Last night at the rallying point station…

For many of the Ushra’Khan, it’s been a long time coming.  Unity Station was a place of honor and for these past years a taste of the bitterness of betrayal still lingered.  It was a beacon of freedom, a beacon that fell to treachery.  The time was upon them now, the time that had restlessly stirred in their hearts.

Everyone was in their hangars, preparing their ships.  Dreadnaughts, battleships, cruisers, we would need them all.  It had been many years and a long road, but the end was near.  It was time to come home.

“Uncle Twig, what’s going on?”

A small child was standing in the hanger, looking at an Amarrian man dressed in the uniform of a Warrior of the Ushra’Khan.

“My little acorn, you should be in bed sleeping,” Ga’len responded.  He walked over to the child and scooped her up in his arms, “It’s bed time for you.  We have much to do.”

“Are you leaving?” she spoke with a tearful voice, “I don’t want you to disappear!”

Ga’len walks over to her and kneels down as he speaks softly, “My little acorn, I will be back soon.  I have work to do,” he continued, “Do you see those people over there, the Capsuleers from -A-?  They are going with us too.  We have the honor of standing and fighting at their side.”

“I don’t understand what is going on,” she spoke as she buried her head against Ga’len’s chest.

“Breanne my child, tell me, what do you know of Unity Station?” Ga’len asked.

Breanne looked up at his face, her eyes grew wide with wonder, “My mommy used to tell me of it, tell me stories.  It was a beacon of hope for us, you know, the Minmatar.  It was a symbol she used to say.”

“Yes, my child,” Ga’len continued, “a symbol of strength, fellowship and defiance in the face of Amarrian oppression.”

“My dad said it was lost to the Amarr in a horrible defeat long ago,” she continued, “he used to cry when he talked about it.  He lost many friends who were trapped when everyone had to flee.”

“My little acorn, tonight we return to Unity Station, ” Ga’len lifts her chin so he can see her face, “Tonight we go and free our people.”

Breanne stands with a look of shock on her face.  Slowly a look of understanding crosses her face.  She smiles and raises her right arm, making a fist with her hand.

Ga’len smiles, leans forward and kisses her softly on her forehead, “I will return to you and Aunt Leainati soon,” he motions to his sister as she walks toward them, “but I must go and help my brothers and sisters tonight.”

“Be careful my brother, ” Leainati speaks with a smile, “Fight with courage, fight fierce, we will hold the line here.  Free our people.”

Many years ago, a strong few took it upon themselves to join together.  With fists raised high, they struck back at their oppressors.  With fists raised high, they beat back the storm.  With fists raised high, they planted the acorn in a field of hatred, a field that would reject them and try to push them into darkness, back into the storm.

Through blood and fire they fought.  Through humble honor, they sought friends in the storm.  Together with honor, together in strength they fought hard.  Never yielding, never waning, they took back what was theirs.

They were the ones who planted the acorn so long ago, the acorn that grew into a sapling of hope, the sapling that grew into a tree a freedom.  A tree that was hacked by axes of betrayal, a tree that bears the scars of oppression, a tree that now stands free in a Forest of Unity.

Oak and Ash, Birch and Yew, together they stand among the burned fields of hatred. Oak and Ash, Birch and Yew, together they now stand blinding the darkness with the light of freedom.  Oak and Ash, Birch and Yew, together they are the shelter against the storms of oppression.

At long last, the saplings grow free again.  At long last they stand under the branches of the Tree of Unity.  At long last, we have come….for our people.

More of The Bleeding Rose

Tags: 9UY4-H, ProviWar, The Bleeding Rose, Unity Station, Ushra'khan

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EVEMonkey’s Fan Fiction Blogfest #2

February’s topic:
————————–
The end of 2009 and the beginning of 2010 has seen the beginnings of many nullsec wars: The Triumverate coalition is invading the Northern Coalition from Pure blind. Wildly Inapropriate has been forced out of Geminate. IT alliance has obliterated Pandemic Legion and Sons of Tangra in fountain. Goonswarm have been forced to retreat out of Delve/Querious into Syndicate, and there have been major border clashes between the providence block holders and -A-/Ushra’Khan/Systematic Chaos.

Everyone has been affected in some way. Write the story of someone affected by these changes. Whether it be a wife who has lost their husband working at a conquered station, or a pod pilot who has been brought to financial ruin, or a weapons manufacturer rubbing his hands in glee at the booming business. We have all been affected.
————————-

…since the great battle for D-GTMI and still, there are signs of the carnage everywhere.  Bodies of fallen slaver scum are still piled in some places in the station.  Most have been disposed of, but there were so many to fight, so many to kill.  Their stench burns your nose like a fire of rotting flesh, pervading your every pore of your skin.

