Someone remind me to stop staying up into the next day. I'm way too tired to function as I write this.
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Hello people of this website! I'm a dude, I just really enjoy playing female characters, don't ask why 'cause I don't know. I'm something of a die hard Mass Effect fan, and that's about it.
It was too late as Spook's hand latched onto Isis' elbow, her hand already in contact with the pillar. As it sunk in, her right hand met with the left and started to push, trying to at least slow the process of the stone absorbing her. It wasn't working as well as she hoped, evidenced by Isis' other hand meeting with the pillar as panic set into the girl. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... Isis, hang on to me!" Not like she had anything to hang onto her with, it was more to distract her from the fact that her arms were stuck in solid stone with evil doppelgangers trying to steal her blood. In a deft movement, the masked figure slipped between the beastmaster's extended arms and set her right arm across her chest, left hand closing on the victim's left should her and pushed harder. The toes of Spook's boots dug into the ground as she put up as much resistance as she naturally could. With no range between her and Isis, the owner of the panicking Duvari would be able to see past the tint of the lenses in Spook's mask.
Darting rapidly within, looking for a solution was one green eye on the right side of her face, and one blank eye on the left side. The left eye locked onto one of Isis' before the enigma spoke again. "C'mon Isis, stay with me! You're not gonna let a rock kill you, are you!?" She shouted before she dropped her left hand away. It reached her sidearm's holster and pulled the gun out, flicking off the safety before pointing it back at the obsidian pillar. With a few squeezes of the trigger, she fired at it three times in the hopes that, for one reason or another, the bullets would interrupt this horrid process somehow.
Jake gave the order to move in on the center of the crater, to which Spook answered by drawing her PDW and descending in ahead of the others. As she got closer and closer, she could feel the energy radiating off of the statue... it felt familiar, almost like a comfortable bed coaxing a weary traveler into a restful sleep. She could tell though, that the metaphorical bed had nails propped up under the comforter. "Guys, I'm telling you, I have a very bad feeling about this." Her right hand flexed around the grip of her gun, index finger pressing into the side of it to avoid accidentally spraying down the crew.
As they got even closer, the feeling of welcoming dread only grew stronger, like it was trying to get Spook to expose something about herself. Given the origin of the obelisk, she knew what it wanted, and she felt determined to do anything but give it the satisfaction. The conversation about stupid stuff people would do before touching the thing came up, and the enigma felt the need to contribute by taking her sidearm in her left hand, lowering the Fusilaut and facing Nate. "We can play that with my Jericho, long as someone else goes first." A grim chuckle sounded as she dropped the handgun back into its holster, sealing with a click around it. She then turned back around and looked at the black, glassy statue in time to see her copy staring back at her.
In eerie silence, it reached up to its face and started pulling at straps, removing the gas mask that covered her face and revealing the mystery of what lies below. Underneath was a girl with green eyes, beautiful brown hair, and a soft, unmarred face, to which Spook felt the need to lower her weapons. She couldn't tell why, but the reflection was influencing her somehow, like it wanted her to own up to something. She had an idea of what, though she wasn't about to. In response, she simply shook her head, though the action directed her eyes to Isis' hand, currently in contact with the rock. A level of fear gripped her heart as the realization came of what the contact could carry, and something just barely purple flared underneath her mask. "ISIS NO!" She reached out to grab her elbow and pull her away.
"I work for the betterment of society. The credits are a side effect of my work."
Name:
Aermon Sax
Race:
Salarian
Class:
Engineer
Age:
27
Sex:
Male
Appearance:
Aermon Sax doesn’t have much about him that stands out physically, his skin is a rust-like color common to Salarians the galaxy over, his horns are very close in length, and he stands around the average height of his people. His eyes, however, stand out from others. They’re almost solid black, broken by a dodger blue iris around the pupil. He has the standard two nostrils and the mouth that rests in a light frown. He has several burn scars on his arms and chest, and a bite mark from a Varren on his left forearm.
