Public Shellshocked - Kashyyyk Tavern RP

[XaraXunia]

Tannor Grene

SHELLSHOCKED​

Image Credits: CDNB, ArtStation | Darren Bordelon, Star Wars Wikia



Xaraxunia stumbled into the Kashyyyk bar, which was alive with color and music. A band of Wookies played a funky, soulful, instrumental melody at the center of the stage, which was totally discordant to how Xaraxunia was feeling. The bar was busy and lively, a perfect place to meet a stranger.

It seemed like exactly the place where this horrible Sith "medicine man" may have been hiding.

The insectoid war chief Xaraxunia, who stood at over ten feet tall, seemed to be standing in a place where he was at least half-accepted. The Wookies were at least as tall as him, if not a lot taller. Usually, when Xaraxunia stepped into a bar, the human eyes were on him because he was different.

Now, Xaraxunia felt the eyes on him for a different reason: because he knew he was a war hero in Kashyyyk, and he despised the attention. Xaraxunia slumped down into a seat and quietly requested the most sugar-filled drink that the bar sold: a "Sugar Sizzler Cocktail". He was grateful that the bar offered his variety of drinks and condiments. Usually, the bartender gave him a quizzical look.

This time, the bartender gruffly muttered in "Wook-ese", "On the house", before smirking and adding, "…hero".

Xar noticed somebody else next to him, who was looking him up and down. He'd been recognized again. Xar covered his face with his shiny, metal wings.

Everybody seemed to know who Xar was: Xaraxunia had participated on the defensive side of an aerial bombardment of the planet by the Mandalorians. He helped countless Jedi and, importantly, countless more neutrally aligned Wookies, to escape and to flee to the first Jedi planets that they could find. During the mission, Xar lost consciousness – and his precious bug wings. He was in stasis ever since. His bug wings had been replaced by a metal monstrosity that, he surmised, were designed to make him a better soldier.

Xaraxunia woke up, today, from the stasis. The stasis lasted an indeterminate amount of time, but it seemed like ten years had passed. Bug men tended to live old, and to die young in battle. It wasn't like the bugman was keeping count of the years he had alive. What he lived for was the glory of battle.

He heard only one name, through the medication-induced and painful surgery that gave him cybernetic wings. It was Tannor. Doctor Tannor.

The bug war chief felt like a complete wreck. This man, this Sith, this doctor, had helped make decisions that outfitted him with a cybernetically enhanced set of wings without his permission or consent. This man, this doctor, made decisions that led Xaraxunia to survive the war. He was not supposed to survive; he was supposed to die a terrible death, along with his other elite commanders. Instead, Xaraxunia survived. The man, the doctor, was supposedly among the first to call Xaraxunia a hero, a term that stuck.

Xaraxunia was so angry that he knew for certain that Doctor Tannor was the one who had made all of these decisions. After all, his was the only name and face that Xar remembered. Everything else was a horrible blur; a terrible nightmare. Xaraxunia forgot even the name of the Jedi Commander who had led them into battle. His only memory was of a male, human, Jedi commander.

The "Conqueror of Koboth" had conquered three other bugman tribes in order to become a King in the faraway planet of Koboth in the Tingel Arm of the Galaxy. He wouldn't be made to look weak. The Mandalorians were sure to insult the weakness of Xaraxunia. When a Kobok lost their wings, it was seen as a significant limb loss, similar to losing an eye, an arm, a leg, or an entire hand. Xaraxunia did not want the pity of anybody from his tribe. Xaraxunia wanted to make the Mandalorians pay.

Xaraxunia was here for one reason: to make the doctor who awakened him feel like a wreck.

Just like him.

----------

Xaraxunia quickly scanned the bar, then the stage. There he was! The man was perfectly buttoned up and quietly enjoying his evening. He appeared to be alone. It was the perfect time to strike.

Xaraxunia finished the rest of his "Sugar Sizzler". He found his inner courage and approached the doctor. He tapped him on the shoulder with his gauntlet-filled hand. He licked his lips, his accent having been corrected by a full jaw therapy – another reminder of his failures at the battle.

"Doctor Tannor. Look upon my face."

The second that Tannor confirmed his identity, Xaraxunia grabbed him by the scruff of the collar and tried to pin him against the wall. During the scuffle, a picture frame broke with a loud shatter. A few Wookies rose from their seats to watch the skirmish.

"You. You made me a hero. You made me a martyr. I can never forget your face, Doctor Tannor. You put…this metal monstrosity…on my back! You were there when I awoke from the stasis. You were one of the only ones left after the Mandalorians shelled this planet. You MUST be a Sith!"

