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A beast lumbered into the entertainment hub, ducking underneath the portal's lip to make room for its giant frame. The decrepit freighter's dim glowpanels only partially illuminated the creature, hiding much of it behind long shadows. It hovered by the entrance for a moment, frightfully still as it seemingly mulled over where it should go. Several seconds passed before it plodded its way over to the bar.

Liakurra wandered into the better illuminated part of the hub, shoulders hunched in tired defeat. The Wookiee had surely seen better days: his chestnut fur was slick with off-color grime, dirty bandages were wrapped about his left arm the bandolier harness he wore around his chest was cut and tattered in several places. Beady eyes tracked along the nearest tables, hovering on any that stared until they flinched and looked away.

He stopped at the counter, bringing his trunk-shaped arms down on its surface and resting his weight against them. Signaling the bartender with a grunt, Liakurra called for a drink in his people's trade tongue- it was better known throughout the galaxy than the local dialect he was more familiar with. <"Quarter-pint of Ardees."> It was the strongest thing they had that wouldn't drain his critically low coffers, and anything less than it wouldn't be any different from ordering water.

"I'unno if you can tell, pal, but I don't speak walkin' carpet." The bartender, a mostly hairless human female, gave the Wookiee an incredulous look. "Which one you want, 'xactly?"

Liakurra let out a low growl in frustration, gesturing broadly toward the Jawa Juice dispenser lined up with the others behind her. Thankfully she was able to tell what he meant by that and went to fill up a pint-tall glass of the stuff only for him to bark out at her again.

<"Not that. Too expensive. Quarter-pint.">

The exasperated worker let out a series of expletives as she rounded up all the different cups instead of continuing their little game of charades and let the Wookiee pick out which one he wanted himself. It took twice as long as usual for her to get the drink poured, placed in front of him and paid for, and it was about four times as frustrating.

Once all that was said and done with, Liakurra settled into his resting place and started sipping at the drink, stewing on his latest failed outing and the loss of his datapad. He'd gambled too many credits to get to that world and expected an easy capture. Instead he got stuck in a den full of razor hounds and barely managed to claw his way out before they tore him to shreds. Worse yet, he lost the datapad he'd been documenting his travels on- the whole point of him leaving Kashyyyk to begin with!

Maybe he never should've left. He could be home now, spear-fishing with his clan on the Wawaatt as they built their food stockpile for the winter. He'd been gone for five years now. How big was little Salthata, now, he wondered. Wrrlova would go through her Test of Ascension soon- how would she fare in the Shadowlands? Did she learn well enough without him around?

[i]'Ahhh. There I go, making myself homesick...'[/i] Liakurra thought to himself, a low, sad groan passing between his teeth.
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