Yarr-Pews & Lulz: The Second Coming

Greetings! It's been an incredibly long time since I've really had anything to write about. I've been busy in New Eden, but have not really had much of anything worth taking the time to write about. Until now. Below you will read a little bit about where I am currently with my character's life.

To keep a long story short (as what follows is long enough in it's own right), I decided to take a break from piracy and moved out to experience life in null-sec. It wasn't really what I was expecting. It wasn't really what I enjoyed doing with my time in EVE period. It wasn't for me, atleast not in the environment I found myself in.

What follows is my first real attempt at an in-character post. Forgive me of any quality short comings. Forgive me for piss-poor gramar. Forgive me for the length - it was actually longer, but I managed to cut it down. I hope you enjoy it though. I'm not sure how much in-character writing I'll do moving forward. I'll probably still post battle-reports as just, well, battle-reports. If I'm inspired enough, as I was with this event, I'll certainly be more apt to write about it in person.

So, please, go take a bio. Go have a smoke. Go grab a coke. Then come sit down and read. Again, I do hope you enjoy.

Edit: Jeebus! This is ridiculously long. Sorry. And no I'm not cutting it down anymore then it already is :)

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Vasavia awoke in her room, dimly lit as the sun broke past the curved crest of Planet 6 in 5C. The air in the room was dry. Stale. She rolled over in bed, fighting with her mind to wake. Fighting to force herself out of bed. As sleep finally subsided, and her mind gained more control of her spirit she arose, flinging the sheets that had provided the barest of warmth through her restless night.

It had been little more then 20 days since arriving to the lawless space of Insmother. Null Sec - cold, heartless, forsaken by CONCORD. It was early in the day. Earlier then when Vasavia normally awoke, but this trend was quickly becoming the norm. In the days since arriving to the "Casablanca" (as it was affectionately called by its residents) Vasavia had slowly started to have second thoughts about her move to Null Sec. No, it was more then just second thoughts. It was outright doubt, doubt that was leading to regret.

The first couple days had been interesting, indeed. A new environment, a new home, a new way of life all together. She had known before making the move to 0.0 that things would be drastically different out in the lawless space of Null Sec. However, after a few days of exploring her new environment and making observations of this new world Vasavia started having trouble sleeping. She began to wake up with more unease about her new home. She began to miss her former life.

Rolling out of bed, Vasavia worked her way to her desk sitting across the room. Bringing the terminal to life, she browsed the updated media reports about the current capsuleer conflict in 49-. As she read the latest combat reports coming out of that system, her mind began to unfocus from the words her eyes were scanning over. She was completely lost in her memories of low-sec, memories of the Molden Heath & Metropolis regions. These areas were the grounds from which she truly grew into who she was. These areas, and the actions that she had been apart of, were what defined her.

Memories of her Frigates screaming into a belt, asteroids roaring past her ship just mere meters as she would come blasting out of the warp tunnel into the belt. An unsuspecting target sitting in that belt, ratting, salvaging or sometimes mining. Vasavia was missing that hunt. Missing the exhilaration of frigate combat. Missing the satisfaction that came from piracy.

She missed the comradere that she had enjoyed with other pirates she had met throughout her career as a pirate. She missed the Yarr. She missed the "lulz". She missed the moments of laughing at each other when an engagement went wrong, when she missed a tackle that should have been hers. She missed that those moments...were okay thanks to their comic value. A stark contrast to the current reality in this new environment that she had found herself in.

The annoying ring of an incoming eve-mail broke her mind away from those fond memories and back to the reality of where she was. Vasavia sighed. Refocused on the "now", she opened the alliance mail that had just arrived, taking note of the other neglected mails she had been avoiding reading. Beginning from the oldest unread mail and working her way up the list to the newest arrival, she began taking mental notes on the items she needed to catch up on, and those tasks she would need to try to get ahead-of.

Vasavia had noticed that the tension coming across in the eve-mails from the Alliance-mates, as well as those coming from her own corp-mates, had started to increase. With this increase, her patience for her new existence began to dwindle. Half-way through the remaining unread messages Vasavia jumped up from her seat at the desk, flicking the terminal off.

"I can't do this anymore, this isn't who I am", she whispered to herself.

She glanced around her room, sizing up the things she needed to get organized. Clothes, personal weapons, datapad, comm-link. Vasavia hadn't spent enough time in her new home in 5C long enough to really accumulate much in the way of personal possessions.

Twenty minutes and I can be gone, with little evidence that I was ever even here, she thought to herself.

Her corporate-assigned Maintenance Chief would have already been up and on duty for the last 2 hours. Vasavia quickly walked back over to her bed-side, her eyes fixed on the comm-link resting quietly on her nightstand. She grabed the comm-link and reached out to her Chief. The Chief answered, uncaring, almost as if he was bothered by this interruption in his workday,

"Yes...?", he answered.

