CITIZEN DOSSIER

Born under a scorched sky where comms hiss like broken prayers, the DuneDrifter roams the fringe of known space — a ghost in battered armor and a dusty hat. Left for dead on Pyro III, he carved a path through betrayal with nothing but grit and a scorched sidearm. "Sky’s on fire, but I don’t run," he growls into the void, chasing bounties not for credits, but to bury names and memories. His ship, patched like his past, glides through the black with silence sharp as a blade. He's not your hero. "I ain’t your savior, I’m the last mistake you’ll ever make." Word travels system to system — of a lone hunter with burning blue eyes, dragging ghosts behind him like a comet tail. The UEE erased him, but the stars remember. When the wind howls on desolate moons and shadows move without cause, he's near. Not to save, but to settle. The DuneDrifter walks alone — a hymn of smoke, vengeance, and dark country verses.