A soft snoring rose from the back of the carriage where a halfling could be found, all wrapped up in furs and curled into a ball. If not for the sound one might've mistook him for a large rock, for the furs seemed to blend into each other and the man underneath didn't appear to move at all, even to breathe. He'd been like that since the moment they climbed into the carriage to leave Aelia, and he hadn't woken up once since, no matter how rough the road or loud his fellow passengers. There wasn't much sleep to be had in the frozen frontier from which he hailed, so he had some catching up to do.
Whether by wild coincidence or supernatural senses Chip began to stir when they neared their destination of Auonar. Heavy laden eyes fluttered open seconds before Gudrik spoke, and something resembling a squeak or a groan passed between his lips. The rock occupying the backseat vanished in a clutter of cloak and clothing as Chip sat up, stretching his arms out far above his head, bones popping and cracking as he did.
Chip Snowdryft was a tiny thing by most people's standards: he stood as high as the average man's elbow and looked thin as a rail even for a halfling; he practically vanished when looked at from the side. He had a narrow face with flushed cheeks, a button nose, and sunken, blue-gray eyes- tired, yet ever vigilant.
Those same eyes turned out the window to get a lay of the land around Auonar as Chip spoke an answer to Gudrik in a light, accented voice: "Doubtful. Better chance they either lost the road on their travels and buried themselves in the snow or were accosted by...something. Lots to kill you up here, mister Temfarrow. Even the weather!"
Two little boots crunched into the snow with nary a sound. Chip drifted away from the carriage, his gait more akin to a leaf on the wind than a normal walk. His body spun as he took in his surroundings. Auonar was unfamiliar to him. The conclave had sent him this direction on a few occasions, but he'd never come close to the city let alone entered it.
There were twice as many people around as he'd seen in the last month. Buildings, carriages and crowds cut off his sight lines in every direction, like he was standing in the center of a dense woodland. At least in the woods he could rely on his ears to warn him of danger, but here? It was loud. Horses were neighing, wheels were turning, people were yelling.
'How does anyone live like this?' He grumbled. 'Can barely hear myself think.'
Chip shook his head and turned to face Dular, answering a question she'd asked him minutes earlier that he'd chosen to ignore until now. "Like to eat as I go. Sitting around wastes time." He explained, tracing his gaze along the street until he spotted what looked like a tavern sign. When was the last time he stepped into a place like that? "Don't like tables, either. Or plates. Just eat with your hands, you know?"
After a beat he turned around again. "Someone else should talk in there," he looked to Entyrea, crinkling up his nose. "You talk a lot."
Full Name - Andrew Gray Age - 20 Place of Origin - Indiana, USA Occupation - Gas station clerk
A V A T A R
Character's Name - Graves Pathos Affiliation - Draethir Role - Melee DPS Profession - Bounty Hunter Weapon of Choice - Nodachi Domains - Life, Restoration -
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Arrogant It isn't just that Graves thinks highly of himself. He doesn't believe he's the best- he knows he is, and the only reason he fails is when others are holding him back. There is no challenge he won't take on, no enemy he's afraid to challenge; he has mastered the art of combat in Pariah Online and he's eager to show that off.
Belligerent His mentors always hammered into his head that the one thing a good fighter had was aggression. A full-bodied willingness to commit violence, directed violence, against their opponents. To hesitate was to admit you were the weaker combatant. To allow the enemy initiative was the equivalent of surrender. Graves has taken those lessons to heart, allowing that belligerence to seep into every aspect of his personality.
Driven For all his many, many faults, none can deny Graves's desire to succeed. He is driven beyond rational boundaries, to the point where Graves believes he can do anything he wants- often times bending the situation to make this fact true. He doesn't allow himself to slip, to lose, to give in, ever.
B E N C H M A R K S
Violent Transfusion The linchpin of Graves's fighting style is his ability to heal himself by wounding his enemies. He strikes at them with his signature weapon, drawing the blood from their bodies using his unusual primordial magics, and then transmutes it into a healing energy that stitches up his own wounds at a rapid pace. This allows Graves to maintain full throttle aggression without putting himself in total mortal peril.
Surgical Precision Studying the anatomy wayfarers and monsters alike was a necessary component of Graves's chosen battle strategy. He's learned the best places to strike to disable his opponents, or to produce the greatest flow of blood. In addition, He's also internalized where he can safely wound himself if the need ever arises.
Human Bloodhound Graves pursues his targets like a predator tracks a wounded animal. He treks across great distances, following even the most subtle of clues for weeks at a time. Nothing ever seems to deter or distract him, so singular is his purpose.
Pain, Life's Great Motivator Pain is something every wayfarer is familiar with. Some shy away from it, while others manage to grit their teeth and soldier onward despite it. Graves revels in it. He practically falls into his attacker's blade at any given opportunity. It makes for a terrifying display when he walks through a debilitating stab wound to make his counterattack.
Andrew is unusually tall, measuring more than a few inches over six feet- a trait he inherited from his father. He's far thinner, however, with an unhealthy gauntness to his long face. Dark circles around his eyes stand out against harshly pale skin, and long hair falls down to his shoulders. Most wouldn't regard him as particularly good-looking, owing in no small part to a lack of effort and little self confidence.
His persona's appearance in Pariah differs significantly. While Graves stands just as tall, he's extraordinarily well-built, with a chest as broad as a barrel and muscle coiled like steel cable. Scarring earned from many an encounter pepper his body thanks to his light armor and penchant for reckless aggression. Graves is much better put together, too, with shorter cropped hair and strong features his player could only dream of.
Graves is a controversial bounty hunter whose history stretches back to the first days of Pariah Online. He’s renowned for doggedly pursuing his targets no matter where they run or for how long. Quick tempered and arrogant to the core, Graves is a difficult man to work with if he believes you’re holding him back- and he thinks everyone does. The few friendships he still holds are troubled, to say the least, yet it wasn’t always so.
