Dameon Cross
The blackness of space can affect a man. Unless that man has known nothing other. Then that great void is home, and there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. Such was the way of Dameon Cross, spacer, pilot and often times rogue trader. His fancy lingo for what amounts to a smuggler. A man does what he must to survive. None knew that better.
Born and raised on a colony ship, he and his were boarded and brutalized before he hit his sixth year. Sold to slavers, he escaped, was caught and then traded to different slavers after proving himself an immense pain in the ass. Not until much later did he realize that his gifting from one slavelord to another was actually a tactical ploy. Savvy souls there were on both sides of that slave war though, and his ingenuity was not throttled but encouraged amidst his new brethren.
Climbing from slavery to indenture to freedom gave him a cut to his jib that few could appreciate, save those who had walked a similar path. He sought out such seasoned souls to serve under him when he purchased his first ship, the Crossfire.
Captain Cross found that walking a delicate line between morality and what passed for the law was a sight trickier than he imagined. While comfortable with his own portable world of morality, he often looked to the opinions of his crew when dealing with matters off ship.
Criss-crossing the galaxy adrift within the vastness of space was not the lifestyle for many, but for those few to which it called, there was no better song than the roar of engines and the promise of new frontier.