
As some of you already know, Clown Punchers Syndicate is departing Curse to seek adventure (and people who don’t run as soon as they see the BOZO ticker in local) elsewhere. Curse has been our home from the beginning, so we knew we had to pay homage to the region that’s brought us so much beautiful loot and cannonfodder.
What can I say about a fleet of haulers and noobships? It certainly shouldn’t last very long in the cut-throat world of 0.0. There aren’t enough mid-slots to go around, not to mention the obvious lack of firepower. Surely a mere 22-man fleet with this composition should be wiped out so fast they have to wipe up afterwards.
So why, my dear readers, should a fleet consisting of two Badger Mark IIs, three Reapers, two Mammoths, a Wreathe, an Iteron Mark V, and a metric assload of Velators even consider undocking? What fevered dream of a madman is this? What kind of crazy, homeless, crack-addicted, balding, peg-legged, incontinent hooker could even conceive of such a notion?
I’ll tell you what kind. The kind that flies with BOZO.
The results of our massive cojones speak for themselves. Just one jump from our home system, a heedless Nighthawk was ratting without regard to who was in local or what kind of STD they might contract from being anally raped. Yes, Khan Rean really dropped the soap on this one, as our fleet of rookie-industrial glory warped in. The progress was slow, because Khan wouldn’t stop repping when we asked him. Rather rude, I should say. But his Nighthawk inevitably succumbed to our autocannons and blasters, just as his body will now succumb to the ravages of BOZO AIDS.
Before we could even finish pleasuring ourselves, we were treated to some smack from the now-shipless Nighthawk pilot, including this indecipherable tidbit:
Khan Rean > now i get yourself on the nerve
Someone set us up the bomb!
Not far away, Dalv Filteo of Ushra’Khan showed his love by giving us his Claw while trying to get a few noobship kills. We love you, Dalv! You’ll be happy to know, as a former ally, you are immune to BOZO AIDS. However, The Clown Clap is quite aggressive.
Anyway, we decided to challenge ourselves to top the Nighthawk kill, so off we went. In D87E-A, Rebellion Alliance showed us just how much they respect and fear us by bringing three Crows, a Curse, three Drakes, a Falcon, a Malediction, a Retribution, a Scimitar, a Vexor, and two Zealots to challenge our rookie-industrial fleet. We lost a couple of ships, but since they cost us nothing to begin with, we weren’t deterred.
Oh Rebellion, we never knew you felt that way! Why didn’t you say something sooner!? Now we’re shipping off, and we may never come back! If we don’t see you again… thanks for making yourselves available so many times. You should probably get tested if you notice any large, painful warts on your genitals that honk when you squeeze them.
Proceeding into HED-GP, we found a few Triple-A ships, and their Curse pilot was just stupid enough to think he could take on a fleet of BOZOs alone, even in noobships. After we castrated and dispatched him, and left the scene, they had this to say:
Monseniur Khatshatou > where’s the action?
Jatu > where
Jel Malar > Ask the curse pilot
Nkalv > my misstake i thougth we jsut where there and killed a curse of yourse
Quebnaric Deile > you can kill all of us and it doesn’t cover your curse, lol
Teister > lol
Tolarus > lol
Tolarus > youve already lost the fight
We proceeded on our way, but in 36N-HZ, we met our demise. Evidently, Triple-A really wanted to avenge their special-needs pilot. We must’ve ruined his birthday, and you know how hard it is to get a fully-grown retard to stop crying and punching holes in the wall. They brought about thirty ships into the system to destroy our rookie-industrial fleet, but unfortunately the battle summary only reflects a portion. Suffice it to say, there were a lot of Drakes, as our noobships obviously called for heavy tank in response. We attempted to get one of their Sabres, but he was as slippery as an eleven-year-old girl’s vagina at a Jonas Brothers concert. In the end, Triple-A saved us the trouble of flying all the way back to Hemin by podding most of us.
And thus, our reign of terror in Curse comes to a close. As the final curtain descends on this non-stop orgy of death, destruction, corpse-raping, and enemies handing us free ships by premature ejectulation, I’d like to thank our many, many adversaries. Though few (if any) of you were actually worthy, your incessant stupidity and endless petitions only contributed to our love of PVP, and reinforced our devotion to Clown Punchers by showing us just how bad it is in other corporations.
Farewell, Curse. You may now resume your normal carebear operations.