- Founded on
- …
- Members
- 7
- Tax rate
- 100%
- War eligible
- No
Combat Record
Career-long numbers from eve-kill
Combat
- Kills
- 0
- Losses
- 41
- Efficiency
- 0%
- Danger Ratio
- 100%
ISK
- Destroyed
- 0
- Lost
- 102.96B
- ISK Efficiency
- 0%
- Balance
- -102.96B
Solo
- Solo Kills
- 0
- Solo Ratio
- 0%
- Final Blows
- 0
- Points
- 0
Other
- NPC Losses
- 0
- NPC Loss Ratio
- 0%
- Avg Kills/Day
- —
- Activity
- Inactive
Activity
What the corporation flies and where it fights
ShipsThis week
No data in this window.
SystemsThis week
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Most Valuable
Matchups
Who they kill, who kills them, what they lose
Top ListsLast 90 days
Hulls Lost
Losses broken down by hull class.
Battles
The latest ones eve-kill recorded
No battles recorded.
Alliance history
Corporations flown for, most recent first
Description
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.