Matari of this board, tell us of your home

Since the other three nations have their own more or less successful threads on the topic, why not just finish this Quartet and have one for the tribals of the IGS?

So I invite the Matari to share some information about their homes, be it in space, on Matar, some lowsec backwater or wherever else. Tell us of your culture, your nature if applicable, your celebrations and your struggles. The Federation dwellers have their own thread, so let’s not steal that one’s content for this one.

I’ll add my own post later, but for now I just want to step back and invite others to tell of their own homes. Try to find something that is a little unique to your homestead, yeah?


Unfortunately I am somewhat busy at the moment, but I will attempt to find the time to reply properly soon.

It is important for Matari to tell the stories of their clans.


Was that really necessary? Also low effort, you could do better.



Well, definately alot more effort there.

See you in Black Rise, Strike Commander.


At least no one can discredit her for her thriving albeit self revealing fantasy.

Well something about the culture on my home world:

My original Home is Orien IV where most of my clan roam the Kamuir grasslands on the southeastern Dakura continent. On Dakura one possible nomadic culture is clans that distribute over different trecks that follow or lead animal herds.


Overall the Population of eastern Dakura continent is divided between farming city dweller, landowning and hunting oriented clans and nomadic roamers. City dwellers own herds of cattle which can sometimes lead to conflict with the animal hunting clans which live outside the city in a nomad similar lifestyle wandering over their territorries.

At the beginning of a season, there are 21 seasons in a planetary year each a yulai year, the farmers barter with the hunters for meadows on latter territory, as exchange for letting their herd graze there the hunters are given agricultural products like flour or vegetable or tools which are imported from the recource rich central Majaka desert, other continent son Orien IV or space.

When a suitable deal is made roamers from different clans are recruited to form trecks that lead this herds to their meadows and watch the animal until they are guided back to their owner at the end of a season. As sometimes those cities and the meadows are far apart from each other getting there with the whole herd is often a matter of negotiation, offering repair services and ability to interpretate unclear land description in ones own favour.

My family belongs to a roamer clan and members meet at the end of each season to discuss the next season, new jobs and opportunities, celebrate the last seasons, honour the forefathers. One of the trials in live is a group trial in which the job is to lead a treck while being observed by a matriarch of different clan.

When not engaged with trecking some roamer clans in the Kamuir grassland help hunters by doing scouting work, being familiar with the different animals.


Now I have a moment to myself, I shall take some time to tell of my clan.

We are of the Sebiestor tribe, and long ago in our history we walked the frozen steppes of Mikramurka, alongside many of our people. While we have not walked there for many generations, we still carry the pale skin common in inhabitants of the Snow. The great history of our people begins with the arrival of the Slavers.

My clan were lucky; while not all of us escaped the attentions of the invaders, the majority were able to escape and run, or hide, for generations. However, in the running, the Clan was divided, scattered across the face of Matar. Some stayed in the Snow, some fled to the Sun, a few even made it as far away as the islands of the Strong, or the deserts of the Wise. After generations, after the Rebellion, the disparate arms of the Clan began to return to their ancestral home in the north.

This division had caused an evolution in our structure, with the disparate groups becoming more like hugely extended families than Clan groups. The bloodlines in the most widely travelled families had diluted; mixed with the Clans they had passed by over the years.

My own family had stayed relatively close to Mikramurka, along the temperate border to the south of the region. With the formation of the Republic, my ancestors made the difficult decision to move the whole clan offworld, to one of the nearby Core systems

Settling on Onga V*, the Clan quickly set to work on helping convert the planet to its new designation as an agricultural world. The young Republic required an enormous amount of crops to help feed its population, and has kept up the demand ever since.

It is a temperate world, and a warm one. In summer an average equatorial temperature of 38°, and an average planet wide temperature of 19°, keeps the crops growing to huge sizes. Bioengineered by Republic scientists, the crops are designed to provide the maximum possible yield per square kilometer.

