Darth was not raised on Caldari Prime, only told he was from it.

He grew up on the edges of State space, where loyalty meant nothing and weakness cost everything. At ten, an Amarr Empire slaver convoy took his family. They didn’t survive. He did, barely escaping in a dying ship and vanishing through a wormhole he never meant to enter.

Wormhole space gave him no freedom. Pirates found him first. Stripped his ship, then kept him alive for a year just long enough to learn that survival and dignity are not the same thing.

Freedom came as a transaction. A former Caldari State soldier bought him, brought him to Jita, handed him a corvette, and left him with one sentence:

“You are from Caldari Prime. Act like it.”

Five years later, Darth drifts through New Eden, living off relics, ruins, and whatever the void forgets to guard. He smiles easy, but his eyes never changed.

He loves ISK. He hates pirates. He hates salvers more.

He’ll deal with anyone if the price is right, just not at the cost of the innocent. Hypocrisy, maybe. Survival, definitely.

One day, he won’t just drift.

He’ll build something that hunts the hunters.

And this time…
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he’ll be the one in control.