tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1472662878697900042024-03-05T20:21:44.508-07:00Hazardous GoodsA blog about the life and many deaths of a carebear in EVE Online.
For RP purposes, consider this a diary found in a dusty attic many decades after the events have already happened.Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.comBlogger143125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-62365609345156470642019-09-06T13:53:00.000-06:002019-09-06T13:53:58.853-06:00The Lights Overhead: A short story dedicated to Druur Monakh)<b>YC121.08.17, 2300 NEST</b><div>
Bon Regard, Adeel VI, Marele Constellation, Everyshore, the Gallente Federation</div>
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<br /><br />“…Merde. Just what’s going on up there?”<br /><br />Euthie looked up from her college assignment, and followed her younger brother’s frowning gaze into the night sky. There was an Upwell station up there, about eleven thousand kilometers above Adeel VI in a skewed polar orbit. At night, the lights, its sheer size and the high albedo of its hull made it shine brighter than any other planet or star in the sky.<br /><br />Right now, though…<br /><br />A kind of surprised grunt spoke itself, deep in her chest. “…Huh. Wow.”<br /><br />…Right now, there was a halo around it.<br /><br />“Are those cynosural fields?” Imile asked. “There must be a dozen of them! Two dozen!!”<br /><br />“I think so, yeah,” Euthie said. She set her tablet aside and looked up, thinking about what it meant.<br /><br />“Damn capsuleers,” Imile spat. “If they’re fighting… I mean, what happens down here if that thing blows up? It’ll come raining down all over the planet!”<br /><br />“They aren’t fighting,” Euthie corrected him. “They’re mourning.”<br /><br />Imile finally tore his gaze away from the cloud of exotic energies pulsing far overhead to give her a disbelieving look. “Mourning?” he asked. “Capsuleers don’t die! They’re IMMORTAL. That’s the whole point!”<br /><br />“No, they’re just cloned.” Euthie stood up and dusted some dirt and grass off her jeans. “And it doesn’t always go right…” She picked up her tablet again and hit the Galnet boards. Capsuleers naturally had an enormous following: The pod-watching community was huge and well informed, and when a capsuleer passed away it was always big news. It didn’t take her long to find the details—It was a trending topic across plenty of social media.<br /><br />“…Her name was Druur Monakh,” she read. “She was a decorated pilot for Societas Imperialis Sceptri Coronaeque. And well-liked, too.”<br /><br />The capsuleer’s public portrait was calculated to look… severe, maybe. She had a stern face, made harder by implants under the skin and a no-nonsense haircut. She certainly looked the part of a capsuleer: Nobody else could radiate so much power and make it seem so effortless. Her level, direct eyes let nothing slip about whatever demons might have lurked behind them, or what troubles she might have been hiding.<br /><br />She looked like a goddess.<br /><br />And yet, high above Euthie’s quiet suburban home and this pleasant summer evening, was the proof that she was not. In the end, she had been just as human as everybody else. Neither a goddess nor an immortal… just another human being, with friends who had come out in force to say their farewells and grieve.<br /><br />She’d been loved, at least. Whatever else she had been, Druur Monakh had been loved.<br /><br />With that thought in mind, Euthie put her arm around her brother and held him close, and together they watched until, one by one, the lights overhead went out.</div>
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<i>Many thanks to <a href="https://forums.eveonline.com/t/the-lights-overhead-a-short-story-dedicated-to-druur-monakh/183523">Stitcher</a> for allowing us to post his story here. o7, Druur. Fly reckless.</i></div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-64507912055530932802019-09-06T13:41:00.000-06:002019-09-06T13:41:54.219-06:00OOC: Epilogue<i>Editor's note: This out-of-character draft (written in 2013) was found amongst Druur's collection of published blog stories. It seemed polished enough to include here for his dear readers, those of you who followed the exploits of Druur Monakh, Amarrian freight hauler, industrialist, missioner, reaction mogul, and dread pirate across the backdrop of New Eden. </i><br />
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<span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span>“And if thou wilt, remember,<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> And if thou wilt, forget.”<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span"> </span> -- Christina Rossetti</blockquote>
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<i>** This post is for when I stop playing EVE online. It is meant to summarize how the blog started as a thin veil over my game actions, and it turned into a fiction RP blog **</i></div>
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When I started this blog, it was with the idea to write a blog about an industrialist and missioner in EVE; its contents being what I did in the game, somewhat fictionalized, as a counter to all the pvp-oriented “I undocked. I killed stuff. I harvested tears.” blogs.</div>
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That idea pretty much died right off the bat. I just couldn’t bring myself to write about the planning and calculating and estimating my industrial activities required. It might have been interesting and educational to read, but it just wasn’t interesting enough for me to write (and likely I was the wrong person to even attempt it).</div>
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And another thing happened: Druur changed, and so did I. My goals in EVE changed, and at the same time, Druur started to develop a mind of her own.</div>
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Granted, sometimes I would nudge things just right for her to follow the path I had in mind for her, at least for a little while. At other times, what happened to her were reflections of what I thought and experienced in the real world. But as time passed, she turned into more than just a mere mirror of my real self; instead, she became someone independent. And the challenge for me became to chronicle her experiences in an engaging fashion.</div>
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I did manage to hold onto the most important of my original premises, though. Despite all the embellishment, reattributing, modifying, fictionalizing, and even the occasional staging of scenes, Druur’s story was alway based in one way or the other on real events in EVE, involving other players. And that made all the work worthwhile, because I never knew for sure what would happen next to her, or with whom. And without that uncertainty, I don’t think I would have been able to play EVE for as long as I did.</div>
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Druur is on her own now, and I hope that she is going to find happiness eventually. I wish I could visit her again one day, find out what she’s been up to - but it is an idle wish. She is moving on with her life, as I am with mine.</div>
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To you, my readers: thank you for following Druur and myself on this journey, despite all the bad writing and overuse of tropes and cliches:<span class="Apple-converted-space"> </span>I do hope you enjoyed it. For me, it’s been an unforgettable experience.</div>
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Fly hard - and wreak havoc!</div>
<br />Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-51471734150201123152016-08-17T02:30:00.000-06:002016-11-23T02:38:44.188-07:00Closing Hours<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal;">
Unsurprisingly the bar was dark and quiet when I entered - catering primarily to podders, the news of an upcoming sov switch of the area had left the usual patronage in various stages of evacuation. The only other guest, in fact, was a young Minmatar punk who was helping herself to various bottles left behind on the shelves behind the bar. Smiling, I made my way over.</div>
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“You look worse than I feel”, I said by way of greeting.</div>
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Myra barely looked up. “Ugh. Don’t. Even. Mention. It.”</div>
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I hopped up to sit on the bar counter. “Try Arcturian Mega-Vodka. You’ll feel bad again tomorrow, but at least today will be a pleasant memory.”</div>
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She looked up to me. “You’re of course an expert in this.”</div>
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“Maybe…”, I conceded. “But it wasn’t me who got drunk yesterday and went off loud-mouthing the leader of the attacking alliance in local.”</div>
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“I didn’t know that he was the leader, ok?!”, she snarled at me. “I thought he was just another line-grunt, and when he came along with his drunk sense of self-importance, I let him have it.” She emptied her glass and looked at it morosely. “Probably not my best performance…”</div>
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I grabbed a glass and bottle she had left open, and poured one for myself. “Nope, not at all.” I took a sip, and shuddered. “It was entertaining, though.” I eyed my drink, unsure if I should let it win. “What are your plans now?”</div>
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Myra opened another bottle. “Apart from finding a dog to get hairs from? Ship out to hi-sec, like everyone else.” She paused for a moment. “I might stay there for a while, because…” She paused again.</div>
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I took another sip of my drink, willing to face the challenge of it. It still tasted like engine degreaser. “Shush - she’s a good catch.” I winked at her.</div>
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She had refilled her glass meanwhile. “Well, you’d be the one to know…”, she replied before taking a drink. Her grimace was newsworthy, and she coughed several times. “What the…”, she began, but then her voice croaked in defeat.</div>
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“Dog enough for you?”</div>
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“Oh yes!”, she replied, with teary eyes. “And you?” she asked, before taking another drink.</div>
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I looked at my glass for a while before answering. “Factional Warfare borderzone.” I replied eventually. “Null just doesn’t do it for me, and I do have other obligations as well these days.”</div>
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She coughed again, and nodded. “It must be nice to have a place to call home…”</div>
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I refilled her glass.</div>
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“It’ll happen, Kitten, trust me.”</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-89650305847662768992016-07-19T20:43:00.000-06:002016-09-22T23:22:59.795-06:00It's In The Name<em> "With hindsight, the decision sucked. But that's the benefit of hindsight.</em><br />
<em> When you use it, all decisions suck." -- Giles Todd</em><br />
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[ What did you say? You were cutting out. ]<br />
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I grimaced at the holo comms - Miss Phage was being her usual polite self. The reason I had ‘cut out’ was because a round of cheers that had erupted when Kaili Severasse and his squad entered the bar, returning from a successful operation - <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://variableconclusion.wordpress.com/2016/07/13/aar-every-little-bit-helps/">the new kind required to live in null-sec</a></span>. And what the patronage of Squirrel Central’s Bar-and-Grill thought it lacked in numbers, it made up for with enthusiasm.<br />
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“I said ‘The operation here appears to have been a success - it has been a while since we had that many alliance members and friends in one place.” I paused, and then as if by afterthought added, “And your last POCO has been placed as well.”<br />
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[ I <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/55069629/">got the notice</a></span>. ] She smiled faintly. [ And the first import/export taxes are rolling in as we speak. Your alliance is quite a busy bunch. ]<br />
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“That they are!” I took a drink from my glass.<br />
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[ Your team doesn’t happen to be around? ] she continued.<br />
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I hmmed and looked around. The strategically dim lighting of the bar, combined with the flickering of the large holo screens playing back everybody’s favorite battle moments made it hard to locate people… ah, there was Rhys, making good on his challenge to arm-wrestle everybody in the room for drinks, currently giving Darius a hard time. And Mica and Myra… sitting a bit apart from the crowd, laughing and having drinks together. I smiled inwardly at the sight.<br />
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“There are a bit busy,” I turned back to the comm unit, “but I’ll let them know that you asked for them - they’ll know what it means.”<br />
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Miss Phage nodded in acknowledgment. [ I am wondering about something though… ] She hesitated [ While I wouldn’t prescribe my field agents how they perform their job - why Taloses? ]<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X2JCAXsYr0gm3xzJn4mvvlcsCol4llARP-OnX0ClyaQW_JvIzEtdXruZihk4Tx6Eszj4J0L7KRISi6KOv83EnKqzTvL5kdS78rP5RIMUBcBa9ebBKwfNii7l0_bmfSG122KRqavvmZOG/s1600/POCO+Exploding-cropped-50.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="128" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8X2JCAXsYr0gm3xzJn4mvvlcsCol4llARP-OnX0ClyaQW_JvIzEtdXruZihk4Tx6Eszj4J0L7KRISi6KOv83EnKqzTvL5kdS78rP5RIMUBcBa9ebBKwfNii7l0_bmfSG122KRqavvmZOG/s200/POCO+Exploding-cropped-50.jpg" width="200" /></a>“Instead of cheaper and more nimble stealth bombers?” I frowned. “I was questioning my decision myself at times. The original estimates showed them to provide better sustained damage than bombers, and the ammunition was cheaper. And they were fitted cross-purpose to be able to serve as heavy hitters in an Alliance defense fleet as well. Alas,” I grimaced, “the latter never came to pass.”<br />
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[ Instead there were many <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54972745/">mobile</a></span> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54939594/">groups</a></span> with <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54565005/">cloaky</a></span> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54582431/">support</a></span>. ]<br />
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“...and we <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54926815/">were</a></span> <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54582455/">rusty</a></span> as <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54972721/">hell</a></span>.” I agreed grudgingly. “But we got into some nice scuffles, and at the end we had a good system down, even though it required a lot of patience.” I sighed. “I’m afraid though that it’ll be a while before the POCOs make back the expenses.”<br />
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Miss Phage chuckled. [ It was never about profit alone, and not even about symbolically staking a claim. ] She looked at me inscrutably. [ I wanted to know if my team was still around. ]<br />
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“What…” I began, but she didn’t let me finish.<br />
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[ You’ll need a name, though. ] she mused. [ I think it’s tradition among Spec Ops teams that they have impressive nicknames.] She smiled at me. [ Especially the more special ones. ]<br />
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I blinked at this turn, and all my brain was able to come up with was the highly unoriginal ‘...what?’<br />
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“ <em>Cat’s Destruction</em> “, said a very cheerful Myra over my shoulder, carrying four drinks in her hands, clearly having overheard us on her re-supply mission. “Nobody’d get it!” She beamed at me, and continued back towards her table.<br />
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Miss Phage looked thoughtful. [ I like it - it’s very fitting. What do you say? ]<br />
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“I say...,” having gotten back control of my words, “I’ll think about it.”<br />
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[ Fair enough. ] She leaned back, clearly done with our chat. [ I’ll let you get back to your party - though I do hope that next time I call on you in person, your partner will be at home as well - I’m curious to meet him. Godspeed. ] And the link cut off.<br />
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I emptied my drink in one go, a thought flashing through my mind.<br />
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*You and me both.*Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-46937401492936903702016-07-11T04:38:00.000-06:002016-07-13T09:59:10.556-06:00Late Night Company <i>“Is this a good plan?” - “I’m confused to its purpose, so it must be good!” — <a href="http://comic.nodwick.com/?comic=2004-06-16">Nodwick, 2004/06/16</a></i><br />
