Tell us your character backstory! (with prizes!)

Greetings Rubi-Ka!

With the anniversary of Anarchy Online comes a new contest!

The Backstory Creation Contest!

We need you to come up with a backstory for your character. A short example might read:

“Tomium was a huge Atrox, even for Atroxians. His neck was not unlike the ripples in a wave, crashing into the surface of his stern and rock solid chin. He didn’t know anything about a family, and sought to find anyone and everyone that knew something about him. With his favorite weapon, Lola, he fought for the Clan in the battle of Trooxnor, an oft overlooked siege that scarred him for life.”

Guidelines:

• The total length of your story needs to be at least 500 words, but no more than 1000.
• One entry per person only please.
• Keep your content forum friendly!

We will award 1300 points, an Uberleet Pack, and Anarchy Online Battlemat mousepad for one winner of the following categories:

• Most Lore Friendly
• Most Creative
• Most Detailed

And, for the best overall story, we have a unique prize IN ADDITION to the points and Uberleet Pack: We will put your story in the game! An NPC will regale the world with a summary of your character’s tale!
(This summary/dialogue will be created by Funcom staff and will be added in a future game update.)

We start this contest TODAY! Get your mind ready and start writing in this thread. We will close and lock the thread on Sunday July 6th at 1300 GMT / 9am EDT / 6am PDT! Make sure you are only posting your entries in this thread. If you would like to comment on posts, use this discussion thread to show your appreciation/comments.

After the contest is over, we will then pour over the entries to determine the winners. We wish you all the best of luck, and of course, our thanks for staying as passionate about the game as you were at day one.

Start posting your stories!

Story of Sturmfaust By Jacob Stroud -

INFORMATION REQUEST RESPONSE
Interdepartmental Information Archive Matrix Department
Omni-Administrative Services

REQUEST NO.: 22.03.29478-i845F90-345KH65
SUBMITTED BY: DOH!, JOHN
EMPLOYEE NO.: 8962-568IH-AXX-ORJ00957
DEPARTMENT: Omni-Tek Press Corp


Dear Mr. DOH!,

As per your request (22.03.29478-i845F90-345KH65) we have compiled a summary of archival data on SMALLS, STURMFAUST.


OMNI-MED
Records indicate a batch of Atrox given the surname "Smalls" (OMX-8783d4-53R3.17.04.29458) was released from the Omni-Med cloning facilities on April 17, 29458. The batch was certified nominal by Dr. Zachary Nitus and given indenturement contracts with Omni-Mining.


OMNI-MINING
There is a record of an Atrox by the name of Sturmfaust Smalls who worked for Omni-Mining from 29458 to 29462. Sturmfaust Smalls was employed on a standard 10 year indenturement contract with Omni-Mining, assigned to Mine 63(a) located in northern Clon****. It was mildly injured in a mining accident and fell ill during the recovery. When it violated the alloted sick leave period it failed to show up for work. An arrest warrant for indenturement violation (OTRK-OP-5829FD) was issued on November 15, 29462.


OMNI-POL
The time period 29461 to 29470 was marked by an upsurge in criminal activity roughly coinciding with the third Rubi-Kan civil war, as civil security forces were reallocated to meet the Clan threat. During this period a number of powerful organized crime families came to power. One of the largest of the period was the Pisani family, led by the infamous Don Mario "Pugface" Pisani. Don Pisani had criminal operations in nearly every city on Rubi-Ka involved in gambling, smuggling, counterfeiting, racketeering, and many other crimes. The main centers for these operations were Omni-1, Omni-2, and Tir.

There is significant evidence that a "Sturmfaust Smalls" was a high ranking "heavy" for Pisani's organization. He was arrested for a number of small misdemeanors that were connected to Pisani through circumstantial evidence in the period from early 29463 to 29471. There also was one audio recording taken during an undercover Omni-Pol investigation where Pisani was heard to say "Tony, Marco, Sturmie, break his f***ing legs..." This was followed by the undercover officer getting his legs broken.

During the '71 crackdown on corruption and organized crime, Omni-Pol stormed a nightclub called "The Truck-Shaped Atrox" located in the Clon**** slums, which was operated by Smalls. This "speakeasy" was actually a front for a strip club, which was a front for a brothel, which was a front for a gambling ring, which was a front for a large smuggling operation with strong ties to the Pisani family. Needless to say, it was a major blow for both Pisani and Smalls. Due to a long string of mysterious clerical errors, Smalls was released on bail.

Meanwhile, Pisani was involved in a low level gang war with his main rival, the Alpha Triad. The leader of the Triad, Leung Rongji, was losing badly and decided to call a truce. Pisani agreed to meet with him, only to find out that Rongji had cut a deal with Omni-Pol; Pisani was perma-killed during the resulting confrontation. In the chaos that followed Marco "Scarfoot" Capri, Toni "Macaroni" Tonitini, and Smalls assassinated Rongji and several of his lieutenants.

That day went down in infamy as "Bloody Wednesday Midafternoon", although the mayhem continued nonstop for several weeks. Over the years power had consolidated behind the two rival organizations; with their leaders dead there was an immediate balkanization of power as rivals tried to claw their way to the top, resulting in a massive free-for-all gang war. This infighting took it's toll on organized crime in Omni-1 and allowed Omni-Pol to easily clean up the mess. In Tir, Pisani's operations were violently overthrown by a rival street gang called the Str8 Ballerz. In Omni-2, individual criminals kept their operations going but without any unity or cooperation. Operations in other areas vanished without support.

During the assassination of Rongji, the Alpha Triad's headquarters was destroyed by several large explosions with Pisani's men inside. While all three men's insurance were tagged by Omni-Pol, only Tonitini appeared at the reclaim terminal. He was sentenced to hard labor for life in a mine on the western frontier. Capri and Smalls were declared dead by insurance failure on October 29, 29471 at 25:31 RKST.


