Species: Tusken Raider
Bantha's Name (Tuskens only): Hak'ung
Weapon: Simple gadderffi
History: Groww was discovered by his village shaman to have rudimentary force powers when he was still an adolescent. Once the previous shaman died, Grrow took over his position, becoming the tribe's spiritual leader. He has been in the position for nearly two years at this point, and is unsure about the usefulness of his position, despite the faith his tribesmen have in him.
Skills: Groww's force abilities manifest themselves through clairvoyance and communication. His powers of prediction are still so basic that they only manifest to any useful degree in his dreams, which enable him to guide his tribe across the desert but cannot be used on a whim. His communication methods make his interactions with animals more intuitive. He has, in his youth, neglected his weapons training, preferring instead to attune himself with his bantha companion and the other various beasts that inhabit the Jundland wastes. As a result he can communicate with his mount telepathically, but his gadderffi skills leave something to be desired.
Turn. Turn. Turn. Yes, turn. Yes, turn left.
Before Grrow, the bantha straying from the herd turned and fell back into pace with his fellows. Grrow smiled slightly under his wrappings.
Last year this time, I could scarcely control my own Hak'ung. In the years to come, what manner of control might I achieve over the beasts of the desert in the years to come? The gift of the Divines will truly make me great.
Careful, Shaman, spoke a voice in his head, taking on the intonations of his former mentor. The Gift belongs not to you, but to the tribe. You are merely its medium. To use it only to increase your own glory is a crime against the Divines. Use it to aid the tribe only, lest you be tempted to forget those whom you serve.
Grrow heaved a sigh, and knew that part of his that has been shaped so carefully by the previous shaman was correct: his aspirations for greatness could never come to fruition as long as he served his tribe. He abandoned all dreams of taming a krayt dragon and turned back to the herd of banthas-
Without thinking, Grrow ducked his head and felt a searing heat as his wrappings were grazed by a blaster bolt.
The sudden noise made the bantha herd erupt in chaos. Grrow sat stunned for a moment as he realized what had just happened, until he was hit with the sickening truth of the danger he lay in: a marksman had fired upon him, tried to kill him, and now he stood in the middle of a group of stampeding bathas.
CALM he bellowed in his mind at each surrounding bantha. CALM OR DIE!
But whether his Gift was stretched too thin by the number of targets, or whether the beasts were too frenzied to acknowledge his command, only Hak'ung remained stationary.
This won't work, he told himself. It's too contrary to their instincts. I need to separate them, and quickly, before they trample each other to death.
Concentrating intensely, he raised his arms and tried to slow his beating heart. He felt the panic of each beast before him, the pain of those who had already been crushed by their herdmates, and told them to run.
RUN RUN RUN RUN SEPARATE AND RUN SPREAD SPREAD OUT RUN SEPARTE SPREAD RUN SEPARATE SPREAD
The banthas were only too glad to obey this command. They branched out from their neat line as though the river of fur was emptying into the sea of sand, leaving behind the bloodied masses of the trampled victims. It would take days to round up the herd again, but at least the greatest number of them had been saved.
Grrow felt a moment of relief before a second blaster bolt speared him through the shoulder.
He fell hard against his mount, and managed to turn his head to his attacker. Atop a dune almost 200 meters away, stood a man outlined against the twin suns next to a speeder.
A dozen different courses of action occurred to Grrow at once. As a tusken, he should fight. As a shaman, he should alert the members of his tribe. As a warrior, he should kill the man who had attacked him. As a leader, he should preserve his own life as a top priority. As a victim, he should fight back. As a wounded man, he should try to survive.
As a coward who is unsure of his own abilities and who is in severe pain, he dropped as low in his saddle as possible, and issued a command to his anxious beast: Back to the village. Hak'ung took off for the settlement at a full gallop, quickly leaving the range of the man on the dune.
I had to do it. As shaman, I must preserve my life. I am more important than the others.
As soon as he has thought it, he hated himself.
Last edited by TheGunslinger (Tuesday, August 7, 2007 7:43 am)
GPI: Fondly regard crustacean