SgtEasy

Mass Effect: Underworld

Okay, posted everyone <3

Hope it makes sense, I'm at school right now XD

Mass Effect: Underworld

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There was little stopping him from entering this "London Underground" a few derelict stations before. Mere police tape surrounding the entrance without a trace of law enforcement, the streets abandoned in their ruin.

When Ja'Far descended downwards to the tunnel, he sung prayer to the Pillar of Guidance. Darkness, otherwise known as the lack of light, was the presumed version of "hell" in the Divine religion. For the all-seeing Batarians, lack of sight was a common fear. Khar'Shan is a harsh planet with the beating sun present almost all day so being wrapped in a midnight-like darkness was uncommon. And so, the ancient scribes and priests wrote about "hell", an eternally black pit where the weak became weaker and the souls of sinners were left to wander. Those who only lived in luxury or did not have the all-seeing eyes of the Batarians were doomed to the cruelty of loneliness and darkness.

The whisper of prayer flew from his lips, the darkness of the tunnel testing his nerves of steel "Pillar of the Divine Guidance, I prithee that thou grant me blessing and thus light my way. Henceforth, I ask of thee that thine grant the unholy trinity of eyes of mine a blessing of guidance. O Holy omnipotent Pillar, I ask of ever-present favour as I descend into depths unknown. I pray, O hateful one, that my previous sufferings and cruelties done to my person has given me salvation in thy holy eyes. Amen."

There were some rumours of Husks stuck within primitive tunnels and abandoned streets, those who were left behind wandering aimlessly, beings without drive nor directive. The former Legionnaire hadn't encountered one yet but he couldn't count on his luck. He wore his black hardsuit, a sleek fuse of hardened fabric and metals. State of the art tech, at least in Batarian terms. This usually meant that it was severely out of date in galactic terms but the thing has saved him from injury before. On occasion. More modern light plate armour covered his torso and left shoulder, the whirring of his kinetic shields silenced by sound dampeners. His shiny new Incisor hung on his back.

Ja'Far trudged through the murky water, boots slick with mud. The way was illuminated in his helmet by a green luminous light. He silently gripped his pistol harder with both hands, the sounds of his feet quietly parting the water and rats scurrying in front of him being his only companion. The tunnel had flooded with sewage from the old drains, broken bricks and shattered rusty pipes homage Battle of Earth.

The Batarian, fully covered in armour that made him look human from afar, grumbled. His trusty Batarian State Arms rifle couldn't be allowed in any type of Citadel Space and with the measly amount of credits he had, he couldn't afford to pay off officials and pay for the trip to Earth at the same time. He had sold it to a gun collecting Volus, a peculiar fellow who had given him a hefty amount for old Becky. The former Legionnaire gave a tearful goodbye and bought a newer, and as he believed, inferior Incisor.

He had, mostly out of habit, picked the rifle apart repeatedly, cleaning it vigorously every night he's been here on Earth. He learned it's functions, it's kinks and even fired it down range a couple times but it hadn't been tested in battle yet. It hadn't earned its place yet and that was one of the reasons he couldn't fully trust it. There was many occasions during his time as the resident Hegemony boogeyman that his team was equipped by experimental new tech. It usually resulted in malfunction and thus mission failure. There were usually little casualties in his squad but he distrusted modern technology all the same.

Ja'Far peered through the green night vision, a bright light shining up ahead. He replayed the message he received on his Omni-tool, inviting him to this specific place at this time. Intrigue and sheer boredom led him to going, common sense be damned.

The former Hegemony soldier neared the old Baker Station. The meeting place for their little group of misfits, a taskforce he joined out of sheer boredom and resignation. Ja'Far walked into the light silently, going mostly unnoticed, pistol stowed away cautiously as he hopped up on to the platform. He had taken an alternate route for a reason, realising that a more direct one would result in confrontations with those he would be working with in the future. He preferred an approach of solitude rather than entering an illegal area with a large group of people. He sensed tension that he could not be bothered to break amongst the group. He did not announce himself, a vaguely humanoid figure emerging from the dark tunnels.

Ja'Far opened his mask, revealing the unholy trinity of eyes he possessed as he stared at the idiot screaming threats and the various peoples within the metro. "I prithee that thou may lower thine voice for our position may be found if thou shouts loud enough. Everyone here is, at present, friendly. I presume that most cometh hither due to a message received, besought to come here." Everyone would hear the increasing exasperation in his voice as he proceeded to scratch his fringe, already exhausted.

Mass Effect: Underworld

I am very confused. Is everyone entering through the entrance downwards leading to the station? Or through the tunnels? My character is entering through the tunnels but I may be wrong in assuming that Ellis is reacting to people coming from the Station entrance?

Otherwise, I might need to rewrite my whole entry post XD

Mass Effect: Underworld

Ja'Far Balak

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_{"Ja'Far in his rare moment of relaxation"}
"Blessed be the holy Pillars of the Divine and Athame, who dost bring blessing upon thou fulsome eyes and thou strength to give redemption to thine enemies through holy fire. Amen."

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Race:

Batarian

Class:

Infiltrator

Age:

39

Sex:

Male

Appearance:

He stands at 6'4" (197 centimetres), a respectable height in the tall Batarian race. Ja'Far has dark to tannish brown skin, worn and stretched from years of back breaking work. One scar adorns his face just above his upper left ridge, running downwards straight through the eye just under till it stops. The socket remains empty, a black marble placed the eye's stead. This is seen as a sign of banishment, a scar for the punished who do not deserve the four holy eyes given by the Pillars and thus such an individual could not move on to the afterlife. Those who have been scarred are labelled as pariahs and doomed to walk the planes of limbo between life and death, even if said scar came through service and not punishment.

His three other eyes hold a fiery defiance to the galaxy, an appearance that many Batarian survivors hold as their once proud, might if but stagnant race falls into disgrace. Ja'Far has two golden rings pierced into each ear, a sign of middle-caste status and a distinctly military background within the former Hegemony. He has a large muscular frame and carries himself high, rigid posture honed from militant discipline, chin held high with shoulders pulled backwards. The seriousness he always holds himself in can either be respected or laughed at by others.