Back when the game first launched, Graves was a member of a guild called the Strange Reign Club. They were a highly competitive group of raiders and PVPers with a reputation for extraordinaire toxicity. It was hard to argue against their results, however. Graves showed great promise as one of their earliest recruits, competing with some of the Club’s best duelists. He’d stay with them for many months before, without much warning, he’d be cut from the team and blacklisted by its raid leaders.
A solo player ever since, Graves has been quietly grinding away at his profession, stewing on whatever drama had happened behind the scenes...
Charles Xavier, 40 (b. 1928); Scott Summers, 26 (b. 1942); Logan, Unknown (b. approx. 19th century); Ororo Munroe, 32 (b 1936); Piotr "Peter" Rasputin , 22 (b. 1946); Kitty Pryde 20 (b. 1948); Kurt Wagner 18 (b. 1950) A vigilante team based out of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Salem Center, New York The team and school were both founded officially '63, though there was a roster active less than a decade before that
It was February 3rd, 1953 when a nihilistic death cult attempted to end all life on earth. The Acolytes, as they called themselves, seized the U.S military base Cape Citadel, pointing its nuclear arsenal at Moscow, London and Washington, D.C. They broadcasted their manifesto to the world over hijacked radio waves.
They broadcasted their manifesto to the world over the radio, declaring the ‘human project’ a failure and calling for the next stage in evolution to rise up out of the ashes of nuclear hellfire. All attempts to stop them were met with violent reprisal.
Until the X-Men arrived.
A group of teenage heroes in black and yellow beat the extremists black and blue, halting the launch of their missiles and vanishing just as quickly as they had arrived. Though the Acolytes had failed at their ultimate goal, the damage had been done- the fear of Metahumans had been seeded in the populace before they even knew the meaning of that word.
These ‘X-Men’ were the protege of one Dr. Charles Xavier, the brilliant Oxford professor and geneticist that discovered the ‘Metagene’ and led much of the academic discussion involving the so-called mutants. He’d be outed as a mutant himself in ‘58 and subsequently lost his professorship at the university. He’d disappear from the public eye alongside his five ‘adoptive children’; but the work had to continue. Anonymous, thankless and distrusted by the people they protected, the X-Men would operate from the shadows for several more years, battling villainous mutants, bigoted radicals and more mundane threats all the while.
It was December 24th, 1962 when all that changed. Jean Grey, the team's telepathic wonder known as Marvel Girl, responded to a 9-1-1 call alone. She was met by Mastermind, the twisted serial murderer that had been rampaging across the Midwestern United States, tormenting his victims with horrific psychic illusions. Jean endured for as long as she could, but it wasn't enough. The man left her to die on the pavement and escaped into the night before the rest of the team could get there in time.
The team buried her at the mansion on Christmas day.
They didn't last much longer after that. Bobby Drake, the Iceman, was the first to part ways with the X-Men, heading to Detroit where his uncle ran an auto shop. Hank "The Beast" McCoy stuck around long enough to help Charles set up the chemistry lab at what would become the School for Gifted Youngsters before leaving for college, hoping to finish his doctorate in biophysics. The Avenging Angel, Warren Worthington, was the last to leave. He was broken up about it until the day Scott Summers started talking about putting together another team...then he punched Scott in the nose and took off to continue his career as a vigilante solo.
It was May 8th, 1965 when Charles founded Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. On the same day, he christened the X-Men, declaring them to be a public-facing force for good. They would protect the next generation of mutants, snuff out evil wherever they found it and fight for their shared dream of a better, more equal world.
Its been a long time since my last run at the X-Men and honestly I couldn't pick a better game for it. The '68 setting gives me a ton of material to work with that doesn't exist in most modern games- the Cold War and the civil rights movement in particular offer up a lotta great themes I can build off of. The X-Men came out of this era for a reason, after all.
My goal for the team this time 'round is to learn hard into the characters, the school and collaborating with other players. I'll be putting much less of a focus on complex plotting and arcs, which tends to drag down my posting frequency as I struggle to juggle a bunch of story threads behind the scenes. I want to make something I can work without stressing too much, in all honesty.
Just a place to put ideas and shit.
Characters of Note
Professor Charles Xavier Charles was born into a wealthy family in Upstate New York, inheriting their property and a great deal of wealth when he was just a young man. He was a brilliant mind even from a young age, attending Oxford when most boys his age were in high school. Charles pioneered the study of mutant genetics, discovering and coining the 'Metagene.' He was outed as a mutant himself by his colleagues and lost his professorship as a result. Charles went on to found the X-Men with his young ward, Scott Summers, and the rest is history.
Scott Summers Scott's parents were killed in a plane crash when he was very young, and he spent much of his adolescence bouncing between orphanages and foster homes. Charles adopted him when he was just fifteen. Scott was the first of many in the odd little family that would go on to become the X-Men. They were heroes- inspired by the Justice Society- fighting for a more equitable world. It wouldn't last. A mission went wrong and Jean Grey, the girl Scott loved, lost her life, and the team broke apart. Summers stuck with Xavier despite it all, founding the school with him and convincing Charles to give the X-Men a second chance. Scott's led the new team since and though there's been no shortage of troubles, he's still hopeful.
Logan Logan is a man out of time. He came to Xavier a drifter; a broken man without any memories before he awoke in a shallow grave a few months prior. Charles has spent a few hours every day helping to restore Logan's memories, but its been a difficult, painful process for both of them. Even after five years he only has fragments of his past, some from many centuries ago, and he still doesn't understand who he is...not really. His gratitude to Xavier keeps him around the school despite himself.
Ororo Munroe Ororo was born in Kenya, immigrating with her family to America when she very young. She spent much of her life living in Charlotte, North Carolina, working as a journalist and civil rights organizer in that community. She'd put down roots there, meeting a man with whom she'd have a daughter; they were engaged and had plans to marry, but it'd never come to be. A group of Purifiers cornered her fiancé when he was alone and threatened to kill his family if he didn't pack up and leave town immediately. She never even got the chance to say goodbye. Ororo would soon choose to take her daughter, Kymera, and leave as well, hoping to find somewhere safe to raise her. She showed up on the doorstep to Xavier's school on the first day of enrollment.
