My name is Egozhan "Egopon" Ponrakt, born under the rusted sky of Hek, in the Republic. I am Sebiestor by blood, hauler by trade, fighter by choice.

My earliest memories are of my mother counting cargo manifests by candlelight, her hands stained with grease from a salvaged hauler engine. We didn’t have much—but we had each other, and we had freedom. At least, that’s what we told ourselves.

The Amarr stole my grandfather, branded him property, and worked him to death on some holy moon. My father wore his grandfather’s slave collar around his neck until the day he died, not as a chain, but as a vow. I took that vow for myself.

I started in the dark spaces between trade routes, piloting a Mammoth full of scrap and rations, scraping out a living hauling goods through dangerous space. It wasn’t glamorous, but it taught me patience, awareness—and most of all, how to read the stars like a map of opportunity and threat.

But somewhere along the way, I realized I was good at more than just hauling. I started running blockade missions during the warzones in Metropolis. I learned how to slip between patrols, bait Amarrian convoys, and disappear before they knew I was ever there. I was a ghost with a cargo hold.

Then came the turning point—an operation to smuggle out liberated slaves from a covert site deep in Amarr space. I lost a ship that day… but saved two thousand souls. That was when I knew I couldn’t just run goods anymore. I needed bigger firepower. A bigger role. A bigger purpose.

So I’ve been training in silence. Building my skills. Investing every isk into fleet training and jump-drive theory. My eyes are now on the Nidhoggur and the Hel. The black-ops ships too - Panther, Widow, whatever it takes to sneak past the golden gates and punch back harder than they’ve ever seen.

I don’t want medals. I don’t want fame. I want justice.

The Amarr think their Empire is eternal. They see us as broken, scattered tribes. They forgot that we know how to rebuild. They forgot we know how to wait. They forgot that haulers can become hammer-wielders and that a freighter pilot can learn to command a storm.

I’m coming for them. One jump at a time...