Ja'Far typically wears a loose sleeveless grey shirt, black pants and dark military boots. He carries with himself a necklace with a small idol of the Pillar of Strength on it, made of marble and gold with etchings of holy text scratched unto the surface. One's of hope and redemption, the power of the four holy eyes and those who carry them. Cigarettes often find their way in his mouth, the smell of them tingling his sensitive nose. Dark gloves and arm wraps cover more holy scripture, tattooed unto his arms. These carry a darker message, reminders of the fate of the pariahs, resurgence through cruelty and punishment, the wrath of the Gods upon the pitiful and weak.

Backstory:

His History

Ja'Far was the second son of a middle-caste family back in the old Hegemony, born on his homeworld of Khar'Shan. His parents were strict and cruel although these were seen as a blessing by most Batarians later in life, better for the young to see cruelty in their own supposed loved ones first before stepping out into an even harsher galaxy. He however, hated it. They were abusive, beating him constantly, blaming him for the current shame their family was in even though that had nothing to do with either. They blamed him for his unknown older brother's escape from the family, ascending higher through the ranks of the caste system to the Holy Raiders.

Some may see this as a point of pride and an influx of income but Ja'Far's brother kept all this new wealth to himself and thus kept his family down a caste or two. His parents were malicious and spiteful, a hurricane of anger. During the tentative times of peace within his household, there was always a thick tension in the house between them and him. They did not love him and hated him for things his brother did earlier before. This led to the younger Batarian hating both him and his parents wholeheartedly. This rough childhood made him grow up and mature much quicker than most petulant and snobbish Batarian children, developing a serious outlook on life.

Throughout these younger years however, there was an aspect that he could back fondly at. His parents, suffering and torture be to their ascended souls, owned one Asari slave. Praised for their beauty, the reasons these slaves were owned was more for status rather than any type of labour work, which was done by their second son of course.

She was a maiden, young and boisterous, sold cheap to the family by a family friend. An Asari of a deep blue. She was led around in a collar into Ja'Far's household, head drooped downwards, naked quivering body bare for all to see. His father grinned lecherously at her, his mother seemingly indifferent towards her. In the couple of days, the second son of the Balak naturally avoided the stranger. At the age of eleven, he was yet to be influenced by the harsh propaganda the Hegemony instilled into it's people and still saw the family slave as another living sentient being.

Their first encounter was during his parent's anniversary. They left him at home as usual, leaving him to his own devices as they spent their money throwing a party of "great importance" in honour of their own "holy marriage". In reality, they were probably taking in a line of Red Sand and cheating on each other in one of the various "illegal" slave brothels within Khar'Shan. As per usual, he began to walk his way into the kitchen for cooking dinner, only to find the young maiden almost setting the house on fire.

"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, running towards the pan on fire with a horrified expression on his face. The slave was promptly bowled over and hit her head on the nearby table as Ja'Far quickly sprayed cooling liquids all over the flame. As the sizzling blue goop sizzled with heat, he turned towards the Asari who was currently rubbing her head in embarrassment and injury. He crossed his arms and tried to look like his threatening and aggressive father which of course looked comical on a young Batarian such as himself. He glared.

"Do you realise what you could have done? You could have burned the whole house for The Pillars' sake!" He pointed at the now ruined and blackened pan "Father and Mother are going to have our heads for this."

The slave quickly lowered her head down on the floor and bowed, keeping her mouth shut as she awaited punishment for her mistake. Ja'Far's eyes soften3: from a glare, crouching down towards the Asari's level. "It's fine" he whispered softly, hesitantly placing a small hand on her shoulder "I-I'm not going to punish you like my parents do. All I want to know is what you were trying to do."

The Asari looked up from her kneeling position and sat up straight, young bright eyes staring back at his own black orbs. She had a defiance to her, a look of challenge hidden amongst the cloudy eyes of those who have emptied their tears. "I was trying to cook for you, young master" She lowered her head in shame rather than instinct or slave doctrine "I uh, failed young master."

Ja'Far sighed, scratching his ridge in exasperation. He stood and inclined for her to do the same, making her realise that he was quite tall for his age. He turned and threw the pan into the bin, procuring a new one out of the cabinet. "Don't try and cook, the extent of your slave duties in the household is to look pretty and help around with cleaning and such. I however have to do the cooking and the more manual work that your frame can't handle. Sit down and I'll cook for us."

Batarian cuisine was centred on the idea of smelling the food rather than just the taste of it. The smell added texture and layer to the meal, each whisper of smoke must give add a different flavour for the food to be perfect. The taste was always rather bland but the strong poignant smells always made up for it. As Ja'Far put the last ingredients unto the dish, he plated them up and put them upon the table. He invited the Asari on the table, a practice regularly looked down upon in Batarian society. She looked at him wide-eyed before proceeding to sit and shove as much food into her mouth as possible. She must've been starved as a slave and this was more food than most slaves would normally get.

The Batarian scratched his ridge again before handing over his own plate of food which was then promptly emptied a minute later. "Done?" He inquired, a suddenly tired but soft look on his face. She patted her stomach and sighed in peace, smiling as she relaxed in the chair.

The Asari quickly opened her eyes as if she just realised that he was watching her eat his own meal. Frantic apologies escaped her mouth but the second son silenced her, merely signalling to calm down. They sat in awkward silence. "My name is Siarus, young master" she began, breaking the quiet "I thank you for your kindness in giving this meal although I don't understand why you did so." She bowed her head downwards.

"I live a simple life here. No friends, no other family, only my wicked parents for company." Ja'Far reclined in his chair sat his boots up on the table, hands intertwined behind his head "In truth, I am lonely. Tired. I am in need of company, of something more. I... I was hoping you'd break the monotony a bit." The now named Siarus looked at him inquisitively for a moment, as if questioning whether this was true or not but quickly devolved into a cheery face. She voiced her approvals and thus, a friendship was born.

For six blissful years of his life, Ja'Far had an honest friend. Siarus proved to be exuberant, full of life and brought wonders into the monotony of hate and anger that cycled through the household. They soon became each other's crutches, leaning against the other when one was down. It was moments of alone time in which their friendship blossomed. She taught him about the divine Athame, or what she remembered of it when she was an even younger maiden under her mother, and thus he created his own belief. A mix of Athame-worship (who he believed to have also created the mighty Batarian race alongside the beautiful Asari. Siarus giggled at him as he explained) and the use of the holy ideology and scriptures of the Divine Pillars.

