The Voidbound Adjutant
Born on October 24th, YC120 in the heart of the Caldari State, Coffein Hollow was a model citizen of corporate efficiency. His future was neatly laid out—logistics, tactical coordination, maybe even a cushy corporate seat if he played his numbers right. But fate, as it often does, had other plans.
It started with a simple contract. A standard low-sec escort mission. Numbers crunched, risks assessed, everything accounted for. Then, in the chaos of a sudden Triglavian ambush, Coffein found himself under fire, FC scrambling for orders. That was when he heard him.
"The Voidbound Praetor"—a name that carried weight across warzones and corporate comms alike. A warrior, a leader, a visionary.
And, as Coffein soon learned, a man with an alarming habit of throwing people into situations they were wildly underprepared for.
"You there, pilot. You're with me now."
That was it. No rank, no negotiation. Just you’re mine now.
Somewhere between panic and disbelief, Coffein did what Caldari do best—adapted. He tackled. He scouted. He salvaged. He handled logistics. He did everything the great Praetor was "too busy" to do, which, as it turned out, was a lot.
Days turned into weeks, missions into campaigns. Wherever the Praetor waged war, Coffein was behind him, patching the damage, hauling the wrecks, making sure the machine didn’t collapse under its own reckless momentum. He learned, fast. And in return? The Praetor stayed alive.
Five hundred cycles later, Coffein had no illusions about his role. He was the backup plan, the contingency, the one who got things done while history recorded the hero’s name.
But in the silence of the void, when the smoke cleared and the wrecks drifted, Coffein knew a truth few ever grasped—the Praetor may be the sword, but even the greatest blade is nothing without a steady hand to wield it.