The FANATIC is a brutal and emotion-filled leader intent on purging the grid through THE INQUISITION.
Lead the CITADEL game into a top 10 NFT gaming project while 'max'imizing value for CITADEL community (especially GEN0 holders). Privately wants to win season #1 without making it obvious that he is the only one that can simultaneously pronounce the names of the in game technologies as well as understand what they do.
The SANCTION does not bend. The SANCTION does not break. The SANCTION does not yield. For I am the FANATIC, the GRID incumbent.
Appropriate our way, the one way, or be absorbed as a heretic.
- THE FANATIC
The NETWORK STATE is consumed with their plot to eliminate THE FACTIONIST. The AUTONOMOUS ZONE is filled with determined emancipators.
They cannot win and further weaken themselves with every maelstrom.
- THE FANATIC
Our retaliation was a success, we have regained our grid. Our fleet dwindles; but the drakma we so idolize flows in waves. We will soon regain our fleet.
- THE FACTIONIST
I was consigned to a NETWORK STATE reclamation camp the moment I returned from DRAK. My fleet had recorded my findings. The presence of the DRAKMA we so deify.
It was on this same cruel day that I met THE STATIST. A NETWORK STATE PILOT of the cruelest reputation. He introduced himself as a necessary evil, pulled out a knife, and removed my tongue.
I would never speak of the AO my FLEET had found. But it was in my memory. THE STATIST left me for dead, but death would not be my fate.
My fate has always been DRAK. And here, on the outer GRID, THE SANCTION has risen.
It must be a surprise to him that I have returned to this war-torn hellscape. Only he, THE STATIST, knows the bloody path I have taken to return.
It is not only our survival that has led me back to DRAK. But my fermented desire for vengeance.
I had heard of the PIN. His exploits are known to most. And here he was, in my cell, speaking gently.
He told me that my destiny is DRAK, that he was taking me there, and that he already knew that I would betray him.
I had been cut to pieces by a vicious fascist and here was another PILOT ten steps ahead of me. I would not make this mistake again and knew that betrayal would be just one small fragment of my rise and redemption.
The PIN had shown me mercy. I became determined to show him a hellscape of bloodshed and carnage. I had nothing to lose in this apocalyptic totality.
This was my only advantage.
I was determined to light myself afire if only to scorch and sear those nearest me. In these hours I became the FANATIC. Full of hate and seething with thoughts of revenge.
To endure, to survive, to thrive, I would need to pillage the GRID. To desecrate everyone including myself.
Max Demian had become the FANATIC. The SANCTION had become the USURPER. The bloodshed became our triumph. This was the RISE of the SANCTION.
I was not alone. Thousands followed me from the ANNEXATION. From the NETWORK STATE. We became a refuge for zealots.
We were militant. We were extremist. We were radical. A lust for blood united us. DRAK was our home, and we worshipped our moralistic deity.
We settled on the outer grid. We multiplied and became one with the sentient GRID. We synthesized its movements and captured its production. We formed hermetic systems. We mastered biogenetic warfare.
We prepared for THE PLAGUE.
The PILOT ARAX, a refuge from the ANNEXATION, had cultivated a retroviral plague. We were determined to weaponize it against the grid, against our tormentors, and against ourselves.
We would lite the grid ablaze and strike the NETWORK STATE from within our own flame.
The STATIST had long mastered GRID sentience. Their own conscious self woven into the GRID. Upon release of the plague, The NETWORK STATE, controlling the inner-grid, connected to its entirety, would incur the most intimate discourse with death.
The outer GRID would not be spared. Both the AUTONOMOUS ZONE and THE SANCTION, tethered to the less productive outer grid, would be no stranger to death.
We were the architects of a great reconciliation. Death would compensate us all.
From within death's carnage, we prepared to besiege the NETWORK STATE with our full dominion.
THE BATTLE FOR THE NETWORK STATE
We unleashed hell upon the NETWORK STATE and upon us all. The PLAGUE had afflicted the GRID and everything tethered to it. Our war was begun in the cruelest of ways. We had weaponized the GRID and it was now our time to claim it.
Our FLEET swarmed the INNER GRID. Our DREADNAUGHT was first to attack, battering their defenses, slicing their way through to the core. The FULTACHT MAK were next in the siege. Their target was a RELIK, key to militant algorithms.
With each CITADEL of the NETWORK STATE besieged, the RELIK remained lightly defended. It became ours after several waves of attack. Besieged. Conquered. Reduced to flame.
The NETWORK STATE had been breached. The trespass of the SANCTION took 16 of their prize CITADEL. In addition to the RELIK, 3 DROTH XYL CITADEL were taken and the rest ELEKT. The AUTONOMOUS ZONE, nimble to leverage a moment of fortune, took 6 more.
The BATTLE FOR THE NETWORK STATE shifted the balance of the GRID. The NETWORK STATE had been splintered. The SANCTION and the AUTONOMOUS ZONE filled the cracks. We established and entrenched our position. Closer and closer to the DRAKMA we so deify.
On the eve of THE PLAGUE surviving members of THE SANCTION lit our CITADEL to the GRID. We had breached and claimed the interior GRID through brutal sacrifice. A DOOM RIOT raged into the night.
We evict and eradicate the DEMOCIDE of the NETWORK STATE. With violence we secede and abdicate the STATE. With the joy and gore of our final sever, ELIMINATIONISM becomes our ORTHODOX.
- THE FANATIC