4.10
- Kills
- 408
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 141
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 82%
- ISK destroyed
- 164.42B
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 408
- Losses
- 141
- Danger Ratio
- 88%
- Final Blows
- 111
- Points
- 402
ISK
- Destroyed
- 164.42B
- Lost
- 36.34B
- Balance
- +128.08B
- ISK Efficiency
- 82%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 35
- Solo Ratio
- 9%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 17
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 12%
- Activity
- Inactive
Damage Dealt5.6M
Damage Ratio · 75%
Damage Taken1.8M
Activity
What they fly, where they fight, latest kills and losses
Most Valuable
The priciest kills in the window
Matchups
Who they kill, who kills them, what they lose
Last 90d
Killed
Killed By
Hulls LostLosses broken down by hull class.
In-game bio
Ship's Log - June 13th, YC121
When the warp bridge takes hold, the stars disappear.
The cockpit, the instrument panel, even the constant thrum of Jita traffic - it all shifts off-center for a heartbeat, long enough to sense a vast architecture behind the order imposed by the living.
Dark and seething, it stretches as far as the eye can see, horrible geometries rising up, grasping and full of cruel intent. Their unholy likeness reeks of smoke and salt, and I can hear a warm susurrus as the shapes reach out to me.
Closing the viewport and burying myself in the comforter helps, but even with my head pressed against the bulkhead, I can't entirely drown out the wretched, goddamned noise.
O Lord, what hath Thou wrought, that I hear it writhing in the cold and hateful dark?
---
I am fire and heat, and at the moment of birth
Suits and computers determine my worth
I am machine washable, yet perish when worn
To live life again, like a man reborn
My cruelty parts flesh with ease and precision
And my brother takes things without asking permission
A warrior may summon me for a hero's test
Within thy home I lay to rest
For Ƶ10 million, what am I?
--
Fear of fear, the Whisper-Men,
The men the mind forgot
The melting-men, the empty town,
The petrifying rot
Whisper do the Whisper-Men,
To slow their fate they pray
First the body, then the mind
The voice and whispers stay
-Gallentean nursery rhyme
--
I'd always prided myself on efficiency. My lab operations were always under budget, with no loose ends to tidy up later. When the order came down for me to oversee [REDACTED], I wasn't really surprised. What other choice was there? Who else could have been trusted to bring back [REDACTED] exactly as it had been in life? Dr. Graham himself even begged me to take on the project.
Two years, in their entirety, went into the rebuilding: nerves grown by the cluster in humid vats; muscles and skin stretched over racks before being spread over new, white bone. The first time [REDACTED]'s heart beat on its own, the laboratory team cheered, and I smiled and shook hands with all our incredulous, delighted staff.
What fools we all were. If only we had known.
When the warp bridge takes hold, the stars disappear.
The cockpit, the instrument panel, even the constant thrum of Jita traffic - it all shifts off-center for a heartbeat, long enough to sense a vast architecture behind the order imposed by the living.
Dark and seething, it stretches as far as the eye can see, horrible geometries rising up, grasping and full of cruel intent. Their unholy likeness reeks of smoke and salt, and I can hear a warm susurrus as the shapes reach out to me.
Closing the viewport and burying myself in the comforter helps, but even with my head pressed against the bulkhead, I can't entirely drown out the wretched, goddamned noise.
O Lord, what hath Thou wrought, that I hear it writhing in the cold and hateful dark?
---
I am fire and heat, and at the moment of birth
Suits and computers determine my worth
I am machine washable, yet perish when worn
To live life again, like a man reborn
My cruelty parts flesh with ease and precision
And my brother takes things without asking permission
A warrior may summon me for a hero's test
Within thy home I lay to rest
For Ƶ10 million, what am I?
--
Fear of fear, the Whisper-Men,
The men the mind forgot
The melting-men, the empty town,
The petrifying rot
Whisper do the Whisper-Men,
To slow their fate they pray
First the body, then the mind
The voice and whispers stay
-Gallentean nursery rhyme
--
I'd always prided myself on efficiency. My lab operations were always under budget, with no loose ends to tidy up later. When the order came down for me to oversee [REDACTED], I wasn't really surprised. What other choice was there? Who else could have been trusted to bring back [REDACTED] exactly as it had been in life? Dr. Graham himself even begged me to take on the project.
Two years, in their entirety, went into the rebuilding: nerves grown by the cluster in humid vats; muscles and skin stretched over racks before being spread over new, white bone. The first time [REDACTED]'s heart beat on its own, the laboratory team cheered, and I smiled and shook hands with all our incredulous, delighted staff.
What fools we all were. If only we had known.