Name: Rax Derlom
Age: 34
Appearance: Of a regular build for a Besalisk. Rax has the trademark scaley, darkbrown forehead, but instead of the normal beige skin underneath it, he grows a bushy stubble flowing over into a beard and the 'normal' walrus moustache. Though his size and eyebrows can be found intimidating or grumpy looking, he usually wears a friendly expression, smiling away or talking and laughing with a bouldering voice. A voice that has somewhat of an edge through years of cigar smoking. Unlike stereotypes demand his girth is no sign of physical neglection. The perceived 'Fatness' is mostly due to the species very cold home planet of Ojom, where a good insulating layer can mean the difference between life and death. What stands out about this Besalisk is that his left underarm has been replaced by a cybernetic replacement of industrial quality. Connected from a cylinder shaped joint at his elbow the replacement limp holds a simple pneumatic claw.
Rax Derlom seems grown into a 4-holed wife-beater shirt that used to be white. It is set with a number of pockets over the front out of which rags, cigars and an array of other stuff might protrude. Under it he has a similarly pocketed blue set of working pants. Over it all he wears a long, brown leather trenchcoat for the covert storage of a few more items in its numerous inner pockets. Oddly enough the trenchcoat only has 2 sleeves through which Rax has his upper arms. Rendering the bottom arms either 'hidden' (though it gives him a bit of an odd shape), or the coat being pulled back behind the lower arms. The coat sleeves are neigh always rolled up to bare his forearms.

On his belt he has a set of heavy blasters, one for each hip.
Under his coat, at the backside of his belt he has two stun batons, nigh always hidden, but retrievable fast.

Gender: Male
Race: Besalisk
Force Sensitive Y/N:No. Hopefully a little lucky sometimes.
Equipment: -A set (2) of heavy blaster pistols with filed away trigger guard to accommodate his large fingers.
-A second set (2) of blaster pistols that he conceals in his coat
-Two stun batons.
-A datapad
-A comm-link
-Cigars, of the thick variant.
-A gazillion packages of matches in various states of fullness (or emptyness if you are a pessimist).
-A pocket knife.
-Chance Cubes
-A canteen of whatever strong liquor was at hand in the last port.
-A (stranded) Quadrijet Transfer Spacetug, now mostly used as his home.
Skills: -A reasonable shot, though quantity has always been a bigger advantage than quality for Dax.

-Considerable knowledge of mechanics with a specific interest in explosives.
-Decent Pilot

Strengths:
-Fairly fast quickdrawer, 4 arms to follow can make it a bit of a magic trick sometimes
-Brawler: Extra arms has always been something Rax has been glad for, even that metal replacement hauls its weight when it comes to jawstomping without getting hurt knuckles.
-Surviving as a scavenger and refugee is not always- neigh never to be more correct- an easy living. Living on a world where it is both illegal and unmonitored spots are highly competitive has hardened Rax’s instincts for survival and making him accustomed to the occasional ‘dirty trick’.
Weaknesses:
-Is often overconfident and fearless, in a bad way.
-Can’t really leave a good bit of metal lying around.
-Though decent at a few things he does not excel at anything.
-Avoids combat rather than engage in it.

History:
Rax was born on the Outer-Rim planet of Dantooine where he grew up in a farmers family. A harsh life on broken soil, but the pride of his family nonetheless. When the Clone War came to his planet his family became refugees like so many other families. An experience that left the family scarred, for they were interned in one of the refugee camps on Ord Mantel, a place where the right of the strongest ruled. Rax had to make use of the muscles build during the long years of farming there to procure sustenance for his family and started getting involved in the trade of scarcer goods in the refugee camp, mainly as an enforcer. They made it through these days and the war on Dantooine ended a short month after the Senate had accepted laws distributing the refugees amongst more planets. Rax’s family got a good deal on Naboo. Rax’s father wanted to go back to Dantooine nonetheless and see what had become of the family heritage and rebuild if need be, but the refugee camp had made him age fast to Rax’s eyes. He offered to take his father’s place and urged him to enjoy the early pension Naboo could grant him.
Upon returning the Derlom homestead was ruined, the ground littered with battle droids and artillery craters. In the process of cleaning up he was approached by a Devaronian arms dealer named Aryl Dervol. Jax was in need of the credits so they cut a deal concerning the weapons he found and some of the re-sellable droid parts. He stowed the credits away to repair the farming equipment that had been damaged, but as the field got cleaned up it became clear that the land was unworkable. Haunted by the messages of anticipation coming from his father Jax couldn’t help but pretend everything was ok, sending money back he earned from ‘scavenging’ as though it came from harvest sales.
To keep that sham up Jax started scavenging from larger parts of the planet than just the fields surrounding his own farm and quickly came into contact with others in the same profession. These weren’t always the nicest encounters and Jax found the skills learned in the refugee camp to be a great asset. His co-operation with Dervol bloomed. Specifically when the Republic went over into the Galactic Empire there was an ever greater demand for weapons when a group called the ‘Alliance’ made their base on the desolate planet of Dantooine.
In the hopes of getting a better margin Jax tried to cut out Dervol and deal directly with the ‘Rebels’ (as the Empire branded them) which was a great deal less sinister than dealing with Dervol. Who was ofcourse not happy when he found out. Threats were made and honoured and despite Jax telling everyone he lost his arm because it got stuck while scavenging, Dervol was the actual reason. The Rebels helped him out when he came there, broken and short a limb, even set him up with the replacement he still holds today (albeit slightly more modified now). They even offered Jax a small team to help scavenge weapons for the Rebels (if he lowered his rates that is) and Jax was content.
Unfortunately the Rebel base had to move at some point for safer destinations somewhere on a foresty planet with pretty ruins. Not long after Dantooine became barren for a good scavenger and Jax had second thought about living up to the lie of rebuilding the farm. He even gave it a try, but the farmers live was no longer for him. It just did not have the thrills Jax was looking for. He kept at it however, for the sake of his parents, and so for a long year he tilled the barren soil and repaired machines that had no function yet. That was the year his father died.
It was some solace he had died in peace on Naboo but things had changed, even there. The Empire had stopped the funding for the refugee programs and his mother was at the grace of charity when Jax’s checks stopped coming in. It made him decide to finally tell the truth and pledged him to scavenging on Taris, a scavengers paradise if the stories were to be believed.
That was 6 years ago and it is safe to say that Jax hasn’t really hit the jackpot so far. Any money he makes goes straight to his now elderly mother. Taris has turned out to be a heap of old metal that is only worth something if shipped in large quantities, for which Jax has bought a Quadjumper spacetug.