Piotr "Peter" Rasputin Piotr and his two other siblings grew up on a collectivized farm in the heart of the Soviet Union. All three of them were revealed to have mutant abilities, and all three of them were scooped up by the government to serve its interests. Piotr would join the Party-backed Winter Guard, Russia's equivalent to the Justice Society of America. He'd serve alongside the Crimson Dynamo, Ursa Major and others for a number of years before- supposedly- the Colossus was lost in the Korean War. Piotr wouldn't be seen again until his first appearance alongside the new X-Men.
Kitty Pryde For the first leg of her life Kitty Pryde was a perfectly ordinary girl with a perfectly ordinary life: she did well enough in school, went to synagogue every week, would hang loose with her pals at the mall every weekend. It wasn't until she became a teenager that everything started to change- now she was getting taller, her friends were getting acne, and Kitty could walk through walls. Everyone knew what it meant to be a mutant. There were PSAs about them hiding in your communities playing every day; if the neighbor you didn't like wasn't a communist, they were certainly a mutant. So Kitty did her best to keep it a secret and go on with her life, but it wasn't easy. Her grades were slipping, her friends were getting suspicious, and her parents worried incessantly. The stress built and built and built until one day she'd finally had enough and snapped in the middle of class, using her powers in front of everyone. Her family started to search for 'experts' that could help Kitty with her 'condition,' and it was Dr. Xavier that showed up at their door.
Kurt Wagner Kurt Wagner nearly killed his mother during childbirth, and the midwife lifted up a baby with yellow eyes and blue fur. The neighbors in their tiny German village were quick to descend on his father's house, demanding the demonic child be killed, and that the Wagners pay for whatever sin had caused them to be cursed so. The priest decided Kurt ought to be tossed into the river to be scattered on the rocks; the boy's parents were quick to agree. Its a wonder Kurt survived the experience. He was carried along by the water until he was rescued by a stranger, who took pity on his hideous form and raised him until he was old enough to care for himself. Many years would go by with Kurt drifting across Europe, begging and stealing to survive. It was only by happenstance that he ran into an abusive circus master that took Kurt into his freakshow and brought him to America. He'd be trapped there until the X-Men arrived to see him freed, offering him a place he could finally call home.
1968 CHARACTER POSSIBILITIES: -X-Men (Focus on OG 5? Have a school open for other characters to play in? who knows) -A Teen Titan of some kind? (Superboy, BB, Starfire...wouldn't want to do the whole team again) -Wolverine (would prolly involve a lotta time jumping/flashbacks so I can play around with how fuckin old he is. could be fun. vietnam shenanigans?) -A Justice Society type, like Alan Scott or Dr. Fate (magic is hard, but fun.) -prolly going to avoid big names like Spider-Man, WW and Flash -bring back jamie's BB (really enjoyed playing him, but the alien tech might not fit the era too well. maybe go retro?)
L O G A N H U D S O N ♦ N O N E ♦ M O B I L E ♦ I N D E P E N D T
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
"I'm the best there is at what I do."
Logan Hudson is a man trying to escape a past he doesn't remember. Flashes of memory come to him in his dreams to tell him he is far older than most: the sound of nineteenth century shot and cannon soaring overhead, Logan sloshing through the water of the pacific ocean onto a beach assailed by machine gun fire, or a whip slashing long strips off his flesh in a prison camp deep in some hellish jungle. All those terrible memories his subconscious dregs up are of war, violence and death. His old life was not a pleasant one, Logan decided, and he's spent half a decade trying to leave it behind him.
No shortage of good people have helped him on his path: James and Heather Hudson of Alpha Flight gave him aid when he first awoke naked in the frozen Canadian wilderness, and Charles Xavier offered Logan a home at his institute whenever he was ready to return there. He spent some time there among Chuck and his pupils, yet the call of the road and the wood always seem to drag him away. Something in Logan's gut is calling to him, though why he couldn't possibly say. All he knows is that he'll never find it sitting around the mansion sipping martinis.
Wolverine as a character has an audaciously long history, both editorially and in-universe. There's such a well of material to draw from that its difficult to find a place to start. Part of me wanted to reinvent Logan in some way this go-around- give some new spin on an old character we've all seen a dozen times before. But as I revised and reworked the sheet I came to the conclusion that all my ideas were shit and there's a reason Wolverine is at his best in his classic gold-and-blues. So I'm returning Wolverine to his roots as an amnesiac on-and-off-again X-Man with a past he's afraid to confront. He's a violent bruiser trying to turn over a new leaf that continuously falls off the wagon, yet gets up to try again regardless.
My first arc with Logan will find him in the center of an assassination attempt on Congresswoman Valerie Cooper- a harsh opponent of the Mutant Control Act- by a Purifier-inspired terrorist group, the Mutant Response Division. Much as he's loathed to get involved in politics even Logan can't stand by and watch an innocent woman be murdered.
C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:
The name 'Logan' was given to Wolverine by Charles Xavier. When asked about a surname he chose to adopt the name of the leaders of the Alpha Flight who had treated him with such warmth years ago. The Hudsons are unaware they've adopted a stray. Logan does not know his birth name.
I'm going to keep Logan's supporting cast small as we begin. It may grow larger as his story progresses, but I don't wish to claim too many mutant NPCs given how much interest there is in the X-Men and their many associates this game. I hope to work closely with those players and perhaps we may share a number of supporting characters in the future.
Valerie Cooper - Congresswoman representing the tenth district of New York. She's a young, progressive firebrand with strong national support and a wide-reaching network of allies and donors. Cooper is an outspoken opponent of Graydon Creed and Robert Kelly, and has spent every waking moment of Kelly's administration fighting him on mutant rights.
