Jake stands a shade over six feet and two inches tall, and weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds. His physique is athletically toned rather than heavily muscled. He is quietly proud of his body, a pride that he feels he has quite rightly earned considering the time and effort he has put into maintaining it. His posture and bearing is unmistakably military, and he moves with the unconscious confidence of a born fighter. On close inspection one might notice that his right arm seems slightly too long for his body, not to a freakish degree but just enough to bear noting.
His skin is a deep mahogany, and along with his dark hair it speaks of an African heritage. His facial features are broad and flat, with a strong chin, wide jaw, and pensive brown eyes – the right one being a shade redder than the left - that sit in deep sockets under a brow that’s slightly too heavy not to look thuggish. His nose shows evidence of multiple breakages and fractures in the past, sitting somewhat crooked now. He wears his hair cropped, though is far less vigilant in shaving his face, usually sporting a short beard.
He has three tattoos. The first, an N7 ranking logo on his right pectoral, has been marred slightly by a heavy degree of lattice-like scar tissue. He also has a large lion between his shoulder blades, and a small image of Blasto on his left buttock. That last one was a drunken misadventure that he regretted for weeks’ afterword, usually when he tried to sit down.
Backstory:
Fatherwas David Anderson, a highly decorated officer with the Systems Alliance. She was a career soldier. His mother lived in London, were he was raised. His parents divorced when he was a child due to his mother feeling that David was more interested in his career than he was in raising a family. Jake joined the SA as soon as he was able. His mother wasn’t impressed with his decision, considering what had happened between her and David, but ultimately didn’t stand in Jakes way. Part of the relief force sent to the aid of Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Part of the force sent on the retaliatory attack against Torfan. Member of Alliance Special Ops Team Delta, running five missions in Terminus Space. It was during this tour of duty that he finally earned the coveted N7 ranking. During the Reaper Wars he served in the N7 Special Ops. Took part in over twenty successful missions. Part of Hammer force.
Psyche Profile:
Not so long ago Jake was a soldier through and through. A consummately professional warrior possessed of an ice-cool calm, a healthy respect for the chain of command, and a real passion for action. He was he’s fathers son, no mistaking that. However, since the Hammer attack, and his ‘dying’ he feels like something inside him has broken. He no longer feels the same calm he once did, being far more excitable now than he was before. It worries him,
Specialty:
Jake has experience working with, and leading, teams of mixed races and backgrounds. He developed a knack for delegating duties that best suit an individual’s specific talents or expertise. However, Jake also shows a decidedly hands-off approach to leadership in that once he has got to know an individual and taken their measure, he is happy to leave them to act independently. He’s learnt that sometimes the best thing a leader can do for his team is to give them the space to work.
He’s a capable soldier in his own right, fully able of holding the line or charging the enemy himself. After all, he would never ask his men to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. He’s any mans (or womans) equal in a straight firefight, being a respectable shot with both rifles and pistols, and being in possession of truly astoundingly quick reflexes.
Powers/Skills:
Expert marksman
Proficient hand to hand fighter
Marine officer training and experience
Background and expertise in small unit tactics
Full N7 training.
A host of contacts within the Systems Alliance
Equipment and Resources:
N7 Valkyrie Assault Rifle
N7 Piranha Shotgun
M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol
Standard issue service knife
Omni-Tool
N7 Armour, modified with Asymetric Rosenkov Materials defence layers and an offhand ammo-pack.
Kuwashii Visor
Thermal clips
Medigel packs x 3
Frag Grenade x 2
Sample Post:
A short sample post so I can get a handle of your writing style. This could be one of your characters early missions, a showing of them enjoying some downtime, or a short of some of their exploits during the Reaper war.
Notes
Jake is straight, and currently single. He was involved in a tumultuous relationship with a Turian Cabal member during the Reaper Wars, and has been taking a break from relationships to recover.
As a newly minted Spectre, Jake hasn’t made up his mind on who he supports to become the Warden of the Citadel.
Jake has an intense dislike for the Batarian Hegemony. It stems from the things he seen and experienced during the Skyllian Blitz, and consequent retaliatory attack. However during the Reaper war he worked with several Batarian soldiers, and came to grudgingly respect them as individuals, even if he does disagree with their government.
Has a habit of running his hands across his head when he is feeling stressed.
Aegon Partinax. Drakolix, a High Cipritine term for a race of mythical apex predators said to have stalked the Palevan wilderness in bygone eras; known for their bloodthirst, lethality, and cunning.
Race:
Turian
Class:
Havoc Soldier
Age:
30
Sex:
Male
Appearance:
Aegon is broad-shouldered and tall, standing at an imposing seven foot one. He weighs two hundred pounds and has the build of a life-long warrior. His carapce is snow white and his eyes are a rare shade of violet. His mandibles and crest are long and prominent; and his fringe is longer than average though not as long as Saren's infamously sinister fringe. Aegon's face paint is red and is an elaborate pattern that covers most of his head, proclaiming his heritage as a member of a prominent Cipritine clan. A Blackwatch tattoo, a black turian skull, covers his right upper shoulder while his left shoulder depicts two black wings; the mark of an Armiger flier. His carapace is marked by a multitude of old scars.
Aegon was born a member of the Partinax clan, a family who had been fighting in wars since the Fuedal Ages. His father was the famed General Partinax, who had fought in the First Contact War, and his mother had been a captain in the navy and was of the Coronati clan; another prominent career military family. From a very young age, Aegon and his siblings had been raised to absolutely believe in the Hierarchy tenets of unity, duty, and victory at any cost. It was drilled in their heads that their destiny was to serve the Hierachy in the military and lay down their lives for the cause if need be. His parents both being high-tier and from prominent families, they had always been well provided for and grew up in comfort and luxury.
Aegon was expected to be a proper turian, a paragon of the Hierarchy's tenets. This in fact bred his independent streak. Aegon had been a mischievous and curious child, creative in his childhood rebellions, but his father's lessons eventually convinced him of the merits of the cause and the necessity of ensuring the greater good of the Hierarchy. Though he never quite gave up being a trouble-maker. Despite this, he took to his studies intensely, finding immense satisfaction in learning to become a warrior. His parents taught him the basics of combat and strategy as soon as he could hold a stick. Aegon trained with mexta dueling, sharpshooting, hand-to-hand combat, and tactics and strategy long before he even set near bootcamp. Like the other children in his family, Aegon was being groomed for military command. All his siblings and cousins had completed officer school, so when his time came, it was only expected of Aegon to do the same.
He spent two years in the Valluvian Officer's Academy, and excelled. He received stellar marks despite occasional disciplinary issues and graduated top of his class. The studies his parents had subjected him too had paid off and Aegon had been ahead of many of his classmates, both in strategy and in combat. In the academy, officer trainees took command of client race Auxiliary units for virtual training exercises and Aegon won many more exercises than he lost; nine times out ten with minimum casualties and maximum effectiveness. During training he had also displayed aptitude with melee weapons and jump-jet use as well as fireteam tactics. His skill and talent in warfare, coupled with just a nudge from his politically influential parents, led to his rapid advancement up a few tiers when he graduated. He was one of several recruits selected for special training, with a chance of mentoring under a Spectre and during this time he met Saren Arterius. Those close to him agree the older Turian made an impression on Aegon and by all reports, Saren had seen potential in the young recruit. However, while Saren recognized his talent, he recommended that Aegon first cut his teeth in the military to see what he was truly made of.
As such, immediately after training he was made a Lieutenant in the 26th Armiger Legion and given command of a shock platoon. The platoon was often loaned out to the 43rd Marine Division when the big military needed effective shock troops and Aegon had the opportunity to train with soldiers from all over Council Space. He learned the methodologies and doctrine of the Salarians, Asari, and Humans; and even had the opportunity to train with Compact Drell fighters and Elcor living tanks. In training exercises, he soon learned to effectively coordinate with fighters of all stripes, seamlessly integrating a diverse array of combatants into a cohesive plan. When the time came for Aegon to undertake his first live-fire mission, Aegon acquitted himself tremendously; wiping out a pirate base in one lightning fast strike with no casualties to his own team.
His career would continue as such for a few years, often working in tandem with army and marine divisions in fast and furious raids against separatists, slavers, pirates, and all manner of malcontents; His stellar record eventually caught the attention of Blackwatch, the best of the best in Turian Special Forces, and he was transferred to the illustrious unit as an XO to a veteran officer and a promotion to Captain. It was during his time with Blackwatch, working with Hierarchy units both in and outside Council Space on both highly prolific missions and deniable operations, that he once again met Visenya Victus, a skilled Hierarchy Military Intelligence operative, and daughter of the infamous General Adrien Victus, who had been an old comrade of his father's. Visenya was the unit's intelligence attache and helped plan and gather information for several operations. As his unit's XO, they came to have a close working relationship, that would eventually grow into something more as the years passed.
Aegon proposed to Visenya shortly before he was promoted to Major and given command of his own unit. The wedding was a large affair and many operators from multiple militaries and luminaries from the prominent Partinax, Coronati, and Victus families were present. As a subordinate, Aegon had made an effective disciplinarian and major-domo, though he was not without his moments of self-inspiration despite orders. As a commander, he proved to have an even greater independent streak, often eschewing caution and doctrine for creative and destructive tactics. His career found him fighting Separatists on far-flung colonies, smashing pirate bases and slavery rings in the Traverse, and even assisting CDEM with Tuchunka peace-keeping missions.
Virtually every mission Aegon led resulted in achievement of the mission directives, but often in ways that ran counter to traditional Hierarchy operations. He was very popular with his subordinates and fellow Operators but gained an unfavorable reputation among many superiors; and many in the underworld grew to fear him. Despite his liberties with decorum and doctrine, he was a valuable asset to the Hierarchy and was fated for even greater heights. His destiny was changed however on a mission involving a terrorist ring operating in a human colony in the Terminus that was preparing to strike a major Hierarchy training ground. Instead of consulting with the Alliance, Aegon deployed.
They infiltrated the terrorist's base and would have eliminated the threat then if not for a chance encounter with an unarmed colonist. Aegon decided to tie up the man and let him live. The man later managed to slip his bonds and raise the alarm. The team discovered the colonists were actively harboring and assisting the terrorists and three members of his team were killed when hundreds of the townspeople rushed in with automatic weapons and mechs in addition to the terrorists themselves. Aegon and the rest of his team escaped, but without eliminating the ring leader. He realized he would not sneak in a second time and that there was no way to shoot his way in with his smaller team against a whole colony. His superiors would not authorize a ship-based bombardment, fearing public censure and war if Citadel forces were caught assaulting an independent colony. But the terrorists had to be eliminated in order to preserve secrecy and stop the plot.
And so Aegon did something unthinkable. He contracted the help of a batarian pirate gang, and set them against the colonists. While the town burned, his team dropped in and eliminated the entire cell with extreme prejudice; killing the leader and clearing their base in a lightning attack that resulted in no casualties while gathering as much intel and crucial equipment as he could. As agreed, Aegon left the remaining arms and salvage to the Batarians but rebuffed them when they sought to take the colonists as slaves. Aegon challenged the pirate captain to a duel and killed him in single combat, allowing the surviving Pirates to leave with their credits and the colonists to live in the ruins of their town. Hundreds had died in the fighting, including many children. From intel salvaged from the mission, Aegon learned the name of the greater organization; Cerberus. Aegon did not attempt to conceal any of this from his superiors and was incredibly candid in his report. While Visenya and his XO lobbied intensely on his behalf, the brass saw the operation as a massive debacle and most moved to have him expelled from Blackwatch and demoted; with even a few speaking of a tribunal.
However, operatives of office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance caught wind of the incident and intervened. Saren Arterius and Tela Vasir had both heard of the operation and been impressed with the results; particularly Aegon's out of the box thinking and willingness to go to great lengths to achieve his mission. They spoke on his behalf to the Citadel Council to have him inducted into the Spectres. The Council agreed and Aegon was even given a promotion after his induction; a fact that still ruffles some feathers today. Visenya was also promoted to a senior position in the Council's personal intelligence service and the couple moved to the Citadel; though they still owned property on Palevan. Though he was sad to leave his unit behind, Aegon knew he could do the most good in the Spectres without the constraints of bureaucracy. And so for the next several years, Aegon proved himself to be an incredibly effective Spectre; an overwhelming hammer were others were a scalpel.
With Visenya's help, he built a network of informants and allies, many with criminal tendencies, and gathered a crew of rogues and troubled servicemen after rescuing a decommissioned frigate from destruction. When the Council needed a threat dealt with quickly and thoroughly, Aegon was one of their top choices. Visenya gathered his intel, Aegon formulated the plans, and with his crew of cutthroats and outlaws, they did the bloody work that couldn't stain the hands of the Council. His notoriety quickly grew and his power base expanded. During this time, Aegon and Visenya had their twin children and life seemed great for the Spectre.
Later, Shepard outed Saren as a traitor; a revelation that shook Aegon to his core. He had respected the man immensely and had severe doubts about himself and his methods as information of Saren's crimes and excess came to light. He requested to be the one to bring Saren back to face justice but was denied. Instead, Aegon was tasked with investigating the Geth and their seeming return to organic space. He found little and was on a visit home to the Citadel when Sovereign attacked. Aegon quickly gathered his family and sent them to the Destiny Ascension, pulling rank in order to gain admission, before leaving to the Citadel Tower to escort the Council to safety, along with a few other Spectres. Aegon was onboard the Destiny Ascension and paled when he witnessed the destruction of the peacekeeping fleet. In an extremely rare moment of his resolve breaking, Aegon was on the verge of deserting his post to flee the ship on a shuttle with his family before the Alliance came to save the Dreadnought at Shepard's behest.
After Shepard killed Saren and saved the Citadel, Aegon was one of the doubters of Shepard's theory on the Reapers. He had respect for the man who saved his life and that of his family, but thought the affair to be a deception on Saren's part; a ploy to bring the Geth to his command. It was only later when Shepard was seemingly killed in a mysterious attack that his beliefs were challenged. They were shattered when Shepard returned from the dead and announced his intention to stop the Collectors. The Council did not allow any other Spectres to assist Shepard in his mission and Aegon decided to delve into the Citadel Archives to research all he could on the mysterious Collectors, the Geth, and the Reapers.
During this time, he was deployed to Taetrus to assist Hierarchy forces with the pacification of the Facinus Separatist movement. He reunited with his father and father-in-law and was an instrumental part in the systemic dismantling of the Separatist opposition. When word came of Cerberus, Aegon remembered his old enemy, and was part of a Turian task force to assault Cerberus bases and bring their agents into custody. The operation was largely successful but the Illusive Man escaped their grasp. Meanwhile, Aegon learned more and more about the Reapers and came to the conclusion they were real and accepted them as a threat. After Shepard's arrest in the aftermath of the Bahak Incident, Aegon lent considerable support to Garrus Vakarian's task force.
One of his siblings, a younger brother in the Marines, had been involved in a raid on a Cerberus lab run by the mysterious Director. His brother had been taken captive and attempted to escape before being killed. When Hierarchy reinforcements came, the Director was nowhere to be found. Aegon swore his honor on a vow to avenge his dead brother and bring the Director to justice, dead or alive, as well as to destroy Cerberus root and stem once and for all. He put his network to task on finding as much about Cerberus as physically possible, preparing to strike.
The Reaper Invasion changed his plans tremendously. With his wife and children safe on the Citadel, Aegon took his shape and raced to Taetrus as it came under Reaper attack. He was the only ship to successfully enter the system, making a daring covert run as the Hierarchy fleets tried and failed to force their way into the system. Aegon tried to convince his father to evacuate before the Reapers landed but his father refused, preferring to stay with his men. Aegon, who had witnessed the destruction one Reaper was capable of, shot the General in the knee and carried him onboard, stuffing his ship with as many civilians as he could. He led several smaller vessels in a run to the relay with support from planetside forces and managed to evacuate numerous civilians, wounded personnel, and VIPS before the Reapers clenched their fist around the planet.
Aegon returned to the Citadel before leaving to fight the Reapers. Visenya came with him, leaving their children in the care of their convalescing grandfather, Aegon and his crew taking action as the Council itself was paralyzed. They made contact with Alliance and Hierarchy forces and became an effective special asset, Aegon going on to lead several so called N7 missions. Used to leading both special forces professionals and criminals alike, he was uniquely suited to lead the diverse and eclectic teams of skilled fighters who arose to covertly fight the war. He was not the only one, with colleagues such as Jondom Bau falling in with the galactic resistance. Cerberus reared it's ugly heads once more, and Aegon took great personal pleasure in fighting the terrorist group on several fronts. He was away on mission when Cerberus attempted to overthrow the Council with Udina's help.
This incensed and frightened Aegon, as his family was put in danger though General Partinax had kept them safe. Pulling several favors, he had his family relocated to Rannoch along with numerous other Turian refugees and wounded from Palevan and other worlds after Shepard managed to bring peace between the Flotilla and the Geth. The Perseus Veil was largely ignored by the Reapers and with the dextro-amino environment, Rannoch proved to be one of the most relatively safe placed for Turian refugees. General Partinax, healed now, joined the war effort and assumed a position in High Command to fight the Reapers. The Partinax family, with their Victus and Coronati allies, were one of the main blocs that pushed for the ambitious ground assault to liberate Palevan.
Aegon had experience dealing with Krogan and was one of the few turians whom the Krogan fighters respected, in no small part due to his reputation when working with CDEM. He was instrumental in bridging relations between the two rival species and was one of the principal planners in the operation along with his wife, father, and father-in-law, who was now the Primarch of Palevan. It was he who suggested detonating warp bombs inside Reaper ships using turian kamikazes. The plan called for many valiant turians to sacrifice themselves and would mean the death of countless civilians, but would also mean the return of large swaths of the homeland to their control. High Command approved, and Aegon fought with the Turian and Krogan special forces operators on the ground in the largest joint operation in Hierarchy history. He was one of millions to witness the Reapers exploding in the air as the army retook several cities and territories.
While Aegon acquitted himself in the war, it was not without cost. Many of his Blackwatch comrades died in the Miracle, and he watched his crew succumb to war one by one after dangerous mission after mission. Even other Spectres weren't immune, and many longtime friends and colleagues died fighting the Reapers or Cerberus. It was only Aegon, Visenya, and a handful of others left of the original crew when the time came to launch the final assault. He was on the Citadel, performing a service for fallen comrades when the Reapers came. Once more, Aegon rushed to rescue the Citadel Council though now with Visenya at his side. The pair rendezvoused with the Council and evacuated them and countless other evacuees to the Destiny Ascension as the fleets provided cover. Ignoring his orders, his own crew fought to give them covering fire and Aegon and Visenya could only watch and listen as the ship was lost with all hands to overwhelming Reaper attack. Thanks to their sacrifice and the sacrifice of many others, the Council was saved.
With renewed fire and an even greater thirst for vengeance, the couple linked up with Primarch Victus' fleet en route to Earth for the final assault. They accompanied the Primarch on his flagship and were among the first Turians to land on Earth in the Hammer Assault. With his experience coordinating the Miracle, Aegon was instrumental in organizing the survivors of Hammer and the London Resistance into a coherent army to fight the massive Husk force. Aegon and Visenya fought side by side with Primarch Victus in London and saw the most hellish fighting in the war, even worse than Palevan. They attempted to charge the beam to the Citadel but had to drag Primarch Victus back to safety when the retreat was sounded. The Hierarchy forces held their line, but were on the verge of breaking; and Aegon had sustained numerous wounds. Death seemed imminent, but suddenly a red wave of energy enveloped the world and the Reapers were defeated.
Aegon spent a short time recuperating on the liberated Citadel while Visenya helped her father coordinate with the humans. He found himself to be one of the most senior Spectres alive in the wake of the Reaper War and had gained much renown and influence for his central role in resisting the Reapers. Aegon canvassed the galaxy, searching for new Spectres to fill out the ranks while undertaking a few missions to ensure galactic stability during the reconstruction. Aegon and Visenya left to Rannoch to bring their children back to the Citadel and the family remains there to this day; though the family visits Palevan and plans to resettle there once the worst of the turmoil has passed. Aegon found no shortage of work and was always busy in the year that followed.
When whispers of insidious threats rising to threaten galactic peace, Aegon decided to be proactive this time around. Along with other Spectres, and with support of Hierarchy High Command, Aegon and his fellows convinced the Council to form a Spectre-led covert task force to ensure stability and to neutralize threats to the galaxy before they became concrete and destructive. It would be a task force with no official authority and complete deniability, both made up of the best military operators and the deadliest independent agents. Task Force Katabasis was formed with Aegon as it's field leader. He requisitioned a Hierarchy frigate and assembled a new crew. He needed the best of the best for a ground team, no matter where they came from, and he had Visenya gather dossiers on likely candidates while he found the best support staff and crew he could, many of them with questionable records. The Council also saddled him with a partner Spectre, ostensibly so Aegon could train him but he suspected they wanted his "partner" to keep an eye on him should he step too far out of line.
Aegon is a veteran of numerous deadly missions, several ship engagements, two massive battles, and the deadliest war in history but only time will tell if he can whip up the extreme personalities of his potential squad into a coherent fighting force to stop those that would threaten the galaxy at large. Whether or not he can, blood will be spilled.
Psyche Profile:
Aegon, at his core, is a career soldier from a long line of career soldiers. His family have been military commanders and war heroes since turian clans fought with swords and axes. As such, war is not just his duty, it is his life. He is never truly happy unless some crisis is being dealt with, and he is a man who would be ill at ease in peace. From a young age it was ingrained in him that it was his duty to protect the Hierarchy and maintain peace in the galaxy by serving in the military. As such, he has pursued his family calling even above and beyond what was expected of him. His central drive to protect the galaxy have morphed him into a man who has nearly no limits. The safety of the galaxy is paramount above all else, and Aegon will go to nearly any lengths to ensure that safety. If given the choice between killing ten to save a hundred, he would not hesitate.
In the military he was known for ruthless and brutal tactics that quickly and decisively defeated the enemy as well as demoralizing them too much for them to ever raise arms again. Despite this, he takes no joy in inflicting harm, and in his mind only does what is necessary to keep innocent lives safe. This has resulted in a maverick of a man, a turian who will readily ignore orders when his judgement tells him it must be done. Aegon does not have a black and white view of the galaxy either, and is noted for having many contacts in the criminal underworld. He thinks of his network as a necessary evil to combat much worse offenders such as slavers, terrorists, pirates, and rogue governments. Even inter-species prejudices and xenophobia mean nothing to him. If something or someone can be used as a tool, he will not hesitate to use it in his mission. Aegon's unrelenting drive to safeguard Council space both make him an excellent Spectre and mark him as one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy.
Despite all this, Aegon is not without his sentimental side. He is a noted family man, and is capable of forming long-lasting and meaningful friendships and is famed for his acerbic wit. His family and those he love are what keep him tethered to the galaxy and stop him from truly becoming a soulless killing machine, and those he holds dear are the one thing that challenge his devotion to the so-called greater good.
Specialty:
Aegon is a Spectre, the best of the best. In officer training, he excelled, achieving top marks in the prestigious Valluvian Academy and graduating top of his class. Instructors noted Aegon's creativity, tenacity, pragmatism, and confidence in command. He excels at fireteam tactics and is no stranger to war room meetings, having studied every major military leader and battle in Turian history; as well as the military history of many other races. Whereas other Spectres are master infiltrators and spies, Aegon is a frontline combatant through and through. After completing officer training he was placed in the 26th Armiger Legion, cross-training with the Salarian, Asari, and Human militaries and taking part in countless daring raids before finally being placed in the legendary Blackwatch special forces unit as an officer.
While he understands the value of stealth and subterfuge, his preferred methodology is to hit his targets in a surprise attack with overwhelming force and destroy them thoroughly before they even have time to react. Aegon is meticulous in his planning however, preferring to know all the variables and account for all details before he strikes, but is still flexible enough to modify plans on the fly when the situation warrants it. He helped plan several raids against Hierarchy enemies of all stripe and before he was discharged, was one of the most highly decorated infantry officers in Blackwatch history, earning several accolades. He excels at lightning strike missions and is one of the Hierarchy's top experts in counter-insurgency operations, earning a bloody reputation among Turian Separatists.
After years of training and combat, Aegon honed his skills to a razor edge. His natural athleticism was further enhanced with the latest in genetic enhancements and his speed and reflexes are legendary. He was trained to survive in a variety of hostile environments with nothing but his wits and is a master in both tracking and evasion. In close quarters combat, he is a master of the pistol and assault rifle; able to draw and land a clean headshot faster than the blink of an eye. Aegon is also recognized as one of the top martial artists in the military, a master of several unarmed styles as well as omniblade, knife and sword techniques. He is an expert with jump-jets, seamlessly blending high-speed propulsive maneuvers with melee attacks and is able to accurately fire when hovering in the air. Simply put, Aegon is one of the deadliest warriors in the galaxy.
He also has extensive connections in the Citadel government, knows special forces operators in several foreign militaries, and has significant pull in the Hierarchy; being on a first name basis with more than one Primarch and numerous members of Turian High Command. His father is the famed General Partinax, and Aegon himself is a member of the upper citizenship tiers; as such he is one of the most influential members of the Hierarchy and commands political influence to rival most galactic politicians, business magnates, and flag officers. Aegon has an uncanny talent to acquire useful, if dangerous and unconventional, operational assets, often from dubious origins; and in the course of his Spectre tasking has built a formidable resource network. It is rumored he has contacts in criminal organizations all over the Terminus systems. As such he was the natural choice to head the covert Task Force Katabasis as it's field leader.
