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Opération Katabasis; Équipe d'infiltration Phalanx a scanné la région, en attendant l'occasion où son assistance était nécessaire. Pour une raison quelconque, les LOKI mechs sont partis pour se déplacer pour sortir de la porte d'entrée. Il n'y avait donc aucune raison de les pirater et de les laisser tranquilles. L'équipe d'assaut pourrait s'occuper d'eux, et ils n'ont pas posé de menace immédiate ici. Créateur Rayes'Xum nar Yaron est allé travailler à pirater la base de données, ce qui ne devrait pas prendre trop de temps si ses compétences sont à la hauteur. Le couple Turian semblait soumettre les scientifiques avec facilité, et tout allait bien en tenant compte. Deux mechs FENRIR, cinq soldats d'assaut de Cerberus et un Centurion sont entrés. Tout semblait aller un peu plus chaotique, mais pour Phalanx c'était une réaction fractionnée. Démarrage de ses systèmes, il a pointé son Omni-Tool pour aider à pirater sans fil le mech FENRIR bondissant vers Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. La machine de couleur blanche s'est évanouie, atterrissant juste à côté du Créateur, se branlant en place pendant un moment seulement avant de se tenir rigide. "Phalanx en ligne. Pirater le succès." il a bipé avant de tourner soudainement et de s'écraser dans l'autre mech FENRIR. Je l'ai frappé au sol et j'ai essayé de l'y épingler pour que les Turiens l'achèvent. Rapidement, il a tourné son Omni-Tool vers le Frag Grenade volant, les flammes s'éteignent alors que le Geth a activé l'incinération et le grappinage avant d'arriver au Batarian. Ça explose au milieu de l'air. Préparant son fusil de sniper, le Geth a scanné la situation avec Jake Anderson alors qu'il attaquait, atterrissant un coup de poing solide sur l'un des soldats. Mais le Spectre a vite été forcé derrière une porte pour se couvrir. Phalanx a ensuite tiré, tirant son puissant fusil et clouant le Centurion droit dans la cuisse droite. Le champ électrique autour de la balle de perturbation clignotant, coupant à travers les boucliers. L'arme de l'ennemi avait un peu de scintillement statique, et Phalanx pouvait entendre une malédiction en colère. Le Geth a alors repris de recharger son arme. Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle a fait un gros coup de poing, mais ils ont dû se recharger et se rafraîchir.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

Le Spectre s'est montré tout de suite à Vella, l'osant dire quelque chose hors de ligne et se détourner quand elle ne l'a pas fait. Il ne pouvait pas prendre une main douce avec ce groupe, pas tant qu'il ne pouvait pas vraiment leur faire confiance. Bien que les chances de ce qui se passe avant Sol est allé Supernova a rapidement chuté à zéro à la minute. Aegon a vu deux soldats mourir instantanément, déchirés en tant de débris et de viscères par un tour explosif. Il n'a pas été défait par la scène, mais il a été très contrarié par le mépris de Gile pour ses ordres. Il faudrait s'en occuper. Mais plus tard. Cependant, crédit où le crédit était dû, il avait été un tir stellaire et maintenant plusieurs soldats à proximité ont été encore stupéfaits par l'explosion. Dans le même temps, il a vu un autre soldat se faire sauvagement frapper à la tête deux fois. Son casque était cassé en deux et il était hors du combat, mais Aegon n'était pas sûr si l'homme tirait encore son souffle. Sa compagne s'est un peu mieux débrouillée que Salissa l'a roulé avec son bouclier et l'a assommé. Un homme a eu la tête arrachée de ses épaules par Ellis tandis que le béhémoth en arrière dans un mur avec une croûte écœurante tout en provoquant une autre explosion. Aegon soupira intérieurement. Il ne pouvait qu'espérer que le tunnel ne s'est pas effondré sur eux. Heureusement pour eux, la salle est restée pour la plupart intacte bien qu'elle secoua puis la poussière tomba du plafond. Malgré la sloppiness Aegon a dû admirer les résultats. Quelques instants et presque la moitié des soldats étaient déjà en panne. L'une des tourelles avait été détruite par Ellis et Aegon en avait détruit une autre. Aegon a dû admettre que Vella avait une idée solide quand elle a désactivé l'optique sur deux autres, faisant tourner les tourelles d'un protocole de sécurité et de se désactiver pour éviter un feu amical. C'est devenu redondant quand Skarr les a détruits avec son marteau et Rykarn a détruit les deux derniers avec des lancers de grenades habiles. Plus de poussière est tombée du plafond et Aegon a crié, faisant monter ses casques haut-parleurs, "Mentez le tunnel! Allez doucement sur les explosions! Je n'ai pas l'intention d'être enterré ici!" Malgré le volume, Aegon ne pouvait pas être sûr si Rykarn a entendu comme il a rapidement et brutalement pris trois autres hors du combat. Puis Skarr a enlevé les deux derniers tout aussi dur. S'ils n'étaient pas destinés à la morgue, ils passeraient un peu de temps à l'hôpital. Il n'en reste que trois. Autant s'amuser moi-même. Normalement, il a évité ce genre de théâtre, mais il pourrait être rentable de leur montrer ce qu'il pouvait faire. Les trois derniers Cerberus Troopers ont été ébranlés, distraits et dérobés par les explosions quasi constantes et la défaite rapide de leurs coéquipiers. Pendant un instant, leur sang-froid s'était brisé et ils ne savaient pas quoi faire. C'était tout le temps qu'Aegon avait besoin. Il a activé ses jets de saut et s'est chargé dans l'air. Il a engagé un coup de feu de son Mattock, le round concussive frappant une place de soldat dans le casque et le frappant au sol et hors du combat. Les deux derniers se sont tournés vers Aegon et il s'est enfilé un en route avec son fusil alors qu'il utilisait le dernier Trooper comme plaque d'atterrissage, les conduisant tous les deux au sol. Son poing s'est arraché et a frappé la tête du soldat dans le béton alors qu'il a tordu et a frappé le dernier dans le visage, craquant dans sa barre et l'assommer. Aegon se tint debout et s'inclina, "Bonne équipe de travail. Ils vont venir nous chercher. Rykarn, Skarr, Ellis, Salissa, empilez-vous près des portes. Giles raccroche. Vella, Tibérius, tu es en bas de gamme avec moi. Dès qu'ils ouvrent ces portes, quoi qu'il arrive, nous tenons notre terre et nous les brisons. Prépare-toi." Aegon s'est mis en position, a rechargé son fusil et a pris la couverture avec une ligne de vue claire au faux mur pendant que l'équipe est entrée en position. Ils n'avaient pas à attendre longtemps. Les portes se sont ouvertes et l'enfer s'est détaché. Les portes ont révélé un grand couloir et une autre escouade de Goons de Cerberus était en route. Sauf cette fois, une douzaine de mechs de FENRIS ont chargé le couloir de l'équipe tandis que l'escouade de Cerberus avait six Gardiens devant avec des boucliers lourds et un Centurion mène encore une douzaine de soldats d'assaut. Au loin, ils pouvaient voir deux ingénieurs avancer, se précipitant en position pour mettre en place plus de tourelles. Le pire a cependant été sauvé pour la dernière fois. Derrière eux, tous ont frappé un YMIR Mech, faisant trembler le sol à chaque pas. Aegon cria : "Laisse-les! Tout ce que vous avez!" Il a sauté dans un clip de rondes standard et il a roulé autour du coin, tirant une fois et frappant un FENRIS Mech dans la tête, le tuant et le faisant exploser dans des éclats pour étourdir les autres mechs et acheter l'équipe quelques secondes de couverture. Le YMIR mech a commencé à poser de lourds tirs de mitrailleuses sur les autres tandis que les Gardiens ont lentement avancé et tiré leurs armes. Aegon a esquivé de près un flot de balles lourdes, il a entendu le clin d'œil des grenades tandis que le Centurion et son équipe lançaient une volley aux positions près de la porte. Aegon a crié, espérant que l'équipe comprendrait, "Grenades de retour dans le trou!" Le système de tunnel propre était vieux et ne pouvait pas prendre beaucoup plus de punition, mais il semblait que Cerberus avait renforcé leur base qui pourrait probablement supporter la force d'explosifs lourds. S'ils pouvaient rendre à Cerberus leurs grenades, ils risquaient de ne pas être enterrés vivants.

