Name: Nasyrius Revex
Race: Turian
Gender: Male
Age: 21 Palaven
(36 Earth standard years)
Position: On record- Supervisor to one of Farian’s Starship Repairs crew.
Off record- unofficial CEO of Farian’s Starship Repairs smuggling operation.
Appearance: Nas’s frame once held evidence of someone at one time built lithe and quick, deadly even, but now his proportion have changed notably compared to other Turians. His upper body has gained slightly above average muscle definition due to his continual working to accommodate for what he’s lost, changing his slender figure to something notably thicker from the neck to his waist and even slight into his upper thighs. Despite this, it is still within reason for his race’s natural built up to the place where his legs abruptly end. The kneecap and lower leg is completely absent and instead the ends are tampered off with several inches of scar tissue underneath the tied pant legs. Among the loss of his legs, Nas only suffer at least one faded scar on the surface of his Belgian colored carapace, located right across his chest. On his face are the common facial markings most turian wear in a dark blue. It’s rather simple despite the Illium’s traditional markings; two downward stripes trace his cheeks, with a final, wider and larger rectangle dead center on his chin.
Normally, he enjoys keeping his attire crisp and functional, a habit kept from his military service days. He does own an expensive suit but while he might look elegant in it, the rat trap wheelchair he is confined to doesn’t. Most turian would opt for cybernetics yet he hadn’t for three reasons: budget, comfort and a little mishap with one of Devyrn’s experimental sets. There’s nothing that comes closer to making a turian paranoid then nearly crashing head first into the ship’s interior walls on a pair of crazy and out of control cybernetics set. (Ugh, long story. One Devryn would be happy to explain if ever asked…)
When it’s outside the complex cybernetics software, Devryn’s inventions are rather adept and even surprisingly beyond expectations like the wheelchair Nasyrius usually resides in. Propelled by the same type of engines used by hovercars and other similar machines, albeit smaller and salvaged, its main use is for mobility’s sake. The rest of the design is wielded and pieced together scraps, from guns to engine parts, all courteous of past backstabbing clients, payment trade or bartered goods. Devryn also designed it with his skill for guns in mind, allowing place for his rifle (his preferred weapon) to be within easy reach. As extra insurance, there’s a hidden notch near the small of his back right where the back part and seat connect. Unless one is looking for it or seen him use it, it’s almost invisible because it appears as a key pin to keep the two pieces together. The chair sits him at waist high where his original 6’3” would’ve been had he been able to stand upright.
Background: Search subject: Nasyrius Revex…accessing Hierarchy database, loading data selection now.
Nasyrius Revex was born on Palaven on 2142 CE. His parents were Captain Opitus and Maskaylas Revex, grandson of the only other relation, Sepna Farian, now deceased.
Father was an accomplished military figure, leader of the 12th Fleet, who’s unit was assigned to serve as law enforcement against local pirates, raiders, and other hostile forces which might threaten to cross over in the territory between the Terminus System and Council Space on 2146 CE. His location status altered to Illium to accommodate his newly received tier and better full fill his duty. His grandfather was also located on same planet was the owner of a small company which serviced many vessels, from asari to turian built models, everything from frigates to dreadnoughts and even the smaller inceptors and fighters within the area. Repair services include armor, FTL engines, and many other features essential to starships. After his daughter arrived, she was employed and served as both mechanic and financial manager.
On 2148 CE, Captain Revex was assigned to tracking down raiders who been sighted within in the proximity of Illium. Despite the warnings to citizen on the asari planet, many, including Maskaylas Revex, departed on business or other matters in natural of space travel. A month later, she vanished without a trace. To this day, she is presumed dead and a funeral proceeding was authorize in attendance to Turian traditions to honor her.
