It felt as if they had been in the jungle for weeks with shit just going from bad to worse. Silver kept up an impressive pace, despite the tangled forest floors best effort to impede him. Behind the cyborg all manner of hell was breaking loose as firebombs carved their way through both man and nature. Silver had no idea if this was to their advantage or not but either way he had to keep moving.
Shots were randomly being sprayed throughout the trees with several heavy duty rifle rounds barely missing Silver. The cyborg felt a tightening in his chest as shook loose a thought for his drone.
“I’ll never get rid of the blasted thing,” he muttered to himself.
He tried, for a moment, to use his ethereal abilities to blink through a particularly thick set of ferns and vines but he was unable to concentrate. Instead he fumbled and tripped, crashing through them and falling into a puddle of mud.
Planetside, he seethed before picking himself up.
Before him, the ocean of trees had begun to part, several small trails could be seen with what looked like a road in the distance. Just then, a message came through from Jerry, Silver assumed that his position wasn’t worth hiding anymore as the signal from this would give him away. Sure enough, it was a notice that everyone, including the cyborg, was being tracked by the Unztadtlige and it would be raining down personalised mortar fire for all.
There was no longer any choice, if Silver wanted to live to see another day, he would have to abandon his team and try to outrun the creatures range. Even then that task seemed near impossible. The cyborg broke into a sprint, charging down one of the trails and hitting the road.
Silver wormed his way through the husks of dead vehicles scattered along the highway. Far ahead he could see that the treeline gave way to a destroyed gate as friendly markers began to appear on his HUD, a thick blob of blue.
That must be the park.
The cyborg's timing was seamless as a message came through, almost as clear as day. Whoever it was had a plan, one that involved jamming the Unztadtlige’s tracking signal. Still he was wary of trusting his own HUD, the voice could just be another enemy, though at least Silver could lead the mortars right to them.
A second message came through, one of the bioconstructs had caught up, the bastard moved devilishly fast. The voice commanded the cyborgs team to take it out of action before it reached the park.
The clearness of the signal gave Silver the confidence to try and reach out to his squad.
“To any friendly’s out there, I can take that walker out by putting a rifle round through that thing's knees. I only need assistance in overloading its shield.”
With that he parked his rifle across the bonnet of a burnt out car, focusing in on the construct as it made its way through the trees and waited for the perfect opportunity to strike.
As with all of the tank breds, Tak was imprinted with the extensive knowledge of the four major subjects to life; linguistics, mathematics, science and social studies. Each of these subjects were then pinned under the umbrella of warfare, with all tank breds being taught how to use each field, and sub-heading of that field, to their advantage in war. The genetics of all tank bred pure Krogans were made to be state of the art, enabling them more control over their base instincts, ensuring better performance under high-stress situations.
As a result, Tak was born, handed a shotgun and dropped straight onto the frontline. Warfare came as easy to him as breathing, cutting through enemy lines alongside his cohort with little trouble. For the first five years the tank bred acted without thought or hesitation, following his orders to the letter. Unlike his naturally born counterparts, Tak fought with no rage, no anger or bloodlust, he was cold, calculating and if need be, ruthless, similar to that of a machine.
It wasn’t until adolescence that Tak had his first real thought. At the age a five, a gnawing began under the plate of his brow. A slow, burning ebbing that was akin to a spark that would light a forest fire, like being born again but spiritually rather than physically. It was an anger and hatred that began to grow inside of him but not of those he faced on the battlefield, no, this was about control.
With each order given to him, every life he took, every world he scarred, that feeling grew. He didn’t fully understand it or where it came from but the feeling was like a virus that spread throughout the tank breds. For Tak, emotion began to swarm his mind, overloading his senses to the point where he began to lag behind when compared to his brothers. Eventually frustration boiled over into an incident on an Asari settled world. An event that would become a catalyst for his future behaviour and something that got him pulled from the front line.
His superiors blamed all of this on Tak’s move into an adolescent stage and a failure to take the Right of Passage. But even now, after the death of Fortlack and the taking of his own Right of Passage, the feelings have not dissipated.
After becoming further disillusioned by his own brethrens political games and ploys, Tak began to research matters of the soul, coming across philosophy and the works of several human philosophers. Slowly he has begun to realise that he has a “monster” inside of him, one that lusts after war and death with an insatiable hunger. He fears that if he feeds that monster, then it will consume him.
Out of fear of what he can do to others, Tak isolates himself, avoiding contact, instead trying to get a hold of his emotions. Any attempts to pry these emotions or deeper thoughts out of him lead to an outburst of frustration and rage. Instead preferring to work through these problems alone, attempting to understand why he is like this and how he can forever kill the monster inside.
The council of Pure Krogan’s either overlook these feelings or are unaware, instead seeing Tak’s value as a warrior. As a result the tank-bred is being lent to those in power as a further extension of their peace ambitions, hoping that his success in the Spectre program will bring them closer to ending the war.
Phys. Eval.:
Tak stands at an imposing 2.75m, amassing 320kg of pure Krogan. He is daunting to look at and inspires fear in most creatures (just as he was bred to), possessing an incredible amount of strength. He was also bred to have much stronger plating, with more of it covering his body then regularly born Krogan.
Maturing into adolescence, he has moved from a dark green colour into a metallic blue, with his head plate still forming. It's unclear if his unusual colour comes from his genetic alteration, or if this is simply just a phase of adolesence but there appears to be no downside to this.
(OOC: Please ignore the tail in the picture, his tail is regular Krogan size, I'm just unable to edit it out. Cheers.)
Biotics:
Born as a Battlemaster, the Neo-Krogan biotics have very much become an extension of his fighting style and emotions. Always possessing the ability to put up a barrier and perform a biotic charge , Tak has seen the recent addition of being able to release a flare . Pent up emotions of unstable rage and anger allow him to release a massive biotic charge, though it leaves him exhausted, drained and even vulnerable after.
Qualifications:
Tak is the pinnacle of genetic technology, being bred with the strength and resilience of Krogan, the intelligence of Salarians, the martial discipline of Turians, the adaptability of humanity and even the dexterity of Drell albeit rather wasted on the Krogan physiognomy. Specifically Tak was bred to be a daunting figure in an attempt to demoralise the enemy before they even picked up a rifle.
He has fought extensively on the front lines of the Neo-Krogan Rebellions and as a result is able to operate medium to heavy weaponry, employ the use of demolitions and can lead small unit’s on the battlefield.
