OOC - New Look and other characters

Than's new look.

A lot of thought went into this because we can no longer have that cartoonish look. It may be good, it may be bad, but the old Thanagherion, with the scrawny, girly looks and a gleam of cartoonish evil genius is gone.

She ended up somewhat sweet, somewhat hot and with some striking features and a hint of a smile. Maybe not the Than people envision: somewhat lonely, controlled and bitter, but here's hoping. Tell me what you think of the new, bad-ass witty mercenary with a knack for pessimism!

This is Moira. Hard edged and heavy brow. The best assistant Than could ask and a silent friend, not that she would ever confess.

And this is Ray, the Marine commander. You'll be seeing more of him later!

Tell me what you think.

March

“[…]just as water retains no constant shape, so in warfare there are no constant conditions.” - Sun Tzu

The crackle of static woke Ray up. At first he didn’t really make much of it, assuming it was a simple glitch with his radio, or interference from all the equipment surrounding him. Neither of those were unusual occurrences in the Marines living quarters.

He just turned in his bed, before discerning a voice coming through the static and garble (or was it through his sleepy, addled mind?).

'Ray?' - Than's voice crept into his head, a sweet, silky and yet strangely coarse voice he could recognize anywhere in the universe.

'Aye aye Ma'am.' - the weary marine replied.

'Were you sleeping?'

'Yes Ma'am. I posted Ian's fire team on SMA duty and decided to give a break to the rest of guys.' – he answered, his voice somewhat slurred.

'Alright. I need you to do something for me. Not Ian, not Bern: you.'

Ray crawled out of the bunk and put on his BDU, followed by a quick, but thorough check of his personal handgun. He then tucked it in his pocket before walking out his room, slowly but purposefully.

When he felt the world whirl around him, he understood he was on the brink of exhaustion: everyone was, to be honest. The whole placing was falling apart around them, collapsing under a siege of determined invading forces, which meant everyone was overworked and every post was understaffed. He couldn’t help musing the current situation was like being inside a Quaffe can being slowly but surely crushed. They weren’t on the frontline, but it was approaching at an alarming rate and that was enough to keep everyone on their guard.

The corridors were empty at that late hour, so he didn't even bother trying to be discreet and careful. He just headed straight to the express elevator he took to the top level of the tower, where his intended target was. He breathed deeply as he stepped out of the elevator and looked around, taking in the cramped corridors, riddled by pipes and cables and illuminated by red floodlights: if there was such a thing as Hell it would probably look like this. Still, Ray kept walking to the management quarters with grim determination. He pressed the doorbell and waited.

Moira opened the door, while drying her dripping hair with a towel, and smiled when she saw the burly marine.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ – she asked.

‘Moira, could you please accompany me?’

‘What’s the matter Ray?’

‘Nothing does wrong, just get your kit bag and come with me, please.’

Moira closed the door and put on her clothes, trying to understand what was happening, why Ray was here and what the hurry was. Instinctively, she grabbed her own snub nosed pistol, loaded it and tucked it on the small of her back, in such a way she could pull it fast, if it became necessary. She had heard many horror stories about traitors in corps and alliances. Moira did not intend to become the casualty of one such coup and even though she knew Ray for quite some time, she trusted no one.

She walked two steps ahead of the marine. Her eyes leaped around, out of a sheer sense of fear building deep inside her. Clearly it was unfounded, she kept telling herself. This was nothing and no one was going to hurt her. But all that thinking did no good when they turned into a dead end leading to an airlock, where she could read an ominous “pre-opening check: completed” status message on the screen.

‘What is this about Ray?’ – she asked, pulling the pistol out in single flowing motion, a hint of fear blossoming in her voice.

‘Whoa, hold on lady…’ – he replied – ‘just following orders.’

He kept his hand tight around the pistol in his pocket.

‘Yeah, hold on Moira’ – Than said through comms – ‘Hold on and get your ass in here. We are leaving this place and you are coming along with me, in…’

‘If you say first class, I will punch you in the face when I see you… with spiked brass knuckles this time.’

Past sins, present wounds

“One need not be a chamber to be haunted;

One need not be a house;

The brain has corridors surpassing

Material place.” - Emily Dickinson, "Time and Eternity"

The inside of the control tower was not a place fit to live in: it was a place where some people managed to survive in spite of the conditions they endured. Moira was not unfamiliar with this kind of life, where you survived against all odds, even though it had not been in a Control Tower in space. She had fought hard to forget her past, to, at the very least, come to grips with it, but the memories were still there and they would always be. That probably explained why lately she woke up drenched in sweat and screaming so hard her throat felt sore. Maybe that explained why the stale, recycled air felt even more oppressing and heavy than it really was.

