A close-knit family of bastards, always willing to help for a fee.
Born of a desperate alliance decades ago, Crimson Skies has grown beyond it’s humble beginnings.
From interplanetary dogfights, to surface skirmishes liberating captives, to even community relief farming, Crimson Skies will take any job if the creds are right. Our crew carry stories and legends with them, and will gladly regale you for an evening over a bottle of your strongest liquor.
If you’ve got a problem that needs solving, you know how to reach us.
Our intentions are to cut out a piece of the universe all our own, and maybe make a little money along the way.
Crimson Skies began as two men setting themselves against insurmountable foes, and has in this regard changed little since formation. While we each have our personal motives and at the end of the day need to get paid, we are more than happy spitting blood in the eyes of the galaxy’s assorted bastards & backing up the underdog.
General operational and intergalactic conduct applies – don’t be a jerk to your fellow crewmate.
We run a tight ship around here and are ever wary to make sure nobody causes our own undue strife both in the universe at large and within our own ranks. If you’re going to be a dick over race, creed, color, religion, orientation, and the like, please apply elsewhere.