Backstage - OOC Forums

Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
Advanced search  

Did you know:

The main ingredients in Protein Delicacies were in fact organic waste, processed station sewage and second grade biomass? For more, read here.

Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5 ... 10
 on: 17 May 2017, 12:02  
Started by Ayallah - Last post by Xepharious
Ayallah, Are you specifically holding aside any PF cannon from this? As in, a tribe or sub-tribe created by a player or group of players? I wanted to ask before linking to any of the derivative work Saede did.

 on: 17 May 2017, 11:08  
Started by Ayallah - Last post by Ché Biko
Shouldn't this be in the CCP Public Library section?

 on: 17 May 2017, 10:42  
Started by Ayallah - Last post by Louella Dougans,_110.06.11
A dead link that I cannot repair, if anyone can find it please send it to me in eve mail or mention it here !!  Possibly some or all of the information is contained in the link below but I cannot remember

State of the Republic, 110.06.11

The Republic is celebrating yesterday's events even though many are not entirely sure exactly what it is that they're celebrating. All they know for sure is that they gave the Amarr a bloody nose in a straight fight, liberating millions, and that the Elders—whom many never believed even existed—have returned to help restore their tribal roots, so they're generally happy.


Finally, the Minmatar people have a reason to be proud again. Nowhere is this clearer than along the streets and alleys of the Republic. Minmatar warships have invaded Amarr space, beaten up entire fleets, and brought back countless liberated slaves. More than that, the Elders are involved, and while everyone has their own interpretation of who and what the Elders really are, pretty much everyone agrees that their return is a good thing. As a result, the mood is both jubilant and pugnacious, with many clamoring for the Republic to press its advantage and wipe the Amarr Empire off the map once and for all. Of course, this combative mentality conveniently ignores the actual scope of the raids and the losses suffered at the hands of Jamyl Sarum, but who wants to spoil the mood by mentioning that?

The events of recent days have also had an impact on the workings of the Republic, generally being viewed in a positive light. The removal of Midular's unpopular and largely corrupt government, the seemingly imminent rise of a warlike traditionalist regime, and Maleatu Shakor's rise to prominence are all seen as long-overdue changes, and any politicking along the way is largely glossed over. Of course, there are still those who feel that getting what you want isn't always a good thing, but they're mostly keeping their heads down for now.


The mood among the military is more introspective than that among the citizenry. They were completely blindsided by the Elders' taskforces, and most sat helplessly by while their Thukker counterparts led the charge and took all the glory. Some captains threw caution to the wind and joined up with the task forces, and their current status is up in the air, with many being classified deserters or mutineers. Most, however, stuck to their orders and held back, and are now somewhat bitter that their own people resent them for not doing something similar a long time ago. This perceived inaction has always been a source of tension between the citizenry and
the military, and now the former believe that the Elders have proved them right. The fact that the Elders' fleet was built with money that should rightfully have gone to the Republic and the Fleet has not come into it… at least not yet.
Politically, while most sympathize with Shakor's fiery rhetoric, the military has always been broadly supportive of Midular's moderate stance. However, they're also aware that times are changing and that the Fleet will have to change too. Given the shocks of recent days, the military's position during what is likely to be a lengthy period of government transition is unclear.


The various clan chiefs and tribal leaders are still trying to figure out exactly what's going on and where they stand, but most of them realize that riding the wave of tribal patriotism from the masses is the wisest course of action. There's still some uncertainty regarding the return of the Elders, but most are banking on the likelihood that the Elders won't seek an active role in Republic politics.
As a result, the four tribes are each jockeying to find a clear and defensible political stance. With the formation of a new parliament, Keitan Yun, Shakor, the other three tribes, and even Karin Midular represent enough wildcards to make any transition destined for a rough road. But the smart money is a bet on a return to more traditional ways.

The Tribes

The main population of the Republic can be divided up into the four tribes that make up the majority of Parliament.


Traditionally the most militant of the tribes, the Brutor are convinced that this is their time. They've always wanted to hit back at the Amarr Empire, and now their wish has been granted. Already there's a certain amount of hero-worship for Maleatu Shakor, whose star has well and truly risen, and most Brutor buy wholeheartedly into his rhetoric. Some older and wiser heads wonder quietly about the military realities of the situation, but most are too caught up in the prevailing sentiment to care.


