So my computer broke down a little bit (as in it’s completely borked, FUBAR, went to that great big CCP office in the ski), so I’m stuck with either using a PS3 (with USB keyboard thank God) or my rommates’ computer for all my computery needs. I do get some Eve time (Yayness!), but I tend to suck up all my computer time with EVE.

So that doesn’t allow me a whole lot of freedom in order to write blog entries. That, plus the fact that the PS3 hates wordpress, so I can’t access the dashboard, apparently. So I’ll be writing all of my next entries in the Comments section of the most recent post on the PS3, then posting it on my rommates’ computer when I get a chance.

Also, I ran into one of my readers today! In a corp I had just joined corp, of all places. So hi Solomon Worth!

+++++
+++++

Himnos stared, glassy-eyed at the list of items that he had somehow acquired over the time since he had first become an immortal capsuleer. There was just so many different items at so many different stations. It was…almost too much. He grimaced as he scrolled down the list, and names of stations and systems kept appearing. He had already spent days in his Iteron and Orca plying the Gallente spaceways, trying to collect all of the items he’d bought and left behind. And yet….there was still more!

And then there was Caldari Space, Amarrian Space….

With a grunt of bemused agitation, Himnos tossed the datapad onto the table in front of him and rubbed his eyes. “it’s all cheap crap,” he muttered testily. “Why can’t I just leave it alone?”

The silence weighed on him for a long time, and he glared at the datapad accusingly, before sighing and picking it back up. There was the pair of Taranis Interceptors he had bought back when he had thought he was going to be entering them quickly. He had changed his mind and gone to something else.

But they were still out there, in Low Sector space, taunting him by their very presence.

There was the load of dren that he had offloaded his Orca when he had decided to leave the wormhole without putting up a POS, and had stupidly docked in a station before unplugging his implants for that standard day cycle.

He had spent several hours–what amounted to close to 5 hours, watching the outside of the station nervously, picking up safe spots in the system and in the systems on his route to Hi Security Space, waiting for his Alternate Pilot to reach the Low Security system, and then making sure that both of the Prototype Cloaking Devices on both the Covert Operations Helios and the Orca were working perfectly before attempting to undock–and then that stupid Carrier had cynoed in, and had sent the Orca, barely clear of the station’s tractor beams, scurrying back into docking range.

Himnos smiled grimly. He knew other pilots would laugh at him, and call him a “n00b”–what was that, a Matari insult? Amarrian? Jovian?–for being so careful. But the Orca’s hull itself was worth upwards of 300 million ISK, not counting the hundreds of millions of ISK it had held before it docked in the station.

All because he wanted to live in a wormhole. And brought his Orca into the first one he found like a complete idiot, without even performing a directional scan on the entire solar system. What he had thought was a nice, empty Class 3 Wormhole (granted, a Corporation from the next wormhole over was running all the sites), turned out to be a wormhole with a deathstar POS with only a couple LADAR sites. Had there even been a Gravimetric site left? He couldn’t remember.

Himnos shook his head and grinned. What an idiot he had been. Now he was working on bringing all of his miscellaneous crap into one place, and generally cleaning up his Neocomm.

Already he had completely cleared his Bookmarks folder, leaving only a safe spot several thousand kilomoters close to Villore IV, a remnant from his first Faction Warfare Corporation, when the planetary imaging Software for all of the pods had just been updated, and a pair of instawarps from the Low Sec station where he had docked the Orca. He had just finished cleaning out his Agents tab, leaving only Harquier Foutte, the Level I Federal Intelligence Agent for whom he had run hundreds of missions years ago.

Ignoring the Level II missions, he had merely continued to run missions for Harquier, because he was having fun flying around in his pod shooting things. But that was a long time ago. Back before Titans and Motherships became easily available to capsuleers.

Himnos’ eyes focused again on the datapad, and mentally groaned. He didn’t want to go back into the insanely slow Iteron V, or worse–the Wild Karrde. The Wild Karrde WAS a good ship, but it was just far too slow for this kind of wild running around. Warping, Jumping, and running from system to system was for Industrials–not Orcas.

Himnos looked up from the private office that he kept onboard the Wild Karrde, and looked around. The tiny office, out of the way–near the reactors–was his home away from pod. The gentle thrumming of the reactors not fifty feet away was not dissimilar to the vibrations that he felt while he was in his pod, commanding the giant vessel.