Name: Aegon Partinax. Drakolix, a High Cipritine term for a race of mythical apex predators said to have stalked the Palevan wilderness in bygone eras; known for their bloodthirst, lethality, and cunning. Race: Turian Class: Havoc Soldier Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Aegon is broad-shouldered and tall, standing at an imposing seven foot one. He weighs two hundred pounds and has the build of a life-long warrior. His carapce is snow white and his eyes are a rare shade of violet. His mandibles and crest are long and prominent; and his fringe is longer than average though not as long as Saren's infamously sinister fringe. Aegon's face paint is red and is an elaborate pattern that covers most of his head, proclaiming his heritage as a member of a prominent Cipritine clan. A Blackwatch tattoo, a black turian skull, covers his right upper shoulder while his left shoulder depicts two black wings; the mark of an Armiger flier. His carapace is marked by a multitude of old scars. Aegon was born a member of the Partinax clan, a family who had been fighting in wars since the Fuedal Ages. His father was the famed General Partinax, who had fought in the First Contact War, and his mother had been a captain in the navy and was of the Coronati clan; another prominent career military family. From a very young age, Aegon and his siblings had been raised to absolutely believe in the Hierarchy tenets of unity, duty, and victory at any cost. It was drilled in their heads that their destiny was to serve the Hierachy in the military and lay down their lives for the cause if need be. His parents both being high-tier and from prominent families, they had always been well provided for and grew up in comfort and luxury. Aegon was expected to be a proper turian, a paragon of the Hierarchy's tenets. This in fact bred his independent streak. Aegon had been a mischievous and curious child, creative in his childhood rebellions, but his father's lessons eventually convinced him of the merits of the cause and the necessity of ensuring the greater good of the Hierarchy. Though he never quite gave up being a trouble-maker. Despite this, he took to his studies intensely, finding immense satisfaction in learning to become a warrior. His parents taught him the basics of combat and strategy as soon as he could hold a stick. Aegon trained with mexta dueling, sharpshooting, hand-to-hand combat, and tactics and strategy long before he even set near bootcamp. Like the other children in his family, Aegon was being groomed for military command. All his siblings and cousins had completed officer school, so when his time came, it was only expected of Aegon to do the same. He spent two years in the Valluvian Officer's Academy, and excelled. He received stellar marks despite occasional disciplinary issues and graduated top of his class. The studies his parents had subjected him too had paid off and Aegon had been ahead of many of his classmates, both in strategy and in combat. In the academy, officer trainees took command of client race Auxiliary units for virtual training exercises and Aegon won many more exercises than he lost; nine times out ten with minimum casualties and maximum effectiveness. During training he had also displayed aptitude with melee weapons and jump-jet use as well as fireteam tactics. His skill and talent in warfare, coupled with just a nudge from his politically influential parents, led to his rapid advancement up a few tiers when he graduated. He was one of several recruits selected for special training, with a chance of mentoring under a Spectre and during this time he met Saren Arterius. Those close to him agree the older Turian made an impression on Aegon and by all reports, Saren had seen potential in the young recruit. However, while Saren recognized his talent, he recommended that Aegon first cut his teeth in the military to see what he was truly made of. As such, immediately after training he was made a Lieutenant in the 26th Armiger Legion and given command of a shock platoon. The platoon was often loaned out to the 43rd Marine Division when the big military needed effective shock troops and Aegon had the opportunity to train with soldiers from all over Council Space. He learned the methodologies and doctrine of the Salarians, Asari, and Humans; and even had the opportunity to train with Compact Drell fighters and Elcor living tanks. In training exercises, he soon learned to effectively coordinate with fighters of all stripes, seamlessly integrating a diverse array of combatants into a cohesive plan. When the time came for Aegon to undertake his first live-fire mission, Aegon acquitted himself tremendously; wiping out a pirate base in one lightning fast strike with no casualties to his own team. His career would continue as such for a few years, often working in tandem with army and marine divisions in fast and furious raids against separatists, slavers, pirates, and all manner of malcontents; His stellar record eventually caught the attention of Blackwatch, the best of the best in Turian Special Forces, and he was transferred to the illustrious unit as an XO to a veteran officer and a promotion to Captain. It was during his time with Blackwatch, working with Hierarchy units both in and outside Council Space on both highly prolific missions and deniable operations, that he once again met Visenya Victus, a skilled Hierarchy Military Intelligence operative, and daughter of the infamous General Adrien Victus, who had been an old comrade of his father's. Visenya was the unit's intelligence attache and helped plan and gather information for several operations. As his unit's XO, they came to have a close working relationship, that would eventually grow into something more as the years passed. Aegon proposed to Visenya shortly before he was promoted to Major and given command of his own unit. The wedding was a large affair and many operators from multiple militaries and luminaries from the prominent Partinax, Coronati, and Victus families were present. As a subordinate, Aegon had made an effective disciplinarian and major-domo, though he was not without his moments of self-inspiration despite orders. As a commander, he proved to have an even greater independent streak, often eschewing caution and doctrine for creative and destructive tactics. His career found him fighting Separatists on far-flung colonies, smashing pirate bases and slavery rings in the Traverse, and even assisting CDEM with Tuchunka peace-keeping missions. Virtually every mission Aegon led resulted in achievement of the mission directives, but often in ways that ran counter to traditional Hierarchy operations. He was very popular with his subordinates and fellow Operators but gained an unfavorable reputation among many superiors; and many in the underworld grew to fear him. Despite his liberties with decorum and doctrine, he was a valuable asset to the Hierarchy and was fated for even greater heights. His destiny was changed however on a mission involving a terrorist ring operating in a human colony in the Terminus that was preparing to strike a major Hierarchy training ground. Instead of consulting with the Alliance, Aegon deployed. They infiltrated the terrorist's base and would have eliminated the threat then if not for a chance encounter with an unarmed colonist. Aegon decided to tie up the man and let him live. The man later managed to slip his bonds and raise the alarm. The team discovered the colonists were actively harboring and assisting the terrorists and three members of his team were killed when hundreds of the townspeople rushed in with automatic weapons and mechs in addition to the terrorists themselves. Aegon and the rest of his team escaped, but without eliminating the ring leader. He realized he would not sneak in a second time and that there was no way to shoot his way in with his smaller team against a whole colony. His superiors would not authorize a ship-based bombardment, fearing public censure and war if Citadel forces were caught assaulting an independent colony. But the terrorists had to be eliminated in order to preserve secrecy and stop the plot. And so Aegon did something unthinkable. He contracted the help of a batarian pirate gang, and set them against the colonists. While the town burned, his team dropped in and eliminated the entire cell with extreme prejudice; killing the leader and clearing their base in a lightning attack that resulted in no casualties while gathering as much intel and crucial equipment as he could. As agreed, Aegon left the remaining arms and salvage to the Batarians but rebuffed them when they sought to take the colonists as slaves. Aegon challenged the pirate captain to a duel and killed him in single combat, allowing the surviving Pirates to leave with their credits and the colonists to live in the ruins of their town. Hundreds had died in the fighting, including many children. From intel salvaged from the mission, Aegon learned the name of the greater organization; Cerberus. Aegon did not attempt to conceal any of this from his superiors and was incredibly candid in his report. While Visenya and his XO lobbied intensely on his behalf, the brass saw the operation as a massive debacle and most moved to have him expelled from Blackwatch and demoted; with even a few speaking of a tribunal. However, operatives of office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance caught wind of the incident and intervened. Saren Arterius and Tela Vasir had both heard of the operation and been impressed with the results; particularly Aegon's out of the box thinking and willingness to go to great lengths to achieve his mission. They spoke on his behalf to the Citadel Council to have him inducted into the Spectres. The Council agreed and Aegon was even given a promotion after his induction; a fact that still ruffles some feathers today. Visenya was also promoted to a senior position in the Council's personal intelligence service and the couple moved to the Citadel; though they still owned property on Palevan. Though he was sad to leave his unit behind, Aegon knew he could do the most good in the Spectres without the constraints of bureaucracy. And so for the next several years, Aegon proved himself to be an incredibly effective Spectre; an overwhelming hammer were others were a scalpel. With Visenya's help, he built a network of informants and allies, many with criminal tendencies, and gathered a crew of rogues and troubled servicemen after rescuing a decommissioned frigate from destruction. When the Council needed a threat dealt with quickly and thoroughly, Aegon was one of their top choices. Visenya gathered his intel, Aegon formulated the plans, and with his crew of cutthroats and outlaws, they did the bloody work that couldn't stain the hands of the Council. His notoriety quickly grew and his power base expanded. During this time, Aegon and Visenya had their twin children and life seemed great for the Spectre. Later, Shepard outed Saren as a traitor; a revelation that shook Aegon to his core. He had respected the man immensely and had severe doubts about himself and his methods as information of Saren's crimes and excess came to light. He requested to be the one to bring Saren back to face justice but was denied. Instead, Aegon was tasked with investigating the Geth and their seeming return to organic space. He found little and was on a visit home to the Citadel when Sovereign attacked. Aegon quickly gathered his family and sent them to the Destiny Ascension, pulling rank in order to gain admission, before leaving to the Citadel Tower to escort the Council to safety, along with a few other Spectres. Aegon was onboard the Destiny Ascension and paled when he witnessed the destruction of the peacekeeping fleet. In an extremely rare moment of his resolve breaking, Aegon was on the verge of deserting his post to flee the ship on a shuttle with his family before the Alliance came to save the Dreadnought at Shepard's behest. After Shepard killed Saren and saved the Citadel, Aegon was one of the doubters of Shepard's theory on the Reapers. He had respect for the man who saved his life and that of his family, but thought the affair to be a deception on Saren's part; a ploy to bring the Geth to his command. It was only later when Shepard was seemingly killed in a mysterious attack that his beliefs were challenged. They were shattered when Shepard returned from the dead and announced his intention to stop the Collectors. The Council did not allow any other Spectres to assist Shepard in his mission and Aegon decided to delve into the Citadel Archives to research all he could on the mysterious Collectors, the Geth, and the Reapers. During this time, he was deployed to Taetrus to assist Hierarchy forces with the pacification of the Facinus Separatist movement. He reunited with his father and father-in-law and was an instrumental part in the systemic dismantling of the Separatist opposition. When word came of Cerberus, Aegon remembered his old enemy, and was part of a Turian task force to assault Cerberus bases and bring their agents into custody. The operation was largely successful but the Illusive Man escaped their grasp. Meanwhile, Aegon learned more and more about the Reapers and came to the conclusion they were real and accepted them as a threat. After Shepard's arrest in the aftermath of the Bahak Incident, Aegon lent considerable support to Garrus Vakarian's task force. One of his siblings, a younger brother in the Marines, had been involved in a raid on a Cerberus lab run by the mysterious Director. His brother had been taken captive and attempted to escape before being killed. When Hierarchy reinforcements came, the Director was nowhere to be found. Aegon swore his honor on a vow to avenge his dead brother and bring the Director to justice, dead or alive, as well as to destroy Cerberus root and stem once and for all. He put his network to task on finding as much about Cerberus as physically possible, preparing to strike. The Reaper Invasion changed his plans tremendously. With his wife and children safe on the Citadel, Aegon took his shape and raced to Taetrus as it came under Reaper attack. He was the only ship to successfully enter the system, making a daring covert run as the Hierarchy fleets tried and failed to force their way into the system. Aegon tried to convince his father to evacuate before the Reapers landed but his father refused, preferring to stay with his men. Aegon, who had witnessed the destruction one Reaper was capable of, shot the General in the knee and carried him onboard, stuffing his ship with as many civilians as he could. He led several smaller vessels in a run to the relay with support from planetside forces and managed to evacuate numerous civilians, wounded personnel, and VIPS before the Reapers clenched their fist around the planet. Aegon returned to the Citadel before leaving to fight the Reapers. Visenya came with him, leaving their children in the care of their convalescing grandfather, Aegon and his crew taking action as the Council itself was paralyzed. They made contact with Alliance and Hierarchy forces and became an effective special asset, Aegon going on to lead several so called N7 missions. Used to leading both special forces professionals and criminals alike, he was uniquely suited to lead the diverse and eclectic teams of skilled fighters who arose to covertly fight the war. He was not the only one, with colleagues such as Jondom Bau falling in with the galactic resistance. Cerberus reared it's ugly heads once more, and Aegon took great personal pleasure in fighting the terrorist group on several fronts. He was away on mission when Cerberus attempted to overthrow the Council with Udina's help. This incensed and frightened Aegon, as his family was put in danger though General Partinax had kept them safe. Pulling several favors, he had his family relocated to Rannoch along with numerous other Turian refugees and wounded from Palevan and other worlds after Shepard managed to bring peace between the Flotilla and the Geth. The Perseus Veil was largely ignored by the Reapers and with the dextro-amino environment, Rannoch proved to be one of the most relatively safe placed for Turian refugees. General Partinax, healed now, joined the war effort and assumed a position in High Command to fight the Reapers. The Partinax family, with their Victus and Coronati allies, were one of the main blocs that pushed for the ambitious ground assault to liberate Palevan. Aegon had experience dealing with Krogan and was one of the few turians whom the Krogan fighters respected, in no small part due to his reputation when working with CDEM. He was instrumental in bridging relations between the two rival species and was one of the principal planners in the operation along with his wife, father, and father-in-law, who was now the Primarch of Palevan. It was he who suggested detonating warp bombs inside Reaper ships using turian kamikazes. The plan called for many valiant turians to sacrifice themselves and would mean the death of countless civilians, but would also mean the return of large swaths of the homeland to their control. High Command approved, and Aegon fought with the Turian and Krogan special forces operators on the ground in the largest joint operation in Hierarchy history. He was one of millions to witness the Reapers exploding in the air as the army retook several cities and territories. While Aegon acquitted himself in the war, it was not without cost. Many of his Blackwatch comrades died in the Miracle, and he watched his crew succumb to war one by one after dangerous mission after mission. Even other Spectres weren't immune, and many longtime friends and colleagues died fighting the Reapers or Cerberus. It was only Aegon, Visenya, and a handful of others left of the original crew when the time came to launch the final assault. He was on the Citadel, performing a service for fallen comrades when the Reapers came. Once more, Aegon rushed to rescue the Citadel Council though now with Visenya at his side. The pair rendezvoused with the Council and evacuated them and countless other evacuees to the Destiny Ascension as the fleets provided cover. Ignoring his orders, his own crew fought to give them covering fire and Aegon and Visenya could only watch and listen as the ship was lost with all hands to overwhelming Reaper attack. Thanks to their sacrifice and the sacrifice of many others, the Council was saved. With renewed fire and an even greater thirst for vengeance, the couple linked up with Primarch Victus' fleet en route to Earth for the final assault. They accompanied the Primarch on his flagship and were among the first Turians to land on Earth in the Hammer Assault. With his experience coordinating the Miracle, Aegon was instrumental in organizing the survivors of Hammer and the London Resistance into a coherent army to fight the massive Husk force. Aegon and Visenya fought side by side with Primarch Victus in London and saw the most hellish fighting in the war, even worse than Palevan. They attempted to charge the beam to the Citadel but had to drag Primarch Victus back to safety when the retreat was sounded. The Hierarchy forces held their line, but were on the verge of breaking; and Aegon had sustained numerous wounds. Death seemed imminent, but suddenly a red wave of energy enveloped the world and the Reapers were defeated. Aegon spent a short time recuperating on the liberated Citadel while Visenya helped her father coordinate with the humans. He found himself to be one of the most senior Spectres alive in the wake of the Reaper War and had gained much renown and influence for his central role in resisting the Reapers. Aegon canvassed the galaxy, searching for new Spectres to fill out the ranks while undertaking a few missions to ensure galactic stability during the reconstruction. Aegon and Visenya left to Rannoch to bring their children back to the Citadel and the family remains there to this day; though the family visits Palevan and plans to resettle there once the worst of the turmoil has passed. Aegon found no shortage of work and was always busy in the year that followed. When whispers of insidious threats rising to threaten galactic peace, Aegon decided to be proactive this time around. Along with other Spectres, and with support of Hierarchy High Command, Aegon and his fellows convinced the Council to form a Spectre-led covert task force to ensure stability and to neutralize threats to the galaxy before they became concrete and destructive. It would be a task force with no official authority and complete deniability, both made up of the best military operators and the deadliest independent agents. Task Force Katabasis was formed with Aegon as it's field leader. He requisitioned a Hierarchy frigate and assembled a new crew. He needed the best of the best for a ground team, no matter where they came from, and he had Visenya gather dossiers on likely candidates while he found the best support staff and crew he could, many of them with questionable records. The Council also saddled him with a partner Spectre, ostensibly so Aegon could train him but he suspected they wanted his "partner" to keep an eye on him should he step too far out of line. Aegon is a veteran of numerous deadly missions, several ship engagements, two massive battles, and the deadliest war in history but only time will tell if he can whip up the extreme personalities of his potential squad into a coherent fighting force to stop those that would threaten the galaxy at large. Whether or not he can, blood will be spilled. Psyche Profile: Aegon, at his core, is a career soldier from a long line of career soldiers. His family have been military commanders and war heroes since turian clans fought with swords and axes. As such, war is not just his duty, it is his life. He is never truly happy unless some crisis is being dealt with, and he is a man who would be ill at ease in peace. From a young age it was ingrained in him that it was his duty to protect the Hierarchy and maintain peace in the galaxy by serving in the military. As such, he has pursued his family calling even above and beyond what was expected of him. His central drive to protect the galaxy have morphed him into a man who has nearly no limits. The safety of the galaxy is paramount above all else, and Aegon will go to nearly any lengths to ensure that safety. If given the choice between killing ten to save a hundred, he would not hesitate. In the military he was known for ruthless and brutal tactics that quickly and decisively defeated the enemy as well as demoralizing them too much for them to ever raise arms again. Despite this, he takes no joy in inflicting harm, and in his mind only does what is necessary to keep innocent lives safe. This has resulted in a maverick of a man, a turian who will readily ignore orders when his judgement tells him it must be done. Aegon does not have a black and white view of the galaxy either, and is noted for having many contacts in the criminal underworld. He thinks of his network as a necessary evil to combat much worse offenders such as slavers, terrorists, pirates, and rogue governments. Even inter-species prejudices and xenophobia mean nothing to him. If something or someone can be used as a tool, he will not hesitate to use it in his mission. Aegon's unrelenting drive to safeguard Council space both make him an excellent Spectre and mark him as one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Despite all this, Aegon is not without his sentimental side. He is a noted family man, and is capable of forming long-lasting and meaningful friendships and is famed for his acerbic wit. His family and those he love are what keep him tethered to the galaxy and stop him from truly becoming a soulless killing machine, and those he holds dear are the one thing that challenge his devotion to the so-called greater good. Specialty: Aegon is a Spectre, the best of the best. In officer training, he excelled, achieving top marks in the prestigious Valluvian Academy and graduating top of his class. Instructors noted Aegon's creativity, tenacity, pragmatism, and confidence in command. He excels at fireteam tactics and is no stranger to war room meetings, having studied every major military leader and battle in Turian history; as well as the military history of many other races. Whereas other Spectres are master infiltrators and spies, Aegon is a frontline combatant through and through. After completing officer training he was placed in the 26th Armiger Legion, cross-training with the Salarian, Asari, and Human militaries and taking part in countless daring raids before finally being placed in the legendary Blackwatch special forces unit as an officer. While he understands the value of stealth and subterfuge, his preferred methodology is to hit his targets in a surprise attack with overwhelming force and destroy them thoroughly before they even have time to react. Aegon is meticulous in his planning however, preferring to know all the variables and account for all details before he strikes, but is still flexible enough to modify plans on the fly when the situation warrants it. He helped plan several raids against Hierarchy enemies of all stripe and before he was discharged, was one of the most highly decorated infantry officers in Blackwatch history, earning several accolades. He excels at lightning strike missions and is one of the Hierarchy's top experts in counter-insurgency operations, earning a bloody reputation among Turian Separatists. After years of training and combat, Aegon honed his skills to a razor edge. His natural athleticism was further enhanced with the latest in genetic enhancements and his speed and reflexes are legendary. He was trained to survive in a variety of hostile environments with nothing but his wits and is a master in both tracking and evasion. In close quarters combat, he is a master of the pistol and assault rifle; able to draw and land a clean headshot faster than the blink of an eye. Aegon is also recognized as one of the top martial artists in the military, a master of several unarmed styles as well as omniblade, knife and sword techniques. He is an expert with jump-jets, seamlessly blending high-speed propulsive maneuvers with melee attacks and is able to accurately fire when hovering in the air. Simply put, Aegon is one of the deadliest warriors in the galaxy. He also has extensive connections in the Citadel government, knows special forces operators in several foreign militaries, and has significant pull in the Hierarchy; being on a first name basis with more than one Primarch and numerous members of Turian High Command. His father is the famed General Partinax, and Aegon himself is a member of the upper citizenship tiers; as such he is one of the most influential members of the Hierarchy and commands political influence to rival most galactic politicians, business magnates, and flag officers. Aegon has an uncanny talent to acquire useful, if dangerous and unconventional, operational assets, often from dubious origins; and in the course of his Spectre tasking has built a formidable resource network. It is rumored he has contacts in criminal organizations all over the Terminus systems. As such he was the natural choice to head the covert Task Force Katabasis as it's field leader. Powers/Skills: Havoc Strike Stimulant Pack Adrenaline Rush Frag Grenade Flashbang Grenade Concussive Shot Cain Trip Mine Equipment and Resources: M-96 Mattock Heavy Rifle M-77 Paladin Heavy Pistol Fragmentation and Flashbang Grenades Cain Trip Mines Numerous military-issue talons hidden on his body A monomolecular mexta sword, a personal family heirloom named Sacrifice Dual omni-blades An Personal Propulsion Unit Medium Phantom Armor "I said no." The Batarian's nose burst into a red spray as Aegon's fist crunched into his face, knocking the man flat on his back. The pirate instinctively reached for his gun, but choked when Aegon pressed his foot into his windpipe as his comrades leveled a wide array of weapons directly at Aegon. The Turian, foot on the pirate, gun aimed at the ring-leader, was eerily calm as his own team leveled their weapons right back at the Batarians. The pirate captain snarled, "Let him go." "I will, once you agree that the colonists will be left alone." "We had a deal, bird-nosed scum." "We did, but that was for salvage. Not people." "These human rats, are salvage. We did your dirty work for you, now we take our prize. Skilled laborers and pretty women will help us recoup our losses. Good men died for you Turian." The town was in flames, various prefabs in pieces while all around dead humans littered the ground next to some Batarians. The dirt was stained with blood and moans and wails could be clearly heard over the roaring of the fires. One girl was crying next to a man with a large hole in his chest and several dozen men, women, and children looked on with panicked eyes as snarling varren with their Batarian handlers stood nearby with guns drawn. "They died certainly, and you will be handsomely rewarded for it. With all the weapons and tech left in that base. But the people stay." His team was outnumbered five to one, but they showed no signs of nervousness. Their black helmets hide their expressions and their bodies were absolutely stable shooting platforms. They arrayed themselves in a circle, rifles with clear shots on the captain and several other targets in overlapping fields of fire. There was no cover, they were surrounded, but the Batarians were the ones sweating. They had watched a small team of six destroy a whole base of armed terrorists and leave virtually unscathed. Aegon was the only one whose face can be seen, but he showed just as much emotion. "That's not going to happen Turian. Let us leave with the humans and I'll let you all go. Hell I'll even give you a discount for our services. But this is none of your business. You didn't seem to care about civilians when you had us attack. This is just us collecting the spoils of war." "War is war. Slavery is slavery." The Batarian under his foot continued to wheeze, barely able to breath as Aegon and the Captain stared each other down, neither backing down. Aegon could not, would not let them take the humans as slaves. And the Captain couldn't back down in front of his men without looking weak. Neither would leave the confrontation without severe casualties if a fight broke out, though Aegon was confident he and his men could wipe out the majority of the pirates and the captain before the team was completely incapacitated. He couldn't call for air support from his ship either. The frigate would have no kinetic barriers in atmosphere and the Batarians had enough fire power to bring it down. They were at an impasse and it seemed the only way he and his men would leave this confrontation alive was if they let the pirates take the humans. He listened to the cries of the little girl, smelled the burning flesh. He couldn't let them take the humans. But his duty to his men outweighed his duty to humans who weren't even Citadel citizens. He had to choose one. Unless... "Let's settle this the old way then. The way my forefathers did, and yours if memory serves. One on one, me against you. First blood. No guns. If I win, you leave the colonists alone, take the salvage, and go. If you win, you let us leave unharmed and take the colonists and the salvage." The Batarian scrunched two of his eyes in thought while the man under Aegon's foot choked out, "Brother don't-" "Shut up, Kol." The Batarian glowered, "You think I'm stupid? You turians train with your talons since you can all walk. And you're Special Forces. In a bare knuckle brawl, I don't stand a chance. Same as if we had a shoot out." "I didn't say anything about hand-to-hand. I said no guns. Omni-tool functions, knives, fists, biotics, anything you like. Just as long as there's no guns or grenades. Fair fight." "Hmm. How do I know you'll honor your end?" Aegon stared back before suddenly lifting his foot off of the younger Batarian under his boot. The man gasped for breath, rolling on the floor as Aegon kept his gun up. The man got to his knees, crawling for a bit, before finding his feet and unsteadily walking to his brother. The Captain gestured and a man came forward to take him into the fold, keeping his gun up the whole time. "A show of good faith." The Captain smiled pointedly, "And how do you know I won't kill all of you when I beat you? In fact what's to stop me from killing you all now?" "Because my ship is hearing every word. They might not have precision turrets but they do have bombs, missiles, and cannons. You kill us now or betray my men, and there won't be enough left of you to fill a thimble." The Batarian frowned, "You'd kill all of the humans? Just like that? I thought you wanted to protect them?" "I would be doing them a favor. I've seen what your kind does to slaves. You have my word I will honor the terms of the deal. And you have my word I will make sure you will be blown to hell if you betray it. Do we have an agreement?" The Batarian's expression became pensive and a long moment passed where Aegon's finger tensed, anticipating him to order his men to open fire. Then the man said, "On my world we don't fight to first blood. We fight to the death." "Then that's how it'll be." "Then you have a deal, Turian," He tilted his head to the left and dropped his gun. Aegon nodded back and holstered his pistol. A voice filtered over the radio, "You don't have to do this. I can have another team on the ground in a few minutes. Just give the word." Aegon said nothing and drew his sword, placing his feet apart and gripping the curved blade in both hands, standing sideways with the weapon raised. The Captain stepped forward and his armor grew spikes while glowing blue whips trailed down from one hand and an omni-tool materialized in the other. The men stared each other down. Seconds turned into eternity as they looked into each other's eyes. Everyone, even the humans, were absolutely silent and the world shrunk to just Aegon and the batarian across from each other. He waited. The Batarian made the first move, firing ballistic blades from his omni-tool before following with an electrified submission net. Aegon ducked beneath the blades and raised his sword, the monomolecular blade slashing right through the net as he twisted and drew several throwing talons, before sending them flying at the Batarian. The pirate jumped to the side and Aegon fired up his thrusters, jumping into the air before plummeting toward the man with his sword raised high. The Batarian stepped backward and lashed at Aegon's foot with his biotic whip, wrapping the dark energy tendril around his boot and pulling Aegon toward him as his omni-tool glowed in the shape of an enforcement gauntlet. Aegon flung another dagger and the captain threw up his gauntlet to shield his face, Aegon speeding up with his thrusters once more and charging directly at his opponent. The Batarian saw him coming and dissipated his whip, throwing up a disk shaped barrier just in time to deflect the sword. Aegon ducked low and swept the Batarian's leg before slashing at his side but the kick rebounded off of his bladed armor, and scratched Aegon's leg plating while the blades caught Aegon's sword in the torso armor. The Batarian, shield still up, threw his fist back and lashed out with a charged enforcement gauntlet. Even with his enhanced durability and armor, the blow would have severely inured if not outright maimed or killed Aegon. But Aegon was too fast and swayed to the side, avoiding his blow before striking him in the arm with his own elbow. The bladed armor cut Aegon but the man grunted in pain and twisted to the side, exposing his head from behind the shield. Aegon cut with his free hand and his sharp talons clawed down the man's cheeks making him shout in pain and recoil. Aegon drew back his sword and spun, attacking and battering the biotic shield with quick, precise, and strong strikes. The man was forced to his knees and Aegon knew the barrier would fail eventually. The pirate knew that too and he deflected the sword once more before collapsing the shield. Aegon flew backwards with his thruster pack just as the man detonated his blade armor. Shrapnel cut at his armor but he was protected from the worst of it. The pirate created another whip and struck the ground right in front of Aegon, blowing up dust and debris and forcing him backward. Aegon jumped up into the air and another whip wrapped around his sword, pulling him down. Aegon released the sword and materialized dual omni-blades, killing his thrusters to dive at the Batarian. The man raised his omni-tool and Aegon activated his thusters to dodge to the side and avoid the ballistic blades. He landed with a roll on the ground and lashed out with his omni-blades, both of them cutting across the Batarian's now normal armor. The man cursed, wounded, and aimed a swift kick at the Turian. Aegon grabbed the leg with both hands and twisted his body, flipping the Batarian and smacking him down to the ground. Aegon swiftly kicked him in the side, driving out his breath and another omni-blade appeared in his hand, driving forward to bury itself in the batarian's chest. The Batarian roaring, wrapped his fist in blue energy and stuck his hand out as the blade rushed forward. A biotic blast threw Aegon back and he used retro-thrusters to arrest his movement and land softly. The Batarian charged forward, enforcement gauntlet glowing. Aegon tried to fly to the side, but a whip wrapped around his chest and held him in place as the fist came flying. Aegon threw up his arm and hopped to the side. The gauntlet glanced off of his arm and blew the thruster pack on his shoulder to pieces. Aegon was thrown to the ground and the Batarian raised both arms to finish him off with dual whips. Aegon's hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he rolled forward, too close for the Batarian to strike. As he passed, he came to a crouch and struck at the Batarian's side, sprinting forward before turning to cut his back. The Batarian cried out and twisted back to swing at Aegon with a whip but Aegon ducked under the whip and lashed out, cutting deep into his arm. The pirate stumbled and tried to raise his other arm but Aegon knocked the arm back down with a foot before slashing him across the chest, stepping forward, and driving the sword straight into Batarian's chest. His sword popped out from the man's back and Aegon stood there, close as a lover, as the man breathed shallowly right next to his ear. His body drooped and Aegon allowed it to slide off of his sword. The Batarian's brother cried out and rushed to the man, sobbing and shouting frantically trying to apply medi-gel while the captain breathed unsteadily and the blood pooled beneath his body. His eyes glazed over and he muttered incoherently as Aegon stared at him. Aegon flicked the blood off of the sword and looked at the blood spreading in the dirt, filling his field of vision and staining his boots. He looked into the pirate's eyes, drew his pistol, and shot him twice in the head. Notes - Aegon's treatise on small-unit tactics and counter-insurgency is required reading in Hierarchy officer training. - He holds a championship medal for the Palevan swordsmanship tournament, and won several sparring competitions in Blackwatch and units and ships he was attached to. He also won several pistol fast draw competitions. - His wife is Primarch Victus' daughter, they have a twin boy and girl with another child on the way. - Aegon is often used as a bedtime story to frighten children by both colonists in far-flung outposts and low-tier citizens in the mega-cities. Turian Separatists think of him as one of their greatest enemies and he has garnered equal parts hatred and respect among several krogan clans due to his joint-operations with CDEM. - In the aftermath of the Reaper War, Aegon is lobbying strongly to attain the position of Warden of the Citadel, an ancient military title bestowed in times of great emergency. This would grant him command of all the Citadel peacekeeping fleets. Several in Special Tactics and Reconnaissance back his campaign while many others say the title should fall to Commander Shepard.