History:
One hour was all it took for the tank bred to be thrust onto the front line. Born, handed a shotgun and told to take a hill alongside his freshly, fully formed brethren, Tak was dropped onto a planet he had only dreamed about in the tank. It was a process that would be repeated for the next five years, being dropped into wherever the fighting was the heaviest and turning the tide of the war.
There was no significance in those battles, for every enemy that fell, another fifteen would take their place. For every world they took, another would appear on their strategic map with their superiors salivating at the idea of conquering it. It was monotonous, endless violence where everyone in it fought in a cruel and brutal manner.
Fortlack and the other Rebel clan leaders saw the tank breds as nothing but an edge over their enemies, a strategic gold mine that would see them to glory and victory. As such, there was no line that they wouldn’t make the tank breds cross, slaughtering civilians in person or from space, execution of POWs, mutilation of their enemies, biological warfare, it didn’t matter. For the newborn Krogan, their actions were meaningless, there was no difference between man, woman or child, there was simply the objective as they didn’t know any better.
Tak was no different in the beginning, engulfed in battle he would have no trouble gunning down whatever creature stood in the way of his objective, tearing apart other races limb by limb if need be. Every night he would dream of nothing but more warfare, the imprint of his tank life haunting his subconscious every time he shut his eyes.
Among his squad there was little chatter within those first years. There was no aggression or animosity between them like the naturally born Krogan. Instead they walked around in a kind of zombified state, aware of each other's existence but knowing the acknowledgement of such things was meaningless.
Even now Tak couldn’t tell you what day that all began to change. A feeling in his head began to grow, starting like a headache, something began to gnaw behind his forming plates. It was so subtle at first that the only memory worth remembering was an instance where his squad was preparing for an ambush. There he was, primed to take the first shot, eying down his enemy through the sight of his gun with his finger stroking the trigger ever so delicately, waiting for the precise moment to strike.
But then, right as the order was given, a sharp pain in that spot caused him to miss the shot. He had never missed a shot under those circumstances before, though his team successfully mopped up the enemy squad, the moment resonated with him.
It wasn’t long before he found himself drawn to similar events, questioning superiors orders, slight hesitations when it came to the gunning down of other Krogan and pausing momentarily at the death of his allies. Something began to stir inside his chest, like that feeling behind his plate had grown like a vine, twisting its way down his spine and around his hearts.
That same something began to stir in all tank breds and over time, these anomalies began to grow to the point that Fortlack began to take notice. Older tank bred Krogan began being put forward for almost suicidal runs to stop them from reaching maturity while stepping up production of fresh specimens. Those who survived began to organise meetings in secret, away from the natural borns. The tank breds had grown smart enough to know that they were experiencing an awakening, an adolescence and maturity in which they would be able to form their own identity.
Shaman were created in an unofficial capacity, hidden among the ranks with only the pure and true Krogans having knowledge of who was who. With this newfound sense of identity each tank bred was free to choose a clan of their choice, taking a step forward and coming closer to the realisation of a new destiny.
Still wrestling with these new feelings, Tak sought out a Shaman in his unit. Tak was told of how their superiors had made them fight without honor and this is why they had been given a new awareness. So they could see the truth and through the lies of their superiors, that there would be a new day dawning for the Krogan and the formation of a grand final clan in which the true Krogan would lead.
The Shaman told Tak that in order to rid himself of these feelings, he must fight with honour and in the name of his brothers and sisters, not for Fortlack and his kind.
One day they had been tasked to invade an Asari settled world. Their superiors had deemed the factories and mines of that world to be important enough to launch a full scale invasion, rather than trying to bomb it from orbit. This should have been a routine run for Tak, it wasn’t his first time taking a world the other races called home, they all knew civilian casualties would be high and unavoidable.
Tak and his squad were dropped from orbit in pods into a town at the foot of an eezo mine. The community was etched in between a valley with the Asari fortifying a frontline at the only road into town. Though they had littered AA guns throughout the houses, they weren’t enough to stop the Rebel Clans assault. Tak’s squad (along with other squads) dropped in behind the frontline defences and assaulted them from the rear.
Tak himself was shot off course, flak from an AA gun glanced his pod, sending him crashing through the roof of a hall. As soon as the doors flew off he was set upon by a natural born Krogan, the two rolling around on the floor as screams erupted from all around them. Instinct had kicked in and it wasn’t before Tak gained an upper hand, freeing himself up to grab his combat knife. Just as he went for the killing blow, he was hit by two biotic charges, causing him to fall back on his ass and off the Krogan.
Again, instinctively, Tak reached for his assault rifle, pulling it from his back and taking aim towards whatever had fired the charge. The Krogan on the ground screamed for Tak to stop, holding up his hand and slowly getting to his knees. Behind him were two small Asari’s, children in appearance, their faces soaked in tears. Confused Tak uttered what felt like his first fully formed sentence to anyone outside of the clan. He asked the Krogan why he fought with children, what kind of tactic was this?
The Krogan replied that he was no soldier, this was his family, their mother was defending the front gate but he had left Tuchanka long ago, no longer wishing to be a part of the constant cycle of violence. Tak knew that their mother was dead and said there was no escape for them but the Krogan asked him to help them get out through a secret tunnel in the mines. The Krogan told Tak that he didn’t have to be a part of this, he could make a choice like he once did and that there was more to life than this.
Tak could feel the tearing of his soul as his nature wrestled with itself. He could hear the Shaman’s words, that this Krogan had forgone his honour by leaving his clan but there was more to this, the genophage had taken away their ability to have children but still life had found a way. The Asari were so delicate, how could they love something so brutish? Then there was the innocence in the children's eyes, what was all of this?
Emotions overwhelmed the tank bred, he began to tear apart the kitchen in a fit of rage before aiming a gun at the Krogan on the floor. Tak told him that he was without honour for leaving his kin and as such he would be killed but, in the same vein, his children would be spared and be allowed to leave. The Krogan agreed and asked his children to turn away.
Tak killed the Krogan just as his squad arrived. The other tank breds had slaughtered the defenders at the entrance and were sweeping the town clean, as per orders. Tak explained to his squad what had happened and that their Shaman had spoken to him about honour. The others were unsure what order to disobey, they were each in their own stage of awakening and it was something that manifested individually.
It only took one of the other tank breds to decide that their orders were more important for things to go south. His squad member raised his shotgun at the two little girls and Tak snapped. He tore into his squadmate, screaming for the girls to run and fought a brutal hand to hand fight.
In the end it took 5 tank breds to take Tak down, not knowing if the girls had got away. Luckily for him, the mutiny had occurred. Fortlack and any who stood with him had been killed and a New Pure Krogan council had been formed. Tak’s outburst was put down to him going through adolescence and he was ordered to be taken from the front lines to undertake their newly formed Right of Passage.
