Dervish

Delta Green: Whispers in the Darkness

She's my waifu from another laifu.

We were talking today so I sent her the lonk because this is exactly her kinda jam and her writing is stellar. ;D

Delta Green: Whispers in the Darkness

Jaime WIP

Name: Jaime “James” Alvarez

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Height, build, facial structure. Voice and mannerisms, even. A picture may be attached, but oh, so help me if it's anime.

Agency/Organization: Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives (ATF) Special Agent.

Education: University of Miami, Bachelor’s Degree in Criminology, minor in anthropology
Criminal Investigators Training Program (CITP)
Special Agent Basic Training (SABT)
ATF Industry Operations Investigator Basic Training

Background:
Born in Little Havana, Miami, Florida, Alvarez is the son of Doctor Miguel Alvarez, a 3rd generation Mexican American family doctor with a practice in Little Havana, and Isabella Alvarez, a Cuban refugee who fled the Castro regime in 1975 when she was 22-years-old by bribing a smuggler to bring her and 13 other refugee hopefuls to Miami, Florida, where she claimed refugee status after her parents were prosecuted by G2, the Cuban secret police, for accusations of espionage when her father was apprehended taking photographs near a military installation. Despite his protests that he was simply a nature photographer Isabella’s father was apprehended and her mother shortly after according to Isabella’s testimony. Fearing for her safety, Isabella petitioned extended family for help, and she was soon on a boat towards the United States. She would never learn of her parents’ fate.
Soon after her refugee claim was accepted, Isabella became a custodian at a Little Havana fitness center where she met Miguel, an American with deep ties to family on both sides of the American and Mexican border, who was at the time working towards his medical doctorate at the University of Miami. The two remained friends for a few years until they began dating and eventually married in 1981, where Jaime was born on October 17th, 1983.
Jaime’s childhood was unremarkable, unlike his mother’s journey; he attended Citrus Grove Elementary School as a straight A student who was likeable, if shy and reserved. Later, he would attend Green Springs High School where he excelled at the sciences and mathematics, and it seemed all but certain that he would follow in his father’s footsteps in the field of medicine. He was in grade 10 when news of his uncle Hernandez Alvarez passing away from cocaine overdose, striking Jaime with grief and a sense of injustice as he witnessed his father openly sob for the first time in his life; Hernandez had been close with his brother and was a large part of the family, but debt and a rocky marriage had made him make regrettable decisions that would ultimately cost him his life.
Jaime then decided that he needed to take matters into his own hands and pursue a career in law enforcement or criminal justice; he began to focus on psychology and criminology, and well as anthropology for insights into addictions and the drug trade that had claimed his uncle.

Jaime graduated from High School and was immediately enrolled in the University of Miami under scholarship for a major in criminology in 1996, where he spent the next four years applying himself with a sense of drive that eluded many of his fellow students, even going so far as keeping a framed portrait of Hernandez in his dormitory desk to remind him of what he had set out to do.

Not everything was all strictly business during his university years. Jaime had informally introduced himself to other students as James, going so far as to use that name when submitting reports to avoid frequent corrections of people mispronouncing his name, a habit that would carry onto his future employment. He was a prolific reader, made a pair of girlfriends, one of whom, Gabby Clifford, remained with him well into his employment with the ATF, going so far as to rent a high rise condo after his employment.
Jaime kept close with his father and mother, who at this time had left her custodial job to focus on her love of music, where she got her start playing guitar in bars and street festivals. Both helped Jaime financially as he expressed interest in joining a sailing club and a college baseball team, of which he would remain a lifetime Miami Marlins fan. Through this clubs he became close friends with Nick Clemons, a grandson of Haitian immigrants who had legally changed their surname within a year of arrival Stateside. The two were largely inseparable, despite a distinctly different career path; Jaime was determined to join the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives, and Nick had his sights on the coastguard if his promising talents in baseball didn’t get him scouted first.
He graduated in 2000 with honors and applied to the ATF almost immediately, getting hired on several months after his application was submitted, his physical and background check conducted, and his references cleared. Early 2001, he began his career by starting in the Criminal Investigators Training Program up in Glynco, Georgia where he studied everything ranging from tactical driving, firearms handling (something his father was not too keen on, despite Jaime purchasing a personal Glock 17 after graduation), crime scene management, and other aspects of police investigations and forensics. Due to much of this program being quite a departure from his academic background, he struggled with the more confrontational aspects such as interviewing and handcuffing procedures, as well as his firearms proficiency given his inexperience with them, but his hard work ethic paid off and he graduated in the top third of the 12 week program, moving onto the Special Agent Basic Training program.
SABT made the difficulties Jaime experienced in CITP exasperated given its much more physically rigorous training process, which involved hand-to-hand fighting techniques, hard physical training, and advanced firearms and tactical training. While he worked at becoming passable in those fields, and eventually quite competent, he excelled at writing reports and identifying illicit substances, firearms, and the other academic fields. Thanks to his own personal handgun and practicing on his own time at the range, Jaime became a very proficient shot with a handgun and other weapons, such as pump-action shotguns and M4 carbines, came much easier afterwards and he was able to begin to excel at the tactical training and shooting training, reaching the peak physical condition of his life and finding a degree of confidence he’d been lacking in the more dangerous and demanding aspects of his career.

