New system on the market

Nice System in Syndicate looking for new occupants, inviting scenery, Intaki stations, plenty of room.

Friendly neighbors including convenient lowsec, routing to Stacmon.  Solitude, Cloud Ring and Outer ring just a few jumps away.

Private dead end ratting systems adjoining, but the premier attraction is the overly friendly occupants of the surrounding area, sure to welcome you with a bang.  They will provide both prime feasting opportunities and hard and fast schooling.

Previous tenants clean, though foul-mouthed.  Through scrubbing and cleaning included free with purchase.  New carpeting and Drakes throughout the system.

The grass really is greener here, move now to see how beautiful springtime in Syndicate really is.

Vacancy open for a limited time only, act now!  No price too low, no applications rejected.

Apply at any of the friendly real estate agents located, for your convenience, at all TXW-EL stations.

A deal like this can't last long, ACT NOW!

Option to buy at the end of the rental term.

FENDing off the last few weeks

So I suppose I have been slacking and not really coming up with anything creative to post here!  Meanwhile in eve Rote Kapelle has been having a great time back in Syndicate.

We'd love to take the credit for pushing Primary. (the recent additions to TXW) into inactivity, but really it seems that World of Tanks and a lack of will to play the game has gutted the attempt to re-form and re inspire the Primary. Alliance.  A bit of a shame as we were looking forward to some good fights in TXW for a change.  Over the last few weeks their activity has really trailed off leaving us searching for more targets, and finding them.

Heh, Rote Kaput.  Good one!

We engaged in a CONCORD sanctioned war against "The Fendahlian collective" and their friends "Sacra Cupola."  The fights were fun, but mostly consisted of station games in either Stacmon or Dastryns, but that fit me just fine as we were able to score some good kills and the FEND gents were good or rather nice enough to continue to fight, bringing out numerous ships and hulls.  Didn't matter to me, got to fly in my Abaddon of sheer tankyness for a while, haven't been in that beast in ages!  Repairing in station costs way to much isk btw!

I am impressed with Ushwi Hobak who was apparently quad boxing against us.  he got on so many kills because he brought out a well tanked Maelstrom, plus scimitar basilisk and usually at least one other DPS ships.  We kept trying to kill him, but no luck, or at least no luck very often as he was able to tank and redock at will.  Such is the fun of station games!  In any case, props to the quad box, pretty impressive.  He wasn't so successful at keeping his fleetmates alive, so we ate them up pretty well.  Including these couple engagements, Stacmon Slaughter.  That Vagabond pilot should read my guide btw, was inside scram range from the undock of the station, paid the price.  While they were at it they provided a few lolzy killmails, like the Rapier without a Web. 

Most memorable moment goes to the pilot "losingsleep."  We had just forced their camp in stacmon to dock and killed his Raven while doing so, he left in a shuttle and returned in a Cyclone.  Johnny Cruz mentioned on vent that he was travel fitting that thing with stabs, I, still fit for station games, had two scramblers on the Abaddon, ready to pin him down.  He warps into the station again, apparently trying to either salvage or tease us with his invincibleness due to over-stabbing.  I'm pretty sure his smile dropped when my four points and Johnny's two points landed on him.  Suddenly forced to stick around landing us with a very funny killmail.

Anyways, war was soooo last week.  This week we have joined the intrepid pilots of Reaper Industries, our long-time friends, into the Rote Kapelle fold, providing a much needed boost to our EU TZ.  It's great to have them around, and RK gangs now tend to roll out of TXW on a near 23/7 basis. 

In other internal news, voting for our alliance Logo has finally been completed.  I have to say that I am sad, my personal favorite, "looking up, no RK" failed to make it into the last rounds. Though I am happy that all the back-and-forth over the logo will hopefully now be over.  I was put in charge of organizing a fair vote and getting a final result and was amazed to have it finished before Christmas 2020. 

To the left here is a sample of the winner, well close enough!  Now that the vote is over my responsibility for dealing with it also ends, horray!

So that mostly covers the last two weeks, until next time, here is looking up, no RK!  Thanks for the work Rixx Javix, very impressive!

A long journey home

Our week had been building up to this.  Cassius strolled in casually to the meeting room, ahead of me, a smallish but once empty bar up on the capsuleer decks of mid station of Reynire.  Now filled over capacity with pilots from the assembled corporations of Rote Kapelle.

Truth was Rote Kapelle had been absent from it's adopted home in TXW for close to two and a half months now, working to strew seeds of the revolution from Pure Blind to Providence.  Taking our lumps and giving them against the monolithic NC and New Providence in one place or another.  During these months spirits and morale had been up and down in quick succession but nothing compared to the current feeling in the room.

It wasn't tension but anticipation, for blood, for home, for a fight.  We were all quiet as our leaders and assembled FC's broke the news of our plan to the rank and file, in person this time, ensuring no confusion.  I moved to the back of the room, looking back towards our brief.

"As we stand here, your Remote Repair BS are being delivered to your hangars, from station storage and prepped for combat.  Our token force in TXW will attempt to convince the new locals," smiling a bit at the comment, "into combat.  The rest of the fleet, meaning you, will stand by in Vestouve, with light cap support for backup."  There were some involuntary nods around the room, one of those reflexes you gain from years of briefings.  I was one of the nodders.  I scanned the room quickly with slight embarrassment.  Of course there had been no need to nod, this was hardly the first time we or rather I had heard this plan, but it would be the last.  None had noticed, fortunately enough saving me the casual barbs passed around like candy in these meetings.  When the briefing broke up short seconds after that a light murmur of voices filled the room as the pilots of Rote Kapelle moved towards the doors.

Some had already remotely jacked into their hangars, or comms systems, ordering cargo in or out of their holds, prepping their delivered battleships for combat before arriving at them, joining the fleet, chatting on their communicators.  I stumbled slightly, still getting used to this new clone after my recent clone jump, and my foot careened off the floor from my misstep and then down right on the outside foot of Usagi Tuskino.  I tried to recover some, but my tall frame was already overbalanced, somehow I was able to remain upright although nearly falling into her, I started to apologize quickly.  Looking down to meet her eyes, those shocking blue eyes unnerved me instantly, as every time I saw them, making my already awkward apology stutter from my lips.  She waved dismissively, a small smile sliding over her lips as she moved away, her mind obviously on something else.

Once I stepped from the bar, I grew in confidence with each step closer to my hangar I got.  It was like I could feel the power there.  I set my body more or less on autopilot, moving instinctively, quickly towards my pod and waiting tempest-class Battleship.  The sweet feeling of becoming something greater, bigger looming ahead.  I joined the fleet channel, placing quick orders to move some large cap boosters into the waiting injector, my mind meshing with the comms channel, quiet now, assigning me to the second squad of the first wing of the fleet.

I broke the mental connection and refocused as I entered the room housing my pod, already inside my tempest, only marginally aware of how I got there.  My excitement grew, a smile spreading over my face as I disrobed.  I guess some people said you never got used to submerging in pod fluid, giving up control, that was never true for me.  I had always been a dreamer, meant for something greater, to be something amazing, my voluval mark reinforced the popular view that I was below notice, just another man, ugly man, but inside.  No matter the number of times I had been warned that I was the bloated and stupid rock I had never given up hope, even if their world was the mountain, my hope didn't die.  It was one of the few things that had kept me alive as a slave was this hope, carefully guarding it, clinging to it fearfully like a secret that could be taken away at a moment notice.  It had survived that and still it lived on.

***

Connecting to a pod was like being reborn into that thing I had always wanted to be, something greater.  While Battleships were ponderous and slow the simple feeling of power could overwhelm the untrained senses.  While I could still feel myself in the pod it was a distant and largely unconscious feeling, I simply was the ship.  I twisted the camera drones around my ship, prepping my guns with Barrage L and powering up all systems.  I had barely settled in when the order to undock came from our FC.  I had already cleared for undock, placing me next in line and then suddenly pushed out of the station.

Relying on drilled in precision I set destination for home, my tempest turning towards the first gate with a touch of my will.  The order to warp was not long in coming, and I was once again one of the first into warp, jetting towards the low security gate ahead, TXW a short 6 jumps away.  I kept my ship on course, laughing at myself as if I was some other person looking back at the meeting in the station.  I thought to myself that surely had not happened to me, it was a memory from another life, filing it away I jumped through the gate on command.

Reports were not encouraging as we made our way, only 5-6 of the new inhabitants were nearby, but our friends in the station as well as pilots on scene had seen none of them in space.  Determined not to waste any further time, our commander pushed us ahead, a very unfortunate Vexor meet it's timely end with a small section of our fleet removing it from space, our large ships near invulnerable for a time against the "peacekeeping" gate guns employed in low sec.

The Concord ding to my security was hardly worth noting, even lower than caring about the loss of life and money for our victim.  We waited briefly in Vestouve hoping for a fight in TXW, but none came.  With assured speed we moved back into TXW, orders already circulating for the formation of another, smaller, nimble fleet to assemble in TXW 8-8.  It was set to leave in 1 hour.

