2.60Coolun' Dar
- Created on
- …
- Next Birthday
- …
- Last Active
- …
- Security Status
- 2.60
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 14,218
- Losses
- 406
- Efficiency
- 97%
- Danger Ratio
- 96%
ISK
- Destroyed
- 14.29T
- Lost
- 64.82B
- ISK Efficiency
- 100%
- Balance
- +14.22T
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 34
- Solo Ratio
- 0%
- Final Blows
- 741
- Points
- 12,831
Other
- NPC Losses
- 15
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 4%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
- Activity
- Very High
Damage
Damage Dealt129.9M
Damage Taken5.4M
Damage Ratio96%
Combat profile
How they fight, with whom and against whom — last 90 days
Activity
What they fly and where they fight
Most Valuable
Matchups
Who they kill, who kills them, what they lose
Top ListsLast 90d
Hulls LostLast 90d
Losses broken down by hull class.
Career
Corporations flown for, most recent first
Veni Vidi Vici IncSince Monday, 19 June 20234034 Kills106 Losses
Pator Tech SchoolSince Monday, 19 June 20230 Kills0 Losses
Unforeseen Consequences.Since Tuesday, 24 May 20168378 Kills210 Losses
Guardians of EdenSince Saturday, 3 January 2015170 Kills7 Losses
Sebiestor TribeSince Saturday, 3 January 20150 Kills0 Losses
NullOcular OrderSince Thursday, 25 July 20131361 Kills15 Losses
Burning-TechnologiesSince Sunday, 10 March 20130 Kills0 Losses
Tech 9 industriesSince Wednesday, 10 August 2011348 Kills15 Losses
StimulusSince Thursday, 7 July 20110 Kills0 Losses
I Heart ChaosSince Tuesday, 1 March 20110 Kills0 Losses
Burning TechnologiesSince Friday, 8 January 2010113 Kills14 Losses
Solidline EnterpriseSince Wednesday, 22 June 20050 Kills0 Losses
Casus Belli.Since Sunday, 27 February 20050 Kills0 Losses
Red FactionSince Friday, 10 October 20030 Kills0 Losses
In-game bio
'We shall fight on the TCUs, we shall fight on the ihubs, we shall fight in the battleships and in cruisers, we shall fight in the reinforcement timers; we shall never surrender.' W. Churchill
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori. W. Owen.
I've been in more alliances that you've had hot dinners, boy. They've all burned like Rome; did I kill them? Maybe, or I'm just cursed!
Class of 2003.
Farewell little Susmy, farewell little Charlemagne, farewell Barbarossa you will always be loved.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound’ring like a man in fire or lime.—
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori. W. Owen.
I've been in more alliances that you've had hot dinners, boy. They've all burned like Rome; did I kill them? Maybe, or I'm just cursed!
Class of 2003.
Farewell little Susmy, farewell little Charlemagne, farewell Barbarossa you will always be loved.