We hope that this information meets your needs Mr. JOHN DOH!.
Omni-Tek is your friend.

The winds blew enough force and sand in them to strip the paint off a shelter and more than enough to strip the flesh from your bones if you didn't have a bio suit or armour.
They waited, Omni mining shelters where built for just that, shelter, not for comfort. The noise was incredible it had been for hours, perhaps days.
3 days they had been there holding out while the water ran dry, 3 days with no way of knowing they would not die, "they" where an Omni mining core slaves to all intents and purposes, no say in how and when they worked, they had come to make the big bucks and leave, it was a common story then friendships, even love had happened, plans got changed...
3 days ago, they had tried, tried to step out and make their mark as a community, this had been met with extreme violence and brutality, people were shot even their children had gotten hurt, and now tempers flared, so a small battle had ensued, half of them where nothing more than memories, the remains already nothing more than scattered dust outside the dome since the storm hit.
Many thought this was it, their time was over that the minute the storm broke and the Omni guards got to this shelter, their dreams of freedom over or already flagging there was nothing to do but bicker amongst themselves.
"We are doomed"
"Shut up you idiot"
"You shut the hell up!"
"Make me!"
A small fight develops, neither fighter has much to give thirst and hunger sapping their strength
"Pack it in you idiots! The ones you should be fighting are outside laughing at us"
"Well he shouldn't..."
Boom ..The voice trails off into silence..
Boom
"What the hell is that?"
Boom
"Stop mucking around!"
Boom
"Yeah right it's all my fault you paranoid idiot!"
Boom
A voice of child breaks the moment.
"It’s… someone’s outside"
"Shut up you stupid kid, no one is outside, outside is death"
Boom
Another voice cuts in through the darkness
"Hey don't speak to her that way !"
"I'll speak to her anyway I please!"
Boom
"Erm people, I think the kids right, that is someone outside"
Boom
“Well someone go take a look then!"
Boom
"Screw that, I'm not going out there!"
Boom
Another voice, perhaps driven by desperation chirps in
"ok ok, tough guy I'll go look"
"yeah right you go look, more water for the rest of us"
Boom
"you’re such a swine I swear"
"yeah well at least I'm not dumb enough to go out there"
Boom
"well screw you if we're all going to die here then I'm going!"
A frail figure moves to the door, opens the inner sphincter and steps inside, the door closes behind her, with nothing to lose she pulls on what little protection the mining helmet gives and codes in the sequence for the outer door..
Boom

A figure falls into the hatchway, the colour of the dessert, the wind laps around the door already doing it's damage to the armour she wears.. in blind panic without checking she closes the out hatch and opens the inner one.
The wind still howls outside at hundreds of miles an hour, but a solemn silence has fallen on the miners, most of them look in awe at what has come in from the storm.
"You stupid cow!" Cracks the silence for everyone
Before she can answer the verbal onslaught continues
"it could be anything, some plague ridden animal for all we know, you've only brought death upon us!"
"I..." is all she can say before the unfamiliar voice speaks
" shut up all of you"
A stunned silence follows, as the figure that came in from the storm slowly stands helping it's self-up via a table, and slowly removes what they all hope is a helmet.
His face blinks in the low light of the shelter, how old is impossible to guess, insurance terminals on Rubi-Ka can use years old scans, but something in the darkness in the eyes suggests age beyond the rest of his face, an unnerving figure to say the least.

"Thank you"
Still stunned silence prevails
" I am Caloss, my name does not matter, but I will answer to it"
"How did you.."
"Survive outside in the .."
Baahm, the dust leaps from the table as he smashes the helmet he still held in his hands into the surface of the table.
"This “ he pauses and nods to the helmet in his outstretched arm, but maintaining his gaze “is clan armour, not the best there is, but it is ours"
"What’s this 'ours' **** Caloss?" he doesn’t answer but responds.
"you knew you were dead the minute you held up in here didn't you?"
"well we.."
The moment passes and Caloss continues
"you knew right?"
"we.."
"you dam well knew it..right?"
"I ..guess but we.."
"you choose to fight and die before taking it from Omni-Tec any longer "
"well that makes you clan to me "
"yeah but don't have any.."
"shut the hell up and listen to me if you want to live!"
Again the silence falls on our friends in the shelter but with and edge of trepidation, the air outside is violent and deadly, but carries none of the gravity the air inside now seems to.
"Hey who the.."
The voice is cut off in mid-sentence by a look by the stranger
"What supplies do you have?"
no-one answers the question, perhaps the truth is hard to admit or perhaps the gaze from those ancient eyes stifles even the strongest shout.
"If you wish to live; I will need this information"
The old woman, the one that has let this scorpion into their shelter speaks first.
“Maybe two days of water, another in food"
The stranger looks around the room, his gaze cold and calculating, probing every item every person on some level, there is no expression at all.

It was an eerily silent afternoon under a bleak sky as a skinny male nanomage in a white robe materialised through a whom-pah with his head hung low.
He managed to stumble a few feet to the edge of Rome Red's great pool before his emotions got the better of him – and he ripped the Omni-Med-Intern swatch from his uniformed robe and cast it into the once tranquil waters.
Months he had spent in training and yet his technique with healing nanobots was as inept as his first day at Omni-Med induction. No... he was even worse now!

A small electronic chime notified him that his last Omni-med pay-check had entered his account.

It read:
Omni-Med
Junior Medical Intern
Salary: 50,000cr.
Deductions: 49,999 – Damages to Omni-Med laboratory equipment at Research Station Theta.
Pay: 1cr.
Employment Terminated.