***

Leaving the pod was another matter entirely, I ended up feeling very alone.  On the floor of the same room, my consciousness collapsed into the small shell that was my body, my thoughts battering around inside my head, as if it was suddenly too small for me.  I dry retched, gripping at the floor, tears filling my eyes as I did.  I struggled to my feet, grabbing a simple towel to wipe the goo from my eyes, already headed to my next ship.  I didn't notice if people saw me, naked, awash in the glow of my hangar, approaching the sleek monstrosity of my Scimitar.  Like the Tempest the Scimitar was powerful in it's own way, able to project shields across the vastness of space, all while moving too fast to follow.  In the shadow of the vast cruiser I left the towel, repeating the process of connecting to the cruiser, as always, opting to spend my time inside the hull of the powerful ship, viewing it as a whole rather than as a simple man.

***

The hour passed quickly, maybe even too quickly as I scanned the fitting of my ship, making last minute changes and bantering in the new fleet for parts, all the while passing sarcastic we have returned comments into the local FTL channel.  I was slower on the undock this time, forcing my cruiser through the mass of ships at the undock point and then getting it pointed out toward the gate took a bit longer than needed but being back out in space, powerful once again was it's own reward.

The cruiser leaped into warp, feeling even faster and reckless as my blood rose to a near audible hum in the pod of my ship.  Our first challenge was to find a fleet willing to face us.  After several attempts and even more half fights and quick kills, we arrived in MHC, seemingly finding a interested party.  In fact the fleet we were able to find was made up of only CPU/Tabula Rasa, scared to fight against the trappings of their imperialistic and wanton needs, they left the field quickly, leaving their mate to die under our hammer.  Behind us they slunk back to the gate, catching a straggler before we could return to save him.

A few jumps later a hostile force that best matched our own was detected.  We were forced to redeploy hastily, blocking their route.  Our scout reported their fleet launching drones and throwing up a bubble, it was time to fight.  I stretched my will across the fleet, mentally marking members of the fleet to follow through the fight, hoping to catch those in need of repairs before their ships buckled.  We jumped, space buckling at the number of ships moving across space.  We found them in place on the other side, the battle was already on.

Usagi and her blue eyes was one of the first to go down in the fight, her Rook removed from the field before I had finished locking her for repairs, she had been foolish to reveal herself so soon into the fight.  From there things seemed to stabilize.  We were still taking a fair amount of damage, Scimitars burning for range while the rest of our light and speedy fleet attempted to lay down fire on the requested ships.  They were dying, but not fast enough.

FALLGUY was one of the next to go down, his Vagabond crumpling under reps, at the same time my lock failed after another lucky jam from EC-300 drones swarmed around me like insects.  I burned hard, trying to maintain range and escape from under the net of EC drones in vain, they would stay on me for much of the fight, until their owner was removed.  We might have lost a Vagabond but they were dying as well, 0458 proved to be a bloody minute, 4 of their ships lost for just two of ours.  My reps were working overtime to keep BlackFalcon01 alive but another lucky jam and distance allowed him to fall to the guns of our opposition.  But he was the last.  Their heavy ships tanked our fire best they could and disengaged the other side of the gate.  The battle was bloody, but ultimately we were victorious, holding the field. 

Returning to TXW with half our fleet seemed oddly like a loss.  We had come to expect to lose few ships in a battle, but even so we once again proving ourselves strong and our fight was motivation enough to be stronger.  The bloody fight fresh on our minds moved the CPU gang once again out of our way, despite their now similar numbers.  The rest of the flight home was more or less uneventful, never once stressing our gang to the point our fight had.

Our FC moved the fleet into dock, dismissing us as we entered station.  I sat there for a bit in my Scimitar, spinning camera around the outside of the ship for moments before disconnecting.

***

Sometimes it's worse than others, and you find yourself on the floor minutes later, coughing, unable to form thoughts, wishing vaguely for just one more moment in the pod.  At least that's how I felt right then, weak, out of sorts, unable to think clearly.  Luckily, my body was moving, working off years of completing the same task, I gripped a new towel and pulled it slowly over my body, cleaning it as I left the ship, the previous towel either removed by some unseen employee hired in one of my smarter moments or swept out into space like so much junk.

I walked into the quiet dressing room in TXW, my mind more or less settled now.  I pushed to get myself through the quick routine of a shower, getting dressed and doing short work on my hair.  I stepped out of my section of the Hangar Bays, long strides taking me the shortest route to the local capsuleer pub we all tended to favor after well just about any fight.  Even pilots who had lost ships had made it there before me, but one knowing look was all it took for almost everyone to understand.  I guess not everyone has such a hard time leaving their pod as I do, but at least they understand it.

