Sarcophagia - The Survival Strategy of a Nocturnal Scavenger

I have no heroes.

Having a stacked killboard does not make you a good combat pilot; only a good killmail collector. I tend to refrain from posting killmails unless they are interesting proofs or misleading victories. My objective in ship engagement is usually the capsule... primarily to get the witness(es) as far away from my current location as possible in the shortest amount of time. Victory for me is not measured in the sportsmanship of the fight, as I am not a trophy hunter. Victory for me is measured in my ability to survive and profit causing the least personal loss to myself while optimizing my ability to avoid direct retaliation. What this amounts to is a large accumulation of kills involving lone capsules, shuttles and undefended "safe-spotted" scout alts. This is the modus operandi of a reconnaissance pilot, and I remain true to this doctrine.

My main survival strategy (and sole source of income) in all sectors is to steal everything that is not nailed down, and simply convert the proceeds into minerals or fit them into my own loadouts to avoid having to make purchases later. If this involves the destruction of a target, then I will do so with a ruthless efficiency, but if this can be accomplished without direct engagement then it is for me a superior method. As I have a violent reaction to mining dust, and suffer from "mission-induced angst" which prevents me from maintaining a PVE lifestyle, I am left in many cases with only one alternative... to prey on the weak, the infirm, the crippled, the young, and the defenseless. There is no cruelty in my method. No grief tactic or smack-talk accompanies my actions. I am a jackal, and one that has a taste for that which is already dead.

Naturally, there are many other opportunities and conditions that arise through this nomadic lifestyle; most of which I shall remain silent upon within this article. A few common situations however have been able to build secondary skills which seem to have far-reaching implications throughout the known galaxy such as the smuggling of contraband, surreptitious information gathering and the knowledge of any number of hidden or undiscovered resource locations. There is no glory in what I do... very few exploits to brag about*. This is not to suggest that they do not exist, mind you; only that I choose not to speak of them. It is within my nature to be secretive and somewhat aloof, but it is the fool who mistakes my silence for ignorance.

There are some who hunt like the lion, with little opposition and even less to fear from even reinforced and dangerous targets. There are some who hunt like the wolf, whether alone or in packs, who invoke fear and cunning into their bloody yet inevitable victories. I hunt like the raven who soars high above the marching host, or watches from a distance from his barbed-wire perch. There is no shame in emulating the corvus corax, and although the epics speak little of their nature, what is not mentioned could fill volumes.

(* This screenshot is the complete, unmodified haul pulled from a singular heist. It was accomplished with only two pilots, each in frigates, and about two hours of cat-and-mouse maneuvering to pull off. Don't bother analysing the obscured data in the background behind the translucent hangar window, as neither the office, nor the loot in question are there any longer.)