[OOC] Mass Effect: Harpocrates

[Yam I Am]

Bump

[Mao Mao]

Speaking of characters, guess who finished theirs? It's me.

Antelmo Águila-Paiva

_______________________________________________ Personal Data D A T A Full Name - Antelmo Águila-Paiva Designation - Búho Arpía Species - Human Age - 26 (b. 2157) Origin - Earth, Sol Classification - Infiltrator Unique Specialization - Human Operative - Psyche Analysis P S Y C H E Graffiti Artist From a young age, Antelmo always had a love for the arts. As he got older and then experienced the rebellion, graffiti became the way of expressing himself in the universe. It also brought him some comfort while away from home. Lighthearted Fun Antelmo would've taken the opportunity to shine a spotlight on the tiniest bit of positivity in a bad situation. Even if it became annoyedly overwhelming to others at certain attempts at lightening the mood. Emotionally Open Antelmo had always been open about his emotions, even when he was a baby. So whatever he was feeling, the whole world knew about it regardless of whether it brought him trouble. Plus, Antelmo highly valued intimacy in his relationships—friend or associate. Equipment E Q U I P M E N T Volkov Sniper Designed by Rosenkov Materials, the Volkov line of sniper rifles produced a semi-automatic that challenged the Equalizer line from Haliat Armory. However, this particular rifle was modified to fire exclusively single-shot to deliver devastating damage from afar at the cost of accuracy. In addition, the weapon itself received much-needed color. M-12 Locust A compact submachine gun developed for the Alliance recently found itself popular within the underworld. Featuring a complex recoil-reducing mechanism and high-grade autotargeting software, the Locust delivers longer-range, more accurate fire than others in its class. And as in the classic tradition, it also received much-needed color. Armor-Piercing Ammo Hardened steel ammo was shaped and hardened to pierce targets, inflicting extra damage to armor and specific objects. Record R E C O R D Revolutionary Abolitionist Antelmo was one of the first young adults to join the Anhur militias at the start of the Anhur Rebellions. With help from the Eclipse for two years, the Na'hesit were powerless against guerrilla tactics and ultimately lost to the abolitionists. But despite the victory, Antelmo was unable to adjust to civilian life and found himself in the company of mercs. A Partial Eclipse Like many former guerrillas on Anhur, Antelmo joined the Eclipse to find a use for his newfound experience. But unlike the others, Antelmo remained a member for a solid year before leaving the Amun System to venture into independent contracting. Phantom of Bekenstein A series of assassinations orchestrated against politicians and executives cooperating on passing legislation that would've brought indentured servitude to Bekenstein. Hired as the hitman, Antelmo spent seven months going after four separate targets with a sniper rifle and sheer determination. That contract earned him notoriety and a ton of credits. Connections C O N N E C T I O N S Jacó and Antia Águila-Paiva Antelmo's father and mother. Both of them spent time in the unprotected labor camps on Sobek, leading to significant bone loss. Still caring for his parents, Antelmo used credits earned from Bekenstein to fund advanced physical therapy. Ufoth Saf'radah Antelmo's close friend. The batarian routinely checked on Jacó and Antia from his friend while keeping an eye on them whenever possible. Kol'Vemis nar Rirark A quarian that Antelmo strangely met while on Bekenstein. He was still on his pilgrimage, looking for credits to purchase a medical-grade air purifier for his people onboard the Rirark. Relating to his struggle, Antelmo began tracking one down.

Physical Details ◢ Standing at a height of five feet and seven inches, Antelmo Águila-Paiva is what humans consider "very bland looking." No facial hair, no tattoos or body modifiers, and hair that seemingly only grows shoulder-length. Still, he makes it up with his sense of fashion. Vintage band t-shirts, leather jackets, dark navy blue jeans, and an olive green hairband (an obvious family heirloom). And as for his partisan armor (stolen from a Na'hesit warehouse), it had been through a rebellion with a few dents to show off. It also received an artistic makeover to distance itself from the dark blue used by the manufacturer. Personal History ◢ Antia Águila-Paiva gave birth to a healthy child while the world was preparing for its first interplanetary war with an alien species. But it was fortunate that peace prevailed in the end, sparing her husband from a devastating conflict. Together, they spent several years in the slums raising their child and finding work with various mining and oil-drilling companies. But it wasn't until the colonial push into the Skyllian Verge that an opportunity presented itself. An opportunity that the Águila-Paivas took without hesitation, even if it meant leaving family and friends behind on Earth. So at eight years old, Antelmo left with his family from a garden world within the Amun system. Anhur was a somewhat successful attempt at cooperation with the batarians despite hostilities over colonization efforts in the Skyllian Verge. But that soon led to fierce economic competition amongst the corporations. And with the planetary administration on their side, the rivalry only intensified until the minimum wage was abolished in its entirety. Then, it escalated into a full-fledged civil war within days. A nineteen-year-old Antelmo joined the rebellion in support of the abolitionists by infiltrating key locations with ties to the slavers. But he soon took up arms after learning of his parents' abduction at the hands of their employer. Antelmo spent two years fighting as a relentless guerrilla with a reputation for being one of the best snipers in the resistance. He kept on fighting against the slavers until the Eclipse liberated Sobek and uncovered the labor camps. Antelmo left for the gas giant and tracked down his parents alive at one of the camps. But working without mass effect fields left both Jacó and Antia with massive bone loss. Antelmo spent the remainder of the civil war as his parents' caretakers. However, the credits dried up, forcing Antelmo to seek employment with the Eclipse. He sought out an old friend, Ufoth Saf'rada, to care for his parents while off-world. But that venture lasted only a year before deciding to become an independent contractor. Whatever credits Antelmo earned from odd jobs here and there were sent over to his parents. Then, Antelmo was sent over a contact involving a series of targets on Bekenstein via an anonymous contact. All of them were collaborating on legislation that would've introduced indentured servitude to the planet to compete with rivals on Illium. Antelmo's order was quite simple: kill them discreetly within eight months, and you'll be rewarded generously. Antelmo took the offer without hesitation and left for the industrial planet. It was the most challenging eight months of his life, but the targets were eliminated. Antelmo was paid with enough credits that his parents were able to receive advanced physical therapy. But even with the generous amount, the cost per session slowly consumed the credits. Antelmo was ready to leave home once more when the ExoGeni Corporation contacted him with an offer. He left for Eden Prime shortly after bidding farewell to his parents and friend. Combat Analysis ◢ Antelmo learned early on that his preference was causing havoc from afar with a good sniper rifle. His knowledge of guerrilla tactics has proved useful for contracts that seemed difficult without a whole team by your side. By taking advantage of secrecy, mobility, and the element of surprise, one individual can deliver a devastating blow against a large group of their enemies. Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢ With the credits from the Bekenstein contact almost gone, Antelmo was already in need of work when ExoGeni reached out to him. He took it without a second thought out of desperation more than anything. His parents are responding well to the latest batch of treatments for the first time in years. And ExoGeni has enough credits to spare in making sure his parents are strong enough to return home.

[mickilennial]

Bump

@Yam I Am

[mickilennial]

@Mao Mao Really wish you would've kept the sub-text in gray for uniformity (and my own limited sanity). Anyway, looks pretty good as far as things go, but I'll have to take a closer look at it to see if I can spot any blemishes.

[Mao Mao]

@Mao Mao Really wish you would've kept the sub-text in gray for uniformity (and my own limited sanity). Anyway, looks pretty good as far as things go, but I'll have to take a closer look at it to see if I can spot any blemishes.

@TGM

Don't worry anymore. I fixed it to keep you sane.

[mickilennial]

A piece of my sanity remains intact. Hoo ray.