I was happy to have missed the "AAR" as our FC's called them where pilots mistakes were pointed out and shamed.  I felt I must have made some, possibly costing people their lives, or ships.  Each loss weighed heavily on my mind as I looked up at the simple cork board in the bar that had hard copies of kills and losses listed.  Right now it was more kills than losses but I felt as if it could change at any moment.  Often times it would be updated before the pilots even returned home from a fight.  Nobody was quite sure who did it or why, but there were plenty of comments tacked to the side of kills before they dropped off the bottom of the board.

A pair of unsolicited shots slid down the bar towards me, I looked up to see smiles all around, I took the first shot quickly, the faint buzzing of responsibility, fatigue and loss slowly wiped from my mind as the smile spread to my lips after a few minutes.  I could barely keep up with some in the bar, but I managed to catch up at the very least... I think.

The Twenty-one

"In the battle of life, it is not the critic who counts; nor the one who points out how the strong person stumbled, or where the doer of a deed could have done better.

The credit belongs to the person who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; who does actually strive to do deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotion, spends oneself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he or she fails, at least fails while daring greatly.

Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those timid spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat."

 -Theodore Roosevelt

The clock clicked over to 2000(eve time), Sunday, March 20th.

TXW-EL, Syndicate

A mass of battleships undocked from the station, forming a small cloud of reps and DPS.  In their number were three Megathron Navy Issue class battleships, and one Machariel.

Course was set for PF-346 and the fleet, comms chatter quiet.  Despite the size of the fleet it moved quickly, searching for a valid target.  Initially the target of the OP was called unavailable and the fleet reversed course, heading for S-U8A4, where talk of a fight was brewing.

A single jump out a similar sized HAC and Battle Cruiser gang loitered on the gate, hurriedly falling back when intel of the approaching Battle Ship gang reached them from their scouts in the outlying systems.

They fell back into the waiting arms of comrades in S-U8A4, numbering just above one hundred in system while the Battle Ship fleet pressed towards them.

A scout arrived ahead of the Battle Ships, jumping in to gage the situation, the hostile fleet was reported to be moving to range.  The order, however suicidal, was given.  The gate pulsed 20 times, sending every ship into harms way, for what would be the last time.

Rote Kapelle pilots and crews grimaced, surveying the field, already knowing that most of them would not leave the field alive.  But without chance is there ever glory?  This was the time to prove our rhetoric, or in dying open the eyes of those who fought us.  Ships uncloaked, heading for a regrouping point to focus repairs, comms staying clear to call out primaries, secondaries.  More hostiles landed on the field.  A third party in stealth bombers, darting into the battle, removed the drones from the field.  Their bombs, however powerful, were few enough to be unable to significantly damage the valiant Battleships.

The Rote Kapelle fleet engaged, taking down targets in range, but slowly each one succumbed to the firepower laid against it.  The order to disengage rang heavily through the fleet, many ships too heavily engaged in the fighting to pull back now.  On the other side of the gate hostile tacklers formed, preventing any Battle Ships from escaping intact.  The overall result was poor, devastating.  Not even the fleeing were spared.

The scattered remnants of those crews mourn the loss of their brethren, at the same time thirsty for revenge.  Next time, next time they will inflict more damage, next time they will not fall without their enemies falling first.  Next time it would be different.  Even in defeat glory can be found, earned, skills sharpened and battle praised.  In this space, this universe there was no time to hide, scared of losing.  Only time to kill or be killed.

GF!

Logan's Run

In recent times, my eve time has come under strenuous fire from my life. In the meantime it seems that my forays into the world of eve have proven poor time spent for few or no kills, except for myself. The following details the fights I have been in over the past few months, sparse as they may have been.

"The cane that just wouldn't die!"

Until now, of course

I left from Orvolle, flying in my trusty AC fit Hurricane that was nearing the end of it's insurance cycle and seemed difficult to kill, it has been into battle more than once, survived when the rest of the fleet was wiped out and even made the trek back to syndicate from Molden Heath in one piece.

I moved through the gate into nearby lowsec searching for some action on my way down to Stacmon/Vestouve/TXW. I soon had my wish. A small contingent of -47- pilots barred one of the lowsec gates, daring me to attack, however I am familiar with their usual tactics and jumped back through escaping deeper into lowsec to find a way around what turned out to be a domi, 3 cruisers, two of the t2 and two more BCs.