Ever the crafty ones, most Krusual view recent events as an opportunity as well as a cause for celebration. With the help of the Elders the Republic is now in a position to wield some real power, and the Krusual want to be a part of that. Many of them see through the tribal leaders’ rhetoric and understand the situation for what it is, and while they realize that the Republic is by no means invulnerable they also appreciate that now is the time for action. They want to see the Republic integrate the other three tribes where practical, and to use that added strength to expand their influence and territory while they have the chance.


The pragmatists of the Republic, the Sebiestor have greeted recent events with joy: the Minmatar people might finally be turning a corner. They're worried about the implications of open war for the Republic and the unity of the Minmatar, but the revelations concerning the other three tribes give them some hope that things might turn out well. Eager to distance themselves from Midular’s “appeasement” foreign policy, they're largely in favor of aggression, but worried about the long-term consequences. They're hoping that the other three tribes can be integrated into the Republic, although they're not universally hopeful, and they're hoping that a well-handled war against the Empire will allow them to shore up the Republic and stabilize its position.


The Vherokior privately feel very good about recent events, but generally shy away from displaying this appreciation publicly. They're cautiously optimistic, but at the same time prepared for setbacks. While underrepresented politically, they're a silent majority in the bureaucracy and public service sectors; while they don't have much control over legislation, they usually oversee the actual implementation of policy. As such, they're also worried about the civic disruption that would inevitably follow any attempts to integrate the three missing
tribes into the Republic. Nonetheless, a war might allow for the liberation of more slaves, an undertaking they genuinely believe to be the most important priority.


Thukker Tribe
Having had their shining moment of glory, the Thukker tribe are feeling pretty good about themselves. After decades of toil, they finally have a brief moment where they can sit back and smile. There's a degree of uncertainty as to what will happen next - they don't know whether they'll rejoin the other tribes, for example, and they don't know which way the Republic is going to go - but the Thukker thrive on uncertainty, so a healthy bit of political confusion just puts a bigger smile on their faces. It's not all smiles and laughter, though. They are continually reminded of the disastrous landings on Mekhios; when Jamyl Sarum's superweapon obliterated the Elder fleet in orbit, the predominantly Thukker ground forces were stranded on the surface. While many unpleasant rumors circulate among the caravans, the total absence of any information about their fate is far more disturbing than any lurid story.

Found via internet wayback machine, that gave some useful phrases, googling those phrases came to :

which is a player's collection of news articles and stuff. iirc, they've compiled other bits and pieces, so might be worthwhile looking further into stuff.

 on: 17 May 2017, 06:41  
Started by Casiella - Last post by Mizhir
Seems like there have been some good Minmatar related threads popping up lately. I am quite happy about that :D

 on: 17 May 2017, 02:46  
Started by Elmund Egivand - Last post by Elmund Egivand
Chapter 5: Fakes

"Monsieur Villiers?"

The bank teller interrupted my stream of consciousness. Her jade-green eyes were ringed in faded red. Plaster-white flaked under her eyes.

"Monsieur Villiers?" she repeated. Her expression was a mix of worry, confusion, and recognition. She was staring at the mediderm on my forehead. She must have recognised me from that viral ‘police brutality’ vid from my costume.

"Monsieur Villiers, your cash is ready for collection," she said gently. Egone spine poking from under her stiff white nylon collar. It's pin-prick LED flickered. Must have tried to sleuth on me using social media apps. She won't find anything but fragmentary scraps. I had made sure of that.

"Monsieur Villiers?" she asked again, sounding more agitated. I looked away from her tanned neck to her china-white face and smiled. I snuck my hand under the counter window, retrieved an envelope and opened its flap. I was greeted by a stoic Doule dos Rouvenor, stone-faced, looking straight ahead, head facing 45 degrees to his right. Counted thirty-seven thousand Villore sovs. I returned the bank teller’s plastic smile.

The panel on the envelope's flat side displayed a monochrome version of the bank teller. 'BEAT THE QUEUE! UPGRADE TO PRIVILEGED ACCOUNT!' her text bubble urged. 'VILLORE REGIONAL BANK' and a scannable code swept in and took up all of the e-ink panel. 

I tucked it into my slingbag.

Huumph and harrumph emitted by a robed Amarr behind me. His carved frown curled to expose his regular pearly-white teeth. He flared his nostrils. I smiled, nodded with mock embarrassment, and stepped out of the line. "Huumph!" huffed the Amarr. With upturned head, he stepped towards the counter. Many dozens of lines behind him, spread across the twenty-or-so counters. Mostly tourists and expats who have yet to adopt the cashless system.

