OOC: Steve the Bartender? rofl...
IC: Jared spend several thoughtful moments sizing up the newcomer. After taking a long pull on his near-empty glass of ale, he replies
Jared: Greetings friend. I find it interesting that you would ask first what the job is, rather that asking first what it pays. That tells me already that youre a few notches above the local scum. It seems that luck is with me this night.
Before I tell you about the job, I should warn you that it's likely going to be quite dangerous, and I expect that we'll need a few more competent humanoids to pull it off.
Having said that, let me explain the situation. Two months ago, I arrived on this planet from Dathomir, with nothing but my name and the mismatched armor you see me wearing today. I quickly found work as a guard for a local high-ranking representative of the Arrakan-Korvaal mining company. I'm not much of a melee fighter, but I can shoot the eye out of a womp-rat at 400 meters. Needless to say, my services were greatly appreciated, and I quickly gained the representatives favor. One afternoon, the representative called me into his office, and told me that he was retiring from the guild, and moving to a resort planet on the Outer Rim. Before he left, he said that he wanted to give me a gift for the several occasions that I managed to save his life. The gift consisted of a blueprint for a specialized blaster rifle, similar to the Sorusuub that many of the Imperial Stormtroopers carry, but with modifications which made it an extremely deadly long-range weapon. To a marksman, it was a gift beyond measure. Unfortunately, several other guards who worked for the company found out about the gift, ambushed me later that evening, and stole the blueprints. The guards, of course, lost their jobs, but set up operations not far from this bar, as an illegal smuggling and slaver business. I have it on good authority that the blueprnts have been framed as a trophy, and are kept on the wall in the main office of thier compound.
Jared attempts, in vain, to gain the attention of the bartender
So, as you may expect, the job I'm recruiting for involves the recovery of those prints. I'm not rich by any means, but I am offering 500 credits to any who help me accomplish this task.
"Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves,