The Life and Happenings of Swatyy

Fall from Grace

2009-10-09T06:11:00.000-07:00

The gathering in Amarr is well underway. Imperial ships in all their Amarrian glory line up in formation. Comms crackle with anticipation about the imminent arrival of the CVA fleet. PIE pilots arrive in their best Golden Ships to show the flag. Empress Jamyl's anniversary is an event to remember.

I too sit in anticipation, but not on the line with my fellow PIE pilots. I'm in deep space. Combat logs flicker across the neural interface, ship types, CONCORD presence, formations... The firepower on this field is impressive. But I have learned to use confusion to my advantage, and it will be my cloak now.

I recall my last conversation with the fat man, my contact in Amamake...

***
"Got the Intel you wanted, Swatyy," the fat man said, pushing a note over the bar. "My contact says he's gonna be there."

I flip the note over, read it, and drop a black credit disc on the counter. I place the note over a candle on the bar. Flames consume the paper.

"You promised to be my undertaker," I say. "When it's done, they might come for me. If the worst happens, see my ashes are returned to Mi."

The fat man pockets the disc, and then leans close.

"Ya sure this is where you wanna do it, to kill a PIE officer?"

I smile sinisterly.

"It's perfect."

***

I'm pulled back to the present by a blinking indicator. Hiigaren is on the field, just undocked. I spring the trap. My warp drive comes alive and I fall 10 km from my fellow PIE pilot, my superior officer, my target. The hot-lock goes live, pulsing carronades slice into Hiigaren's Harbinger hull. The humming produced by the overheating lasers is musical; the multifrequency lights dancing upon my enemy is pure art. Space ripples in the flash, a blindingly bright explosion. I'm off the field.

It is a textbook strike and escape. Amarr local collectively gasps, but not because the CVA fleet honoring Jamyl just arrived. No, it's the razed and burning wreck outside the Emperor's station that has people talking. Shouts of "heretic!" and "terrorists!" are repeated over open comms, but no one knows what just happened. Confusion and fear grip the faithful who gathered for the celebration, as I jump out of the Amarr system.

***

"He's the traitor!" a man says to a guard as I pass, openly pointing.

"Don't worry, citizen. We are keeping an eye on him," the guard replies, eying me suspiciously.

I once found the brightly lit halls and tight security on the 24th Imperial Crusade station comforting, but not today. Word of my actions, my dishonoring the Empress by attacking a PIE officer, had spread across the front lines. Now I find myself in a place where there are no shadows to hide in, and armed loyalist guards are everywhere.

Whispers and hostile stares follow me. The guard at the Emperor's Corner, a gated community where I own a residence, checks twice for an arrest order before dropping my ID card rudely on the counter.

As I pass, he mutters, "God forsaken pirate."

I may be a pariah, but at least I'm not wanted... not yet anyway. I step into my condo and close the door behind me. Breathing deeply, I detect Mi's perfume. How am I going to explain this to her? I had anticipated blow back, but things are escalating beyond my expectation. Leaning against the wall, I rub my eyes... so tired.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and start. Turning quickly, I see Mi. She is dressed in a white gown, the necklace I gave her gracing the low neckline. Dark hair hangs freely, contrasting with her dress. But it is her eyes that capture me, deep eyes, full of understanding and pity.

Best to just deal with things. I take a deep breath to speak, but Mi puts her finger over my mouth.

"Shhh," she coos, taking my hand and leading me.

I'm too tired to resist. Mi leads me to the bathroom where a hot bath is prepared. She must have been watching the docking manifest for my arrival.

"I have to tell you something," I say.

Mi says nothing and smiles softly as she unfastens my robe's clasp and undoes the ties. I disrobe and slide into the bath, letting the hot water envelope me for several seconds. When I come up for air, I find Mi sitting at the tub's side. She is holding the PIE insignia that was on my coat.

Looking hard at the token, she says, "I'm not sorry you did it."

I blink water from my eyes. Of course she would know. News like this traveled faster than light speed.

"You heard?"

Mi nods, and wraps her arms around my neck, leaning her head against mine.

"I don't know what's going to happen next, Mi," I say, kissing her hand.

Whispering in my ear, she says, "I do."

I turn to look at her, surprised. Mi smiles coyly and drops my PIE insignia into the waste basket. Then she produces a communiqué.

"Your dishonorable discharge papers from PIE, delivered this morning by courier," Mi says, "And this, our eviction notice from the Emperor's Corner for 'unbecoming behavior'."

I should be troubled, but for some reason I'm not. Maybe reality has yet to catch up with me, but for the moment I find the absurdity hilarious. I look into Mi's eyes and can see we share the same thought...

"Yes, we can move back to Amamake."

I slide down into the tub again, Mi's giggling muffled by the water.

*** Multimedia Addendium ***

Eve-Online Forum Post

YouTube Video

Friends and Enemies

2009-10-03T06:35:00.000-07:00

I walk into the Pirate's Cove Bar and Grill, a popular haunt in Amamake. It's a full house. The dance floor is packed with people grinding to loud, trendy Minmatar music. Tobacco smoke hangs thick. The music is so loud, it shakes my body. Slave girls dance exuberantly on tables where free men and women alike toss isk at them. Pills and drinks are strewn on the bar. Glass platters with white powder cut neatly into lines are passed around. Shadows move in the side rooms, bodies moving in unison behind thin curtains.

Normally I frequent the bar during off hours, but today I need to talk with my contact in private. A massively crowded, loud Friday night in the Pirate's Cove is the perfect place to guarantee a discreet meeting. No one even glances at me. Few people in this crowd know who I am, and they are so inebriated or drugged they don't recognize anything but the haze enveloping them.

Moving to the bar, I slide onto a stool. A middle-aged woman rushes back and forth filling orders and sending out trays. I pull out a stack of isk and drop a few copper discs to get the server's attention. In a fluid motion, she scoops the isk, puts a drink in front of me and slides a platter of cut white powder toward me.

I push the platter away. Slowly, meaningfully, I place a black disc on the table. Now her attention is undivided. I point to the large bulk of a man on the far end of the bar. She nods and takes the isk to the fat man. I watch the woman hand him the isk. He glances my way and disappears into the back.

I down the drink and follow through the dark hall way into a dimly lit room. It's a broom closet converted into a small office. The sweet cannabis smoke almost masks the odor of sweat and sex. Music pounds through the wall, rattling crooked pictures indiscernible in the shadows. My eyes fall on the fat man sitting in the corner with a bottle in his hand. A wide smile spreads behind a tangle of dreadlocks hanging over his face. He motions to a second chair.

"How's yer lady? I hear you swept her off to some fancy pansy mansion on the Amarr side 'o the boarder," the fat man says.

"Mi is well," I answer curtly.

"Sure she is," the fat man laughs. "Minmatar women, they don't keep like spice wine, all bottled up."

This conversation strikes a nerve. When I told Mi I purchased her a condo fitting her station, luxurious by any standard, she wasn't enthusiastic. Mi likes her own kind, low born and uncouth. Mi and I are so very much alike...

I produce an envelope and offer it to the fat man, abruptly changing the subject.

"I require information regarding this pilots movement on the Minmatar side of the border."

The fat man eyes the envelope. Pulling the dreadlocks on the left side of his face behind his ear, he looks at me hard and offers a drink.

"Been awhile since you did wet work. Contract killin', that's not what PIE does, is it?"

I sit down and take the drink.

"No contracts. This is strictly personal."

The fat man opens the envelope and pulls out the data sheet. His face cycles through emotions as if he were a performing mime, surprise, disbelief, confusion.

"Yer fucking daft! Hiigaren is the mark, a fucking PIE Lieutenant?"

I down the drink in a single swell and place the empty glass on the table.

I look directly at the fat man, a cold, emotionless gaze, and say, "I'm going to burn him down."

The fat man answers incredulously, "And when yer done fukkin Hiigaren's corpse, what's gonna happen to you? PIE ain't no band o' rags. They ain't gonna like you killin’ yer own."

"Hiigaren is my superior officer, and he called me out in public. That means he leaves his rank in the hangar when he undocks."

"Is them the Admiral’s rules or yours? " The fat man snorts, "You ever been hung, Swatty? 'Cuz that's what PIE does to traitors."

We both know I’m breaking protocol, that these matters should be handled through the chain of command. The problem is that I really don’t care. Hiigaren threw down over open comms., in front of the entire corporation. I’m not going to run to ‘daddy Admiral’ and cry. I’m going to handle it in space like the killer I am, and one of us is going to lose a ship in the process.

I give the fat man a hard look. Nothing more needs saying.

"Fuck it then," the fat man says, filling my glass and raising his own. "Drop another black credit and I'll be yer fucking undertaker too."

==================
*Begin Public Comm. Log*

[23:36:47] EVE System > Channel MOTD: PIE channel for general informal banter and liasoning with close allies in the war. OOC chat is entirely acceptable.

Access requests for alts should be sent to Gaven Lok'ri.
[23:37:10] Raphael Saint > wb Jhae
[23:37:30] Hiigaren > Hey Swatyy!
[23:37:33] Hiigaren > finaly we meet
[23:37:38] Hiigaren > i heared your gonna kill me
[23:37:41] Raphael Saint > lol
[23:37:55] Hiigaren > How does Sunday evening works for you, i have a free moment then
[23:38:23] Jhaelee de'Auvrie > having network issues with my secondary computer
[23:38:58] Swatyy > Am I going to kill you Hii? I suppose Sunday works for me, if you like.
[23:39:05] Swatyy > Um... why am I killing you?
[23:39:30] Hiigaren > I dont know, i normaly dont ask for the reason
[23:40:41] Swatyy > ok. wth, never needed a reason before. I'll be looking for you in space.
[23:41:01] Hiigaren > Yeah i;m in lantron :)
[23:41:40] Swatyy > Let me write down your name so I don't forget you...
[23:41:59] Raphael Saint > That's not going to work
[23:42:04] Raphael Saint > Hiig is very forgettable
[23:42:29] Hiigaren > Dont blame me, lots of ppl wanne kill me
[23:42:39] Hiigaren > Its not like this is a special event for me
[23:43:57] Hiigaren > once a guy try to kill me in a 0.5 system, but forgot he wasnt at war with me, briljant move on his part
[23:45:10] Hiigaren > So swatty
[23:45:19] Hiigaren > how would you like the beating, medium or rare
[23:45:48] Swatyy > I don't even know what that means.
[23:46:00] Hiigaren > Oh come on
[23:46:59] Hiigaren > I got a assasion with no humour after me
[23:47:47] Swatyy > yep.
[23:50:39] Hiigaren > well i guess Assasions arnt what they used to be!
[23:51:29] Swatyy > Hii, your kind of mouthy. Don't know what your deal is, but having another person to shoot is fine by me.
[23:51:56] Hiigaren > Swatty ur the 1 started the whole' should i kill hiig thing '
[23:52:54] Swatyy > I don't even know who you are, and didn't want to kill you until a few minutes ago.
[23:53:05] Swatyy > But its cool. Whatever it is, we will sort it out in space.
[23:53:31] Hiigaren > Thats funny
[23:53:41] Hiigaren > i guess soembody esle is writing on the forums with ur name
[23:54:09] Swatyy > Can you give me the link?
[23:54:55] Hiigaren > Uhm i think its in a post from shalee ^^
[23:55:43] Swatyy > Oh... you were they guy who dressed her down, right? The whole former admeral thing.
[23:55:49] Swatyy > Sure, I'll kill you.
[23:55:56] Hiigaren > Uhm acuelty no i wasnt
[23:56:24] Merdaneth > o/
[23:56:29] Hiigaren > SPeak of the devil
[23:56:37] Hiigaren > hey merd

A Clean Slate

2009-09-11T06:05:00.000-07:00

I round the corner and hit a robed figure hard in the shoulder. Without pausing, I continue my hurried pace.

