Neskar A'toll
Hail to the King, baby
The jungle was teeming and thriving full of various types of flora and fauna, both as deadly as each other. It was a large planet; in it was contained multiple ecosystems, in these ecosystems, nearly all wished you dead. A perfect place then, for a bounty hunter and a mercenary of the likes of Neskar.
For this assignment, he had to go to the frozen wastes, north of the planet, to seek out the Atrisian Arctic Tiger. Unharmed. Alive. Those wasn't specifically his speciality but he could adapt. He would adapt, he decided, as he sat in the cockpit of the small craft he had taken to Atrisia. Humidity: 50%. Temperature: 28C. Grrreat. Remind me not to take a holiday here. The craft soared lazily across the clear blue sky, and the emerald jungles zipped below the craft at a great speed. Giant cataracts could be seen out the cockpit window, thrashing wildly and wonderfully, the froth of the pale water almost powder-like, and it smashed against the jagged and harsh tears in the cliffs with vigour and violence, erupting further spouts of water, which continued down the fast-flowing slimmer of a river below, angling and curving in all manners of shape and size, contracting and expanding as naturally as can be. The jungle revealed this as to incite intrigue to passing travellers, and concealed more wonders of a vast amount, so that only those with intrepidness in their mind may find them. This place, he determined, was not where he would find the elusive arctic tiger. Just his luck. And so, with a heavy heart, he tapped in co-ordinates for the polar regions, to determine where and when he would this beast, and how specifically he would bring it in, unharmed. The idea of a stunning weapon flashed through his mind, and he considered it for a moment, but he then realised that the resulting stun may harm the beast more than stun it; it could burn the pelt, reducing the value. That wouldn't be good. Money was all he lived for. He continued to ponder potential plan whilst the craft soared through the steamy air towards the polar caps, and so he waited. And waited. And preyed.
For this assignment, he had to go to the frozen wastes, north of the planet, to seek out the Atrisian Arctic Tiger. Unharmed. Alive. Those wasn't specifically his speciality but he could adapt. He would adapt, he decided, as he sat in the cockpit of the small craft he had taken to Atrisia. Humidity: 50%. Temperature: 28C. Grrreat. Remind me not to take a holiday here. The craft soared lazily across the clear blue sky, and the emerald jungles zipped below the craft at a great speed. Giant cataracts could be seen out the cockpit window, thrashing wildly and wonderfully, the froth of the pale water almost powder-like, and it smashed against the jagged and harsh tears in the cliffs with vigour and violence, erupting further spouts of water, which continued down the fast-flowing slimmer of a river below, angling and curving in all manners of shape and size, contracting and expanding as naturally as can be. The jungle revealed this as to incite intrigue to passing travellers, and concealed more wonders of a vast amount, so that only those with intrepidness in their mind may find them. This place, he determined, was not where he would find the elusive arctic tiger. Just his luck. And so, with a heavy heart, he tapped in co-ordinates for the polar regions, to determine where and when he would this beast, and how specifically he would bring it in, unharmed. The idea of a stunning weapon flashed through his mind, and he considered it for a moment, but he then realised that the resulting stun may harm the beast more than stun it; it could burn the pelt, reducing the value. That wouldn't be good. Money was all he lived for. He continued to ponder potential plan whilst the craft soared through the steamy air towards the polar caps, and so he waited. And waited. And preyed.