I quickly docked and left my Magnate with a bad feeling behind. First of all she was the only way home as not only being equipped with a cloaking device but as well with a probe launcher and eight probes. Enough equipment to scan my way back into the empire. But in contradiction to the gamblers paradise I had left just a few minutes ago, which looked quite inviting and more like a cease fire hideaway, this place made a much worse first impression. One of those places that instantly leaves a heavy hollow stench in your back forcing you to look around - to look back if they haven't already started ripping off the plating of your ship's hull.
But I couldn't help it. I had to look for the smelly guy as the tall one had told me in order by the fat man. I more felt like a blind mouse following the smell of the cheese or like a puppet remotely stirred into disaster than being my owns fate master.
Just one hour later all my fears had been wiped away. Not because of confidence that was given to me about my ship or a safe return. No - exclusively triggered by the consumption of my fifth minmatarian body slam and the tears in my eyes from constant laughing attacks caused by my partner in alcohol.
He was telling me one hilarious story after the other about my new fat friend, and his ugly deputy. A highly decorated General of our proud Amarr Navy he was. Feared by the enemy and loved by the people. Many hopeless encounters had been won by him using very creative tactics. One story mentioned a distraction where he lured the enemy into a trap giving the naked opera singer, with a wonderful bass baritone voice, the storyteller added admiringly. And when the three gallentean platoons only had eyes for him his own two squads started backstabbing them. Rumours claim that he alone ripped apart two dozen enemies bare handed and bare naked during the fight that followed.
I had a great time with my contact in this little trashed bar but non the less didn't forget the goal why I was doing all this. I was about to ask him about the gallentean pilot - the guy who had picked me up first when my appearance in New Eden took place - when I recognized from the corner of my eye a man, badly swinging from left to right . He fiercely tried to balance two cans of the same stuff we were drinking. Only he tried to keep the XXXL-Versions on his shoulders crossing the room while he looked like having consumed one can too much already. And before I was able to jump up he twisted, faltered one step back, turned again an winded up at another customer's bar stool leg with the disastrous result of firing both cans into mister Skunk's and my direction.
(Recovered blog-entry from 2009)
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