Someone Your Own Size

War is a bitch.  I have a long time friend in Eve who claims that highsec wars are the main driving factor thats holding back the game's growth.  I don't know if I'd be that dramatic about it myself.  I do have to agree that a fat lot of the guys who participate in highsec wardecs are the same type of players who will say your crying and beg for more tears if you try to negotiate an end to the war. They simply don't purport themselves with the same nobility and regal fibre as me and my piratical kin.  Now I don't mean men like Psychotic Monk, or Cannibal Kane who do bring unrivaled class and professionalism to the stars when I say this.  No, I mean the men who wardec anything that undocks from the SOE epic arc station and then proceeds to hellcamp Jita, Amarr or Rens with neutral logi and all manner of boorish tactics.  I'm sure you're familiar.  I do not say all this to bash on the highsec griefer's style of life of course, or even to boast about lowsec superiority.  I say all this to introduce us to our next victims.

When 7-2 began wardeccing the locals in our new deployment region with the intent to fight under gate guns a few other groups joined in.  Either hired mercenaries who decced us seperately or opportunistic carrion who hopped on the same dec as allies.  I believe our friends were of the latter.  They were from a corp named S-o-S and at the time they were allianceless.  After my run in with the group of wartargets who crashed my Kronos execution I went on a bit of a research binge to go after the bastards.  I spent the better part of a Saturday perusing Evewho and compiling a list of possible bogeys, yet by the time I was done the men responsible for my flub had largely logged off.  Bastards.  That left me and my friends from S-o-S.  A few quick locators later and I had eyes on.  My alt followed a small frigate fleet of theirs through lowsec a few jumps and then into Stacmon.  There they sat and warped from gate to gate catching Brave Newbies who didn't know any better and violencing them with a prejudice.  I wasn't particularly impressed.  Now don't get me wrong I will gladly shoot a Brave Newbie Venture in lowsec just as quickly as the next guy.  But I also like to think there is more... ugh I hate to say honour but I guess that's the best word; more honour in a lowsec slaughter than there is in deccing a corp known for being newbs (its in their name dammit), and camping the choke point to their home system just to kill a few Hoarders with 236 Tritanium and 58 Small Tungsten charges in the hold.

So I came up with my own boorish plan.  It was rather obvious that they had scouts in the surrounding systems and when a WT showed up in local somewhere they'd all swarm the gate and hit him with sticks after he jumped.  Well, all I needed was an anti-frig Vexor (I can buy that), a WT symbol (got that), and some piss and vinegar (got that too).  It was rather impressive really, how quickly they moved to my gate once I jumped into the neighboring system.  They clearly had done this before.  I jumped into Stacmon, my imaginary long blonde hair billowing in the wind behind me.  There they sat, eager and grinning like a bundle of half-witted Cheshire cats waiting to eat their mouse.  And I'd like to think I played the part well. I held cloak for as long as I could and decloaked burning back to the gate Feigning Disorder until they all engaged.

Cry havoc. Said he who fought chaos with chaos, and let slip the dogs of war.

Small neutron blasters spooled up and a flight of angry Hobgoblins flew forth.  Dual webs and a solid scram held down my unfortunate colleagues whilst I pummeled them into the dirt.  They simply didn't stand a chance.

A New World

Jumping into Teon I knew what was going to happen.  I paid off the Concord guy just like I was supposed to.  I knew my record now said I was a reformed and forgiven scoundrel welcomed back into high society.  Still I winced a bit, expecting the warning lights and screaming officers who always demand I leave or be shot down.  Yet the only sound that fell upon my ears was silence; disturbing, peaceful silence.  So I went on my way.

For years the only times I had intentionally set foot in highsec with Damay was in a gank Thrasher/Catalyst.  Times change however and here I was.  A few wardecs and a need for new scenery made up my mind. Before I knew it I was revoking my badge of -10 honor for a few hundred million isk and some metal trinkets.

