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[Contest] Inspiracy Grand Opening Contest! Poll up!

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Silver Night:
Inspiracy Grand Opening Contest!
Your nominees:

Vieve - http://backstage.eve-inspiracy.com/index.php?topic=416.msg4591#msg4591
Shalee Lianne - http://backstage.eve-inspiracy.com/index.php?topic=416.msg5073#msg5073
Ken - http://backstage.eve-inspiracy.com/index.php?topic=416.msg4606#msg4606
MadMuppet - http://backstage.eve-inspiracy.com/index.php?topic=416.msg4718#msg4718

Voting goes for one week!


The Contest:
Just write a short description of a crew member on one of your characters' ships. Could be an officer, or a regular crew member. Someone your character has tea with or someone your character has never seen. The contest will run 2 weeks from the time of this post. Submit your description in this thread. (Either the description itself or a link to it). Judges will nominate several potential winners, and the grand prize winner will be picked by a poll.

The Prizes:
1st Prize: 500m ISK

2nd Prize: 300m ISK

3rd Prize: 200m ISK

Everyone who is nominated by a judge but doesn't place in the poll will receive a 25m consolation prize.

The Rules:
[*]Descriptions should be no more than 500 words. A few more than that may be ok, but judges may choose not to consider entries that break the limit. Go over at your own risk.
[*]One entry per person
[*]New (previously unpublished) material only
[*]Description needs to be within the bounds of Eve PF (Canon). If you aren't sure about something, I suggest asking - the 'OOC' channel in-game would be a good place to start, or on the Inspiracy forum itself. Everyone is always happy to help. If you aren't familiar with the PF, there is plenty on the eve-o official site in the backstory section.
[*]All decisions by me in regards to the contest are final. There is no appeal. Don't feel I've been fair to you? I will try to be fair, but in the end, Eve isn't fair. Value it as a learning experience.
[*]Contest will run for 2 weeks, starting at the time stamp on this post.
[*]Rules subject to change.
[/list]

Format:

The contest will be open for entries for 2 weeks from the time of this thread. Judges will review the entries in this thread. Each judge will pick 2 once the contest closes. There will be a couple of days for judges to do the picking, if need be. The judges will post their picks in the contest thread. I will create a poll, which will run for 1 week. The winners will be picked via that poll.

Any sign of tampering with the poll will lead to an alternate selection method.

Misc:

Thank you to Kaldor Mintat and Ciarente for helping with prize funds! :D

yani dumyat:
He Did Not Want To Die Like This
He looked at his hand, laughed at the way it trembled and joked with his shipmates about his Amarrian heart lacking warrior strength at the moment his manhood was to be tested, the moment every navy man prays for and the moment he would be judged in the eyes of his God.

It says much about Lieutenant Kor-Zaml that he thought about his wife when most men would be consumed by pleasurable thoughts of another life. He was as pious as any man who fought for God and empire but knew how pride and temptation could get the better of him so prayed that any judgement on his soul would not last too long.

Matari artillery blowing chunks of armour off their battleship seemed like a distant memory but the claxon warning of a hull breach still rung in his ears and his mind replayed the explosion over and again like a horror movie projected over his every thought. The shell had smashed through the other side of the control room and he would no doubt be awarded a medal for saving lives as the panicked crew fought their way towards airtight escape chambers, it would be a hollow prize for a woman and son cheated out of a loyal husband.

Despite his injuries the Lieutenant had survived the engagement and the respect he commanded from his men was obvious when he led cheers of joy and many salutes to the victorious Amarr who scooped their escape pod to safety. Leadership was something he took very seriously and it resulted in a constant battle between the vanity of being an alpha male and the humility of being a loyal subject.

The journey home took them close to Gallente space and the intercom announced they would be docking for repairs at a station that had been recently captured by the Caldari, crew would get a few hours shore leave while the worst injuries were transferred to a hospital. The lieutenant’s men followed him to a vehicle waiting outside the ship and as he stared at the unfamiliar panorama of Gallente architecture he felt his darkest hour approach.

The battle of vanity vs humility raged in his head as the vehicle reached it’s destination but he knew deep down that vanity had already won and he was shackled to the guilt of being alpha among the lads. His crewmates applauded as a young woman in a nurses uniform approached and the lieutenant couldn't help thinking that her skimpy outfit would not be acceptable back in Amarr, he wanted to turn and run away but knew his crew were expecting him to be a man.

He looked at his hand, laughed at the way it trembled and mad a joke to cover the pain of his inner turmoil, he followed the young woman to a back room in the pleasure hub and the faithful husband and father beating in his chest curled up to die.

