Zombiedude101

Mass Effect: Wanted

I've added the backstory to my CS, take a look here if you want.

Mass Effect: Wanted

Sundered Echo said
Well with classes, there are going be a couple of duplicates no matter what as there are only six major classes and more than six characters.I was originally going with infiltrator, but since my characters powers and modus operandi are only a little infiltrator-like I swapped out to engineer. I was already not taking Tactical cloak so it was no great loss.

I know, but we've already got two engineers and given that there's only eight character slots available, I'd rather go for something different for the sake of variety.

Mass Effect: Wanted

Name: Iosif Sevchenko, (Alias: Lyosha)

Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Class: Engineer, Pilot

Appearance:



Standing a a rough height of about 5'11, Iosif possesses something of a wiry frame that's been honed by years of training and experience in the field, but is otherwise of an average physical complexion. Due in part to his having ventured out into the galaxy on his travels, his skin tone appears to have taken on a darker complexion than most slavs. Accompanying this are numerous faded scars of varying severity running across his torso, whilst across his back is a criss-cross of faded lacerations which resemble wounds caused by flogging. On the back of his neck is a faded barcode tattooed into the skin with several Batarian numerals and letters etched into the skin beside it. That aside, Iosif's left arm is clearly alien to the rest of his body: from the shoulder-down it appears that his arm is a cybernetic replacement, complemented with a synthetic white coating. Elsewhere, Iosif's pale blue eyes and the pronounced features of his face do well to point out his slavic heritage, with brunette-colored hair that's kept short with a crew cut whilst his jawline seldom develops anything more than a hazy stubble.

Background:

Backstory

Born on Lowell City in 2146, Iosif was the first-born son in a primarily academic family unit: his father was an R&D Technician who originally hailed from the Russian Federation before his assignment whilst his mother had spent her entire life on the red planet and had been a colleague of her future husband. A mere two years after his birth, the unearthing of a series of alien ruins and the subsequent wealth of research and technology which followed gave the family a dedicated assignment early on in life, which led to Iosif spending his childhood years within the confines of a residential facility for the families of the R&D staff with the frequently iterated expectation that one day he would follow both parents into a similar field.

This however only served to alienate Iosif from the pursuit of such a path and whenever he found the opportunity to spend time outside of the residential facility, he often visited the hangar bays and public sectors where cargo and transport shuttles most frequently landed and departed, as this granted him the opportunity to speak with the shuttle crews and the passengers aboard and learn more of the human dominion, taking interest in the idea of leaving the Solar System for other worlds via the newly discovered mass relays and FTL-technology. This interest piqued even further when humanity made first contact with alien life during the brief First Contact War before going on to be introduced to the greater galactic community. Drawn in by the appeal of seeing the wider universe, Iosif resolved to join the Systems Alliance Navy as a pilot when he was of age.

Naturally, his parents had already reserved a number of slots at various respectable educational institutions and with the influence of both mother and father he’d been all-but slated to attend, yet on his eighteenth birthday he ultimately followed through with his earlier resolve and announced his attentions to join the Systems Alliance, much to the chagrin of both parents. To them it was a mere phase, an immature notion generated by media depictions of exploring new worlds and performing epic feats of heroism, yet Iosif continued to stick to his guns until one final confrontation led to the two officially disowning their son rather than allow him to ‘throw their long-term investments away’.

Taking the first shuttle that he could to the Moon, Iosif enlisted at the recruitment center on Armstrong Outpost and began his pilot training over the course of the next two years. Unlike most, Iosif had aspired to pilot smaller craft such as the shuttles he often saw entering and departing from the hangars back on Mars, or gunships that were being used to patrol the newer colonies that humanity had established outside the Solar System. Once he’d completed his training, he was assigned to the 21st Airborne Division and soon saw deployment.

It was here that his training would pay off as Iosif manouvered his way through AA-vulnerable locations to ferry marines to-and-from their destinations whilst other operations saw him taking the reigns of the recently introduced A-61 Mantis Gunship.These next few years saw him develop his talent as a pilot, yet at the same time also saw him become slightly disillusioned with the Systems Alliance, if only for the fact that most of their resources were being thrown towards a few pirates and warlords, until it finally came to a head in 2173.

During a routine patrol of one of the Alliance’s colonies in the Attican Traverse, Iosif’s gunship suffered catastrophic engine damage after a kinetic impact from an insurgent’s weapon and the subsequent crash-landing resulted in his left arm being pinned beneath the gunship’s mangled chassis, forcing him to undergo an amputation and later have the arm replaced with a prosthetic. Disillusioned with the idea of chasing after warlords, pirates and the occasional terrorist, Iosif took his medical discharge from the 21st Airborne without argument and opted to find a new occupation that met his own terms.