She eyed herself in the mirror. Usually she felt proud, or just lucky, the bad times in her life had not erased her good looks. After a night filled with nightmares, though, she was hard pressed to believe they were still there. Her blonde hair hung in sweat soaked strands; her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. No smile, no sparkling green eyes, no bright skin, just a pale, tired young woman, with aching muscles and a terrible, throbbing, headache which gave her no truces or respite. She rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath, resting her elbows on the side of the sink and cradling her head in her hands. She just wanted the headaches to stop, though she knew they would not abate, not with less than four hours of sleep per day.

The feel of the tiny sweat drops running down her back made her skin crawl and her stomach churn. Beneath the image of a competent assistant and businesswoman she was not a frail person, she was not unfamiliar with hardship, but these conditions had brought about a persona that she kept hidden. She was beginning to wonder her own worth, she felt frail and useless. Out here if you were not on a pod, flying a battleship, you were not worth a lot.

It didn’t matter Than had given her these living quarters and decided to spend most of the time stuck inside her capsule, just floating around. She liked to say it was a relief and it felt like freedom, but Moira saw better on her face when she came over for coffee and drinks: she saw a hint of sheer exhaustion and it hurt her. She knew her boss was doing that for her, to make her feel a bit better.

The icy water from the shower felt like a thousand nails stabbing her skin, sending little shots of pain through her nerves. She winced at first and just tried to relax her mind and enjoy the feeling of all her muscles pulling taut, making her feel, once again fresh and fit. Even the air felt lighter and tastier.

She wasn’t in a gilded cage anymore, serving at someone’s whim. Yes, she was confined and going through a rough patch, but it was a path of her own choosing.

She got out of the shower and hailed Thanagherion on the comms. She had to tell her how Celeris had freaked about the purchase of the Navy Dominix Class Battleship. Actually, about how she had almost lost her voice when Moira told her to transfer about half a billion isk in funds.

Yes, she was the master of her own life and to be honest of a few other lives as well.

So why couldn’t she shake all those memories and the feeling of being trapped?

Return

“Once more unto the breach, old friends […]” – William Shakespeare.

The Covert Ops ships slid effortlessly across the lanes of lawless space. Leaving Btek wasn’t easy. She’d been there for little time, but it had been a good place, filled with good, fun people: individuals who had your back. It was curious how quick it felt like home. Iceblade, however, had been very persuasive and didn’t even know it: he was persuading for the simple fact that it was him. They were a family after a fashion... They all had been family for the past few years: Nikita, Ice, Kasumi even Zach; and now they wanted to carve a little fief in a faraway corner of lawless, forgotten, space. Besides, going back meant she could simply blame everything on him once again, from malfunctioning engine nozzles, to simply being bored...

It had been an unexpected turn of events: most of the motley crew of crazy mercenaries, mad scientists and self appointed evil geniuses, had decided to go into retirement, no longer having the patience to deal with the endless squabbling of politics and capsuleer politics in particular. And for all the exhaustion, the boring routine, space had the unmistakable and irreplaceable taste of risk and adventure, something one could not get anywhere else. And so, return they did. At first it was just to shoot some pirates, then, a few days later, just to get that extra isk… Before anyone knew it, everyone was getting back in an “insanity unleashed” call to arms.

There was some negotiating involved, but it was a foregone conclusion… So there she was, flying back to null sec, safely tucked inside her Helios Class vessel, Moira strapped to a seat, sulking, running numbers and mumbling. She did not like to leave empire space for “that backwater, violence ridden and uncivilized corner of the universe”, but she had supported Than’s decision nonetheless: she too had thought it was important to help her family and this particular capsuleer, with all her faults, was the only person she could trust in all of the vast cosmos. She was going to miss the comforts of a luxurious home in a first class station with a beautiful view overlooking a stunning planet, comfortable bed and fine booze: all that was going out the airlock, without any real chance to have it once again, at least for the foreseeable future. Living out of a control tower wasn’t going to be easy: the cramped spaces, the poor air recycling… Moira had seen it, had worked in places like that and not because she wanted… So, she really preferred to stay mad at Thanagherion, for that meant she did not have to ponder on the harsh days ahead.

As far as Than was concerned, though, it really didn’t matter. There was no real harshness here: there was a new challenge. Ice had better have cookies and booze waiting for her, or there would be hell to pay.

Escaping an ambush felt good. The danger, fear and slight shiver of anxiety, mixed with the pleasure of a successful evasion maneuver made her feel alive, invincible, a true ace. She reveled in that illusion for a few seconds, before jumping through the gate and bolting straight to the last space station she would find on the way to her new home.