He sighed, trying to mask with an air of mild frustration, the vice-like grasp of despair squeezing his heart.
It hadn't been his fault! The healing nanobots he had been working with had literally rebelled at being in proximity to him and in an effort to escape his apparently inimical aura they had rampaged through countless seals and force barriers. Exposing most of the facility to near-deadly viral infection, explosive decompressions, rad-burns and plasma leaks.
How he'd manage to walk out of there unharmed when his colleagues had been stricken with burns, lacerations and more than a few cases of novictum-pox, was a source of great confusion and antipathy towards him.

His short-lived medical career was over.

He spent the next few weeks as his credit account dwindled looking for work; any work – but his reputation as an agent of catastrophe preceded him. He was forced to sell off what few possessions he owned to keep his Rome apartment.

As depressing as all this was, he maintained his resolve that somehow he'd turn things around.
That fleeting hope for the future kept him going until the day his last lifeline gave out.
His only source of nourishment, his apartment's discount nutripaste dispenser - made a fizzling sound. Suddenly, its input panel cracked as the entire thing malfunctioned and smoke began to ooze from its nozzles.
“No!” he cried.
He hadn't the credits required to repair it... he hadn't the credits to buy real food... he hadn't the skill to fix it... he was due to be evicted in a week and he hadn't any friends or family on this infernal rock of a planet to help him... he had nothing.

It was then, in that state of sheer woe and desperation that this hapless medical intern executed a swiftly and inexpertly crafted healing nano-program on the malfunctioning nutripaste dispenser, in the vain hope of repairing it.
The resulting unexpected explosion was colossal and it lit up the horizon like a rising sun.
Rome shook as emergency force fields designed to contain and protect against the detonations of clan atomics struggled to withstand the maelstrom of unleashed energy.
Lights across the surface of Rubi-Ka dimmed for a few seconds as the planetary power grid was momentarily drawing every available joule.

The last nanobots he'd ever program to heal had (predictably) malfunctioned and instead of dissipating harmlessly against the mechanical dispenser as they should have – they had decided instead to “heal” the nutripaste.
This being an impossible task; they decided to try anyway and to get the job done they drew upon the near limitless energy from the building's readily available access to the Omni-Tek power grid.
Power grids being largely protected against aliens; terrorists; agents and hackers – but not typically against infiltration by microscopic robotic physicians.

In the crucible of this bio-energetic calamity were birthed a few trillion notum-infused biological structures reminiscent of human fat cells which the nanobots decided to inject directly into the nearest suitable receptacle for safe keeping. Noticing this recepticle (or their 'creator' as it so arrogantly referred to itself in their basecode) was a little damaged in the blast; they repaired it, not for its own sake ofcourse, just to make sure none of their hard work leaked out.

Emergency crews arriving at the devastated apartment building reported in horror that they had found an enormous mound of softly glowing flesh at the scene; only later realising after some exploratory prodding with shock batons that this blob was actually a citizen of Rome instead of some strange subway-mutant.
After covering him in a rather wide blanket his more humanoid features become clear as the lumbering mountain of a man finally sat up; took in the devastation around him and apparently; grinned.

The explosion in Rome and its unusual survivor were understandably the top story on several grid feeds for a few days, but things died down once the event was classified as an accident and the inevitable next big story claimed the news streams.

Omni-Tek Research paid a few handsome bribes to ensure that the full story was kept out of the grid feed. The former medical intern, codenamed “Nanofat” was inducted into their facility for Nano-Technician training. Where he reportedly found his true calling and has worked as an Omni-Tek Nano-Technician Specialist ever since.

Apparently; notum-saturated danger-magnets are exactly the sort of people they're looking for.

This story is based on actual events, that happened during AO life spand.

... Long ago on Rubi Ka there was conflicts among two well known factions, The Redeemed and The Unredeemed. Who fought against eachother in a neverending Notum War.
Both sides are willing to do just anything to win the war and bring submission to their opponents. But what they both didnt realized is, it doesnt matter who wins or loses, the war will keep on going.
At first it seemed like the conflict is about Good versus Evil, but as the war prolonged, a young Nemaless freshman from the Clan "Unknown Origins" understood that both Good and Evil was fighting for the same cause. They are both competing against each other to achieve the same goal.
Even-though there are major differences and conflicts between The Redeemed and Unredeemed. But in reality both sides are driven by same hate towards each other. They are both fighting for the benefits of their own self, and not for the benefits of the weakest ...

The warlords from Unknown Origins later realized that the war is not about The Redeemed and Unredeemed, Good versus Evil. Because both sides of the conflicts are basically the same, and it is there-for pointless to keep on fighting.
Most warriors of Unknown Origins clan retired from warfares, some remained Clan, some passed away in real life and some just disappeared or submerged with the inhabitants of Rubi Ka.
However, there is still one that remained, Nemaless, a freshman with lowest experiences in warfare of all among the Unknown Origins members, decided to make some changes.

One year later he managed to build, trained and lead a small inexperienced group into Notum Wars and gained countless victories against both The Redeemed and The Unredeemed with his strategy inspired by the greatest general of all time and the teacher of The Art of War, Sun Tzu.
There is not much details that has been revealed regarding this newly founded group, but they are known as UNIDENTIFIED among their enemies, and rumors has it that fighting against this group is like fighting ghosts ...

After a couple of years and countless victories, Nemaless and his group successfully took over majority of tower sites throughout Rubi Ka. Other Neutral groups like The Defiant, Neutral Nation, Elite Operations and Pigeon Conspiracy joined the fight soon after, which created even stronger group, an army.
This army took down almost every sites they actually aimed for. It was so easy that they start getting bored, because for these froobs the hard part was not bringing down enemy towers, but finding Neutral organizations to plant and defend their new tower sites.
Luckly, one of the thing that these guys likes the most is the explosions of control towers. It feels almost like new years eve, and the smokes that pours out when towers took enough damage makes nice view.

