Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Current To all I'm in RPs with: I apologise if my replies are sparse. Life isn't kind.
3 yrs ago


My name is DJ.
I am a roleplayer.
A roleplayer of roughly a good decade now.
I write a lot of things, and am able to roleplay a lot of things.

Random Things about me
- I run a small YouTube channel.
- I listen to a helluva lot of music. Love music.
- I'm from Singapore. It's a little island in Southeast Asia.

Anywho, I've not been RPing for a long long time, but here I am, hopefully to make a few friends and RP some.

Arena Stats

2 Wins / 2 Losses / 0 Draws
1200 points

Most Recent Posts

My sheet is about 75% done, but I'm super tired so I'll continue tomorrow.
Mistakes Were Made
Next door to Holly Knight's apartment
11:30 PM

"Argh, le fils de pute. Stupid lock."

The Frenchman grumbled as he mangled his fingers (read: entangled his fingers in) with his key-ring. After a second of fumbling, he found the right key, jammed it into the slot and headed in to comfort and, well, home. The day, and by extension the night, had been exceptionally long for him. Unlike his neighbour who could clock off at a reasonable time, he had to stay behind to make sure his work was done just right. After all, he was the only chief medical examiner in the precinct, and with crime levels at an all-time high, he was neck deep in work processing the number of bodies that came through his morgue every day. It was driving him up the wall with how overworked he'd been in recent days, even with an assistant that he'd been given graciously by whatever higher-ups he had.

As he ambled into his apartment, he closed his door and locked it, testing the knob and jiggling the door to make sure it was properly locked like it always was. Then he tossed his keys precisely into the small bowl perched on the chest of drawers next to the door (where it'd always been) and hung his thick coat on the coat rack next to it. His satchel went onto the couch and the first thing he went for was the thermostat that he turned to his usual, comfortable 24°C. Not too hot, not too cold, especially in eastern France. After which he made his way into his kitchenette and poured himself a cold, stiff finger of whiskey on the rocks. Then, with his drink in hand, he stood by his apartment window and stared out at the city. He could just barely make out the sound of sirens in the distance, a constant companion to him ever since he'd joined the police department, seemingly the city's siren song to the masses, a reminder that Loom was a dangerous city; one you should never attempt to traverse at night.

Today was no different; he'd gotten through two (or three, the hours and bodies blurred) autopsies and post-mortems for two (or three) new cases, along with writing reports for two more that he had to submit by the next day at the latest. And the worst part was that he had to be early tomorrow to finish up, submit the reports, then start on the two (or three, merde he was getting old) new reports before he could even take a break.

At least he'd come home at a respectable time. Sometimes his neighbour Holly would come home even later, her keys rattling in her lock waking him from his slumber occasionally when her job called her away at unearthly hours. They were both law enforcement, so it was expected, but a part of him wished that, maybe, they'd both get a break one day. Holly was his only friend, after all. Someone he could trust enough to not feel like a total d'idiot if he asked her out for dinner and a drink.

After a while of mulling over his own thoughts and his whiskey, he retired to his bathroom for a hot shower, then to his bed, where he fell into a silent, blank sleep.

3 AM

The sounds of a struggle woke Jean-Phillipe from his slumber. His senses kicked into gear before his body did, alerting him of what was happening; a fight, Holly screaming, something heavy falling over, caused by her body impacting it. A new, unfamiliar person attacking her assailant, judging by the near-animalistic (and slightly muffled) growling through his wall. Groggy and still half-awake, the Frenchman jerked himself out of bed and dragged himself over to the door, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes as he unlocked his door and peeked over at his neighbour. No surprise, the door was ajar and wood chips and splinters littered the floor.

That woke him up.

"Merde- Holly?!"