The walls had been bare when he had appropriated what had been a janitorial closet, but over time had become decorated with small objects from the crew. an Amarrian crest had been carefully carved into the wall next to an exquisitely crafted Minmatar logo. A Caldari coat rack, stark and utilitarian, stood next to the doorway, but the rich leather of a black, leather trenchcoat, bearing the Gallente Federation’s crest prominently over the left breast hung lazily. On the other side of the rack, a battered fedora hung at a rakish, almost haphazard angle against the wall.

Along the walls were pictures of members of the crew, past and present. It had begun when he had taken a picture of his command crew and the kitchen staff. Then, week by week, more pictures started to appear. Pictures that Himnos hadn’t taken–pictures he hadn’t put up. When he had asked the human Captain about it, the Captain had explained that because the Orca had lasted for several years, and many crewmen hadn’t been off the ship since he had first launched it for more than a week or two, the crew had started putting their pictures up in his private office.

And so it was that pictures of children, of loving wives and husbands–parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles–every kind of relative imaginable, whether foster or biological, blood or by slavery–began appearing in his office, until the walls were full. At that point, pictures had started appearing on the ceiling.

Himnos squinted up at the light panel, and noticed that almost the entire ceiling was full now. What would they do when that finished, he wondered. Probably the front and sides of his desk.

Looking around his office, he began to reflect that the ship had long ago ceased to be a ship, and had instead become his base of operations. And then somewhere along the line, it had become his home.

And in just a few short minutes, if he made a mistake–it could all be wiped away. All the people–the memories–the comaraderie–it could all be gone in a moment.

“C’est la vie,” Himnos said quietly to himself.

A chuckle roused him from his thoughts. He looked up to see Senfora Anophis standing at the slightly open doorway. “Can I come in?” her soft voice asked.

Himnos looked up as the soft whirring of her Seeing Eye Drone slowly came around the doorway. Its lenses flashed around the room, before settling back on Himnos. Himnos smiled and rose to his feet, pushing his rolling chair back, careful not to let it slam into the pictures on the back wall.

“Senfora,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad to see you again!”

Senfora’s face split into a smile. “I’m glad to see the inside of this ship again too. I thought this old beast was going to get popped before we got out of the station.”

Himnos smiled wryly. “Might nice flying, Senfora,” he said quietly. “Thank you for bringing my home back to me.”

“The credit is all yours, Himnos,” Senfora said quietly. “You’re the one who got all the safespots for us.”

Her SED drone whirred, then rose and peered out into the hallway behind her. Senfora remained relaxed, leaning against the doorjamb, her expression calm, her blind eyes open, but turned downwards in the concentrated stare that meant that she was concentrating on the feed from her SED drone.

“I suppose we’re all wondering what we’re doing next,” Senfora said quietly. “We went back into Factional Warfare–” her face became a mask of pain for a split second before she pushed it away and regained control of her emotions. “But now we’re back out.”

Himnos smiled coyly. “I have a few ideas, Senfora,” he said quietly. “But first I want to get my crap together and sell as much of it as I can.” The pod pilot reached down and opeend a drawer, flicking through several datapads before selecting the right one. “I was hoping you’d stop by, Senfora. Because I’m having trouble selling all of this stuff myself as quickly as I’d like.”

He held out the datapad he’d taken out of the drawer. “Would you be willing to help me sell some of these items? For a share of the profits, of course.”

Senfora paused, and the SED drone whirred back around to face Himnos. “While you go out and continue gathering the rest of your….’crap’ I believe is the term that you like to use.”

Himnos grinned. “That’s absolutely the correct term, and exactly what I propose.”

Senfora paused for a few moments. “Very well,” she said quietly. “I’ve followed you into combat. I don’t see what the harm in selling a few of your items could be.” she reached out and took the proffered datapad, and turned it into the SED’s lenses. “Doesn’t look too bad. I’m pretty sure I could pull this off,” she said quietly.

The SED turned its lenses around to face Himnos as Senfora turned to leave, raising one hand in a wave. “As always, Mister Altar,” she murmured. “It’s a pleasure.”

