4.40
- Kills
- 0
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Losses
- 0
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Efficiency
- ISK Efficiency 0%
- ISK destroyed
- 0
- +0 in the last 90 days
- Activity
- Inactive
- 0 kills/day · last 90 days
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 0
- Losses
- 0
- Danger Ratio
- 0%
- Final Blows
- 0
- Points
- 0
ISK
- Destroyed
- 0
- Lost
- 0
- Balance
- +0
- ISK Efficiency
- 0%
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 0
- Solo Ratio
- 0%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
Other
- NPC Losses
- 0
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 0%
- Activity
- Inactive
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
Born into wealth and privilege, Lara is the cherished daughter of a family whose name echoed power across Tash-Murkon’s sprawling trade routes. Her childhood was golden, insulated from hardship until the day her father died, suddenly and mysteriously. With him, the family’s empire crumbled like an ancient tower collapsing into dust.
Then came the accusations. Dark whispers branded her father a traitor to the mighty Amarr Empire. Overnight, the Whitecross name turned to poison. Lara’s family fled their ancestral home in Mishi, retreating to the shadows in disgrace.
But Lara refused to accept shame.
Anger simmered inside her, a quiet, steady flame that fueled her rise through the ranks of the Imperial Academy. She poured herself into service, building a reputation of fierce loyalty, duty, and an unforgiving intensity that made even seasoned officers wary.
Soon enough, the old vipers slithered from their shadowed lairs, patient and venomous, their eyes burning with grudges sharpened over decades of merciless Amarrian intrigue. Their aim wasn't merely Lara's downfall—they sought to utterly erase her family's name, scraping it from every whispered rumor and official decree. Bloodshed lurked behind elegant smiles, concealed beneath murmured prayers and promises of devotion.
Lara fought back... ruthlessly.
Blades clashed in shadowy corridors of power. Cannons roared silently across the unforgiving void of space. While assassins crept close wearing the familiar faces of friends.
Trust turned into treachery. Allies became casualties, broken and discarded like forgotten playthings. Each victory tasted like bitter ash.
Then, sleep became an enemy, bringing nightmares thick with whispered betrayals and the accusing stares of the fallen. Lara survived, but the relentless brutality of Amarrian politics chipped away at her, carving out a soul hardened, empty, and twisted.
Disgusted by the endless betrayals, Lara abandoned everything she'd known. She became a capsuleer, free from petty intrigues, vowing to create something of her own. Not her father’s legacy—something fiercer, harder, born from defiance rather than privilege. Her empire would rise not on borrowed status, but from steel, grit, and raw, unstoppable will.
Then came the accusations. Dark whispers branded her father a traitor to the mighty Amarr Empire. Overnight, the Whitecross name turned to poison. Lara’s family fled their ancestral home in Mishi, retreating to the shadows in disgrace.
But Lara refused to accept shame.
Anger simmered inside her, a quiet, steady flame that fueled her rise through the ranks of the Imperial Academy. She poured herself into service, building a reputation of fierce loyalty, duty, and an unforgiving intensity that made even seasoned officers wary.
Soon enough, the old vipers slithered from their shadowed lairs, patient and venomous, their eyes burning with grudges sharpened over decades of merciless Amarrian intrigue. Their aim wasn't merely Lara's downfall—they sought to utterly erase her family's name, scraping it from every whispered rumor and official decree. Bloodshed lurked behind elegant smiles, concealed beneath murmured prayers and promises of devotion.
Lara fought back... ruthlessly.
Blades clashed in shadowy corridors of power. Cannons roared silently across the unforgiving void of space. While assassins crept close wearing the familiar faces of friends.
Trust turned into treachery. Allies became casualties, broken and discarded like forgotten playthings. Each victory tasted like bitter ash.
Then, sleep became an enemy, bringing nightmares thick with whispered betrayals and the accusing stares of the fallen. Lara survived, but the relentless brutality of Amarrian politics chipped away at her, carving out a soul hardened, empty, and twisted.
Disgusted by the endless betrayals, Lara abandoned everything she'd known. She became a capsuleer, free from petty intrigues, vowing to create something of her own. Not her father’s legacy—something fiercer, harder, born from defiance rather than privilege. Her empire would rise not on borrowed status, but from steel, grit, and raw, unstoppable will.