At the age of 15 on 2157 CE, the year of the Relay 314 Incident, Nasyrius was discovered to have rare turian biotics before his training and promptly underwent surgical procedures. After finishing out his basic training, he was reassigned back to Palaven for Cabal training and assignment into an infantry unit. In addition, Captain Opitus Revex became killed in action while defending his post during the conflict at the human colony of Shanxi when his Starship was highly damaged by the Alliance’s Second Fleet…
It seemed like any other Cabal file record whenever Nasyrius looked at it. Even on the small bit revealed, the emotionless and bland format lacked heavily in the real importance his past is or rather, was, to him. It voided the modest struggle the military family made to make ends meet or how like every other turian child, he was introduced to harsh discipline and extreme work ethic at an early age due to his culture’s nature. There wasn’t even a touching mention about how his mother was the complete opposite of his father, where he was Captain from his carapace right down to his very bones, Nas’s mother was gentle and surprisingly wise for a Turian her age. She filled Nas’s, her nickname for him, life with love, belief, and hope up to the day she vanished. Not to overlook the hellish treatment before Cabal program and of course, his days to the present. Best to start off at the beginning, isn’t it?
As stated, he was born on 2142 CE to Opitus and Maskaylas Revex, his grandfather Sepna Farian and so forth. Though his mother was born on Illium, it was his father’s request he be born back on Palaven and preferably raised there. It didn’t seem to last long as about four years after he was born, his father grew in tier to command a fleet of his own around the ‘gateway to the Terminus’ requiring the family to move. Mother after all wasn’t about to be left behind and in addition, she had family and roots where they were heading. Despite the distance, Nas still managed to grow up in the strict disciple and the very black and white view his race had grown accustomed to. The one different factor was that he grew up among the hum of FTL drives, clinking tools, and busy bodies rushing to repair the next starship to be released. His mother after all was a military engineer working with repair shop on military contracts and contributing her own worth to the Hierarchy while still raising him. Alongside her worked Noami’lie, an asari, had been a part of the company for as long as he could remember. She excelled in being his grandfather’s secretary after the VI batched things up. So while his mother’s job was mainly FTL drives, ensuring he was nowhere near them, Noami’lie’s responsibly was the licenses and data work. Most memories from that time were forgotten, but left some happiness.
One memory, however, stuck out like a sore thumb.
The day his mother departed on a ship and never returned, the turian military unable or unwilling to bother to find her. Most of all, he remembered the hollow feeling seizing his soul when they officially put her rest. Every little action felt like a machine’s, absent and automatic, while a heavy weight pinned him harshly into the planet’s surface. During that time he wished it would’ve crushed him. At six years, he felt his world shatter which caused him to keep his pain private. Though the dent in his room often left his talons bleeding blue and fractured after he punched the metal hull for hours at night, his mind a whirling of conflicting pride and bitter anger. He never even realize he had lost a father too. Too wrapped up in trying to be the ideal turian, Nas failed to notice his father had spent less and less time within his own son’s company, a continual reminder of what the older turian had lost. It only made Nas’s grief grow. At one point, it had gotten so terrible that once, when Noami’lie admitted to hearing his pain, Nasyrius shoved her away and took off.
He would never forget the pain he caused from it. Surprisingly, he didn’t intend to go far but then terrible things always happened close to home. One wrong turn down an alley and next thing he knew, he was surrounded by some unsavory characters. One, a batarian, tried to rip his arm from its socket while Nas fought his grip. Shortly, the alien’s head lifted at the sounds of an outraged shout. At the alley’s end, his grandfather Sepna came charging down the alleyway’s end with a gun in weapon in hand. A few shots later and the thugs vanished, leaving a banged up and bruised Nasyrius to be checked over by his grandfather. Then had some sense knocked into him for running off. The lesson was well learned and one Nas never forgot.
Much time had passed, both his grandfather and Noami’lie had helped his wounds healed into scars, and soon even those faded. The sad part, they would never completely disappear.
It through the medical examinations his biotics were revealed, at age fifteen (a few months before the 314 Relay incident had happened). A farther confirmation was made when he managed to lift objects with surprising ease, then place them back down slightly roughly. Now at this point the only option was Cabal.