Ja'Far a été légèrement surpris par le manque de réaction de la VI à son tir. Il a supposé qu'ils étaient conduits vers la lutte contre le feu au-delà d'eux, les coups de feu à l'extérieur augmentant rapidement en volume. Il semblait que l'équipe de distraction rencontrait une résistance assez forte, mais il doutait qu'ils seraient ralentis d'une manière considérable. Avec plusieurs krogans et plusieurs avant-gardes, il devine que l'ennemi sera rapidement écrasé sous leur puissance combinée. Il détendit son emprise sur son fusil, le tenant prêt alors qu'il regardait les mechs marcher à partir, laissant derrière lui les étincelles. Il a dû admettre, il a été impressionné par la façon dont cette équipe fonctionne actuellement. Rayes'Xum a prouvé sa valeur dans ses compétences en hacking/tech, les lignes de scripts et de code ont été difficiles pour lui à suivre même comme quelqu'un qui a été versé dans la technologie. Il n'était pas une sorte de génie, il a pris un peu trop de temps à saboter et à hacker qu'il ne voudrait dans le moment instantané pour le moment des combats. En réalité, contrairement à ce que la plupart des gens croyaient que les combats étaient, ce n'était pas le ralenti. Il a été rapide, difficile à suivre et la plupart des situations de combat vont se terminer rapidement. Ce n'était pas le long siège de slog que vous verriez dans une sorte de vie, seuls les soldats ou les exceptionnellement talentueux pouvaient suivre à quel point tout était rapide. Ça semble trop facile. L'ancien légionnaire regardait de façon suspecte autour de la pièce, grinçant lentement à la gâchette. Comme si presque sur le signal, un groupe de soldats du Cerberus a couru dans la pièce, armes à la disposition. Deux mechs FENRIR ont été lancés vers les Turians et Rayes qui étaient actuellement occupés par le piratage. Phalanx était rapide sur ses pieds et a désactivé le lancement du FENRIR au Quarien avant de commencer à épingler l'autre mech. Cependant, comme il a vu tout cela se produire en quelques secondes, il a vu l'objet rond actuellement blessant vers lui. Les yeux s'élargissant par surprise, il souleva son bras omni-outil pour utiliser l'incinération sur la chose soufflée. Heureusement, la grenade a été rapidement déviée par le propre incinérateur du Geth susmentionné, ce qui l'a fait exploser en plein air. Il a respiré un soupir de soulagement avant de se jurer. Il était impardonnable, d'avoir été si lent dans la réaction. Si ce n'était pas pour Phalanx, Ja'Far aurait pu s'incinérer beaucoup trop près de sa propre position, pas s'effondrer le balcon dans lequel il était actuellement. Se rappelant de remercier le Geth plus tard et de s'entraîner beaucoup plus dur à secouer la rouille, il a préparé un autre tir. Il s'est retourné à trois rafales, pensant qu'il serait plus utile pour ces adversaires blindés. C'est alors que le combat ralentissait pour lui, que les prières divines étaient sur ses lèvres. Il ralentit sa respiration en regardant à travers sa portée une fois de plus alors qu'il zoomait sur le soldat le plus proche de Rayes alors qu'il tirait sur la position d'Anderson. Son rythme cardiaque ralentit, sa vision se limite à la cible dans ses yeux. Il a inhalé, zoomé sur la jambe du soldat. L'Inciseur a chanté une fois de plus, deux rafales de trois tours en succession rapide, tout branlement réduit par son épaule alors qu'il exhalait. La première rafale a été déviée par la barrière, la quatrième ronde le perçant comme les deux autres ont frappé à la maison. Les deux ont tiré dans sa cuisse, faisant descendre le chien dans la douleur. Il s'est visiblement branlé et est tombé en embrayant sa jambe. Le tireur a ajusté son but à un autre soldat alors qu'il regardait son camarade descendre dans la douleur et a tiré deux autres rafales sur lui, le faisant descendre alors que le soldat lui embrayait aussi la cuisse dans la douleur. Le feu lui fut rapidement dirigé et le boogeyman s'empara rapidement de ses boucliers clignotant légèrement, à la recherche de l'endroit où il plaça son clip. Bien que l'Incisor ait eu un clip assez grand pour un fusil de sniper et un mode d'éclatement construit, sa puissance de feu était gravement insuffisante et il ne pouvait désactiver ses adversaires qu'à ce moment-ci. Éjectant la cartouche de chaleur, il continua à prier sous son souffle. "-le Pilier d'Orientation qui me regarde. Je te prie de bénir Miń sur mes yeux impies, Je supplie pour ton salut par le feu-"