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With a jerk I woke up. My Hound shifted as my brain struggled to make sense of my surroundings, then my view cleared. Outside, the system’s star’s light glanced off the hull of my stealth bomber as it floated in the protective bubble of the POS I was spending the night in. Fluid router downtime was looming, and I wondered what had woken me.<br />
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[ Druur, are you there? ] , asked a voice on our Alliance comm channel. Greygal, our intrepid leader.<br />
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Subvocalized or not, my first words were just a croak. I swallowed and tried again: “Am now.”<br />
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[ Do you have time to scout me to UQY, taking the back way? I figured I’d stage a TCU there while it’s quiet, in case tomorrow’s fight goes south. ]<br />
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“Sure thing. Give me a sec - I just woke up.”<br />
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[ You definitely <i>sound</i> like you only just woke up, even more than usual! ]<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dqEKICwXM5Q1YlfljCuXDK9FWOCyiwUrCsb5eAXwOn65k8oTBGofDoFNuqjuUCOPyoGyYdflo5p7AJHaoxZxtoLuKS2lXEbLYllaBJI1eREK3Fol_uCCBy7B7xGt4fDgr8YJgm9eSj4f/s1600/POCO+Reinforced+Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="115" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2dqEKICwXM5Q1YlfljCuXDK9FWOCyiwUrCsb5eAXwOn65k8oTBGofDoFNuqjuUCOPyoGyYdflo5p7AJHaoxZxtoLuKS2lXEbLYllaBJI1eREK3Fol_uCCBy7B7xGt4fDgr8YJgm9eSj4f/s200/POCO+Reinforced+Cropped.jpg" width="200" /></a>I smiled weakly in my pod while the systems of my ship went back to full power. My warp drive sputtered to life and the POS became a rapidly shrinking point of light behind me. In 60M, Greygal was already waiting in her transport. Our trip would take us through just two systems of ours, but since the TCU was of strategic importance... I took the lead and warped to the 9-H gate, activating the sequence right when I landed.<br />
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“9-H is… friendly.”<br />
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[ Good, I’m coming in. Hey, how is your POCO project coming? ]<br />
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“It’s coming. There is only one left, and it will come out of reinforce in a few hours.” I answered while my warp drive did its duty again. The next gate loomed large, then the warp tunnel distorted my vision. “In fact … UQY is empty … we had it out of reinforce Saturday morning already, but Exiled was simply too active for us to do anything about it.” I grimaced in memory - Exiled was quite good at <span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/55018321/">insta-locking camps</a></span> and skirmishing, and especially our large ships would have just died needlessly.<br />
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[ Ok, hopping into UQY. You know, you could put these timers onto the calendar, so that people could see them, and, like, join your fleets. ] She coughed. [ <i>Hint</i> <i>hint</i>. ]<br />
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I felt chagrin as our ships crossed the space towards our staging POS. Our project certainly had turned out more complicated and lossy than expected, and the strain of alarm-clocking the timers was wearing on my team. Asking for Alliance backup would have made some things easier, but yet …<br />
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<span style="text-decoration: underline;"><a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54432138/">It wasn’t that we rejected backup</a></span> when people offered, but somehow it mattered that we <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/55001237/">didn’t</a> <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54957574/">plan</a> <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/54886203/">on it</a>, even if we couldn’t put the exact reasons into words.<br />
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Greygal understood even so. [ You crazy lone wolves with your squirreling… ] she commented with amusement while the crews unloaded the TCU from her ship’s cargo hold, and I laughed.<br />
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“Yup.” Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-53064420331792599372016-06-15T00:20:00.000-06:002016-06-15T06:24:25.604-06:00Nine Months Later <em>“That’s ok. Sometimes we need a break from you, too.”</em><br />
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Sweat ran down my face as I dropped the empty magazine from my blaster rifle and clicked a new one home. Further down the obstacle course, a combat drone weaved in and out of cover, waiting for me to get out from behind this obstacle. No way I could defeat it from here, but if I could flank it… without a second thought I turned the corner, fired two unaimed shots to make the drone duck back, and broke into a sprint to the nearest obstacle to the side. Sliding to a stop added a few bruises to my skin, but I smiled: it was nice to be back at normal weight and proportions. Now if only I could make it to the next cover… I got moving again: turn the corner, two cover shots, another sprint, and then the world turned a painful red when a blaster bolt hit me mid-stride.<br />
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Collapsing to the ground, momentarily paralyzed from the blast, I cursed: the bloody thing had flanked <em>me</em>!<br />
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Groaning I rolled onto my back, when suddenly a heavy weight landed on my chest and a long, rough tongue licked my face. Hands still tingling, I reached up and nudged the dog’s head away, giving me some room. “What are you doing here, Buddy? You could get shot!” Nearby, I sensed the practice combat drone powering down - no longer a danger now that it had won the exercise.<br />
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“Ma’am?”<br />
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Distracting Buddy with an intense ear-scritching, I managed to sit up and look at the Amarrian teenager standing next to me. “What is it?”<br />
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“You have a visitor, Ma’am - a certain Lady Phage. She says that you know her?”<br />
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I frowned - I certainly remembered ‘Lady’ Rhea Phage. I just didn’t expect her to show up again in my life. But apparently she wasn’t done with me after all.<br />
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“Make her feel welcome - I’ll be joining her shortly.” I looked down at my sweat-glistening upper body and the happy shepherd dog draped across my legs. “I need to freshen up first.”<br />
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‘Freshen up’ - I was quietly chuckling at my choice of words as I directed my steps towards our porch. A couple of splashes of water into my face, the worst of the dirt brushed off my camo pants, a dark-mauve blouse thrown over my still sweat-drenched tank top - that counted, right? Nursing a large glass of water, I sat down across of Miss Phage and mustered her. Despite the heat of the day, she looked quite comfortable in her refined business outfit, tea cup in her hand.<br />
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“I am sorry to have kept you waiting,” I said, skipping formalities, “but I see that you have been taken care of.”<br />
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“Yes, thanks. And no apology needed” she replied, “I didn’t exactly announce my visit beforehand. And the wait did give me time to admire your dwelling here - it is quite impressive.” She cocked her head slightly. “It’s not what I would have expected from you.”<br />
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I couldn’t help glancing around at those words - the house, the deck we’re sitting on, the forest surrounding us - before answering. “Honestly, I didn’t expect it myself, nor was it my idea. But now that I’m here… One could say that I had stumbled over an opportunity and ran with it.”<br />
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“More than just ‘ran with it’, from what I’ve seen.” she remarked, taking a sip of tea. “But that’s actually why I’m here - to offer you an opportunity of my own.”<br />
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I leaned back. “Is that so? - Thank you, Laura.” The last was directed at the teenager who had come out and set a carafe of fresh cold water onto the table. “That is all for now - go tend to your other chores.”<br />
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“Yes, Ma’am.” Laura bowed her head and retreated back into the house. I looked back at Miss Phage, who was watching me with an amused smile. Ignoring the bait, I emptied my glass and refilled it from the carafe. “So, what opportunity are you here to sell me on?”<br />
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Miss Phage set her cup back onto the saucer. “I want to finalize Hazardous’ foothold in Querious, and I need pilots.” She focused her gaze on me. “Pilots willing to do the boring work of eliminating structures, and doing so without much of a safety net.”<br />
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I held her gaze for a moment. “Then why are you coming to me? I haven’t exactly been active the last months. And you know what I think of large fleets.”<br />
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“That’s not true,” she retorted. “You were on roams recently, and with quite a number of pilots in fleet at that.”<br />
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“<em>They</em> were on roams, fighting the war.” I corrected her. “<em>I</em> was unwinding with one-woman slosh-ops. We just happened to fly into the same general direction at about the same times.”<br />
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Miss Phage studied me curiously for a few seconds, then nodded. “Good.”<br />
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“‘Good’?” I asked.<br />
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“Good.” she repeated. “I can’t use pilots who are oblivious of their limits.” She paused to pour some more tea. “At first, you weren’t even on my list,” she added coolly, “but the other pilots I reached out to - who I’d trust to get the job done even on their own - insisted that I’d talk to you as well. ‘Crotchety, reckless, and knowing it’ I think were the words.”<br />
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“Ouch.” I grimaced, but it was true. “Who are those fools who consider these to be good things?”<br />
“See for yourself.” She produced a data pad, and pushed it over. I caught it and scanned the list of names - it was rather short, and familiar.<br />
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“These pilots…”, I began, but Miss Phage didn’t let me finish. “It’s <em>your</em> team - in more way than one.” she said. “What do you say?”<br />
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I looked at the pad. “Let me think about it.”<br />
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Drakus eventually found me in our <em>paskan suskone</em> - the shrine he had constructed in our house. I didn’t subscribe to his spirituality still, much less my own, but it was a calm, quiet room - perfect for…<br />
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“Hey. What are you doing?”<br />
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“Thinking.” I replied.<br />
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“About what?” He sat down next to me.<br />
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“The decision I have to make.” I averted his eyes for a moment.<br />
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“What decision?” He reached over to stroke my neck.<br />
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I took a breath. “Well, just a few hours a ago I got a contract offer…” - and I filled him in about my conversation with Miss Phage. When I was finished, he was silent for a while, his hand absentmindedly caressing my hair.<br />
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“You are going to leave me. Again.” he finally said.<br />
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“It’s only for a couple of weeks,” I implored, “and given how null-sec works, I might be spending more time here in my jump clone, than on the battlefield.”<br />
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“But Zoë…”, he began, but I cut him off.<br />
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“…Zoë is old enough that she no longer needs me around the clock, and she is in good hands.” For emphasis I grabbed his hands and squeezed them. “Namely, yours. And Laura’s.” I looked at him. “But I have to do this - otherwise I would no longer be the woman which caught your eye so many months ago. And believe me, you don’t want that to happen.”<br />
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Drakus looked out of the windows for a while, then turned back to me. “You have already made your decision, haven’t you? Without consulting me?”<br />
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That gave me pause, then I nodded somberly. “Yes. Yes, I think I have.” Looking into his earnest eyes, I added, more sure than I was before, “Sorry.”<br />
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-83X8XqL95F0/V2DyezqVJEI/AAAAAAAAA64/GSvTo_7qwaYRd91Ci58wf5CQ97mCUZJjACLcB/s1600/launch.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="129" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-83X8XqL95F0/V2DyezqVJEI/AAAAAAAAA64/GSvTo_7qwaYRd91Ci58wf5CQ97mCUZJjACLcB/s200/launch.jpg" width="200" /></a>For a few seconds, Drakus held my gaze, then he let go and stood up, with an expression I had come to know quite well by then. I made no attempt to stop him, and after he had left, I stood up myself and went to peer out of one the windows. Yep, there he went, axe shouldered, headed straight towards the woodshed.<br />
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Briefly I rested my head against the window pane and sighed, then straightened up again and turned away. Space was calling me.Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-601486809742914522015-07-25T01:11:00.000-06:002015-08-04T01:18:57.602-06:00Leaving So Soon?<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<i> “Last day. Capricorn 29’s. Year of the city: 2274. Carousel begins.” -- Logan’s Run</i></div>
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“Oh, gods dammit!”</div>
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I cursed under my breath as I flopped down onto my couch. Kicking off the boots from my feet, I opened my jacket and rested my head on the back of the couch, feeling queasy.</div>
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It had not been a good month - I had had nothing but losses. And <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47918883/">most of the time</a>, I couldn’t even blame superior numbers (<a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/48021430/">though</a> <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47957878/">it did</a> <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47917763/">happen</a>) - often enough it had just been me doing <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47933965/">simple</a> mistakes. And sometimes, it had just been me in <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/48022633/">the wrong place</a>, in the wrong ship, against the <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/48041284/">wrong</a> <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/48080655/">enemy</a>, who could shoot first.</div>
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I looked towards the wet bar, but forced my eyes away from it again. Getting drunk would be worse than just ‘bad’ right now.</div>
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I knew - it was my choice to prowl the factional warfare zone on my own, without backup or links; but in months like this, it was hard to keep going.</div>
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Suddenly, the quarters which had been sufficient for me for years, felt claustrophobic. I missed the sky, the rolling hills, the smell of the forest in the afternoon…</div>
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Fighting off an attack of vertigo, I made my way to the computer console, and activated it.</div>
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“Drake…”, I unceremoniously began the message recording. “Life sucks, and I’ll be at … <i>our</i> place for the next week. It’d be nice if you could drop by some time.” I paused, looking at the screen, unsure what to say more, then I added in a soft voice. “I love you.”</div>
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And before I could question myself, I finished the recording and sent it off. Ignoring my churning stomach, I went to pack the necessities I’d need for the week - it didn’t take long. Duffel slung over my shoulder, I stopped in the entrance doorway and I looked back at what I had called home for the last years. Strange how little impact my presence had made in those years.</div>
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I shook my head and stepped out, and the door fell shut behind me.</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-32070217706193483772015-07-01T02:15:00.000-06:002015-07-01T02:27:40.988-06:00A Fly in the Ointment<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>TomyLobo> Sending your ass where you came from</i></div>
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I laughed in my pod as the Loki entered the wormhole, its weaponless hull showing significant armor damage. Courtesy of my torpedoes. A buddy of his had shown up briefly before, in a Paladin, but he didn’t matter, staying at his safe spot 90km away The Loki Pilot wasn’t too bad, actually, requiring me to manually pilot in order to intercept him on his Micro-Warp fueled orbits. And he had the power of backup, whereas I was on my own.</div>