Recalling that his family had disowned him and otherwise unwilling to admit defeat, Iosif took to running private jobs to keep himself afloat, primarily hiring out to low-profile mercenary crews and PMC’s that weren’t particularly noticeable to the public eye.

Eventually, he crossed paths with and soon struck up a partnership with two fellow freelancers: Jedrah, a salarian infiltrator who’d deserted from military service in favour of the better-paying contracts found with freelance work and Rael’Dorvah nar Selai, a quarian who’d been exiled from the migrant fleet after causing the accidental deaths of six crew members whilst testing a hacking module which exposed part of the ship to an open vacuum. Together, the three made an unlikely extraction crew; Rael would be the one to head into the field, using his tech skills to hack his way through any obstacles and reach whatever goal they required, whilst Jedrah would provide covering fire from a distance. Meanwhile, Iosif would drop off and evac the two whilst also providing additional cover and fire support from a gunship when needed, making the crew ideal for clients who sought to acquire information or items of value from locations which were locked down tight. Iosif even began to regard the two with an odd sort of friendship, somewhat amused by the salarian’s matter-of-fact approach whilst growing fond of the quarian’s boastful rants and lectures of his supposed technical prowess.

Yet, during one contract in which a dossier containing blackmail material on a Citadel official was extracted, Rael also happened upon another dossier with an extensive amount of encryption barring unauthorised access. To a quarian, this was a challenge for sure but not impossible, so after a few days’ worth of extensive work he’d managed to expose the files with the majority of the information still intact. When the crew examined the files in question, they discovered a damning amount of evidence that would incriminate a number of private contractors - including several executives within Siame Industries, with various connections to mercenary groups, criminal operations and the mysterious deaths of several people considered to be whistleblowers within the company.

Considering the implications of such information falling into the right hands, the three decided to sell it on to the Shadow Broker’s agents in exchange for payment which would have easily given each of them cause to take a long vacation from contract work. Jedrah established a meeting point and the two agreed upon it unanimously. However, treachery is often known to be a common practise in the freelance world: the date the transfer was due to occur, Iosif arrived at the meeting point only to find the quarian dead from a well-placed shot through the visor and suddenly felt the presence of another individual in the form of a gun placed against the back of his head.

In Jedrah’s own words, the betrayal was ‘nothing personal, a matter of simple business’ and that a third-party had made him a better offer. Whilst most would’ve faced a cruel, if quick death at this point, the salarian added insult to injury by stating that ‘out of respect’ for their previous business partnership, he had made an ‘arrangement’ for Iosif to live in a manner that he would profit from: enslavement, something he quickly realised after being marched at gunpoint into a waiting shuttle loaded with members from a known batarian slaving ring, some of whom Iosif had recognised from very brief encounters during his previous contracts.

In short time, the slavers shipped him off to Aratoht to endure back-breaking labour in the colony’s extensive mines. The experience left him somewhat traumatised, due in part to the inhuman treatment and beatings that he often suffered at the hands of the batarian ‘masters’. Yet something drove Iosif to press on, a desire for vengeance or perhaps to spite the salarian who had betrayed him through escape. Over the course of several months, he learned the routine of the overseers and guards who kept the mines operational and whenever he was assigned work at surface-level near the shuttles, he took every available opportunity to note down when the shuttles arrived and departed and for how long they were left unoccupied. At best, it left him little time for resting between shifts and at worst earned him a rough beating at the hands of whichever guard had caught him 'slacking off'.

Eventually he figured out a blind spot where a certain overseer often stopped to slack off between shifts and drink, and so he took advantage of the batarian's laxed attitude towards work and used a handheld mining excavator to bash the slave driver's skull in. With that out of the way, Iosif quickly removed the overseer's ID chip and used the excavator to bury the corpse beneath a pile of debris, absolving himself of any blame in the case that it were discovered - the batarians would simply dismiss it as a cave-in. However, this was only the first phase of Iosif's plan. Now that he possessed the overseer's ID chip he could unlock access to the armory, though not for himself. Instead, he left a small rumour that one of the guards had 'accidentally' left the armory unlocked whilst drunk, and within a few hours about half of the slaves in that sector had taken up arms.