They were quiet in their rebellion against the elder Balaks, showing it in support of the other when they were punished. They grew to have compassion for one another, and often sought the other for happiness and support. For Ja'Far, it was bliss. It may have been the reason he held quite extremist views towards slaves in the Hegemony at the time. Their friendship developed further, turning into a love akin to brother and sister. Her laughter was like music to his ears and he learned so much from her. But it was all finished in a bloody end.

The dripping knife in his mother's hand. His father and Siarus. Jealousy was the cause. Baseless, drunken anger on his mother's part. Pulping rage, red mist in his eyes. Bloody fists, raw knuckles. His mother's head on a pike, burned alive. Thirteenth birthday celebration.

Ja'Far was given a choice for the murder of his mother and the shaming of the Balak family name. Either be sentenced 12 years a slave miner in the pits of Khar'Shan or serve in the first penal legion of the Hegemony. Certain death or possible death. He chose the second sentence. He was framed, broken-hearted but was still pulsing with rage as he threw himself among the varren of the 1^st Penal Legion. His eyes scarred and sliced, a sign of disgrace and shame.

The training was cruel and harsh, designed to kill off most of the Legionnaires within the service. Live fire drills, excruciating punishments for the smallest of slights, hours laying in the sun praying with cruel Priests of Redemption, whipping their backs and beating them with batons. Each day was filled with back-breaking work, designed to inflict as much physical pain in between lectures and drills, leaving the sentenced Legionnaires broken and tired. Many fell in this first year. Either to the harsh punishments of taskmasters and priests, the harsh weather of Khar'Shan or the pitiful living conditions they were given. Many also broke mentally as the days passed, forcing others to either restrict them while they sleep or kill them with already broken knuckles.

Five thousand became a hundred. Murderers, cutthroats, uprising slaves, rapists, thieves, heathens. All of them young, fit and in the prime of their lives. All criminals in the eyes of the Hegemony. The Hundred became a tight web of close bonded relationships between those who were broken repeatedly over the course of one year. Friendships rarely formed however, comrades as they were, it was most likely that the man or woman next to you was one of the most fucked up people in the galaxy.

The Hundred operated in twenty five man teams, each led by a harsh Taskmaster and a Priest of Redemption. Some squads were formed to be the perfect, mighty soldiers of the old Hegemony while others were more like ravenous berserker beasts in battle.

They destroyed slave rebellions, foiled the plans of sabotage among dissenting politicians, disgracing families of those who spoke too loosely about their disapproval of the Hegemony. They traversed the political world of the Hegemony, a hidden dagger held against the throat of those who thought to step out of their place. The Hundred became thirty. Mission after mission, decade after decade, they fought and bled for a country who had no love for them. They were criminals after all, not even deemed fit to ascend to the afterlife. Not even deemed fit to join the slaver gangs of Terminus.

The Reapers hit. The thirty became five. Then one. Ja'Far looked down at the husks at his feet, Cannibals he believed they were called. His former taskmaster lay at his feet, turned into a disgusting indoctrinated mess of a life form. He poked at it one last time, with his rifle, cigarette in his mouth. He looked at the final transport on the planet, some backwater shithole his team had holed up in during this mess as news of the Reaper's defeat reached his Omni-tool. The brown-skinned Batarian scratched his ridge in exasperation and looked up at the sky. "Athame and the Divine, I prithee that thou shalt shine my way for I have no fucking idea what I am going to do."

Psyche Profile:

Ja'Far is tired. He has bled and fought in the political world of one of the harshest countries in the galaxy. He has killed women and children, master and slave. Over the course of his service, he has pillaged worlds with pirates, done countless sins, killed dozens of powerful politicians and has made the downfall of a High Caste political family. This turmoil made him a boogeyman amongst the Hegemony Elite and thus made him a target as the hidden dagger. He is a proud, mighty soldier but one shrouded more in darkness than most.

Constant prayers adorn his lips, praying for forgiveness and mercy. Ja'Far was a religious man, though believed in his own mix of Athame-worship and the Pillars of the Divine. Scriptures were often carried into battle by those in the Penal Legion, those who didn't were often flogged for not praying to the Pillars. He believes in redemption through fire, the only way a soul can be cleansed is if they are beaten and broken. Luxuries and riches are often detested by him but unlike most traditionalists in Batarian society, he had no adversity against love and happiness but found peace as a sweet but far reaching dream.

Happiness comes few and far between, only the cold, if exhausted and exasperated, visage of a soldier is left behind. The few things that bring him happiness would be any homage back to his blissful past with Siarus. Even the mere colour of her skin on another Asari could bring back fleeting memories of her, most of then broken and shattered from the conditioning of the Hegemony. Even through this conditioning, he held strong and still holds a strong sense of individuality that he preserved from his youth. Happiness comes from thinking of the pieces of his broken past, piecing them together in calm meditation. He is defined well as a loner but operates in squad environments with almost frightening efficiency.

Anger comes lesser than even happiness. In his first five years as Legionnaire, he was fuelled with rage. Pulsing, ravenous rage that would have made any self-respecting Krogan proud. However, that Ja'Far lost fuel. There was only so much blood you could use to appease your anger. Instead, any type of rage is quickly followed by exasperation and the weight of his stressful years. However, if anyone was to try and actually provoke this mighty though exhausted soldier, he would devolve into a ravenous berserker beast, very different from the calmer lonely sniper he specialises as.

He enjoys meditation in his own time, prayers to the holies of his faith, sleeping and reading. Ja'Far enjoys mostly solitary activities however loves to experience the occasional thrill of doing whatever the fuck the others were doing. And yes, he swears. A lot.

Specialty:

A marksman, a recon specialist with an eye for stealth. Ja'Far may be a proud soldier but he would rather pick enemies off from a distance or from behind than get up close and dirty. He may be no galaxy renowned Garrus Vakarian but he was an experienced professional, no natural talent but a strict training regime backing him up anyhow. His job is to enter the building first and leave first, the light armour protecting little of his person as he is not suited for the front lines. His job is to confuse and sabotage, not destroy everything in his path. His specialisation as a reconnaissance man however doesn't stop his other talents shine through.Interrogation and intimidation were important during his time as a legionnaire and could prove vital to get any information they may need to known about.

Powers/Skills:

• Disruptor Ammo
• Sabotage
• Tactical Cloak
• Incinerate
• Excellent Marksmanship
• Minimal technical know-how
• Basic leadership skills
• Interrogation and intimidation skills

Equipment and Resources:

• M-29 Incisor
• M-6 Carnifex
• Sticky Grenades
• Recon Hood
• Standard Tactical Black Hard-suit
• Hooked interrogators knife

Sample Post:

"Target inbound, 0800 timeframe confirmed. Mission has go ahead. Target is en route to your position Ja'Far, please confirm."