"Excuse me!" exclaims the man, sarcastically.

Ignoring him, I move briskly down the walkway to the station promenade, a large open area where shops are arranged in neat blocks. My surroundings are still unfamiliar; the 24th Crusade station where I am taking a "working" vacation is clean and well lit. People shuffle past me, none with any sense of urgency. Relaxing elevator music fills the air, dampening the sounds of chit chat from Amarrian shoppers enjoying themselves. People are at ease...

But I have a problem, a 280 lb problem that runs a tavern and whore house on my home station in Amamake. Nothing in Amamake is nice, per say, not the facilities and certainly not the people. Full of pirates, cut throats, and war targets, the border lands are where I feel the most comfortable. But I needed to get behind friendly lines and meet my corp. mates, and so I did. But now reality comes for me and reminds me that I'm not of this world. The fat man is a 'familiar,' an icon from my dark, cold existence, and he has information for me. I consider our previous conversation.

***

"Why are you calling me?" I ask, interrupting the fat man's incoherent blabbering.

It is early, for me at least. The excess spice wine I indulged in with my fellow PIE pilots last night caught up with me. The last thing I feel like looking at is the man on the comm. screen.

"Like I said, boss, I got the information you wanted," he says exasperated.

I try to blink sleep away. He is a regular informant on a variety of subjects, and I have no idea what he is talking about.

"So tell me," I ask crossly.

"No, no... can't do that, not on an open line," the fat man says, waving his hands emphatically. "This news is too big for that. You should come back so I can tells' you what I know."

I take a deep breath and say, "There is no way I'm going back to Amamake now. I'm enjoying myself too much."

The man rings his hands, correctly judging that was the end of the matter on my part. Then he throws a curve ball.

"I'm coming out there to tell you, then, boss."

"What? No, you are not! I'm on a 24th IC station," I retort.

"You will pay me good for what I know. See you soon!"

Before I can object further, the screen cuts out. I shake my head. The fat man is my best informant so I'll humor him. Still, this had better be damn good...

***

The fat man refused to give me the information over comms. While that irritates me, it is the wise choice for his health. Transmissions crossing the low security boarder lands are frequently intercepted. But he could give me more than 10 minutes notice before the garbage scowl he booked passage on is due to dock.

The fat man is a freed Minmatar. He has papers, but he will need an Amarrian to check him into a 24th Imperial Crusade station. Quiet and discreet are not qualities he possesses, and the fewer people who know I associate with him the better. As I turn the corner to the security hall, I glance at the hanging time piece... and slam straight into someone coming around the corner in the other direction.

"Watch the fuck where you are going!" I snarl, reeling backwards.

I look up to see Lieutenant Shalee staring at me in shock, her blue eyes wide. She sucks in her breath with a hiss and puts her hands over her mouth. I look down at the man I collided with, who I knocked to the floor.

Aw, shit...

Captain Vaarun, the officer who recruited me into PIE, looks back at me. What was going through his mind? From the expression on his face, I'd draw a weapon were I home in Amamake. My hand twitches toward the dagger hidden in my waist belt before I remember where I am and master the impulse. Vaarun and I hold each other's gaze for a few moments before Shalee interjects.

"Well, help him up, Swatyy," she says severely.

Only then do I realize I am still scowling down at Vaarun. Taking a deep breath, I offer my hand.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault," I say, making an effort to be contrite. It's not something I express well...

Vaarun takes my hand and stands up. He regards me keenly for a moment. Then his features soften.

"I guess this is a good thing. We were just talking about you," Vaarun says.

"Looking for you, actually," Shalee adds, glancing at Vaarun.

No one speaks. I arch an eyebrow.

"We were thinking about what you said last night, about not being able to get a living space on the station," Shalee says.

I try to recall what I said about moving to the station. Last night is a blur, and I was surprised that the PIE officers can hold their liquor better than many pirates. They drank me under the table.

"I made inquiries, but the station manager said there were no vacancies for the foreseeable future."

"I can help you with that," Vaarun says. "24th IC stations often keep some housing vacant for senior PIE officers. You don't qualify yet, but I can sponsor you."

"And you would do this for me?"

Shalee chimes, "We want you to have a nice place to live, especially now that you have a Lady to look after. Amamake is soooo grungy."

"And PIE pilots have a certain reputation to maintain. We need to avoid the appearance of vice or evil," Vaarun says, adding shrewdly. "If you have a place here, you won't need the room at Tribal Core Logistics."

"You know about that?"

"I recruited you, Swatyy. I know great deal about you and your prior activities," Vaarun says. "Look, you have a clean slate here. We all have reasons for taking the paths that bring us to this point. I just want to make sure you have the opportunity to do right."

People doing nice things for no reason, here is something new. And Shalee is right about Amamake being no place for a Lady, regardless of her history. Mi would like it here.

"The person I spoke with said there is a duplex in the Emperor's Corner that is unoccupied, but reserved. That is my first choice."

"Mine too..." Shalee says, under her breath. "Those places cost a fortune."

"Yes, those are reserved for us, but...," Vaarun says, glancing between Shalee and me, "perhaps you would like something very nice, but more affordable."

"I'll take the duplex. If you would be so kind as submit the sponsorship, I can put the necessary isk into escrow immediately," I say.

Vaarun pauses. I try to discern his thoughts. Why was he hesitating? Was he angling for something? Or is he just surprised someone who looks like I do has that kind of isk? Maybe if I offer something in return.

"I'm happy to offer a 10% finder’s fee, of course," I say, not realizing until after the words leave my mouth how it sounds.

"No, no," Vaarun says, shaking his hands. "I didn't mean that. I mean, those suites are usually reserved for high ranking officials, and even they don't rent them over the cost."

Shalee turns pink. I realize she thinks I just tried to bribe a Captain. I don't think of it that way. It is merely reciprocating a kindness, even if it is through a quid pro quo. But I do see how it looks, and right after Vaarun's talk about "appearances." Thinking quickly, I cease on a way to salvage the situation.

I smile and say with as much sincerity I can muster for a bald faced lie, "Please don't misunderstand. I meant for the Homes for Amarrian War Orphans charity you are involved in. I'm happy to make a donation in gratitude."

Shalee wears that same skeptical look she gave me when I tried the "for God and Empire" routine in the bar last week. She didn't buy that line then, and she sure as hell isn't buying this line now. Vaarun on the other hand... he blinks a few times, clearly doing a quick calculation.

"That... that would do a great deal of good in many lives," Vaarun says, before adding suspiciously, "How did you know I am helping war orphans?"

I half-smile, half smirk and say, "You are my recruitment officer, Captain. I know a great deal about you."

Shalee rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, giving me an accusing look that speaks for itself.

You are *such* a scoundrel.

"Normally, I wouldn't accept anything, but since it's for orphans... 10% you say?"

I smile.

"Yes, it is my pleasure to give back to those who are in such distress," I say, adding, "I look forward to spending more time among the faithful. I understand there is a code, a series of principles that we are bound by, and I don't want to do anything that..."

A shouting voice interrupts me, and captures our attention. I recognize that voice...

"Get yer' fucking hands off me! I've got my papers! I'm with Swatyy. I'm his man!"

A large man rounds the corner. He is dressed in a dirty white t-shirt and torn trousers. Long, unkempt dreadlocks obscure his face as he tries to make his way forward, but two guards hold him back.

"There he is!" the fat man says, pointing emphatically at me. "He will tell ya, ask him! Get your damn hands off me!"

Both Shalee and Vaarun look at me disbelievingly. I close my eyes for a moment and attempt to master myself.

"Excuse me a moment," I say, bowing stiffly before walking down the hall to where the fat man is detained.

As I approach, a guard steps forward to meet me. I adjust my robes to make the PIE uniform and insignia underneath visible. He salutes me, and I return the gesture.

"Do you know this man?" the guard asks.

"He is my charge," I answer.

"Sign here, please, sir," the guard says, handing me a clipboard. He takes a derisive look at the fat man and adds, "Would you like us to place a tracking anklet on him for his stay?"

"Fucking hell if I'll let you tag me like an animal," the fat man says.

I arch an eyebrow as I sign my name. Next to the "duration of visit" field, I fill in "10 minutes."

"I don't think so. He won't be here long enough," I reply.

The enormity of my history, my past becomes vividly clear at this moment. I can't pretend to be anything other than what I am, nor do I have any desire to do otherwise. It wasn't all lies; I do have a code, and they are aligned with PIE. A resolves hardens in me.

I will be true to my nature. I will not compromise. I will seek glory for myself first, and in doing so strengthen the Empire. The ends will justify whatever means are necessary.

I hand the clipboard to the guard and he looks it over.

Regarding me, he says, "You are aware that this man is in your custody and your responsibility while on this station. You are responsible for his conduct."

"I would have it no other way," I say.

The fat man beams at me. I scowl back and pull him away from the guard by the wall. Shalee and Vaarun whisper to each other.

"Tell me why you are here."

"Sure thing, boss, but we need to talk price first," the fat man says, perfectly pleased with himself.

"Price? You have compromised my position here. Do you see them?" I hiss, indicating Vaarun and Shalee, who were watching attentively at the far end of the hall.

The fat man gawks. I lean forward, stepping into the fat man's personal space, backing him against the wall.

"They are PIE officers, and they would think much higher of me if I rid myself of you. Hear me well, you barter your life with the information you claim to have. If I am not satisfied, I will tell the guards you are a Minmatar spy, trading information across the border."

The fat man went pale. It didn't matter if my allegations were true or not, and he knew it. He swallowed and began talking.

"It's about Morsus Mihi, boss. It's about them that killed you.”

My jaw clenches…

Meeting New People

2009-08-28T05:57:00.000-07:00

I step into the Higher Light Pub and look around. Everything is clean, from the tables to the barstools, to the pool table in the corner. The lighting is comfortably low and warm, but there are no dark corners, no shadows to hide in. This is a far cry from the seedy establishments I usually frequent on the wrong side of the Minmatar boarder.

But the thing that strikes me the most is the people. No one bothers to give me more than a second glance before turning back to their friends or drinks. There are no malicious glares, no hostile eyes sizing up a mark, no dark souls at all for that matter. I am the drudge in this room.

I make my way to the bar, toward an empty seat. Everyone is well dressed, and I'm glad I wore my formal robes. I sit and pull back my hood, revealing the PIE insignia on my uniform collar. My attention is drawn to the laughter from a table. Laughter, that's something I don't hear often in the Amamake, and certainly not happy laughter.

"Hello Ensign. How can I help you?"

I almost don't look at the voice addressing me, not used to being called by rank. By instinct I give the young man before me a sizing gaze. The server is a freed slave, his ID bar pinned under his name tag. I can't tell if he is Minmatar or not, Ni Kunni maybe, one of my own? He blinks back under my harsh stare. Realizing what I'm doing, I break eye contact.

"What's the house drink?" I ask.

"The... the Amarrian Smile. It's made from..." he begins.

"That's fine. I'll have it," I say curtly, interrupting him.

The server gives me a sideways glance as he mixes the drink. Being honest with myself, my irate temper is more from anxious uncertainty than anything else. Give me scheming, devious cut-throat lowlifes any day. I understand them and can handle it. Well dressed, laughing, smiling people actually here to socialize and enjoy themselves... that's just creepy.