M-96 Mattock Heavy Rifle M-77 Paladin Heavy Pistol Fragmentation and Flashbang Grenades Cain Trip Mines Numerous military-issue talons hidden on his body A monomolecular mexta sword, a personal family heirloom named Sacrifice Dual omni-blades An Personal Propulsion Unit Medium Phantom Armor
"I said no."
The Batarian's nose burst into a red spray as Aegon's fist crunched into his face, knocking the man flat on his back. The pirate instinctively reached for his gun, but choked when Aegon pressed his foot into his windpipe as his comrades leveled a wide array of weapons directly at Aegon. The Turian, foot on the pirate, gun aimed at the ring-leader, was eerily calm as his own team leveled their weapons right back at the Batarians.
The pirate captain snarled, "Let him go."
"I will, once you agree that the colonists will be left alone."
"We had a deal, bird-nosed scum."
"We did, but that was for salvage. Not people."
"These human rats, are salvage. We did your dirty work for you, now we take our prize. Skilled laborers and pretty women will help us recoup our losses. Good men died for you Turian." The town was in flames, various prefabs in pieces while all around dead humans littered the ground next to some Batarians. The dirt was stained with blood and moans and wails could be clearly heard over the roaring of the fires. One girl was crying next to a man with a large hole in his chest and several dozen men, women, and children looked on with panicked eyes as snarling varren with their Batarian handlers stood nearby with guns drawn.
"They died certainly, and you will be handsomely rewarded for it. With all the weapons and tech left in that base. But the people stay." His team was outnumbered five to one, but they showed no signs of nervousness. Their black helmets hide their expressions and their bodies were absolutely stable shooting platforms. They arrayed themselves in a circle, rifles with clear shots on the captain and several other targets in overlapping fields of fire. There was no cover, they were surrounded, but the Batarians were the ones sweating. They had watched a small team of six destroy a whole base of armed terrorists and leave virtually unscathed. Aegon was the only one whose face can be seen, but he showed just as much emotion.
"That's not going to happen Turian. Let us leave with the humans and I'll let you all go. Hell I'll even give you a discount for our services. But this is none of your business. You didn't seem to care about civilians when you had us attack. This is just us collecting the spoils of war."
"War is war. Slavery is slavery." The Batarian under his foot continued to wheeze, barely able to breath as Aegon and the Captain stared each other down, neither backing down. Aegon could not, would not let them take the humans as slaves. And the Captain couldn't back down in front of his men without looking weak. Neither would leave the confrontation without severe casualties if a fight broke out, though Aegon was confident he and his men could wipe out the majority of the pirates and the captain before the team was completely incapacitated. He couldn't call for air support from his ship either. The frigate would have no kinetic barriers in atmosphere and the Batarians had enough fire power to bring it down. They were at an impasse and it seemed the only way he and his men would leave this confrontation alive was if they let the pirates take the humans. He listened to the cries of the little girl, smelled the burning flesh. He couldn't let them take the humans. But his duty to his men outweighed his duty to humans who weren't even Citadel citizens. He had to choose one. Unless...
"Let's settle this the old way then. The way my forefathers did, and yours if memory serves. One on one, me against you. First blood. No guns. If I win, you leave the colonists alone, take the salvage, and go. If you win, you let us leave unharmed and take the colonists and the salvage."
The Batarian scrunched two of his eyes in thought while the man under Aegon's foot choked out, "Brother don't-"
"Shut up, Kol." The Batarian glowered, "You think I'm stupid? You turians train with your talons since you can all walk. And you're Special Forces. In a bare knuckle brawl, I don't stand a chance. Same as if we had a shoot out."
"I didn't say anything about hand-to-hand. I said no guns. Omni-tool functions, knives, fists, biotics, anything you like. Just as long as there's no guns or grenades. Fair fight."
"Hmm. How do I know you'll honor your end?"
Aegon stared back before suddenly lifting his foot off of the younger Batarian under his boot. The man gasped for breath, rolling on the floor as Aegon kept his gun up. The man got to his knees, crawling for a bit, before finding his feet and unsteadily walking to his brother. The Captain gestured and a man came forward to take him into the fold, keeping his gun up the whole time.
"A show of good faith."
The Captain smiled pointedly, "And how do you know I won't kill all of you when I beat you? In fact what's to stop me from killing you all now?"
"Because my ship is hearing every word. They might not have precision turrets but they do have bombs, missiles, and cannons. You kill us now or betray my men, and there won't be enough left of you to fill a thimble."
The Batarian frowned, "You'd kill all of the humans? Just like that? I thought you wanted to protect them?"
"I would be doing them a favor. I've seen what your kind does to slaves. You have my word I will honor the terms of the deal. And you have my word I will make sure you will be blown to hell if you betray it. Do we have an agreement?"
The Batarian's expression became pensive and a long moment passed where Aegon's finger tensed, anticipating him to order his men to open fire. Then the man said, "On my world we don't fight to first blood. We fight to the death."
"Then that's how it'll be."
"Then you have a deal, Turian," He tilted his head to the left and dropped his gun. Aegon nodded back and holstered his pistol.
A voice filtered over the radio, "You don't have to do this. I can have another team on the ground in a few minutes. Just give the word."
Aegon said nothing and drew his sword, placing his feet apart and gripping the curved blade in both hands, standing sideways with the weapon raised. The Captain stepped forward and his armor grew spikes while glowing blue whips trailed down from one hand and an omni-tool materialized in the other.
The men stared each other down. Seconds turned into eternity as they looked into each other's eyes. Everyone, even the humans, were absolutely silent and the world shrunk to just Aegon and the batarian across from each other. He waited.
The Batarian made the first move, firing ballistic blades from his omni-tool before following with an electrified submission net. Aegon ducked beneath the blades and raised his sword, the monomolecular blade slashing right through the net as he twisted and drew several throwing talons, before sending them flying at the Batarian.
The pirate jumped to the side and Aegon fired up his thrusters, jumping into the air before plummeting toward the man with his sword raised high. The Batarian stepped backward and lashed at Aegon's foot with his biotic whip, wrapping the dark energy tendril around his boot and pulling Aegon toward him as his omni-tool glowed in the shape of an enforcement gauntlet.
Aegon flung another dagger and the captain threw up his gauntlet to shield his face, Aegon speeding up with his thrusters once more and charging directly at his opponent. The Batarian saw him coming and dissipated his whip, throwing up a disk shaped barrier just in time to deflect the sword. Aegon ducked low and swept the Batarian's leg before slashing at his side but the kick rebounded off of his bladed armor, and scratched Aegon's leg plating while the blades caught Aegon's sword in the torso armor.
The Batarian, shield still up, threw his fist back and lashed out with a charged enforcement gauntlet. Even with his enhanced durability and armor, the blow would have severely inured if not outright maimed or killed Aegon. But Aegon was too fast and swayed to the side, avoiding his blow before striking him in the arm with his own elbow. The bladed armor cut Aegon but the man grunted in pain and twisted to the side, exposing his head from behind the shield.
Aegon cut with his free hand and his sharp talons clawed down the man's cheeks making him shout in pain and recoil. Aegon drew back his sword and spun, attacking and battering the biotic shield with quick, precise, and strong strikes. The man was forced to his knees and Aegon knew the barrier would fail eventually. The pirate knew that too and he deflected the sword once more before collapsing the shield. Aegon flew backwards with his thruster pack just as the man detonated his blade armor. Shrapnel cut at his armor but he was protected from the worst of it.
The pirate created another whip and struck the ground right in front of Aegon, blowing up dust and debris and forcing him backward. Aegon jumped up into the air and another whip wrapped around his sword, pulling him down. Aegon released the sword and materialized dual omni-blades, killing his thrusters to dive at the Batarian.
The man raised his omni-tool and Aegon activated his thusters to dodge to the side and avoid the ballistic blades. He landed with a roll on the ground and lashed out with his omni-blades, both of them cutting across the Batarian's now normal armor. The man cursed, wounded, and aimed a swift kick at the Turian. Aegon grabbed the leg with both hands and twisted his body, flipping the Batarian and smacking him down to the ground.
Aegon swiftly kicked him in the side, driving out his breath and another omni-blade appeared in his hand, driving forward to bury itself in the batarian's chest. The Batarian roaring, wrapped his fist in blue energy and stuck his hand out as the blade rushed forward. A biotic blast threw Aegon back and he used retro-thrusters to arrest his movement and land softly. The Batarian charged forward, enforcement gauntlet glowing.
Aegon tried to fly to the side, but a whip wrapped around his chest and held him in place as the fist came flying. Aegon threw up his arm and hopped to the side. The gauntlet glanced off of his arm and blew the thruster pack on his shoulder to pieces. Aegon was thrown to the ground and the Batarian raised both arms to finish him off with dual whips. Aegon's hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he rolled forward, too close for the Batarian to strike.
As he passed, he came to a crouch and struck at the Batarian's side, sprinting forward before turning to cut his back. The Batarian cried out and twisted back to swing at Aegon with a whip but Aegon ducked under the whip and lashed out, cutting deep into his arm. The pirate stumbled and tried to raise his other arm but Aegon knocked the arm back down with a foot before slashing him across the chest, stepping forward, and driving the sword straight into Batarian's chest.
His sword popped out from the man's back and Aegon stood there, close as a lover, as the man breathed shallowly right next to his ear. His body drooped and Aegon allowed it to slide off of his sword. The Batarian's brother cried out and rushed to the man, sobbing and shouting frantically trying to apply medi-gel while the captain breathed unsteadily and the blood pooled beneath his body. His eyes glazed over and he muttered incoherently as Aegon stared at him.
Aegon flicked the blood off of the sword and looked at the blood spreading in the dirt, filling his field of vision and staining his boots. He looked into the pirate's eyes, drew his pistol, and shot him twice in the head.
Notes
- Aegon's treatise on small-unit tactics and counter-insurgency is required reading in Hierarchy officer training. - He holds a championship medal for the Palevan swordsmanship tournament, and won several sparring competitions in Blackwatch and units and ships he was attached to. He also won several pistol fast draw competitions. - His wife is Primarch Victus' daughter, they have a twin boy and girl with another child on the way. - Aegon is often used as a bedtime story to frighten children by both colonists in far-flung outposts and low-tier citizens in the mega-cities. Turian Separatists think of him as one of their greatest enemies and he has garnered equal parts hatred and respect among several krogan clans due to his joint-operations with CDEM. - In the aftermath of the Reaper War, Aegon is lobbying strongly to attain the position of Warden of the Citadel, an ancient military title bestowed in times of great emergency. This would grant him command of all the Citadel peacekeeping fleets. Several in Special Tactics and Reconnaissance back his campaign while many others say the title should fall to Commander Shepard.
Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions.
Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs.
While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality.
Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather.
His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts.
Backstory:
Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak.
Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets.
Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth.
Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride.
The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully.
Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured.
Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role.
Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost.
That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses.
Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack.
After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms.
After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors.
After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil.
Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure.
While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity.
While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow.
And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth.
Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone?
Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort.
Psyche Profile:
Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”.
Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea.
Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums.
Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling.
Specialty:
Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs.
Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level.
Powers/Skills:
-Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo
Equipment and Resources:
-Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool
-Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher *
* Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time
Sample Post:
“Will you turn that shit off?”
The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store.
“What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river.
“She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing.
“Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked
Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed.
Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?”
“Aside from the batarians? Sure.”
“Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin.
Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation.
Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking.
Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.”
The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts.
The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force.
Notes
-Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.
6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy.
Backstory:
At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee.
It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe!
Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter...
Psyche Profile:
Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her!
Specialty:
Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space.
Powers/Skills:
Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising.
Equipment and Resources:
ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon.
Sample Post:
A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them,
They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them.
A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them.
Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be…
*BOOM!*
The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues!
“What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping.
“We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash!
Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance!
Notes
Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!
Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability.
UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes.
Backstory:
Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son.
In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken.
Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by.
He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body."
He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon.
They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians.
Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician.
After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis.
Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters.
Psyche Profile:
Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it.
UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed.
Specialty:
He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists.[/indent]
Powers/Skills:
His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification
Equipment and Resources:
Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition.
Sample Post: [indent]“Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube.
A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger.
'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'"
Sample 2 [indent]Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall.
With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them!
Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!”
The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die.
Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do.
Notes [indent]Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies.
His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information.
In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully.
He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday.
He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug. [/hider]
Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, a Quarian born in 2164, being aboard the Yaron along with his parents and several kin. His father was mainly aboard the Patrol Fleet, while his mother was a researcher focused on the Special Projects arm of the Migrant Fleet. Both were fearful of the health and protection of their child, and as such never dared to expose their child to the world outside of the migrant fleet. They were scared of their son’s curiosity, whom at the time knew relatively nothing of the world and was eager to learn. They did their best to fill that void once their son got his suit by flooding him with information that a young Quarian could understand. And when he wasn’t meant to be studying, often he would wander around the migrant fleet, listening to stories that they loved to tell. Stories of Rannoch, their beloved homeworld which was lost to them due to losing control of the geth, an artificial intelligence that they never intended to create that way. They’d speak of Quarian dancers, and their seemingly lost love for music. Little Rayes would soak in as much information as possible that he could from these stories, even if some of them weren’t actually true.
This desire for knowledge helped in his teens, as he focused a majority of his time then into doing what his parents did. From his father, he could study various navigation paths in the galaxy, and to a little further extent ship layouts and the engineering behind them. From his mother, he could further his knowledge of technology and understanding of the geth, something his mother believed that every Quarian should have a base knowledge of, to which most do. Instead of being a fighter, Rayes expertise began to shine in how to handle technology and repair or destroy it, noticing flaws in systems that would otherwise take a more trained eye to catch, and exploiting it. Exploitation came in the form of hacking, which while he was limited to certain objects on the migrant fleet, those he often did stumble across were heavily safeguarded beyond his skill comprehension at the moment, leading him to only want to become more invested in it. These skills would become vital when he could begin on his pilgrimage.
Naive, young, and somewhat confident in himself, Rayes didn’t listen to his fellow Quarians when they insisted that he go off towards the Citadel, a place where things would be the least likely to cause him harm or vise versa. They made sure to give him several parting gifts as incentives for him to listen, such as a Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool, various medical stimuli to keep him healthy should he become sick, along with Medi-Gel that a Quarian could use should he ever become injured. But instead of listening to their advice, Rayes felt bold. It was his first true experience away from the Migrant Fleet, and he wanted to make it memorable. The Citadel didn’t seem like a place that would suit him, believing it to be the easy way out of his pilgrimage. Instead, he went to a place that he believed could be exciting, Illium.
Oh boy, was in he in for a rough time there. Immediately upon arrival after transferring through several ships, the young Quarian landed in hot water and was thrown into the frying pan. He was easily kidnapped by Asari who had a multitude of ‘indentured servants’ , and thus easily sold to a faction of the Eclipse on Illium due to his prowess with technology, something the Eclipse loved to use and subsequently broke. He was forced into repairing the Eclipse’s weaponry and and technological equipment, acting as a kind of repairman for the criminal organization. And while the situation seemed hopeless as it felt like he was always under constant discrimination and surveillance, he believed something good was bound to happen. And until then, he’d have to endure with the choice he made. The discrimination came from the various Humans and Asari stationed on his section of Illium, who thought of Rayes as a cheap punching bag for their enjoyment. He often found himself having to scan the measly portions he was given, and on several occasions couldn’t eat it due to his body not being compatible with the food. Most likely some sick joke, or maybe they wanted him to get sick. He didn’t know nor care, instead doing his best not to make any sort of scenes. He played the role they wanted him to, a seemingly malleable and easily pushed around slave.
A year went by, and the Quarian had not contacted his family to inform them of his pilgrimage. In fact, to the Eclipse, they began to see the usefulness of Rayes. While he had started off small, eventually he had begun to repair the Eclipse mechs, and sometimes was forced to repair damages done to spaceships if he was given the right schematics. And if they were desperate, he’d be escorted to various terminals or infiltration operations, where his hacking skills could be put to good use. They never gave him a gun on these rare occurrences though, believing he would still try to escape if an opportunity arose. And while all was forced labor, at least, in his eyes, it was something that he liked and could vastly improve on. He got to work with weapons and mechs he had never seen before, hack systems that wouldn’t have been available on the Citadel, and even repair some of their ships, all of these encompassing new technology that the Eclipse managed to get their greedy hands on. Working with technology of this caliber wouldn’t have happened on the Citadel, however… He also wouldn’t be in an extremely dreadful situation. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was just a pawn, and if they ever felt he wasn’t useful, he knew they would dispose of him. They didn’t watch him as much anymore, but they still treated him like he was just a tool, and as such he was placed into terrible conditions on the off chances he would get proper rest. Often, he found himself questioning the pilgrimage, seeing this more of an eye opener than a proper trip to bring something valuable to his family… Something valuable… Surely the Eclipse, he thought, would have something. Having been in close quarters with them for so long, he had noticed they were lax around him, not being perceived as much of a threat anymore as he’d been around for well over a year now, and he would have to use that to his advantage if he ever wanted to see his home again. He knew he couldn’t beat them in a gunfight, there were simply too many and too skilled for his relatively poor gun expertise. All that time repairing their weapons, and he probably couldn’t even properly handle them himself.
Another year, and he missed the Migrant Fleet with all his heart. There was no engine on Illium, only a cage and despair. There was no bond, no loyalty, only grief and deception, and Rayes believed he’d have to use that to his advantage. As they continued to bring him on several operations for his hacking expertise, he began leaving traces that he had been there, and while he would comply with their needs, he also began saving the data for himself. The Eclipse had grown soft around checking his Omni-Tool, as two years of nothing made them feel he was at least somewhat loyal to them. But he had already started to record the technology he worked on, documenting every detail he could about their supposed latest and greatest thing that busted. While it was often not substantial at first, and generally followed with a return to working on something they had planned, eventually he began to steal more, hacking with efficiency only a Quarian could. Surely there’d be some sort of information he could use to escape? A way to send a message? Surely, he felt, someone would find and put together the clues he had left behind... He had learned of awful things that he missed in his absence from some of the information he had kept, such as the citadel being attacked by something called a reaper, the supposed death and revival of a human Spectre named Commander Shepard… It was hard to swallow how much time had past… And how much trust the humans were getting. The ones in the Eclipse were dreadful, and were the most cruel, twisting the stories he had heard from his kin on the Migrant Fleet. Hopefully this Shepard was better, but he was extremely doubtful.
A chance of escape came one day as he scoured through some stolen Eclipse files on his omni tool, being allowed to wander the cargo terminal the Eclipse had decided to occupy, only for the silence to be broken upon the sound of gunfire becoming vastly apparent. He noticed Eclipse Gunships in the area, several of which he wondered of if he’d repaired before, only to be shoved to the side by an Eclipse Engineer, forcing Rayes to take cover. There was a conversation at first, but then the gunfire soon continued and Rayes hid as far away as he could, allowing the firefight to pass as it went downward towards the Cargo Terminals, and his former “employers.” He took this opportunity to slowly but surely follow the conflict until the group in front of him took an elevator towards the docks. That elevator was his escape, but an escape towards what? He had no money, no credits to go anywhere… Until, as he wandered in the shadows of Illium, he heard of an information broker who potentially could help him. With all other options gone, and little time to waste before the Eclipse would notice him missing, he hastily made his way towards the supposed broker.
He sold all the information he had stolen for a ticket to the citadel, but made sure to keep it for himself as well, and along with several credits for the info. Sure, it was a dangerous gamble to allow her to copy his data, but surprisingly she understood his desire to keep it… and things got better from that day. He had managed to find a place that hired him as a repairman for weapons and technology, and once he had enough credits to fly home, he immediately did so. He had had enough surprises on his pilgrimage to last a lifetime, and they accepted his data on the Eclipse, the technology he had worked on, schematics he recorded, and importantly weapon details, and accepted a role on board the Fowal. His family was astonished by how much he endured, furious that he had not listened to them, but ultimately glad that he had survived. He adapted a much more suitable appearance to commemorate his return from a grim situation, and began working immediately on the Fowal, just months before the reapers return. In this short span, Rayes became known for his improvements to weapons to be used for the fleet and against the Geth, along with his research on potential environmental suit improvements, something that he had become inspired to make due to the harshness of Illium.
The Fowal was a ship dedicated to the research of expanding Quarian technology, investigating new weapons and the study of the Geth, an enemy that, once he learned the admiralty board soon declared war on them, Rayes was rather skeptical about it all. He didn’t believe the Geth were necessarily in the wrong for their actions, and while he longed to see the fabled homeworld of Rannoch, destroying something more advanced and sentient than the simple mechs he had repaired seemed… awful. But he knew better than to question his superiors, and at first, it seems the modifications he had worked on seemed to bolster the Quarian’s power against the Geth… Until they accepted Reaper help.
But hope wasn’t lost, and while many ships suffered casualties, things started looking up once they learned Commander Shepard would help. A name that Rayes became all too familiar with when he first returned to the Migrant Fleet, having heard of his exploits and helping the Quarian Tali’zora Vas Normandy, someone Rayes slightly remembers growing up around with. With their help, they did the impossible, stepping foot on Rannoch as the Battle for Rannoch began. To Rayes, it was frightening, being inexperienced in combat, but he made up for it with his insights against the Geth, providing support and cover fire, and doing his best to hack the enemy barriers and shields. It felt like forever, but ultimately, it seemed like the Quarian's would win, but instead came an agreement to coexist with the Geth. Rayes was rather pleased with this idea, not only due to how it was peaceful, but also because it would allow him to greatly study the Geth and get information from them while they were still active. While it was fun to study a piece of technology that was broken, studying an active sentient Geth would be amazing.
Rayes was not selected to go and join the fight with the reapers, he was instead sent to go and help build the crucible, something he took immense pleasure from upon arrival as they saw his technical prowess as an excellent edition. He helped make great strides into it’s creation, being able to offer suggestions in an environment he never thought he’d see. On Illium, he was treated like scum, a simple object meant to be manipulated, but he here, he was wanted, appreciated even… And, everyone was working together. This wasn't about species or race anymore, it was about survival, and to think, a human had started it all, with the help of an asari prothean expert. Maybe... the Eclipse were just an oddity, just like how some Quarian's were oddities in their own right.
So when it was eventually complete and fulfilled it’s purpose, he came home proud that he had helped defeat the reapers in his own way. He helped in the process of colonizing Rannoch, and ultimately in the construction, with the help of the Geth, of upgrading the Quarian Fleet. Currently, Rayes is on Rannoch, studying the reapers with the help of Geth information and looking for a way to utilize the technology that had been scattered across the galaxy when the reapers were annihilated. Maybe, he thought, it could be used to create better protection for the future. The Geth have already helped him make immense strides in Quarian environmental suits, and he believes they can be utilized for much more than their original purposes or what the reapers had for them.
Psyche Profile:
Rayes is a firm believer that not all situations are hopeless, maintaining the notion that things could always get worse, but the worse can be prevented through hard work and dedication, along with preparation and to know how to endure. A lot of his life has been dedicated to the advancement of technology and the study thereof, regardless of the technology's purpose, and as such, he loves to always be working on some sort of gadget or analyzing data. Even in grim situations, knowing that there is something to observe generally calms his nerves and brings him back to reality. His over-analytical nature often allows him to notice things that many others may not, or on his time on Illium, be able to hastily retrieve and comprehend data types or schematics that he'd never seen before.
When it comes to the other galactic species, Rayes is very wary of anyone not Quarian. His time on Illium has made him somewhat distant towards Humans and Asari specifically, as they were the majority of the Eclipse's forces that he was under on Illium. While Commander Shepard's actions has somewhat lessened that hostility, he won't go out of his way to make friends with them. Towards Turians, Rayes always feels that his knowledge of combat is lacking too much to hold a non-awkward conversation, and will often stutter his words or become embarissed if he cannot come up with an answer to their questions. Salarians are the easiest for Rayes to talk to, sticking to science as a main conversation topic. Batarian's are a mixed bag depending on how much Rayes knows of them, but he can sympathize with their hatred towards humans. Rayes hasn't had much experience talking to Drell, and as such, will often act similarly as he does towards Turians. For Asari, the Quarian is suspicious of them, wondering how they could allow one of their own colonies to have anything legal except for murder...
Rayes likes to be prepared, and is somewhat saddened by his lack of knowledge in combat situations. His only proficiency in combat is with a pistol, but even that is somewhat limited and rusty. But, he has an eye for spotting technology on the battlefield that he can turn to his advantage, or disabling shield or barriers that an enemy may have. He prefers to provide support, allowing someone else to take the killing shot, and instead setting it up. However, currently he feels he has no time to train, focusing his attention to his love for tech and how to improve it.
However, he has recently started to listen to music once more now that the war is over and he is safe; music being a favorable pass time when he was younger. And, now with Geth help, his self confidence and hope for the future has begun to rise. He knows that a lot of Quarian don't trust the Geth, and with good reasons, but he is willing to give them a second chance, as they are giving the Quarians. Not to mention, he slightly loves the idea of sentient AIs being constantly present around him.