[Jeep Wrangler]

A hat has been tossed into the ring

Vael

_______________________________________________ Personal Data D A T A Full Name - Vael - Previously: Vael'Ginis vas Lestiak Designation - Socket Species - Quarian Age - 31 (b. 2152) Origin - Shellen, Migrant Fleet Classification - Engineer Unique Specialization - Quarian Electrical Mechanist - Psyche Analysis P S Y C H E That itch... By all measures, Vael meant well in his studies. In times of crisis, stagnation and in the death of progress, the unorthodox play their decks. For Vael, this retains itself in the itch - the small scab on his skin that needs to be picked. Technology is the wayward path. And thinkers tend to pursue until disproven. When circuits can make ends meet, even if by theory, that encompassing desire often fails to keep itself at bay, and he yearns to pry apart, and to remanufacture, whatever may prove useful. The Deep Roots of Shame No matter how else he could justify such thins in his mind, his actions and his circumstances, those aware and willing to exploit the shame that comes with exile from the Migrant Fleet may find both ease and a rabbit hole to fall down. Either he wipes it in the new life, or forever chases bygone time. The Agitated By all means, the path he walked was never the planned route. His boots are stained with the soil of countless worlds he never wanted to go to, and have muddied the corridors of several ships he should not have known existed. Life's slaloms weigh down on the pressure a Quarian like Vael may have felt. He knows there is a better life, and as such, his social fuse can fall short in stressful overtures. Whether that becomes reliance on others, or solitude, the varieties are often centred on who else he joins on perilous voyages. Equipment E Q U I P M E N T M-3 Predator There is no needed introduction to the M-3 Predator. Since his exile, it became a lot easier to get his hands on something rather plentiful in maintenance. It's a robust, hard hitting heavy-pistol, but far lighter and moderate than its far more specialised counterparts. Why, he considers it his primary choice of weapon. Vael is one of pistol preference, fancying a lighter build and display of electrical finesse. M-9 Tempest The Tempest is a particularly high fire-rate submachine gun, evocative of a closely administered fighting style. Though sour at long range engagements, the weapon boasts a respectable volume of fire for a lightweight package. Though the Predator takes Vael's fancy, there is never a time where a handgun may fall short in its dependency. ARC Grenades Voltage is the companion to the electrician. Where fragmentation grenades are often reliable, most beings carry shields, electronics and have hard-wired systems in their ships. What brute force may do, so might the high voltage zap of an electrical, handheld explosive. Record R E C O R D Vael's Pilgrimage As part of his pilgrimage, Vael had found his adept love for technology beyond the keen interest of youth. Why it was of note was that he was there to witness the first-hand bite of the Geth, where with a four man team, to which himself and only one another survived, he showed capability in technological study and warfare. Exile from the Migrant Fleet Vael's ventures into Geth technology brought many eyes upon his work. Studying and tearing them apart at the seems, often without official lab support, raised further suspicion, which resulted in a scout vessel - the Olarik - to be lost to an awakened Geth unit. Accusations flung of sabotage, and quietly into the night was he exiled, with the Admirals of the Fleet surely hoping to not only prevent any repeated mistake, but to also shy away any knowledge of the Geth having been amongst the fleet at all - even if it were only one. Nothing like that could ever happen again. The Merc-Mech Throwdown Often a story for loose lips, this skirmish was as part of Vael's hired contract somewhat early in his nomadic career. Two mercenary groups had turned violently against one another on a Turian colony. Human imports of mechs and other machinery often made it a local proving ground, where fabricated justifications were often put into place for either faction to use their welcomed toys. Small settlements were often their crossfired grounds. Though the story often varies, Vael certainly had a large part in frying a lot of the circuits, as well as locking internal systems down enough to hamper any chance of use. Connections C O N N E C T I O N S Jiral A familiar Quarian exile who put him on the fighting path. Her circumstances for exile were often debated, from murder to sabotage, to petty alternatives, but she has remained the first source of reliance for Vael. Howard Stanrick The old hot-headed survivor of the Geth Encounter during Vael's pilgrimage. Ties were cut very soon after, and the once confident tout of Howard has become a bitter adversary against the Quarian. Not often can he speak of why. Yifu'Yeemm vas Lestiak A once close childhood friend of Vael. They have kept in contact through the most vague and spread apart catch up calls. Each time, her voice has grown less caring and kind to his position. If there was another life, they'd still be in close contact.

Physical Details ◢ At a rather inoffensive 6'1, Vael stands with a decent bulk to his frame. Clad in a dusty, yet clear, maroon garb, woven into his armour, he does not hold himself as one of the more eccentric of Quarians. Alternatively, he does still hold onto a variable addon of fur wraps and thigh pouches given to him by clandestine allies of old. It provides little protection or acclimatisation, as the suit covers that mostly, yet it remains a good reminder of the days spent in aimless wander. Personal History ◢ The whir of machinery had wrought a young Quarian with awe. Circuitry and cityscapes of wires and motherboards had been a great source of entertainment in his youth. The once Vael'Ginis nar Kila had been slated for a proud upbringing in electronics, engineering and mechanics, the valuable assets to the operations of the Migrant Fleet. And whilst childhood had granted him access to such an interest, the eventual time of his pilgrimage brought forth an opportunity to truly explore what it meant to investigate the realm of electricity. Vael'Ginis had first found himself in the hands of Howard Stanrick, the rogue-ish and daring local human who'd made a name for himself among gunrunners, contractors, fixers and shuttle runners in the Hades Nexus. Their initial meeting was under dangerous pretences; the typical kind, bound by a set of mercenaries shooting their way, and the two pairing in order to make it out in a decent piece. Howard was the type of man to drop the help at first opportunity, but through demonstrations of technological feat, and an affinity for getting into the thick of it, the two fell under one wing, and made clear a new path of gift gathering and oddjobs. It had once crossed Vael'Ginis' mind to leave then and there, but under the promise he'd made to his older and more esteemed childhood friend, Yifu'Yeemm vas Lestiak - of whom had completed her pilgrimage at that point - he was keen on returning with much more than valued skills. And that he did return, but only after he had encountered the Geth for the first time. To visit the bogeyman of an entire species is always a thrill, and a frightful one at best. Howard, Vael and an assembled team of closely knitted associates formed in their year or two's tribulations encountered them on the edges of Geth Space. A patrol, large and devoid of any emotion, scouting for unknown reasons. Conflict ensued, and whilst the memory was best kept blurred to the Quarian, there was something of a slip up, and obsessive switch that breathed fascination and seflishness into how he had behaved that day. Only two of them made it out, Howard as his partner, but on violent terms did the two separate. Vael returned to the Migrant Fleet with Geth Weaponry - as a showcase not of his prowess, but his technological willingness to study for the fleet. It was a sceptical and rather unpopular gift, but eventually the light ship Lestiak accepted his place, and he became a valuable field engineer. Yet the next year was troublesome, as he found himself picking apart at the Geth technology stored onto the ship more and more as the days went by. And soon after, the engineer believed that he could solve problems far greater than himself. Lost had the kindled flame of determination been amongst the Migrant Fleet. All wanted to see the planet none had witnessed, but no one had the means to do so. And in stagnation came ideas. Several Geth skirmishes would eventually gift the Quarian with mechanical bodies, and he soon claimed that within their very constructs lay answers to how they could be bested, as if such had not been tried centuries before. That obsession grew negligent, and in his hubris, he accidentally reactivated a larger geth soldier, resulting in ten dead aboard the Lestiak. His exile was swift, as it was silent. Panic was to be averted across the fleet. The Quarian was quickly trialled and set aside by the Admiralty Board. There was no place for the dangerously negligent, and the last look of his family and friend's disappointment forever stayed fresh in his memory. The years afterward were slow. Drifting between places, until of course he came across Jiral, the other exiled Quarian. She took care of him, but at an arms length. He relied on her too much, as did he emotionally attach himself to her sense of leadership. Whilst he grew more talented as an engineer, as well as a combatant in the line of mercenary work, he too soon found himself in a cycle of misdirection and all. An associate of Jiral then informed him of a notice in his name, from one ExoGeni. For all he knew, it was simply a convenient engineer, and that was all the pretence there was to his hiring. He accepted it. What else had he left to do, but rot in lonesome anguish away from the Migrant Fleet? Combat Analysis ◢ Harness energy, and one shall prevail - Vael's deep-rooted love for electrical engineering proved itself in his specialisation. A fast thinker knows that all weak foes rely heavily on the tech in their hands, not the abilities at their fingertips. Overloading equipment tends to be his favoured trick, and equally so is the use of sabotage. Heavy pistols and submachine guns are of great fancy, and though he used to rarely acknowledge such proficiency, his marriage of technological dismantlement through voltage and jamming has since been his greatest strength, paired kindly with in-the-field intrigue in ship systems and, of course, the Geth. Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢ "Even skilled beggars cannot be choosers." ExoGeni wasn't a burning beacon of light. It didn't save him, it only provided the next pair of boots for him to tread within. What lays within ExoGeni is unsure, and he knows little of its exploits. It didn't bother him at first. So long as he was absent minded and busy, that was all that mattered. Though he hadn't accounted for the resurging emotions that come with attaching oneself to specialists such as himself.

