Prano's Journey #4: The Gift.

Pator. Homeworld of the Minmatar Republic.

Gigaer stood on a mountain plateau overlooking a vast savanna.

In ancient times many Minmatar warriors crossed this vast plain on foot as part of a spiritual pilgrimage. The mountain at the centre of the plain was a dead volcano, and within the caldera was a small hidden temple where warrior monks resided. These monks never ventured into the outside world, and were constantly in one form of meditation or another. It was here that a warrior proved himself or herself worthy and received their kandjal.

After the week-long trek across the savanna, a climb up the steep sides of the volcano and proving his or her worth to the temple leaders, a month-long regimen of physical and spiritual purification took place, where several rituals meant to cleanse the warrior of evil spirits and poisons occurred. Many of these rituals were by no means safe, and were in actuality meant to test the warriors fortitude as much as cleanse the body and soul.

A warrior did not “receive” a kandjal exactly. The warrior had to learn how they were made and maintained, though certain secrets of their construction remain known only to the monks. The warrior gathered the materials needed to make the blade, extending handle (with all the internal mechanisms) and scabbard. The most important of materials was the metal called Tetralithium. The only place in known space it can be found was from within this volcano. When refined, folded and tempered, it had a mirror finish, was light and very strong.

Most unique, when quick motion was applied, tetralithium vibrated, creating whistling and humming sounds vaguely similar to a wind instrument. Every kandjal had a unique sound, as every imperfection and fold within the metal blade changed how sympathetic vibrations traveled. Those ever-changing sounds became a warrior's signature. The metal had no real commercial value, but was essential to the creation of the kandjal.

The volcano and the surrounding savanna was sacred ground to all Minmatar, and it had been untouched by technology and development as a result.

Gigaer saw himself standing on the border between old and new. It was his duty to revive the old ways for all Minmatar, but to accomplish that, some rules had to be bent. Matari society is now part of a larger galactic community, and as much as he would have liked to just turn back the clock, things were never going to be the same. Minmatar had changed, and Gigaer had to change the old ways to make them at least applicable in this new age.

Gigaer stowed the new kandjal in his pack. It was not his. The markings upon the weapon were not of the Prano clan. Gigaer made the trek and endured the rituals on behalf of someone else, which was forbidden in ancient times. Breaking such an important tradition was a thought Gigaer did not enjoy in the slightest. The monks were extremely displeased at Gigaer's plan, but as the sole carrier of the Prano name, he had right to force compliance in these matters. Gigaer had also convinced them to record a video showing the basic use and maintenance of the kandjal, while in the past such information was traditionally passed though personal instruction only.

“Things change, even things that were never meant to. Things that don't change, die. I won't let this die.” Gigaer said aloud as he set back down the mountain on his long journey back to civilization.

A week later, the kandjal and recording would but sent to its destined owner, Colonel Roc Wieler of the Tribal Liberation Force.

o7

My life in EVE - Part 20.

Me? Mine? *shrugs*

Since there's very little I can do without certain skills that I'm working on currently, I've got little reason to log in. I could use my JC and join my brothers in nullsec, but that would seriously slow down my much-needed training. If I were on for a weekend, it would be a different story. Instead, I've been doing some writing, some reading (trying to read all the chronicles) and helping the wife get her space mojo.

She worked late last night, and I was looking for something mindless to do between projects, so I decided to log on to her account and mine for her. Dense Veldspar and Scordite gets mined pretty quickly and it's the most profitable in the system (which she doesn't want to leave yet). A little skill management on the side and she seemed pleased when she got home.

She saw a Hulk in action. I think I saw her drool a little.

We'll be at the passport office for quite a while later today, so I'm going to get her to read some guides I found on mining. I'm reading up as well so I can help her out whenever she needs me to. She's been great in training my skills when I'm not home, so keeping up with her industrial needs is the very least I can do.

Reason for getting passports? We're going to the New York Comic-Con! The wife and I weren't supposed to have a vacation this year, but since Barry is driving it's actually affordable for us to go. Barry knows some chefs in town and loves it there, so he's gonna show us around. Kurtis may come as well, as he has family there and could really use a vacation himself. I'll blog and tweet from the NYCC whenever I can find a connection.

I want to get a lot of EVE-related writing done this weekend. I have some good ideas in my head and I need them digital before porn or something pushes them out. Hopefully I'll find time to log in as well.

o7

Prano's Journey #3: Nemesis

Kariam Zol watched unmoved as a man was tortured a few metres away.

The dungeon under the castle in which they were located was ancient tens of thousands of years ago, and it was a testament to Amarr skill that it still stood.

Kariam was a paladin on special detachment from House Sarum. An order from the empress herself created a small "wetworks" organization called Faith. Made up of a small handful of the best Paladins from all noble houses, they operated under a mandate of seeking out and destroying those individuals who posed unique threats to Amarr. The answered only to the empress herself, and officially did not exist.

Kariam had been hunting this man, who by many accounts did not exist himself, for months. Now this shadow of the same man was strapped to a chair, naked and bleeding from a growing number of wounds. Here was a man well-versed in the arts of subterfuge and intrigue, yet in the end Kariam's devotion and faith had seem him the victor.

Torture as a means of interrogation was something Kariam found fascinating on a purely intellectual level. The balances of pain, hope and coercion was a delicate ballet between the torturer and subject. Too little and to don't get anything, while too much and the information you get will be tainted. Kariam watched as the man was constantly pressured and questioned for several days. Kariam did not sleep during this, and he took intricate mental notes for future reference.

The man was nearly dead, and even though he was trained to resist torture by the Elders, Kariam's aid was just too skilled. Much that the man revealed was already known to Kariam. The Minmatar went by the name "Eyes", and it was doubtful that he had any real identity. He was a capsuleer, but his implants had been disabled before the torture began so that death would be permanent. Eyes worked for the Minmatar Elders (seven horrible apparitions akin to demons in the eyes of the Amarr), but knew little about their actual operations. Kariam wasn't after anything specific, but this man had to know something of use. Unfortunately he would be dead in a few minutes.

Kariam ordered his agent to leave. Coercion would have little effect now. First removing his white gloves and tucking them neatly into his belt, Kariam unshackled his prey and stood him up on a pool of dried blood. Eyes could barely stay level, and death's grasp was slowly closing around his heart. Kariam placed his hands on Eyes' head and squeezed. Eyes began to scream and howl with pain that didn't seem entirely physical. Kariam's gaze drilled into Eyes, seeking his prey's last, dark secret.

After what seemed like eternity, Kariam suddenly let go, and Eyes fell to the ground, instantly devoid of life. The stoic paladin retrieved his gloves from his belt and left the dungeon, ascending the stone stairwell and exiting the hollow remains of the castle. This isle on Mehkios was virtually untouched by development and belonged to the empress herself as a natural retreat locale. The only artificial structure other than the castle was a landing pad. Kariam's shuttle was being checked by his agent, and Kariam would head to one of the system's station to procure a ship, crew supplies and information to start his next hunt.

Only one word escaped Eyes' mind at the moment of death. This word held connections to concepts such as hope and truth within his mind. It was this word that drove paladin Kariam Zol to the stars, and it escaped his lips as his shuttle took off.

"Prano".

I really need a vacation...

First off, a big thank you to everyone who commented on my story that ENN ran. As always ANY criticism is more appreciated than you may know.

I'll be submitting more and making strides to get published on EON and volunteering for CCP. The reason for this ramping-up of goals is due in part to my RL convos with Roc and CK. Roc told me the reason he teamed with Sam to make Capsuleer was for the sole reason that they wanted it for themselves. Necessity is the mother of invention. This made me ask myself if there was anything I wanted from CCP that I could theoretically make myself. Scientific, sociological, and historical articles came to mind.

Afterwards, CK suggested going to EON and CCP, as any article they publish is canon, vetted and reaches a wide audience. He's had experience with both and thought I had the chops, which was a huge complement, and I owe it to everyone to make good on it. It's a challenge, but one I feel I have the ability to succeed at.

Add on to that my podcast plans, and I think I may end up in the same trap CK finds himself in now. When will I actually play the game? I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it.

Roc's home sick with a stomach flu thing. Everyone please wish him a speedy recovery. Also, I don't want to name names but I know of quite a few players who are having serious RL issues with employment. If you have the ability, buying an in-game friend a GTC to get them through a tough time is a wonderful gesture. We need to try and support ourselves as a community during these current economic woes. Even well-wishes goes a long way.

It's been a year since I started this security job and I've worked Monday to Friday (and even some weekends) for that entire time. I think it's starting to wear me down. Have you ever decided not to take a vacation for the sole reason that you didn't want a temp fucking everything up and then having to fix it all when you get back?

This weekend is going to involve some house work and some major grocery shopping (wow... I have mustard?), but mostly I want to do some reading (comics, every EVE chronicle, novels) and writing (on-going projects). I may not even touch a video game at all. Also need to get on the EVE-O forums and finish uploading LSoP, and put up my first BattleClinic loadouts. I hope I can get the wife's EVE account running and let her run through the tutorial while I get foods. I intend to wire her 50mill to get started. Too much, not enough or just right?

o7

Prano's Journey #1: Communique with A Colonel.

I live three lives.

The first is that of a COGNet Spacesystems Ltd. Capsuleer. COGN is a very small odd-jobs outfit that pays me reasonably well for my services, which is usually on contract from a larger corp. Everything from courier to garrison to pirate-popping. I'm not getting financially rich by any means, but I'm not a greedy man.