In the resulting confusion that followed as the batarians rushed to quell the revolt, Iosif used the same ID chip to access a maintenance closet and after retrieving a rebreather for the journey ahead, he climbed up into one of the maintenance ducts and began to follow the route he'd mapped out in his head over the previous months. A short while later he managed to reach the surface, noticing that only half of the usual guard had been placed on watch whilst the rest had been dispatched to handle the situation in the nearby mining sector. Of course, there was a shuttle available and practically waiting, an unoccupied slave transport which conveniently fitted the ID of the overseer he'd stolen the chip from, and after spying a gap in the guards' watch he quickly bolted for the shuttle and climbed aboard.

After that, starting the shuttle was fairly simple - the ID chip got him through the automated security system and within a few minutes he'd dragged the vessel up into high orbit, too late for the batarians to do anything planetside, though it soon caught the attention of the other batarians vessels stationed around the system. Without hesitation or any regard for how much remained of the fuel reserves onboard, Iosif slammed the shuttle into FTL and bolted for the system's relay. Before the batarians could cut him off, he'd managed to cross reach the relay and quickly jumped over towards the other one outside of the system, placing himself outside the reach of his assailants and giving himself a freedom he'd been deprived of for almost a year.

All in all, the incident left him with an open grudge against batarians and the practice of slavery that would never truly heal, whilst his former partner’s treachery had left him with a muted distrust for salarians that he found difficult to subside, and so with little other option remaining he made a return to freelance work, only to find the market had changed in his absence, with many formerly prominent contractors losing business to a familiar face on the market: Siame Industries.

Remembering in Jedrah’s own words that a ‘third-party’ had made him a better offer, it didn’t take long for Iosif to draw the conclusion that the corporation had been directly responsible for his betrayal and therefore was also responsible for his subsequent enslavement by association, and grew determined in his resolve to act against both them and the salarian even though the latter had since disappeared on Illium. Paying close attention to the news and word-of-mouth throughout the freelance networks, it didn’t take long before Iosif saw an opportunity to enact his revenge and make a comeback at the same time. Pooling together the credits that hadn’t been scrubbed from his offworld accounts during his absence, he re-equipped himself and grabbed a shuttle to Cartagena Station with the intention of seeing his plan come to fruition.

Weapon List WIP

Elkoss Combine M-8 Avenger Assault Rifle


M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol


Modified Elanus Risk Control Services M-3 Predator - the weapon has been trimmed down into a compact form, sacrificing performance so it can be concealed


Mark 14 HE Grenades


Equipment List

Elkoss Combine Cipher Omni-Tool
Handheld Fusion Welder (This also doubles as a crude weapon when used in close quarters)
Elanus Risk Control Services Light Guardian Armor


Powers:

Power List

Overload
Incinerate
Cryo Blast
Tech Armor
Disruptor Ammo
Fortification

Talents:

Fitness
Electronics
Damping
Assault Rifle Training
Pistol Training
First Aid

Apocalyptica

By the way, check the beginning of the post after the RP, added a little something.

Apocalyptica

As some of you may know, Shon has handed over the crown reigns of the RP to me to keep things under my rule going. Now, I expect there to be a great amount of change forrowing the erevation of your new Great Reader.










ALL SALUTE OR NO MORE RATIONS

































Now on a more serious note, as you might've noticed Shon has changed a few of the details of his account so I might be able to access it and use it to edit in new characters, significant events or other pieces of information so feel free to give me a heads up if you feel anything's missing. I've already been altering negative untruthful facts about my own character and Chicago Tedding the shit out of him granting him more skills in line with his character, so feel free to beg ask if you need anything thrown up like a quote on a certain faction or so.

Mass Effect: Wanted

Least to say I'm definitely interested, assuming I can balance this with the other RP I'm presently involved and kinda heading.

Apocalyptica

Faces from the mob earlier that night popped up here and there. A few came still red in the face, but the diner’s owner threw them out immediately. Within minutes the incident repeated itself -- this time young man escorted the unwanted with a shotgun in hand. The boy remained outside the door with that weapon and watched new patrons. Simon noticed another belligerent pacing the area, but the sight of the boy turned them away. Fortunately, the kid didn’t seem to pay him any mind.

The night was still relatively young when Coltrane appeared. His ebony skin glowed in the diner’s light, neither warm nor cold, and his smile felt oddly genuine. Simon raised a hand to wave as he stood to greet him.

“Sorry about disappearing like that. I’ve, well, there’s a lot to think about. The soldiers and everything,” Simon bit his lip, then glanced toward the diner’s door. “You hungry?”

