Catch up time... and an Ode to Axen Vormar

A lot has been happening since I last logged in. I've been doing a lot of research into Old Vhek culture, and also there have been lots of changes to Namtz'aar K'in. Corps have left and joined, pilots have left and joined...

Here's an old Vhek poem I found and posted as a farewell to a pilot who left who I greatly admired: Axen Vormar, who went on to join the fabled Star Fraction.

The hard keyura jewels hang straight down.
Twirling, shining, the creatures keep falling.

Truly, they are the angels' cries of grief,
clearer than hydrogen--
haven't you heard them,
sometime, somewhere?
You must have heard their cries
stab heaven like icy spears.

But if you hear of the people who fall,
or of the people who, dying,
breathe deep the bitter vaccum,
you, as your are now, will merely think
it's a piteous story about some foolish people,
or a story a little unusual.

But to merely think that
and to actually bite the vacuum
are totally, wholly different.
Space is so cold it feels hot,
so bitter it seems tasteless,
so painful it penetrates the blue dark.

All who fall there cry,
"Did I fall into the void?
Is it possible that I should have fallen?"
Yes, who'd believe it, at first?
And yet finally they will believe it
and feel all the more sorrowful.

I have told you this
not to prevent you from falling
but so you will be reborn after you fall.
For everyone sees,
and the strongest shall fall by their wish
and then soar with others.