At some point this group dont care spending much time searching for Neutral organizations for planting CT. Which gave opportunities for The Redeemed and Unredeemed to ninja plant sites that UNIDENTIFIED group have taken down.
Sometimes when they came back to the site with Neutral organization planter, only to discover a brand new tower which has been ninja planted by either Equilizers from The Redeemed or Unredeemed Insanity INC. On top of this, UNIDENTIFIED were being accused by The Unredeemed for fighting for The Redeemed, and vice versa due to this ninja planter issues ...

The truth is, UNIDENTIFIED is fighting for the The Neutral faction. But one early Spring day at the battle of Galway County they took heavy casualties due to their strategy did not work as planned. When they fought against Nemaless former comrades, who are today known as UNKNOWN.
What UNKNOWN did not know is Nemaless used to be their weakest, but most beloved member back in the days.
Due to Nemaless and UNKNOWN used to fight together along side in battlefields, UNKNOWN are there-for familiar with Nemaless tactics and strategies. Nemaless got defeated by UNKNOWN and had to retreat with his men into exile.
While in exiles, these Neutral froob warriors enjoyed their 5% side xp for the first time, and started to make new and better toons, and had fun with PVM, level up and enjoyed the game just like back in those wonderful days, when they were new to the game.

A long, old-fashioned office lay dormant. Glowing from the ceiling skylight, the Rubi-Kan suns illuminated cigar smoke into a golden haze. The mist lingered around the mahogany desk in the bowels of the department as a shadowed figure exhaled, his polished black boots raised onto the expensive wood.

The leather executive chair creaked as the figure leant forward into the diffused beams of sunlight. Lit up on his left side, the light presented a man of experience, his blue-green steely gaze pierced through the shadows with ease – a trait which led him to delve deep within the steel and sands of Rubi-Ka for the rust that grows as long as the planet breathes with life.

It all began too long ago for him to remember with clarity, his early memories burnt into a haze like the prized cigars he kept within his desk. The imported origins of his desk, cigars, and scotch contrasted however with his early memories, exported forcefully beyond his reach.

The official reports of the time suggested a shuttle crash within the borders of Tir County, confirmed by the Omni-Med doctors attending to his injuries. They told tales of a miraculous survival despite the lack of insurance for new arrivals. They told tales of the daring extraction by OTAF, on behalf of the agency whom considered him a valuable asset. They told tales of amnesia and cybernetic replacements being an unfortunate cost.

But they were just that to him, an elaborate fabrication of the truth.

With each day that passed, he began to be taunted by flashes of memory momentarily ripping through the veil placed over him. In his own veiled search for answers, he unwittingly became the tool the agency needed, forgetting himself the more he tried to remember.

Right now, however, he was in search of his scotch.

He extended his right hand towards the glass bottle seated on his desk, the glass ornately etched with a classic design. The bottle clinked to his ungloved touch, the scotch within casting a refracted pattern of light that danced over his cold grip.

The golden light of the office bleached a sudden burning white. With a yell of pain, the whirring and beeping of machinery rose from the mirage of the desk, etching their own designs of steel and circuits melded with flesh. They performed tirelessly like a macabre show for the desires of the suited observers.

The burning white light extinguished itself with the rest of the performance, leaving another scar in his dishevelled mind. Another rip in the veil.

He refocused his thoughts to reality. The top of the bottle lay shattered around his cybernetic hand, clenched with inhuman strength.

“Detective, I am detecting elevated cortisol levels in your system. I do not detect any identifiable cause.”

NETWORK, the resident artificial intelligence, echoed through his mind with the advanced implantation Omni-Com had to offer. The stress had alarmed the AI, and he knew without doubt it was not something to be revealed.

“Nothing. Jus' remembered I 'ave a meetin' with Eva Pourais tomorrow.” replied the man, his voice as gruff as his persona.
The AI did not reply. He assumed it would accept his explanation as a justifiable cause, given how imposing any meeting with the CEO of OTRK is – particularly with her, the continuing head of Omni-Reform.

She probably knew the truth. But he had to play the game.

The cybernetic eye beneath his scarred right brow glowed a dark red through the shaded half of his face, as he scrutinized and extracted shards of glass from his scotch with calculated efficiency. He wasn't going to give up one of his many vices that easily. With care in the second attempt, he refilled his glass with the soothing nectar that fleetingly warmed his soul.

Exhaling in relief, he turned to look at the holoscreen on his desk. The nanobot emitters creating the imagery cast a faint blue tint to his InternOps custom-issue coat and brushed back blonde hair.

“Access files on Project Providence.”

“Please state name and clearance.” replied the cold programming of the system.

“Validius Hunt, Department of Investigations.”

https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/9297632/valhunt.jpg

You know me today as Trader Jill. For years I have fixed your weapons, crafted your armor and secured your contraband. For many, this is all that you know of me. But there was a time, when I was not known as Trader Jill.

I was born into this world as Amelia Jillian Obscura, Eldest daughter of Christopher and Madelynn Obscura, neutral citizens residing in a small settlement just southwest of Newland City. My parents were some of the most caring and generous people you'd ever meet. Both of them, doctors by profession, spent their time assisting less fortunate souls who might otherwise be without medical aid of any kind. The location of our camp meant that our closest neighbors were members of the Clan faction. Some of them seemed quite distrustful of anyone that wasn't Clan but conditions didn't allow them to turn away humanitarian aid, even in the form of Neutrals. Quite often I accompanied my parents in their travels and therefore early on became aware of the brutality of a world at war. From battle wounds to torture, it seemed as if Omni-Tek had no limits on the atrocities it would inflict to further its own interests. The more I witnessed, the more I wanted to do my part to ease the suffering of those I encountered.