The second is a freedom fighter of the Ushra'Khan, of which COGNet is a member. This brings me into direct conflict with slavers among the less secure systems of New Eden. We find and kill them with extreme prejudice. We force them to stop inflicting suffering upon others, either through lethal or financial tactics. We free the slaves they seek to sell.

The third life often starts where the second one ends. You see, when the slaves are freed, they often are left with nowhere to go and ruined personas. The U'K often takes them in as part of our forces, but I try to help them rebuild themselves as true Minmatar. I help them find peace and purpose at a spiritual level through meditation and learning. I help them find enlightenment when things seem all but lost.

In ancient times, the Prano clan was the centre of the Minmatar's spiritual world. We led our people to a place of inner peace and deeper understanding, beyond the confines of their physical selves. The Amarr took all that away from us. I am the last.

Lately I've been trying to expand my efforts in my third life by traveling throughout the galaxy and seeking out disenfranchised souls. The poor, the ill, the broken. I help them as best I can, and some have begun to seek me out. I make no attempt to hide myself.

A few weeks ago, I decided that the Tribal Liberation Force, a militia created through the efforts of the Elders who trained me, needed to hear what I had to teach. I sent out a message to a prominent officer who would be the least likely to accept my words; the reason being that if I could convince him, others would be more receptive.

Last night, during a meditative session with a destitute Vherokior family I received a communique. Colonel Roc Wieler would hear me out.

the conversation was short and terse, as he made no attempt to hide the fact that he held me in a small amount of suspicion. After we set a time and location, I asked him why he was giving me this chance. he ended the conversation quickly without giving me an answer.

I have a week to prepare myself.

o7

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 10.

D-Day minus 1.

Venal
UTZ-7B
Y-4CFK – Planet 1 – Belt 1

“Prano. Is that name supposed to mean something? It's just another slave's name as far as I'm concerned. As for this datacore...” Karo said with a dominative chuckle as he turned his Pilgrim and locked on to Gigaer's Hurricane, “... you'll have to come and get it!”

Gigaer responded in kind by locking on to the Pilgrim and priming his combat systems. The Pilgrim could not match the Hurricane's offensive and defensive potentials, but the Pilgrim was made to cripple its target before pounding it into slag. Gigaer closed the distance between the two craft as quickly as possible so he could bring his 425mm autocannons to bare. Karo grinned. His repair systems had brought his electronic warfare systems back online and to full capacity. He felt like a spider allowing a fly to drift into its web.

The Pilgrim was rocked violently by Gigaer's opening salvos, and just as the Hurricane entered optimum ranges, a flood of exotic energies rushed out of the Pilgrim's emmiters and swallowed the Hurricane in deadly light. System after system malfunctioned and went offline, bringing the Hurricane's violent advance to a complete halt. Targeting systems overloaded and blew out the main relays, leaving him with manual control. Navigation and propulsion struggled futily to keep the ship at speed, but Gigaer was effectively stationary. Trying to reroute systems through each other only delayed the inevitable as his capacitor was being both crippled and sucked dry.

Gigaer's Hurricane was reduced to a floating can as the Pilgrim began its modest assault on the crippled vessel's shields. Normally such an attack would not succeed, but with Gigaer's power systems being put under so much strain, the shields were not recharging, and armour energizing systems were in a similar situation. If Gigaer could route power to his comms, he would have heard Karo cackling madly and proclaiming his Amarrian superiority over his Matari prey. Gigaer's shields began to buckle.

All Gigaer had was life-support, manual control over his turrets, optical sensors and shield emmiters. Gigaer linked his turrets to his sensors and set pointed those at the Pilgrim. Setting that aside for the moment, he routed his shield emmiters directly to his brain through his implants. Dropping into a trance, Gigaer felt the universe through his shields.

He could feel them shudder under the impacts of the Pilgrim's lasers and ripple as wave after wave of exotic energies and frequencies from the Pilgrim's electronic warfare systems distorted them. To Gigaer, it all sounded like two symphonies trying to impose their own sound over each other. Gigaer would have to orchestrate a new song to overcome Karo's overwhelming tune.

In his trance, Gigaer's mind danced among to waves of light and energy, trying to find a way to free himself. His mind raced as he manipulated his shields. It was all such a complex puzzle, and the Pilgrim's sound was becoming more and more deafening. What was left of his shields flickered and flashed as they complied with Gigaer's commands as best they could.

“I am Prano. I am the guiding light of my wayward people. I am the bridge to this world and what lies beyond, to this life and the next. I've come a long way, and I've trained myself hard. Many have sacrificed much so that I may bring my people back from the dark, and I will not let those efforts be in vain. I will not fail my mother, my father, my people and my destiny. Finally, and most certainly, I will not be defeated by the likes of you!”

Waves merged, frequencies coalesced and the sound of resilience boomed from Gigaer's shields, blasting away the dark tones of the Pilgrim and sent them crashing back at Karo. The Pilgrim's electronic warfare systems turned on themselves and began to rip the ship apart. Karo's laughter became seething rage and confusion as his systems began to self-destruct.

“What's happening? What have you done to my ship you mongrel?” Karo screamed over the comms.

“The spirits are punishing you for trying to kill their emissary. You've sinned against forces that make your god's wrath look like the cries of a tantrum-ridden child.” Gigaer responded as he manually aimed and fired his autocannons, still under the mind-expanding effects of the trance. The alpha strike from six massive turrets all hit home, ripping through nearly non-existent shields and thin golden plating, severing the capacitor from its conduits and housing. The Pilgrim lurched and went dark and still.

Gigaer took a few minutes to bring a few key systems online before he moved into range of Karo's ship. Using salvaging manipulators, Gigaer tore into the Pilgrim's hold and extracted the datacore. Gigaer set course towards the gate and warped away, listening to Karo's emergency assistance transmission, which was comprised mainly of raging Amarr curses and incomprehensible screams.

---

D-Day.

Heimatar
Ortner
Rens VII – Moon 17 – Brutor Tribe Bureau

The Hurricane had barely made it into Rens in one piece, having to be towed into dock and told his ship would cost more to repair than it was worth. He left it to the deck crews to strip the ship down for materials and usable components. He'd need a new ship later.

Caldari datacore in hand, Gigaer made his way across the promenade towards a local bar. The Serpent Lounge. His contact was the proprietor there. He'd hand off the datacore and hopefully the contact would have new information for him about what he should do next. Gigaer smiled as he went over his journey thus far. “A tale of four datacores, one from each major empire in the galaxy.” A small laugh escaped him at the thought of being sent after a Jove datacore next.

Gigaer entered the establishment and made his way to the bar. The place was crowded but oddly quiet. Most Minmatar bars were much more lively. He weaved himself passed patrons, who were mostly starring at overhanging vidscreens and talking in hushed tones as newscaster voices spoke loudly and gravely. Gigaer would have liked to know what all the fuss was about but he was far too occupied with finding his contact.

Seliah stood behind the bar, looking up at the screen and preparing a drink. Gigaer stood in front of her and rapped a knuckle on the bar. “It's a fine day for destiny.” he said. That was the first part of a code Gigaer was to use to identify himself to his contact. Seliah was to respond with -

“If you have the stomach for it.” She half-nodded to Gigaer. Seliah was a beautiful Matari woman whose eyes said she's seen far too much and preferred to not speak unless necessary. She was all business. Gigaer produced the datacore, but Seliah only looked at it and smiled grimly. “Good work, Gigaer. But the contents of that datacore no longer matter.”

Gigaer was confused. “Why is that?” he asked as he took back the datacore and placed it in his pack.

Seliah pointed towards the vidscreens, and Gigaer finally looked up to see what all the interest was. The sight of two massive fleets, one Minmatar bearing the insignias of Thukker and Elders, and the other Amarr, flying the flag of Jamyl Sarum, battling furiously over Mekhios, rocked him. Reporters franticly conveyed reports of chaos in all four corners of the galaxy, as well as an attack on CONCORD.

Gigaer would later check the contents of the datacore, and find the Elders plans for the very incursions that were now being executed. “You completed your mission and the plan went forward as expected. You are to be commended.” said Seliah as she handed Gigaer an data disk. Within Gigaer would find a dossier detailing his new life. He'd be a pilot of COGNet Spacesystems Ltd. under his assuming clan name. COGNet was actually a front for an organization known as the Ushra'Khan, an entity that acted outside the law to take down slavers and acted as a sort of dark conscious for the Republic populace, much like the Defiants acted for the Republic establishment.

“Welcome, brother. A new age is beginning.” said Seliah as she moved off to tend to her patrons. Gigaer could only look around to the other Minmatar in the bar. There were many faces that displayed unease and fear. The future was always an uncertain thing to them, but now the uncertainty was taking on the colour of blood.

These are my charges, handed to me by destiny. I must lead them through the dark times ahead and along the path to spiritual enlightenment and harmony. That is my duty and I accept it with all that I am.

Gigaer took a silent oath and walked out of the bar, leaving the newsfeeds and worried souls behind. Every step filled him with more conviction as he made his way to market. He needed a ship, and there was lifetimes of work to be done.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 9.

Chapter 9.

D-Day minus 2.

Venal
UTZ-7B
Y-4CFK – 0.5 AUs above star's northern magnetic pole.