Coltrane initially rose his palm with the intent of waving away the offer, but a sudden pang in his stomach made him reconsider. "Now that I think, I've not ate much these past couple days." In truth, the beer he'd swallowed down earlier hadn't done him any favours either.

"Anyway, things were a mess back there. Your guy, Remmy, he got knocked over the head and I had to get him back to my place," He rubbed two fingers against the spot where Remmy had been struck. ”Don’t worry though, he's rested up now and I passed him a little something to keep close if he ever runs into any trouble."

“He seems a little country to me. Tell me you gave’em a crossbow,” Simon said with a smirk.

The two approached the diner eying the boy. Slow was the pace, as not to surprise, but not so much to suggest they had something to fear. It was a balancing act that felt all too close as the boy’s eyes began to dart. Up close Simon could clearly see the apron bound around his torso covered in smears of various colours. Obviously the kid was not the main cook since he played the bouncer, so maybe a jack of all trades. All trades but recognizing a threat, anyway.

Offering a gentle smile, an act notably difficult now, Simon tilted his head. “Are you closed? We’re starving. Me more than him, really. He looks pretty hungry though, right?”

In an instant the boy snapped into action. His shoulders dropped and knees bent like a cat caught by surprise. The barrel of the shotgun arced from his shoulder to just under Simon’s chin, then as if to make a point, the boy pulled the pump. Yet, despite all the reactions the weapon trembled. Fear or inexperience or any other whys didn’t matter, because what frightened Simon more than a trained threat was an emotionally distraught kid with a weapon.

A tear rolled down the boy’s chin as stammered his apology. He choked, cried, coughed, choked a bit more, but the shotgun remained fixed. The boy just apologized over and over to kid, Danny. Simon considered how quickly he might grab the shotgun without killing Coltrane or himself -- then the boy said another name. Winni.

“Wait, who?” Simon exclaimed, his voice commanding and more harsh than intended. But the boy kept going in his nonsense. Simon set his jaw, a heat growing in his chest. “I said who! What happened to her? What happened to Winni? What did you do?”

“Woah, hold on!” Coltrane recoiled with surprise as the boy planted the shotgun against Simon’s chin, frozen for a half-moment as the sight triggered the resurgence of a childhood memory from half a lifetime ago. Yet, when he noticed Simon’s temper unexpectedly flaring and threatening to make throw the situation into the meat grinder, he quickly regained his composure and took on a calmer, more sympathetic tone, pressing a palm against Simon’s shoulder as he addressed the boy. “Calm... calm down, alright? Nobody needs to get hurt, we’re not after any trouble, just put the gun down...”

The firm hand did more for the boy than Simon. When the shotgun lowered, Simon still felt his heart beating hard at the top of his throat. A fire that intellect denied, but spirit embraced wholly. He glanced at Coltrane’s feet in shame.

“Shi...ah... I’m sorry,” the boy whimpered before composing himself. “I’m confused. No excuse, but that’s all I got. Ever since guards took my kin life’s been hell. Only way I can see her is in that fortress-hospital, even then with a buncha guns pointed at me. Then I come home and bricks are flyin’ through our windows, riots in the street... I just... I don’t know. I miss Danni. I miss Winni.”

Just like that Simon’s eyes went wide. “I can’t believe it,” he laughed, too awe-struck to care about appropriate reponses. “I remember you. You were with us at the camp after Riley. The tent camp, remember? I’m Simon. That’s Coltrane. Winni and I...” He scrunched his brow and paused. “... talked. Listen, why don’t we all sit down. You give us the details, alright? Maybe we can help. That cool with you Trane?”

Coltrane gave his answer with a nod. “Yeah.”

Apocalyptica

For some reason the forums have been acting weird, I was gonna mentioned that I'd added some additional writing and notes to the doc.

Apocalyptica

Yo, I've not forgotten about the RP - I've had some stuff going in in life related to college and holidaying and so on, but I'm still working on little snippets when I can.

Apocalyptica

Remmy’s chocolate eyes were drawn to study Coltrane’s reaction when the man set his beer down with a soft thump. It didn’t surprise the Cajun very much though his stomach twisted and turned into several knots causing him to shift to a more comfortable position. Not that it was possible. For a moment, Remmy’s eyes had a drifted look while he mentally thought about things he had learned during his undercover job as a sour lump came to his throat. He quickly realized he empathized with a few of the stories he had heard because like those who struggled daily to live, knew survival was the name of the game in Apocalyptica.

