You might not know this about me, but I like to have as much fun as the next Brutor. To that end, I’ve set up a meme generator for all of you to enjoy.

LINK

Here’s some that the #tweetfleet on Twitter have already created. Feel free to link yours in the comments below.

By: Commander Jack Carrigan

Twas the night before Christmas,
And all through the Cluster;
A mass Naval Force
Was beginning to muster.
The launchers, cannons and blasters,
Were loaded with care
In hopes that the Sansha soon would be there.

The pilots were nestled all snug in their pods.
They checked, and rechecked all of their mods.

The silence was broken by a flurry of blasters,
As the merry band of pilots met their new “Master”.
When out from the Comms arose such a clatter,
Wing Commanders swearing and directing the battle.

In from nullsec in a brilliant white light,
Three carriers hot dropped to join in the fight.
The flash of laser batteries lit up the space,
And let all see the look on the Sansha Nation’s face.

When out from nowhere our Recons did spot,
Six Nightmares warped in and downed a dreadnought.
The capsule left floating ended up scrammed;
I tried to engage but my tracking was jammed.

Out of control the violence did spin,
This battle was lost, with no way to win.
Now Rifter! Now Thrasher! Now Kestrel and Merlin!
On Thorax! On Stabber! On Moa and Omen!
To the side of the moon! To the dark of the space!
Now warp away! Warp away! Regroup and Wait!

As bright, shooting stars, that Drake let missiles fly,
When they hit their targets, the Sansha did die.
To the dark side of the moon we did scurry and wait,
To stage a surprise and seal all their fates.

And then in the darkness, just lit by my HUD
An echo rang out, sounding like many thuds.
As I spun on my keel and started to reach,
I realized our rally point had just been breached.

The pilots were all lined up in file and rank,
A gleam came off the ships, the warm glow of their tanks.
The True Slaves warped in, to begin their attack,
Flaming spires of death were seen forward and back.

Their ships did not twinkle, their ships were not merry,
Things in this system had just gotten hairy.
The drones from theirs ships lashed out like a swarm,
Torpedoes were fired not long after armed.

The large plumes from smart bombs circled like wreathes,
And the rocking from arties made most grit their teeth.
They had hellish guns and they just kept on coming,
The bombers decloaked and began their bomb running.

Locked into combat with mindless True Slaves,
Had to thank every comrade for many close saves.

A light in the sky, right over my head,
A cyno was popped, and in jumped a dread.
A broadside barrage from its massive guns,
Turned the tide of the ambush, the battle was won!
And with each controlled squeeze of the trigger,
The Sansha fell back, the body count bigger.

They turned on their keels, and started to run,
That darkened force that blacked out the sun.
I heard our Commander exclaim, and then let out a sigh,
Merry Christmas, Sansha Nation, you’re all going to die!

“I accept your price, agent. I will deal with this situation immediately.”

My Rifter class frigate, the Ripsack, was still warm from just having docked moments earlier; the agent hadn’t taken any time in contacting me. I’m sure I just happened to be the next reputable capsuleer in line, but still, sometimes it felt good to think that agents offered me the more lucrative jobs based on my reputation and employment history.

Within moments I had cleared the station, my small and nimble ship aligning quickly for the Abudban system. I was in pursuit of hijacked fuel for the station; such a simple commodity, but so essential to the well being of all the lives onboard.

Aura flagged an item on my HUD; one of her programmed alerts was to notify me when my name was mentioned in local comm chatter. I took a quick look.

“Well there’s a blast from the past, Colonel Wieler…”  Niko Succorso said.

I hadn’t seen Niko in years. He had been the PVP Director for Freeform Industries, back when I flew under their employment before the war. Niko was a fierce, but fair man, and I had always held him in high regard.

Last I had heard, he had dropped off the grid completely to enjoy civilian life. It was good to see that rumour was unsubstantiated.

“What do you mean blast from the past?” I started in a private comm, “I haven’t gone anywhere. Good to see you again, old friend.”

I still had a few minutes before I would pass through the Abudban gate in Rens, then warp to the last known location of the kidnappers. I could squeeze a quick conversation in with an old corpmate.

“Was getting the itch planetside.” Niko began. “Wanted to see if I could still feel exhilaration up here in the stars.”

“There really is nothing quite like it.” I offered, just happy to see a retired pilot back in action.

We talked about his “retirement”, him settling down, working a regular job, etc, etc. We talked about old corp members, and how I hadn’t really run into anyone since those days. We spoke on Ushra’Khan, and the enfolding drama that led to Damu’Khonde, then Ushra’Khan once again, as well as how Masua’at Matari was treating me.

“Surprised to see you retired from the military yourself, Roc. I enjoyed watching you on the vids. Always made me shake my head. Your ego really knows no bounds.” He chuckled.