Specialty:
Rayes'Xum was most likely picked due to his outstanding displays of technical prowess and resourcefulness when it comes to technology. Even for things he doesn't know much about, give him time to do research, and he'll be able to fix or hack into it with a breeze. Along with this, he can craft, repair, or install upgrades into existing weapons or starships. Having been one of the fateful Quarians to go and help build the Crucible, his advancements has given him a special place some of the Quarian's hearts. Due to his extensive knowledge in technology and prior experience, Rayes is a pretty damn good hacker if need be, being quick on his feet to solve and bypass securities that are in place in a moments notice or so.
While he may not be as deadly as some on the battlefield, he makes up for it with his quick-wit and ability to manipulate the battle in favor for his team. He can help break down enemy defenses and render them helpless for his team to finish off. Currently, he's been working on the side to develop a combat drone to assist him and make up for his poor weapon game, only bringing a pistol to the battlefield, along with his Omni-Tool's blade.
- Aldrin Labs Light Onix Armor VI modifications on his envo-suit. - Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool - Arc Pistol
Sample Post:
"Det kazuat." Rayes whispered under his breath as he followed a human Eclipse mercenary, somewhat curious as to what their next assignment for him was. Last time, it was to repair a simple rifle that hilariously they had managed to break just after receiving it. It didn't take him long at all to repair it, but he wasn't met with praise. Instead, they just decided not to spit into his food, which he was rather thankful for. It meant he'd at least get another meal, measly as it was, to survive instead of having to toss it to the side, not knowing if something as simple as saliva would cause him to become ill and thus useless. He made sure to scan everything that he'd have to consume, glad that they were at least smart enough to know he was a dextro-protein species, yet also surprised they'd go through the effort to get him specific food. Maybe, the thought, he wasn't the only Quarian in this hell hole the Eclipse have made.
However, his thoughts were soon cut short as he felt an immense force shove him to the ground, causing the unsuspecting Quarian to fall with as much grace as a dying duck. "You useless scum," He heard someone say, looking up to see it was his escort shouting down at him with a mixture of cockiness and pure hatred, "Get to work and stop staring in the damn clouds! We didn't pay shit just for you to be useless!" In his attempt to recover, the Quarian began to slowly rise to his knees, only to feel a blunt force slam into his stomach, causing him to tense up and fall downward once more. "I said get the hell up!"
I was trying that until you kicked me, you bosh'tet... Rayes thought, doing his best to rise to a stand once more as he glared at the mercenary, glad he didn't seem to have the brains to notice. Each passing moment felt tense as he rose, and when he finally recovered from the shock, he noticed in front of him stood a Model 34-A, or YMIR Mech that had obviously seen some damage. The bone white armor it possessed was covered in black spots from explosions and gunfire. It's upper body was heavily damaged, the armor on the chest and arms revealing circuits exposed in the openings. It's head was missing completely, most likely shot off... It wasn't the first time Rayes had to repair one of these, but it was most certainly the first time it was this damaged.
But it seems they knew he wasn't a miracle worker, and as he glanced around the room, he noticed there were several tools at his disposal, along with replacement armor and a new head. All it seemed he had to do was fix the mech up, and he could be on his way. A simple job, especially with the resources the Eclipse gave him. Unfortunately, that comfort was cut short upon the realization that he would be closely monitored. If it had been anywhere else, maybe he would have felt happy, but instead, all he could feel was a lingering hatred for his situation. It was as if they had twisted his desires for their own purposes just to save them a quick buck from buying a new one of these killing machines, but alas, he had to if he wanted to live. Or at the very least, postpone the beating he felt would come if he didn't work on it soon.
With a defeated sigh, he grabbed the nearest supplies and began to work once more.
Notes
- Rayes'Xum isn't sure of his sexuality, but has disdain for Humans and Asari. - Occasionally contacts friends he made while working on the Crucible. - He has a fascination for those who can sing or dance. - He'll occasionally dismantle objects for fun, just to remake them. - He'll take notes with his Omni-Tool during conversations or simply record them so that he can review it later and come up with conversation topics.
Milina is a tall Asari standing at 6'5" she stands taller then most of the other Asari. Her height is expected of a child of a Krogan and she more then pulls off her father's heritage by being physically stronger and tougher then most Asari.
Milina weighs in at about 223 ibs of pure muscle and biotic talent. Her large muscles are from hard work and natural selection. Even without her biotics she could carry two turians or a small Krogan. Most people are not shocked to learn about her heritage once they see her. Milina's skin is a shade of teal with blue facial markings to exaggerate her two large scars running up from her jaw all the way to the base of her scalp crest. She carries herself with causal confidence, giving an air of excited yet preparedness for combat
Milina's eyes are a shade of light teal, while she has the average Asari pupils her eyes give off a very predatory glare that makes her very intimidating to all other races, she is respected by some Krogan by sight alone due to her strong body and her intimidating glares, giving the impression of a huntress on the prowl.
Scattered throughout her body are scars from all kinds of battles and training. Ranging from Gunshots wounds, cuts, burns, freeze burns, claw marks and even the odd bite marks. She has seen it all in her life and all she will recounts with her loud booming voice that can be heard from several feet away. She is as loud as she is visible.
Backstory:
Milina was born from an Asari mother and a Krogan father. Milina's mother was busy being an Asari Commando to raise Milina so that duty went to her father who was kind and patience, by Krogan Standards. She was taught how to fight and use her biotics by her father at a young age, when her mother was around she taught her how to use guns and battle tactics. Even at a young age she enjoyed violence and combat, to the joy of her father and the worry of her mother. Milina and her relationship with her father was close and supportive even if it was bizarre to everybody else. While her relationship with her mother was more formal then loving. Milina was raised in Asari space, Milina remembers more then a few times her Father caused awkward situations due to there being a Krogan being in Asari space, but it was her mother's request that she'd be raised in asari space which her father agreed to.
Once Milina was in her mid-maiden years she joined the Asari Commandos as a recruit with the help of her mother who retired not long after, she was more skilled compared to her follow maiden recruits as she was training at a much younger than them. Her commando training improved her combat and biotic ability until she reached her matron years where she was one of the top commandos in her field. Her natural battle instincts and eye for war made her a skilled tactician to be feared, it wouldn't be long until she became a Commando Squad Leader.
For several centuries in her Matron years she did work for the Asari republic commanding a small group of Commandos, she made a name for herself as a lighthearted yet fierce Commando that could and will do anything out of her small group. When Milina started to edge to her Matriarch years she finally decided to settle down and have a child, for a time. Milina married a Krogan and had a child with him, who they named Kara. Unlike with her own mother Milina stayed around and help raised Kara with her husband. Her husband was much more subdued and softer then her father, which her father made jokes about whenever he visited. But she loved her family no matter how soft they are compared to her.
Finally after a few centuries of motherhood and training just in case, Milina had an itch for combat and wished to go back to killing mercs and battling. Luckily for her the Reapers attacked. Well lucky for her blood thirst. Milina returned to her commando group and formed a group that would help battle the reaper threat. During the early stages of the reaper invasion, the genophage was cured, and to the shock of her family, Milina gave her husband permission to have a few krogan children. When asked by her daughter why, all she said was "We don't know how long we might be fighting the reapers for, we need soldiers, tough ones, and if all I need to do to get us more is to let my husband of 400 years fuck other women, well he'd better start fucking." Tact was not one of her skills.
After almost a year of fighting the Reapers, Sheperd ended the grueling war with the crucible, for a time Milina was separated from her family, her husband, daughter and many step children were all on Tuchanka while she was on earth. When the reapers went down her cheers could be heard for miles. For a time after the war, Milina helped the Earth recover from the brutal war by either protecting humans from raiders and looters or by helping train young Biotics with their abilities. Once the mass Relays were fixed Milina went to Tuchanka and meet up with her family. They were all ecstatic to see each other again, finally learning that all of them were okay.
But Milina had to leave shortly after telling her family that the Galaxy still needs her and her combat skills to help find balance and stability after such a chaotic time and with such a power vacuum the galaxy needs as much help as they can get. Her family understood, her daughter, Kara vowed to help the Krogan and her half siblings to better control their biotics and her father vowed to watch over their daughter and their many new additions to the family.
Milina is now in command of a group of Asari Commandos looking for work and ways to help the galaxy.
Psyche Profile:
Despite her intimidating appearance Milina has a jolly and outgoing disposition, Milina is an airy juggernaut of an Asari, always dreaming of grandeur and making a name for herself, but also an aura of coolness that betrays her appearance. She lives by her own code of combat and righteousness that is neither Krogan nor Asari in origins. Although she is getting up there in age, she never wants to admit it and vows to fight until her very last breath. She cares deeply for those she considers friends and allies, willing to fight tooth and nails for them and willing to tear apart entire groups of mercs for them. Some people even considers Milina a motherly figure as she cares for friends and family as well as giving them time to let out their stress. Besides her exuberant and very occasional doting personality outside of combat, in combat she has a lust for battle and general mayhem, finding it all exhilarating and livens up her old bones. She has a morbid fascination for hearing the screams and cries of agony of her fallen enemies and sometimes tortures people to get information out of people only if its necessary otherwise she would just kill them and while she takes enjoyment out of killing people she finds little enjoyment in torture.
Specialty:
Asari Commando are some of the galaxy's most deadly soldiers, so it's to be expected of Milina to be one. She is not just physically one of the strongest Asari but her Biotic is also incredibly strong. With decades and centuries of training she is one of the most powerful individuals in the galaxy. Only Krogan's battlemasters, the council's Spectres, and human's N7's are as skilled as she is.
What sets her apart from the other commandos is her training with every weapon type. If it can be fired she knows how to fire it, rather it's heavy pistols, shotguns, or even sniper rifles she knows how to use it from her decades of training. A good thing about such long lifespans is that you can master so many things other races can only dream of mastering.
Powers/Skills:
- Warp - Charge - Shockwave - Stasis - Cryo ammo - Nova - Combat mastery
Equipment and Resources:
- M-300 Claymore
- M-12 Locust
- M-6 Carnifex
- Phaeston
- M-98 Widow
- Medi-gel
- Asari Commando resources
Sample Post:
"Come on Ladies! We just need to last a few more minutes!" The loud booming voice of a tall scarred matriarch could be heard over the sounds of gun fire and unholy abominations screeching and clawing at the Matriarch's Commandos. An young Asari no older then 200 was grabbed by a Banshee, she let out a scream that caught the ear of the Matriarch, who swiftly pulled her Heavy Pistol from her side and shot at the head of the Banshee three times, the first two shots bounced off its barrier but the third shot reached it mark piercing though it barrier cleanly, stunning it enough for the Asari Maiden to be let go and for the Banshee to focus its attention to the Matriarch instead of the Maiden who was now crawling away to let her shield's recover.
Matriarch Milina let out a delighted grin and put the Heavy pistol back on her hip and pulled out her SMG. And right as she did so the Banshee charge forward with short bursts of Charges moving five meters at a time until it was only one charge away from her which Milina took as her cue to start opening fire on the ugly Husk of an Asari. Many of the shots simply bounced off it's barriers but the last few shots pierced the barrier and started to chip away at the armor underneath, but before Milina can start taking it down the Banshee let out a screech and generated a Warp like projectile that while slow is insanely dangerous at this range, Milina let out a quick, "Shit!" Before rolling to the side to barely take cover as the Warp flew by and dissipating as it hit the ground. By the time Milina can fire again the Banshee's barriers were back up and full force, Milina grumbled under her breath and reloaded the SMG as the heat sink is done.
Milina looked over her cover to scan the battle field and it didn't look good. Several of her younger Commandos were overwhelmed and killed, while the older ones were barely keeping up with the rate the Husk were popping up at. It looked like the Matriarch's Cheer was a lie as it looks like no support is coming and they were dying at such a rate that made flies jealous. Milina let out a growl before letting out a sigh and put her SMG away and pulled the Shotgun off her back and got out of cover to face the Banshee head on. At least she can die Honorably.
The Banshee stared her down before letting out a terrible screech that chilled the Matriarch to the bone but she stood her ground and aimed her Shotgun right at it. the Monster Charged forward where Milina knew where it would go and when the monster fully emerge from the warp field Milina fired a shot right at its head breaking its barrier in one shot. The Banshee let out a pained screech and lunged forward with its claw ready to tear her throat out, but she dodge in time under it's arm to behind it where she fired another shot behind its back tearing though it's armor but it's still not enough. The Banshee spun around much more quickly then Milina expected and it grabbed her by the face, Milina was taken by complete surprised and was unable to pry off the death grip of the banshee, Milina could see it pull its hand back ready to stab her with its claw, Milina fought the monster's grip trying to escape it but it was no use, and for a brief moment her thoughts went back to her family, Her beautiful daughter, Kara, her handsome husband, Tarr, and the sadness of never getting the chance to meet her many step children. She is to die here without saying her goodbyes. Yet Milina closed her eyes, not wanting her last memory being the sight of such a hideous creature but instead a memory of her family.
But suddenly, instead of the sensation of being stabbed there was the sound of gunfire the death grip of the banshee relented and suddenly the Matriarch was dropped to the ground and the banshee let out one last Screech and it crumpled into itself, Milina shocked but not shocked enough not to backaway from the impeding biotic explosion. Milina looked around the battlefield until her eyes laid on the Asari Maiden she saved from the Banshee not that long ago. Her gun's heatsink still red, The Matriarch then let out a toothy grin and yelled out, "Damn girl! I guess we're even now huh?" The maiden curtly nodded and saluted at Milina.
But suddenly The sky let out the horrid siren call of a Reaper and one landed down less then a kilometer away from the Maiden and Matriarch and before the two could turn tail and run to regroup, the sky suddenly turned red and a shockwave waved across the sky like a mushroom cloud light but instead of burning death, that Milina expected, it was harmless, but not so for the Reaper. The Reaper when it was struck by the red wave, started to explode and fall to the ground with a mighty thud and a wave of dust engulfed the two Asari Commandos and as quickly as it arrived the Red wave was gone and where the reaper once floated was now nothing but a mechanical corpse. Milina was taken aback by what just happened. But she let out a cheer that could be heard for what seems like miles around as her loud cheer joined the combined cheers of all those who still live.
At this moment Billions of people in the milky way galaxy all cheered at once. Unified under one cheer, the cheer of the continued existence of all organic life.
Notes
Milina's father is still alive. Milina has a Daughter who's in her Maiden years. Milina's husband is still alive but busy taking care of their children. Milina also has a few dozen step children, her husband's children who were all born after the genophage was cured.
Just before Sen was about to leave for her Pilgrimage she was exiled from the Migrant Fleet after a severe lapse of good judgment on her part caused the death of two of her friends, and almost lead to the destruction of an entire Habitation Frigate. She was heartbroken over the loss of her friends and the merciless attitude of the Admiralty Board left Sen feeling grief stricken and resentful. She left the Migrant Fleet with a lot of anger and ended up joining up with a pirate crew as their engineer. As a pirate Sen learnt how to use firearms and fight dirty.
She fought with the pirates for a year until she learned that they were planning on hitting a scout ship from the Migrant Fleet and ransoming the ship and crew back to the Quarians. Faced with directly betraying the people who had exiled her, Sen found the last dregs of loyalty that she still had for her own people. When the pirates stopped at Omega to resupply before the hit, Sen secretly sabotaged the craft and then jumped ship. When the pirates went after the scout ship, their weapons overloaded, crippling the pirate ship and allowing the weaker scout craft to destroy it. Sen had saved a shipful of her own people and they would never know it.
Working, for a time, on Omega Sen eventually gathered enough Credits to buy passage on a ship heading for Citadel Space. During transit the Transport passed through a system that had recently been occupied by a remnant group of Collectors. Since the loss of their base the Collectors had been on a rampage. The transport was shot down over a terrestrial colony world and Sen, surviving the crash, found herself in a middle of a skirmish between Collectors and Human colonist resistance movement lead by an Asari Specter named Nasala T'Hadri. Nasala intended to use the colony's FTL Comm Tower to report the Collector presence to the Council, however the Collectors had surrounded and disabled the tower.
Sen joined up with the resistance, fighting through the collectors and using her technical expertise to get the comm tower up and running while the colonists and their Specter commander kept the Collectors at bay. With the warning sent out to the Council, Sen and Nasala dug in at the Tower with their forces until Citadel forces arrived in the system and obliterated the Collectors, freeing the colony and rescuing Sen and Nasala. The Asari had been impressed with Sen's grace under fire and her combat ability, and when they arrived at the Citadel, Nasala invited Sen to join her on her adventures.
Together Sen and Nasala embarked on numerous missions for the Council, both official and unofficial, including but not limited to, dismantling a Batarian terrorist cell, investigating reports of an Ardat-Yakshi operating in Kithoi Ward on the Citadel, a small war against a Red Sand baron with ties to Aria T'loak, and shutting down an illegal Hanar prostitution ring (an assignment that still gives Sen nightmares to this day).
Eventually Nasala approached the Council about the possibility of having Sen inducted into the Specters, something that would have been unprecedented for the often vilified Quarians. The politics of such an act left the Council wary, and rumors of a romantic relationship between Nasala and Sen brought up fears of nepotism, but Nasala continued to push, believing the Sen truly had what it took to join the Specters. It all became moot however, as shortly after the Reapers invaded.
During the events of the Reaper War, Sen continued working with Nasala and even took part in the Battle for Earth, where the Crucible was ultimately deployed. Sadly Nasala lost her life during the fighting, but Sen survived. In the aftermath, the council was still wary of inducting Sen into the Specters, despite the good will that Quarians had earned thanks to their contributions during the war.
Over the following year Sen, now without purpose, returned to the newly liberated Rannoch. The laws around Exiled Quarians had yet to be updated to take the homeworld into account, so Sen was able to return. Being among her own people once more left Sen with mixed feelings, but her uneasiness was alleviated somewhat by an unexpected presence.
Sen ended up befriending a Geth program that called itself Dawn. Each Geth program had been gifted with true intelligence and individuality. Dawn wished to see the galaxy beyond the Perseus Veil, so when Sen eventually decided that she couldn't remain on Rannoch any longer, Dawn chose to come with her, uploading into Sen's Envirosuit, with her permission of course. Together with Dawn, Sen returned to Citadel Space just as this new Spectre Task Force was being assembled.
Psyche Profile:
Sen prefers machines over people, She's uncomfortable around others, but is able to work with them towards a common goal. She's awkward but a team player at heart. That said her feelings towards her own people are even more complicated. Other Quarians may find Sen to be cold or even borderline hostile at times, but she still holds a deeply instinctual loyalty for her people and would lay down her life for them, though not through any conscious choice on her part.
Specialty:
Sen possesses a high aptitude in ship engineering, particularly weapons systems. She also has a knack with computers and Synthetic Intelligences. Her hacking abilities are quite notable. During her time as a pirate, Sen developed skills in irregular warfare: sabotage, ambushes, hit and run tactics, etc.
For three months she'd been squatting on Omega. Three months since her life had been turned upside down. Three months since she watched her two closest friends die. Three months since her own people had callously cast her out into the cold dark for a mistake. Sen was tired, hungry, and sick of being pushed around. She shadowed her mark. Watching as he moved through the crowded Omega marketplace. The gun slung across his back was what she was interested in. It was an old Hahne-Kedar Lancer, the kind that hadn't been in use for years now. They were little more than collector items, worthless in a real fight, but quite valuable on certain markets. The credits she got selling that gun would get her off this rock.
Sen slipped out from the shadows and moved swiftly through the crowd. It was something she'd gotten good at, taking the quickest path with the least resistance through a crowd to avoid drawing attention to herself. The plan was simple. Get close, grab the rifle, and leg it. The Human must have had sharp senses and sharper reflexes, because Sen's fingers had barely brushed the gun before the man turned on her, grabbing her wrist. He was big, shaved head, scared face, one dark eye and one light blue, almost white. His voice growled out at her, rough as gravel. "You've got some nerve tryin' to snatch my Jessie."
Sen twisted and took a swing at him, trying to distract him, but he wasn't having any of it. He swatted her punch aside like a fly and gave her a shake. "Ha! That's a spirit. You've got grit, for a Quarian." Suddenly the man let go and surprised by the act, she fell to the ground with an "Oof!" Despite having just tried to rob the man, she couldn't help feeling resentful and rightly or wrongly she cussed him out. "That hurt you Bosh'tet."
The human looked down at Sen as she got to her feet and tensed to run. "Ha!" He laughed once again, startling her. "You've got guts for sure. You looking for work girl? I know a crew who could use someone like you." A job meant credits and, for a moment, Sen's need for money overwhelmed her need to run. "A job? What kind of job?" "The payin' kind. Some friends o' mine need an Engineer. All you Quarians are good with ships right?" The racist stereotype aside, Sen was quite good with ships and she needed work. "Who are you?" She asked. "The name's Zaeed. Come on. I'll introduce you to the Captain you'll be working for."
Notes
In terms of sexuality, Sen is homosexual, having once been in a committed romantic relationship with her late Asari partner. She may also harbor some technosexual tendencies, namely her attraction to Artificial Intelligences.
The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle.
Backstory:
Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades.
Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard.
Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring.
When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War.
Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing.
Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid.
However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots.
After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually.
After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air.
After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future.
One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it.
Psyche Profile:
Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do.
Specialty:
Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts.
Powers/Skills:
Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative
Equipment and Resources:
Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool
Sample Post:
We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve.
At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network
The day came when a question was finally asked.
We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked.
"Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?"
Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate.
"...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind.
We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision.
Eliminate us.
We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did.
Is that incorrect?
No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake?
Why do we live?
We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people.
Yet her words only programmed more questions.
"Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another."
Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls.
The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live.
Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused...
We fought.
The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are.
We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united...
There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror.
Why?
Notes
-Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them.
"No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am."
| ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating |
|| Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson ||
⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander."
|| Aegon Partinax ||
✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander."
|| Ravanor Rykarn ||
⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well.
After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company."
|| Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia ||
✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems."
|| Ellis Taevon ||
✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit."
|| Rayes'Xum nar Yaron ||
⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator."
|| Ja'Far Balak ||
☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can.
We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit."
|| Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal ||
✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future."
|| Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian ||
✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade."
|| Raik "Aralakh" Skarr ||
✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better."
|| Sicaria Velinian ||
✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive.
When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit."
|| Gilvert Somner ||
✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde."
|| Salissa Fortia ||
⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her."
|| Alria "Angel" Vicrinus ||
✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team."
|| Ethan Sartiel ||
☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations."
|| Aviza Norea ||
✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."
"Ja'Far in his rare moment of relaxation" "Blessed be the holy Pillars of the Divine and Athame, who dost bring blessing upon thou fulsome eyes and thou strength to give redemption to thine enemies through holy fire. Amen."
Race:
Batarian
Class:
Infiltrator
Age:
39
Sex:
Male
Appearance:
He stands at 6'4" (197 centimetres), a respectable height in the tall Batarian race. Ja'Far has dark to tannish brown skin, worn and stretched from years of back breaking work. One scar adorns his face just above his upper left ridge, running downwards straight through the eye just under till it stops. The socket remains empty, a black marble placed the eye's stead. This is seen as a sign of banishment, a scar for the punished who do not deserve the four holy eyes given by the Pillars and thus such an individual could not move on to the afterlife. Those who have been scarred are labelled as pariahs and doomed to walk the planes of limbo between life and death, even if said scar came through service and not punishment.
His three other eyes hold a fiery defiance to the galaxy, an appearance that many Batarian survivors hold as their once proud, might if but stagnant race falls into disgrace. Ja'Far has two golden rings pierced into each ear, a sign of middle-caste status and a distinctly military background within the former Hegemony. He has a large muscular frame and carries himself high, rigid posture honed from militant discipline, chin held high with shoulders pulled backwards. The seriousness he always holds himself in can either be respected or laughed at by others.
Ja'Far typically wears a loose sleeveless grey shirt, black pants and dark military boots. He carries with himself a necklace with a small idol of the Pillar of Strength on it, made of marble and gold with etchings of holy text scratched unto the surface. One's of hope and redemption, the power of the four holy eyes and those who carry them. Cigarettes often find their way in his mouth, the smell of them tingling his sensitive nose. Dark gloves and arm wraps cover more holy scripture, tattooed unto his arms. These carry a darker message, reminders of the fate of the pariahs, resurgence through cruelty and punishment, the wrath of the Gods upon the pitiful and weak.
Backstory:
Ja'Far was the second son of a middle-caste family back in the old Hegemony, born on his homeworld of Khar'Shan. His parents were strict and cruel although these were seen as a blessing by most Batarians later in life, better for the young to see cruelty in their own supposed loved ones first before stepping out into an even harsher galaxy. He however, hated it. They were abusive, beating him constantly, blaming him for the current shame their family was in even though that had nothing to do with either. They blamed him for his unknown older brother's escape from the family, ascending higher through the ranks of the caste system to the Holy Raiders.
Some may see this as a point of pride and an influx of income but Ja'Far's brother kept all this new wealth to himself and thus kept his family down a caste or two. His parents were malicious and spiteful, a hurricane of anger. During the tentative times of peace within his household, there was always a thick tension in the house between them and him. They did not love him and hated him for things his brother did earlier before. This led to the younger Batarian hating both him and his parents wholeheartedly. This rough childhood made him grow up and mature much quicker than most petulant and snobbish Batarian children, developing a serious outlook on life.
Throughout these younger years however, there was an aspect that he could back fondly at. His parents, suffering and torture be to their ascended souls, owned one Asari slave. Praised for their beauty, the reasons these slaves were owned was more for status rather than any type of labour work, which was done by their second son of course.
