A few night cycles had elapsed on the lone camp on the outskirts of Zakuuls swamps, affording Sleen time to not only survey his surroundings, but piece together various bits of clues and notes made by the team that occupied this location prior. Holding one of their diaries, it was clear from the writing they weren't seasoned hunters nor poachers. Likely just trying to make a quick credit or two. Look where it got them. Over the span of days, Sleen developed greater insight into the marsh they now found themselves stranded in. There were a great variety of lifeforms that struggled for survival in the swamps, a perfect display of natural selection and competition. Throw in a few lifeforms that had the capability of using guns and this could be a galactic hotspot for entertainment. In the diary from earlier, notes on rather deep imprints in the muddy swamp had left the poachers puzzled, enough so to not pursue the lead, but that appeared to be a mistake. Further reading on the creatures had brought about numerous diagrams on their particular species, as well as the peculiar colour that stained their skin within the marsh. Perhaps the scavengers had mistakenly looked for pink Mawvorrs. Here, they would only find a darker-skinned variety. Much less appealing if someone cared about the colour profile of creatures that would be fighting for them. Looking through the camp, the bare-foot Trandoshan stalked towards the figure of Giskosdee, his large figure cutting through the camp swiftly with his hat pulled down just above his brow, a bulging mass evident pressing against the insides of the hat as it struggled to contain the mass of the creature. "The contractor knows these are a variation of the species, right? These are Bog Mawvorrs. Darker hides to blend in with their surroundings." Sleen finished, a rattle evident at the end of his sentence akin to a dangerous animals warning. Having informed the have-a-go leader of the potential issue, the Trandoshan peered around the camp until he caught sight of the only other impressively sized crewmate. Once the predators gaze landed upon the Nautolan, a high pitched whistle emitted from his throat to catch his attention, ushering him towards the Rodian and Trandoshan. "I have a good idea on where they will be. Collect the gear you need and let'ss move. Make sure the traps are ready to be used, lasssst thing we need is a malfunction." Sleen hissed, already having the relevant equipment he needed on his person. His carbine would hopefully not have to be used, but you could never be too safe. Sleen awaited his companions on the edge of the forest that acted as the maw to the innards of the swamp. They would be travelling deep, close to the heart of the swamp if the notes were anything to go by. The sounds of various exotic creatures already rung out just from this proximity, and they would prove to only get louder once the group finally started walking into the forest with Sleen at the head of the group in case anything alarming was to occur. His infrared vision sporadically lowered to the ground, then up to take in the area for any heat signatures that matched the specified size of the Mawvorrs. A few hours passed with the hunter moving in silence aside for almost silent hisses and rattles, seemingly in his zone while he tracked barely visible imprints that he'd caught onto a little while ago. Soon enough on this path, a deep, guttural growl echoed not too far away from the group. Just as written in the book. They were close. Sleen turned around to his companions, nodding his head as indication while he slowly crept forward towards the source of the noise. If the notes were anything to go by, as they had been so far, the Mawvorrs growl acted as an indication of fatigue, yet only time would tell if that proved to be true.