Ja'Far relaxed into his rifle, the rain on this infuriatingly wet planet beating down on his prone body. He had been here, laying still for five hours now, waiting for the go ahead on the mission. Mud formed around his abdomen, his light kinetic barriers flickering in the rain. Lightning struck against the still dark morning of the planet, thunder echoing soon afterwards. He was prone on top of a cliff's edge, surrounded by local fauna, overlooking a small lane of road paved through the thick jungle. The small creaks of strange alien insects and animals filled his ears, three eyes peering into the scope as he tracked a small vehicle running gliding the jungle.

As a single drop of water slowly slid down his cheek, Ja'Far voiced his confirmation with a resigned voice. "Aye, target in sight Taskmaster. Preparing to fire, over." He calmly checked over his rifle, checking the kinks and workings of it. It was a standard Batarian-type, filled with illegal explosive chemicals and modded to be one of the most deadly rifles out there. He leaned into the rifle, keeping it snug against his shoulder as he let his cheek rest upon the stock. A prayer to Athame and the Pillar of Guidance on his lips, he pulled the trigger. There was a loud crash and a boom in the distance, a fiery explosion breaking the monotony of jungle life on the planet. He let out a sigh as he looked upon the burning wreckage. He opened his comms.

"Target eliminated, proceeding to designated extraction point."

However, as Ja'Far was about to high tail it out of there, he got another order from his communications bead, this time from his squad's latest Priest. They were often killed in the first couple of missions due to their almost rabid extremism to give sinners on the other side "redemption through their holy blade". They usually watched their resident Priests be killed by rounds peppering their body as they tried to use swords against guns. It never worked out well. The sound of an old crone crackled through the radio "Hold plebeian. The blessings of the Pillar of Redemption have yet to fall upon one of these sinners. They shall not suffer in afterlife for naught. Give her redemption, sinner."

They were currently overlooking this whole operation from another vantage point so Ja'Far could not claim otherwise that there was no survivors. He settled in once more, zooming into the small face of light purple skin, Asari beauty in sadness. Wailing screams filled his ears. He paused. For a brief second, he hesitated to pull on the trigger. He could save her, prevent her from dying. Fire off a warning shot near her, pretending to miss and letting her run away. He would reprimanded heavily with flogging and even death but he would be able to do one good in the world. Unfortunately, hesitation and will does not break the strict discipline and mental breaking of his training regimen. As the Divine Prayers of Redemption was whispered into his ear, he fired. A twitch of a finger and another explosion erupted, silencing the prayers and the cries.

"Target neutralisation confirmed. Well done Ja'Far. However, you hesitated. Twenty floggings when we get back home tonight and that is for everyone. Proceed to the extraction point everyone, over." The proceeding confirmations from his squad mates brought him out of his stupor. Ja'Far stood and started backtracking his way through the jungle, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He clenched his shaking hand tight as his other brought a cigarette to his quivering mouth. The sweet smell of the lit cigarette brought no happiness in his mind as he added to his list of sins.

Notes

Others see Ja'Far a loner, an outcast. A pariah as he was before and always will be.

Ka'Hairal Balak is his brother.

Has also fenced on occasion and in the past, usually settling disputes between the Legion and a noble. Fencing in the former Hegemony was popular amongst High Class and is similar to the Human Epeé. Although there used to be many schools of Batarian fencing, called Vívátz in Old Tongue, Ja'Far fences with a very aggressive style. Parry, flèche and lunge are his favourite moves, catching the blade instead of avoiding it. Now uses fencing as recreation and exercise although his blade and jacket with epaulettes are long gone.

Relations Sheet

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"I feel a headache coming."

| ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating |

|| Jake Anderson ||

✌ A seemingly capable soldier in his own right and even better leader ✌
'Led us through hell and back in that damn first mission. Pretty good I suppose, for a typical Alliance medal poser. Seems like the model soldier, unlike Aegon, a real Council Specter. Reminds me when my old Taskmaster obeyed orders from HQ left, right and centre, incredibly vanilla. Stands out from the rabble as one of the few reasonable people of the team, someone I can actually trust as a leader. He's a bit soft, needs to toughen up a bit and get real about this bloody world but every team needs a paragon. A little broken but everyone in this damn team is insane, including me.'

|| Aegon Partinax ||

✌ Reminds me of my Taskmaster, hard-asses, the lot of them. Ruthless but efficient enough to make good leaders. ✌
'Ahhhh, Partinax. Interesting fellow, this Turian is. Definite military-type and his experience just translates into how he fights and breathes. Feel like he's a bit of a rebel this one, probably why the Council has a fuckin' leash on him. Would definitely follow him into battle though, he could probably keep up with me in simple skill at my best. Seems cold-blooded, more of a cynic than Anderson, nostalgic to me but I don't like being used as a tool. Not any more at least. Good fencer too, have to try duelling him with a vívátz, show him how our fighting styles clash. Bloody Turians probably fight as much on their ships as we did in our cages.'

|| Ravanor Rykarn ||

✌ Ha! This Krogan can kill things in style. Then again, all of us could. ✌
'Rykarn? He's interesting to say the least. I appreciate his level-headed thinking but he should follow orders more. Bit of a loose cannon but all Krogan are, no matter how old they get. He's a quick thinker, this one. Took down Vella when she almost harmed Phalanx, no hesitation. I'll need to talk to him more, we seem to be the few people who are at least a little sane. Wiser than most Krogan but can still be irritated. I'm neutral on him so far, I'd like to get to know him better though.'

|| Vella Calixten Ophelia ||

✌ Insubordinate. Childish. Mentally insane. Can't help but feel a little liking to her. ✌
'Reminds me of my sister. Yeah, the Asari one. I had to pause when I looked at her, she is like an exact replica. A little more childish but all Asari are when they're young like her. She's annoying and one of the most insane people I've ever met, though Ellis takes the cake on that one. Can't help but like her though, reminds me too much of Siarus. Seems like a bit of a social butterfly and she seems like a laugh outside of missions. Just wish that she stops acting so stupid sometimes.'

