Missive from Zarzakh
Reporting from inside Zarzakh has been limited, and news outlets associated with the four major nations of New Eden have been denied any direct access to the Deathless Circle. We understand the current Drifter attack is of great concern to some of our readers and as always we endeavor to bring you the best possible coverage of events throughout the cluster. As such, when we received a lead suggesting that the Siege may end soon we felt compelled to report on it.
The Scope has recently received a communication from an independent “journalist” based inside Zarzakh who purports to have access to key members of the Deathless Circle. An investigation into this individual has revealed a spotty personal history, but no evidence of any past fraud or misrepresentation of facts. Therefore, we have decided to publish their communication here for your consideration.
DISCLAIMER: The Scope cannot verify the veracity of this individual’s account of events and their opinions do not represent the opinions of the Scope. We trust that our readers have the capacity to decide for themselves what is an appropriate degree of skepticism to apply to the following narrative.
Report Received from Hana Shikari
In the name of full disclosure, and in line with the time-honored principles of journalistic integrity, I must begin with a confession that threatens to undermine the validity of the words which will come hereafter. I had been drinking.
I was sat on the gangway of a Prowler wincing my way through moonshine with a cabal of neredowells keen to share tales of violence with any ear willing to receive it. I was in the midst of processing a particularly brutal tale when a more immediate incident caught our attention. Nearby, a Guristas pirate and dishonorable associate of the Angel Cartel had begun extracting the hemoglobin from one another by means of their fists. The associates of both parties rushed in and what had begun as an ill-tempered duel quickly escalated into a swarm of activity not dissimilar to a bee hive on fire.
Life within the belly of the great leviathan known as the Fulcrum is never peaceful. It is a vast landscape of empty expanses that haunts the mind, leaving behind both deathly silence and the in-dismissible itch of being watched. In the face of such existential terror, the people who live here have responded by filling their living spaces with neon distractions and their bodies with illicit consumables.
But now the sharks are biting at the gates. Those who prefer action must instead sit with their feelings. As fear circles in, there is little to do but brood and imbibe. Free of diversions blood was inevitable.
The specific denizens that had been assisting in giving my grey matter an acid bath prior to this distraction were the Hrada-Oki. They are members of a starborn civilization with a lower population than some moons. They came to be cutting their way through the Great Wildlands one ship at a time. I’ve passed through those reaches myself in the company of some freshly minted smugglers keen to make a name but less keen on star chart navigation. If it was not for fifteen million of someone else’s ISK and a comedy routine I stole from a Vherikor mystic with a drinking problem, I would have joined those young pups on the wrong side of an airlock. Yet the Wildlanders who so definitively dealt with us would have shut the curtains and crawled under their beds at the mere mention of Hrada-Oki.
Malaya Hrada, the master of their cutthroat caravan and a member of the Deathless' inner circle, happened to be in the process of thrashing me for a two-comma sum in a game of dice on that very gangway. As the ruckas expanded so did her displeasure. She signaled to her clansmen and together they descended into the bloody pit that was the rioting pirates.
As she moved amongst them Malaya’s stormy countenance fell on the rabble like icy rain, and when she spoke they listened;
“We are hunters, not animals. Animals thrash against their bars, hunters wait for the perfect moment. You shame both your organizations with your petty rage.
“Out there, our enemy’s resolve wanes, their forces deplete. Our allies have seen to that. I can tell you with confidence that we have but days until they are gone from our gates.”
I suspect Malaya’s reputation did as much to still the crowd as her words, but either way, the tension was sucked out of the air and replaced with awkward embarrassment as the Hrada made their way back onto the ship. I decided to follow along with them partially out of a desire to win my kredits back and partly because I have always been fascinated by why the wind blows in the direction it does.
Allow me to assure you that I am a creature of infinite sins, but sneakery is not counted amongst them. I had no intention of eavesdropping but I suspect that the explosion of chaos had blinded the Hrada to the presence of this inconsequential storyteller. None the less the conversation I overheard between Malaya and one of her Captains, Jovan Hrada, has been transcribed here to the best of my recollection:
“If the Siege is about to break, does that mean he’s found the thing?” Jovan is not an articulate man, but he has successfully managed to retain all his limbs and eyes despite his profession and I believe that is to be commended.
“It means the capsuleers have broken it for us,” Malaya responded, “and once the Drifters cannot deploy their engines anymore the interference on whatever impossible sensors this insane place uses should be cleared.”
“Then we get a fancy weapon to finish the job?”
“War isn't about weapons. It's about understanding and opportunities. That’s what he’ll bring to us”
I turned about and left the crowd at that, determined to find something of less significance to engage with. This cryptic exchange passed over my head like a Titan in orbit. My life’s path has revealed a series of truths I can best describe as a cascading miasma of confusion, but it occurred to me that those whose journeys had been obfuscated by facts may find some value in it that I do not. Should I happen to stumble across any other matters of similar interest I hope to survive long enough to share my bewilderment around those too.