are a Haijikioten, the last scion of a house of murderers, thieves, pirates, and. the like, but a proud one no less. I never was good at emotional shit, but, since I won't be around for this, I can express to you the closeness I had with you. I have gone my entire life without children of my own, and through no one's fault but my own. I felt that void acutely. And then I found you. You filled the position of a son for me, and I loved you as one. As such, I have a gift for you. I sent in an applicstion to the State War Academy for you. Yes, I forged your signature. I applied you for their capsuleer program. Immortality, my boy. Their response arrived already. You're accepted, and have up to one year to enroll. Consider it my last request that you do so. Pull our family out of the dregs and make something of yourself. Find a nice girl, maybe? Hump like rabbits and have some little shithead welps running around. At any rate, this is me saying goodbye. Do me proud.
-Titus
Ryven,
No man walks eagerly toward death. You are reading this, so we can safely assume I am dead. You probably have also been informed you are a very wealthy man. Despite your denial by taking that garbage Gallente name, you are a Haijikioten, the last scion of a house of murderers, thieves, pirates, and. the like, but a proud one no less. I never was good at emotional shit, but, since I won't be around for this, I can express to you the closeness I had with you. I have gone my entire life without children of my own, and through no one's fault but my own. I felt that void acutely. And then I found you. You filled the position of a son for me, and I loved you as one. As such, I have a gift for you. I sent in an applicstion to the State War Academy for you. Yes, I forged your signature. I applied you for their capsuleer program. Immortality, my boy. Their response arrived already. You're accepted, and have up to one year to enroll. Consider it my last request that you do so. Pull our family out of the dregs and make something of yourself. Find a nice girl, maybe? Hump like rabbits and have some little shithead welps running around. At any rate, this is me saying goodbye. Do me proud.
-Titus
Nail in the Coffin
"Mr. Krennel?" The young woman's voice, questioning, erupted into his ear.
"Sure. Who is this?"
"I am Li Kora. I handled all legal matters for Titus Haijikioten and HSG. We have never met."
Ryven scowled and took a pull from his drink. "Go on."
"Your uncle had me draft his will a while back. You are his sole beneficiary. In addition, he left a message to be given to you upon his death. May I send it to you now?"
Ryven rubbed his eyes and took a drag from a cigarette. "Fine."
The attorney sounded relieved. "Good, sending it through. Also, all of your uncle's possessions have been transferred to you."
Ryven's scowl deepened, another nail driven into his guilt-lined coffin. "Liquidate it all, and transfer the proceeds to my account."
The Achura acknowledged and Ryven ended the call. He then began reading the message from Titus.
"Sure. Who is this?"
"I am Li Kora. I handled all legal matters for Titus Haijikioten and HSG. We have never met."
Ryven scowled and took a pull from his drink. "Go on."
"Your uncle had me draft his will a while back. You are his sole beneficiary. In addition, he left a message to be given to you upon his death. May I send it to you now?"
Ryven rubbed his eyes and took a drag from a cigarette. "Fine."
The attorney sounded relieved. "Good, sending it through. Also, all of your uncle's possessions have been transferred to you."
Ryven's scowl deepened, another nail driven into his guilt-lined coffin. "Liquidate it all, and transfer the proceeds to my account."
The Achura acknowledged and Ryven ended the call. He then began reading the message from Titus.
The Aftermath
The stars formed a backdrop for the misery. Ryven sat in the captain's chair, the lifeless body of his only family laying propped against his feet, head cradled in his arms. Shiny rivulets of tears streaked his face, and his own self-hatred peaked. He was the agent of his worst pain, the queller of his bloodline, scourge of all that was right. He trembled.
The guristas compound was naught but a glowing red ember, and as far as Ryven could tell, so was his life. His world was shattered, a fractured glass leaking his own stain into the void. This pain was his penance.
