Memoirs of a Capsuleer: wallel Audeles: Splintered Soul

I could only see tiny blurry white lights fading in and out of the black while I heard multiple voices echoing, “Who are you!? What are you doing here!?”. “I-I don’t…ugh. Who are…?” I hear shuffling of feet and clanging of metal as the voices moved closer. I thought to myself, “How did I get here?”

The sun slowly rose above the horizon of Duripant V; washing across the fertile land pulling back the dark cold blanket of night. My eyes opened to the sounds of hungry animals and the smell of a fresh new day waiting to be conquered. I took a quick glance at my wife as I got dressed and ready for the day. Sound asleep. Soon enough she’ll be chasing four kids around, feeding them, and trying to get Shanall to wear a shirt. I hope that girl grows out of that. Ha, 3yr olds are peculiar but it is their innocence and ignorance that set them apart from adults.

The trusty canine stirs to his feet as he hears me moving about inside preparing breakfast. I grab some homemade bread, put a pot of water on the stove and make some scrambled Huchi eggs. The eggs crackle in the pan as the water starts to boil all the while not another sound in the house could be heard other than the impatient pacing of the Sable (the trusty canine) as he knows he is about to be feed. I through in a handful of Junggy berries in a poured cup of boiling water and walk to the front porch with enough eggs and bread for me and Sable.
Sable

Sable and I sit on the covered porch eating and surveying the morning due on the land and formulate yet another plan on how to make this farm work even better. It’s not a failure by any stretch of the imagination but I would like to give the nicer things to my wife and kids. Used clothing and budget-friendly appliances fulfill our needs but I want to provide enough so they can get some of the “wants” they deserve.

As I stand up, Sable whines as the sound of hover engines move closer. “I bet it’s Jarash coming to try to buy those caves again.”, I said to Sable. He didn’t move a muscle. He continued to stare intensely in the direction of the noise. Odd. He usually doesn’t pay any mind to that jerk’s fancy ship. I noticed the sounds were a bit different and louder. As if, there were more. Yes. Definitely more. Stange. I can see an outline now. Who would come all the way out here? This is definitely going to slow down my already busy day. Hmmm? I think I can make out the shape. Weird it looks like, maybe? Nah. Not out here. What would they want with me, my wife and kids?

“No, no, no. No! NO! NO!NO!NO!” RUN! RUN NOW! GO! GO!” I yelled. Sable anxiously circled my legs barking his familiar warning bark. I’ve got to get’em away! I HAVE to get them away from here!

SERPENTIS!



Who are the Serpentis? by Delonewolf
delonewolf

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I frantically run into the house, fling my wife out of bed. Her bewildered look conveys she knows something is wrong. A scared ‘what?’ escapes her mouth. I looked straight into her eyes, whisper intensely, “Kruul’s men are coming.” Her expression turns from confusion to terror. She runs into the kid’s room, pulls them out of bed, and hurriedly puts their shoes on their feet. “Mommy, what’s going on? Where are we going?”. The children continue to yawn and rub their eyes not knowing the fear that runs through me and my wife’s veins.

Kruul is one of “The Seven”. A criminal organization, which split itself from the Serpentis a number of years ago. Led by the infamous Jakerion Pahydan, the Seven are known to operate brothels, casinos and pleasure hubs.

I hear the ships hovering nearer and nearer. Flaring up their engines to bring them to a halt. Finally, we feel the heavy jarring of the ground in conjunction with an audible thud as the landing gear touches down. I share a horrified look with my wife.

We hurry the children out the back but we are met by the charged weapons of Serpentis henchmen. They somehow snuck up from the rear of the house. The big show out front must have been a distraction while they closed in.

“This will do fine for our top side headquarters for the new underground research lab.” I hear from a refined, almost eloquent voice from the side of the house. I turn and look in surprise and with some amazement. I recognize the outfit from the news reports. It was Kruul himself.