But I need to meet my fellow PIE pilots, so I decided to pull back to the Amarr side of the war front in the Bleak Lands for some R&R. The Higher Light Pub is located in a 24th Imperial Crusade station one jump from high security space where PIE has an active office and is a favorite place for the faithful to gather.

I glance toward a group of PIE pilots at a table in the middle of the room chatting animatedly. Considering them for a moment, I resolve to go over and introduce myself once my drink is ready. They are dressed neat in PIE uniforms. Two of them wear multiple decorations and metals on their breast coats. One is Captain Vaarun, the recruitment officer who handled my application. A girl at the table, laughing, notices me and catches my eye. I look away.

Damn it, she caught me staring at them. I feel uncomfortable, but I am here to meet new people and that's what I am going to do. Why is it that I can kill a group of strangers on the Dal gate without care, but I'm nervous about introducing myself to a table of Corp-mates?

My drink arrives. I take it and turn around to find the woman from the table in front of me.

"What'cha drinking, Ensign?" she asks.

Caught off guard, I take a sip of my drink to buy time and assemble my wits. The girl looks at me curiously. Medium height, her PIE uniform looks good on her slim form. A Lieutenant insignia graces her collar. She wears a traditional face scarf over tied up dark hair that covers half her face, but it's light enough that I can see mischievous blue eyes sizing me up.

"A tooth-decaying, fruity monstrosity they call an Amarrian Smile," I say, gesturing to the seat beside my own. "Would you care to join me?"

"Oh, I love those," she says, sliding onto the stool beside me.

I smile, shaking my head at the awkwardness of berating a drink she likes. Sitting down, I flag the server.

"Another of these for my friend," I say, indicating my drink with a gesture. "I'd like another as well. This time hold the vermouth, juice, fruit, soda water and ice."

The server grabs two glasses as he repeats, "One Amarrian Smile for the lady, and one vodka, straight up, for the gentleman."

The girl giggles.

"My name is Swatyy," I say, holding out my hand.

"I'm Shalee," she answers, shaking my hand. "You're a new recruit, right? Did you just move to the station?"

"Actually, I have loft in Amamake. I'm here for some respite and to meet my fellow Praetorians."

"Amamake?" Shalee says, arching an eyebrow.

The bartender brings us our drinks. Shalee picks up her glass and sips thoughtfully. I'm being judged.

"Rough neighborhood, even if you do stay at an Amarr station," she says, and then adds, "You do stay at an Amarr station, right?"

I actually do live in an Amarr station. It's on the wrong side of the boarder, owned and operated by Minmatar under Amarrian charter in name only, home to pirates and war targets alike, but there is no need to mention that... or that I also keep an apartment at Tribal Forces Logistics.

"Of course. I'm familiar with the PIE charter and avoid any perception that might bring dishonor to our cause. It's good to be among those that serve the Empire."

"Mmmm...," Shalee hums, nodding.

She clearly didn't buy my bullshit. Shalee placed her elbow on the counter and leaned her head on it, watching me.

"Is that why you resigned from Gunship Diplomacy when they left the Crusade? To serve the Empire?"

I clenched my jaw. The "God and Empire" facade is tedious, and I dislike overt dishonesty. Besides, anyone who knows anything about Gunship would know better. If I'm to be judged, let me be condemned for what I really am. I lift my vodka and down it in one smooth motion.

"No," I answer.

"No?"

"No, I'm here for personal glory. Slaughtering Minmatar rebels is the path that leads there, and it is the one I will travel," I say with unflinching, unrepentant honesty.

Shalee silently sips her drink. What's she thinking? At least she hasn't stormed away. After a few awkward moments, I made a stab at keeping the conversation going.

"How do you know Gunship?" I ask.

"By name and rumor, mostly. And that you came from that Corporation."

"People are talking about me then."

I make an attempt at indignity, but Shalee sees through it. She smiles.

"I don't think you'd mind that one bit. Don't get an inflated head, Ensign," she says, emphasizing the rank, the lowest rank. "We don't talk about you more than any other new recruit."

"And what do they say about me?"

Now Shalee hides behind her drink, sipping slowly while contemplating an answer. I wait patiently, flagging the server for another vodka.

"They say," Shalee says, meticulously choosing her words, "that you're good and what you do, that you have associates in high and low places, and that your history is... colorful."

I laugh at the calculated understatements. Shalee giggles back at me.

"Come on," she says, "let’s go to the table."

Shalee gestures to the table where other PIE pilots sit, occasionally glancing at us. I pick up my drink and follow her. She introduces me, and I receive a warm welcome, shaking each person's hand in turn before taking a seat.

Sitting there among my fellow Praetorians, making small talk, I began to think this bar wasn't so bad. Maybe I will fit in after all. Maybe I will find a place where I belong. Maybe I can bring some Minmatar strippers from Amamake to dance on the tables and liven the place up.

Maybe not...

A Complicated Relationship

2009-08-25T13:51:00.000-07:00

A beautiful woman sits at the table with me in my room. She is wearing one of my long white shirts and pink socks, a lock of her dark hair rebels and falls across her face. The room is barely recognizable from what it used to be just two weeks ago. Just two weeks ago since I met Mi, a Minmatar slave that found her way into my life. She's been helping me decorate. It makes her happy, and I enjoy watching the way Mi moves. I like it when she wears my cloths...

She takes the box I offer her.

It's red with gold ribbons, tied with a big bow on the top. She looks at me and giggles, putting her slender fingers over her mouth as she laughs, so beautiful. Her eyes are bright. I gesture that she should open it. She tucks a lock of her long black hair behind her ear and pulls the ribbons back to open the box.

She takes out a soft flat velvet package and puts it down on the table in front of her. Lifting the clasp, she pulls back the covering to reveal a necklace. It's made of etched double gold coils with silver chains bracing them. Each silver chain is decorated with gems, creating a jeweled tapestry.

"Oh, I love it, Master!" she says, holding it up to the light.

I smile, not so much that Mi is pleased, but because I see the beginning of a storm in her eyes.

"It's a new Minmatar design. They call it 'neo-style', and I'm told it's very popular among the high ladies in Metropolis..."

My voice trails off as I notice Mi's pained expression grow. I gently brush back her hair with a finger and look into her brown eyes, knowing exactly what she is thinking. This is what I was waiting for. Gently running my hand down her face, I ask a question to which I damn well know the answer.

"What's wrong, Mi?"

Mi chokes a muffled sob and palms her face.

"It's too much!"

Mi stands and takes a step back from the table, tears streaming down her cheeks, and puts her hand out to keep me back.

"I'll never be allowed to keep it," Mi sobs, "and the'll beat me if I don't bring them more later."

"They" is actually a "he," who runs the local watering hole and whore house, The Pirate's Cove Bar and Grill. Mi is a dancer there, and her entrance into my life is pure happenstance, nothing more than a cover for a conversation with the bartender.

But Mi found a way into a softer part of me, a part that few people see. And once her owner finds out... No, I'm in front of this train, for better or for worse. Years of struggle and death have taught me that if you can't stop the train, sometimes you can derail it.

"The bartender won't take anything from you," I say, watch Mi intently, meaningfully.

Mi stares back at me. What was that in her eyes? Apprehension, maybe fear? I swallowed before continuing. I'm such a bastard.

"I bought you."

Relief flows over Mi's features. Half coughing, half sighing, she clutches her chest and laughs. Then she pounces on me, wraps her arms around my neck and kisses my face.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, Master," Mi cries between kisses.

Pulling Mi off me, I hold her at arms length. She can see the warning in my gaze and looks into my eyes, questioning.

"There is more," I say, gesturing back to the box on the table, seemingly forgotten.

Mi approaches the box gingerly, as if expecting there to be a snake inside. She looks at me and wipes tears from her eyes before looking down into the open box. Reaching in, she removes an envelope. She opens it and begins reading. I can see her mime the words...

Dear Ms. Michelle Thorki,

This letter is formal notice that Mr. Swatyy has purchased your person and lifelong services from The Pirate's Cove Bar and Grill. Further, Mr. Swatyy has sponsored, filed the requisite paperwork on your behalf, and paid all applicable fees to secure your freedom from the Amarrian Ministry of Human Resources. Please be advised that to move through Amarr space, you will need identifying documentation from a recognized Amarrian house. Congratulations on your status as a "freed citizen."

Yours truly,

Odari Sikra
Human Property Division
Ministry of Human Resources

Why am I doing this? It is easier to simply claim Mi as a slave and be done with it. But when I said 'there is more,' I meant it for me as much as her. She can never know, I won't let her know, that my feelings are more than lust or desire, that she holds power over me. It's too dangerous. So I must cow her, control her, dominate her more than even a master can to a slave.

I'm going to end up in hell for what I'm doing to this innocent woman...

I sit down and cross my legs, watching Mi intently. Her breathing is fast and shallow, her face is deathly pale. She falls to her knees and collapses to the ground, groaning in agony. She is a freed Minmatar woman, without means or the protection of an Amarrian house, or even a pimp. No one on this station will touch her, not knowing that it was I who freed her. But slavers would have her eventually, taking her somewhere else... for processing. Mi knows what that means.

"Maaasster, pleeassse forgive this slave!" she begs, sobbing uncontrollably. "Please keep me, Master, pleeassse! I'll do anyyyythinnnng!"

Crawling to me on the ground, she hugs my ancles. I feel warm tears run down my feet. Her begging rings in my ears. I'm about to speak when I realize the lump in my throat would betray my feeling. My own tears threaten me. It cannot happen. All this, all Mi's suffering would be for nothing. I must be strong.

Swallowing, forcing my voice to be even, I say, "There is something I want you to do."

Mi continues to sob, but manages to look up at me. Such pain, terrible fear, in those wide, tear-filled eyes.

"Anything master wants," Mi answers, pleading.

I lean down, and lift Mi to her knees. She looks at me intently, like a condemned man would look at an executioner.

"Make a choice, Mi. I want you to become the First Lady in my House, but only if you choose to do so."

Mi gawks at me, opens her mouth to speak but nothing comes out. I caress her cheek. There is no choice for her here, at least from my perspective. But I need Mi give herself to me, willingly and of her own volition.

Mi nods.

I smile down at Mi and take her hand, lifting her to her feet. Bringing her before the tall mirror on the wall, I hold her shoulders and we look at our reflections. The white shirt Mi wears is soaked with tears and sweat, her eyes red and puffy, her hair disheveled. I've never seen her so beautiful.

I pick up the necklace from the table and step behind Mi to put it on her. She pulls her hair back, exposing a long, delicate neck. As the latch closes, I realize that I locked my own chains as surely as if it were an iron collar about my neck. My hands slide around Mi's waist, and I draw her close. She closes her eyes and reaches up to caress my face. Gazing at her in the mirror, I realize it was I who never had a choice.

Breaking Camp

2009-08-22T05:40:00.000-07:00

Here I am, shivering in the cold. May God damn this station and all its inhabitants, especially the superintendent of environmental control! One thing I didn't miss during my time in Pure Blind was waking up in a room only a few degrees above freezing. Now that I’m back in the pirate haven called Amamake, some old irritations were back as well.

Pulling a heavy shirt over my under-clothing and clasping it tight, I rise from bed to don the robes sitting on the chair beside me. Glancing around, nothing much had changed. The dark brown walls are gnarled as ever. The only furniture is a small nightstand and chair next to my bed. Fortunately, I had kept the room when I left the region, but all my belongings were placed in storage. The austere look suited my mood. Snatching a small pouch of isk off the nightstand, I set out to the station promenade. I need breakfast.

