BOSsK's reptilian nostrils flared. Fear. This thought shot across his brain, more a feeling than a word. His lip curled as a surge of adrenaline went through his body. The air around him was full of energy, as well as a Wookie's musk and human fear. Instincts had BOSsK in their primeval grasp. His senses hyper-alert, he began to move slowly down the corridor. His claws clanked on the metal grating of the ships interior, echoing in the hollow enclosure. There was a flicker of movement in BOSsK's periferal vision; a metal vent grating crashed to the floor. BOSsK whirled and his hand shot out reflexively to catch the concusion grenade that flew from the vent into the hallway. Hearing a Wookie roar behind him, BOSsK hurled the active detonator in the general direction of the sound. Simultaniously, he raised his blaster rifle and triggered three quick shots into the ventilation duct. He hit the deck as the grenade exploded. As he fell, he felt a great weight land across his shoulders. The fiery blast subsided, leaving the scent of scorched fur strong in BOSsK's nostrils. He rolled over, throwing the dead wookie off his back. Stang, he thought, gazing at the dead beast's burned back, I'd hoped to keep the pelt off this one.

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~BOSsK

The odds of successfully completed a TC are 3620 to 1!

:em321:

Rise from thy grave, thread of olde!