A space smuggler, having just barely escaped an encounter with an Imperial patrol, found himself in need of fuel before he could deliver his cargo of Dilexian Probalt to a fence on Kowtania 3. He checked his charts and found he was near Tatooine, and decided to check out an obscure space port there that he had heard about.
He swung his Carellian freighter expertly around the surrounding peaks, wondering at the stream of spacecraft that seemed to be shouldering each other out of the way in an attempt to leave the port, and gently nestled onto a spacepad near the center of town. He strolled down the ramp just as a kid ran by, shedding his fueling gloves as he ran.
"Hey, kid!" he called. "How about a little juice?"
"No time!" called the kid without breaking stride. "If you're desperate, fill 'er up yourself and leave the credits on the counter. I gotta get outa here. If you got any sense, you will too. Big Jahwn is coming!" With that, he climbed into a beat up old Nantech 5 speeder and sputtered away in a cloud of dust and ozone.
'Big Jahwn?' thought the smuggler. 'What the hell is Big Jahwn?'
The smuggler had not made his tough reputation by being frightened off by rumors, so he put on the gloves the kid had dropped and hooked up the transfer lines. As he refueled, more people of all kinds buzzed, scampered, ran, scuttled and oozed there way past, all headed out of town by one means or another. He hailed a tall, heavily built Enefellian, a member of a warrior race noted for its combativeness, and asked what the commotion was about.
"No time to talk!" called the hulking creature, waving him off with one of his four hands. "I gotta get outa here. If you got any sense, you will too. Big Jahwn is coming!" He strode off toward a ship bristling with armament.
'I got a bad feeling about this,' thought the smuggler as he detached the transfer lines and threw a handful of credits on the counter of the port office.
'If an Enefellian thinks it's a good idea to get out of here, I don't suppose I ought to hang around.' But first he needed a drink, and a strong one. He looked across the dusty street and saw a cantina just opposite the spaceport. Salivating at the thought of something cool and wet, he walked across the street to the little saloon. He walked in, just in time for a bald Tooloosian with walrus jowls and an apron to nearly run him over in her haste to vacate the premises.
Before the Tooloosian could utter a word, the smuggler said, "Don't tell me. You gotta get outta town. If I got any sense, I will, too. Big Jahwn is coming! Right?"
"Right!" said the barkeep. "If you gotta have a drink, pour it yourself and leave the credits on the bar."
A scared kid with no job loyalty was one thing, but Tooloosians are not noted for their trusting nature, so the smuggler was beginning to get seriously alarmed. He figured, though, that he had time for a short one, and besides, he needed it more now than ever.
He walked behind the bar, found a bottle of promising looking spirits, and had just poured a shot when he heard a roar building in the distance. He threw back his drink and went to the door.
Looking up the way he had come he saw a sight to freeze a Seuccorian's blood.
A Gorllund, over three meters tall, was riding a huge bull Tylexian wont with horns as wide as his ship's deflector, and headed straight for the bar. He had red-stained fangs half a meter long, and was wrapped in what looked like tarvak skins, with a pair of five-barrelled Neomoidian plasma rifles on a two-gun rig across a wide barrel chest. The wont kicked and bucked every few yards or so until its rider smacked it upside the head with his bridle paw. He had shoulders as broad as an armorcrawler, with knotted muscles in arms covered with thick hair. He held two thick chains in his other paw. On the ends of these were a gigantic razorbeast and a holgrim the size of a small building, each growling fiercely and taking an occasional swipe at the other with claws like hydroclamps.
The smuggler was stuck to the spot for a moment as the incredible apparition approached. He only managed to shake himself and dive behind the counter as the strange rider pulled his bizarre entourage to a halt in front of the saloon. Peeking over the bar he saw the huge stranger cuff his pets savagely as he wound their chains around the canopy support.
"Stay there!" he bellowed in a voice like a thunderclap, and the two growled a surley reply before cowering before him.
Ducking once more behind the counter, the smuggler slapped his holster. He'd left his blaster in the ship! He was calculating escape routes as he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Suddenly, a huge paw appeared above him and grabbed his sweat-drenched jacket, hauling him up nose to snout with the gigantic creature, his feet dangling in the air under him.
"I need a drink! Make it fast!" snarled the giant Gorllund, placing the smuggler lightly back on his feet.
His mind whirled. "Drink? Yeah, sure! I'll get you a drink!" he stammered. He reached for an ice bucket. Frantically he began grabbing bottles of potent-looking liquor at random, emptying them into the bucket with both hands. "Drink? You want a drink? Have I got a drink for you!"
"Right!" roared the monster, and downed the contents of the bucket in one gulp. He closed his eyes and licked his fangs, then let out a belch that made the rafters shake. "AHH! That was good!" he declared, slapping a latinum plate on the counter. "Best drink I've had in years!"
Regaining some of the courage that had helped him survive in the tough competition of smuggling and running Imperial blockades, the smuggler relaxed a bit and boldly asked. "You like it? How about another?"
"Nah!" came the reply. "I gotta get outta town. If you got any sense, you will, too. Big Jahwn is coming!"