Individual families each maintain a ‘farm’, most of them several hundred square kilometers. The majority of day-to-day work is spent repairing and maintaining the drones that look after the crops. Many of our traditions in these modern times are agricultural in nature, although we keep a few from our days in Mikramurka alive.

The planet is fairly sparsely populated, only my Clan and a few others. This has led to close bonds between the families, but also a large amount of offworld travel as opportunities for pair bonding and marriage are otherwise fairly slim.

There’s more I could say, but for a public forum that is probably enough.

*(( In a previous thread I got confused and said Onga IV. That’s a storm planet. My bad! ))


Well, now, my clan is one of the Edmalbrurdus Sebiestor clans. One of the handfuls that were never fully enslaved, supposedly, even though there were some Amarr colonial outposts on the planets in Edmalbrurdus. Great-great-grand-daddy claimed he invented the Rifter and all that. Maybe he did, I don’t know, never talked to him myself. The old folks tell a lot of stories, I don’t know if there’s truth in any of them, but they’re usually right ripping yarns. Like how our clan hid out in cometary colonies to avoid the Amarr slaver ships and all that. Or when the rebellion was winding down, how we helped the other Seb clans to deport all the Brutors off one of the planets, and onto one of the other temperate planets so the Tribe could claim it as their own. One thing the stories don’t tell is how our clan came to Edmalbrurdus in the first place. Must have come from Matar, since Edmalbrurdus wasn’t one of the Minmatar systems before the Day of Darkness, I guess, but I don’t know how our clan went from there to here.

Home turf is a coastal town on Edmalbrurdus V. Lots of high cliffs, ore-rich rocks, which meant your average kid learns to cast bronze and brass out of the rocks that are just lying around. Clan tradition is building brass clockwork geegaws. Some of them are useful devices, some are art. Moving statues, orrerries, toys and the like. The brass means a lot of horn music too, and a bit of percussion music. Nothing beats hearing the sound of the brass bands after a long trip away.

Clan voluval mark tends to be “the leaf-turning bird”. Supposed to represent something about Sebiestor heritage. Turning stuff over, looking for useful things. Lots of our spacer kin go into the salvage & scrap metal trading business. Finding uses for stuff other people can’t. Tends to be a bit of hoarding at times, so there’s a clan tradition. Every significant time in your life, you’re supposed to clear out your pile of crap. Give stuff to friends and relatives. Like, you have a child, you’re supposed to clear out your junk pile. Use it or lose it. Get married, you’re only allowed to keep half your junk. Get rid of the rest to someone who’ll use it. That kind of thing. So there’s regular bring & buy get-togethers of the clan, where everyone loads up the junk they have to get rid of, and sees if anyone else can use it.


Allright, perhaps it’s time to speak of my own a little.

The Gripdjur clan isn’t a particularly big one. There’s two small towns, cities, whatever you wish to call them that are ‘ours’ and the majority of our clan tends to be very insular. This is due to some peculiarities that I haven’t really seen too much of outside of the Gripdjur, even though I’m sure some clans or people outside of the Tribes share them. The clan is built up around a few core principles, which forms the social structure of the clan. Imagine three circles, one inside the other, with three lines meeting in the middle, reaching out to the outermost circle.


These three circles represent the three layers of the society. The innermost and most precious are the Innocent. Those everyone else seek to preserve and protect. Their lives should never have to be touched by war, violence, crime and horrors. The bakers and the childkeepers and so on. The most civilian of civilians, as it were. The second circle, the middle one, is where you’ll find those who choose to lose some of their innocence in the name of serving the innermost circle. The justices. The emergency services. The traders and diplomats in foreign lands, and the politicians dealing with the other clans and tribes. The enforcers and medical professionals. They walk among and serve the first circle, while sacrificing a little of their innocence in order to do so. And then there’s the third circle, the outermost one. This one faces outwards, rather than looking in to the first. The fighters. The soldiers. The intelligence workers. The spies. The ones who sacrifice all innocence to protect the first circle from all outside threats. Those who punish those who would do them harm. Those who wander this far outwards do not return, except for one day of the year when they visit family for a day of remembering why they do what they do, and why they give it all up, and who for. As it turns out, that day just passed. Midwinter’s day.