There was a gasp and then a din in the room. Xaraxunia was fuming angry. He felt his metal wings unfold involuntarily. He could not hear the words the man spoke over the pounding of blood in his forehead and his ears. Xaraxunia saw red. He continued.

Xaraxunia drew his weapon, a vibroblade he haggled from a merchant. "You dare to show your face in Kashyyyk?! You should've left when you had the chance."

He gave Tannor an almighty shake, if indeed he was able to grab him. Xar was strong, but not very fast.

He stomped his foot, spinning the blade once in his hand. A number of patrons hit the deck and moved out of the way. "I'm not a war hero. I'm NOT a war hero. Do you hear me, scum? I am just the King. I am the Conqueror of Koboth, and you're just a puny medicine man. Zzzzzzz."

Xaraxunia felt his metal wings clicking with anger. The Wookies and the other bar patrons seemed unsure of what to do or how to react, although a few patrons seemed to be reaching for their weapons. Xar wasn't about to let Dr. Tannor go. The man's demeanor seemed strangely calm – or perhaps, Tannor was planning something. The Sith (and Xar did believe that Tannor was a Sith) tended to do that. Xaraxunia wondered exactly what kind of medicine man this man was.

Xaraxunia talked over Tannor. He was still seeing red. "I want---I want---"

Xaraxunia couldn't explain exactly what he wanted.

He just wanted to be a war chief and a mercenary again - not a "hero".

Xar licked his lips. "No. Not want. I DEMAND satisfaction." He leveled the vibroblade at Tannor. "Only bureaucratic scum would leave a man with all of this pain, and no direction to sprint towards."

The bugman was ready for a fight. He hoped for a fight. It was all that he felt he had left.

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor lifted the glass to his lips, savoring the burn of the liquor as the music wove through the bar. The low hum of conversation, the occasional clink of cups, even the gentle sway of a Wookie in the corner. It was a small, rare pleasure. And for a moment, the evening was entirely ordinary, and entirely his own.

Then a sudden pressure on his shoulder pulled him from that calm. He turned slowly, eyes taking in the figure in front of him without a flicker of surprise. Xaraxunia. His metal wings were unfurling, his gauntlets gleaming, and his eyes were wild.

Before Tannor could even register the intent, Xar had him pinned against the wall with the force enough to jostle the glass from his hand and shatter a frame nearby. The bar fell silent, patrons frozen in place. Some were inching toward weapons while others just watched, uncertain. Tannor felt the heat of Xar’s anger wash over him like a wave. He noted every detail; the tension in Xar’s arms, the flare of nostrils, the unnatural gleam of metal wings. He did not respond with equal force. He did not flinch. He merely steadied his breathing, allowed his body to remain calm, a solid anchor in the storm.

The bugman’s accusations cut through the air, loud and chaotic, yet Tannor’s mind was a still pond. Every movement, every flinch of Xar’s vibroblade, every click of those mechanical wings, was recorded in memory and assessed. The words themselves - war hero, martyr, Sith - tumbled around him, but he let them pass without reaction. When Xar leveled the vibroblade, Tannor’s gaze never wavered. He allowed the shift in weight, the posture of aggression, to speak for itself, noting the misalignment and imbalance with quiet precision. Every step he might take, every subtle shift in stance, was already calculated; not to strike but to contain, to observe, and to survive. And through it all, he remained a wall of calm, a measured presence that seemed almost absurd against Xar’s flailing rage.

Patrons resumed a cautious watch, sensing that the chaos had found its counterpoint. Tannor was not reacting, but he was fully present with every muscle ready and every thought deliberate.

As Xar’s fury continued, Tannor allowed himself a quiet acknowledgment of the absurdity: the metal wings, the spinning blade, the gasps of nearby Wookies. And yet, beneath that amusement, there was strategy. Calm was power, and in this moment, he held it entirely. Xaraxunia could swing and shout all that he liked. Tannor would not break. Instead his gaze followed Xaraxunia’s every motion, unshaken even as the bugman’s wings clicked and his vibroblade spun. When the accusations tumbled out Tannor’s voice cut through the storm, calm and deliberate. “I did not make you a hero,” he said, slow and precise. “Nor did I place you on any path but the one that you chose for yourself. I merely offered you some options. You walked your road, Xaraxunia. Every step, every choice; those were yours.” He paused for just a moment, enough for a breath before continuing; “You speak of monstrosities, of pain and survival,” Tannor continued, softer now, almost conversational, though every syllable carried authority. “I treated the wounds you presented, guided you through the aftermath. But it was your deeds, and not my hands, that earned whatever titles others might give you. Martyr, hero, war chief; those are not mine to bestow. I am no Sith. I am not a warrior of the Force. I am a physician for the mind, the heart, and the soul,” he added, letting the words settle. “I help those who ask, guide where guidance is sought. I do not command, nor do I decree. The path is always yours to walk.”

