Elliot Pren's page

"I don't much favor a sealed docking bay. Should things take a wrong turn, we'll be trapped here." Shrugging, Elliot double checks his bag for all his supplies. "Not that there's much we can do about that. I suppose we'll make the best of it, while we've the time."

Elliot sat in his bunk, staring at the wall like it wasn't there. A troubled calm filled the room, like water, rippling after a rock had been thrown in.

I had a chance, there. I could have just walked away from this. Maybe arranged for those miners to head to Nenaxis, or helped those engineers give the Empire the roundabout. Wouldn't have been too hard, either, with my skills. And yet...I'm still here. What is it about this place? These people? I just can't walk away from them. Even though I know I need to...I just can't stop caring about them.

Sighing, rubbing his face with his hands as he arose, Elliot made his way to the infirmary. Being a doctor, he found comfort in his chosen workspace, rather than the fear, or insecurity that most felt within its walls. Slowly, he walked about the room, touching an item here, running a hand along a counter top there.

Things will begin to change from now on. I don't know what my future holds, now that I stopped jumping ships. I'm not sure I like the idea...but now I have to face it. I don't know if I can do this, but...I think I just might be able to...

As his thoughts trailed off into silence within his head, Elliot gave the operating table a final pat. "Good to see you again, friend."

Just a bit of peek into Elliot's head.

"Looks like we have all manner of interesting people following us. Hopefully that won't interfere with work too much, though."

Elliot puts on an unconcerned front, but deep down, he wonders what in the galaxy is going to happen now. Trouble like this never ends well for those targetted, and he really doesn't want that kind of trouble in his life. But, he can't leave his friends behind.

Yes, he can call them friends, must call them friends. Without them, he'd probably be lying shot back on Rhudor himself, his sense of justice finally kicking in after all that time asleep. That didn't stop him from having a moment of internal panic watching the message, though.

"Well, what's the plan, Laris? I assume you'll be taking over the captain's seat now, given that it's your ship and all."

"Sometimes people simply need to walk away from where they are in life. Perhaps the captain found his time."

Stretching lightly, Elliot puts his facts in order.

"Seems the Imperials are causing a good deal of trouble for a lot of private companies out here. I hear from Wellson-Sagma that the Imperial demand for raw ore and precious metals is hedging them out."

Looking around the street, the doctor continues, "Even more than them, all the trouble with the mines here has people hunting for workers left and right. I was mistaken for one Haeritt Locard, apparently arranging for workers to head to Nenaxis. From what I hear, it's dangerous, but considering all the problems here, at least work would be assured."

"I'm a doctor, by trade. I hire on with ships all across this part of the galaxy. As for why I'm out here, my father ran an independent trading business that routinely came through this end of space. I guess you could say I've been following in his footsteps for the last few years."

Hoping I'm close enough to them to speak without shouting, or being overly loud.

Still speaking to the woman, Elliot notices the Wellson-Sagma group. "I'll do my best to have some sort of response to you by this time tomorrow. If you would excuse me, I think I hear something interesting brewing."

Turning to the orange group, Elliot asks, "Pardon me, I couldn't help but overhear. You say the Imperials are responsible for your shortened break? What could have caused that?"

Persuasion: 13=6(die)+2(CHA)+5(Trained)

Nodding, Elliot says, "I'm well aware of the danger involved, but I believe these men would be rather at home with such a place. I'm even more certain that they would much rather go back to being miners, no matter where, than remain here as semi-skilled guns for hire. Given a small amount of time, I should be able to contact them, and discuss the details. Any information you can give me would certainly speed things along."

Elliot folds his hands together softly, placing them in front of him, waiting for a response.

Turning to the people, Elliot said, "Harritt Locard, you said? I'm sorry, ma'am, but you appear to have confused me for someone else. I do, however, know some miners that would probably like to better their fortunes."

Entering the tea house, Elliot remarks to the Captain that he's going to chat up the patrons, see if he can't find out what's going on around here.

Picking a seat that's well placed to overhear a variety of conversations, Elliot orders a drink, and begins to piece together what he can.