He thought all of this would bring him peace but away from the front lines he had become more restless than ever. The Krogan’s words that day had stuck with him, adding to the gnawing feeling in his soul. More than that the new council of Krogan had made Tak a pawn in their own political games, offering him up as a part of their peace proposal. The Shamans' promise of a grand new Clan had begun to ring hollow as Tak saw his older brethren fall into the same patterns of control.
But rebellion had got them nowhere, so Tak hatched a plan. He would play the good soldier, serving the New Council and C-sec to the letter, all the while hatching an escape plan. When the prospect of renewing the Spectre program came up, with the addition of moving out from the immediate thumb of their superiors, Tak jumped at the opportunity. He petitioned the New Council to be their representative, to which they agreed.
Position:
Tak's primary role is a Shock Trooper and although he may have other talents, he has no idea what they could be. At least he’ll be good for heavy lifting in the meantime.
Recruited:
No
Inventory & Logistics:
Weapon wise Tak has the following in his possession: - Graal Spike Thrower - Striker Assault Rifle - ML-77 Missile Launcher
Armour wise, Tak sports medium armour, allowing him to be more fluid in combat. Together with his natural shell, both layers provide the protection level of heavy armour when it comes to covering his vital organs. Though this leaves some of his joints exposed.
Notoriety:
5/10
Due to his unique genetic design, Tak is well known within the Neo-Krogan’s, though they do not know him personally. Outside of their clan, he is relatively unknown.
Misc.:
Tak has brought on board training equipment, books and bookshelves, as well as a computer for access to the internet. All donated by his government.
A blinding light enveloped the area as the last of the mortars fell on their crash site. It was so bright that Silver had to momentarily dim the feed coming from his visor. His cybernetic sensors were fast becoming overwhelmed as the deafening screams of warfare ripped through the trees, from the thunderous crashes of mortars to the whip like cracks of rifle fire.
The Voidhanger had never been through anything like this.
Sure back in the day there was the odd mission that went south but, planetside, the worst that Silver had faced was a squad or two of personal guard. Lightly armoured, these goons had pea shooters by comparison, attempting to stop the assassin from his mark. But even still, all of this was done in the Core of the UCL, there was a decorum there, a sense of style and grace that everyone followed, as if they were shooting in a grand library or during a ball. This, this was different; dirty, heavy, ugly, it was nothing but grunt warfare. The kind meant for mindless drones and their puppeteer superiors who threw toy after toy at each other until one fell over in defeat.
Silver shifted, changing which knee was planted in the dirt, trying to loosen up. The artificial adrenaline shot had long worn off and Jerry was taking its sweet time scanning the area. It was so long that the cyborg had begun to take note of his surroundings. Dead plantlife littered the floor of the rainforest, fallen leaves from the thick canopies above layered the ground. Everything and everywhere was wet with the humidity caused by the constant shade. Around Silver, thick roots from large trees ensconced him, as smaller ferns and shrubs reached out to try and touch him.
All of it made his skin crawl, he could practically feel the bacteria.
Ugh, planetside.
He thought, as he rubbed his throat with his hand.
Host, Silver, my analysis is complete.
The sound of Jerry’s small robotic voice played in Silver’s helmet, breaking his concentration as the drone breached this side of the forest.
“What have you got for me Jerry?” he replied.
The drone climbed down the trunk of the closest tree. An odd little thing, Jerry was shaped similarly to a CCTV camera from the 21st century. A large lens at the front enabled it to scan things at a tremendous distance and in surprising detail. Even more surprising was its ability to transform and flatten itself out so perfectly, it fit within Silvers’ leg armour without being noticed.
Midway down the trunk, Jerry stopped, looking up before leaping out towards Silver. Once in the air, two little panels flung open, revealing VTOL like propellers. It was a simple, and often unexpected design, that allowed the drone to infiltrate into most situations unseen and unheard, aiding it’s host tremendously.
Would you like the good news or the bad news?
Silver flashed a quick smirk under his helmet, followed by a reprimanding tone.
“Jerry, I’m not sure this is the right time to test out that humour update I gave you.”
Apologies, Host, Silver, it was assumed that humour might help you with your overwhelmingly negative situation.
The cyborg’s head dropped, as his hand slowly tried to wipe the stress from his face.
“Just…” he exhaled,
“Fine, the bad news.”
Silver’s HUD lit up like a Christmas tree on crack. A small topical map of the area appeared on screen with their enemies positions being highlighted in a thick red mass.
There is a large group of enemies encroaching on you and your team's position. A forward team of what appears to be simply equipped humans are taking point; followed by heavily armed bio-walkers and a heavy ordinance Unztadtlige in the far back. Scans also indicate that another potential mortar team is moving towards the crash site, though I was not able to confirm this. On top of this there is a large contingency of enemies waiting for you to enter the city.
Jerry paused, its learning algorithm had predicted a 90% chance that it’s Host would reply with a sarcastic quip at this point. Instead Silver motioned for the drone to continue, it would make the appropriate adjustments to it’s behavioural monitors of its Host later.
Other members of your team,
Several individual blue lights appeared on screen, paling in comparison to the red that covered the map.
Have been engaged.
Small little red lines indicated the direction of live fire towards some of the blue dots on the map.
Silver sighed, looking down and around, as if the answer to his problems were to be found elsewhere. Outgunned, outnumbered and in the middle of nowhere, the odds couldn’t be more stacked against them.
“Ok,” he said, looking up,
“and the good news?”
The drone whipped around the cyborg, zipping back and forth in front of him, as if excited by all the action.
A few members of your team, yourself included, have not been spotted. We have also detected a clearing to the East of the city, a residential area, devoid of enemy signatures. It appears to be an ideal location to regroup.
“Or for an ambush.”
My scans did not indicate…
“Yes, yes, I know,” Silver said, shoeing the drone away.
“I was just thinking out loud.”
Suddenly an ear piercing whine came through the comm channel as the mysterious voice returned.
“-IN THE TRANSPORT WRECKAGE, IS HE-…- AT THE PARK-…-HAVE VISUAL CONTACT WITH THE RECLAI-…-MULTIPLE HOSTILES-…-REGROUP AT-…-JAMMER DEVICE PREP-…-“
“Jerry, anything you can do to clear up that signal?”
Not without giving away our position, Host, Silver. Though the park referenced in the message lays just before the residential area.
