Minmatar
Vherokior
2.77
Cahote Redhorn
Last Active:
2 months ago
Birthday:
Oct 11, 2010 (14 years old)
Next Birthday:
Oct 11, 2025 (29 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
143
Losses
156
Efficiency
47.8%
Danger Ratio
21.0%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
18.79B ISK
ISK Lost
4.13B ISK
ISK Efficiency
82.0%
ISK Balance
14.66B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
6
Solo Losses
77
Solo Kill Ratio
4.2%
Solo Efficiency
7.2%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
12
NPC Loss Ratio
7.7
Avg. Kills/Day
0.0
Activity
Medium
Character Biography
Cahote Redhorn, she had a reputation with those Boundless Creation types. Not a lot of bullshit, you know? She worked those trade boards, a real hunger for success, pushing, pushing, like a dog after a scent. For years, she had her hands right on the Republic's pulse, watching where the deals were, the quick and the dead of the market. The clang of those docking clamps, the station noise – that was the soundtrack to her days, all tied up with making her mark, getting what she could.
Then, things shifted. Hek, with its predictable grind, gave way to Tolle, where things felt a bit more... open. Sure, the money was there, but something else started gnawing at her. The pull of that empty space, the raw connection to the Republic you get when you're actually flying your own damn ship. The endless numbers, the calculations... they started to feel like being buried alive. The engine's thrum, the feel of the controls in your hand, that's a whole different kind of language. And those agents in Tolle, they offered a taste of that reality. Hauling cargo, moving resources – basic stuff, but it got her out of that station rot, closer to the Republic's raw guts. Out there in the black, wrestling with asteroid fields, charting courses through nothingness... that's where a different kind of ambition took hold. Not just shuffling things around, but being right in the thick of it, part of the Republic's fate.
The red nebulas of Minmatar space, that raw, pulsing color, they started to call her back, a primal kind of pull. Tolle had its own freedom, sure, but the Republic's heart, with all its blood and fire, beat strongest in that space around Hek. That's where she knew she had to be, where things were real.
And once she was back, there was no way to ignore the rot. The Amarr, with their endless hunger, their slave-taking... it festered, a constant wound. Profit is one thing, but this was about something deeper, something in the blood. So, Cahote traded those ledgers and manifests for the cold steel of a warship, the brutal honesty of autocannons. All that knowledge of how things move, where they come from? Now it feeds into how fleets move, how you defend what's yours. She's done with just watching.
Then, things shifted. Hek, with its predictable grind, gave way to Tolle, where things felt a bit more... open. Sure, the money was there, but something else started gnawing at her. The pull of that empty space, the raw connection to the Republic you get when you're actually flying your own damn ship. The endless numbers, the calculations... they started to feel like being buried alive. The engine's thrum, the feel of the controls in your hand, that's a whole different kind of language. And those agents in Tolle, they offered a taste of that reality. Hauling cargo, moving resources – basic stuff, but it got her out of that station rot, closer to the Republic's raw guts. Out there in the black, wrestling with asteroid fields, charting courses through nothingness... that's where a different kind of ambition took hold. Not just shuffling things around, but being right in the thick of it, part of the Republic's fate.
The red nebulas of Minmatar space, that raw, pulsing color, they started to call her back, a primal kind of pull. Tolle had its own freedom, sure, but the Republic's heart, with all its blood and fire, beat strongest in that space around Hek. That's where she knew she had to be, where things were real.
And once she was back, there was no way to ignore the rot. The Amarr, with their endless hunger, their slave-taking... it festered, a constant wound. Profit is one thing, but this was about something deeper, something in the blood. So, Cahote traded those ledgers and manifests for the cold steel of a warship, the brutal honesty of autocannons. All that knowledge of how things move, where they come from? Now it feeds into how fleets move, how you defend what's yours. She's done with just watching.