The goal was, at first, to find a shiny mission ship and taunt it with my lowly Arbitrator until it decided to hit me.  Well it didn't take too long for someone to oblige.  I convo'd the poor individual and asked a fair ransom for the safe release of their vessel.  The exchange went like this:

[15:11:22] EVE System > Channel MOTD: This is a Ransom. Turn off all mods and stop your ship. Terms for your release will be discussed momentarily.
[21:14:47] Gadgett Hackwrench > ?
[21:14:52] Damay Aprionati > this is a ransom
[21:15:00] Damay Aprionati > 2.5billion and ill let you go
[21:15:05] Gadgett Hackwrench > wut?
[21:15:10] Gadgett Hackwrench > fu
[21:15:15] Gadgett Hackwrench > mi shit costs less
[21:15:18] Gadgett Hackwrench > *my
[21:15:20] Damay Aprionati > alright
[21:15:30] Damay Aprionati > lets negotiate
[21:15:42] Gadgett Hackwrench > but i'll set reward for u, at2.5 billion
[21:16:31] Damay Aprionati > hows about this
[21:16:34] Damay Aprionati > ill scan your ship
[21:16:44] Damay Aprionati > and give you a fair ransom price
[21:17:02] Gadgett Hackwrench > have 100kk
[21:17:12] Gadgett Hackwrench > so u can scan whatever u want
[21:17:26] Damay Aprionati > all you have is 100k isk?
[21:17:33] Gadgett Hackwrench > yeap
[21:17:40] Gadgett Hackwrench > at this mient
[21:17:44] Gadgett Hackwrench > moment
[21:18:27] Damay Aprionati > very well
[21:18:43] Gadgett Hackwrench > ok
[21:18:57] Gadgett Hackwrench > 2.5 billion for your head)
[21:19:00] Gadgett Hackwrench > have this)
[21:19:07] Gadgett Hackwrench > it will be funny)
[21:20:13] Damay Aprionati > Pith B-Type X-Large Shield Booster
[21:20:16] Damay Aprionati > dropped
[21:21:29] Gadgett Hackwrench > just enjoy the game for 2 days)
[21:21:41] Gadgett Hackwrench > and i'll set reward) it's not hard for me
[21:21:45] Damay Aprionati > well sir this is not my first rodeo
[21:21:59] Gadgett Hackwrench > and no my first
[21:22:10] Gadgett Hackwrench > i like to fuck guys like u
[21:22:14] Gadgett Hackwrench > u cfme
[21:22:19] Damay Aprionati > im sorry for you to have lost the ship that way
[21:22:21] Gadgett Hackwrench > sole my loot
[21:22:25] Gadgett Hackwrench > *stole
[21:22:31] Gadgett Hackwrench > no
[21:22:33] Damay Aprionati > id have much rather come to an agreement
[21:22:46] Gadgett Hackwrench > i'll sorry u only when u die)
[21:23:15] Gadgett Hackwrench > and i will be a good price for idiot like u
[21:23:20] Gadgett Hackwrench > *it
[21:23:40] Damay Aprionati > no need for name calling
[21:23:48] Damay Aprionati > we fought, i offered ransom and you lost
[21:24:25] Gadgett Hackwrench > do u know what happens with guys like u in real life?
[21:24:35] Damay Aprionati > no i honestly dont?
[21:24:39] Damay Aprionati > care to inform me
[21:24:48] Gadgett Hackwrench > so, i'll make your game funny here
[21:25:37] Damay Aprionati > im not sure i understand how your going to do that
[21:25:53] Damay Aprionati > nor do i understand what you think will come of me in real life?
[21:26:40] Gadgett Hackwrench > many peole will like to get money from ur headhunt)
[21:26:54] Gadgett Hackwrench > so... fuck off and enjoy
[21:27:02] Damay Aprionati > what does that have to do with my real life?
[21:27:21] Damay Aprionati > damnit

Sadly, OP has not delivered.

After my initial success I spent another few days popping MTU's and harassing locals to no avail.  Then I found it, a Kronos.  Oh this beautiful Kronos was simply begging to die in a fire.  I scanned it out with my alt and they had all sorts of shinies fitted and they used T1 drones and had a few mission boat losses and were unnamed and... Refusing to shoot me.  Balls.  I was determined though, so when they warped to station I followed, when they docked I waited, and when they undocked I moved closer.  And when they shot me I FREAKED the fuck out.

I flew in close, got my orbit straight and went to work on the drones.  Web, scram and TD's light up and turn off their MJD cycle.  I ask on comms the whole while how big of a drone bay I was dealing with and begging for all the luck the mighty Pirate Gods could grant me.  The Yars on High had forsaken me though.  I hadn't seen a single one of our wartargets yet since the start of the conflict, yet here they all came now as the last drone of the Marauder popped.  3 T3's, a Guardian, a Curse and some other not so fun ships were here for me.  I had to run before they closed to point range, cursing the whole way.  The Kronos docked of course and went away.

I wanted blood from these damn deccers now, I was done with small fries for the time being....