‘Hey Moira… fancy a drink? I’m paying! It’s the last semi civilized one you’ll get in a while.’

Her assistant smiled as she replied ‘What the hell… why not?’

OOC P.S. - I'd like to leave a huge 'thank you' to everyone in Btek, I can't really say enough good things about the corp and every member there. Good hunting, all of you!

Teamwork

“The strength of the team is each individual member...the strength of each member is the team.” - Phil Jackson

The sweet bass sound of the Strip Miners felt good, the vibration just wrapped around the pod and made her body move like a cradle moved a baby. There was a strange peace she usually found in a good mining operation. Maybe it was the order, predictability and all sorts of boring things which sometimes soothed Thanagherion’s mind, maybe it was the fact that all pilots tended to relax and just let loose: no tactics, just friendly chatter on the comms and that was a good life.

Moira would just say it was her way to ignore the crash from the constant adrenaline high which her assistant often told her she was addicted to. She would strongly deny it, but maybe she was right. It didn’t matter either way.

In a fleet like this the usual experience was reversed. Every time a few serpentis’ frigates showed up, she couldn’t help thinking the last thing that went through their heads, other than drone fire, was a very loud “OH CRAP!” which was enough to make her laugh inside her pod. It was a night out having drinks at the local pub, picking fights, just making harmless fun of each other.

It was amazing to see how many people had shown and just how committed everyone was to a very simple project. It was always nice to feel like part of a functioning whole, instead of simply contributing with whatever she could scrounge.

She mused on how much she used to hate the result of these mining ops, from the lone miner perspective and yet, from an organized fleet member point of view, it was a show of efficiency  and the end result of an empty asteroid field was amazing. The comms came through clear and rowdy in her mind, while everyone repositioned to get to new asteroids, all those actions masterfully coordinated from the Orca Class industrial ship, which stood watch over that cosmic ballet of ships and lasers.

When she finally docked she couldn’t wait to see the result, to see how much of a difference the team had made.

Change

“[…]the nature of the Universe loves nothing so much as to change the things which are, and to make new things like them.” – Marcus Aurelius.

Thanagherion was sitting in the dark, sunk in her comfortable black leather couch, which bore more resemblance to a racing bucket seat than an actual couch, her feet propped on the table. The untied shoelaces of her combat boots hung still, a testament to just how motionless she tried to be when isolated from the realities of space.

An unlit cigarette hung limply from the corner of her mouth and her eyes were fixed on the blank screen. She felt lonely, bored and tired. There was nothing but empty static on the Corporation and Alliance communication channels. Retirement was beginning to sound like a real option… She had enough savings to lead her life in peace and quiet somewhere. Millions of ISK could probably keep her in luxury until the end of her life.

 
A single sharp knock on the door pulled her from her reverie. She had muted the door bell and left a yellow and black "do not disturb" sign on the screen outside, so no one would dare to bother her. Still, there was one person in her staff who would not be deterred by such a simple and explicit warning. Than rubbed her eyes and lit the cigarette, pulling a long, somewhat hopeless drag, half expecting her to give up. Another rap, a harder one, broke that faint hope. She fumbled through her pockets, looking for her Neocom and just pressed the glassy surface to unlock the door.

 
Moira just marched in, with a step that would make a Federal Drill Sergeant jealous and turned on the lights, which elicited a slight sigh of pain as the sudden burst of cruel white bluish light flooded the room.

 
Than just looked at her and scowled, but didn’t really move except to sink even further into the couch and pull another long drag from the cigarette.

 
-Are you just going to keep sulking and feeling sorry about yourself or are you going to get off your ass?

 
-Sulking seems nice and appropriate – Than answered curtly.

 
-Listen, you got me her and basically gave me this, so I don’t intend to loose all that because you feel like throwing a tantrum.

 
Than laughed with a bitter edge. That was Moira, always thinking ahead, always the good manager and always serious. One could not read the likes of her if you just took in her petite, beautiful, figure.

 
-I'm not throwing a tantrum, I'm not depressed, I just don't feel like doing this anymore. Besides, I'm the one  usually poking things. Mind you, I poke things with heavy rail gun rounds. So, what do you suggest?

 
-Here, I scrounged a few interesting job offers… - She started.

 
-Not interested on killing right now, neither am I interested in mining, scavenging wrecks  or hauling crap six or seven jumps around.