Wordless he was put through the placement of the biotic implants and was well on recovering when he was informed while on base he was under strict orders never to use his biotic abilities, under any circumstances. He was to be a soldier based on his own strength, not because he had inherited some freakish trait. Any contact with his family was denied to him after he woke up from his surgery, notified he had already been registered and prepared for his assigned future. It had seemed like a nightmare which would never end. Isolated in his infirmary room, all his restless mind was allowed to do was sleep. That night was one among many he would be forced to endure.
Nas was forced to complete his basic training with his fellow cadets, forced to endure for at least a year and a half in order to establish the main skills and re-enforce the doctrine he had learned as a child. Despite their treatment, he resisted to fall into their expectations. He was stubborn enough to prove he was a worthy soldier instead of just a biotic cursed turian. He vainly tried to ignore the fearful glances or the discrimination by his NCO and less tolerate cadets, using his hate and resentment like fuel to push himself. Every chance they seemed to take pleasure in degrading his effort and grind it into nothing was another reason to overcome their ridicules. During those times, their actions forced his independence which brought more mockery from those who were supposed to be his superiors for falling short in the area of cooperation. He wasn’t a shame at times he hated his fellow turians during those days.
He was relieved when his basic training ended and he was dispatched to continue any training on Palaven. It was there he discovered a different attitude towards his condition. At first, like others before him, he had difficulty in adapting to the treatment after enduring worse towards his unusual trait. It took some time but slowly he began to take pride in being a Cabal. He learned they should never expect praise for it would never come, yet the part they played was the most important type. It wasn’t until his official Cabal training was one or two months in, did he receive a message through his Cabal’s head.
A faint hope, he foolish thought it might’ve been his grandfather breaking taboo. It wasn’t, instead Noami’lie had called in a really big favor and gained a direct line of communication just to keep in touch with him. This period ranged from weeks to months, and rarely years between visits without any stable time lapse to determine when the next would happen. In addition he was forbidden to discuss anything in terms with his missions as his conversations were often monitored by his superior in the same room. Though it was pretty clear her actions were highly frowned upon by the officials within the Hierarchy-though his Cabal head thought it rather amusing due to personal reasons- it was still allowed. Through this link, Noami’lie told him of his father’s fate in the first assault of Shanxi, the news wasn’t taken well. Much to his own as well as Noami’lie’s astonishment, seemingly even a strict father was still a meaningful one. If it wasn’t for the fact he was still in-training, inexperienced and the Citadel Council had ended the conflict before it became an interplanetary war, it was very highly likely Nas would’ve left his own blood mark in a vast number of human causalities. During the following years of his training, he became among one of the most promising and powerful biotics soldiers in his unit as well as surprisingly adaptable for a turian. So much he learned to fly a starship after one Cabal engineer had managed to salvage a heavily damaged turian frigate. One of the military’s forgotten scraps. He enjoyed the titled of official pilot, for namely his unit, showing their adaptability and independence every time he flew.
Up until the age of thirty, Nas has been on a number of covert operations against threats to the Hierarchy. He had shown a knack for leadership but only one flaw stopped him from commanding a team of his own. While he had a strong sense of responsibility to those under his care, a prime example of his father’s influence and extreme introduction to military life, he put far greater value in his team’s life rather than the mission’s objective getting completed. Some of his superiors found this factor rather disheartening, including a few of his teammates.
His last mission had taken his legs, leaving him crippled from the knee cap down and in his current condition. It was supposed to be a simple, standard infiltration mission. A basic sneak in and retrieve the hostage, some official’s daughter, and fall back without any farther incident. Due to suspicion of military leaks, Nas’s Cabal was sent in because they operated separately, decreasing the risk of the target’s life being forfeited during the rescue efforts. Though they were told bluntly none of the higher military commands were very happy about the idea and would rather have sent in trained soldiers for the job instead of a Cabal unit. After what happened next, Nas was pretty sure their attitude changed, grateful it wasn’t or the loss would’ve been higher.
The information was misleading, but no one bothered to tell them that.
