Scheda di combattimento
Numeri da eve-kill, di tutta la carriera
Nessun dato killboard disponibile per questo pilota.
Attività
Cosa vola, dove combatte, le ultime kill e perdite
Bio in gioco
Ballad of the Voidborn
So hoist the flag and drain the cup,
Our time is short, the tide is up.
Through dying stars and storms we flew,
With hearts of flame and ships of few.
We rode on winds no maps could trace,
In shattered holes, from place to place.
No stargate lit the paths we crossed,
Just echoes, traps — and what we lost.
We stole from gods, we danced with death,
We laughed beneath the reaper’s breath.
In silence deep, our guns would sing,
Then vanish swift, like phantom wing.
We cloaked in dust, we struck unseen,
In cursed domains where none had been.
No beacon burns, no beacon calls —
We built our thrones in dead men’s halls.
The sleepers woke; we made them sleep.
We sowed their dark, we mined deep.
For loot or greed or spite or pride,
We lived where reason would not bide.
Our names were feared, then lost in time,
Not carved in stone, but sung in grime.
No medals pinned. No banners raised.
Just shadows where our wrath once blazed.
And still we sail, though none may see
The path we walk to stay so free.
We fight, we fall, we rise once more —
Like echoes clawing through the roar.
So drink to those who slipped the fight,
Who vanished into endless night.
No grave, no stone, no last surrenders —
They shine through us… and the void remembers.
So hoist the flag and drain the cup,
Our time is short, the tide is up.
Through dying stars and storms we flew,
With hearts of flame and ships of few.
We rode on winds no maps could trace,
In shattered holes, from place to place.
No stargate lit the paths we crossed,
Just echoes, traps — and what we lost.
We stole from gods, we danced with death,
We laughed beneath the reaper’s breath.
In silence deep, our guns would sing,
Then vanish swift, like phantom wing.
We cloaked in dust, we struck unseen,
In cursed domains where none had been.
No beacon burns, no beacon calls —
We built our thrones in dead men’s halls.
The sleepers woke; we made them sleep.
We sowed their dark, we mined deep.
For loot or greed or spite or pride,
We lived where reason would not bide.
Our names were feared, then lost in time,
Not carved in stone, but sung in grime.
No medals pinned. No banners raised.
Just shadows where our wrath once blazed.
And still we sail, though none may see
The path we walk to stay so free.
We fight, we fall, we rise once more —
Like echoes clawing through the roar.
So drink to those who slipped the fight,
Who vanished into endless night.
No grave, no stone, no last surrenders —
They shine through us… and the void remembers.