In the interest of ‘Relevant to my setting musings’ I actually recently got in a massive pile of kickstarted settings and rule books. Has anyone played Forgotten Lands by Free League? It pretty much hit the nail on the head for all the vibes I was trying to capture with Aesithas and I’m being transparent in my viewing of other systems as I run this game. I was just curious if anyone had any personal experience with the Mechanics of it, as the setting itself is very alluring to me.
Full Name - Laine Severn (formerly, Commander Laine Severn) Designation - Hyperion Species - Human Age - 55 (b. 2128) Origin - Earthborn Classification - Soldier Unique Specialization - Shock Trooper -
P S Y C H E
Revenant of War // Discipline, Determination, Tenacity "The war isn't over yet. Get back on your feet, soldier."
Hyperion is defined by an incredible stamina and willpower. The former is incredible in that it spites his advancing age, whereas the latter is honed by decades of discipline and training. His tenacity and ability to push on through hardship has formed him into the anchor of many a squad, as well as the powerful pillar of strength for those who earn his trust. These positive traits are shadowed by their darker halves, however...
His enduring and tenacious spirit make him rigid and unyielding.
His tirelessness and physical discipline make him unsympathetic to the weakness of others.
His trust, once earned, is unshakable; but the shadows of war and loss make it a hard-earned boon.
Searching for Soul // Yearning, Guilt, Rage ”It felt good. Nothing can ever bring him back, I know that now, but Torfan… Torfan felt good. I don’t like that. I don’t know what it means for me.”
Hyperion is wrestling with an emptiness. Volatile emotions whirl within at the thoughts of Torfan, his son, and the state of the Galaxy at large. Dreams of the stars turned to the nightmares of war; the hope of a family burned into the ashes of vengeance; duty to an ideal faded into the nothingness of the non-believer.
He’s searching for something. Something to believe in.
E Q U I P M E N T
Jormangund Torrent Assault Rifle "Proud product of humanity, adapting the best of alien tech with our own; you can hold this baby's trigger down for practically the entire firefight without worrying about overheating. Takes spray and pray to a whole new level."
Haliat Armory Stilleto "I will never disparage the quality of Turian ordnance. Their equipment is sturdy, functional, and packs a punch. A slaver nearly put a hole in my head with one of these, and once I recovered from the headache I knew I had to get one myself."
Hane-Kedar Storm Shotgun "It's Ol' Reliable in classic shotgun form. It can handle any weather condition, foul temper, bad attitude, and foolhardy Tango Operative that you can conceive. Cheap to replace, too- but I'll be honest; the shotgun will probably outlast me."
Systems Alliance Mk.14 Grenade(s) - High Explosive Module "Versatile and efficient. I prefer the High Explosive modification over others, I find that the higher yield leads to more utility as a breaching charge. Battlefield manipulation has become the realm of the Biotics, but I find that good, old fashioned, explosive threats can still get Op-For out of cover and into the killing field."
Rosenkov Materials Heavy Titan Armor "Rosenkov is an old name, and I put stock in old names. They take pride in their work and it shows. Every dent in this armor is a reminder that it's doing its job."
R E C O R D
2149 - Chasing A Dream: Joining the Systems Alliance Laine Severn, 21, joins the Systems Alliance. Dreams of the stars carry him forth.
2157 - First Contact War: Shanxi A Dream becomes a Nightmare; Severn earns his stripes.
2164 - ICT Program Graduation: Achieving N7 The Galaxy is large, crowded, and potentially hostile. The Alliance prepares Severn to face it.
2176 - The Skyllian Blitz + The Anhur Rebellions: The Wings of Vengeance Colonies torn asunder by conflict. On one, a war won; on the other, a son lost.
2178 - Massacre at Torfan: Prelude to the Fall Severn's vengeance is wrought. With his purpose fulfilled, the Galaxy feels empty.
2179-Present Day - The Lone Gun: Rock Bottom No longer driven by Duty or Purpose, Severn retires from the Alliance. The veteran soldier strikes out into the galaxy as a lone gun for hire, searching for a reason to live. In a grand sense of irony, he takes the name Hyperion.
C O N N E C T I O N S
Suzette Norfleet // "The Witch." ”As brilliant a woman as they come. The citadel was seemingly a great place for a high grade psychologist to end up. Last I heard, she works for someone called ‘The Consort’. I don’t really understand it to be honest, but she seems fulfilled. We haven’t talked much since the divorce, but when work takes me to the Citadel she usually lends me a few words of advice. It always comes with a catch, though- that woman never changes... We're not as close as we used to be, but she was his mother and that still means something to me.”
Fil’Zorul Nar Zako // "Phil." "Phil's a troublemaker, but weren't we all when we were young? Phil has a knack for getting into stupidly dangerous situations trying to make some money- but so far his track record shows him to be a squirrely bastard who's probably even smarter than I already think he is. The first time I met Phil, he was jury rigging combat mechs for a gang on Omega. I was hired to wipe that gang out, and he seemed enthusiastic about changing his career paths. Who knew that buying a lonely kid a few drinks would get a small army of mechs to switch sides and make that job one of the easiest paychecks of my career? I don't really reach out to Phil so much- but damned if he doesn't find a way to keep in contact with me. Odd jobs, rescue requests, and the occasional gem of scrap tech... I certainly find him plenty useful."
Sur'Kesh Ol'Varo Hurloln Derhant Silik Vilani // "Queenie." "I've never actually met Queenie in person. Turns out she's someone in government in the Salarian Union or something, but to my understanding most of their women are. Sounds like a headache of familial ties to me. I call her Queenie and it seems to amuse her as much as me, so I figure she likes me well enough- but I'm always cautious with her. She's had me hunt down loose threads of her plots that displease her before, and I know that someday it might be my turn to end up on the executioner's block... But until then, she has high grade contacts, deep pockets, and values discretion. Hoorah."