The cyborg stood, looking the way of the park as if he could see it through the thick collection of trees. He was so close and no one had noticed him, not even anyone on his team. He could easily make it there alone and continue on to complete the mission. Not even the GES would know.
Jerry, seemingly noticing his Host’s hesitation, sprouted its legs and flung himself onto Silvers’ arm. The cyborg looked down as the drone crawled up and onto his right pec, inching it’s scanning lens (or eye) towards his face.
“Don’t you give me that look Jerry.”
The drone was silent, refusing to move from its stance. A heaviness began to drag at Silvers’ heart as he let out a pained groan.
“Fine!”
The cyborg held out his arm, turning the palm of his hand up for Jerry to use as a perch. The drone jumped with what was a little too much enthusiasm for Silver’s taste.
“The two closest to the park,”
Team members Reclaimer Corsica and Linus Guiren, according to the doss…
“Yes, yes, them. Take them this message first, then find the others, give them the same message and point everyone towards the park. This is Silver, a surviving member of your GES team, I will be providing sniper fire from the edge of the forest to cover your approach to the park. My stealth armour should keep me safe long enough for most of you to reach that area and repay the favour. My drone will point you in the direction of said park after this message. Good luck.”
With that the drone jumped from its perch, folding it’s legs back in. Silver motioned forward, feeling the strings of emotion tug inside once more.
“Jerry… er… just hurry up and don’t scare anyone into shooting you.”
The drone dipped again, nodding, before taking off towards the rest of the group. The cyborg reached over his left shoulder, grabbing the stock of his sniper and pulled it into it’s familiar position across his chest. With a final sharp exhale, Silver grit his teeth and tore off through the forest ready for action.
Appearance: Considered a pretty boy by his colleagues in his younger days, Ollie has matured into a gruff gentleman kind of look. His hair is dark brown, medium in length on top, swept to the back and shortly shaved on the sides. He sports a thick moustache with 5 o’clock shadow over his strong jawline. Facially he has prominent cheekbones with slightly gaunt cheeks and deep ocean blue eyes.
Standing at 6’1, the man is in decent athletic shape, still able to run down younger perps with relative ease. He weighs a healthy 85 kilograms and somehow has managed to maintain a decent diet all these years despite his personal struggles.
After suddenly being transported to New Atlantis, Ollie’s right arm has become seemingly infected. From his right hand to just below his elbow, that part of his arm has turned black with cracks that run through it. The cracks reveal a fiery glow that emanates from within, giving off warmth but not enough to burn when calm, the same can’t be said if he becomes angry. His fingers have become slightly longer and have morphed into more of a claw or talon.
Over time and with use of his magical abilities this ‘infection’ will spread ending up looking like this.
Currently it looks like this
Personality: As a boy Ollie’s mother used to say he was so loving and caring, always happy and spreading joy wherever he went. A tough and strenuous adolescence changed that, life began to harden his personality, forcing Ollie to set aside his weak emotions, instead becoming cold and calculating.
With his career, things became more morbid, forcing him to bury his emotions even further down inside. The only emotion that ever really appeared was rage, venting out in short bursts of anger, though that was and is rare. Most of the time he learned to use his numb ability to his advantage in the workplace, though it did remove him from being able to connect deeply with others and made him more robotic. He is aware of all this though, and does try to hide it behind comedy, he does enjoy making himself laugh and is often quick witted and dry in his humour.
Deep down he still has an eternal struggle between who he was born as, a good and kind nature, versus his nurtured cold and emotionless monster.
Backstory: Growing up, life was never easy for the Oliver family, after a nasty accident at work Sam’s father was left with major back problems, leaving him unfit for most jobs. In order to cope with this and the added financial stress, the man turned to alcoholism, losing himself to the drink. Unable to cope with the abuse and anger that came with addiction, Sam’s mother became distant and numb, barely ever leaving her room or even acknowledging anyone else.
Sam himself was left to care for his younger brother, John, who was 10 years his junior. At only 3 years old the boy needed round the clock care, so Sam brought John to their grandmothers and set out into the world looking for a job. Living in a poor neighbourhood the place was wracked with crime and a job, especially one for a 13 year old boy, was impossible to find. So it wasn’t long before Sam fell in with a bad crowd.
Those in charge used the adolescent to peddle drugs, either running them from location to location or selling them outright on the corner. Sam made good enough money doing this to provide for his family but it took an emotional toll on him. There was no love in gang life, anyone considered to be weak was instantly preyed upon by others, often getting them chastised to the point of breaking down or even putting them in hospital through physical violence. Sam was forced to master his environment, forcing himself to become numb; he integrated himself deeper into the gangs ranks.
It wasn’t long before things became even more hostile when an opposing faction moved in on their territory. Events snowballed as retaliation begat retaliation, leaving all sides blind. Those who Sam had grown up with began to drop like flies and he knew it wasn’t long before someone would come for him or his family too. Knowing there was only one way to protect the only thing he had ever cared about, Sam abandoned his family and old life behind, hoping those still left around would see that he had no real connection to his brother and would therefore leave him alone.
Using what little money he had left, Sam moved to the other side of the country, finding himself in another downtrodden city. Not wanting to repeat the same mistakes of his past, the young man applied for the police academy. Six months later he was working the streets and it wasn’t long before he was progressing up the ranks. Sam used his experiences as a troubled youth to his advantage, being able to pick up on crimes a lot easier than others and coaching others in the way that drug gangs worked. After two years he was offered a job as a detective and he began to hone these skills.
Though Sam had progressed, his past still troubled him, suffering from insomnia due to nightmares in the form of deep seeded guilt. After a string of failed personal relationships, Sam felt enough time may have passed to try and make contact with his family again. He called his grandmother only to find that his brother was missing. Their money had long run out and John had opted to provide for the whole family by taking up a job in New Atlantis just before the island cut itself off from the world.
Taking a leave of absence from work, Sam travelled home for the first time in over a decade. He sifted through his brother's things and put the pieces of the case together. He could only find small bits of evidence from the things left behind, with his biggest clue coming from John’s journal, referencing a mysterious man offering some sort of job. Who was this man and what was the job? Sam couldn’t find the answers and every official channel he explored was just a dead end after dead end.
That was until she appeared.
Skills:
Problem solving Critical thinking Communication Attention to detail Keen understanding of human behavior and psychology. Ok computer and technology skills Basic hand to hand skills Decent small firearms knowledge
Items of Note:
SIG Sauer P320 9mm Two additional ammo clips John’s journal (small pocket sized notebook) Mobile phone
Abilities: Due to his detective skills, Ollie’s sixth sense is really prominent, often able to help him find clues in the area and react quickly when there is magic involved.
