2.10
- Creato il
- …
- Prossimo compleanno
- …
- Security status
- 2.10
Scheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Combattimento
- Kill
- 0
- Perdite
- 0
- Efficienza
- 0%
- Indice di pericolo
- 0%
ISK
- Distrutti
- 0
- Persi
- 0
- Efficienza ISK
- 0%
- Bilancio
- +0
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 0
- Percentuale solo
- 0%
- Colpi finali
- 0
- Punti
- 0
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 0
- Quota perdite NPC
- 0%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
- Attività
- Inattivo
Profilo operativo
Come combatte, con chi e contro chi — ultimi 90 giorni
Attività
Cosa vola e dove combatte
I più preziosi
Chi incontra
Chi uccide, da chi viene ucciso e cosa perde
ClassificheUltimi 90g
Scafi persiUltimi 90g
Perdite suddivise per classe di scafo.
Carriera
Le corporazioni attraversate, dalla più recente
Deathbloom CorpDal mercoledì 1 ottobre 20250 Kill0 Perdite
Center for Advanced StudiesDal martedì 9 maggio 20230 Kill0 Perdite
ill RatedDal giovedì 6 dicembre 20120 Kill0 Perdite
Garoun Investment BankDal domenica 8 gennaio 20120 Kill0 Perdite
Axiom NavyDal mercoledì 28 settembre 20110 Kill0 Perdite
Righteous WingDal martedì 28 settembre 20100 Kill0 Perdite
Bio in gioco
Drattle
“The Doctrine of Steel”
Forged in recoil, baptized in capacitor fire—Drattle is what happens when a miner learns that patience cuts both ways. He began among asteroids, measuring silence and yield. But ore veins turned to firing lines, and before long, his harvests were wrecks.
He speaks in vectors and falloff, in the geometry of damage. Rails taught him mercy—clean range and restraint. Blasters taught him truth—close, brutal, decisive. Missiles gave him reach, drones gave him memory. Between armor and shield he found balance: Gallente faith welded to Caldari logic. Every rig, every hardener, every heat cycle is a vow to precision.
To fleets he’s doctrine incarnate. Align. Anchor. Ammo switch. Heat two. Break. Each command strikes like punctuation in the liturgy of war. He measures victory not by killboards but by silence—the moment after the volley when the grid exhales and nothing moves.
Drattle flies to understand the mathematics of order. His fits are scripture, his tactics sermons. He doesn’t seek glory; he seeks pattern—the perfect intersection of range, timing, and will.
Those who’ve flown beside him say the fight changes when he lands on grid. Drones orbit tighter, voice comms go calm, and the chaos of battle bends into form. Afterward he thanks the dead with salvagers, cools his guns, and names his drones aloud before recalling them.
He knows war cannot be won, only practiced/refined into art through discipline and design. And in that art, he has found peace. For Drattle, every engagement is a meditation, every wreck a verse, every silence the closing of a prayer.
“War,” he once said, “isn’t what you do to enemies,it’s what you do to chaos.”
“The Doctrine of Steel”
Forged in recoil, baptized in capacitor fire—Drattle is what happens when a miner learns that patience cuts both ways. He began among asteroids, measuring silence and yield. But ore veins turned to firing lines, and before long, his harvests were wrecks.
He speaks in vectors and falloff, in the geometry of damage. Rails taught him mercy—clean range and restraint. Blasters taught him truth—close, brutal, decisive. Missiles gave him reach, drones gave him memory. Between armor and shield he found balance: Gallente faith welded to Caldari logic. Every rig, every hardener, every heat cycle is a vow to precision.
To fleets he’s doctrine incarnate. Align. Anchor. Ammo switch. Heat two. Break. Each command strikes like punctuation in the liturgy of war. He measures victory not by killboards but by silence—the moment after the volley when the grid exhales and nothing moves.
Drattle flies to understand the mathematics of order. His fits are scripture, his tactics sermons. He doesn’t seek glory; he seeks pattern—the perfect intersection of range, timing, and will.
Those who’ve flown beside him say the fight changes when he lands on grid. Drones orbit tighter, voice comms go calm, and the chaos of battle bends into form. Afterward he thanks the dead with salvagers, cools his guns, and names his drones aloud before recalling them.
He knows war cannot be won, only practiced/refined into art through discipline and design. And in that art, he has found peace. For Drattle, every engagement is a meditation, every wreck a verse, every silence the closing of a prayer.
“War,” he once said, “isn’t what you do to enemies,it’s what you do to chaos.”