And yet, those slaves who have been freed from their oppressors are not working to clean up the station.  They sit on the floor, huddled in clean blankets, clutching the warm cups of soup to their chests as if letting go would mean death.  They sit, sip, eat and watch others work to clean up the dead.  They have toiled enough, it was their time to rest, recover and begin their new lives of freedom.

There is a small child, sitting in a corner.  She is shaking as if freezing to death.  Her eyes are filled with horror filled days gone past these 7 years of her life.  She was born a slave and has known only Amarr oppression.  As her eyes look up at the warrior standing above her, the emblem she sees causes all those years to leave her small frame and joy fills her face.

She’s watching him closely.  This man, this warrior is ripping down the propaganda of their old oppressors from the walls.  Many of the posters are stained with blood.  He looks down from his work and sees this little girl.  To her shock, he is Amarrian.

“I thought they killed all you scum,” her voice shaking with fear but her eyes filled with a boldness of strength of a woman twice her size.

All movement in the hallway freezes as is the air had suddenly turned to ice.  Everyone’s eyes turn to look at this little girl and the man cleaning the walls.

Ga’len lowers himself onto one knee to look this little girl in the eyes.  He just looks at her for a moment and speaks with the soft kind voice of a father speaking to a beloved daughter, “My friend, I may be of Amarrian birth, but I know what my people have done to you is wrong,” Ga’len continues, “We are all human, all part of the same family and I will not sit by and let my brothers and sisters enslave you or anyone else.  What is your name child?”

Slowly she looks around and sees that everyone is staring at the two of them.  Everyone is smiling at her and Ga’len, “I am Breanne,” she says.

“Breanne, I am Ga’len.  My child, you saw this emblem on my shoulder?”, Ga’len looks deep in her eyes as he points to the markings on his clothing.  She looks at the emblem and holds up her small hands, making a fist with her right hand, mirroring the emblem.  Chuckles are heard in the hallway as everyone continues to watch this conversation unfold.

“You wear the mark of a Warrior of the Ushra’Khan,” Breanne says.

“That’s right Breanne,” Ga’len continues, “I am a Warrior of the Ushra’Khan.  We fight to free our brothers and sisters from slavery and oppression.  We fight to save you.”

Slowly thoughts cross Breanne’s face. With a confused look she asks, “But that would mean that you kill your own kind, doesn’t it?”

Ga’len smiles as he speaks, “My little acorn, I would fight and kill those who would harm other humans,” he points to a pile of dead Amarrians, “Those people stopped being human the day they raised an oppressive hand and struck you down to the ground.”

“Little acorn?” she asks, “What is a little acorn?”

“An acorn is a seed, it’s what you plant in the ground to grow tree,” Ga’len replies.

He glances up to see Leainati walking over.  She has huge grin on her face from watching her brother speaking with this child, “Think of it this way.  An acorn is the baby that becomes the sapling.  The sapling is the child that becomes the tree.  When you grow up, your branches mingle with the other trees in the forest, sheltering the acorns below that will one day begin to grow.”

Breanne looks up at Leainati as she too lowers herself onto her knees.

“Breanne, I am Leainati,” Leainati bows her head as she introduces herself, “I see you have met my brother.”

“Brother?  But he’s Amarrian and you are Minmatar, aren’t you?” Breanne asks.

“Actually, I am only half Minmatar.  Ga’len and I have the same mother but his father was Amarrian, mine was Minmatar.”, responds Leainati, “Half brother, part of our beloved family and fellow Warrior of the Ushra’Khan.”

“He’s your brother, wow.  That’s messed up,” comments Breanne.

Everyone looks at Ga’len intently.  Ga’len looks between Leainati and Breanne’s faces.  He smiles and a small chuckle grows in his chest.  He begins to shake slightly as the chuckle grows into a louder laugh.  As if he can’t contain it anymore, he roars into a very healthy laughter.  Slowly the laughter spreads around the hallway and everyone feels the tension become blissfully thin.

“Yes my little acorn, it is a bit messed up, but at least I get to have a wonderful sister,” Ga’len smirks at Leainati.

“Okay Twig, enough of that,” Leainati smack Ga’len on his shoulder.

“Twig?  I thought his name was Ga’len?” Breanne asks.

