When Life is Just not Enough.

A thousand worlds belong to me,

The universe I don't care to see,

Deity: the cursed gift,

Fiery pain has iced my skin.

Emerald clouds are shattered mist,

Vacant, cold interned in space,

The void no longer draws me near,

A greater chasm within my heart,

Now this god must depart.

ExiIe, remembers it's own, no matter how long you fly with us.

Today brings sad news to our hanger, Forsaken Sight removed his neural upload link and took the final flight.

No more will he arise from the blinding light of the clone lab, long may he be remembered.

Today we failed as a corp, we let our brother down, his desperation well hidden from us all.

How did we miss his pain?

Forsaken Sight, enjoy your final flight, our hearts hope you find your peace.

o/

Is that Raptor Song I hear? so soon...

My ice cream obsession planetside has cost me some good kills...I can't seem to find any one who can help me!!  Sometimes I despair... :(

Whilst I was busy filling myself with freshly made coffee cream my corpies were out causing damage to Fat Raptor, and rightly so, they did shoot our battle cruiser after all.

Here at ExiIe we don't adhere to the 'eye for an eye' theory we aspire to more of a 'eye for a whole body' approach, with that in mind we had to avenge the loss of our BC.

Man the Guns!

The war party undocked, this time we sent two pilots to uphold our honour.
You may laugh, we know we're going to fight outnumbered and despite people thinking we just don't care its clearly not true. We do care, we care for the love of the fight, the honour of the fight, we care about many things...and one of those things is the fun.

Answer me this if you please, you undock your Carrier to pop my Raven is that a challenge? if that's your bag, fine. If I then hot drop your carrier with a Titan and one shot you...was it fun for me?

To be honest I think I would enjoy a strategic battle with tech 1 cruisers more...each to their own.

Two Abbadons are the favoured boat De juer, it's not long before the Raptor bares its teeth!
Unfortunately for the Raptor it's been eating to many sweeties from the corner shop and the back street dentist is here to collect.

The dentist looks disapprovingly down at the Raptors un hygienic mouth, he sees only decay.
With no apologies he says 'This is going to hurt' as he reaches for his stainless pliers..

"Hmm  wear facets, you've been grinding your teeth causing a painful subluxation, lets just pop it out,  well that was easy"

The dentist wields his mighty pliers of doom with deadly efficiency, one by one the decay is purged

"The premolars require some extra attention, but once you apply the correct force out they pop!"

Now the hands of the back street dentist are stained with the blood of the Raptor, but there is one more stinking,decaying, festering molar that needs to be excised.

The Raptor, toothless and with a tear in his eye braces for the inevitable pain, in a flurry the Raptor can take no more and flees for the safety of his cave.

Our dentist, looks at his hand and wonders how he got a nasty nick , "Never mind" he says out loud "Time to prepare the bill"

The bill is always the final sting of a visit to your local dental professional, but do not begrudge him his wage, remember he trained long and hard to earn his 750 million isk from the Raptor.

It's not over until the Fat Raptor Sings...

Fat Raptor: around about a fifty man corp flying out of Eitu.
They caught the ExiIe eye, I'm not prepared to say why, but lets just go with the fact they did.

We've recruited a couple of great pilots and this was their time, their time choose the music.

As a cheeky warm up we went for a little roam into Orphanage terratory, they were up to their usual tricks baiting a belt, I warp in for a peek and hang about until I see an incoming Curse on Scan. That's my queue to withdraw to a gate.

Soon after I land back at the gate the Curse follows, two Drakes and a Curse. We lock up and wait..nothing, obviously he wont engage and take gate fire. He was clearly waiting to call his gang in.

For giggles we decide to enagage, The curse pilot quickly gets to work, his shields are getting battered but he's tough, he knows his gang is slipping through the black ready to bring the sizzle!!!.

The Curse Pilot goes POP! but the hostile gang has us bang to rights, tanking the gate guns and a decent sized gang that included a Vindicator was just not gonna happen...we went down hard and fast!
Pods warped to safety and we lick our wounds and console ourselves that the Curse's value is easily more than our Drakes. Hmmmm, a loss is still a loss though :)

Back to the war..

Fat Raptor open the score card....

I was busy planetside when the war kicked off, you know how it is sometimes even when war is upon you, you've just got other things to do, and I do like Ice Cream...

The loss is relayed to me and I have to admit to being slightly less than impressed, it seems our lonesome pilot engage a war target on a gate without proper intel...you guessed it! there was a welcome party on the other side . Ok lesson learnt with any luck and it's not exactly the worst loss ever :)

Myself and Pure' kick back in our corp hanger, chewing the fat and waiting for some targets to get in their ships. Time is once again against me and the lure of that planet side ice cream is strong, on my way out I shut down the hanger lights not knowing they would be relit very soon.

Pure' is left alone in the office, pouring over ship schematics with just a table lamp and a bottle of Bushmills for company. It's what he loves, I smile

WAR!! is (Was) Upon us!