"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: 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 1st 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. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "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?'

Skarr a prêté peu d'attention aux nouveaux venus. Il avait agrandi ses 'compagnes' plus tôt, mais en sachant que Spectres en étaient la raison, il ne ressentait pas le danger immédiat de trahison qui était souvent la pierre angulaire de tels contrats sinistres et mystérieux comme celui-ci. Cela ne l'a pas empêché de voir comment ils se sont déplacés, la connaissance de cela maintenant trié dans son esprit déchiré par la guerre juste au cas où, pour plus tard. Quant à qui étaient-ils? Il s'en souciait quand ils ont prouvé qu'ils méritaient son attention. Il a échangé son fusil à assaut contre son fusil Claymore pendant qu'ils marchaient. Il ne pouvait pas dire qu'il était particulièrement heureux qu'ils ne devaient qu'invalider les agents du Cerberus, mais il avait fait plus que quelques-uns de ces travaux. En fait, il avait souvent été préféré par les employeurs pour de telles tâches, en raison de son sens intense du contrôle. La plupart des chefs de bataille de Krogan allaient frapper un homme, et se demander plus tard pourquoi le crâne de l'homme était si faible que leur tête s'est effondrée. Il a préparé un tour spécial dans son fusil juste pour une telle occasion, et l'a accouché au prêt pour quand le combat allait éclater. Le corps du Krogan prêt au printemps, il a attendu... Skarr a tiré. Alors que ses compagnons se battaient autour de lui, l'obus concussif du Krogan s'est abattu sur l'un des membres du Cerberus visant le retour de Rykarn de loin. Même si l'homme s'est fait abattre les pieds et s'est introduit dans le mur, Skarr s'est envolé avec force. Il a harcelé son fusil, décidant de s'empêcher de gaspiller des munitions. Il a fermé la distance entre lui et le prochain soldat rapidement, n'obtenant qu'un petit paze d'un tir de Pistol le long de son armure avant de frapper l'arme volant, son autre main "légèrement" frappant le soldat à travers la tête, et puis de botter l'homme dans la poitrine avec un genou puissant. Quand l'homme a volé, le Krogan s'est abattu sur son même pied pour arrêter brusquement son avance. Un scan rapide a montré que les tourelles étaient toujours en déploiement. Il sourit à l'intérieur de son casque érigé, et révéla son marteau biotique. Avec un rugissement, il a déplacé son poids et a frappé son marteau dans le sol. Une onde de choc biotique éclata et déchira le sol, la vague d'énergie éclata dans deux tourelles et endommagea fortement un tiers du processus. La dernière tourelle qui jutait, il a pris son temps avec. Il s'y allonge et l'écrase avec un marteau bien placé. "Est-ce qu'on a fini, ici?" Il leur a demandé.

Name: Raik "Aralakh" Skarr Race: Krogan Class: Battle Master Age: 687 Sex: Male Appearance: While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan. Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory: Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to. He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision. From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later. The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive. It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned. The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do. He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes. Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread. A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title. Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun. At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson. When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand. He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even. He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later. He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders. Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz. He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe. I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile: Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions. Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy. One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty: As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics. However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack. Powers/Skills: Shockwave (Biotic) Biotic Hammer (Biotic) Concussive Shot Frag Grenade Carnage Adrenaline Rush Marksmen Equipment and Resources: M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle M-300 Claymore Shotgun Biotic Hammer Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor Sample Post: 1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.

Dans ses premières secondes de toucher le terminal et de procéder au piratage avec son Omni-Tool, il s'est presque moqué de la simplicité de la sécurité à briser, en observant que les données commençaient à circuler comme une rivière. Il a presque dit que c'était un peu trop facile, mais il pensait qu'il compromettrait sa chance en disant une telle chose, non? Comme les données continuaient d'être téléchargées dans son outil, il a réussi à monter un écran pour analyser certaines des données pour obtenir une meilleure image de ce qu'il trouvait exactement, mais il ne pouvait pas s'attendre à trouver ce qu'il a fait. Les premières choses qu'il a vues étaient des glimpses d'une quantité presque absurde de crédits passant par l'installation. Cela l'a rendu confus dans ces brèves secondes, curieux de savoir qui les finançait après la perte préjudiciable de Cerberus de leur installation et de leur patron. Et alors qu'ils passaient par cette installation de Cerberus, il a remarqué qu'ils partaient vers Terra Firma... Rayes se demandait pourquoi ce nom semblait familier... Quoi qu'il en soit, ce n'était pas le moment, et il y avait plus de données à prendre en compte. Par exemple, un autre élément intéressant qu'il a réussi à prendre note était l'expérimentation sur les défenses sous forme de rapports de laboratoire. Jouer avec des êtres moissonneurs, c'est dégoûtant. Quel genre de tests vont-ils faire? Il sentait que cela n'aurait pas pu être la première fois que Cerberus expérimenterait sur des défenses après avoir appris qu'une majorité d'entre elles étaient endoctrinées aux Reapers, mais l'idée de cela le dégoûta néanmoins. Ont-ils fait des choses comme ça pendant qu'il aidait le creuset? Ça l'a fait trembler de penser à... Après cela, il y avait une autre chose qu'il trouvait intéressante à travers les fichiers qui continuait à couler, qui était un nom: Le directeur. Pour Rayes, cela ressemblait à une autre sorte de patron pour Cerberus après l'homme illusif, mais qui l'homme illusif aurait-il comme successeur? Ou était-ce même le patron en premier lieu? Il semblait probable, car il y avait plusieurs ordres venant de lui vers l'établissement. Il y avait aussi une mention de quelque chose appelé Les Trois Têtes. C'était odieux... Il était heureux qu'il fût avec les Spectres et que l'information leur irait à la fin. Tout ce qu'il avait à faire était de s'assurer de rester assez près pour que son Omni-Tool puisse garder un signal régulier... C'est alors qu'il s'est rendu compte que des renforts ennemis leur étaient soudain apparus, compromettant sa position et le forçant à bouger. Il hésitait au début, mais il pensait que, tant qu'il restait dans la pièce et qu'il n'avait pas gâché son omni-outil, il devrait avoir une connexion assez forte pour maintenir le piratage de la banque de données. Malheureusement, il y avait une sorte de mech qui s'approchait, mais pirater cela arrêterait la connexion qu'il avait avec le terminal. Il l'a presque fait, n'avait pas été pour Phalanx le faire pour lui. Il serait sûr de la remercier en quantités excessives plus tard, mais au lieu de cela, il s'est précipité en hâte vers les bureaux à proximité, s'échappant sous l'un d'eux dans un effort pour se cacher. Il n'était pas l'une des principales menaces, sûrement qu'ils ne voulaient pas le poursuivre? Se sentant relativement en sécurité, il garda sa main gauche sur son pistolet, regardant son Omni-Tool comme il voyait quelque chose d'incroyable. Ou plutôt, quelque chose qu'il ne savait pas quoi faire. Déplacement de plusieurs choses dans les banques de données, il a réussi à suivre les fonds de Cerberus vers Terra Firma, et a pu les manipuler comme bon lui semblait. Ils ne seraient sûrement pas fâchés si tous leurs fonds allaient disparaître, oui? Si c'était un groupe de Cerberus qui se formait, il se sentait sûr que les prendre serait idéal. Mais, quelque part en lui, il était en conflit. Où devrait-il mettre ce montant incommensurable? Le donner aux Spectres sonnait bien en théorie, cependant, il ne savait pas assez sur eux autres que ce qu'ils ont dit. Quand il est arrivé aux autres Quariens, il savait qu'ils le gaspilleraient sur quelque chose de ridicule. Probablement la climatisation pour chaque combinaison environnementale... Ils devraient savoir juste pour obtenir cette mise à niveau eux-mêmes! Et... il ne savait pas où les mettre même s'il voulait les donner aux Spectres... Ils pouvaient aller à la reconstruction, mais une pensée apparut... Pourquoi aiderait-il la majorité qui a agi comme si leur guerre avec le Geth n'était rien? Il n'était peut-être pas d'accord avec la guerre, mais il a fait ce qu'il avait à faire pour son peuple et leur survie... En fin de compte, il ne savait pas qui faire confiance ou quoi faire. Il se sentait comme le seul en qui il pouvait faire confiance en ce moment était lui-même, et jusqu'à ce qu'il puisse parler aux Spectres, il a finalement commencé à "emprunter" les fonds dans un compte séparé qu'il pouvait contrôler et garder en sécurité. Il n'avait pas besoin de ces crédits pour le moment, mais il voulait au moins s'assurer qu'ils seraient dans un endroit sûr avant de prendre une décision sur l'endroit où ils allaient. Après cette mission, il a demandé à parler en privé avec Spectre Anderson et Spectre Partinax des données qu'il a recueillies, ainsi que de ce qu'il devrait faire avec les fonds qu'il volait. Oui... ce serait l'option la plus logique, non? Assurez-vous de l'avoir d'abord, puis demandez où le mettre plus tard. Il n'en avait pas besoin... Il s'est dit que beaucoup de fois dans ces petits moments qui se sentaient comme des heures dans sa tête. Et pourtant il hésitait... J'hésite à parler de ce qu'il faut faire. Il s'est ébranlé la tête. Ce n'était pas le moment de prendre de telles décisions. C'était le moment de baiser Cerberus. Il a regardé son Omni-Tool une dernière fois alors que les données continuaient d'y pénétrer avant de saisir son pistolet plus serré. Il serait sûr de tirer n'importe quel bosh'tet qui est venu près de son bureau.