"I want all my ships repackaged and ready for transport, save for the 3 Rifters. Leave them in the hanger as they are," Vasavia commanded.

"...," the silence from the Chief could only mean one thing - suspicion.

"Relax Chief, in my enthusiasm for my new assignment out here I over extended on my funds when purchasing new ships to build up my hanger. I simply do not have the funds to support what I have in station. I'll better serve the alliance for the time being by liquidating the more, extravagant ships in the line, and reinvesting in some cheap tackles. I've taking a disturbing note of the lack of tackle-pilots we have had during defensive engagements anyway. We need a dedicated tackler, and that's my specialty," was the justification put forward by Vasavia.

"Makes good sense, Vas. I'll make the arrangements and have everything, excluding the Rifters, repackaged and placed on the regional market," was the Chief's reply.

Vasavia grinned. She had learned through her time as a pirate one had to be quick with the lock, quick with the trigger, and even faster with their mouth to survive in the world of New Eden. Within a matter of just a few seconds she had moved the Chief from high suspicion, to utter and complete acceptance of her Will. None-capsuleers could be such fun putty to play with.

"Oh, and Chief, I need to make a quick run to pick up some skill books. I don't want to risk any of the Frigates for such a task. Please ready my Pod. I'll go out in that," Vasavia requested.

"Roger that, Vas", the Chief confirmed.

And with that their communication ended. Vasavia quickly threw on her clothes and grabbed what little personal gear she had tucked away in her storage locker at the foot of her bed. She quickly walked back to her desk, and slid into the chair. The terminal sprang back to life. There were only two things left to do.

Vasavia brought up her contacts list, skimming down the list until she found who she was looking for. Her eve-mail to the recipient was simple:

"Sardie-Poo,

I'm returning. Application is in the mail.

PS - You are showing stubble on your scalp. Get your shit shaved up."

Next, Vasavia made contact with a Clone Specialist in a sparsely populated Station located in Teon. The station, while not ideal for Clone activation, did have limited Clone storage and animation capabilities. Vasavia had previously made arrangements to have clone placed there in the event she needed to make a quick return to Molden Heath. Even though this station lacked the more sophisticated Cloning technologies, it was perfect for her. She could quietly reanimate, and make her way into Molden Heath low-sec with ease from this location. The downside, of course, cloning here would put her pirate-flashy ass in high security space.

Flicking her terminal off one last time, Vasavia jumped up from her desk chair. The force from her sudden movement slammed the metallic chair hard into the wall. It bounced off and rolled towards the center of her room. By the time it's roll came to stop Vasavia was already out of the room, down the corridor and around the corner.

The ride down to the hanger of the station was more exhilarating then when she first arrived to her new home in 5C. It was the same exhilaration she had felt when she first truly realized her calling in the world of New Eden was a calling to Piracy. It was the same exhilaration she found in combat, the same exhilaration she got from the unpredictability of a ransom, the same exhilaration she got being chased by hostiles and CONCORD. Again, the memories she had of these acts of piracy came flooding back as the lift she was in descended deeper into the outpost on its path to the hanger. Chills of excitement raced up her spine.

The lift stopped with its usual sudden halt. It's doors slid effortlessly open. Vasavia, snapped back to reality, stepped out of the lift with more energy and vitality then she'd had the last couple weeks. Powerful, confident strides that had been absent from her recently had now returned - fueled by the anticipation of her return to her true identity in this world. Vasavia moved down the long corridors to the hanger entrance. As she drew closer the sounds of the hanger grew more audible. It was obvious, today was a busy day in the outpost.

Entering the hanger, Vasavia made her way quickly towards her line of ships. Her maintenance crew was already well into the repackaging process, prepping her ships for resale on the local market as she had instructed the Chief to have done. Vasavia looked towards the undocking lanes and admired the chorus of Battlecruisers and Battleships coming and going in the station. Interceptors and Frigates weaved their way through the slower traffic. Her Pod, her coffin, her vessel back to her life idled just down the catwalk. The Crew Chief came up behind her.

"Pod's ready, Vas. I noticed a couple issues with the propulsion modules on one of the Rifters. I have my best guy working a diagnostic on the propulsion systems now.", the Chief reported as if business was usual.

Vasavia looked at him over her shoulder as she turned to face him, "Very good, Chief." She extended her hand.

He gave the slightest of winks, as if knowing what was truly going on, "We'll make sure everything is in order, Capsuleer. I'll over look the sale of assets personally and see to it that funds are transferred to you immediately".

Caught of guard slightly by the exchange Vasavia could only give a small, friendly smile, "Very good, Chief. Very good indeed."