“What do we do with them?” asked a henchman. “Kill them.” Kruul said so calmly, cold and uncaring it enrages me. I try to struggle from the grips of the two henchmen holding me tight. I can’t budge but it didn’t dissuade my efforts. My struggle brought Kruul’s attention briefly in my direction but something catches his eye just near me. “Oh wait second. She’ll do nicely. Oh definitely.” Kruul said through an obvious smile you could hear even though you can’t see his face through the helmet. My wife began to cries out, “No, wait I’m a mother. I have…” “Oh don’t worry.” He interrupted. “There’s a special market for that. I provide all the flavors for my clients.” With that, he turns and without missing a stride as the sound of laser rifles echoes off the rolling fields. All my children fall to the ground. Lifeless. Still. No screams. No whimpers. Nothing. There was no sound.

A moment later my wife cries out only in a way a mother in agony can. It is like nothing I have ever heard in my life. Like a soul is dying. I too feel the pain but that pain was transformed into a white-hot rage I can feel radiating from my body.

Just then Sable comes racing from around the corner barking and in full attack mode. He goes straight for henchmen holding my wife. I quickly break free from my captures and run toward my wife a few steps behind Sable. Sable leaps in the air and landed the perfect throat lock on one of the henchmen. He screams in pain but for a second. As his throat fills with blood, he guggles and falls to the ground. I reach for my wife’s hand and I see the flash of a laser rifle and watch Sable’s midsection be split open by the blast. He’s gone.

I squeeze my wife’s hand tight and turn to sprint toward the woods at the edge of the property. CLACK! A flash of white. I see the ground. Then darkness.

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Blurry. Spinning. Brightness. So much it hurts my eyes. My head throbs. As I come to with the pungent smell of musty stale air as it fills my nose followed by the smell of mud mixed with hay and animal manure which overpowers the initial smells. As I raise my throbbing head I feel my hands bound by bailing twine. I sense a presence and then an old familiar voice says, “welcome back, sweetheart.” I instantly recognize Jarash’s sarcastic tone. Great. This isn’t good. “Why am I here?” I know there has to be a link be between Kruul’s men arriving and Jarash but right now I don’t really care I need to find my wife.
“Looks like Kruul kept his word. I tell him where the underground caves are and he delivers you to me. Nice coincidence it screws you over twice. Haha!” Jarash struts around his barn as he tells me how smart he is. “Do you know what they did!? Why would you bring those kinds of people here?” I pause. My volume trails off to barely a whisper “They killed the kids and probably took my wife to work in one of the Casinos or Pleasure Hubs.”
“Sounds like a win for me!” Jarash perked up as if trying to lighten the mood. His absolute disregard for anyone other than himself fuels my rage inside I can feel growing. Unbeknownst to Jarash, I have been able to stretch his pathetic single knot and create enough room to free my hands.
He was always bad at simple tasks most farmers in the area should know. Ever since his childhood, his ungrateful belligerent attitude towards those who tried to correct him created a downward spiral in his local standing and his ever-worsening personality. The past decade or so he had been suspected of theft, dishonest business practices and some heard he was “unkind” to some women a few towns over. No story was ever a surprise to any of the townsfolk.
He raised his voice to a snarl. “I’ve always hated you. You and all of your perfect little family!” His animals picked up on his increase in energy and began to stir. “I’m gonna do to you what I did to the Menkalinan girl who laughed at me when I insisted she considers being my life mate.”
The hair on my neck stood up. The well-known story raced through my head. We heard she ran away to another world as some do who seek adventure in the stars or on some trade hub station. That clearly didn’t happen and since he clearly has the taste for killing I know he won’t hesitate.
He pivots slowly in my direction as he grips the handle of his curved machaíri as the late morning light bounced off the razor-sharp blade; I knew this was my time to act.