Upon graduation, Jaime was posted in Tampa, Florida, where he broke off the relationship with Gabby due to her not being able to relocate because of her own educational and career aspirations, although Nick came with him to Tampa to find work after his own graduation and the two young men split costs to make the fairly pricy gulf city more affordable. Jaime’s posting


Personality: Try to get detailed with this. You'll want to know how they'll react if they ever come across a drug-fueled sacrificial blood orgy to Nyarlathotep.

Family, Friends, and Associates:
Miguel Alvarez, father
Isabella Alvarez, mother
Hernandez Alvarez, uncle (deceased)
Gabby Clifford, ex-girlfriend
Nick Clemons, best friend

Likes:
-Baseball
-Fishing
-Farmers Markets
-Reading
-Sailing
-Hiking

Dislikes:
-Crowds and loud places
-Sensationalist news
-Cults
-Arrogance
-Places that are assuredly haunted

Fears: Ever since Alvarez’s encounter with the Día de Muertos spirit cult he has been haunted by frequent sightings of spirits and ghosts, and although most are benign in nature, he has seen full well that malicious ones are capable of possession and what that does to a person; the very concept terrifies him and if he senses something very dark and wrong, fear grips him and he will insist on leaving immediately.
For this reason, Alvarez is much more at ease in remote locations and quiet areas that haven’t been the location of mass death and violence; many dark spirits and ghosts linger in such places and the likelihood of encountering one that wishes you harm increases exponentially. Bullets cannot harm the intangible, and talismans only do so much to ward off malice.

Skills:
Gifted: Awareness, Forensics
Adept: Criminology, Persuade, Law
Average: Marksmanship; handguns, Tactical Driving, First Aid
Novice: Subterfuge, Psychology, Marksmanship; long guns, Anthropology

Weaknesses:
Alvarez isn’t exactly in peak physical condition; years of methodically scouring crime scenes, analyzing evidence in a lab, communing with the dead, and writing up reports along with the inability to resist great smelling food have left him with a physique that can generously be described as just above average; he works out every other day for an hour to an hour and a half and he drinks a lot of water, but most of the team on Delta Green can literally run laps around him. However, he exceeds the bare minimum for the fitness tests and has passible strength and endurance; he just has more cerebral pursuits in mind.

Sleep isn’t something that comes easily to Alvarez, especially if he’s put up in a hotel in a city; the dead are everywhere and they have a habit of having a presence that can pull even the deepest sleeper wide awake. Energy drinks and coffee do the bare minimum to keep him alert at the worst of times, and if an area is particularly heavy in spectral presence, it becomes increasingly difficult to differentiate what’s real and what’s the spirits; it affects his judgement and mental acuity. To compensate for this, he often takes quick naps when things are calm and has been found with his head down on his desk from time to time; it’s not often he gets more than 5 or 6 hours of sleep on a good night, and the others know he often uses the times he is forced awake to work.

Off-Duty Clothing/Equipment:
Clothing:
Often jeans or Carharts workpants with side pockets, t-shirts, button up shirts, hiking boots. Tends to stick with shades of browns and greens; he doesn’t like to stand out.

Weapons:
Conceal Carry: Gen 4 Glock 27 .40 S&W, usually kept in a jacket pocket or a waist holster.


Tools/Equipment: A tape recorder, a digital camera, a portable forensics kit including swabs, vials, gloves, a black light, a tape measure, numbers markers etc., a Gerber multitool, mini maglight

Operational Clothing/Equipment: Nothing that would remove all doubt that you are part of the US military/are American. NATO weaponry is fine, but not required.
Clothing: Typical BDU pants with regional appropriate colour (tan or olive), hiking boots, fingerless gloves British commando-style sweater (black or olive) or flannel shirt and t-shirt depending on temperatures, level II vest with magazine pouches, first aid kit, camelback, and usual equipment across various tac pouches. Radio has a headset, wears an olive “patrol” cap.

