Dusk Raven Consortium / DRCON

Scyphir P’Sorzin had never intended to become a leader—let alone the architect of a future consortium. For years he worked in the shadows of a powerful syndicate that operated throughout the fringes of the UEE. Their business was quiet, surgical, and efficient. In that environment, Scyphir thrived: a disciplined pilot, a careful planner, and a man whose loyalty was never in question. At least, not until the betrayal.

The syndicate was thrown into chaos when one of its key members defected, taking vital intelligence with them and delivering it straight into the hands of a rival organization. The defection ignited an all-out shadow war—ambushes, sabotage, strategic hits in disputed sectors. The syndicate’s leadership demanded answers, demanded to know who might have known about the betrayal before it happened.

And Scyphir… had been close with the defector.

Their friendship had been long-standing—an old bond from their early days running low-level ops together. Many within the syndicate began to whisper that such closeness meant complicity, or at the very least, foreknowledge. Scyphir denied it again and again. He genuinely had no clue. But suspicion is a poison, and it seeped into every conversation, every glance, every briefing.

He knew how syndicates worked. Once someone became a liability—or a question mark—their future was measured in days, sometimes hours.

Rather than wait to see which way the blade would fall, Scyphir made a decision that would redefine his life.

In the dead of night, aboard a forgotten hangar at the edge of a half-abandoned mining outpost, Scyphir loaded every piece of gear, data, and supplies he could fit inside his Aegis Sabre. The ship had been his pride—sleek, silent, deadly, and modified over years of careful upgrades. It was as close to “home” as a man like him could claim.

The engines came alive with a low, resonant growl.

He took one long look at the hangar—at the life he was abandoning—and then launched into the star-flecked sky. Behind him, the horizon flared gold and violet as the last vestiges of the sun dipped away. Ahead of him, the vast unknown opened like a waiting promise.

Scyphir P’Sorzin vanished into the spacelanes.

For months he drifted through the outer systems, taking odd jobs: escort runs, salvage scouting, intel relay, the occasional clandestine contract—just enough to stay flying but never enough to raise attention. Through these wanderings he met others like him: pilots, drifters, mercenaries, misfits, explorers, smugglers—each with their own shadows, each searching for a place where the past couldn’t dictate the future.

From these wanderers, Scyphir forged a new identity, a new purpose.

Thus was born the Dusk Raven Consortium—a loose collective that prized independence, honor among outcasts, and the belief that the ‘verse was big enough for anyone willing to carve their own path through it.

Their symbol, the dusk raven, represented transformation: a creature flying between light and dark, untethered, unbound.

Today the Dusk Raven Consortium is known as an organization of skilled pilots, subtle operators, and fiercely loyal comrades. They prefer precision to chaos, diplomacy to bloodshed, but make no mistake—they are far from defenseless. Their reputation is earned through integrity, self-reliance, and a shared understanding:

Everyone has a past.
What matters is where you fly next.

And Scyphir P’Sorzin?
These days, few know him by that name. Among the members of the Dusk Raven Consortium—and the quiet corners of the ‘verse where his reputation has taken root—he is known only as Keen Eye. He still leads from the cockpit of his old Aegis Sabre, guiding his flock of dusk ravens through the shifting light of the ‘verse, no longer a fugitive but a founder who carved his own destiny from the ashes of suspicion.

“Shadows guide us. Freedom drives us.”