Fixer. Tracker. Drifter.
KAYTE TOSS
Drifter of Clan Toss
Fixer. Tracker. Drifter.
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OVERVIEW
Kayte Toss, 23, is a quiet, capable Mandalorian who grew up aboard repair bays and cargo decks, raised by her formidable grandmother,
Serra Corrane
, after the deaths of her parents. She's not a warrior by reputation, nor a leader by nature- but she's reliable in the ways that matter: steady under pressure, good with tools, and quick to fix what others leave broken.
After completing her Verd'goten, she followed the footsteps of her clan's recon and field engineering traditions. She can handle herself in rough terrain or a back-alley brawl- but she'd rather not be noticed at all. She works best in the background: tracking, patching, supporting, repairing.
Kayte second-guesses herself constantly, and tends to downplay her own skill. But when the crisis hits? She's already halfway through fixing it- blushing, muttering, and getting the job done anyway.
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HISTORY
Kayte was born aboard a mid-range supply freighter- somewhere between starports, hyperspace lanes, and barely working life support. Her parents, Alira Toss and Jeren Tavas, were armorers and logistical support for scattered remnants of Mandalorian forces. They weren't warriors, but they were essential- quiet experts who kept systems humming and people moving.
She was still a child when both died in what was later ruled a system failure during a fuel transfer. Her grandmother, Serra Toss, never believed that story- and never found the proof to challenge it. What she did find was Kayte- young, shaken, and suddenly alone.
After their deaths, Serra Toss, her grandmother and eventual Alor of Clan Toss, stepped in. Serra raised Kayte aboard the clan's home-fleet- sternly, but with quiet purpose. Life was never easy, but it was structured. Kayte learned the clan's ethos by living it: fix what breaks, help who stumbles, carry the load even if your knees shake.
She completed her Verd'goten in her teens, showing aptitude in tracking, recon, and field systems- a blend of stealth and engineering. Her grandmother noted she was precise, thorough, and apologetically competent. She never boasted, never pushed, but always delivered.
As an adult, she's drifted into quiet freelance work: supply runs, station repairs, recon contracts, scavenger recovery jobs. She's the one who'll crawl through a busted vent system for six hours while muttering self-critical jokes under her breath, then say "sorry it took so long" when everyone else had given up.
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ATTIRE
Kayte is compact, wiry, and easy to overlook until things break- and then she's the one everyone looks for. Years of labor have made her strong in quiet ways: callused fingers, quick reflexes, steady hands under pressure. Her hazel eyes are sharp and thoughtful, constantly scanning, always calculating, darting constantly but rarely meeting a stare.
Her hair, auburn like her mother's, is usually tied back with a utility cord or stuffed beneath a scuffed helmet. Her armor is patchwork and practical- mismatched plates, matte coatings, carbon scoring she hasn't had time to polish out. It's not pretty, but it holds. A faded Toss glyph is etched into the shoulder. There's no house paint, no fanfare- just function.
She wears layered, breathable fabrics under her armor, good for heat, cold, or fuel-slick crawlspaces. A utility belt and sling bag carry tools, spare parts, a folding datapad, and sometimes a ration bar or two. Tied to one strap is a small, hand-stitched charm- a keepsake from her grandmother, though she's never said so out loud.
A compact recon pack is always strapped to her back—loaded with tools, scanners, portable diagnostics, and emergency supplies. And her sidearm is serviceable, maintained without ceremony. Her most-used weapon is a multi-purpose knife with a magnetized grip. When combat comes, she doesn't stand out- she blends in, flanks, or disables the problem before it escalates.
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PSYCHE
Kayte is anxious, self-effacing, and deeply uncomfortable with attention. She avoids confrontation, stumbles over compliments, and apologizes too often- even when she's right. She copes with stress through nervous sarcasm, over-preparing, and working herself to exhaustion. But beneath all that, there's steel: quiet resilience forged in loss, survival, and expectation.
She's no stranger to combat zones, but she prefers avoiding conflict when she can. If forced into a fight, she moves smart- flanking, ambushing, using terrain and tech. She's not a frontline brawler. She's the one who sabotages the enemy's power relay, then vanishes before they figure it out.
Kayte's loyalty runs deep, especially to those who earn her trust- though she has trouble believing she's earned theirs in return. She often sees herself as a burden, even when she's the one holding things together. Her relationship with Serra is layered: full of unspoken respect, quiet guilt, and a deep desire not to disappoint the woman who taught her everything.
She doesn't want to lead, doesn't think she's anyone special. But she shows up. Again and again. That's what matters.
She's not here to be a hero. She's just trying to hold the line- and maybe, someday, find a place where she's not just needed… but wanted.
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