Physical Details ◢
Rising to a height of five feet ten inches tall, Hyperion presents a well built figure. Not a slab of imposing meat or brutish demeanor of the musclehead- but the lean and disciplined frame of career hardship. Muscles are taut and whiplike, movements fluid and powerful, and his physical presence fills the air around him and makes him seem larger than he truly is.
His body is marred by marks both fresh and faded. A myriad of combat wounds and surgery marks riddle his form, but most of his serious injuries over the years weren't able to be concealed by modern medical technology. Notably, a severe scar crosses over his face- an injury from a Batarian's knife- which has never faded fully over the years. His left forearm also bears the severe scarring of a Varren's mauling, this particular wound seeming to agitate him still despite the months of recovery.
His body moves with the languid nature and cool comfort of one to whom armor is a second skin. Even while donning the heavy armor he is known for he makes movement and athleticism seem natural and easy. When operating without the constraints of gravity, he can even almost seem graceful thanks to his Zero-G training and operational experience.
Grey hair accents the grizzled features of the aging man. His face is often rough from stubble, and if given enough time without a shave his beard would grow in thick and full- but by the time it would reach that point he has often brought it back down to rough stubble with the edge of a knife. His eyes, a crystalline blue, can appear quite stunning when they catch light- but are otherwise an extension of the emptiness that grips the man's emotional state. His expressions are subdued and gripped by severity, with rare moments of levity or brightness. His skin is darkened by years of sunlight, foreign and familiar, into a warm tan and lines or wrinkles of a lifetime of labor are beginning to furrow his face.
Personal History ◢
RUINS ON MARS REVEAL ADVANCED TECHNOLOGICAL INNOVATIONS
The headline was sweeping across every datasphere in comprehension. A young man's eyes were glued to the screen as information filled his mind. The world was shaking to its foundations; the colonies on Mars were euphoric and triumphant, the nations of old Earth were in uproar and chasing every thread imaginable. World leaders were calling for unity and co-operation. Something had changed. Something drastic. Something that filled the young man with dreams of the future. His hands trembled as he rapidly checked through different sites and sources- then the screen of his comm shimmered into that of receiving a call.
"Oh my god, Suze." He said with haste upon answering the call. "Are you seeing this- Can you believe this- Alien tech-"
"Yeah, I'm seeing it." She laughed through the call. "Isn't it amazing?"
"I want to be a part of it." His voice trembled even as he said it, the words reaching his own ears at the same time they reached Suzette's. "Whatever it is, I want to be a part of it. This is the future- our future- out there."
The fate of Humanity changed in the year 2148. The discovery of the Prothean ruins on Mars and the unearthing of the mass-effect drives therein irrevocably catapulted the fledgeling species into the, unbeknownst to them, modern era. The following year, eighteen of Earth's largest nations signed the Systems Alliance Charter. The same year, a young Laine Severn forwent his intentions of pursuing an education in physical therapy and transferred to the newly established Systems Alliance Naval Academy. Shortly thereafter he married his highschool sweetheart, Suzette Norfolk. Their marriage was a happy thing, and while they were both in attendance of universities on Earth they spent as much time together as they could manage.
Severn graduated and was given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. Suzette achieved her doctorate and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Johns Hopkins University. They discovered her pregnancy shortly before Severn's first tour of the stars began. Twelve months later, the now Staff-Lieutenant (B7) Severn returned home to a young, healthy, baby boy.
Hope was kindled for the future.
Sweat clung to his face. No matter how much it stung his eyes, raising his helmet to wipe the insufferable perspiration was out of the question. Silence hummed deafeningly in his ears. His eyes were straining. He took a steadying breath and relaxed. The stale stench of his own breath filled his nostrils, filtering with the fresh oxygen of the atmosphere of the planet.
"Commander, movement." The voice crackled in his ear as a static inflected whisper.
"Pos?" his own parched lips barely moved- radio chatter was dangerous.
"Sector seven. Scavenge team returning."
"Cover them."
He finally moved. The stiffness of his limbs protested, but his armor silently maneuvered- despite the grime, lieutenant Severn kept his gear in high maintenance. The concealing blind he'd been positioned in shifted with him and soon he emerged, rifle braced to his shoulder, onto the outcrop he'd commandeered as a lookout. The city was in ruins. Smoke filled the air. Rubble still shifted uncertainly, prefab ferrocrete disintegrating and destabilizing adjacent structures even now- hours after the last bombardment. He cast his gaze skyward for a moment and swore he could see the bastards up there, gazing down at him, smug in their feelings of superiority...
He hissed under his breath and tore his gaze from that haze filled, blood-red, sky. Sectors two through five were still burning. Nobody knew when the next orbital strike would fall. Nobody knew what the criteria for the strikes were; sometimes they fell on empty city blocks, sometimes it was as if the Turians knew exactly where to place the strikes to kill just a single squad of men. The only solace was that Op-For seemed to be avoiding the refugee centers. Seems even aliens had a conscience and rationale.
That thought didn't diminish the rage and hatred burning in his heart.
Staff-Commander Severn, field promoted after an orbital strike by the Turian sieging forces killed his XO, was a prisoner of war on Shanxi. The dreams of a life among the stars became nightmares of war. The sight of city blocks evaporating into rubble from debris strikes seared into his mind. His hands were bloodied from carrying a wounded companion- bloodied from putting pressure on a wound- bloodied from killing a Turian with his knife- bloodied and clinging to a rifle as he screamed into the night air, his torrential gunfire ripping into the third story of a ruin to suppress a sniper team... Hoping that his bullets would find homes in Turian skulls rather than ferrocrete walls.
He would never forget the hunger. The way he watched an old woman close her eyes to rest- only to never open them again, starvation claiming her at last. He would never forget the sight of General Williams issuing the surrender. He would never forget the feeling of being powerless. He would never forget the pride he felt when the Second Fleet turned the heavens into fireworks and the Turians realized that this war wasn't over yet.