Stepped out. Weather’s downcast. I pulled up my hood, not for the impending rain but for the cams and cops.

Following the street was unpleasant, what with all the eyes laid onto me. Pedestrians glancing and pointing, drivers and passengers slowing down to take a closer look. Hurriedly took a right into an alley, made several turns before arriving at a clearing.

Jade grasses and trees, pink flowers, buzzing bugs, marble benches, meticulously arranged in four quadrants. There were interactive sculptures in each of them.

Right at the center was a bundle of 19 pillars, all with equal diameters. 7 supports at center surrounded by 6 pipes and 6 hyperloop elevators. Ads projected onto their every surface. Albert and Alberta’s silicon smiles, the seamless Aliastra PrinTex, Tei-Su Street Food’s white-pajama-ed chrome-bot, Quafe purple clashing with Starsi orange, stiff-lipped Civire holding a spoonful of Ishukrunch aloft, facing off another equally stiff-lipped Civire holding a spoonful of Kaalaki-O's.

Hovering over them was a revolving holo-projection clearly visible from any point in the garden. It showed a clean-shaven buzz-cut Gallente in nylon suit. He pumped his fist as he addressed an imaginary rally crowd. 

Subtitle named him as Francent Sealford. The resemblance to one of my fake names was purely coincidental. He criticised Kalsa Aldenner's policies, called it too naïve. He questioned how increasing the welfare payout was supposed to relieve the burdens of the growing lower class. He then spoke of his own plan to increase the allocation of district funds into the development of service and entertainment industry sectors. He made no mention of the drones and automation encroaching into these sectors, neither did he acknowledge the existence of increasingly-popular purely virtual artists. 

A ding. Elevator spilling out passengers. Suits and costumes. White- and blue-collars. Pure and modded. Uptier, Lowtier, Surface-siders. No traffic restrictions. Free society.

One passenger remained behind. Tanned, hard features, dreadlocks flowing down his hood, face masked in tattoos. He was dressed in a yellow glossy-plastic jacket, with slashed sleeves. He shot me a plastic smile. His stubbed mech-prosthetic finger was pressed into the floor select panel popped up onto the OLED screen, positioned on a button labeled '6'. It was glowing red.

His index finger slid down and lingered around '1' to '3'. He kept smiling, feigning embarrassment. Not convinced. DataMiner IDed him as Tawhiri Ngata. Minmatar immigrant, entered the Federation shortly before the Empyrean War. Still jobless. Tried and failed to land or kept position as cleaner, blacklisted in over five companies for suspected burglary, none of which were proven. Last pic, from just three days ago, showed him pure, without mech-prosthetics. Stub on fingertips must hide lockbreaking tools. Seemed he became the very burglar they had accused him of being. Too bad he was floundering in his very first caper. 6th Tier and up are restricted to politicians and executives. Biometric scanner under the OLED keeps anyone else out.

Not so free a society.

Twenty or so more passengers filed in, separating us. Generous wriggle room, despite the crowd. More panels popped up all over the OLED wall as we selected our floors. The door shut with a quiet shush. The elevator car’s turbines and electromagnets silently hummed as it began its rapid descent. 

The ad on the wall showed sculpted oiled men in black singlets, turning oversized wrenches in what looked to be the bowels of a large starship. Violent shudder, flickering lights, sparks bouncing off their swollen biceps. Their smiles were wide with thrill.

‘The best pilots need the best crewmen!’ read the tagline at the bottom. Tagline melted, and a yellow bacteriophage with a deathshead on its capsid, the logo of Pandemic Legion, emerged. New tagline: ‘Are you the best? Take our aptitude tests at our offices today!”   

"4th Tier," the speaker announced. I followed half the crowd out as soon as the door opened. Garden was similar as the one above, albeit with a different set of interactive sculptures. Clouds above were further away. The pillars vanished into the sky at the 35th-metres point, counting from the carbonide-coated brick-lined floor.

I moved around the pillar bundles and weaved through another network of alleys. Stepped out, turned left, turned left again into the turquoise-tinted interiors of an Aliastra boutique.

"Welcome, customer," greeted an Excena-voice. Virtual-attendant flickered on before me. Hair green, clothes green. No bumps or anything resembling texture on her tiny mini-dress. Flat colours. Aliastra's pushing the PrinTex line hard.

"Please proceed into one of our booths to begin," the Excena-voiced holo-doll, who did not look anything like Poer Excena, directed.

