AMAMAKE SYSTEM
HEIMATAR REGION

There are a great many things in this universe that boggle my mind’s logic. For example, I found it maddening that Concord took such a complete neutral stance on the war between the accursed Amarr and my noble brethern. It was infuriating that I could be engaged in a battle outside of a Minmatar station in a Minmatar controlled system, only to pass by those same despicable Amarr pilots along the corridors of the station’s “capsuleer only” levels hours later.

Sometimes I felt the best way to educate was by example.

Case in point.

I was sitting in a pub enjoying a pint, minding my own business during some downtime, when in walked a group of loud, obnoxious Amarr pilots. I don’t recall the name of the pub anymore, nor the names of any of the Amarr pilots, though at the time I recognized one or two from the kill logs secured in my file backup.

I ignored the situation as best I could, remembering Concord’s zero tolerance policy for bringing any type of racial, sexual, or historical violence into the neutrality of the stations they oversaw, including the one I was in.

So be it.

I enjoyed some wings, experimenting with various sauce combinations, while downing a few refreshing ales to pass the time away.

The rowdy group of Amarr pod pilots became increasingly loud, and I noticed I wasn’t the only pub patron casting a harsh glance their way.

By the time I had finished my meal and lit a cigar, my patience was at an end, which said a lot, as we all know I am a very patient man.

I walked over to the group, grabbed a chair and sat down.

I removed the cigar from my mouth and blew a puff of smoke at the nearest Amarr. All conversation stopped around us as the group looked menacingly towards me, one of them waving the smoke away from his face.

“I couldn’t help but wonder.” I began aloud. “Do you lot fight for freedom or for honour?”

One of the group ignored me, turning back to his colleague. Two others whispered in hushed tones. Another took the bait.

“Not that our business is any of yours, brutor.” he said with great disdain in his girly voice. “But we fight for the honour of the Empire.”

His colleagues all smiled, nodding their heads in agreement. It was a great and witty victory for them.

I drew in another sweet breath of the cigar’s aromatic smoke, leaning back in my chair, taking my time to reply.

“I fight for the freedom of the Matari, of course.” I began casually. Suddenly, I sat bolt upright, the legs of my chair slamming against the floor, causing all of the Amarr pilots (and a few innocent patrons), to start in shock.

“I guess it just goes to show we all fight for what we don’t have.” I snarled, upending the table.

I knew Concord’s finest would be along momentarily, but as I mentioned, some lessons are best served with a clear example.

I didn’t throw the first punch. I didn’t throw the last punch.

I woke up in a secured medbay, and laughed. My ribs cried out in protest, and the left side of my swollen face hurt something fierce.

I laughed again. It was a great joke.