Being neutral, we were able to travel freely in both Omni-Tek occupied and Clan settled areas. Oh how I used to love visiting Omni-Tek cities. There were tall buildings, flashing lights and everything was pristine all around. This was a major contrast to Clan cities, like Old Athen, that looked to be nothing more than slightly renovated junkyards littered with half knocked down buildings, trash and debris.

Neutrality has its benefits. I can't remember a time where I wanted for anything. In addition to their humanitarian efforts, my parents also served as Omni-Med consultants. They filled in, as needed, and offered their medical expertise in exchange for healthy sums of Omni-Tek issued credits. The funds they received were used to provide us with a very comfortable lifestyle in addition to giving me the best Omni education money could buy.

While my parents did not want to be involved in the conflict between Clans and Omni-Tek, they respected my right to choose for myself. In an effort to insure that my eventual choice would be an educated one, they split my time between Omni-Tek schools and Clan training camps.

My time with Omni-Tek opened my eyes to the world of commerce. I seemed to naturally excel not only in the areas of business and accounting but also in mechanical engineering and weapon smithing. The result was that by the age of 23, I'd established my own custom armor and weapon shop located in Rome Green. Though 55% of all profit was paid as tax to Omni-Tek, I still amassed a small fortune from my designs. I made my younger sister, Janice, general manager of my store. She had a keen nose for business but wasn't as driven to start her own.

Though my wealth originated with Omni-Tek, my true passion has always been in helping others. My time with the Clans showed me the meaning of loyalty, honor and respect. My 'fancy' Omni education resulted in a lot of my Clan classmates taking pleasure in knocking me on my ass during fight training. It didn't take long for me to realize that hand to hand combat was not quite my thing. Unfortunately, I also wasn't very good at aiming a pistol which is probably why I fell in love with my first shotgun. With a shotgun, my aim didn't have to be perfect.. it just had to be close.

Living in both worlds wasn't easy at first, but after a couple years my classmates started to look past me being Neutral and I made quite a few friends. The same eventually applied to my business. My Omni-Tek customers quickly stopped snubbing me when they realized I had the best product in town

Though I was neutral, I signed an agreement with Omni-Tek that in exchange for being able to sell to their citizens I would not provide any product or service to any member of the Clans. In the name of financial security, I made peace with this arrangement. What I was too blind to realize, however, was that Janice could not. She felt that the agreement was just another way that Omni-Tek was using Neutrals to further their own interests. Janice began secretedly selling my products to members of the Clans. I trusted Janice, so while I reviewed our records, I never suspected that I needed to look deeper into what she labeled as 'bulk sales'.

The night that I became Clan is one that I will never forget. I awoke to the sound of an explosion. I was sure that our front door had just been blown in. I reached for the shotgun I kept by my bed and rushed to the hallway. The intruders started to identify themselves as members of Omni-Security.. something about arresting me and my sister for treason? I saw a guard dragging her out of her bed and.. I... just.. reacted. When all was done, my ears were ringing from the firing of my shotgun. In the hall lay the dead bodies of 5 Omni-Security officers. My sister stood nearby, visibly shocked by the scene around us.

Janice immediately explained the crime she committed. It was at that moment that I realized, I could never be Neutral again. By morning, every Omni-Security officer in the city would be looking for us. My days as respectable, Amelia Obscura were gone.

Hours later we were on the road, headed to the home of a Clan friend I knew we could trust. My sister turned to me and jokingly said "You're a traitor now sis". I couldn't help but laugh as I replied, "Yeah, I guess you're right.. I'm Trader Jill."

The broken shore falls paint rainbows on the clear day. Following the information he has gotten in Newland, a stressful reporter approaches a set of cabins nearby, picking one of those, and entering the darkness of the makeshift shack. Inside, he finds a chaotic display of ammunition, vehicle parts and handwritten reports.

“Going in uninvited?” he heard as an imposing solitus approaches. The complete OFAB armor that man is wearing save for the helmet adding more to the reporter nervosity.

“Hum, yes, uh, I am looking for… Vincent Delage, Boltgun?” mumbles the reporter trying to not break eye contact with the soldier. “For an interview, I am making a compilation of backstories, of sort...”

Vincent looks at the reporter with an intrigued stare for a few seconds before letting out a suppressed laugh. He starts a coffee machine while pulling a rusty steel chair towards the reporter. “Of course!”, he says with his French accent, “You’d better take a seat and have a coffee, because the story of my life is going to amaze you!”.

“My life has been a complete dedication to war and battle. I was born in the most fearsome warrior clan this galaxy have seen. Living under harsh conditions, the young of my tribe had to fight since we knew how to walk, until the day we must complete our rite of passage. At the age of 16, I was dropped into the outzone, with no clothes or equipment and I was to bring back a trophy. With only my wits and a makeshift bow, I tracked a dragon to its lair and...”

“Err, that is not what it is written on your file.” says the reporter, holding a cardboard folder bearing an Omni Pol logo, almost bursting with documents. Boltgun took it from the hands of the reporter and started reading each page, giggling from time to time. “It is like reading a souvenir album!”, the soldier yells, “There’s that time I blew up a juggernaut in Borealis, what a riot it was. Oh and here the officer wrote that I am a complete pain in the arse!”

The soldier throws the folder over his shoulder, scattering papers on the floor. “Okay, I lied. Here’s my story. I was born on a decent family in Nicaea, planet Var. This planet, you see, is a Sol Banking property with the best climate you can imagine. But if you search about it, it is now infamous for its political… difficulties.” The soldier marks a paus, taking a sip of coffee. “My father, Ange Delage, was a Sol general with contacts with the higher hierarchy. I used to take advantage of this to obtain implants and rudimentary nanotechnology for myself. That was not Rubi Ka, mind you, but if you can maintain a shield for ten seconds out there, you get quite popular. Notum did cost an arm, but that was rich child hobby if you’d call it.”