In his fuzzy bedroom slippers, he rushed into her apartment to find her sprawled out on her sofa, which was upturned, and a mysterious younger man struggling on top of...something else entirely. Two thin slivers of shiny metal jutted from the bigger silhouette's back, no doubt weapons of some sort, which made JP look around for the nearest one for him. He caught sight of her coat, holster still attached and pistol still within, and reached for it, a hand pulling the heavy black handgun from its leather receptacle and pointing it at the two struggling men on the floor, both hands now clasped firmly around the grip. With one hand, JP flicked the off-white plastic hallway light switch into the 'on' position and mustered his best police voice.

"Je suis la police! Freeze!"

Only after shouting this did he remember that he, unlike her, did not have training with a firearm. Or even own one. And, as quietly as he could, he swore.

You say Silent Hill

I say hi

Daniel stood to one side. He'd arrived at the lobby earlier, so he could case out his potential opponents in the newest iteration of the multidimensional tournament. So far the competition had seemed pretty intense. Fighters both intimidating...and not.

The former cop turned fighter held up his smartphone. The invitation from the Liason sat there on the screen in the form of a text message from an unknown number. Another phone number was listed that, when called, opened a portal that he'd stepped through into the lobby. It wasn't the first time he'd been invited to such events; he recalled a time recently when he'd taken another invitation from his friend Skallagrim to participate in another tournament. However that had gotten derailed by some weird...otherdimensional monsters that he'd only barely escaped from. One thing he'd learned from all these silly tournaments: they were always getting derailed by some silly things.

He just hoped today was going to be an exception.

The wolf lowered his cap and kept to himself. The less he bragged, boasted or even talked, the better. The less his potential opponents would know of him.
Hazan rechecked his weapons for the last time. He’d calibrated his Avenger’s sights to work off of his visor, automatically marking “enemy” signatures once he first laid eyes on them. With a tap, he synchronised his visor with the feeds from his team’s omnitools and Serena’s drones, one of which was high above the structure, cloaked and moving to get a bird’s eye view of the site. Immediately he saw one of the asari, Ryria, perched up above, watching the dunes where they’d first hid behind for the planning phase. He tapped his omnitool and marked Ryria’s presence on the roof with a red triangle, using Del’s viewpoint to make sure her position was accurate.

”Slight hitch guys: Ryria’s up on the roof staring at the dune we’re hiding behind. She’ll see us the second we walk out. Someone’s gotta suppress her so we can move up without her seeing where we are.”
"Yes, let's."

Daniel gripped his bat tighter. The city limits were far behind them and the wide expanse of grassy field now gave the two warriors a level...playing field to fight in. All bets were off. He needed this woman to trust him so that he could journey onward without fear of her stabbing him in the back.

He raised his bat and got back into his combat stance just a few feet away from her, feet spread apart slightly with his bat to his right side, facing her and staring her down.

"Whoever wins, well, they don't lose. There's no shame in this. Just another duel so I can prove to you I'm no monster."
Pre-Launch Day, Six Centuries Ago
The Volintis Family

It was a rare sight. Something you didn't see every day.

Hazan Volintis in a suit and tie. And even rarer was that he was with his family.

The night was energetic. Jien Garson's speech had riled up the whole crowd. Now it was the post-speech "party" and that left Hazan with not a whole lot to do except drink a whole lot of alcohol and talk with his family. Which he'd already done a lot of over the last few years. Truth be told, he was rather bored about the whole thing. There was just so much people milling around in the convention area on Luna that he couldn't even get his bearings without getting bumped into and jostled enough to confuse him again. This was worse than any mapping mission he'd ever been on.

Well, not like he went on any more of those. Not since he took over as senior advisor for his dad's security company. Volintis Security Solutions was prospering on the Citadel, especially with the news of potential war on the horizon. The private security agency hadn't seen this many requests since they'd first opened up shop on the station all those years ago. But now that the family was packing up for Andromeda, Volintis Senior had entrusted the business to one of his closest associates, a former C-Sec security officer who took up the mantle as easily as he took a drink of water. After the Borealis and cleaning up his life on Omega, Hazan had been in the company for two years before he came across the Initiative. The news had been exciting: a whole new galaxy to explore and settle down in. His inner cartographer had been thrilled to no end. However the decision had been if he wanted to leave his family behind, and the inevitable answer was no. His family was coming along for the ride, like it or not.