Name: Rayes'Xum vas Fowal, Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, Rayes Race: Quarian Class: Engineer Age: 26 Sex: Male Appearance: - Height: 5’5” - Weight: 185lbs Backstory: Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, a Quarian born in 2164, being aboard the Yaron along with his parents and several kin. His father was mainly aboard the Patrol Fleet, while his mother was a researcher focused on the Special Projects arm of the Migrant Fleet. Both were fearful of the health and protection of their child, and as such never dared to expose their child to the world outside of the migrant fleet. They were scared of their son’s curiosity, whom at the time knew relatively nothing of the world and was eager to learn. They did their best to fill that void once their son got his suit by flooding him with information that a young Quarian could understand. And when he wasn’t meant to be studying, often he would wander around the migrant fleet, listening to stories that they loved to tell. Stories of Rannoch, their beloved homeworld which was lost to them due to losing control of the geth, an artificial intelligence that they never intended to create that way. They’d speak of Quarian dancers, and their seemingly lost love for music. Little Rayes would soak in as much information as possible that he could from these stories, even if some of them weren’t actually true. This desire for knowledge helped in his teens, as he focused a majority of his time then into doing what his parents did. From his father, he could study various navigation paths in the galaxy, and to a little further extent ship layouts and the engineering behind them. From his mother, he could further his knowledge of technology and understanding of the geth, something his mother believed that every Quarian should have a base knowledge of, to which most do. Instead of being a fighter, Rayes expertise began to shine in how to handle technology and repair or destroy it, noticing flaws in systems that would otherwise take a more trained eye to catch, and exploiting it. Exploitation came in the form of hacking, which while he was limited to certain objects on the migrant fleet, those he often did stumble across were heavily safeguarded beyond his skill comprehension at the moment, leading him to only want to become more invested in it. These skills would become vital when he could begin on his pilgrimage. Naive, young, and somewhat confident in himself, Rayes didn’t listen to his fellow Quarians when they insisted that he go off towards the Citadel, a place where things would be the least likely to cause him harm or vise versa. They made sure to give him several parting gifts as incentives for him to listen, such as a Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool, various medical stimuli to keep him healthy should he become sick, along with Medi-Gel that a Quarian could use should he ever become injured. But instead of listening to their advice, Rayes felt bold. It was his first true experience away from the Migrant Fleet, and he wanted to make it memorable. The Citadel didn’t seem like a place that would suit him, believing it to be the easy way out of his pilgrimage. Instead, he went to a place that he believed could be exciting, Illium. Oh boy, was in he in for a rough time there. Immediately upon arrival after transferring through several ships, the young Quarian landed in hot water and was thrown into the frying pan. He was easily kidnapped by Asari who had a multitude of ‘indentured servants’ , and thus easily sold to a faction of the Eclipse on Illium due to his prowess with technology, something the Eclipse loved to use and subsequently broke. He was forced into repairing the Eclipse’s weaponry and and technological equipment, acting as a kind of repairman for the criminal organization. And while the situation seemed hopeless as it felt like he was always under constant discrimination and surveillance, he believed something good was bound to happen. And until then, he’d have to endure with the choice he made. The discrimination came from the various Humans and Asari stationed on his section of Illium, who thought of Rayes as a cheap punching bag for their enjoyment. He often found himself having to scan the measly portions he was given, and on several occasions couldn’t eat it due to his body not being compatible with the food. Most likely some sick joke, or maybe they wanted him to get sick. He didn’t know nor care, instead doing his best not to make any sort of scenes. He played the role they wanted him to, a seemingly malleable and easily pushed around slave. A year went by, and the Quarian had not contacted his family to inform them of his pilgrimage. In fact, to the Eclipse, they began to see the usefulness of Rayes. While he had started off small, eventually he had begun to repair the Eclipse mechs, and sometimes was forced to repair damages done to spaceships if he was given the right schematics. And if they were desperate, he’d be escorted to various terminals or infiltration operations, where his hacking skills could be put to good use. They never gave him a gun on these rare occurrences though, believing he would still try to escape if an opportunity arose. And while all was forced labor, at least, in his eyes, it was something that he liked and could vastly improve on. He got to work with weapons and mechs he had never seen before, hack systems that wouldn’t have been available on the Citadel, and even repair some of their ships, all of these encompassing new technology that the Eclipse managed to get their greedy hands on. Working with technology of this caliber wouldn’t have happened on the Citadel, however… He also wouldn’t be in an extremely dreadful situation. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was just a pawn, and if they ever felt he wasn’t useful, he knew they would dispose of him. They didn’t watch him as much anymore, but they still treated him like he was just a tool, and as such he was placed into terrible conditions on the off chances he would get proper rest. Often, he found himself questioning the pilgrimage, seeing this more of an eye opener than a proper trip to bring something valuable to his family… Something valuable… Surely the Eclipse, he thought, would have something. Having been in close quarters with them for so long, he had noticed they were lax around him, not being perceived as much of a threat anymore as he’d been around for well over a year now, and he would have to use that to his advantage if he ever wanted to see his home again. He knew he couldn’t beat them in a gunfight, there were simply too many and too skilled for his relatively poor gun expertise. All that time repairing their weapons, and he probably couldn’t even properly handle them himself. Another year, and he missed the Migrant Fleet with all his heart. There was no engine on Illium, only a cage and despair. There was no bond, no loyalty, only grief and deception, and Rayes believed he’d have to use that to his advantage. As they continued to bring him on several operations for his hacking expertise, he began leaving traces that he had been there, and while he would comply with their needs, he also began saving the data for himself. The Eclipse had grown soft around checking his Omni-Tool, as two years of nothing made them feel he was at least somewhat loyal to them. But he had already started to record the technology he worked on, documenting every detail he could about their supposed latest and greatest thing that busted. While it was often not substantial at first, and generally followed with a return to working on something they had planned, eventually he began to steal more, hacking with efficiency only a Quarian could. Surely there’d be some sort of information he could use to escape? A way to send a message? Surely, he felt, someone would find and put together the clues he had left behind... He had learned of awful things that he missed in his absence from some of the information he had kept, such as the citadel being attacked by something called a reaper, the supposed death and revival of a human Spectre named Commander Shepard… It was hard to swallow how much time had past… And how much trust the humans were getting. The ones in the Eclipse were dreadful, and were the most cruel, twisting the stories he had heard from his kin on the Migrant Fleet. Hopefully this Shepard was better, but he was extremely doubtful. A chance of escape came one day as he scoured through some stolen Eclipse files on his omni tool, being allowed to wander the cargo terminal the Eclipse had decided to occupy, only for the silence to be broken upon the sound of gunfire becoming vastly apparent. He noticed Eclipse Gunships in the area, several of which he wondered of if he’d repaired before, only to be shoved to the side by an Eclipse Engineer, forcing Rayes to take cover. There was a conversation at first, but then the gunfire soon continued and Rayes hid as far away as he could, allowing the firefight to pass as it went downward towards the Cargo Terminals, and his former “employers.” He took this opportunity to slowly but surely follow the conflict until the group in front of him took an elevator towards the docks. That elevator was his escape, but an escape towards what? He had no money, no credits to go anywhere… Until, as he wandered in the shadows of Illium, he heard of an information broker who potentially could help him. With all other options gone, and little time to waste before the Eclipse would notice him missing, he hastily made his way towards the supposed broker. He sold all the information he had stolen for a ticket to the citadel, but made sure to keep it for himself as well, and along with several credits for the info. Sure, it was a dangerous gamble to allow her to copy his data, but surprisingly she understood his desire to keep it… and things got better from that day. He had managed to find a place that hired him as a repairman for weapons and technology, and once he had enough credits to fly home, he immediately did so. He had had enough surprises on his pilgrimage to last a lifetime, and they accepted his data on the Eclipse, the technology he had worked on, schematics he recorded, and importantly weapon details, and accepted a role on board the Fowal. His family was astonished by how much he endured, furious that he had not listened to them, but ultimately glad that he had survived. He adapted a much more suitable appearance to commemorate his return from a grim situation, and began working immediately on the Fowal, just months before the reapers return. In this short span, Rayes became known for his improvements to weapons to be used for the fleet and against the Geth, along with his research on potential environmental suit improvements, something that he had become inspired to make due to the harshness of Illium. The Fowal was a ship dedicated to the research of expanding Quarian technology, investigating new weapons and the study of the Geth, an enemy that, once he learned the admiralty board soon declared war on them, Rayes was rather skeptical about it all. He didn’t believe the Geth were necessarily in the wrong for their actions, and while he longed to see the fabled homeworld of Rannoch, destroying something more advanced and sentient than the simple mechs he had repaired seemed… awful. But he knew better than to question his superiors, and at first, it seems the modifications he had worked on seemed to bolster the Quarian’s power against the Geth… Until they accepted Reaper help. But hope wasn’t lost, and while many ships suffered casualties, things started looking up once they learned Commander Shepard would help. A name that Rayes became all too familiar with when he first returned to the Migrant Fleet, having heard of his exploits and helping the Quarian Tali’zora Vas Normandy, someone Rayes slightly remembers growing up around with. With their help, they did the impossible, stepping foot on Rannoch as the Battle for Rannoch began. To Rayes, it was frightening, being inexperienced in combat, but he made up for it with his insights against the Geth, providing support and cover fire, and doing his best to hack the enemy barriers and shields. It felt like forever, but ultimately, it seemed like the Quarian's would win, but instead came an agreement to coexist with the Geth. Rayes was rather pleased with this idea, not only due to how it was peaceful, but also because it would allow him to greatly study the Geth and get information from them while they were still active. While it was fun to study a piece of technology that was broken, studying an active sentient Geth would be amazing. Rayes was not selected to go and join the fight with the reapers, he was instead sent to go and help build the crucible, something he took immense pleasure from upon arrival as they saw his technical prowess as an excellent edition. He helped make great strides into it’s creation, being able to offer suggestions in an environment he never thought he’d see. On Illium, he was treated like scum, a simple object meant to be manipulated, but he here, he was wanted, appreciated even… And, everyone was working together. This wasn't about species or race anymore, it was about survival, and to think, a human had started it all, with the help of an asari prothean expert. Maybe... the Eclipse were just an oddity, just like how some Quarian's were oddities in their own right. So when it was eventually complete and fulfilled it’s purpose, he came home proud that he had helped defeat the reapers in his own way. He helped in the process of colonizing Rannoch, and ultimately in the construction, with the help of the Geth, of upgrading the Quarian Fleet. Currently, Rayes is on Rannoch, studying the reapers with the help of Geth information and looking for a way to utilize the technology that had been scattered across the galaxy when the reapers were annihilated. Maybe, he thought, it could be used to create better protection for the future. The Geth have already helped him make immense strides in Quarian environmental suits, and he believes they can be utilized for much more than their original purposes or what the reapers had for them. Psyche Profile: Rayes is a firm believer that not all situations are hopeless, maintaining the notion that things could always get worse, but the worse can be prevented through hard work and dedication, along with preparation and to know how to endure. A lot of his life has been dedicated to the advancement of technology and the study thereof, regardless of the technology's purpose, and as such, he loves to always be working on some sort of gadget or analyzing data. Even in grim situations, knowing that there is something to observe generally calms his nerves and brings him back to reality. His over-analytical nature often allows him to notice things that many others may not, or on his time on Illium, be able to hastily retrieve and comprehend data types or schematics that he'd never seen before. When it comes to the other galactic species, Rayes is very wary of anyone not Quarian. His time on Illium has made him somewhat distant towards Humans and Asari specifically, as they were the majority of the Eclipse's forces that he was under on Illium. While Commander Shepard's actions has somewhat lessened that hostility, he won't go out of his way to make friends with them. Towards Turians, Rayes always feels that his knowledge of combat is lacking too much to hold a non-awkward conversation, and will often stutter his words or become embarissed if he cannot come up with an answer to their questions. Salarians are the easiest for Rayes to talk to, sticking to science as a main conversation topic. Batarian's are a mixed bag depending on how much Rayes knows of them, but he can sympathize with their hatred towards humans. Rayes hasn't had much experience talking to Drell, and as such, will often act similarly as he does towards Turians. For Asari, the Quarian is suspicious of them, wondering how they could allow one of their own colonies to have anything legal except for murder... Rayes likes to be prepared, and is somewhat saddened by his lack of knowledge in combat situations. His only proficiency in combat is with a pistol, but even that is somewhat limited and rusty. But, he has an eye for spotting technology on the battlefield that he can turn to his advantage, or disabling shield or barriers that an enemy may have. He prefers to provide support, allowing someone else to take the killing shot, and instead setting it up. However, currently he feels he has no time to train, focusing his attention to his love for tech and how to improve it. However, he has recently started to listen to music once more now that the war is over and he is safe; music being a favorable pass time when he was younger. And, now with Geth help, his self confidence and hope for the future has begun to rise. He knows that a lot of Quarian don't trust the Geth, and with good reasons, but he is willing to give them a second chance, as they are giving the Quarians. Not to mention, he slightly loves the idea of sentient AIs being constantly present around him. Specialty: Rayes'Xum was most likely picked due to his outstanding displays of technical prowess and resourcefulness when it comes to technology. Even for things he doesn't know much about, give him time to do research, and he'll be able to fix or hack into it with a breeze. Along with this, he can craft, repair, or install upgrades into existing weapons or starships. Having been one of the fateful Quarians to go and help build the Crucible, his advancements has given him a special place some of the Quarian's hearts. Due to his extensive knowledge in technology and prior experience, Rayes is a pretty damn good hacker if need be, being quick on his feet to solve and bypass securities that are in place in a moments notice or so. While he may not be as deadly as some on the battlefield, he makes up for it with his quick-wit and ability to manipulate the battle in favor for his team. He can help break down enemy defenses and render them helpless for his team to finish off. Currently, he's been working on the side to develop a combat drone to assist him and make up for his poor weapon game, only bringing a pistol to the battlefield, along with his Omni-Tool's blade. Powers/Skills: - Incinerate - Overload - Cryo Blast - Sabotage - Tech Mastery - Weapon construction/upgrades - Hacking Equipment and Resources: - Aldrin Labs Light Onix Armor VI modifications on his envo-suit. - Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool - Arc Pistol Sample Post: "Det kazuat." Rayes whispered under his breath as he followed a human Eclipse mercenary, somewhat curious as to what their next assignment for him was. Last time, it was to repair a simple rifle that hilariously they had managed to break just after receiving it. It didn't take him long at all to repair it, but he wasn't met with praise. Instead, they just decided not to spit into his food, which he was rather thankful for. It meant he'd at least get another meal, measly as it was, to survive instead of having to toss it to the side, not knowing if something as simple as saliva would cause him to become ill and thus useless. He made sure to scan everything that he'd have to consume, glad that they were at least smart enough to know he was a dextro-protein species, yet also surprised they'd go through the effort to get him specific food. Maybe, the thought, he wasn't the only Quarian in this hell hole the Eclipse have made. However, his thoughts were soon cut short as he felt an immense force shove him to the ground, causing the unsuspecting Quarian to fall with as much grace as a dying duck. "You useless scum," He heard someone say, looking up to see it was his escort shouting down at him with a mixture of cockiness and pure hatred, "Get to work and stop staring in the damn clouds! We didn't pay shit just for you to be useless!" In his attempt to recover, the Quarian began to slowly rise to his knees, only to feel a blunt force slam into his stomach, causing him to tense up and fall downward once more. "I said get the hell up!" I was trying that until you kicked me, you bosh'tet... Rayes thought, doing his best to rise to a stand once more as he glared at the mercenary, glad he didn't seem to have the brains to notice. Each passing moment felt tense as he rose, and when he finally recovered from the shock, he noticed in front of him stood a Model 34-A, or YMIR Mech that had obviously seen some damage. The bone white armor it possessed was covered in black spots from explosions and gunfire. It's upper body was heavily damaged, the armor on the chest and arms revealing circuits exposed in the openings. It's head was missing completely, most likely shot off... It wasn't the first time Rayes had to repair one of these, but it was most certainly the first time it was this damaged. But it seems they knew he wasn't a miracle worker, and as he glanced around the room, he noticed there were several tools at his disposal, along with replacement armor and a new head. All it seemed he had to do was fix the mech up, and he could be on his way. A simple job, especially with the resources the Eclipse gave him. Unfortunately, that comfort was cut short upon the realization that he would be closely monitored. If it had been anywhere else, maybe he would have felt happy, but instead, all he could feel was a lingering hatred for his situation. It was as if they had twisted his desires for their own purposes just to save them a quick buck from buying a new one of these killing machines, but alas, he had to if he wanted to live. Or at the very least, postpone the beating he felt would come if he didn't work on it soon. With a defeated sigh, he grabbed the nearest supplies and began to work once more. Notes - Rayes'Xum isn't sure of his sexuality, but has disdain for Humans and Asari. - Occasionally contacts friends he made while working on the Crucible. - He has a fascination for those who can sing or dance. - He'll occasionally dismantle objects for fun, just to remake them. - He'll take notes with his Omni-Tool during conversations or simply record them so that he can review it later and come up with conversation topics.