He would never forget the disappointment of being denied revenge.
Peace was brokered. Diplomacy...prevailed. A council revealed; a grand stage presented itself. Humanity accepted the offered olive branch, and Commander Severn returned home.
He takes after Suze, Severn thought to himself. He rubbed his hands together and focused back on the task at hand. With deft movements he slid the spatula across the grill surface, the metal on metal- Knife impacting armor- clang giving way to the sizzle of-Flesh, boiling after the impact of atmospheric debris. Bone revealed in an instant- burger meat as it charred on the grill. He flipped a patty, lifting his eyes to watch as the boy-ran for his life, the shadow of a building falling over his face the moment before realization hit his eyes- folded paper in a delicate manner.
"Whatcha making?" He called out to the boy. He sniffed once, the smell of-Blood, charred flesh, gunsmoke- well-done beef wafting up to him. One more flip and the meat was deposited onto a plate, ready to be doctored up and served.
"A crane today. Mama says that origami helps build focus and strengthens your attention span. She says she wished you would do it, too, you know." God above, he's so bright for a thirteen year old. Severn mused.
"Your mother says a lot of things. Most of them are right." He said in a gruff voice. "...Almost all of them, really, but don't tell her I said that."
His son's laughter was like ambrosia. It soothed his heart more than anything else in this world ever could. He opened his mouth to speak, but tensed up. Imperceptibly- but Suzette would notice. She always did. The door behind him slid open, and his hand tightened on the spatula he gripped.
The year Severn spent at home was difficult. He got to see his child's thirteenth birthday. Got to meet some of his friends for the first time. Was able to attend one of Suzette's conferences on the subject of Human and Xenoneurological similarities. He had to restrain himself from punching one of her colleagues who wouldn't stop commenting on how 'astounding' the aliens' differences were...
He felt if they were at Shanxi, they wouldn't find their differences so romantic.
"...Laine, there's a man here to see you. From the Alliance." Suzette said in a quiet, delicate, voice.
The way the tension eased out of his body when she said those last words wasn't lost on her. He knew she'd notice. The way she watched him was downright unnerving; their bedroom had been cold since Shanxi. Their dinner tables tense. Their home troubled. But through it all was the warmth and love of the boy, holding them together. Strong, for his sake. Severn nodded and set the plate aside, swiftly closing and turning off the grill.
Cooking had been a sort of therapy for Severn. He'd taken to mastering the grill in his newly discovered free time. His mornings still started early with rigorous PT, his evenings were still spent in the discipline of exercise and study, but his days were devoid of the comradery he'd become used to on a ship, or the intimate bond of his fellow marines on a planet's surface, or the irrevocable bond of the prisoners of Shanxi...
So he spent them with his son, with the grill, and with the oven. For a few months, he was content and able to forget Shanxi. That relaxation lasted only a short while, as whenever he found himself beginning to think about the sensation of peace the fires of war filled his mind again. Opportunity came knocking as tensions in his household rose.
He blinked, and found himself seated across from a uniformed man- bearing no insignia or rank.
"Commander, how has your vacation been?"
"Restless, sir." He said evenly.
"I understand that. The Alliance has an opportunity for you. Your record, and the testimony of those you served with on Shanxi, has made you a candidate."
"A candidate?"
"For the Interplanetary Combatives Training program. You're up for special forces, son."
Severn breathed in quietly. Held the breath. Let it out. Shanxi flickered in his eyes.
"Why me?" He asked at last.
"Commander, we used to be big fish in what we thought was a galaxy sized pond. Turns out the pond was a thimble and now we're sure of nothing. Are you willing to fight for your species, son? Like you did on Shanxi? When your back was on the wall, you performed. That's what we're looking for. The training will be hard. There's no shame in turning down the offer."
Severn rose to his feet and threw a formal salute.
"Hoorah, sir. When do I ship out?"
Severn spent five years accomplishing the rigorous and brutal cycles of the ICT program. He was rarely home. His son grew into a man in the time he was away. His wife's accolades carried her into the stars. Severn achieved the rank of N7 the same year his son joined a colonial incentive scholarship with the Johns Hopkins university geological science program. He was following in his mother's footsteps, and Severn couldn't have been prouder.
Elysium was a paradise, after all.
Twelve years of special forces operations within Council Space and the Terminus Systems brought accolade and laudation upon Commander Severn (N7) and his family name. His son had become a respected geological scientist, Suzette had established herself as one of the pioneers of Human-Xeno relations on the field of brain study, and he was beginning to earn the reputation of a Hero of Humanity in the quiet circles who knew of his deeds.
A problem arose in the Anhur system. Commander Severn and his task force were to assist the Human interests on the colony discretely; the Council was stonewalling Human requests for aid, and the Systems Alliance brass didn't want to risk destabilizing the delicate house of cards the Alliance Politicians were building on the Citadel...
Which meant it was a one way trip.
Severn tightened his grip on the Batarian's wrist and twisted his arm even more severely, his other hand braced on the prisoner's shoulder to secure the joint lock.
"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, Batarian. Where are the forces going to deploy at Bast?"
"Fuck off!" the Batarian wheezed through clenched teeth. "If you were going to kill me, you would have by now- I'm not telling you anything!"
Severn grunted with the effort and wrenched the Batarian's arm further, a sickening snap filling the air as he shattered the prisoner's elbow. With a derisive kick, he knocked the legs of the chair from under the screaming Batarian and walked from the room. He was shaking his head and staring at his hands quietly as the door sealed behind him.
"Commander." A woman saluted by the door. "Any luck?"
"No. He's as stubborn as they all are." Severn growled in his raspy voice. "Any luck with the communications?"
"Aye, sir. We managed to receive a critical transmission across the emergency channel. Nothing for us, but..." Her hesitation brought Severn's eyes up from his hands and onto her own. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the bunker they operated out of, and tainted by the cruelty he felt justified in enacting just moments before.
