…I was born into a group of people who had nothing but their past and their, mostly imaginary, traditions. They tried to force it all on me, because it was all the wisdom they had to offer, and I resisted it as hard as I could.
I was far from considering my actual ties to those people and what it meant; the only thing I desired was Freedom. Freedom from them and their stone age insanity imprinted upon my body for everyone in the clan to see.
I escaped their little artificial hell, a last rotting branch of a dying bloodline, and ventured into the outer world. I hoped that the outside world would free me, that it will wash away the dirt of the little rat hole like a mighty and uncaring ocean. It didn’t; the details are now irrelevant, but in the end, I killed my first Amarrian with bare hands, and it was exhilarating. That deckhand from a Bestower used up too much oxygen in our common jet can.
The Republic was kind enough to offer me a gift of wings, one in many millions, and the Security Service sponsored my training. But all I saw in the Republic were the demented crones of my now extinct clan putting the Blood Wings on my back. I just couldn’t forgive and forget, and I blamed the… little adventure… that ended in the jet can scooped by a RSS vessel in Hagilur on my clan, too.
I escaped again, to the Federation, now as a fledgling capsuleer. I thought that Gallente will finally give me the Freedom I craved so much. I genemodded myself into a lithe, milky white Jin-Mei, and flew into massive battles agains the State alongside Seriphyn Inhonores and his sidekicks. The Wings no longer were on my back, but each time I awoke in the clone bay, I felt that they are there.
It took maybe three years for me to realise that the Federation, a pretty dream as it is, can’t really free me either. (Let’s face it, the idealised propaganda version of the Federation differs from the real thing about as much as Kuvakei’s utopian vision of the Nation differs from the spiky shit some of us have to fight on the daily basis).
The Federation was eager to employ me as a sentient weapon of mass destruction, but little more. I would probably be content as a Gallente Diana Kim of sorts, but I saw all the inner workings of the pendulum war, and it made me sick.
In search of deeper knowledge, I escaped again, this time to wormhole space. It proved… fatal, as an incident there heavily damaged me. I died to the Sleepers in an unusual manner, and whatever was reborn was… mangled.
I went mad, and since that point there was no going back.
At first, I quit Inhonores’ corporation and fled into deep 0.0. Now, the emptiness of deep space was my freedom. I had no idea what i’m looking for, but it howled inside me. It wanted to be let free.
I understood that I want to transcend myself. To become something more than whatever I was before the rebirth. I asked to be let into Alexylva Paradox, and they allowed me to become one of the dwellers in Origin - and I’m still grateful for that.
In the serene glow of the Origin Nebula, I began to learn how to tame my new, damaged self. There, in one of the surface settlements, I met a man who introduced me to a mild form of Sani Sabik worship, and it helped a lot.
But then, a woman appeared in our corp. A Blood Raider who was eager to offer me her companionship… and lots of free Thrashers to gank pods in Amarr. I was eager to break… And I broke. Because the need for ultimate freedom howled and clawed in me and with each popped pod - it didn’t matter, mine or the victim’s - it grew stronger.
I ran away with Funk to Delve. At that point, I realised that the only thing I really want is to be free from myself. To destroy myself. I cherished every death I went through. I hoped that Funk would sacrifice me to the Red God, but she felt it as well, so… she didn’t. It was her way to make Chaos on me: because at that point I had nothing to fear and nothing to steal, I just wanted to kill and to die; so, she denied me that last exit and I ran away from her, too.
I ran away to to lower levels of the Blood Raider orbital in KFIE-Z where Funk and her corp (she had an actual corp of 16 or so people for a while then) dwelled, and I offered myself to be sacrificed to the Red God. I had to fight in the Pits with a Nova Knife for the honour. Then, I was bled to death, and I died a true death.
But the Red God, like Anyanka Funk, refused to accept me. He vomited my soul back to the mortal plane. It turned out I had an old soft clone stored in Rens just in case and I forgot about it. Some two months later, I came back. Death was not the final freedom. If anything, it helped me regain the clarity of mind to some degree; I wasn’t as mad as in my last weeks in ALXVP any more, and I shudder when I think of the things I made in Delve.
You know, the true Red God’s faith is not far from some of the Brutor war cults. Only the strength - of soul and body - matters. But the question I eventually came to, what is the true strength? Perhaps, what most people consider as strength is nothing but a weakness, and vice versa?
I came to realize that the true strength is the ability to face what one is most reluctant to face, and conquer - or accept - it.
In my case, it is my destiny and my heritage. For quite a while, I wanted to be free of myself, to destroy myself; but now, I understood that I only can be free of myself and destroy myself only if I again face the long dead crones of the clan Hilur in the cave of the Ancestors and accept their gift of wings, as I should, with pride.
My name is Jaend Hilur, daughter of Onga Hilur, descendant of Asmund Hilur, hero of the Rebellion. I am of the Arnod sub-tribe of the Vherokior. I was born in exile, but I am still, and always be, Minmatar, because I believe in strength through blood, and the blood of my ancestors gives me strength to fight the evil spirits that haunted me though all my life.
The elders of my clan were wise. They gifted me with a mark of warning, the Blood Wings, the wings of a night daemon, bane of the unborn. All my life, I ran from this destiny, only to realise it to the fullest as I ganked pods in Jita and fought in the blood pits of KFIE-Z. Now, I accept it. I may be a very bad Minmatar… but I still am. And now, with my Wings back on my shoulders, I feel free and strong as never before.
This was my story. There may be million others like that in New Eden, but this one is mine, so I put it here that others may remember. I don’t know whether it ends here or not; I bought a home in Teonusude and found the man who made me Sabik in the first place, so… The only thing that matters is that perhaps someone reads this and learns something from that, and becomes stronger.
It took me ten years to face what I ran from.