Albetta:

Expendable either way
   So he’s sitting in a bar, drunk out of his mind. These guys come in and they are talking about that last fight. People start clearing out, and he wonders what’s going on. “Pod pilots,” somebody says. So he walks right up to them. He asks for a job. They laugh. He needs money. He needs it bad. While their voices blend into an indistinguishable den, he thinks back to the accident. The fight he had with the helmsman when they where in that belt in some backwater system. The helmsman pushes him, and he pushes back, and then they start punching each other. He punches the helmsman hard, and he’s on the floor, and he’s bleeding, and the ship is heading straight for the asteroid, a there’s blood everywhere.
   That was eight months ago. He can’t recall how he’s been living for so long without steady income, but he just wouldn’t get on another mining ship. But now he decides to man up, and as he’s thinking about how nice it is going to be to have money again, one of the pilots slaps him in the back of the head and says “your with him”.
   He looks up and sees this small little guy, so young, but with so much age in his face. And the guy walks right up to him and shakes his hand, the first time anybody has since…well, since he was the only person to come back to the station that his ship of thirty-five souls left from.
   The guy, the pilot, asks him what he does. He pauses. “I’m an engineer.”
The pilot smiles. “You’ll fit right in”. After that conversation he signs papers for what seems like hours. His hands are tired, but as soon as he puts the pen down he is told that they are setting off. He does not know where, but he catches the words “dead space pocket”.
   There is no time for introduction with the crew. He is informed that the pilot can control the ship as if he where controlling his own body, but that the crew must keep the ships systems running at all cost. He begins to feel the tug of a warp grabbing at his limbs. He is shown to his station.
   Then there was shooting. The cannon’s reports only slightly muffled by the thick hull. There is an explosion. Damage control quickly seals off the breach, but the superstructure is crippled. The guy next to him, Aaron or Eric, something like that, gets hit in the head by an overhead beam that crumples and falls. Then the shooting stopped.
   He isn’t sure if the man is still alive. A team shows up, grabs the body, and carries it away. They get back to the station, and he is told to get off. He asks why. He is told that he only signed on for service on that cruiser, and that the pilot is upgrading to a different ship. He is given money.

Silver Night:
Only about a week left!

Jerrod Kane:
The Kameria
The Kameria sat in centre of the room; legs cross as praying silently to the Empress. Markings and symbols of her devotion are tattooed into her shoulders with black ink the centre of each with golden metal of the symbol of the Amarrian People. Around her neck, hangs a golden necklace showing the symbol of the Empress' house, a symbol to her Mistress' devotion and to who she is protect above all others, including her own Mistress.

Rising slowly from her prayers, and padding quietly towards the full length mirror, she remained passive upon looking at her own reflection in the polished glass. Her form was battle-ready and perfect. Virtually all aspects of her femininity had vanished, excepting the small rise of her breasts and the void between her legs that had been treated to prevent the monthly cycle of menstruation affecting her negatively.

Her raven hair hung well below her shoulders, far in excess of what she personally felt comfortable with. However her Mistress had called for her to grow her hair, so that she was recognised amongst the 500 other Kamerias she commanded. Some spoke in quiet circles that the Mistress occasionally slept with her Captain. The Kameria soon "corrected" those rumours with ruthless efficiency.

Approaching the mirror, the Kameria moved the hair from her eyes, revealing their steely-blue colouring to the world. She made this an almost daily ritual, for her helmet denied others to see beyond the one-way plexi-glass. Only in death would her eyes be revealed, and they would show nothing but her contempt for those that killed her. At least in this period of quiet, they would be seen as their true nature of someone who would be, in any other circle of life, seen as a depressed individual, seeking out something grander in her life.

She approached her battle-dress, enforced upon all of the Kamerias on this vessel, entitled "Celestial Grace", she stroked it lightly, circling it nude, admiring its design before sliding on the armoured under body-glove that disguised her true form from the world, tying her hair back into a ponytail to control its direction. After the body-glove was sealed, she slowly placed on the outer armour, the metal struck from the same as the hull of the ship. Its weight would be beyond most to wear for short periods of time, yet she wore it for nearly 10 hours in each shift with no complaint or regret.

Finally, she reached for her las-pistol and attached it to an armoured holster on her armours waist. The charge was always set to kill, after her one and only failure had caused her Mistress to receive extensive cybernetic reconstruction in order to survive. In her other hand she held loft an energised halberd, a weapon she was almost at one with, it having been gifted to her upon completion of her Kameria training. Firing up the energy cell, and lowering her helmets visor, she set out to follow her Mistress' Orders.



((Payment of any awards needs to made to Arline Kley))

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