[Drag]

I understand there's a lot of concern about overlap and i am afraid this will likely not help lmao. Even still I started on this dude when the ooc went up and just took a bit finishing so I figured i'd throw him up and see what the consensus was then change as potentially needed.

feller with the big iron on his hip

_______________________________________________ Personal Data D A T A Full Name - Reid Waston Designation - Ranger Species - Human Age - 31 (b. 2152) Origin - Earth, Local Cluster Classification - Soldier Unique Specialization - Gunman/Duelist/Designated Hitter - Psyche Analysis P S Y C H E A Simple Man, Making His Way In The Universe Many mercs have a reputation as being bombastic and boastful, not so with Reid. Withdrawn, guarded and taciturn, Reid carries himself with a constant air of professionalism. Rarely raising his voice or betraying much of any emotion even during times when, by his own admission, he’s upset or pissed off. Reid does his utmost to give nothing beyond quiet confidence, with very little patience for the eccentricities of both the galaxy and the people within it. A Few Credits More Pragmatism is, more often than not, the key aspect that separates the successful from the dead in Reid’s experience. While always having a somewhat apathetic moral compass - seeing little difference from shooting someone in the back than the front - Reid’s experiences since flying solo have hardened him considerably. As he is essentially a fugitive, Reid takes great care to cover his tracks, watching his own back and prioritising his needs far beyond others, lest he risk imprisonment or death. He’s no wanton criminal, but has very little qualms on making morally dubious decisions if the need truly arises. The Last Outlaw As mentioned, Reid is a man who often finds himself exasperated at the bizarre and often hypocritical ways of most civilised people in the universe, particularly those involved in galactic governments. While not above taking jobs involving these types out of necessities sake, Reid is notably more sarcastic and bitter when forced to do so, a disdain rooted in him from childhood as part of his gang. He bears a distinct grudge for the Systems Alliance in particular. On the flipside, he is remarkably tolerant towards most alien races, if just by human standards at the least. He is also sympathetic towards the poor and downtrodden but has long since had any altruistic ideals kicked out of him. Equipment E Q U I P M E N T M-15 Vindicator A popular rifle in the Terminus Systems, favoured by assassins and elite mercenaries for its precise firing and handling. Firing in five shot bursts and boasting excellent stopping power without effecting recoil, enabling it to do hefty damage to targets with the right aim. Reid's particular model is painted black and fitted with a percision scope to extend the rifle's range, along with a textured grip should his hands get... wet, during a fight. Reid occassionaly refers to it as his "Winchester". M-5 Phalanx An Alliance created heavy pistol designed to be used in closer engagements and ideal for hitting armoured or shielded targets, fitted with a laser sight for better accuracy. While high in recoil, its sheer stopping power gives it an edge over most “hand cannons” and works well with Reid’s sharp aim and tendency for single shot quickdraw firing. Mk.14 Grenades Disc shaped cluster grenades that can be thrown directly to glide through the air or be lobbed overhead in an arc. They can adhere to flat surfaces and be detonated at any time once thrown via the communications gear built into the attacker’s armour. They will detonate automatically after ten seconds. Record R E C O R D Eldfell-Ashland Raid In 2168 at roughly 2pm, an Eldfell-Ashland Energy Company building in the state of Illinois was hit in a daring raid. Infiltrated by a small group of insurgents who subdued highly trained security operatives and fried the camera systems, concealing their identities while they drained an undisclosed amount of credits from the building's network and internal accounts. In the following months, random, obscenely large bonuses were deposited into the accounts of several low level manual workers, families of company accident victims and many others who’d had negative dealings with the corporation. The perpetrators were never officially found, but it was the first of many such heists carried out by a young Reid as a member of Holden’s Company. Korlus Spring Cleaning The junk world of Korlus has long been something of a punchline among galactic circles, with its garbage laden landscape and high crime rate. Undeterred, the Korlus Tourist Bureau had tried several different ways to rebrand the planet, from slogans to public image campaigns. Unsurprisingly, none of these worked. What did provide results was their contracting of several mercenaries to clear out as many gangs and other scum as possible, paying a bounty for each noteworthy problem dealt with. Though many heeded the call, none made more of a “killing” than an unnamed mercenary in a cowboy hat, eradicating numerous would-be gangsters and turning in so many bounties that the campaign ended in under two months, more-so due to the colonies losing more credits than they were gaining from potential travellers. Though operating under a pseudonym, Reid’s peculiar get-up, the high number of people on Korlus and his bodycount very quickly made many take note of the merc, establishing a reputation in the Terminus Systems as someone that got things done. Valdez Bounty A crew of pirates had been forming in the Terminus Systems, attacking multiple colonies and eventually graduating to corporation shipments. Their leader was a human named Valdez who’d quickly made a name for himself, earning a bounty from the corps who were sick of losing merchandise to his growing gang of outlaws. The bounty did little to solve the problem however, as despite his young age, Valdez was a prodigious shooter, killing upwards of twenty bounty hunters who’d been sent after him, each time in a one-on-one duel for the entertainment of his crew. Eventually, Reid caught wind of the bounty and decided to collect, tracking Valdez and his best men to a bar on Omega and challenging the man to a duel the following morning. The people on the station that fateful day still tell tails of that encounter, where Valdez walked out into the street for his twenty-first kill, only to be unceremoniously gunned down alongside his men, as Reid had decided to just shoot him with his sniper rifle from afar the second he was out in the open. Solving an almost year long problem in under ten minutes. Connections C O N N E C T I O N S Brand Brand is an elcor merchant who lives on the Citadel, an unestablished but aggressive trader always trying to expand his client base. He and Reid have an uneasy but mutually beneficial partnership, where Brand will contact the gunslinger to offer jobs soon to be listed or any other interesting tidbits that come through his network. With a cut of the profits earned going to Brand, of course. The two have history, having met and worked together since Reid was a teenager in Holden’s Company, but their relationship is based more on mutual gain than any personal fondness. Even still, they are both consummate professionals who will, reluctantly, look out for one another, even if they tend to trade barbs when doing business. Papius Silo If there was only one person in the galaxy that inspired warmth and camaraderie in Reid Watson, it would be Silo. The turian was a late arrival to Holden’s Company, on the run for being, in his words, “a poor turian”. Though he’s still a pariah in turian space, his short tenure with the group means he’s a comparatively less wanted man and was able to leave easily when things began really falling apart, enabling him to settle somewhat comfortably in Omega as a smuggler. Though they mostly communicate over business, Reid has a genuinely friendly relationship with Silo, both for his usefulness and for being one of the very few members of the group who he feels didn’t betray him on some level. Papius will rarely offer jobs if he’s able but generally his use is in helping Reid get his hands on equipment out of circulation, without Silo’s help, Reid would have to risk himself a lot more to try and keep ahead with other mercs in terms of armaments. Holden Connolly Holden is a complicated figure in Reid’s mind. A former operative (though of what and at what level he wouldn't say), he is the man who essentially saved Reid's life as a young street urchin. Teaching the boy to read, write and most importantly shoot, while educating him about the galaxy and instilling his philosophies on life and the need to protect the weak. But, he is also the man who all but went insane as time went on and his actions seemed to have less and less effect on the progression of galactic civilization, seeing all the problems his group fought against only grow and become more ingrained into society. Eventually, Holden devolved into another thug with a gun, even leaving Reid for dead on more than one occasion, until deaths and bounties caught up with them on The Olympus and the group effectively disbanded, violently. After narrowly escaping Alliance space himself, Reid isn’t even sure if Holden’s still alive, let alone regained any of his sanity. But, despite everything, Reid holds a complicated - even hypocritical - opinion of his surrogate father, still admiring the man he was while harbouring a lot of resentment for who he became and the situation he left his “son” with.