“I call him Twig when he’s being silly,” Leainati continues, “So Breanne, where is your family?  Are they here on the station?”

Breanne’s eye glaze over, a very distant sorrow fills her face and tears begin to flow from her eyes.  She is choked with tears as she tried to speak.  She motions with her hand at the pile of dead Amarrian soldiers.

“Oh my child!  I’m so sorry,” Leainati begins to hug Breanne, “They died in the battle did they?”

A weak tearful voice creeps from Breanne’s mouth, “No, they died a long time ago.  I think they died; they just disappeared with some soldiers.  I am all alone, I have no family.”

Leainati unfolds Breanne from her embrace, places her hands on these tiny shoulders of the sobbing child, “My child, you are not alone.  You are part of our family now.”

“But,” Breanne begins to speak, “You family is messed up.”

Ga’len roars with laughter again.  His face turns red and he hangs his head as he tried to catch his breath.  After several moments he begins to speak.

“Yes my acorn, our family is messed up,” Ga’len continues, “but we have what every family needs.  We look after each other; we stick together through the good times and the bad.”

“You do?’ Breanne asks, “You don’t just disappear one day without a word?”

“Not usually, no,” Leainati says, “Now, why don’t you stay here with Twig while I got get you some more food, okay?”  Breanne looks at Ga’len for a moment, then looks at Leainati and nods in agreement.

Leainati heads off and Ga’len begins to speak, “Breanne, would you like to help me for a moment?  I can’t quite reach high enough on this wall to put up this poster.”

“I am too small, you are taller,” Breanne says.

“That is true, alone we can’t reach, but together we can, “Ga’len places his hands on her shoulders, “If you sit on my shoulder, you can reach up higher than the both of us.”

Breanne moves behind Ga’len and with a jump and Ga’len’s guiding hands, she manages to sit on his right shoulder.  Together then manage to place a new poster on the wall.  When they are finished, they step back to look at what they have done.

“Looks good my acorn.  Forlorn has a talent that is to be sure, ” Ga’len says as he crouches beside Breanne, “Come, let’s go find our sister and see about your food.”

Breanne turns and faces Ga’len.  Without warning, she throws her arms around his neck and hugs him.

“Thank you Uncle Twig.  I like the poster,” Breanne says sleepily.

Ga’len laughs, returns the hug and stands up holding Breanne in his arms.  As he walks down the hallway towards the deck’s food court, he collects a blanket from a supply crate and wraps Breanne in it to keep her warm.  As they continue down the hall, Breanne lays her head on his shoulder and her eyes slowly close as she slips away into sleep.

Ga’len stops for a moment and turns his head to her sleeping face.  He places a gentle kiss upon her forehead and whispers softly, “Sleep well my little acorn.  You are not alone anymore; Uncle Twig and Aunt Leainati will take care of you now.  You are free”.

More of The Bleeding Rose

Tags: D-GTMI, fan fiction blogfest, The Bleeding Rose, Ushra'khan

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I was catching up on my reading this evening when I came across an interesting post.  Casiella Truza over at Ecliptic Rift posed the question, How does one go about writing in someone else’s world?

It’s a good question.  CCP has created a in depth universe, one filled with history and culture.  With so much already laid out before you, how would you write fiction for that world?

For me, it takes the same kind of work if you are going to attempt to write in a particular genre.  You need to first, read.  If you are going to write stories in the Superhero genre, you first should read what others have written.  It helps you to build a background of what people are reading and writing.  It also helps you to avoid the pitfall of writing the same story that has been written time and time again.  In order to write well, you need to be able to read well first.

The same thing goes for EVE Online or any other fan fiction that you want to write.  You need to do some research first.  There are the Chronicles, the many pieces of fiction in the EVE Fiction section on the forums as well as a great section for EVE Fiction on the EVElopedia.  Some corporations and/or alliances have their own player fiction sections on their respective forums.  These resources are invaluable for the potential EVE Fiction writer.

So, what do you do if you start writing before you do the research?  What happens if you seems to “violate” the prime fiction?  What if the prime fiction changes?

Well, you stop and take a look at what happened.  Can you keep going with your story?  Can you slightly change the focus on an item to work past it?  What about a re-write?

Editing work that you have already created is not a sin, it’s the sign of a good writer.  A good writer looks at the mistakes they make and learns from the experience.  So what if you have to rewrite something to make it fit.  Improving a story that you have already written is a service to your readers.