Patrons watched; tense but mesmerized, sensing the shift. What had begun as chaos was becoming something else: a dialogue in which rage met reason, fury met stillness, and a man who thought he had lost control glimpsed the truth of his own choices.

Tannor’s eyes softened, not in indulgence, but in recognition. Xaraxunia’s anger, misguided though it was, had a root. One that Tannor could acknowledge without taking ownership. And that alone, he knew, might be enough to begin tempering the storm.

Tag: XaraXunia

 

[XaraXunia]

"You deny being a Sith, and yet you survived. So then, you must be a Mandalorian?!"

"You are right about one thing, medicine man", Xar said furiously. "I made my own choices. I came to Kashyyyk to conquer the Mandalorian scum, and we did. If not for the brute strength of the Kobok, the Mando scum would be controlling this planet!"

Xaraxunia brought his vibro-sword down against the rest of the picture frame, and it split into two. He took a few deep, tepid breaths. He scanned the bar once more, seeing that the patrons were starting to put their weapons away. The mood had shifted again. The music started back up.

A powerful male Wookie, presumably the bouncer, grasped Xaraxunia by his shoulders and shook the vibrosword away from him. "No more weapons for you, hero-man!", he wailed in Wook-ese. "This will be returned to you when you leave! You can play nice with your friend, or you can get out."

Xar blinked a few times at the bouncer. He wouldn't be able to use force anymore: he'd have to use his words to get what he wanted. With the interruption, Xaraxunia started, at last, to calm down. He realized that he wouldn't be able to get anything done on the planet, or to contact any of his surviving elite commanders, if he were locked up in a Wookie prison.

"Fine! If you want a hero, I will be your hero!", Xaraxunia shouted loudly to nobody in particular. "But remember that I am a war chief. I do not play nice!"

The bar seemed utterly unperturbed by Xar's statement.

Xar turned back to Tannor. "I do not know this word, physics-can", Xaraxunia said. "Whatever you are is no concern of mine, medicine man. So long as you are not a Sith or a Mandalorian, I care not."

"I found you for another reason", Xaraxunia began. "I can feel a strange force inside of me. I do not understand its nature. It is the magic of the Jeha'ii waking up inside of me. No Wookie has ever been a Jedi, not in many moons. The Kobok do not take the side of Jedi or Sith. But the magic is inside of me now; a side effect of stasis. I've been inside of the Jedi stasis for far too long. I need to make sure that it is the force-magic, and not something else." Xaraxunia gestured at his heart center.

"I demand satisfaction. I must have it", Xaraxunia repeated. "If I die due to sickness from this magic, it would be on your head."

Xaraxunia licked his lips. He needed to be calm, or he wouldn't get what he wanted from Dr. Tannor. He needed to clearly express what he needed from the doctor. It was tough. He was still a bit angry. The metallic wings clanged as Xar stepped up to Tannor once again, albeit less aggressively this time.

"I need you to check whether the magic force is inside of me", Xaraxunia stated boldly. "I know you have some sort of instrument that can do this. And, if the magic force is inside of me, I need to know how I can train it. You can't just leave me like this", Xaraxunia said with an air of sadness. "You can't just leave me on Kashyyyk. Someone called for you, right? Who was it?"

Tags: Tannor Grene

 

[Tannor Grene]

Tannor remained standing, his hands hung loosely at his sides, letting Xar’s words settle in the space between them. He did not flinch at the anger, nor at the clanging of metal wings. He had learned long ago that letting a man speak first often revealed more than any questioning could. “I am neither Sith nor Mandalorian,” he said evenly. “And you do not need me to be either to examine what you feel inside yourself.”

He leaned forward slightly, keeping his gaze steady, but nonjudgmental. “You speak of a strange force; a magic inside of you that you cannot yet understand. I cannot measure the Force itself, Xaraxunia. That is not within my purview. But I can help you understand what it is doing to you; how it affects your body, your mind, and your actions. That knowledge, in turn, allows you to approach it safely and deliberately.” He allowed a pause, letting the words sink in.

“You are right to want clarity, and you are right to care about the consequences of inaction. But notice something in your own speech: the anger, the pride, the demands for satisfaction. Those are real forces too, Xar. And they can be as dangerous as anything magical if left unchecked.” Tannor’s tone then softened just slightly. “If you wish to pursue this… you will need patience, observation, and control. You cannot force understanding, no matter how powerful you feel. You may take the first steps here, but you must also take care to listen to yourself as much as to any external guidance.”

Finally, he gestured lightly toward the door. “As for who called me… that is not your concern for now. Focus on what is directly in front of you. That is where mastery begins.”

Tag: XaraXunia