U N D E R W O R L D K A T A B A S I S Interagir avec:,,,,, Lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson Avant le feu d'artifice a commencé le Batarian a demandé au Geth s'il pouvait pirater les mechs LOKI, bien qu'intimidé que Phalanx ne devrait faire que si Jake l'a commandé. Peut-être que Balak a pensé que s'il commençait à diffuser des suggestions tactiques, Anderson serait précieux à propos de son autorité apparente usurpée. Si c'était le cas, c'était presque suffisant pour faire rire la N7. Une bonne idée était une bonne idée, et si son équipe pouvait voir et exploiter un avantage tactique qu'il avait négligé, d'autant mieux. Autorisation accordée à Phalanx. Vous voyez une ouverture, vous la prenez. Bon appel Balak... Peut-être travailler avec un Batarien ne serait pas une si mauvaise chose après tout. L'équipe d'infiltration n'avait pas attendu longtemps quand les premières fissures distantes des coups de feu ont été entendues. Les nerfs d'avant-guerre ont cédé la place à d'innombrables heures d'entraînement, et Jake l'homme, qui avait des espoirs, des rêves, des peurs et des doutes, a complètement glissé dans le rôle de Jake le soldat, une arme vivante fabriquée par l'armée de Systems Alliance, le dernier modèle d'une longue lignée de guerriers à sortir de la ligne Anderson. Le fusil d'assaut Valkyrie, qui il y a quelques instants semblait si lourd et si encombrant, pesait soudainement pas plus que de bonnes intentions, et s'inscrivait mieux dans ses mains que n'importe quel amant. Toutes ces incertitudes, toutes ces peurs, tous les problèmes qui semblaient si importants il y a des battements de cœur peuvent aussi bien avoir appartenu à un autre homme. Soudain, il était concentré d'une manière que la plupart des gens normaux ne comprendraient jamais, ne comprendraient jamais. Son corps semblait rougir d'énergie, avec un besoin désespéré de fermer avec l'ennemi et de les détruire, de ses propres mains s'il le devait. La discipline de fer l'a maintenu en place, l'a maintenu à son poste auto-ordonné en gardant cette voie d'évasion ouverte. Le temps avait l'air de ramper alors qu'il regardait le feu des Batariens, et qu'il se terminait ensuite, une mech LOKI, la transformant en tant de ferraille. Le reste des robots a ignoré l'équipe d'infiltration, et a pris la direction du chaos des équipes d'assaut. La seule explication qu'Anderson pouvait penser pour cette étrange même était que leurs VI.S étaient en quelque sorte défectueux, les forçant à faire face à la menace la plus ouverte à l'enceinte. Bizarre, mais chanceux. Angel et Sicaria avaient réussi à soumettre les scientifiques sans effusion de sang, qui se blottis maintenant dans des boules paniquées sous leurs bureaux, tandis que Rayes=Xum Vas Fowal se battait résolument avec les suites de cyberdéfense des banques de données. Si le Quarien était à moitié aussi bon au piratage que son profil l'a déclaré, alors il aurait eu ce dont ils avaient besoin en quelques secondes. Si Anderson ne savait pas mieux, il aurait dit que les choses allaient trop bien. C'est ce que j'ai dit. C'est ce que j'ai dit. Juste à la queue de la porte diamétralement en face de sa position glissa ouverte, et dans versé deux chiens comme les mechs FENRIR, rapidement suivi par cinq soldats d'assaut Cerberus conduit par un Centurion. Jake n'était pas sûr pourquoi ils sont venus ici au lieu de renforcer leurs alliés à la porte d'entrée, mais il n'a vraiment pas eu le temps de réfléchir à la question. L'un des FENRIR, chargé à Raye, tandis que le deuxième saut jusqu'aux dais élevés pour attaquer les deux Turiens. Le Cerberus Centurian a lancé une grenade frag à la dais levée, vers la position générale de Balak. Sans perdre de temps Jake cria un avertissement à l'équipe, avant de s'engager dans les troupes du Cerberus, confiant les tireurs d'élite ci-dessus pour couvrir le Quarien sans défense, et les Turians pour faire face à leurs propres problèmes. Il s'est chargé puis a tiré un coup de feu concussien, il a frappé le centre mort de la cuirasse des soldats de tête, en envoyant l'homme voler de ses pieds. Anderson n'a pas eu la chance de suivre son attaque, alors que les autres soldats ont commencé à tirer sur lui, le forçant derrière la couverture limitée de la porte. Le feu de cornet s'est déchiré dans le béton, déchirant des copeaux de pierre, bien qu'il ait risqué un regard en arrière, voyant les soldats se jeter derrière leur propre couverture, bien que l'homme qu'il avait touché était encore en bas. Morte, avec un peu de chance, si ce n'est pas le cas. "Fuuuck." Il espérait qu'Aegon était dans la merde aussi profonde qu'il l'était en ce moment. Après tout, c'était censé être le numéro 'facile'. Le Spectre s'est penché hors de sa couverture pour échanger le feu avec les Cerbes, sachant que s'il n'avait pas reçu le soutien de son équipe, cela ne finirait pas joliment.

Name: Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson Race: Human Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Jake stands a shade over six feet and two inches tall, and weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds. His physique is athletically toned rather than heavily muscled. He is quietly proud of his body, a pride that he feels he has quite rightly earned considering the time and effort he has put into maintaining it. His posture and bearing is unmistakably military, and he moves with the unconscious confidence of a born fighter. On close inspection one might notice that his right arm seems slightly too long for his body, not to a freakish degree but just enough to bear noting. His skin is a deep mahogany, and along with his dark hair it speaks of an African heritage. His facial features are broad and flat, with a strong chin, wide jaw, and pensive brown eyes – the right one being a shade redder than the left - that sit in deep sockets under a brow that’s slightly too heavy not to look thuggish. His nose shows evidence of multiple breakages and fractures in the past, sitting somewhat crooked now. He wears his hair cropped, though is far less vigilant in shaving his face, usually sporting a short beard. He has three tattoos. The first, an N7 ranking logo on his right pectoral, has been marred slightly by a heavy degree of lattice-like scar tissue. He also has a large lion between his shoulder blades, and a small image of Blasto on his left buttock. That last one was a drunken misadventure that he regretted for weeks’ afterword, usually when he tried to sit down. Backstory: Fatherwas David Anderson, a highly decorated officer with the Systems Alliance. She was a career soldier. His mother lived in London, were he was raised. His parents divorced when he was a child due to his mother feeling that David was more interested in his career than he was in raising a family. Jake joined the SA as soon as he was able. His mother wasn’t impressed with his decision, considering what had happened between her and David, but ultimately didn’t stand in Jakes way. Part of the relief force sent to the aid of Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Part of the force sent on the retaliatory attack against Torfan. Member of Alliance Special Ops Team Delta, running five missions in Terminus Space. It was during this tour of duty that he finally earned the coveted N7 ranking. During the Reaper Wars he served in the N7 Special Ops. Took part in over twenty successful missions. Part of Hammer force. Psyche Profile: Not so long ago Jake was a soldier through and through. A consummately professional warrior possessed of an ice-cool calm, a healthy respect for the chain of command, and a real passion for action. He was he’s fathers son, no mistaking that. However, since the Hammer attack, and his ‘dying’ he feels like something inside him has broken. He no longer feels the same calm he once did, being far more excitable now than he was before. It worries him, Specialty: Jake has experience working with, and leading, teams of mixed races and backgrounds. He developed a knack for delegating duties that best suit an individual’s specific talents or expertise. However, Jake also shows a decidedly hands-off approach to leadership in that once he has got to know an individual and taken their measure, he is happy to leave them to act independently. He’s learnt that sometimes the best thing a leader can do for his team is to give them the space to work. He’s a capable soldier in his own right, fully able of holding the line or charging the enemy himself. After all, he would never ask his men to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. He’s any mans (or womans) equal in a straight firefight, being a respectable shot with both rifles and pistols, and being in possession of truly astoundingly quick reflexes. Powers/Skills: Expert marksman Proficient hand to hand fighter Marine officer training and experience Background and expertise in small unit tactics Full N7 training. A host of contacts within the Systems Alliance Equipment and Resources: N7 Valkyrie Assault Rifle N7 Piranha Shotgun M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol Standard issue service knife Omni-Tool N7 Armour, modified with Asymetric Rosenkov Materials defence layers and an offhand ammo-pack. Kuwashii Visor Thermal clips Medigel packs x 3 Frag Grenade x 2 Sample Post: A short sample post so I can get a handle of your writing style. This could be one of your characters early missions, a showing of them enjoying some downtime, or a short of some of their exploits during the Reaper war. Notes Jake is straight, and currently single. He was involved in a tumultuous relationship with a Turian Cabal member during the Reaper Wars, and has been taking a break from relationships to recover. As a newly minted Spectre, Jake hasn’t made up his mind on who he supports to become the Warden of the Citadel. Jake has an intense dislike for the Batarian Hegemony. It stems from the things he seen and experienced during the Skyllian Blitz, and consequent retaliatory attack. However during the Reaper war he worked with several Batarian soldiers, and came to grudgingly respect them as individuals, even if he does disagree with their government. Has a habit of running his hands across his head when he is feeling stressed..

