Rake "Glumbus" Destak [DEAD]

An embittered human scout sickened by jerks


Human — +1d to chosen skill stats: all 2d/4d

lvl 8

Dark side trait: very disagreeable. Everything everybody else says is annoying.

Core Class
Scout (Fringer)

Brains: 4D [} +2 {]
Technology: 2D [} max weapons 2 max gear 5 {]
Agility: 4D [} +2d attack {]
Brawn: 3D [} soak 2d {]
Cunning: 4D [} +2d {]
Wisdom: 2D [} force points 7 {] (initiative roll)

Attack: 6d
Defense: 6d

Class Abilities

Pathfinder: You can make a Survival Check to get to an outdoor destination by making up an obstacle you must first overcome.

Beast Rider: Once per adventure, you can make a Survival Check to find a native creature to ride for that adventure. When riding outdoors, you get +1D Survival and Defense, and moving doesn’t count as an action. Once per combat, you can trample 1d4 enemies within Close Range for 4D damage using your own Attack.

Translator: You can communicate with any alien or creature using Survival, and get +1D in these situations.

Loyal Pet (Sgt. Grumbles): You get a small creature as a pet. You can choose a Womp Rat, Frog-Dog, or Kowakian Monkey Lizard. You can make a Survival Check to have your pet retrieve objects or scout places you cannot fit. You can use your pet like two Force Points to absorb damage, killing it forever. If a pet dies, you can pick one of the other species, but the limit is three.

Gear Head: You can pick one of the first four abilities in any Tech tree. This doesn’t count against your Class Tree limit. Find Terminal: You can make a Streetwise Check to find a computer terminal wherever you are.

Key Skills

Dexterity: 7D You use Dexterity to perform feats of dexterity, such as tumbling, diving, and moving out of the way.
Sneak: 6D You use Sneak to move around and hide without being seen.
Survival: 6D + 2 You use Survival to navigate and survive in nature, and to handle and ride creatures.
Streetwise: 6D + 1


Traveller: When you use Planets as a creative skill, you can roll twice and take the better result.

Lucky: Once per adventure, you can reroll a Force Point.

Translator: You can communicate with any alien or creature using Survival, and get +1D in these situations.

Rifle Proficiency

Melee Proficiency

Unspent Skillpoints: 3
xp + 5

Force Points: 7 -2 (5)

Credits: 0

1 armor slot
2 weapon slots
5 gear slots

Blaster Pistol — 4D

Disruptor Rifle — 6D, Crit on 5 or 6. Mortally Wounded+ = disintegrated

Electrobinoculars — +1D Investigation or Perception at long distance

All-Temp Cloak — +1D Survival against weather. Layered

Vibro Blade — 1D, max 5D damage

Credits: 99

12xp 8xp 4xp 6xp 6xp

Memoir of the storm trooper Saag Dippler, TK903, the guy we knocked out, who was riling these ewoks against us. Also found were some assorted imperial codes.


Deep distrust for authority. Not above dishonorable killing of military and political leaders — or their families.

To eat the people who caused this war and let it spread to innocents.

Personal History

Rake was well aware of the rebellion. He hated the Empire and its intolerance, its fascism, but he wasn’t convinced that the Rebel Alliance was led by folk any more virtuous. Certainly they spent no more time considering the weak, the victims. It didn’t matter. There was no Rebel Alliance on Dantooine, not anymore. They had used his planet as a base of operations and jumped out when the Empire got nose of their presence. Never mind the otherwise peaceful world consequently occupied. True to its draconian, calculating nature, the Imperial Admiralty had bombarded the planet’s population centers from orbit, content to sift through the wreckage afterward.

Rake spent the war keeping the survivors of his decimated home village of three thousand people alive by finding new places to hide in the northern forests of his home continent, moving constantly from camp to camp as the empire’s shock troops, apparently under the belief that the entire planet’s inhabitants were rebels, spread across Dantooine like a disease. Increasingly embittered by the inept and dangerous leadership of their group, but unable to find it within himself to supplant it, Rake quietly witnessed the slow death of the community of people he loved as they were picked off by empire sorties, hunger, illness, and poor decisions by the so-called leadership of his band of refugees. In the end only a handful survived.

After the death of the Emperor and the destruction of the Death Star, Rake left Dantooine to seek justice against those on either side responsible for the war. The site of the Empire’s defeat was as good a place as any to start. He carefully slipped through the rebel military perimeter. His plan was to board one of their command ships, somehow to integrate within and learn what he could. But seeing the devastation wrought on the now dying forest moon of Endor, a monument to the casualties of war, he changed his plan. He would go to the moon. There was suffering down there. He would save as many as he could, wherever he could find them. Then he would go to those who had allowed this to happen. There would still be time for justice.