The details were quite simple. A Gurista data-thief by the name of Jaynis managed to decrypt some transmissions belonging to the Elders that he came across while scouring the net. He sent a message to an assistant to Shobhena Yoonareyd (Chief of Surveillance at the Ministry of War) named Karo. Jaynis and Karo have had dealings in the past, and Gigaer suspected both were double-agents at some level. Jaynis had somehow managed to convince Karo to meet him at the Gurista Testing Facilities here to make an exchange. One would get information that would make his career, while the other would come into money few Guristas dare dream about.

Gigaer had spent 29 days painstakingly tracking Jaynis' movements, looking for an opportunity to reweave him of his burden. However, Jaynis consumed a large quantity and variety of narcotics on a daily basis and his extreme degrees and variations of psychosis (such as paranoia) served him well, as his security measures were always solid. After all this time stalking, Gigaer was forced to his last option: the day of the deal. He would have to wait until Karo exited the station and moved into another region, then pounce on him and take the information. This added the task of returning soon after and killing Jaynis, due the the possibility he would have made a copy of the data for himself.

Gigaer waited near the magnetic pole of the system's parent star, which obstructed the Guristas' system-wide sensor sweeps from seeing him, but a tight-beam scan directed at the station's port offered him a satisfactory view. The ship he was looking for, a Pilgrim, should pop itself out and head for the gates, beginning its long trek back to Amarr space with all due haste.

Sure enough, after nearly 20 hours of waiting, out came the Pilgrim. Gigaer was about to activate his warp navigation systems to follow when he noticed the Pilgrim was not alone, and was not heading for the gate, but for the one asteroid belt near Y-4CFK I. The companion ship was a Gila, and Gigaer knew it had to be Jaynis. His paranoia must have gotten the better of him again and he decided the station was too crowded a place for such an important deal to be brokered. Better to make the trade where nobody else would be watching. Once they arrived at the belt and settled near a large rock, Gigaer realigned his sensors towards the two craft. At this range, picking up a wide-cast transmission was easy, and Jaynis was probably too tweaked to take that small detail into account.

“Are you finally satisfied? The deal was that I come alone, and I did. All I have to do is wire the funds to any account you want and let you walk away, right? That was the deal we made. All I want is this information you say will make my career. Can we finally make this transfer so I can get out of this God-forsaken place?” spoke the pilot of the Pilgrim. Karo sounded like he was suppressing some frustration, and Gigaer guessed that Jaynis had begun to get on his nerves.

“Only when I'm satisfied you really intend on letting me live. You could have dozens of cloaked ships watching us right now, waiting to kill me once you have what you want.” said the pilot of the Gila, who Gigaer recognized instantly. The nasal, jittery voice of a man constantly about to fly off the handle and into a drug-induced craze. Jaynis didn't cope with stressful situations well, especially when he couldn't just kill the source of his fear.

Gigaer gave his micro warp drive a quick burst then shut everything down that could be easily detected at range. Only his life-support and passive sensors remained active. His Hurricane drifted towards them as Gigaer prepped his systems for a quick restart. Without a cloak, he would drift dark and frictionless towards them, then once he was close enough, reactivate his systems and have them at an instant tactical disadvantage.

“You probably think I'm easy to manipulate, don't you? You think you can just lure me out here so you can kill me and take what's mine?” Jaynis yelled over the comms. His breathing was getting shallower and Gigaer could tell he was about to go into his panic-induced frenzies. Gigaer had witnessed these before during his stalking of the man. Jaynis would pull a weapon and kill everyone around him if his stress-level rose too high, wielding near-superhuman abilities on account of the near-lethal cocktail running through his veins. He'd actually be quite well-off financially, if he didn't have to constantly pay people off when they come looking for compensation for a wrecked establishment or vengeance of some sort. Jaynis' Gila lurched in the direction of the station, attempting to align for warp. At the same time he fired a few random rounds at Karo. Jaynis had not bothered to target the pilgrim, but at this super-close range and zero motion the shots still did moderate damage to Karo's shields. Karo acted quickly and locked down the Gila with a webber and scrambler. The Gila slowed as energy shimmered around its hull as a warp field futilely attempted to form. Jaynis continued to fire but the Pilgrim's shields were too strong for him to punch through.

“You're not going anywhere, Gurista heathen. I won't suffer because you can't control your emotions or your habits. Hand over the data at once or I'll destroy you.” yelled Karo. Jaynis' panic attack was reaching its heights and the only thing coming in over the comms was a lot of unintelligible screaming, moaning and crying. The shimmering around the Gila became more violent as the screaming increased. Gigaer and Karo realized Jaynis was trying to overload his warp drive in a suicidal effort to break free. Gigaer quickly restarted the Hurricane's systems, as Karo would be far too concerned with what was going on in front of him to notice another ship coming in from his flank.

The Gila bucked as its engines were pushed far beyond their limits. Karo dumped extra energy into his restriction systems as his emitters overheated. He continued to yell Amarrian curses as his systems glitches due to feedback, releasing and sending the Gila sprawling into empty space. Seconds later internal explosions tore through Jaynis and his ship, transforming the Gila into a smoldering wreck. Obscenities continued to pour out of the Pilgrim as Karo tried to mitigate the damage done to his own vessel, unaware that the he was still transmitting.

Gigaer was about to remove himself from the scene, satisfied that the data had gone to hell with Jaynis when he noticed a small tractor beam stab into the Gila wreck from the Pilgrim. After a few minutes it pulled out an object the size of a human skull, and Gigaer considered this Amarrian may have odd habits of his own, before he looked closer. A Caldari datacore. No doubt it held the information that brought these three capsuleers together, and now Karo had it. Gigaer could not avoid a confrontation any longer.

Karo was about to head for the station when a voice he didn't recognize came in over his comms, transmitting from a Hurricane bearing down on him at full speed and targeting him with plenty of firepower. “My name is Gigaer, of the clan Prano. You have something that belongs to me.”

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 8.

Chapter 8.

D-Day minus 31.

He could spend the rest of his life reading, and some part of him admitted he would be content with that.

The room was octangular and very large. It was almost impossible to think that it was in the original plans for this station, as the shape was very irregular compared to the rest of the instillation's design. The floor was white with a vast array of tribal designs, which he learned were there to optimize the occupant's energy flow. The walls were covered in scrolls, each one it its own wooden slot in a vast grid of knowledge that surrounded the space. At the centre of the room was a low round table made of simple wood. There was no chair and the table was so low you had to sit cross-legged on the floor.

Gigaer spent much of his time in this room, absorbing scroll after ancient scroll. Many of his directed lessons were combined with either personal or ship combat. His skill with the kandjal was nearly unmatchable by anyone, and his abilities as a capsuleer were growing rapidly. Admittedly, deducing the finer points of philosophy while trying to keep your shields intact or your head attached was almost impossible at first, but the point was to help Gigaer think along multiple, simultaneous tangents. It was working, but he still enjoyed his time in the library.

There was very rarely anyone else who used the room, and distractions where nowhere to be found. Gigaer had spent entire days in deep study, and sometimes only stopped when someone came to see if he'd eaten or slept in the last 24 hours. Gigaer now wore robes similar to the ones the Elders adorned themselves with, though his were far less dramatic. A white loose-fitting robe and pants held together by a simple cloth belt. He thought it made him look like a cross between a monk and a martial artist. His kandjal displayed traditionally at his side, in a sheath hanging from his belt, decorated with the insignias of his clan, masters and status.

Gigaer's Planeswalker training was nearing completion, to the amazement of his tutors, who insisted that he'd accomplished in less then a year what should have taken five. After learning about the thousands of different spirits and deities, it was merely a matter of focused meditation. Knowledge unlocked all doors for Gigaer, and there was much to learn in this place. Unfortunately Gigaer's new found senses told him the serenity of this place would be gone soon. The storm that Vakor had mentioned in that meeting nearly a year ago, Gigaer could sense it on the horizon. A wall of churning black clouds that obscured his vision. The storm was unavoidable and it was almost upon them. A part of Gigaer feared it, though he could not understand why. He cleared his mind and returned to the scroll before him, sipping at some nearby tea.

The door, which lay directly ahead of Gigaer, opened silently and in shuffled one of Gigaer's attendants. Gigaer had several to see to his needs so he may stay focused on his studies. This one was a young girl who was very slight and usually silent. Gigaer could not remember a time where she looked him in the eyes, though he had done everything he could to make her feel at ease. She closed the door behind her and dropped to her knees, awaiting Gigaer's signal that she may enter and interrupt him. She floated silently over to his right side and whispered into Gigaer's ear a message, then retreated 2 feet from him, again on her knees, expecting instructions. Vakor wished to seem him immediately. Gigaer had not seen Vakor in months, probably due to escalating preparations for whatever the Elders were planning. Gigaer motioned for the attendant girl to put away the small mountain of scrolls he always seemed to create during these sessions. She nodded and began diligently as she always did.

Gigaer arose and shuffled out the door, where Rogi and Vani waited to escort him. They guarded him nearly every minute of every day, and Gigaer had to wonder when they ate or slept. Of course they refused to speak to him or look him in the eye, though unlike the others Gigaer thought these two genuinely feared him, as though he would cast a curse on them if slighted. Gigaer had become used to this prevailing attitude, though it was not easy. Unlike everywhere else in the galaxy, these people knew what the name Prano meant, and they feared and revered it. Gigaer did not acknowledge them or break stride, heading straight for the location Vakor knew he'd want to meet him.

