FAR BENEATH SILVER REST
It took some...interesting conversations to get Setter and the Raider prospects where they were now. Setter could've had them do a million things. Line up, run through an obstacle course, this and that. But Setter had a simple objective for the prospects- the ones who were not initially invited to the Task Force, but those who wished to become apart of it. That meant becoming a special forces operator, and that meant having to complete a task.
Some of them were in shape, some of them weren't. Setter wasn't overly concerned with physical fitness at the moment. After all, the fitness aspect would always come with the job, and with time. No, he was looking for qualities internal and external to each prospect. He called them prospects, because they hadn't even made it to the candidate stage.
Being a candidate meant field work, meant missions. He had respect for each of the prospects for coming out- but they needed something more. It was raining, not hard, just softly. Setter wore a poncho, an older camouflage pattern keeping the rain off of his person. He was crouched, as the prospects were lined up. He walked over and turned on a light, illuminating the tree they were under. It wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. But he had the prospects in fatigues and t-shirts. Just enough to make them uncomfortable.
Setter crossed his arms, analyzing each of them for a long while, before speaking.
"I will be assessing your ability to think without a paradigm or a clear sense of direction while having an objective. There is no grading scale, there is no pass or fail for this assessment- there is only my word and my choice."
He looked them all over, before continuing, tapping his foot.
"You will go into the Shadowlands, and remain with a ten kilometer grid marked by red lights. You go beyond those red lights, there's a good chance not even the best Wookie around could save you from being eaten. Stay within them and the chance is significantly lessened." He walked over, and flipped on a pair of floodlights that illuminated a set of crates near them. There were three distinct stacks.
"There are three crates here, each filled with a different item. You are allowed to take one into the Shadowlands with you. The first crate contains Vibroknives. The second contains night vision, useful to the near-pitch blackness that you'll find in there. The third contains... pistols." He looked at the prospects, before walking back over to his original point in standing.
"Contained within this grid square- is someone you have to find."
He paused, looking around.
"Me. When you find me, I will ask you a question. You will then return here, and give the answer to the Task Force member upon your return."
The vagueness he left in that statement was dangerous, if not downright terrifying for some of the prospects. Setter rolled his arms into a crossed shape, and nudged over one of the Raiders. He spoke quietly, before the fatigue-clad Raider nodded. Setter took off, disappearing into the shadowlands as he told the Prospects he would, and the burly Zabrak placed his hands on his hips after Setter spoke to him, facing the prospects.
His name was Ghorun, and he was known as a mercenary in the Outer Rim. His specialty was machine gunnery and the emplacement of defensive positions. Setter met him while working for the Republic on Coruscant.
Ghorun did not look like the type of man to be crossed.
"You will have five minutes to pick your article that you are taking into the Shadowlands with you. Pick wisely."
Ghorun walked over to stand where Setter stood, crossing his arms. In the same manner that Setter did. One could wonder if one was copying the other, and who learned what from who in that regard. Ghorun said nothing directly to the prospects... letting them make their own choice, and offered no input.
Edited by Setter Ryburn, 10 July 2019 - 08:58 PM.