A Eulogy for Rake

It was right, it was balance. Light side powers had taken an interest in Rake, had been present as he’d guided refugees from his small adoptive village from one sanctuary to the next in the struggle to stay ahead of the brutal galactic conflict that had finally reached their planet. Even as the violence swept across the continents like an enveloping shadow, Rake had seen its darkness as dilute, had tasted that pre-dawn flavor of hope. Finding safest passage through forest and decimated cities, staying hidden, protecting people – he had a knack for it, it seemed. Tentatively he’d begun to believe he’d found a path toward a grand, heroic destiny. He would save them. He would save them all.

But no fate is revised more swiftly than under the bloody lamplight of war, no heart more surely graven than by the penetrating chisel of its atrocities. Soon the fighting seemed to spread outward from everywhere, and in spite of the fidelity with which he’d dedicated every thought and action to the safety of his trust, in the end Rake could not save even a single person. One inevitable ambush, one more charred corpse of a child, one last fearful gasp of life… each unrequited loss drew deeper against that balance Rake had once felt sustain him. The steady hewing away of all he had come to love drove the accrual of a debt of grief and anger, so that by the time the refugees had been reduced only to a handful of survivors, the cavernous howl of loss was an entity with a hunger its own, a dogged craving for violent reciprocity. Yet he suppressed it. There was yet a hazy glow keeping at bay the dark. There are these last to save, they are all that matter, he must focus.

It was not long before his failure was complete. When he beheld the last of the innocents dead and mangled from a corrosive gas vomited by some biomonstrosity unleashed against the imperials by the foolish, callous rebels, Rake allowed the darkness to engulf him, at last giving himself over to that voracious entity. With it, he killed, he maimed, he tortured. Wherever he found a combatant he perceived as endangering innocents, regardless of their ideals or affiliation, he eagerly extracted from them a payment against the sad multitude of destinies the war had stolen from his charge and ushered into oblivion.

And then, for a time, Rake discovered peace. Hearing word of devastation wrought on the populated moon Endor by the great demise of the nearby Death Star, Rake investigated and found himself on a surprisingly dangerous mission of disaster relief for a Dresselian rebel commander, Major Cora Quar’ko, who was charged with relief and advocacy efforts for the indigenous population. Through this and subsequent expeditions, Rake’s lighter spirit was slowly rekindled. He had a new flock of innocents to help now, and the camaraderie of fellow risk-takers to lean on. There was Aniro, his first adventure companion on Endor, who thereafter always seemed to have his back; Senator Bothar Stubbs, who could talk his way both out of and into any sort of trouble; Algae, the silly, stupid, brilliant monkey lizard that often left Rake discreetly laughing to himself in his quiet moments; And Dundalk, the zen Ithorian, in many ways his opposite and his conscience. Quickly taking to their cavalier manner and the sort of “retard luck” with which many of their most dire situations were overcome, Rake’s love for each of them subdued the bloodlust that had driven him for so long. One mission at a time he pieced together a new calling, the anger and resentment at the collateral damage left by the perpetual chaotic ebb and flow of light and dark now apparently diminished.

But the illusion began to warp after Bothar shoved Rake out of a ship which he then used to sacrifice himself in order to destroy an imperial patrol vessel. The act had saved them all, had likely saved countless lives. But it wasn’t fair. There had to have been another way, one that wouldn’t have cost the life of his friend. His companions never spoke of it, but Rake knew that he was the only person who could have saved him. And when he watched his friend An’imol, the talented Jizz player and doting father, blow himself up with a grenade tossed at a Gamorrean, fits of the old anger began to protrude through the skin of calm his new life had grown for him. The moodiness, the violent impulses, the impatient disregard for life were all reemerging in force to the worry of his comrades, the insightful Dundalk in particular.

Then Sarge, his newfound mentor, a soldier who would never leave a man behind, fell in the final battle with Grimmet and the Duloks. A battle which Rake had eagerly instigated. That was it. The old Rake had returned. There was no further sheen of hope for better days ahead. War had ruined him, had soured his destiny. All he could do was embrace it, live as a mechanical implement for the lesser evil and come what may. Perhaps a quick death, and soon. Perhaps he would be cursed always to live on as those close to him died one after another, a grim rhythm that would come to lull him to a mere vague awareness of himself and the universe. The final prescription for his doom was written when he almost cost the life of one of his closest comrades, nearly trampling him with a tamed saurian, a blatant disregard for his safety in a blind need to kill. Feeling neither remorse nor trepidation, Rake went on to coldly torture the last remaining enemy of that battle, briskly stabbing it through its eye with a vibroblade. And acting as he always did, as was right, on behalf of all that was light, his friend Dundalk, the peaceful bearer of conscience, ignited his lightsaber and did what he was fated to do.

Lying at the feet of his friends, a saber burn through his heart, the world faded. He could not speak, but with a long look at each in turn he tried to communicate one final sentiment to his friends as he slipped away to join the all encompassing force. This is right. This is balance. He only hoped they understood.

Rake "Glumbus" Destak [DEAD]

Star Wars: The New Republic pvanslee