Mike was still recovering from the Christmas party when the call came in. +you said you wanted in? Meet us in Iges with a ‘ship’+
He blew in and out of his apartment so fast he only had time to kiss and switch bodies. As he ran from the clone bay to the hanger he set up a Blackbird with a ‘one of each’ fit for the jammers. No tank, hardly any ammo. “Perfect”
Iges was the starting point but by the drunken ramblings it was obvious that many had already ‘started the drunken roam’ without leaving the station. Renaming the Bird the “Fire whiskey” he joined the other ships that were named for the poison of the pilots choice.
Mike Azariah > you lot have no problem with the possibility of winding up in a blog, do you?
Max Ursa > non at all, i like reading about myself on blogs
commander mordecai > hehe me too
Warflower > as long as the blog isnt called ‘we all died horribly’
Mike Azariah > aha, a title
TheHermit > non here, it will all be in flash’s anyways 🙂
Kalaratiri > Luckily for you lot my blog is fiction
Max Ursa > ‘other side of the fence’
Dil’e Mahn > I’d be disappointed if this *didn’t* end up in a blog somewhere
Mike Azariah > as is mine
Mike Azariah > I just base my fiction on what happens
Mike Azariah > kinda like fox news, that way
So we gathered. It was an odd colour mix, all those red folks with purple tags. It was fairly obvious I was not heading for Kansas, Toto. The ships, well let us say that as we compared notes it became obvious this was going to a special fleet. The kind of ‘special’ they hold Olympics for. When I was told the Vent address for the audio I knew two things (1) I needed to download and install vent and (2) I was not going to have a decent written record of this.
Comms adjusted and acting as relay for a few folks still incoming or not yet on the audio we headed out. Drink if you jump, drink if a ship dies (ours or theirs) drink if you are thirsty.
One, two four systems, Fireball burns on the way down. We spotted a ship, a Jag and the scout called point. The rest of our ragtag fleet went in and I locked and jammed the jag as we dented his shields all the way down to 80%. Then my shields began to fall faster than a minmatarts undies. The Gate guns. I warped clear swiftly and felt lucky at being alive. The jag escaped easily and we met at a planet and the repper of our fleet fixed me right up. Well the shield part of me. Then another happened to have a small remote armor repper and I was ALL better. Huzzah, thinks I. But what is this. My precious sec status is no longer 5.00! Oh noes. What will my mother say? will I be allowed back into hisec. Am I doomed to wander the spaceways till I redeem myself in Mynxees Lowsec? (For those who don’t know Mynxee gets isk each time Lowsec is mentioned in a blog)
I worried about this until someone pointed out we had jumped again. (Take a drink) The firewhiskey burned away the worries though they might have phoenix properties and return after the fires. Whatever, next jump was called and we did and were told to align for another gate while the scout staggered on ahead. Align, sip bzz bzz bzzz what the? Oh, the Gate folks had passed ahead word and my timer had not run down. Shields shot, armor plummeting I hit warp . . . the pod arrived safely at the next gate. We all drank to the memory of the Fire whiskey and I hit the markets looking for a ship.
‘Hey, there is a bestower over here.”
The howls of delight as I try to remember, is that an Amarr cruiser? Something like a maller, maybe?
no, it is not, it is a slug of an industrial and perfect bait
“No no no, don’t change the name. It looks even newbier if you leave it as Mike Azariah’s bestower”
oh the shame I hid the tears in laughter
that or I was laughing so hard I was crying, one or the other.
All I bought was medium shield extenders (It was all that was available) and not a gun to be had
Others were realizing that their guns would work much better with ammo.
I am POSITIVE that Flashfresh could feel my pain and he made a move that would have cowed a lesser pirate
“Men. We are gonna get some ammo, mods and a gun for Mike . . . we are going ratting.”
Yes while they were leading me down the path of piracy I was having an effect on them. To give you an idea of how alien piracy is, flash spent three minutes trying to get his overview to even SHOW the rats. I would up with a laser a small laser with a multi crystal and felt . . .dangerous. Sure we lost a ship to a one shot from a BS rat. Sure we were a comedy of errors trying to hit anything around us. Sure TheHermit ran to hide in another system to keep his precious sec status at a perfect -10. But we did what we had to do.
And then we moved on. Now we had two scouts, a small swift ship . . . and me, in a Bestower (of dooom)
Max Ursa pointed out that this was right up my alley after the Death Race in a skiff. I was becoming known for flying big.
I hit an ambush, ships locked me and started shooting, chewing away at my shields. Trying to keep calm a gave a sit rep to the rest of the fleet. “Squeeeee! I am locked and they are shooting me, are they allowed to do that?”
Flashfresh, drunken hero that he was, wasted not a moment in calling for all to jump and rescue the poor Bestower. And in the fleet came, badly fit, piloted by drunks. I knew this was gonna be ship 2 down. The gate camp saw the local jump and did not take time to evaluate. They ran.
I looked around, surrounded by reds (with purple flashes) and felt . . .safe. They had my back.
On we went, jump, drink, jump . . . a what? a Loki? is that another industrial like mine?
Jump, point attaaaaack.
Seriously, we chased and attacked a Loki. Who had friends, lots of friends. It was hilarious. I would love to know the reactiuon of the guys who got some of the killmails of ships such as flash (triple tanked, reps for shield, hull and armor all in one) or the Little Fatboy (4 smartbombs on a Tristan) or even the Bestower of Dooom.
Time being what it was . . . and booze being what it is . . . I docked and laughed as the insurance gave me a Velator. I hit space again and scouted for the ragtag fleet making its way to another rally point and reassembling but that was to be the end of my action. I know that they continued on . . on into the night . . . on into the drunken distance . .. on into the history books.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
Did I have a good time? Yes. I flew my rifter with a civ gatling and a civ miner back through null and low ind into my beloved hisec . . . .
But something was different.
I wasn’t afraid
after all, what was the worst that could happen? They shoot me? Been there.
That is the difference. You don’t have to become a pirate but you should take a moment to fly with them (if they will let you).
I learned about a different version of fun. I shot and was shot at. Chatted and learned a fair amount of Fleet Command watching/listening to even a drunken Flash in action.
Thank you to those who were there, those abed in England are accursed.
(No, no lesson, this whole post is one and if you didn’t get that . . .tough)