Beyond the Faroe jumphole, the Druid flies his Eagle, soaring through the limitless sky of space. What he does is not known by many and those who do proclaim they know him are simply fake individuals. He has been seen flying away from Armed Forces' remains, no words, no chat, nothing.
"Gaia will not bleed."
He ends them, there and then. He is calm in his seat, relaxed. His hand sweep over the bright green switchboard and the ship hums to life. Coordinates are set, he is off. The trade lane recovers, just in time too, a convoy passes through with no knowledge of the previous raid. He leaves them be, they are innocents. No, they are lucky.
These strange thoughts have been occurring to him recently, ones about death, said in a third person. They're of an odd nature, they create hate towards people. But they leave Gaia, what is Gaia to these thoughts?
"Enemy uncloaked. 8k inbound."
His eyes scan the transmission. It reads a foreign tag and the IFF is not one the Neural Net can define. The transmission screams error after error. He flicks it off. The callsign finally appears after the fiddling with switches. The call request opens on screen. He cautiously accepts.
"Connected."
He strengthens the signal. A face-cam appears. It is a man, decorated in green, tattered robes, deer antlers and an odd hair style. He has dark skin, brown eyes and matching hair. His teeth are jagged and sharp. He draws his face to the camera, a wicked grin across his face. Silence follows, the stranger opens the conversation.
"James Prior, that's right, I know your name. In fact, there's a group of people that know your name. Rings and rings of people."
The Druid doesn't budge, he isn't shocked, just amazed at how abrupt the statement occurs. He leans back and crosses his arms. He lets the man continue his ramble.
"The Druidship awaits your presence. That's right, a Druidship. How individual is that name now?"
His grin increases. James tries not to move. But he takes more a comfortable stance by leaning back in his seat.