I quickly freed my hands, stand up, thrust my legs in opposite directions and snap one of the half-rotted ropes securing my legs to the chair. His slow-burn blood lust turned into a maniacal craze as he lets out a scream only to be described as animal-like. I whip my leg around using the chair as an extension of my foot. The blow lands squarely along his midsection. He’s down. I lean on the broken chair as it pins him to the ground. He flails like a wild beast of the woods but with no real purpose in his movements. My hand finds a broken-off piece of the chair and I strike as hard and as fast as I can. My blows find his face and head over, and over. He screams. I strike. His screams are garbled. I strike again. His legs slow their attempt to knock me off balance. I strike again. His arms fall flat on the ground. I strike again with the exhaustion of a marathon runner. Nothing. No sound. No movement.
My hands are shaking. Shaking so violently drops of blood are raining down. I know what I’ve done. I know what he has done. As the adrenaline leaves my body I feel no remorse. In fact, I feel numb. This situation is not nearly as important as finding my wife.

I walk into the house, find the kitchen sink and begin to wash the evidence away. Once I’m done I open the food storage locker and grab what I can carry and place it in a pile on the table. I find a nice newer coat in the hall closet with many pockets capable of carrying the food I have selected. I hop in Jarash’s hovercraft and make my way to the capital.

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far city

I use what ISK I have and some I stole from Jarash during my 12 day trip to Padrine. (Duripant III’s largest city) eve-files.com/media/corp/santaclaw/eve_news As I traveled through country towns and small cities I was haunted by my thoughts of the day Kruul and his men destroyed everything I cherished. The pain and sorrow became unbearable. When I finally arrived in Padrine I had no idea what to do. I wanted to find my wife but where do I start? I don’t know anything about finding people. I’m not some kind of detective, I’m a farmer.

I do the best I can but after being scammed a few times by charlatans stringing me along just enough to bleed me dry of ISK and the police obviously scared of or paid off by Kruul I find myself turning to alcohol and drugs to numb my self-loathing pain for failing to find my wife. All along with the added grief from the loss of my innocent children who will never grow up and experience the excitement of their wedding day or the joy of the birth of their own children I slip into a self-induced coma.
Powdered Cubensis
Rotgut
Spiked Quafe
Zydrine Burn
Zydrine Wine

7 months go by and I’m barely conscious enough to keep the odd job here and there. I sell the hovercraft to buy more of the temporary happiness found in bottles and pills. I also start learning a fair bit of street life since I can only manage to keep a shabby lean to because most of my wages go to numbing my torment. I get in fights. I lose some. I win some. My senses become sharper and more attuned to violence in alignment with my survival on the streets.

I wake up to a particularly average day on the streets of Padrine. I’ve just been paid and so I need to get my weekly fix of booze and pills. Off to Lantin Neniell, my local dealer. He’s slimy but he has decent stuff. It takes a few minutes to get to his alley and as I turn the corner I hear, “Hey there Wally! You must want only the goods that I can give! Ha-ha! Right?” I fire back without breaking stride. “Whatever. Douche bag.” This guy is so annoying. Why do I keep doing this to myself? “Hey man, be cool or you won’t get the fuel that makes you drool. Hehehe”. I reply in a sarcastic monotone, “Good to see someone is laughing at your jokes.” There, that stopped his cringe laugh and half toothed smile. His demeanor went from jovial to serious rather quickly.

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From around the corner, I hear then I see an equally disgusting looking and I bet a foul smelling group of street thugs with various blunt force makeshift weapons in their hands coming our way. They notice me but their attention is fixed on Sebastian’s business partner, Rozental. He is their focus and instantly my newly honed street instinct tells me this encounter will conclude with extreme violence.

I heard a rumor on the streets that Sebastian double crossed the wrong people and won’t be heard from anymore. This encounter is probably just to clean up of anyone who was part of that deal gone wrong.

I scan the area for a quick escape route. The thugs are blocking the only way in or out of the alley by foot but I notice a twisted metal fence separating the alley from an industrial delivery area. I slowly move toward the fence. “Hey, I didn’t say you could leave!” yelled the lead thug. The group continued their slow march toward the intended target while giving me glancing mean stares intended to keep me in my spot. I comply. This is not the time to draw attention to myself.