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Unfortunately for him, I had long stopped caring about numbers and combat record statistics. Instead, I was out here just to annoy him.</div>
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I knew that I had been too far away from this particular wormhole to give effective chase, but I went for it nonetheless. When I emerged on the other side, the Loki vanished from my local scan. Cloaked? Warped off? I didn’t stay to find out- instead I returned to the w-space system we had come from. Because that one, I knew, had a Paladin mowing through Sleeper sites.</div>
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I was under no illusion that I could take on a Paladin by myself, but maybe my torpedoes could make the crucial difference in breaking his tank against the Sleepers? Before they turned to kill me, of course.</div>
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I would never know: he launched a flight of light drones, which would be a death sentence for my Purifier. Back to d-scan then.</div>
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Hmm… the Loki was back on scan - probably scanning out the other exits from this Anoikis system. I ignored it - if I attacked it, it would just play the same wormhole game as before. But there were also two Ventures on d-scan… i hesitated for a moment, and then sent out my probes to scan out the nearby non-combat sites.</div>
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Please please please … Yes!</div>
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My probes got a solid hit and I warped to the site where now three Ventures were going about their business.</div>
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I was under no illusions when I went in. My single point could not hold them, my torpedoes could barely scratch them, their combined drones could kill me in an instant. but maybe I could get off by sheer alpha?</div>
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…Nope. The Ventures warped out as soon as I decloaked and sent my torpedoes racing towards my closest target. I didn’t blame them - I’d have done the same.</div>
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But it also meant that my fragile-to-begin-with cover was truly blown. I started to warp around the system randomly, only to eventually return to the gas site I had chased off the Ventures earlier. When I had left, I had spied some abandoned Tech-2 drones. which could be beneficial to my cash flow.</div>
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Bad mistake. Their Paladin pilot had downshipped into a Destroyer, and was just waiting for me to go after those drones. The encounter <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47466461/">ended quickly</a>.</div>
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Yet, … I claimed victory. I had managed to distract their attention for quite a while, or so I liked to think, and them eventually <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47466477/">podding me back to k-space</a> was actually doing me a favor - I wouldn’t have been able to find my way back otherwise.</div>
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Op Success.</div>
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…except for that damn cloning headache…</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-43438579451812712992015-06-21T17:03:00.000-06:002015-06-21T17:04:54.352-06:00A Rendezvous With Artemis<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<i> “Polar exploration is at once the cleanest and most isolated way of having a bad time which has been devised.” </i></div>
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<i> - Apsley Cherry-Garrard, The Worst Journey in the World</i></div>
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“Sorry, sweetie, but something has come up.“ The mohawked Civire smiled apologetically, the emotion belying the strictness of his uniform. “This mission might take a week or so, and of course I’ll have to observe op-sec. You know how it is.”</div>
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I nodded to myself. Flying for different corporations invariably came with the difficulty that our schedules often conflicted. This time, I was on the receiving end.</div>
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“I’ll see you again once I get back,” continued the pre-recorded message on my holo display, “until then - Good Hunting!” He looked as if he wanted to add something more, but then he smiled again and the recording ended.</div>
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Well. That certainly put a damper on that evening’s entertainment plans - I would have to go to Plan B. But what ship to take? I still had a few ships left in my hangar, but after my recent experiences I didn’t feel like going out in a frigate again. Too often I was simply outnumbered and outgunned, assuming that I found a target.</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V-M5n5ly51M/VYc_5uOOLnI/AAAAAAAAAuk/F_8QF4YSd70/s1600/Rendezvous%2B2%2B-%2BShattered.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V-M5n5ly51M/VYc_5uOOLnI/AAAAAAAAAuk/F_8QF4YSd70/s200/Rendezvous%2B2%2B-%2BShattered.jpg" width="200" /></a>I lazily scanned my inventory list when my eye caught on an entry: tucked away in a corner of my hangar was the Purifier I had used years ago to explore Anoikis. The fit was still viable, and the recent reports about the Unidentified Wormholes had made me curious. I made up my mind: instead of hunting, I’d do some old-fashioned exploration for a change.</div>
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I entered the commands to have the crews get the Purifier flight ready, and then grabbed my jacket to make my way to the hangar myself, a spring in my step.</div>
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Two days later I remembered why I had left Anoikis in the first place, and the spring certainly had left my step. The first day I had embarked on a hundred-plus jump journey, but despite visiting dozens of systems with a Jove Observatory, no Drifter wormhole was to be found. There had been a bit of excitement when I passed through the Bleak Lands, with a neutral Armageddon going suspect on a gate with hostile onlookers on the grid - but of course same onlookers also prevented me from contributing more than just a <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47170336/">symbolic shot at that Armageddon</a>.</div>
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The second day I started following the various wormholes I scanned out, hoping that maybe I could find some careless site runners or miners. But what I found was empty systems - many remnants of once busy settlements, now reduced to powerless POSes with only their defenses left behind. The few active settlements I found, well, they were on a different schedule that I was, and none of their pilots was awake. I had been able to intercept a lonely hauler - about the only ship I had seen in space - but his warp core was stabilized, neutralizing my point, and he warped off before my second salvo even landed.</div>
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All in all, a rather frustrating experience, and now I was scanning through various signatures of this Anoikis system, trying to find a way back into normal space, back home. All the other signatures in this system had been Sleeper sites, so hopefully this last one… Yes! A wormhole!</div>
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I recalled my probes and my Purifier sped through the void towards the exit, which lead to… null-sec! I smiled in my pod, and actived the jump drive. Goodbye, Anoikis; hello, normal space!</div>
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Emerging from the wormhole, I oriented myself. I was deep in the Great Wildlands, and it would be a long trip home - but there was also an Unidentified Wormhole in the system. Hmm - I was tired, but on the other hand, this was why I was here. Might as well check it out.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iPVNBnZW7ZI/VYc_6cwBcMI/AAAAAAAAAuw/Z4IqQJcTW74/s1600/Rendezvous%2B3%2B-%2BDamaged%2BStructure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iPVNBnZW7ZI/VYc_6cwBcMI/AAAAAAAAAuw/Z4IqQJcTW74/s200/Rendezvous%2B3%2B-%2BDamaged%2BStructure.jpg" width="200" /></a>When I arrived at the wormhole, it was just in time to see three Drifters vanish through it. Knowing their reputation, I gave them a few minutes and then followed through the wormhole myself. The other side… was not that much different from the other w-space systems. Except, there was a beacon - ‘Vidette’.</div>
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At the beacon I found <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ERZhfftJ7-E/VYc_-nIx5DI/AAAAAAAAAvI/gyRLs8RbEGY/s1600/Rendezvous%2B6%2B-%2BStructure.jpg" target="_blank">a few Sleeper structures</a>, and an Acceleration Gate. Naturally I took it, and was deposited in a deadspace area patrolled by Sleepers. Thank gods I had reactivated my cloak during the warp! <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXrFohMjphd6BEmVy3rUmGy69XZvzYjQkPq4X-cjaV17_3Yn-94lvroQvZ0jBcHIZ7ZLcSD7kYLDRXnExfiRFG3_cdBrdl6etURjQ4AA2xwN7q1gHfsV1g7hUW16ZgYpQkW2_xCN4YBbfg/s1600/Rendezvous+1+-+Vidette+Rift.jpg" target="_blank">A spatial rift</a> was pulsating nearby, but I was more interested in the Acceleration gates leading further. Maybe, if I crept up on one and and dropped cloak only in the last moment…</div>
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It took several agonizing minutes, but my plan worked. The Sleeper patrol immediately targeted me, but was unable to prevent me from warping deeper into the pocket.</div>
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Oh, good, more Sleeper patrols! …aand one of these Drifter battleships, close to the Acceleration Gate. Well, time to do my Sneak-and-Warp again. I ignored the Beta Access Unit - I wasn’t here for riches, just to do some sightseeing.</div>
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It happened faster than my ship’s systems could register it. One moment, the Acceleration gate was looming large ahead of me, in the next, I was in my pod, my Purifier having been <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/47188082/">reduced to a wreck</a> by a single shot from the Drifter battleship.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgA0FEkdyNMEgOmNGodNQvugs7idInLIPU97g8cNJSJMjMbI3n2crK0wJb7iSCs1-OS4ozc2_qScznp5tekB306CqUjrmMb8xrx-ohIpxQVvxjXE3kMRIQhF4HqW6BAlF-PMJO7wP-v9kn/s1600/Rendezvous+4+-+Drifters.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="119" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgA0FEkdyNMEgOmNGodNQvugs7idInLIPU97g8cNJSJMjMbI3n2crK0wJb7iSCs1-OS4ozc2_qScznp5tekB306CqUjrmMb8xrx-ohIpxQVvxjXE3kMRIQhF4HqW6BAlF-PMJO7wP-v9kn/s200/Rendezvous+4+-+Drifters.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;"> Did I not activate the gate quickly enough? Should I have been already aligned when my cloak dropped? Questions for which I probably won’t get answers anytime soon.</span><br />
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With a mental salute, I turned my pod around and headed for the exit back to normal space.</div>
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Well played, Artemis Tyrannos, well played.</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-9027033753589369542015-06-02T00:41:00.005-06:002015-06-02T01:19:40.499-06:00Get Out Of My Way!<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>"All I ask is a tall ship and a load of contraband to fill her with." -- Quark</i></div>
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“Well, hello there, little Svipul. I have seen you before.” I voicelessly spoke to myself in my pod. “And there is also your little friend, the Exequror, propping you up.”</div>
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The two ships were indeed still orbiting the Sasiekko gate in Sosala, a widely popular entry point into the Amarrian factional warfare zone, and this was now my second trip back in. They had ignored me before, and did so again this time, but my luck wouldn’t always hold. Looks like I had chose then wrong night to evacuate my collected loot from the various lo-sec system - but it was something I had delayed far too often already. And so I was now ferrying goods easily worth four times more than my fitted ship itself.</div>
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Just an hour before I had already tested my luck when I cross-jumped a Shadow Cartel cruiser gang on my way to Akkio - on the way back I played it safe and took a detour.</div>
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Speeding away from the gate, I pondered their setup. It was quite straightforward, actually: the Svipul engages targets, while the logi kept it repped against gate guns and target alike. And the logi being lawful, it could not be attacked first without inflicting gate guns onto yourself.</div>
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Soon, the station of Auga loomed large before my Tristan, and my docking request was accepted. There was another frigate hogging the undock - well, I could chill for a while the hangar crew loaded the rest of the loot into my ship. Luckily it all fit - a covert ops cloaking device taking up most the space. And by the time they were done, the pilot I had seen on the undock had left the system as well.</div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bTDVIqIsswM/VW1P5dEJWSI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/3eDPBGGW0Uo/s1600/Tristan%2Bat%2BAmarr%2BOutpost.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="131" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bTDVIqIsswM/VW1P5dEJWSI/AAAAAAAAAtQ/3eDPBGGW0Uo/s200/Tristan%2Bat%2BAmarr%2BOutpost.jpg" width="200" /></a>Undock, undock!</div>
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On the way back to Sasiekko I chided myself that I was even surprised at that gang setup - it was obvious, really. I just tended to not think in terms of backup or logistics, since by choice I never had any. But how would you break something like that on your own? Cruiser-sized logistics applied to a destroyer… my Tristan certainly wouldn’t be able to break that, and a blaster cruiser might not be able to catch the destroyer.</div>
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Maybe an artillery cruiser, to simply alpha through the repairs?</div>
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The gate to Sasiekko fired, and I concentrated. I still wasn’t very much liked in hi-sec, and while the gate into Sasiekko wasn’t quite as guarded as the one into <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=25482573">Keberz</a>, sometimes people with <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26730807">itchy trigger implants</a> were around.</div>
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Well, not this time. The roundtrip to the station was uneventful, and soon I was back in Sosala, cheerfully ‘waving’ at the Svipul pilot as he tried to resolve a target lock on my fleeting Tristan. My next loot cache was over in the Forge, a journey of about 40 systems.</div>
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Maybe I should stage some ships again in Sasiekko - I still had a jump clone there, and with faction warfare still hot, it could provide some excitement when our own home area was quiet. Maybe chase some of the mission runners, since the plexers often had warp stabs, nearby friends, or both.</div>
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Ok, one hi-sec system to traverse, and the in-gate back into lo-sec was often camped, so… Of course. Another logi-assisted Svipul.</div>
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And this one was more on the ball: he managed to lock me up and put me into half shields before my warp drive caught and propelled me to safety - his point had fallen short.</div>
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But when I sped away, I noticed that this Svipul had been assisted by not one, but two Exequrors.</div>
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I shook my head. Seriously?</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-30768806497662618222015-05-24T22:33:00.000-06:002015-06-02T01:17:40.493-06:00A Déjà Vu Of Sorts<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>“It is usually a glitch in the Matrix. It happens when they change something.” -- Trinity</i></div>
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“Good morning!”, he called out as I entered the main room, freshly showered. “I made some coffee - want some?”</div>
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“Sure!”</div>
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I walked over to him in his kitchen, and hugged him from behind, giving him a light kiss on his shoulder. “Good morning, handsome.”</div>
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“Hmm, I could get used to that.”, he replied. Turning around, he gave me a kiss on my forehead, and handed me a mug. “Here - enjoy.”</div>
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Leaning against the counter, I took a sip while he poured himself a mug as well. It was indeed good coffee!</div>
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“I didn’t know that making coffee is so strenuous that you had to take off your shirt for it!”, I teased.</div>
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He grinned at me and winked. “Look who’s talking! Besides, I know you enjoy the view.”</div>
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Well, he was correct on that. Genetics had given him an enviable muscular build, and while the look of his prosthetic arms had taken some getting used to at first, I could no longer imagine him without them.</div>
