“What is wrong with you?!” the Pantoran screamed across the small office at TuQ’uan, “get your head in the game. War is coming! We are going to war. This is going to be unlike anything you have ever seen before in your life. Did I mention are going to war?” Laren’s features softened a bit, but his golden eyes remained intense.
“Look, I know you don't want to hear this but this war involves Force users, on both sides. But worry not, many a great mercenary before us has gone up against a Force user before us and lived; Cad Bane, Boba Fett, Aura Sing. I mean, they aren't alive anymore, but that had nothing to do with their fights against Force Users,” he leaned, both hands on the desk between the two, staring with unblinking eyes into the Kel Dor’s goggles.
“This will be a difficult time for all, we will lose many on all sides of the conflict. People you consider friends and allies? They may be dead by this time tomorrow. Or not, you never know,” sighing Laren took a seat.
“I don't expect much from you, I don’t even expect you to survive this, and surely not unscathed either physically or mentally, but if you do there will be glory. And credits, there will be lots of credits. And so help me if you don't share the credits, I will hunt you down myself. Now go out there, make Plagueis proud! And don't forget to make us some money!”