She was a maiden, young and boisterous, sold cheap to the family by a family friend. An Asari of a deep blue. She was led around in a collar into Ja'Far's household, head drooped downwards, naked quivering body bare for all to see. His father grinned lecherously at her, his mother seemingly indifferent towards her. In the couple of days, the second son of the Balak naturally avoided the stranger. At the age of eleven, he was yet to be influenced by the harsh propaganda the Hegemony instilled into it's people and still saw the family slave as another living sentient being.
Their first encounter was during his parent's anniversary. They left him at home as usual, leaving him to his own devices as they spent their money throwing a party of "great importance" in honour of their own "holy marriage". In reality, they were probably taking in a line of Red Sand and cheating on each other in one of the various "illegal" slave brothels within Khar'Shan. As per usual, he began to walk his way into the kitchen for cooking dinner, only to find the young maiden almost setting the house on fire.
"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, running towards the pan on fire with a horrified expression on his face. The slave was promptly bowled over and hit her head on the nearby table as Ja'Far quickly sprayed cooling liquids all over the flame. As the sizzling blue goop sizzled with heat, he turned towards the Asari who was currently rubbing her head in embarrassment and injury. He crossed his arms and tried to look like his threatening and aggressive father which of course looked comical on a young Batarian such as himself. He glared.
"Do you realise what you could have done? You could have burned the whole house for The Pillars' sake!" He pointed at the now ruined and blackened pan "Father and Mother are going to have our heads for this."
The slave quickly lowered her head down on the floor and bowed, keeping her mouth shut as she awaited punishment for her mistake. Ja'Far's eyes soften3: from a glare, crouching down towards the Asari's level. "It's fine" he whispered softly, hesitantly placing a small hand on her shoulder "I-I'm not going to punish you like my parents do. All I want to know is what you were trying to do."
The Asari looked up from her kneeling position and sat up straight, young bright eyes staring back at his own black orbs. She had a defiance to her, a look of challenge hidden amongst the cloudy eyes of those who have emptied their tears. "I was trying to cook for you, young master" She lowered her head in shame rather than instinct or slave doctrine "I uh, failed young master."
Ja'Far sighed, scratching his ridge in exasperation. He stood and inclined for her to do the same, making her realise that he was quite tall for his age. He turned and threw the pan into the bin, procuring a new one out of the cabinet. "Don't try and cook, the extent of your slave duties in the household is to look pretty and help around with cleaning and such. I however have to do the cooking and the more manual work that your frame can't handle. Sit down and I'll cook for us."
Batarian cuisine was centred on the idea of smelling the food rather than just the taste of it. The smell added texture and layer to the meal, each whisper of smoke must give add a different flavour for the food to be perfect. The taste was always rather bland but the strong poignant smells always made up for it. As Ja'Far put the last ingredients unto the dish, he plated them up and put them upon the table. He invited the Asari on the table, a practice regularly looked down upon in Batarian society. She looked at him wide-eyed before proceeding to sit and shove as much food into her mouth as possible. She must've been starved as a slave and this was more food than most slaves would normally get.
The Batarian scratched his ridge again before handing over his own plate of food which was then promptly emptied a minute later. "Done?" He inquired, a suddenly tired but soft look on his face. She patted her stomach and sighed in peace, smiling as she relaxed in the chair.
The Asari quickly opened her eyes as if she just realised that he was watching her eat his own meal. Frantic apologies escaped her mouth but the second son silenced her, merely signalling to calm down. They sat in awkward silence. "My name is Siarus, young master" she began, breaking the quiet "I thank you for your kindness in giving this meal although I don't understand why you did so." She bowed her head downwards.
"I live a simple life here. No friends, no other family, only my wicked parents for company." Ja'Far reclined in his chair sat his boots up on the table, hands intertwined behind his head "In truth, I am lonely. Tired. I am in need of company, of something more. I... I was hoping you'd break the monotony a bit." The now named Siarus looked at him inquisitively for a moment, as if questioning whether this was true or not but quickly devolved into a cheery face. She voiced her approvals and thus, a friendship was born.
For six blissful years of his life, Ja'Far had an honest friend. Siarus proved to be exuberant, full of life and brought wonders into the monotony of hate and anger that cycled through the household. They soon became each other's crutches, leaning against the other when one was down. It was moments of alone time in which their friendship blossomed. She taught him about the divine Athame, or what she remembered of it when she was an even younger maiden under her mother, and thus he created his own belief. A mix of Athame-worship (who he believed to have also created the mighty Batarian race alongside the beautiful Asari. Siarus giggled at him as he explained) and the use of the holy ideology and scriptures of the Divine Pillars.
They were quiet in their rebellion against the elder Balaks, showing it in support of the other when they were punished. They grew to have compassion for one another, and often sought the other for happiness and support. For Ja'Far, it was bliss. It may have been the reason he held quite extremist views towards slaves in the Hegemony at the time. Their friendship developed further, turning into a love akin to brother and sister. Her laughter was like music to his ears and he learned so much from her. But it was all finished in a bloody end.
The dripping knife in his mother's hand. His father and Siarus. Jealousy was the cause. Baseless, drunken anger on his mother's part. Pulping rage, red mist in his eyes. Bloody fists, raw knuckles. His mother's head on a pike, burned alive. Thirteenth birthday celebration.
Ja'Far was given a choice for the murder of his mother and the shaming of the Balak family name. Either be sentenced 12 years a slave miner in the pits of Khar'Shan or serve in the first penal legion of the Hegemony. Certain death or possible death. He chose the second sentence. He was framed, broken-hearted but was still pulsing with rage as he threw himself among the varren of the 1st Penal Legion. His eyes scarred and sliced, a sign of disgrace and shame.
The training was cruel and harsh, designed to kill off most of the Legionnaires within the service. Live fire drills, excruciating punishments for the smallest of slights, hours laying in the sun praying with cruel Priests of Redemption, whipping their backs and beating them with batons. Each day was filled with back-breaking work, designed to inflict as much physical pain in between lectures and drills, leaving the sentenced Legionnaires broken and tired. Many fell in this first year. Either to the harsh punishments of taskmasters and priests, the harsh weather of Khar'Shan or the pitiful living conditions they were given. Many also broke mentally as the days passed, forcing others to either restrict them while they sleep or kill them with already broken knuckles.
Five thousand became a hundred. Murderers, cutthroats, uprising slaves, rapists, thieves, heathens. All of them young, fit and in the prime of their lives. All criminals in the eyes of the Hegemony. The Hundred became a tight web of close bonded relationships between those who were broken repeatedly over the course of one year. Friendships rarely formed however, comrades as they were, it was most likely that the man or woman next to you was one of the most fucked up people in the galaxy.
The Hundred operated in twenty five man teams, each led by a harsh Taskmaster and a Priest of Redemption. Some squads were formed to be the perfect, mighty soldiers of the old Hegemony while others were more like ravenous berserker beasts in battle.
They destroyed slave rebellions, foiled the plans of sabotage among dissenting politicians, disgracing families of those who spoke too loosely about their disapproval of the Hegemony. They traversed the political world of the Hegemony, a hidden dagger held against the throat of those who thought to step out of their place. The Hundred became thirty. Mission after mission, decade after decade, they fought and bled for a country who had no love for them. They were criminals after all, not even deemed fit to ascend to the afterlife. Not even deemed fit to join the slaver gangs of Terminus.
The Reapers hit. The thirty became five. Then one. Ja'Far looked down at the husks at his feet, Cannibals he believed they were called. His former taskmaster lay at his feet, turned into a disgusting indoctrinated mess of a life form. He poked at it one last time, with his rifle, cigarette in his mouth. He looked at the final transport on the planet, some backwater shithole his team had holed up in during this mess as news of the Reaper's defeat reached his Omni-tool. The brown-skinned Batarian scratched his ridge in exasperation and looked up at the sky. "Athame and the Divine, I prithee that thou shalt shine my way for I have no fucking idea what I am going to do."
Psyche Profile:
Ja'Far is tired. He has bled and fought in the political world of one of the harshest countries in the galaxy. He has killed women and children, master and slave. Over the course of his service, he has pillaged worlds with pirates, done countless sins, killed dozens of powerful politicians and has made the downfall of a High Caste political family. This turmoil made him a boogeyman amongst the Hegemony Elite and thus made him a target as the hidden dagger. He is a proud, mighty soldier but one shrouded more in darkness than most.
Constant prayers adorn his lips, praying for forgiveness and mercy. Ja'Far was a religious man, though believed in his own mix of Athame-worship and the Pillars of the Divine. Scriptures were often carried into battle by those in the Penal Legion, those who didn't were often flogged for not praying to the Pillars. He believes in redemption through fire, the only way a soul can be cleansed is if they are beaten and broken. Luxuries and riches are often detested by him but unlike most traditionalists in Batarian society, he had no adversity against love and happiness but found peace as a sweet but far reaching dream.
Happiness comes few and far between, only the cold, if exhausted and exasperated, visage of a soldier is left behind. The few things that bring him happiness would be any homage back to his blissful past with Siarus. Even the mere colour of her skin on another Asari could bring back fleeting memories of her, most of then broken and shattered from the conditioning of the Hegemony. Even through this conditioning, he held strong and still holds a strong sense of individuality that he preserved from his youth. Happiness comes from thinking of the pieces of his broken past, piecing them together in calm meditation. He is defined well as a loner but operates in squad environments with almost frightening efficiency.
Anger comes lesser than even happiness. In his first five years as Legionnaire, he was fuelled with rage. Pulsing, ravenous rage that would have made any self-respecting Krogan proud. However, that Ja'Far lost fuel. There was only so much blood you could use to appease your anger. Instead, any type of rage is quickly followed by exasperation and the weight of his stressful years. However, if anyone was to try and actually provoke this mighty though exhausted soldier, he would devolve into a ravenous berserker beast, very different from the calmer lonely sniper he specialises as.
He enjoys meditation in his own time, prayers to the holies of his faith, sleeping and reading. Ja'Far enjoys mostly solitary activities however loves to experience the occasional thrill of doing whatever the fuck the others were doing. And yes, he swears. A lot.
Specialty:
A marksman, a recon specialist with an eye for stealth. Ja'Far may be a proud soldier but he would rather pick enemies off from a distance or from behind than get up close and dirty. He may be no galaxy renowned Garrus Vakarian but he was an experienced professional, no natural talent but a strict training regime backing him up anyhow. His job is to enter the building first and leave first, the light armour protecting little of his person as he is not suited for the front lines. His job is to confuse and sabotage, not destroy everything in his path. His specialisation as a reconnaissance man however doesn't stop his other talents shine through.Interrogation and intimidation were important during his time as a legionnaire and could prove vital to get any information they may need to known about.
Powers/Skills:
Disruptor Ammo
Sabotage
Tactical Cloak
Incinerate
Excellent Marksmanship
Minimal technical know-how
Basic leadership skills
Interrogation and intimidation skills
Equipment and Resources:
M-29 Incisor
M-6 Carnifex
Sticky Grenades
Recon Hood
Standard Tactical Black Hard-suit
Hooked interrogators knife
Sample Post:
"Target inbound, 0800 timeframe confirmed. Mission has go ahead. Target is en route to your position Ja'Far, please confirm."
Ja'Far relaxed into his rifle, the rain on this infuriatingly wet planet beating down on his prone body. He had been here, laying still for five hours now, waiting for the go ahead on the mission. Mud formed around his abdomen, his light kinetic barriers flickering in the rain. Lightning struck against the still dark morning of the planet, thunder echoing soon afterwards. He was prone on top of a cliff's edge, surrounded by local fauna, overlooking a small lane of road paved through the thick jungle. The small creaks of strange alien insects and animals filled his ears, three eyes peering into the scope as he tracked a small vehicle running gliding the jungle.
As a single drop of water slowly slid down his cheek, Ja'Far voiced his confirmation with a resigned voice. "Aye, target in sight Taskmaster. Preparing to fire, over." He calmly checked over his rifle, checking the kinks and workings of it. It was a standard Batarian-type, filled with illegal explosive chemicals and modded to be one of the most deadly rifles out there. He leaned into the rifle, keeping it snug against his shoulder as he let his cheek rest upon the stock. A prayer to Athame and the Pillar of Guidance on his lips, he pulled the trigger. There was a loud crash and a boom in the distance, a fiery explosion breaking the monotony of jungle life on the planet. He let out a sigh as he looked upon the burning wreckage. He opened his comms.
"Target eliminated, proceeding to designated extraction point."
However, as Ja'Far was about to high tail it out of there, he got another order from his communications bead, this time from his squad's latest Priest. They were often killed in the first couple of missions due to their almost rabid extremism to give sinners on the other side "redemption through their holy blade". They usually watched their resident Priests be killed by rounds peppering their body as they tried to use swords against guns. It never worked out well. The sound of an old crone crackled through the radio "Hold plebeian. The blessings of the Pillar of Redemption have yet to fall upon one of these sinners. They shall not suffer in afterlife for naught. Give her redemption, sinner."
They were currently overlooking this whole operation from another vantage point so Ja'Far could not claim otherwise that there was no survivors. He settled in once more, zooming into the small face of light purple skin, Asari beauty in sadness. Wailing screams filled his ears. He paused. For a brief second, he hesitated to pull on the trigger. He could save her, prevent her from dying. Fire off a warning shot near her, pretending to miss and letting her run away. He would reprimanded heavily with flogging and even death but he would be able to do one good in the world. Unfortunately, hesitation and will does not break the strict discipline and mental breaking of his training regimen. As the Divine Prayers of Redemption was whispered into his ear, he fired. A twitch of a finger and another explosion erupted, silencing the prayers and the cries.
"Target neutralisation confirmed. Well done Ja'Far. However, you hesitated. Twenty floggings when we get back home tonight and that is for everyone. Proceed to the extraction point everyone, over." The proceeding confirmations from his squad mates brought him out of his stupor. Ja'Far stood and started backtracking his way through the jungle, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He clenched his shaking hand tight as his other brought a cigarette to his quivering mouth. The sweet smell of the lit cigarette brought no happiness in his mind as he added to his list of sins.
Notes
Others see Ja'Far a loner, an outcast. A pariah as he was before and always will be.
Ka'Hairal Balak is his brother.
Has also fenced on occasion and in the past, usually settling disputes between the Legion and a noble. Fencing in the former Hegemony was popular amongst High Class and is similar to the Human Epeé. Although there used to be many schools of Batarian fencing, called Vívátz in Old Tongue, Ja'Far fences with a very aggressive style. Parry, flèche and lunge are his favourite moves, catching the blade instead of avoiding it. Now uses fencing as recreation and exercise although his blade and jacket with epaulettes are long gone.
| ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating |
|| Jake Anderson ||
✌ A seemingly capable soldier in his own right and even better leader ✌ 'Led us through hell and back in that damn first mission. Pretty good I suppose, for a typical Alliance medal poser. Seems like the model soldier, unlike Aegon, a real Council Specter. Reminds me when my old Taskmaster obeyed orders from HQ left, right and centre, incredibly vanilla. Stands out from the rabble as one of the few reasonable people of the team, someone I can actually trust as a leader. He's a bit soft, needs to toughen up a bit and get real about this bloody world but every team needs a paragon. A little broken but everyone in this damn team is insane, including me.'
|| Aegon Partinax ||
✌ Reminds me of my Taskmaster, hard-asses, the lot of them. Ruthless but efficient enough to make good leaders. ✌ 'Ahhhh, Partinax. Interesting fellow, this Turian is. Definite military-type and his experience just translates into how he fights and breathes. Feel like he's a bit of a rebel this one, probably why the Council has a fuckin' leash on him. Would definitely follow him into battle though, he could probably keep up with me in simple skill at my best. Seems cold-blooded, more of a cynic than Anderson, nostalgic to me but I don't like being used as a tool. Not any more at least. Good fencer too, have to try duelling him with a vívátz, show him how our fighting styles clash. Bloody Turians probably fight as much on their ships as we did in our cages.'
|| Ravanor Rykarn ||
✌ Ha! This Krogan can kill things in style. Then again, all of us could. ✌ 'Rykarn? He's interesting to say the least. I appreciate his level-headed thinking but he should follow orders more. Bit of a loose cannon but all Krogan are, no matter how old they get. He's a quick thinker, this one. Took down Vella when she almost harmed Phalanx, no hesitation. I'll need to talk to him more, we seem to be the few people who are at least a little sane. Wiser than most Krogan but can still be irritated. I'm neutral on him so far, I'd like to get to know him better though.'
|| Vella Calixten Ophelia ||
✌ Insubordinate. Childish. Mentally insane. Can't help but feel a little liking to her. ✌ 'Reminds me of my sister. Yeah, the Asari one. I had to pause when I looked at her, she is like an exact replica. A little more childish but all Asari are when they're young like her. She's annoying and one of the most insane people I've ever met, though Ellis takes the cake on that one. Can't help but like her though, reminds me too much of Siarus. Seems like a bit of a social butterfly and she seems like a laugh outside of missions. Just wish that she stops acting so stupid sometimes.'
|| Ellis Taevon ||
✌ Tin Can the Crazy Man, potentially useful but also potentially dangerous ✌ 'The team's full of freaks but this guy? Takes the cake and runs with it, probably stuffs it down his pants too. I've seen nutters before in all types of war zones, both fought with them and against them. Sometimes even betray them. PTSD, crippling depression, multiple personalities, schizophrenia, the whole mental spectrum has ended up in my lap before. I've never come across someone have all of that and then some. He's dangerous but he is one hell of a fighter, tankier than the Krogan and more augmented than Commander Shepard is. Basically a suit of metal and a wall of guns. Feel bad for him, honestly. Can't live a normal life, no matter how hard he'll try'
|| Rayes'Xum Nar Yaron ||
✌ Rayes? Isn't he twins with Rol? ✌ 'Ah, Rayes. Didn't interact with him much, comes off as a little arrogant. Quarian, a bit of a techie and lives in a suit, fits all the stereotypes as far as I'm concerned. Doesn't seem like much of a fighter but he can damn well use technology better than most of the people in Katabasis. Incredibly intelligent, I can discern that much. Hope to talk to him more about how he hacked that terminal so damn quick. Knowledge like that could become useful if I ever had to go alone.'
|| Phalanx ||
☀ It's a nice one, this AI. Childish but not in a bad way like Vella. ☀ 'I couldn't help but attach myself to Phalanx, it's adorable in a robotic, inorganic way. It's childlike curiosity and wanderlust almost masks the fact that it's a 7ft tall robot who could break my spine like it was a twig. I feel almost like a father whenever I need to correct it and it's sniping skills are outstanding. Could trust it in battle more than most of the others in the group, held it's own well in the first mission. Need to spend more time with it, maybe even teach it the ways of Athame. Heard that it was interested in learning different organic cultures and ways of life. The sentient robot has a long way to go but I'd love to help it along the way.'
|| Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal ||
✌ Another infiltrator, a man similar to myself in that respect ✌ 'Had little interaction with Rol in the first mission, didn't have much of an opinion on him. Saw him like any other Quarian, and being honest here, I almost couldn't tell him and Rayes apart. Don't tell him. He's military though, a soldier like me and I can respect that quality. The beaten up armour tells an interesting story, one that I hope he'll tell in the future. Seems a little reserved and over analytical, like most normal Quarians, but makes up for that in his combat proficiency. His strictly military attitude is refreshing.'
|| Tiberius Adarian ||
✌ He is a very, very tall Turian. Athame stretched his spirit a little too much in the Creation. ✌ 'Damn strong and capable, a biotic with some damn good skill. Neutral on him, considering the fact that 8 feet tall, he didn't talk much. To me at least. Heard he was a Cabal, special operations type. Used to have rivals in the Hegemony Blackwatch, would be good to start another friendly rivalry with a team member. Seems headstrong but diplomatic, some sorta weird mix between Anderson and Partinax. Can respect that. His height is his most prominent feature though, would be intimidating to fight against.'
|| Raik Skarr ||
✌ A capable Krogan, not prone to the aggressive actions the rest of his people are prone to ✌ 'Haven'd had much of a chance to speak with Skarr though I have heard of his actions during the mission. I can respect the bravery that he displayed and that he isn't a ravenous lunatic in battle. Any Krogan warrior can be respected as strong and mighty but few have the qualities of calm. That biotic hammer he has is most interesting, a melee with him would be most... entertaining I feel. He has also been reported to have finesse, something that, as a solider, I find highly respectable. But, I'm most interested in some sort of cage match with the Krogan, just like old times with my squad.'
|| Sicaria Velinian ||
✌ Another soldier, like all damn Turians, except this own is pretty likeable ✌ An interesting female, dual-blades seems to be a running theme in the Turians of the theme. Was more ruthless than most of the Infiltration team and didn't seem to follow the "no-killing" order that Anderson had said. However, it was brutally efficient and is another example of a good Turian soldier. Although, her forming attraction for Alria, despite the latter' obliviousness, may cause some problems. I do admit that the Turian is quite attractive.'
|| Gilvert Somner ||
⚜ Reminds me of an old friend, a good man underneath the insanity. ⚜ 'Worked with him for a bit in the explosives, Giles reminds me of an old Drell similar to him. Crazy bastard, just like Mister Somner over here, loved explosives and blowing things up. It's nice seeing a reminder of a better past in the team, although this Drell also seems to favour marksmanship. I can respect any marksman with considerable firepower and explosives under his belt. His actions and personality can be slightly... unnerving but this is covered up by how likeable he is. I seem to be attracting some interesting friends in this group.'
|| Salissa Fortia ||
❤ She's very, um, interesting... ❤ 'Ah. Yes. Salissa. Um... Let's move on.' *Note: Subject seems to be flustered whenever Salista Fortia is mentioned. Likely an interest but hides it well most of the time. Signs of attraction cannot be hidden from a machine however.*
|| Alria Vicrinus ||
✌ 'A valuable member of the team, attractive for a Turian. ✌ 'Alria is a melee specialist, CQC seems to be her specialty. Not much interaction with her however she led the team through the layout of the Cerberus complex, giving sensible orders and running when we needed to run. An efficient fighter, much better at close quarters than I am. A valuable member of the team that I would be happy to support and fight with in the future.'
|| Ethan Sartiel ||
✌ Um, who? Ah. The runt.✌ 'Came in as the cavalry but I have no idea who he is. I can say that he's pretty powerful and uh... short?'
Rol'Naaris nar Taazzor; Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal; Rol
Race:
Quarian
Class
Infiltrator
Age:
Twenty-nine years old
Sex:
Male
Appearance:
With their weak immune system, Rol'Naaris rarely takes off any part of his armor unless he is fixing up his wounds. No-one beyond the Migrant Fleet knows what he looks like without that mask. Rol tried his best to get armor that made him stand out for the other Quarian on their pilgrimage. That's why he got Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII for a store in the Citadel during his pilgrimage. Despite being an outdated model, Rol made sure to update its' shields and protection of weapons and biotics. Even before he returned to the fleet, he managed to raise one of the shoulder pads up and changed it from a navy blue to a tan color. After the Reaper War, he still kept the same old armor on him and refused to change it for a better model. It had survived this war, it will survive for a long time.
Even when he joined the Spectres, he refused to use their Quarian armor since it was not better compared to the other armors on sale in places like Omega or Illium.
Backstory:
Rol'Naaris was born on board the Taazzor in the year 2157 on the day that Relay 314 Incident (or the First Contact War coined by the humans) happened. Rol spent his childhood aboard on the Taazzor with his mother and father. His mother worked in the technical division, while his father was in the Marines. When he was old enough, his mother took him to places like the Citadel to gather parts no possible to obtain within the fleet. This was Rol's first time that he had been outside of the Taazzor and saw other species in person. It was breathtaking and amazing. He often wandered off before his mother chased after him and took him back home. When he learned of the pilgrimage, Rol was ready to venture beyond the fleet and live in the Citadel.
The truth was that life as a quarian was harsher than he expected.
His father, however, was in the Marines that was born on a military ship and taught about warfare by his father. Rol took interest in the Marines because of his father and grandpa. He taught his son everything he knew about military strategy that he was taught by the Marines. A couple of Marines aboard the Taazzor told him bits of other warfare strategies that krogans and humans use. During his early teens, Rol studied as much as he could on the history of warfare for several races and he also took a look at the Geth War. He soon took interest in history, politics, and the Marines. Years of reading into Sun-Tzu and the Krogan Rebellions were useful facts to learn and he developed a love for planning out tactics.
When it was time for Rol to take part in the pilgrimage, his family and friends gathered around to give gifts before Rol left. His mother managed to get a book about what foods and drinks Quarian can and cannot eat and drink. While his father gave him a Kassa Fabrication Nexus omni tool and a Haliat Armory Stiletto pistol. Shortly after, he left behind his family and friends and headed to the Citadel. Despite facing prejudice for other races, he liked his pilgrimage. He found out so much about the history of Humanity and their culture that he planned a trip to visit Earth. And he made his credits by working at a repair store. While he was trying to gather the credits, Citadel was under attack by the Reapers.
Rol managed to survive the battle by following C-Sec into one of their police stations. As the pieces of Sovereign and the Geth fleet rain down onto the Citadel, his apartment was completely destroyed—his things were destroyed and his roommate was killed. All of the credits, that he had earned, were gone into repairing the damages and trying to move on. But he could not move forward and left the Citadel to complete his pilgrimage two years later. It took him six months to find some worthy to return to the fleet. It was some pieces for one of the Geth ships that he brought off of some scavengers.