Gigaer entered the room, expecting the same wooden table that had been there for months. Many of Gigaer's academic lessons took place in this room, and Gigaer had become comfortable here. It had become the centre of this station in his mind. This time, however, the table was gone and the shutters on the windows were closed. Gigaer entered and looked around. The lights were dimmed and the walls were covered in shadow. He focused on them and sensed out a familiar aura.

“Come out Eyes. I know you're there.”

Eyes stepped out, arms crossed and smiling in satisfaction. “I heard you could do things like that, but I had to see it for myself.”

Gigaer clasped Eyes' outstretched hand in greeting. Eyes had been teaching him the arts of stealth and subterfuge. Gigaer would never be as good as Eyes, but it was almost impossible to lie to Gigaer anymore. “What's going on here? I expected Vakor.” questioned Gigaer.

Eyes held the smile and led Gigaer to the windows. They opened to reveal a sight that caused a gasp to escape Gigaer's mouth. The ships were gone. The yards were deserted. Gigaer looked at Eyes for answers.

“Plans that were years in the making have been set into motion. Those ships were built for a purpose, and they have set out to perform their duty. Vakor and the rest of the Elders have gone with them to see it done.”

“See what done?”

“I can't tell you that. I'm here only to administer your final test. A mission of the utmost importance. Vakor needs you to retrieve an item and deliver it to his contact.”

Gigaer walked slowly away from the window, trying to calm his raging emotions and focus himself on the reality of his situation. He would probably never see this place or the Elders ever again, and while his training was more or less complete, he was unsure about his path from this point. Still, his master had given him a mission and his honour would not allow him to fail or decline. He looked back at Eyes, waiting for details.

“There's a Caldari spy that has learned of the Elders and their plans. He's a capsuleer with the Guristas and is looking to cash in on his information at a swap with a Amarr Navy Admiral. There's a Hurricane-class Battlecruiser still docked. All the details are in its databanks. If the Amarr get a hold of the Elder's plans, years of effort will be for nothing. It must be stopped.”

Gigaer could always read volumes from Eyes' silence. No words would need be exchanged. They hoped they would encounter each other again, but the future was becoming increasingly turbulent, and neither could say what tomorrow held. They respected each other, and with a quick shared nod, Gigaer ran out of the room towards the docks.

The halls were empty. Every person and piece of equipment had disappeared. The station was lifeless now when it was usually packed with activity and it sent a small chill down Gigaer's spine. This had been his home, after all. Passing the library he was in just recently, he saw the door open and the room bare. The Elders wouldn't have been so rash as to leave such precious items behind. Reaching the docks, Gigaer was shocked that the only two ships left were Gigaer's Hurricane and a Gallente Ares that must belong to Eyes. He ran into the pod bay and stepped into the capsuleer loading chamber. The automated systems here would get him into a pod and the pod into the ship.

Ten minutes later and Gigaer was through pre-flight and away. Gigaer didn't jump to warp right away, as he wanted to say goodbye to his home. He was almost half an AU away when he saw the Ares take off and jump to warp. Seconds later a series of massive explosions began to tear through the deep-space complex, finally coalescing into a mini-nova, vaporizing it. A huge shockwave raced out in all directions, and Gigaer barely had enough time to jump to warp before he was caught in it. His shields were drained to nil just by being too close to the wave.

Gigaer set course for the nearest stargate and began to review the details of his mission. Leaving another home behind him, he wondered if he'd ever find another.

From Albion to Apocolypse, and everything in between.

I was a bad boy again...

I was downtown with Barry and he drifted into a crowded HMV. My stomach began to turn. I could have just told him I'd wait outside but that would have been rude, so I took a deep breath and went in. He browsed and bought nothing. I took the opportunity to keep a promise and grabbed a copy of Fable 2 for the wifey-wife.

I would have stopped then and there but I glimpsed a special edition of Fallout 3, which comes with a bobblehead, artbook and making-of DVD, all in an awesome metal lunchbox. Well worth the extra $10 for a collector of geekdom like me. I also saw the CE for Fable 2, which for the same extra cash comes only with a making-of DVD.

A good indicator if even that could be worth the price is to look at how prominently it's advertised on the packaging. In this case it was almost tucked away, which told be it was not worth it. I'll usually grab a CE just because it's a CE, these days I'm starting to demand more. And no, I never got a chance to buy the Mass Effect CE, and it haunts me to this day.

I've been playing both as much as I could on the weekend, and you'll have my thoughts on them when I've had a few more hours with each. I didn't get to play much EVE, mostly because I was not home much and I had some new games to drool over. I did get some good skill-training done though, and Mechanic V is set to be done a little before midnight Friday night, which should open up a lot for me.

I explained to the wife that I need to get all my "base skills" V'ed out. What i mean by that is all the skills that act as a base within that skill group. I'm sure there's another name for them, but that's what I call them. You know, like the Mechanic skill in the Mechanic section, and Gunnery under Gunnery.

Big shout-out and congrats to Black Claw, who managed to get himself into the vaunted CK Blog Pack. I hope to join him at some point, though I'm worried that since my blog isn't 100% about EVE, I may never make it. I do hope that everyone who's following my blog that also have their own have a link to my blog on their page via that "blogs I'm following" gadget or some other function. I display all the blogs I'm following in an effort to spread the love as best I can.

Tomorrow is the next chapter of Last Son of Prano, and I'm going to ask the wife to read over my draft of chapter 10 and let me know what she thinks. As a non-EVEer but someone loosely familiar with the mythos, she's perfect for keeping this story grounded in solid story-telling.

I was unable to get Intron Depot 3 back from Kurtis because I was too strapped for time, but I managed to pull up some scans on the net for her to start with. She's already grabbing some new Photoshop tools.

Finished the Gears of War novel. GREAT book. Reads like a World War story. I enjoyed it so much I'm writing an e-mail to the author today. I think people are being a little hard on the script in Gears 2, but these are soldiers, not poets. They're hard and tired, and it should show. It could have been a lot better, but I don't think it was terrible in general. Reading the book really helps to fill in a lot of the blanks and adds MANY layers to the characters. I look forward to more. I'll give you my full impressions Wednesday, and some comic book thoughts Thursday. Thoughts on Fable 2 and Fallout 3 on Friday. Also need to figure a new poll topic.

Ja.

Wave 50 and bringing sound to the EVE void.

Found quite a few good Gears 2 players online in my friends list so I joined them in horde. They brought me into a private match and we started from wave 47 and ended up beating 50. This was a big moment for me, not because I got the achievement (because I didn't) but it made me think that the players showing off on YouTube are mostly posers.

Going into my unlocked waves, I noticed 47-50 were unlocked but 35-46 were not. The reason being that I have not beaten those waves yet. I intend to soon though. I could post a vid online showing me beating wave 50, but I was able to just because a friend of mine had it unlocked an passed it on to his friends. Wave 50 disseminated in this fashion quite quickly, I'd imagine. Want to spot them, when a vid states its difficulty level, it's phony. Any Gear worth his ammo knows Horde from wave 1 sets its own difficulty levels from casual to insane.

When Dude Huge openly challenged players to beat all 50 waves of Horde, he could not have meant for it to be done in this fashion.

Want to show your worth? Post a vid of you beating ALL 50 WAVES IN A ROW. If I had my comp hooked up to my TV I'd do it myself, recording every time I played just in case. Maybe that's something I need to look into.

The quest continues...

EVE breeds bloggers, and EVE bloggers breeds fanfiction writers. It's a harsh gauntlet to conquer, much like the agoge of ancient Sparda. We comprise as a group - arguably - the best fanfiction writers the world has to offer. We are so skilled that our work is prominently displayed both electronically and in print. The EVE player however, is a fickle creature, often making its nest out of veldspar and frozen corpses. They often do not have the time to enjoy the richer literary entries, and because of that the writer often withers and dies due to malnutrition, its foodstuffs being that of critical and vital feedback. On the other hand, engaging sound in space is rare thing for a capsuleer, and it's in this niche that the writer may yet thrive.

To this effect, I've decided to look into creating a podcast. In effect taking EVE fanfictions and making them into audio dramas, much like what you can still find on the radio here on Terra. I will need equipment (both hardware and software), a small staff for a necessary variety of voicework. and time. I think the best way to go about it is to wait for the latest interconnectivity initiatives to take hold, as a central forum from which to base operations and procure works is critical. EVE-Bloggers would be perfect, if it ever gets off the ground.

I'm not saying I'm going to do this tomorrow or even next month. It will be something I'm planning for during the next 6 months at least. If you have any interest in helping me in this noble and challenging endeavor, drop me an e-mail explaining what you want to help with, why you want to help (remember fame and fortune may await you) and your qualifications (if any).

If you're wondering what my qualifications are, I have radio and voicework training via Humber College and high school drama, as well as audio directing and editing experience. I have passion for the written word and the spoken word. I have a growing desire to be a voice in the dark, like CK and YoMma and the other podcasters, but I want to bring something unique to the table from which we all gorge ourselves. One voice to represent the writing community and lead them into the spotlight.

Ja.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 7.

Chapter 7.

24 hours Later.

Gigaer was led by two guards out of the medbay. He'd spent the night receiving medical attention for the injuries he sustained when the Thukker attacked him. According to the old man, The Thukker kept constant watch on him since the first day he had entered the Wildlands. Their orders were to stay close, hidden and passive. The Elders wanted him to wander and survive battle after battle until he was at his limit, then if he continued his search, they were to disable him and take him in. That last battle had damaged his pod and resulted in moderate injury. The medics made sure he could hold under the strain of interrogation before they brought him before the Elder.