I enter the Pirate’s Cove Bar and Grill, though the “Grill” part was a lie by omission; house of ill repute would be more accurate. Appealing aromas of meat, fresh baked bread, spiced wine, and sex linger in the air. The room is mostly empty, lots of unused tables, except for the dark corners. That’s where the rats hide.

Scanning the room, I see the same low-life scum sitting in the same corners as before I had left. Several of them stared back at me, some with looks of surprise, some with knowing watchfulness. A scowl flickers across my otherwise emotionless face. Somehow word of my return to the Bleak Lands had gotten around.

My eyes drift to the raised walkway where a naked Minmatar woman dances slowly. She’s lithe and moves fluidly, and she is very beautiful, seductive… her eyes meet mine, and she reaches toward me, beckoning me. Averting my gaze, I swallow in self contempt for my weakness and find a small table. I sit with my back to the wall, a clear view of the entrance and the bar… and the girl who continues to dance without missing a beat.

“Very pretty girl, eh?”

The barkeep smiles down at me and points to the girl, as if I hadn’t noticed. He is a fat man, a Minmatar in his mid-40s by the looks of him. Long, dirty dreadlocks hang over his shoulders. He wears a T-shirt and jeans, an apron covered with grease and a dirty towel thrown over his shoulder.

“You can buy her, if you like,” he says, “by the hour or day, whatever you want.”

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted, but I reply curtly, “A bit early to turn tricks, even in this god-forsaken rat hole.”

Laughing, the bartender ignores my insolence, and asks, “Be wantn’ just the morning meal then?”

I hold up the pouch of isk and watch his greedy eyes weigh it. Dropping it on the table, I indicate with a gesture that he should take it.

“So you want the woman after all?” he says, reaching for the bag.

As he claimed the bag, I seize his hand and give a hard, meaningful look.

“I want to resume our previous arrangement.”

The barkeep flinches in pain at my grip on his hand, and answers, “Sure thing, boss. I’d…”

Interrupting, I grab his long black hair and pull the fat man close, whispering into his ear.

“How is it my presence is known here? I took steps to announce that I reside in Pure Blind.”

He whispers back, “You dun' think you can just fly back into this system, after all them black deeds you've done, and not be spotted. Especially after getting kicked out of Gunship and…”

The barkeep stops himself abruptly, realizing he misspoke. So that’s what they thought, that I have been removed from Gunship Diplomacy, my former corporation. I’ve made many enemies in this constellation during the Crusade, enemies that now think I’m so weak G.Dip tossed me out. It didn't matter if the rumor was a half-truth. They would seek blood, my blood, by the gallons.

“I’m in Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris now. They aren’t what you call scrubs, fat man,” I say, hissing into his ear and then pushing him away roughly.

The bartender rubs his neck with one hand, the isk pouch disappears into his apron with the other. His eyes blink fast.

“Don't want to be on the wrong end of 'em, no argument. But PIE., they ain’t murderers like Gunship, is they? Won't skull fuck ya for the fun of it. They got honor and rules, and now you have to follow them rules, ain’t ya? People ‘round here,” the barkeeper says, waving his hand into the mostly empty room, “they won’t know what to think, will they?”

I scowl.

“Not like I know,” the bartender quickly adds, reading my mood, “that you are still the man you were, I mean are… the killer, I mean.”

Sighing, I realize the fat man is right. A display of power is in order, lest my enemies fall upon me. Leaning forward, my gaze hardens on the barkeeper.

“Tell me what I want to know.”

The barkeeper grins, sits down, and leans close. His voice is low, and he whispers non-stop for ten minutes. When he’s done, I smile at him. This agent knows his business, giving me every bit of information I want.

I glance over at the girl dancing on the platform, sweat gleaming on her naked body, so lovely. People are noticing our conversation. Word will spread…

“So we’re square, then?” he asks, patting the pouch under his apron.

I remove a second, larger pouch from my robes and drop it on the table. The bartender eyes it greedily.

“I’m not going to have time to eat. Clean up the girl and send her to my room with a tray in an hour. And if anyone asks why we are talking, it was over the girl’s price for the day.”

***

Inhaling the thick pod fluid into my lungs, I resist the gag reflex. Breathing in and out, choking on the air bubbles I expel, I finally acclimate. Systems come online and I begin the undocking sequence. During my travels in the north, I had modified my Harbinger battlecruiser. Once called the Pike, now she is is even more deadly than before and rechristened The Empresses’s Ship, Justice.

I warp to Dal and jump into system. Moving quickly, I relocate to a planet and begin scanning. The information I purchased is spot on. The gate camp is where he said it would be. There are fifteen hostiles in local, and four on scan. I ponder the tactical situation.

A destroyer, cruiser and a battlecruiser sit on the Auga gate. Off grid, a Muninn heavy assault cruiser lies in wait, no doubt to offer sniper support should the group on the gate engage the Amarr. They are unaware of my intention, not realizing they are prey being stalked. The first move was clear.

I warp to the Muninn piloted by Thunder Downunder and land 5km off his bow. The fool isn’t aligned, and my disruptor and web come alive, crippling him. His ship is fit for sniper support, not for close range action. My first broadside tears into his shields and goes unanswered. The lasers on my Harbinger discharge in ruthless rhythm, tearing apart the Muninn. When the last carronade sounds and Thunder’s ship is reduced to twisted metal, he had failed to even strip the shields off TES Justice.

But I’m not finished, not yet. My enemies need to see a display of power, and power I would show them. Fire and death will announce my return to the battlefield! Despite being outnumbered, despite enemy reinforcements in local, I align to the Auga gate and warp to the gate camp. Having destroyed their sniper support, they will be off balance and I would strike them with terrible ferocity. Pure guile will turn the tide in my favor.

Landing among the three ships, a Bellicose cruiser, Thrasher destroyer, and Prophesy battlecruiser, I target Zostrallis’s Thrasher first. My enemies are startled such they didn’t even lock target until my first broadside cuts deeply into Zostralli’s armor. Despite the repair drones offered by the Prophesy, he falls quickly.

Next, I turn my guns on Xan Kereth in the Bellicose. Now I am taking fire. Missiles slam into my shields, punctuated by the sizzle of enemy lasers. But it is not enough. I tear through the Bellicose with ease. Flying over Xan’s broken, burning hull with satisfaction, I turn my guns on the Prophesy.

Carronades roll in high pitched whines as the two Amarrain battlecruisers fire upon one another. I am confident that victory is mine. But then two more hostile ships arrive, splitting my attention. Another destroyer and frigate appear on the overview. Deactivating my guns, I lock the new hostiles.

I recognize one of them. I had earlier escaped from a gate trap where Wei Evolon had engaged me in a battleship. Now he thought he could do the same in a Catalyst destroyer. The fool! I overheat my guns and fire! Lasers tear into his ship, slicing through armor and hull. In short order, Wei’s destroyer explodes in space.

Now it is just me against the Executioner frigate and Prophesy battlecruiser. The Executioner is little more than a fly, buzzing around, and I ignore it accordingly. Instead, I turned the full weight of my firepower on the Prophecy. I exchange renewed fire with the enemy battlecruiser again, this time breaking his active tank. At the last moment, he jumps into Auga. Had it not been for the destroyer drawing my attention, the Prophecy would have fallen.

I sigh. The executioner continued to circle with his warp disruptor holding me down. I only have EC-300 drones, rather than my usual complement of Warrior II.

Whatever.

Laughing, I watch the impudent little frigate fly around as I slow-boat 12km back to the gate. I take time to fire the enemy wrecks before jumping into Auga. Setting course back to Amamake, I arrive at my home station and repair battle damage. My armor is stripped and needs replacing, but my Harbinger is none the worse for wear.

My enemies needed to see a demonstration of power, and I gave them one. I killed a Muninn heavy assault cruiser, two destroyers, a cruiser and drove off a battlecruiser. The Minmatar were schooled today, and I put a fine point on the lesson. There can be no mistake now; I’m back.

***

I return to my room. As the door slides shut, I stretch away the muscle aches. Pulling off my robes, I rub my neck and fumble with the clasp on my over-shirt as I head for the shower. Something smells good. Pausing, I turn to find a tray of roasted meat, cheese and bread on my nightstand. I had forgotten…

“Is master hungry?”

I turn toward the soft voice, the Minmatar slave girl who had been dancing at the bar earlier. She wore a lacey pink thong and nothing else. My jaw clenches as desire and morality clash within me. The girl approaches and unfastens the broach holding my shirt, seeming to know this conflict, to understand. How many other Amarrian men has she been with, that this slave can read me so well? The shirt slips to the ground, and she playfully fusses with my paints while softly kissing my chest.

She smells like desire itself, and her questioning look sets my soul on fire. I know better than to be seduced by a slave. It never ends with just sex. Her presence is nothing more than a cover for my conversation with the barkeeper. I’m stronger than this…

"Is master not pleased?" the slave asks, her eyes meeting mine, pleading...

I will repent tomorrow.

“Dessert first,” I answer, laying her down on my bed.

PIE. swatyy

----
Combat Record Below:

The Journey Home

2009-08-17T09:04:00.000-07:00

Where is my place in the Empire, where can my service best be applied? I dedicated much time and thought to this question. Finally, I decided to seek a group that puts the Empire above all else, who dedicate themselves to the Crusade. I applied to join Praetoria Imperialis Excubitoris, PIE.

While I miss the stone cold killers in G.Dip, with whom I related, it is a blessing to be among the faithful. There is a sense of purpose and order in PIE. I have never seen before. The application process is involved, and I feared that I would not be considered worthy. There are improprieties in my youth, and my bloodline is Ni-Kunni… my father is an indentured servant to this day. Perhaps they would not want a low born servant, freed only through an act of his Master’s kindness, among their ranks.

Then the communication arrived. Vaarun, my recruitment officer, informed me that my application was in order and to submit the signed paperwork at an office. With solemn gratitude, I donned the PIE. colors and assumed my new place in the Amarr Militia. I was returning home!

The welcome from PIE. was pleasant, much more so than the actual journey. When I left for Pure Blind with G.Dip, I moved resources to that area. While traveling out of Pure Blind, I decided to take a shortcut through Tribute. Unfortunately, Morsus Mihi disapproved. Why any group spend their days sitting under massive warp disruption spheres only to destroy passing travelers is beyond me.

But this traveler is battle-hardened, and my strike cuts deep! I knew there was no chance of survival. I was 20km from the gate in a slow-moving battlecruiser, inside multiple 50km disruption spheres. If death is my fate, then let me bring an enemy along!

I de-cloaked and trained overloaded guns on a nearby Zealot Heavy Assault Cruiser piloted by theWhiteKnight. His companions rained down fire upon me. My Harbinger’s shields evaporated, armor rented, and hull buckled. Time was short; I gritted my teeth, choking on the scorched pod fluid assaulting my lungs.

Seconds passed, an explosion, my pod came under fire, pain and a white light. Then it was over. I awoke gasping for breath in a cloning pod, safely back in Kumoi. Well, at least I didn’t have to fly back, though I’ll never get used to the way death feels. Leaning over to the computer monitor, I pulled the combat logs from my lost Harbinger and smiled at what I saw. theWhiteKnight’s ship fell with my own!

After paying for a new clone, I got dressed and headed out to reacquaint myself with Amamake. My Harbinger smoothly cut through familiar space, and a sense of nostalgic warmth filled my soul. The scanner brought my attention back to reality. A Sacrilage Heavy Assault Cruiser was detected in an asteroid belt. I decided to investigate.