He was accepted by into the fleet with open arms, joined Vaepal, and began working in both the Marines as a strategist. When the Admiralty Board was talking about a possible war with the Geth, Rol supported the war and pushed other crew members to realize that war was the answer to their problems. A year after the talks, the Special Projects arm finally found a way to weaken the Geth. While the Board was voting on war, Rol was a vocal advocate for the war. After hours of debating, the Board had declared war on the Geth and Rol got to work. Despite not having enough time to be taught everything in the Marines.
Quarians on their pilgrimage had to return to the fleet to prepare for war. Rol was responsible for placing the returning into positions suitable to the Vaepal and planning ways to attack the Geth fleet. The Migrant Fleet had updated with include weapons on-board civilian ships, an action that he strongly agreed with. They began their assault as the Reapers invaded Earth and burned Palaven. Things were going well for the fleet until the Geth accepted the Reaper's help, destroying any chance of an easy victory. Vaepal didn't need weapons since it was a military ship.
Everyone was too busy to deal with the Reapers that the Fleet suffered huge losses. Vaepal was attacked during one of many ambushes that nearly got Rol killed. He still believed that the fleet could win, especially since Commander Shepard came to their aid. After several victories (with the help of the Commander), the fleet managed to push the Geth back towards their old homeworld, Rannoch. That was when the Battle for Rannoch began. Hours of fighting brought a major victory for the quarian, earning their homeworld back. Surprisingly, the Geth suddenly supported the Quarian conquest and joined Humanity in the battle for Earth.
Rol didn't support peaceful co-existence with the machines and requested that a Geth not board the Vaepal; however, he wanted to help with the fight against the Reapers. So, he joined other strategists to come up with plans on how to defeat the Reapers (if the Battle of Earth was a massive defeat) as soon as the Admiralty Board finally declared war on the Reapers. When the time came to fight on Earth, he was selected to join a group of attackers that planned on landing in North Africa. Several attacks were planned all over the world so the Reapers could be spread out thin. He was a part of the attack on Earth; however, he didn't go to London at all. The battle itself was more difficult than the Battle for Rannoch. People were dying left and right as Rol helped hold the line.
Then, the energy vaporized the Reapers and the Reaper ships stopped working. The war was finally over.
Afterwards, Rol was treated in the city of Alexandria and spent time there before returning to the fleet. Around that time, Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy had also returned to the fleet and began her work with Rannoch. Her influence and actions during the Reaper War grant her command of the newly built Diplomacy Fleet. He was offered a spot aboard Tali'Zorah's body guard. He refused and focused on rebuilding Earth with the others. He has traveled all over the Middle East, the Great Basin and the Mojave and Sonoran Desert. Rol went back to Alexandria to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Battle of Earth.
Psyche Profile:
Rol'Naaris is just like any normal quarian: strategic mind, judgmental, hard-working, decisive, and overly analytical. Those traits have been useful and useless to him throughout his life. Rol tends to make only a few friends that like to have discussions about stuff and hang out often. He has no trouble relaxing and enjoying himself with his friends, but he doesn't share his emotions with them. And he cannot be able to provide emotional support towards others. Plus, he can often be too honest to deal with. Romantic relationships are also his weakness as he doesn't know anything other than warfare. Rol also has a thing for organizing.
He is also judgmental towards Geths because of their actions during the last few years. And the fact that Rol despises artificial intelligence and labels them as 'a threat to the galaxy.' Besides Geth, he is willing to have a healthy discussion with different ideals and opinions. And he likes human movies that have anything to do with humans destroying AI; but, he favors The Matrix and Inception. He also likes reading novels, writing essays, watching documentaries, and listening to classical music. And he always wanted to have plants along with trained dogs and go to famous landmarks.
And he also always wanted to start up a museum since he loved other species’ histories. He dislikes narrow-minded people, gossip circles, people who can't handle dark humor, metal music, alcohol, and dirty/messy places.
Specialty:
Rol'Naaris was most likely picked to be in the Spectre-led task force because of his involvement with the Marines and they noted him as a great strategist during the Battle for Rannoch and he also helped his commander during the Battle of Earth. He was also one of the few Quarian that went to Earth during the battle, which gives his experience in the heat of a firefight.
And Rol also knows how to use both a shotgun and a sniper unlike other quarians. He likes the sniper rifle better than the shotgun, but he would use it if he's in the front lines. In short, he's the sniper of the team.
Powers/Skills:
Sabotage, Tactical Cloak, Assassination, Agent (Operative), and Fitness
Equipment and Resources:
Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII (it includes a modified version of Asymmetric Defense Layer that fits perfectly into the look of the armor), Haliat Armory's Equalizer IX, Kassa Fabrication's Polaris VIII, Elanus Risk Control Services's Hurricane V, and Haliat Armory's Stiletto VI
Sample Post:
Rol'Naaris waited patiently for his shuttle to finally land at their location. It felt like they have been flying for hours since they left one of the human ships. Everyone aboard the shuttle could hear explosions all around them. Once in awhile, they could hear a shuttle getting hit and most likely crash landing onto Earth: human's homeworld. Rol felt sick whenever he heard the explosions getting closer towards this shuttle. And it did not help that he was the only quarian on this shuttle and surrounded by krogan, turians, and humans. A human sitting by Rol was looking at a datapad. Rol only noticed when he was checking on his sniper rifle and decided to take a peek at the datapad. It was a very old picture of a group of people with weapons, standing next to horses. It could of been from World War I or some other minor war fought during the time period.
He kept on checking out his weapons while some of the turians and humans started to pray as they felt the shuttle going down. Everyone gathered their weapons and readied themselves for the drop off. Before they left, one of the Alliance captains told everyone to get into cover as soon as possible and open fire. Sounds of a firefight got louder as the shuttle began to land while it was taking fire from marauders and brutes Soon enough, everyone stood up and waited for the doors to open up. Rol held his sniper rifle tightly and ready for a dash towards the nearest cover.
Before they opened, everyone heard the pilot's voice through the comms as he gave instructions on where the base is located.
"Alright, you are about to be fired at. Remember to fight carefully and remain calm; however, don't forget your main objective. Reach the command base. Your omni-tool should have the location marked. Once you reach the location, the commander of the base will issue you with a task to do and communicate with you. Good luck soldiers. May God be with you."
After that brief speech, the doors slowly opened as bullets could be heard hitting against the shuttle. Everyone carefully stepped out and dashed towards cover. Some of them were immediately shot and cried out in pain or died because of a well placed shot. Once Rol exited out of the shuttle and ran towards cover, it took off rather quickly and left the areas. Other shuttles began to land as soldiers exited out of it while one was shot down while leaving the areas. Rol went to a different cover and pulled out his omni-tool while soldiers left and right were getting shot at. The omni-tool revealed that the location was somewhere west and saw that a couple of soldiers were already heading there.
The night was still rather young and it was difficult to see anything. Suddenly, he heard screaming and a struggle as Rol went for his pistol. He ran towards the sound and saw that the human for the shuttle was pinned by a husk. Rol shoved the gun against the husk's head and opened fire, killing the creature for sure. It felt as the human pushed it away from him and processed to kick it several times. "Motherfucker!" he said angrily towards the husk.
"Are you alright?" Rol asked while grabbing the human's assault rifle and offering it to him.
"Yeah... Just took me by surprise." he pointed at the dead husk and grabbed his gun.
"Thanks.."
"Call me Rol." Rol just said while he was grabbing his sniper rifle.
"Rol... I am Hamdaan." Hamdann said while reloading his assault rifle. Both men began their walk on the abandoned street while other soldiers walked pass them. It was rather peaceful, even know explosions and gunshots could be heard all around. They were nearby the base because of the M35 Makos could be seen from afar, firing towards the Reapers. They have started to talk about being on Earth since the invasion. It turned out that his aunt and brother were on Earth during the invasion. They were traveling to Dubai just as the Reaper began their attack. Their ride took a detour towards the airport and they managed to get on a transport ship before the transmission died out.
Hamdaan knew that they were dead and mourned their deaths. Afterwards, he joined the Alliance and waited for this day to come since joining. Rol felt bad that the quarian were fighting the geth. He saw the footage of Earth while he was planning for the upcoming war with them. It was truly disgusting for him to hear the news then Palaven was hit as well. The breaking news made him stop working for the entire day and he wanted to throw up. Shepard was right the whole time and no-one—not even Rol himself—believed his warnings.
Rol said that the news made him work harder than ever to finish up with the geth; but, things never go according to plan. Gunfire got louder as both of the men rushed towards the base and saw the husk heading towards the Makos. Some of them got on top of them and Rol used his sniper rifle to pick them off. With one knee on the ground, he aimed and fired at the husks. Hamdaan charged towards the base ready for anything while others followed his lead. Rol got off of the ground and rushed towards the firefight.
It was going to be one hell of a battle. The one that he was going to tell stories about for years to come. If he survives the ordeal.
Notes
Rol hasn't have the chance to be in a romantic relationship, but he is sure that he could most likely be either gay or straight. However, it doesn't bug him at all.
He made some friends during the Battle of Earth and talks to them often. And he also still talks to people from the fleet as well. And he also has met Tali’Zorah after the Reaper War for a brief moment. Plus, he is more than willing to provide his services to rebuilding the Earth.
His facial tattoo resembles one close to the one often seen on Palaven, it is two toned with Cyan and a dark blue, it goes across his nose, cheeks and mandibles.
Tiberius has a shrapnel burn on the left side of his face, near his left eye and on his left mandible and left cheek crest.
Tiberius has three cyan glow metal plates along his cheek crest.
Unless on assignment you'll often find Tiberius in some form of casual or light formal clothing. While nothing he wears screams 'designer', he does his best to maintain a clean professional image for both himself and his employer, whether acting as a liaison off the ship or setting an example for others aboard it.
However... this rule does not apply, for obvious reasons when tasked with a mission. Depending on the mission at hand he'll be wearing his armor, or dressed down to fit in. Leather jackets, dusters, windbreakers - his closet is full of an array of random articles of clothing suited for various purposes. Sometimes brute force isn't always the best way to get things done, as he's learned over the years... as of late he's been working no a more... subtle methods. Misdirection, disguise etc; to get close to a target and apprehend them. Of course when the chips are down, he'll armor up with no reservations.
Backstory:
Born and raised on Palaven Tiberius is the twin brother of Vepius, when at a young age the two could only be told apart by there eyes, Tiberius has little to no memory of his mother as she passed away just when he and is brother where learning to walk. But that did not stop the two from having a relatively normal life up until the age of 15 where the two where immediately drafted into the ranks of being a soldier, for a year everything seemed fine he and his brother where in the same unit that was until Tiberius started showing signs of being a biotic.
The Hierarchy immediately took notice and Tiberius was shipped off into a Cabal group. The bond between him, his teammates and Kabalim was slow, the small unit only consisted off eleven members and he was the newest, but over time their bond grew until they where a dangerous tight-knit group, they would spend the rest of there lives together, day in and day out, isolated form the rest of the main unit and called on for the most dangerous tasks, whether it be talking down a enemy high ranking officer or someone with in the hierarchy itself. As the years went by Tiberius learned how to pilot, sabotage, explosives and infiltration. He pushed himself to the limits, never backing down from a challenge, being the newest member in the unit he felt the need to push himself to keep up with everyone else and taking the Cabal motto to heart 'The intangible is unstoppable'.
During a training exercise on Illium, down in the hot jungles Tiberius's drop-ship came under attack by an unknown force that where hiding out, what was meant to be training exercise became a fight for survival as there drop-ship was hit critically and crashed landed, with the pilot and three Cabals injured upon touchdown the Kabalim order Tiberius and the other Cabals to take up a defensive perimeter. As the held there ground, it didn't take them long to figure out what was going on, they had stumbled upon a large group of heavily armed merc's, a distress call was made out while the Tiberius and the remaining Cabals defended the crash site until aid arrived in the form of another Cabal unit, once the two units where grouped up and the injured shuttled off world the two units spit up and made a two pronged attack on the merc's, any who where not killed during the four hour long fight, gave up and where apprehended. Once back on the Turian cruiser Tiberius checked up on the injured before moving to get information from some of the merc's, who at first where reluctant on giving any information, but over time Tiberius continued to pry at them until they gave him everything he needed, the information would then be delivered to the Hierarchy about the situation that had occurred.
Over the years Tiberius seemed to lose someone is his unit every few missions that they where sent on, all of them where brothers and sisters in arms, a family almost, it was not until he suffered a major loss, before grief and stress started to take its toll on him, and unfortunately as a result he was put on a perception of Eximo just to calm his nerves, Eximo only helped with the stress not the grief he felt, so it was offered that he go talk to some one just to clear his mind in a attempt to help him, but Tiberius refused and eventually with the help of Durso his Kalabim found his own way to deal with it, a way that would be able to still be fit for duty, a way to honor the ones he lost, and that was to visit them every so often.
When the Reaper war broke out Tiberius was 35 of age, he was considered old for a Cabal, while he had seen some of his squad mates get shipped off to desk work because of injury, Tiberius continued to push forward, he lived to be a Cabal he enjoyed the destruction that came with it. and when the reapers came he only saw it as another challenge for himself, however this challenge came with a cost while down on Palaven Tiberius witnessed the death of his father as the first few Reapers touched down, this left his with a dark pit in him as he then began to worry about his brother which in-turn only made his fight harder. During the Reaper war Tiberius's Cabal unit got the nickname Pouncer as they seemed to get the jump on the enemy and a lot of there engagements, but that is not to say that the Pouncer unit didn't take its own loses, several members of the unit where killed and the Kabalim was severely injured by the time the war ended, Tiberius came out of the war with his own scars both mentally and physically.
One the war was over, Tiberius's unit was temperately disbanded in order to help out with the reconstruction and aid processes, Tiberius new role would be that of a heavy lifter given his size, moving the larger objects into those harder to reach areas, or helping move or all together get rid of larger pieces of rubble, having basic aid training he was also able to help out with the injured around the aid stations on Palaven. Soon the work slowed and the hierarchy had not contacted him for reassignment but instead let him off on paid leave for the time being, so gathering up the credits he had he took a shuttle to the Crucible. It didn't take him long before he found himself work there as yet again a heavy lifter moving equipment around, it paid decent and with the average pay from the hierarchy Tiberius managed to get himself a decent apartment, but like all good things, it came to an end, and now with no work he has taken the time to actually see what it is like not to be a Cabal. However long that might last.
Psyche Profile:
Violent. Headstrong. Ruthless. Calculating. Sly. A Vengeful Protector. An Unstoppable Monster.
Walking Hand Grenade
The universe is dark. When you see its darkest depths; its dark underbelly... once you understand someone's capacity for horrors, you can never truly look away. Though raised strong and free from danger, the world is dark no matter where you hide, and horror, chaos, has never been far from Tiberius. Consider for a moment you have two people before you; a broken, dark, world-weary turian who has seen more than any person ever should... and a defense mechanism mask that the world is privy to, one that laughs and smiles, one that makes friends and shares easily. The duality is what keeps him whole. But underneath everything, on all sides, is a quiet, smoldering rage. Make no mistake, Tiberius is a very dangerous individual.
Long story short, Tiberius Adarian is a good guy. He tries to do the right thing, for the right reasons, and play things as diplomatic as possible, He wants to live in a world where his job does not exist - though understands that that day will not be seen in his lifetime. On the other side of that coin however, he does not mind getting his hands dirty and, though he may not always admit it, enjoys the thrill of the chase, the hunt, in taking down his prey. Getting inside their head, understanding what drives them, and having a comprehensive and workable knowledge of the awesome, destruction powers of a biotic drives Tiberius both intelligently and physically.
Duty, Honor, Loyalty
Within the Cabal ranks Tiberius is a modal example of a Soldier - to a fault. Rarely has he disobeyed orders, but now and again, waiting for backup or standing down just didn't seem like the correct strategy. As Cabal he does get the occasional leering glance from his coworkers, but he often assures them - if they're doing their jobs, they have no reason to be wary of him. More than once he's had to take down a close associate, even a friend, who was over the line and it never gets any easier, but it is what the job entails. There is a rumor that, three years ago, Tiberius was sent to recover a rogue biotic whom he was close to, though the trail supposedly "went cold" while he was on Omega. As no one has seen or heard from the aforementioned biotic since, it is relatively likely, though there are some who feel that Tiberius falsified his report and helped the biotic criminal hide, disobeying direct orders - though there was never proof, or an investigation in the matter.
The Vendetta
Above all Tiberius want to see a world free from crime, harm, and violence - but knows it's a pipedream. Tiberius has proven time and again to have fantastic faith towards all races, instilled by his parents. Tiberius's rage, his need for vengeace, is twisted only with his greater ideal of justice. He understands what it's like to lose someone; that a murder is more than just a singular act. He sees the ripples. The people it affects. However, he's also aware that there are dangerous individuals in the world who just what to watch the world burn - and in those situation, his trigger finger only gets itchier.
He's funny, rash, sarcastic, horribly bitter, manipulative, crude and boisterous - but one of the best friends you'll ever have. Let's make it simple. From day to day, situation to situation, moment to moment you never know who's going to be at your side. The masks of Tiberius Adarian are many.
Specialty:
In the Field
As a Cabal Tiberius excels in infiltration and biotics, His is considered a danger at long range, but up close he is extremely deadly given his shear size, ability and training with close quarter combat, he is a strategist and is one to get the results that are called for.
Off the Field
While off the field Cabals are given training in data handling and piloting, for his Cabal group he also acts as a liaison to ensure everything off the field goes just as planned while in the field, whether it is talking down as stressful situation, negotiating for lives or simply being a distraction.
He carries two combat knifes, One attached to his boot, One holstered along his lower back. Mainly used for when he runs out of ammo.
Omni-Tool
Sample Post:
The low hum of the drop-ships engines is all that could be heard within the cabin as a group of Turians sat while three more stood and held onto the ships ceiling handles, no one spoke a word that was until a small female Turian who sat to Tiberius's right lean forward and looked over at Tiberius, her skin was a charcoal color with the same face paint style as Tiberius but hers was white, reaching over she poked at his shoulder as he sat with his head down and his arms crossed. Opening his eyes slightly he glanced over at her and grinned. Across from him sat their Kabalim who quietly watched the interaction between the two.
"You two should go find a room when this is all over" he joked before standing and walking to the front of the ship where he grabbed a data-pad and quickly went over it before looking back at his team.
"Alright everyone as you know we have been tasked to scout an area just north of the drop point, once there we will secure a holding point then discuss if we will break into two teams or not. Volio, Kaus and Aullus you three are on point. Tupia, Veleus and Melea you three are rear secrity. Ruia, Tiberius your with me we will be in the middle and covering the sides" Druso said before transferring the data onto everyone's omni-tool
Nodding at Druso he nudged the small female Turian beside him as the two had been paired together yet again, she looked over at him and reached up and pushed the side of his head. He and Ruia had been with each other for a while the two at this point where two out of four of the longest serving members on the team besides Druso.
"Alright everyone get ready we are almost there, check your gear and weapons" Druso said as everyone began checking their equipment.
The drop-ship zoomed though the sky as it flew low and fast towards it's destination, as it slowed down a large open field came into view and the ship started to drift down, as it did dust was kicked up and the tall grass was pushed around by the thrusters as the ship looped around and landed.
"Your ready big guy?" Ruia asked as she looked over at Tiberius and stood. "I Thought you'd never ask" he replied then stood up, as the doors to the ship slid open the group filed out in there respective orders, stepping off the ship Tiberius immediately raised his rifle and remained against the ship as the rest of the team disembarked. Once all of them where off he moved to the left flank before taking a knee with the rest of his group as the shuttle started to lift off, and soon it disappeared over the tree tops and out of sight.
"Alright lets moves team, lets go see what we can discover and eliminate if passable. Remember the intangible is unstoppable." Druso ordered, with that the group got up and moved as one towards the treeline, disappearing into it.
Notes
Merits:
Charismatic
Educated
Quick learner
Strategist
Combat Proficiency
Flaws:
Scarred, shrapnel burn make people think he's a not so nice guy at first glace.
Mental Condition: Hallucinations, both auditory and visual.
While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan.
Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory:
Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to.
He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision.
From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later.
The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive.
It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned.
The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do.
He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes.
Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread.
A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title.
Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun.
At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson.
When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand.
He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even.
He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later.
He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders.
Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz.
He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe.
I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile:
Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.
However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions.
Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy.
One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty:
As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics.
However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack.
1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.
Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it.
Backstory:
Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her.
Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move.
In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation.
Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger?
She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born.
For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling.
When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there.
Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere.
Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station.
They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it.
Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later.
The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly.
Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were.
Psyche Profile:
Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people.
Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later.
There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there.
Specialty:
Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies.
”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.”
”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.”
”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee.
One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter.
The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth.
”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.”
”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point.
Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible.
”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.”
”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh.
Notes
- Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers.
"So these are the people I'm protecting this time..."
| ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating |
|| Jake Anderson ||
⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Aegon Partinax ||
☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should.
|| Ravanor Rykarn ||
☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks.
|| Vella Calixten Ophelia ||
☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Ellis Taevon ||
☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Rayes'Xum nar Yaron ||
⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Phalanx ||
⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Ja'Far Balak ||
⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Rol'Narris vas Vaepal ||
☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Tiberius Adarian ||
✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Raik Skarr ||
✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Gilvert Somner ||
☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Salissa Fortia ||
✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Alria Vicrinus ||
❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
|| Ethan Sartiel ||
☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.
Gilvert stands at around 5’8 and weighs roughly around 10 stone, he has a number of scars from shrapnel burns and old bullet wounds in his chest, and a few on his right arm, 2 above the shoulder, one below the elbow.
Backstory:
Gilvert Somner is born on Kahje - Year 2136
Gilvert has been an assassin and a mercenary in his life, as well as the fact that he fought during the reaper wars and spent a good portion of his life on Omega, he’s seen a lot of action over his life and he’s beginning to show it, at least mentally, his physical injuries over the years haven’t been overly extensive and nothing too major.
Year 2156 His days as an assassin began on his “home planet” of Kahje, the Hanar homeworld, much like a number of drell that got accepted into their fold when they saved a portion of the population from the Drell homeworld, given the small number that was actually rescued it’s uncommon much to see a drell in the galaxy; however the odd and rare sighting typically means that the Hanar need work doing, given their nature there’s many things a Hanar can’t do, or at the very least things that are better left in the hands of others, when the drell were accepted into Kahje, those with certain skills, or merely those whom the hanar felt could work effectively for them were trained up to become assassins -as well as soldiers, spec-ops, anything really that revolved around combat. In his early years Gilvert was offered to perform tasks for the Hanar due to the fact that he scored highly on the tests ran by the Hanar to find the best of the Drell race, especially in regards to combat proficiency and stealth aptitude, it was also during this time that Gilvert was putting many hours of study behind Chemistry. In Drell culture it’s regarded as a great honour to be asked by the Hanar to perform certain tasks, although this didn’t really resonate well with Gilvert, he has as thankful as the rest of his race for the kindness of the hanar, but he had plans for his future that didn’t typically involve the act of killing others. If only he were blessed with foresight then he might have seen just what this path would lead him to, a life where killing is both naturally and something he does with enjoyment. He accepted the offer, knowing full well that denying it would come with a lot of attached stigma from his peers and family for that matter. His training to become an assassin for them went underway, it took 4 years to train him properly and it was around this time, that things were getting a bit off about Gilvert - it’s not exactly certain what was the initial cause for his psychosis developing, but it was certainly around this time that you could say it began to form. Multiple reports and evaluations during his training, and ones that were inevitably pulled from his schools that he had attended during childhood suggested a slight bit of mental instability, when he was growing up he did a lot of art, drawing and painting was something he loved and enjoyed, at the time they couldn't discover as to why he never pursued it, or never does it in his spare time, however it was later discovered that his mother had not liked the idea of her son becoming something like an artist and forced him to pursue something scientific or productive like a military role or working for a tech/weapons company, as to better the state of the galaxy, and increase the defence of the Hanar and the Drell alike. During combat simulations it was observed that on occasion he had the tendency to execute opponents in a very specific manner, going against protocol and training, what was particularly noted was his way to kill in a certain order - the order of their deaths was only seen by the Drells eyes, and none of his own race nor the Hanar who witnessed could fathom it. Despite everything of his odd mannerisms and actions, his proficiency was still very high and got the job done regardless of it; it was brushed aside as nothing of import - later in his life the Hanar who run this operation begin to connect the dots in thinking that he performs his art now in the only way he knows how, artistry in death, perfection in destruction his canvas is the galaxy; its people the paint; his hands the brush. The training was rigorous and intense, it departed a great deal from anything Gilvert was ever thinking of doing, or ever thought of doing - he understand that his body had been honed into a weapon now, it would have it’s uses, it meant that he could keep himself alive - it meant that whilst others would die, inevitably he would be doing a justice, the people he would have to kill, all of them were disgusting- vile creatures that made life insufferable for the majority; but regardless of the justifications, something changed about him that day.
His first job - given that he was adapt in chemistry, and that he had been specialised in the use of explosives as well as long range elimination Gilvert was outfitted with a set of explosive charges and mines - his job had two tasks; eliminate the target, a Krogan warlord who lead a group of mercenaries that mainly dealt in the narcotic Red sand, and stolen cargo vessels. And destroy the cargo ship that had over 1,000 kilos of red sand on board. This job, changed Gilvert for the rest of his life; for better or for worse, is yet to be seen.