Physical Details ◢ Reid stands at 5’11”, with the muscular build befitting of a mercenary and a head of messy black hair that reaches down to his neck coupled with a scraggly beard, all hallmarks of a stereotypical thug, or, more accurately, a man on the run. His face carries numerous scars of fights won and lost, emphasised more than they should be by the shoddy first aid work done on them. More striking than his scars are his pale blue eyes, a source of occasional ribbing in his life, likened to if someone "fucked up and put a child’s eyes on the face of a killer”. The most noteworthy thing about him to most however would be his gear. Dark brown stetson hat on his head, seemingly, at all times, coupled with a worn and tattered dark brown poncho and a breathing apparatus that hangs around his neck. Beneath this get-up however Reid wears more sensible medium-grade Hydra armour created by Aldrin Labs, fitted with a bandolier around the waist for emergency supplies. Though Reid’s choice of gear is another thing that inspires confusion and mockery, it does have practical applications. Such as his poncho concealing his weaponry and allowing to get the jump on someone has been a godsend more than once. Personal History ◢ Desperation has shaped Reid Watson. His father was an illiterate drunk and his mother a prostitute who died during childbirth, though Reid lived with his father for a short time, his debts and actions quickly caught up to him and he was found dead outside a bar when Reid was seven years old. Reid was subsequently sent to an orphanage, another casualty of Earth’s severe overpopulation. He didn’t last very long before running away and trying his luck out on the streets, resorting to petty theft and other unpleasantries to make it through the days. It caught up to him at the age of eleven, when he was caught by a family while attempting to rob their home. They subdued and prepared to hand him over to the authorities but a passing detective encouraged the family to turn the boy over to him so that he might ensure the boy would see justice. It was after the family were long gone that the detective revealed himself to be a conman named Holden, who would then take the young Reid under his wing. Reid was inducted into Holden’s Company shortly thereafter, a group of individuals who shared Holden’s anti-authority leanings and Robin Hood-like belief of creating a "better world", taking from the rich abusers to give to the destitute. Almost every current and future member would take the names of famous outlaws and revolutionaries to fit this vision. The gang quickly became a surrogate family to Reid, who took his own name and even dressed to resemble an old radio serial about a western hero who delivered justice, always enamoured by Holden's stories of such figures in history - even if fictitious. Alongside stories, Holden taught Reid how to properly read, write, hunt, shoot, and instilled in the boy a love of nature, freedom and appreciation for things beyond power or wealth. By the time Reid had become fully honed in his abilities, the First Contact War had long since ended and the group had secured more than enough funds to travel off-world. The initial years were promising, there was no shortage of corruption to plunder and no shortage of lost souls to join the cause, the Citadel races were too busy worrying about humanity as a whole to be concerned with a small fringe group and Holden’s Company weren’t picky when it came to which races a megacorp belonged to. But, eventually, humans settled in on Citadel space and more resources would be devoted to putting the gang down with each successful raid. More pressure would be placed on its members with each fallen brother or sister. Their leader, once steadfast and charismatic, became more and more insular as their “mission” seemed more pointless with each passing moment, for every building they cracked or good deed they did it never seemed to change anything. By the end, Holden’s Company seemed to devolve into taking from the rich and giving to themselves just to sustain their vision of a “better galaxy” for a little longer. Reid found himself arguing with his surrogate father constantly, his faith in their goals all but vanishing as it became clearer that their noble aspirations were just justifications to rob and kill and may well always have been. In Reid’s mind, they’d all become puppets, but only he could see the strings. Eventually, everything came to a head in 2177, during a raid on a luxury casino ship (“The Olympus”) moving through the Hades Nexus cluster. Being the “frontier” of Citadel space, their response was swifter than Holden’s Company could manage, already a shell of the group it once was. What resulted was chaos, strike teams boarding the vessel, multiple members of Holden’s Company dead, Holden himself allegedly shooting a civilian for no reason at all (though, even now, Reid would like to doubt he saw it happen exactly like that). Reid only got out by the skin of his teeth, hijacking one of the escape pods once it became clear it was every person for themselves. Information has been strictly tight-lipped about who exactly did and didn’t make it, only that the notorious Holden’s Company were “finished”. The following months were difficult. Finding civilization, scraping together the credits to run and hide out in the Terminus Systems, coming to the realisation that Reid was desperate and alone once again. The fall of his family hardened Reid considerably as he set about rebuilding some semblance of order back in his life. As one of the more noteworthy members of Holden's Company - some may say "the golden boy" - a bounty was placed on his head relatively quickly, it became just another thing to deal with. His need to always be on the move and stay off the grid constantly eat into the profits of his work, but he still fights on, hoping to earn enough to square his bounty. To become as "free" as he and his gang always claimed to be. Combat Analysis ◢ In a galaxy where people can harness mass effect fields or use the technology of the future to their advantage, one fact still remains true, with the right gun and know-how; you can kill anybody. While Reid may lack in biotic abilities and technical know-how, he is a wizard with a gun in his hands. Boasting lightning fast reaction speeds and deadly accuracy, he can switch from vicious hit-and-run tactics, keeping enemies in place with sustained fire or flushing them out with explosives, while drawing fire toward himself to always keep pressure on opponents even when outnumbered. Reid's time as part of a gang have also given him ample experience in analysing the strengths and weaknesses of allies and accomodate accordingly, while his time alone has honed his skills in self-preservation and survivability - always keeping on the move and controlling the pace of a battle as much as possible. Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢ Even by Reid’s standards, working with ExoGeni leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but what other choice is there? He has nothing but disdain for megacorps but Reid’s time as a vague revolutionairy is long over yet his bounty still hangs over his head like a guillotine. ExoGeni and the work they’re offering is one of the very few chances to have both the protection and credits needed to work on becoming a truly free man. Besides, they know who he is after going through all the trouble to contact him, there's little room for scruples at this point.

[mickilennial]

@Drag Interesting. Also looks like the fontmeme link broke because it wasn't embeded or copied somewhere else. Worth fixing at some point. I'll take a deeper look later.

@LetMeDoStuff Our first tech specialist. Neat. I'll have a read soon.

[Drag]

@Drag Interesting. Also looks like the fontmeme link broke because it wasn't embeded or copied somewhere else. Worth fixing at some point. I'll take a deeper look later.

@TGM

My b, should be sorted now

[Antediluvixen]

@Drag well shit there goes my plan for gunslinger quarian

[Drag]

@Drag well shit there goes my plan for gunslinger quarian

@Lady Lascivious

post 'em anyway if you wanna my friend, we need to try and ensure at least one huckleberry makes it into the rp

[mickilennial]

Yee haw?

[Fading Memory]

Yee-Haw

[Fading Memory]