"The smell of smoke and acrid horses breath as we plunge on into certain death"

In the corp hanger we've spared no expense on pilot motivation, that's right its true, we have foosball, an ancient pool table, a vintage Pirelli calendar, a beer refrigeration unit and the mother of all broadcast systems.

Normally the broadcast system is used as noise cancellation,  the roar of the hanger is remapped to a dull hubub. But when war is upon us we use it for motivation, today's motivation came in the form of an ancient British rock band from planet Earth called Iron Maiden and a song called The Trooper.

The thought of plunging in to certain death without the knowledge that your clone will take good care of you when it all gets to loud is frankly frightening. I wonder how the old warriors motivated themselves for battle, if indeed they did, were they just forced to fight by some evil oppressor whilst fearing a knife in the back? who knows.

What I know is even when I'm wrapped in a fearsome war ship with full clone backup I'm still apprehensive, I cant really die, can I? with every clone do I loose part of what made me who I am? War is Upon Us.

As ever I'm keen to engage, my com padre, oddly named Pureballz, tempers my enthusiasm to send the pain.

Faction House Industry's, a seventeen man corp, we war decced them, eXiIe us currently a two man corp.
We don't have a death wish, clearly Faction House do as they bring it to our door.

I had to be sedated by a station medic when I heard my Cerberus was grounded due to poor maintenance.
Faction house were at the door, flashing red and eXiIe undocked one solitary pilot, Pureballz.

Let me explain the name Pureballz, he's not actually one giant testicle, but more an individual with little fear.
He doesn't have a urge to die, but when the cold comes clamoring he opens his eyes and breaths in his own destruction.

Systems get overloaded, weapons are hot and the honour of ExiIe is upheld Boom!
Faction House want moar!! again they are denied when their CEO loses his grip
The gears of war need grease, so Pure' greased 'em, fine style, then cleaned up with a cheeky smile.

Faction House, flee to regroup. Some time later we get a convo, these guys want an honour fight.
We have honour and happily grant an audience to the two v two frigate battle.

Again they come, this time tech one frigs. A Tristan, stout and sturdy and a Kestrel, a bit weak but has some damage. They look at our offering two Gallente Imacus, now you'd think after being handed the retirement slip they would think twice about mocking us " Scanning frigs!! LOL!"
yup, scanning frigs, in fact scanning frigs with remote armour reps, long points and six Warrior two's.

eXiIe undocked it's full corp to do battle, two pilots slip into the darkness.
A small smile as we notice the Faction boys sitting 90km out, that gives us plenty of time as we lock each other and form up in our combat positions.
Faction house roar toward us we wait and wait, they plunge on into certain death, at 40k we lock them, disrupt them and unleash the hounds. They target my drones which are swiftly recalled and redeployed this time they focus fire but the wash of their flame is no match for the cleansing waters of dual remote reps.

The six Warriors go to town, and Kestrel flies no more. The Tristan is lost, but he fights on, his plight as desperate as the clipped Kessie, the shocking truth of their poor choices are punctuated with silence

The war is over Faction want no more and pay us 200m isk to withdraw the dec, but they have a plea, unusual as it is, Pure' is intrigued.

A problem corp member, could we kill him?
Yes, we will kill him as the setting sun of war abates.

Wary of the double cross we play a careful game, always keeping an exit strategy foremost in our minds.
The target, Prester Tom, undocks an Armageddon, his fit suggest two things, the first is he knew what was coming, the second, well I think you know what that fit suggests.

Ludo.

Exile Recruit a few good men..or women

Exile

http://eve-kill.net/?a=corp_detail&crp_id=63301

Recruitment for a selected few is open.

Contact Pureballz or Ludo Eames

Exile is a new corporation with a focus on Empire PVP and roaming combat. We want to get kills and enjoy the fight, our goal is to fly well formed deadly gangs, we want to hit hard, get good fights even if that means death. If we die fighting we died with honour.

Our initial aim:

To recruit the right players and get some kills on the board.

As our team gels then we’ll look at more advanced gang composition, we’re not just about cookie cutter fits and tactics. Originality, advanced combat methodology, wicked humour and the ability to roll with the punches is what Exile corp members can expect and contribute toward.

So who do we want?

Ideally players with a minimum of six months in the game and a minimum of about seven million skill points. You should have already thought about your skill point allocation and focused on core fitting skills and combat skills.

The most important requirement is the correct attitude, if you emo raged when you lost that first cruiser you may be better off else where, if you emo’d then laughed at yourself for being a muppet, looked at your fit and realised why is was crap then you may be right for us. Exile is not for everyone we make no apologies, Exile is for people who want to learn and apply that knowledge to PVP whilst having a laugh.

We seek to build a UK time zone player base at the moment and would like to see team members in gangs a couple of time a week in the evenings and hopefully at the weekend. Real life is where it’s at and respect for that is given, family life comes first, Uni types need beer; that’s just a fact, sometimes you have to answer the phone or let the pesky cleaning lady in. It’s all good, that’s life.