The guards, who had been with Gigaer constantly since his interrogation, led him down a long hallway filled with activity. There were plenty of people and equipment rushing around, though none made eye-contact with him, and they almost seemed to give him as wide a birth as possible. Even the two guards had not spoken a word to him, and seemed to be weary of him. The only thing he could get out of them were their names, Rogi and Vani. Two of the biggest Brutor Gigaer had even seen and they were armed not only with sidearms, but surprisingly also kandjals.

They led him into the same viewing room that he had been interrogated in, which set Gigaer on edge, until he noticed that instead of a chair in the middle of the room, there was a long meeting table with 12 chairs. It looked to be make of real wood and oufitted with holographic displays. Gigaer stood at one end, winged by his keepers, while on the opposite head of the table sat the Elder he'd met the day before. It occurred to Gigaer that the old man had never given his name. He mearly handed Gigaer off to the guards, who seemed to have been instructed beforehand to tend to him.

Rogi pulled the chair out while Vani motioned formally for Gigaer to sit. Gigaer had locked eyes with the old man as soon as he'd entered the room, and didn't break the connection as he sat, trying to put out an air of confidence to offset the Elder's aura of power and control. The Elder was dressed in robes similar to what he wore last time, and Gigaer noticed the ancient Matari symbols that adorned it. Nobody else he saw wore anything like it, so they must be specific to his status. Gigaer noticed some of the people he passed in the halls wore Thukker markings, proving to him the Elders were working with the Thukker. The old man gave the guards leave and rose from his seat.

At the centre of the table sat a bottle of mead on a silver platter, along with several small crystal glasses. Smiling, the old man uncorked the bottle and poured two glasses, then walked over to Gigaer and handed him one, before returning to his seat. The old man raised his glass in a toast, but said nothing. Gigaer returned the gesture as they both drank, never breaking eye-contact. The old man set his glass down and pressed a button on the small holographic control pad to his side. The door behind the old man opened and the man Gigaer knew only as Eyes entered. Eyes shot Gigaer a smile and a reverse-nod while heading straight for the mead, poured himself a glass and took a seat at the right hand of the old man.

“OK. Let me see if I can guess what's going on here.” Gigaer said as he calmly rose from his seat and moved towards the window, breaking eyes with the old man for the first time, and now looking out over the shipyards. “You learned about me and about my Prano legacy, and decided to test me. The first test was mental. I had to deduce that Eyes was not leading me into a trap on little-to-no solid information. The second test was physical. I had to survive in the Wildlands and push my limits to resist against the local pirates. The third test was spiritual. I had to show you that I could tap into my so-called powers and sense the greater reality.” Gigaer turned back towards the table and casually poured himself another drink, raising it slightly towards the old man and Eyes before drinking the whole glass in one gulp. “So we inevitably come to the part of the story where the reason behind the tests is revealed, and believe me when I say I'm all ears.” Gigaer let the smallest amount of frustration escape his voice, letting his keepers know he was ready to be an ungracious guest if answers were not forthcoming.

“I'll tell you anything you want to know, and if you wish to leave after hearing us out we'll give you a ship and escort out of the Wildlands.” said the old man.

“First, Who are you?”

“My name is Vakor. I am an Elder of the Minmatar tribes. My associate here, Eyes, is an agent of mine and acts on my behalf.” the old man said calmly, acting as if this were a gathering of friends.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Vakor took a deep breath before answering. “ The Prano legacy has been a key part of Matari lore since the first records of our people. Your line played a vital role in shaping the thoughts and values of our civilization. The Amarr took that away from us, forcing we Elders to flee and our people to lose our way of life. The Prano name slipped away into the night, along with much of our heritage. While your clan was forced to submit like many others, we became keepers of the ancient knowledge that sustained us as a people. Now the last son of Prano has risen from the ashes of enslavement. You've proven you have the gift. A connection to the spirits and entities of our world and others. A link that surpasses all others. You are the last true Planswalker, yet you are alone. Sent out into the void of space with little training or knowledge of your birthright. We are dedicated to revitalizing true Matari culture, and we therefore had a duty to seek you out and prepare you for the duty you carry in your blood.”

Gigaer took a few seconds to absorb Vakor's words. It did gel with what little he'd managed to learn about his clan so far, but after wandering with no direction for so long, to suddenly be presented with all the answers was a little shocking. Still, Gigaer had to take this one step at a time. “So what do you propose? You'll give me the information in exchange for what? That I be your pawn in whatever bloody affair you're planning? And don't tell me you're not planning something big. All those ships you're building out there are not for show.”

Vakor rose from his seat and moved towards the window, smiling as he took in the site of hundreds of ships being built. “There is a storm coming. The Republic thinks it's free and honourable. In reality they've become stagnant and corrupt. The Amarr still enslave our people and our vaunted Republic fleet does nothing but putter around in circles. A storm comes. A storm furious enough to burn away the darkness on the path our people walk. When it comes we must all be ready to meet the call of destiny that rings out from our blood.” Vakor turned to Gigaer and placed his hands on his shoulders. For some reason this didn't put Gigaer on guard. There was an undeniable ringing of truth to Vakor's words. “We will train you as your family would have trained you, and then you will go and find your path. When you are ready and the time is right, you will know what to do.”

The look in Vakor's eyes reminded Gigaer of the look in his mother's eyes when she recorded her message to the child she would never know, and the look in his father's eyes when they decided that Gigaer should become a capsuleer. Eyes rose from his seat and walked over to the two by the window. He held a wooden case and handed it to Vakor, who opened it and revealed Gigaer's kandjal. It had been repaired and cleaned to a flawless state. Gigaer took his kandjal, thankful to be reunited with what he often thought was the other piece of himself. “The foremost masters of the art of the kandjal will be training you as part of your studies.” said Vakor. “We will be building you from the ground up. Strategy, tactics, politics, philosophy, body, mind and soul. You will represent the best of what it means to be Minmatar, if – by some miracle - you survive.”

Gigaer turned and walked slowly around to the other side of the table, taking in the moment. He turned to Vakor and Eyes and opened up with his kandjal, sending it into a masterful whistling fury, extending and retracting it over and over, performing his favorite combinations and forms. His kandjal was in top form and so was he, and he had no doubt he would have to be even better to make it out of this place alive. The thought greatly excited him. Finishing his demonstration and bowing before the Elder as a pupil to his master, Gigaer spoke once more with the grin of a adrenaline junkie.

“I just have one last question. When do we begin?”

Did I step on a butterfly or something?

My karma's been in the dumps for the past few days.

My friend's dad dropped dead Friday night, and there's a lot of unresolved issues with that relationship. I don't even know the specifics, but the family isn't exactly capable of supporting itself and once the shock subsides there's going to be hell to pay, literally and figuratively. Please take a second to send a good wave their way.

it makes me think a lot about my grandmother's death a few years ago. She was taken from us by pancreatic cancer and it was very painful for everyone. Now things are very strained between my grandfather and the rest of the family. He's always angry and pushes everyone away, even when he's seemingly asking for attention. Apparently he was always this way but my grandmother held him in check. Now she's gone and nobody knows what to do. I guess after 51 years of marriage he has a right to be angry, but it's not healthy for him to be at the grave almost every day for 3 years, and nobody wants to do anything to stop him.

On my way in to work this morning I hear on the radio that my old high school nearly burned down. and once I start my shift I find out that my staff (of which I'm allotted no control but responsible for and paid the same as they are) royally fucked up on the weekend. We're talking PROPERTY DAMAGE due to security's negligence. I'm a security guard/concierge at a downtown condo in Toronto, and I'm about to pull my hair out over $10/hour.

I've gotta counter these bad vibes. Gaming might work but not looking for any death and destruction at my own hands. Presense IV finishes tonight at 7ish, which officially finishes my Learning skill training. My next bit of business is to get my Minmatar Industrial up to III so I can use a Mammoth to move myself to Abudban. Then it's all about mission running got isk and standings while fixing up my skills in every other category.

Maybe a movie would be better. I'm sure I have something uplifting somewhere.

It's a bad thing to start a week this depressed, so if I don't act on it now I'll ruin everything up to Friday, and maybe beyond.

Tomorrow is the next chapter of Last Son of Prano. I'm running into a bit of writing block on the final chapter, but I've really got to jump on it and work through it.

Maybe I need a good wave sent my way as well. It's important for me to be happy for my wife's sake. She's easily depressed and I can't let her get down on our situations. I have to bare it. She was not able to work on the blog's look last week because her job at the bakery was finally giving her some decent hours, which is a good thing. The blog will change when she has the time.

26th brings us to the next Blog Banter, brought to us by CrazyKinux. I'll be giving my thoughts on the king of the EVE blogosphere this week. The Banter blog entry will be out in the evening, so no entry in the morning like usual for that day.

Ja.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 6.

Chapter 6.

3 Days Later.

Gigaer never really thought about the afterlife. Different groups had different ideas, and they all seemed equally plausible, but when you spend so much time with the metaphysical aspects of one reality, you tend to not want to deal with others. One thing that Gigaer didn't expect was the pain. Being dead was surprisingly painful, and that blinding light shining in his face was annoying.

Gigaer's eyes rolled grudgingly to the front, straining against the fog in his mind to focus back on reality. There was a single bright light blasting in his face, and his head was slacked limply backwards. Gigaer used the pain screaming from every part of his body, moving his head forward and taking slow stock of his situation. Firstly, he was definitely alive. His head was pounding, which meant he probably had a minor concussion, and the rest of his body was aching, which meant the rest of him was equally pummeled. There was an odd numbness to the pain, as if it where echoing down a long corridor.