I often wondered why some found me egotistical. I had never claimed to be better than anyone else. I had never ridden on the coat tails of someone else’s success to get where I was. Everything I had done, everything I said was of personal confidence and accomplishment.

Then it dawned on me. It was meant as an affectionate joke.

“Yeah, well, I ran out of women in the militia to enjoy so it was time for me to leave.”

“Speaking of women, Rha’de says hi.”

Rha’de. I hadn’t heard that name in a long while. She was Niko’s girl, a fellow corpmate, but man did I ever have a thing for her at one point. Granted, I seem to feel that way about every attractive woman I meet, but really there’s nothing wrong with that. I love women, what could be said?

“You’re still taking good care of my girl I hope?” I asked.

“Aye. Even engaged her.” Niko replied.

“Well I’ll be. None of us ever saw that coming.” I said sarcastically, laughter trailing my words. It had been common corp knowledge that Niko and Rha’de would be spoken of in the eternal songs of the bards. Theirs was an immortal love story, literally, and if it wasn’t so sickeningly romantic, I would retell that story here.

“Congrats, Niko. You both truly deserve that happiness.”

By now, our conversation had gone well beyond my travel time. I had actually tracked down, engaged and destroyed the Guristas kidnappers, as well as brought the victims onboard the Ripsack, and was already returning to the agent in Rens.

Traumatic as it was, I had no choice but to keep the victims in my cargo hold; there just wasn’t enough room anywhere else.

It had been a good conversation with Niko, but I had to figure out a polite way of cutting it short. Business was business after all.

Niko spoke. “Listen, Rha’de’s comming me now. Needs me to pop over insystem. I’d love to chitchat, but she wants the same, and frankly Roc, she has a nicer rack than you.”

“I remember.” I replied quickly. We both laughed and said our goodbyes.

As I docked in Rens, I watched as the victims exited my cargohold and were quickly reunited with their waiting loved ones. A quick glance at my account confirmed the agent was good on his end of our arrangement.

I hoped to run into Niko again.

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.

Overcrowded shopping malls, cash exchanging hands at an unprecedented rate, strangers fighting with each other over the last of a child’s top toy wish; ah Christmas!

Yet still I am full of Christmas Spirit this year; it’s the one time of year that people can make an excuse for my usual eccentricities.

So I have gifts! Nothing fancy mind you, but hey, it’s more than you got from that other blog you visit!

I spent some time on Singularity this weekend, playing with the character creator, seeing what I could come up with for good ol Roc.

Overall, it was a fun experience, and didn’t take that long to come up with something to share. Unfortunately, there are still no tattoos, so I added that in quickly (and poorly) in Photoshop. Few other things I noticed:

• No trapezius muscle grouping. Hard to make his neck bulge
• No chest muscle grouping really. I can move it up/down, make it more defined, but can’t increase the size. I noticed the females can be quite ample though. Hardly fair.
• No height control. Roc is short. At least I hope he will be for Incarna.
• Brutors have thick lips. Even with the minimum settings, Roc’s ancestry clearly shows through in CCP’s vision of the race moreso than my own 3D work. I will have to adjust mine more than likely, as CCP knows their own better than I would, right?

I have to admit though, I was impressed with the ability to age, as Roc has never been young in appearance since he became a Capsuleer. This was a nice touch. Thanks CCP!

So here we go, enough prefacing.

And there you have it, the current progress on ex-Matar Colonel Roc Wieler.

As an added gift for the ladies, here’s a little pinup for you to enjoy. Men, feel free to enjoy it as well, I guess.

The larger version can be downloaded by clicking through my Flickr gallery on the top right of my blog.

And finally, as Roc changes and develops, so does his story. To that end, he’s come a long way from the title track of Bio, so I’ve taken the time to redefine Roc’s title track, and made it available for your downloading pleasure, free of charge.

NEW EDEN’S FAVOURED SON

I’m sure there’s more in store before Christmas, so check back daily!

I saw an angel pass me by,
It moved my heart, I cannot lie.
Out here, alone, in the deep of space,
It brought a smile to my face.

I saw an angel pass me by,
It caused a tear in my eye.
A silent night, what was the chance,
This angel and I, embraced in dance?

I saw an angel pass me by,
So graceful, so nimble, as it did fly.
I quickly approached, my mind in awe,
Unable to fathom this sight I saw.

I saw an angel pass me by,
Circling towards me, my oh my.
A Christmas miracle I did behold,
An angel of God, or so the story is told.

I saw an angel pass me by,
In my soul, I knew, it was time to die.
My autocannons sent it straight to hell;
One less to deal with from the Cartel.

– Roc Wieler

Merry Christmas!

From me to you and yours, have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!