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“Want anything to eat? I for my part am starving!”</div>
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I took another sip. “No, thanks, coffee is enough. But you go ahead - it is your kitchen after all.”</div>
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“As you wish.”, he smiled and turned back to his preparations.</div>
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Slowly drinking my coffee and watching him, I thought back over the last couple of days. We had met by chance at a social event, and found that we went along well. He was an outlaw like myself, only more successful, flying for an established low-sec alliance. After the event, he had asked me out for a drink, and then surprised me by not joining me for the night. It took another evening, and some obvious moves on my part, to make that happen, but it had been worth it.</div>
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A memory of the previous night ran through my mind, and I grinned. Oh yes, definitely worth it! Except… I had the suspicion that he expected this to turn into something more. Some of the comments he had made…</div>
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I sighed, and emptied my coffee.</div>
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“Everything ok?”, he asked, turning around, a full plate in his hand. I nodded neutrally. “Yeah, no worries. Let me just top this up and I’ll join you.”</div>
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Mug refilled, I slowly walked to the table where he had sat down, and seated myself at a right angle to him.</div>
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“So, what are your plans for today?”, he asked between bites.</div>
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“Work.”, I replied with a slightly sad tone. “I would have loved to stay longer, but…”</div>
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“I would have loved that, as well.”, he teased, then continued: “That’s about the POS, isn’t it? You hinted something before…”</div>
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“Yup. This <a href="http://www.eve-kill.net/?a=corp_detail&crp_id=290651">little two-man corp</a> who had war-decced us?” I took a sip. “Apparently they had found an offline tower of ours and thought ‘Yay! Easy target!’ Of course they didn’t tell us that, but once we started investigating them, their MO became obvious. So we found which of our towers was offline, and took it down.”</div>
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He laughed. “Nice! They probably weren’t happy!”</div>
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“We may never know.”, I laughed back. “And they are going to be even more unhappy today!”</div>
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“How so?”</div>
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“Well, part of our usual war target investigation is to run locators on our hostiles. One of them we found somewhere out in the Forge, and since one of our pilots had nothing better to do, he took a CovOps out there and snooped around a bit. And by pure chance, he found <i>their</i> POS.”</div>
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“Ooops.”, he grinned.</div>
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“Ooops indeed: a small tower, three labs, no guns, no hardeners. So two days ago we hit it and put it into reinforce.”</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoEhPN_GzUL70tLzsWCji49DrMWuofHS0fyHdP5uDibOQZy-ZYtTtlgSvIK3-dleBvLy67WKO6KOy_fj5PV9QKUTrj1Ven_1XfP37dhJHzDuYjRPfhG5qU6P88nPOcpee313c28PmN5SsU/s1600/POS+Shoot+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoEhPN_GzUL70tLzsWCji49DrMWuofHS0fyHdP5uDibOQZy-ZYtTtlgSvIK3-dleBvLy67WKO6KOy_fj5PV9QKUTrj1Ven_1XfP37dhJHzDuYjRPfhG5qU6P88nPOcpee313c28PmN5SsU/s200/POS+Shoot+2.jpg" width="200" /></a>“And now that it’s coming out, you’re going to hit it again.” he completed the thought. “Did they add any defenses in the meantime?”</div>
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I shook my head. “Nope. We’re wondering if they even paid attention to the structure attack notification.” I emptied my cup. “But, yeah, that’s what’s up. While I can’t go on the op itself, I should at least be at base, in case something escalates.”</div>
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“Understood.”, he nodded, then touched my arm. “Thank you for two wonderful days.”</div>
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“No, thank you.”, I smiled, then leaned forward and kissed him on the lips, running my hand through his mohawk, procrastinating. Finally he broke the kiss.</div>
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“Go. You have a POS to kill.”</div>
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“Right.” I got up, put on my jacket, and collected my few other belongings - as usual, I had been traveling light. Finally I walked back over to him - and a sense of déjà vu stopped me. Suddenly I didn’t want to just walk out like I had done with <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2013/11/improvised-strike-force.html">so many others before</a>, or like it had happened <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2015/05/wars-and-other-setbacks.html">to myself.</a> </div>
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“Listen, usually I don’t do this,” I began slowly, “but I’d like to meet up with you again. If you like. Even if it’s just for drinks and conversation. I don’t often meet people who understand the outlaw life.”</div>
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He smiled at me, then took my hand and kissed my finger tips. “I was afraid you’d never ask. Of course I'd like to - and then you can tell me all <a href="http://www.eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=29005710">the unclassified details from your op</a>.”</div>
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“It’s a date, then.” I briefly kissed him on the lips again, then straightened up. “Sorry, but I gotta go.”</div>
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“Of course. Good hunting!”</div>
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With a last smile, I turned and headed towards the exit, thoughts churning.</div>
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What had I gotten myself into this time?</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-13893838071372980252015-05-11T20:26:00.000-06:002015-05-11T22:43:52.219-06:00Wars and Other Setbacks<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>"The one good thing about repeating mistakes is you know when to cringe."</em></div>
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“So, who is he?”</div>
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Eta’s question caught me unaware, and I almost choked on my coffee.</div>
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“Who is who? The guy who war-decced us?”</div>
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Eta’s eyes gleamed. “No, the guy who you are having the hots for.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I sighed mentally. It was always fun to meet my sister and catch up on the recent events, but she had a way of changing topics which always tripped me up.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I shook my head. “There is no guy.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Tut-tut,” she wagged a finger at me, “I know this expression of yours. So who is he, so that I can break his kneecaps if he doesn’t behave.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I grimaced. “Can we please not talk about that?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“I knew it!” Satisfied, she leaned back and took a sip of her drink. “Now this war of yours - what was that all about?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“We weren’t sure at first,” I replied, happy to be back on safe terrain. “As we haven’t annoyed people recently - at least not too much - we thought: trade hub campers. But then my old corporation suddenly got a structure notification: somebody really wanted their POCO in Akhmoh.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Ah, that’s why you had me prepare some Scythes!”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Yes.” I took a sip from my coffee. “Unfortunately the stars weren’t aligned for us: the POCO came out at an inopportune time, Akhmoh was too remote for us to form a good response, and worse: our scout told us that all POCOs in that system had been attacked. Our war-deccers were intent on controlling the system, while we weren’t, so it was an unwinnable situation.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Eta nodded. “Kinda like the Flyers in their old home system.”</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2TjT6o8BaPDMhYt-QllaIbHoY0_g3NmmDRm8M-5TWCkg6mBVvQRBb-G_DKiEGpe_QOSSoRf6bU88W1GmvF4qhH1sAEv8kUoNf-TTiwgN8A8miwAiZiuhoH-hFNXPAKU0E_4whPgKrmX3C/s1600/Scythe+before+Station.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2TjT6o8BaPDMhYt-QllaIbHoY0_g3NmmDRm8M-5TWCkg6mBVvQRBb-G_DKiEGpe_QOSSoRf6bU88W1GmvF4qhH1sAEv8kUoNf-TTiwgN8A8miwAiZiuhoH-hFNXPAKU0E_4whPgKrmX3C/s200/Scythe+before+Station.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Exactly!”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“But what did you do then? I don’t think that your boss would just roll over.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“And you’re right on that.” I grinned. “Remember Aunt Xi’s operation?” Eta nodded, and I continued. “Well, she sent down an agent, and as soon as our <a href="http://www.eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28732782">POCO popped</a>, her agent set up an empty gantry, away from the grid.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Eta looked confused. “But what good does an empty gantry do?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I counted off my fingers: “One, as long as the gantry is there, nobody else can claim the spot. Two, as the gantry has no subspace beacon, it needs to be probed out. And three, even the gantry has 15M structure to chew threw.” I smiled. “So you see: pure harassment, and it’s not too expensive either.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
She laughed. “So that’s why Auntie got war-decced as well - I was already wondering. They did take out the gantry, I presume?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Yes, <a href="http://www.eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28750997">they did</a>. And <a href="http://www.eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28754997">a number </a>of our <a href="http://www.eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28755220">other POCOs</a> along t<a href="http://www.eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28755532">he pipe</a> as well, just because. But they kinda lost interest - some of our POCOs survived, as did another empty gantry.” I looked at my cup. “So in essence we now have an undeclared truce until the wars expire.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“And then, will you rebuild?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Doubtful. The income wasn’t that great, and as this war has shown, they exposed us too much.” I sighed. “It was nice while it lasted.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Don’t I know that feeling.” Eta looked pensive for a moment, then gestured her drink at me. “So, when are you going to see him again?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I rolled my eyes, but couldn’t repress the visual memory of a back vanishing into the crowds of a station.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“I really don’t know,” I replied quietly. “Maybe never.”</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-34990916707104884782015-04-21T20:19:00.000-06:002015-04-21T21:25:17.716-06:00Behind Hostile Lines<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“If you are going to kill me, then do so. Otherwise, I have considerable work to do.” -- Lennier (Babylon 5)</em></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The warp drive of my Tristan fell silent, dropping me out of the warp tunnel back into normal space. A mere 100 km from me, the gate was gleaming in the reflection of the region’s nebula. I hovered there for a few seconds, orienting myself. There was a planet behind me, which put my warp-in point close to the trajectory between the planet and the gate.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QP1YwxECsYE/VTcUTApBxxI/AAAAAAAAAoA/PTJ5o_FOeXc/s1600/2015.04.22.02%2B-%2BGate%2Bin%2BRegion%2B-%2BCrop%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QP1YwxECsYE/VTcUTApBxxI/AAAAAAAAAoA/PTJ5o_FOeXc/s1600/2015.04.22.02%2B-%2BGate%2Bin%2BRegion%2B-%2BCrop%2B2.jpg" height="125" width="200" /></a>I sighed mentally - this would be one of the more tedious gates.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
With the routine of an action done dozens of times, I fired up my micro warp drive and directed my ship into a direction which would come no closer than 50km to the gate. Given the general emptiness of the region, it was an acceptable compromise between safety and time. Making tacticals wasn’t directly related to my objective, but since I was here anyway…</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
When I had embarked onto this little expedition, I hadn’t been quite sure what to expect. Sure, I knew that there would be lots of empty space, leaving me to do my thing, but when I ran into people, I had expected a bit more resistance.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Not that people didn’t try, and got some practice in out-flanking and out-boring potential hunters - because re-shipping out here was a pain - but so far only one pilot, going by the name of <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=pilot_detail&plt_id=1104456">Sativa Angel</a>, had been showing tenacity.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
First I had seen her idling in an Executioner at a gate, while I was burning yet another tactical. For a moment I was tempted to engage her, giving myself a 50:50 chance, but then I reconsidered: I wasn’t here for fights. So I kept burning, while keeping an eye on her velocity. But she didn’t follow, and soon I could warp off, to enter the next system over.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
But the systems were arranged in a loop, and soon we came across each other again, in a replay of our first encounter. This time she burnt towards me, but couldn’t quite match my own speed. When I explained to her that I wasn’t going to fight him, she sounded disappointed, but relented and went on to chase other prey.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Fate, however, wasn’t done with us. Many systems later, I jumped into what I knew would be one of the few busy systems - and there she was again. This time in a Heretic.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I could have crashed the gate, but I was in a promising position, about 20 km away. Turning my tail at her, I took the chance and ran. Almost immediately she launched a bubble and started chasing after me.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I hadn’t quite judged the distance correctly and ended up inside the bubble, even if barely. Leaving it took long enough that she could catch up a bit, and launch another bubble. And again.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
With dismay I noticed that she was slightly faster than me, and would soon catch me. And worse, there was no warp-out point into the direction I was flying - the closest celestial was into the opposite direction. But maybe, if she was scram fit…</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I started turning, trying to fly a wide turn too keep my speed up, every moment fearing that a new bubble would go up or that she’d have a long point after all. Finally my chosen celestial appeared in front of me, and I held my breath as I triggered the warp drive.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The engine caught! I had gotten away - with more luck than skill!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
To her credit, Sativa took the lost chase well, and I made sure that I steered clear of her the rest of the night.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wasn’t always that lucky - sometimes <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28524100">I got distracted</a>, other times <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28535464">I passed out</a> from exhaustion <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28535463">in an unsafe place</a> - but knowing that this one time I outran a superior ship? Priceless.</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-31896719660082627012015-04-17T20:28:00.000-06:002015-04-18T23:36:53.935-06:00Coffee, Black, And Keep It Coming<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>"Hello world. You're looking painfully bright and a bit fuzzy today." -- @Gitte, FF 2015</em></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZcIEhF-9GAdw6mzVnvK1LYM137J430N1Ghh7Lkz6LDYilNqaIubZ92JjgX0hvmDWdmVcKP-ZAWIHyWwB_e8VfqRJ4H4KUmbwDB2Bi2XLCmg4UylSIscCtcE1FdJA3bNnTz4F9Ddzv-QV/s1600/Druur+-+Icy+Desert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNZcIEhF-9GAdw6mzVnvK1LYM137J430N1Ghh7Lkz6LDYilNqaIubZ92JjgX0hvmDWdmVcKP-ZAWIHyWwB_e8VfqRJ4H4KUmbwDB2Bi2XLCmg4UylSIscCtcE1FdJA3bNnTz4F9Ddzv-QV/s1600/Druur+-+Icy+Desert.jpg" height="141" width="200" /></a>The cup of coffee was a welcome warmth in my hands, the beverage doing its best to clear up the hungover haze in my mind. The events of previous night had been.... interesting, and involved a few drinks more than I cared to remember.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Taking a sip from my coffee, I rested my elbows onto the little table and looked through the window out onto the promenade. The din of the breakfast diner faded into the background as I tried to sort my thoughts.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
