Caldari
Civire
0.31
Danny Kent
Last Active:
about 23 hours ago
Birthday:
Jul 9, 2025 (0 years old)
Next Birthday:
Jul 9, 2026 (303 days remaining)
Combat Metrics
Kills
12
Losses
9
Efficiency
57.1%
Danger Ratio
57.1%
ISK Metrics
ISK Killed
1.15B ISK
ISK Lost
795.12M ISK
ISK Efficiency
59.1%
ISK Balance
355.27M ISK
Solo Activity
Solo Kills
2
Solo Losses
3
Solo Kill Ratio
16.7%
Solo Efficiency
40.0%
Other Metrics
NPC Losses
2
NPC Loss Ratio
22.2
Avg. Kills/Day
0.2
Activity
Low
Character Biography
Born in the silence of a forgotten constellation, I am a star newly kindled.
Not drawn by conquest, but by the call of the unknown.
Wormholes beckon, each a door, each a riddle.
I do not chase safety, nor glory.
I seek the unspoken truth.
Anoikis is my crucible.
Forged by encounters, tempered by betrayal and kindness alike.
I have met ghosts that whispered wisdom, and friends who vanished like vapor.
Here, every gaze is warning or blade.
Out here, every system is a trial.
Every soul, a lesson.
I walk willingly into the dark, to understand, to endure, to become.
Yet Anoikis is not my only trial.
The Abyss calls with a different voice.
Not mystery, but inevitability.
A cage of collapsing walls, where even time conspires against you.
In that place, choice is stripped away.
You do not wander. You endure.
Each chamber is judgment, each filament a coin cast between survival and erasure.
There are no friends in the Abyss, no warnings.
Only the silence of breaking space and the echo of your own resolve.
And behind it all—the Triglavian Collective.
They did not build abysses; they wove them.
Crucibles spun of trial and fire.
To them, a pilot is not hero or coward, only “proven” or “unproven.”
Survival is the tongue they speak, and the only answer they heed.
When I descend, I am neither hunter nor prey.
I am the reply to their question.
Yet not all trials lie in exile or in the abyss.
Some are born in the heart of empires, where the light still dares to burn.
They are called Homefronts.
Not gates to the unknown, but ramparts against the encroaching dark.
Here, the void does not whisper riddles, it claws, it intrudes, it hungers.
And so the Empires summon us, not as conquerors, but as guardians.
Strangers gathered, vessels entwined in purpose, each hull a shield, each hand a vow.
Anoikis asks who I am when alone.
The Abyss asks if I can endure the impossible.
But Homefronts ask if I can stand with others, if my flame can join the fire of many.
In these brief bastions of high-sec light, I hear the echo of a truth long forgotten.
That even among immortals, some battles are fought for the fragile and some stars burn brighter together.
Not drawn by conquest, but by the call of the unknown.
Wormholes beckon, each a door, each a riddle.
I do not chase safety, nor glory.
I seek the unspoken truth.
Anoikis is my crucible.
Forged by encounters, tempered by betrayal and kindness alike.
I have met ghosts that whispered wisdom, and friends who vanished like vapor.
Here, every gaze is warning or blade.
Out here, every system is a trial.
Every soul, a lesson.
I walk willingly into the dark, to understand, to endure, to become.
Yet Anoikis is not my only trial.
The Abyss calls with a different voice.
Not mystery, but inevitability.
A cage of collapsing walls, where even time conspires against you.
In that place, choice is stripped away.
You do not wander. You endure.
Each chamber is judgment, each filament a coin cast between survival and erasure.
There are no friends in the Abyss, no warnings.
Only the silence of breaking space and the echo of your own resolve.
And behind it all—the Triglavian Collective.
They did not build abysses; they wove them.
Crucibles spun of trial and fire.
To them, a pilot is not hero or coward, only “proven” or “unproven.”
Survival is the tongue they speak, and the only answer they heed.
When I descend, I am neither hunter nor prey.
I am the reply to their question.
Yet not all trials lie in exile or in the abyss.
Some are born in the heart of empires, where the light still dares to burn.
They are called Homefronts.
Not gates to the unknown, but ramparts against the encroaching dark.
Here, the void does not whisper riddles, it claws, it intrudes, it hungers.
And so the Empires summon us, not as conquerors, but as guardians.
Strangers gathered, vessels entwined in purpose, each hull a shield, each hand a vow.
Anoikis asks who I am when alone.
The Abyss asks if I can endure the impossible.
But Homefronts ask if I can stand with others, if my flame can join the fire of many.
In these brief bastions of high-sec light, I hear the echo of a truth long forgotten.
That even among immortals, some battles are fought for the fragile and some stars burn brighter together.