His fingers toyed with the beer’s bottle neck when he brought it in front of him before he spoke.

“Alright, but I’d rather go sooner. As the slavers, not all of them were monsters. At least one I knew wasn’t doing it out of greed, but rather to take care of his younger sister who had asthma. I think you can piece the rest together because we both know how easily it is to get medicine for something like that in this world. And the price required for it.”

His free hand shifted through his hair brushing the shame off his mind as he bit his lip when his comment ended. He couldn’t help but drift back to the current problem. “Well, where do you want to check when we start searching?”

“I reckon the diner would be our best bet before we check anywhere else.” Coltrane noted as he leaned forward from his recline, expecting the groggy Cajun to answer as he set a rugged old 38. special down upon the counter closest to Remmy, alongside a few spare cartridges which he’d managed to fish out of his old dufflebag. “Might wanna take this too, just in case anything happens for whatever reason.” Granted, the snub-nose wasn’t an ideal weapon but it was the only spare firearm that Coltrane had managed to attain whilst living in Chico, and with all the trouble which had been going on lately he figured Remmy would’ve preferred the comfort of being able to protect himself as opposed to facing the prospect of a second head wound. At the very least he figured that the Cajun would be able to conceal it under his waistline or something similar, like he did with his Glock.

Remmy nodded in agreement and seemed more relaxed now they were determining where to start. His eyes shifted to spot the old fashion revolver and a few extra cartridges Coltrane set down laid, his free hand reached and examined it carefully while he placed his beer by his foot. He held it in his hands to examine it closely for any flaws, noted only the outside was worn as his ears listened to Coltrane’s voice. It wasn’t ideal but it would do for now. Slipping it into the back of his pants, he reached to deposit the extra cartridges within his pockets then pulled up to his feet.

“Personally, I prefer a knife but thanks.” His tone was grateful in receiving the weapon then his eyes widened in surprise. Glancing down, he noted the darkened spot where his bandage seeped from his wound. He gently pressed his hand to his side and gave a little hiss, feeling the blood seep through. As an afterthought, Remmy then added. “Anywhere I can freshen up before we head out?”

“Water pump’s out back, but I think I’ve got something here..” Coltrane answered, a little disconcerted as the bandage’s colour gradually shifted from a faded white to that of a subdued crimson, and with that he quickly headed back over towards the cooler to see if there was anything else left. Fortunately for Remmy, there was - what had once been a large coke bottle was now filled three quarters of the way up with water, and after a little more searching he was able to find a dried out washcloth, nodding to the Cajun as he dabbed it with the end of the bottle.

“It isn’t the softest looking thing, but I keep it clean enough with booze that you won’t need to worry about getting it infected or anything. Here.” He offered, holding out the washcloth for Remmy to grasp.

Remmy shook his head in understanding. “I don’t mind. Better than nothin’ and thanks.”

Grunting a little, his hand reached for the offered washcloth and pulled back to rest against the couch. His side leaned one way and started to lift his shirt. Slowly he peeled it away as it tried to stick to his skin and pinned it high with his elbow, head leaned over to examine the results of his little accident. It figured the bandage had seeped through but overall, it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. His fingers started to peel away the bandage that made him hiss in slight pain when the tape came away revealing the once cleaned hole that went through and through.If one was to get shot, that was the best way to get it, nothing to have to dig out and healed faster.

He gently started to prod and clean off the blood until the washcloth was a rather nice red itself. While he tended to his wound, he decided chatter was needed with a few questions. “So, was that an example of the worse to expect or you’ve seen worse within the haven? If the welcome we got was any indicator, I think I’ll pass on the sight seein’.”

Coltrane snorted half-amusedly at the notion, before shaking his head. "Never seen it this bad before, but then I've not been around long enough to see much else. Could be that things'll get worse with these military guys, uh... 1007th, assuming more of 'em show up.” Leaning over the counter, he drew the shades back just a little bit to catch a glimpse of what was outside, yet he couldn’t particularly make out anything that stood out amongst the rest, snorting once again, disgruntled. Another quarter of an hour of silence passed, before eventually the ex-con spoke up, slipping back into his jacket. “I’m gonna head out and see if I can find anything, rest up until you feel good to head out and I’ll see if I can catch up with you later, assuming neither of us find him. Don’t worry about the lock, it’ll be fine.” Checking once again to make sure he was carrying his Glock underneath his waistband, he subtly nodded to himself in reassurance, before throwing a nod towards Remmy and stepping outside. With any luck, Simon wouldn’t have gone far from where they’d left him.