Sicaria Velinian Secaria a fait signe à la réponse d'Aegon à son enquête très hostile, ainsi qu'à un grognement incohérent. Elle a vu la logique dans ses paroles, et il serait plus efficace de démêler le Parti avant de le tuer, mais cela a supprimé la gratification de détruire ce qui était effectivement un culte politique. Eh bien, la satisfaction instantanée de toute façon. Mais si l'un d'eux est allé chercher une arme, elle a enlevé la tête du pauvre trou du cul qui a fait cette erreur. Ses pensées ont été brutalement interrompues par une voix humaine puissante derrière elle, incitant le Turian à pivoter et à tomber sur son genou gauche pendant qu'elle tirait son Phaeston de l'aimant qui le tenait ferme à son omoplate droite. L'arme se déplaçait avec le canon pointé droit sur l'intrus, prêt à tuer si nécessaire. Le Phaeston, bien qu'il ne soit pas aussi puissant que le M-76 Revenant, était beaucoup plus précis et était généralement considéré comme l'équilibre ultime de la puissance de feu et du rapport de frappe. Heureusement, il n'est pas venu à une fusillade alors que le Geth marchait entre eux, réussissant à désamorcer la situation par ce qui aurait été un moment réconfortant si ce n'était pas pour la possibilité de la mort dans les moments à venir. Sans un mot, les Turians se levèrent prudemment et s'emparèrent une fois de plus de son arme, donnant à l'homme une fois de plus. D'après ce qu'elle avait vu sous le manteau qu'elle portait, elle avait une double prothèse et avait vu de meilleurs jours, mais elle était encore dure, ou assez stupide pour s'écarter d'une pièce pleine de tueurs. Aujourd'hui serait plus intéressant qu'elle ne le pensait au départ, c'est sûr. Peu après, les équipes partent, Sicaria part avec Anderson et la compagnie pour s'engager dans une approche plus furtive. Malheureusement pour elle, elle n'était pas exactement orientée vers l'espionnage, mais elle était certainement capable de se déplacer tranquillement. Le plus gros problème pour elle était un manque d'armes supprimées, donc elle a été contrainte de compter entièrement sur ses omni-blades jusqu'à ce que quelque chose tourne mal... ce qui a supposé que c'était pourquoi elle traînait ici. Donc pour l'instant, en tant que seule personne blindée, elle a élevé l'arrière de l'escadron. Après environ une demi-heure de voyage quasi silencieux plus tard, le groupe est tombé sur une fissure dans un mur par ailleurs solide, et Anderson n'a pas perdu de temps à expliquer comment il était censé y arriver. Le Turian, honnêtement, ne se souciait pas moins de la façon dont il s'est formé, tout ce qui comptait c'était qu'il existait et cela a rendu la mission beaucoup plus facile pour l'équipe d'infiltration. Alors que Ja'Far et Phalanx semblaient déterminés à être les derniers à se presser dans la crevasse, Sicaria décida de passer à travers la suite du Rayon Quarien. Pour elle, c'était un ajustement serré bien qu'étant deux pouces plus court que le Spectre qui les mène, principalement en raison du collier que tous les Turiens possédaient. Après un long moment, elle émergeait de l'autre côté, son armure n'était que légèrement éraflée autour du cou depuis le passage. En ce moment, l'initié qui avait déjà trouvé son chemin à l'intérieur et tué un membre du Cerberus a été présenté par leur commandant... et elle était quelque chose. Alria, c'était son nom, et elle était visiblement plus jeune que Sicaria. Pas beaucoup, mais la figure plus mince et plus lithique a laissé entrevoir un certain écart dans l'âge. Sans dire que Sicaria n'était pas sans ses charmes, mais cette fille... c'était quelque chose d'autre. Beaucoup plus limber, certainement plus flexible, et attrayant pour le démarrage. Sa voix ne laissait rien à désirer, c'était comme une chanson quand elle parlait de tuer ce pauvre garde de sang-froid. Ce n'était pas de l'amour à première vue, mais c'était une attraction pour une nuit de passion, et peut-être quelque chose dans lequel Vetia s'impliquerait, aussi. Le Turian secoua la tête et cligne des yeux, renversant la réalité alors que l'équipe se dirigeait plus loin dans la base, un commandement étant donné pour faire sortir leurs armes à partir de maintenant. Plutôt que de tirer son fusil une fois de plus, elle s'est échangée avec le fusil apposé sur son bas du dos. Le M-11 Wraith était un fusil léger, variante de l'éviscérateur M-22 fabriqué par Cerberus, et était très illégal dans l'espace de la Citadelle. Elle l'avait rencontré sur le marché noir d'Omega et l'avait acheté rapidement, et elle l'avait maintenu par l'intermédiaire de l'invasion de Reaper grâce à la gravité de la situation. Maintenant, elle l'avait gardé sous un autre nom pour éviter sa découverte, et il s'est avéré fructueux maintenant. Une arme qui est venue à l'avance avec des morceaux de métal dentelés qui a déchiré à peu près tout allait être utile pour cette mission. Étant donné que les choses ont été vulgaires, de toute façon. L'équipage s'est installé dans la salle du serveur, prenant la couverture et prenant position hors de la vue de ceux qui étaient en poste ici. D'après ce qu'elle pouvait dire, la seule force importante ici était entièrement composée de LOKI mechs, qui jouaient à ses forces. Surcharger un et deux tomberait, geler peut-être une douzaine d'entre eux de la façon dont ils étaient tous emballés ensemble, les briser avec une technologie éclatée de l'armure... ce ne serait pas trop difficile à moins qu'un des scientifiques ici appelle un renfort. Les bruits de tirs lointains ont soudainement commencé à pimenter les oreilles de tous les présents, et l'action a commencé. Un des mechs est tombé en une seconde rapide de la main de Ja'Far, suivi de Rayes se déplaçant et commençant son processus de collecte de données. Sicaria était sur le point de suivre dans son sillage et de soumettre les chercheurs, bien qu'Alria l'ait battue au coup de poing avec un niveau de mise en scène. C'était comme un maître au travail... un travail sexy, presque lubrique qui a donné lieu à quatre têtes d'œuf sur le sol en quelques instants. Pendant tout ce temps, l'autre Turian a senti le sang se précipiter sur son visage et un trickle chaud est descendu du côté droit de son nez et s'arrêter à sa lèvre. « Cela doit être l'une des plus grandes choses que j'ai jamais vues... » Après cette exposition, elle a remarqué qu'un grand nombre de mechs avaient commencé à courir vers le combat principal pour laisser les infiltrateurs une pièce presque vide avec quelques types de science sur le sol. Se souvenant de ses ordres, elle emménage avec son fusil levé, lui donnant une queue menaçante à ceux qui sont restés dans la région. En tant qu'exécutrice des Soleils Bleus, elle avait appris à influencer une foule avec sa seule présence et à la manipuler pour la soumettre, et cette situation n'était pas différente. "Sauf si tu veux une jambe coupée, tu vas te mettre au sol et rester tranquille! Je vois un omni-outil continuer, et je vais commencer à trancher les doigts." Avec un peu de chance, elle n'aurait pas à suivre cette menace, et ces hommes et ces femmes seraient des otages faciles. Pire est venu au pire et quelqu'un a décidé d'être un héros, elle les fermait elle-même si nécessaire. Sur un côté, elle a donné à Alria un signe d'approbation, ne sachant pas qu'une partie de son visage était maintenant tachée d'un bleu agréable de la saigne lentement calmante.

Name: Sicaria Velinian Race: Turian Class: Sentinel Age: 28 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it. Backstory: Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her. Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move. In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation. Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger? She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born. For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling. When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there. Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere. Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station. They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it. Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later. The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly. Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were. Psyche Profile: Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people. Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later. There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there. Specialty: Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies. Powers/Skills: -Throw - Warp - Lift Grenade - Tech Armor - Overload - Cryo Blast Equipment and Resources: - Turian Cabal Armor - Phaeston - M-11 Wraith - Matched pair of Omni-Blades -Station Contact - Omega -Black Market Access Sample Post: ”Ugh… how drunk was I last night?” ”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.” ”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.” ”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee. One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter. The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth. ”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.” ”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point. Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible. ”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.” ”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh. Notes - Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ "So these are the people I'm protecting this time..." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks. || Vella Calixten Ophelia || ☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ja'Far Balak || ⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Tiberius Adarian || ✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik Skarr || ✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria Vicrinus || ❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.

Sicaria Velinian Sicaria, avec peu d'autre chose à faire en ce moment en plus parfois prod un scientifique pour les garder à terre, a pris un bref moment pour se détendre avec son arme à la main. C'est en ce moment qu'Alria lui a dit qu'elle saignait, gagnant une réaction un peu embarrassée de l'autre Turian qui a essuyé le sang de son visage. Malheureusement, la couleur avait déjà mis et taché la peau bleu, ce qui signifie qu'il faudrait la laver quand la mission était terminée, avec son gantelet maintenant. "Oh, ça? Je vais bien, j'ai juste des saignements de nez dans certaines... conditions." Si elle regardait assez attentivement, elle serait probablement en mesure de faire le moindre soupçon d'un blush sous ses tatouages du visage. Avec un peu de chance, elle ne le ferait pas dans ce court laps de temps. "Mon nom est Sicaria, j'ai oublié de le mentionner plus tôt." Elle se retourna dans le hall tout comme une porte s'ouvrit, permettant à un Centurion, à cinq Troopers d'assaut, et à une paire de mechs de FENRIS de sortir de la porte d'entrée et d'attaquer. Les mechs essayèrent de charger la paire de Turians, bien que l'un semblait dysfonctionnement à travers la course et s'attaquer à l'autre au sol. Alria a certainement fait usage de cela pour brancher six tirs dans les robots sans discrimination, provoquant l'un d'exploser et de désactiver l'autre. Phalanx a tiré et a désactivé le Centurion tandis que Ja'Far a mis fin au mouvement de deux soldats, ce qui a laissé deux soldats et le Centurion. Pour Sicaria, c'était le jeu de l'enfant, surtout maintenant qu'une grenade éclair avait explosé dans leur visage, à laquelle le Turian avait protégé ses yeux de sa main. Il était temps d'un peu d'action de son côté. Avec un flash de son Omni-Tool, la lumière dure violette s'est formée autour de son haut du corps pour une protection supplémentaire pendant qu'elle se chargeait dans la fraye, le fusil levé et un sourire malveillant sur son visage. La première victime à recevoir sa colère était l'un des soldats debout, qui avait un visage littéral de coups de feu qui lui avaient été donnés. Inutile de dire que sa tête était maintenant à l'écart d'une souche rouge foncé qui saignait sur le sol. Ensuite était le dernier des Troopers qui a lentement gagné sa vue en arrière, baril empilé dans sa poitrine et la gâchette tiré, résultant en un trou de taille de baseball qui est allé presque propre à travers l'armure et dans la chair, et à l'arrière. "Je ne demanderai pas aux Esprits de veiller sur vous." Alors qu'il tombait, le casque de l'homme s'est détaché et s'est envolé alors qu'il frappait le sol, bien que son tueur s'occupait déjà d'autres affaires à l'époque. Elle a lancé un nouveau clip thermique dans le fusil vide alors qu'elle se tournait vers Anderson, un smirk qui savait plâtré sur son visage. -- Vous avez toujours vos doutes à mon sujet? Un tour a été chargé dans le baril de Wraith avec la même queue qui avait réduit au silence la majorité des moments de science-types il y a, et elle a tranquillement fait son chemin à la défense de Rayes. Elle ne s'en souciait pas, mais il y avait un éclaboussure rouge foncé sur son armure de la poitrine qu'elle avait creusée il y a moins d'une minute.

Name: Sicaria Velinian Race: Turian Class: Sentinel Age: 28 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it. Backstory: Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her. Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move. In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation. Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger? She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born. For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling. When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there. Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere. Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station. They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it. Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later. The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly. Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were. Psyche Profile: Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people. Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later. There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there. Specialty: Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies. Powers/Skills: -Throw - Warp - Lift Grenade - Tech Armor - Overload - Cryo Blast Equipment and Resources: - Turian Cabal Armor - Phaeston - M-11 Wraith - Matched pair of Omni-Blades -Station Contact - Omega -Black Market Access Sample Post: ”Ugh… how drunk was I last night?” ”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.” ”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.” ”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee. One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter. The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth. ”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.” ”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point. Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible. ”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.” ”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh. Notes - Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ "So these are the people I'm protecting this time..." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks. || Vella Calixten Ophelia || ☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ja'Far Balak || ⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Tiberius Adarian || ✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik Skarr || ✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria Vicrinus || ❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.