Landing in the belt, I came out of warp 20km from Chien Fou. He was neutral to me, and I began aligning out. My ship leached as the propulsion system failed. Chien had train a warp disruptor on me! He claimed that his corporation, Bearn Security Ltd, had been at war with PIE. and felt the need to destroy me despite a cession of hostilities. Vaarun had warned me that PIE. had enemies… his words were not idle.

The first heavy assault missile volley crashed into my shields before my return lock could be established. This could be problematic, for if Chien holds his wide, fast orbit, I might not be able to overwhelm the active armor repairs one often finds on a hunting Sacrilege. Then Chien changed his tack, turning hard to port.

What was he doing?!

I watched incredulously as Chien turned into me, rapidly closing the distance. My scanners locked Chein and applied a disruptor of my own as the second missile volley collapsed my shields. Blinking at his utter stupidity, I activated my warp scrambler and stasis webifier. With his microwarp drive disengaged and engine webbed, Chein was dead in space. A third missile volley crashed into my armor, scaring it. But this time I answered with a full broadside of overheated heavy pulse lasers focused with my highest damage crystals.

This is what I lived for, the heat of honorable combat! The whining pitch of discharging lasers and the vibrating thump of missiles crashing upon armor filled my ears. Drones circled like carrion birds as we traded fire, but in the end Chein’s piloting error cost him this engagement. Burning, but intact, my Harbinger passed over the razed Sacrilege.

I collected the few modules of use from the burning hull and then fired the wreck. Returning to my home station, I reflected on how good it was to be home.

PIE. swatyy

Finding Purpose

2009-08-08T02:23:00.000-07:00

Has it been only a week? Just a week since I turned my back on that horrible den of vice and evil called Amamake. Forsaken, in favor of a new home in the Pure Blind system X-7MU. Truth be told, I miss the border lands. There was a purpose there, a calling. Even my enemies felt it, though we were diametrically opposed.

But what is there here out in the vast null-sec wastes? What is my calling, my mission? To find myself? To find God? Many an Amarrian have wasted away to dust trying. I brooded on these thoughts during my travels to X-7MU, but my fate soon found me. This region is filled with vile creatures that call themselves human, but respect neither man nor God.

The vermin huddle into balls around their great warp disruption spheres to prey on the passing traveler for no better reason than to kill. There is no fire in their will, no reason behind the slaughter. They murder for the taste of blood. There is no justice that reaches them, no higher law to institute order, no agent of fear.

There is only me. I will seek out the mongrels that kill for pleasure and strike them down in divine retribution. Like a bloody swath carved by my hand, they will be culled without mercy.
But my anger, though righteous and just, must be tempered with wisdom and cunning. I am the stranger in this land, and my enemies abound in great numbers. For years I have fought alone and outnumbered, and I have no qualms standing alone against many. Indeed, I welcome it.

Outmanned, but never outgunned -- G.Dip Motto

I sat observing Torrinos gate in EC-P8R. There was a large fleet sitting inside multiple anchored warp disruption spheres. What fools. Such a monstrosity could not survive in the battle hardened boarder lands. In Amamake or Old Man Star such a clumsy, inmobile defense would be attacked and overwhelmed in minutes.

But this was not the battlefield I was acustom too, and I was outnumbered 35 to 1. My scans revealed a Zealot preached 90 km from his companions, clearly offering sniper support. He would be my target. I came in with my modules hot. L HepheastusSon didn't even have time to begin locking as the first cannonade collapsed his shields and bit deeply into his armor. His allies were in shock at the boldness of the assault, slowing their reaction time. Before they could even approach to aid their comrade, I was warping away from L Hep's burning hull. Arrogance threatened to overtake humility; I couldent help but smile at my own audacity.

But I wasn't finished. Ever patient, I observed the hive dwindle until only a handful of ships remained on the gate. Then I struck! Falling upon Empress Olivia's Vagabond, her shields bucked under holy wrath. Not even assisting fire from a stealth bomber was able to prevent me from proving the Vagabond was merely a decorated coffin ship. Escaping before help arrived, I pondered my next mark.

It amazed me how the denizens of EC- can fly such costly vessels so poorly. Even though my presence was known in system, despite my having harvested two HACs, I found Kintonar Flitlanus outside the EC station sparing with his friend Trix Areforkids. Utter foolishness, for which I made him pay dearly. Striking fast, I collapsed what armor Kintonar's Zealot had left with two volleys and left the field before Trix could get in warp disruptor range.

It wasn't long before another target presented itself. I admit I'd become heady with overconfidence. Certain in my superiority over these vermin, I allowed myself to forget that even 100 wilderbeast can trample a lion to death. Zacharia Bigmiff busied himself anchoring a large warp disruption sphere on the Tor. gate in an effort to murder hapless travelers. He would pay!

I dropped on top of him, a mere 30km from his 10-man fleet, and opened fire. The familiar hum of overheated lasers vibrated through my soul. It made me sing. Zach fell quickly, his flaming hull a beacon of warning to other heathens. But in my arrogance, I dallied too long. A crusader interceptor got a target lock. Unable to withdraw and under the combined fire of a small fleet, my Harbinger was razed. Even as I fell, I lifted my voice in song, exhorting death and sacrifice in the name of justice.

My fate was well deserved, and over-long in coming, truth be told. Still, I was flabbergasted to hear the bickering between supposed allies. You can see from the comm logs below, the EC- residence truely are a rabble. Not even the Minmatar fall upon one another like this.

---
[00:06:44] swatyy > heh
[00:07:06] Zacharia Bigmiff > you cunts better get that harby now you weren't looking out for me whilst i was setting up that bubble
[00:07:24] swatyy > o/
[00:07:26] swatyy > gf
[00:07:44] Zacharia Bigmiff > thanks a lot guys, nobody was watching my back at all
[00:08:23] Hannibal218 > what we lost a ship?
[00:09:03] xxxak > what did you lose?
[00:09:08] Zacharia Bigmiff > a fucking ishtar
[00:09:12] Zacharia Bigmiff > i was putting up a bubble man
[00:09:19] Hannibal218 > to the harbinger?
[00:09:22] Zacharia Bigmiff > yes
[00:09:23] Tronzo > were u paying attention?
[00:09:29] Zacharia Bigmiff > i was putting up the bubble man
[00:09:40] The Groid > were anybody shooting him ?
[00:09:42] Hannibal218 > the second the harbinger apeared i started shooting at it
[00:09:48] Hannibal218 > i even jammed him one cycle
[00:09:54] Tronzo > i was shooting at it had him scramed so did my corpmates
[00:09:57] The Groid > and the rest?
[00:10:06] The Groid > i heard that that harbi warped away and all that
[00:10:26] Zacharia Bigmiff > man i pissed
[00:10:28] Zacharia Bigmiff > i'm*
---

Despite my success in Pure Blind, my heart can find no peace here. I enjoyed a short pilgrimage to the null-sec wastes, a journey that affirmed my purpose in the Amarr Militia. Who can turn their back on destiny? Who can stand against the fates dictated by the Higher Power? I must return to the Bleak Lands, for that is God's will.

Doing so will cost much. I must leave my comrades in Gunship Diplomacy, to resign the commission granting membership to that fine organization. My heart breaks to leave such a talented group of hunters, but it must be so. I must return. A place is reserved in my soul for Gunship and it's people. May time bring us together, to fight in common cause once again.
I leave Gunship Diplomacy and the residents of Pure Blind with choice selections from my sensor logs.

Fond farewell! o/

[G.Dip] swatyy

Seeking Peace

2009-08-05T12:27:00.000-07:00

Where can an Amarrian warrior find the blessing of God? What can he do to find the light? For a time, I found peace fighting the Minmatar hordes that defiled the border lands with their disobedience. Many fell under my lasers, my Harbinger cutting a swath through the heathens. But that was then, and this is now. The war rages, but my attention ever drifts. There is no peace in my soul. It’s time for a change.

Gunship Diplomacy has decided to withdraw from the front lines to the 0.0 region of Pure Blind to join their comrades in arms against the larger power blocs in the North. While I don’t share their ambitions (it would be prideful), I welcome the diversion as a pilgrimage. Perhaps in the solitude of deep space, I can come to terms of what it means to be Amarr.

Alas, it was not to be so. For shortly after I entered Pure Blind, I encountered Julll flying a Sacrilege Heavy Assault Cruiser. Everything about him screamed that he was a predator. I was not surprised when he targeted my Harbinger, but I wondered if he would have done the same had he known who he was attacking.

My lasers hummed in hypnotic succession as his missiles thundered against my Harbinger’s hull. As he pulled into orbit around me, Jilll made his fatal mistake. Cutting inside 8000km, my overheated scrambler and web reached out and entangled his propulsion system. Simultaneously, the EC-600 jamming drones worked their magic and broke his targeting lock.

I smirked as my guns overheated, watching my helpless opponent’s armor buckle under withering laser fire. Julll’s armor flashed green as the repair systems franticly tried to keep up with the punishment, but it was not enough. Regaining his lock, he fired one volley in indignation before the Sacrilege’s hull collapsed in a bright flash .

I fired the wreck and continued on my way to X-7MU, the new staging system for Gunship Diplomacy. Reflecting on my encounter, I realized that there would be no peace even here. Evil surrounds me everywhere, hiding in the shadows. Let it be so, for I will illuminate the darkness with laser fire and burn the unclean from the heavens wherever I may be.

[G.Dip] swatyy

In the Wings

2009-07-26T05:54:00.000-07:00

The flames of battle rage for the Amarr, to subjugate the Minmatar to their rightful subordinate place. Every intel channel rang with reports of Minmatar hordes in massive fleets. Safety in overwhelming numbers; a fools reasoning.

Unfurling a boarder map, I considered the systems and tactical reports. A smile played at my lips as the scenarios developed in my thoughts. I typed out a message to my brothers in [G.Dip]; I was leading an interceptor gang to hunt in the Minmatar’s wings.

When our group of four frigate-frigate class ships entered Amamake, it was clear the Minmatar were swaggering in overconfidence. Fifty war targets sat in local, filling local coms with usless prattle. We set upon the hunt, finding Shantarius foolishly away from his companions. We fell upon him with Amarrian justice and left nothing but a burning hull in our wake.

I ordered the fleet to move from Amamake to Auga, to seek out a gang reported in the Militia channel. We found a small war target gang waiting on the gate.

Despite 30+ hostile pilots in local, we engaged! Righteous fury and blazing weapons flashed in space. Explosions and fire cast eerie haze. In the end, several ships fled before us and several others fell under out guns.

We returned to our home system, confidant that we had done our part.

***

Later, I set out in my Harbinger battle cruiser to seek the Minmatar alone. A large enemy fleet had passed through Amamake, and I sought out the stragglers. It wasn’t long before I came across whitehall1212 in a Stabber “coffin”’ Cruiser. I put him down, hard. And then I met Mutnin, piloting a Vexor Cruiser. He died unceremoniously. This slave speaks much, but he is amusing nonetheless, as the comm. logs below show.

[10:27:57] Mutnin > you going to post that video on the forums, to show how l33t you are at "solo" pvp
[10:28:02] swatyy > Well, whatever you think about the engagement, you are dead and ive got your kill mail. I think in Eve, they say adapt or die.
[10:28:36] Mutnin > wow.. Im' dead.. you had to use a neut covt ops alt in FW... to gank a T1 cruser with a BC
[10:28:46] Mutnin > you rock
[10:29:21] swatyy > You were acually pretty easy, but your salty tears make it much more fun! \0/
[10:29:29] Nikolay Tesla > haha
[10:29:43] Mutnin > well I'd hope a t1 cruiser wold be easy 4 a BC...
[10:34:27] Mutnin > he is quite awesome at pvp
[10:34:38] swatyy > Thanks, I think so too.