James and Heather Hudson - James and Heather Hudson are the leaders of Alpha Flight, a superhero team sponsored by the Canadian government. They, along with the rest of the team, found Logan wandering the Canadian wilderness stark naked and near feral. They nursed him back to health and gave him a place to stay for over two years as he recovered. Logan has struggled to remain in contact with them since leaving for the states, but he tries to call every couple months.
Mutant Response Division - The MRD is a well-funded terrorist group targeting key politicians and public figures that support the mutant cause. Its sponsors and leadership remain unknown, though its top assassin is a professional hitman named Matthew Riseman, a former member of the Purifiers that escaped arrest in the 80s.
Victor Creed - Also known as Saberooth, Victor is an old enemy from Logan's past that has been stalking him since his return to the states. They have a shared history involving the Weapon Plus program.
S A M P L E P O S T:
AGE OF MARVELS: Wolverine
ISSUE #1: Logan Goes to Washington
Lion's Head Pub ♦ Greenwich Village, New York City
Logan sat alone at the bar counter as he nursed his eighteenth Rheingold beer. He had decided it was shit three sips into his first glass. When the big man behind the counter recommended it Logan had felt an itch at the back of his mind at the name, like hearing a long dead friend's name said for the first time in twenty years. Yet when he finally put the glass to his lips it tasted wrong, somehow. Funny, considering he couldn't remember what it used to taste like; all he knew was it was better than this piss water.
The Lion's Head Pub was obnoxious busy that night. Near half a hundred people were stuffed together like sardines on the main dining room floor. All the tables and chairs were gone so the crowd could better stand around and listen to some speech. Logan was doing his best to tune it out, enhanced hearing be damned. He'd been here first and he wasn't about to go wander the streets of Greenwich looking for a different middling bar to drink a different shitty beer in.
"What's that all 'bout, anyway?" Logan asked the bartender, motioning with his glass toward the crowd at the other end of the pub. There were posters up on tri-pod stands with some woman's face on them looking stern and defiant and bright, bold text beneath her picture declaring 'say no to hate.'
The man behind the bar turned around with a cloth in one hand and a clean glass in the other. Even with all these people around the bar itself was practically dead; everyone had either been served already or were only here for the rally. He was a tall man, broad as he was in the shoulder as he was in the gut. Logan was shorter, denser, and hairier, like the human embodiment of a badger.
"Congresswoman Cooper's an old friend of the owner. Seems like she's been here every other week since that bill hit the floor."
Logan had heard about the Mutant Control Act on the radio a few times, though it never much interested him. People being scared of his kind wasn't new. Ever since he woke up in the snow he'd been treated more like a wild animal than a man. What difference did it make if the government acknowledged what the rest of those pricks thought? "Sounds like a waste of oxygen." Logan admitted, finishing his glass.
The man behind the bar stopped to glare at Logan. "Its important, man. You can't ignore stuff like this just because it doesn't effect you. People are going to get hurt."
The grin Logan gave the man only seemed to agitate him more. He rolled his eyes and walked away to pretend to work somewhere else.
Unable to secure another drink and tired of brooding, Logan paid his tab and wandered over to the dining room side of the Lion's Head Pub. It was a bit larger than the bar portion, especially with the chairs, tables and other furniture removed. The place still felt cramped for a meeting of this size. There was a small stage up against the wall where a young woman in a suit stood giving an impassioned speech on the necessity of opposing bigotry in all its forms. Logan had to admit she was a compelling speaker. The subject seemed personal to her, and she was informative without getting lost in detail.
"We know what discriminatory legislation like the Mutant Control Act leads to because we've seen it happen before right here in our very own city. In the 80s the city government- citing baseless fears the 'Brotherhood of Mutants' had a foothold in our streets- cracked down on our mutant population. Any visible mutation was treated like a danger to the public. Innocent men and women were violently attacked by the police and imprisoned for the crime of being born wrong."
Her passion spread through the room like a wildfire. The crowd was visibly angry, many people shouting their agreements loud enough to drown Cooper herself out at times; but the woman had some pipes of her own, to her credit, and she never stayed unheard for long. Part of him wondered if all that fury was coming from self-preservation. Wouldn't be the first time a mutant tried to hide who they really were. 'What else could it be? S'not like there's money to be made defending dangerous freaks.'
Something caught Logan's attention, dragging his thoughts to his surroundings for the first time. He sniffed the air, sifting through the smell of sweat, cologne and alcohol. Gunpowder. There was armed security on either end of the stage so that shouldn't have been surprising. Still, even as he tried to watch Cooper, that scent nagged at him. Slowly, casually, he made his way through the crowd, sniffing like a blood hound on the trail of a downed bird. There were the two guns nearby on the hips of both bodyguards, and...something fainter. Further away.
Logan stopped at the window next to the door to peer outside. The street wasn't particularly busy tonight. There was a van from a local news station parked outside, and a small group of protesters on the sidewalk making sure they could be seen in the background of the news caster. But the scent was coming from further up, on the other side of the street. Police sniper? No, the NYPD used a specific finish on their rifles.
"Shit. Get down!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, turning on his heel to charge at the stage. The security man nearest him was caught off guard by the act and failed to draw his pistol. Clambering confusion turned to panicked screams as a bullet tore through the window and into Logan's back just as he reached Cooper, shoving her to ground to kneel over her.
Two more shots rang out, another into Logan's skull and a second into the bodyguard closest to the window, who dropped like a sack of potatoes. People ran for cover, and the door, or went nowhere at all and stood in stunned silence at the unexpected violence.
By now the other bodyguard had drawn his gun and returned fire, though he didn't seem to know what the hell he was shooting at. Logan grabbed the back of his bleeding head. "That's an apartment building, dumbass. Stop shooting." He managed to groan. He either went unheard or was outright ignored.
"Jesus, are you okay?" The congresswoman looked up at Logan with a mixture of fear and concern on her face. She attempted to grab him and push him out of the way of further gunfire, only to find it was harder to move Logan than a fully stocked fridge.
"Just peachy, bub, now stay down." He yelled over the din, trying to get an eye on the sniper. A flash came from the third window from the left on the top floor and something dinged against Logan's forehead. There was a metallic ding as metal collided with metal and a gout of blood poured down his face. He had his target.
Logan grabbed Cooper by the shoulders and all but dragged her across the stage to where her guard was taking cover. She offered a word of thanks as she crawled into safety, making sure to keep her head well away from the line of fire. Once he was sure she was good Logan took off at a sprint. He moved faster than a man of his weight had any right to, barreling across the pub and leaping through the pane glass window before the sniper had even adjusted from the recoil of their last shot.
"You picked the wrong bar, asshole!" Wolverine roared as his claws burst out of his flesh and he barreled through the building’s front door.
P O S T C A T A L O G:
A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed arcs and stories.
Full Name - Ravanor Kell Designation - Runt Species - Krogan Age - 150 (b. 2032) Origin - Tuchanka, Aralakh System Classification - Sentinel Unique Specialization - Bastion -
P S Y C H E
Warrior Scholar Kell was not raised as most Krogan children are. His mentor and father figure, Ghormund, drilled into him the value of knowledge- a warrior's best weapon is their mind. Tactics, strategy and military history were the primary curriculum. Philosophy and the sciences were taught where Ghormund deemed necessary, though as Kell grew older he developed his own fascination with the thinkers of the Milky Way's past. He has read extensively the writings of Asari Matriarchs, Valluvian Priests of Palaven, and enlightenment-era earth philosophers.
A Joyous Heart Ravanor Kell is not the angry, violence-hungry monster most Krogan are painted as. He instead finds the joy in nearly all things: he loves the beauty of nature as much as a sporting fight between equals. He's quick to make friends, always offering a drink to a stranger before a closed fist.
Honor Bound Another important lesson Ghormund beat into Runt's thick skull was the necessity of honor. Promises were ironclad and could not be bent, broken or 'amended' once agreed to. Kell has also developed his own strange version of chivalry: he will never harm an unarmed opponent, will always accept surrender, and prefers a duel to any other form of combat.
E Q U I P M E N T
M-300 Claymore Originally manufactured by FRM Technology, the M-300 Claymore is a rare weapon to find in the Milky Way. Its original designed lacked a sufficient kinetic dampening system, meaning every shot fired could break the arm of all but the toughest users- making it useless to nearly every race in the galaxy save the Korgan. Kell stole his off the corpse of a Blood Pack mercenary on Omega. He calls it 'Diplomacy.'
M-6 Carnifex The Carnifex is a highly accurate hand cannon commonly used by mercenaries and some law enforcement. This M-6 is nearly as old as Kell himself and was gifted to him at a young age by his mentor, the battlemaster Ravanor Ghormund. Kell calls it his 'Lover's Kiss.'
Polaris V The Polaris V is an older model of biotic amplifier produced by Kassa Fabrication. Kell's was bought off the black market on Tuchanka and requires regular maintenance to prevent excess fluid build-up in his spinal cord, but it offers a powerful biotic shield that has saved his life countless times.
R E C O R D
Battle in the Kraddack Wastes Kell's first significant engagement yet still one of the bloodiest battles he's seen. Hired by Clan Nakmor to drive off a band of raiders, Kell and Ghoramund found themselves entangled in a months-long feud. It was a grueling campaign of poisoned drinking water, midnight raids and civilian casualties. The horrors he saw there shaped much of Kell's worldview as he tried to leave those dark days behind him.
The Skyllian Run In 2165 Kell played escort to an independent colonization effort in the Skyllian Verge. Beset on all sides by slavers, pirates and rival mercenary companies, he found himself knee-deep in blood for nearly eight years. This was Ravanor Kell's first time around humans and he found the young, upstart species so fascinating that he determined he'd visit their homeworld someday. The colony was eventually destroyed from orbit by a batarian warship, and Kell has yet to see earth.
Ghoramund's End Ghoramund and Kell are hired in 2176 to protect a former Thessian government official from would-be assassins. These 'assassins' turned out to be a squad of Asari commandos that decimated the Turian's entire protection detail in minutes. The two Krogan fought a running battle against the commandos, barely reaching safety- though their employer was dead and Ghoramund was left crippled.
C O N N E C T I O N S
Ravanor Ghoramund Ravanor Ghoramund is a battlemaster of some renown. Ancient even by Krogan standards, Ghoramund fought in the final years of the Krogan Rebellions and witnessed the genophage's deployment firsthand. He was immensely disappointed by the regression of his culture into senseless violence and decided he ought to do something about it. Thus he sought to rise as warlord of his clan, only to be tossed down and cast out. He claimed parentage of Ravanor Kell before leaving the clan behind, intent on raising the boy to follow in his footsteps. Five years past he suffered a debilitating wound that left him unable to walk. He now spends his days in a cushy retirement on the Citadel, content to provide his wisdom and stories to any who might seek them out.
Yamora D'seeren One of Kell's oldest friends and a reliable information broker, Yamora is a relatively young Asari with a small network of contacts across the Milky Way. She acts as Kell's 'booking agent-' she finds jobs that fit his particular set of skills and personal quirks. She can also be relied upon to dig up any information Kell might need while on a particular mission, provided he has time to wait for her own agents to act.
Van Borse Van is a volus weapons merchant and engineer based out of Omega. He's an ill-tempered prone to bouts of ineffectual violence, yet Kell comes to him for help all the same. There's no one else he'd want to turn to when his armor is damaged or he's in need of a new gun.
Physical Details ◢
Ravanor Kell never stopped being the runt of the litter. At only 6'8 and two hundred and eighty pounds, some might even consider him lithe for a Krogan. His skin is a shade paler than most, contrasting sharply against the dark coloration of his head crest. Old, crimson scars dot the crest and his face; the largest mark is a single, deep cut around his throat from ear to ear. His once shining armor of blue and black has been reduced to a dull, pock-marked hunk of metal after too many years of service.
