Public A Covert Hiring

[Alliser Roche]

Theme​

Alliser Roche scratched the back of his head and took a careful look at his advisors. The five were all seated around a circular conference table where only a minute before a call had been held between them and their discussion of the evening.

"It's a risk." Guro started with a disapproving shake of his head.

"A calculated risk." Yusuf responded just as fast. Roche looked intently to their two faces, almost as if studying them, before looking to the others.

"Zi, Tula," Roche began with a roused brow. "Your thoughts?"

Tula started first. "It's as your accountant says. It's possible they won't uphold their side of their bargain, or better yet the job could fail and we would be implicated. We would win whatever fight that followed, but the damages would be a pain to pay for - not to mention the wasteful loss of men."

Zi pursed his lips and looked over the others with a sense of discontent. He rolled his arms in a shrug. "The Camilla is working at a fraction of its intended efficiency. We need the men if we're to continue on."

"Then it's settled." Roche concluded. "We send the word out that we're in the business of employing some professional mercenaries. All goes well, he will end up dead and we'll have a thousand men added to this ship's ranks."


. . .


A few days later in the bars and cantinas of Freehold and the surrounding systems, those skilled mercenaries looking for a hire and asking around for work would find a new job out and about. Details were sparse, the pay was high for assured confidentiality, and it was a one-time job; so the bartenders, fixers, and information brokers said. Those interested further could pass their name on to whoever they found out about the job from, and from there a meeting could be arranged.

An interview, rather.

If those asking seemed up to snuff for whoever was hiring, a meeting would be made at a place to be arranged. There they would be interviewed, and if they passed all checks, would be hired on for the job.

Just another day for the Outer Rim, though.

---

If you think your character would be good for this roleplay, feel free to act out them hearing about the job and putting their name forward. We can have the individual interview in a separate thread!

 

[Bao Quayan]

Alliser Roche


Bao had just hopped off a boat a few days ago, hitch hiking like always to find a job. Unfortunately the center of the galaxy wanted enlistment more than anything, and without a reputation, some short chick in a fancy flaired jumpsuit and just a sword didn't really ever stand out as capable. Most of the time, no one would ever meet face to face. So that meant if Bao didn't have credentials or reputation, and all they got was a picture of her, the chances were painfully and annoyingly rare they'd agree to meet. Even then, Bao was a huge stick in the mud. The only thing, the only actual thing, she carried, was her sword. She had no identity in this galaxy, no property, no provisions. Just her sword. And she always refused to give up her sword, so instead of making a fight out of it, she would just refuse the interview and go hitch hiking again.

She was prepared to leave, but thankfully she asked around to a cantina one more time. It was the outer rim, she'd find a job sooner or later, especially one that didn't require background verification and signing any legality papers pertaining to recruitment or enlistment. Some sort of privateer group was trying to establish themselves, one part mentioned they needed to recruit some people for a ship, but another was for one-time contract mercenary work. It mentioned high pay, but Bao disregarded that with heavy distrust. Usually the mention about money was just to entice some poor, dumb sucker into showing up. The real payment was always negotiated. The employer wanted to pay the least, and the employee wanted the most. It was taboo for employees to talk amongst themselves of their pay, so the employer could easily get off by giving different pay sums.

"Drop my name the next time they come by; Bao Quayan, Blademaster, Forgemaster," she said to the bartender. "Is that all, you got a resume or somethin' ya wanna drop off?" they asked. It was reasonable, never an actual resume was really ever dropped, just list of skills and reputation, if the person ever wanted to entice the employer. Even though this was the outer rim and jobs were easy to come by, you typically had to intrigue the employer, make it seem like you were a professional, and not a bargain bin straggler. "That's all," Bao finished, stepping away to find a table to sit at. She didn't have a room for the final night, since she was more or less planning to leave, so she decided to stay as long as the cantina would let her.

 

["Artemis" SBD-571]

Location: Marsala Cantina, Freehold.
Objective: Seek work.
Relevant Tags: Alliser Roche

In the furthest corners of Freehold, war droids were a rare sight. They were expensive, obvious, and often carried the air of dangerous times about them. Assassin droids and commandos were worse, but one faceplate that was familiar to the locals was that of a bizarre battle droid. Not that anyone would call it as much to its face unless they wished to have a rapid meeting with either of its wrist-mounted blaster cannons. For such a heavy droid, it had incredibly thin skin...

The proprietor and chief bartender of the Marsala Cantina would have ordinarily been against droids, especially droids like this one, wandering into his bar, but exceptions had to be made. After all, the droid was registered the Bounty Hunter Guilds in the mid rim, and the owner played as an intermediary between clients and local Bounty Hunters. The common riff-raff passed through all the time, kids with more confidence than skill claiming, taking jobs and leaving them half-assed. The droid, though. It could get work done and left the right kind of a mess.

