Promotion

A video feed opens, the screen is completely black for 3 seconds until lights reveal a large room stacked with large shipping containers, crates and assorted junk. N'maro comes into view, looking up at the feed, an inquisitive look on his face. He then taps the lens with a finger.

"Working? Hope So."

N'maro turns and begins walking off into the depths of the warehouse. The feed follows, clearly it is belonging to a camera drone. He continues speaking, his tone punctual and a little rushed.

"Don't much shine to the idea of talking to myself. Well, I am talking to a drone, whose recordings no one sees but such is life I guess, everyone loses it eventually..."

He trails off as stops, spying something to his left

"... and there we go"

N'maro walks off and the drone follows, revealing what peaked his attention. In the middle of some hip high crates sits a comparibly small, but nonetheless imposing, MTAC. Commonly refered to as "walkers", this one was evidently a military model of Minmatar design. Supported by two thick, stubby "legs" it stood rougly 8-9ft tall, its form resembling some hunchbacked, humanoid monster. On its left "arm" can be seen various metal loops and fastenings, presumably to attach missiles or some other weapon. N'maro's attention however, is drawn to its right arm, on which hung a fearsome looking seven-barreled gattling gun.

"Right where they said it would be."

N'maro gets a tool from his belt and begins doing something to the gun.

"Antar E22 Heavy Support Weapon, MTAC variant. 15.46 milimetres, made for and by Matari."

With a grunt, N'maro prizes open a hatch, revealing a long link of large calibre rounds going from the ammo feed to the firing mechanism.

"They were originally to be fit as point defence on ground based hardpoints, bunkers, well placed buildings. Weapons procurement department, in their wisdom,  decided that the rate of fire was to slow. Of course, ingnoring that the point defence systems being developed with the gun had been tailored for it, and changing the gun made about as much sense as giving a barber blunt razors... But then some bright spark decides to fit one on an MTAC, make the best of a shit situation. Saw quite a bit of service in the Vindication Wars, despite being a limited run."

After some fidling, he mandages to remove the ammo link, the chain of rounds hitting the floor.

"Securty scan every item... hmph, my ass. Now, the tricky bit"

N'maro plays around with the gun's fastenings, loosening them as much as possible. After attempting to remove the gun the conventional way and failing, he steps back, curses, and proceeds to force the gun off its fastenings. Its comes loose, and N'maro stuggles with it's wieght, carrying it over to a nearby metal crate and dumping it on top with a grunt.

"Anyway, I got a call from a freind, something about a project with Mordu's Legion. Lot of rumours around these days about some Legion science project, maybe worth looking into at some point, but anyway."

N'maro flicks a couple of catches near the barrels, and takes out a couple of bolts around the same area, talking while he does

"I get the call, and she asks me if I have any heavy weapons lying around, needed a barrel replacement for a minigun, managed to heat up the last one to near-melting point. Ha, teach her to trust Caldari with miniguns..."

He smiles a little bit at his bad joke, tinkering with a different part of the weapon.

"So, what else is going on... Well, I guess its worth mentionning I've been promoted to the glorious heights of..."

N'maro rolls his eyes, smiling a little.

"...'Director of Public Relations'. Messy job, someones got to do it though, may as well be me. Anyway, kind of related, Nina got CEO, no surprise, he's got the experience, the know how, and he'll grow into the confidence, I think."

N'maro grabs the gun barrels, pushing them in with a click, twisting them and pulling them out. He then sits on the crate, examining each barrel.

"Aside from that, Seyllin Conference 3 seems to be going well. Well... as well as organising capsuleers can go I suppose. But its all making headway, which at the end is the important bit. We have to keep moving, no matter what. Anyhow, thats enough rambling."

N'maro stands up, holding the barrels. He looks at the feed and smiles

"Plenty of work to do. Command, Log Out."

The video feed goes dark.

OOC:Hans Jagerblitzen for CSM

To all of you who read my blog (theres at least two of you) I advise you to vote as soon as possible and cast your votes in favour of Hans Jagerblitzen, someone serious about bringing change to lowsec and the only credible "*RP" candidate.

*RP term used very loosely

Story: Home Pt 1

Bored of walking what seemed to be endless hypnotic stairs, N'maro found a door out of the main stairwell and out to where the building was still being given its skin. Greeted with a pleasantly cool breeze, he sat on a nearby ledge and looked out on what he thought to be a wholly remarkable view.

"Its.. different..."

The words alomst reluctantly escaped his mouth, like a bucket just on the brink of overflowing. He sighed, breathing in the almost sterile air of the city, and looking down to see the busy street below and the smoothly flowing traffic of ground and anti-grav vehicles.

YC113. Terraforming was an old art by now, but it was only recently that humans had gotten the hang of pre-planned cities. This had always been one of Astrin's more pleasant climates, but had always been lost among the mire of poverty and strife that had been the old city of Liberty's Fortune, loosely translated from its Gallente name. Now though, the glistening white of the city had the oddest effect of both subjugation and amplification looking both warm and tepid at the same time. Up here N'maro could feel it more so, as the sun kissed his skin just enough to be felt before the sterile breeze swept gently over him.

N'maro looked up again and took in the view. He had done his research before coming back here. He was well aware that everything that was once here was now dead and buried. He had anticipated however, a feeling of relief, of liberation even, to see the place buired under the glistening shards of glass populating the skyline. Instead he felt something closer to apprehension and caution. Mixed in with that, N'maro felt a degree of frustration creeping up on him.

He felt the sudden urge to stand up, and he began pacing up and down, the purposefulness of his movements belied by the aimlessness of the action. His thoughts rattling around like ballbearings in a tin can.

"Why should this be so scary?" he thought to himself.
"There was nothing to miss, nothing to go back to..."
He suddenly stopped as the inevitable question rose to the top of his mind.
"Then why did I come here?"

Overcome by a sudden sense of helplessness, he leant back and slumped down at the base of a nearby pillar. Why had he come here? In all the thought that had gone into the trip, not once had he previously put his finger on why he felt the need to come here. The answer now he was here, was proving just as illusive. He reflected on the series of events up until the present. The Tribe had ejected him too soon for him to make any real freinds, and for yet another illusive reason, he just didnt mix well with many of the Matari he'd met so far.

Then there was her. How suddenly she left.

He ran his fingers over his shaved head, calming just a little. Perhaps, he thought, he was looking for some connection, something significant to him personally. But then there was nothing here. Like a fire slowly growing from a flicker to flame, frustration began to transform into determination. It gripped and coursed through his mind, and he stood up and made quickly for the door to the stairs.

"There has to be something" he said out loud
"Anything..."