Instead of walking into a hostage situation, his unit was ambushed, set upon by the very terrorist organization they had been sent to stop. At the start of it, two of their five team members were picked off quickly by a sniper pair as the remainder fell back towards the parked shuttle. Young but skilled, they hadn’t a chance to put up their kinetic shields before their heads were tossed back and they died instantly with a bullet in the skull. While Commander Dena Servis and another Turian, another vet, provided cover, Nas headed towards the craft. He never made it. Before he could enter, a small explosive went off and the hall’s roof caved in. Debris pinned his legs under a thick mass of metal and other heavy materials. Unable to free his legs, he turned to see the vet Turian killed, never flinching and still fired until he died, followed by Dena struggling with a vorcha. Her gun knocked from her grasp in a grapple with the enemy. She was also was lifting several coming in behind to prevent any more shots from clipping her as well, her focus torn. While she fought for the upper hand, Nas noticed Dena’s gun (his own lost under the collapsed roof) just out of his reach. He already knew his legs were screwed the moment the beam hit. It wasn’t just because of the blood’s sensation. Being a biotic, he was aware of his body and he could feel the several thin metal rods which had drove right into his lower legs. It not only pinned him but pierced the flesh, speared through not muscle, and fragmented his bones right into the floor. Pulling it off wasn’t going to free him, just rip the muscle to pieces. There was only one way to get loose. Knowing his legs were messed up, he held his blade high then cut away his legs just under the kneecap. Bleeding heavily, he dragged himself towards the gun. Once his talons closed around it, he slid it to Dena’s direction, and she shot her enemy point blank shorting farther the vorcha’s brief life span.
Though Nas tried to convince her otherwise, the female turian was unable to leave him behind. Placing medi-gel on his stumps she managed to stop him bleeding anymore but it still left him weak. Somehow, they both made it back to their frigate while Nas fought hard not to black out. He instructed her on a hasty 101 on how to activate the VI aid. It was feature Nas had encourage be include should something happen to the pilot, him, in emergencies. Nas finally blacked out when he knew they were safe.
For the second time in his life he woke within the confines of an infirmary. Only this time…there was a little less of him.
Regardless, it was a choice he would’ve made all over if needed. Though most would’ve thought it was a character flaw of his to have chosen such a defiling existence, in the end he found the price of his legs in exchange for his comrade’s life had served him better than a life time of regret and likely death. The bad part was that without any legs, his combat career was over. Now all he had left was to return alone back to a world that had shunned him for so long. Even worse was the fact he had to adapt to the absence of legs, a feat not easy, and had trapped him within a wheel chair. The military had provided him with artificial but due to the cheap material and fact it caused pain because of his biotics, Nas couldn’t bear to wear them for long periods. Besides after his last experience with metal, he wasn’t eager to place more on him. It might’ve offered some chance of normalcy but likely at the cost of nightmares and sleepless nights to come, something he could’ve done without out.
Thankfully, like a few times already in his life, Noami’lie was standing there waiting on him when he arrived. She provided a job within his grandfather’s company.
Of course, his grandfather wasn’t too pleased with her decision but with his health going up and down, he wasn’t in a condition to prevent it. Noami’lie, Nas discovered, had begun to work a way to keep the company from being seized by the turian military after the old turian’s death and held the company’s reins during his absence. Though her heart was in the right place when she hired him, Nasyrius wasn’t sure it was a beneficial business risk. Namely since most the employees (turians at the time) refused to be supervised by an ex-Cabal. In the end, he was only one on document and not in practice. Still, she was too stubborn to refuse his resignation for the position and so he was forced to suggestion something else: to only work a job he chose, and do it alongside a crew he hired. Noami’lie agreed and until the first members were hired, he worked in the office as her assistant. It was a job he came to utterly hate but, surprisingly, still to this day he answers the terminal whenever he’s in. Seems old habits die hard, even after six damn long years.
The company was officially turned over to Noami’lie’s name when his grandfather died at ripe old age, Nas was 32 at the time. Several changes had occurred over the next four years. Noami’lie was made the official CEO and owner of all of Farian’s assets, from the warehouse to the garage and clientele. His grandfather’s old starship had been renovated and updated into his own personal repairing ship, though most it was done in the last two years. Noami’lie had ended up working with him in order to adapt to his new condition, allowing him to retrain his mind with muscle memory (a very…very difficult thing!) and in marksmanship with a pistol and rifle. They both hoped the range would make up for the limited mobility. Sadly, though his training is never ending when he uses his skill, four years isn’t enough to turn him into an expert shot. Only a fairly decent one with the right weapon.
