Zevon Peltios
Lasat · Commando · Level 4
Identity
Ability scores
Saving throws
Skills
Weapons
| Name | Attack | Damage | Range |
|---|---|---|---|
| ●Light Repeating Blaster | +6 | 2d8 Energy | 60 ft |
| ●Frag Grenade | — | 3d8 Slashing | 30 ft |
| ●Stun Grenade | — | Energy | 30 ft |
| ●Vibrodagger | +5 | 2d4 +3 Slashing, Piercing | 5 ft |
| ●Unarmed Strike | +5 | 1 +3 bludgeoning | — |
Languages
Inventory
- Medpac I · 0.5 kg
- Light Repeating Blaster · 6 kg
- Combat Vest · 3 kg
- Medpac II×2 · 0.6 kg
- Comlink (Short-Range) · 0.1 kg
- Syntherope · 2.5 kg
- Electrobinoculars · 1 kg
- Frag Grenade×2 · 0.5 kg
- Stun Grenade×2 · 0.5 kg
- Vibrodagger · 1 kg
Backstory
The Lasat were not common in the Core Worlds during the height of the High Republic, and a Lasat infant wrapped in a Republic medic's field blanket on the steps of a Brentaal IV garrison hospital was, by any measure, an unusual problem. The commanding officer on duty that night was Sergeant Aldric Peltios, a decorated Republic Colonial Defense Corps soldier with a quiet reputation for doing the right thing even when regulations said otherwise. He filled out the paperwork, called his wife Maren on the comlink, and by morning the infant had a name: Zevon. Growing up on Brentaal IV, a planet that hummed with trade traffic and Republic military logistics, Zevon Peltios never quite fit the scenery. At 1.9 meters and still growing at age twelve, with violet-grey fur and the broad-shouldered frame characteristic of her species, she stood out in every classroom, every mess hall, every family portrait. The other children were not cruel, exactly — just bewildered. Zevon responded to bewilderment the way she responded to most things: with a joke. The jokes were, without exception, terrible. She delivered them with absolute confidence regardless, a trait she would carry into adulthood with no measurable improvement in comedic timing. Aldric Peltios was patient with his daughter in most things. He taught her to read terrain the way other fathers taught children to read books. He drilled her on squad tactics using painted rocks on the kitchen table. When she was fourteen, she beat three older cadets in an endurance circuit at the garrison open day and accepted the modest trophy by announcing to the assembled crowd that she was "built different — literally, different species." No one laughed. She thought the silence was respectful. When Aldric was deployed with a Republic Pathfinder detachment to help secure contested hyperspace routes near the Outer Rim — a routine operation in an era defined by the Republic's ambitious expansion and the ever-present friction with Nihil remnant marauders still lurking in the edges of explored space — Zevon threw herself into formal military enrollment at nineteen. She qualified as a Republic Colonial Commando candidate, scraping through the intelligence examinations on sheer stubbornness while posting some of the highest Athletics and Endurance scores her cohort had ever recorded. Her instructors noted that she possessed genuine tactical instincts, a solid working knowledge of field medicine, and absolutely no social filter whatsoever. At twenty, Zevon Peltios shipped out. She sent her father a comlink message just before departure. The message consisted entirely of a joke about Lasat fur and vacuum environments. He replied: *"Stay low, move fast, come home."* She wrote back: *"Two out of three, dad."* He assumed she meant the first two.
Roleplaying notes
- **Physical Confidence, Social Miscalculation:** Zevon moves through the world with total physical assurance and almost no awareness of how she comes across — play her jokes as delivered with complete sincerity and mild genuine confusion when they land badly, never embarrassment. - **Ally Relationships:** Zevon latches onto competent people the way she latches onto good terrain — practically and without sentiment, until suddenly it *is* sentiment; she expresses loyalty through showing up and sharing rations, not words, and is genuinely confused when allies want emotional acknowledgment. - **Speech Pattern:** Zevon speaks in short, declarative sentences drawn from military cadence and her father's clipped garrison vocabulary, but undercuts her own authority regularly by appending an ill-timed joke — phrases like *"Perimeter's clear. ...Like my sense of humor. ...That's — you get it."*