After our banter, I began my trip back to Huola. But I would never complete this journey. An enemy fleet intercepted me on the Kourmonen gate in Auga. Two crusiers and a Frigate piloted by Devvon Maelstrom, Inspector burnside and Rei’kan engaged. I locked target and fired back. Devvon's Arbitrator Cruiser was the first to fall under my guns, then Inspector burnside. But in typical Minmatar fashion, they called their friends. More enemy ships arrived on the scene.

Vastly outnumbered, I made an attempt to withdraw. Overheating my web and putting my target painter on Bundylicious’s Crow Interceptor, my pulse lasers tracked his 10km orbit and blew him from the sky. But it was too late. There was nothing to do but die with my guns blazing, the taste of scorched ambiotic fluid in my mouth. It was a fate any Amarrian warrior would be proud to face.

I limped to my home station in a pod and prepared a new ship for the battles ahead. Despite my loss, I wrecked much more damage on the Minmatar cause. It was a good day!

[G.Dip] swatyy

Kill them all and let God decide if it was fair!

2009-07-18T14:50:00.000-07:00

They say there is no honor left in the Amarrian struggle against the Minmatar hoards. Fleets exchange blood and death, but neither will relent. How does the lone warrior stand against such numbers? How can I stand alone.

The answer is simple. Fighting alone is not synonymous with fighting fairly.

I taught this lesson to Technical. The fool was mulling around a fallen brother's wreck in a "Trasher," the apt term for Minmatar Destroyers. He paid for his insolence. Then I attacked Quasi Vader and Cheradenine Khabi. Quasi was supporting Cher's Rupture in an Amarrian Punisher frigate, the blasphemer! After dispatching Quasi, I tore Cher's cruiser to peices. But Asasins' displayed the greatest impudence. He undocked his Catalyst destroyer from my home station. My home station! I meted swift judgement.

Let the hoards break on the stargates and station. Let them come like a flood. The strong will stand against the tide and claim victory by annihilating the weak!

[G.Dip] swatyy

3 vs 1

2009-07-11T20:35:00.000-07:00

The Minmatar were running scared tonight, grouping into an oversized fleet. They hoped that overwhelming numbers would keep them safe and allow them to gloat over the Amarrian forces that stay clear. May as well let the Minmatar have their moment of arrogance, for even as they marauded through Kourmonen a response fleet was rallying to match them.

But that fleet was not for me. I prefer kill alone, or in small groups.

While the two large battle groups maneuvered, I hunted in their wings, searching for opportunity. There was a Zinc Alliance presence in system tonight; they were newcomers. While not in either Militia, they preyed on both groups. Upstarts! I decided to take matters into my own hands.

My prey were members of the Apex Tech corporation, three Thorax cruisers. They were sending one cruiser to bounce asteroid belts while two others lay in deep space, waiting to spring the trap. A fine strategy against the uninitiated, but not against seasoned killers found in the likes of Gunship Diplomacy.

I warped to the reserve ships, two Thorax cruisers in deep space. Their criminal timers had just worn off, so I locked target and waited. True to their nature, BMF40 and Geo Zeitgeist attacked my Harbinger battlecruiser. I knew the third Thorax would be enroute and that my best strategy was an overwhelming offensive.

I locked BMF40’s cruiser with my web/scram/target painter and opened fire. Pulse lasers cut into the cruiser, tearing into his armor and scoring his hull. By the time Aurelie DeChoisi arrived in the third Throax, BMF’s broken hull burned in space. Then I turned to Geo Zeitgeist. I may have destroyed one enemy, but two Thorax cruisers are formidable.

Overheating my guns, laser carronades sliced into Geo’s ship. When I saw his hull start venting atmosphere into cold space, I clutched my scrambler and placed it on Aurelie to prevent his escape. The next volley scattered Geo’s vessel to the solar winds.

Two enemies were destroyed, but now my armor was rented and my hull burning. Gritting my teeth, I pushed my guns to the limit. The exchange of fire with Aurelie was terrible, each of us fighting for our lives. But in the end, I flew over Aurelie’s broken Thorax hull and took the field.

Returning to dry dock for repairs, my ship aflame and venting atmosphere, I reflected on the engagement. My targets were from an obscure corporation in a small, weak Alliance. Yet these pilots proved their worth. Perhaps they have yet to reach their potential.

I will watch for them; I will remember.

[G.DIP] swatyy

Click here for the computer log of this engagement [YouTube.com].

Minmatar Character

2009-07-04T16:02:00.000-07:00

The pod fluid was particularly thick today. I made a note to speak with the docking manager about it, rather to threaten him. Living in Amamake, a pirate haven, means dealing with heathens on a regular basis. I decided to take my irritation out on the Minmatar hordes infesting the system.

I found Nolaquen on the Auga gate in a stabber “coffin” Cruiser. He tried to burn back to the gate, but was far too slow. Watching his ship burn in space made me feel better. He was followed by Wooki 1 piloting a Moa cruiser. The Minmatar seem to be flying ships other than their own… I guess they are the fools I first took them for.

Not that they can fly them well. Edgar Boron was flying a Myrmidon Battlecruiser a few hundred clicks off a station, right as his friends had docked. I landed 5km away and engaged with confidant fury. Edgar screamed for help, but to no avail. Minmatar are slow to aid their companions, and Edgar’s ship burned alone.

There was a large enemy fleet roaming around, and numbers always make the Minmatar arrogant without cause. I scanned down a Vexor cruiser in a belt and warped in to find Captain Vaguy. The heathen was ratting, with a Vagabond friend 300km off!

“Sometimes outnumbered, never outgunned”

I landed on the Vexor and engaged, certain I could destroy the Vagabond Heavy Assault Cruiser if he chose to aid his friend. Vaguy died pitifully, so fast I almost felt sorry for him. Razing the wreck, I aligned for an exit, the Vagabond having never lifted a finger to help his friend in need. These slaves get smarter all the time. He was probably waiting for the 20+ ships that dropped on top of me at that moment. But they were too slow. I engaged warp and escaped.

Poor Minmatar. You can find the sensor feed here [Youtube.com] for your enjoyment.

[G.Dip] swatyy

Burning Skys

2009-07-02T06:06:00.000-07:00

My eyes opened, my peaceful sleep interrupted by the console alarm. Rising from bed, I shivered in the cool recycled air, but at least it shook the drowsiness from my body. Stepping over to the console, I muted the alarm and checked the status. It was a message from one of my many spies. The Minmatar were on the move, a light attack group of Assault Frigates and Interceptors. A smile played at the corners of my mouth.

With nothing but my undergarments on, I entered the station hanger. Some people stared at me, a half-naked Amarrian preparing his ship for launch, but I paid them no mind. There was not a second to lose, not if I wanted to engage this attack group. Soon the station was at my six and I set course for the Dal star system. The timing was perfect.

I jumped into Dal just as the enemy fleet began arriving on the gate. Consisting Interceptors, Assault Frigates and cruisers, about 6 or 7 in number, I measured their strength and the hostile presence in local. They were tactically superior, but they would not be prepared for the ferocity of my Harbinger, the Pike. I fit her for exactly this sort of fight, to engage and destroy multiple cruiser and frigate sized targets.

Holding steady, I allowed a few ships to pass through the gate before breaking my own jump cloak, effectively splitting their fleet. Then I uncloaked and engaged Berserk Foil who was flying a Jaguar. I could almost hear his screams for help through the void of space as my pulse laser carronade cut into his target-painted ship. It took a few moments before the other ships on the gate to realize what had happened, ample time to reduce Berserk’s vessel to rubble.

As I anticipated, the enemy fleet attacked me. I calmly launched my wing of Warrior II drones and began engaging the swarming frigates around me. By now the ships that had jumped out of system had returned and I found myself beset with buzzing Minmatar insects. I swatted them down like the flies they were.

Targets wove in and out, some escaping my clutches while others fell in my wake. Mystic Wood found his Stabber cruiser to be an aptly described "coffin" ship. Pyyracy strayed too close in his Wolf Assault Frigate and became entangled in my web and scrambler, paying for his foolhardiness with his ship. I couldn’t help but laugh at the Minmatar futility, the imputance of their resistance. I laughed too soon.

The Minmatar called in heavy support, an Armageddon-class battleship. The blasphemers were using Amarrian technology against me! I have learned there are no depths to Minmatar shame on the battlefield. I had thinned the swarm, burning wrecks surrounded me, but there were still frigates ducking in and out. I resigned myself to my fate.

"Let me die on pyre made of burning Minmatar ships!"

I let loose everything I had, putting drones on one target and my lasers on another. Several vessels fled before my renewed rage, but one held his ground. I could see he was a veteran by the way he handled his ship, bold aggression tempered with precise flying. LP McDuffs held a fast orbit just outside web range in his Ares Interceptor. He was the only one left holding a point on me! The Armageddon had torn through my shields and into my armor. Doom was upon me, but I realized fate had given me a rare opportunity. I ceased it!

Turning into McDuffs' orbit, I forced his orbit into an elipse. At the right moment, at the bottom of his arc, a second sharp perpendicular turn did the trick. I over heated my stasis web and watched my distance. McDuff's velocity was so high, he overcorrected the tack and fell just into web range. I grinned. The web went live, followed by my target painter and a hail of laser fire from overheated guns. McDuff's exploding ship streaked across the heavens, and I was free!

My armor rented and hull laid bare, I activated my warp drive. Every volley from the Armageddon opened cracks in my hull, plums of fire bursting out. But their prize was denied. My warp drive engaged. Limping back to a logistics outpost, I reflected on my narrow escape and the ruined Minmatar ships left on the battlefield. It was a good day!

[G.Dip] - swatyy

A Good Morning

2009-06-20T07:14:00.000-07:00

It was early. The cold steel from which the station was constructed made the air chilly, especially in the mornings when the environmental controls are set to nominal. Greedy station keepers… won’t even keep the heat on overnight. But it really was no bother to an Amarr warrior such as myself, other than the irritation that I was a patron of some heathen’s avarice. It was time to patrol the boarder land, if only to work off the foul mood I awoke with.

Undocking from my home station in Amamake, I took stock of the other vessels in the system. There were a few pirates lurking about as always, but things were quiet. My beastly Harbinger slowly lumbered in alignment toward the Auga gate. A few heathens passed my wake, but none that would engage me. I can’t blame them, even if they are cowards. Still, I was growing more irritated by the moment. Reports in Militia and [G.Dip] corp chat reported a large enemy fleet moving between Dal and Auga. I warped to the Dal gate and jumped. Maybe I could pick off some stragglers too slow or foolish to stay with their large fleet.

I entered system and bounced around the gates, frequently checking my scanner. I found something odd… there were three ships on scan but nothing near the gate. Quickly narrowing the scan, I found a Rupture cruiser, Rifter frigate and a Scimitar Logistics ship on a Minmatar Republic station. A typical Minmatar small gang, emphasizing strong defense, fast ships better to flee in, and station-hugging tactics that allow them to disengage from any questionable fight.

I initiated warp to the station, fully aware I was attacking a tactically superior force. They had three ships to my one, with an advanced Scimitar that has the strongest defenses of any Minmatar cruiser short of a Broadsword Heavy Interdictor. My targets were outside a friendly station where they could hide and probably harbored more enemies. Further, a Minmatar fleet just passed through the system, which meant I was on a 2-minute timer before reinforcements arrived.