As he tried to move sharp pangs called out from his right bicep, his wrists and ankles. Slowly turning his head and bringing his eyes back into focus, he noticed not only were his hands and feet bound with metal handcuffs, and an I.V. was embedded in his arm, feeding a sinister-looking black liquid straight into his veins from a nearby stand. The light came from overhead, so bright that he could not identify the source. He was strapped to a simple metal chair. Beyond his cone of light was nothingness. An empty black void that he could not see through no matter how focused his gaze.

Calling upon his simple mental and breathing exercises, Gigaer brought the rest of himself back into the here and now. He fought against what he could only assume was an anesthetic feeding into his arm, but its hold was powerful and the fog was still thick.

“We see you have learned a thing or two about the power of your will. That drug would keep an Amarr xenophobe sedated in a room full of Matari politicians.” Said a booming voice from the darkness. It seemed to come from every direction and was heavily distorted. It was low and godlike, booming through his body and making his head pound. Gigaer felt nausea creep from his bowels but managed to speak.

“Who are you? Where am I”

“Questions. The beginning of wisdom.” The voice chuckled softly. “ Understand you are but a baby among a pack of wolves. We sniff at you because we are curious, but do not try our patience. We will ask questions and you will answer them.”

Gigaer tried not to show weakness, but the drug made that impossible. “I don't understand. Who are you?” A sharp and explosive pain raked through his body, causing him to let out a small scream in surprise. The surge only lasted a second, and it was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. It was as if all if his body's pain receptors were switched on for a moment, then turned off. A blinding, nameless pain that he didn't care to experience again. However his captors did it, Gigaer did not wish to provoke that action again.

“ WE will ask, and you will answer. Now, what is your name?" Boomed the voice, commanding Gigaer to obey. There was no malevolence in the voice as far as Gigaer could tell. Whoever it was took no pleasure in causing pain.

“My name is Gigaer.”

“What is your clan?”

That one question spoke volumes to Gigaer. He came into the Wildlands because someone knew more about his legacy than he did. Whoever that was hired Eyes to track him down and send him into nullsec, screaming a code over and over into the void, attracting nothing but trouble. Pirates didn't take capsuleers prisoner, and neither did slavers. Too much trouble. The pieces of memory began to drag back into place. The last attack was by the Thukker tribe, and the Thukker were not known for operating in the Wildlands. Every attack prior to that was by the Angel Cartel. Were his captors Thukker? Were the Thukker the ones who hired Eyes to bring Gigaer into the Wildlands? His gut told him this interrogation was not what it seemed. “Prano.”

“No deception?”

“No point. If what your agent said it true, you know more about me then I do.” Gigaer said with as much confidence as he could muster. Even the captive could learn about his captors if he was clever and observant. “You wanted me here, so here I am.” Another wave of agony hit him, this time lasting a little longer. The drug feeding into him amazingly didn't numb the pain at all and he hid it as well as he could, only letting out a small grunt. Gigaer's head felt like it was about to explode, and his heart was racing. He figured another jolt like that could cause an aneurysm.

“Your mind is quick, and so is your mouth. We may just be Thukker pirates, and if we are, then you're no use to us. So, why are you still alive?”

Gigaer had nothing to go on. Who would know about him? He thought about it for days with no clue, and now if he didn't answer the question right, he would probably die. Panic poked at the edges of his mind and his body was past the breaking point. The only thing he could think about was the image of his mother, and the odd expression on her face that Gigaer could never identify... until now.

Trust. She trusted her son to do what needed to be done. His father trusted him to find his way, and Eyes and his benefactors trusted him to survive. Now, Gigaer had to trust himself. He called upon all his training and exercises, reaching past his physical self and out into the darkness.

“Because you're not Thukker. Because like me you're something the world has either forgotten about or believes is dead and gone.”

The I.V. beeped and the flow of drugs changed from black to white and the fog in Gigaer's head quickly began to diminish. The blinding light above him calmed and other soothing lights came on in the room, fully illuminating what looked like a small and empty viewing room. Shutters on the wall opened, revealing space, and a vast shipyard. In front of him a metal door slid open and an ancient Matari man walked in, wearing robes that could almost be called regal. The old man walked up to Gigaer and waved his hand through the air, signaling to a wall-mounted camera Gigaer had not noticed before. The restraints and I.V. disengaged and Gigaer stood slowly to meet the old man's gaze. “You're not Thukker. You are The Elders.”

A grin formed on the old man's face that could almost be called sinister.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 5.

Chapter 5.

10 Days Later.

*PERSONAL LOG*

Why in all the levels of hell did I believe him? He offered no credentials, no proof, no reason to his story. All he had was some slick words and a datacore.

The datacore. Took me 40 hours to sneak into the Great Wildlands with some semblance of safety. Once I was fairly certain I wasn't followed, I plugged it into my comms system as Eyes instructed. Then I sat, stared, scanned and tried not to make too tempting a target of myself. I moved as little as possible and only jumped to another system when I was either evading pirates or bored out of my skull. I've come to rely partly on meditation to keep myself focused, but there's no oppertunity to meditate out here. There's barely time to sleep.

I've done what I could to stay out of the crosshairs, but in the last nine days I've been in over 20 small battles, mostly with the Angel Cartel. Surviving is enough for most because they have a destination, but roaming aimlessly in this gods-forsaken part of the galaxy is asking to die a death of a thousand cuts. Secondary systems started to become a problem 5 days ago, primaries more recently. It's been all I can do to keep nav and comms up. Ammo reserves are pretty dry as well.

Yesterday I noticed the pod-gel was starting to feel odd. Gritty. I ran a check on the life-support systems, half-convinced it was my imagination getting the better of me. Turned out the nanos keeping the synthetic amniotic fluid running properly were starting to malfunction due to extended use. No amount of recirculation, cleaning and filtering can keep this stuff clean forever. It has to be replaced at dock. I've heard of some capsuleers who make a living staying in a pod juiced out of their heads for weeks straight have extended supplies of gel and nanos to keep them going, but I'm not one of them. At this point, the low oxygen and floating in stale filth is probably taking time off my life expectancy. I have food– if that's what you want to call the nutrition drip capsuleers subside on – for a few more days.

I'd hate to think about what I'd be dealing with if I had a crew. Some may say a crew of semi-sentient drones a needless expense, but I prefer to be alone in the void. Living beings don't seem to put out the same spiritual signals as non-sentient machines do. From mecha it's a sort of static that's easy to tune out. Maybe there is something to this Planeswalker thing, this Prano legacy.

I tried to analyze the signal this datacore has been pumping out. If this carrier wave was ever in use it's been so long ago that there's no traffic on it now. I can't even make heads or tails out of the message. It's either the deepest encryption I've ever come across... or it's just noise meant to attract pirates to an easy target.

I could go back right now. I could head back to Hakeri, track that motherless dog down and take my compensation for all this wasted time out of his hide. I could, so why don't I? Well, what if he's right? He was right about me. He was right about me running around in circles, not having a clue or a plan or even a general direction. I've looked high and low as discreetly as I could, but the only things I have been able to turn up on my heritage is dust and trouble. This is my first real clue, and it could very well be the only one I'm going to get. So yeah, I need to risk my life floating here scanning and broadcasting as loud as I can and hope to gods whatever finds me next are not more pirates.

DAMNIT! Spoke too soon. More Angels. No, wait, Thukkers? I didn't know they operated here. Damn there's a lot of them. I count six Rifters, three Ruptures... and a Tempest! Even in perfect shape I wouldn't stand a chance. Opening comms channel. Maybe I can... Huh? They're jamming my comms, along with targeting and nav. I'm completely paralyzed! With the comms jammed at this level I don't even think my clone will be able to activate back in Empire space!

Mother, father, my people. I've failed...

*LOG RECORDING TERMINATED. CRITICAL SYSTEM ERROR.*

My life in Eve - Part 7

Lots of games + lots of comics + sushi dinner and toe-socks to keep the wife happy = a lot of money I really should not be spending. Oh well...

First off I really want to thank all of my followers for...following. I'm always craving feedback and even if nobody is leaving comments it is still comforting to know people are reading. I sent out a few "pokes" yesterday at people I suspected were reading, and it turned out well. If you are reading and like my blog at all please join the list!

Spent about $80 on comics yesterday, and after reading half of them last night I'm pretty happy with my stack. I'll give you comic impressions this weekend.

Logged in to EVE late last night just to put some modules up on the market. I'm trying to move some EMP M ammo, and I might drop the price tonight. I don't feel I should waste my time running missions until I can move to Abudban, where a vastly superior agent resides. This gives me time to play some other titles for a bit while my learning skills get trained. I may move before that happens, but probably not for another week. This also will give me time to finish Last Son of Prano.

I've been considering weather or not to talk about who I've decided to cast my CSM vote for. On the one hand I may adversely affect the opinion of others, who should be doing their own research. However, I want to spur discussion, so I'll let the cat out of the bag.

Stephan Pirson. In short, Stephan Pirson seems to bring the most to the table as far as pushing what the CSM is capable of. If someone of this calibre is shot down at the table, then their very well may be no hope for the CSM at all. I'm voting tonight, and I hope you'll share your opinions of my decision with me, positive or negative. A running conversation in this entry's comments would be amazing.