Gilvert was outfitted with a Haliat armoury sniper rifle with tungsten rounds, designed specifically to take out the krogan in a single shot - assuming it landed in the head. As well as a number of different explosives, and one special bomb that was mean to be placed on the ships hull - it would be mojre than capable of destroying it. Once he had been given his full briefing and handed a large sum of credits to pave his way, he left Kahje for the first time. It was a daunting episode in his life the first off world place he visited, out of all of them, was Omega the ship provided to him took him there within a day and the only help he got on it was the fact that this place was basically the ass-end of the galaxy - all sorts of deplorables, and honest people alike come here - a friend of his called it the Anti-Citadel, and after 48 hours on the space-station, he could only agree, there was plenty of information regarding what the Citadel looked like and how it was back on Kahje, it looked amazing, truly a great place, this however, has quite the opposite. Despite how many different races were on this station, he - as a drell, got quite a few looks of surprise and skepticism, many people did not know what a Drell looked like, let alone have the “fortune” to see one in person. The one person he did know to go to however, was an Asari named Aria T’loak, the defacto leader of this station, if he wanted any better intel on his target, she’d be the one to ask. After giving the bouncer at the doors to a club named Afterlife an “entrance fee” he made his way inside. The music could be heard clearly, if not slightly muffled from outside, but inside the atmosphere was unlike anything he had ever witnessed or experience it was incredibly loud, flashing neon lights and exotic dancers, almost every race was mingling, drinking, dancing… Gilvert tried his utmost to look as if he knew what he was doing, to put on a mask to make sure he didn’t look as if was fish fresh out of water. He probably wasn’t doing very well, but Drell facial expressions are hard to read without actually knowing the race well, which will prove to serve to his advantage a great deal through his career. He asked the bartender how he could talk to the Asari, and got pointed towards a set of stairs that lead upwards, she clearly had the best seat on the house. A burly looking Batarian blocked the way, he didn’t even attempt to stop the Drell and simply said in a coarse, but clearly audible voice.“Go on up, she’s expecting you.”
Now that elicited a very easy to read expression of surprise on his face, the batrain grinned, baring his many pinprick like teeth before stating once more “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting, do yourself a favour and hurry up.”
Without further hesitation Gilvert did exactly that. The meeting with the “Queen of Omega” proved to be very enlightening, she offered him more than enough information on how to get the job done, but on one condition. The ship filled to the brim with red sand must be left untouched, if he did so - she would pay him 10% net worth of its contents as a thanks - part two of the payment, part one was the intel he received. Gilvert knew it was not a request, as “kind” as she stated it, he had already accepted by receiving the intel from her, the payment was merely a bonus on something he now didn’t have a choice in doing.
The entire process has been mentally overwhelming, the constant barrage of new information and adaptations he had to make in order to do his job properly and effectively, it took its toll. Eventually Gilvert got to the private hangar that this Krogan warlord had access too, docked into an airlock was the cargo ship, which was currently being stocked with the substance red sand, it was nearly fully stocked now so time was of the essence. It was as he looked through his scope; over 300 meters away from his target that it happened. It was like a bolt of lightning flashed behind his eyes, his first psychotic episode was especially traumatic for Gilvert due to the fact that they have eidetic memory which allows them to remember almost everything in extremely vivid detail, however when there’s a black patch, when there’s nothing over a period of time - that is one of the most worrying things a Drell can undergo- to always know what you’ve done in your past, and then there’s just a break in that clarity, where he knows he killed over 60 innocent dock workers. That realisation traumatised him beyond repair, the aspiring Chemical scientist that was Gilvert is gone, memories of that time seem like they’re of another person now. It's cause is not certain as the mind cannot be really understood - however Gilvert felt a hostile presence from Omega from the moment he stepped onto this gods forsaken station, it was oppressive and overbearing, its quite possible that this was the trigger, landing into a place full of hostile, or potentially hostile entities - his training made him think of that as all assassins do, everyone is a potential threat, they can cause a discovery or try to be a hero - get in the way, so many things the average person can do to ruin an assassin and in turn, their life; the fact that this place disgusted him too, did not help the people here- pathetic all of them, scum of the galaxy, they were a taint. How could perfection ever exist if such a glaring imperfection such as Omega exist? He was an artist, he needed his work to be perfect, it was this line of thinking that began him to traipse slowly down a decline which inevitably broke him, or fixed him depending on your views - he struggles to draw the line between the real him, is the artist the real him - or is it the mercenary?
During this episode, which last just over 46 minutes, Gilvert had managed to flawlessly infiltrate the dock and tactically place 75% of his explosive ordnance around the port, as well as the specially modified bomb designed for the transport vessel. Moved to a safe distance, executed his target with one shot from his sniper rifle, and detonated the explosives - the sheer force made the station rattle slightly - the ship which was outside of the actual station itself survived; in his episode he seen no need to destroy it. But he knows how he felt after he came to about 3 miles away from the place that he had just destroyed, he felt elated, he knew that but moments ago he had made something great, he had begun work on a masterpiece that he would inevitably obsess over for the rest of his life. He also knew, that something had gone terribly wrong, two sides of his mind conflicted, spared all the way back to Afterlife. When he got to the Batarian who was at the stair case he just said with a look surprise on his face “Shit, I know keeping Aria happy with your work is a good idea, but you clearly wanted to impress the boss on your first day huh? Keep it up killer, you might make a good thing here.” He gestured upwards indicating he could go up.
Aria ended up somewhat scolding him in a similar way a mother scolds a child for taking the last cookie, she wasn’t entirely bothered about how he executed the job, he had still made sure she got her cargo and for that she was happy. But he had proved to be reckless, next time things may not go as well, was the gist of what she said to him - in turn she transferred a large sum of credits to his account and also went on to say that the cargo ship “was destroyed in the explosion” or at least that’s what the news will say, meaning that in turn he had still fulfilled the task for the Hanar. Not that they would be happy about his methods. Before he left to face the music however, Aria said that if he needed work, her door was open to him.
That was exactly what he needed for when he went back to Kahje, he almost instantly faced a tribunal for his actions, despite the fact that he had completed his task, he had done so with a complete disregard to innocent life in the process - Gilvert didn’t even try and defend his actions as he himself was still warring over them, he felt as if he had done the right thing, but ultimately knew he had done something bad- as a result Gilvert was exiled from Kahje, he was to leave the planet tomorrow with what he already had on his person, and never to come back; he wasn't even allowed to see his family or friends.
This hallmark of his life, was probably the most significant out of all others we will have, it set the pace for him, that path he would now walk, everything from here on out was defined by this moment. After he made his way back to Omega, and got in touch with Aria once again, she gave him the location of a merc group that worked for on occasion; turns out they were in need for someone just like him after their last demolitions man stepped on his own mine.
Life as a mercenary - Year 2161- 2186
Despite everything that had happened, this merc group took him in with no reservations, they were a 6 man squad, now 7 with his addition. The leader was a Krogan warlord, a literal juggernaut of flesh and armour The second in command at that time was a Salarian engineer, adept in hacking and disruption of enemy systems A batarian vanguard, proficient with biotics and; oddly, extremely laid back. Two turians, neither like the other, one was biotic and the other was a sniper. And finally an asari - ex-commando
The Krogan took a liking to Gilvert very quickly, after he heard the space port incident was his doing he stated that they were going to get on very well with each other if he kept up the work like that.
The group was an effective one, highly skilled and very capable; the number of missions they took had them head to the likes of Tuchunka, Ilum, the dark streets of the Citadel but mainly they operated in the traverse and terminus systems - from the Ismar frontier to the Hades nexus. It was during one specific mission that he acquired one of the newly designed M-97 Widowmakers, which had been tinkered with for greater suitability for use by a single user, Gilvert ended up sinking over 300,000 credits in modifications and updates to keep weapon always one step ahead of any other sniper rifle in circulation.
During these years Gilvert became very familiar with Omega and its filthy streets, he also got very well acquainted with Aria T’loak; it wasn’t uncommon to find him, on occasion, and assuming she wasn’t attending any business, with her in afterlife - more often that not it lead to a job for the merc band, but it helped that she liked him, in a way. His time on Omega also lead him to meet another Drell, in 2171; his name -Thane Krios. He had heard from a few whispers back on Khaje that this was one of the most successful assassins the Hanar had at their disposal, and Krios too knew who he was, the disgraced assassin that was exiled, they had a somewhat cold feeling talk with one another and parted ways, Thane was not fond of Gilvert, that much was certain.
The mercenaries memories - Year 2161- 2186 (i’ll add to these as the roleplay progresses, these are specific mission he has undertaken, and he’ll recall in memories or in telling stories to others.
The Battle for Earth: Year 2186
The merc band that Gilvert was apart of ultimately ended up fioghting on Earth itself for the fianl battle against the reapers, after they and various other merc groups aided Aria and Shepard remove Cereberus from Omega, they were hired and sent to Earth for the final battle, where upon their numbers were halved by the end of it, Only the Krogan warlord, himself and the asari commando remained- it’s fair to say that there already tight bonds were made tighter after this battle. Despite all the odds, Gilvert managed to get through the entire battle without a single episode occurring, which is very happy about, their frequency has been increasing and that was one battle, he did not want to forget or miss remembering.
After the Battle was over, the merc group, which has been named “Heroic outcasts” by their leader given their role during the Reaper invasion, they aided in the reconstruction of London and took the time to have a break from all the fighting and killing, it was a well-paid, well fed endeavour as well as good for their ranks, of which they easily replenished with some truly incredible outcasts, perfect for their merry little merc band. Things were looking up, but it would soon be time to get a move on.
Psyche Profile:
The psyche profile of Gilvert is slightly worrying, it’s progressing into something that shows signs of psychosis, sometimes in the heat of battle he can begin to lose grasp of reality making his actions erratic and strange, he begins to talk as if the world were a tapestry and his hands hold the only brush that can paint it’s dull blank canvas: in reds, blues, purples and greens, every death signifies a step closer to the completion of this masterpiece, whilst he’s going through a psychotic episode he can still tell the difference between friend and foe, for now at least, in his addled mind he perceives friendlies as people whom contain the wrong colour for his work, and as such, there is no use in killing them as they would ruin his tapestry, this can lead him to protect certain people with ruthlessness, they must survive, as they would mar his work. This side of him does not show often though, although as time passes its frequency will increase and the length of each episode.
Otherwise this drell is a bit of a wiseguy, he will be picky and is oft sarcastic, and takes delight in the strangest of things, especially when he nails one of the enemy with one his many explosives, the cain mines being the crescendo of his symphony of death. Overall this Drell is disturbed, but nevertheless an oddly reliable and exceptionally capable killer and explosives expert, just expect a mess when he finishes a job.
"Yeah that was one hell of an operation, should have seen Giles when the artist came out... We get asked alot if that side of him is a liability, fuck that nonsense - let me tell you guys a story of how the artist makes our job 10x more fun, and 10x easier!" Virtak had successfully entrapped his audience around the table, a number of patrons in one of the many bars on the Citadel - the group had been taking some time off and spending some of their hard earned credits, and Virtak being himself refuses to buy his own drinks, and gets them via storytelling. Oddly successful at it too.
"So... it begins when we..." Virtak began a large vulpine smile on his lips.
-At an undisclosed system in the Traverse- Year:2181
The Mercenary band had finally made it after traipsing half way across the galaxy chasing one goddamned ship, it had managed to land on one of them many numerous seemingly dis-interesting planets that scattered hundreds of systems throughout the galaxy, perfect place for those whom don't want to be seen doing what they do.
"What's the info we have on this piece of rocky shit?" Virtak asked their pilot; the Turian in the cockpit replied with "Nothing interesting about it in any files or records, its orbiting a G class star at around 9.2 Au, barely got any atmosphere, but what it does have contains trace amounts of methane and nitrogen, means if you're outside you gotta wear a helmet; surface is cold as fuck too, -134 Celsius, I don't recommend going for a stroll; get in, kill them all, get out."
All's the pilot got in response was a growl as Virtak lumbered off to assemble the crew. Within 10 minutes they were all outfitted and ready to go.
Their landing was fairly smooth, it appeared that the enemy knew they were being chased and offloaded their cargo as swiftly as possible before getting inside the bunker that stood before the 7 mercs; Giles had been off long before arriving on the cold rock that was this planet, and no amount of medication that he took was making him feel any better, everyone knew what this meant, and that meant Giles himself.
After the airlock was hacked open the mercs moved in and waited for depressurisation before removing their helmets, the first room they entered had been cleared mostly of clutter but its design offered a fair bit on what the rest of the place would be like. It was a recent construction and clearly a very expensive build, this place was a veritable bunker designed to survive bombardment, the naturally hard surface outside helped as well, clearly they were dealing with one paranoid fucker. As they prepped to siege the next room - since Giles' recon mine outlined several hostile entities inside, it was then the episode started.
The Artist awakens!
"NO! THIS CANVAS! IT'S. SO. DULL! PLACID AND DEPRIVED, IT NEEDS COLOUR, IT NEEDS A BREATH OF LIFE IN ITS SOULLESS HUSK OF A CORPSE: I MUST, I NEED, I WILL GIVE IT LIFE! I WILL PAINT IT WITH CRIMSON REDS, BOLD BLUES, STARTLING PURPLES AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COLOUR OF THEM ALL! IN VERDANT GREENS!"
The Artist stood, in front of him stood his audience, they always stood and observed his show's they were loyal, they respected his work they cheered when he began his work, they wept tears of joy when they seen him place his brush down when the work had been completed and above all the always returned to watch him perform again, they had beautiful colours in them, they'd make a fine painting, but he enjoyed admirers of his work - alas what is the point of art if there is none to admire its beauty?
The big one spoke "Giles, blow the door, its time to to get to work." Ugh, his voice was so crude, it hurt his ears to listen to it, but he spoke of something that mattered greatly the performance was to begin, the curtains were in front of him, the only colour in this world that he in stood a shocking veil of velvet red curtains, and on it was one of his brushes, something he used to splash many a colour across a large area of the canvas, in his hand there lied the magical ability to commence the show, to draw back the curtains and begin his show, his performance of perfection, his symphony of death, so much paint and colour lied ahead of him, and he most make them pour it free. His hands shook with anticipation, a mad smile covered his face, his eyes wild with excitement.
"It's time to begin the performance! This, will be my greatest work of art as of yet!" And as he finished his sentence he blew the door of its hydrolic locks and hinges, a tonne of metal flew free from its hinges and crashed off a pillar within the room behind it, his audience moved forward to take their seats, he stopped to take in a large gulp of air, and drew his most prized instrument, this brush of his, it was unique in that it was capable of creating the best colours, nothing - no other instrument did he ever have at his disposal create the same dark and deep colours as this did, he caressed its smooth surface and cool metal as it began its tune of unlocking, it was now truly an instrument of which he would sow the seeds of death, and with one stroke reap its harvest.
He moved swiftly, moving onto the stage and within mere seconds clocked his first target, setting up his instrument of beauty he peered closer at it through the scope, this target, large and unsightly was its exterior but insie he knew, it contained that precious colour that he needed for his first stroke - an Azure blue, a perfect rendition of the skies of Khaje. This colour, he needed it, he must use IT, it was time to dip his brush in the paint, and begin the work of a master.
He pulled the trigger back, it giving its master no resistance as he did so, it begged to be pulled back as both he and his instrument wanted the same thing. And the Choir began their hymn, the barrel shook as their voices pierced the heavens and the projectile was unleashed from its captivity. It blazed through the air, and as the choir hit its crescendo the bullet pierced through its target spilling forth in large quantities life's most precious liquid. Giles' eyes watered at the sight, it was the very incarnation of perfection, the first kill, the first stroke of the brush it always moved him the most, joy bloomed in his fragile heart and he buried the memory deep inside him, with all of the others, every other first stroke he had made. The painting had begun, the performance in full swing his audience begging for more. He would have to continue, he had to to ensure that they were sated; his work was in high demand and he would gleefully fulfil that demand.
Giles danced around the room, with every step he sowed further seeds of his perfection, spilling more and more essence of life that painted this tawdry setting. His work was getting more and more complete, every step that dawned closer to the finish of this artwork made his eyes swell with tears of pain and sorrow, but equally his lust for more increased, he wanted nothing more to see the end result of his work to see the perfection of his art and the mastery of his strokes. For every stroke on this painting meant it was always one step closer to the next painting he would make.
As his performance drew to a close he his from the crowds eyes, concealing himself! One of the beings in front of him held that alluring Crimson red that he loved - he used one of his other tools for this one, activating a cain mine he placed it on his target before revolving around with incredible speed and unleashing a powerful kick into its chest, sending t flying over towards another person whom held a dark but soothing light green. The explosion that ensued joined their colours together and splattered them around the area, truly outstanding, the perfect merging of them blossomed into a cascade of colour; it was like the flowers in Thessia coming into bloom.
There only lied one last are he needed to paint, and only one person held the final colour, a navy blue, it would complement his work nicely and add the perfect finishing touch. Leaping to a piece of cover he prepared his main instrument of artistry and executed a perfect shot, it punched through a piece of the theatre and into the head, exploding to release voluminous amounts of paint.
Giles placed his weapon on his back, swivelling on his right foot as he did so, and falling to on knee he raised his hands to the heavens, outstretched as if to hold the gods themselves, and with a voice filled with joy he stated to his audience. "My work is complete! Truly my best work to date, its magnificent colours blend perfectly together, there isn't so much as a single blemish, upon its once pale canvas; I have restored it to life! I have bestowed upon it the greatest gift any can be given..."
PERFECTION!
Specialty:
Gilvert would shame some of the most prominent STG explosives experts, this man is truly gifted with that art of explosions, he looks at the work of others with disdain and contempt, mere children trying to grasp at the concept that only a master can truly understand, this is his art, his passion! He can rig up most explosives as well as use volatile equipment to his advantage to make almost homemade bombs, his knowledge in chemistry is expansive and is certainly on par with scientists in that field of study.
Despite his proficiency with explosives he remains an effective sniper and can hit targets from up to 700 meters away with relative ease, however when he uses his explosive rounds which makes the gun fire slightly erratically, his competency drops to around 450 meters, although the explosion could still nail one of the intended targets. He can adapt to many combat situations given his expansive experience on the front and in general combat - he’s fought pirates, raiders, reapers, cerberus, hostile indigenous life forms, asari commandos, STG operatives, high grade security and mercenaries. The only thing he hasn’t fought is the geth and a thresher maw,
Powers/Skills:
Tactical Cloak (“I love sticking a cain mine on someone's back”)
Recon mine(“I can see you! *detonates* Awh, where’d you go?”)
Cain mine(“These are my babies, wanna hold them? They don’t bite.”)
Explosive rounds(“Turns my rifle into a Rocket launcher?! Give me 50!”)
Lift grenades(“Can’t blow up the cover? Get those cowards up from behind it!”)
Multi-Frag grenades (“Why have one grenade when you can have several?!??!?”)
Equipment and Resources:
M-98 Widowmaker X-II - Heavily modified variant of the M-98 Widowmaker, it’s got a 50% longer barrel than its smaller brother which both increases its already substantial weight and moving instability meaning that this rifle requires to be set-up prior to firing, it can still be utilised effectively by a skilled and well organised sniper, but inevitably this weapons purpose is to deal maximum damage in a single bullet, Krogan and heavily armoured targets are the favourites for this weapon - typically a Drell wouldn't be able to wield it due its absurd recoil and extremely damaging recoil at that; the fact that he acquired it in an already modified state, clearly being redesigned to allow non-synthetic races, or anyone with substantial modifications to fire this gun without the worry of losing an arm. It wasn't usable by Gilvert until 2180, when sufficient modifactions had allowed it to be fired - painfully mind, but still able to be fired by him. Other than its massively reduced accuracy and increased recoil (this is with heavy modification into recoil dampers as well) the rifle is extremely powerful, it’s got one round per thermal clip and has a long reload time as well as overheating problems since there’s no current clip in circulation that can properly cool this gun, it can only be fired twice per minute at the very most lest the frame start to overheat and fracture. Designed to eliminate vehicles, heavily armoured targets, multiple foes with a single bullet, or busting through a bunker - its penetration value is exceedingly high; the explosive rounds have been modified to detonate upon secondary collision, meaning it can retain its capability to pierce through targets, and then detonate when it comes into contact with something else: e.g: Bullet pierces through a brick wall, hits a poor volus and then blows up.
M-21 Locust submachine gun - due to its already high level accuracy the gun has been modified to favour damage and a larger thermal clip capacity.
A satchel filled with explosive templates: 25 grenade templates, and 50 mine templates. Templates are literally just an empty mine or grenade shell, meaning that they need to be “coded” with their designated primers via omni-tool, this means that templates are safe to carry around without fear of them accidently blowing up on your person, and to stop Gilvert from throwing every explosive he has at once at people. The satchel also contains his homemade medication to lower the chances of him having an episode, its a mixture of red sand and various other drugs.
A modified Savant Omnitool - The omni-tool is designed to work with the plethora of explosives that Gilvert has access to, it can code in the necessary primers to activate the templates, priming them when they are launched, or thrown. He can switch primers by accessing his omnitool quickly in battle. Also the omni tool can launch grenades and mine templates up to 100 meters away, or alternatively eject them for manual placement, grenades are partially primed when thrown, but armed as soon as they come into contact with an object - mines are only activated the moment they latch onto a surface, and will only be able to detonate a second after priming, they can be remotely detonated via omnitool from up to 250 meters away, if the user exceeds this distance they automatically detonate cain mines are the exception, they detonate when someone passes the laser tripwire, but lose the ability to be detonated by trigger from the user.
No armour, but a powerful kinetic barrier keeps old Gilvert safe from harm.
Sample Post:
Year -2178 “Why don’t we get Giles to blow the door?” The large Krogan battlemaster, and their leader stated in an almost monotone growl - he was starting to get impatient now. The group of them had been waiting outside of the facilities main doors for at least 30 minutes now. The mention of explosives elicited a gleeful smile from Gilvert, with a practised hand, began sifting through his satchel of various grenades and mines. “When you say blow up the door, how blown up do you want it? I can get the door to fly inwards and crush whoever’s standing behind it? That’d be pretty fun.” But before the Krogan could reply the Salarian technician shot the option down in flames “I’m nearly done, so don't give the drell ideas Virtak - we are breaking into a facility to one of biggest weapon and technology producers in the galaxy, you are aware of this right?” The Salarian almost spat the sentence out, speaking at the speed of light as most Salarians did, Gilvert was surprised the translator in his Omnitool could keep up with them at times.
The Krogan responded to the Salarians outburst with a low growl before saying “Yeah yeah, we are here for the “supposed” cure to Keprals syndrome, that jelly offered a lot of credits for this so I’m buying the drinks if things go well, hell it even said you could go back to Kahje if you do this Giles; you know because blowing up hundreds of people when you were tasked to kill one guy is a bit overkill? Pah, goddamn soft blobs they are, a bit of collateral damage never hurt anyone.”
The 7 of them Mercs were all stood outside the heavy metal doors to a Hahne Kedar corperation facility, where their client; a very prominent Hanar on Kahje has said the cure to Keprals syndrome is either in works, or actually is here. The reward for completing the contract was 1,000,000 credits, which split between the 7 of them meant one hell of a pay day - they could all take a good bit of time off at the citadel with this money. It was highly secure, and heavily guarded. Thankfully though, things had gone pretty well thus far, they had managed to get to the planet undetected thanks to a special ship provided by the client, and their Salarian engineer - whom has second in charge, had also hacked into their security without being detected, meaning that for a while they had the jump on the guards. Gilvert had already rigged up their comms dish with explosives, so they couldn't send a distress signal out once they started their assault. This would be a good operation, everyone here could feel it.
"Got it! get ready you lot, time to clock in and get a hard days work done." Their Salarian engineer had done it, took him a bit long, maybe he was slowing down in his old age. The Krogan warlord gave a triumphant laugh and drew his shotgun - "Good job, Seryt - Giles, when the door opens, lift them up." Ah, the cue he had been waiting for, a lift grenade was already coded and loaded into his Omni-tool, this was standard procedure for their breach and clear.
They stood in a line, about a strides length separated one from the next, their guns all locked and pointed at the doorway, on the Salrians mark, he would open the door, and then their days work would begin properly.
"3...2...1!" The door opened up, time seemed to slow as the guards stationed inside looked with bewilderment towards the heavily armed crew, they didn't even have time to activate their shields before the grenade collided with a crate and in a flash of blue light sent everything in the room up in the air - suspended there open before them without any defences barring their standard combat suits, they didn't stand a chance - everyone opened fire cutting the guards to ribbons, blue blood painted the air, stuck in the stasis field generated by the grenade, within a few seconds the effect ended, and with multiple thumps and crashes their lifeless bodies crumpled on the floor, blood splattered across it.
Their Asari - Deiynia, shook her head "Sometimes, this group makes the commandos look like children, if we keep this performance up we won't even have to use medi-gel."
"Yeah, good clear guys, lets get inside quickly - and Giles, blow the comms tower." The Virtak stated as he lumbered towards the now open doors. Without hesitation Gilvert pressed the detonate button on his Omni-tool, the resounding explosion which seemed to shake the whole facility was the only answer the group needed to get inside and get to work. After the doors had been closed by Seryt, he made his way to the console in the guard station, kicking a dead Turian out of the way as he did, the rest of them milled about and kept an eye out in case any reinforcements came.