It had been a curious three weeks which had led me here, ever since the recent capsuleer conference. In the previous years, I had enjoyed these conferences - mingling and partying with fellow pilots on neutral grounds, getting direct access to officials from organizations like the DED - but this year... even though there had been mingling, I had more vivid memories from my little field trip into the icy wastes of northern Yulai III than of the conference itself. I used to return from these conferences re-energized, eager to haunt the space lanes, but not so much this year.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kVDFL81UFew/VTHMivC5cBI/AAAAAAAAAnk/aPx7auJ3lcY/s1600/20150405%2B-%2BSabre%2BKill-Structure.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kVDFL81UFew/VTHMivC5cBI/AAAAAAAAAnk/aPx7auJ3lcY/s1600/20150405%2B-%2BSabre%2BKill-Structure.jpg" height="99" width="200" /></a>Part of the reason, I mused, was that it’s hard to be enthusiastic when one's combat record shows hardly anything but losses. Granted, there had been high points, like chasing off a Navy Vexor after killing most of its drones, or the fight against a <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28291603">Sabre</a> which against all odds my Vengeance survived in deep structure - but most of the time potential targets either warped off at first sight, or called in their friends to <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28220384">outnumber</a> or <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=28392441">outgun</a> me. I kept undocking with a brave face, but inside I wound up ever tighter. Getting drunk with other pilots helped me sleep, but was only masking the problem.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The coffee was bitter on my tongue.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I had to make a change, even if only for a little while. Do something else. Maybe go undercover, or do some recon work. Our alliance did have a number of standing recon objectives which I could do without necessarily wading into losing fights left and right.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Hmm…</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. It would give me a goal, something to do, while I considered my next steps.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Yes. Recon work it would be.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I emptied my cup, refilled it from the carafe, and finally dared to remember the previous night.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Because, in between the many drinks, an offer had been made. A very tempting offer. But going along with it would mean commitment, would mean deeply trusting someone, something which no longer came easy to me. Even worse, I would have to keep it a secret; even from Eta, who I usually was able to tell everything. And what if the offer had been just a drunken mistake?</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
…but on the other hand, the possible payoff…</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The scraping of a chair pulled me out of my thoughts, and I saw my companion from previous night taking a seat across from me, looking about as ragged as I felt, sunglasses shielding the undoubtedly bleary eyes.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And suddenly I knew what my answer to the offer had to be, and I smiled.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
"I'm glad you came."</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-51847681637731955882015-03-13T21:07:00.000-06:002015-03-14T02:15:50.005-06:00Derelik Irregulars<div style="text-align: left;">
The misshapen asteroid loomed large in my sight, slowly rotating along its long axis. Orbiting above the barren wastes of Otsela VIII, it would not have been particularly noteworthy, if it weren’t for the forcefield-guarded opening leading into its hollow inside. Years ago, an enterprising entrepreneur thought it a good idea to install an exclusive nightclub inside this lump of rock - for pilots with ISK to burn, and outside the reach of meddling regulations. I hadn’t even known about its existence - until the invitation arrived.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I hesitated, bringing my Vengeance to a stand-still. I had an inkling how this invitation might end, and while desirable, it would make my life even more interesting. As if the last weeks hadn’t been exciting enough.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Unbidden, my memory returned to <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2015/02/lead-follow-or-get-out-of-way.html">that evening a few weeks ago</a>, which had brought me to the brink of resigning my license. If it hadn’t been for that Detei…</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Still, I had made changes: I had stepped down from joining our public roams as line member; instead, I was now tagging along as irregular free-roaming skirmisher, to support the roam’s primary skirmisher. It gave me the satisfaction of being my own master, while <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27839757">still contributing</a> to our common goals. And subsequently, I found new energy to pursue my solo flying, <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27746250">even</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27860618">if</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27732743">my</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27561470">recklessness</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27563799">sometimes</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27678420">scared</a> even <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27860618">myself</a>.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Then the war broke out.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
For reasons unknown, Forsaken Asylum war-decced our little alliance, and for once, our fearless leader decided to fight back. We had the people, we had the fleet practice, we had Catalysts, and we had friends. The Final Stand, upon hearing of our war-dec, allied with us and was promptly revenge-war decced by Public Enemy. So we formally allied with The Final Stand in return, and the war was on!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Of course in the beginning <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27631359">mistakes</a> were <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27631360">made</a>, but soon we fell into the groove and started hunting our war targets, instead of being hunted. People sympathetic to our cause chipped in with free intel and support, and we were able to put <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27678382">the hurt</a> onto <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27678619">our targets</a>, ultimately completely dominating our timezone. NPSI at its finest.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Those were two interesting weeks, even if my own contribution was limited to convincing Eta to live part-time in our region, for scout and hauling services. At the end of the war, our losses amounted to about 160M ISK, but our kills were valued at 1.7B ISK.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
But that wasn’t the end of it. Straya, another corp with people we knew and were fond of, found itself war-decced by the Break-A-Wish foundation, with the goal to take out the POCOs Straya owned. Having just come out of our own wars, we didn’t want to formally enter a new one - but we were more than happy to help out with neutral eyes and logistics, as did others. So began a still-ongoing game of whack-a-mole: Break-A-Wish would reinforce the POCOs one day, the next day we would roll in with numbers and repair them again.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And while all that was going on, our fearless leader asked me one late night if I could light a cyno in our home system for an acquaintance. Of course I agreed, and <a href="http://affirmativealliance.com/killboard/index.php/kill_detail/7214/" target="_blank">one small incident with POS guns</a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
later, my cyno lit up, and my heart stopped for a moment when a Pandemic Legion titan and super-carrier appeared next to me.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CW1BtKln7TQ/VQPIXp29kOI/AAAAAAAAAkc/X1FISi300PA/s1600/20150308%2B-%2BTitan%2Bat%2BPOCO.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CW1BtKln7TQ/VQPIXp29kOI/AAAAAAAAAkc/X1FISi300PA/s1600/20150308%2B-%2BTitan%2Bat%2BPOCO.jpg" height="173" width="200" /></a>The reason for the presence of the two super-caps became clear a day later, when the titan driver contacted me and asked if I could give him intel about the POCOs in our system, specifically about their reinforcement timers. Something about a private deal to take out some of those POCOs. Having nothing else to do, and with the rest of the alliance toying with Break-A-Wish, I agreed and we fleeted up. And since I was in fleet, I ended up <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27843731">helping with the shooting</a> as well.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
My day wasn’t over, though, as the deal had been just to destroy the POCOs, not to replace them. Loathe to leave planets unoccupied, I recalled my aunt’s little operation and made some quick calls. And when the last POCO exploded, I bid farewell to the PL pilots, and turned towards the next hi-sec system, to escort in a hauler carrying half a billion worth of POCO construction materials.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The following days were luckily less eventful, allowing me to catch up on sleep, with probably the most noteworthy moment being when a miner learned that it is not a good idea to profanely insult combat pilots in public. It took the <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27760906">loss of his Covetor</a>, but he did clean up his act afterwards.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Interesting times, indeed. And now I was following an invitation to drinks from a pilot which I had only briefly talked to before.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The engines of my Vengeance fired up again, and I smiled as the ship moved towards the asteroid’s entrance.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Because, hey, what could possibly go wrong?</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-62488744945849712022015-02-07T14:53:00.000-07:002015-02-08T01:12:47.941-07:00Lead, Follow, or Get Out Of The Way<div style="text-align: left;">
The heavy door to my quarters fell shut behind me, and I slumped onto the floor next to it, leaning back against a wall. Already the first pangs of regret for my earlier outburst were beginning to seep in, but a swig of this extraordinarily exquisite brandy managed to keep them at bay.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
…rrright, I’ll probably had to compensate ONS for this bottle of brandy, plus any damage I might have caused to their lounge. I might also have to apologize to that <a href="https://gate.eveonline.com/Profile/Naava%20Edios" target="_blank">Detei</a> which I had almost hit with my helmet.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And this year had begun so well! After Kitten had set my head straight, I had called in to take my yearly Navy Reserve service early, to return back to space fresh and re-invigorated. And for a while it had worked: with renewed energy I had begun shuttling out the ships which I had left behind in Sasiekko when <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2013/06/leave-of-absence.html" target="_blank">I left Factional Warfare over a year ago</a>.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R0G90wnNzwc/VNbwc1d46eI/AAAAAAAAAj0/fq4o-GT_4sc/s1600/Comet%2BFight%2B20150205.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R0G90wnNzwc/VNbwc1d46eI/AAAAAAAAAj0/fq4o-GT_4sc/s1600/Comet%2BFight%2B20150205.png" height="130" width="200" /></a>Of course, I could have just contracted the ships to one of the major shipping corporations, but where is the fun in that? No, my plan had been to fly them one by one from Sasiekko to our new home, all the 20-or-so jumps through lo-sec, seeking fights along the way. And fights I got! One my very first journey, I had to play cat-and-mouse with a roving gate camp in Molden Heath; on subsequent trips I lost a <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26730884" target="_blank">fight with a Comet</a>; <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26776863" target="_blank">underestimated an Exequror</a>; and raised the ire of a Grandpa who yelled ‘Get Off My Lawn’, fired his shotgun, and <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27189535" target="_blank">then his family piled on as well</a>.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And most recently the brawl in the large Amarr compound: I had warped my glass-cannon Harbinger onto a duel between a Malediction and an Atron, and happily started shooting both of them. The Malediction started shooting back, word spread fast, and the brawl turned into an exciting 9-way fight, with my Harbinger in the middle, <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_related&kll_id=27289490" target="_blank">dishing out as well as it took</a>. In hindsight, I should have kept my ECM drones on the Malediction, while concentrating my fire on the Jaguar which had snuck up onto me - but overall, I had fared better than I initially expected.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
But - and I took another drink from the bottle - when I later looked at my official combat record, I saw <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=pilot_detail&plt_id=156355&view=kills&m=1&y=2015" target="_blank">many kills I didn’t remember being involved in</a>. It had taken me a few minutes to remember that those had been done on our open roams, like <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_related&kll_id=27156119" target="_blank">that big Drake fight</a>. Roams in which I had been increasingly disinterested in bringing the requested ship types, or in paying attention; disinterested even up to the point that I’d disengage my weapons early to make sure that I would not get that final blow.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
It had then come to a head on our Assault Frigate roam just that night. Commanded by <a href="https://gate.eveonline.com/Profile/John%20Hexis" target="_blank">John Hexis</a>, who had shown himself to be as good at FCing as he was at scouting, he had led our merry band through a <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27347477" target="_blank">number</a> of <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27347694" target="_blank">fights</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27348903" target="_blank">already</a>, when eventually we came across a lone Brave Tristan at a gate. Sensibly, John ordered the fleet to move on, but I chaved: This could have been an interesting solo fight - a fight I could even have won - but on the other hand going against the FCs orders could bring the whole fleet in jeopardy, and would at minimum undermine John’s authority.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Something had snapped in me at that moment, and I unceremoniously dropped from the fleet right there and then: I would have become a liability to them if I had continued. I must have sat there at the gate for a good half hour, brooding, not moving, before finally a random pilot had guts and <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=27349410" target="_blank">engaged me</a>. Had I been paying attention, I maybe could have won - but even so, getting him into low structure even after he had a half minute head start was still something.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I didn’t remember how I got back to base; my next conscious recollection was throwing my combat helmet across the ONS lounge, and walking out with their brandy.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
…of which there was still about half left. Good!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I closed my eyes, leaned back against the solid comfort of the wall. I loved this alliance and its people - it was finally a place I was able to call home again. It was good to again have stuff which I could <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2014/11/fisticuffs-first-day.html" target="_blank">help to defend</a>, good to have people rallying <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2014/12/late-night-squirrels.html" target="_blank">at the spur of the moment</a>, good to have people I liked being around with. People I didn’t want to let down. But as tonight had shown, I could no longer do roams as regular activity, even though they were a large part of our alliance’ mission. Yet at the same time I was too painfully aware that I still sucked at flying solo, and probably always would be. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I took another drink.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Well, crap.</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-11693063228576034692014-12-27T10:41:00.000-07:002014-12-28T15:14:13.373-07:00The Season of Love and Happiness<div style="text-align: left;">