A History: Part One

I'm bad at blogging. I mean I like writing and stuff but I'm the worst at actually sitting down and putting out my thoughts.  Maybe I'll be able to keep up with it this time, I know I'd love to, but that's precisely what I think every time I decide I want to get this project started again.  We'll see I guess.

Anyway, I've been thinking a lot about the player stories aspect to EVE.  You know, the whole first decade book of stories CCP compiled?  The various nefarious deeds committed by the likes of Haargoth Agamar/Mittens, Helicity Boson, m0o corp and others.  Even the random snippets of story that you hear about talking to folks and perusing forums and blogs.  Like Psychotic Monk's musings on his own brand of piracy: link.  

So I figured I would chronicle Damay's life in New Eden here.  I fully expect this to be a wall of text that few but myself would want to read but, at least it will be here for me if I ever want to reminisce.  TL;DR: Damay was born, he killed things.

I found EVE in real life between my junior and senior years of high school.  It was a banner add on LineRider or something and I was sitting alone in a hotel room.  Turns out my girlfriend's mom didnt approve of me spend then night in the same room with my now ex (lame right?).  I click on it and started going through the EVE Online website which, circa 2009, pretty much just consisted of the forums, chronicles and a wiki.  I remember reading about pirates on the wiki and being amazed by this guy's story of how his presence.  How a red skull on the overview could make men shudder and how a single pirate sitting on the undock of a station could lock the whole bitch down.  I was hooked.  I started up my account and was astounded by how complex everything was  (I also definitely spent the first few weeks auto-piloting everywhere because I didn't realize you could warp to zero).  Nevertheless I did the tutorial missions and on the way heard about Faction Warfare.  I thought to myself, that would be a great way to learn the PvP aspect to this game before I embark on my epic piratical crusade.  So naturally the first corp I joined was a highsec, carebear, ANTI-PIRATE corp. Sigh.  I don't know why I did it.  To be honest I guess I was drawn in by the minnie RP shit they had in their corp info and the fact that they accepted newbies.  I sent in my humble app and within the hour I was in my first corp.  Me, with my tiny little Burst, in a real EVE corp.  Fucking.  Badass. 

My time in Adventurers was rather short.  Ten days total I believe.  I saw my first Stabber when I first joined and went on a level 2 mission with a group of the guys and thinking there's no way I'll ever be able to fly one of those, that's so cool!  The honeymoon didn't last long of course and I started daydreaming about being a pirate again.  I went out to lowsec to shoot rats and maybe get my chance to be a big bad piwate.  The trip was short-lived.  I saw the wolf on my overview and it seemed like a mere second before I was in my pod.   It was finally time to try out FW and learn the trade of slaughter from professionals!  I stayed for a day.  However, my first kill was had in that day! Glorious sweatbreaking, hand shaking killing.  To be honest I don't remember much about it besides feeling lost out in lowsec after the fleet disbanded.

I returned to Adventurers for another short stay during which a man by the name of White Voodoo took me under his wing and taught me a whole hell of a lot about the game.  We became and still are good RL friends to this day.  A couple days after my return, Voodoo invited me to join him in his small corp of friends from the meatspace.  I was honored.

And so my time in The Scarlet Inquisition began.  I learned soooo much about the basics of EVE during my time there.  Yet again my time there was short though I may have stayed longer if real life didn't get in the way of the other three members, Voodoo included.

Not knowing where else to go I decided to start my own corp, Kel' ein.  The name was a reference to The Faded Sun Trilogy by C. J. Cherryh if you were wondering.  We had maybe 8-10 members total and we were baaaaa-ad.  Typical newbish "We are a small group of friends who want to someday own space in lowsec and even further down the road in null!" type corp.  Only one of us had any substantial amount of SP and it wasn't even me.  Either way we did alright for ourselves I guess, mining ops, missioning, roaming (read dying in fires), etc.  Until the day we got wardecced o.0 AHHH!

Dammit all though if we didn't do our best to fight back against The humbleless Crew.  We even got two kills that we were entirely too proud of.  Ohhhh man.  Were we stoked.  At some point the CEO of that corp contacted me and he informed us that we had balls for a nublet corp, resulting in an enormously swelled ego.  But alas we were being crushed by the war and felt we needed to do something different.  Along the way we tried to kill a Harbinger that belonged to an anti-pirate group in the Molden Heath region.  We didn't find out it belonged to anti-pirates until they dropped a heavy freakin' BC fleet on our silly little heads.  In true Butterfly Effect Trailer fashion wound up befriending The Black Dragon Elite after a bit of a chat and when we found our corp to be in a tight spot they offered us shelter with them.