***********************
Titus's funeral had been a very private affair. The news of Ryven's selling of HSG and it's assets was met positively. Most of the crews felt he was bad luck anyway. So, Ryven engaged in the oldest form of self-flagellation: he sat in a bar and drank alone, hoping to drown his pain. This carried on for a week or two before his neocom began to buzz, and for some reason, he answered.
The guristas compound was naught but a glowing red ember, and as far as Ryven could tell, so was his life. His world was shattered, a fractured glass leaking his own stain into the void. This pain was his penance.
***********************
Titus's funeral had been a very private affair. The news of Ryven's selling of HSG and it's assets was met positively. Most of the crews felt he was bad luck anyway. So, Ryven engaged in the oldest form of self-flagellation: he sat in a bar and drank alone, hoping to drown his pain. This carried on for a week or two before his neocom began to buzz, and for some reason, he answered.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Rage is the Downfall
The beam overhead gave way and crashed to the deck of the Tovil-Toba's bridge. Ryven cried out to warn Titus, but was already too late. The jagged end of a large metal beam plunged through Titus's chest, blood spewing in a spray of crimson, and spattered out his mouth. He survived just long enough to pull himself off of it, which sealed his fate. Ryven's vision went red. He could feel the tears welling in his eyes. This was his fault. His plan to kill his cousin succeeded, but in rage, Titus drove the fleet into the Guristas compound, revenge as his goal. Rage was his downfall. No less culpable, Ryven drove his guilt into rage and took command of his shattered fleet, blind to the destruction around him. Ship after ship exploded into fiery chaos until only the Raven and a cormorant remained, the lone victors, battered and burning. Ryven gave the order.
"Destroy their base. All of it."
"Destroy their base. All of it."
The Dragon's Rage
Titus's fleet dropped out of warp. They were twelve ships in number, scattered in a loose formation around the Tovil-Toba. The Raven was the largest, with two drake-class battlecruisers, five caracal-class cruisers, three cormorant-class destroyers, and a merlin-class frigate. They were greeted by a larger force of at least twenty-five ships. Four feroxes, three caracals, and the remainder were all frigates of various classes. The two fleets sat still for a few moments, each taking the pause to take a deep breath before the plunge. The Guristas couldn't see the look in Titus's eyes, but Ryven could, and he felt a preternatural chill at the base of his spine. The glow from the bowl of Titus's pipe cast his face in a chilling visage of rage and sharp shadow. He blew bluish smoke from the corner of his mouth before opening comms with the fleet.
"All units engage. Primary is target alpha one, Ferox. Fire at will."
The space around the deadspace compound exploded into fierce combat, missiles streaking toward the targetted ferox, exploding brightly upon impact. Both fleets began maneuvering in the elaborate dance of interstellar combat. The feroxes returned fire, but lacked the discipline to primary just one ship, and Titus's fleet began taking sporadic damage. The Tovil-Toba was rocked by repeated hits. It was taking the brunt of the Guristas' volleys.
The first ferox and then another went down, but so did two of Titus's drakes. The cormorants began to engage the frigates and they began popping as well. The battle raged on for a hellacious ten minutes before tragedy struck.
The last ferox was not going down fast enough, and the Tovil-Toba's shields were depleted. The Raven and Ferox traded blows, but the Tovil-Toba's armor was quickly destroyed. The ferox was already in structure. One more volley would destroy it completely. The cruise missiles fired and streaked their way toward the ferox. Just before impact,the ferox's turrets flashed. The ferox exploded into bluish-white brilliance, but it's final volley breached the Tovil-Toba's hull.
TO BE CONTINUED...
"All units engage. Primary is target alpha one, Ferox. Fire at will."
The space around the deadspace compound exploded into fierce combat, missiles streaking toward the targetted ferox, exploding brightly upon impact. Both fleets began maneuvering in the elaborate dance of interstellar combat. The feroxes returned fire, but lacked the discipline to primary just one ship, and Titus's fleet began taking sporadic damage. The Tovil-Toba was rocked by repeated hits. It was taking the brunt of the Guristas' volleys.
