Gallente
Gallente
-2.20
Indylady Workaholic
Last Active:
over 6 years ago
Birthday:
Jul 6, 2012 (13 years old)
Next Birthday:
Jul 6, 2026 (298 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
1,724
Losses
155
Efficiency
91.8%
Danger Ratio
0.9%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
4872.02B ISK
ISK Lost
14.76B ISK
ISK Efficiency
99.7%
ISK Balance
4857.26B ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
44
Solo Losses
66
Solo Kill Ratio
2.6%
Solo Efficiency
40.0%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
22
NPC Loss Ratio
14.2
Avg. Kills/Day
0.4
Activity
Low
Character Biography
The wise men will bow down before the throne.
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns.
When the man comes around.
Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still.
Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still.
Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still.
Listen to the words long written down, When the man comes around.
Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers.
One hundred million angels singin'.
Multitudes are marchin' to the big kettle drum.
Voices callin', voices cryin'.
Some are born an' some are dyin'.
It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come.
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree.
The virgins are all trimming their wicks.
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree.
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks.
In measured hundredweight and penny pound.
When the man comes around.
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts,
And I looked and behold: a pale horse.
And his name, that sat on him, was Death.
And Hell followed with him.
And at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns.
When the man comes around.
Whoever is unjust, let him be unjust still.
Whoever is righteous, let him be righteous still.
Whoever is filthy, let him be filthy still.
Listen to the words long written down, When the man comes around.
Hear the trumpets, hear the pipers.
One hundred million angels singin'.
Multitudes are marchin' to the big kettle drum.
Voices callin', voices cryin'.
Some are born an' some are dyin'.
It's Alpha's and Omega's Kingdom come.
And the whirlwind is in the thorn tree.
The virgins are all trimming their wicks.
The whirlwind is in the thorn tree.
It's hard for thee to kick against the pricks.
In measured hundredweight and penny pound.
When the man comes around.
And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts,
And I looked and behold: a pale horse.
And his name, that sat on him, was Death.
And Hell followed with him.