As mentioned above, the ‘infected area’ that is his right arm, is imbued with the elemental power of fire and earth. Using his pistol as a conduit for the magic, he is able to shoot hot, metallic magma rounds at enemies with the actual gun itself changing in appearance to look like an extension of his right arm. The magma slugs burst open after penetration for maximum damage both on the outside and inside of a target. When returning it to its holster or handing it off to his left hand, the gun goes back to a regular shape and look.
As Ollie uses magic, the blackened area grows similar to a virus (hence why it’s referred to as an infection) as well as in moments of anger. The actual area also appears to have a mind of its own, physically manifesting itself for Ollie, appearing as his brother John. In reality the magic is just a manifestation of his fractured personality (with his negative traits inhabiting the magical area) and will only appear for Ollie to see.
The arm itself also doubles as a defensive ability, fusing to metal or rock on touch (not in an instant but given enough time) and imbuing the object with magic. Ollie is able to defend himself from the magic of others using the object as a shield. In terms of close quarter offensive ability, the arm (and whatever part of Ollie the infection has spread to) has superhuman strength, there is no magical ability other than this though.
Finally the arm can possess others of his own power level, or beneath, on touch. If the target is unwilling and of the same power level, then it only acts as a debuff, inhibiting the target's magic ability to a degree or temporarily restricting movement. If the unwilling target is a much lower power level, the level of control is greater. The greater a target's magic resistance, the more difficult the possession or control of the target is.
If the target is willing (an ally for example) then the powers of Ollie can be used to some degree (they gain its strength and toughness) but the willing target will be affected by their own negative emotions in the same way, i.e manifesting a “dark” version of themselves only they can see. If a willing target also has magic resistant abilities, this will also make possession difficult, thereby lessening the effect of the magic.
Possession can also work on inanimate objects, though only in relation to the elemental base of fire and earth. For instance, a pile of rocks could become a golem, or a flame atronach could be conjured from fire. Again this would be affected by Ollie’s negative emotions, with the creature taking on that “dark” persona and lasting for as long as Ollie can manage it.
When touched, the ‘infection’ will spread over a small area the same in appearance as Ollie, making it noticeable on the target (friend or foe).
Appearance: Considered a pretty boy by his colleagues in his younger days, Ollie has matured into a gruff gentleman kind of look. His hair is dark brown, medium in length on top, swept to the back and shortly shaved on the sides. He sports a thick moustache with 5 o’clock shadow over his strong jawline. Facially he has prominent cheekbones with slightly gaunt cheeks and deep ocean blue eyes.
Standing at 6’1, the man is in decent athletic shape, still able to run down younger perps with relative ease. He weighs a healthy 85 kilograms and somehow has managed to maintain a decent diet all these years despite his personal struggles.
After suddenly being transported to New Atlantis, Ollie’s right arm has become seemingly infected. From his right hand to just below his elbow, that part of his arm has turned black with cracks that run through it. The cracks reveal a fiery glow that emanates from within, giving off warmth but not enough to burn when calm, the same can’t be said if he becomes angry. His fingers have become slightly longer and have morphed into more of a claw or talon.
Over time and with use of his magical abilities this ‘infection’ will spread ending up looking like this.
Currently it looks like this
Personality: As a boy Ollie’s mother used to say he was so loving and caring, always happy and spreading joy wherever he went. A tough and strenuous adolescence changed that, life began to harden his personality, forcing Ollie to set aside his weak emotions, instead becoming cold and calculating.
With his career, things became more morbid, forcing him to bury his emotions even further down inside. The only emotion that ever really appeared was rage, venting out in short bursts of anger, though that was and is rare. Most of the time he learned to use his numb ability to his advantage in the workplace, though it did remove him from being able to connect deeply with others and made him more robotic. He is aware of all this though, and does try to hide it behind comedy, he does enjoy making himself laugh and is often quick witted and dry in his humour.
Deep down he still has an eternal struggle between who he was born as, a good and kind nature, versus his nurtured cold and emotionless monster.
Backstory: Growing up, life was never easy for the Oliver family, after a nasty accident at work Sam’s father was left with major back problems, leaving him unfit for most jobs. In order to cope with this and the added financial stress, the man turned to alcoholism, losing himself to the drink. Unable to cope with the abuse and anger that came with addiction, Sam’s mother became distant and numb, barely ever leaving her room or even acknowledging anyone else.
Sam himself was left to care for his younger brother, John, who was 10 years his junior. At only 3 years old the boy needed round the clock care, so Sam brought John to their grandmothers and set out into the world looking for a job. Living in a poor neighbourhood the place was wracked with crime and a job, especially one for a 13 year old boy, was impossible to find. So it wasn’t long before Sam fell in with a bad crowd.
Those in charge used the adolescent to peddle drugs, either running them from location to location or selling them outright on the corner. Sam made good enough money doing this to provide for his family but it took an emotional toll on him. There was no love in gang life, anyone considered to be weak was instantly preyed upon by others, often getting them chastised to the point of breaking down or even putting them in hospital through physical violence. Sam was forced to master his environment, forcing himself to become numb; he integrated himself deeper into the gangs ranks.
It wasn’t long before things became even more hostile when an opposing faction moved in on their territory. Events snowballed as retaliation begat retaliation, leaving all sides blind. Those who Sam had grown up with began to drop like flies and he knew it wasn’t long before someone would come for him or his family too. Knowing there was only one way to protect the only thing he had ever cared about, Sam abandoned his family and old life behind, hoping those still left around would see that he had no real connection to his brother and would therefore leave him alone.
Using what little money he had left, Sam moved to the other side of the country, finding himself in another downtrodden city. Not wanting to repeat the same mistakes of his past, the young man applied for the police academy. Six months later he was working the streets and it wasn’t long before he was progressing up the ranks. Sam used his experiences as a troubled youth to his advantage, being able to pick up on crimes a lot easier than others and coaching others in the way that drug gangs worked. After two years he was offered a job as a detective and he began to hone these skills.
Though Sam had progressed, his past still troubled him, suffering from insomnia due to nightmares in the form of deep seeded guilt. After a string of failed personal relationships, Sam felt enough time may have passed to try and make contact with his family again. He called his grandmother only to find that his brother was missing. Their money had long run out and John had opted to provide for the whole family by taking up a job in New Atlantis just before the island cut itself off from the world.
