Diodoros
C H A M P I O N
Felucia, a jungle world hostile to its own lifeforms let along an outsider like Diodoros. Although it was very hot and humid the golden man didn’t care much. Having been well accustomed to the nauseous swamps of Nal Hutta which he would likely return to when he was done here.
He was on the hunt for a beat, one of the local apex organisms. Corrupted by the Dark Side of The Force years ago by Sith magicians when the planet was within their sphere of influence. Diodoros trekked through the dense foliage, cleaving through that which gat in his way with a high-tech machete. In his other hand, and resting on his shoulder was a long hunting rifle, affixed to the end of which was a slender vibro-bayonet.
Stepping into a clearing, Diodoros followed the large imprints in the ground. As well as noticing big gashing claw marks along a large tree nearby. Fresh sap still oozing from the cuts, it was recent. He was close to his prize, very close now. Knowing it wasn’t long before he’d be able to find the twisted jungle rancor, and that it was going to be a hell of a fight.
“Wish you could be here, old friend…” Diodoros softly spoke, patting the soft fur of a cape that draped over his shoulder. Which was unmistakably wookiee in origin.
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