The station was quiet at this early time of day, so nobody was around to notice the unsteadiness in my steps as I returned to my own quarters, the memory of last night slowly fading. This Gallentean had been quite a good kisser, and knew how to use his hands, so it had been an enjoyable evening. Well, up to the point where his girlfriend suddenly changed her mind. The following minutes of yelling and bulkhead-slamming had been less pleasant, but it <em>did</em> save me from having to break it to them that making out had been all that I had been interested in anyway. That way, while their yelling turned into something less adversarial, I got to plunder their beverage stash and catch a few hours of sleep on their couch.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Holidays, huzzah!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Admittedly, I was still confused about the details of the various holidays people were celebrating at this time of year - at some point I think I saw two people shouting at each other while holding a metal pole - but it was fun to just go with the flow and enjoy myself.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Ah, my quarters! Finally! My access code was accepted, I stepped through the doorway, and the hatch fell shut behind me. Immediately, dim light coming from my main room told me that I wasn’t alone. Carefully, quietly, but not overly concerned I approached the room’s entrance and peeked inside. Yep - it was only Kitten, having fallen asleep in one of my more comfortable chairs.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Usually, she was off in her own circles, but we had an understanding that she was always welcome should she need a place to crash. I wondered what brought her here this time, but given the time of day and my state of mind, that was a question which could wait. I stopped briefly by her side, to gently stroke her cheek, then found the way to my own bedroom.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
------------------</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The smell of coffee finally woke me up. And not that weak excuse for coffee served with your average breakfast - this was hand-brewed strong coffee, Minmatar style. But as much my taste buds protested, I headed for a shower first - the hot water doing wonders for my well-feeling. Small wonders. Emphasis on ‘small’. When I finally entered my main room, I was greeted with the coffee I had smelled before, pastries, and a way too smug Minmatar punk.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Look who’s back in the land of the Undead!”, greeted me Kitten.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I ignored her demonstratively, poured myself a cup and grabbed a pastry. It wasn’t until I was halfway into my second cup that I graced her with an answer.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Ha!”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
She giggled. “C’mon, don’t be coy. Given how late you came home last night, he must have been cute!”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“He was ok.”, I allowed. “But not that cute. And even if - there were complications.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Mhmhm,”, she nodded, “I should have guessed - after all, you did come home at all. So he won’t make your guest list for your ‘Festival of Burning’, or whatever it’s called? Which I think is still coming up?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“’The Kindling of the Light’”, I corrected her, “and no, he won’t. But what about you - who is on your guest list for your New Year’s shindig?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“You tell me.” Her demeanor faltered, and suddenly she appeared vulnerable. “Did you deliver the gift?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Yes, I did.”, I nodded carefully. “Though in hindsight I must say…”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“…I know, I know, it was a stupid idea.” She sighed, and slumped into her seat.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Especially coming from you.” I pressed on. “I thought we were over this kind of stuff since ‘<a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2013/06/the-mouse-that-squeaked.html">Princess</a>’.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
She shot me a look as if she was going to say something, but then reconsidered. Instead, she replied “I thought so, too. But… One night of double entendres, months of nothing - but then suddenly Bam! I can’t get her out of my thoughts.” She shook her head. “Maybe it’s just my mostly-male Lance getting to me, because for all I know, she probably doesn’t even remember me - but what if it’s more?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I emptied my cup. “Well, you cast your dice, and now you have to wait. Either she’ll figure it out, and you will have a whole new set of questions to answer for yourself, or somebody else is going to get lucky, in which case you won’t lose much.” I looked at her askance. “Though I suggest you find something to occupy yourself with in the meantime.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Way ahead of you.”, she managed a smile. “One of your Alliance mates has a problem with miners encroaching on his territory. But since it’s hi-sec, his hands are tied - so I thought I fly down there and buzz those miners. Which is why I’m here - to pick up my old Cheetah.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I laughed. “Buzzing miners” was what we had called sitting in a belt and shamelessly cargo- and ship-scanning miners, hoping that the mere act would scare them away. It rarely worked, but when it did, it absolved you from the messy business of actually attacking said miners. Plus, if you negotiated smartly beforehand, you got to keep the ammunition expense budget.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Speaking of which - I need to be going.”, she added. “But that also reminds me, my Cheetah has a bunch of heat-damaged blasters in its hold - are those yours?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDwYWC29SRA/VKCApDhf_8I/AAAAAAAAAjg/g5bY2ph4LWA/s1600/Cheetah-2014.12.28.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VDwYWC29SRA/VKCApDhf_8I/AAAAAAAAAjg/g5bY2ph4LWA/s1600/Cheetah-2014.12.28.jpg" height="146" width="200" /></a>“If they also have dust worth almost two years on them,” I replied, “maybe?”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
She chuckled and stood up, grabbing a pastry while doing so. “I’ll have them transferred to your hangars.” She gestured. “Thanks for letting me stay here tonight.”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Anytime!”</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
At the door, she stopped and turned her head back to me.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Listen… before I leave… when you mentioned ‘Princess’…”</div>
<br />
“Yes?”<br />
<br />
She hesitated, then convinced herself to speak freely. “You were right - but at the same time… you’re one to talk.”<br />
<br />
“What do you mean?”, I asked, perplexed.<br />
<br />
“Remember what you did before that Op?”<br />
<br />
I nodded, slowly.<br />
<br />
A pained expression flitted over her face.<br />
<br />
“You’re doing it again.”<br />
<br />Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-44159703635020657542014-12-22T05:51:00.000-07:002014-12-24T04:08:42.074-07:00Last POS Standing<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“You think the way you live is okay</em></div>
<em>You think posing will save your day”</em><br />
<em>-- N.E.R.D., Rock Star</em><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The carpet muffled my steps, as I strode towards the main office of my sister’s corporation. Sadly so, as the metal plates I had had fitted to the heels of my boots made for an impressive entrance in Minmatar stations, with their metal decks. But then again, there was no point in trying to impress Eta, even if I hadn’t been related - it took other things to do that.</div>
<br />
With a discreet beep, my access code was accepted, and I entered the corp complex. Knowing my way from days old, I headed straight for my sister’s private room. At her door, I hesitated for a moment - <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2010/06/brave-new-world.html">hurtled calculators</a> being a <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2011/10/16-months.html">probable risk</a> - but then pushed inside. For once, I was able to enter unassaulted - Eta was sitting at her desk, leaned back, and staring holes into the ceiling.<br />
<br />
Oh dear - something was already beyond merely ‘wrong’.<br />
<br />
She started when I kissed her on her forehead, but recovered quickly while I was making myself comfortable on her desk.<br />
<br />
“You came.”<br />
<br />
“For you, always.” I smiled. “Now tell me what’s going on - your message sounded urgent.”<br />
<br />
She looked at the ceiling again, while taking in a deep breath.<br />
<br />
“About 20 hours ago, our POS in Reyi was attacked and put into RI. It’ll come out in 16 hours.”<br />
<br />
“So, no problem. Send word to your alliance, I’ll break out either my Talos or my Scimitar, depending on the opposition, and we’ll have it licked in no time.”<br />
<br />
“That’s the problem right there.” She emptied her glass, then refilled it. “It’s <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2010/09/just-awesome.html">not like the old times</a> - there is no alliance. Redrum is for all intents and purposes dead.”<br />
<br />
“Wait - what?” I grabbed a glass from a shelf, and poured myself a drink as well. “I thought Pan and Katsumi had taken control back of the alliance, ousted <a href="http://evewho.com/corp/Vicious+Industrial">Vicious Idiots</a>, or whatever they were called, and were turning the ship around?!”<br />
<br />
She smiled ruefully. “That had been the plan, yes. But about a week or two later, there was the announcement about a change of plans: the alliance would be mothballed, the renters let go, the POCOs sold, and all corps dropped by the end of the week.”<br />
<br />
“Too much damage done already to recover from?”, I guessed.<br />
<br />
“Exactly. Except - all of the above happened, except of the dropping of corps.” She took a sip. “Meanwhile, the corp who bought the majority of POCOs in Reyi, got impatient and sent a mail to all former blues - including Redrum - to discuss standings. But since our exalted alliance leaders have taken time off for some holiday or other, we in the Flyers never got the message. So…” she smacked her right fist into her open left hand. “Boom!”<br />
<br />
I took a sip - and coughed. Gods know that Eta was not big into spirits - something about the dangers of working in proximity of highly unstable reactors with no neuro-scanner nearby - but when she had a drink, she went all out.<br />
<br />
“Ok, different plan then.” I said once I had my voice again. “I put a call out to Affirmative, we get some shooters down here, and…”<br />
<br />
“…and then what?”, she asked coldly. “You stay here, and defend the POS from all the follow-on attacks? No. These guys intend to make Reyi their little kingdom, and you guys aren’t.”<br />
<br />
I was at a loss for words - she was right. I emptied my glass, and refilled it. “So what now?”<br />
<br />
“After protracted negotiations, we arranged a compromise: we take down the POS unharmed, they take the moon, and in return we get blue standings.” She chuckled into her glass. “You can imagine, the boss was not happy.”<br />
<br />
“I was just about to ask…”<br />
<br />
“You know how stubborn she is - and being pushed out of our home of eight years did not sit well with her.” She smirked. “She left the final ‘capitulation’ up to me. But you know what?”<br />
<br />
“Uhm, no?”<br />
<br />
She gestured with her glass. “I can't help but think that these folks deserve the moon. They are decent combat pilots, have a plan, and put in the space-time to achieve their goals. We on the other hand? We just fueled the POS, extracted the moon goo to pay for our offices, and that was the extent of our ‘activities’ here.” She took a sip. “In a way I am glad the POS is going to be gone - one pointless liability less.”<br />
<br />
I hesitated, wondering if I read her tone right. “You know, you could join us.”<br />
<br />
She looked at me earnestly. “Truth to be told - sometimes I am tempted.” She slumped back into her chair. “But I couldn’t do that to the boss - it would break her heart. She has to realize the truth herself first.”<br />
<br />
Seconds stretched to minutes, in which we just silently enjoyed our drinks. “So, what’s the plan?” I finally broke the silence. “Repair the POS up to 50% shield, and then take it down? If there’s only the Flyers on deck, even with my Scimitar it will take hours.”<br />
<br />
“It won’t be that bad.” She winked at me. “Remember <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2013/10/planning-future.html" target="_blank">our dinner</a> last year, when you first met my boy? And the skill plan we laid out for me later on?”<br />
<br />
I nodded.<br />
<br />
“Well, I’ve been following it like the good girl I am, and now - ” she made a flourishing gesture, “ - I can fly a Triage Thanatos.”<br />
<br />
“Nice!” I saluted her with my glass. “But - isn’t <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2012/04/pillow-talk.html">your carrier several jumps from here</a>?”<br />
<br />
“Yes, but your … friend of old had contracted me hers - ‘on loan, so don’t break it’, as she put it. It’s not the best fit for my skills, but it’ll do.”<br />
<br />
I nodded again, briefly wondering how Mica was doing, but then I banished the thought.<br />
<br />
“Anything we can do until then?“<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0kiClHFq6eo8lwKPkzwnR737KhxdU7dkWdzq49HQ4GnxYeCBz1cuM7EY-RdqJvyNVoaUJmMl-HKAuB37fOZFKoBcCJHsFHHvkBtRVOMJ-7D91ooVBe1-SBjrLvzkrPCy8pEczMEej0R_P/s1600/POS+Repair+2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0kiClHFq6eo8lwKPkzwnR737KhxdU7dkWdzq49HQ4GnxYeCBz1cuM7EY-RdqJvyNVoaUJmMl-HKAuB37fOZFKoBcCJHsFHHvkBtRVOMJ-7D91ooVBe1-SBjrLvzkrPCy8pEczMEej0R_P/s1600/POS+Repair+2014.jpg" height="144" width="200" /></a><br />
”Well, if you’re feeling up to it, two of the large laser batteries are incapped. Calcinus said that he'd help, but the more, the merrier. If we could repair them now, it would save us time later. And if they decide to backstab us…“<br />
<br />
She left the sentence unfinished, and I smiled at the inside. We were both trained POS gunners, and with the large batteries repaired, we could spread some pain around.<br />
<br />
I emptied my glass, and dropped it upside-down on the desk. ”Well, let’s get to it then.“ A thought occurred to me. ”Are there any other Redrum POSes in the system which have been hit?“<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
She gave me a look. ”I was wondering the same thing, so I did a quick recon of the system - mostly to find their POS, just in case. And the result is: our POS is the last Redrum one - everybody else has folded and left some time ago.“ She raised her glass.</div>
<br />
”To the POS that could!“<br />
<br />Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-18997739446345419692014-12-15T00:18:00.000-07:002014-12-16T03:26:32.416-07:00Late Night Squirrels<div style="text-align: left;">
Our public lounge was slowly emptying out - today had been one of our more <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_related&kll_id=26438227">successful</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_related&kll_id=26439944">roams</a>, and people had stuck around for a while afterwards.</div>
<br />
It hadn’t been all roses and sunshine - in the beginning, glitches in the recently upgraded fluid router software had interfered with standard fleet maneuvers; and later on, one fleet member made his displeasure known about the fact that there were bloody rookies in the fleet. Not that he minded rookies - as long as they got some training in fleets with veterans before flying with him. The fact that especially this roam was one of such training fleets, had completely eluded him. Or something. Either way, he turned out to be one the few people we’d gladly <em>not</em> have on our roams, <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=pilot_detail&plt_id=1511653">no matter how good a combat pilot he was</a>.<br />
<br />
Anyway. I had left the roam about four hours in, due to a sudden drop in concentration. Two hours later - I had taken a nap in the meantime - they were just about done docking up. Not bad for a roam with a large contingent of newly certified pilots!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TYJvvdyPHFA/VJAB8tdzSUI/AAAAAAAAAi4/wGr1hYB488A/s1600/Sleeper%2Bat%2BStation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TYJvvdyPHFA/VJAB8tdzSUI/AAAAAAAAAi4/wGr1hYB488A/s1600/Sleeper%2Bat%2BStation.jpg" height="131" width="200" /></a>But as much as we welcomed our rookies, the day had been long, and we were looking forward to spending some time amongst ourselves. So while we didn’t made them feel unwelcome nor ignored them, alliance members did start wandering out of the lounge in twos and threes, taking care of their own business, some returning, some not.<br />
<br />
Our small group had commandeered a side table in our lounge, where we chatted about everything and nothing. I was having a conversation with Naava about catnip, of all things, and its effects on the various kinds of cat species on our home worlds, when suddenly my ears registered my name.<br />
<br />
“…Druur might be more interested.”<br />
<br />
I looked up sharply. “What?”<br />
<br />
“I was just complimenting Rogue here,” Dai shot our scout a look, “about his new sexy looks, but I don’t think he quite got the hint. So I wondered, maybe I should see if you’re interested.”<br />
<br />
Dai was a faction warfare veteran, and one of our latest recruits. And kinda cute.<br />
<br />
<strong>*Uhm*</strong><br />
<br />
To stall, I took a sip from my arcturian mega-ale, but even so all I could come up with was: “You really don't know me, do you.”<br />
<br />
She winked at me. “Perhaps I want to know…”<br />
<br />
I was trying to form a response, when she suddenly chuckled. “I only jest. I can’t help myself.” She raised her glass, and I returned the gesture.<br />
<strong><br /></strong>
<strong>*Uhm*</strong><br />
