(CHAT REQUESTS DISABLED WHILE AFK)
My hurricane was wrestlin' with electrical failure, plasma leaks, energy burns and a core on the verge of breachin' when I saw a flickering neon sign on my scopes pointing to a little dustbowl tavern called Whiskey Loners. I hit the autopilot and let my baby creep her way towards it, cursing at those Amarr battleships who got me to this place but grinnin' at the two whose crew won't be wakin' up tomorrow. So extended the landing gear and the antigrav jets fired giving my ole' gal a resting place in the sandy red dirt outside what looks like a place long forgotten. I limped down my gangway to the ground, smarting at the singed wound from the structure ripping through my pod and givin' me one helluva a scar'. Came through the taverns holo doors and I fell in love. She was a pretty place from a different time, when pilots flew by a code and shared comraderie that's passed on to the greed of eve. She's home and I won't so