“But like most kids, I got rebellious at my father. Economy was bad at that time and I knew something big was about to happen. I left home and joined a rebel group, the Azuran Liberators, using a nickname. That’s where I got this ‘Boltgun’ callsign and it stuck since those days. As I was so well augmented, I took risky tasks, hoping to win the guerrilla as quickly as possible, but a revolution does not stay clean. Soon Sol Banking engaged its loyal army and I was going from bloodbaths to bloodbaths. It turned out that I am really good at this… I think you’d prefer have the fake story now.”

The reporter waves, looking left and right nervously: “No, no, no… I don’t mind, please keep talking…”.

“Fine, so I was wounded in battle, and spent nearly a month in a coma. I recovered, thanks to my implants and left the care to learn that the government got toppled in my absence. This is where I realized how wrong I was because executions of official followed. My family house was stormed by rebels, among so many others, and my family was scattered. What happens next is blurry, but in the end, I fled the planet.”

“I made my way to Rubi Ka and lived in the underground for a year without picking a side, I am way past that now. A neutral organization took me under its wing while I worked as a mercenary. Time went by and I met new people, RUR, the Council of Truth, Omni Pol... as a friend, a foe and quite often as both. Being of every front let you be someone here. I still have a score to settle with Sol Banking, mind you, but they prefered to let me live here so far.”

“I witnessed the formation of the Newland City Council under the direction of Zephrem King. I saw the occasion here to repay the neutrals and offer them my particular skills. No matter how good or bad the council’s intentions are, they always need that guy with the rocket launcher.”

“Speaking of which you obviously do too! Why else would you meet me in such a remote location?” said the soldier while looking outside through a crack in the walls. “Because we have bandits outside... eight of them, not very well armed.”.

The young journalist's eyes widen and started babbling apologizes, he had published informations concerning a band of low profile criminals and death threats kept coming at his mailbox. He was told that he could find someone to protect him.

“No worries.” said Boltgun while flipping a table for cover. “I get into other people’s trouble all the time. Just hide here while I solve your issues.”

The reporter hid behind the table as the soldier picked an assault rifle walked outside. He covered his ears in an attempt to escape the gunfire, the explosions and a sinister laugh.

Borealis: One year earlier.

Alexo was standing near the whompas on the outskirts of the town. He looked at the bustling street, leading down the hill. He pulled a small flask from a jacket pocket, snapped its lid, and tipped it. Hit-The-Floor-Jack. The strange Rubi-Ka liquor stung deep and strong, warmth spreading from his stomach. A large reet bird hung overhead, tacking against the breeze, slid sideways and vanished behind the grey concrete building. He shivered with the freedom of it, the serene glide of the big bird. This planet had so many bizarre creatures.

Alexo Wilder had been a soldier for most of his adult life although he usually didn’t wear a uniform. He was a mercenary, his employers usually large companies warring covertly for the control of precious resources.

He was also a perpetual outsider, a rogue soldier adrift on the secret oceans of corporate wars. Not many soldiers had his capacity to casually realign his loyalties to fit a change of employers. Nor had many his unyielding commitment once a contract had been signed. He had drifted into military mercenary work in his early twenties. He had done well, considering his general lack of ambition. He had an athletic poise that impressed his managers customers, wore clothes right, had a way with tech, and he was quite intelligent.

Most of his assignments had been on Prime and he had been surprised when his company had been contacted from a group from Rubi-Ka. He had barely heard of the planet but he recalled they had ran an ad campaign on off-prime planets. The contract terms had been simple. Assist the group known as the Borealis Freedom Fighters in their war against Omni-Tek in their homeland.

The rebel group was severely outgunned against the much better equipped Omni-AF soldiers and Omni-Pol officers, but obviously had some powerful financial backers since he and his associates were not cheap. He thought about the most recent intelligence regarding their enemy. A high ranking Omni-Tek general by the name Rosuma had commissioned a new type of soldiers, calling them "Riot Specialist" as a counter to large scale gatherings in the town. They were apparently outfitted with devastating nanoprograms and this could potentially be a problem. They had successfully killed a number of regular Omni-AF and Omni-Pol troops during the last few weeks but if you would believe the Omni general, this was something entirely different..

A dark figure came marching up the hill toward him, a senior Omni-tek officer. Shiny black boots, a dark grey Omni-Tek command cloak. According to his contract he would get a 200 percent bonus for assassinating higher Omni-Tek officers. Was he Omni-AF or Omni-Pol? Does not matter, he was obviously high ranking.

As the man passed, his face immobile behind mirrored blue sunglasses, Alexo noted the Yatamutchy X-3 Counter-Sniper Rifle. Omni-Officers obviously had good taste when it came to weapons. He followed the man discreetly. Bingo, he was turning left into a smaller alley behind the closed subway station and there were no other Omni troops near. The man suddenly stopped and began turning around. Alexo raised his Cast-Off DNA-Targeted Executioner Pistol with both hands and extended his arms, pointing it directly at the Omni-Tek officer in front of him. Prepare for reclaim he thought and pulled the trigger.

Pondo grimaced. This was the end. He readied his gai-tenso blade, an elegant weapon of exotic making given to him by his closest companion, and steeled himself against the coming tide. He only had a moment, but what a moment he would have. This moment would consist of other moments. His limited time be turned for a time to the somber recollection of his past. Rubi-ka in all of her harshness would be forced to grant him that, and she could not take it away from him once she had.