“And this shall come to pass. In the first days of the end of days,

And chariots will come from the skies to sweep man away from his home,

And Man’s own inability to hold peace with himself will cause the deaths of millions of others,

The Harbinger of these events will die once and once again before returning,

Leading chariots and armies of incomparable size,

To enslave those who live amongst the stars.”

- Passage of Amarr scripture Hidden from the Records

Estimated Six Thousand Years before the Yoiul Conference by the Emperor of Amarr

“Jump now!” The Command came over the fleet comm. and everyone was quick to oblige in the reinforcement fleet. Gallente Interceptors, Taranis and Ares classes alike, where the first to warp. The sixty-two meter long frigates streaking out of existence and into the distant blanket of stars. Right behind the Interceptors where the Assault Frigates, Enyo and Ishkur, then finally came the rest of the fleet. Streaking to warp speed towards that distant, invisible, speck of space they where all headed towards. Thorax and Vexor class cruisers, Brutix and Myrmidon class Battlecruisers, and dozens of battleships. Megathrons, Dominix, and Hyperions all. Eos and Astarte command ships, strategic cruisers and who knows what else. All sorts of Gallente warships jumping from one point in space to the other. A trip that would take hours if not days for one to complete at the speed of light, was finished in a matter of seconds. Ships leaping free form the warp bubble that formed around them. Bursting onto the battlefield of lights.

The sight the fleet came upon was as terrifying as it was astounding. Thousands of ships, Gallente and Caldari both, caught in pitched combat. Thousands of Frigates and Cruisers and Battlecruisers, Hundreds of battleships, at least forty Carriers on each side, Sixteen Super Capitals, fifty-eight dreadnaughts, and several titans on each sides. A serious confrontation by any standards. Myrmidons and Brutix combating Drakes and  Ferox. Rokhs, Scorpions, and Ravens combating Dominix, Megathrons, and Hyperions. A conflagration in space as from the Gallente side cones of energy lanced through the void to find their targets. Frigates and cruisers and Destroyers even leaping about among the larger ships. Weaving in and out of the formations, dodging weapon fire. Drones bolting through space almost as fast as the rounds fired off by the ship to meet their targets and fall under anti-drone fire and smart bombs. From the Caldari side came rockets and hybrid fire alike. Shields flaring to deflect Gallente fire as the Caldari fired from extreme range. Everything from small seeker missiles to massive cruise missiles crashing into Gallente armor. The blackened scars placed upon the Gallente ships rapidly healing under the green light of Nanobots at work. Or in some cases the damage simply pushed on through. Ripping holes in the ships either side hit and causing miniature supernova’s to brighten the darkness of deep space. Everything from small frigates exploding into fragments under massive enemy fire, to battleships bursting like overly ripe melons. Jetting flotsam and flame into the inky blackness of the void.

The Pod Pilot in command of the Taranis class interceptor on the Gallente side was already reporting the damages sustained to the Gallente fleet as the reinforcement fleet arrived. The small frigate zipping through the battlefield heated battlefield. Skimming along the hull of a Nyx class Super Carrier, streaming past as wave after wave of drone bolted from the carrier’s hangers as it’s armor deflected or withstood most of the shots hitting it. The Intceptor screaming past battle cruisers engaging at the Gallente’s close range specialty. Twisting, the interceptor narrowly dodged a critically damaged Brutix’s head on collision with a Drake. Both exploding into brilliant balls of flame almost a kilometer around. All three cannons on one side of the Interceptor opening up on a enemy Crow class Caldari Interceptor as it attempted to catch up to the Taranis. The Antimatter charged blaster fire skipping across the interceptor’s shields but with enough energy to rupture the hull on the aft sections of the enemy frigate. Though not before a salvo of shots from the hybrid charged rail guns aboard the Crow was fired. Catching the Taranis across the engine bay and ripping straight through the shield, armor, and blowing a hole in the frigates hull. The Microwarp drive going critical, Taranis interceptor exploded into a stream of fire and debris that collided across the bow of the Caldari Leviathon. His communication cut short as his pod screamed off through the shadows of space to try and escape the conflagration of the Epic struggle between Gallente and Caldari forces. Off to the side, however, there was another visitor. Hidden in the darkness of space, and amidst the confusion invisible to either side’s scanners.