The first ferox and then another went down, but so did two of Titus's drakes. The cormorants began to engage the frigates and they began popping as well. The battle raged on for a hellacious ten minutes before tragedy struck.
The last ferox was not going down fast enough, and the Tovil-Toba's shields were depleted. The Raven and Ferox traded blows, but the Tovil-Toba's armor was quickly destroyed. The ferox was already in structure. One more volley would destroy it completely. The cruise missiles fired and streaked their way toward the ferox. Just before impact,the ferox's turrets flashed. The ferox exploded into bluish-white brilliance, but it's final volley breached the Tovil-Toba's hull.
TO BE CONTINUED...
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Thoughts
The war is going well. My brothers and sisters in the Knighthood continue to treat me well, though I wonder sometimes what they really think of me. I admire and respect my superiors, an altogether new experience for me. I met "Red" the other day. Strange child, but fiery, and I approve of that. Fearless too, like me at that age. Shalee seems to be my closest associate, and I greatly enjoy her company. I also met her "friend" Tigerfish. We seemed to get along. Eran seems a bit gruff, but I suspect it is mostly stress from the tumultuous combination of his personal and work life. Raphael, well, what can you say about him?
We faced tragedy in the loss of Raze and Victoria Valadeus. They both were very respected voices in the community. I didn't get to know them as well as I should have. I have been too preoccupied with my own search for information regarding the relationship between both of my surrogate fathers, as well as my own sudden need for absolution, the latter being more of a surprise than the former. Regardless, the loss of the Valadei hit me and I felt something I hadn't in a long time: mortal. I drank a lot. Things weren't any clearer the next day.
We faced tragedy in the loss of Raze and Victoria Valadeus. They both were very respected voices in the community. I didn't get to know them as well as I should have. I have been too preoccupied with my own search for information regarding the relationship between both of my surrogate fathers, as well as my own sudden need for absolution, the latter being more of a surprise than the former. Regardless, the loss of the Valadei hit me and I felt something I hadn't in a long time: mortal. I drank a lot. Things weren't any clearer the next day.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
The Die is Cast
*******************************
Ryven had had almost no trouble arranging the whole thing. It was a simple matter, really. He had his contact in her pirate gang send a fake message from Krystal to another ship, which Titus and Ryven attacked shortly after. This message was discovered in the process of salvaging the pirate ship. Based on this information, Titus launched immediately into action. This was not part of Ryven's plan. It seemed to have worked out rather well, though. Titus's fleet attacked fiercely and Ryven boarded the ship Krystal was being "held" on. The fighting was short, but fierce. He sent his boarding team to the bridge, while he searched the crew quarters, knowing full well that was where Krystal and his contact were going to be, having communicated with his contact prior to the attack. However, it seemed that life imitated art, and his contact, Jacobus, really was holding her hostage, knife poised to thrust up into her ribs. Ryven had not communicated to Jacobus why he wanted Krystal, only that he did want her. So, Ryven smiled, closed the distance between them, and shoved Jacobus's hand, holding the knife, up into Krystal's ribs, piercing her heart. Jacobus stared at him, shocked, and terrified. Ryven quickly drew his pistol and fired a round directly into Jacobus's skull. Word arrived over his comms link that the bridge had been taken. Ryven quickly raised the "Tovil-Toba."
"Captain, you're needed, immediately. Krystal's hurt, badly. Aft crew quarters."
******************************
While Ryven was lost in his reverie, a fiery rage began to boil inside Titus Haijikioten. Without a word, he stood up, and brushed past Ryven on his way back to the Tovil-Toba. He keyed up his comms link and quickly barked out orders.
"Everyone back to the Tovil-Toba. We're getting underway right fucking now. Arm every goddamn weapon we have. Every goddamn one."