Anti-Pirates in a corp with "Elite" in the name we became!  And lo, did our egos swell once more.

That Was Probably Worth More....

I couldn't believe it, I didn't even realize I was in my old home system of Ennur when I saw the unnamed Maelstrom on 360 scan.  I had just convinced myself that Molden Heath had become a ghost town in my TZ. It's probably at a POS or something, its just coincidence that the guys in local I thought, not wanting to get too excited.  I quickly narrowed down the search.  Shit, he's not on a planet.  Probably a safe then there's no way he's that dumb.  Always bet on stupid.  The little voice in the back of my head whispered as I stifled the thought.  Don't get your hopes up man.

A complex? A complex. HE'S AT A COMPLEX!  My mind exclaimed as I warped to zero.  He's gonna be 200km off Damay, you know this, chill out now.  I hold my breath.

Only 20km from the warp-in, YES!  A smile stretches from one ear to the other as I enter a tight orbit, grab point and wait.  No neut lands, I'm in the clear.  Warrior IIs are launched and popped just as quick, no match for my Atron of doom.  I invite him to the ransom channel and make my demands.  He pays.

I sit back in my chair and exhale.  250mil straight profit, I love this shit.  I'm surprised he took my first offer though, I don't think most Maels are worth that much... I wonder what he had on there... I need to get my alt in with a ship scanner next time.

Death's Dick

Not a bad comeback I suppose.  Damay thinks to himself, cruising around The Bleak Lands.   Not a whole lot of kills to be honest, but I'm still in the green at least.  The Rifter he'd been flying was an unfamiliar shield fit sporting rockets.  He had to use the new loadout since the Empire mandated changes to all racial frigates made his favorite armor and nos fit fall behind the pack.  But he would be damned if his glorious return would be had in anything other than his favorite hull.

Sir, Fed Navy Comet in that small complex.  His on-board AI stated.

"Thanks babe, but you know as well as I do that if he knows his ass from a blaster I'd be turned into pulp in that fight."  He laughed in return.  That hasn't stopped me from taking those odds before... Maybe all the frig changes have made it a winnable affair. 

"Well shit I could at least see what this beauty can do."  He said, nose diving the Rifter right into the plex.

The Comet sat perfectly at the edge of scram range inside the Amarr military installation, Well that's probably not good.  Locked, scrammed, shot.  Damay's shields dropped to 3/4 in two volleys and the Comet hadn't even hit armor yet.  Shit.  The fight was short and communication from the Comet pilot came in immediately.

"Damn man I respect the balls it takes to initiate that fight but why the hell suicide into a superior ship like that?"

Damay smiled in his pod and replied, "Because sometimes you just have to punch Death in the dick and dare him to do something about it."

To Short Lives

The place looked exactly like he left it, though a thin layer of dust covered everything in the cramped Captain's Quarters of Damay Aprionati.  He threw his palm device on the table on his way to the liquor cabinet.  On it was a message signed: "Resa Lesnon, I'll miss you."

He downed the first shot and poured another before walking over to the couch, plopping down and commanding the room's AI to display his combat report on the main holopanel.  "Five months huh? That's far too much tannin', boostin' and fuckin'."  He muttered to himself, and ordered up any and all new ship, alliance, corporation, region, and market information on surrounding panels.  "Shit I missed a lot,"  He said, settling in for a long night.

Hours of learning information in antiquated fashion, and a good handle of rum later Damay closed his eyes and sunk back into the couch.  His dreams were an amalgamation of cold rusted steel and warm soft flesh, deep purple eyes and bright red explosions with an overwhelming sense of power, satisfaction and lust.

When he woke he poured one more drink and removed his coat.  A tattoo adorned his chest now, a rat standing on its hind legs, soaked in blood from nose to haunch, and screaming in defiance of some unseen enemy.  "AI, prep me a rifter." He said, and raised a glass in mock toast.

"To short lives and long battles."

Piracy will NEVER die.

He could hardly see the other side of the VIP room for all the smoke.  Muffled bass from the pit outside rattled the bones and stirred the primal desires of all who could hear it.  It was a Raafa-Kon, a Minmatar club, and the music was composed for that very purpose.

