(IC) Last Son of Prano: Chapter 1

25 years ago.

Space rippled and rushed by the hull of the Apocalypse-class battleship at it traveled through the edges of the holy Amarr Empire. The ship, its pilot and crew all belonged to an ancient Amarrian priest with ties to many in power, and and such he acquired and commanded vast power and wealth purely through proxy and cunning. The Amarrian, named Augustius, prided himself on many things, including the large number of Minmatar slaves under his “care”. While he allowed them a few more freedoms then many of his equals would deem appropriate, he found himself fascinated by how the barbarians chose to live if given a lax leash, even while being given the chance to live almost as civilized as the Amarr do. The battleship was transporting a few dozen large families of his slaves to a new estate of his, deep within the empire on a moon where the wildlife was lush and he craved to conquer it. Augustius had, in fact, bought the entire moon for this thrill of his. The hearty Minmatar would provide a suitable invasion force for his raping of this world.

Deep within the dark inner cavities of the ship where the golden sheen native to all Amarr spaceships was replaced by carbon soot and sulfur, a small miracle was taking place. What was left of the Prano clan, a Brutor family whose powerful mysticism and honoured heritage found its place in even the earliest stories of Matar, was adding another to their numbers. The matriarch of the Prano clan had always been seemingly (as they had no medical facilities and doctors to confirm or deny) infertile and failed to conceive despite many attempts. Many thought this was the death knell of the bloodline and quite possibly far more.

Yet now they were witness to the culmination of what seemed like a virgin birth.

The matriarch would not survive, for she bled far too much. Onlookers cried in despair. The medical facilities on-board might have been able to save her, but those were not at the disposal of livestock. She bore a strong, young boy who cried with fury and vigor, somehow ceasing the tears of those around. The aged midwife quietly and expertly examined the new boy for defects and found only one. A birthmark on his right shoulder blade that looked uncannily like a raptor’s wing. The midwife raised the screaming baby bathed in crimson up for all in the small and dirty cabin to see, and soon it was clear to all. Through generations those of Prano blood that bore this mark went into the annals of history as great visionaries and spiritual leaders for all Matari. The mark told of great power. This baby was a gift from the gods to all Minmatar.

The matriarch gave her last commands as the life rushed from her spent frame. Given Augustius’ interest in Matari history and the greed that drove him to acquire all he could, he would never let the baby go, especially after he learned of the birthmark and its secrets.

Their purpose was clear. Their resolution stronger than the very ship that carried them.

Three hours later, in unison, every Minmatar on that ship attacked their Amarr keepers in reckless abandon of their own lives, their faith in the baby’s destiny stronger than the vitoc poison that clouded their minds or their own sense of self-preservation. The ship was thrown into chaos and the capsuleer commanding her dropped out of warp near a cluster of jump gates for fear the rioters might damage the control systems and send the ship spiraling into a nearby ship or structure. All this was a distraction, as the midwife and a small group of the late matriarch’s strongest guardians darted for the escape pods. The baby slept though the entire ordeal, which made the midwife laugh a little under her panting breaths as she ran through the corridors, hold the baby close. After incapacitating two inept Amarr guards, the baby was placed in an escape pod programmed for a randomized path out of Amarr space and into the Gallente Federation, where he would hopefully be found and put into the Federation’s foster care system. Some in the group wanted the baby to be sent to the Republic, but it was deemed far too dangerous, as the Republic was in fledgling turmoil and the baby’s heritage could be discovered and bent to someone’s greed. A vid-recording that the matriarch made in her last minutes for the baby, explaining who he is and who his people need him to become was placed in the pod as well. Upon the small datacore’s casing, written in the matriarch’s blood by her were the words, “For Gigaer” in ancient Matarese. The group fought off security forces for the few seconds they could. Enough to launch the baby away.

The escape pod warped safely and unseen through a gate alongside a passing Iteron only seconds before the Apocalypse’s reactor was breached by the Matari captives, ripping the ship apart from the inside. Only the capsuleer pilot surviving, in a new clone light-years away.

Days later, a passing Gallente miner would run across the escape pod, nearly out of power and air. The baby inside barely alive. The miner worked for a rich business mogul who always wanted a son, but whose wife bore him nothing but girls. Maybe giving this baby to him would finally net him that promotion…


~ by psychediver on 11/09/2010.

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