Caldari
Achura
5.01
Gibson Thunderbird
Last Active:
about 3 hours ago
Birthday:
Dec 27, 2008 (16 years old)
Next Birthday:
Dec 27, 2025 (107 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
2,512
Losses
566
Efficiency
81.6%
Danger Ratio
81.6%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
2477.49B ISK
ISK Lost
144.49B ISK
ISK Efficiency
94.5%
ISK Balance
2333.01B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
190
Solo Losses
193
Solo Kill Ratio
7.6%
Solo Efficiency
49.6%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
37
NPC Loss Ratio
6.5
Avg. Kills/Day
0.4
Activity
Very High
Character Biography
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his Cenotaph in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The enemy, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The Cenotaph went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the enemy?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his Cenotaph in hand;
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree
And stood awhile in thought.
And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The enemy, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The Cenotaph went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“And hast thou slain the enemy?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!”
He chortled in his joy.
’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.