Backstory:
Aermon Sax, full name too long to list, was born on Jaëto in an unusually small clutch of eggs, only a dozen being laid from a mother that died before he and his brothers hatched. As a result, they imprinted on their father, a man largely preoccupied with his work and lacking time to singlehandedly raise twelve kids. They were largely left with extended family while they were being raised, all except Aermon, who showed an interest in his father’s work. As such, the two formed a very close bond throughout his childhood.
The younger Salarian quickly came to surpass his father’s engineering capabilities, and by his 10th birthday, he was contributing to the bleeding edge technology his race was famous for, though he stood out from others in making sure everything he created was reliable. From firearms to shields, he could create anything small scale that benefitted life. As he aged a little further, worked as a machinist briefly, then STG picked him up and made a soldier out of him, turning him from backyard inventor to combat engineer in a few months time.
Several firefights, which mostly involved the removal of a number of crime lords from Salarian space, and a few years later, he left STG upon becoming frustrated with the lack of progress being made against law breakers. He moved to the Citadel, using some of the wealth he had left over from his days of inventing to flat out purchase an upscale apartment and some space to get back into the swing of creating, intending to completely abandon his life of covert operation.
Unfortunately, it came back to bite him quickly. One of the mobsters he had personally imprisoned found him walking the Wards one day and attempted to gun him down, which worked partially. All he remembers of the incident was waking up later in the Huerta Memorial Hospital with bandages covering his entire torso.
Since then, he’s actively avoided going deep into the Wards and has mostly stuck to the Presidium, venturing from his apartment only to purchase food or attend some kind of social gathering. He spends most of his time tinkering, creating whatever comes to mind that could benefit someone and making credits off of his patents for various things. His biggest seller has been a civilian-grade electromagnetic shield that could be worn with most outfits. It only stops a few bullets, but it recharges quickly and has saved numerous lives.
Recently, Aermon has won the drawing to attend the memorial of the Reaper Invasion, and fully intends to go with a handgun in his back pocket.
Psyche Profile:
Inventive by nature, Aermon is a tinker living the good life thanks to his unyielding contributions to modern technology. There’s hardly a machine made in recent years that hasn’t been influenced by him, though he frankly doesn’t care if people know it or not. Unlike most Salarians, he’s good at stopping his mind and focussing on one thing, allowing for a higher clarity to his thoughts and the rare ability to see everything from a totally neutral perspective. He understands that good cannot exist without evil, and knows the peace won’t last for too much longer. In other words, he thinks the galaxy is long overdue for a tragedy.
He’s a bit of a recluse and has no one besides his brothers that he talks to on a regular basis. He has a tendency to become mildly frustrated when technology refuses to cooperate for an extended period of time, especially software programs. He’s embraced the Geth as a species and is grateful for them proving that Artificial Intelligence is a valid form of intelligence.
He enjoys playing the Devil’s Advocate in arguments, and tends to become smug when he finds glaring flaws in the ideas of others.
Specialty:
Aermon’s specialty lies in the exploitation of technology, using everything he has to its fullest potential and then some. As an inventor, he works best when he has plenty of time to work out a situation, though the Salarian in him allows him to work quickly while under duress. He prefers to take every advantage he can get and plans everything he does ahead of time. He’s among the best when it comes to destroying or repairing equipment.
Skills:
1. Consummate Engineer 2. Salarian STG Training 3. Small Arms Training 4. Machinist Training 5. Technological Mastermind
@Andromedai I’m feeling hella lazy so you’ll get your sample post later. You know I can write already.
Notes:
Aermon has very little interest in romance due to his race and his work. He holds a total of 21 patents for various inventions, four of which are civilian-grade shields. Likes tinkering, creating, philosophical discussion, non-alcoholic beverages, and interesting company. Dislikes backwards political views, uncooperative technology, Varren, radicalists, and improperly sized clothing. Humans have a tendency to ask if he likes jazz when first meeting him.
Hello people of this website! I'm a dude, I just really enjoy playing female characters, don't ask why 'cause I don't know. I'm something of a die hard Mass Effect fan, and that's about it.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Hello people of this website! I'm a dude, I just really enjoy playing female characters, don't ask why 'cause I don't know. I'm something of a die hard Mass Effect fan, and that's about it.</div>
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