"But?" he queried sternly. The woman waivered, then spoke.
"It's Elysium, sir. The Batarians are attacking it. It was a sudden assault, co-ordinated by a pirate warlord. They're sieging it. Last word out of the colony was that a debris strike was launched indiscriminately before raiding parties descended. It sounds bloody, sir."
Severn fell silent at those words. After a few moments he raised his hand.
"Lieutenant, your sidearm."
"Sir, yes sir." She responded curtly, placing her pistol into his hand. She turned her back smartly as Severn entered the sealed room once more.
She pretended she didn't hear the gunshot.
The Anhur Rebellions were a blur of blood and smoke to Commander Severn. His unit operated with Eclipse Mercenaries as well as local militia, providing fire support and tactical supervision when able- and operating as a shadow unit of critical strike capability otherwise. The guerilla warfare of the local militia meshed well with the N7 task force's discretionary requirements, and the Eclipse mercenaries offered convenient excuses for direct confrontation when needed. All things considered, it was a bloody war- but one that abolitionists would probably remember as a victory for sapient being rights.
Commander Severn would remember it as yet another circle of Hell he was passing through. When his unit was exfiltrated, the first news of home he received, purely due to a thoughtless organizational error of a rookie yeoman, was a declaration of intent to divorce. The second was that his son's funeral had already been held, and he was permitted to visit the honorary grave site at his leisure. The third was a briefing from Alliance brass about a retaliatory strike against the Batarians at Torfan.
The Blitz had tipped the scales in favor of the Alliance; they could strike back now without fear of repercussion from the Citadel Council.
The sky was on fire. Debris of an Alliance ship drifted overhead, flames licking across its hull as it split apart in the upper atmosphere and split into dozens of superheated fragments.
Taking heavy losses- What the hell is going on down there- the radio crackled, and the sky split asunder as a series of Alliance warships unloaded a barrage that resulted in a cataclysmic series of explosions across the sky. The shockwaves rippled outward as the fleet continued its systematic eradication of the Batarian naval forces...
Severn could almost feel the explosions in his skull.
Shepard, what in God's name is going on- The Batarians are surren-
Major Kyle's voice was trying to assert itself over the communications channels, but it was to no avail. The depths of the Batarian strongholds in the lunar surface were interfering with the communications to the command ship- but a signal on the moon's surface rang through strong and clear.
This is for the Blitz. They took slaves and butchered our families even as they cowered in their homes. Show no mercy, accept no surrender. They've earned this. It's their turn to cry for help.
Her voice was that of an Archangel. Her words were orders unto themselves; her wrath was contagious; her fury was Severn's own, boiling up from within and gripping the entire Galaxy in its destructive jaws.
He descended into the labyrinthine fortress. The final level of Hell. He dove in head first, spearheading a charge into its darkness and depths with a scream of righteous fury. He held down the trigger of his rifle until the heat sink screamed and the gun broke apart in his hands. He slashed with his knife and clubbed with his pistol beyond the point of exhaustion and numbness. He screamed until his throat was raw and blood bubbled from his lips. He cried until he couldn't anymore. He killed until there wasn't anyone left to kill.
When he came to, it was to Major Kyle's voice in his ear;
May God have mercy on us all.
Severn pushed himself off the ground, coated in the gore of his vengeance, and looked around slowly at the daze and fervor of his surviving allies. They'd just made Shanxi look like child's play. That realization struck him with such force it was like taking the first breath of fresh air in decades.
Commander Laine Severn (N7) retired after the battle of Torfan. He finally visited his son's grave and found he had no more tears to shed. The hollowness of guilt gripped his heart. His faith in Humanity was shaken. He disappeared into the Galaxy at large.
Combat Analysis ◢
"Form up on me; Op-For consists of five tangos, well equipped and ready for us. They're itching to get out of this in one piece just like we are. Call your shots and keep friendlies in periphery. Tight formation; anchor on me; sweep and clear. On my mark... Go."
Hyperion has the training of an elite N7 Commando, with specialized training in Shock and Awe tactics and leadership experience in squad based operational scenarios. In plain language, he's a tough sonuvabitch with command experience who likes to end fights quickly. He is well versed in the handling of all modern equipment of war, with a foundation of terrestrial vehicle operation and shuttlecraft piloting- though these are not his area of expertise. The most stunning aspect of Hyperion's combat analysis is the mastery of his armor systems and his role as the 'anchor' of a squad's maneuvers...
His own lethality is impressive; his ability to take a hit and get back up is incredible; his capacity to enable the success of others in his unit, however, is what truly sets him apart.
"I don't want to see anyone playing hero. Watch my back and I'll watch yours; if we can't agree to that, then nothing else matters."
Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢
"I was hitting the bottom of my cred line. You can't really 'disappear' on Illium, but I'm a nobody there unless someone needs to hire a gun. The only issue is that damn near everything costs double on that planet. I was scraping together the last of the creds to punch my ticket on a shuttle off-world and coming up short when I got a ping from Queenie. She always seems to find me when I need money the most, so I took the call...
Exo-Geni. Big name, big work. I didn't have anything better to do and funds were low. I told Queenie that she'd have to forward me the fare for transport; she told me I'd have to pay her back with interest. Fair enough, Queenie. Fair enough."
Full Name - Laine Severn (formerly, Commander Laine Severn) Designation - Hyperion Species - Human Age - 55 (b. 2128) Origin - Earthborn Classification - Soldier Unique Specialization - Shock Trooper -
P S Y C H E
Revenant of War // Discipline, Determination, Tenacity "The war isn't over yet. Get back on your feet, soldier."
Hyperion is defined by an incredible stamina and willpower. The former is incredible in that it spites his advancing age, whereas the latter is honed by decades of discipline and training. His tenacity and ability to push on through hardship has formed him into the anchor of many a squad, as well as the powerful pillar of strength for those who earn his trust. These positive traits are shadowed by their darker halves, however...