Hyperion

Some appropriate tunes _______________________________________________ Personal Data D A T A Full Name - Laine Severn (formerly, Commander Laine Severn) Designation - Hyperion Species - Human Age - 55 (b. 2128) Origin - Earthborn Classification - Soldier Unique Specialization - Shock Trooper - Psyche Analysis P S Y C H E Revenant of War // Discipline, Determination, Tenacity "The war isn't over yet. Get back on your feet, soldier." Hyperion is defined by an incredible stamina and willpower. The former is incredible in that it spites his advancing age, whereas the latter is honed by decades of discipline and training. His tenacity and ability to push on through hardship has formed him into the anchor of many a squad, as well as the powerful pillar of strength for those who earn his trust. These positive traits are shadowed by their darker halves, however... His enduring and tenacious spirit make him rigid and unyielding. His tirelessness and physical discipline make him unsympathetic to the weakness of others. His trust, once earned, is unshakable; but the shadows of war and loss make it a hard-earned boon. Searching for Soul // Yearning, Guilt, Rage ”It felt good. Nothing can ever bring him back, I know that now, but Torfan… Torfan felt good. I don’t like that. I don’t know what it means for me.” Hyperion is wrestling with an emptiness. Volatile emotions whirl within at the thoughts of Torfan, his son, and the state of the Galaxy at large. Dreams of the stars turned to the nightmares of war; the hope of a family burned into the ashes of vengeance; duty to an ideal faded into the nothingness of the non-believer. He’s searching for something. Something to believe in. Equipment E Q U I P M E N T Jormangund Torrent Assault Rifle "Proud product of humanity, adapting the best of alien tech with our own; you can hold this baby's trigger down for practically the entire firefight without worrying about overheating. Takes spray and pray to a whole new level." Haliat Armory Stilleto "I will never disparage the quality of Turian ordnance. Their equipment is sturdy, functional, and packs a punch. A slaver nearly put a hole in my head with one of these, and once I recovered from the headache I knew I had to get one myself." Hane-Kedar Storm Shotgun "It's Ol' Reliable in classic shotgun form. It can handle any weather condition, foul temper, bad attitude, and foolhardy Tango Operative that you can conceive. Cheap to replace, too- but I'll be honest; the shotgun will probably outlast me." Systems Alliance Mk.14 Grenade(s) - High Explosive Module "Versatile and efficient. I prefer the High Explosive modification over others, I find that the higher yield leads to more utility as a breaching charge. Battlefield manipulation has become the realm of the Biotics, but I find that good, old fashioned, explosive threats can still get Op-For out of cover and into the killing field." Rosenkov Materials Heavy Titan Armor "Rosenkov is an old name, and I put stock in old names. They take pride in their work and it shows. Every dent in this armor is a reminder that it's doing its job." Record R E C O R D 2149 - Chasing A Dream: Joining the Systems Alliance Laine Severn, 21, joins the Systems Alliance. Dreams of the stars carry him forth. 2157 - First Contact War: Shanxi A Dream becomes a Nightmare; Severn earns his stripes. 2164 - ICT Program Graduation: Achieving N7 The Galaxy is large, crowded, and potentially hostile. The Alliance prepares Severn to face it. 2176 - The Skyllian Blitz + The Anhur Rebellions: The Wings of Vengeance Colonies torn asunder by conflict. On one, a war won; on the other, a son lost. 2178 - Massacre at Torfan: Prelude to the Fall Severn's vengeance is wrought. With his purpose fulfilled, the Galaxy feels empty. 2179-Present Day - The Lone Gun: Rock Bottom No longer driven by Duty or Purpose, Severn retires from the Alliance. The veteran soldier strikes out into the galaxy as a lone gun for hire, searching for a reason to live. In a grand sense of irony, he takes the name Hyperion. Connections C O N N E C T I O N S Suzette Norfleet // "The Witch." ”As brilliant a woman as they come. The citadel was seemingly a great place for a high grade psychologist to end up. Last I heard, she works for someone called ‘The Consort’. I don’t really understand it to be honest, but she seems fulfilled. We haven’t talked much since the divorce, but when work takes me to the Citadel she usually lends me a few words of advice. It always comes with a catch, though- that woman never changes... We're not as close as we used to be, but she was his mother and that still means something to me.” Fil’Zorul Nar Zako // "Phil." "Phil's a troublemaker, but weren't we all when we were young? Phil has a knack for getting into stupidly dangerous situations trying to make some money- but so far his track record shows him to be a squirrely bastard who's probably even smarter than I already think he is. The first time I met Phil, he was jury rigging combat mechs for a gang on Omega. I was hired to wipe that gang out, and he seemed enthusiastic about changing his career paths. Who knew that buying a lonely kid a few drinks would get a small army of mechs to switch sides and make that job one of the easiest paychecks of my career? I don't really reach out to Phil so much- but damned if he doesn't find a way to keep in contact with me. Odd jobs, rescue requests, and the occasional gem of scrap tech... I certainly find him plenty useful." Sur'Kesh Ol'Varo Hurloln Derhant Silik Vilani // "Queenie." "I've never actually met Queenie in person. Turns out she's someone in government in the Salarian Union or something, but to my understanding most of their women are. Sounds like a headache of familial ties to me. I call her Queenie and it seems to amuse her as much as me, so I figure she likes me well enough- but I'm always cautious with her. She's had me hunt down loose threads of her plots that displease her before, and I know that someday it might be my turn to end up on the executioner's block... But until then, she has high grade contacts, deep pockets, and values discretion. Hoorah."

