Drekkin

Identity

Ability scores

Saving throws

Skills

Weapons

Languages

Inventory

• Half-Vest · 2 kg
• Blaster Pistol · 1 kg
• War Sword · 2 kg
• Medpac I · 0.5 kg

Backstory

The Ikkrukkians of Ikkrukk were not a people who surrendered easily. Their world had made them hard — slow-growing, long-lived, and patient in the way that stone is patient — and Drekkin had inherited all of that stubbornness without any of the wisdom that was supposed to come with it. He had grown up in one of the smaller outer settlements, far from the negotiated trade lanes where the Republic's influence softened everything it touched. Out there, you learned your body before you learned anything else. He had wanted to be a soldier for as long as the word had meant something to him. Not the political kind, not a garrison trooper counting shifts — a real one, the kind that went where the fighting was. When a Republic-aligned militia operating out of the Outer Rim frontier began recruiting during a period of renewed Mandalorian raider pressure on unaffiliated settlements, Drekkin presented himself without hesitation. He was twenty-two, enormous by human standards, and almost completely incapable of articulating why he was there beyond a flat, unadorned declaration that he wanted to fight. They took him. The militia used him correctly. He was a blunt instrument and he knew it, and the other soldiers learned quickly that Drekkin stationed at a breach meant the breach held. He was not fast. He was not clever. He could not read a tactical map with any confidence and more than once followed an order he had misunderstood into a position that made no sense, standing there with his war sword half-drawn while someone yelled corrections at him. But he could work through pain that stopped other men cold, and he knew how to keep himself alive in the field when command had collapsed and the wilderness was all there was. The cost came at a settlement called Verath's Crossing. A Mandalorian raid — smaller than expected, faster than expected. Drekkin held the eastern wall. He held it alone for eleven minutes while the rest of the militia fell back in a disorganized rout that left sixteen settlers undefended. He did not know they were undefended. Nobody told him. He held his wall, took a blade across the ribs, and by the time he understood what had happened, Verath's Crossing had already burned behind him. He survived. He healed, roughly and impatiently. The militia dissolved in the aftermath of the failure — quietly, the way that organizations dissolve when they can no longer afford to be seen together. No official record. No accountability. Drekkin found himself holding a half-vest, a pistol, a sword, and a single medpac, standing at the edge of a spaceport he did not know the name of. He still wanted the same thing. That had not changed. Somewhere out in the Republic's sprawling, poorly-administered middle distance, there was a unit that fought the right kind of war and kept the right kind of faith with the people behind their line. He had not found it yet.

Roleplaying notes

- **Body Before Mind:** With STR 19 and Expert Athletics, Drekkin instinctively solves problems physically — when a door needs opening, a path needs forcing, or a standoff needs breaking, he moves first and thinks afterward. Play this as reflex, not recklessness — his body simply answers before his brain frames the question. - **Stonewalled Patience:** Ikkrukkians are long-lived and constitutionally unhurried; combined with Drekkin's INT of 9, he processes complex information slowly and without embarrassment about it — he will ask someone to repeat themselves once, quietly, and if he still doesn't follow, he defaults to watching and waiting until the shape of the situation becomes clear. - **Field Ritual:** Before any rest in the wilderness, Drekkin checks and re-checks the medpac with the same deliberate sequence — a habit burned in after Verath's Crossing, when he reached for it too late. He does this even when it is unnecessary, even when others are watching. - **Sparse Trust:** He treats strangers with neutral utility — useful or not useful — and allies with a blunt, undemonstrative loyalty that rarely includes warmth but never includes betrayal; he is slow to consider someone an ally and slower still to stop. - **Flat Delivery:** Drekkin speaks in short declarative sentences with no rhetorical decoration — he does not soften requests, does not ask questions he considers obvious, and mistakes his own silence for patience when others read it as coldness.