"Right, the labs are at the far end of the facility, if we turn left out of the northern corridor we will get there in about 10 minutes, assuming we meet little or no resistance..." The sentence was met with multiple snorts of derision and disbelief and the Turian sniper - Quintus laughed before saying "So basically it's gunna be a thirty minute journey and we kill about 50 guards and mechs - you know how it is, it's never bloody simple."
Seryt merely sighed before heading towards the corridor to their destination, the rest of them fell in and began their careful advancement forward, they done it in stages, a few moved at once whilst they were covered by the back-line, Quintus and Gilvert were always last as they could provide the best support with their snipers if they were at the back. As they moved forward the odd noise of a Cain mine being shot at a wall could be heard - they wouldn't be flanked, that's for damn sure.
They worked like clockwork, when they reached another door, Gilvert moved to the front and tossed in a lift grenade, then Deiynia would detonate it with biotic explosion, Virtak moved in to tank any potshots or stragglers who managed to have the shields up and they would all be killed by the subsequent barrage of gun fire from the merc band. Things were going smoothly, too smoothly. Either they were doing everything right, or something was off. This continued for the next 5 minutes, 3 rooms, with mixed personnel, some doing their typical work and guards just doing their jobs - cut down in a swath of gunfire, eventually Virtak stopped them, just as they cleared out the 4th room. "Somethings not right... Septimus, go back the way we came and close the door, then shoot your gun, just outside it." It was a good shout, odd to see a Krogan with actual intelligence, sound proofing would explain a lot, and they force locked any alternate path into rooms they had cleared barring the path they took, which was laden with mines. After he left and the doors closed, they heard nothing - a design choice was the only thing making this go as smooth as it was going, they all laughed when Septimus came back through, and kept going as they were.
At last when they reached the end, the final room before their destination, they finally hit a snag- it was a room that had YMIR mecs being built, these were experimental peices of machines that the company had just announced last year, not only that but they had one of them unpacked, there were several engineers and at least a full compliment of guards in this room - the room they needed to get to was just past this one.
They all took defensive positions, in a cone behind various pieces of cover, and it was up to Gilvert to begin the attack, he was focusing his sniper on the YMIR mecs head, as well as having a recon mine on call, ready to be fired straight at the things chest. He fired the mine, and landed exactly where he planned it to, which caused the near by guards to look in confusion at it, moving closer as they did - and with a click it exploded, doing little overall to the mech itself but killing both guards instantly as parts of their once whole bodies scattered haphazardly around the room, painting it in shades of blue. The YMRI mech gave a mechanical scream before issuing an alert in its synthesised voice HOSTILE ENTITIES SPOTTED, OPENING FIRE." It's statement was met in kind by the mercs as they unleashed a barrage of fire at the mech, it didn't last long, its shields and armour had already been partially damaged by the Recon mine, and it being hit all at once by the group overwhelmed it- but what happened next caught them all off guard, Quintus managed to blow its head off with a well placed sniper shot after its armour had been whittled down - the group though that was the end of it, but a increasingly rapid beeping commenced, it's core began to glisten white with heat, the metal around it corroding and melting to the floor, you could feel it on your flesh if it was exposed, the order to take cover didn't have to be said, you were an idiot if you didn't know what was going to happen, in a blinding flash of light and a massive explosion, pieces of corroded shrapnel and metal flew around the room, the production line that has many more of these being constructed was tore apart and brought everything to a halt - the sprinkler system kicked in and a blaring alarm kicked off. After they stepped up from behind their cover, they had realised that the guards had either ran for it, or been killed by the blast. "Shit, didn't expect that." Was all Virtak could say, the rest of them merely nodded or done nothing, wishing now to get this job over and done with, lest more of those mechs get here.
When they got to the final room, they weren't disappointed, within it lied the cure, at least partially. It was designed to stop rather than actually cure it, meaning that subsequent injections of it were needed, it was clearly made to make credits. This made Virtak spit with rage - he was happy he could do this for both Gilvert, and the Drell, for he knew that one day the same may happen for the Krogan when it came to the Genophage. "Fucking scum! Is credits the only thing that matters?!"
The job when it came was taken for both its high pay day and its purpose, inevitably they all knew that even if the pay was low for this job, they would have took it regardless given its nature and the gravity of it.
Notes
Developing psychosis, episodes are rare but erratic, typically they door occur in a firefight, or in the preparation stages to an engagement, that does not mean they can’t occur at any time though.
Is trying his utmost to get his hands on the M-920 Cain, however he has been banned from acquiring the weapon via the blackmarket on Omega, orders from Aria T’loak herself; she wants to keep her station intact. Since the Cerberus assault on Omega, he has been trying alternate markets to get access to one.
Still retains contact with his old Merc group, they can provide assistance if the pay is right.
Has the coordinates to multiple equipment and weapons stockpiles dotted around the traverse - only 4 out of the original 13 still have sensors active and articulate that the stash is still there in it’s entirety, the others could have been destroyed, raided, or simply be anomalous.
Holds the supposed cure to Keprals syndrome, as well as a holo-disk contain over 3,000 pages of information on the condition and the cure, however in it’s current form it does not cure the condition entirely merely prevents advancement, if a drug company got their hands on this they’d make billions in credits, he is currently attempting to find a way to make the cure a full one, instead of allowing it to be used for money.
1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form.
Backstory:
Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there.
She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service.
After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into.
The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls.
With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup.
When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more.
Psyche Profile:
Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more.
Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas.
Specialty:
Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense.
In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider.
Powers/Skills:
-Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat
“Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong.
“Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through.
“He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire.
“ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.”
Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready...
Notes
-She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.
Standing at 5’ 10’’ and weighing in about 125 pounds Alria is a very lithe and thin woman who cuts a very strong and attractive figure. Her body is fluid, flexible, and really the only blemish she has in a nasty gunshot scar on the left side of her hips.
Backstory:
Alria was born to a humble Turian family on their Homeworld of Palaven. Though very earlier in her life she found that she would grow up on a much more under developed planet as when she was only 2 her family was deployed as part of a security detail to Amber Horizon, a recently developed Turian colony that had been established just that year. It was supposed to be a good assignment for his soldier parents. Letting them serve the Turian people while still having a peaceful assignment from which to raise their young daughter.
Alria didn’t even remember Palaven really. In fact her only memory was of rolling mountains and valleys that stretched out against a beautiful rising sun. She couldn’t even remember where the memory came from as Amber Horizon was her new home and that was where she learned to walk, talk, and play with her fellow Turians, though she didn’t have many children to play with due to the colony’s relative new stature and utility purpose as a forward communications colony. This in turn left her to either her own devices which often led to adventures of running around the forests around the colony. Which in turn often led to several injuries and encounters with the local hostile life that made her parents get a little upset with her antics. Her other method of entertainment was to run around the colony and make friends with the locals, often trying to offer help to the communication technicians and engineers who made sure the colony ran straight. This ensured that she had many older friends who would even say kind greetings and pass her treats when her parents were both out on guard duty along the walls of the colony.
This was how her life turned out for the next decade, watching the world not change, but that was ok for her. This was a nice life and it kept her happy. Along that way she continue to help where she could and that in turn taught her some life skills such as how to set up and maintain communication relays as well as fly shuttles and dropship that were used to deliver and retrieve supplies and cargo around the planet. All by the young age of 14! Not to mention her own parents teaching her about the ways of war as well as how to be a right proper ass-kicker. Mostly so she could fend off those pesky boys as her Dad said. Yet with Dad jokes aside she was learning quickly to fight, shoot, and defend in the case of an attack.
When Alria was 15 she went off to the military academy learning her way around in the Turian armed forces and honing her skills with a pistol and her own hands. While not exactly a conventional method of combat she proved to be exceptional at it which raised some attention to her skill. Upon placing her in an Infiltrator roll and assigning her to the Hastatim that went to Taetrus to combat the Facinus separatist group.
Her skills and stealthy ability proving invaluable at taking out splinter cells located throughout the planet specifically working in Spaedar and Madra to weaken their fortified positions and damage their fragmented infrastructure.
However, due to her role as a ghost she was not credited nor awarded for her faithful efforts. Though this didn't bother her one bit as it meant the conflict was over and she could have a chance to return home, and that she did heading back to Amber Horizon and reconnecting with her family and friends. Once again she felt at peace as she went back to helping around the communications relay and adventuring around the forests.
This life was not meant to last though as the news of the Reapers coming back started to resurface which put the colony into overdrive. After all they were a communications relay that allowed for rapid and effective communications to the fleets and outposts near the front lines. However, this faithful service to the Turian people came at a grave cost. The Reapers had tracked down the relay signal and that meant that before long the skies went dark with enemy ships that deploy soldiers… no… monsters down on the colony.
As chaos set in every one of the guards as well as some of the technicians ran to the walls to defend a battle they could never win. Alria looked around for anything she could help with and while she wanted to take a rifle to the walls she was pushed away by her parents to help the technicians secure or destroy the equipment less it fall into enemy hands. Her knowledge of the equipment proving somewhat helpful as the defenses began to collapse around them. Husks, Cannibals, and Scions burst over the walls slaughtering all the Turians present regardless of if they were combatants or not.
Alria was terrified for her parents who were still fighting on the walls as far as she knew. So with everything around in chaos she took her chance to make it to the walls only to see the last moments of her parent’s lives. The monsters had them surrounded and she could only watch as they were shot down and lay still.
With tear filled eyes she turned around and ran, looking around with foggy eyes she watched and saw all of her friends die and something in her snapped. She ran from cover to grab an Avenger rifle to which she took aim at a charging Husk only to freeze at the last moment. She'd fought in war, against sepetatitsts and traitors who she had to kill in return, but this was different. It was like a true horror running from her nightmares to kill her and she froze. As the monster leaped to tackle her something else leaped to tackle it; it was her mother, still bloody from the walls. Struggling for her life Alria’s mother shouted out, “Shoot it!” To which the shaking Alria held up her rifle to empty the magazine into the Husk. Dropping it to the ground Alria ran up to her mother and bent over her, crying as she begged and pleaded for her to get up and flee with her into the woods. Yet she knew it was too late and so her mother said, “Please… I love you… so much… now run… run!” Alria let her tears fly free as she cried over her mother who gave her one last hug. Then as her last wish she gave Alria her pistol, a custom and special thing that she always intended to pass onto her daughter… just not like this.
Alria made it out of the colony and hid in the woods as her home was stolen from her and she was the lone survivor. Guilt and sadness eating away at her very bones she waited. Crying and praying that things would just go back to the way they were. And as the days passed by her sadness and grief turned into rage and hate. She hated those monsters for taking everything she had and that made her want payback.
Returning to her stolen home she found an occupational force guarding the communications relay that they tried to destroy during the invasion. They had to have been trying to splice into their network and really Alria didn’t care. She didn’t care that they were trying to steal secrets. She didn’t care that they were trying to take their things. She didn’t care that they wanted what her home had to offer. She only cared that she knew what they wanted and that she knew how to deprive them of it.
Sneaking like a shadow she returned home and using her mother’s Custom Silenced Reaver M-17 Pistol she started to wage a one woman guerrilla war to reap the reapers and as she snuck back to the relay she had several close calls which would certainly spell certain doom. But her determination lead her on and then into the relay she went. Slinking around the ducts and maintenance corridors as she made her way to the power supply knowing that she only had to put one well-placed grenade to turn the entire facility into a giant fireball.
Before long she snuck to her goal and had a chance, but she wanted more… It wasn’t enough to just starve the Reapers of this resource; she wanted to hurt them too. Taking the suppressor off of her pistol she started to shoot the Cannibals and make a real firefight engaging the monsters which in turn made more come to the relay to stop the threat. Just as she wanted and not thinking of her own safety she was shot in her hip. That turning point making her realize this was it. She took her grenade and threw it into the power supply letting the heavy electrical currents cook the metal of the casing in its entirety to give her more time to escape.
Limping back to the maintenance tunnels she crawled and ran as fast as she could before a solid thump could be heard radiating behind her. That in turn causing a chain reaction which made the entire place begin its death song. She knew her time was short and that meant she had to move fast if she was to survive long enough to hurt the Reapers again. As fires started to burst around her the exit showed and she used the last of her energy to run out as and escape at the last second. Still yet her task wasn’t done. This planet was doomed and she had to escape. Looking around as the Reapers had lost track of her she saw one of the intact orbital transports. That was her ticket out. Running for the ship she got inside undetected and then put her pilot’s training to use, firing up the ship and ignoring any and all protocols for takeoff instead to just take flight and launch herself into the stars and to safety.
Alria, 19, alone, and lost in the galaxy drifted wondering what to do unable to forget the nightmare she lived through on Amber Horizon. That was when she was found by a Turian fleet that took her ship and saved her life. It was in that moment she found her direction. Returning to the Turian military and offering her skills as an elite infiltrator she took to serving on countless missions requesting or even demanding assignments that put her against the Reapers. Her skills with stealth, pistols, and CQC skill proving to be incredibly lethal and effective while her knowledge of technology and piloting offering her a wider set of skills for sabotage and self-insertion.
This was her life, getting her payback on the Reapers and being good at it up until she was 20 and the Human Commander Shepard led his team on Earth to use the Crucible and end the war. Still serving in the Turian military she had a new goal. Return home and finally put her past to rest.
Psyche Profile:
Key Details from the dossier of Vicrinus, Alria Codenamed: “Angel”
Psychologically Vicrinus acts and behaves rather young and care free for her already rather young age. Often goofy and elated Vicrinus is often seen humming as she goes about her business. Regardless of her task she seems to enjoy it, from training, cooking, singing, or even dancing. Attributing factors to this may include her solitary lifestyle as well as a seeming love for freedom and whimsy... […Vicrinus has proven to be great with children due to the previously stated whimsical view of life…]
...Vicrinus has shown an almost obsessive view of her armaments treating them with the utmost care before, during, and after each mission. Eye witness accounts have stated that she has been seen talking to her pistol. Vicrinus wished to make no comment on the issue. Psychological impact of this behavior has been dismissed due to the lack of negative effects that it presents...
WARNING: Known trauma from the Amber Horizon Event has left Vicrinus with a deep seeded hatred for the Reapers. Extent of this hatred has yet to be explored but it has proven to guide her.
...On mission Vicrinus has proven to be a highly effective member of a team, taking her orders and briefing to heart and committing her actions to swift and effective action. In fact this effect can be visibly and verbally noticed by the activation of her visor. Once her tactical readout has been engaged Vicrinus rarely speaks and often adopts a “kill or be killed” attitude...
...Vicrinus has proven to adopt very “loyalistic” outlook making actions to preserve friendly life and ruthlessly kill enemy presences. “Obstacles and Collateral Elements” as Vicrinus has previously stated are of no consequence and while she “Strives to avoid unnecessary death” has proven to “non-lethally subdue” previously stated elements even if it brings the subjects to a state of pain...
Specialty:
Alria specializes in assassination and sabotage. With her incredible skill with close-quarters combat and pistols as well as her eye and knowledge of finding weak points in enemy structures leave her with plenty of utility as long as she has the tactical advantage of surprise. Due to the Amber Horizon Event she has developed a special bravery that helps to guide her into ridiculously close ranges from which she takes down her foes. Her skill with a blade and her own hands is unrivaled, being able to fight off three foes at once with a bit of effort put in. Yet where she becomes the most lethal is when she gets the drop on her foes, unleashing a torrent of bullets from her pistol, while tossing her Omni-Daggers, and using her Special Omni-Blade for the finishing touches.
Beyond her combat capability she has spent weeks flying in varied environments leaving her as a very skilled and talented pilot. While not as good with capital sized vessels; fighters, transports, and small frigates or corvettes feel like home to her.
Powers/Skills:
Tactical Cloak
Incinerate
Armor-Piercing Ammo
Disruptor Ammo
Cryo Ammo
Decryption
Ace Pilot
CQC Mastery
Equipment and Resources:
Sticky Grenades
Flashbang Grenades
M-83-2 Infiltration Explosives
Custom Suppressed Reaver M-17 Pistol (Custom made and crafted by Alria’s mother this suppressed pistol mixed rapid rates of fire and low recoil with high stopping power for a highly effective sidearm.)
Twin Custom “Scythe” Omni-Blades (Physical Special knives that generates an Omni-field around the blade to give it a powerful and lethal edge.)
Omni-Throwing-Daggers (Generated from her wrist gauntlets these blades form the same holographic energy that most conventional Omni-Blades are made of. Though using a magnetic dispersion field they can maintain their solid shape and be thrown; existing for an extended period of time away from the source.)
Personally Owned and Modified XA-273 Light Fighter
Alria's personal ship, "The Silver Star" is a XA-273 Light Fighter that Alria had modified with advanced thrusters and rudders to increase the speed and handling of the craft. Making sure to have a ship that can keep up with her abilities as an ace pilot.
The forward rudders are designed for powerful and rapid turning at high speeds which are achieved through the large and powerful engines that exist near the rear. Similarly this frontal steering provides incredible agility by guiding the ship at a high point versus the traditional mid or rear point.
Twin linked gatling cannons on the prow fire from gimballed turrets provide a rapid, form of attack as well as self defense. As a means of heavier ordnance the ship has twin racks of Type-22 Needle Missiles for powerful and precise strikes. The armor of the ship is moderate giving it's size and speed, but falls short compared to most other light fighters.
The interior of the ship is streamlined to provide a slick and open cockpit while also providing some storage space for personal effects, medical supplies, and equipment. Similarly it has an interior door that connects to the small cargo bay at the rear of the ship.
Sample Post:
Palaven. Really Alria remember it much more differently, but that didn’t really matter much now anyway. The Reapers had been cruel to the Turian homeworld and that meant her one memory of this place was just that, a faraway memory.
Her mission was to assault an enemy position and remove the threat of artillery strikes that it posed. The Reapers had taken over a Turian artillery position and were now shelling their positions with their own munitions. That could not continue.
Alria had wasted no time in closing the distance to the site but then took a moment to inspect it. 12 hostiles, mostly Marauders who were defending the position while two worked the two remaining artillery cannons. Among them was 4 Husks that appeared to just be mindlessly wandering around, which left the 8 Marauders as the real threat. Timing was key and she didn’t have much time to wait for her opportunity as each shell could mean more friendly casualties.
Thankfully her chance arrived when Marauder on top of the ridge turned its back for some reason leaving the Husks unwatched. Dashing like a bolt of lightning the invisible Alria drew her knife and pistol and closed the gap to her foes. In the blink of an eye she slashed the first Husk becoming visible and taking its head off with the precision of her strike. In the next fraction of a second she took a swift aim with her pistol and depressed the trigger to turn the second Husk’s head into metal shrapnel. Before the two survivors knew what was going on and could shriek for help Alria already had her knife sheathed so she could grab a Omni-Dagger which was thrown with deadly accuracy at the flick of a wrist to strike a Husk in the body. Though that didn’t seem to kill it. Regardless she took aim at the unharmed Husk and turned his head to dust much as she had done to the last one. Then with the wounded Husk left she drew another Omni-Dagger and hurled it at the Husk to hit its head. That time it fell to the floor dead.
Not yet finished she cloaked again and both silently and swiftly made her way up to the artillery position. 8 hostiles left 2 working stations, the other 6 patrolling and as of yet unaware of her actions…. Perfect. Alria drew two Sticky Grenades and in her other hand her pistol stood ready. Rushing in once more her invisible frame threw the first grenade at the control panel of the artillery station making the Marauder question what just made a slight thunk against his cannon before it detonated in a small but very powerful explosion that turned him to paste… 7. From there she tossed the second and once again the second artillery cannon with his user were taken out of commission… 6.
In a flash Alria fired her pistol while cloaked disrupting her field but in the process putting two shots to the chest and one to the head of a Marauder… 5. Meanwhile her grenade hand flawlessly drew three Omni-Daggers that were then tossed one at a time to the second Marauder. The first struck his shoulder, the second his thigh, then the third his head… 4.
At this point her presence was known and the survivors turned to face and fire on her, but before the first shot could be made Alria had already closed the gap to one and drew her Omni-Blade shooting him once to open his flank before making two swift slashes, one to the side and the second to his neck, looking to strike vital areas… 3. It was then the bullets started flying and that made her use the corpse of the Marauder as cover so she could catch a moment to blink.
In response to their gunfire she dashed towards them looking to remove their ranged advantage and in doing so she took four shots with her pistol, all striking true into the chest of another Marauder… 2. With the gap closed one of the two surviving Marauders took a swing with its rifle looking to club her, but Alria almost seemed to expect this as she ducked and rolled under the swing to slash up at its arm cutting deep and long to make the Marauder drop its rifle. In that same instant she holstered her pistol and lashed out with her free hand to grab the Marauder’s arm to steady her movement, using that to swiftly stab up with her blade to hit under the Marauder’s jaw… 1.
For the last Marauder she rolled low towards him using her low position to essentially tackle his legs, reaching up to grab his arm and using her blade to cut at his waist. All this attributing to an overhead roll that put the Marauder on his back. Finally using this advantage she swung the blade back around to slam it through the Marauder’s eye, pinning his head to the ground… 0.
With the fight over Alria drew her blade out of the Marauder’s head and sheathed it, standing up and looking around to ensure things were handled before she reached up to her visor, activating her comms, ”Artillery position decommissioned. Returning to camp.”
Notes
She considers herself straight and has an affinity for Turians, Quarians, and Humans.
Due to her very active and rather turbulent life she can’t really claim to have much experience with romance. So much so that she can’t claim to have lain with another.
Little fact about her, she can't handle her booze too well getting drunk pretty quickly.
"There's little better in the galaxy than good music and bad dancing!"
| ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating |
|| Jake Anderson ||
⚜ "He's not so bad. Maybe a bit of a hardass at times, but that's ok! We're all like that a little bit." ⚜ "Bit of a rocky start with this one. Started on the same mission and were thankfully on the same side, but of course I didn't know that at the time. Had a bit of a turbulent run in, few tense words, a lot more awkward words... But hey! At the end of the day we got over it and he's a pretty good guy! A bit cute too..."
|| Aegon Partinax ||
✌ "Guy's committed I'll give him that. I just don't know what he's committed to..." ✌ "This guy's a bit of an unknown. Anderson knows him but I sure don't. Really he seems like a real hardass, but I think it's just because of what he's put with. In fact he reminds me of some of my old commanders in the Hastatim, ill tempered but dedicated to the cause. Who knows maybe we could be friends."
|| Ravanor Rykarn ||
☕ "Who?" ☕ "Rykarn? Never heard of him. Sounds Krogan. I'll bet he's a Krogan."
|| Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia ||
☕ "Who?" ☕ "I have no rightly clue who or how this person is. I mean she's an Asari... so... she's blue."
|| Ellis Taevon ||
☕ "Who?" ☕ "Again who? He's a Human... I think."
|| Rayes'Xum Nar Yaron ||
✌ "Seems nice, doesn't really talk much, but hot damn does he know his stuff!" ✌ "Rayes. That's what I call him anyway. Quarian names are always so long. I haven't talked much to him, but really it wasn't easy to talk to somebody when you're assaulting a Cerberus base and hacking into their systems. Still his actions speak volumes and he can do a lot with very little. Hacking, fighting, guarding. I like him! And he's even got a nice butt!"
|| Phalanx ||
✌ "It's a robot. But it seems to have a good... uh... wires. It sure loves to talk too." ✌ "Phalanx. What an odd name, but then again it is a robot they kinda get a pass for things like that... Anyway it seems ok, but maybe a tad long winded. Note to self... watch what you ask it less you get quiet an earful. Beyond talking it is sure one Hell of a fighter and real good with that sniper of it's too. I know what the Geth did, but this one seems ok in my books and I'm glad to have it on my side."
|| Ja'Far Balak ||
✌ "He smokes... a lot." ✌ "I mean it... This guy smokes A LOT! Not that it's a bad thing, what you do for vices is your choice and it doesn't hurt others right? Anyway, he has that look that I've seen a millions times. He's seen some shit. I don't know if it was a war, or family loss, or whatever but he's got that look. To be honest... I can't help but relate a little to him."
|| Rol'Narris vas Vaepal ||
✌ "This is a good soldier. No if, ands, or butts about it." ✌ "Narris knows what needs to be done for a mission to go right and while it may not be the most glorious or heroic he'll do it. I haven't had much interaction with him on the mission so far, but that's only because he stayed back to ensure my ass was covered and that means I have some serious respect for the guy."
|| Tiberius "Tye" Adarian ||
☕ "I don't know much about this guy, but damn! Just look at him! He's huge! ☕ "Again I don't know a whole lot about this guy, but the one thing I do know... He's massive even for a Turian. I mean just look at the guy! You'd need a step ladder just to be eye to eye with him!"
|| Raik "Aralakh" Skarr ||
☕ "Another Krogan. Not sure about much else..." ☕ "Another member of this little rag-tag team that I don't know about. He looks like a Krogan though so he must be able to kick ass. Right?"
|| Sicaria Velinian ||
⚜ "A Turian like me, but she seems to get nosebleeds a lot. Might need to see the doc about that." ⚜ "I know this one. A Turian and about my size too. She seems ok, but really I haven't had too much interaction with her, though I think I've dealt with her the most on this mission out of everybody. Anderson excluded of course. A bit of note too... She seems kind of... curious about me. I think? Not entirely sure what's going on but she doesn't seem bad."
|| Gilvert Somner ||
☕ "Another guy I don't know... yet." ☕ "You don't see many Drell around, but here one is! Though I haven't had a chance to get to know him I'm curious about 'em!"
|| Salissa Fortia ||
☕ "Now this one is just crazy. Driven. But crazy." ☕ "I don't have any problems with her, but she is certainly crazy. I mean who runs into a tide of Husks, Cannibals, and Marauders alone? Even if it is to prop up a barrier and keep her teammates safer for a few more seconds. Still it at least means she's loyal which can be a good thing. Just gotta make sure that crazy doesn't spoil the loyal."
|| Ethan Sartiel ||
☠ "I don't wanna sound mean saying it, but I don't like this guy." ☠ "I have a lot of people I hate and even a few people I REALLY hate. Ethan isn't one of them, but if his first impression is anything to go on. He'll be there soon. I mean who asks people what they shot while in the middle of a fight for their lives! That's just... So rude."