His enduring and tenacious spirit make him rigid and unyielding.
His tirelessness and physical discipline make him unsympathetic to the weakness of others.
His trust, once earned, is unshakable; but the shadows of war and loss make it a hard-earned boon.
Searching for Soul // Yearning, Guilt, Rage ”It felt good. Nothing can ever bring him back, I know that now, but Torfan… Torfan felt good. I don’t like that. I don’t know what it means for me.”
Hyperion is wrestling with an emptiness. Volatile emotions whirl within at the thoughts of Torfan, his son, and the state of the Galaxy at large. Dreams of the stars turned to the nightmares of war; the hope of a family burned into the ashes of vengeance; duty to an ideal faded into the nothingness of the non-believer.
He’s searching for something. Something to believe in.
E Q U I P M E N T
Jormangund Torrent Assault Rifle "Proud product of humanity, adapting the best of alien tech with our own; you can hold this baby's trigger down for practically the entire firefight without worrying about overheating. Takes spray and pray to a whole new level."
Haliat Armory Stilleto "I will never disparage the quality of Turian ordnance. Their equipment is sturdy, functional, and packs a punch. A slaver nearly put a hole in my head with one of these, and once I recovered from the headache I knew I had to get one myself."
Hane-Kedar Storm Shotgun "It's Ol' Reliable in classic shotgun form. It can handle any weather condition, foul temper, bad attitude, and foolhardy Tango Operative that you can conceive. Cheap to replace, too- but I'll be honest; the shotgun will probably outlast me."
Systems Alliance Mk.14 Grenade(s) - High Explosive Module "Versatile and efficient. I prefer the High Explosive modification over others, I find that the higher yield leads to more utility as a breaching charge. Battlefield manipulation has become the realm of the Biotics, but I find that good, old fashioned, explosive threats can still get Op-For out of cover and into the killing field."
Rosenkov Materials Heavy Titan Armor "Rosenkov is an old name, and I put stock in old names. They take pride in their work and it shows. Every dent in this armor is a reminder that it's doing its job."
R E C O R D
2149 - Chasing A Dream: Joining the Systems Alliance Laine Severn, 21, joins the Systems Alliance. Dreams of the stars carry him forth.
2157 - First Contact War: Shanxi A Dream becomes a Nightmare; Severn earns his stripes.
2164 - ICT Program Graduation: Achieving N7 The Galaxy is large, crowded, and potentially hostile. The Alliance prepares Severn to face it.
2176 - The Skyllian Blitz + The Anhur Rebellions: The Wings of Vengeance Colonies torn asunder by conflict. On one, a war won; on the other, a son lost.
2178 - Massacre at Torfan: Prelude to the Fall Severn's vengeance is wrought. With his purpose fulfilled, the Galaxy feels empty.
2179-Present Day - The Lone Gun: Rock Bottom No longer driven by Duty or Purpose, Severn retires from the Alliance. The veteran soldier strikes out into the galaxy as a lone gun for hire, searching for a reason to live. In a grand sense of irony, he takes the name Hyperion.
C O N N E C T I O N S
Suzette Norfleet // "The Witch." ”As brilliant a woman as they come. The citadel was seemingly a great place for a high grade psychologist to end up. Last I heard, she works for someone called ‘The Consort’. I don’t really understand it to be honest, but she seems fulfilled. We haven’t talked much since the divorce, but when work takes me to the Citadel she usually lends me a few words of advice. It always comes with a catch, though- that woman never changes... We're not as close as we used to be, but she was his mother and that still means something to me.”
Fil’Zorul Nar Zako // "Phil." "Phil's a troublemaker, but weren't we all when we were young? Phil has a knack for getting into stupidly dangerous situations trying to make some money- but so far his track record shows him to be a squirrely bastard who's probably even smarter than I already think he is. The first time I met Phil, he was jury rigging combat mechs for a gang on Omega. I was hired to wipe that gang out, and he seemed enthusiastic about changing his career paths. Who knew that buying a lonely kid a few drinks would get a small army of mechs to switch sides and make that job one of the easiest paychecks of my career? I don't really reach out to Phil so much- but damned if he doesn't find a way to keep in contact with me. Odd jobs, rescue requests, and the occasional gem of scrap tech... I certainly find him plenty useful."
Sur'Kesh Ol'Varo Hurloln Derhant Silik Vilani // "Queenie." "I've never actually met Queenie in person. Turns out she's someone in government in the Salarian Union or something, but to my understanding most of their women are. Sounds like a headache of familial ties to me. I call her Queenie and it seems to amuse her as much as me, so I figure she likes me well enough- but I'm always cautious with her. She's had me hunt down loose threads of her plots that displease her before, and I know that someday it might be my turn to end up on the executioner's block... But until then, she has high grade contacts, deep pockets, and values discretion. Hoorah."
Physical Details ◢
Rising to a height of five feet ten inches tall, Hyperion presents a well built figure. Not a slab of imposing meat or brutish demeanor of the musclehead- but the lean and disciplined frame of career hardship. Muscles are taut and whiplike, movements fluid and powerful, and his physical presence fills the air around him and makes him seem larger than he truly is.
His body is marred by marks both fresh and faded. A myriad of combat wounds and surgery marks riddle his form, but most of his serious injuries over the years weren't able to be concealed by modern medical technology. Notably, a severe scar crosses over his face- an injury from a Batarian's knife- which has never faded fully over the years. His left forearm also bears the severe scarring of a Varren's mauling, this particular wound seeming to agitate him still despite the months of recovery.
His body moves with the languid nature and cool comfort of one to whom armor is a second skin. Even while donning the heavy armor he is known for he makes movement and athleticism seem natural and easy. When operating without the constraints of gravity, he can even almost seem graceful thanks to his Zero-G training and operational experience.