Physical Details ◢ Rising to a height of five feet ten inches tall, Hyperion presents a well built figure. Not a slab of imposing meat or brutish demeanor of the musclehead- but the lean and disciplined frame of career hardship. Muscles are taut and whiplike, movements fluid and powerful, and his physical presence fills the air around him and makes him seem larger than he truly is. His body is marred by marks both fresh and faded. A myriad of combat wounds and surgery marks riddle his form, but most of his serious injuries over the years weren't able to be concealed by modern medical technology. Notably, a severe scar crosses over his face- an injury from a Batarian's knife- which has never faded fully over the years. His left forearm also bears the severe scarring of a Varren's mauling, this particular wound seeming to agitate him still despite the months of recovery. His body moves with the languid nature and cool comfort of one to whom armor is a second skin. Even while donning the heavy armor he is known for he makes movement and athleticism seem natural and easy. When operating without the constraints of gravity, he can even almost seem graceful thanks to his Zero-G training and operational experience. Grey hair accents the grizzled features of the aging man. His face is often rough from stubble, and if given enough time without a shave his beard would grow in thick and full- but by the time it would reach that point he has often brought it back down to rough stubble with the edge of a knife. His eyes, a crystalline blue, can appear quite stunning when they catch light- but are otherwise an extension of the emptiness that grips the man's emotional state. His expressions are subdued and gripped by severity, with rare moments of levity or brightness. His skin is darkened by years of sunlight, foreign and familiar, into a warm tan and lines or wrinkles of a lifetime of labor are beginning to furrow his face. Personal History ◢ Personal History RUINS ON MARS REVEAL ADVANCED TECHNOLOGICAL INNOVATIONS The headline was sweeping across every datasphere in comprehension. A young man's eyes were glued to the screen as information filled his mind. The world was shaking to its foundations; the colonies on Mars were euphoric and triumphant, the nations of old Earth were in uproar and chasing every thread imaginable. World leaders were calling for unity and co-operation. Something had changed. Something drastic. Something that filled the young man with dreams of the future. His hands trembled as he rapidly checked through different sites and sources- then the screen of his comm shimmered into that of receiving a call. "Oh my god, Suze." He said with haste upon answering the call. "Are you seeing this- Can you believe this- Alien tech-" "Yeah, I'm seeing it." She laughed through the call. "Isn't it amazing?" "I want to be a part of it." His voice trembled even as he said it, the words reaching his own ears at the same time they reached Suzette's. "Whatever it is, I want to be a part of it. This is the future- our future- out there." Memories of a young man The fate of Humanity changed in the year 2148. The discovery of the Prothean ruins on Mars and the unearthing of the mass-effect drives therein irrevocably catapulted the fledgeling species into the, unbeknownst to them, modern era. The following year, eighteen of Earth's largest nations signed the Systems Alliance Charter. The same year, a young Laine Severn forwent his intentions of pursuing an education in physical therapy and transferred to the newly established Systems Alliance Naval Academy. Shortly thereafter he married his highschool sweetheart, Suzette Norfolk. Their marriage was a happy thing, and while they were both in attendance of universities on Earth they spent as much time together as they could manage. Severn graduated and was given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. Suzette achieved her doctorate and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Johns Hopkins University. They discovered her pregnancy shortly before Severn's first tour of the stars began. Twelve months later, the now Staff-Lieutenant (B7) Severn returned home to a young, healthy, baby boy. Hope was kindled for the future. Sweat clung to his face. No matter how much it stung his eyes, raising his helmet to wipe the insufferable perspiration was out of the question. Silence hummed deafeningly in his ears. His eyes were straining. He took a steadying breath and relaxed. The stale stench of his own breath filled his nostrils, filtering with the fresh oxygen of the atmosphere of the planet. "Commander, movement." The voice crackled in his ear as a static inflected whisper. "Pos?" his own parched lips barely moved- radio chatter was dangerous. "Sector seven. Scavenge team returning." "Cover them." He finally moved. The stiffness of his limbs protested, but his armor silently maneuvered- despite the grime, lieutenant Severn kept his gear in high maintenance. The concealing blind he'd been positioned in shifted with him and soon he emerged, rifle braced to his shoulder, onto the outcrop he'd commandeered as a lookout. The city was in ruins. Smoke filled the air. Rubble still shifted uncertainly, prefab ferrocrete disintegrating and destabilizing adjacent structures even now- hours after the last bombardment. He cast his gaze skyward for a moment and swore he could see the bastards up there, gazing down at him, smug in their feelings of superiority... He hissed under his breath and tore his gaze from that haze filled, blood-red, sky. Sectors two through five were still burning. Nobody knew when the next orbital strike would fall. Nobody knew what the criteria for the strikes were; sometimes they fell on empty city blocks, sometimes it was as if the Turians knew exactly where to place the strikes to kill just a single squad of men. The only solace was that Op-For seemed to be avoiding the refugee centers. Seems even aliens had a conscience and rationale. That thought didn't diminish the rage and hatred burning in his heart. Memories of Shanxi Staff-Commander Severn, field promoted after an orbital strike by the Turian sieging forces killed his XO, was a prisoner of war on Shanxi. The dreams of a life among the stars became nightmares of war. The sight of city blocks evaporating into rubble from debris strikes seared into his mind. His hands were bloodied from carrying a wounded companion- bloodied from putting pressure on a wound- bloodied from killing a Turian with his knife- bloodied and clinging to a rifle as he screamed into the night air, his torrential gunfire ripping into the third story of a ruin to suppress a sniper team... Hoping that his bullets would find homes in Turian skulls rather than ferrocrete walls. He would never forget the hunger. The way he watched an old woman close her eyes to rest- only to never open them again, starvation claiming her at last. He would never forget the sight of General Williams issuing the surrender. He would never forget the feeling of being powerless. He would never forget the pride he felt when the Second Fleet turned the heavens into fireworks and the Turians realized that this war wasn't over yet. He would never forget the disappointment of being denied revenge. Peace was brokered. Diplomacy...prevailed. A council revealed; a grand stage presented itself. Humanity accepted the offered olive branch, and Commander Severn returned home. He takes after Suze, Severn thought to himself. He rubbed his hands together and focused back on the task at hand. With deft movements he slid the spatula across the grill surface, the metal on metal- Knife impacting armor- clang giving way to the sizzle of-Flesh, boiling after the impact of atmospheric debris. Bone revealed in an instant- burger meat as it charred on the grill. He flipped a patty, lifting his eyes to watch as the boy-ran for his life, the shadow of a building falling over his face the moment before realization hit his eyes- folded paper in a delicate manner. "Whatcha making?" He called out to the boy. He sniffed once, the smell of-Blood, charred flesh, gunsmoke- well-done beef wafting up to him. One more flip and the meat was deposited onto a plate, ready to be doctored up and served. "A crane today. Mama says that origami helps build focus and strengthens your attention span. She says she wished you would do it, too, you know." God above, he's so bright for a thirteen year old. Severn mused. "Your mother says a lot of things. Most of them are right." He said in a gruff voice. "...Almost all of them, really, but don't tell her I said that." His son's laughter was like ambrosia. It soothed his heart more than anything else in this world ever could. He opened his mouth to speak, but tensed up. Imperceptibly- but Suzette would notice. She always did. The door behind him slid open, and his hand tightened on the spatula he gripped. ... The year Severn spent at home was difficult. He got to see his child's thirteenth birthday. Got to meet some of his friends for the first time. Was able to attend one of Suzette's conferences on the subject of Human and Xenoneurological similarities. He had to restrain himself from punching one of her colleagues who wouldn't stop commenting on how 'astounding' the aliens' differences were... He felt if they were at Shanxi, they wouldn't find their differences so romantic. "...Laine, there's a man here to see you. From the Alliance." Suzette said in a quiet, delicate, voice. The way the tension eased out of his body when she said those last words wasn't lost on her. He knew she'd notice. The way she watched him was downright unnerving; their bedroom had been cold since Shanxi. Their dinner tables tense. Their home troubled. But through it all was the warmth and love of the boy, holding them together. Strong, for his sake. Severn nodded and set the plate aside, swiftly closing and turning off the grill. ... Cooking had been a sort of therapy for Severn. He'd taken to mastering the grill in his newly discovered free time. His mornings still started early with rigorous PT, his evenings were still spent in the discipline of exercise and study, but his days were devoid of the comradery he'd become used to on a ship, or the intimate bond of his fellow marines on a planet's surface, or the irrevocable bond of the prisoners of Shanxi... So he spent them with his son, with the grill, and with the oven. For a few months, he was content and able to forget Shanxi. That relaxation lasted only a short while, as whenever he found himself beginning to think about the sensation of peace the fires of war filled his mind again. Opportunity came knocking as tensions in his household rose. He blinked, and found himself seated across from a uniformed man- bearing no insignia or rank. "Commander, how has your vacation been?" "Restless, sir." He said evenly. "I understand that. The Alliance has an opportunity for you. Your record, and the testimony of those you served with on Shanxi, has made you a candidate." "A candidate?" "For the Interplanetary Combatives Training program. You're up for special forces, son." Severn breathed in quietly. Held the breath. Let it out. Shanxi flickered in his eyes. "Why me?" He asked at last. "Commander, we used to be big fish in what we thought was a galaxy sized pond. Turns out the pond was a thimble and now we're sure of nothing. Are you willing to fight for your species, son? Like you did on Shanxi? When your back was on the wall, you performed. That's what we're looking for. The training will be hard. There's no shame in turning down the offer." Severn rose to his feet and threw a formal salute. "Hoorah, sir. When do I ship out?" ...Memories of Opportunity Severn spent five years accomplishing the rigorous and brutal cycles of the ICT program. He was rarely home. His son grew into a man in the time he was away. His wife's accolades carried her into the stars. Severn achieved the rank of N7 the same year his son joined a colonial incentive scholarship with the Johns Hopkins university geological science program. He was following in his mother's footsteps, and Severn couldn't have been prouder. Elysium was a paradise, after all. Twelve years of special forces operations within Council Space and the Terminus Systems brought accolade and laudation upon Commander Severn (N7) and his family name. His son had become a respected geological scientist, Suzette had established herself as one of the pioneers of Human-Xeno relations on the field of brain study, and he was beginning to earn the reputation of a Hero of Humanity in the quiet circles who knew of his deeds. A problem arose in the Anhur system. Commander Severn and his task force were to assist the Human interests on the colony discretely; the Council was stonewalling Human requests for aid, and the Systems Alliance brass didn't want to risk destabilizing the delicate house of cards the Alliance Politicians were building on the Citadel... Which meant it was a one way trip. Severn tightened his grip on the Batarian's wrist and twisted his arm even more severely, his other hand braced on the prisoner's shoulder to secure the joint lock. "I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, Batarian. Where are the forces going to deploy at Bast?" "Fuck off!" the Batarian wheezed through clenched teeth. "If you were going to kill me, you would have by now- I'm not telling you anything!" Severn grunted with the effort and wrenched the Batarian's arm further, a sickening snap filling the air as he shattered the prisoner's elbow. With a derisive kick, he knocked the legs of the chair from under the screaming Batarian and walked from the room. He was shaking his head and staring at his hands quietly as the door sealed behind him. "Commander." A woman saluted by the door. "Any luck?" "No. He's as stubborn as they all are." Severn growled in his raspy voice. "Any luck with the communications?" "Aye, sir. We managed to receive a critical transmission across the emergency channel. Nothing for us, but..." Her hesitation brought Severn's eyes up from his hands and onto her own. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the bunker they operated out of, and tainted by the cruelty he felt justified in enacting just moments before. "But?" he queried sternly. The woman waivered, then spoke. "It's Elysium, sir. The Batarians are attacking it. It was a sudden assault, co-ordinated by a pirate warlord. They're sieging it. Last word out of the colony was that a debris strike was launched indiscriminately before raiding parties descended. It sounds bloody, sir." Severn fell silent at those words. After a few moments he raised his hand. "Lieutenant, your sidearm." "Sir, yes sir." She responded curtly, placing her pistol into his hand. She turned her back smartly as Severn entered the sealed room once more. She pretended she didn't hear the gunshot. Memories of Loss // The Haze of Vengeance The Anhur Rebellions were a blur of blood and smoke to Commander Severn. His unit operated with Eclipse Mercenaries as well as local militia, providing fire support and tactical supervision when able- and operating as a shadow unit of critical strike capability otherwise. The guerilla warfare of the local militia meshed well with the N7 task force's discretionary requirements, and the Eclipse mercenaries offered convenient excuses for direct confrontation when needed. All things considered, it was a bloody war- but one that abolitionists would probably remember as a victory for sapient being rights. Commander Severn would remember it as yet another circle of Hell he was passing through. When his unit was exfiltrated, the first news of home he received, purely due to a thoughtless organizational error of a rookie yeoman, was a declaration of intent to divorce. The second was that his son's funeral had already been held, and he was permitted to visit the honorary grave site at his leisure. The third was a briefing from Alliance brass about a retaliatory strike against the Batarians at Torfan. The Blitz had tipped the scales in favor of the Alliance; they could strike back now without fear of repercussion from the Citadel Council. The sky was on fire. Debris of an Alliance ship drifted overhead, flames licking across its hull as it split apart in the upper atmosphere and split into dozens of superheated fragments. Taking heavy losses- What the hell is going on down there- the radio crackled, and the sky split asunder as a series of Alliance warships unloaded a barrage that resulted in a cataclysmic series of explosions across the sky. The shockwaves rippled outward as the fleet continued its systematic eradication of the Batarian naval forces... Severn could almost feel the explosions in his skull. Shepard, what in God's name is going on- The Batarians are surren- Major Kyle's voice was trying to assert itself over the communications channels, but it was to no avail. The depths of the Batarian strongholds in the lunar surface were interfering with the communications to the command ship- but a signal on the moon's surface rang through strong and clear. This is for the Blitz. They took slaves and butchered our families even as they cowered in their homes. Show no mercy, accept no surrender. They've earned this. It's their turn to cry for help. Her voice was that of an Archangel. Her words were orders unto themselves; her wrath was contagious; her fury was Severn's own, boiling up from within and gripping the entire Galaxy in its destructive jaws. He descended into the labyrinthine fortress. The final level of Hell. He dove in head first, spearheading a charge into its darkness and depths with a scream of righteous fury. He held down the trigger of his rifle until the heat sink screamed and the gun broke apart in his hands. He slashed with his knife and clubbed with his pistol beyond the point of exhaustion and numbness. He screamed until his throat was raw and blood bubbled from his lips. He cried until he couldn't anymore. He killed until there wasn't anyone left to kill. When he came to, it was to Major Kyle's voice in his ear; May God have mercy on us all. Severn pushed himself off the ground, coated in the gore of his vengeance, and looked around slowly at the daze and fervor of his surviving allies. They'd just made Shanxi look like child's play. That realization struck him with such force it was like taking the first breath of fresh air in decades. Memories of the Massacre at Torfan Commander Laine Severn (N7) retired after the battle of Torfan. He finally visited his son's grave and found he had no more tears to shed. The hollowness of guilt gripped his heart. His faith in Humanity was shaken. He disappeared into the Galaxy at large. Combat Analysis ◢ "Form up on me; Op-For consists of five tangos, well equipped and ready for us. They're itching to get out of this in one piece just like we are. Call your shots and keep friendlies in periphery. Tight formation; anchor on me; sweep and clear. On my mark... Go." Hyperion has the training of an elite N7 Commando, with specialized training in Shock and Awe tactics and leadership experience in squad based operational scenarios. In plain language, he's a tough sonuvabitch with command experience who likes to end fights quickly. He is well versed in the handling of all modern equipment of war, with a foundation of terrestrial vehicle operation and shuttlecraft piloting- though these are not his area of expertise. The most stunning aspect of Hyperion's combat analysis is the mastery of his armor systems and his role as the 'anchor' of a squad's maneuvers... His own lethality is impressive; his ability to take a hit and get back up is incredible; his capacity to enable the success of others in his unit, however, is what truly sets him apart. "I don't want to see anyone playing hero. Watch my back and I'll watch yours; if we can't agree to that, then nothing else matters." Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢ "I was hitting the bottom of my cred line. You can't really 'disappear' on Illium, but I'm a nobody there unless someone needs to hire a gun. The only issue is that damn near everything costs double on that planet. I was scraping together the last of the creds to punch my ticket on a shuttle off-world and coming up short when I got a ping from Queenie. She always seems to find me when I need money the most, so I took the call... Exo-Geni. Big name, big work. I didn't have anything better to do and funds were low. I told Queenie that she'd have to forward me the fare for transport; she told me I'd have to pay her back with interest. Fair enough, Queenie. Fair enough."