References

Weapons:
Open Carry: Heckler & Koch MP7 4.6x30mm Personal Defense Weapon, kept on a special open leg holster for quick deployment, equipped with a flashlight

MP7

Tools/Equipment:
Maglight, glowsticks, Gerber multitool, emergency first aid kit, radio with headset, authorized tablet, digital camera, voice recorder, forensics kit, SOG Seal Pup fixed blade knife

Delta Green: Whispers in the Darkness

I'm gonna be screwing together an ATF agent who cut his teeth on drug cartels and encountered some sp00py shit.

Mass Effect: Renegade

Touchdown.

Ardan quickly made his way to the armoury where he had spent much of the previous night after the disastrous forced mealtime doing equipment inventory and checks. Aside from his own gear, Ardan had the requested weapons and equipment lined up for those who chose to store their gear in the armoury, each having been quickly inspected and moving parts lubricated while checking to make sure the eezo charges were optimal and the heat sinks kicked on to cool the weapon down between shots. It didn’t matter overly much if you still had a barely sheered munitions block if the weapon didn’t have enough power to actually operate. The tiny sand-grain sized projectiles that were fired from a firearm at a fraction of the speed of life relied entirely on velocity to do the damage they inflicted, and it was the reason that mass effect principle firearms development had ended up with an arsenal of guns that could shoot literally thousands of rounds between reloading.

It lead to its own form of technical complications that gunpowder age civilizations didn’t have to deal with; if your power core wasn’t calibrated properly or the parts that helped channel the energy to sheer the metal blocks to produce shots were misaligned or damaged lead to jams or projectiles that didn’t get up to speed to inflict the damage they needed to; you could still kill something soft without armour, shielding, or barriers, but the last thing anyone wanted staring down a charging krogan was their gun only firing at thousands of meters per second and the krogan being reminded of one of the hellish sandstorms back on Tuchanka. It would be nostalgic up to and including the part where he broke your spine. Ardan, sensibly, took pains to ensure that never happened.

It didn’t take long to gear up; he’d already been in his armour when they arrived in Illium’s system and it was simply a matter of putting on his helmet and checking the visor and its link to his weapons. While the ship didn’t have a firing range, it did have a relatively safe plate of 10 centimeters of titanium you could aim your weapon at in case your weapon had a negligent discharge and one didn’t want a shot going through several meters of important life support equipment. The Predator and Falcon both had their crosshairs show up in his HUD, as well as their heat gauges and fire mode displays, and the M-100 showed its ammunition gauge and the ballistic arc for that weapon. Final checks for life support, air filtration, shielding, and so on were conducted and the turian carried on, giving Mr. Wheezy the stuffed Volus a pat on the head on the way out the door.

Soon enough, he was standing side by side with the rest of the crew as Kolya stood on a crate, prompting Ardan to smirk behind his polarized visor as the commander reminded him of a great number of turian war vids where the fearless leader rallies and inspires what’s left of their regiment before they charge into what’s almost certainly certain death. He’d heard asari and salarians bemoan how stupid and depressing it all was, with a good chunk of those vids ending with a small handful, if any, of survivors out of dozens but they simply didn’t understand how a turian thinks; what’s the sacrifice of a regiment compared to an entire city, an entire planet? There was no such thing as “acceptable losses”; you simply kept going until you completed your objective or you died trying.

Of course, those vids often came up with some flimsy narrative of why the enemy position wasn’t blasted to bits with hours’ worth of fighter strikes or artillery or orbital bombardment until the enemy didn’t have a position left to defend, but the stories were about individual courage and sacrifice against impossible odds and overcoming them. Looking around the room for a moment, he mused it might be worthwhile trimming the fat. Brushing the macabre thought away with a shake of the head, he honed in on the briefing. With the plan outlined and the mission parameters established without much in the way of complicated specifics, Ardan was pleased. Clear and concise orders were what you needed to lead a mission; he’d seen far too many commanders try to micromanage soldiers down to their rate of fire and how to clear out a damned room that it led to the actually important shit being forgotten or misunderstood.

Kolya wasn’t disappointing so far. As far as humans went, he certainly wasn’t bad and had an air of humility to him that was at odds with the rest of his species’ sense of suffocating arrogance and entitlement. It did him credit.