If you don’t think that is the case, then I would direct your attention to the various movies that have been “re-mastered” or had a later release of a “Director’s Cut” edition.  Some of these “re-released” films add elements to the stories that fill in the gaps from a previously released version.

If you are writing single short stories that are not going to continue with additional episodes, you would be okay.  It’s a small bump in the road.  If you are like me, where you have a loosely continuing storyline with a set of regular characters, it can make things a bit dicey.

Take The Bleeding Rose stories that I have been writing.  Originally they were fiction inspired on PvP engagements I had when I was a pirate.  Over time, I found that the stories were becoming repetitive and honestly, they were becoming boring.  It was time to take a step away from dramatized combat reports and to create something new.  I changed the focus of my stories from combat experiences to interactions with people.

I took some prime fiction and used it as a base.  I picked things like the planet Oris in the Amarr system to be the place of birth for Ga’len.  I didn’t make him a direct heir to the emperor or anything, I made him a son of a land owner. I picked things that you know are very unlikely to change.  Shuttles, stations, travle through stargates, etc…

Doing things like that will help you.  You have to learn to create those “specifically vague” details so that your story can flow when things do change.  Once you have that ground work completed, start writing.

If you want to include things like real in game characters in your stories, ask those people before you use them in your story.  This can help to ensure that what you write is true to form.  Inviting real in game characters into your story can also lead to those people providing useful feedback on your writing project, thus helping the creative process along.

One thing that will help you with your stories as far as EVE Online is that our game is not restricted to what CCP provides for us.  Most of the in game history is created by the day to day events in game.  Such an open ended experience allows you a lot of room for your stories.  You can always write about some people taking a transport ship on one of those NPC hauler convoys that travel between stations in empire.  You can write a story about some maintenance technician who works on a stargate and how he hates those bubbles from Heavy Interdictors camping the gate in nullsec as they obscure the view of a nearby moon.  The possibilities may not seem endless with a world that has already been created but the “reality” is that most of the stories in EVE Online have yet to be written.

Be creative, test the waters and create!

Tags: Casiella Truza, EVE Fiction, EVElopedia, Prime Fiction, Response to other blog, The Bleeding Rose

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“I thought that Druids revered trees as sacred,” Leainati jokingly asks.

“We do, this one is artificial.  No fallen needles to clean up, no fire hazard,” Ga’len responds.  Slowly, he continues to place ornaments on the tree.  He takes the time to step back every so often to look at the work he has done.  Is the tree balanced?  Are there too many lights on the left or right?  Are there too few ornaments on the lower branches?  These things must be considered.

Decorating a tree is a very important thing.  If there are too many ornaments and not enough lights, the three will look dull.  If there are too many lights and not ornaments, the tree will be too bright.  And the worst of all, too many of both and it will just look like a wreck in the corner.  It’s a delicate balance.  It takes a great deal of time to learn how to balance the tree with the room, the lights and the ornaments.

Suddenly, a moment of enlightenment appears across Ga’len’s eyes.  He looks upon the fruit of his labors and realizes that moment of enlightenment strikes his brain with perfect clarity.  Apparently Ga’len has yet to master this art.

“Well, it looks like…..crap,” Ga’len says with disgust, “I never can get these bloody things to look nice.”

“Wait a moment,” Leainati speaks with conviction as she looses a switch kick to the tree stand.  Suddenly ornaments begin to rain down on the work cloth.

Ga’len’s eye shoot wide and suddenly, another moment of enlightenment visits his brain.  Apparently Leainati has mastered the art of decorating a tree, “Looks much better sis’, much better indeed.”

Leainati looked at the tree with a smile and a questioning in her eyes, “I still don’t get it, what’s the purpose of display a tree with light an ornaments? What’s this Christmas thing you were talking about earlier?”

Ga’len motioned for her to sit at one of the banquet tables.  “Well, it was a long time ago,” Ga’len pauses for a moment, ” When I was still a student at the university on Oris.  I was studying the histories from the very ancient times, the age before the collapse of the EVE gate.”

“But I thought all that knowledge was lost,” Leaianati askes, “When the civilizations almost died out, nothing survived.”

Ga’len smiled and continued, “Many things were lost, but there were pieces of old parchment, old data storage devices and other relics of our collective past that have survived the ages.  Some things are so old that no one really knows if they belong to the Amarr or Minmatar or possibly even the Jovians.  Records from before the rise of man in this age are almost impossible to find.  The few that do exist are either discarded as cleverly crafted fabrications meant for stirring up controversy or are simply beyond our understanding.  I was working in the archives and I came across an old metal box with a picture of a star on it.  When I opened the box, I found an old book written in a Terran dialect similar to the common language used today.   The book was very delicate but was strong enough to survive the digital capturing process.”

