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The Red Rovers represent a pure vision of piracy: ransoming, looting, and pillaging to serve our own ends (MORE ransoming, looting, and pillaging).

Man 'Bart' Barthelme has been a New Eden pirate since he was two weeks old, and has lowsec in his blood. Watching an ancient Xfire video of his first attempt to tackle and kill something (which ended with him in his pod) he felt an overpowering sense of nostalgia for the old school. He moved to Avenod and founded The Red Rovers under the KISS principle: Keep It Simple, Stupid.

• Solo and small-gang piracy
• No alliances, no FW, no blues of any kind, ever
• Singular vision--the corp you join today will be the same corp tomorrow
• Family-friendly, real life first, voluntary ops
• No epeen, no attitude, no bs
• Kills needed, but no explicit SP required to join
• New pirates encouraged

Details on The Red Rovers Forum

(all applications processed via our forums before consideration ingame)

"Pull, pull, my fine hearts-alive; pull, my children; pull, my little ones," drawlingly and soothingly sighed Stubb to his crew..... "So, so; there you are now; that's the stroke for a thousand pounds; that's the stroke to sweep the stakes! Hurrah for the gold cup of sperm oil, my heroes! Three cheers, men--all hearts alive! Easy, easy; don't be in a hurry - don't be in a hurry. Why don't you snap your oars, you rascals? Bite something, you dogs! So, so, so, then: - softly, softly! That's it - that's it! long and strong. Give way there, give way! The devil fetch ye, ye ragamuffin rapscallions; ye are all asleep. Stop snoring, ye sleepers, and pull. Pull, will ye? pull, can't ye? pull, won't ye? Why in the name of gudgeons and ginger-cakes don't ye pull? - pull and break something! pull, and start your eyes out! Here," whipping out the sharp knife from his girdle; "every mother's son of ye draw his knife, and pull with the blade between his teeth. That's it - that's it. Now ye do something; that looks like it, my steel-bits. Start her - start her, my silverspoons! Start her, marling-spikes!"

Stubb's exordium to his crew is given here at large, because he had rather a peculiar way of talking to them in general, and especially in inculcating the religion of rowing. But you must not suppose from this specimen of his sermonizings that he ever flew into downright passions with his congregation. Not at all; and therein consisted his chief peculiarity. He would say the most terrific things to his crew, in a tone so strangely compounded of fun and fury, and the fury seemed so calculated merely as a spice to the fun, that no oarsman could hear such queer invocations without pulling for dear life, and yet pulling for the mere joke of the thing. Besides he all the time looked so easy and indolent himself, so loungingly managed his steering-oar, and so broadly gaped - open-mouthed at times - that the mere sight of such a yawning commander, by sheer force of contrast, acted like a charm upon the crew. Then again, Stubb was one of those odd sort of humorists, whose jollity is sometimes so curiously ambiguous, as to put all inferiors on their guard in the matter of obeying them.

(from Moby ****; or, The Whale) <<--lol@ yer language filter Eve-O

An old ransom story I'm fond of:

2/24/2010 - Central Point - Man Barthelme receives 70 million isk from Johnny Rah (Megathron Navy Issue)

I was in a stabber on a random roam and found myself not far from New Eden, so I decided to check it out. I saw this young character in a Mega Navy Issue on scan in Promised Land and looked for him a bit but couldn't locate him, so I went and enjoyed the light show in New Eden. As I was coming back down the pipe, I saw the guy sitting on a gate. He warped away and I followed him. After fifteen or twenty minutes of local chitchat and warping around in multiple systems, I managed to get him engaged in a belt at a suitable range.

Oh it was exciting! A Navy Mega with a Stabber! It was all about range and cap management, pulsing the mwd to avoid the drones. I got him into half armor when I was about half shields myself and beginning to have a cap issue. Then he asked for a ransom. I said to myself HOW MUCH HOW MUCH?? and typed furiously in public channels for advice, having never priced such a ship. About that time I noticed my guns were still overheated...OMG!!! I de-heated ASAP, but ASAP was too late, they seized up and ceased firing at the end of that very cycle.

Somehow I managed to keep cool.
I typed: Recall your drones and we'll talk. Holding fire.

He agreed! His drones crept back into the bay. Then he offered 40 million. I said 100. He said 70. I said okay, since it was all bluff at this point anyhow and I was far, far from backup. My wallet flashed, I checked the amount and double-checked it, then warped away, my wasted guns still glowing faintly, cooling quickly now in the vacuum.

It was an exciting fight, but I'm still kicking myself for letting those guns burn out. I could've asked for much moar, like half a bill! Barring that I could've had a Navy Mega kill right next to New Eden! In a lowly stabber! Argh! But then I look at my wallet and feel almost okay (not really). 70 million is a nice figure.

Johnny and I had a good chat after the fight. It's always a pleasure to have a nice post-fight discussion with your opponent, especially when the fight gets your blood pumping.

Trample the dead, hurdle the weak.

The first matador got the horn through his sword hand and the crowd hooted him. The second matador slipped and the bull caught him through the belly and he hung on to the horn with one hand and held the other tight against the place, and the bull rammed him wham against the wall and the horn came out, and he lay in the sand, and then got up like crazy drunk and tried to slug the men carrying him away and yelled for his sword but he fainted. The kid came out and had to kill five bulls because you can't have more than three matadors, and the last bull he was so tired he couldn't get the sword in. He couldn't hardly lift his arm. He tried five times and the crowd was quiet because it was a good bull and it looked like him or the bull and then he finally made it. He sat down in the sand and puked and they held a cape over him while the crowd hollered and threw things down into the bull ring.

(from Hemingway, In Our Time)

Clause redacted o7

edit:
Every time I hear the phrase 'clause redacted,' I think of the old English major joke about the difference between a cat and a comma.

Jump jump jump!