A bit over two years ago, a small time gang had broken in to the garage and caused some serious damage. In the end, thanks to a combined force of Nasyrius and Noami’lie, four were killed while the last three fled. Nasyrius was the one to clean up the bodies and patrol the area while Noami’lie estimated the damage. The costs were to great that their profits were predicted to barely cover it at the year’s end. This was enough to prompt Nas in considering edging towards smuggling in order to recover their losses. A fact, Noami’lie wasn’t too keen on when he presented it to her the next day and it took some honey words to coax her into it. Originally he was in charge of hiring, but his picky nature and history had made it difficult that the candidates whittled down rather quickly when word got around.
A month later, two unusual characters, Devryn and Pai’Seef nar Teagor, showed up to apply for the hire ad placed out several weeks ago. Behind Nas’s back, Noami’lie had interviewed them before she hired them on the spot for the first repair job. Nasyrius wasn’t too happy to learn a human was to be part of his crew but his protests soon turned into disgruntled grumbled when it became clear that without Devryn, there would be no Pai’Seef. He desperately in need of someone with Pai’Seef’s, as well as Devryn’s he was forced to admit, skill set in order to complete the ruse of a repair job. The first job went off with slight complications. After that, he knew if he wanted them to survive future jobs, he would need to hire a gun and muscle. Only one or two others applied for the ad (both killed around the first or third job) before Vellios Malkai had showed up in the three months to follow. He offered a demonstration of his abilities on the first job and been a part of the crew since.
The company had recovered mostly from its misfortunate thanks to a few large and dangerous jobs, leaving Noami’lie to head the company’s legal side while Nasyrius handled most details of those less so. Noami’lie covered the flow of money easily to appear as if they had indeed slowly recovered by manipulating the incoming and outgoing funds to account for it. Mostly by ‘cutting’ Nas and his crew’s pay to speed up recover, placed down being a volunteered docked pay.
Positive Traits: -Stubborn streak and seriously heavy determination.
-Limited to pistol and rifle but in return with these weapons he’s a very, very good shot.
-Slight more adaptable then the average turian, especially when he has to make do with what he has on hand.
-Skilled pilot, both in and out of combative situations. In addition, the Barbacus’s seat was outfitted to accommodate someone confined to Devryn’s designed wheel chair (Believe me, it damn nearly killed him to have Noami’lie authorize Devryn and Pai’Seef to design then rip out the original seat to replace it)
-Some biotics, however, since his accident these biotic are now limited compared to other Cabal but still useful.
-Higher the average Turian upper body strength, focused mainly in the hands, arms, shoulders and back area.
-Cabal training in combat and experience which also has left some unsavory traits alongside the positive.
-Sense of loyalty, responsibility, and even some attachment over his team. The most notable trait is his loyalty towards Noami’lie and his crew, including, much to his dislike of it, Devryn too. (The only difference with the human engineer is that whenever he is forced to bail her ass out of trouble, it’s often accompanied by low grumbles about how useless humans can be and followed by glares at Vellio’s amused chuckles.)
-Complete knowledge of his team’s potential, skills, and limits.
Negative Traits: -Low mobility and narrow places are rather…inconvenient.
-Limited combat and dodge abilities. (While he might have high knowledge of hand-to-hand, performing it is a different matter…)
-Lower powered and limited Biotics, enough he uses it sparingly. Not at all if, he can help it.
-Human racism to a degree, the strength depends on the subjects’ attitude though usually he tries to keep it in check with strangers. IF he has other options, he will find and use them instead.
-Strange turians tend to make him uncomfortable, making his dealings with them short and to the point.
-It takes both time and successful results to earn Nasyrius’s trust, the latter can shorten the former’s requirements.
-Not always open with his thoughts, even to his own team, creating trust issues sometimes.