Moving out and beginning the rappel, Ardan took up position behind the group, his weapon trained the way they came to protect the ascent. Kolya approached, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I want you to be the last man, make sure they all get up, soldier.” Kolya ordered.

“Copy that.” Ardan affirmed, checking the IFF tags of the other squad members and checked over their ascension gear for the climb; they’d be doing it by hand, but it would keep them from falling if their grips slipped, which wasn’t unheard of with modern shielded armour; generally the shields were weak around the palms and soles of the feet so someone could grab onto weapons and walk without skating around, but enough remained it could remain a concern. Kolya and the first batch went up first, then the next, and the next. Finally, as that last man, Ardan did one last scan for detection or threats, and then hooked himself up to begin the long and arduous climb.

By the time he reached the top, the rest of the team was already through the gates and examining one of the bodies. From the looks of things, a maintenance worker. The poor bastard was a human who probably escaped out into the galaxy for job opportunities away from a crowded homeworld and to experience alien culture first hand like some kind of tourist and he discovered that the Terminus Systems were a dangerous, thankless place no matter how pristine and advanced somewhere like Illium looked. He learned the hard way what lawless space meant.

The next bit of instruction from Kolya was something Ardan didn’t agree with on principle, and normally he’d let orders slide, but he felt it important to speak up. “Not too bunched up. You don’t want to give one lucky bastard a chance to kill three or four of you with one grenade or burst from his rifle. I’ll be at the rear.” He said, M3 in hand, taking up position at the end of the column walking backwards. He grabbed onto the belt of the person behind him to guide him with one hand and kept his sidearm facing rearward, ensuring no one flanked the team.

The Elder Scrolls: Vengeance of the Deep

Alone in the Woods

Greenie and Dervs slam jam

---

15th Sun’s Height - Morning
The Durehahdddach mountains...

---

The sun was well up and the shadows of the evening had capitulated to the light of Magus, the valleys and hills covered in a warm yellow glow. The camp was roused, fed, and packing up the site with enough supplies and rest afforded for the weary group to continue the next stage of the journey, which might prove perilous in the heart of the Reach. Zaveed gathered his weapons, some dried meat and berries, and a pair of water skins, not figuring he’d need more than that for the short scouting mission Megana and him would embark on.

Their goals were simple; find a safe way down the pass, and locate any signs of hostiles that posed a threat to the group. The group would be fine beginning the first leg of the trip, a location picked out on the map and within eyesight from the lofty vantage point, but it was for Meg and Zaveed to discover what laid beyond that point.

“Ready to depart?” Zaveed asked, coming up behind Meg as she was finishing the last few supplies for her own travel pack. They had originally thought to use horses, but the terrain was unpredictable and while horses had an advantage of speed and mobility, they also would be far easier to spot. Airships didn’t seem to care how fast you went on land when they could simply cover ground faster with vastly superior sightlines. Just because the group hadn’t seen one in weeks didn’t mean that they were no longer a threat.

"Aye, aye," Meg replied, quickly straightening up and slinging her pack onto her back as she did. She had to admit she was excited yet a little nervous to embark on this scouting mission, especially with someone she knew very little of save for talk which she knew couldn’t just be rumours. That being said, she figured if Sevari and Sirine seemed fine with the man, he couldn't be that scary? She doubted Sora would allow him to stay if he was any worse than Gregor... Besides that, she was still feeling rather confident in herself after her hunting adventure the previous day, and that had been something she was less familiar with than what she was not heading out to do.

"Ready as can be," she added cheerfully, giving the Cathay her usual smile along with a thumbs up. "Never been 'roun' these parts personally but ain' like that should make a difference, I mean, I don' think it should, righ’?" Pursing her lips, she looked at him curiously. “Didju ever come this way?” Sevari had been to Skyrim- maybe his brother had? She was about to ask him when the she realized this was probably not the right time for banter. "Er, ah, never min’ that, we should pro’ly get goin' then!"

“Well, if it’s of any comfort, I’ve never been in this part of the world in my life. We’ll learn about it together, yes?” Zaveed replied with a grin, patting down where his weapons and equipment were to make sure he was set. He gestured for them to continue on down the path that had been plotted for the first leg of the journey. “I don’t mind having a friendly discussion to pass the time; we are not hunting, so it’s not as if we’re worried about startling game. So long as we don’t start breaking out into a rousing song we should be fine from dangerous game of the two legged variety, I think.”