I won’t get into the three lines and what they represent, but understanding the three (in reality, several hundred circles but that sort of granularity isn’t necessary for this post) circles is required to understand how our two main homes have become this way.

One of the towns is at the base of a mountain in the far north of Mikramurka, and for an outsider it’ll look incredibly primitive. It is in fact a cultural experiment, modeled from what archeological remains we have found as well as the remnants of historical records of our clan and tribe’s earliest history. Small wooden buildings and facilities, where a few live permanently in what we believe was the way of the past. Some do this to preserve our past and history, some do it to try and connect to the spirits of our clan and land, and some simply do it because they like it. The majority however live where no outsider will ever see, in the real city. The one underneath.

A few of the buildings and terrain features hide entrance points, most usually elevators that will let you descend into the underground facilities that constitute the largest clan city we have. Bright corridors, comfortable temperatures and every modern amenity is available. Research centers, medical facilities, hydroponics and gardens, educational institutions, all manner of working and living quarters and so on. A few long-distance vacuum tunnels will allow you to be shuttled to spaceports within minutes, and while there are some fusion generators standing by in case of emergencies, the entire underground city is powered primarily by geothermals. It is a testament to what modern Sebiestor can build from scratch, without having to deal with outdated and aged societies holding things back. And barring catastrophic failure of security, it’ll never be seen by an outsider’s eyes. All they get to see is the tourist display piece on the surface.

This is what the third circle protects. Those who live in peace, happy and content, not having to worry for a moment about the terrors of New Eden or the horrors inflicted upon our kin under far-away stars. It is what we serve, without fail. Most importantly, they must not know that we sacrifice for them.

… I digress, I think. Where was I? The second city.

This one is a bit of an oddity though, as it’s technically more of a vehicle. A truly massive one. As the seasons pass, this gargantuan village - well, reasonably small by population count but as vehicles go it’s one of the biggest I’ve ever seen - on countless tracks travel a route planned many many years in advance based on climate models and advanced simulations of wildlife developments spanning pretty much the entirety of the Gripdjur’s lands. This one too operates under the three circles’ model, but more literally than the main city. The outer sections are armed and contains shuttle bays and airdecks, while the inner sections house the general population. It is designed to exploit the natural resources of our reasonably large amounts of land, in the prime seasons, while maintaining and supplying the various outposts and facilities that aren’t mobile once or twice a year. Farmland, frozen-waste research facilities, harbors unfrozen in the summers and so on all get to see this colossus halt for a few weeks near them.

Why this came into being is not something for outsiders to know, nor its primary purpose or capabilities, but it’s unique enough that I feel it should be known beyond our borders.

All in all, I have never known such beauty as in the cold north. Vast snow blasted wastes, gorgeous green valleys and fjords, wildlife of all kinds, including predators that still occasionally try to see if humans are edible. In my dreams, I see a future where the first circle contains all our people and the third gets to rest easy, knowing their sacrifices have been worth it.

Until then though… there is nothing more important to the Gripdjur than holding the Third Circle at all costs.


I wonder if the scarcity of responses in this thread is the capsuleers’ pain being torn between the clan and the pod?

It seems to me that whenever I speak to people who have been in space for a bit longer - and I mean in pod space, not on stations and caravans - the same troubles are there. Trying to be a clan girl fits poorly with flying pod ships and leading multinational organizations. It just takes longer for some than others to figure that out.

