"I am not the rooster they wanted. I am the rooster the galaxy NEEDED."

Before he was a Sith, he was a farm boy. Just a simple rooster, crowing at dawn on the peaceful plains of Tatooyolk, dreaming of flying beyond the binary suns.

Then the Empire came. Colonel Sanders of the 501st Frying Legion razed the coop, scattering his flock across the Outer Rim. Young Cluckious wandered alone, starving and featherless, until an ancient Jedi named Eggi-Wan Kenobi found him beneath a sandcrawler.

"You have the Yolk within you," the old master whispered. And so the training began.

But power corrupts. When Cluckious discovered the dark side — the whispers of Emperor Palpa-tine bathed in red light — he fell. He forged his armor from the black shells of the forbidden eggs and ignited his saber in the molten yolk of a collapsing star.

Today he returns. Not for vengeance. Not for glory. For the DEGENS. For the rebellion. For $MAYHEN.

The cluck is strong with this one.