Leaniati gasped, “A book?!  A Terran book?  What was it, tell me!”

Ga’len pulled out a datapad from his pocket, “I still have a copy of it here.  It was a ’scrapbook’, a collection of research articles and piece of literature.  Here, read this poem, The Night Before Christmas.”

He hands the datapad to his sister.  After a few moments she places the datapad on the table, “So, some fat guy in a red suit breaks into your home at night and leaves you gifts as he flys around in some cart with ‘magical’ beasts of burden.  No wonder you Amarrians are so screwed up!”

Ga’len laughs so hard that he nearly falls out of his seat.  “Most Amarrians don’t believe in this old story, heck, I doubt that most of them have read this poem.  It was stored in the archives, I had to sneak this out of there as it was forbidden to take anything from the old vaults.”

Ga’len continues, “Christmas as I learned was an ancient religious holiday on Earth.  It celebrates the birth of a man who is supposed to be a son of their god.  This man was to bring peace to the world.  His presence was revered at the time and many people followed his teachings.  As time progressed on Earth, new traditions came to pass to celebrate this man’s birth.  Winter was harsh in ancient times and people would bring greenery into their homes to try to lighten the mood.  It began to decorate the greenery and on a day in a month called December, people would exchange gifts.”

Leainati nods her head, “Ah, so the tree was one of these pieces of greenery then?”

“Yes, in time, people started to decorate a tree they would bring into their homes,” Ga’len turned to look at the tree they had put up.

“Well, what happened to this man?  Did he succeed in teaching people to be nice to each other?” Leaniati asks.

Ga’len frowns a bit, “I’m not sure.  From what I was able to learn, he was eventually killed by his own people.”

“Figures, someone wanting to change the world would fail, no one can make a difference,” Leaniati spoke with bitter anger in her voice.

Ga’len took up his datapad and pulled up another story.  He began to read it aloud.

Here is a man who was born in an obscure village, the child of a peasant woman. He grew up in another obscure village, where He worked in a carpenter shop until He was thirty, and then for three years He was an itinerant preacher.

He never wrote a book. He never held an office. He never owned a home. He never had a family. He never went to college. He never put his foot inside a big city. He never traveled two hundred miles from the place where He was born. He never did one of the things that usually accompany greatness. He had no credentials but Himself. He had nothing to do with this world except the naked power of His divine manhood.

While still a young man, the tide of public opinion turned against Him. His friends ran away. One of them denied Him. He was turned over to His enemies. He went through the mockery of a trial.

He was nailed to a cross between two thieves. His executioners gambled for the only piece of property He had on earth while He was dying—and that was his coat. When he was dead He was taken down and laid in a borrowed grave through the pity of a friend.

Nineteen wide centuries have come and gone and today He is the centerpiece of the human race and the leader of the column of progress. I am far within the mark when I say that all the armies that ever marched, and all the navies that ever were built, and all the parliaments that ever sat, all the kings that ever reigned, put together have not affected the life of man upon this earth as powerfully as has that One Solitary Life. -Quoted

Leainati sat still with a tear rolling down here cheek, “One man changed the world.  Wait, I thought that Druids didn’t believe in the Amarrian god.”

“Well, I never said I didn’t believe in a god.  I just don’t believe in the Amarrian religion,” Ga’len smiled, “The divine is perfection.  Belief and faith are attempts to be one with that perfection, that truth of existence.  Druids seek that truth.  Religion is something made by man.  Things that are made by man can never be perfect as man will always be flawed.  To me at least, I don’t believe in religion.  I believe in truth.”

Leainati speaks slowly as she looks are more and more information on Ga’len’s datapad, “So regardless if you were religious, you could celebrate this holiday as well?’

Ga’len looks at Leainati with a big smile, “Most people did and it’s why I do.  The Druid holiday is around the same time, so why not?  Christmas celebrations were times that you spent with family and friends, exchanged gifts, ate great meals and reminded oneself of what was important in life.”

” Look at it this way.  It does not matter if you believe if this man, Jesus, was actually a son of a god nor if you are a religious person.  If you are a good person with a good heart and different beliefs, it does not matter what you believe.  It matter that you believe in something.  You believe in fighting to free your people from oppression, to be kind to those who need kindness and dispatch your wrath upon those who would do you and yours harm.  I believe in freeing the human race from slavery, both the slaves and those who call themselves their masters.  We both believe in what this man tried to teach our race many ages ago, don’t we?” Ga’len asks.