|| Ellis Taevon ||

✌ Tin Can the Crazy Man, potentially useful but also potentially dangerous ✌
'The team's full of freaks but this guy? Takes the cake and runs with it, probably stuffs it down his pants too. I've seen nutters before in all types of war zones, both fought with them and against them. Sometimes even betray them. PTSD, crippling depression, multiple personalities, schizophrenia, the whole mental spectrum has ended up in my lap before. I've never come across someone have all of that and then some. He's dangerous but he is one hell of a fighter, tankier than the Krogan and more augmented than Commander Shepard is. Basically a suit of metal and a wall of guns. Feel bad for him, honestly. Can't live a normal life, no matter how hard he'll try'

|| Rayes'Xum Nar Yaron ||

✌ Rayes? Isn't he twins with Rol? ✌
'Ah, Rayes. Didn't interact with him much, comes off as a little arrogant. Quarian, a bit of a techie and lives in a suit, fits all the stereotypes as far as I'm concerned. Doesn't seem like much of a fighter but he can damn well use technology better than most of the people in Katabasis. Incredibly intelligent, I can discern that much. Hope to talk to him more about how he hacked that terminal so damn quick. Knowledge like that could become useful if I ever had to go alone.'

|| Phalanx ||

☀ It's a nice one, this AI. Childish but not in a bad way like Vella. ☀
'I couldn't help but attach myself to Phalanx, it's adorable in a robotic, inorganic way. It's childlike curiosity and wanderlust almost masks the fact that it's a 7ft tall robot who could break my spine like it was a twig. I feel almost like a father whenever I need to correct it and it's sniping skills are outstanding. Could trust it in battle more than most of the others in the group, held it's own well in the first mission. Need to spend more time with it, maybe even teach it the ways of Athame. Heard that it was interested in learning different organic cultures and ways of life. The sentient robot has a long way to go but I'd love to help it along the way.'

|| Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal ||

✌ Another infiltrator, a man similar to myself in that respect ✌
'Had little interaction with Rol in the first mission, didn't have much of an opinion on him. Saw him like any other Quarian, and being honest here, I almost couldn't tell him and Rayes apart. Don't tell him. He's military though, a soldier like me and I can respect that quality. The beaten up armour tells an interesting story, one that I hope he'll tell in the future. Seems a little reserved and over analytical, like most normal Quarians, but makes up for that in his combat proficiency. His strictly military attitude is refreshing.'

|| Tiberius Adarian ||

✌ He is a very, very tall Turian. Athame stretched his spirit a little too much in the Creation. ✌
'Damn strong and capable, a biotic with some damn good skill. Neutral on him, considering the fact that 8 feet tall, he didn't talk much. To me at least. Heard he was a Cabal, special operations type. Used to have rivals in the Hegemony Blackwatch, would be good to start another friendly rivalry with a team member. Seems headstrong but diplomatic, some sorta weird mix between Anderson and Partinax. Can respect that. His height is his most prominent feature though, would be intimidating to fight against.'

|| Raik Skarr ||

✌ A capable Krogan, not prone to the aggressive actions the rest of his people are prone to ✌
'Haven'd had much of a chance to speak with Skarr though I have heard of his actions during the mission. I can respect the bravery that he displayed and that he isn't a ravenous lunatic in battle. Any Krogan warrior can be respected as strong and mighty but few have the qualities of calm. That biotic hammer he has is most interesting, a melee with him would be most... entertaining I feel. He has also been reported to have finesse, something that, as a solider, I find highly respectable. But, I'm most interested in some sort of cage match with the Krogan, just like old times with my squad.'

|| Sicaria Velinian ||

✌ Another soldier, like all damn Turians, except this own is pretty likeable ✌
An interesting female, dual-blades seems to be a running theme in the Turians of the theme. Was more ruthless than most of the Infiltration team and didn't seem to follow the "no-killing" order that Anderson had said. However, it was brutally efficient and is another example of a good Turian soldier. Although, her forming attraction for Alria, despite the latter' obliviousness, may cause some problems. I do admit that the Turian is quite attractive.'

|| Gilvert Somner ||

⚜ Reminds me of an old friend, a good man underneath the insanity. ⚜
'Worked with him for a bit in the explosives, Giles reminds me of an old Drell similar to him. Crazy bastard, just like Mister Somner over here, loved explosives and blowing things up. It's nice seeing a reminder of a better past in the team, although this Drell also seems to favour marksmanship. I can respect any marksman with considerable firepower and explosives under his belt. His actions and personality can be slightly... unnerving but this is covered up by how likeable he is. I seem to be attracting some interesting friends in this group.'

|| Salissa Fortia ||

❤ She's very, um, interesting... ❤
'Ah. Yes. Salissa. Um... Let's move on.'
*Note: Subject seems to be flustered whenever Salista Fortia is mentioned. Likely an interest but hides it well most of the time. Signs of attraction cannot be hidden from a machine however.*

|| Alria Vicrinus ||

✌ 'A valuable member of the team, attractive for a Turian. ✌
'Alria is a melee specialist, CQC seems to be her specialty. Not much interaction with her however she led the team through the layout of the Cerberus complex, giving sensible orders and running when we needed to run. An efficient fighter, much better at close quarters than I am. A valuable member of the team that I would be happy to support and fight with in the future.'

|| Ethan Sartiel ||

✌ Um, who? Ah. The runt.✌
'Came in as the cavalry but I have no idea who he is. I can say that he's pretty powerful and uh... short?'

Mass Effect: Underworld

@MrDidact

Is he accepted or do I have to wait for big boss Sam for confirmation good sir?

And thank you, I try and give an enjoyable read for my CS's.

Mass Effect: Underworld

@Dervish

I'd love ta help <3 I just like history I guess XD. I'm one of those weird people who pays attention in history class. I'd definitely be interested in an RP of that type

@Silver Fox

I'm sure Ja'Far would love to work with an unfeeling Geth mostly due to the fact that such an artificial being wouldn't be able to ascend to the afterlife like him because their eyes are not compatible with the scriptures.

Which, if they will be working together frequently, he will be quoting and lecturing Phalanx on. It'll definitely create an interesting bond between him and the Geth.

Also, badass snipers for the win!!

Mass Effect: Underworld

@SgtEasy Strangely I always considered Balak to be Shepard's true rival. Sure Shepard fights villains, but they never seem to last more than a single game. Saren, The Collectors, Harbinger. But Balak lasts the entire series.

And the best part is that Balak is not some big evil force to be defeated. He's just a soldier fighting for his people like Shepard. Balak, for me at least, is like the anti-Shepard.

