Gallente
Gallente
5.00
Julius R Knight
Last Active:
6 days ago
Birthday:
May 27, 2011 (14 years old)
Next Birthday:
May 27, 2026 (260 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
861
Losses
191
Efficiency
81.8%
Danger Ratio
81.8%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
930.95B ISK
ISK Lost
9.45B ISK
ISK Efficiency
99.0%
ISK Balance
921.50B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
71
Solo Losses
97
Solo Kill Ratio
8.2%
Solo Efficiency
42.3%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
0
NPC Loss Ratio
0.0
Avg. Kills/Day
0.2
Activity
Very High
Character Biography
The details of my life are quite inconsequential ... Very well, where do I begin?
My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.
My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.
My father would womanize; he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.
My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon ... luge lessons.
In the spring, we'd make meat helmets.
When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe.
At the age of 14, a Zoroastrian named Vilmer ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum — it's breathtaking ... I suggest you try it.
My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery.
My mother was a 15-year-old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.
My father would womanize; he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.
My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon ... luge lessons.
In the spring, we'd make meat helmets.
When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds — pretty standard, really. At the age of 12, I received my first scribe.
At the age of 14, a Zoroastrian named Vilmer ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum — it's breathtaking ... I suggest you try it.