My clan is on Mikramurka, Matar, too, like so many here. South-ish, so not permanently frozen if not exactly balmy either. Offices in the big city & estate close by. Mostly ground-side trading and investments and law and all the shady deals and back-stabs that come with those. Hek trade hubs are the paragon of benevolence and honesty in comparison. I was born and raised to take that over, but then indie capsuleer tech happened.

Now, according to the Rhiannon cosmology, I am technically a ghost. Dead (multiple times so), but no rites of passing, so I wonder the world without peace, etc etc. I dare say the experiences going “home” are haunting enough, even if no one there takes the ghost thing literally.

What most feels home these days is w-space when the d-scanner is empty. Or the alliance channel, occasionally. Disgraceful, I know, but I am too old to pretend it’s otherwise.


born and raised in Embod VI, a mostly ocean planet so not much to do outside of extraction, swimming and fishing. its actually the only habitable planet in the system. island environments are pretty familiar to the Brutor tribe so most of the ancestral traditions are kept the same.


My homeworld is Gelfiven VI, known to our clan as Maraghdasi Col (Jewel of the Endless Desert in common language), “Mara”, “Jewel”, for short. We are quite proud of our ellipsoid rock floating in the endless void. Our clan forms one of the largest demographics of the planet and the system itself, and has considerable presence in the Molden Heath region in general.

What most travel brochures and planetary databases would tell you is that it is a warm, average sized temperate planet with large oceans, a large number of continents and large islands, with its climate on largest settlements dominated by two hybrid seasons - the rainy winter season and hot, dry summer season. To add to this, something people might find interesting is the bioluminescent algae which makes coasts of the Sapphire Sea glow with a faint blue color during summer nights. It is not usually observable from space, outside of low orbit, unless conditions have been particularly good for this algae to grow in extremely large colonies. But from the surface, the sight is beautiful and haunting, and a fair bit of tourism industry has formed around them.

Unlike many who seem to have embraced the life in space and appear to prefer cutting any ties to their former life - mind, I am not judging you, you do you and whatever feels best - I try to return to Mara whenever I can, to unwind, to be with people I feel comfortable around. Mara is my home, and forever will be.


Please tell Miz everything, including how many guards if any, pets and alarm codes if any. She will totally not visit with some 200 close friends and party… :smiley:

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I have about one close friend, and roughly a handful of friends I wouldn’t call ‘close’. Still, if it’s parties that are wanted, I could always arrange for a Sarz’namarr concert. The audience sizes tend to range between just a few dozen people to quite a few thousand, depending on location.

It would of course depend on how the local insurance regulations deal with ‘acts of god’, natural disasters and orbital bombardment as pyrotechnics.


Before I read Teinyhr’s post, I thought: screw it, I’ll tell you about the planet that was once my home. But then, I decided that this thread deserves better.

Instead, I’ll tell you another tale; a tale about Aoona, or, if we’re going to invoke the sacred name of the planet’s spirit that they worship, Aonathea - the water world that we slightly less spiritual beings know as Gelfiven V.

Since the Day of Darkness, the Empire sought to exploit the vast oceans of the planet. The Amarrians introduced numerous species of algae, seaweed, mollusks and fish to farm for biomass and protein, nearly exterminating primitive local life in the process. Then, they settled several slave communities there, whose task was to harvest the sea for the giant processing plants built above. Those settlements, predominantly Vherokior, were almost self-governing. When the age of turmoil began and the few masters of old fled the planet, the sea drifters of Aoona eventually switched from Nurtura to Native Freshfood, and the cycle of life continued undisrupted - or, it would, if not for the man named Arkim Arnod, a Mystic who rose to exploit the power vacuum left by the withdrawing Empire.

“Prophet” Arkim told that the spirit of Aonathea guides him, that through him, the clans will find both their true “matari-ness” and - with newfound attunement to the soul of the world, so long disrupted by the Gilded God - peace and prosperity never known before; that Aoona is a promised paradise.

Many were eager to believe Arkim and his daughters (who later established the lineage of Arnod matriarchs).

