Lorgari Solo

The details of my life are quite inconsequential... very well, where do I begin? My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds- pretty standard really. At the age of twelve I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking- I highly suggest you try it.


I'm not good at PvP. I die with style. If I'm in a ship that has no weapons (aka when I'm mining or transporting), I will spill salt. Seriously. "Welcome to LowSec/Null" just tells me you wash with AXE Bodywash...Phoenix scented. "It's part of the game" tells me you live in a world of Can v. Can't, and I'm making a world ruled by Should v. Shouldn't. We just aren't the same, but I'm not suggesting my perspective is higher or better than yours- I'm just calling it the only way I know how. So, post your killmail. You and I will know what you're made of. I wish you the best in out-running your truth.

If I do engage in PvP, you'll get no salt from me. I've been known to engage outrageously better opponents with my Battle Venture or my Battle Velator. THAT makes for good stories, and (oddly), mutual respect.

As my cousin, Han, said: "Fly casual",
Lorgari Solo