Taking a leave of absence from work, Sam travelled home for the first time in over a decade. He sifted through his brother's things and put the pieces of the case together. He could only find small bits of evidence from the things left behind, with his biggest clue coming from John’s journal, referencing a mysterious man offering some sort of job. Who was this man and what was the job? Sam couldn’t find the answers and every official channel he explored was just a dead end after dead end.
That was until she appeared.
Skills:
Problem solving Critical thinking Communication Attention to detail Keen understanding of human behavior and psychology. Ok computer and technology skills Basic hand to hand skills Decent small firearms knowledge
Items of Note:
SIG Sauer P320 9mm Two additional ammo clips John’s journal (small pocket sized notebook) Mobile phone
Abilities: Due to his detective skills, Ollie’s sixth sense is really prominent, often able to help him find clues in the area and react quickly when there is magic involved.
As mentioned above, the ‘infected area’ that is his right arm, is imbued with the elemental power of fire and earth. Using his pistol as a conduit for the magic, he is able to shoot hot, metallic magma rounds at enemies with the actual gun itself changing in appearance to look like an extension of his right arm. The magma slugs burst open after penetration for maximum damage both on the outside and inside of a target. When returning it to its holster or handing it off to his left hand, the gun goes back to a regular shape and look.
As Ollie uses magic, the blackened area grows similar to a virus (hence why it’s referred to as an infection) as well as in moments of anger. The actual area also appears to have a mind of its own, physically manifesting itself for Ollie, appearing as his brother John. In reality the magic is just a manifestation of his fractured personality (with his negative traits inhabiting the magical area) and will only appear for Ollie to see.
The arm itself also doubles as a defensive ability, fusing to metal or rock on touch (not in an instant but given enough time) and imbuing the object with magic. Ollie is able to defend himself from the magic of others using the object as a shield. In terms of close quarter offensive ability, the arm (and whatever part of Ollie the infection has spread to) has superhuman strength, there is no magical ability other than this though.
Finally the arm can possess others of his own power level, or beneath, on touch. If the target is unwilling and of the same power level, then it only acts as a debuff, inhibiting the target's magic ability to a degree or temporarily restricting movement. If the unwilling target is a much lower power level, the level of control is greater. The greater a target's magic resistance, the more difficult the possession or control of the target is.
If the target is willing (an ally for example) then the powers of Ollie can be used to some degree (they gain its strength and toughness) but the willing target will be affected by their own negative emotions in the same way, i.e manifesting a “dark” version of themselves only they can see. If a willing target also has magic resistant abilities, this will also make possession difficult, thereby lessening the effect of the magic.
Possession can also work on inanimate objects, though only in relation to the elemental base of fire and earth. For instance, a pile of rocks could become a golem, or a flame atronach could be conjured from fire. Again this would be affected by Ollie’s negative emotions, with the creature taking on that “dark” persona and lasting for as long as Ollie can manage it.
When touched, the ‘infection’ will spread over a small area the same in appearance as Ollie, making it noticeable on the target (friend or foe).
Byzantium, Core World, UCL Territory Two Weeks Earlier
“It’s just, Silver? No last name?”
The secretary craned her neck, turning her head to be more in line with the sign-in book on the edge of her desk. As if seeing it straight on would make more sense to her.
“Is there a problem?” Silver replied, his voice low.
The Cyborg hated this whole experience, entering a high security office building through the front doors with people not only weary of his presence but actually having to give them his real name? No, this situation couldn’t be more foreign to him.
Looking around Silver eyed off a few employees who had decided to stare before pulling up the collar of his jacket as high as it would go. The secretary fixed her bobbed hair, uncomfortably shifting in her chair as Silver’s gaze returned to her.
“No, no, of course not Mr… er um, Silver.”
Standing up, she came out from behind the desk making noticeable effort to avoid proper eye contact.
“Please follow me.”
The young human led Silver across the grand foyer of the building. As they walked he could hear the echoes from the water of the large fountain in the centre of the atrium bouncing off the high ceilings above, attempting to drown out the hushed conversation of those below. Small drones zipped by after workers, as holoprojections gave quite the light show around the fountain.
What was this? Having to sign my signature in such a primitive fashion like it was some Frontier backwater world? But then everything else is state of the art tech?
Silver shivered, feeling as if all eyes were falling upon him, even if they weren’t. He hated people being able to see him outside of his armour, he felt so naked and exposed. Although he did his best to hide his cybernetics from plain view, short of wearing a veil, there was only so much he could do.
The doors of the elevator opened with a ding.
“Ok, so it’s the 65th floor,” the secretary said, leaning in and pressing the button as Silver entered the lift.
“The door for the meeting room is literally opposite the elevator, just open it yourself as they’re expecting you.”
The Cyborg let the doors close without another word before retreating to the corner, beneath the camera and patiently waited. To his relief, there was no one on the 65th floor, no movement and no one to greet him. Just a door in front of him and a long dimly lit corridor to his left. There was no natural light here and no grandiose looking features or high amount of tech, it was quite a dramatic change from below.
Silver reached for the door, still unable to shake the odd sensation of entering a room through the front for an expected meeting.
The office itself was small, cramped even, it only held a desk with 3 chairs, two filing cabinets off to one side and a loud ticking clock. There was a small window that had been blacked out, with a single spotlight in the top corner of the room giving it all it’s light.
“An interrogation room?” Silver asked the two occupants inside.
One, a human, was lent up against the filing cabinet just out of proper view of the room's light.
“Something like that,” he said with a small chuckle.
The other occupant was a Gealtirocht. Hunched over his part of the table, the eel-like creature gestured towards the empty chair. In front of him sat a plain vanilla folder.
“Please sit Mr. Silver,” the Gealtirocht asked politely.
Silver followed as instructed, taking the folder up as he did so.
“Paper? Are you guys having funding issues?”
“Mr. Silver please, just read the contents, it’s the dossier for your first mission with us.”
“Yeah eyes down Hanger,” the human barked.
Ugh, humans. Silver rolled his eyes before opening the dossier.
Ok, extraction, science team, their data and any valuable tech, great nice easy first job… wait, “you and your team”?
Silver tossed the dossier back on the table.
“Team? No no, I don’t do team’s. I work alone, I’ve always worked alone. You give me the details, I carry out the job, that’s how it’s done.”
The human stood up, coming out from the shadows with Silver now noticing the man’s immense size.
“This isn’t some pampered vacation like the one you’ve been living for the past few decades Hanger. This is the GES, we have a way of doing things here and we are the owners of your contract, and therefore you.”
A pang of anger rang out from within Silver’s chest, without thought he could feel the ether begin to fill him, slipping from the physical plane.