Gather Information: 19=12(die)+2(Cha)+5(Trained)

"If no one has need of me, then, I'll be heading into town to see what supplies I can't pick up, maybe contact a few folks, grab some leads on what's going on. Hopefully keep us from flying blind."

Turning, Elliot heads back into the ship to grab his pack from his bunk.

Might be able to contact some new crews, too. Keep up the network, dad always said. Supplies, jobs, information, who knows. Whatever I can get. And if it comes to it...

Elliot stopped walking, his thoughts forcing him to stop. Could he really do it? This place had felt more like home over these past few months than any place had since he had left home all those years ago. If he remained, though, something was sure to happen: A crew member he couldn't save on the operating table, a lethal accident, death in a firefight: it didn't matter. At some point, someone would be lost, and then it would be too late. It would happen all over again. That pain; that loss; the emptiness inside a person that felt like wind flowing through a cave.

I've got to get out of here. If I don't...if I don't...

Sighing with relief, the doctor wipes his hands to clear them of sweat. "I'm glad that was resolved more or less peacefully. Shall we be about our business, then?"

Quietly, Elliot says "These men weren't always gunmen. You can see it in their stance. They still stand like miners." Pausing, Elliot surveys the men again. "They probably won't go for their guns first, then. Of course, they're watching the threatening ones among us."

Seeing Cinder come up to the ramp, the doctor begins moving towards her. "Careful now, Cinder. Things might get ugly here. I wouldn't want to have to patch another blaster wound on you."

Gathering his medical pack, the good doctor heads up to the ramp. As he comes to the top, he steps back suddenly as he sees the men standing at the bottom.

"Were we planning on company?"

Perception: 26=19(die)+2(WIS)+5(Trained)

Stepping away from the intercom, a sad smile on his face, Elliot said to himself, "Not getting jittery, Captain. Just making sure I'm ready to do my job."

Heading back to his bunk, Elliot begins to ready his pack for planetside. No sense in going anywhere unprepared, especially after Rhudor. The thought caused Elliot to pause, remembering the day. It had been the first time in a long while he had actually felt something other than cold, clinical detachment about the patient he was treating. Something...better.

Shaking his head, the young doctor banished his thoughts. Too many problems lying down that path. Better grab my credentials. Seems I'll be shopping around a bit earlier than I expected.

Mechanical aspects completed, concept expanded slightly to accommodate the Connections talent. Any thoughts? Still trying to work out how he's connected to the rest of the crew, unless everyone wants it to just be 'we need a medic, and this guy popped up needing a job'.

I think this is the concept I'm running with. I've got others in the back, but this one shouted loudest.

Elliot Pren is the son of one Trelic Pren, a major merchant from the Core. Gifted from birth, Elliot easily accomplished anything he set his mind to, coasting through life on the wings of talent and money. When he was accepted to the Imperial Academy's medical school at 16, it was his family's proudest moment. Even greater was their pride when he graduated with highest honors at 19. Elliot seemed destined for a great life.

The sudden death of his father on a routine fringe shipment shocked Elliot to the core. His father had been the foundation of his life, his reason to strive so hard. With him gone, he lost the motivation to continue on. Passing up an appointment on Coruscant, Elliot left his home, now a place devoid of feeling for him.

Elliot has spent the past 5 years wandering slowly out towards the edges of space, making his living as a trader and doctor. He never stays with one crew long enough to form a real attachment, never wanting to experience that soul crushing pain again when someone he loves dies. Whether he realizes it or not, Elliot has been retracing his father's steps that lead to his death. Only time will tell whether Elliot ever gets over his father's death, but he rises each day with purpose, if not happiness, in his heart.

What Elliot doesn't know:

Here's the very basic elements of the character I'm working up. I'm going to have the concept nailed down by the end of tomorrow.

Basic idea is an Imperial Academy trained medic from the Core, possibly Coruscant, looking for someone out in the Fringe. Don't know how long yet, or who, but something's forming. Trying to avoid involving the Force with the character: so far it's successful.