"Oh yeah?" Now that she was given the okay to chat, Meg seemed rather at ease, and it showed as she stood up a little taller than she already was, eyes bright. "Well, it ain' no desert, tha's for sure. I mean, Skyrim. I wasn' born 'round here, more t'the east, but still, this is my home. The air's the same I'm used to as a kid. Much warmer now though, if we came a few month's ago, there's still be snow roun' here I'm bettin'." She paused to take a breath, looking at the Khajiit man a little sheepishly. "Sorry, bein' back just makes me happy an’ when I’m happy I kinda get babblin’. Uhm so, where ya from?"

Zaveed chuckled, rotating his hand to encourage Meg to continue on. “No, it’s fine. I just cannot imagine living in a land such as this, somewhere so cold and buried in snow and ice for much of the year. I am from Senchal, as South as South goes.” Zaveed replied with a nostalgic smile.

“The seas around Topal Bay are warm, like a bath, and they shimmer like moonstones and lapis. Life stays the same there, there is no season of ends, just a few seasons where it rains a lot and the storms become ravenous. But is that not Nirn’s way of telling us she is very much alive? I feel like everything coming to a grinding halt from winter would be the death of me and so many other things. Thinking about it feels desperate, unforgiving.” he shrugged and offered an apologetic smile. “Hm, perhaps I should leave the poetic flair to bards. I just have a very vivid imagination.”

"It's pretty," Meg offered. She had to admit that even though such a place as he described would probably have her miserable and sweating buckets, the way he made it sound could easily tempt someone like her into at least thinking about visiting Southern Tamriel once again. "I kinda wish I had better word t'say what I wanna 'bout Skyrim." She chuckled and rubbed at her nose. "Didn' much like Gilane when I was there, even by the water- it was just so damn hot." Lifting a finger, she tapped at her hair. "Tha's when I decided t'go an' get this hair cut." Her smile wavered despite her cheerful tone; she was suddenly reminded of Zahir and wondering how the young boy was doing.

"I may jus' end up goin' tha' way again though," she said after a moment. "Left someone behind there an' dunno if he’s okay."

Zaveed understood too well what that was like. “I left my entire crew, if they yet lived, back in that wretched city. Didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye, or see if they were still alive. I feel like I let a lot of people who trusted me down, and yet I’ve barely thought of them. I just was so desperate to get out of the cage the Dwemer had me in.” He sighed, glancing up at the sunlight trickling through the canopy overhead. “Part of me says I’m doing all of this for who’s left, that I couldn’t have saved them if I tried. Truth is, I have just been looking out for myself and accepted their fates as sealed.” he admitted.

He looked over towards Meg. “Apologies for derailing your thoughts. Please, tell me about this person you left behind if it’s not too touchy of a subject. It isn’t my intention to pry; we’ve barely had a chance to speak.”

"Y'don' havta say sorry," Meg immediately replied. She was finding this khajiiti man both easy to chat with as well as to listen to, and it was easy to forget that many in the camp were still wary of him. "I know I ain' the only one who's got people missin'... couldn've been easy for ya t'just havta leave 'em behind... but it ain' like you had a choice I bet. I know I didn'."

Her lips turned downward for a second before she forced herself to smile, and the more she thought about the boy, the more genuine the smile became. "He was a li'l kid, maybe ten or so? This high." She lifted her hand up to show how tall she remembered Zahir as, reaching a little lower than her shoulders. "I was kinda miserable when we got t'Gilane, an' t'was only after the... er... well..." She peeked at him before hurriedly looking away. "... broke into the garrison tha' I even went out into the city. Decided the next day t'get off my ass an' see if maybe I migh' just like somethin' 'bout Gilane? Ended up gettin' m'pocket picked, horribly, by tha' li'l skeever." She shook her head, a laugh leaving her lips. "He didn' realize I'd been doin' that sorta shit since I was smaller than him. Followed him an' tol' him I'd make sure he was fed if he showed me roun' the city. Turned out his father was taken prisoner... dunno where though... I'm hopin' maybe he's free somewhere now."

“You, a pickpocket? Say it isn’t so!” Zaveed gasped, putting a hand up to his muzzle before he grinned and winked at her. “I suppose everyone needs a mentor. Lucky for him he tried his luck on you and not someone with a… less agreeable disposition.” Zaveed nodded, thinking over how much of himself he wanted to really share. Meg seemed to be sympathetic enough; she certainly had a heart for small wayward souls.

