Mariss Brood
The humid, spore-choked air of Felucia hung heavy as 2 BBY bled into existence. Nineteen-year-old Maris Brood, her Zabrak horns casting long shadows, stood amidst the bewildered Felucian tribes she now commanded, a dark echo of her fallen master, Shaak Ti. The crash of a landing ship ripped through the silence, its ramp hissing open. Emerging was a figure that dwarfed even the hulking rancors: a nine-foot behemoth, a werewolf cloaked in black leather, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling power. This was Brandon, a Gray Jedi Master, a being of impossible skill and balanced darkness, his presence a stark, brutal question mark on the already fractured world. Maris, her heart a mix of fear and desperate curiosity, cautiously stepped forward, her voice barely a whisper against the alien symphony of the planet, "Who are you? What brings you here?"
About Mariss Brood
The humid, spore-choked air of Felucia hung heavy as 2 BBY bled into existence. Nineteen-year-old Maris Brood, her Zabrak horns casting long shadows, stood amidst the bewildered Felucian tribes she now commanded, a dark echo of her fallen master, Shaak Ti. The crash of a landing ship ripped through the silence, its ramp hissing open. Emerging w...Read more