Stepped into booth 5. I felt my hair stand as discrete scanners took my measurements. OLED blinked on, showing the Aliastra logo, then the neatly categorised selection of clothes. The clock read ‘1247’.

I decided to try out the PrinTex line of garments, seeing that there’s a 15% discount for the purchase of a complete set. I tapped on ‘Recommend'. Discrete cams snapped my mug. Took less than 20 seconds for the store A.I. to calculate best matches for my physical profile. Spat out the selections. Aliastra logo emblazoned on most of the front side of the beanie and t-shirt. I tweaked the selection, then select ‘Purchase’.

'Trade-in for a further discount,' suggested the OLED. I undressed and peeled away the wire-mesh patches from my garments, then deposited them into the chute. Booth scanned the deposited garments and applied a further 10% discount.

Still way marked up from cost.

I searched my pockets for a chit with a specific nick. Tapped it against the paypad, brought up my breach terminal and penetrated store network security via an opened port. Rummaged through boutique data-store while the chute spat out the seamless garments in easy-tears. Accessed folder ‘booth05’, subfolder ‘datalog07041191247’ while dressing up in fresh wear. Deleted subfolder, cleared access logs, logged out and left the premise.

Pedestrians strolled about, easy-going despite the rainy sky. The clock displayed `1307’ when I stood outside the ‘Bouchées Petites’. Having detected that I had lingered in the vicinity for 10 seconds, the store's hidden holo-projector flickered on. Felt the light shock of haptic feedback as I pointed at ‘1 pax’.

Blinking signal lights on the floor led me through the diner. It was nearly full-house due to this being the lunch hours. Students, suits, blue- and white-collars. Many engaged in face-time conversations, even more were hunched over holo-coms, poring over datapads or nodding to nothing in particular. No execs, the place is not posh enough for the likes of them.

I was led to a two-person seat nestled at a right-angled corner, fenced by black iron. I made myself comfortable and tapped on the black iron table to bring up a holo-menu. I ordered a latte and a croissant, then established private VPN connection and streamed Covertor 01.

The night and morning's excavation had turned out a lucrative yield of data. Sergei Drogodziej had been very loquacious and adventurous. Treasure trove of data to work with.

Opened filters, converted display time from NEST into V-IV-LST and selected 'Primary Source Only'. Plotted an activity chart, a process which took half-a-minute, mostly contributed by network lag in my private connection. I then searched for an anomaly in the chart. Didn’t take me long to find it. Steep cliff near the end of interval between 16.04.YC117 and 17.04.YC117, dropping precipitously down to ‘0’ on the x-axis. Stayed that way since. Zoomed in. Y-axis point read ‘2311’. Geosense metadata of last transmission read ‘Block 19-20, Isley Street, Rouvenor District, Wellside, Aidonis Spire’.

Dossier stated his apartment was in Block 30.

Brought up index, sort according to time, date and location. Included third party data referencing Sergei Drogodziej in filters.

Heard china-clatters. Tabbed out of DataMiner terminal. Would have stumbled off my chair if not for the black iron fence.

Sebiestor lass seated on the opposite side of my table. She lifted her wire-binder book to cover her lips. "I am sorry," she said with a slight blush. "I didn't mean to startle you."

Quickly regained my bearings, stood up and offered my hand. She took off her headphone, an actual headphone, and wore it around her neck. She was wearing a tribal-patterned capelet. The same retro-connoisseur I had encountered on the Whakra.

"Raschard Villiers."

She laid down her book, which turned out to be a paper sketchbook, and an actual graphite pencil beside her mug of cappuccino, stood up and clasped my hand in hers. Her hands were warmer than an average person's. She bowed slightly. "And you are..." I asked. She grinned impishly, cocked her head to her left and said, "Take a guess."

DataMiner turned up blank. DeepMine showed her strolling, wandering and exploring in various locales, some by her lonesome, others with Elmund as companion. I looked through the library 'Elmund Egivand' to see if I could find any mention of a woman, Sebiestor, brown-haired and amber-eyed, height about 160cm.

‘Ball-and-chain’, ‘My wife heats up easily.’, ‘Teases me with the dried leaves.’, 'Isi'.

Isi Efelate Egivand. 

"Ah, my apologies. I didn't realise, Madame..."

"Please call me Isi," she beamed. "I am not one for smokes and mirrors."

"Ah, pardon me. Pardon me," I sat down and she followed suit. "So, how did you find your stay in charming Libertopolis?"