“Outnumbered but never outgunned,” – Gunship Diplomacy Motto

I decided that I would use Minmatar cowardice to my advantage. If I could cow the Scimitar into docking, hopefully the Rupture and Rifter would aggress in the mean time. Then I could have my way with them and exit the field before docked hostiles could muster the fortitude to undock and engage or the large Minmatar fleet that passed through could return at the call of my target’s shrill screams.

I fell from warp and landed a mere 1000 km from Curtiss Hawk in the Scimitar. Smiling inwardly, I knew the psychological advantage was mine as our paths had crossed before. Without losing a precious moment, I targeted Curtiss and deployed my drones. Overheated guns hummed ominously and then discharged in astonishing force when the target locked. The Minmatar Logistic's tank wilted under my pulsing lasers. The attack’s fury took the small fleet by surprise; they seemed unsure what to do. A few moments passed and the Scimitar was at half shield, but the cruiser and frigate didn’t engage. I realized my brazen attack might have been overpowering, resulting in my enemy docking in safety despite their clear tactical superiority. Such was the way of slaves, after all.

One thing was clear, the confusion worked to my advantage. I laughed as I intercepted Curtiss’s communication with the station imploring the station manager to accelerate the docking procedure. At the same moment, the Rupture piloted by Haegir engaged. My trap sprang shut. As Curtiss disappeared into the station, my primed guns turned on Haegir. Committed to the fight and unable to dock, I held him in place with a scrambler and web, reducing his ship to rubble in a few quick volleys. Then I turned to the pesky Rifter frigate, tearing his vessel deep into armor before the tide turned.

A Rook appeared and saved the little frigate from certain destruction. Local began to fill. My two minutes was up, and the enemy fleet had returned and was in route. Curtiss undocked, joined by another frigate and Interceptor. Realizing there was one hope, I would turn the Minmatar tactics against them. I recalled my drones and waited. More frigates had arrived, but they were on the far side of the station and had to fly to my position. Shields failed and my armor was deeply scarred, all the while the Rook held me in space, jammed.

I calmly took stock, allowing minutes to pass. Today, I might die. All is well, for this is an honorable way to pass, the cause just. My armor was gone, my hull buckling under the Minmatar hordes piling on, hoping to claim fleeting glory by their mere presence during the fall of an Amarrian warrior.

I opened comms with the station, “This is Imperial Major Swatyy. Initiate docking sequence.” A smirk spread across my face as 4th Dominion entered local and said, “Am I too late for the Harbinger kill?” The docking beams guided my burning Harbinger into the hangar’s safety, much to the chagrin of the unwashed Minmatar piling upon the stations docking hatches.

The morning’s irritation had evaporated. I had flown headstrong into a fight outnumbered and tactically disadvantaged, right under the nose of a large enemy fleet. By all measures, I should have died, my ship a flaming hulk burning in space. Instead, the vicious ferocity of my attack, sheer impetious guile, turned the battle in my favor. I snatched a cruiser from the Minmatar swarm and turned their own tactics against them to escape. This was a good morning after all.

[G.Dip] swatyy

Fire and Death

2009-06-12T04:07:00.000-07:00

“The sands of time flow. Hope fades, honor remains. Charge into the maw of death with a glad heart, for in that darkness glory awaits.” – Swatyy

I met Domitar on the battle field once again. Knowing his stomping grounds, this was a conflict I sought. The last time we clashed I was flying inferiour Galentie technology and found myself burning in space. But things were different now. Autocannons roared over the hum of tuned pulse lasers. Drones passed in space. Even though he is a heathen, a low-born slave, Domitar has proven is worth and must be feared. But in the end, I proved my superiority; I took the field this day.

Vanity, a fool’s emotion. Horak Thor learned the hard way when I burned his Republic Fleet Firetail in Amamake. Redschak was of no help in his Stabber Cruiser; I killed them both. It makes me laugh to see former slaves squander their money on useless faction toys. Minmatar should know that when matched against superior Amarrian war machines, even their most rare ships are nothing more than expensive coffins.

While my victories were decisive, there were setbacks. A call went out that two enemy ships were sighted in kourmonen on the Huola gate. I charged to the fight, as any Amarrian warrior would. Two Minmatar fighters are fair odds against an Amarrian soldier. When I landed on the gate, I found a small fleet waiting. I decided to let them draw first blood. Then I would jump the gate into Huola and split their fire. While the gambit succeeded, at the cost of my shields, there were five more ships waiting on the other side. I destroyed Dr Despair and Horak Thor in my death throws, before the overwhelming force burned my Harbinger.

The war has intensified. Heathens and heroes alike have fallen before the glowing flame of blazing weapons. Through it all, I rejoice and lift my voice in song.

-- s
[G.DIP]

A New Path

2009-06-04T14:39:00.000-07:00

Times have changed. I must change with them. Standing alone against the unrighteous horde, I have cut a bloody swath for the Empire. How much stronger could I be, how much brighter the purging flame would burn, with a legion of like-mined souls? Yes, it is time for change.

I have found a group of hunters, Amarrian warriors who bring light to illuminate the hiding places of the unclean, who bring righteous justice to the heritics. Under this new banner, I will continue my crusade against the Minmatar uprising in the name of the Empire. I will not stand alone for I am Legion.

I may be outnumbered, but I will never be outgunned for I practice Gunship Diplomacy.

[G.Dip] swatyy

After Action Report: 2009-05-31 13:06:00

2009-05-31T07:02:00.000-07:00

Once more unto the breach. After resting from the morning’s activity, I decided to head back out into the frontier lands. I didn’t have to wait long before I came across hostile activity. I found the plague on the Dal gate in Auga picking over the remains of a fallen brother. The heathen was flying an Amarr ship, a Prophecy! Rage welled up at the sight; I locked target and opened fired.

Whither by happenstance or plan, Peadar uncloaked in a Rapier Recon ship and engaged me. Outnumbered, my resolved hardened. I disengaged Plague and turned my guns on Peadar. The whining of pulse laser carronades rang in my ears, tearing into the Rapier's shields. Word seemed to have gotten out, and the pile-on began. Warg Matar appeared in a Rupture cruiser and attacked me.

Doom was upon me, but I wasn’t dead yet. I gritted my teeth and diverted all power into my weapon grid. The EVO Pike rained holy wrath upon Peadar. My pod fluid felt like it was boiling from the heat as I pushed my guns to their very limits. I let out a laugh as my Harbinger burst into flame around me and my pod ejected. As I warped away, saving my life, I grinned in satisfaction as I passed over the broken Rapier wreck floating next to my razed Harbinger hull.

swatyy
[EV-O] CEO

After Action Report: 2009-05-31 10:11:00

2009-05-31T04:45:00.000-07:00

The pod fluid seemed chilly this morning. I shook off the cold as I slid into my submerged seat and inhaled the thick liquid. Evil waits for no pilot, and there were reports in Amarr Militia comms that Minmatar attack parties were marauding about the boarder systems. This, of course, cannot stand. The familiar inertia pushed me back into my seat as my vessel accelerated out of station dock.

I ran my standard patrol from Amamake. There were minor contacts in Dal and Siseide, but the Minmatar frigates wisely evaded the EVO Pike. Minmatar coffin ships, they made the wise move by ceding the field when I arrived. Arrogance has no place in the holy Amarrian warrior, but it is difficult not to feel satisfaction when your enemies scatter at your approach. I jumped into Auga, feeling I would return home empty handed this trip. Still, I had shown the Amarr banner and made sure the Minmatar I encountered knew they had no claim to this constellation.

I came to a stop on the Dal gate in Auga to run a scan. Nothing. I set course for the Amamake gate, and home, when a Hound dropped out of warp on the gate only 1km from me. Instinctively, I canceled warp. 4th Domination wouldn’t engage, not a Stealth Bomber against a battlecruiser; he must just be passing through to Dal. I gave local a quick check for a hostile spike and decided to give the Hound an unfriendly send off. I locked target, expecting Dom to instantly jump.

He didn’t.

As the locking timer quickly approached zero, I stared at the Hound in disbelief. Then I understood. Dom had dropped out of warp just *outside* jump distance and had been decloaked by my proximity. I couldn’t help but chuckle at his misfortune, bubbles exiting my nostrils in the pod fluid, as Dom madly tried to approach the gate.

It was too late. I overheated my guns as the target locked and fired a carronade. 4th Domination learned why all the other rebel frigates had given me wide berth. The lasers tore through his shields, melted through the armor and sliced past his hull into critical systems. In a flash, with a single devastating pulse, I had left his ship a ruined bulkhead floating in space. The ferocity of my attack left Dom dazed and confused. I took the opportunity his hesitation provided, locked his pod, and claimed his life.

After scooping his loot, I fired the Hound wreck and patiently waited for the aggression timer to count down. It seems Dom really was alone, unfortunate bastard. Then I jumped back to Amamake, that godless system, my home. This morning was entertaining, at the very least.

swatyy
[EV-O] CEO

History of me

2009-05-30T15:47:00.000-07:00

My beginnings. A couple RL friends suggested I try Eve about three years ago, and I was instantly hooked. I created my first toon, Ben’Garran, and soon realized that spending years training would suck hardcore. Being a reasonably creative problem solver, I discovered that it’s much faster to earn isk to buy an account than it is to train from scratch. So I created a couple miner accounts and ran to the biggest group of carebears I could find. Back in 2006, it was the Freelancer Alliance (FLA). Of all the fuzzies I’ve ever played with, they by far had the brightest rainbows. They gave Richard Simmons a run for his money on the “rainbow” front.

Rebirth. After a couple months of heavy crock mining with Galatech Ltd, I bought a combat toon by the name of Atomic Mayhem. This is where the game really started opening up. Here I was, a 3 month old player able to T2 fit battleships. While the character was awesome and I got more than my fair share of kills, I was roasted by the Burn Eden gangs that regularly marauded through FLA space without resistance. Those guys were awesome. But even getting my ass handed to me by such excellent tacticians was fun and I got to meet several infamous FLA leaders.

After awhile, I realized I wasn’t going to learn how to PvP in FLA. It was the case of the blind leading the blind. We heard loud bitching on the Eve-O forums about a group called the Privateer Alliance who were raining terror on carebears across Eve. They had war-dec’ed FLA and popped my hauler as it undocked from Jita… and laughed about in local. When I asked what to do in corp chat, people got mad at me for encouraging them with “easy kills.”

I was emotionally traumatized. I have the scars to this day… I knew right there and then, I wanted to join up!

Getting Aggressive. My friends and I left FLA, and I became CEO of Bottomfeeders Inc. We joined the PA for 50M/wk and started tearing things up with AF/cruiser/recon gangs. This was hella fun, and I quickly learned in weeks PvP skills I hadn’t seen in months of 0.0 combat. We also participated in targeted war-decs between tours in the PA, and it was during this time I met several long-time Eve friends... as targets. It wasn’t long before our targets had combat alts in Bottomfeeders (if only to keep tabs on us) and we burned, pillaged and raped. Good days, good days. Then the PA nerf was instituted by CCP, and an era came to a close. I decided I wanted to try my hand at 0.0 territory war.

Signing Up for War. I sold off Atomic Mayhem and upgraded to a new character, Scius. We met one of the founding members of KOS while in the PA, and he offered Bottomfeeders a place in Knights of the Southern Cross to help with the war effort. Scius was a capable Dread pilot and soon we found ourselves in KOS on the Tenferis southern front fighting RISE. I learned quite a bit about fleet warfare and roving gangs, but it was clear that KOS was full of farmers. Actually, the Chinese farmers, Tang Corp, often fielded similar firepower as KOS when repelling hostiles in local.