Damay reached for the Blue Pill booster gun laying on the table his Gallentean entertainment was dancing on, rolled up his sleeve and jammed the needle of the delivery mechanism into the meat of his arm.  He could feel the euphoria rush through his veins, calm his nerves and lower his temper while he listened to the Faction War junkies tell him how great the militia was.

"I'm just sayin' if you flew under the Minmatar banner again you wouldn't need to ransom anything anymore."

"He's right man," A large Brutor said through the legs of his even larger Brutor dancer. "That Navy Caracal you ransomed for what 90mil? The militia woulda payed twice that in LP for the kill."

"Not to mention how much time you must waste looking for targets.  You could probably secure five or ten complexes in the time it takes you to find one fight." The first man, a weaselly looking Intaki added.

"It's not about the money assholes," Damay replied, leaning back and closing his eyes.  "It's about the freedom, not having a war to win or some dickwads political agenda to push."  He smiled wickedly.  "Its about killing whoever you want and taking whatever you can, whenever you can."

Damay looked up and caught the eye of his dancer.  A curious purple looked back at him and he nodded his head in the direction of the door.

"Whatever, you're still a dying breed."

The bliss of the drugs changed to hot rage in an instant.  The pistol appeared from nowhere and the shot hit right between the eyes.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN!" The Brutor exclaimed. "He's a capsuleer, that did nothing but send him back to his clone bay!"

"I like him better there," The pistol disappeared again and Damay put his arm around the dancer, walking her towards one of the clubs many weightless recreation modules.

A What?

Sir, the onboard AI heralded in its odd semi-feminine voice D-scan is picking up a Procurer class mining vessel within 12AU of your current position.

"What the fuck?" Damay exclaimed bolting upright from his reclined position in the Rifter.  He had been burning towards nothing for the past 5 minutes waiting out GCC and enjoying the view of the Loes star system's Orange Radiant.  At the call of a possible miner in system he perked right up and prepped the ship.

He simultaneously set all of his tackle modules to overheat and frantically tried to narrow the D-scan down to a specific belt. "Please baby, please be that stupid,"

Target localized to Belt I-I, Sir.

He was in warp before she/it finished. "Sweetheart if he's in there and within scram range I'll kiss your motherboard,"

That won't be necessary, Sir

As he dropped out of warp there the mining vessel sat, right at zero on the warp-in just as Damay had hoped.  Point. In one volley the ship's shields disappeared, four more than the satisfying white flash of destruction filled Damay's visual scanners.  "Looks like I owe you a kiss babe," He mumbled at the lifeless AI that was his only companion for roams such as these while he opened comms with the previous Procurer Pilot to ransom the man's pod.

"How much is this pod worth to ya son?"
"I'm not sure I understand the question," Damay couldn't help but chuckle at that response, knowing full well now how this ransom would end.
"Alright let me be more clear, I'll take 20mil to let your pod go free.  You have ten seconds."
"Well that's easy enough, fire away,"

Sir, you don't really plan on kissing my motherboard do you? You understand the ramifications of such actions could result in personal injury to yourself and hardware damage to my circuitry and...

 The AI continued to list plenty of good reasons not to kiss energized gear as Damay walked over to the panel that hid all of her inner workings singing "Blah blah blah pucker up beautiful,"

http://r1fta.killmail.org/?a=kill_detail&kll_id=13852022

Enter, Black Rebel Rifter Club

Damay practically stumbled into the dingy dive bar known as the Autocannon for the first time.  Tired from a long day of chasing unwilling targets and destroying even less willing opponents, his crisp, tan leather jacket stood out amongst the sea of black jackets emblazoned with the Black Rebel Rifter Club logo.  Having just left the shower, his clean and neat appearance stuck out as well in the den of folk that took pride in being some of the dirtiest (in body and spirit) bunch in the cluster. The only article of his uniform that did not seem pristine were combat boots that had clearly seen some better days.  

Apparently oblivious to the outright loathful stares he was attracting, he walked up to the bar and ordered a local draught from the bartender.  Who was certainly NOT oblivious to the popularity of his new customer.  Hap, a retired capsuleer, had been serving the denizens of the Autocannon for a little over a year now and knew what happened to those who weren’t welcome.

“Hey, I dunno who you think you are Mister but I suggest you get the Fuck outta-”

A 500% tip flashed on Hap’s cashier’s terminal. Incredulously, he looked at the newcomer and grumbled something about it ‘being your ass and not mine,’ while he poured the brew in a frosted mug for his clearly unstable customer.

