Spinning on the Rim
Wookie Hired Gun
The massive Wookie ponders your question about his past. He seems a lot more serious than he has been all night. He looks at you with an expression that is hard to read. Disgust? Anger? Heartburn? Finally, he breaks into a smile. You think.
“Sure, why not?”
He takes a gulp and settles back in his chair, which creaks in complaint.
“The Imps seem to think Wookies were born to serve them. I disagree. Unfortunately, many of my people are far too willing to comply. It’s embarrassing, but, hey, that’s their choice, not mine. I am no one’s slave.”
He punctuates the sentence by staring at you with a steely gaze, his brow furrowed and his demeanor serious once again. He pauses for an uncomfortable amount of time, then relaxes slightly and continues, casually scanning the smoky bar.
“The Imps, and probably most of my clan, dismissed me as ornery. They had no idea. As soon as I was old and strong enough, I left Kashyyk, and I left more than a few dead Imps and Czerka in my wake. OK, maybe a few dozen.”
“Hey, they tried to stop me. Fuck ‘em.”
A flash of anger or maybe frustration seems to cross his face, then fades.
“Anyway, it’s not like that put a bounty on my head. Who cares? Just walking free as a Wookie does that just fine.”
He chuckles briefly and takes a drink.
“I basically worked as muscle from one job to the next. Nothing strange. I learned a bit about the galaxy and how to better crack heads.”
“One pleasant discovery was finding what I call ‘furries’, ladies of the non-Wookie persuasion that are fond of Wookies. That has been a nice distraction. Sometimes too nice.”
He smirks at you like a co-conspirator.
“Case in point, there was this lovely young Senator’s daughter that just could not get enough of me. That was when my nickname ‘TB’ took on a second interpretation, ‘teddy bear’. You already know the primary interpretation.”
He smiles wryly at you.
“Problem is, I am a bit noticeable, so slinking around in the shadows only works for so long. And we got caught. She got a talkin’ to and I got police chasing my hairy ass for some bullshit theft charge. Apparently, a frustrated Senator can pretty easily turn a Wookie into a bone-uh-fy-dee criminal. I wonder if I was charged with stealing her virginity.”
He laughs hard for the first time since he started telling his story.
“Well. At least my life ain’t boring.”
“After I got off that planet and lost their trail, I went back to work as muscle with a crew running goods to Tatooine. That was going just fine until I got a little carried away with my carousing and ended up in the hands of some Czerka idiot that figured I was a docile little Wookie. His last mistake.”
He pauses and briefly locks eyes with you again via a sidelong glance, then goes back to scanning the room.
“That did not go well, though, and I ended up heading deep into the desert to avoid having my ass blastered off. No armor, no weapons, and no survival gear. No good.”
He adopts a thousand-yard stare and unconsciously tugs on a large claw attached to his primitive hide armor. After about ten seconds, he snaps back from wherever he was and continues.
“My daddy used to say, ‘there ain’t no tree too tall to climb’, but he never met the Dune Sea. That thing will wear you out.”
The memory of exhaustion briefly washes briefly across his face.
“Anyway, one thing led to another and I was captured by Sand People. Lucky me, they decided not to kill me right away. Their last mistake.”
“There’s something poetic about taking out Sand People with a Gaffi Stick.”
He taps the weapon at his side. It still has remnants of blood, fabric, and…you decide to stop looking.
“Anyway, gotta go, there’s a crew looking for muscle and they speak Shyriiwook too. You take care. I need to wash the gore of my toothpick and get back to kicking ass across the stars.”
He leaps quickly to his feet and finishes his drink in long gulps. He belches, pats you on the shoulder, smiles broadly, and walks away.