Grey hair accents the grizzled features of the aging man. His face is often rough from stubble, and if given enough time without a shave his beard would grow in thick and full- but by the time it would reach that point he has often brought it back down to rough stubble with the edge of a knife. His eyes, a crystalline blue, can appear quite stunning when they catch light- but are otherwise an extension of the emptiness that grips the man's emotional state. His expressions are subdued and gripped by severity, with rare moments of levity or brightness. His skin is darkened by years of sunlight, foreign and familiar, into a warm tan and lines or wrinkles of a lifetime of labor are beginning to furrow his face.
Personal History ◢
RUINS ON MARS REVEAL ADVANCED TECHNOLOGICAL INNOVATIONS
The headline was sweeping across every datasphere in comprehension. A young man's eyes were glued to the screen as information filled his mind. The world was shaking to its foundations; the colonies on Mars were euphoric and triumphant, the nations of old Earth were in uproar and chasing every thread imaginable. World leaders were calling for unity and co-operation. Something had changed. Something drastic. Something that filled the young man with dreams of the future. His hands trembled as he rapidly checked through different sites and sources- then the screen of his comm shimmered into that of receiving a call.
"Oh my god, Suze." He said with haste upon answering the call. "Are you seeing this- Can you believe this- Alien tech-"
"Yeah, I'm seeing it." She laughed through the call. "Isn't it amazing?"
"I want to be a part of it." His voice trembled even as he said it, the words reaching his own ears at the same time they reached Suzette's. "Whatever it is, I want to be a part of it. This is the future- our future- out there."
The fate of Humanity changed in the year 2148. The discovery of the Prothean ruins on Mars and the unearthing of the mass-effect drives therein irrevocably catapulted the fledgeling species into the, unbeknownst to them, modern era. The following year, eighteen of Earth's largest nations signed the Systems Alliance Charter. The same year, a young Laine Severn forwent his intentions of pursuing an education in physical therapy and transferred to the newly established Systems Alliance Naval Academy. Shortly thereafter he married his highschool sweetheart, Suzette Norfolk. Their marriage was a happy thing, and while they were both in attendance of universities on Earth they spent as much time together as they could manage.
Severn graduated and was given the rank of 2nd Lieutenant. Suzette achieved her doctorate and graduated Magna Cum Laude from Johns Hopkins University. They discovered her pregnancy shortly before Severn's first tour of the stars began. Twelve months later, the now Staff-Lieutenant (B7) Severn returned home to a young, healthy, baby boy.
Hope was kindled for the future.
Sweat clung to his face. No matter how much it stung his eyes, raising his helmet to wipe the insufferable perspiration was out of the question. Silence hummed deafeningly in his ears. His eyes were straining. He took a steadying breath and relaxed. The stale stench of his own breath filled his nostrils, filtering with the fresh oxygen of the atmosphere of the planet.
"Commander, movement." The voice crackled in his ear as a static inflected whisper.
"Pos?" his own parched lips barely moved- radio chatter was dangerous.
"Sector seven. Scavenge team returning."
"Cover them."
He finally moved. The stiffness of his limbs protested, but his armor silently maneuvered- despite the grime, lieutenant Severn kept his gear in high maintenance. The concealing blind he'd been positioned in shifted with him and soon he emerged, rifle braced to his shoulder, onto the outcrop he'd commandeered as a lookout. The city was in ruins. Smoke filled the air. Rubble still shifted uncertainly, prefab ferrocrete disintegrating and destabilizing adjacent structures even now- hours after the last bombardment. He cast his gaze skyward for a moment and swore he could see the bastards up there, gazing down at him, smug in their feelings of superiority...
He hissed under his breath and tore his gaze from that haze filled, blood-red, sky. Sectors two through five were still burning. Nobody knew when the next orbital strike would fall. Nobody knew what the criteria for the strikes were; sometimes they fell on empty city blocks, sometimes it was as if the Turians knew exactly where to place the strikes to kill just a single squad of men. The only solace was that Op-For seemed to be avoiding the refugee centers. Seems even aliens had a conscience and rationale.
That thought didn't diminish the rage and hatred burning in his heart.
Staff-Commander Severn, field promoted after an orbital strike by the Turian sieging forces killed his XO, was a prisoner of war on Shanxi. The dreams of a life among the stars became nightmares of war. The sight of city blocks evaporating into rubble from debris strikes seared into his mind. His hands were bloodied from carrying a wounded companion- bloodied from putting pressure on a wound- bloodied from killing a Turian with his knife- bloodied and clinging to a rifle as he screamed into the night air, his torrential gunfire ripping into the third story of a ruin to suppress a sniper team... Hoping that his bullets would find homes in Turian skulls rather than ferrocrete walls.
He would never forget the hunger. The way he watched an old woman close her eyes to rest- only to never open them again, starvation claiming her at last. He would never forget the sight of General Williams issuing the surrender. He would never forget the feeling of being powerless. He would never forget the pride he felt when the Second Fleet turned the heavens into fireworks and the Turians realized that this war wasn't over yet.
He would never forget the disappointment of being denied revenge.
Peace was brokered. Diplomacy...prevailed. A council revealed; a grand stage presented itself. Humanity accepted the offered olive branch, and Commander Severn returned home.
He takes after Suze, Severn thought to himself. He rubbed his hands together and focused back on the task at hand. With deft movements he slid the spatula across the grill surface, the metal on metal- Knife impacting armor- clang giving way to the sizzle of-Flesh, boiling after the impact of atmospheric debris. Bone revealed in an instant- burger meat as it charred on the grill. He flipped a patty, lifting his eyes to watch as the boy-ran for his life, the shadow of a building falling over his face the moment before realization hit his eyes- folded paper in a delicate manner.
"Whatcha making?" He called out to the boy. He sniffed once, the smell of-Blood, charred flesh, gunsmoke- well-done beef wafting up to him. One more flip and the meat was deposited onto a plate, ready to be doctored up and served.