“We believe that we can be better than we are,” Leainati spoke soflly, “that we are not perfect, but we can try to be.”

“Yes”, Ga’len responds, “we can be better than we are.  We may never get there, but it’s the journey that allows us to find those perfect moments of truth.  It’s the belief that we can be better, that faith in that truth, that will get us there when we pass into the next life.”

Leainati asks more question, “So, what else did they do around Christmas?  Anything very strange?”

Ga’len thought for a moment, “Well, some people used to walk around and sing in front of the doors of people’s homes.  Young men sometimes would chase young ladies around, holding a twit above their heads, something called ‘mistletoe’.  Perhaps it was some game, who knows.  Oh yes, that Santa fellow you read about, the one who would break into your house.  People would leave food out for him.  Give a fat man a sugary, fat filled cookie.  Very strange indeed.  Oh, something about leaving a piece of carbon in a stocking, still trying to figure that one out….”

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It was warm and smooth. The meat was full of warm flavor and spices, the potatoes all mashed filled the mouth with warm goodness. In ages past they called it “comfort food”, that sort of filling warmth of a meal that brought memories of your childhood to your eyes with each savory bite.

“I see that you like that dish”, the waitress said to her quiet customer, “I believe the old woman called it ‘Shepard’s Pie’”

Ga’len swallowed his last bite slowly, smiling as his stomach felt much better. Being a capsuleer had the benefits of nutrients being provided by the pod, but real food was always something that made him feel somewhat human again. Being a Demi-god like Capsuleer had it’s benefits, being able to walk among both the eternal and among the mortals.

“I do like this, please thank the cook for me”, Ga’len spoke with a relaxed voice, “It’s been some time since I’ve eaten real food.”

From behind the counter, the old woman rose to her feet. Slowly she walked towards Ga’len and the light beamed from her revealed her face. Her words fell through the air and landed squarely upon the counter before him.

“Rebellion against the Amarr suits you my Lord Grendalis.”

Ga’len froze. All the eyes in the room focused upon him and this old woman. He could not believe what he just heard nor what was before his eyes. The kind aged eyes, gentle friendly smile and a glow of timeless wisdom was again, standing before him. He could feel an ocean of joy fill his heart.

“You should know better Seenan, my name is Ga’len”, Ga’len spoke with a smile on his face, “You should know, you gave it to me so long ago. Lord Grendalis died as the coward that he was. His son was reborn, with your help, into truth long ago.”

Seenan chuckled lightly and hugged Ga’len, “So, you kept the name I see. Well, to me you will always be kin regardless of where you came from. Action defines the person, not the past”, her smile relaxed everyone in the room, “It is good to see you but I must ask, what happened to your hair?”

Ga’len slowly ran his hand over his head. He could feel the slight stubble that should have been his hair on his cool scalp. He was instantly reminded of the events of last week.

“Well, when one is fighting for freedom of his people, sacrifices have to be made”, Ga’len remarked.

“Lost your ship. That’s what I heard”, Seenan’s words stung as if she was a mother commenting on a child’s hard learned lesson.

“Lost it in battle I did, but self destructed my pod to get back here for another ship and to return to the battle. It was the quickest way.” Ga’len’s voice was filled with the teenage pride Seenan had heard so long ago.

“Many lost their ships last night my son”, Seenan patted him on the shoulder, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Ga’len smiled, “You could not upset me my friend. Loose a head of hair, free some more of our people. It’s worth it to me. Now, tell me, what brings you to our fair home in deep space?”

Seenan stared at Ga’len and very lightly smacked him on the side of his head. “I guess you have forgotten that today is a great moment in history you silly git.”

Ga’len sat there and thought for a moment. A wide smile spread across his face. “Ah yes, you are referring to one of the most important days if the life of a Warrior of the Ushra’khan, are you not?”

From a dark corner of the room, two voices rang through the room, “She is Ga’len, that she is.”

Everyone in the room turned their heads towards that dark corner. Tanitel and Leainati are standing there with huge smiles on their faces.

“Ah, everything is perfect, everyone is here now,” Ga’len cheerfully observes, “Lets begin the birthday celebration!”

Happy Birthday Ushra’Khan!!

Visit the birthday message thread on the EVE Forums:

[UNITY] A Half Decade of Struggle

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Tags: Birthday, EVE, The Bleeding Rose, Ushra'khan

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