It was a humid afternoon, the sun setting one way and the distant moon rising from the other. The usual crowd had only just shuffled in, ordering drinks and settling for another night of quiet conversation and poor service. The door slid open to admit a new arrival, as door often did, and a newcomer stepped in with a heavy thud. Since reigned, albeit briefly, as all eyes looked at the imposing intruder. It was a droid, twice as broad and significantly taller than your average man. Its grey armour was covered in smudges, pock-marks, and enough firepower to make a Sith Empire soldier blush.

The regulars recovered first, the droid was a familiar face and was greeted with mutters and raised glasses. Passers-by or other vagabonds could only stare in wide-eyed awe as the lumbering war machine hobbled over to the bar, its cool eyes focused on the Duro behind the counter. Clearly unperturbed by this new arrival, the man stepped over to meet the droid. Seeing that the bartender was entirely at ease, most of those still staring returned to their drinks - though they were certain to make sure they turned to face the droid at all times.

"Artemis," The Duro greeted with a nod, "Here for a drink?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. Artemis was a droid, but sometimes the Duro liked to mess with it. It made him more comfortable and sometimes Artemis even shot back.

Today, however, Artemis's idea of a comeback was to emotionless announce, "I have returned with the bounty," and unceremoniously up-end a rucksack over the counter. The still wet head of a Quaren rolled out, rolling a pace or two before coming to rest. This earned a groan from two nearby clients and a shout from the bartender.

"Dead," Artemis finished the thought, returning the sack to its hip.

"Don't dump it on the counter, you bucket of bolts-- Agh, by Ashla, do you know how hard Quaren is to clean out of Corellian Maple?" The bartender snapped, using a rag to grab the head and drop it onto the floor. He stared balefully at the mess on his counter before redirecting his attention to the droid.

"Payment will be sent to your usual account, but I'm extracting some for damages."

"Very well," Artemis responded, turning on its heel without further word. Just as the droid made to leave, the bartender called after it.

"Wait, I've got another job for you if you're interested--"

"No," Artemis interrupted him, "I have another mission in the mid rim."

Again, the droid was stopped as it made to leave.

"It's paying six figures, something big, too. Confidentiality assured if you'd believe it..." Which the bartender, quite honestly, didn't. His ruminations stopped as Artemis turned around just as rapidly and approached once more, its magenta eyes barring down on the Duro with all the intensity their emotionless depths could muster.

"Through the guild?"

"No, strangely enough. I don't even think they realized I am a middle-man for the Guild. They want to keep it local, or at least the hunt local. Some hotshot, they didn't give any specifics, was after muscle. Well, I usually get boneheads and nerf-herders around here, so I was almost ready to laugh it off. However, they're offering big money, and I happened to know a big earner that is the datapad definition of 'muscle'. They come back around noon every day, so if you want me to notify them of your interest..."

"... I will remain within the city. You know how to contact me."

The bartender, used to the short and acerbic nature of Artemis, merely gave a jaunty salute. The droid did not return the move, merely leaving the way it came with heavy, thunderous steps.

Once the droid was gone, one of the regulars leaned in with a greedy look to his eyes.

"So, six figures--"

"Don't even think about it."

 

[Brimstone]

Alliser Roche

Brimstone part landed and part crashed his ancient x-wing in the repair bay, the left landing gear was faulty so it took a heavy hit on the ground, at least the missing laser cannons on 3 of his foils made space a bit easier.

The hulking form of the Gen'dai climbed out, a writhing mass of muscles attaching himself to the large suit of armour that was currently slung under the belly of the snub fighter. Travelling like this was humiliating for a great warrior like him, but newly freed he had no other choice but to take what he found.

After donning his armour he felt much better, rearing up to his full 2.7m height he stomped up to the engineer. "Fix it, I need it flying by tomorrow"

"Fix it? I should probably just scrap it at this point? You got the credits for a job like this?"

"FIX IT!" yelled the Gen'dai angrily, slamming the last few of his credits in to the engineers chest.

How did it come to this, being mocked by engineers on a damn rock in the back end of nowhere, he remembered his glory days as a mercenary, he would have them back soon. The only saving grace is that his captors guessed correctly that sight of his armour for hundreds of years just feet away would be torture, so it was there when he was finally freed.

He checked his equipment, armour intact, his light rotary working but out of power cells, same for one of his axes, the other was in good shape. Barely any flamer fuel and just a few good sprays in his wrist blaster.... appalling shape.

He stomped out of the space dock and headed for town, he heard a big payday was up for grabs and he needed that, a big sum would pay for a new ship and then he could get back to doing what he loved.

He stepped into what he was told was a guild tavern, he had to stoop slightly and stood out like a saw thumb amongst the other patrons.