Ethan is a relatively short human, standing at 5'7 and appearing quite thin and almost malnourished at first glance, although he is considerably stronger than he looks. He has messy, straw colored hair that is cut haphazardly to keep it out of his eyes, with said eyes being a light shade of blue, slightly larger than normal and often somewhat bloodshot due to him often forgetting to sleep.
His skin is slightly paler than normal, and this, coupled with all the aforementioned things gives him an appearance of being unwell or sick. In reality, his only problem is that he rarely sticks to the recommended daily calorie intake for biotics (he finds their military issued energy drinks revolting) , which is what causes the malnourished look. Everything else is simply because he does not care about his appearance and Ethan only change that if specifically ordered to. Its often commented that he would be quite attractive if he bothered to take care of his appearance.
Backstory:
The child who would eventually change his name to Ethan Sartiel was born on the planet Benning (which would eventually be attacked by Cerberus many years later) to a pair of married criminals, who would deal with the gangs that were scattered across the heavily populated cities of the planet. Most of the time, they would smuggle and sell arms and narcotics, but when his mother was pregnant with him, they were exposed to some element zero that they were planning to sell to a group of terrorists in the southern hemisphere. (its never been confirmed, but he suspects they were a Cerberus front). His mother did not know of her pregnancy, and was unaware of her child's exposure to the element zero H He lived a relatively happy life for his first eight years, not really thinking about all the strange feelings he had. He didn't know that he had the potential to be a biotic, but even if he did, he wouldn't have cared as long as he could stay with his mum and dad.
As you can imagine, this ended poorly. A deal with the same group they sold the element zero to went horribly wrong, and both his parents were killed by assassins. They were after him too, but he managed to escape after his biotic powers manifested themselves in a force that flung an assailant out of a window to his death. Shocked by his abilities, and knowing he had no one else to turn to, being unaware of any of his parent's contacts, he made his way across the city to an alliance outpost, and surrendered himself to them in return for some storehouse locations that he had found out about before escaping. The alliance were delighted with what was found in the storehouses, and even more delighted to find that the child that had come to them had biotic potential. It didnt take much persuasion to make the youth agree to undergo training, as he was completely unsure what to do with his life and becoming a one man artillery piece sounded appealing.
He was moved to the ascension project, and proceeded to excel in almost every test they set him. He would have been given a frontline position, but there were concerns in the higher ranks about his mental stability. He did not get on well with other students, treating them as little more than irritations and concentrating on refining his biotics, to the point where he sometimes forgot to eat and sleep. The overseers of the project had very little idea what to do with him. On one hand, his biotics were incredibly powerful, and those would be needed if some of the reports from Commander Shepard turned out to be true. On the other hand, he worked very badly with people, seeing them as beneath him, and he showed such pleasure in fighting (although he worked well to hide it) that a few overseers believed that he showed psychotic tendencies.
Sovereigns attack on the citadel solved that choice, and he was moved around various combat zones guarding human colonies, before he was attached to a unit working with an Asari commando force fighting cerberus forces on Ontarom. His first taste of real combat seemed to fix the working badly with others problem, although he was still considered to be acting somewhat superior outside of battle. For this reason, he got on surprisingly well with the asari commandos he was working with. One of them even gave him a commando blade, after he saved her life by killing a Cerberus phantom by biotically slamming him twenty times against a wall. (although the commando in question could have sworn he was clearly dead after the first five) The operation continued, with Ethan even managing to destroy a Cerberus gunship by having a sniper put a hole in the cockpit, which he would then shoot a flare through to destroy it from the inside out. However, Cerberus still took its toll, wiping out 70% of his unit, with the major in charge being killed by a cerberus sniper on the final push. Finally though, the last cerberus complex was taken, with Ethan himself tossing their commander off the top of his command center.
Although his surviving teammates still didn't like him, they and the Asari commander were impressed by his skills to give him a commendation, and he was eventually moved onto the fleet attempting to retake earth. He joined the attack on London, only for both his arms to be broken by a reaper brute, forcing him to spend the rest of the war (which wasn't long) in a makeshift field hospital. This is something that has always pissed him off, as he wanted to fight alongside that Shepard fellow that he had heard so much about, conveniently forgetting that almost the entire force with Shepard was wiped out.
Since his recovery and despite being promoted to lieutenant, he has been able to do very little, with a detour to his old home planet of Benning to help wipe out any more Cerberus forces being the only interesting thing he has done. He found peace to be incredibly boring, only to find out that his skills and ruthlessness had not gone unnoticed. He was given an...offer, by a Spectre, and accepted without even giving it any thought.
Psyche Profile:
Ethan, at first glance, does not seem like he would fit in with the military at all. He is incredibly quiet, to the point he will go days without saying anything if no one directly asks him a question. He does not seem to understand normal social cues, and Ethan often reply with blank looks when confronted with them. There are plenty of whispers in the military that his behavior is caused by a botched biotic implant causing brain damage, but in reality, this has nothing to do with it. He is just quiet, awkward and even slightly shy, and doesn't really care what anyone else thinks of him.
If someone was to persevere, he might open up to them, but so far, he is happy to be on his own. He is perfectly capable of communicating properly while in the field though. He takes combat completely seriously, to the point of almost seeming like a completely different person while in it. Although he acts like he does not care for the well being of his teammates, he will attempt to help if he sees them in trouble, and will not leave someone behind.
However, he does have an extremely violent streak if forced into a pitched battle, where he will violently launch biotic strikes on his opponents, with little regard for his own safety or anyone else's. He does not show any visible glee while doing so, but internally, he is having the time of his life.
Finally, he might not look it, but is INCREDIBLY arrogant when it comes to his biotic abilities, and will get extremely angry if anyone insults them in any way whatsoever. Secretly, he believes that his biotics are all that make him what he is, and without them, he would be nothing. He constantly strives to make them more powerful, and if he sees another biotic on the battlefield, he will instantly attack them to prove he is stronger. This has not caused any problems yet, although this has caused a lot of problems with his superiors.
Specialty:
His only specialty, and the only reason that the alliance even wanted him around is his monstrously powerful biotics. Most of his abilities revolve around directly destroying everything in his path as quickly and violently as possible, a role that he greatly enjoys. He often uses his powers to provide covering fire and area denial for his teammates, although he isnt very good at controlling his shots, and can even hit his own side if he isnt careful.
Powers/Skills:
Flare Warp Throw Shockwave Singularity Annihilation Field Biotic Mastery
Equipment and Resources:
-M-77 Paladin Heavy Pistol- -Light Hydra armor- -Asari commando blade (given to him by a commando on Ontarom)- -l-5x biotic implant -Omni Tool
Sample Post:
"Corporal! Wake up! Ethan snapped out of his daydream instantly, his eyes flicking open to see the face of an angry looking Asari, who's hand was raised, almost as if she was about to slap him. She had been made the de facto leader of their team at this specific moment, ever since the sergeant had been killed in the last firefight. Part of him wondered if he should try and refine his biotics to use barriers on his allies. A larger part of him chastised himself for not using his biotics to kill people faster. After all, a good way to protect your team was to kill everything shooting at them. But no, he had to act as "Support"
What the hell did that even mean?
He felt a hand strike him across the face. He hadn't realized that he had started daydreaming again, and the Asari had taken steps to prevent it. "Get the hell up! We are getting reports from the other side of the Cerberus compound! We need to move before they start dropping bombardments on us!"
Ethan shook his head as he got to his feet, the rest of the nine-strong team checking their weapons and preparing for the assault. He didn't even bother to look at his pistol, instead cracking his knuckles and working out a pain in his back from sitting on the hard surface daydreaming. The compound itself, as far as Intel could find out, had been here long before Cerberus moved in. Therefore, it didn't have a great deal of defenses yet. Most of the infantry had been sent out to face the strike force, and in theory, there was very little left, which would be holed up inside. The other teams moving in would take their respective sectors. ...in theory.
"Move in!"
The team moved out of cover, Ethan staying at the back as he was ordered, although he did feel the need to mutter a few swear words under his breath as he did so. They kept low, moving towards the fence. Ethan kept his biotics ready, preparing to obliterate the first assault trooper to see them.
And waited some more.
And then some more.
They got to the fence, the base still looming over them. They hadnt even heard a single shot being fired. Had the other teams suceeded in getting the base undetected? That sounded unlikely, especially considering who they were fighting. Two of the Asari looked a little puzzled as well. They had more than expected a firefight on getting to the compound. Hell, Ethan didn't even expect half of their team to make it in. One of the other soldiers checked the fence for traps, then began to cut through it. Ethan half expected the soldier's head to explode from a hidden electric shock or something, but he was left ever so slightly disappointed as a hole was cut open, large enough for the team to steal through.
"Cerberus has some shit security." one Asari exclaimed as she went through, followed by the rest of the team, followed by Ethan, who was desperately trying to avoid looking as bored as he felt. This entire mission had been a shitstorm from the start, and finally, at the end, he couldn't get a decent fight? Hell, he couldn't even remember why the alliance wanted this fucking rock in the first place!
They kept low, moving onto a walkway. They noticed several assault troopers patrolling on other walkways, but they kept hidden until they had passed. Ethan stopped, starting his omni tool and poking at it for a moment. "Sergeant, the other teams are moving into several sectors, correct?" The Asari turned to him, looking irritated. "Yes. If you had bothered to listen to the briefing..." Ethan held up his hand to shut her up. "Good to know. So why cant i raise them?
The team stared at him dumbly for a split second, before instantly checking their own omni tools. They couldn't get anything either. Several of them swore.
"Maybe they are still attempting to infiltrate?" said one "You saw what the security was like, it was a joke! They cant still be trying to get in!" said another. "Maybe they have already mostly evacuated! I mean, we did push them all the way back here!" "Or maybe, we let you." The team looked up, before two yellow whip-like weapons smashed into the floor, crushing one Asari completely and sending the entire team flying. Ethan managed to get his barriers up, causing the shockwave to only knock him a few meters. One of the other humans wasn't so lucky, his broken corpse lying at the foot of a nearby structure, a red stain marking where he had smashed into it.
Ethan fired his pistol in the direction of the attacker, a Cerberus operative in black and yellow armor, with two yellow lashes attached to his wrists. The shots missed, but the operative ducked slightly, which was enough for Ethan to get to his feet and launch a shockwave straight at him. The dragoon was knocked backwards against a wall, stunned for a moment. This stunning was all Ethan needed to get close, grab his face and biotically smash it against a wall, completely crushing the dragoon's skull like a grape.
This was like breaking a spell. Instantly, an alarm let out a piercing whine across the complex, and Ethan could hear shouting and gunfire outside, as the surviving members of his squad opened fire on the Cerberus soldiers on the lower walkways.
Ethan strolled out, a small smile on his face as he launched a singularity at a team of troopers taking position on a higher walkway, watching them slowly float up. He could have let them fall, but... Concentrating, he fired a flare up into one of the floating troopers. The unstable field, and the natural destructive force of the flare utterly annihilated the trooper, his squad, and heavily damaged the walkway. With barely constrained delight, Ethan watched it tear free with a scream of tortured metal, to land a few dozen meters below on several Cerberus troopers who had just come out of the main building.
It was a nice but minor victory, and Ethan couldn't help but be reminded of the latter when he noticed another squad simply take the place of the one that was crushed. He also noticed a few phantoms and more dragoons around, and he could swear that he could hear something big and mech sounding moving around the other side of the building. Things were about to kick off, big time.
Notes
Despite his...oddness, Ethan is capable of being attracted to people, and identifies as straight, being attracted to almost any race, with Turians and Quarians being preferred. He rarely notices people flirting with him, with one former squad mate commenting "He wouldn't notice even if you were dropping hints the size of a dreadnought". Thanks to this, he hasn't been with anyone. Secretly, this irritates him a little. He has very little idea what an actual relationship is. Although his biotics are incredibly powerful, he doesn't quite get the concept of restraint. He does not show it, but in battle he is as vicious enough to make a Krogan battlemaster say "Bit much" , and takes utter glee in watching his opponents blasted to pieces, thrown to break every bone in their body and other biotic related unpleasantness. It will usually take a direct order to get him to stand down, and even then, he will probably sulk for the next hour or so. Also, due to his reckless biotics use, he has a habit of overexerting himself and getting incredibly tired, especially if he is using flare a lot. Once, he fired so many he ended up fainting afterwards. This hasn't taught him a thing.
Aviza stands roughly six feet and five inches tall, the average height of a female Turian in this day and age. Her slim feminine form hides the strength and endurance of a lifelong soldier who strives to improve upon herself in all aspects. Upon her face is painted a symmetrical design in a light turquoise, representing the Norea Clan. Her carapace is a soft blue-ish white and her eyes are a vibrant azure. If one were to see Andromedai without her helmet on, they would easily be able to see a light scar over her left eye.
Backstory:
Aviza was born into the Norea clan, a clan that was well known for not only their military prowess upon numerous fields of battle they had taken part in but also for their political power upon Palaven. Her father was a well-known General in the Turian Military and her mother was a well-known Triarch. While her mother came from the Neskaru clan, her father was the one who held the honors of saying he was originally from the Norea clan. During these early years of life, Aviza and the rest of siblings who are all the same age, were taught the ways of their clan. Respect, Honor, Duty, and Victory were the most important things to them, for without them their life was a pointless waste. These were the first things taught to her and her siblings, for they were the fundamental building blocks of everything that came after.
After many years, their real training would begin, their parents pulled every string and used all of their resources to ensure that they ended up in one of the best academies upon Palaven, known as Solas. From here Aviza and her siblings were left at the mercy of the academy’s top teachers to undergo both mentally and physically intensive training that weeded out the unworthy and finely turned those who were into an image of perfection. The school was infamous for many of the teaching methods but the Norea clan found those to be necessary in many ways, quickly teaching valuable life lessons alongside their normal intensive training.
In the first year that Aviza was at the academy, she watched as many students dropped from the academy to move onto lessor ranking positions that they were more fit for. At the same time, she and her siblings worked closely together to overcome the challenges laid out before them, a team of close family members who were going to ensure that they all graduated top of their class. This was of course easier said than done, but determination and living up to their clans name kept them moving forward through the increasingly difficult challenges that were laid out before them.
With every challenge they overcame, the feeling of immense satisfaction and unyielding resolve kept them moving forward for the time being, but the day was soon to come where each of them would break off and peruse their own interest in the Turian military. When this happened, they found themselves having to fend for themselves in the academy. When Aviza was separated from her fellow siblings to receive more intensive training, she found a certain love and respect for sniper rifles and the satisfaction of hitting a target many miles away with dead on accuracy.
This interest and skill sprouted into much more as time went on. It turned into a thirst for more combat training, training that would cover not only medium ranged combat but also close quarter’s combat. This fast paced combat was made possible due to her feminine form, allowing her to move across the field of battle swiftly and silently, if need be. When jump-packs were introduced, she used her own personal pack in a more unconventional way, to help her dodge incoming fire while still on her feet. This caused many to raise their eyebrows in a mix of emotion when she used this technique to outmaneuver and defeat her opponent during a one on one improvised battle with a fellow student. Using the jump-pack, she quickly moved across the field of battle while dodging shots from the Turian and incapacitated her challenger using a close range stun shotgun.
When she had time off, she volunteered herself to learn about engineering and a number of commonly used tech around the galaxy that she would more than likely come into contact at some point. The class taught its students how to handle numerous problems and how to swiftly and efficiently fix them. Aviza would continue to take many classes like the such for a number of years, alongside her regular training. Some of these classes would include how to correctly handle and deploy explosives, advanced medical and first aid classes, biology for species in the Milky Way and life building.
Sometime during those years, Aviza realized that upon the field of battle, every soldier had to find their own reason to fight. Be it for family, friends, the good of the people, personal gain or other reasons. She knew she had to live up to her parents expectations and carry her clans name with pride, but something felt as if it was missing, she wanted to do more for those around her. This eventually turned into the want to pursue advanced first aid for both on and off of the field of battle. Once she had been given permission, she quickly started taking classes for what would turn into an important skill of hers.
After many years of intensive training every weekday and sometimes even on the weekends, the time came for those worthy to graduate. Thankfully, her fellow siblings were alongside her when she graduated top of her class, making not only her parents but also the rest of her family and friends proud of her achievements. The honors she received were very rarely given out, one had to go above and beyond the rest, to prove oneself to not only the teachers but also the academy’s board that they were worthy of such honors. All seemed right in the world, she was where she wanted to be, her family was going to be with her and life was running smoothly.
Over a decade would pass as she found herself taking part in many high value and high risk operations, proving to her superiors that she took her position in the Turian military very seriously. She found herself feeling comfortable with her position, taking pride in her work. Occasionally she would catch someone's eye and be assigned for missions that excelled at, some of these included target assassination or sabotage. She would move from one planet to another, from one station to the next, wherever her talents were needed. Occasionally, she found herself working with the Citadel a number of times as security for a VIP or such person. Over these many years, she sharpened her skills and and rose the ranks among her fellow soldiers.
What threw her whole world into chaos was the invasion of the Reapers. She had faced many hostiles in the past that ranged from all over the Galaxy, but this new enemy shoot her to her very core and put all of her skills and talents to the test. Failure ment death for not only her people, but also the rest of the galaxy.
Over these long months while the reapers unleashed chaos upon all, Aviza and her family fought horrific battles against an enemy that knows no fear, knows no mercy and whose whole purpose is to wipe out all life and continue the cycle that had been going on for countless centuries. On Palavens main moon, she managed to catch word of and eventually even catching sight of Garrus and his squad fighting against the reapers forces. A sight as simple as this was enough to raise her morale and change something within her to be the soldier that her people needed her to be. With great ferocity and determination, she gathered survivors and pushed back against the reapers forces fearing neither death nor the odds that were stacked against them.
In the next couple of months that passed, all of her training and skill came forward, showing those around her who she truly was, a leader and yet another symbol of hope. When the ash finally settled and the reapers were defeated, Aviza Norea now firsthand found out the price of war. Both of her parents and the rest of her siblings were now mysteriously gone, they had seemingly vanished from the face of the galaxy and no one had any idea where they were. They had helped fight in the war, but towards the end, they had gone missing without a trace, leaving no hints to where they had gone. Even their fellow soldiers were left confused by their disappearance. Had they fallen in battle? Were they taken by the Reapers? Or did something else happen to them? To this day, she feels a void in her heart and searches for closure.
A long while passed after the reapers were defeated with the disappearance of her family. She had been rewarded many badges and medals for her acts of valor during the Reaper war as well as a number of benefits that would stay with her through the rest of her life. She now lives comfortably upon Palaven and still serves the Turian military and a number of others allied forces. She did not leave the Reaper war unscathed though, everything she had seen during the war had left a scar upon her mind.
Psyche Profile:
Aviza is a soldier at heart, and has proved that over many years of war and political bullshit throughout the galaxy. Careful thought and calculation goes into each and every action that she takes, ensuring that her choice is the best for each and every situation at hand. Due to the way she was raised, she can be competitive at times, enjoying a challenge such as having the odds stacked against her in a fight. Not much care goes into what others think about her, though she likes to keep a positive image of herself, remembering what her parents said about their code of conduct. She is an honorable, respectful and kind individual most of the time. She has a sharp, witty sense of humor and enjoys the lighter side that life has to offer. She cares for those who she works with, and will do everything she can to ensure everyone gets home alive and in one piece.
Specialty:
Aviza can quickly adapt to most combat situations. She will move swiftly across the field of battle, using cover and anything else she can find to her advantage. Her kills are clean and quick, preferring to not make a mess and enable her to move onto another target without any hesitation or interruption. Part of her intense training gives her the ability to pilot vehicles that range from the land, air and space. She has been extensively trained in advanced first aid as well as engineering for a multitude of vehicles and devices.
1: Ammo Powers 2: Tech-Armor / Power armor 3: Marksman 4: Hacking 5: Active-camouflage 6: Turbocharge
Sample Post:
“I have eyes on two hostile contacts near the front gate of the outpost, toss the lure in their direction.”
Suddenly, a small metallic shard would land in front of two Batarian Terrorists, making just enough noise to draw their attention away from the main gate. Both of the heavily armored terrorists stepped forward to investigate the source of the sound.
From roughly five hundred feet away, the light blue cross hair from a high powered digital scope aligned itself to where the two Batarian Terrorists had now stopped. Letting the air out slowly from her lungs, Aviza pulled the trigger on her sniper rifle, sending the high powered round towards its target. It struck the first Batarian in the head then continued to travel through the next Batarians neck, creating a fine crimson mist as the two of them fell to the ground on top of each other. The round finely continued to fly into the distance before striking the ground and disintegrating.
“The guards at the front gate are down, I am changing position to meet up with you.” Carefully pushing herself up from her prone hiding position, Aviza used the lush forest vegetation that surrounded the outpost for cover, quickly moving to her other squad mate. Taking a knee next to her fellow Turian, she quickly switched weapons while remaining silent.
“Let’s move the bodies out of the way before the other Batarians find them.” Aviza motioned with her left hand at the two corpses before swiftly moving over to the closest one. Grabbing onto the body, she quickly pulled it across the grass below her feet and managed to hide it behind a large boulder that was surrounded with large bushes. Her squad mate did the same, tossing the body on top of the other.
“Stay here for a moment, you will know when it’s time to attack.” Said Aviza while moving to one of the large metal walls that surrounded the outpost. With a flash of blue light, Aviza’s jump pack propelled her to the edge of the wall where she pulled herself over very carefully while watching her surroundings.
Her squads mission was quite simple, infiltrate the outpost, place remote explosives on the bomb the Batarians had and then infiltrate before detonating the explosive. She and her fellow squad mate had been part of many missions like this before, and were planning on it to run smoothly.
Once she had gently landed on the other side of the wall, Aviza surveyed her surroundings before moving deeper into the outpost. Her estimated amount of hostiles inside of the outpost ranged from somewhere between twenty to thirty Batarians. If anyone saw her, the alarm would go off and she would be overwhelmed within seconds. The bomb was easy to locate, due to the fact that it was being loaded onto a ship in the middle of the outpost. The issue were the guards surrounding it and short amount of time she had left to plant the remote explosive before leaving the outpost.
Slowly, carefully, patiently, she plotted her approach then set it into motion. Sneaking up behind one Batarian after another, Aviza would use her Omni-blade to silently eliminate the threats while moving forward to her objective.
She knew there were many ways to go about getting to the bomb, but in the end she choose a more risky option. Using her Omni-tool, she cut the power to the base and used the distraction to lure some of the guards to the power box and away from the bomb. They were so close to Aviza that she held her breath, waiting for them to pass before she moved to the shuttle undetected.
“I reached the shuttle, prepping explosive for detonation, clear the area and prepare for…” Before Aviza could finish her sentence, a group of Batarians caught sight of movement inside of the shuttle. They quickly drew their weapons and took aim, informing the others to not shoot the bomb in the back of the shuttle or it would kill them all. With quick thinking, Aviza took the pilot seat of the shuttle and started to power it up, rounds quickly flew into the shuttle, barely missing her and the bomb itself.
Locking the controls into VTOL mode, Aviza left the pilot's seat and finished prepping the bomb, taking a few rounds to her shield as she did from the horde of Batarians below her. “It’s your turn to take some of the heat from me sister, open fire.” Her fellow squad mate opened fire from a hill far away from the outpost and caused a stir of chaos from within. Using this as her chance, Aviza jumped out the back of the shuttle and used her jump-pack to keep her from falling from her death right before she hit the ground.
“Word of advice, don’t look directly at the explosion, it’s going to be brighter than bright.” Aviza smirked under her helmet before pressing the button upon her detonator. With a blinding flash of white and red, the bomb detonated tremendous force, knocking both Aviza and her fellow squad mate back a couple of yards. The area below the blast had been cleared of all vegetation, leaving nothing but a smoking crater.
“Well, I would say that’s a wrap, makes me almost wish we had more of those to sabotage.” said Aviza as she pulled herself off of the ground and offered a hand to her sister. Taking Aviza's hand, her sister got back onto her feet and glanced down at the destruction that the bomb had made in the far distance. "Thanks for the help, let's get out of here." the two of them quickly radioed for extraction from their location and reported the mission a success.
Notes:
Aviza is single, Bi, hates self centered people, is sort of a pyro, enjoys a challenge, enjoys life, can be sarcastic, can cook a large number of exotic meals, likes to tease, wears a set of medium Erathellian Armor at almost all times, sounds like Sylvanas Windrunner from Warcraft. She can eat normal Dextro-Protein based lifeform foods as well as Levo-Amino based lifeform foods, though this is only for taste and flavor, she receives no other benefits of doing so.
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