The Gealtirocht took notice and held up his clawed hand in the direction of his colleague.
“Mr Silver, all my friend here means to say is that this is how we operate here in the GES. There aren’t many who run operations completely solo in our organisation and certainly not for their first op.”
Silver breathed, letting the anger go and leaning back in his seat.
“I’m not babysitting anyone.”
“And we’re not expecting you to Mr Silver. We are not amateurs and neither is anyone on your team. They are all experienced professionals whose strengths makeup for each other's weaknesses. But this is the deal and we’ve been told you always adhere to the parameters of any mission, working with this team is within those parameters. That and we aren’t presenting you with a choice here, this is how it is.”
Silver ran over it in his mind for a moment, the Gealtirocht was right, there was no real choice here. Even if he killed both of them and somehow escaped, he’d be hunted by the GES, UCL and his former employer for the rest of his life.
He sighed, feeling a weight pull him down at the thought.
“Ok, so where am I off to?”
Somewhere in the Rainforest Near Kerovnia, Caracosa Present Day
System analysis…
Host, Silver, offline.
Activating Mobile Response Unit.
The armour of Silver began to beep and whir as a small drone detached from his leg, hovering into the air above his host.
Scanning…
The situation was grim, below the thick canopy of the forest, their immediate area was covered in a fine mix of mist and ether-electrical smoke from the crash. That and the thick shrubbery around them impaired the scouts scanning ability. The only thing that could really be seen was the plumes of black smoke billowing out from the crash site. Silver had been thrown a bit of a distance away, possibly being ejected from the craft after it tore open during the initial impact.
Scanning for signs of life...
The small drone buzzed as a small laser blanketed the area. It found nothing but small forest dwelling animals for as far as it could sense, there was no one else in the immediate area. Dropping down just above Silver’s chest it began to scan it’s Host.
Assessing...
CPD Shield, overloaded, recharging, took brunt of initial impact.
It whirred further, moving up and down his body.
Damage Report, cybernetics, minimal damage, no repairs required. Organic tissue, small metallic object protruding from Host’s abdomen, right lumbar region. Impact to crucial internal organs, unlikely.
Four small spider shaped legs sprung from the bottom of the drone as it landed above Silver’s left pec.
Analysis, attacked by unknown hostiles, likely in immediate danger, administer of minor adrenaline shot authorised.
The drone bent down and a sharp puncture was heard as Silver shot up.
“What in the goddamn hell?”
His heart pounded, his ears rang and the side of his body burned with a white hot sharpness.
“What the hell did you do Jerry?” he groaned as his right hand dropped to his side.
The little drone whirred around the cyborg, just out of arm's length, before dropping back into its slot on his leg.
You were unresponsive, I was prompted by my protocols to assess the situation and administer a minor shot of adrenaline. I can produce a full report if you wish.
Silver looked down at his leg and rolled his eyes.
“No Jerry, just, argh,”
Pain shot up from his side as the Cyborg tried to stand.
You have a small protruding metallic…
“Yes I know, I know. You’d think when they rebuilt me they would take away my ability to feel pain.”
That would be counterproductive to your biological…
Silver clicked his tongue in frustration.
“Jerry, just shut up for 5 minutes, that was rhetorical.”
The Cyborg took a deep breath in as he gripped the shard. He breathed out heavily before repeating the cycle in quick succession, prepping himself for the pain. Drawing in a final breath in, he gritted his teeth, yanking the object free. A muffled groan of pain seeped through his teeth as he tossed aside the piece of jagged metal.
“God dammit.”
Silver reached up, massaging his temples with his hand, calming himself down. Getting control of his body and letting his forehead go, he closed his eyes, focusing in on his heart beat.
It was still somewhat rapid due to the adrenaline but as he began to tap into his ethereal ability, it quickly came under control. He began to feel himself fade from the physical realm as the pain on his side evaporated. It was an intoxicating feeling, akin to how he felt floating out in the void of space. The temptation to lose yourself in the Ether and the Abzu was always there with the only thing pulling him back to the real world being the intense shadow of the creatures that could be felt worming their way through the void.
Thirty seconds was all it took and then bam, he returned, his side completely healed. The hole left in his suit was something his oddly named friend could take care of.
“Ok Jerry,” Silver said, standing up, “Do your thing.”
The small scout drone crawled across his suit and got to work on repairs while the Cyborg surveyed the area.
Ok, assessment time, what the hell happened up there. What do I remember?
Silver thought back, he was sitting towards the end of the ship, far away from any members of his team. Then without warning they were hit. The cockpit was open and the blood of the pilot shot to the back of the plane. Alarms sounded as warnings blared over the intercom.
A GES stealth ship hit with no warning? They have the most advanced stealth tech on the market, who could’ve...
Suddenly shouts could be heard in the distance. Was it other survivors? Unlikely, there were too many voices and they weren’t coming from the direction of the crash site. Realisation dawned on Silver.
“They’re here to finish the job.”
The Cyborg went to take off but hesitated. What about his team? Should he return to the crash site to look for survivors?
The answer was quickly forced upon him as his comms lit up. Accepting the ping, a soundwave image appeared in his HUD and a voice crackled through.
"GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!"
The sound fractured as the voice faded momentarily in and out, trying to pierce the massive amount of interference.
"THEY KNEW… THERE IS NO TIME… WE NEED TO LINK UP… CANNOT SEND LOCATION DATA DUE TO INTERF-”
A thunderous crack echoed throughout the rainforest, followed by several more.
“Oh that does not sound good.”
Silver was right as hell began to rain down on the area. The cyborg had never experienced mortar fire before but he knew not to stick around. Activating his cloaking ability he took off through the trees, navigating the thick brush of the forest floor as best he could. Around him the peaceful scenery began to simply evaporate, tree’s splintered into thousands of pieces as it felt as if he was traversing directly through a vicious thunderstorm.
The bombing was so intense that the ground shook, forcing Silver to slow down. Crouching close to the earth for balance, he pressed on hoping to clear the firing line. Luckily his ejection from the ship had meant he was on the outskirts of the action anyway and it wasn’t long before he found himself in a small clearing and out of harm's way.
Taking a knee, Silver gave himself a minute to gather his thoughts.
Ok think, what the hell is going on, who shoots down a plane and then rains down explosives on top of the crash area. It’s complete overkill. Something is very wrong, and that voice? Who was that?
He quickly looked around to make sure he hadn’t wandered into an enemy camp site.
Fuck it, I’m alive, the mission still stands. I’ll find the city, get to the scientists and get the hell out of here.