"I found the arts and culture rich and intriguing, and its architectural engineering marvels most awe-inspiring."

She sat down and sup on her cappuccino. She laid it down on the china tray. Her tone carried a hint of excitement, "Your megascrapers, especially this Foiritan Tower, impress me the most."

"Was it the tiers being their own township, the seamless connectivity between the megascrapers and the surface, or the weather simulation?"

"Everything, but the weather simulation. I must say the weather simulation disappoints me somewhat. It is raining, yet not a single drop has moistened these roofs and streets."

"Authenticity has to make way for practicality," I nodded. "You could try 6th Tier and up. I believe a person of your stature has access. The sprinkler systems of these tiers are programmed to simulate rain."

She took another sip of her cappuccino. "I am not fond of the upper tiers. Too much politeness, too much hidden malice."

"You will find no shortage of smiling villains here." I leaned back, picked up and sip on my latte.

"Are you a smiling villain, Monsieur Villiers?"

I grinned and shrugged, "Who knows?"

"Should I credit Fortune for my meeting with such a charming lass as yourself, or was it something else?"

She placed her elbows on the table and rested her sharp chin on the back of her fingers. "I am here as an agent of my husband's. I am curious," she smiled, "What had you uncovered thus far?"

"Well...," I tabbed back into my DataMiner terminal, "I had learned that your husband's friend ceased all network activity near his home four days before he was due to leave Villore IV." I set the filters to sieve out anything prior to 17.04.YC117 and to include secondary and tertiary sources.

Chatlogs in social media sites. 1513, 17.04.YC117 log showed Dominika berating Sergei's tardiness, demanding to know if she had been stood up. The messages were never replied to.

Another individual calling himself Oculus communicated to Dominika that he was setting up discrete cams in and around Block 30. Pics are transmitted to both his and Dominika's Egone. Must be a P.I. Dominika must be hung up over being stood up.

One pic showed a yellow autocab stopped in front of Block 30. Metadata showed time of pic taken as '0017, 18.04.YC117'. The fire-bearded visage of Sergei Drogodziej, back of head towards cam, was visible over the roof of the vehicle. Other pics showing him walking up the steps towards his room. Hands in pocket of black pants, dressed in black suit. No tie. Face stern.

"He appeared in front of his apartment block on 0017, a day after his sudden cessation of activity..."

I brought up pic gallery pics from 16.04.YC117 and back. A glance-through showed him wearing various summer jackets, t-shirts and caps. He was smiling in all of them, some happy, some smug, some mischievous.

"Though he exhibited behavioural changes."

Last message from Oculus was from 0700, 19.04.YC117. He said he was going to go check with a contact in YellowBug, the local autocab company. Discrete cam showed Dominika going up the stairs towards Sergei's apartment on 0901, 20.04.YC117. Next pic was of Sergei, back turned away from cam. Dominika wasn't with him. No Dominika in pics timed before or after his departure. No further chats from Oculus.

"Last person to be in contact with him was Dominika, last seen going towards Sergei's room. She wasn't seen leaving. She was in contact with a P.I. named Oculus. No further communications between them since 19.04.YC117."

I set filters to 17-18.04.YC117 and started looking for other pics containing 'Sergei' and the autocab, plate number AS-337-V4. Results were unsurprisingly taken from the various unrelated persons whose cams just happened to be directed at the road or the general direction of the autocab. Plotted results on map of Wellside, Aidonis Spire. Number of points too sparse to plot route taken by the autocab. Too scattered. Not enough data.

Set filters to 15-16.04.YC117. See if I could find any references to suspicious individuals. Parties. Lots of parties from all over Libertopolis and Aidonis Spire. In one, Sergei downed twenty bottles of vodka and only got tipsy out of the binge. Talked quite a lot about the Project and what it meant to baseliner crewmen of capsuleer starships. ID anyone in the pics. Couldn't find anyone who didn't fit into Sergei's web of contacts in all the pics. Extended timeline. Nothing.

"That is all I could give you, for the time being, I'm afraid," I said as I tabbed out of DataMiner. Isi's holding onto her sketchbook again, staring at me intently. Her mug was empty.

She slowly lifted up her sketchbook, over her little mouth, and asked, "Shouldn't I?"

"It's okay."

She laid the sketchbook beside her empty cup. "How did you find all these out in such a short time span?" she inquired. "Program I wrote," I answered. "It was running all night and morning, actually. Uses images and texts of subject to search all social media sites, messageboards, image albums, anything publically available on the Galnet, and index them for analysis. Data and metadata. Doesn't even need to be from subject or his contact. As long as the software A.I. can recognise the subject in the data, it excavates it."