The first bits of news are coming out of Fanfest, and it's already pretty exciting. Talk of a central bank, stock markets and race-specific currencies are definitely dreams come true for many industrialists. My guess for currencies is that there will be types for all 4 empires, and perhaps for pirate nations, and these will obviously be linked into trade mechanics within the banks and markets. ISK will probably still be around at a main currency though.

Another bit of interest for me was possible "adult" content linked to Ambulation. Personally, I'm not against it. One must expect things like booze, drugs and strippers in a galaxy like EVE. Obviously this will not be critical content and restrictions of underage players (of which I doubt there are many) must be in place.

Gears of War 2 was released today. Toronto and Vancouver had to do without Future Shop midnight parties because of a recent run-away kid named Brandon Crisp turning up dead. He ran away because his parents took away his XBox 360. I have a brother at the same age who plays at a near-professional level, so the issues of gaming's effect on youth and parenting is an important subject to me. Expect a rant on it when the Crisp case is over with.

I suspect I won't be on too much this weekend due to Gears 2 and whatever else I can convince myself to buy (or not un-convince myself, depending on how you look at it) after work. A friend of mine is giving me his 360 copy of R6V2 for free, which is pretty nice of him, even considering his owes me a few hundred and a few favours. I've pulled his formally-fat Irish arse out of the fire a few times.

Also need to drop by another friend's place to see his new digs and buy his copy of Burnout: Paradise off him. Might see if another friend wants me to drop by on Sunday. He's pretty depressed and a little company may brighten him up. Sunday is also his only day off during the week. I'll call him at 1000h (which is when Analytical Mind V finishes) and see if he wants me to make the trek across town and bring Gears 2 with me.

Busy weekend. I may actually lose some sleep.

Ja.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 4.

Chapter 4.

1 year ago.

Gigaer exited the docking area and stepped onto the expansive promenade of Hakeri VII station. All around him were small shops where peddlers bought and sold goods and services in a desperate effort to eek out a living. Shopkeeps yelled at passer's by, announcing that within their modest establishments were the best products at the best price. Food, clothing, baubles and services of every kind lined the expansive maze. Gigaer frequented this place. Watching people live and laugh and swoon were one his simple pleasures. To him it kept him connected. It was far too easy for a capsuleer to detach from the realities beyond money and combat.

Past the more active paths was a simple pub he chose to frequent whenever in the region. The Serpent's Lounge. There was one on many stations that sported large Minmatar populaces. It wasen't exclusive, but if you weren't Matari then you probably avoided it. Rumor had it that many who chose to live on the darker sides on the law frequented these establishments, which made for a solid clientbase and a foreboding reputation. Gigaer entered and reverse-nodded the bouncer. Gigaer had been doing business with a local tribal agent for a few months now and the staff had come to recognize him. Sitting at the bar, Gigaer saw that the barkeep was already preparing his usual lunch order, so he took out his datapad and accessed information on the status of his Rupture (which was relatively new but took a few hits in a small scrap with a pirate convoy this morning), latest news from across the galaxy, his financials, messages and possible jobs he could take next.

His burger and quafe arrived after a few minutes. Gigaer placed the pad beside his plate and took a swig of his drink while still looking at his balances, trying to decide if it was a good idea to upgrade a few tertiery systems, when the pad prompted him to view a new message that had just come in. Opening his inbox, Gigaer noticed the sender's name was restricted and the subject was “From a friend...”. He wondered if it was just a piece of spam that got through his filter until he opened it up.

To whoever you think you are,

I know who you are, who you REALLY are. I've been watching you for some time and I've realized you need what I have. Meet me in the back alley after you have finished your meal.

Regards,
Ambiguous.

Gigaer turned quickly towards the door, and swore he saw someone leave and turn towards the alley. Normally he would have ran after the stranger, but the message suggested he eat first, and the prices in these places were a little high to just walk away from. It was also rare for someone to be poisoned in the Lounge (it being the social equivilant to sacred ground), so he ate and returned to his other reading, confident the stranger would wait.

Half an hour later (It was a big burger and Gigaer hated eating fast) Gigaer stood at the entrance to a dead-end alley behind the lounge. Gigaer wore a black leather trenchcoat that covered most of his body, black cargo pants with a gear-laden belt and black combat boots. The coat covered most of his torso, but split open at the collarbone and belt. He also had a few accessories, including a gallente handgun and his Kandjal. The stranger stood at the end on the alley, wearing non-descript clothes and reading the contents of an energybar he was already eating, looking none-too-please with what he had just injested. He was Matari, but Gigaer couldn't really spot anything of interest about his face or appearance. Noticing Gigaer walking towards him, he threw the bar over his shoulder and tried to wipe the caramel-like substance on his shirt. They stood a few feet away from each other, sizing each other up for a few seconds before the stranger smiled and reached into his back pocket. Gigaer assumed he was reaching for a weapon and whipped out his kandjal. Quickly extending it, the bladed tip came to within millimetres of the stranger's throat.

“Name, or your head. I'll have one or the other right now. Your choice which one.” Gigaer said directly. The stranger held his smile but retracted his hand from whatever he was about to grab.

“If you're going to kill me, you should at least tell me your name.” said the stranger wryly.

Gigaer hesitated for a half-second. Everything up to this point hinted to this man knowing about Gigaer's true bloodline. Perhaps this man was too dangerous to leave alive, but Gigaer's quest was at a standstill because of a complete lack of information. The contents of the old Amarr datacore were mostly musings on his lineage and destiny, but few specifics were to be found. A test was in order. Best to let the stranger show his hand first before Gigaer comitted to anything. “Gigaer, of the house Kaliso.”

The stranger began to laugh a little. “Amusing. We both surround ourselves with illusions to protect ourselves. The difference is I know who you really are, while you don't even know who you really are.” The words struck Gigaer slightly harder then he thought they would have. The Kandjal retracted and he placed it slowly back in its sheath. The stranger's hand went again to his back pocket. He slowly retrieved a Minmatar datacore. “I'm known as Eyes. I deal mostly in information. I see everything there is to see. I see you. I've watched you putter around, doing jobs for various organizations, not really having any real direction or cause. Sure, you'll hunt down pirates and slavers and think you're saving lives. You post on chatrooms and think you're saving souls. You know you're really doing neither but you don't know what else to do. I was hired to track you down, and if it looked like you were directionless give you this.”

Gigaer cautiously took the datacore and took stock of it. “And what exactly is this?”

Eyes took stock of Gigaer. “Direction.” Gigaer shot him an angry glance, as he was in no mood to be toyed with. Eyes shot his hands up in resignation. “Hey, that's all I was told when I asked. Your instructions are simple. Fly deep into the Great Wildlands and interface the datacore with your comms system. It's programmed to send an automated and heavily encrypted message on a very specific bandwidth.”

Gigaer humphed, “Sounds like suicide to me.”

Eyes nodded, “Agreed, but I was payed very well to give this to you, and before you even ask, no, I can't tell you who I'm working for. If you want my advice, and this is just personal opinion, you'd be wise to do what these people want you to. They know things about you that you won't be able to learn anywhere else.”

Gigaer looked into Eyes' eyes. Gigaer thought of himself as a good judge of character and has been able to sniff out deception in the past. As best he could figure, Eyes was telling the truth, and there was really nothing left Eyes could tell him. Gigaer nodded and walked with datacore in hand towards to docks.

My life in Eve - Part 5

I was actually playing two games at once last night. On EVE I was using the almost non-existent cargo space in my Hurricane to move my assets 11 systems over through high-sec. I was fairly certain I would not get into any trouble as the lowest system on the route was .7, so I set my autopilot and glanced back at it every few minutes to see when it was time to dock. By the time I have to move again I'll have an industrial to do it with.

The other game I enjoyed last night was Penny Arcade Adventures ep.2, and when I say enjoyed I mean ENJOYED. It premiered last night on every system and OS at a great price (about $15), and the writing alone is worth it. If you haven't played the first episode you can pick it up for its reduced price. I won't rant about it much about it (as I already have for ep.1 in a previous post) but I will say significant improvements have been made. Anywhoo, I spent way too much time playing it and I got to bed far too late. Sorta worth the lost sleep though...

I've got far too much going on right now to think clearly enough to write chapter 10 of my story, so I won't even bother until the early to mid November. I don't want to avoid it, but I don't want to create an inferior product because I'm not 110% focused. I hope the few fans I have will allow me this indulgence, of which I apologize for. I will still be posting a new chapter here and on the EVE-O forums every week, so the majority of you won't even notice a thing.

In all the commotion, I forgot to confirm the photogapher for the Halloween event this year. Pierre is a semi-professional photographer who's main passion seems to be cosplayers. Last year he agreed to shoot the event for the promise of pizza, and there was indeed 'za to be had by all. Transportation is an issue for him, so I hope he can make it. I'll have to call him later.

More on the event tomorrow.

Ja.

Last Son of Prano - Chapter 3.

Chapter 3.

3 Days Later.

The elevator that connected the rooftop library to the rest of the Frontenac estate led directly to a large hallway that connected to the other living spaces like the dining room, bedrooms and the like. It was a long but wide hall with a homey elegance. Hardwood floors, delicate trim and colours, and a few pieces of artwork on display. Marcus Frontenac was walking in the direction of the elevator door, smoking a pipe and entrenched in the morning's news displayed on a flexy (a thin, flexible datapad capable of wireless hi-speed communication and holographics) when the elevator door hissed open.

