-0.80
- Kill
- 149
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Perdite
- 56
- +0 negli ultimi 90 giorni
- Efficienza
- Efficienza ISK 77%
- ISK distrutti
- 14.68B
- +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
- 149
- Perdite
- 56
- Indice di pericolo
- 100%
- Colpi finali
- 17
- Punti
- 149
ISK
- Distrutti
- 14.68B
- Persi
- 4.50B
- Bilancio
- +10.19B
- Efficienza ISK
- 77%
Solo
- Kill in solo
- 7
- Percentuale solo
- 5%
- Kill medie/giorno
- —
Altro
- Perdite contro NPC
- 0
- Quota perdite NPC
- 0%
- Attività
- Inattivo
Danni inflitti849.5K
Rapporto danni · 82%
Danni subiti191.5K
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
Class 1 H121 P060 Q317 V301 Y790 Z647 Z971
Class 2 C125 D364 D382 G024 I182 N766 R943 D382
Class 3 C247 L477 M267 N968 O477 O883 X702
Class 4 E175 M609 O128 T405 X877 Y683 Z457
Class 5 H296 H900 L614 M555 N062 N432 N770 V911
Class 6 A982 B041 R474 S804 U319 U574 V753 W237
K-SPACE Destination
High Sec A641 B274 B449 B520 D792 D845 N110 S047
Low Sec A239 C140 C391 J244 N290 N944 R051 U210
Null Sec C248 E545 K329 K346 S199 V283 Z060 Z142
A nomads tale...
She cast away her given name after the third worm-gate stole it from her, for the heavens ever demand a toll of those who wander too far.
The nomad fared alone among the stars in a ship old as a prayer, its boards and plates bound by oath more than craft. She sought no fixed haven, nor reckoned her course by chart or star. Rather, she hearkened. For the wormholes spake softly, where the firmament grew thin and the world was folded upon itself like worn vellum.
To pass through such a gate was no simple journey, but a sundering and a mending. Flesh went whole, yet the soul lagged, gathering itself as one waking from a dream not wholly one’s own. Oft she lost her hours; at times she gained remembrances of fires she had never warmed her hands by.
Once, within the turning dark, time knelt as a servant. Then she knew this truth: the wormholes were confessions, wounds in the sky where the cosmos owned its frailty.
She came forth into a dead realm, where planets wheeled by ancient habit alone. No voice called. No ruin answered. Only motion endured, faithful and unthinking. She stilled her engines and abode there awhile, a lone witness to a vast and breathless hush.
And it was given to her understanding that she did not wander the heavens. The heavens wandered through her. Each crossing made her more hollow, yet more fit to bear what could find no rest.
At the last, she turned her prow toward another rift in the dark. Fear had fallen from her like an outworn cloak.
For somewhere beyond the fold, a memory waited, and she was its keeper.