Name: Quackston “DripDuck420” Reed Class: Human Ranger Backstory: Okay so boom —Quackston was born in the middle of Nowhereshire, in a bog that smelled like depression and duck poop (✨home✨). His fam ran a humble duck commune, just chillin’, vibin’, quackin’. He was literally raised by ducks—like full-on “imprinted on Sir Wiggles and now thinks he’s 30% mallard” type beat. Then one day , the Kingdom dropped a zoning scroll like “we finna build a wizard-themed waterpark here,” and BAM—duckpocalypse. The ducks? Evicted. The pond? Drained. The vibes? Immaculately ruined. Quack went full Joker arc, swore vengeance on the HOA, and dipped into the woods with nothing but a bow, a fanny pack of trail mix, and his delulu dreams of duck-based justice. Now he’s out here roaming the wild like it’s a Skyrim speedrun, speaking fluent quack, and posting ✨emotional damage✨ to bandits who disrespect nature. He refers to his arrows as “quack-tacs,” names every duck he meets “CEO of Pond,” and will 100% trauma dump about Sir Wiggles if you give him half a second. He fights evil, protects duck-kind, and drinks bogwater “for the aesthetic.” Canonically has beef with swans (“colonizer geese”), and thinks druids are just treefluencers. Catchphrases: “No thoughts, just quack.” “Skill issue.” “Ratio + swampwalk + you smell like dry land.” “I fear no man, but I do fear a duck with unresolved issues.” He’s him. Quack-coded. Pondpilled. Mentally in 2017 Vine, spiritually in a moss-covered rave.