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.