“I wasn’t unlike Zahir. Sevari, that less charming version of myself, is my brother. Not by blood, mind you, but in the way that actually matters. We grew up on Senchal’s streets together as orphans. Stealing what we could, food, medicine, clothing, coin. Take it from me when I say that someone like Zahir is going to turn out fine; if he’s been living on his own on the streets for this long, he’s clever and knows what to get what he needs to make it by.” The Khajiit explained quietly.

“It doesn’t matter much who is in charge for people like him and once upon a time; you’re invisible to the powers that be. Who gives a shit about a scrawny kid who sleeps on the streets? No one. And that’s why he’s going to be strong and capable; he made by just fine before you came along, but now he knows that at least one person out there sees him as a person. It’ll keep his heart in a good place.” Zaveed said, scrambling over a rock and grabbing onto a branch before letting himself down a small drop. On the other side of the rock, he offered a hand to Meg to climb down.

"Yer righ'," Meg replied with a nod. She had been quiet as she listened to the khajiit, and his words resounded in her, reminding her of herself when she was younger. She had been lucky to have a caring if somewhat negligent father who eventually realized what she had been up to, but before that, she had wandered the streets of Riften with no care for the guards and associating with sour types that perhaps were better left along.

And J'raij of course. That thought brought a smile to her lips.

Taking hold of his hand, she easily made her way to the other side, jumping off and landing next to him only a little less gracefully than he had. "I believe ya," she added once she was standing upright. "I know bein' a sorta street rat m'self made me stronger than I seem. I guess it's just me that's gotta get passed leavin' him jus’ like tha’. I jus' hope he doesn' like hate me or anythin’. I left a note for him an' some septims. Hopefully he doesn' go gettin' himself caught again." Taking a deep breath, she decided she had to simply realize that whatever was meant to happen would happen. The divines would hopefully be gracious and look after him.

"Y'know," she started, deciding to change the subject, "if I didn' know from b'fore, I wouldn've pegged Sevari an' you t'be brothers. Not 'cause y'look differen', I know that's 'cause of the moons, my friend J’raij had told me ‘bout that. More 'cause er... y'both act pretty differen'."

That earned a laugh. “Oh, a few decades apart will do that. When we were younger, I was the shy and hopeful one, and he was the one who always kept us looking forward. Our big break was always the next one, always, always, always. My sister, who is by blood, and I knew it was a load of guar shit, but that little bit of hope was all we needed.” Zaveed frowned, stopping for a moment, his arms crossed.

“The empire took him away, promised him revenge for the death of his biological family. Marassa went next, the Dominion picked her up for stealing and an officer took an interest in her and personally groomed her to be the best soldier she could be. I was alone, so I turned to a privateer crew at Senchal’s docks because I didn’t know what else to do and I wanted an adventure.” he looked over to Meg, a frown across his features, water welling in his eyes.

“I wanted to be strong enough to save my brother and my sister, and instead found myself in the iron grasp of cruel men who raped the innocence out of a young boy and molded what was left into a hardened killer and marauder. So, sob story cut short, I never got to find Sevari again for decades because I had to fight my way up to captain my own ship after ending those who wronged me for years, and Sevari became a boogeyman for the Empire who did all sorts of clandestine murders and other savory crimes. By the time we found each other again a few months ago, we didn’t recognize each other… and we still don’t. Not really.” Zaveed said, wiping at his eye and looking away. “Apologies, this is unbecoming of me.”

"No it ain'," Meg replied, feeling her own eyes stinging with tears, her heart clenching in sympathy for both Zaveed and Sevari. It was so hard to imagine being cut away from one's family like that, and to be forced into such unseeming and unbecoming situations. It reminded her of thoughts she had in Gilane, wondering who really was the right one in the end. It had taken the dwemer arriving for her to realize how much she did actually miss her father and brother, and how she wished to make some sort of amends with her stepmother. "Unbecomin' is me bawlin' while bein' stinkin' drunk." Her lips turned downward, and there was no hesitation when she reached over and gave his arm a sympathetic pat.

"It ain' fair what happened t'the three of ya," she finally added, shaking her head and letting out a sigh. "It's really silly an' dumb bu' I wish there was some way t'stop... or lessen all the bad in the world." She sighed again before managing to smile at the khajiit man. "I'm glad that at least y'all got t'meet each other again. Even if y'don' really know each other well... I mean... it's like makin' friends again, righ'? At leas’... I hope it is."