She turned back towards her Pod and made her way down the catwalk. When she reached the Pod she opened the small personal storage compartment and slid her flight bag in containing those few personal items she had packed from her room. She climb into the Pod and sealed herself inside. Running through the checklist all the Pod's essential systems were in order. The propulsion systems came to life, the navigation computer was brought up, but no destination set. Vasavia contacted the outpost's traffic control and requested permission to undock and join the exit lane traffic pattern.

"Pod Vasavia, initiate undock procedures and join traffic pattern in Taxi 01-B, continue taxi to Lane 01, contact Casablanca Tower for final launch approval.", came the request from the Traffic Control Officer.

"Casablanca Traffic, Pod Vasavia. Good copy taxi 01-B to Lane 01.", Vasavia returned.

Vasavia disconnected the lines feeding the fuel cells of the Pod, and disconnected the power lines supplying power to the Pod while in dock. Next, the docking clamps that kept her tiny Pod attached to the catwalk she had just walked down unlocked their claw like grip on her Pod. The Pod hovered on the same plane, and drifted just a few meters out on its own. The catwalk retracted and Vasavia initiated a slow turn, pointing her Pod towards her assigned taxi lane.

The Pod joined the taxi traffic puttering along towards the main launch lane in use. Vasavia, looking through the Pod's camera monitors, watched the busy Capsuleers and crews of the station going about their daily routines. She watched the larger traffic cruising into the station via the Docking Lanes. Before long, she heard the buzz from her navigational computer telling her the entry into Launch Lane 01 was coming up. Vasavia got on Comms with the launch control tower:

"Casablanca Launch Tower. Pod Vasavia. Permission to take Lane 01 for departure straight out.", she requested.

The tower's controller came back over comms, "Pod Vasavia. Lane is clear. Cleared to take Departure Lane 01. Fly safe."

"Casablanca Tower, Pod Vasavia. Copy, taking Lane 01. Depart straight out Lane 01.", was her call back to the Tower.

Pfft. Fly-safe., Vasavia thought to herself as she maneuvered her Pod into the departure lane.

I can't wait to get back to flying reckless., she thought.

Her Pod now aligned straight down Lane 01, and any traffic ahead well distanced from her heading & course, Vasavia punched the throttle forward and her Pod instantly accelerated to it's max propulsion. The stations walls surrounding Departure Lane 01 sped by in a solid stream of lights and metallic surfaces. Their finer detailed blurred by speed. In a matter of seconds her Pod burst out the departure lane opening on the face of the station. The station quickly fell behind her. Vasavia quickly brought up her list of "bookmarks" in her navigational computer.

Browsing down the list for System 5C-, Vasavia selected the "Tactical Undock" bookmark for the station she had just launched from. The warp-drive of her Pod almost instantaneously spooled up to full force, throwing her egg-shaped vessel into warp. Her Pod burst away from the station even further. Within a matter of just a couple seconds, the Pod's warp-drive cut out and her Pod slowed to a complete stop. There she idled over 250k out from the station. Vasavia turned the cameras towards the station and watched the monitor. From this distance the "Casablanca" and the Capsuleer traffic buzzing around it looked beautiful.

Vasavia pressed herself back into her seat more, reclining into a restful position for the next phase of her journey back to her former life. She thought about her current body, this shell that had been brought to life months before now, months before even entertaining the thought of moving to Null Sec. She had been through a lot in this body. She felt a little remorse for how the journey would end for this clone.

Turning her attention down towards the various control panels of her Pod, she turned her eyes towards the Pod's life support systems. With a few quick movements of her fingers the Self-Destruct sequence for the Pod was initiated. The soothing, calming sound of Aura's voice - that wonderful A.I. Diva all Capsuleers become acquainted with - reported the count-down:

"This Pod will self-destruct in 2 minutes...", Aura reported.

Vasavia closed her eyes.

"...1 minute 30 seconds until...", Aura returned.

Vasavia opened her eyes and fixed her gaze towards the station again.

"...1 minute remaining until...", Aura updated.

Vasavia started to drift back to those fond memories of her former life as a pirate. She grinned.

"...45 seconds remaining until...", Aura persisted.

Eagerness and Anticipation began to build up inside of Vasavia, so much anticipation she felt like she could literally burst this Pod apart herself.

"...15 seconds remaining until...", Aura called.

Vasavia closed her eyes, held her breath, and pressed her head back against her seat.

Within an instant Vasavia's Pod burst apart into hundreds of shards of metal and thousands of pieces of components. The explosion would not even be visible to the traffic below flying around the "Casablanca". However, one thing would be noticed by all those pilots. Vasavia's frozen corpse, idly suspended in the coldness of space, would now be listed on the other ships' overviews. Perhaps someone would come and clean up the mess, perhaps someone would try to reprocess her corpse in hopes of finding salvagable implants. It didn't really matter either way.

On the otherside of New Eden, Vasavia was waking in a new body. Reanimated. Reborn. She would soon find herself back in Molden Heath, claiming back her true identity. She, again, would be flying reckless.