"KEEPER! Bring me a drink, we need to talk" he sat down at a booth, his frame taking up most of the available space. The barman, fearing what this bad tempered brute might do if not served quickly, brought over a large drink and a data slab.

"I was told you were coming sir" he cowered, here is the job, "it is off the guild books but they will be expecting a 15% introduction fee"

"Your terms are accepted" Brimstone replied, snatching the data slab off and reading the details of the job. Interview? Were they looking for a killer or a bean counter he laughed to himself. No matter, they would see what he was and there would be no doubt to the use.

"Barkeep" he said, beginning to calm down from his bumpy flight
"work out what needs to be added to that 15% for you to sort my gear out up front, and get back to me with my next round of drinks"

The Barkeep walked away, returning 30 minutes later with more drink and the datapad.
"My employer suggests 20% would cover our costs fairly" the barkeep announced, grinning.

A little steep for some energy packs and some fuel, thought Brimstone, but he wasn't turning up to a potential job in his current state.

"Agreed" Brimstone replied "now leave me, I need to read these details"

 

[Shora the Shameless]

When the Jeedai had come for him in the jungles of Pzob, Shora the Shameless took it as a sign that it was time to end his exile. After spending nine years in the jungle, clearly no salvation was coming. Perhaps the altercation which nearly cost him his life was a sign that greater things were waiting for him in the galaxy. However, after several months of drifting from system to system on luck and the kindness of others, Shora began to question whether this was truly the path the gods had intended for him, indeed if they were even watching at all. He had no money for food or shelter and learned very quickly that his race was not well received in the wider galaxy, making work difficult. And though his ability to speak the common tongue has improved recently, he still remained without the knowledge how to read or write. Yet no sacrifice was without struggle and so the exiled warrior marched ever onwards, looking for any opportunity that may improve his situation.

Thus, he found himself biding his time on Freehold. Too hesitant to speak to anyone himself, Shora often sat in the back of the local cantina to eavesdrop on the patrons. He was amazed by the creatures of all shapes and sizes that would pass through the establishment, and he challenged himself to figure out what each person was saying in the common tongue. However, passing the time was not his mission today. He had heard whispers of a high paying job that was looking for mercenaries, just the sort of opportunity he had been looking for.

Shora sat with his back against the wall, his pale eyes darting between each customer as he tried to figure out which one was hiring. His ears pricked up trying to catch bits and pieces of each conversation and even then, he only understood fragments of the fragments he heard.
His concentration was broken as the door slid open with the hiss of hydraulics and a figure stepped in with a heavy metallic thud.

A droid.

He shifted himself uncomfortably in his seat. Oh, how they made him uncomfortable. There was nothing so alien on Zenoma Sekot. With their hissing and whirring and unsettling red eyes, attempting to function in a mockery of life. Droids made Shora nervous, but perhaps "Artemis" SBD-571 could offer him a clue as to where he could find his future employer, Alliser Roche . He watched the commotion from the corner of the room as the droid plopped his latest victim onto the counter and listened intently to the droid’s conversation with the bartender. It was not a subtle affair. Shora’s pale eyes followed the droid all the way out the door before he approached the Duro behind the counter. The bartender saw him approaching from the corner of his eye and groaned softly to himself.

“Listen pal, you can’t just sit there all day scaring off my customers. You gotta order something.”

Shora paused before the bartender and slowly processed what he was saying before deciding that it was irrelevant. “I want job,” he grunted softly.

The Duro tilted his head with a look of suspicion on his face, somewhat taken aback by what he heard. “Look, I don’t know what you’re on about. I’m fully staffed and no offense, but you don’t look cut out for the hospitality business.”

Shora snorted in frustration as he had trouble stringing the necessary words together. “No, I want his job.” He gestured behind him to the door that the droid had just left through. The bartender stared through Shora to the door behind him for a moment before it suddenly clicked.

“Ahhhh I understand. Well like I told the droid before you, they only come around noon each day, but I would be happy to leave them a name and contact information.”

“Good. Good.” Shora nodded to himself, pleased with his ability to communicate.

“Anything to get you out of my bar, Vong,” the bartender murmured quietly to himself as he turned back to his awaiting patrons.

“I will wait here.”

“No you won’t! They won’t be coming back till tomorrow at noon! And you still have to order something to stay!”

Shora’s face twisted in annoyance. “I will wait outside,” he grumbled as he left through the sliding door, leaving an exasperated bartender behind him.

 

[Alliser Roche]

Following these four applicants, the job would be withdrew from public application. It would seem that the employer found the number hoped for!

OOC: For those who applied. I'll be contacting you, if I haven't already, in interview threads! I've been a slight bit busy but I haven't forgotten you!