1.70
- Kills
- 75
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 181
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 32%
- ISK destroyed
- 6.68B
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 75
- Losses
- 181
- Danger Ratio
- 99%
- Final Blows
- 21
- Points
- 75
ISK
- Destroyed
- 6.68B
- Lost
- 14.30B
- Balance
- -7.62B
- ISK Efficiency
- 32%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 6
- Solo Ratio
- 8%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 2
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 1%
- Activity
- Inactive
Damage Dealt11.6M
Damage Ratio · 86%
Damage Taken1.9M
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
...Not a sigh for the lot that darkles,
Not a tear for the friends that sink-,
We'll fall, 'midst the wine-cup's sparkles,
As mute as the wine we drink.
Come, stand to your glasses, steadyl!
'Tis this that the respite buys:
A cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!
There's a mist on the glass congealing,
'Tis the hurricane's sultry breath;
And thus does the warmth of feeling
Turn ice in the grasp of Death.
But stand to your glasses, steady!
For a moment the vapor flies:
Quaff a cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!
Who dreads to the dust returning?
Who shrinks from the sable shore,
Where the high and haughty yearning
Of the soul can sting no more?
No, stand to your glasses, steady!
The world is a world of lies:
A cup to the dead already-
And hurrah for the next that dies!...
-Composed by Capt. Bartholomew Dowling in India about 1845
Not a tear for the friends that sink-,
We'll fall, 'midst the wine-cup's sparkles,
As mute as the wine we drink.
Come, stand to your glasses, steadyl!
'Tis this that the respite buys:
A cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!
There's a mist on the glass congealing,
'Tis the hurricane's sultry breath;
And thus does the warmth of feeling
Turn ice in the grasp of Death.
But stand to your glasses, steady!
For a moment the vapor flies:
Quaff a cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!
Who dreads to the dust returning?
Who shrinks from the sable shore,
Where the high and haughty yearning
Of the soul can sting no more?
No, stand to your glasses, steady!
The world is a world of lies:
A cup to the dead already-
And hurrah for the next that dies!...
-Composed by Capt. Bartholomew Dowling in India about 1845