Ships that looked to have come straight from a nightmare idled in the silence of space. Facing the fleet hundreds of kilometers away. Watching and waiting as their master oh so wished. An immense fleet, nearly incomprehensible in it’s size, hidden just far enough it could not be found by those in combat. Jovian technology was to thank for that. Plundered, stolen, reverse-engineered, whatever the word for it was, it was taken for this fleet. Taken for the power of one man and his goals to make New Eden loyal servants. He sat there, amidst his mighty fleet of warships. Sitting aboard the command bridge of his own personally Titan. Twisted out of his own mind and secretly created, it was an even greater match to any of the titans the four “Empires” could create. The twenty-six kilometer long ship bristled with weapons and drones ready to engage the enemy. It was the flagship of his return fleet. Just as twisted as it’s master, and unlike the other titans of the fleet, which where stolen from the various empires simply and refitted for his purpose, this was undeniably his. Sitting there atop his throne, watching the battle on the massive holoscreen before him, that twisted, terrifying, tyrant of a man chuckled. Gesturing off to the side to a pallid figure in the corner. Steely gray eyes never moving from the screen as he spoke in a tone of utter control and expected compliance. “Tell the fleet commander it can start at any time. The Return will begin now, and there will be no survivors.” The figure in the corner did not reply, he simply bowed his head deeply and turned. The light from the screen glinting off the metal prosthetics covering the right side of his skull. The figure walked out, leaving the Master of the Sansha Nation to his plotting. The Plot of the conquest and “enlightenment” of New Eden.

As the fleet began to move, Sansha Kruvakei simply laughed.

(This is my entry to the Inspired By Images Of Eve Competition 2. More details and links to all entrants can be found at Starfleet Comms)

As Sansha’s Nation continues its renewed offensive against the citizens of New Eden, many have called for the four empires to band together, as in centuries past, and destroy the threat as one. These calls, however, appear to have so far fallen on deaf ears.

“Sansha’s Nation was a threat over a century ago,” said Professor Fontine Mereux of the University of Caille, a leading expert on the history of CONCORD. “But in the cluster’s darkest hour, all of the empires banded together to smash them. Sansha’s Nation is now resurgent. For too long they’ve been allowed to fester in Stain. It’s time that the four empires band together once more to wipe it out.” Read the rest of this entry →

Thought I would introduce Cisneros as a character to the community.

He was born 2009.11.16 14:18:00
He is Caldari, Achura, Inventor
5,092,932 Skill points between 133 skills

4 skills at lvl 5

31 skills at lvl 4

38 skills at lvl 3

32 skills at lvl 2

28 skills at level 1

Now, he was planned to be a mining character, thus his heritage. However shortly after I trained all my Learning skills to 4, my brother decided to get into more combat. So, being the follower I am, I just changed Cisneros’ skill plan to lean more towards combat. A few months later, and I am pretty happy with where I am. At least on paper. I know in reality my skills are no where near where they need to be to be in some of the ships I fly. I know the rules and what not, but I am not concerned with ISK at all. No I will not give you any.

Tomorrow I will start my ‘Monthly Reports’ of my characters. For no real reason other then because I want to.

All for now,

Cisneros out.

I was literally bored out of my skull by now, nothing had happened that was even remotely interesting, and the smartbomb incident was surpressed by overusage of nerve sticks. I knew I should feel guilty over it all, but I couldn’t, and I liked it.

Bored as I was, I brought out one of my cheaply fit Armageddons, the Annihalator, and went for a long range roam. I was itching for battle, and I hadn’t had any for a very long time.

I went up the Kheram pipe, through Mista and further on past Amarr. I was heading for Caldari space. More densely populated, and also an area of space I was quite familiar with since I spent a lot of time up there in my youth.

It took me over two hours before I even saw a ship in low sec, and they weren’t much up for engaging. Another Armageddon and a Drake both warped off the gate without bothering to engage. I followed them to the station, only to find a camp of two Ravens, the Drake, Armageddon and a Proteus, all shooting a Rokh.

The Rokh kept docking up every time his shields dropped below 50%, and I was quickly getting bored of the whole thing, so I left the system, and roamed for another 30 minutes before coming across two Typhoons that were just engaging a Dominix.

Score! Time to do something here. I locked up both Typhoons and opened up with my dual heavy pulse lasers, energy neutralizers, sentry drones and the whole shebang.