Мany of those who still worshiped the Gilded God and their sympathizers were given to the sea during the violent purges that ensued; those were the days of the Rebellion, and noone counted the dead.

But there also were many who rejected the sect that Arkim was attempting to build. They boarded the abandoned ships of their former masters and took to the skies, vowing never to return.

Those several clans who accepted the fake Matari heritage that Arkim, the first Spiritual Leader, invented to unite people after the Rebellion, took the surname Arnod. Now, there are probably a few hundred thousands of them on Gelfiven V. Those, who fled to Bosena and further into what is now Molden Heath lowsec, took the surname Hilur.

It wasn’t exactly a rivalry: Arkim still was a honored ancestor of the Hilurs long after his death - a hero of the Rebellion and all. But any self-respecting space drifter of the Hilur clan would never set his foot on the harvesting platforms of Aoona.

Well, guess, how it all ended up. The Arnods and their little totalitarian sect found full mutual understanding with Native Freshfood and the new system authorities. They became a self-policing sub-tribe / religious community, and the Wreathes laden with biomass kept docking at the plants above Aoona. The Arnods still prosper.

The Hilurs, on the other hand, spent a tumultuous century surviving as lowsec semi-nomadic group that operated around Bosena until the local Angel gang war in YC89 that the clan was unlucky to get involved in destroyed most of it and scattered the rest to the winds.

The few dozen people that left tried to escape the Republic, only to end up on a barren world of Thelan IV. But that’s another story.

…Wait, that was supposed to be about the planet, not about the split of the clans. I was on Aoona once; it’s slightly colder than Matar, in general the sea is maybe southern Mikramurka kind of cold, and people there live on old platform complexes anchored on the shallows. Not exactly a paradise, more like a never-ending stream of salty cold refreshments in your face, and everything smells of fish. No, like even the stuff they drink smells of fish, and they get high and brainwash their neophytes with the stuff they extract from certain mollusks, some sort of neurotoxin that makes them “commune with the Mother”.

…Beware of Arnods bearing oysters.



Home for my clan was Northern Mikramurka, far enough north to have perpetual night whenever the family visited. One tiny town in the tundra, the vast snow blasted wastes etc etc. I hated it, always too cold, always dark, always full of people looking backward. Thank the spirits I only had to visit once a year.

Home for my family was the Sebiestor Tribe Bureau Station in Eram. The family ran a decent repair shop and shuttle rental service, I had a good home, I was happy. Then I passed the tests, I was compatible with the capsule. Back then signing on wasn’t really done by choice, The Republic needed capsuleers and very rarely took no for an answer. That did not go down well with the family. I don’t, I can’t go back to that station anymore, not welcome.

Home was the Pator Tech School in Ryddinjorn. Endless lessons, endless training, endless tests. Hated that place as well, full of people that were too full of themselves, too eager to stuff themselves full of cybernetics, too ready to take the gift of immortality and spend it killing and dying.

Home was the Matari Backbone, a good bunch of hardworking folk from all backgrounds that wanted to build things rather than tear them down, good friends, new family. This one is on me, I failed them, didn’t have the skill or the personality to hold things together, or perhaps I held too tight.

Home is this ship, whichever I need for the job in hand, combat, miner, hauler. Pretty much all the same from the pod.


One day when I was about 7 a group of men and women visited my home and took me away. I remember a lot of weird stuff was going on around this time and my parents, who were crew on a Sisters exploration vessel, were stoic about it, but clearly upset. Still, they gave me to these people. These were representatives of the Society of Conscious Thought, and the rest of my life I lived at a kitz, where the Society trained me for capsuleerhood. So I guess the Society was my first tribe. Later I considered joining a Caldari businessmans’ very successful corporation, due to the fact that I shared his vision of the world, I asked my teachers about it and the Society found this agreeable. So it is that the Imperium is my second tribe.

I really don’t want to talk about the Republic or Matar proper, to be perfectly honest.


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