Personal History ◢
Ravanor Kell was born on Tuchanka in 2032. Despite being the smallest and weakest of his clutch Kell was one of only three to survivor past infancy. An old male of his clan, Ghoramund, claimed the right of parentage over him, adopting him from the female clan and taking Kell under his wing. That old Krogan saw the rest of his people as vainglorious, unambitious and doomed to extinction if they remained on their current path. As a battlemaster, Ghoramund was one of the most powerful biotics and skilled combatants in Clan Ravanor; he hoped to use that power and influence to take the warlord of Ravanor's seat for himself in the hopes that he could steer his people along a better path. He failed. The warlord cast him out instead of claiming Ghoramund's head. Beaten but not broken Ghoramund sought out the female clans and claimed Kell as his own. He hoped to raise the boy to someday become the leader he was not.
Over the next century and half the two Krogan traveled Tunchanka and eventually the rest of the galaxy together. They worked as mercenaries for employers Ghoramund deemed worthy causes, and he used every job as an opportunity to teach Kell what it meant to be a true warrior. Every moment they were not fighting was time they spent in their studies, enriching their minds and bodies alike. It was a spiritual experience for the young Kell and he cherished every moment of it. Their travels brought them into contact with everything from the Blood Pack on Omega to Thresher Maws on distant worlds to Batarian pirates in the Skyllian Verge.
Their adventures together came to an end when Ghoramund was crippled by an Asari commando in 2176, five years ago. The old man chose a quiet life of retirement on the Citadel, using the funds he'd earned over the centuries to live lavishly. He urged Kell to continue his travels throughout the galaxy so that he may gain the strength and allies needed to eventually return home to Ravanor to set the clan right. Kell was trepidatious about working on his own for the first time, but it seemed an exciting opportunity to grow beyond his mentor's shadow.
Combat Analysis ◢
Ravanor Kell is a master of taking and holding ground. He uses his combination of biotic talents and technology to fortify particular areas and dig in, ready to drive back any threat that dares approach his zone of control. He works best in tandem with more offensive warriors who can take advantage of his protection to strike down their enemies. Kell prefers close ranged combat where he can use his Claymore to devastating affect, though he is arguably more proficient with his hand cannon, Lover's Kiss, as he's used the weapon since he was a boy.
Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢
The wounding of his mentor and father figure drove Kell into striking out on his own. He's spent the last five years floating from job to job, taking any work that strikes him as interesting. The Exo-Geni offer was brought to his attention by an old friend of his, Yamora, an Asari information broker and one-time love of Ghoramund.
Full Name - Mara Armitage Callsign - Icarus White Age - 19 (b. 2659) Birthplace - Seattle Pilot Type - Assault -
P S Y C H E
Nurturing Mara's always taken her role as the big sister seriously. Ever since she and Em were kids Mara has doted on her, even more than their own mother did. Mara showers her with gifts and physical affection. Even now when both of them are grown adults Mara has continues to spoil and protect her sister to the best of her ability.
Disciplined The soldier's life came as naturally to Mara as a duck does to water. The strict schedule, hierarchy of command and constant productivity have all stuck with her even after deserting her unit. She looks back fondly on her years as a soldier, doing what she can to replicate the regimented order in her daily life. Mara is naturally differential to her elders, those in positions of authority and pilots she sees as better than herself.
Guilt-stricken Ever since Emeraude's injury Mara has been racked by guilt for the part she played in it. Her own enthusiasm to pilot drove her parents to abuse and browbeat her beloved sister into the pilot's seat. Mara never did enough to defend Em when they were young- maybe if she had things would've ended differently. Maybe she never would've gotten into her NC the day that sniper fried her cockpit.
G E A R
S8-ER ‘Satyr’ Thermal SMG The S8-ER SMG is a rapid fire thermal-based sidearm that can be folded into a compact form for easy transportation. It unfolds and deploys automatically when removed from its holster, ready for use in less than half a second. Its effective against soft-targets and most low grade body armor, though its practically useless against anything heavier. Mara has been reluctant to ever part with it since her desertion.
Auger-11 Camera The Auger-11 is an old line of Elysian handheld cameras. It takes crisp, high-definition pictures for physical print-out using a separate device. It’s an old fashioned, expensive toy compared to the cheap, built-in cameras on every datatool. Mara's auger was a present for her eleventh birthday from her mother, who had used the same model her whole life and hoped Mara would carry on the family tradition. Even after their falling out Mara's continued to use it, amassing hundreds of pictures that she keeps posted in her bunk.
Silver Locket A simple silver locket with a photo of Mara and Emeraude contained within- one of the first Mara ever took. Her name and blood type are both engraved on the back of the locket.
N E U R A L C O M B A T A N T
Armor Icarus White is a lightweight skirmisher with a focus on mobility in exchange for slimmed-down armor. Its sleek form can at best handle a glancing blow from a high-powered NC weapon; even so much as a single direct hit from an anti-armor round will put the Icarus White directly on its ass. Graded well for light vehicle arms and infantry-wielded rockets.
Main Hand The VD-77 (“Virtuous Daughter”) is a cheap, workforce rifle designed for reliability and firepower. It fires large caliber ballistic rounds meant to pierce the thickly armored hides of NCs and other armored war machines, though it’s rate of fire is abysmal compared to newer models. Where it lacks for rounds per minute it makes up for it with precision, stopping power and reliability.
Off Hand it’s the Icarus White’s secondary armament is what makes its primary rifle so dangerous: the SCIP Launcher (“Soundless Choir Ion Pulse”) functions similarly to a grenade launcher in that it lobs its ammunition- the Salvation Arms manufactured Ion Pulse Disks- in a relatively slow arc. The disks only activate upon the user’s command, sending out a localized ion pulse that damages or disables electronics and shields within range. The disks are designed to stick on nearly any surface and can be activated within a range of half a mile.
Back The OEW ("On Eagle's Wings") Thruster Pack is a set of advanced maneuvering thrusters that allow for rapid movement across all terrain. The OEW is matchless in aerial combat, able to outpace even the quickest opponents save for dedicated, fixed-wing aircraft; its only drawback being that it requires extremely lightweight armor of its NC or its effectiveness is greatly hampered.
