When I was only 6 years old, my parents died in a nasty accident involving a toaster and a bathtub, leaving me with only one companion, a llama.
He was the best llama I've ever owned. Eventually, we got enough money from performing tricks and rides on Rens Moon 8 to get our first ship.
From there, we took to the stars, taking odd jobs and courier work.
After a while on the road we were rich enough to buy a cargo ship, and our career in gun running began.
On one fateful journey to the Domain region, we were hauling an especially large load of 150mm autocannons through a short stretch of unsecure space some may know as Ammamake when an Amarrian whore, known only as "PeanutButter Muffinman" destroyed my beautiful probe with a single barrage. Quickly, we loaded into the pod and prepared to make good our escape when the second wave hit. Out pod was instantly destroyed.
The oppressive rules of the Amarrian medical facility I was a customer of at the time meant that it was impossible to have a clone of my best friend!

When I awoke, in a new body, I was without him!

Such grief I have never felt! I immediately swore my vengence onto the Amarrian scum and went straight to DPOL where I changed my name, henceforth known as LlamaOfDoom.


P.S. Got any spots in your fine corp for a lamer like me?

No, sorry, we don't accept long necked sheep.















(The Wearer of Loud Trousers will be in touch if he isn't already).

Hey mate, missed you in game. I'll have a chat if I see you post DT...

Ric