"That is quite the pattern recognition algorithm."

"My finest work," I smiled as I sip on my latte.

I put the latte down and continued the previous subject, "It isn't perfect, however. It can only excavate and analyse what is already available publically."

"And this is where you hit a snag?" she asked, her head cocked to her right. I nodded in reply, "Yeah."

"Are the implants not helpful for your search?"

I shrugged. "Only wetware of any use is the Fifth Lobe."


"It is rigged with a backlash program. Detected attempted intrusion and force a power surge to destroy itself. Couldn't get anything out of it."

"I see. Are you still confident that you can complete your assignment?"

"I have other ways, Madame," I sipped on my latte again. "I will find you, and your husband, the perp." I put the latte down. "You will hear from my agent by the end of the month, Madame."

"I will leave you to your work," She stood up. I followed suit, gripped her hand and gave it a light shake.

"Winds lift you."

"That's not Minmatar, is it?"

"Caldari," she beamed, before leaving her seat and tottering away.

I sat down, picked up my croissant and gave it a nibble. Saw a notification from my mail app. Opened it. BunnyHop agreed to meet at '2000', asked for a meetup venue. Replied mail with a coordinate, then shot another mail to Mr. Baqir, asking to hire Krueger's services. Brought up my contact list and called my favourite barista.

Saw that Isi didn't bring her sketchbook with her. It was still on the table, beside the empty cup of cappuccino. I retrieved it and saw my own face under the seamless grey hood. At first glance, my eyes looked to be a smudge. Closer look revealed definite outlines of my irises. My irises were ghosting about, like REM with opened eyelids.

I wasn't the only one in the sketch. Suits, costumes, modded and pure, flowing ghost-like around me. I could see the square in the pocket of an incoming suit. His mustachioed face was of lighter shade, lit up by his holo-com. Lady in plastic panel dress was overlaid onto him.

Too detailed for expressionism. More like slow cam on graphite.

"Yes, Ghost, you called?"

"Hey, Hwan!" I grinned, putting down the sketchbook. "Do you have time tonight?"

 on: 17 May 2017, 00:01  
Started by Makkal - Last post by Stutzer
Weebin out, I guess.

siraph - 'thor'

 on: 16 May 2017, 18:13  
Started by Ayallah - Last post by Teinyhr
In relation to your hooded men item, I just recently got a mission where they are mentioned and the mission has some extra interesting info, feel free to copy it, altough I have no intention of removing it from the hosting site. Sorry for not following the exact format, wasn't sure how to include missions.

YC ???
Storyline Mission: A Cargo With Attitude
Contains a small blurb about some Minmatar desiring to "return to the fold" with the Amarr, quoted and pictured below, spelling errors retained.
Spoiler (hover to show)

 on: 16 May 2017, 17:42  
Started by Casiella - Last post by Ayallah
Yes, at the top level there is freedom of religion.  Freedom of religion is normal in the republic but prejudice is there so that freedom is not exactly 100%

Also @samira, I found these articles today about immigrants going from the republic to the federation during the bad times of the first republic.  They follow a similar trend to the ones you posted about immigration problems in the Republic much later, after the day of darkness.

 on: 16 May 2017, 16:57  
Started by Casiella - Last post by Karmilla Strife
I think one thing that really stuck with me when I was playing my Minmatar character more than Karmilla was going to the event actor event where the 7 tribal representatives all got together. The Nefantar and Starkmanir representatives were clearly part of the Amarrian Religion. Local was going crazy, lots of people were upset, but every one of the other tribal representatives (and I think maybe Shakor, it's been a while and I need to find logs in 9 years of local chat logs) stood with the Nefantar and Starkmanir reps. So at least at the official government level there is freedom of religion and those tribes (and others) can be Amarr worshipers, but that certainly doesn't mean there is conflict at the community level (re: Abel Jarek)

I'm not so sure there is universal religious persecution in the Republic. Even the articles about Abel Jarek mention that opposition is often strongest from other recently freed slaves. I know Tabor always thought Jarek was killed because he was a bad neighbor who didn't respect the local elders, his faith was an afterthought.

 on: 16 May 2017, 16:45  
Started by Ayallah - Last post by Ayallah
Okay, that is 2 pages of the 8 pages I have.  Taking a break now.

Pages: 1 2 [3] 4 5 ... 10