His fight was no small affair, but a conflict amongst the stars. Fought for ideals, for profit, and for sheer survival. Both at home on shining Rubi-ka, and abroad. His lot was cast for him, in a sense. He had been painstakingly forged from scientific ambition, all of them had been. The latest success story of Omni-Tek. One innovative development in a nearly unfathomably long line of them. He did not recoil from this fate, though he would see many insubordinate employees and creations do in his time with them. It was no great question of loyalties. For him, the company slogan rung as true as it ever could. Omni-Tek was his family.

In the beginning, that family was stern and expected much of him. He was not given the opulence of Omni-1, nor the idyllic holdings of the corporation near the bustling streets of Rome. His surroundings did not belie the nature of his work. He was merely a cog in the gargantuan machine. For some time, he would be more drone than man. Set about on this errand and that. Often being brought into disputes as dumb muscle, or to do menial labor on a developing project. Though this work was grueling, he learned much of the world and his place in it. He took comfort in this, and in the sporadic but mostly genuine praise of his superiors. He dreamt of a chance to prove himself to the company in a more fulfilling way, but that chance would not come for some time. At least, not to the whole company.

He had been finding himself more and more in the role of the hired goon as of late. A position which he excelled at. Forgoing the typical attributes expected of those in his line of work, he found his all too clever nano-bred mind an invaluable asset in convincing and conniving. Though he did employ more traditional methods when the situated demanded, and he was no slouch in a fight. A skill-set that earned him both the respect of his peers, and the attention of one man with considerable ambition.

These days were the beginnings of what would be the full scale Clan rebellion. It was a cause for concern amongst OT civilians, and a serious blow to Omni notum mining operations. Amongst Omni-Tek's enterprising employees, however, it was a chance for glory and advancement. This chance fell to both Pondo, and his soon-to-be mentor, a NipponTech heir turned Omni-Tek employee by the name of Nocturugi.

Nocturugi had sought out a position at the company after famlial disputes left him disdainful of even a comfy life on the Japanese homeworld. Determined to prove his worth on his own terms, he had forsaken cushy job offerings in management and opted instead for a position on Rubi-ka as a middling security official. Normally cushy enough by itself, but the destabilizing political situation left him doing more things hands-on than one would expect.

This was the fateful series of events that drew he and Pondo together. Nocturugi was set to travel abroad on Rubi-ka attempting to prepare the various OT mining towns and outposts for further Clan attacks and insurgency, and he needed people at his side to ensure his task's completion. His death would greatly impede efforts to secure Omni interests, and he fully expected Clan assassination attempts. As he combed through applicable employee files he stumbled upon Pondo's accolades as a skilled, if underutilized, enforcer. He had Pondo brought in for inspection, and he took an immediate liking to both him and his methods. Pondo was then made lead of a security detail, sworn to defend Nocturugi's life as he worked toward the company's goals.

The first of many of these expeditions went rather smoothly. Minimal Clan activity was noted, and the proper preparations were made. This time was by far the least taxing on Pondo in years. Finally he saw the more grandiose life afforded to even the more modest Omni citizens. He and Nocturugi became fast friends. Their long stretches between inhabited OT land filled with small talk and the occasional, and greatly crowd-pleasing, tales of the Japanese homeworld afforded to his companions by Nocturugi.

The peaceful nature of these efforts would not last, however. Nocturugi's entourage had now been targeted more than once by Clan sympathizers and agitators. The settlements became increasingly more split toward his visits, and the air was tense. This all reached a fever pitch in a small and extremely vulnerable OT notum mining facility in the deserts north-west of Athen. While Nocturugi was set to the task of meeting with the local officials and determining readiness, a worker revolt occurred. The laborers, bolstered by a Clan patrol from the nearby sands, demand surrender of the facility to the Clans.

Nocturugi and Pondo, holed up with the mine leadership, were left with few options. Pondo had the rest of the security team hold the line while he and Nocturugi slipped out the back with the mine officers. The line held, but the facility was surrounded. There was no way out but through. A Clan scout spied the duo and their charges, and called a dozen Clan soldiers on them.

The fighting was intense. Sadly, the mine operators fell under the assault. It was all the two could do to merely watch themselves. All seemed lost. They dug in for one final battle. This was the end.

For the Clan soldiers.

Ctrlaltwin. I was born in an unknown year, with no memory of my past. These are my auto logs detailing for me my experiences.

Day 1: Where am I?! What is this island? I crash landed I guess, and now I must work out what vague memories that come in pieces while trying to navigate forward. I meet some random scientist who gives me various missions. I fight off birds, little roller things, snakes, lizards, aliens, and all kinds of crap. I can't kill things fast but I am nearly un-killable. Survival seems infinitely possible.

Day 2: After many kills, many close calls, I finally feeling strong enough to leave this hell that is an island, I have three factions to chose. Clan just makes sense for my rebellious style, so I go with them. I take this portal and end up in some random that I later come to find out is West Athens. Where do I go? What do I do? I just need to sleep.

Day 3: As a man with some crappy pistols and whatever armor I could salvage, I still can't remember much of anything from my past. Who am I? This lingers as I help this clan faction doing missions to collect and fight off enemies.

I keep hearing about this place called a Subway. What danger lurks in there? I get a good nights rest, consume a few cheap beers and prepare for a dangerous journey down to this much talked about Subway.

Day 4: Nanos uploaded, crappy armor slightly less crappy, kits and first aid ready, I journey past these tick looking things, and journey by killing everything in sight. Dogs, old men, and all kinds of strange looking creatures I slaughter.

This is until I run into giant men. They carry giant metal objects like you see on bridges. Their pain is real, their anger even more so. I fight them, bleeding, struggling to get by. I rest in the corner of strangely lit place in the back of a room. I can barely sleep, and the pain is real. Can I survive another day?

Day 5: I fight my way down this Subway, fighting off infested things, nano mobs, end up fighting spiders and werewolf looking creatures. Each fight gets tougher and tougher, but I always come out ahead. I barely make it out alive after I face some huge guy with a weird looking gun who seems to never die. How does one get so strong?! Still, I regress and fight forward.