<br />
The discreet vibration of my communicator saved me. I glanced apologetically at the people around me, and looked at my pad.<br />
<br />
It was a message from Forttrain, one of our new recruits. [ Darth Yayo - does anyone want to come help me kill him? That’s the guy <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26408713" target="_blank">who killed me the other night</a>. ]<br />
<br />
Almost immediately, another message came in. This one from John, asking if I had seen Forttrain’s message.<br />
<br />
Standing up, I excused myself and walked to the exit, while cracking my knuckles.<br />
<br />
Nothing like a little revenge impromptu fleet to close out the day with!<br />
<br />
---------<br />
<br />
“…of course, it had been a long shot to begin with.” I mentioned on comms.<br />
<br />
The plan had been sound - send in Forttrain to bait Darth Yayo out of the station, have him make the killright available to us, and we swoop in to pounce. Except - Yayo saw through it. Their corporation was new, but their pilots had experience under their belts. But it wasn’t a complete loss: we had gotten a little gang together quite quickly, and Forttrain got to see the improvised side of space combat - the one outside of planned roams.<br />
<br />
But what the frack did Greygal think when asking me of all people, whether or not to bring an ewar or damage ship?<br />
<br />
…but my thoughts were cut short when John spoke up, who had warped to the station to reship into a better ship.<br />
<br />
[ There are sleepers at the station, scanning it. ]<br />
<br />
“Sleepers?!” I piped up. “Can we go and watch?”<br />
<br />
[ Sure! ] answered Greygal after a few seconds. [ Yayo will stick around, and right now he won’t take our bait. ]<br />
<br />
And that was all I needed to hear - I turned my Malediction around and headed to the station.<br />
<br />
Indeed, the sleepers were there - of a kind I hadn’t encountered before. They were armed, but they restricted themselves to scanning the station - and ourselves.<br />
<br />
“That tickles!”, I giggled on comms, after three of them had scanned me at once.<br />
<br />
[ I wonder if we can shoot them ], mused Greygal. [ I have tagged the primary - point and dps, go. ]<br />
<br />
And thus we toyed with the sleeper drones, exploring their abilities. We quickly learned that their abilities were not quite up to par to their w-space brethren - but they did have warp core stabilization. We couldn’t quite determine if it needed two or three points to lock them down - those who didn’t warp off, died too quickly for us too conduct experiments.<br />
<br />
Ultimately, they all fell to our weaponry. And not without a decent amount of satisfaction on my part -- too often I had had to run from their brethren with my ship on fire, and most of my crew perishing in escape pods nobody would ever rescue, so payback was a pleasure!<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iq7Hpa6NYdQ/VJAB81pcgXI/AAAAAAAAAi8/7rxTZw2iMcA/s1600/Limited%2BSleeper%2BCache.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iq7Hpa6NYdQ/VJAB81pcgXI/AAAAAAAAAi8/7rxTZw2iMcA/s1600/Limited%2BSleeper%2BCache.jpg" height="136" width="200" /></a>But just when we were ready to dock back up and call it a day, John - who had been diligently scanning the system - announced, [ I have located a Limited Sleeper Cache. ]<br />
<br />
On comms, we couldn’t see each other, but if we could have, we all would have looked at each other, and nodded.<br />
<br />
Squirrel!Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-36481569051762379472014-12-07T20:52:00.000-07:002014-12-13T04:12:46.307-07:00Two Birds and a Shotgun<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>"Bolt actions speak louder than words." -- Doc Nickel</em></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
For a moment, the world spun around me, and I sought purchase at the open hatch to my pod. The last days had been … interesting. And tiring. Unless I was counting wrong, I had flown more sorties in the last four weeks than in the four months before that - and I was one of the lesser active pilots in the alliance at that time even!</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
These last two days had begun, harmlessly enough, with a Survival Seminar, offered as free service to all the new pilots which had recently joined our alliance. Initially I had paid only superficial attention, since the exercises were in high-sec and about things I already knew. But soon enough the group ventured into null-sec, allowing me to join, and then things <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26300168">got</a> <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26300330">interesting</a>. And for once, our so far impressive pod-extraction record took a ding, as our pods were picked off here and there.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I expected it to end there, but Greygal had other ideas.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
[ While we’re pretty much done here, I have received word that APOC is doing a structure shoot somewhat away from here. It would be a good idea to help them, especially since they helped us in our recent <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2014/12/fisticuffs-last-day.html">diplomatic … issues</a>. Any takers? ]</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And of course there were takers! Given our fleet members, we wouldn’t be able to provide large DPS - but stealth bombers are not to be sneezed at. So we began the long trek to Gyerzen, hoping that we would arrive in time to at least do some token damage to that POS.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26301525">damage we did</a>! And since we were there, we went on to help APOC in reinforcing a POCO in the same system as well.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
And because we had reinforced it, why not stay around a little bit longer to <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26334334">finish it off</a>?<br />
<br />
And thus, bit by bit, a short trip to provide some firepower turned into a two-day engagement.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkeZMULCNJrtVb2-0CBm7MiyP3OKyXKTY9XkIRhV4U5Ng7jye92NNBSl-SqPz1kWenwvVcg5ETMlL2LjRboiV10MXkGXw2hLBDybZyL8RWQxMu7E6DPQSYdCApdT_wZdGLIvciwcYh28D/s1600/Dominix+Firing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifkeZMULCNJrtVb2-0CBm7MiyP3OKyXKTY9XkIRhV4U5Ng7jye92NNBSl-SqPz1kWenwvVcg5ETMlL2LjRboiV10MXkGXw2hLBDybZyL8RWQxMu7E6DPQSYdCApdT_wZdGLIvciwcYh28D/s1600/Dominix+Firing.jpg" height="116" width="200" /></a>Luckily Eta had been gracious enough to ferry one of my old structure-shoot battleships to the target system, but even with the more sustained firepower of my sentry Dominix, it made for a long day. In fact, I didn’t remember the last time I had a proper night’s rest.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
No wonder I was woozy.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Carefully, I opened my eyes, and found that the world had decided to finally settle down in a definitive place. Letting go of my pod, I walked towards the bunk in my Captain’s Quarters, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to make my way to my actual quarters on this station at that point.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
But as I carefully took my steps towards relaxation, an unbidden thought rose in my mind: while all the recent sorties had been important, and exciting, and in certain ways influential, they were also blurring together. I used to be able to recall sorties by singular fights I engaged in - but not anymore.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Maybe it was just me growing up, looking at the bigger picture - but suddenly I couldn’t help feeling that I was losing something important.</div>
<br />
And I was missing it.Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-84646801879545257622014-12-02T02:46:00.000-07:002014-12-13T02:12:21.989-07:00Fisticuffs - The Last Day<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“I am good at making tin foil hats. Please do not force me to use that skill.”</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>-- Mike Azariah</em><br />
<em><br /></em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“What do you think - will there be an operation today?”, someone asked.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was good question. Ever since <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2014/11/fisticuffs-second-day-evening.html">our POCO got re-reinforced</a>, Greygal and Onslaughtor had engaged in a flurry of diplomacy, and even right then they were holed up in what we called A Very Dark Room. I sincerely hoped that there would be a peaceful resolution, as our numbers tonight were not quite as stellar as <a href="http://hazardousgoods.blogspot.com/2014/11/fisticuffs-second-day-morning.html">previously</a>.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Though… looking around a room there were a number of faces I did not recognize - friends of friends, willing to lend a hand just because they could.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
…hold on a second - that Gallente over there, he looked familiar. I got up and casually ambled over to him, to take a closer look. Indeed!<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Mike! Mike Azariah!”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Gallente looked up. “Yes, that’s me; do I know you? …oh, Druur! It has been a while!” He paused, and cocked his head to look around me. “Are you…”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“…alone?” I completed his sentence. “Yep - no angry industrialist eager to punch you with me this day.”<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Why would anybody want to punch him?”, asked a pilot nearby.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mike rose to answer, but suddenly the lights in the room dimmed.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The door to the Very Dark Room had opened, and darkness was spilling out. Out of the gloom, our intrepid leaders emerged. I relaxed - they looked somewhat calm, so things seem to have gone well. Chatter in the room died down, until everybody was looking at the two.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Right,” began Greygal, “The good news is that the attack was - once more - not an officially sanctioned operation, nor was the fleet even listed on their boards. A truly private endeavor. Talking to the fleet commander, it was a case of mistaken identity.” She sighed. “I don’t quite believe that, but whatever let’s them save face.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
”I got the assurance that their fleet won’t interfere with our repair operation, and in fact we may come to an agreement to not attack each other’s structures in this area.“ A smile crept on her face. ”I know, it’s a bummer, given how much we <em>looove</em> structure grinds.“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
”The bad news,“ continued Onslaughtor, ”is that other people might interfere. It is unlikely, but we need a few combat ships to fly screen.“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I raised my hand. ”Rupture!“ Not that I had to think about it - I was horrible in Logistic ships.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Next to me, Mike raised his hand as well. ”Would you like a perfect Scimitar?“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Greygal scanned the crowd, and then beamed. ”Of course we’d like a perfect Scimitar, Mike. I’m glad that you made it!“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
”How could I stay away?“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
”Some of you may not know him,“ addressed Greygal the whole room, ”but this is Mike Azariah, currently on the CSM.“<br />
<br /></div>
One of our younger pilots had a question. ”What is the CSM?“<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mike looked at Greygal. ”May I answer that?“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
”Of course.“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Mike took a breath. ”I have to go back in time a bit for this one. Several years ago…“<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
While Mike continued talking, I got up and made my way to the exit, to get my Rupture out ahead of the fleet. And fight or not, comms would be interesting that evening.</div>
Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-34362046252000352912014-11-30T14:00:00.001-07:002014-12-07T23:59:03.741-07:00Fisticuffs - The Second Day (Evening)<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“What would we do in response to that?”</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“Oh, under the NATO treaty, we’d be obligated to respond by attacking soviet missiles inside the Soviet Union.”</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“And then what would they do?”</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“Well, by then we hope that cooler heads would prevail, and we’ll all sit down and talk.”</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>-- Alleged conversation during the Cuban Missile Crisis</em></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Cup in hand, I trudged into our Alliance lounge. The operation early this morning was still in my bones, allowing me only four hours of sleep, and judging from the looks, Greygal had gotten even less. Nonetheless she soldiered on through a quick briefing for us Affirmative members while we still had the time.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I missed most of said briefing, because first of all, I had been there this morning, and second, my coffee cup was empty and I definitely needed a refill.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“Ok,” she said, “before we head out on our roam, a quick update on last days’ activities.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She looked around the room, before continuing.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
“I have talked to our diplomatic contacts in Providence, and from what I have learned, that hit against our offices was not an officially sanctioned operation. In essence they said ‘it’s low-sec - do with those guys what you want’.” She smiled. “And since they hadn’t been very lucky last night, this might be the end of it.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
She took a draft from her cup, and then switched gears. “Right. We have a roam to run - let’s get to it.”</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
---------</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Maybe it was just me, but to me this roam appeared to be quieter than our usual ones. One could lay it on the fact that many of our core Affirmative members were still worn from the op early in the morning - fleet invites happened more sluggishly than usual, questions were answered a tiny bit slower than usual - but at least our Skirmishers were awake and on the ball!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
The payback however was meagre. A few tussles here and there, one of which offered us a chance to demonstrate our rookies the art of cross-jumping a gate with hostiles on the other side.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Myself, I didn’t care. Maybe it was a feeling of fey, maybe something else, but it caused me to pay more attention to our comm channels than anything else. And that is how I first noticed John’s messages.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
John had been late to arrive, when we were already well deep into null-sec, but natural that he was, he lost no time catching up with us.<br />
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And provided recon on the way.</div>
<br />
[ As I’m passing through here, do you want a recon our POCOs? ]<br />
<br />
Greygal was busy herding our fleet around, so I answered. “Our POCOs are ok, but thanks. I took a look earlier.”<br />
<br />
John was not convinced.<br />
<br />
[ Well… Volition Cult just hit them, and CVA. ] He paused. [ Yeaaaah, holy shit, 110 hostiles hitting our POCO. ]<br />
<br />
My thoughts tumbled - with the majority of our fleet still being in Curse , there was no way we could respond to this attack immediately. Nor did it seem productive to distract GG right away - better to wait until she had a chance to catch up on out-of-fleet events.<br />
<br />
John must have thought along similar ways, as he’d already moved on.<br />
<br />
But still, I couldn’t stop wondering: What was going on? A simple diplomatic misunderstanding? Somebody going rogue? Or us simply being used as pawns in a power struggle beyond our influence?<br />
<br />Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-24032072547998568592014-11-30T14:00:00.000-07:002014-12-05T04:51:30.145-07:00Fisticuffs - The Second Day (Morning)<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“Never Not Overplan for POCO Defence.”</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“Never!” -- Zak III, Greygal</em></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
[ Uhm, Greygal? They are in this system. ]</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
I wouldn't say that that report went almost unrecognized - we were trained better than that! - but it was definitely unexpected.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Usually structure defense events come in two flavors: One, you show up in respectable numbers and get trounced by an opponent with even more respectable number. The other, you show up in respectable numbers, and your opponent doesn’t even bother.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
This morning, our lot had been the latter: while we had two or three of the Dark Knights in system when we rolled up in our POCO defense fleet of sixty cruisers and logistics, they didn’t cause any trouble. One had tried to peak his head out of the station, but unfortunately for him, he had done it just when Onslaughtor performed a live-fire test of his weapons systems.</div>