 
-Not that kind of job offer - her assistant replied, with a tone that reminded her of her mother. -  Here, I setup the comms, so the channel is already routed directly to this office. All you have to do is turn that thing on and talk to one person. You still know how to talk, instead of just being rude, right? I compiled a dossier with all I could find about the recruiter, about the CEO. I even took the time to do a small summary about the corp. I think you will fit right in.

 
-I don't like change.

 
-You... don't like... change?! - she replied, sincerely surprised.

 
Thanagherion scrolled down the file, her thin, gaunt, face turning grimmer by the minute.

 
-I don't really appreciate pirates.

 
-Ex-pirate. And you value second changes. You are just dumb that way. Hell! Look at me. See those marines down there, marching along: your marines? You could have cut them off or leave them in space to die. Or the dancers. Just what do they do around here again? Oh, right, they are the receptionists at the office right? Or the janitors, who you gave a job cleaning up the Cargo Holds? Or...

 
-Stop! Next you'll start talking about the slave girl who gets to be chief of staff of some capsuleer! - Than answered, with a bit more cruelty than she ever intended seeping through her words.

 
Moira's only reply was a stare which made her eyes briefly gleam like a deadly pair of Amarrian Navy Lasers.

 
Still, Moira smirked knowing she had her employer beat. She wouldn't admit it, ever, but she had her beat.

Running her fingers through her glowing blonde hair and fixing her dark green eyes on the distracted capsuleer, she walked to the panoramic window that opened into the hangar. She briefly looked at her reflection on the darkened glass pane, pretending to look at the parked Ishkur Class Assault Ship. Her mind wondered why her boss just let her get away with all this... Even she knew she sometimes pushed it. Unthinkingly, she straightened her brown knitted sweater and swatted an imaginary dust fleck from her dark indigo jeans, before deciding to leave, looking back for a fraction of a second to see Than lighting another cigarette.

 
-You know I have to talk about this with Ice and Nikita? They are family.
 

-I know. Somehow I think they'll understand. And they will always be somewhere out there for you. Nikita will steal all your bloody cookies, though...
 

Thanagherion cocked her eyebrow at the attempted joke from Moira.

A few days later she was in a bar on Jaschercis  shaking hands with Reltso, CEO of her new corp. She couldn't really help feeling this gig was looking like a good one after all.

Into the impossible

"The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible" - Arthur C. Clarke

I never thought I'd have a blog. Mind you, I like writing and a good deal of my professional life depends on that, but I never really considered it.

Until now.

The reason for this sudden change of heart is simple: I've been playing Eve for about two years now and the vibrant community our little computer spaceship game still amazes me. It took me a while to understand just how far reaching we, as a internet space faring society, are. I was never overly interested in the the backstory or the politics, to be honest: I just liked the feel of the universe, both graphic and as a cold, cruel, uncaring place. 

Eve had caught my eye a few years back, but my girlfriend at the time was much more interested in WoW ("look at all the shiny elves and pet green spider pets for hunters") and I couldn't afford to have an Eve account for me and a WoW account for her, so the game just faded from my memory. When I finally started playing Eve I ran through the whole "WoW in space syndrome", then the "utter noob" syndrome (I still face-palm myself when remembering trying to shield tank an Incursus), then joining a corporation - making acquaintances, which grow into friendships, which grow into actual family like ties and here I thank everyone in Immortalis Silens: you have been more than you can imagine - until I finally reach the "I'm ok, though everyone is an eternal newbie in Eve" stage. Had a brief stint in 0.0, recently changed corp and was pleasantly surprised with the way I was welcomed. So much stuff and still I feel like I've barely scratched the surface...

I recently joined BTek. The only reason I did this was, you guessed it, because I read about it on Astral Dominix's Blog, otherwise I might have stopped playing Eve altogether. This made me realize just how much of a difference the willingness to share our Eve experiences might make. 

But I digress... The thing is I always liked RPing - I played AD&D, "Vampire: The Masquerade", "Demon: The Fallen", "Hunter: The Reckoning" and "Vampire: The Requiem" (yes, I am a big fan of White Wolf - cruel, uncaring world... anyone sees similarities with our little game?!) - so I wanted to RP in Eve too. Something surprised me, though: there isn't much RP in game. I have my theories on the subject, I won't bother you with them. What I really wanted was a place where I could put up some short stories about a character that has a whole background created in my head, even if that never shows in game. And I come across all the blogs and all the amazing pages people have done about Eve... and I think I might just give it a go. So this is it: this is my go, my take on a familiar universe for so many of us. I will probably be filled with mistakes and things that collide with Eve cannon... most likely it will be riddled with clichés and things we have all seen, but I hope to have fun and I hope that whoever reads also has some modicum of fun.

So here we go, let's try to go a a little into the impossible.