Bah. Something just didn't feel right. Hazan excused himself from the small circle his folks had made and wandered off to the side of the convention hall, near one of the huge, thick windows that overlooked Earth. It wasn't his home planet, sure, but staring down at the big ball of blue and green, a thought crossed his mind: this planet represents one of many facets of our galaxy. And tomorrow we're leaving. Forever. Six centuries... Spirits.

He stood there for a while, admiring the planet, a glass of iced turian brandy in a hand. Hazan let his thoughts wander, idly swirling his glass and listening to how the ice cubes clicked gently against each other and the sides of the glass. He couldn't imagine what it was like to actually leave. The imagery would be the same if he were still on one of the 132nd's ships orbiting Palaven for a resupply. The thought of...nothing being familiar any more after the six century long cryosleep was daunting. Almost impossible to swallow. Yet here he was, with the countless other future colonists that were eager and excited to start a new life in the stars. That feeling of adventure was still there, but as his thoughts roiled in his head, he slowly felt more uneasy. What if the journey wasn't a smooth one? What difference would six centuries make to the images of the home planets they'd been spoon-fed ever since they joined the initiative? The thought worried him, among other feelings of unease.

His reverie was interrupted by a tug on his arm. Hazan jumped slightly as his sister, a slightly taller and younger turian, took a place next to him. Catrine Volintis, a more refined person than he'd ever be. Unlike him, she'd gone into the social and psychological side of war, deciding instead to serve aboard a medical frigate while she took further studies in headshrinking. Now she was a bonafide psychologist and mental analyst who was often called upon to help soldiers with PTSD or work stress. She gave him a quizzical look and gestured at the window with a talon.

"Admiring the view?"

Hazan shook his head.

"Nah. Just gonna...miss this place, when we're gone. I left so much behind, y'know. The crew of the Borealis. My friends in the 132nd. My... Girlfriend. I'm worried that I'm gonna regret going to Andromeda."

Catrine nodded and hummed in understanding, the intent in her sub-vocals clear. She leaned against his shoulder a little and chuckled.

"Just like you to worry so much, silly Haze. You'll be fine, and we'll be fine too. We're all in this together, remember? That's what dad told us."

Dad. Demetri Volintis. A legend in their family line. Once he'd been a fleet commander way back when he was younger, and he'd had the chance to become a trainer of budding young captains in the navy. Now he was the head of VSS on the Citadel, lending his experience in seeking military talent to those who needed bodyguards or escort details, from cargo ships to weddings and everything in between. The older turian stood with his wife a ways away from Hazan and his sister, no doubt talking and reminiscing of days gone by. His dad had been one of his idols growing up, but when he'd been shipped off and gotten even older and more mature, Hazan had realised his dad was someone he didn't want to be: a stuffy, old war veteran with too much to talk about and a boring desk job. His personality made him an explorer, an adventurer. Someone who loved the wide open spaces and seeing all the sights the galaxy had in store. Then again, after he'd left the Borealis, he'd appreciated settling down in the Citadel and doing desk work for a while as a bit of a reprieve from the non-stop action that was mercenary work.

Catrine nudged him on the arm and woke him from his brief reverie. A concerned look crossed her face as she stared at him.

"You...okay? You blanked out for a moment there. Something wrong, Haze?"

Hazan sighed and shook his head, trying his best to clear the stubborn sad thoughts from his head. After all, he was here to be happy that he was leaving.

"Sorry. I, uh, spaced out. Just lost in thought, I guess."

She chuckled and hummed softly.