Left Auxiliary Mounted internally in Icarus White's left shoulder is the AMH ("A Mighty Host") Cluster Munitions launcher, which fires over a dozen miniature missiles at once, tracking toward the targets selected by the NC pilot. Effective against soft targets.
Right Auxiliary The Stalwart Mk VIII is the best shield projector in its class for lightly armored targets with minimal power extra draw. It is efficient, long-lasting and highly durable against most conventional weaponry. The Stalwart line is known for its ‘reactive’ shield that dynamically activates and empowers itself based on oncoming threats. When it detects no immediate danger the Stalwart goes into standby mode, decreasing its power draw and allowing the Icarus White to focus its energy on its thrusters. Upon detecting incoming rounds or a targeting laser, however, the Stalwart will draw however much energy it seems necessary to thwart the attack in real time with almost no delay.
R E L A T I O N S
Royce and Elaine Armitage Mara and her parents have a complicated relationship. They were good to her when she was younger: they were ecstatic when they learned she was NC compatible and spared no expense in preparing her for the pilot’s seat. They gave her no shortage of their time, gifts and affection. But her sister received no such love, as Mara would eventually realize. They mistreated, abused and manipulated Emeraude into being a pilot despite the girl’s misgivings- and that led to her injuries, the seen and the unseen. Mara will never forgive how they treated her sister; yet some part of her will always miss the loving parents she once knew.
Valerie ‘Val’ Wright Val was Mara’s fastest friend when she first joined the ED military, and they quickly grew beyond that. The two of them were together for four years before Mara came to the decision to desert. What was meant to be a tearful goodbye turned into a fight as Val used everything she had- including her fists- to keep Mara from leaving. Even the thought of her now brings a bitter bile up into Mara’s throat. Just one more regret for the pile.
Captain Eric Swann Swann was the captain and leader of Mara’s unit. He was a consummate professional from a prestigious line of NC pilots who worked tirelessly to carry on the legacy. Eric was a hard man that pushed his people to their absolute limit in the hopes that they’d be forged into great tools for the corporation. Mara aspired to be as skilled, charismatic and ambitious as he was, though she found his merciless attitude more than a little off-putting at times. His performance on the battlefield terrified her; he was perhaps the only pilot she thought could trounce her prodigious sister, Emeraude.
Physical Details ◢
The life of a soldier is all Mara's ever known- a fact that is carved into every facet of her identity. Rigorous, daily training earned her a fair bit of muscle and an athletic frame. Noo amount of hard work, however, can make her grow more than her unfortunate five feet and seven inches. She parades her scars as trophies won in hard-fought brawls in the alleys and bars of her hometown. The most visible of these are a cut along her left cheek and the numerous, smaller abrasions that pepper her jawline, neck and upper body.
Her 'style,' if one could call it that, hasn't changed much since her days as a corpo pilot: she still wears the grey Battle Dress Uniform, work boots and the fur-lined aviator's jacket that were the signature of her unit. She's removed all the Elysian Dream branding, of course, and replaced them with an embroidery of Icarus's wings.
Background Information ◢
On Mara Armitage's eighth birthday she was conscripted into the youth wing of the Elysian Dream Defense Force. She was elated. The sight of mechs marching in parade formation through the streets of Seattle had always set her heart aglow growing up. When the doctors told her she was neuralink viable it was like God had finally answered her prayers. Her parents were equally thrilled by the announcement. Mara set the whole of her mind, body and spirit to being the best soldier she could be. And she excelled. Teachers were constantly remarking on her skill and enthusiasm, lauding her as an example to the rest of the group. Her peers looked up to her the same way they did the adults. All that love and attention just reinforced her belief that this was where she was meant to be.
All that admiration blinded Mara to what was going on in the life of her younger sister, Emeraude. In Mara's mind the two were inseparable. Em might've been struggling to adapt to her new life, sure, but she had potential! Their aunt, Morgan, would see to her success. Someday Mara and Em would be an unstoppable duo on the battlefield. Em would just need to endure a few...growing pains! That was all.
Mara was just a teenager, however, and saw only what she wanted. She never paid attention to the 'encouragement' her parents gave Em. She never saw how their instructors treated Em when Mara wasn't around. And worst of all? Mara never even bothered to ask Em if she wanted to pilot. Mara assumed that everyone wanted to do it, especially if they were good at it, as Em was. The thought that someone might see it as torment never even crossed her mind.
At fourteen, Mara was recruited into the Redemption of Humanity, a subsidiary private military company of Elysian Dream. The Redeemers were an NC-focused company ran by a man named Captain Eric Swann, a veteran pilot whose family had served ED for generations. He was a hard man by all accounts: cold to his underlings, merciless to his enemies, and he despised weakness in all its forms. Swann was also the best damn pilot Mara had ever seen. He taught her everything she’d ever need to know about NC combat. Despite the extreme pressure he put Mara and the rest of the Reedemers through, she excelled- just as she had in the youth wing.
Her dedication to the work attracted the attention of Valerie Wright, a fellow pilot and the prettiest girl Mara had ever seen. She was smitten. Val was confident, playful and zealous. She could fly circles around the rest of the squad, save the captain himself. Val and Mara would compete fiercely for the title of fastest pilot on the team for the next several years. Their relationship blossomed outside the mechs as well. Inter-team fraternization wasn’t forbidden by company policy but the captain certainly didn’t approve of distractions, so the girls kept their relationship a closely guarded secret. It was Mara’s first act of rebellion, small as it was.
The next five years were the best she’d ever know. Her family was nothing but supportive. She had a girlfriend she loved with all her heart. And she had Em, the little sister that never left her side. If Mara had a choice she would’ve stayed there forever: serving with the Redeemers and living in Seattle with Val, Em and all the rest.