Gigaer walked slowly through the doorway, staring at the datacore in his hand and lost in thought. Marcus quickly laid the flexy and pipe on a small sidetable and rushed to his son, catching Gigaer just in time. Marcus laid him slowly on the floor as he took stock of the most important person in the world to him. Gigaer's eyes were extremely bloodshot and a glaze of cold sweat covered his skin. Had he tried to induce a trance of some sort? Marcus tried to snap his son out of it, but the only thing Gigaer could do is whisper the word “Planeswalker.” before he completely lost consciousness. Marcus carried Gigaer to his room and placed him in his bed.

Gigaer awoke dazed and confused. He sat up slowly to keep his head from spinning any more than it already was. As his vision cleared he saw his father sitting beside his bed, reading. “So that explains how I got to my room.” Gigaer said, rubbing the back of his neck to try and relieve the tension.

“You just managed to get out of the elevator. You're lucky I was there to catch you or else your nose would have bled all over the hardwood.” Marcus said with his usually dry humour. “How are you feeling?”

“Dazed and drained. I could use a good meal and a shower.” Gigaer said, straining to return a smile. He sensed his father was full of questions but felt it better not to ask. Gigaer tried to piece together his fuzzy memory of the last three days. “The only thing on the datacore was a vid. It was of an older Matari woman covered in soot and blood. She spoke in a Brutor dialect and said she was my mother. She said I was a miracle from the gods and I was our race's only hope to return us to harmony with the spirits and gods. She called me Planeswalker. She called be son. Then she died.”

Gigaer arose slowly from the bed and began to regain his equilibrium by pacing and letting the stream of thought pour out of him. “I watched the vid so many times that I lost count. Finally when every frame was burned into my memory I began looking for information on this Plainwalker thing, but there wasn't any.” Marcus went over to Gigaer's dresser and prepared an outfit for him while the rant continued. “I tried every mental and consciousness exercise I know. Nothing. I turned the library inside-out looking for clues. Nothing. I ran every net search I could think of. Nothing, nada, zip. I've studied Matari mysticism for years, but I've never heard of this Planeswalker thing. What could it be? What am I and what am I supposed to do?”

“I'll tell you what you're supposed to do.” Marcus said moving towards the door. “You're supposed to shower, dress, eat until you can't eat anymore, then meet me on the rooftop.” Marcus opened the door and passed through it, saying “I'll be waiting for you there when you're ready.” before closing the door behind him.

Gigaer stumbled into the adjoining bathroom, stripping his clothes and racking his brain with every step. The shower felt wonderful and helped to clear his head. Once he was done, he stretched for a bit to get the blood flowing and dressed himself in the clothes his father set out, which happened to be a comfortable tracksuit he used for working out. He then made his way to the kitchen, where Chef (that was actually his name due to an odd series of events involving pirate leaders and witness protection programs) had a full meal of his favorites already prepared. Gigaer gorged on food and drink at a frantic pace for a full hour before he could stomach no more.

It was sunset by the time Gigaer stepped out of the library doors leading to the rooftop garden. Marcus was over by the western-most edge staring at the play of hues in the sky from a bench. Gigaer sat beside him and joined in the spectral appreciation.

“I've spoken to an old colleague on Pator. A captain in the Republic Fleet who owes me a favor. He says he'd be happy to sponsor you for the Republic Military School for capsuleers. A captain's sponsorship will get you in, and I'm sure you'll be able to graduate with honours. I've transferred enough ISK into your accounts for anything you could possibly need. You leave tonight.” Gigaer looked at his father with confusion, but Marcus didn't need to see the look to know he needed to explain his plan. “To find the answers you seek, you'll need freedom and power, while still being able to operate without the notice of those who would want you dead. For that, you'll need to be a capsuleer. The captain will arrange a new identity for you and the funds are being laundered enough to not attract any attention. As my son, you're too visible, but as a capsuleer you can go wherever and do whatever you need to in order to find your destiny.”

Gigaer wanted to argue - since it meant giving up the life he knew forever - but he knew his father was right. Gigaer even contemplated it as a next move before joining his father on the roof. Marcus accompanied the son he would never see again to the lobby, where some of the living staff, the ones that have known Gigaer since he was a newborn, gathered to say their quick goodbyes. As far as anyone but Marcus, Gigaer and the distant Matari captain knew, Gigaer was leaving on a nice vacation to a high-end sunny beach on some resort planet only the rich and famous frequent. The secretly empty personal shuttle to that resort would later explode in a tragic “freak accident”, erasing Gigaer Frontenac from people's view, so Gigaer could in actuality assume a different family name and search for the spiritual future of the Minmatar race. Father and son embraced one last time. It was quick and seemingly lacking in emotion, as to support the illusions at play, but Gigaer knew there was nothing that truly needed to be said.

A Gallente datacore was in Gigaer's pack. On it was all the information he would need to assume his new life, as well as a vid Marcus made for him. A true goodbye from a proud guardian for his beloved son. Seeing how his mother had already made him a vid message explaining his future, it only seemed fitting that his father would do the same explaining how much his past would miss him.

Learnings on a lvl.3 combat mission.

I've missed the Brutor tribe. I have an unexplained affinity towards them, though because of certain political and security issues I haven't been able to run any lvl.2 missions with them. Instead I've been hanging with a Sebiestor agent in Hakeri. Now things have changed. My standings have grown so I've decided to head to Frarn and hit up a Brutor lvl.3 Security mission for the first time.

I was not sure if I'd be able to pull off a lvl.3 yet. Certainly a Hurricane could do it, but were my skills up to par? Answers from my corp were few and far between and I came to the conclusion that the only way to find out is to give it a go. So I did.

After a lot of warping from Hakeri to Frarn and a good amount of pew-pew in my first mission, I've come to some important conclusions:

1) I rock and so does my cane!
2) I may need to move a considerable amount of ammo to Frarn from Hakeri in order to facilitate the pew-pew. I ran out pretty quickly.
3) Collecting loot becomes more time-consuming the higher the mission level is. To that effect I've grabbed the Minmatar Industrial skill. I could have gone with Gallente industrials, but I found the Mammoth's specs a little better than the Interon IV. I'll fit it for salvaging, loot-grabbing and general transport. This will also solve my problem with lesson 2.

I may find that I'll be moving on to lvl.4 missions sooner rather then later. It all depends on when I can get my corp to build me a Tempest. I'll move as much ammo into Frarn tonight and grind away when I can.

Chapter 9 is coming along well. I've decided to split the final battle into two parts, and the cut came after watching a few good expamples of cliff-hangers in science-fiction TV series. You can just see the "To Be Continued..." appear after you've finished reading this chapter. I think it'll come out quite well. Turns out I may not need an epilogue, but I'm starting to brainstorm on a small prologue.

I went over the CSM candidates quickly, and there seems to be a great divide between the ones who are dedicated and the ones looking for a free trip to Iceland. Once I've done more research (maybe tonight) I'll give you my impressions on the individual candidates. This will be my first shot at being a pundit, and I urge the rest of the EVE blogging community to follow along. Above all it's important to be critical yet hopeful of the CSM and it's processes. The first one was a bit of a failure but it was to be expected. We need to press on and make it work the way we all want it to.

I've been trying to get in touch with my friend Kurtis today to remind him to send over those pics I'd like to post here tomorrow. No luck so far. I still have to clean out my Photobucket (I think I got it confused with Imageshack last time because of a conversation I had with the wife about hosting options). Hopefully it comes together tonight.

Turns out CrazyKinux and YoMma are Canadian. if they're in or around Toronto then maybe I can convince them to do a video podcast with me. It does make it look like I'm trying to wiggle my way into their success, but I'm just looking for good talent. We'll see if anything comes of it in the coming months, though I'd love to work with them if possible.

Anyhoo, I gotta work on the story, do some housework and take care of my sick wife.

Ja.

So many words...

Busted out the laptop on the bus ride home. I just let the fingers fly and didn't think about flow or anything like that. Just letting the brain storm. I came out with the longest chapter yet, which worries me a little. I may have to split the climax into 2 chapters and have an epilogue. I may write a prologue as well, so technically this has turned into a 12 chapter project. Writing ship-to-ship action and making it interesting is actually quite difficult, which is probably why it's so rare in fanfictions. Playing EVE, especially in combat, is all about your micro-management skills, which, when you put it on paper, is uber-boring to read. I want to make it work though, and I will. I'll spend a few hours on the weekend mulling over it and I may get the whole project done.

Someone mentions a central site for EVE bloggers, messages are sent and community interest is expressed, and almost instantly we have EVE Bloggers.NET! It's just a blank forum at this point, but just having the domain and the attention is a big step. Now we (as a community) need to start talking about what specifically we want out of this site. A forum is all well and good but there's so much potential for functionality that will help people and bloggers connect to blogs and each other.

If I can get my friend to send me some pics of his computer and if I get around to cleaning out my Imageshack account, I may have my first gallery post this weekend. Be afraid...

I've been thinking about starting my own podcast since I spoke to YoMma (Shout out brother!) on the EVE-BLOGGERS channel in-game, but I've been wondering about how to set it apart from the pack. First off I think the "sweet spot" number of hosts is 3, which allows for an optimum amount of banter and personality. One idea I had was maybe not make it an purely audio format, which probably means a video channel on YouTube. This would obviously require certain equipment and editing skills. I'm a college media studies grad and I'm relatively sure I could pull it off. I'll be bringing it up at the Toronto EVE meet next month.

Spatial Awareness V completes tomorrow. I grow.

Ja.