“Jerry,” Silver said out aloud,
“Get above the tree tops and guide me towards the city.”
Suddenly a feeling of guilt tugged at him from deep inside.
“And… er… search the rainforest for signs of live engagement. If what the GES said was true, there might be other survivors out there.”
The scouting drone dipped as if nodding in agreement before flying towards a tree and sprouting its legs. Jerry began it's climb towards the sky. All Silver could do now was wait.
Before being incorporated by the GES he worked for an independent owner of a Mega-Corporation. He has no ties to any governments and is disinterested in each faction's games.
HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 6’2, 120kg’s (accounting for cybernetic parts)
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
BACKGROUND PRIOR TO BEING SELECTED FOR THE MISSION:
Silver was born in the Void, though where, when or to what family within the mysterious race he does not know.
During a run through the edges of Pact space, his ship ran too close to a patrol for their liking. In the ensuing engagement Silver’s ship was destroyed, along with a decent portion of his natural born body. Whether it was through some series of luck, ether or natural ability, Silver clung to life and was picked up by a large time scavenging corporation.
Recognising the value in even a partially intact Voidhanger, they stabilised Silver and kept him alive long enough to put him on the black market. There he was bought by parties unknown with the intention to sell him as an exotic trophy in order to seal an upcoming corporate merger. The majority shareholder of the mega-corporation was known to be an eccentric trillionaire, Nolan Grimes.
Though instead of adding Silver to his xenogenic collection, Nolon saw a different kind of purpose. He had heard the rumors of the Voidhangers and was well aware of their strange connection to the Ether (a subject that fascinated him more so). As a result, Silver was imbued with cybernetics, redesigning his internal structure, parts of his arms, part of his skull and completely rebuilding the lower half of his body.
Why Silver was able to retain his own mind and not be constrained in any manner is a question that the Voidhanger still asks himself even today. Regardless he was brought back better and stronger than ever. He spent the next several years training and actively engaging in corporate espionage and assassinations. Always corporate and never political, Silver (Nicknamed Silvershot), stayed out of the limelight creating an infamous name for himself.
Though he has never met any Voidhangers, he has grown not to care for the galaxy's politics or wars, he simply exists for the function he was brought back to do. For the longest time Silver believed himself to be without attachment and even without feeling, allowing himself to get lost in the cold calculation and logic needed to be an assassin.
This was until his contract was sold. It was an odd mission, his employer tasked him with stealing documents from the GES. What the documents contained Silver didn’t ask, he never did, but he infiltrated the black site with success. Not saying it was easy but he pulled it off without the operation going south, retrieving the documents and relaying them back to Nolan.
It was only when Nolan’s deal with unknown parties went south that the GES came knocking. Though instead of vengeful reprimand, they brought a deal, access to information about certain Archaeotech projects in exchange for Silver’s contract. Nolan didn’t even blink before signing him over. And there began a new life for the assassin, though how long it would last is anyone's best guess.
REASON FOR MISSION RECRUITMENT:
Even before his heist at the Gnosis black site, Silver’s infamous reputation was well known within the corporate and even political world. Rumours swelled throughout the communities with some stating the man glides through the thickest of walls and others believing he can morph into existence through any shadow cast.
In reality the Voidhanger has honed his ability to slip into the Ether and is now attempting to learn how to blink,. His preferred method of assassination is ship to ship, piloting a small stealth craft and pulling off otherwise impossible maneuvers to be able to reach his targets in the black of space using his natural space immunities.
Though considering how this mission is shaping up, maybe the GES were still sore about the heist and that’s why he’s here. Regardless, nothing matters, not to Silver, the goals haven’t changed, only the path to get there.
WEAKNESSES:
Unknowingly to Silver, his biggest weakness is actually psychological. Not knowing his kind, years upon years of shutting down his emotions and a final betrayal of the only father figure he ever knew has left him rattled. Everything is starting to bubble to the surface leading to a potential explosion or collapse.
This, in turn, is affecting his ethereal abilities. The rush of emotion causes him to lose focus and make mistakes, either leading him to spend too long in the sub-dimension or causing real world consequences.
Another weakness is working within a team. Silver has never had to co-exist or work alongside anyone, he has no experience in this area and is not overly fond of the idea. The work he produces is like an operation or a delicate artform, others detract from this.
Combat wise, Silver is not built for frontal assaults or dug in grunt warfare. His armour is light and built with stealth in mind. He can slip in and through enemy lines but leading a charge across no man’s land is basically suicide.
Finally his immune system on planets is still subpar, though his cybernetic enhancements overcome the most severe repercussions, his natural born immunity deficiencies (planet side) still come into play now and then. If unfocused and untreated, they can become a real problem.
SKILLS AND TRAINING: Silver has excellent knowledge in the following areas:
Long range sniper Hand to hand combat Swordsmanship/daggers Throwing knives (and variations of) Deception skills/lying Natural born ethereal abilities
He also has a decent knowledge in the following:
Explosives Tracking Languages of the UCL Healing/repairing himself (and himself only) Cybernetics/robotics Programming Piloting small ships
LOADOUT:
Camouflage ability “invisibility cloak” more like translucent, so still partially visible Suit is solar powered AI scout drone (in built into the suit, can help with repairs to suit/cybernetics) Silenced High Impact Sniper Silenced pistol Small Ammo pack with 3 mags for the rifle and 4 mags for the pistol
AUGMENTATIONS:
Shoulder mounted darts (stun and poison) Cybernetic filter system “Hidden blade” wrists that can be removed and thrown, suit can manufacture more from scrap metal Right hand has an EMP charge, not powerful enough to take down full power armour but can fry vital circuits if placed in the correct spot, or override door panels etc. Knock out gas left hand HUD interface Powerful legs Thrusters for jumps or movement in space, cannot fly
ETHEREOLOGY:
Silver, although he had no training from other Voidhangers, has honed his natural abilities over a much longer time period. He is able to heal his flesh and fade out of existence in the physical plane. He can reach the full minute before needing to return.
He’s also pushing himself to learn how to blink. He has learned to do it over less than a meter but struggles to move further.
PERKS:
Silver has the Unearthly Resilience and Traveller of Outer Realms abilities. He has also kept a hold of his defence shield, not needing to improve it in any way.
@Crossfire I read the original OOC about the war and what the group was being used for so just a quick overview of what’s happened since and maybe how new characters would be adopted if it’s no trouble
ErsatzEmpress
POOPHEAD189
Sapphic Pigeon
Naril
Andreyich
JJ Doe
Damycles
LustForDecay