After awhile, our group wanted to move to a new challenge with a more aggressive group. To do this, we disbanded Bottomfeeders and joined FATAL. We did some cap warfare and larger gang stuff. Around this time, we met the STK folks during joint ops between FATAL and MPIRE. Unfortunately, life obligations forced me to cut back on my game time. I sold my character and did a bit of industrial stuff on the side. As a side note, the guy I sold Scius to was responsible for the whole “honor tanking” incident, not I.

The Return. My situation settled, and I was able to come back to Eve. By this time, I had built a sizable wallet building/trading/inventing and looked for a new toon. Eventually, I settled on Swatyy (pronounced “sway”). Shortly after purchasing Swatyy, I joined STK Scientific to fly with a few old-time Eve friends. Over the course of three short months, I shot into the top 10 on the All Time Killers and the All Time Scorer lists for the Blackout Alliance and a respectable kill/loss ratio less than 10:1. We had a number of excellent roams and solid fights.

After a few months with Blackout, Digital Renegades launched an assault on our outpost systems. They hit the high-end moon harvesting arrays and Blackout decided to vacate Paragon Soul, ultimately handing the system, and the fight, over to United Legion. STK, the Blackout executor corporation, unfortunately experienced a leadership vacuum that ultimately lead to Blackout’s disbandment.

With STK choosing to become an Empire resident, I decided to start a shell corporation (Evolving Paradigms) to participate in Faction Warfare. Over the last few months I have flown solo for the underdogs of Eve, the Amarr Militia. While out-gunned and outnumbered, I still inflicted heavy causalities on the opposition. I hope to continue cutting a bloody swath through space for the Amarr Militia.

After Action Report: 2009-05-30 12:28:00

2009-05-30T05:56:00.000-07:00

There I was, dodging pirates in Amamake. They were out in force again, too many for me to handle alone. It’s lonely, you know, being a solo pilot in the war zone. My associates think I’m insane, not only because I fly alone on the front lines but because I live in Amamake. That pirate-infested and war torn system bereft of godliness or hope is the place I call home. It was hot today, and I found myself patrolling the HED constellation, a ring of 5 or so systems just inside the Minmatar Republic.

There wasn’t much happening; it was still early morning for the Minmatar. But then something caught my attention as I passed through Auga. My scanner was flashing. A Catalyst destroyer was detected. Narrowing the scan range, I warped to the nearest celestial object and dropped 50km from a war target. Dendar was perched above the Kourmonen gate, watching. Outside my effective range, I aligned to a planet behind Dendar and tried to align-warp. When I returned to the Kourmonen gate at 50km, I saw that the Catalyst was joined by an Ares interceptor piloted by Euterpe Ithairegolis. I was still 35km off my mark. Damnit!

Gallente freedom fighters seem to be flocking to the Minmatar cause. Godless heathens, the whole lot of them. I turned toward Dendar, who locked me and opened fire. Without an afterburner or MWD, I was forced to slowly close the distance under Dendar’s guns. I held my fire. Patience, I had to get into scram range before returning hostilities.

35km… Euterpe warped off… 30km… swaped to long-range Scorch crystals… 25km… my shields are gone, overheating disruptor… 20km… locked Dendar, just as Euterpe appeared 20km off my port bow!

The disruptor reached out and held Dendar as my first broadside collapsed his shields and deeply scarred his armor. Euterpe was closing range; I launched a wing of Warrior IIs and locked his interceptor. The second carronade of pulse lasers cut a fatal swath through Dendar’s hull, his ship becoming a pyre before the darkness of space claimed even that last spark of life.

At 5km, my scrambler and web seized Euterpe, shutting off his WMD and slowing him to a crawl. I could hear his scream across space as he realized his folly. He set his course too close, flying by at 500m. But now, scrammed and webbed, the safety of his speed stripped, my Warrior II drones bit into his hull. As he passed, I gauged his transversal velocity. The interceptor’s inerta was too great to complete his turn at 500m, and I knew Euterpe would have to tack to maintain his close orbit. Then I would have him.

Sure enough, Euterpe turned. Just as his transversal dropped, I fired a broadside. The tracking computer and tracking enhancer helped steady my guns, and Euterpe’s interceptor burst into flame before the cold of space claimed the charred wreck.

At that moment, local began to fill. They must have reported my location. I aligned to a planet and razed the interceptor wreck just as a Rook appeared on my overview. Then I was gone, in warp to a safe planet. I docked in Auga to repair my battle damage. I would prefer to destoy Minmatar, all things being equal, but it’s good that the Gallente know their interference will not be tolerated in Ammarian affairs.

swatyy
[EV-O] CEO

Battle report for 2009-05-18 01:10:00

2009-05-17T19:16:00.000-07:00

I set out on a solo patrol of the Hemitar-Amarr boarder systems, doing my part to bring light to the darkness. My intended targets were Minmatar insurgents, but pirates were out in force. At least Minmatar fight for a higher cause, misguided as it may be. But pirates, they live for carnage. I decided to take matters into my hands.

Amamake was infested with heathens, but they were loath to engage the EVO Pike. I piloted my battlecruiser into their ranks like a holy spear that shatters armor and rends flesh. There were several minor victories. I razed Astegue and Crewcifer in their pitiful Rifter frigates. Minmatar frigates seem more like coffins than space-worthy vessels, certainly inferior to Ammarian technology. I did manage to kill Maldin, flying for the Minmatar Republic. The poor soul was caught unaware with a scram/web combo. A mere two pulse laser cycles left his ship (if you can call it that) a pile of twisted metal floating in space.

It wasn’t until later in the day that I met a worthy opponent. Sharlae of Dark Solar Empire was lurking about in the asteroid belts in Amamake. I caught her on directional scan and decided to investigate. As I warped in on her location, I saw that she was not an outlaw. Of course, that doesn’t make her an innocent either. Sharlae was flying a Vagabond, the aptly-named Minmatar attack vessel that has given the Amarrian Navy so much trouble in the past. There are few reasons for a Heavy Assault Cruiser to visit low-sec asteroid belts, and ratting is generally not among them. I locked target and aligned toward the third planet. Holding my fire, I let her betray her intent.

She attacked.

Vagabonds are dangerous, and Sharlae was skilled. She swung out to half autocannon falloff and orbited with high velocity, recognizing the danger of close quarter engagement with an Amarrian Harbinger. Most other vessels would be overcome, but the EVO Pike was fit to handle small, fast moving targets. A tracking computer and tracking enhancer, paired with a web and warp scrambler make short work any “speed tank,” as they are called. While the web and scrambler were ineffectual, a cruiser burning a microwarp drive has a large signature. My pulse lasers burned into the slave-ship and warrior drones stung deep.

As Sharlae’s shields began to collapse, I knew she would try to use superior speed to disengage before I could lay the final blow. At this critical moment, I turned into her and overheated my guns and warp disruptor. Sure enough, I judged correctly. Sharlae pulled away, but it was too late. Her hull and armor collapsed before she could get clear, and I claimed the field. But it had not come without cost. The EVO Pike’s hull was deeply scared. I fired the wreck and set course to a logistics station to repair my battle damage.

Today was a good day. Glory to the Empress!

Swatyy
[EV-O] CEO

After Action Report for 2009-05-16 23:43:00

2009-05-16T16:50:00.000-07:00

The action earlier in the day left me hungry for retribution against the Minimatar horde. Comm chatter in Militia indicated rabbles were mulling about the boarder lands. I decided to make a solo incursion into Heimatar along the Bleak Land boarder.

People tell me that going solo is suicide, that any pilot, no matter how skilled, needs a squad to be effective. But I know better; I have faith. Not faith in the Empress, nor in God, because it is not needed. I have faith in the disciplined Amarrian intellect and blazing fury of superior firepower.

The first contact was made in Dal. General beanflicker made the mistake of taking shelter over a planet, ignorant of his peril until after righteous laser fire purged his uncleanliness.

Next, a Minmatar named Kazzzi baited me outside a station in Auga. He unwisely followed me under the station where he agressed and tried to bump me away. Pressed between the EVO Pike's hull and station, I took his bait... and his life! Let the waiting support fleet come! The twisted metal scrap Minmatar call a Stabber cruiser was laid bare by Amarrian laser fire. Even as I fired the wreck to prevent its recovery, Kazzzi's support fleet arrived. At first the station authorities wouldn't allow me to dock, citing my recent aggression. I resigned myself to my fate, but at the last minute they rightfully decided Minmatar blood was no reason to deny me docking privileges. Kazzzi's revenge will have to wait until another day.

On my way back to Amarrian space, I happened across Jasper Beamsalot along with a group of brethren by accident as we passed through Kourmonen. Gallente scum working for the Minmatar. He paid with his life.

A good patrol indeed!

swatyy
[EV-O] CEO

2009-05-16 10:27:00, After Action Report

2009-05-16T03:56:00.000-07:00

I was patroling theHeimatar boarder lands in my Harbinger battlecruiser, the EVO Pike, when a war target jumped from Auga into Dal, where I was sitting on the gate scanning. I waited. As the seconds ticked by, I knew that the hostile was communicating with a larger group. Single targets generally run or engage quickly when confronted with a battlecruiser.

My suspicion was confirmed when the target decloaked, revealing a Caracal cruiser, and burned back toward the gate slowly. I watched for a spike in local. A few war targets entered system. But was it the vanguard for an assault force or just normal system flux?

By now the Caracal was nearing the gate. The scenarios played out in my mind. If the local spike were the reinforcements, then it would be 4-1 in their favor. I can handle those odds. But if there were more in Auga waiting to jump into Dal, then things would get harry. Without enough tactical information, the situation reduced to a simple evaluation: are you willing to die for the Empire?

Fuck it.

A carronade of 7 T2 heavy pulse lasers focused by Amarr Navy crystals burned into the Caracal. The first volley collapsed the pitiful shield defenses. A second volley melted into Caldari Armor, a poor joke by Amarrian standards. It was the pilot's mad dash to activate the stargate that saved him from certain destruction. As he disappeared from local, the fleeing Caracal left only flames in space. But he had served his purpose.

Zinto Risingsun and Enos Delekore were the first to arrive on the scene, just as the Caracal fled. Now I understood my folly. Interceptors and nano-frigs, they were the front of a larger hunting party coming for me. I rolled the dice, betting the enemy was in Auga and that I could escape after I drove Caracal through the gate. Now my only hope was to destroy or dive off the vanguard before their fleet arrived.

Had it been a single target, I could have done it. Zinto learned the danger of straying too close to the EVO Pike when a web/scram/tracking computer combination nearly cost him his ship. If it hadn't been for his inertia that carred outside scram range, he would have fallen. But in the end, I would push one frigate out of warp disruptor range and the other would hold me down. Both frigs were deep in armor damage when 8 additional ships arrived, a mix of cruisers and battlecruisers, supported by logistics.

It was over, but Amarrian warriors don't fall easily. I chose the most expensive ship on field and opened fire. I poured holy wrath upon Yoshikawa Eveangelicon, who was piloting an Oneiros logistics cruiser. The aroma of burning pod fluid filled my nostrils, in part from the fleet hammering on my hull and in part from my weapons critically overheating. As my pod ejected from the EVO Pike's razed hull, I had the satisfaction of seeing Yoshi's destoryed Oneirose burning in space as I escaped with my clone intact.

Glory to the Empress!

swatyy
[EV-O] CEO