As a Foundling, Drac'il was raised as a Mandalorian and chose to remain and become a hunter alongside his adoptive father, Durse. He learned to track targets, forge connections with informants, and how to lay in wait for hours for the optimal chance to ambush and overpower his mark.

After gaining his majority, Drac'il, now a member of the Durzo clan, left his adoptive father and traveled the galaxy, finally settling down as a successful Bounty Hunter and Master of the Hunt on Nar Shadaa. His fame and reputation grew to the point where both Imperial and Republic forces knew (and hired) him. His estate on Nar Shadaa became a place where both sides could meet in secret. Drac'il was known to both Sith and Jedi as well, and had fought beside and against many from both sects, gaining at least grudging respect from the Force Users.

Twenty years after becoming a Master of the Hunt, Drac'il found himself the impromptu leader of a group of individuals from both sides of the galactic conflict. A handful of Jedi and Sith, as well as a squad of Republic commandos and a highly placed officer in Imperial Intelligence joined Drac'il alongside the crew of a privateer (and smuggler) captain. Together, the group worked to end the conflict and protect the citizens of the galaxy from the needless destruction of open warfare.

Ten years into their work, in an effort to infiltrate a rogue Darth's stronghold, Drac'il was "captured" and encased in carbonite after participating in a ritual to prepare him for the experience and to ensure that he would emerge from the experience without suffering from hibernation sickness. A Sith ally claimed the capture and presented Drac'il to the Darth, only to be executed instead of being paid. The Darth had Drac'il placed in his trophy hall and then promptly forgot about him.

Over the next 3600 years Drac'il remained frozen in carbonite. This would have easily led to insanity or, at the very least extreme health complications if it were not for the ritual he had undergone. His carbonite slab passed through many hands, sometimes languishing in a forgotten storage room for a century or three. He finally found himself hanging in the trophy room of a Hutt named Jabba on Tattooine. Shortly after the Hutt was strangled by a bikini-clad Leia, a group of "treasure seekers" looted Jabba's Palace and stole Drac'il, only to inadvertantly thaw him out when trying to figure out what they had stolen.

Drac'il emerged fully conscious from the carbonite tomb. The ritual had been specifically orchestrated so that the thawing process would trigger its end. The sarcaphogas that had held him was specially shaped to allow him to be hidden behind his armor, giving him a moment extra to gather his wits when the trap was sprung. His armor, empty and unsealed, toppled forward and hit the floor, the helmet bouncing a few feet away, as Drac'il opened his eyes, locked the positions and faces of his opponents in his mind, and then attacked.

A Gamorrean, a Weequay, a Rodian, and a human female stood arrayed against him. If he had been in his armor, they'd have been less than a thought. Without it, the odds were at least fair.

Nothing could have prepared the four treasure seekers for what befell them. One moment they mistakenly trigger the thawing process on a carbonite trophy, and the next, while two of their number are trying to stop the thaw, a blue-skinned demon leaps out of the carbonite and attacks.

Clad in little more than a kute, Drac'il knew that his advantage would last for only a few moments. He launched directly into the Gamorrean, aiming stiffened fingers into the piggish eyes and driving hard through the soft flesh and into brain, killing it as it squealed with alarm and pain. The now dead muscle of the group toppled backward and Drac'il tucked into a roll, followed it down, then spun to a crouch behind the corpse and readied for the others.

"Shi ramaanla." He growled through clenched teeth, snarling like a Nexu as he carefully assessed his opponents. He slowly moved to his right where the Gamorrean's blaster was still secured in its holster.

The Weequay scoundrel and the Rodian were the first to act. They grabbed Drac'il's armor together and bolted for the exit behind them. The female was only slightly slower, but it was she that scooped up his helmet as she turned and pelted away.

"Ni malyasa'yr oya'karir ma waev!" Drac'il roared as he grabbed the blaster and ran after them. He fired as he ran, causing his quarry to split up. They ran to a trio of speeder bikes parked just outside the palace gates. Unwlling to give up on trying to claim a prize, the Rodian clung to Drac'il's armor as the Weequay jumped on one bike and gunned it hard to escape.

Drac'il turned and skidded to a knee, laying down a hail of blaster bolts aimed at the female. She abandoned her desired speeder, choosing to jump on the closest one and gunning it to escape as well.

"Di'kutla calyarnr." Drac'il spat as he ran to the third speeder. He searched the bike, finding both the keyfob that started it and a datapad. He flicked the datapad on, knowing that just trying to pursue them would kill him. He knew he was on Tattooine. No other world had heat like this place.

The datapad blinked to life and he read:
"Alitori, meet us at Mos Eisley. Jabba Palace is open to the sands, and we can clear out enough creds to buy any house you want on that backwater Oogway."

Drac'il smiled. The inexperienced and the scared always ran back to familiar ground. They usually think they will have an advantage there.

"Plan must've gone a bit pear shaped. Baras is likely already a trophy himself if a Hutt had me. I get that armor back, then I get answers."

Drac'il swung himself onto the speeder, gunned the engine, and sped off towards the spaceport. He had a name and a destination for the female. With any luck, she'd lead him to the other two. On the way he'd have to get some clothes and a few supplies. "Time to get back to my roots, as it were." Drac'il mused as he sped over the sands.

Code - No Collateral Damage: Will not endanger civilians in pursuit of a Bounty.
Connections - Family: Mandalorians fight enemies before each other.
Cause - Help the Helpless: Will go to great lengths to help those truly in need.

Brooding, calculating, and a man of actions rather than words (unless those words are forming a strategic plan to accomplish the mission with efficiency). That is Drac'il Durzo. Even in his own time, there were not many that knew who the "Real" Drac'il was.
Always outfitting companions in Mandalorian armor identical to his own, the Bounty Hunter gained a reputation for being able to be in multiple places at one time.

Languages Known: Basic (Native), Mando'a (Native), Jawaese(Fluent), Cheunh (Speak and Understand)