@DarkFey

Which is great isn't it? His brother, unknown of most of Citadel space but feared as a boogeyman of the Hegemony, now working to unite the races with a spectre.

Balak, and in extension, the Batarians as a whole, were mostly dismissed as barbarians and brutes of the worst kind. The regular mook villains of the galaxy. With this character I hope to shine more light on a potentially culture rich society that was never really explored in ME.

Edit: I love his relationship with Shepard XD

@PrivateVentures

I'm pretty darn excited too <3

Mass Effect: Underworld

@DarkFey

Yup although he has quickly severed any ties to family and such. He does not consider him his brother and Balak does not consider him family either.

I will explore his family past and such plus current relations as I develop the character further through roleplaying :)

@PrivateVentures

I always viewed the Batarians as that. Straight to the point.

By the way, I'm a huge nerd when it comes to making up religions, history and culture inspired by others in our history. So you'll see more of the deep inner beliefs of Ja'Far as we roleplay

Mass Effect: Underworld

I hope he's okay for approval ^^

I did this late at night and early in the morning so there might be some issues in terms of character fluidity and it making sense. I tried to edit it as much as possible however :)

And yes, my character is a resigned, exasperated person that feels way too old than he currently is.

Edit: I also hope this is of a good length cause I used a phone to type this up and I hope it's okay XD

Ja'Far Balak

---

---

_{"Ja'Far in his rare moment of relaxation"}
"Blessed be the holy Pillars of the Divine and Athame, who dost bring blessing upon thou fulsome eyes and thou strength to give redemption to thine enemies through holy fire. Amen."

Race:

Batarian

Class:

Infiltrator

Age:

39

Sex:

Male

Appearance:

He stands at 6'4" (197 centimetres), a respectable height in the tall Batarian race. Ja'Far has dark to tannish brown skin, worn and stretched from years of back breaking work. One scar adorns his face just above his upper left ridge, running downwards straight through the eye just under till it stops. The socket remains empty, a black marble placed the eye's stead. This is seen as a sign of banishment, a scar for the punished who do not deserve the four holy eyes given by the Pillars and thus such an individual could not move on to the afterlife. Those who have been scarred are labelled as pariahs and doomed to walk the planes of limbo between life and death, even if said scar came through service and not punishment.

His three other eyes hold a fiery defiance to the galaxy, an appearance that many Batarian survivors hold as their once proud, might if but stagnant race falls into disgrace. Ja'Far has two golden rings pierced into each ear, a sign of middle-caste status and a distinctly military background within the former Hegemony. He has a large muscular frame and carries himself high, rigid posture honed from militant discipline, chin held high with shoulders pulled backwards. The seriousness he always holds himself in can either be respected or laughed at by others.

Ja'Far typically wears a loose sleeveless grey shirt, black pants and dark military boots. He carries with himself a necklace with a small idol of the Pillar of Strength on it, made of marble and gold with etchings of holy text scratched unto the surface. One's of hope and redemption, the power of the four holy eyes and those who carry them. Cigarettes often find their way in his mouth, the smell of them tingling his sensitive nose. Dark gloves and arm wraps cover more holy scripture, tattooed unto his arms. These carry a darker message, reminders of the fate of the pariahs, resurgence through cruelty and punishment, the wrath of the Gods upon the pitiful and weak.

Backstory:

His History

Ja'Far was the second son of a middle-caste family back in the old Hegemony, born on his homeworld of Khar'Shan. His parents were strict and cruel although these were seen as a blessing by most Batarians later in life, better for the young to see cruelty in their own supposed loved ones first before stepping out into an even harsher galaxy. He however, hated it. They were abusive, beating him constantly, blaming him for the current shame their family was in even though that had nothing to do with either. They blamed him for his unknown older brother's escape from the family, ascending higher through the ranks of the caste system to the Holy Raiders.

Some may see this as a point of pride and an influx of income but Ja'Far's brother kept all this new wealth to himself and thus kept his family down a caste or two. His parents were malicious and spiteful, a hurricane of anger. During the tentative times of peace within his household, there was always a thick tension in the house between them and him. They did not love him and hated him for things his brother did earlier before. This led to the younger Batarian hating both him and his parents wholeheartedly. This rough childhood made him grow up and mature much quicker than most petulant and snobbish Batarian children, developing a serious outlook on life.

Throughout these younger years however, there was an aspect that he could back fondly at. His parents, suffering and torture be to their ascended souls, owned one Asari slave. Praised for their beauty, the reasons these slaves were owned was more for status rather than any type of labour work, which was done by their second son of course.

She was a maiden, young and boisterous, sold cheap to the family by a family friend. An Asari of a deep blue. She was led around in a collar into Ja'Far's household, head drooped downwards, naked quivering body bare for all to see. His father grinned lecherously at her, his mother seemingly indifferent towards her. In the couple of days, the second son of the Balak naturally avoided the stranger. At the age of eleven, he was yet to be influenced by the harsh propaganda the Hegemony instilled into it's people and still saw the family slave as another living sentient being.

Their first encounter was during his parent's anniversary. They left him at home as usual, leaving him to his own devices as they spent their money throwing a party of "great importance" in honour of their own "holy marriage". In reality, they were probably taking in a line of Red Sand and cheating on each other in one of the various "illegal" slave brothels within Khar'Shan. As per usual, he began to walk his way into the kitchen for cooking dinner, only to find the young maiden almost setting the house on fire.

"What are you doing?!" he exclaimed, running towards the pan on fire with a horrified expression on his face. The slave was promptly bowled over and hit her head on the nearby table as Ja'Far quickly sprayed cooling liquids all over the flame. As the sizzling blue goop sizzled with heat, he turned towards the Asari who was currently rubbing her head in embarrassment and injury. He crossed his arms and tried to look like his threatening and aggressive father which of course looked comical on a young Batarian such as himself. He glared.

"Do you realise what you could have done? You could have burned the whole house for The Pillars' sake!" He pointed at the now ruined and blackened pan "Father and Mother are going to have our heads for this."

The slave quickly lowered her head down on the floor and bowed, keeping her mouth shut as she awaited punishment for her mistake. Ja'Far's eyes soften3: from a glare, crouching down towards the Asari's level. "It's fine" he whispered softly, hesitantly placing a small hand on her shoulder "I-I'm not going to punish you like my parents do. All I want to know is what you were trying to do."