On my way through ostingele a Myrm appeared on scan, Ost has only one belt and soon I was at it but it seemed the Myrm had already left the belt. I aligned to the gate, looking through pilots in local and seeing 1-2 pirates, Negative ten alliance. I hoped one or both of them were watching and it turns out I got my wish, the Myrm returned and battle was had.

Neuts reached out from both our ships as I traded out to close range ammo. His drones were quickly launched, however my cap was dead quickly and I was unable to run my neuts to cripple his tank. I focused on his drones, eliminating 3-4 of his Ogre II's during the battle. My passive tank was no match for his determined drones. A late addition to the fight, a most unwelcome Cyclone sealed my doom. I don't recall even getting the Myrm below 3/4 armor during the whole fight, made me wish I had brought my triple rep myrm instead! I had go before I could make good my return in the Myrm. At least it was not a gank fleet that claimed my BC! I'm not sure how I could have won this battle, perhaps spending more time shooting the Myrm and less on his drones, but it seems unlikely he would have died before the cyclone came in, maybe when the Cyclone landed I should have switched over... seems like I was doomed from the undock on this one.

Loss

Then there was the thrasher that was convinced it was a coercer. Definitely in my list of top 10 worst Destroyer fittings, if not number one.

I received word of a Tengu sitting on a gate in Aubres, and along with a mix of other pilots started heading in that direction, but everyone else was closer. Sadly not on this kill, but I was there in spirit!

When I arrived there was the Tengu wreck, a Drake pilot (flashy from the same corp as the Tengu), and a noob Thrasher headed to the Tengy wreck and a abandoned can of cap 800's... I was uncloaked by the gate and warily looked at the Drake as the thrasher took from the alliance can's 800's and turned flashy to me!

Throwing my AB on I headed towards the Thrasher, laughing, launching drones, neut, web and scrambler. Thrasher had no idea what was going on and died quickly(lol). However the Drake wasn't so happy and engaged me, launching HAM's into my plated Pilgrim. I turned on my rep, and headed back towards the gate! Local was spiking like crazy right then as a fleet entered system, 20+ gains in local. I figured I was done for as they started landing on the gate but they immediately engaged the Drake (as he was flashy and I wasn't) and I was able to jump through to safety! (and an immediate cloak and warp away from the gate. It was lucky I was able to jump out otherwise I might have been next on their dinner course!

Just to repost the Thrasher fit.... WOW

Early this month I scanned down a Raven in a plex in a WH off of Stacmon... However by the time I got back to it with a combat ship, all I got was this lousy Osprey! Anyways I finished the job on cleaning up the plex and made it out 3 minutes before the WH collapsed. Close call considering my combat ship didn't have a probe launcher fit!

I scanned through my ships in Stacmon and decided to head out with a Crusader, something I have never flown before so most likely my fit was bad, but it was a blast to fly. I chased some random fleets around close to TXW to land a tackle by managed to fail at that as well... sadly.

A short AFK later and all I could find in local was a Eris passing through with a few (2 others) from the IUS alliance. I decided to take that gamble and headed to the 3MOG gate. A Manticore landed and jumped through with me, uncloaking and then engaging me on the far side. I knew he had to have friends on the way, but damn it I wanted a kill before I had to log again! I burned towards him as his damps had their way with my already small lock range... don't ask about the t2 WD instead of t2 WS... Anyways, I got close enough to hold a point on him and pin him back with my LAZORS....

Just as he entered structure, the Eris landed, immediately throwing up a bubble (goodbye pod) and locking me down with a pesky warp scrambler, nicely fit. I overheated my rep, guns and mind, trying to find a way out... It was easy to find one but only after I killed the damn Manticore!

125mm rails ate me up quickly, and I popped shortly there after, as did my pod... Wouldn't you know my clone was still set across the damn universe!

Report

Turns out the last guy was in a pod, so 2 v 1, I still should have won! I think if I had fit a warp scrambler, paid a bit better attention to range on the Eris, engaged it first even with the manti in structure, and I might have survived or chased off one or both of the hostiles and been a lot happier. Gonna have to remember that next time! Maybe if I had overheat my guns from the get go I could have gotten out of there before the Eris landed or uncloaked, not sure what one lol! Maybe a healthy dose of watching my overview wouldn't hurt either!

I got a new PulseSader, fit it better this time(WS), even with RIGS! wewt... Now to find more play time... and another death.

Side note, my clone cost 20 mil isk now :( I miss the days where my clone was worth like 500k.