"Y'know, you've been doing that a lot, especially since you came back from that horrible few years you disappeared to that nasty business in the Terminus systems. Something followed you back here, didn't it."

"Yeah...a lot of things followed me back from my time when I went dark. Horrible, terrible things that I've seen with my own eyes."

His memory went back to his very first job with the Borealis crew: taking down a gang of slavers working in the depths of Omega. Killing them was just business, but when he saw the slaves after they were done... It was one of many mental scars he'd gain over the course of his military and mercenary life. Slavers, pirates and smugglers dragging prisoners across space were the worst. Sometimes, during his patrols, they'd come across hastily abandoned freighters with pirate markings, some burned and others intact, but with cargo on board that was destroyed before the pirates jumped ship. And sometimes, that cargo was people. Live and dead, crammed into tiny spaces, smuggled across borders to be sold as slaves, or worse: parts. It was everywhere, especially in the Terminus systems. He was just glad that the crews he'd run with hadn't gone into those ventures. The thought brought a bad taste to his mouth, one that made him rumble displeasure in his sub-vocals as he tried to clear the thoughts from his head.

"I can tell. Y'know, you should see a shrink if you can. Bottling all that emotion up isn't healthy for you."

"Soon, Cat. Soon-"

His sister took him by the shoulders and held him firm.

"I'm serious, Hazan. From a professional standpoint. I am a shrink, after all. If you want, I could totally help you-"

Hazan interrupted her with a talon against her mandibles.

"No need, Cat. I'll be fine. Once we're in Andromeda, I'll go see a shrink. I promise."

She harrumphed and crossed her arms.

"You're lying. I can tell too. You always make that face when you say something just to get someone off your back."

"Face? What face? This is my normal fa-"

He was promptly interrupted by a small alert ringing from his omni tool. Hazan tapped a few buttons to bring it up and found himself being the subject of an identity scan. Catrine looked on in curiosity as her elder brother brought up his own scanner software to counter whoever or whatever was examining him, and found a very familiar drone hovering in the air high above the crowd. With a bloom of warmth in his heart, he smirked and fired off a digital message into the drone and sent it on his way. His omni tool powered down as his sister stared at him, even more curious than before.

"What was that about?"

Hazan chuckled.

"A friend from the Borealis. One I didn't expect to see here. If that drone's around, she's here. I think she's trying to find if there's other crew members in the initiative."

Catrine smirked and thumped him on the shoulder.

"Well doesn't that mean you should go find her? Don't worry, I'll tell mom and dad. They'll understand."

He nodded and smiled in response, giving his little sister a hug too.

"Yeah. Yeah, I will. I'll meet up with you guys later then. I've got a crew to reunite with."

With that said, he waved a brief, temporary goodbye to his sister and began backtracking Sarah's remote piloting signal to the omni tool of a certain ex-Alliance VI technician and engineer named Serena Mathews.

Present Day
Prodromos, Eos
Roll Call

The turian stared wistfully at the small, oval-shaped locket on his neck. Within the tiny locket were two pictures: one of his family, the other of him and his girlfriend. The metal still felt so pristine in his talons, even though he knew all of it was centuries old from the journey across space.

At least... At least I still have one of these pictures in real life. The other...

He sighed and closed the locket, slipping it back underneath his plain white shirt. The slender turian was relaxing on his upper bunk, waiting for...something, apparently. He didn't know what, but the thing about the military was that you were always rushing somewhere to wait, or waiting for someone to rush you somewhere else. Hazan had caught the first transport from the Nexus out to Prodromos the day he was accepted into APEX and posted to a fireteam, mainly because he couldn't wait and also due to the fact that his team leader had contacted him immediately after and requested for a rendezvous on the planet itself. He'd heard of what the human Pathfinder, Sara Ryder, had done. Fixed the planet somehow. Recalibrated its environment. An amazing piece of work. The outpost had come up shortly afterwards, and though it was still in the process of being fully built, he wanted to be on the crew that made Eos their temporary home away from home. What was even more amazing was the people he'd found while waiting for the fireteam to assemble itself. No less than half of the Borealis crew lay in their own bunks in the hastily modified barracks building. Over there to his right was Serena, sitting at a table while she fiddled with her drone, Del. In the bunk beneath him was Khosin, although the batarian wasn't there at the moment, and he'd memorised the bunk positions of Dexuret and Firuzeh as well. Familiar faces in an unfamiliar land that set him at ease the moment he knew that they were a part of the team, and he was pretty sure they were glad he was around too, if a lot older and wiser(?).