The Asari looked up from her kneeling position and sat up straight, young bright eyes staring back at his own black orbs. She had a defiance to her, a look of challenge hidden amongst the cloudy eyes of those who have emptied their tears. "I was trying to cook for you, young master" She lowered her head in shame rather than instinct or slave doctrine "I uh, failed young master."

Ja'Far sighed, scratching his ridge in exasperation. He stood and inclined for her to do the same, making her realise that he was quite tall for his age. He turned and threw the pan into the bin, procuring a new one out of the cabinet. "Don't try and cook, the extent of your slave duties in the household is to look pretty and help around with cleaning and such. I however have to do the cooking and the more manual work that your frame can't handle. Sit down and I'll cook for us."

Batarian cuisine was centred on the idea of smelling the food rather than just the taste of it. The smell added texture and layer to the meal, each whisper of smoke must give add a different flavour for the food to be perfect. The taste was always rather bland but the strong poignant smells always made up for it. As Ja'Far put the last ingredients unto the dish, he plated them up and put them upon the table. He invited the Asari on the table, a practice regularly looked down upon in Batarian society. She looked at him wide-eyed before proceeding to sit and shove as much food into her mouth as possible. She must've been starved as a slave and this was more food than most slaves would normally get.

The Batarian scratched his ridge again before handing over his own plate of food which was then promptly emptied a minute later. "Done?" He inquired, a suddenly tired but soft look on his face. She patted her stomach and sighed in peace, smiling as she relaxed in the chair.

The Asari quickly opened her eyes as if she just realised that he was watching her eat his own meal. Frantic apologies escaped her mouth but the second son silenced her, merely signalling to calm down. They sat in awkward silence. "My name is Siarus, young master" she began, breaking the quiet "I thank you for your kindness in giving this meal although I don't understand why you did so." She bowed her head downwards.

"I live a simple life here. No friends, no other family, only my wicked parents for company." Ja'Far reclined in his chair sat his boots up on the table, hands intertwined behind his head "In truth, I am lonely. Tired. I am in need of company, of something more. I... I was hoping you'd break the monotony a bit." The now named Siarus looked at him inquisitively for a moment, as if questioning whether this was true or not but quickly devolved into a cheery face. She voiced her approvals and thus, a friendship was born.

For six blissful years of his life, Ja'Far had an honest friend. Siarus proved to be exuberant, full of life and brought wonders into the monotony of hate and anger that cycled through the household. They soon became each other's crutches, leaning against the other when one was down. It was moments of alone time in which their friendship blossomed. She taught him about the divine Athame, or what she remembered of it when she was an even younger maiden under her mother, and thus he created his own belief. A mix of Athame-worship (who he believed to have also created the mighty Batarian race alongside the beautiful Asari. Siarus giggled at him as he explained) and the use of the holy ideology and scriptures of the Divine Pillars.

They were quiet in their rebellion against the elder Balaks, showing it in support of the other when they were punished. They grew to have compassion for one another, and often sought the other for happiness and support. For Ja'Far, it was bliss. It may have been the reason he held quite extremist views towards slaves in the Hegemony at the time. Their friendship developed further, turning into a love akin to brother and sister. Her laughter was like music to his ears and he learned so much from her. But it was all finished in a bloody end.

The dripping knife in his mother's hand. His father and Siarus. Jealousy was the cause. Baseless, drunken anger on his mother's part. Pulping rage, red mist in his eyes. Bloody fists, raw knuckles. His mother's head on a pike, burned alive. Thirteenth birthday celebration.

Ja'Far was given a choice for the murder of his mother and the shaming of the Balak family name. Either be sentenced 12 years a slave miner in the pits of Khar'Shan or serve in the first penal legion of the Hegemony. Certain death or possible death. He chose the second sentence. He was framed, broken-hearted but was still pulsing with rage as he threw himself among the varren of the 1^st Penal Legion. His eyes scarred and sliced, a sign of disgrace and shame.

The training was cruel and harsh, designed to kill off most of the Legionnaires within the service. Live fire drills, excruciating punishments for the smallest of slights, hours laying in the sun praying with cruel Priests of Redemption, whipping their backs and beating them with batons. Each day was filled with back-breaking work, designed to inflict as much physical pain in between lectures and drills, leaving the sentenced Legionnaires broken and tired. Many fell in this first year. Either to the harsh punishments of taskmasters and priests, the harsh weather of Khar'Shan or the pitiful living conditions they were given. Many also broke mentally as the days passed, forcing others to either restrict them while they sleep or kill them with already broken knuckles.

Five thousand became a hundred. Murderers, cutthroats, uprising slaves, rapists, thieves, heathens. All of them young, fit and in the prime of their lives. All criminals in the eyes of the Hegemony. The Hundred became a tight web of close bonded relationships between those who were broken repeatedly over the course of one year. Friendships rarely formed however, comrades as they were, it was most likely that the man or woman next to you was one of the most fucked up people in the galaxy.

The Hundred operated in twenty five man teams, each led by a harsh Taskmaster and a Priest of Redemption. Some squads were formed to be the perfect, mighty soldiers of the old Hegemony while others were more like ravenous berserker beasts in battle.

They destroyed slave rebellions, foiled the plans of sabotage among dissenting politicians, disgracing families of those who spoke too loosely about their disapproval of the Hegemony. They traversed the political world of the Hegemony, a hidden dagger held against the throat of those who thought to step out of their place. The Hundred became thirty. Mission after mission, decade after decade, they fought and bled for a country who had no love for them. They were criminals after all, not even deemed fit to ascend to the afterlife. Not even deemed fit to join the slaver gangs of Terminus.

The Reapers hit. The thirty became five. Then one. Ja'Far looked down at the husks at his feet, Cannibals he believed they were called. His former taskmaster lay at his feet, turned into a disgusting indoctrinated mess of a life form. He poked at it one last time, with his rifle, cigarette in his mouth. He looked at the final transport on the planet, some backwater shithole his team had holed up in during this mess as news of the Reaper's defeat reached his Omni-tool. The brown-skinned Batarian scratched his ridge in exasperation and looked up at the sky. "Athame and the Divine, I prithee that thou shalt shine my way for I have no fucking idea what I am going to do."