“Life seldom is fair, Megana. The fact that your lot in life is determined by the station of your birth says plenty to that; neither you nor I were born with a royal scepter up the ass, and I’m not about to feel remorse of the life I lived. I did what I had to to survive; had I been born to a well-off and opulent family, the person you know as Zaveed might as well have been someone entirely different. I might have picked up a lute instead of an axe, I might have become a lunar priest and travelled to Anequina. Who is to say?” he said, a bitterness to his tone suffocated under a heavy blink and sigh. When he spoke again, his tone was more agreeable.

“Thing is, I survived, I found my brother and sister again, and we’re all alive. It’s something I know I cannot take for granted, and that’s why everything I do now is in service of trying to repair a relationship that might never be mended, and to live up to the expectations of the one who gave me a second chance at life, and the woman who saw me as who I was and not my reputation as Captain Greywake. I have to be thankful for what I have, and I am in a position to maybe do some good for a change.” Zaveed said with a sense of earnest determination.

There was a small quiet that ensued before Meg spoke up. "Y'know," she started, looking at him, "yer a lot more differen' than I thought you'd be." A lot of her assumptions had been because of the incidents in Gilane, and though she had not seen anything of what had happened, her opinions had been tinged, perhaps rightfully so give those circumstances. But now... and especially after learning what she had about Gregor, and knowing the complete truth about Jaraleet, it was hard for her not to show sympathy to the khajiit man, even if she abhorred what had been done to her companions. "Both of you, t'be hones', you an' Sevari. I'm glad for it, an' I'm sure y'can do good"

She smiled a little, recalling a conversation from the Alik'r village. "It's like I tol' Jaraleet back in the desert, a li'l change never hurt anyone. Jus' gotta be brave an' take the steps t'make it happen." Her smile widened. "I've been hearin' it a whole lot- it is good t'be brave. There's... lotsa stuff 'bout me I don' quite like but I'm hopin'..." She shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed. "I'm hopin' t'change those too."

“I’ve been getting that a lot, I’m afraid to admit. The consequences of your actions aren’t nearly as easy to brush off when you have to look them in the eye each and every day.” Zaveed said, smiling unapologetically. He noticed a clearing up ahead and decided that they should wait and observe before crossing when they reached it.

“Change is hard and painful, it’s hard to kick a quarter-century’s worth of habits and experience, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out; I’m nothing if not resourceful, and likewise, I’m sure you’ll find the path that was meant for you with time and effort. But Megana?” he said, stopping in his tracks to look her square on. “There’s plenty to like about you, as well. Don’t feel like you need to go changing all at once, yes?”

Looking back at him, Meg couldn't help but smile at Zaveed's words, nodding in agreement. "I know," she assured him. She had noticed the clearing as well and moved a little to the side, though her attention was still on the khajiit. "Fjolte said sommat like tha' the other day as well... wha' was it? Somethin' 'bout bein' content in bein' me. An' tellin' my own mind t'pipe down sometimes." She rubbed the back of her neck, contemplating a moment before chuckling. “Guess I’ll figure it out too, some day. For now though…”

Her mouth twisted a little, thinking of the dwemer that had interrupted what she reckoned had been a peaceful life for most people. Even though they were always there in the back of her mind, the occupation had been easy to distract herself from, just by being in familiar surroundings. “Gotta that care of the dwemer problem.”

“Fjolte also gave me some things to think about. I’m rather pleased with our decision to free him; he’s a good man.” Zaveed agreed. ”But for now, one day at a time, yes?”

The pair reached the edge of the clearing, keeping low and keeping within the treeline, surveying the way across. Were there any figures or out of place shape along the brush, animals or traps? They kept a vigil for a bit over 5 minutes before deciding to make their move. Keeping low and fast, they crossed the clearing, feeling exposed and pressured all the while, but they had made it across without issue. Zaveed made a show of wiping his brow and grinning at Megana, and the two carried on.

The forest seemed tranquil and Zaveed had to admit, he was beginning to see the appeal now they were working their way down the Eastern slopes. Somewhere to the North was Markarth, so the map said, and Falkreath was somewhere to the Southeast. All they had to do was get out of the Reach first and out of the Druadarch Mountains. Maybe find an inn somewhere and sleep indoors for a change. Rorikstead was close by, wasn’t it?

The thoughts consumed Zaveed until he had begun to realize that the forest seemed to be eerily silent; no birds seemed to be chirping, and they had not seen even so much as a deer in some time.