"A crane today. Mama says that origami helps build focus and strengthens your attention span. She says she wished you would do it, too, you know." God above, he's so bright for a thirteen year old. Severn mused.
"Your mother says a lot of things. Most of them are right." He said in a gruff voice. "...Almost all of them, really, but don't tell her I said that."
His son's laughter was like ambrosia. It soothed his heart more than anything else in this world ever could. He opened his mouth to speak, but tensed up. Imperceptibly- but Suzette would notice. She always did. The door behind him slid open, and his hand tightened on the spatula he gripped.
The year Severn spent at home was difficult. He got to see his child's thirteenth birthday. Got to meet some of his friends for the first time. Was able to attend one of Suzette's conferences on the subject of Human and Xenoneurological similarities. He had to restrain himself from punching one of her colleagues who wouldn't stop commenting on how 'astounding' the aliens' differences were...
He felt if they were at Shanxi, they wouldn't find their differences so romantic.
"...Laine, there's a man here to see you. From the Alliance." Suzette said in a quiet, delicate, voice.
The way the tension eased out of his body when she said those last words wasn't lost on her. He knew she'd notice. The way she watched him was downright unnerving; their bedroom had been cold since Shanxi. Their dinner tables tense. Their home troubled. But through it all was the warmth and love of the boy, holding them together. Strong, for his sake. Severn nodded and set the plate aside, swiftly closing and turning off the grill.
Cooking had been a sort of therapy for Severn. He'd taken to mastering the grill in his newly discovered free time. His mornings still started early with rigorous PT, his evenings were still spent in the discipline of exercise and study, but his days were devoid of the comradery he'd become used to on a ship, or the intimate bond of his fellow marines on a planet's surface, or the irrevocable bond of the prisoners of Shanxi...
So he spent them with his son, with the grill, and with the oven. For a few months, he was content and able to forget Shanxi. That relaxation lasted only a short while, as whenever he found himself beginning to think about the sensation of peace the fires of war filled his mind again. Opportunity came knocking as tensions in his household rose.
He blinked, and found himself seated across from a uniformed man- bearing no insignia or rank.
"Commander, how has your vacation been?"
"Restless, sir." He said evenly.
"I understand that. The Alliance has an opportunity for you. Your record, and the testimony of those you served with on Shanxi, has made you a candidate."
"A candidate?"
"For the Interplanetary Combatives Training program. You're up for special forces, son."
Severn breathed in quietly. Held the breath. Let it out. Shanxi flickered in his eyes.
"Why me?" He asked at last.
"Commander, we used to be big fish in what we thought was a galaxy sized pond. Turns out the pond was a thimble and now we're sure of nothing. Are you willing to fight for your species, son? Like you did on Shanxi? When your back was on the wall, you performed. That's what we're looking for. The training will be hard. There's no shame in turning down the offer."
Severn rose to his feet and threw a formal salute.
"Hoorah, sir. When do I ship out?"
Severn spent five years accomplishing the rigorous and brutal cycles of the ICT program. He was rarely home. His son grew into a man in the time he was away. His wife's accolades carried her into the stars. Severn achieved the rank of N7 the same year his son joined a colonial incentive scholarship with the Johns Hopkins university geological science program. He was following in his mother's footsteps, and Severn couldn't have been prouder.
Elysium was a paradise, after all.
Twelve years of special forces operations within Council Space and the Terminus Systems brought accolade and laudation upon Commander Severn (N7) and his family name. His son had become a respected geological scientist, Suzette had established herself as one of the pioneers of Human-Xeno relations on the field of brain study, and he was beginning to earn the reputation of a Hero of Humanity in the quiet circles who knew of his deeds.
A problem arose in the Anhur system. Commander Severn and his task force were to assist the Human interests on the colony discretely; the Council was stonewalling Human requests for aid, and the Systems Alliance brass didn't want to risk destabilizing the delicate house of cards the Alliance Politicians were building on the Citadel...
Which meant it was a one way trip.
Severn tightened his grip on the Batarian's wrist and twisted his arm even more severely, his other hand braced on the prisoner's shoulder to secure the joint lock.
"I'm only going to ask you nicely one more time, Batarian. Where are the forces going to deploy at Bast?"
"Fuck off!" the Batarian wheezed through clenched teeth. "If you were going to kill me, you would have by now- I'm not telling you anything!"
Severn grunted with the effort and wrenched the Batarian's arm further, a sickening snap filling the air as he shattered the prisoner's elbow. With a derisive kick, he knocked the legs of the chair from under the screaming Batarian and walked from the room. He was shaking his head and staring at his hands quietly as the door sealed behind him.
"Commander." A woman saluted by the door. "Any luck?"
"No. He's as stubborn as they all are." Severn growled in his raspy voice. "Any luck with the communications?"
"Aye, sir. We managed to receive a critical transmission across the emergency channel. Nothing for us, but..." Her hesitation brought Severn's eyes up from his hands and onto her own. His eyes were dark in the shadows of the bunker they operated out of, and tainted by the cruelty he felt justified in enacting just moments before.
"But?" he queried sternly. The woman waivered, then spoke.
"It's Elysium, sir. The Batarians are attacking it. It was a sudden assault, co-ordinated by a pirate warlord. They're sieging it. Last word out of the colony was that a debris strike was launched indiscriminately before raiding parties descended. It sounds bloody, sir."
Severn fell silent at those words. After a few moments he raised his hand.
"Lieutenant, your sidearm."
"Sir, yes sir." She responded curtly, placing her pistol into his hand. She turned her back smartly as Severn entered the sealed room once more.
She pretended she didn't hear the gunshot.
The Anhur Rebellions were a blur of blood and smoke to Commander Severn. His unit operated with Eclipse Mercenaries as well as local militia, providing fire support and tactical supervision when able- and operating as a shadow unit of critical strike capability otherwise. The guerilla warfare of the local militia meshed well with the N7 task force's discretionary requirements, and the Eclipse mercenaries offered convenient excuses for direct confrontation when needed. All things considered, it was a bloody war- but one that abolitionists would probably remember as a victory for sapient being rights.