Right about then, the gate started flashing like crazy, and my warpcore went dead. Oh great…a trap!

Three Armageddons, a Megathron and a Hurricane came through the gate and they all opened up on me. My pod interface yelled at me with warnings all over as my armor vanished and the sharp pain struck me as the ship’s structure started falling apart.

It didn’t take long for the structure to start venting oxygen at the incoming barrage of their fire. It was a tremendous amount of damage that struck the ship, and blinded as I was by the pain, I felt the interface disconnect and the pod rocket out of the exploding wreckage of my once proud Armageddon.

Everything didn’t go exactly to plan here, and I spent the whole embarrassing journey home thinking of things I could’ve done differently, but honestly I couldn’t find any. They simply outnumbered me.

Look at this place! It’s all just a massive mess of old datapads, leftover foodstuffs and only the gods know what.

It’s been a while since I came here, my old offices in the Caldari backwater system of Isseras, Sela Constellation in Lonetrek. We had a small office set up in the Perkone Factory station at VII – Moon 6 way back. Something we rented with the bare scrapes of our wallets.

What times we had back then! We were flying cheap frigate, because quite frankly, we couldn’t afford anything else. We spent most of our days dodging Guristas, that were looking for targets, in the belts around Isseras trying to make a living mining. Sure, it was tough times, but it felt like we were really working for something, you know? Making a living, having a goal and all that.
As I looked around the old office, hazy memories trickled through my mind. I found myself missing my old adventurous friends: Dasone, Malachim Caldach, Lexx Looter and the others whose names I can barely remember anymore. Still, it has only been a little more than two years since then. How times change…

I popped another booster in, and cringed as the liquid in the capsule burned my tongue. I hastily downed a cup of water to get rid of the sensation.

I was so innocent back there, with hopes for the future… and look at me now.

With a long sigh I took another look at the market to oversee the final signings. Another Armageddon was transferred to my ownership. I always loved Amarr ships for their sturdiness, and the sheer power of lasers under my command is a thrill that is hard to top.

I shivered as the effects of the nerve sticks slowly set in. With a deep breath, I could feel the stress running off me like water. I eyed the crew roster of the Armageddon over with an increasingly callous look. There were names there I probably should have cared about, yet the thousands of names glazed my eyes over and I found it didn’t really bother me anymore.

Hell, I worry too much…

We had a little issue a while ago where we had a pair (Redeemer + Falcon) of guys plaguing our space with their presence. The biggest issue was the fact the Falcon would roam around through gates cloaked and what not, and the Redeemer would sit by idly inside of black ops jump bridge range to strike on targets. The Falcon, when a target is sighted, would decloak, pop a covert-ops cyno and jump the Redeemer in for the strike. This was particularly effective yet in-effective at the same time. As far as I’m aware, most pilots generally stop ratting/mining if a neut or red pilot enters their system and warp out to a safe somewhere.

So the idea of the gang is innovative, it utilized stealth to the extent of being able to show up on your doorstep when you aren’t ready and take a kill quickly, then fade away into the stars somewhere. Its ingenious and is a fantastic idea, however as all good tactics does have some drawbacks.

• Firepower is limited
• Not truly Stealth but as good as stealth gets in Eve

So how do you combat such a situation. Well it is very difficult. So to ensure we get an engagement, we had to employ a ratting ECCM strategy. We ensured a fleet of ships was in system ready to go and staged a Cerberus in one of the belts. The Cerberus was ratting away quietly when suddenly the Falcon appeared, the Falcon struggled to get a jam cycle off on the Cerberus as it was fitted for ECCM due to the local rats being Guristas Pirates. Worked a charm, the fleet warped in on the Falcon and he was quickly dispatched. Unfortunately we did loose our bait and the Redeemer got away :’(. Sad panda.

Sufficed to say the Falcon pilot retrieved a new Falcon and quickly cyno’d his buddyback home to empire space as fast as he royally could.

One particular tactic that has been employed recently by many alliances are remote repair battleship gangs. These gangs are designed to come to the battlefield and “spider-tank” any damage thrown at them while engaging the enemy. This has presented many problems for the conventional strategy of bringing firepower and tackle to the field, those problems include, having to switch primaries very quickly and having to draw down or distract the enemy from forming an effective spider to kill even 1 ship. Read the rest of this entry →