Edit: I realized I spelled 'Ordnance' 'Ordinance'. Hyperion can probably disparage Turian Ordinances quite well, but not their Ordnance.

Edit 2: Added a song link to a tune I felt appropriate to the character.

edit 3: a word

[KaiserElectric]

Sunder

_______________________________________________ Personal Data D A T A Full Name - Avicia Sancrius Designation - Sunder Species - Turian Age - 29 (b. 2154) Origin - Altakiril Classification - Engineer Unique Specialization - Turian Demolitionist - Psyche Analysis P S Y C H E The Mad Scientist Avicia is in possession of an incredibly bright mind, albeit one that probably had something important knocked loose a long time ago. Unquestionably gifted in a variety of fields, her insatiable drive for knowledge and discovery pairs like sodium and water with her penchant to go with whatever off the wall idea pops into her head that moment. She thrives in chaos, especially the chaos she creates herself, and friend and foe alike often have trouble adapting to her sheer unpredictability. Of Course I'm Right! Brimming with perpetual confidence, Avicia Sancrius likes to think she has all the answers, and more often then not, she does. She's not modest in her success and will happily inform you many times over when something turns out in her favor, or a solution she provided worked marvelously. On the other hand, she'll tend to excuse things not quite going according to plan, and while she's capable of admitting when she's made a mistake, it definitely needles her a bit when she has to admit fault. Endlessly Exploring Avicia rarely sits still, rarely leaves a stone unturned, and will always try something at least once. She's friendly to nearly everyone at first glance, and more then friendly to a select few, but overall dislikes leaving people feeling cold towards her, even if they rarely stick around long enough to be more then acquaintances. A bit of an epicurean, she's also well-versed in many forms of pleasure seeking, to put it mildly, and isn't adverse to doing something foolhardy or dangerous, if only for the sheer sake of doing it. Avicia would call herself open-minded, though others would probably see her as restless or anxious. Both would be right, in a sense. Equipment E Q U I P M E N T ERCS Hurricane A reliable turian-made shotgun, meticulously maintained from her days in the service. Good at dealing with foes who get too close for comfort, and light enough to be carried alongside heavier ordinance. Halliet Stiletto A gift from an unusual friend that's gotten her out of more then a few tough spots. Not the best range for weapons like it, but it's pretty good in a scuffle and it punches through armor quite nicely! HC-12 Demo Charges Simple, versatile, and unquestionably effective. Great for breaches and general destructive power, they attach to nearly any surface and can be remotely detonated or set to a timer. M-100 Grenade Launcher A standard among Terminus system mercenaries, Avicia altered hers somewhat to fire a variety of specialty grenades in addition to the normal high explosive variant, such as smoke and stun grenades. Record R E C O R D Special Intervention Unit The Special Intervention Unit is a batarian special forces division infamous for its brutal training program and discipline; Avicia, when enslaved and trained in the same methods by her batarian master, found it quite fun. Nevertheless, despite no official training, Avicia is well versed in the aggressive tactics of the batarian special forces, being well-versed in shock tactics, demolitions, and subterfuge techniques. Destruction of the Shulgen While suffering from severe burns, Avicia Sancrius infiltrated the vessel of the notorious Batarian warlord Khagrum, planting a series of explosive charges that destroyed the engine, killing the warlord and his crew and sparking off a major battle between the remainder of Khagrum's fleet and the turian task force nearby. Managing to escape from the ship before its destruction, she was rescued from the scene of the battle by a fleeing batarian frigate and escaped to Omega. Assault On The Graychain Gang In her first forays with independent contracting, Avicia was hired by mercenaries in the Blue Suns private security firm to assist in an operation to liberate high value targets being held captive by a band of smugglers known as the Graychain Gang. Spearheading a surprise attack that disabled the gang's ships and pinned them so the Blue Suns could move in, the success of the mission put Avicia's unusual talents on the map and led to a working relationship with the Suns going forward. Connections C O N N E C T I O N S Nels Dusron A Volus merchant actively working in the Terminus Sector, and Avicia's first boyfriend. The two drifted apart after Avicia entered national service, but the two remain on good terms and are able to rely on one another if trouble comes their way. Oram Das'saba To anyone looking from the outside, Oram is Avicia's master, a fair if firm hand who's maybe a little too trusting of his turian thrall to let her galivant across the galaxy so frequently. Underneath the surface though the two are partners, conspirators in a desperate attempt to enact real change in batarian society. In both cases, he tends to be gruff, unfriendly, no-nonsense, and kind of an all around bastard, he's nevertheless stoically devoted to his beliefs (whichever one he wants to show you at the time) and his friends. Despite their highly unusual history and circumstance, Avicia considers the gruff batarian the closest thing to a father figure she's ever had, and though he'd sooner be caught dead then admit it, Oram feels the same way. Caelnia Terraka A Turian mechanic working in the Blue Suns that Avicia shared a wild romantic fling with, which prompted Caelnia to offer her the job that got her regular work from the Suns. The two share more of a working relationship then a romantic one nowadays, but it's not odd for them to get together to blow off a little steam once in a while. Cerbon Srenda A roaming, battle-scarred Krogan merc with his own ambiguously criminal gang. Avicia's worked with him and against him on numerous missions depending on who was paying whom, and despite being on the opposite team more times then once the two share a friendly rivalry with one another.