Then June 19th, 2677 arrived. The Redeemers are sent to the ruins of Corvallis in search of classified old world tech. ED salvage crews barely had time to set up their equipment before a band of raiders descended on the ruined city. Their numbers caught the Redeemers off-guard and forced them to dig in hard around the dig site. A pitched battle followed. Several of the Redeemers’ NCs were damaged in the affair; much of their ammunition was exhausted as well. The team was heavily depleted when a second wave hit. It was plain that these were no ordinary marauders when a sound like thunder came from the heavens and took out their heaviest hitter in a single shot.
What followed was a desperate scramble to escape. Mara kept as close to Em and Val as she could, fighting tooth and nail to cut a path of escape out of Corvallis before it was too late. Em was a monster on the battlefield: her Bercilak tore its way through any NC stupid enough to get within the range of its burning axe. Mara left a path of ion mines in their wake, disabling and damaging the systems of anyone that pursued them. They almost made it out.
Then Val and another Redeemer went down. It was a stupid mistake that did them in- a too long sprint across open ground without proper cover. It was a goddamn shooting gallery. The Armitage sisters debated leaving them behind. Better Mara and Em return with reinforcements then get captured along with them, right?
their attackers proved more brutal than Mara could’ve expected. They descended on the downed NCs, popped open their cockpits and crushed one of the Redeemer pilots in their metal fists. Val was moments from suffering the same fate before Mara broke cover and charged, rifle barking and missiles flying. Em was right beside her, as always. The Bercilak went for the NC that just killed a Redeemer pilot and Mara went for the second looking over Val. It was a rush of steel and blood that Mara barely remembers. The frantic hand to hand. Thunder from the sky. Em’s mech going down in a hail of dragon fire.
Mara scooped Val’s broken body into the Icarus White’s cockpit, tossed the Bercilak’s cockpit and core over her shoulder and made a run for it. She’s not quite sure how she managed to escape the sniper that had killed so many of her friends. Fear and adrenaline were all that kept her moving through the haze of pained panic until she eventually reached safety: Captain Swann had arrived with reinforcements to rescue what few survivors they could find. The city was torched by the enemy before the tech could be secured, much to the brass’s anger. The mission was a spectacular failure.
The following days in the hospital were a blur. Val‘s injuries would take months of gene-growth to repair of her wounds proved impermanent. The company refused to pay for Emeraude’s medical treatment beyond the essentials- Swann was apparently so dissatisfied with their performance that this was his way of punishing the Armitages. And Em went fully catatonic. Couldn’t speak, couldn’t eat, never moved.
The company wrote her off as a lost cause and decided to sell the rights to Em's NC and body back to her family. In turn, Royce Armitage, her father, sold his daughter's hand in marriage to recoup the money he'd lost on her. Mara protested fiercely. Her sister wasn’t even awake to advocate for herself! She had served the Redeemers and ED loyally for years. She was an excellent pilot, and she could be again if only they’d give her a chance.
No one did. Their parents were shockingly dismissive of the girl, as if those raiders had done them by a service by ridding them of her. It took everything Mara had not to beat them both bloody where they stood. She took her belongs and left, never to return. Mara made her appeal to Swann next, though he was just as disdainful. The man wouldn’t give it more than five minutes of thought. He wanted Mara to get over it. She left him, too.
And finally she went to Val. Mara told her love everything that had happened. Of how unfairly everyone was treating her sister. It was only then that Val revealed how the rest of the team had felt about Em, too: the girl was only worth keeping around for Mara’s sake. She was a good pilot now, sure, but but hadn't always been. And she remains a miserable soldier and as weak willed as girls come. Mara told Val she planned to desert so she could take Emeraude somewhere to get proper treatment. Valerie Wright balked at that. She raged, accused and pleaded all at once- doing all she could to get Mara to stay and forget her sister.
The Icarus White vanished along with the Bercilak’s remains in the following weeks. They took to the waste, and found their oasis in a place called Last Hope.
Polaris Shift ◢
Mara is plagued by dreams. They come most often in the weeks following a successful perfect sync: one moment she's awake, aware and active and the next...she's not. She's slumped over- maybe even standing- her eyes glazed over as a deep sleep overcomes her. Her dreams are incredibly vivid, and she often struggles to tell the difference between the waking world and the dreaming one. The length of each episode varies greatly, and they've only gotten longer and more frequent over the years. Sometimes she's gone for mere moments. Other times she'll spend a whole day trapped in her own body, fully unaware that anything is amiss.
Personal Mission ◢
Mara has had only one goal since fleeing her home in Seattle: evade, escape, survive. All that's mattered to her since leaving home is keeping Emeraude safe. Mara's sure her sister's betrothed is still searching for her, and the wound she left with Val was too sharp to be the end of things- Mara wouldn't be surprised if the Redeemers were following her tracks as well. But to help Emeraude heal and to get far, far away from her pursuers, she'll need money. She's come to Last Hope seeking a quick, easy contract so she has the cash flow to keep moving. They're too close to Elysian Dream territory for her to feel safe, and this dump doesn't have the resources to treat Emeraude properly. Nice as the people seem to be Mara's trying to keep them at an arms length- she won't be around long enough to be betrayed again.
The Stalwart Mk VIII is the best shield projector in its class for lightly armored targets with minimal power extra draw. It is efficient, long-lasting and highly durable against most conventional weaponry. The Stalwart line is known for its ‘reactive’ shield that dynamically activates and empowers itself based on oncoming threats. When it detects no immediate danger the Stalwart goes into standby mode, decreasing its power draw and allowing the Icarus White to focus its energy on its thrusters. Upon detecting incoming rounds or a targeting laser, however, the Stalwart will draw however much energy it seems necessary to thwart the attack in real time with almost no delay.
C O N N E R K E N T / K O N - E L ♦ A U T O M E C H A N I C ♦ M E T R O P O L I S ♦ J U S T I C E L E A G U E
C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T:
”Do you know what it’s like for all the world to rest their hopes and dreams on your shoulders? Pretty nerve-wracking, if I’m honest. But I have to try."
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