Damay took a deep swig of the cold drink and wandered his way across the loud pub. Weaving around the disgruntled patrons and dodging the scantily clad dancers who practically begged for his money, he stopped when he reached the window that the bar had exclusive access too. The first moon of Planet X in the Heild solar system encompassed the entire right half of the view.  Framed by the giant moon and swarming about the undock of the station, Ivy League capsuleers buzzed around like angered wasps surrounding a destroyed hive. A bitter taste filled his mouth overcoming the exotic spice of the beer.  They were not welcome in this system and were the sole reason for him being in the region in the first place.

They came with their multitudes of inexperienced capsuleers, who still had goo behind their ears, for the purpose of “training.” In the course of the training though they completely stifled the environment that was once the soul of the Molden Heath region. It was not a region he had traveled in a while but one he still held close at heart.

He fumed for a minute or two longer, thinking about how he could affect the war that these Unistas had started when he noticed a small crowd moving purposefully towards him.  He examined their faces as he swallowed the last drops of his drink, none looked particularly friendly and they clearly didn’t think he belonged any more than the Eve University pilots out the window.

“Who the fuck is this guy?” The woman leading the ragtag lynch mob demanded.

Damay leaned against the window, “My name is Damay, I’m here to help with those,” nodding his head back in the direction of the Blob that seemed ever growing.

“Who let you in here? Where did you come from?”

“I’m an ex-Ghostbuster, I moved out here yesterday from the frontlines of the Faction war and I’ve been working lowsec solo longer than you’ve been out of the STI missy so maybe you should show some respect.”

“Who the fuck are the Ghostbusters?!  And I don’t give a shit if you’ve got a few solo kills under your belt and a negative sec status, no one just waltzes in here without going through the right channels first! Not to mention that a goddamn pretty boy such as yourself with your cologne and dental-fucking-care shouldn’t even be in this station let alone this bar! So you can go respect yourself right to hell asshole!” She finished, spitting on the toes of the intruder’s combat boots.

By now just about all the eyes in the bar were on them; all the rough and tumble types of the dive were practically salivating at the fresh meat that was about to get roasted.  A few of the tables closest to the inquisition were already clearing out, and the group that had first marched up on him had almost doubled in size; much like the Eve University Blob in the window.  Damay chuckled to himself a bit and pushed off the wall, getting right in the face of the fiery Caldari female that was accosting him, “Look lady, I’m here to help shoot Unistas, not to ruffle the feathers of some sensitive two-bit puddle pirate. So I’m sorry if I’ve disturbed your delicate sensibilities but if you’ve got a problem with me, why don’t we go ahead and jump in a couple Rifters and settle this like men.”
After this challenge the rest of the bar turned to see how the affronter would respond.  The same men and women who were just salivating over the impending fight were now no longer sure that the new guy was going to go down so easily. All conversation had stopped, and only the music that the dancer’s no longer danced to filled the stuffy air. Just when it seemed the violence of the room could no longer be contained, one of the back doors slammed open.  A huge Brutor man then strode towards the engagement clad in a white coat with a fat cigar dangling from a mouth that boomed with laughter.
“AHAHAHA Lao please, leave our guest alone. He’s alright, I let him in,” Muira Bull exclaimed in a voice that seemed effortless yet filled the room from corner to corner.  Lao Mah looked at the Bull in disbelief and took a begrudging step back. “He’s an old friend and adversary of mine.  He’s worth his salt in a frig fight too so I might not take him up on that duel if you’re a fan of that rust bucket you got in your hangar. Think of him as a drifter you might pick up to help out in a war such as the one we’ve found ourselves in,” Bull stated giving a Damay a light clap on the shoulder that reverberated through him to his intestines. His mere presence immediately dispelled the tension that had built in the room
“Hey, thanks Bossman,” was Damay’s reply as he watched his hand get swallowed in the catcher’s mitt that passed for Muira’s hand.
“Shit, well I guess if His Reverence says you’re alright then you’re alright,” Lao said in response, heading over to the bar to get herself and the new guy another round. “This one’s on me, and I better not catch you showing any disrespect to Mr. Bull or so help me I’ll take that jacket of your’s and shove it up your arse. No matter what he says about you,”
Damay laughed and downed his second draught. “Hey Bartender! A round for the house on my tab! Give ‘em the top shelf stuff too, we fight the Unistas tonight!” And amid the din this announcement caused, Damay threw an arm around Lao and Muira and led them both back to the counter where the true events of the night would begin.