Physical Details ◢ Avicia stands at a wiry 6'6, with simplistic green clan markings adorning her tanned carapace. She wears light armor modified from a set of Hahne-Kedar Mantis armor, and outside of a firefight her wardrobe tends to consist of eclectic mixes from all over, usually favoring some sort of lab gear. She'd sooner be caught dead then without her lucky pair of lab specs, protective goggles that she keeps around her neck when not wearing them in firefights or doing SCIENCE. She also tends to have her two pet space ferrets, Kemerskai and Astler, close on hand. Personal History ◢ Born on the icy garden world of Altakiril, Avicia was made a ward of the state before her first birthday, her mother passing away in childbirth and her father dying in a training accident. Growing up in the unpleasant and ramshackle Altakiril Orphanotroph, one of the state-mandated organizations intended to raise orphans, the little turian proved to have an insatiable appetite for knowledge, paradoxically finding the state-mandated classes dull and boring and instead preferring to get an education first hand by going exploring, sneaking into libraries and wealthy homes to read fancy high-end books, and spying on important people and events to see what they were up to. Suffice it to say the caretakers at the Orphanotroph found the rambunctious Avicia to be quite the handful and were grateful to send her off to state-mandated national service, where the more disciplined Hierarchy would hopefully drill some discipline into her. Recognizing her keen intellect, after the first mandatory year of boot camp her superiors assigned Avicia to the Corps of Engineers, and in a decision that would have probably given her old caretakers a heart attack, assigned her to a demolitions team, tasked with clearing old infrastructure in preparation for new projects. Finding the job quite compelling, it seemed Avicia was on the path to straightening out when her unit was transferred to the colony of Argentos, tasked with reinforcing the garrisons with new defensive structures. Her job was quickly rendered moot when the colony was set upon by the vicious batarian warlord, Khagrum the Amber. The warlord announced his intentions by launching an orbital strike on the fuel refinery Avicia was stationed at, detonating the volatile fuel reserves and immolating dozens of soldiers and civilians alike in a single blow. As the survivors were entrenching for a fight, the navy task force pursuing the warlord caught up to the fleet and surrounded him, forcing a standoff. Realizing that attacking the warlord would be a costly victory, the admiral in charge of the task force instead offered terms, and over tense negotiations, Khagrum agreed to stand down and put a permanent end into his raids on turian space in exchange for safe passage home for his own fleet. A peaceful retirement without consequences for Khagrum, and a bloodless victory and the removal of a powerful threat to Hierarchy interests in the region. Everyone wins. Avicia was oddly quiet about it. She'd been oddly quiet ever since she got back from the refinery, half-dead and severely burnt like the other survivors. So quiet in fact, that no one noticed she was suspiciously absent from the infirmary when Khagrum's shuttle returned to his flagship, her commander assuming she was still indisposed when she didn't arrive for departure with the rest of her unit. Avicia's whereabouts were quickly forgotten though when the batarian warlord's flagship suddenly exploded, sparking off the bloody fight that both sides sought to avoid. The Battle of Argentos would go on to be one of the many hostilities between the batarians and the citadel races in the leadup to the Skyllian Blitz, only notable because it started over a tragic misunderstanding and a horrific accident. Though that's only because no one thought to follow up on the missing explosives that Avicia attached to the engine of Khagrum's ship. Underhanded perhaps, but if anyone objected, they could take it up with the charred remains of his victims, Avicia thought. Slipping onto an escape pod as her trap was set to go off, she planned to head back to Argentos when the bomb went off slightly too early, shaking the escape pod violently enough to knock her out combined with her burn wounds. As the battle drew to a close and the Batarians went into retreat, the Hensa-class cruiser Aankhen spotted the escape pod and, assuming it was a friendly, picked it up as it made its escape deeper into the Terminus system. When she was discovered and it became clear exactly what she had done, Avicia was all but marked for death by her batarian captors and yet was spared by an unlikely savior. Oram Das'saba, a commander in the Special Intervention Unit, saw potential in someone with the skills to pull off such an act of subterfuge and asserted his authority to take the prisoner for himself, enslaving Avicia to save her life. Spirited away to her new master's home in Camala, Avicia's natural talents and minimal training were honed further by the brutal training of the SIU given by her new master until she was experienced enough to be brought along on missions with her master, acting as his agent and enforcer. Such duties were atypical of a society where most enslaved prisoners were worked to death in the mines, but as she later learned, Oram was rather atypical of his species himself. Despite nominally being an agent of the Hegemony, Oram was a reformist, one of many hidden opponents to the government who believed that batarian society needed to change drastically, and that the Hegemony needed to liberalize and rejoin the galactic community, lest it face imminent collapse. With open rebellion being practically suicide, Oram and his allies had worked in the shadows to gather support and cripple their enemies in the hopes of one day toppling the Hegemony, a task which Avicia's talents would serve well, and having witnessed the Hegemony's brutality firsthand, Avicia was only too happy to help. As a result, Oram official granted her permission to collect a share of his payment for mercenary work (which he was already giving to her anyway under the table), enough to buy her way into a higher caste in batarian society. Thus she went into mercenary work semi-independently, on paper still a slave of her master acting on his orders, but in truth largely independent, and a reliable ally in Oram's brewing resistance. Higher status in batarian society brought better contracts and better paychecks, and money and independence in Avicia's hands is a dangerous thing. Resuming her old curiosities in earnest, the turian gained a reputation as a reliable if volatile scientist and mercenary, her experiments and antics proving almost as destructive and chaotic as her work in the field. Things are largely going well for her, with plans to move to a brand new lab on Illium, but in the shadows something much bigger is brewing. A shakeup in the Hegemony's government had left several prominent positions opened, positions which Oram is rapidly working to fill with his own agents, including a member of the Technocratic Board. An agent in such a high position on Khar'shan itself could be the lynchpin for an eventual uprising, and despite such a move being unprecedented, Oram wants that agent to be Avicia, citing her scientific prowess and her unquestioning loyalty to stave off any misgivings about her race. Indeed, the biggest obstacle to such a goal is not her race but her caste, something she'd need one hell of a paycheck to make work. Combat Analysis ◢ Shock in awe in the bluntest sense possible. While Avicia has the hardcore training of the SIU and the experience and quick-thinking of a hired gun, her expertise lies her clever use of high explosives, staggering and knocking back enemies with a well-timed grenade, turning the environment against a foe with a perfectly placed demolition pack, and in general hitting as hard as possible so a hostile doesn't get the chance to react. Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢ The money from this job with ExoGeni would be enough to help her move to a higher social standing in the Hegemony as well as continue her research. Why, if she's lucky, she could even score a high-ranking government position if she gets her rank up in time.

[mickilennial]

This means we have 4-5 sheets yet to be proposed. Really good work for such a hectic time of the year.

Additionally, I'll be making a decision on the roster sometime after Christmas. I'm thinking around December 30th.

[Starlance]

Love how all but two characters submitted so far have at least one instance of beating the tar out of batarians somewhere in their backstory. Nothing like shared hobbies to truly bind the group together.

[Falkas]

[mickilennial]

Love how all but two characters submitted so far have at least one instance of beating the tar out of batarians somewhere in their backstory. Nothing like shared hobbies to truly bind the group together.

@Starlance

@Heat thought about making a Batarian, lol.