It's been a long time between blogs. Years actually. So much time has passed as to make those old posts irrelevant, so they're now relegated to the giant recycle bin in the sky.
In those years I've tried my hand at a few things. Spent some time in Providence, split time between LowSec and NPC NullSec, yet for the last couple of years it's Wormholes that have been my home, once again. I'm not certain what the attraction is; I suspect it's a combination of factors. The unknown, the inescapable paranoia, the hunt, the small gang combat, these are things I saw rarely in known space. Local just gives away far too much intelligence to your foe and good fights had to be forced upon them.
Wormholers are different like that. Not exclusively, of course. There are those who enjoy the sanctity of a forcefield a little too much. Just a casual glance at their defenses will tell you they prefer their POS to do the fighting for them. Usually, that sort of set up is common in low class wormholes or Russian Bearing corps in the high end ones. If grinding ISK is your thing, I'm down with that, but if you don't put your hard earned ISK at risk, what's the point? But they're not the people I'm talking about, of course. I'm talking about those who expressly want to risk their ISK, and I find they're more prevalent in W-Space than they are in K-Space, at least from a small gang perspective.
Those small gang engagements can seem as likely as a rainbow unicorn some days, others they are plentiful and from time to time, you can even set it up with like minded gangs in your chain. Which brings me to yesterday.
Chesterfield Fancypantz and his cronies were busy moving stuff in and out of their C5 via our static C2 that had a close Jita connection. Between their runs back and forth we managed to probe out their points of entry undetected and set up a cloaked Flycatcher to jump on something juicy. Whether that was a Deep Space Transport full of POS fuel or the Legion we saw go out earlier, only time would tell. We'd let a couple come and go without executing the trap, but when our scout called that Chesterfield himself was coming through in a Navy Omen, we couldn't resist the opportunity to pop the CEO. So he makes his jump from HiSec in his shiny new Navy Omen, Trinkets uncloaks the Flycatcher and pops a bubble, and we all jump in and warp to him. Our travel distance was, conveniently, much shorter than Chester's, so we landed well in advance of his arrival. He was subsequently sent back to HiSec in good humour, presumably not too butt hurt by his comments in local.
Anyone who's spent time in W-Space has been that guy at some point. No point getting bitter about it, just learn from your mistake and scout your route next time. Anyway, Trinkets was engaged in some post mortem conversation with Chesty and a fight was arranged. The audible groan from Wraith was one I shared but didn't broadcast, but history tells me arranged fights are rarely a good contest. Regardless, starved of content we formed up seven vessels. Three Cyclones, two Scythes, a Jackdaw and a Moa. Then the call comes that they're on their way. Brace yourselves.
Well, our small gang was met with, if memory serves me right, around 17-20 enemies. The only thing not appearing on the mails were the four, yes four, Exequrors. More frustrating still was the Kitsune. I mean, seriously, ECM is the highest form of faggotry, I thought we knew this? Well, with a dozen or more T3 Destroyers on the field, ample logi and ECM, our fate was sealed. It wasn't enough to outnumber us almost three to one, but they had to play dirty, too. Moreover, the 'no pod' agreement was breached when Trinkets was expressed back to HiSec, just proving for anyone that was unsure just how butt hurt Chester really was. Hilariously, the three Svipuls that had me hard tackled lost tackle through some creative neuting and I managed to warp to safety, but little else from our arranged fight survived.
I suppose that's probably why that's my last arranged fight. Thanks Chester.