Public The New Peace – Preparations on Coruscant

[Greellen Aren]

The galaxy breathes under a new era of peace; fragile, political, and already cracking beneath its own promises.
For Greellen Aren, that only means one thing: it's the perfect time to leave the comforts of Coruscant behind once more.


Wars, after all, leave more than scars.
They leave relics, fragments of soldiers' armor, forgotten clan emblems, and the echoes of stories that no one bothers to remember.
To others, they're debris.
To Greellen, they're history, and history always has a buyer.

He moves through the crowded skylanes of Coruscant with quiet purpose, his coat brushing against merchants and droids alike. Every face is a potential contact, every rumor a possible lead. Somewhere in this city of endless lights, he'll find what he needs: a new crew.


He's not looking for idealists. He needs pragmatists, people willing to chart the uncharted, endure sleepless journeys across the Outer Rim, spend hours in the small research lab aboard The Hidden Vessel, and, when necessary… lie, smuggle, and sell.


This is how a new chapter begins for Greellen Aren:
amid the neon haze and noise of Coruscant, seeking those reckless enough to chase the ghosts of the past, and perhaps, to profit from them.

 

[Tibera Jessen]

Exploration was dangerous work, and the eggheads that enjoyed it were rarely ever skilled in saving their own hides. Tibera quite enjoyed that fact, because it meant it was easier to strike deals. The Mercenary was bedecked in full armor, covered in duraplast and steel from head to toe. It was the uniform of a mercenary, one who had been through many battles and came out on the other side. Looking tough and intimidating was approximately fifty percent of the job of bodyguarding the more gentle folk of the galaxy.

As they hopped out of a (relatively) small transit speeder, The Merc grumbled before checking over the big secure containers they carried. One thing was for certain, this security was not standard issue! Tibera waltzed up to the man in charge of the archeological endeavor, and proceeded to drop the crates with a heavy thud.

"Aren, Greellen? Says here you're in need of some protection," Tibera questioned, before firing up a wrist-mounted projector. "I am willing to do it, if you're willing to come off some creds."

The projector displayed all the relevant information to the prospective employer, all about Tibera and their work history. It gave references for many organization, and half-classified documents that showed various deployments across the galaxy. No less than half a dozen major clients had employed them, and the records spoke for themselves.

This was probably the least interesting part of the job for a freelancer, finding work and going over documents. Even making idle small talk would go a long way into breaking the boredom. Hence, there was little reason not to at least make some idle conversation.

"So tell me, what are you looking to find out there? Some kinda treasure or ancient relics? Bet whatever it is, you stand to make a lot of cash off this job!"

Greellen Aren