After I pass one last batch of these werewolf looking guys, I fight off two even more powerful infested things. Than it happens. I am starring face to face with what I can only describe as a satanic creature. He has a mouth where his stomach should be, no head, and spiked long chains for arms. What misfortune it is to encounter such a creature.

I have conquered everything before me, so I charge at him and shoot my pistols. Are they even hitting him?! He takes very little damage, while dealing a lot. With each swing, my wounds get worse. I start to run out of nano to bind my wounds, and his health goes no where. The end is near. With his relentless assault, he finally finishes me off with his spiked arms.

The world goes cold, white...

Day 1 (or 6?): I think I just came back to life. Where am I? What is this weird town and how did I end up here? My body hurts all over and I can barely remember anything.

This is the story behind my 9-year old orphan character, Jason 'Zinann' Kim. (more of the story here)

Borealis, July 29487

‘Jason! No! Don’t go that way!’ Her voice was panicky and high-pitched as she yelled to her youngest boy, who was headed in the direction of the massive fight taking place near the grid terminal. The dark haired boy stopped briefly turning to look at his mother. His eyes both curious and determined. ‘Mom, I just want to look for a moment! I’ll be back soon!’ He turned again and ran off, weaving in and out between people running in all directions; some carrying heavy weapons or preparing devastating nanoprograms, others screaming in panic trying to get away from the fight. A man dressed in white Omni-Pol armor fell down in front of him making Jason stop cold in his tracks. The man was bleeding furiously from a deep wound in his chest, the sound he made could make even the bravest of soldiers shiver. Jason took one look at him, then quickly looked around to see who could have delivered the blow. A woman, wearing a nasty looking goats head as a helmet carrying a shotgun of Kyr’ozch origin, stood there with a proud grin on her blood covered face looking at the dying man. When she noticed Jason looking at her she winked at him. ‘Serves him right!’ She then turned and ran off joining the fight again. Jason stood there frozen in place looking between the man on the ground and the woman running off.

‘Jason! Get back here! Nooooooo!’ His mother’s scream carried over the noise of the fighting, waking him. He turned only to see his mother slump down over his older brother, blood covering her hands and her clothes. He ran as fast as his legs could take him towards her, not noticing anything else around him. The world grew silent. ‘Jason. I want you to run to Newland! Now! We’ll be there soon!’ His mother’s voice was calm, but strained. He looked at her, and pulled at her arm trying to pull her to her feet. ‘Mom, you have to go with me. Jacob too. Come.. please!! Mom!’

Darkness.

Borealis, only a month earlier.

Jennifer sat on the couch in the living room of their simple backyard apartment her head in her hands, sobbing silently. Next to her lay an official looking letter, and a set of dog tags. She sat like this for a while. Hearing the door open she composed herself, wiping the tears from her eyes and took the dog tags in her hand. ‘Jacob, Jason. Can you come in here please?’ Her voice was calm, collected, professional. Though she’d given this message before this time it was different. This time it was personal, not just part of her job.

The boys came running through the door pushing each other playfully, trying to be the first one to get to their mother. At the sight of their mother’s red eyes they both stopped short. The taller of the boys was the first to speak. ‘Mom, what’s wrong?’ Jacob took a few steps closer, but stopped when he noticed the dog tags in his mother’s hand. He swallowed hard. ‘Is he..?’ His voice sounded insecure, and when he looked at Jennifer who nodded, he ran to her putting his arms around her. She returned the hug caressing his head softly, while looking at the eight-year-old still standing in the doorway. Jason was for all intents and purposes the spitting image of his father. Equally stubborn as well. The boy’s eyes focused on the dog tags in his mother’s hand. ‘Jason, I’m sorry..’ She began softly. He snapped out of his stupor shaking his head slowly. ‘He’s not gone. I know it. You can just send those back to him. He needs them!’ His voice shook slightly, and he turned around and ran out of the apartment.

Borealis, July 29487

Darkness.. Silence.. Pain..

‘We have a live one here! Medic!’ The voice was faint, almost like a whisper to him. A pair of strong hands pulled him carefully out from under the heavy body lying protectively over him. ‘Easy now. Everything is going to be just fine.’ He stirred slightly opening his eyes slowly, blinking to focus in the dim lighting. The face looking at him with a concerned expression wasn’t one he’d seen before. The man smiled grimly at him. ‘Don’t move, the medic is on her way. We’ll get you out to safety, don’t worry.’ Jason turned his head to get a better look around him. But the man reached over and steadied his head, so he couldn’t move it. ‘Mom? Jacob?’ Jason’s eyes was begging for information. But the man just shook his head. ‘Don’t move, okay? You’ll be okay.’ The boy struggled to move his head searching for evidence of his mother and brother. ‘Mom!’ He cried out and as he did the man’s grip on his head loosened enough for him to get a glimpse of the heavy body he had been pulled out from. His face paled and he let out a horrified scream.
Then darkness.

Neutral Medical Clinic, a week later

The aged doctor stood from his chair and walked over to the window looking across the hallway into the opposite room, where a dark haired boy sat on a bed staring blankly into the air. He sighed deeply and turned back to Ms. Kenley. ‘He is physically healthy. It seems his mother protected him with her life.’ He paused for a moment. ‘Mentally is a different matter though. He hasn’t said a word since arriving here. However we believe it is only a matter of time. Have you dealt with kids with trauma like this before, Ms. Kenley?’ The orphanage matron dipped her head smiling sadly. ‘All too often, Doctor. All too often.’ The doctor cast a glance at the silent boy through the windows, and returned to his desk. ‘I will make arrangements for you to meet Jason then, and prepare him for the move. How does tomorrow sound?’