What we will not do;

Is mission 23/7, we mission to make ISK if needed for PVP

Mine 23/7, we’re just not into killing Veldspar

We won’t camp gates for hours looking to gank a noob ship and then get all “OMG! WTF BBQ PWND! LOLZ, We is LEET Killarzz!!”

Farm u coz u iz nubz

In Summary

You must want to PVP

UK timezone and wanting to play in the evenings[17:00-whenever ET]

Six months in and seven million skill points

Happy to hand over your API key, why not read up it’s uses?

Humour, humour, humour and a dash of other interests

Talk to Pureballz or Ludo Eames

Alternatively join our public channel: exile.corp

NOTE: We are NOT teaching PVP; we would prefer you to have had some form of PVP experience: and i don't mean "Yeah I got some guy to open my can once"  EXPERIENCE IS A MUST PLEASE

Currently on contract; FACTION HOUSE INDUSTRIES

In Exile

Well it's been some time from my last post, New Eden has had it's ups and downs.

I've taken the first year or so as an experiment and tried a few different career choices.
I joined aliances, both north and south, I tried to mine, lived in a wormhole for a while.

Got accused of stealing stuff from The Perfect Storm, not really sure what I stole, but hey its all part of New Eden's tapestry.

I came to a conclusion on my travels, I like to pew pew, not really the big alliance wars and uber gate camps while waiting for a cap fleet to vaporise billions of isk worth of Pos, but rather small gang PVP. Up close and personnal.

As fate would have it a friend from my very first corp, Freelancers Guild, contacted me about a new corp he was setting up, Exile, from what he had to say it seemed like an ideal place to start my focus on small gang pew.

And so it began...

Change the record!

I moved from planet side to the adventure of New Eden some months ago.
My days have been filled with contracts, asteroids and talking to agents trying to negotiate a better return on whatever foolhardy mission they offer.

Missions went well and I soon built a rapport with my agents, now, in no time at all I've been offered level 5 certain death missions. I politely declined.

#Sigh#

of course I had tried to avoid the voice in my head for some time, but it grew louder and more persistent.

Sat in the bar at yet another Caldari space station, making polite conversation with a very enthusiastic miner " ohh yeah the Omber roids, like 500m across maybe twenty of 'em.."
"Really.." oh its getting harder and harder to fake an interest.

My ears are trained on a group in the corner of the bar; they are drinking hard and talkin' large.
At first I write off he hubbub as drunken yabber, the details aren't important, but what strikes me is the enthusiasm. They are talking up a storm, reliving some battle and hootin' with laughter as one very unlikely individual acts out some kind of battle. Weaving and whooshing his hands around, slopping his drink too and fro. It's all very engaging ...

Militia? perhaps, but they are bit ragtag I ponder, pirates then? perhaps. The thought process is cut short! very short! a blinding flash and intense heat scald my face, instinct overrides all.

Thermite?? feck me, someone just popped a thermite grenade into the bar, the screams and panic are primal, people are burning as the therm' bites through them. My eyes are watering hard and full vision is a long way off, four very large thuds land on me and beside me, it would seem that others had joined me on the wrong side of the bar.
The voices I recognise, the hubbub lads.
"feck me!! feck me!! Look at this f*ck, he's all over the show.
"I recognise him, he's that runner Ludo, he's not one of them, don’t blast him"

Trying to talk and fearing the worst would still happen nothing but incoherent noise is created, the explosion had assaulted my senses.

"Lets get out of here, Xfire, get eyes on the main entrance, Vance back him up. LUDO, can you move? Krystal med pack now...Krys’ find us a back door NOW!!"

Fire burned my veins and my temples thump, vision is slammed back into focus and I have a Power!!, "what the f*ck happened?, where, what’s going on?.."

" I stabbed you with a triple booster jab. you got about twenty to get safe before you black out for a day or two..First time eh?? You numpty.." he thumps a fist down in joy!

Until now I hadn't really noticed the roar of noise, slamming of rounds, the heat, the blood and an overwhelming fear in the bar..a cloud works the room on several levels a baroque surrealistic landscape forms and roles away
"you're so calm..."

"nineteen minutes!! GO!"
"where?"
" I GOT US A ROUTE!!...ON ME YOU F*CKERS"

My vision curled and my senses pulsed in and out, vomit issued, fear, panic, but most off all the will to survive..

A hand grabs my collar then another under my arm.
"were taking him..."
"fuck him Brass, we don’t know him, he's not one of us.."
"Were taking him!!."
" GO GO GO!!.."

No more questions, as I whirled through the air, my feet and legs dragging holding me back, down corridors, past people cowering, rubble, through a hole in the wall and another ’weird’ I think, how did he make a hole through the building, air cold..spot lights of a transport park, that sound, like the air being sucked out and crunching pulse like marching on gravel, the unmistakable sound of a Ishkur drop ship.

Black cloud envelops me, a cloud of adrenaline, a cloud off booster, and finally a cloud of unconsciousness.