- Kill
- 28
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 8
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 97%
- ISK distrutti
- 17.02B
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Attività
- Inattivo
- 0 kill/giorno · ultimi 90 giorni
Scheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Combattimento
- Kill
- 28
- Perdite
- 8
- Indice di pericolo
- 88%
- Colpi finali
- 5
- Punti
- 28
ISK
- Distrutti
- 17.02B
- Persi
- 501.5M
- Bilancio
- +16.52B
- Efficienza ISK
- 97%
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 1
- Percentuale solo
- 4%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 1
- Quota perdite NPC
- 13%
- Attività
- Inattivo
Danni inflitti740.3K
Rapporto danni · 86%
Danni subiti117.4K
Attività
Cosa vola, dove combatte, le ultime kill e perdite
I più preziosi
Le kill più costose del periodo
Chi incontra
Chi uccide, da chi viene ucciso e cosa perde
Ultimi 90g
Uccisi
Ucciso da
Scafi persiPerdite suddivise per classe di scafo.
Bio in gioco
The bodyguard nodded and picked up one of the trays, holding its bottom with one hand and lifting the top up with the other. There, sitting in a pool of dark blood, was the head of Bob.
“I did get it right, didn’t I?” Loki mockingly asked Cain. “I heard that a silver platter is traditional.” The Outlaw's thin lips drew back over his teeth in a pale grin. “Are you sure you won’t sit for dinner?”
Cain stared at the severed bloody offering, leaning forward to examine it. A man’s worst enemies are those, of his own house and family. The tough skin of the corpse’s neck was ragged, as if his head had been hacked at and sawed off, rather than cleanly severed. His small, glassy eyes stared at nothing. A thick brownish tongue hung out the side of his mouth. The young man met the dead man’s unseeing gaze. And he who makes his law a curse, by his own law shall surely die.
“I did get it right, didn’t I?” Loki mockingly asked Cain. “I heard that a silver platter is traditional.” The Outlaw's thin lips drew back over his teeth in a pale grin. “Are you sure you won’t sit for dinner?”
Cain stared at the severed bloody offering, leaning forward to examine it. A man’s worst enemies are those, of his own house and family. The tough skin of the corpse’s neck was ragged, as if his head had been hacked at and sawed off, rather than cleanly severed. His small, glassy eyes stared at nothing. A thick brownish tongue hung out the side of his mouth. The young man met the dead man’s unseeing gaze. And he who makes his law a curse, by his own law shall surely die.