Commander Severn would remember it as yet another circle of Hell he was passing through. When his unit was exfiltrated, the first news of home he received, purely due to a thoughtless organizational error of a rookie yeoman, was a declaration of intent to divorce. The second was that his son's funeral had already been held, and he was permitted to visit the honorary grave site at his leisure. The third was a briefing from Alliance brass about a retaliatory strike against the Batarians at Torfan.
The Blitz had tipped the scales in favor of the Alliance; they could strike back now without fear of repercussion from the Citadel Council.
The sky was on fire. Debris of an Alliance ship drifted overhead, flames licking across its hull as it split apart in the upper atmosphere and split into dozens of superheated fragments.
Taking heavy losses- What the hell is going on down there- the radio crackled, and the sky split asunder as a series of Alliance warships unloaded a barrage that resulted in a cataclysmic series of explosions across the sky. The shockwaves rippled outward as the fleet continued its systematic eradication of the Batarian naval forces...
Severn could almost feel the explosions in his skull.
Shepard, what in God's name is going on- The Batarians are surren-
Major Kyle's voice was trying to assert itself over the communications channels, but it was to no avail. The depths of the Batarian strongholds in the lunar surface were interfering with the communications to the command ship- but a signal on the moon's surface rang through strong and clear.
This is for the Blitz. They took slaves and butchered our families even as they cowered in their homes. Show no mercy, accept no surrender. They've earned this. It's their turn to cry for help.
Her voice was that of an Archangel. Her words were orders unto themselves; her wrath was contagious; her fury was Severn's own, boiling up from within and gripping the entire Galaxy in its destructive jaws.
He descended into the labyrinthine fortress. The final level of Hell. He dove in head first, spearheading a charge into its darkness and depths with a scream of righteous fury. He held down the trigger of his rifle until the heat sink screamed and the gun broke apart in his hands. He slashed with his knife and clubbed with his pistol beyond the point of exhaustion and numbness. He screamed until his throat was raw and blood bubbled from his lips. He cried until he couldn't anymore. He killed until there wasn't anyone left to kill.
When he came to, it was to Major Kyle's voice in his ear;
May God have mercy on us all.
Severn pushed himself off the ground, coated in the gore of his vengeance, and looked around slowly at the daze and fervor of his surviving allies. They'd just made Shanxi look like child's play. That realization struck him with such force it was like taking the first breath of fresh air in decades.
Commander Laine Severn (N7) retired after the battle of Torfan. He finally visited his son's grave and found he had no more tears to shed. The hollowness of guilt gripped his heart. His faith in Humanity was shaken. He disappeared into the Galaxy at large.
Combat Analysis ◢
"Form up on me; Op-For consists of five tangos, well equipped and ready for us. They're itching to get out of this in one piece just like we are. Call your shots and keep friendlies in periphery. Tight formation; anchor on me; sweep and clear. On my mark... Go."
Hyperion has the training of an elite N7 Commando, with specialized training in Shock and Awe tactics and leadership experience in squad based operational scenarios. In plain language, he's a tough sonuvabitch with command experience who likes to end fights quickly. He is well versed in the handling of all modern equipment of war, with a foundation of terrestrial vehicle operation and shuttlecraft piloting- though these are not his area of expertise. The most stunning aspect of Hyperion's combat analysis is the mastery of his armor systems and his role as the 'anchor' of a squad's maneuvers...
His own lethality is impressive; his ability to take a hit and get back up is incredible; his capacity to enable the success of others in his unit, however, is what truly sets him apart.
"I don't want to see anyone playing hero. Watch my back and I'll watch yours; if we can't agree to that, then nothing else matters."
Reason for Vacating Previous Situation ◢
"I was hitting the bottom of my cred line. You can't really 'disappear' on Illium, but I'm a nobody there unless someone needs to hire a gun. The only issue is that damn near everything costs double on that planet. I was scraping together the last of the creds to punch my ticket on a shuttle off-world and coming up short when I got a ping from Queenie. She always seems to find me when I need money the most, so I took the call...
Exo-Geni. Big name, big work. I didn't have anything better to do and funds were low. I told Queenie that she'd have to forward me the fare for transport; she told me I'd have to pay her back with interest. Fair enough, Queenie. Fair enough."
Edit: I realized I spelled 'Ordnance' 'Ordinance'. Hyperion can probably disparage Turian Ordinances quite well, but not their Ordnance.
Edit 2: Added a song link to a tune I felt appropriate to the character.
I've pitched my concept to the boss and got the go-ahead to continue my creation process; I'll be crafting a veteran human soldier. Can't wait to see what everyone has going on.
Status update on the cough; still going strong, solid 4/10, hits me every morning with the first chill.
Update on the wedding; we’ve officially agreed on COLORS. Huzzah to the huzzah.
Update on my involvement here; I think the holiday season has officially knocked my D&D energy to absolute minimum, and I think I will formally step back for now. Y’all are dope people and I want to keep hanging out, but I don’t think I can in good faith ask y’all to keep waiting on me when you guys have a good pace and energy. Zav can fall back into NPC/party bank/whatever y’all meed status- or can be sucked into a fey portal and end up elsewhere, potentially to rejoin the party later :)
For some reason I’m just dragging my feet at the call of D&D right now and need to focus what energy I do have for it into the game I am running.
we both had it yeah, I still have the cough and recently had Laryngitis as well. I love the cold, but this year it's wreaking havoc on me. We're also starting our wedding planning so that's on the brain.
Guardian Angel Haruki,
tadcfnaf,
kalanggam,
Lurking Krog,
rush99999,
Sister Sable,
Lunamaria Hawke,
Alisdragon911,
Hibachi90,
DraconicDespair