Psyche Profile:

Ja'Far is tired. He has bled and fought in the political world of one of the harshest countries in the galaxy. He has killed women and children, master and slave. Over the course of his service, he has pillaged worlds with pirates, done countless sins, killed dozens of powerful politicians and has made the downfall of a High Caste political family. This turmoil made him a boogeyman amongst the Hegemony Elite and thus made him a target as the hidden dagger. He is a proud, mighty soldier but one shrouded more in darkness than most.

Constant prayers adorn his lips, praying for forgiveness and mercy. Ja'Far was a religious man, though believed in his own mix of Athame-worship and the Pillars of the Divine. Scriptures were often carried into battle by those in the Penal Legion, those who didn't were often flogged for not praying to the Pillars. He believes in redemption through fire, the only way a soul can be cleansed is if they are beaten and broken. Luxuries and riches are often detested by him but unlike most traditionalists in Batarian society, he had no adversity against love and happiness but found peace as a sweet but far reaching dream.

Happiness comes few and far between, only the cold, if exhausted and exasperated, visage of a soldier is left behind. The few things that bring him happiness would be any homage back to his blissful past with Siarus. Even the mere colour of her skin on another Asari could bring back fleeting memories of her, most of then broken and shattered from the conditioning of the Hegemony. Even through this conditioning, he held strong and still holds a strong sense of individuality that he preserved from his youth. Happiness comes from thinking of the pieces of his broken past, piecing them together in calm meditation. He is defined well as a loner but operates in squad environments with almost frightening efficiency.

Anger comes lesser than even happiness. In his first five years as Legionnaire, he was fuelled with rage. Pulsing, ravenous rage that would have made any self-respecting Krogan proud. However, that Ja'Far lost fuel. There was only so much blood you could use to appease your anger. Instead, any type of rage is quickly followed by exasperation and the weight of his stressful years. However, if anyone was to try and actually provoke this mighty though exhausted soldier, he would devolve into a ravenous berserker beast, very different from the calmer lonely sniper he specialises as.

He enjoys meditation in his own time, prayers to the holies of his faith, sleeping and reading. Ja'Far enjoys mostly solitary activities however loves to experience the occasional thrill of doing whatever the fuck the others were doing. And yes, he swears. A lot.

Specialty:

A marksman, a recon specialist with an eye for stealth. Ja'Far may be a proud soldier but he would rather pick enemies off from a distance or from behind than get up close and dirty. He may be no galaxy renowned Garrus Vakarian but he was an experienced professional, no natural talent but a strict training regime backing him up anyhow. His job is to enter the building first and leave first, the light armour protecting little of his person as he is not suited for the front lines. His job is to confuse and sabotage, not destroy everything in his path. His specialisation as a reconnaissance man however doesn't stop his other talents shine through.Interrogation and intimidation were important during his time as a legionnaire and could prove vital to get any information they may need to known about.

Powers/Skills:

• Disruptor Ammo
• Sabotage
• Tactical Cloak
• Incinerate
• Excellent Marksmanship
• Minimal technical know-how
• Basic leadership skills
• Interrogation and intimidation skills

Equipment and Resources:

• M-29 Incisor
• M-6 Carnifex
• Sticky Grenades
• Recon Hood
• Standard Tactical Black Hard-suit
• Hooked interrogators knife

Sample Post:

"Target inbound, 0800 timeframe confirmed. Mission has go ahead. Target is en route to your position Ja'Far, please confirm."

Ja'Far relaxed into his rifle, the rain on this infuriatingly wet planet beating down on his prone body. He had been here, laying still for five hours now, waiting for the go ahead on the mission. Mud formed around his abdomen, his light kinetic barriers flickering in the rain. Lightning struck against the still dark morning of the planet, thunder echoing soon afterwards. He was prone on top of a cliff's edge, surrounded by local fauna, overlooking a small lane of road paved through the thick jungle. The small creaks of strange alien insects and animals filled his ears, three eyes peering into the scope as he tracked a small vehicle running gliding the jungle.

As a single drop of water slowly slid down his cheek, Ja'Far voiced his confirmation with a resigned voice. "Aye, target in sight Taskmaster. Preparing to fire, over." He calmly checked over his rifle, checking the kinks and workings of it. It was a standard Batarian-type, filled with illegal explosive chemicals and modded to be one of the most deadly rifles out there. He leaned into the rifle, keeping it snug against his shoulder as he let his cheek rest upon the stock. A prayer to Athame and the Pillar of Guidance on his lips, he pulled the trigger. There was a loud crash and a boom in the distance, a fiery explosion breaking the monotony of jungle life on the planet. He let out a sigh as he looked upon the burning wreckage. He opened his comms.

"Target eliminated, proceeding to designated extraction point."

However, as Ja'Far was about to high tail it out of there, he got another order from his communications bead, this time from his squad's latest Priest. They were often killed in the first couple of missions due to their almost rabid extremism to give sinners on the other side "redemption through their holy blade". They usually watched their resident Priests be killed by rounds peppering their body as they tried to use swords against guns. It never worked out well. The sound of an old crone crackled through the radio "Hold plebeian. The blessings of the Pillar of Redemption have yet to fall upon one of these sinners. They shall not suffer in afterlife for naught. Give her redemption, sinner."

They were currently overlooking this whole operation from another vantage point so Ja'Far could not claim otherwise that there was no survivors. He settled in once more, zooming into the small face of light purple skin, Asari beauty in sadness. Wailing screams filled his ears. He paused. For a brief second, he hesitated to pull on the trigger. He could save her, prevent her from dying. Fire off a warning shot near her, pretending to miss and letting her run away. He would reprimanded heavily with flogging and even death but he would be able to do one good in the world. Unfortunately, hesitation and will does not break the strict discipline and mental breaking of his training regimen. As the Divine Prayers of Redemption was whispered into his ear, he fired. A twitch of a finger and another explosion erupted, silencing the prayers and the cries.

"Target neutralisation confirmed. Well done Ja'Far. However, you hesitated. Twenty floggings when we get back home tonight and that is for everyone. Proceed to the extraction point everyone, over." The proceeding confirmations from his squad mates brought him out of his stupor. Ja'Far stood and started backtracking his way through the jungle, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He clenched his shaking hand tight as his other brought a cigarette to his quivering mouth. The sweet smell of the lit cigarette brought no happiness in his mind as he added to his list of sins.

Notes

Others see Ja'Far a loner, an outcast. A pariah as he was before and always will be.

Ka'Hairal Balak is his brother.

Mass Effect: Underworld

I'm really close to finishing guys <3