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Reconnaissance
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Downtime
Commander Krennel stared at the nude form of the sleeping woman in his stateroom on the Tovil-Toba. She was rather attractive, as station prostitutes go. He never really understood women, though he had an off and on relationship with Keila, the ship's weapons officer. Still, for satisfying a base need, hookers would suffice. The smoke from his cigarette swirled and formed a gray halo around his shorn head. He focused his gaze on the glowing tip and managed a grin as the blue steel of his surroundings faded and blurred at the corners of his vision. He missed the warmth of his time with Baillieu. These days, the heat of battle was the only place he found peace. His hunger for battle was insatiable. He shuddered. What was he? What kind of man got his jollies from wholesale slaughter? He was convinced it was the Haijikioten blood in his veins. Titus had learned of a relative, a daughter of his through a prostitute. Ryven swore then and there, he must kill her.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Of Stars and Murder
Everywhere stars. Heavenly spheres contained in their self-constructed prisons of immense gravitation. Like pure ideas so hefty their own immense weight is all that contains them but do so effortlessly and nearly flawlessly. These stars are like ideas, bright and immense but constrained, burning at the edge of consciousness, only marvelous at a distance, mundane in proximity. Still, get too close and they consume you. They suppress their own fury organically. One such idea tugs at me now, mercilessly. We are all murderers. We kill tirelessly. The worst part is that we are numb to this death because we fight others as unkillable as ourselves and seldom tally those unfortunate mortals that perish while the capsuleer is born anew. The true murder is the murder of an idea: the commensurate weight of a human life. These mortals, these humans, are somehow less weighty than the infomorph. The importance of the human is now a brown swarf, exhausted and muted, dwindling into nothingness. The death of ideas may one day leave the universe bereft of starry ideas, an infinite moral darkness, no light to steer by. Void.
Friday, April 15, 2011
Leaping Ahead
The years since the orphanage had blown by, and Commander Krennel, now 33 years old, had been forged into a full-fledged mercenary warrior. He was hardly famous, but in the world of the HSG, he was one step removed from the boss, the XO, the right hand of Titus Haijikioten. The fact that his feelings for the old murderous bastard switched from filial love to intense seething hatred from day to day was lost on no one. Titus was aware of it, and it pained him, but was tragically part and parcel of life on a ship whose missions ran along the border between paramilitary operations and outright piracy. Titus trued to stay legitimate in his business dealings, but he had a lot of personnel to pay. When the State was peaceful, he had to resort to less legitimate business to keep his company afloat. The Megacorps tended to recognize this reality, and so long as these activities didn't threaten their interests, so be it. Titus maintained good relations with Home Guard and Spacelane Patrol, and had friendly contacts in Ishukone, and routinely did business with all three.
Ryven was beginning to grow ambitious. Titus could see it in his eyes. He knew the young man was always after something better. Titus began forming a plan. Ryven was the last of the Haijikioten family, and seemed unlikely to settle down. Titus, being exceptionally wealthy, had the finances to help Ryven to become a capsuleer. If Ryven, a physically pristine specimen, were to apply, he would be almost certainly accepted. Titus knew he would die sooner or later, but probably sooner. He wasn't getting any younger. He began recording a message.
Ryven was beginning to grow ambitious. Titus could see it in his eyes. He knew the young man was always after something better. Titus began forming a plan. Ryven was the last of the Haijikioten family, and seemed unlikely to settle down. Titus, being exceptionally wealthy, had the finances to help Ryven to become a capsuleer. If Ryven, a physically pristine specimen, were to apply, he would be almost certainly accepted. Titus knew he would die sooner or later, but probably sooner. He wasn't getting any younger. He began recording a message.
Donning the Mantle
I have been promoted. I have only been a part of this holy crusade for a few months, but the Knighthood has graced me with the mantle of knighthood. I am now beknighted. I admit that I hope I am worthy. I am still striving to forge myself into a warrior of holy God, the fist of His Empire, a servant of His Empress. This is a new way of life for me, and it is often at odds with my past life. My fellow Knights continue to help to guide me on my path. I have even managed to be granted the rank of Imperatus Commander by the militia. Ryven's star is on the rise, it would seem. I must continually dedicate myself to the cause, to the defense of the Empire, and the Reclaiming.
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