Lightbriner
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Posted - 2006.11.22 12:44:00 -
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So begins my story...
I am but a lone soldier of darkness. A romantic figure of the vast unsecured. Its just me, my typhoon, and a mug of cocoa. My home is 0.4 and you best not trespass or death is the only reward you'll get for your troubles.
On this day, a day like any other, my favourite song had just finished playing on the receiver. I was about to grab a can of quafe to keep me awake when lo and behold a Rupture shows up.
Engaging my warp engines, I go out to meet my guest and give her her 'prize'. What followed was an exciting battle of wit, power and determination.
Having given my adversary her due, I decided I should follow up with a friendly call. Words were exchanged, about mothers, goats, and all things unmentionable. A challenge was issued and accepted, pistols at dawn was the order of the day.
I slept well that night, for I knew that the better man was always victorious. It worked in my favour that I was the only man.
We met by the moors before the fog had finished clearing. She in a Vaga, me in my trusty 'Phoon. I had my doubts about the fight, so I added a few extra paces to the standard 30. Enough paces that I could reach my weapons store and find the faction webber my 'ma had given me for christmas last Easter. Yeh she's a daffy one but I love 'er.
It didn't take long for Ms Munin to catch up with me. I set my dogs on her (all conveniently named 'Ogre' as I hate remembering names..)as well as the webber and a Nos. Never fond of women killing, I offered her freedom and safety should she accept defeat.
Like Eve with the apple, Ms Munin continued the fine tradition of deceiving men. Compatriots of hers flew in and attacked me. It is true that I should not have brought dogs, webbers and nos to a pistol fight, but it is also true that 0.4 is my home and she was clearly a trespasser. No quarter would be given to these curs!
Fortunately their weapons were not favoured by physics nearly so much as my armour was favoured by plating. I'll never forget the momentary fear I suffered as a result of staring directly at a Raven, Cyclone and 'Ceptor bearing down on me after I had only just finished with the Vaga.
My ship made with the applying of dust to the Raven's eyes, whilst delivering explosives to the Cyclone. The 'ceptor was already succumbing to the vicious laser bites of my spacedogs. Where there had been 3, shortly there was 1.
My bloodlust began to wear thin, and I decided to once more offer compassion to those who deserve none. The Raven's pilot was less than courteous in his reply. I set my dogs on him for the insult and gave him a dose of NOS to boot. A few of my guns dropped by to join in. Shortly after the insults ended and the pleading began. Oh I hate pleaders. Mother's birthday was coming up however so I accepted his generous cash donation.
No sooner had I agreed to this financial transaction than a rather young looking Raven shows up on the scene. He was clearly in league with my attacker (who had resumed his attacking) which put me in desperate straits. I wanted to run but my pride held me tall. Deciding that the young looking Raven pilot may be all bark, I chose to stay. After some experimentation I was relieved to discover that my hypothesis was correct: Teh Raven Pilot r n00b.
My patience now dangerously thin, I turned on and destroyed the original Raven as well. I guess my patience could then be classed "lethally thin". I was accused of going back on my word. Which word I'm not entirely sure, as a donation is clearly voluntary. Had a contract been in place it would have been voided by the act of re-engaging. Whatever.
As the dust cleared I surveyed the left overs of my former advesaries. The remains and the wreckage I sold for a profit to their families. It was doggy treats for my Ogres that night as I sat at the gate once more with a cup of cocoa in my hands, and a friendly tune playing on the receiver.
Life is good.
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