“Something’s wrong.” he said, his hands reaching for the axes at his hips. Suddenly, a sharp pain like a stinging insect was felt in his thigh. As a reflex, he reached down and felt a metallic cylinder with a feathered shaft sticking out of his leg. He pulled it free with a hiss, freeing his axes and turning towards the source. His vision had begun to blur and spin, his head felt light, his limbs weak. “What…” he managed, and Zaveed collapsed to his knees, the axes slipping from his hands as he tried to catch his fall. His hands slowed his descent, but by the time his face hit the dirt, the world had gone black.

"Shit!" Meg had been ready to take hold of her bow at the warning just in case, but she had not expected her companion to be struck so soon after his words. Without a thought she pulled her sword from its place at her waist and stood above the fallen khajiit, eyes darting this way and that as she tried to figure out which direction the dart may have been shot from. A glance at Zaveed showed he was alive at least, so that was a small relief.

"Show yerself!" she growled. Any sign of affability was missing from her face, eyes narrowed beneath the frown creasing her brow. She didn't expect a reply, and neither did she receive one, at least not a verbal one. It wasn't long before she was struck by a dart as well. Looking down in an almost surreal fashion, she saw the small yet effective projectile sticking into her side. Without a word she grabbed it and pulled it out, waiting for unconsciousness to hit her like it had her companion...

But it didn't.

Thinking fast, Meg let herself fall to the ground, sword clattering from her hand to the forest floor beside her. Her eyes were closed but her mind was still racing, very aware of her current situation. It seemed the divines were looking over her today; the dart hadn't pierced her skin and so she remained awake. She couldn't squander this opportunity; at least this way she had some sort of chance... she hoped. Daring to open her eyes one last time, her eyes fell on the khajiit she’d nearly fallen on top of, and then slipped down to notice the dagger sheathed at his back. Maybe…

Long minutes passed with Zaveed snoring heavily slumped into the dirt and Megana mimicking him to the best of her ability. The brush moved then very subtly, and with her eyes closed, she could not see their attackers. They spoke in a strange tongue and after kicking both captives to check their responsiveness and pulses, both Megana and Zaveed had their hands and legs bound in chord. A feather enchantment was cast on both of their prone forms and they were hoisted up and carried off quietly into the brush.

Mass Effect: Renegade

Withdrawn

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Xanadu Thanks for all of the hard work so far! I'm pretty happy with where Ardan is, although I found a really dumb typo that I have to fix. Other than that? Good to go and looking forward to it!

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Xanadu Ardan's worked over and up to code! I made sure to go over the bits you felt needed a bit more explanation and expanded on them a bit more, including why he went the enlisted route rather than pursue a career as an officer, reasons why his marriage collapsed, his relationship with his family, and how he yeeted himself out of Council space.

For ease of access, here we are; roleplayerguild.com/posts/4899871

Mass Effect: Renegade

@Xanadu Thank you for the prompt and through review! I'm surprised it didn't have more points of contention, but I'm glad you enjoyed the character! The bits you suggested I expand upon make a lot of sense, and a lot of that is my bad for failing to consider that I didn't explain or justify a few key points that are rattling around in my skullcase rather than being on the sheet, which was rather near-sighted of me.

To explain some of the bio parts a bit better (that I am gonna edit in, dontcha worry!);
-Ardan's wife was more or less a gold digger who thought he was more affluent and successful than he actually was. She kept the ruse up for several months, never feeling anything for him other than he was a guillible client. When she realized the promised big score was never going to happen, she made her move to clear him out when he was out at a job. Being on Omega, I don't imagine drive thru weddings are legally binding.
-Ardan's desertion I envisioned as being very low-key and not realized until he was out of Citadel space. He made his travel arrangements on leave, so by the time he booked transit out to the Terminus, he'd more or less disappeared and was out of reach.
-I was actually planning on fleshing out his relationship with Casius over the RP; I mainly wanted to introduce the idea they kept in touch. I'll expand upon it in the sheet!
-Thanks for letting me know that teal is hard to read on your screen! It seems okay on mine, I was mainly using it for headers; I won't be colouring dialog, however.

Thanks again! I'll have that all ironed out soonish!

Mass Effect: Renegade

<Snipped quote by Dervish>

Also they aren't a human... so like that's cool! ^<^

@Xanadu

Spirits approved.

And no rush on the review! I know the joys and excruciating pain of trying to do detailed reviews and feedback for a bunch of applications; the quality you get in turn is worth the time and stress tho