<br />
Otherwise, we had been undisturbed - some of our damage dealers even patrolled the local Sansha and Mordus Legion strongholds in between POCO repairs, just to get some entertainment out of this evening.<br />
<br />
And now this. Just when we were all about to get out on a roam into the local neighborhoods in our impromptu fleet.<br />
<br />
[ Who is where, exactly? ] Greygal, taking command of comms.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Coll took a breath. [ The folks who attacked our POCOs - they are here in Bekirdod, next to Berta - and they are suspect. ] And after a few seconds, an afterthought. [ I took a wrong turn. ]</div>
<br />
I could almost see the collective thought form: *So there is where they went!*<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Oblivious, our hero logistics continued.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
[ There is a cyno here now - and I think they are warping off. … Yess, they are warping… to the Gamis gate. ]</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
Gamis - that was only two hops from here… Greygal made a snap decision.</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
[ Everybody - make best speed to the Bekirdod gate in Gamis! Best speed to to Bekirdod gate in Gamis! Set up around the gate and hold. Only shoot when they’re suspect! ]</div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
As my fleet members started warping off, I was left in a pickle - this could end up in a hi-sec fight, which I was unable to participate in (I knew - I had tried!). But maybe … maybe I could swing around and maybe make sure that none of them escapes through the back way? Yes!</div>
<br />
It would give me something to do while the rest of our fleet waited to welcome the Dark Knights to hi-sec. And back to hi-sec they came.<br />
<br />
One at a time.<br />
<br />
And all I could do <a href="http://dl.eve-files.com/media/corp/Boskone/2014-11-30_03-18-30-966_-_DEKN_Fight.mp3" target="_blank">was listen</a>.<br />
<br />
[ One Vexor at the Gamis gate in Bekirdot, coming through to you. Another guy… ]<br />
<br />
[Ok, we are landing… We need tackle - preheat your tackle … One scythe is friendly - or maybe not. Ok, tackle on Scythe ]<br />
<br />
[ Point Scythe ]<br />
<br />
[ Kill it! ]<br />
<br />
[ I have several Vexor Navies, several Vexor Navies, a Scythe, coming to you guys. ]<br />
<br />
[ Keep shooting! Pick ’em off. If they’re silly enough to come through like this… ]<br />
<br />
I tuned out - this would not be my fight. The only contribution I would able to make would be that, yes, Bekirdod was back to neutral.<br />
<br />
Ok, there were a number of neutrals in the system - and five carriers. A picture started to emerge.<br />
<br />
And I recognized the locals - folks from the 107th. Good folks, just don’t get on the wrong side of their weaponry. So when they started acting skittish, I didn’t mind to defuse the situation.<br />
<br />
<strong>Archeras Umangiar > Nothing to see here, move along</strong><br />
<strong>Druur Monakh > Yep - the folks I was looking for are gone.</strong><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<strong>Archeras Umangiar > The Vexors?</strong></div>
<strong>Druur Monakh > Yup, they gave us trouble yesterday. Much fun.</strong><br />
<strong>Druur Monakh > Good hunting!</strong><br />
<br />
And with that, I left the system. The last of the Dark Knights had already lost their suspect flagging anyway, so seeing that there was nothing else left to do in hi-sec, the fleet regrouped and set out on its new purpose: roam the nearby null sec!<br />
<br />
But fate wasn’t quite done with me.<br />
<br />
While we were hurtling towards a fateful confrontation with Pandemic Legion, a comms request suddenly demanded my attention.<br />
<br />
Hmm - Archeras - the 107th guy whom I have talked to earlier. I acknowledged the request.<br />
<br />
“Oi!”<br />
<br />
[ What did you mean by ‘gave you trouble’? ]<br />
<br />
I hesitated - how much to tell him without giving away op-sec or strat-sec?<br />
<br />
“The DEKN folks RI’d two of our POCOs, as 'punishment for breaking NRDS rules in Providence’. But they didn’t show up to fight us today about the RI, instead they went to fight you guys.”<br />
<br />
I sensed laughter. [ ’Fight’… they ran like chickens! ]<br />
<br />
“..and died on the other side of the gate.”<br />
<br />
[ Really? You got them? ]<br />
<br />
I had only seconds left before we would drop into our engagement with PL, so I sent him the <a href="https://zkillboard.com/related/30000107/201411301000/">preliminary battle report</a>, and then concentrated at the fight at hand.<br />
<br />
Not that it would had made any difference: within seconds, my cruiser <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=26214006">became primary</a> for our hostiles, and I had my hands full just saving my pod.<br />
<br />
But as my pod sped to temporary safety, Archeras finally spoke up again.<br />
<br />
[ I love you folks! ]Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-77017077592771617322014-11-28T23:46:00.000-07:002014-12-03T02:13:08.416-07:00Fisticuffs - The First Day<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“Why are they attacking it?”</em></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<em>“Because it’s there, and it’s not theirs.”</em><br />
<em><br /></em></div>
It was supposed to be a slow evening - several of our corp members were out for some holiday or another, the others were lounging around. Some physically here in our corp lounge, the others virtually via comms. I was busy in a private comm with an old friend of mine which I hadn’t seen in a while, but whom I still had a soft spot for. ‘Busy’ in as such that I was also trying to answer questions from our rookie pilots in between chat pauses.<br />
<br />
Questions like: “What is a POCO, and why is it being attacked?”<br />
<br />
“A POCO is a ‘pilot-owned customs office’ - we use them to conduct planetary manufacturing and…” - the full question finally registered with me - “What do you mean with ‘attacked’?”<br />
<br />
“Here, I got this in my mail.” Monique showed me her comm pad.<br />
<br />
I looked at it - indeed: a structure notification from CONCORD: one of our POCOs was at 76% shield.<br />
<br />
“I didn’t know that we had POCOs there.”, commented Monique.<br />
<br />
“Neither did I - though I probably should have remembered.” I replied absentmindedly. The name of the attacking alliance didn’t ring a name - <a href="http://evewho.com/alli/Dark+Knights+of+Eden" target="_blank">Dark Knights of Eden</a>? - and right now we didn’t really have many of our fire breathers in vicinity.<br />
<br />
“I’ll take a look.” Kitten dropped her book onto the floor and got up. “You’ll have eyes in five minutes.”<br />
<br />
“Thanks!”<br />
<br />
With a sigh, I apologized to my friend, and after the goodbyes I checked my hangar. Hmm, I had my Anomaly Stabber ready, but would it be able to handle a structure-bashing fleet? I’d have to improvise, possibly. Quietly I got up and went to board my ship.<br />
<br />
A few minutes passed, and another notification came in: the shields were now at 56%.<br />
<br />
[ 30 minutes to do 25% damage. They are hitting it with only a few ships - 1300 dps worth. ] commented a voice on Corp comms - somebody I didn’t immediately recognize.<br />
<br />
[ Indeed. ] spoke up Kitten. [ Three Vexor Navies, and a Thorax - and they are using… scout and sentry drones. ]<br />
<br />
I frowned - my Stabber couldn't handle that. I threw out a few ideas on comms - destroyers, flybys, etc - but I wasn’t optimistic. Even if we could muster the people and ships, we wouldn’t have had the training. I had a Tornado nearby, but without support, it would be dead within seconds as well. Besides, it was in Sasiekko, several hops through hi-sec from here. But maybe… I wavered, and turned my Stabber back to the station, to switch it to somewhat faster. Having my Tornado nearby would be a good thing anyway, and right now there wasn’t much else to do.<br />
<br />
It was a depressing journey - Coll took a trip through the system and reported eight hostiles total, and every thirty minutes we got a new notification from CONCORD: the shields dropped to 42%, then 45%.<br />
<br />
“Da frack?!”<br />
<br />
[ Ok, there are now 14 of them in the system, and they have stepped up their game. ], reported Kitten. [ We are looking at more cruisers with Logi support, and two torpedo bombers as well. ]<br />
<br />
I had just docked up back in my home station in my Tornado when the final notification came in: the POCO was now in re-inforced mode.<br />
<br />
[ I feel abused by how long that took. ] piped up the unknown voice again. [ Can you please ask them to stop embarrassing themselves? ]<br />
<br />
[ Maybe. ] answered Kitten. [ They are… yep, warping to our other POCO. Stand by.<br />
<br />
[ Same setup - cruisers in one group, logi in the other - and the two bombers huddling together. ]<br />
<br />
I perked up. “The two bombers - can you give me a fly-by warp-in and warp-out? Just to do some token damage?”<br />
<br />
[ Hmm… ] she sounded doubtful. [ I’ll try - but with their increased damage projection, I may not be able to finish it in time. ]<br />
<br />
“Good enough.”<br />
<br />
Minutes passed in silence, while I boarded my Stabber again and found my way to the system next to our POCOs.<br />
<br />
[ Ok, I have the warp-out, and … oh, interesting. Their leader convoed me - let’s see what he has to say. ]<br />
<br />
I knew better than to ask unnecessary questions now. She’d continue to work on the warp-ins while trying to string their fleet leader along.<br />
<br />
[ Oh-kay,… apparently this is a punishment expedition, because of us shooting neutrals in Providence. ]<br />
<br />
If it hadn’t been for the amniotic fluid in my pod, I would have groaned.<br />
<br />
“Geez, we were red before we even moved here - so technically we followed NRDS to the letter!”<br />
<br />
[ …and apparently we shot fleet members? ]<br />
<br />
“What?!”<br />
<br />
I could imagine her mental shrug: [ That’s what he says - it was apparently investigated by the Magistrate for Proviblock. ] She chuckled. [ And I quote: ‘whoever that is’ ].<br />
<br />
[ Hey! ] the unknown voice interjected. [ Ask them if they would like some help. It’s taking too long. ]<br />
<br />
“And we hate getting spammed by Structure Notifications.” I added.<br />
<br />
Kitten was quiet for a few minutes, then spoke up again. [ No reaction, except for the suggestion to turn off the notifications. I told him no, we might miss something important if we did that. ] She paused, then cursed. [ Crap! I was too slow! They were done just when I got to the warp-in position. ]<br />
<br />
“You’re getting old, Kitten!”<br />
<br />
[ So are you. ] she replied playfully, hiding her own disappointment. [ It has been a while. ]<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
“No worries, same here. Come back if they’re leaving.”</div>
<br />
[ Roger that. ]<br />
<br />
[ So, now, what is this about our POCOs? ] A new voice - Greygal! She must have joined just in time to hear the tail end.<br />
<br />
And so we filled her in, including a full recording of the chat Kitten had had with our opponents.<br />
<br />
[ Ok. ] She finally said. [ I rather not have a war right now since we have so many rookies, but hey, no better way to learn how to deal with a war. I am thinking: defense fleet. ]<br />
<br />
“And play it by ear, be more flexible than they are.” I couldn’t resist adding, smartass I could be.<br />
<br />Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-147266287869790004.post-65987944206442656002014-11-23T01:15:00.000-07:002014-11-23T12:06:23.606-07:00After Action Reports<div style="text-align: left;">
“Good gods.”<br />
<br /></div>
I stumbled over to the wet bar in my quarters and drew myself a large glass of water, before collapsing on a nearby comfy couch. Already today’s roams were starting to blur together, aiming to join the muddled memories of the other roams this month.<br />
<br />
Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a vague movement, heard a barely audible meow coming from the next room, but I was too tired to rise to the bait, tempting as it was. When the first weeks after The Conference had been rather slow, the previous weeks had dramatically picked up in pace.<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ0x4mzbkC-EbwVSYL9lUjifKAaztQ8wiPCIt_-45Rpu0zurZL7qmg5mzj_WCZMwT9AECcPR5W2EsfulTqCcfaRsO0Ws4qycE5X3j383cZO_e2sPYQtdn3AaUAwy8xbijs7pIaDZYVfp1/s1600/Fleet+Furball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnQ0x4mzbkC-EbwVSYL9lUjifKAaztQ8wiPCIt_-45Rpu0zurZL7qmg5mzj_WCZMwT9AECcPR5W2EsfulTqCcfaRsO0Ws4qycE5X3j383cZO_e2sPYQtdn3AaUAwy8xbijs7pIaDZYVfp1/s1600/Fleet+Furball.jpg" height="127" width="200" /></a></div>
It probably started with Redemption Road’s anniversary roam, where the doctrine was “anything armor goes”. And unsurprisingly we had ended up with an amazing kitchen-sink fleet of ships, including two carriers. Two? Three? It was already getting fuzzy. But I’d never forget the recon report “I have a Wyvern 12km off the gate. I think he’s going to crash the gate.” Unfortunately for us, there were more capitals on the other side of the gate. Not that it mattered - we had <a href="http://eve-kill.net/?a=kill_related&kll_id=25937656" target="_blank">long lost our own capitals</a> at that point.<br />
<br />
<br />
A “Newbro roam”, as our intrepid leader called it, aimed at freshly licensed capsuleers. We even had two actual newbros with us on that roam, and not only did they hold up quite well, their enthusiasm was infectious.<br />
<br />
A regular Redemption Road roam, which ended into the most epic extraction in my memory: we spent almost more time escorting the few remaining members of our fleet (all logistics, if my memory lie to me again) out of null-sec into the warm embrace of hi-sec, than on the roam itself.<br />
<br />
A sight-seeing tour, which ended up me being jumped by a Rupture when I <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/42500364/">wasn’t paying attention</a>. Ironically, the Rupture had been piloted by the same pilot who had pod-killed me just a <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/42327134/">few days before</a>.<br />
<br />
Another roam which had ended in a welp, and when on our way back home we attacked a local pirate with a fleet consisting mostly of pods and rookie ships, we got accused of “blobbing”.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BWANECeubco/VHG-drF-ERI/AAAAAAAAAh8/B64ZeZl2vGU/s1600/2014.11.22.21.22-cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BWANECeubco/VHG-drF-ERI/AAAAAAAAAh8/B64ZeZl2vGU/s1600/2014.11.22.21.22-cropped.jpg" height="121" width="200" /></a>Today’s Agony public roam. After all these years, it was good to see them trying to be that Agony again with whom I first dipped my toes into combat flying. Fleet was a bit rough around the edges at the beginning, partly due to the much higher than expected attendance, but eventually the FC handled the fleet with calm confidence. And after that roam…<br />
<br />
I took another swallow of my water.<br />
<br />
We had taken a short break to replenish our nutrients, when our intrepid leader came up with another idea: “Let’s go to the nearby rookie training system, and see if we can some of them to join us for some <em>real</em> flying.” Due to my current disagreements with CONCORD, I couldn’t be with the recruitment, but I followed their conversation over comms. And my heart sank when I heard no reply to their offers.<br />
<br />
But then one of the rookies took a chance, and signed up. And another one.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfNC7K9jz86-hAV5d77J6BA0Z8vSRZz2n4_7xKgfX6E8RBEPIP1vos235ozor6-F1e_ixryqFQ4wcbm11PhnKiccErE0o9cQencD9ODwQiNlcgrrVUQ8BpP3SASpg_E_6ryYLG8nThfwc/s1600/Planet+in+Cloud+Ring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFfNC7K9jz86-hAV5d77J6BA0Z8vSRZz2n4_7xKgfX6E8RBEPIP1vos235ozor6-F1e_ixryqFQ4wcbm11PhnKiccErE0o9cQencD9ODwQiNlcgrrVUQ8BpP3SASpg_E_6ryYLG8nThfwc/s1600/Planet+in+Cloud+Ring.jpg" height="116" width="200" /></a>And that’s all we needed - a fleet was quickly formed, and our intrepid leader took the rookies into a whirlwind tour of low- and null-sec, eventually ending up in RF-GGF and facing a gang from the Center of Advanced Studies. They had downshipped in sight of the purpose of this particular roam, but were not willing to hold any punches - not that we wanted them to. A short, but <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/42570468/">bloody </a>fight erupted, and our rookies got to taste their <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/42570451/">first blood</a>.<br />
<br />
CAS graciously offered free passage for our survivors, but unfortunately there was also a FIGL cruiser gang roaming the area, and quickly the roam turned into another of our epic extractions.<br />
<br />
The fleet split, John Hexis field-promoted from skirmisher to FC, in order to get one of our rookies out safely; myself heading towards John to scout, <a href="https://zkillboard.com/kill/42570969/">losing another Talwar</a> to a gate camp; Greygal shepherding her half of the fleet out on a different route; orders on comms criss-crossing.<br />
<br />
But we made it out, with the rookies all excited - less than a week on their licenses, and they had already experienced actual null-sec!<br />
<br />
And even though we disbanded the fleet after docking, one of the rookies accepted the invitation to join us as we headed for the nearest watering hole on Stacmon V station, and hung out for hours with us.<br />
<br />
I emptied my glass, my eyes falling shut.<br />
<br />
Op success, as they say.<br />
<br />Druur Monakhhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07299435488090977357noreply@blogger.com2