There’s the typical back and forth you would expect from these, we’ll say “business associates”. The argument about ISK for product and product quality all wrapped up in intentional or unintentional deceit is as old as the stars. The volume elevates. Tensions rise. I knew the final outcome was going to involve violence and I could feel that time was getting close.

Rozental has had enough. “Get back!” He pulls what looks to be a homemade blaster cobbled together with a lot of bad ideas. Rozental was known to be resourceful but not smart and this looks to be the culmination of those two efforts. Even from my distance, I can tell his fake bravado is steeped in absolute fear. Fear of being caught, fear of facing the consequences of his actions or fear of violence about to be bestowed on him; it doesn’t really matter. The stench of fear was obvious to everyone involved. The thugs take a few steps back as they were surprised by this brazen show of force but after the moment of shock passes, they take an aggressive stance and start circling Rozental.

Rozental is getting visibly nervous and unsure of what to do next. I can feel this situation coming to head in the next few seconds. Rozental lifts the baster ZZZZZZIINNN!! POW! Blood curdling screams are heard after the white flash subsides. 4 of the 7 thugs lay on the ground lifeless along with pieces of Rozental.

I turn to run out of the alley and I instantly hear the remaining 3 thugs running after me and yelling. Even though I’m clearly not involved I know they think I helped kill their friends. Wrong place at the wrong time and now I have to get myself out of this mess.

They’re too close. I can’t escape. This is it. I have no hope other than to fight. I abruptly stop and turn. Pull my concealed knife. Nothing special, just something I can hide in the sleeve of my forearm. I know this is a fight for my life. The fight is on!

I don’t know if it’s the culmination of all the street experience or the fact I was coming out of the drug induced fog since my supply had run out but I seem to know the attackers moves before they do. Things appeared slow to me. I moved like a solid fluid. Intentional, full of force and yet malleable enough to avoid whatever attack comes my way. As the attack hits the midpoint I hear the sirens of law enforcement approaching. No doubt the loud explosion of the homemade blaster brought unwanted attention.

I continue to move and strike when the opportunity presents itself and within a few more moments my eyes feverishly scan the area and detect no standing adversaries.

“DROP the knife!” yelled the police. Great. Another problem. Not sure how I’m gonna get out of this. As they rush me I knew my only hope was to play it cool. I have come to know some of the officers and for the most part, they may ruff you up a bit but if you play your role and give them what they want they usually go easy on ya. Basically just say, “yes sir” a lot.
police

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As expected, my face is shoved into the damp slimy concrete while they secure me and yank me to my feet. “All right, what happened here?”, one of the four officers asked. “OOOHHH, DAMN!” “Hey Wally?” I hate that nickname. When did I ever say that was my nickname? Never, that’s when. Right now that’s the least of my worries. Officer Maxim Aylet recognized me from some previous encounters. Most of which were positive. I basically got caught with a small amount of illegal contraband and he turned me into one of his eyes and ears on the street. Nothing terribly involved as I kept mostly to myself but I did know some of the players on the streets and I would observe actions that even in my eyes would cross the line such as killings, kidnappings and shopkeeper extortion so I had no problem giving them up.

“Yeah guys, he’s alright. We still gotta take you in and process ya.” Maxim smiled a bit, “This is a bit much to turn away from but good job taking those guys out.” His face turns inquisitive. “How DID you take out all those guys? I’m sure the cameras will tell us. Anyway, let’s go.” He motions to the transport. “I don’t want to stay late again. Let’s process him and go.”

Nothing out of the ordinary during processing. The normal hodgepodge of street scum loitering in various stages of being sent to jail or released. Not much rehabilitation happens, more of just a rotation until someone is killed or dies of natural overdose causes. The building smelled like the street covered with cheap perfume and cologne worn by the government employed office staff.

They take me to the standard interview room so I can give my statement of events. I’ve been here before but this time feels a little different. Usually, I get either the arresting officer or some sloppy desk jockey bumbling in, but I hear unknown voices outside the door this time.

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