Hazan chuckled to himself and shrugged. What a small galaxy it was. He knew Serena was on the Nexus because he'd spotted her drone during the speech night as it scanned him. But the others...the others were unexpected. Khosin especially. He briefly wondered what gods he'd prayed to or bribed to get himself a spot on the Nexus, but he put those thoughts aside. Khosin was an all-round good man and good soldier, unlike many regular batarians. Plus, they'd been on so many missions together he was embarrassed to count how many. In a firefight, he trusted that man more than he trusted all the newer team members.

As he went back to reading his detective novel on his datapad, his omni-tool flashed red with a message from team leader Sabinus Tannyx. The man had- was still dating, he hastily corrected himself, one of the Borealis crew too: Tanya Carson, their other experienced ship and drone engineer. He knew she and Serena had a very good friendship, bonding over their drones in the junker's hangar bay while they talked shop and fixed electronics. The crew of the junker as a whole was a tight knit crew, almost a family even. Even now, he smiled at the memories of those left behind; the big, sullen krogan Tonka, whom he'd probably heard laughing on pre-launch day. Drono, their sickly but extremely capable drell. Vellios.

Vellios. Thinking about the more mature, yet somehow childish turian brought heaviness to his heart. He was the one that he felt closest to. Vel had been like a brother to him, even through his mistakes. He missed him dearly, as he did everyone else on the Borealis.

But, the message took precedence. Form up outside in ten minutes, it said. Without a word, Hazan powered down his datapad and put together his scouting armour, restored to its former glory by APEX armourers after the years of abuse it'd suffered through his life. He clamped each part to himself like he was putting on a tailored suit, each piece coming together on the main bodysuit until everything was in place. He grabbed his guns, mostly the same ones he'd used during his time in the Milky Way except for his sniper rifle (which was a shiny new M-23 Viper he'd picked up on the Nexus before leaving) and stowed them accordingly. He'd figured the current mission wasn't going to be that heavy, so he elected to bring his Mattock and Predator alongside the Viper; both rifles went onto his back rigging while his pistol clung to his hip. The visor he'd never stopped wearing went onto his right temple and the knife that had never failed him went onto his lower back, snug inside a hidden pouch that concealed the deadly sharp blade. Then, with all gear accounted for (and his snazzy desert camouflage shemagh tucked into a pouch), he strode outside and joined the rest as they formed up and stood at attention. All except one.

And it had to be Serena.

Hazan had to suppress a groan and a chuckle as Serena, ignoring all pretense of military discipline, strode right up to Sabinus and Tazen (and the new...alien? Anjor was his name, and his species on the docket had said Angara, so he assumed new species) and greeted them with a hearty hello and an introduction. Meanwhile the Irish-American soldier, Clyff was his name, stood at attention and snapped up to a crisp salute. According to the dossiers of the team he'd read, the man was ex-Alliance, just like Serena. He was a security chief and trained in negotiation, hostage rescue and crisis response. An admirable set of skills, something Hazan admitted to himself that he didn't have. He admired the human's discipline, something that Serena was lacking apparently, and joined the human in the salute and in stating his name and rank.

"Lieutenant Hazan Volintis. Turian navy, 132nd Light Patrol Squadron. Reporting as ordered, sir."
GMs, I've updated Hazan's sheet. If you want it here, I can edit this post to include it.
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