Alria Vicrinus Endroit: Ruines de Londres Alria était occupée à chercher les scientifiques pour s'assurer qu'ils n'ont rien essayé d'autre stupide. Son pistolet s'est entraîné sur eux pour s'assurer que le niveau d'autorité supplémentaire, bien qu'elle n'ait pas l'intention de l'utiliser réellement car ils étaient non armés et elle s'est sentie assez confiante pour plutôt l'utiliser comme un bâton pour les frapper comme elle l'avait fait pour les quatre premiers. Pauvres âmes vraiment, elle n'avait rien contre les inconscients ou quoi que ce soit. Elle avait juste besoin de faire un exemple et de prouver qu'ils ne devraient pas gâcher ce Turian. Avec son point apparemment fait Alria a entendu son dos s'élever dans la forme d'une autre femme Turian et comme elle a commandé leur reddition en plus de mots qu'Alria avait, elle a regardé vers le haut pour voir son amie... saigner. Ça a fait d'Alria une double prise et quand elle l'a fait, elle a regardé l'étranger droit dans ses yeux. "Vous saignez. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" Ses mots courts, mais accentués par sa main de soutien allant jusqu'à son masque, touchant où son nez serait de montrer l'autre Turian où elle a été blessée. J'espère que ce n'était pas dû à quelque chose dans cet endroit. Sachant combien Cerberus déteste les extraterrestres, il y a peut-être quelque chose dans l'air pour tout ce qu'elle savait. Malgré l'inquiétude d'Alria, son attention a rapidement été attirée par le bruit d'une ouverture de porte, suivie de bottes en métal qui couraient le long du sol. Les renforts étaient arrivés et en vigueur, ce qui signifiait qu'il était de retour à l'action. Alria s'est envolée et s'est enfuie pour se couvrir contre un bureau afin d'éviter d'être criblée de balles, mais apparemment c'était le moins de ses soucis alors que deux mechs de FENRIS commencèrent à se charger de leur position. Un côté un peu et un côté droit pour elle. Bien qu'avant toute action puisse être prise celui qui a dévié a commencé à agir funky et ensuite s'attaquer à l'autre, en leur envoyant les deux canons droit pour Alria. Les yeux s'élargissent un peu pendant qu'ils bourdonnaient, elle s'est vite enfuie sous le bureau pour les laisser rouler sur elle et atterrir dans leur petit espace sûr. Voyant que les deux enchevêtrés ont donné à Alria une chance de frapper et donc elle a nivelé son pistolet sur eux et a rapidement déprimé la détente six fois les strikign les deux au hasard. Son but est de les faire sortir tous les deux, peu importe qui ils ont servi. Puis, alors que ses balles les frappaient, pénétrant leur armure sans bouclier avec facilité et provoquant des étincelles et des secousses à sauter de leurs cadres boiteux qui ont commencé à exploser. Alria s'est rendu compte qu'elle avait la tête enroulée sous le bureau, comme les scientifiques, pour éviter tout dommage. Juste à temps comme ils ont explosé dans une petite explosion et poivré les quelques pieds environnants avec une douce pluie de débris de robot. Avec ce problème hors de la façon Alria s'est ouverte vers le haut de sa balle pour regarder dehors les troupes d'assaut qui étaient encore en avance. Deux ont été en fait blessés à ce stade et alors que c'était gentil et tout, cela a laissé encore trois qui pouvaient tirer et blesser ses amis ou elle-même. Décidant d'essayer de mettre l'avantage plus loin de ses ennemis, elle a atteint son bas du dos et a saisi un petit disque, environ la taille d'une soucoupe à thé et après avoir appuyé sur un bouton sur elle fait et sous la main lancer pour l'envoyer tourner comme un frisbee vers le groupe d'ennemis. "Frappe-toi!" Elle a crié en même temps, en s'assurant de ne pas regarder le disque comme il a explosé, en envoyant une lumière éblouissante et aveuglante combinée à un bruit aigu qui détestait tous ceux qui regardaient dans la direction des objets.

Name: Alria “Angel” Vicrinus Race: Turian Class: Infiltrator Age: 21 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at 5’ 10’’ and weighing in about 125 pounds Alria is a very lithe and thin woman who cuts a very strong and attractive figure. Her body is fluid, flexible, and really the only blemish she has in a nasty gunshot scar on the left side of her hips. Backstory: Alria was born to a humble Turian family on their Homeworld of Palaven. Though very earlier in her life she found that she would grow up on a much more under developed planet as when she was only 2 her family was deployed as part of a security detail to Amber Horizon, a recently developed Turian colony that had been established just that year. It was supposed to be a good assignment for his soldier parents. Letting them serve the Turian people while still having a peaceful assignment from which to raise their young daughter. Alria didn’t even remember Palaven really. In fact her only memory was of rolling mountains and valleys that stretched out against a beautiful rising sun. She couldn’t even remember where the memory came from as Amber Horizon was her new home and that was where she learned to walk, talk, and play with her fellow Turians, though she didn’t have many children to play with due to the colony’s relative new stature and utility purpose as a forward communications colony. This in turn left her to either her own devices which often led to adventures of running around the forests around the colony. Which in turn often led to several injuries and encounters with the local hostile life that made her parents get a little upset with her antics. Her other method of entertainment was to run around the colony and make friends with the locals, often trying to offer help to the communication technicians and engineers who made sure the colony ran straight. This ensured that she had many older friends who would even say kind greetings and pass her treats when her parents were both out on guard duty along the walls of the colony. This was how her life turned out for the next decade, watching the world not change, but that was ok for her. This was a nice life and it kept her happy. Along that way she continue to help where she could and that in turn taught her some life skills such as how to set up and maintain communication relays as well as fly shuttles and dropship that were used to deliver and retrieve supplies and cargo around the planet. All by the young age of 14! Not to mention her own parents teaching her about the ways of war as well as how to be a right proper ass-kicker. Mostly so she could fend off those pesky boys as her Dad said. Yet with Dad jokes aside she was learning quickly to fight, shoot, and defend in the case of an attack. When Alria was 15 she went off to the military academy learning her way around in the Turian armed forces and honing her skills with a pistol and her own hands. While not exactly a conventional method of combat she proved to be exceptional at it which raised some attention to her skill. Upon placing her in an Infiltrator roll and assigning her to the Hastatim that went to Taetrus to combat the Facinus separatist group. Her skills and stealthy ability proving invaluable at taking out splinter cells located throughout the planet specifically working in Spaedar and Madra to weaken their fortified positions and damage their fragmented infrastructure. However, due to her role as a ghost she was not credited nor awarded for her faithful efforts. Though this didn't bother her one bit as it meant the conflict was over and she could have a chance to return home, and that she did heading back to Amber Horizon and reconnecting with her family and friends. Once again she felt at peace as she went back to helping around the communications relay and adventuring around the forests. This life was not meant to last though as the news of the Reapers coming back started to resurface which put the colony into overdrive. After all they were a communications relay that allowed for rapid and effective communications to the fleets and outposts near the front lines. However, this faithful service to the Turian people came at a grave cost. The Reapers had tracked down the relay signal and that meant that before long the skies went dark with enemy ships that deploy soldiers… no… monsters down on the colony. As chaos set in every one of the guards as well as some of the technicians ran to the walls to defend a battle they could never win. Alria looked around for anything she could help with and while she wanted to take a rifle to the walls she was pushed away by her parents to help the technicians secure or destroy the equipment less it fall into enemy hands. Her knowledge of the equipment proving somewhat helpful as the defenses began to collapse around them. Husks, Cannibals, and Scions burst over the walls slaughtering all the Turians present regardless of if they were combatants or not. Alria was terrified for her parents who were still fighting on the walls as far as she knew. So with everything around in chaos she took her chance to make it to the walls only to see the last moments of her parent’s lives. The monsters had them surrounded and she could only watch as they were shot down and lay still. With tear filled eyes she turned around and ran, looking around with foggy eyes she watched and saw all of her friends die and something in her snapped. She ran from cover to grab an Avenger rifle to which she took aim at a charging Husk only to freeze at the last moment. She'd fought in war, against sepetatitsts and traitors who she had to kill in return, but this was different. It was like a true horror running from her nightmares to kill her and she froze. As the monster leaped to tackle her something else leaped to tackle it; it was her mother, still bloody from the walls. Struggling for her life Alria’s mother shouted out, “Shoot it!” To which the shaking Alria held up her rifle to empty the magazine into the Husk. Dropping it to the ground Alria ran up to her mother and bent over her, crying as she begged and pleaded for her to get up and flee with her into the woods. Yet she knew it was too late and so her mother said, “Please… I love you… so much… now run… run!” Alria let her tears fly free as she cried over her mother who gave her one last hug. Then as her last wish she gave Alria her pistol, a custom and special thing that she always intended to pass onto her daughter… just not like this. Alria made it out of the colony and hid in the woods as her home was stolen from her and she was the lone survivor. Guilt and sadness eating away at her very bones she waited. Crying and praying that things would just go back to the way they were. And as the days passed by her sadness and grief turned into rage and hate. She hated those monsters for taking everything she had and that made her want payback. Returning to her stolen home she found an occupational force guarding the communications relay that they tried to destroy during the invasion. They had to have been trying to splice into their network and really Alria didn’t care. She didn’t care that they were trying to steal secrets. She didn’t care that they were trying to take their things. She didn’t care that they wanted what her home had to offer. She only cared that she knew what they wanted and that she knew how to deprive them of it. Sneaking like a shadow she returned home and using her mother’s Custom Silenced Reaver M-17 Pistol she started to wage a one woman guerrilla war to reap the reapers and as she snuck back to the relay she had several close calls which would certainly spell certain doom. But her determination lead her on and then into the relay she went. Slinking around the ducts and maintenance corridors as she made her way to the power supply knowing that she only had to put one well-placed grenade to turn the entire facility into a giant fireball. Before long she snuck to her goal and had a chance, but she wanted more… It wasn’t enough to just starve the Reapers of this resource; she wanted to hurt them too. Taking the suppressor off of her pistol she started to shoot the Cannibals and make a real firefight engaging the monsters which in turn made more come to the relay to stop the threat. Just as she wanted and not thinking of her own safety she was shot in her hip. That turning point making her realize this was it. She took her grenade and threw it into the power supply letting the heavy electrical currents cook the metal of the casing in its entirety to give her more time to escape. Limping back to the maintenance tunnels she crawled and ran as fast as she could before a solid thump could be heard radiating behind her. That in turn causing a chain reaction which made the entire place begin its death song. She knew her time was short and that meant she had to move fast if she was to survive long enough to hurt the Reapers again. As fires started to burst around her the exit showed and she used the last of her energy to run out as and escape at the last second. Still yet her task wasn’t done. This planet was doomed and she had to escape. Looking around as the Reapers had lost track of her she saw one of the intact orbital transports. That was her ticket out. Running for the ship she got inside undetected and then put her pilot’s training to use, firing up the ship and ignoring any and all protocols for takeoff instead to just take flight and launch herself into the stars and to safety. Alria, 19, alone, and lost in the galaxy drifted wondering what to do unable to forget the nightmare she lived through on Amber Horizon. That was when she was found by a Turian fleet that took her ship and saved her life. It was in that moment she found her direction. Returning to the Turian military and offering her skills as an elite infiltrator she took to serving on countless missions requesting or even demanding assignments that put her against the Reapers. Her skills with stealth, pistols, and CQC skill proving to be incredibly lethal and effective while her knowledge of technology and piloting offering her a wider set of skills for sabotage and self-insertion. This was her life, getting her payback on the Reapers and being good at it up until she was 20 and the Human Commander Shepard led his team on Earth to use the Crucible and end the war. Still serving in the Turian military she had a new goal. Return home and finally put her past to rest. Psyche Profile: Key Details from the dossier of Vicrinus, Alria Codenamed: “Angel” Psychologically Vicrinus acts and behaves rather young and care free for her already rather young age. Often goofy and elated Vicrinus is often seen humming as she goes about her business. Regardless of her task she seems to enjoy it, from training, cooking, singing, or even dancing. Attributing factors to this may include her solitary lifestyle as well as a seeming love for freedom and whimsy... ...Vicrinus has shown an almost obsessive view of her armaments treating them with the utmost care before, during, and after each mission. Eye witness accounts have stated that she has been seen talking to her pistol. Vicrinus wished to make no comment on the issue. Psychological impact of this behavior has been dismissed due to the lack of negative effects that it presents... WARNING: Known trauma from the Amber Horizon Event has left Vicrinus with a deep seeded hatred for the Reapers. Extent of this hatred has yet to be explored but it has proven to guide her. ...On mission Vicrinus has proven to be a highly effective member of a team, taking her orders and briefing to heart and committing her actions to swift and effective action. In fact this effect can be visibly and verbally noticed by the activation of her visor. Once her tactical readout has been engaged Vicrinus rarely speaks and often adopts a “kill or be killed” attitude... ...Vicrinus has proven to adopt very “loyalistic” outlook making actions to preserve friendly life and ruthlessly kill enemy presences. “Obstacles and Collateral Elements” as Vicrinus has previously stated are of no consequence and while she “Strives to avoid unnecessary death” has proven to “non-lethally subdue” previously stated elements even if it brings the subjects to a state of pain... Specialty: Alria specializes in assassination and sabotage. With her incredible skill with close-quarters combat and pistols as well as her eye and knowledge of finding weak points in enemy structures leave her with plenty of utility as long as she has the tactical advantage of surprise. Due to the Amber Horizon Event she has developed a special bravery that helps to guide her into ridiculously close ranges from which she takes down her foes. Her skill with a blade and her own hands is unrivaled, being able to fight off three foes at once with a bit of effort put in. Yet where she becomes the most lethal is when she gets the drop on her foes, unleashing a torrent of bullets from her pistol, while tossing her Omni-Daggers, and using her Special Omni-Blade for the finishing touches. Beyond her combat capability she has spent weeks flying in varied environments leaving her as a very skilled and talented pilot. While not as good with capital sized vessels; fighters, transports, and small frigates or corvettes feel like home to her. Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak Incinerate Armor-Piercing Ammo Disruptor Ammo Cryo Ammo Decryption Ace Pilot CQC Mastery Equipment and Resources: Sticky Grenades Flashbang Grenades M-83-2 Infiltration Explosives Custom Suppressed Reaver M-17 Pistol (Custom made and crafted by Alria’s mother this suppressed pistol mixed rapid rates of fire and low recoil with high stopping power for a highly effective sidearm.) Twin Custom “Scythe” Omni-Blades (Physical Special knives that generates an Omni-field around the blade to give it a powerful and lethal edge.) Omni-Throwing-Daggers (Generated from her wrist gauntlets these blades form the same holographic energy that most conventional Omni-Blades are made of. Though using a magnetic dispersion field they can maintain their solid shape and be thrown; existing for an extended period of time away from the source.) Modified Seraphim Light Tactical Infiltrator Armor w/ Jump Jet Rig Personally Owned and Modified XA-273 Light Fighter Alria's personal ship, "The Silver Star" is a XA-273 Light Fighter that Alria had modified with advanced thrusters and rudders to increase the speed and handling of the craft. Making sure to have a ship that can keep up with her abilities as an ace pilot. The forward rudders are designed for powerful and rapid turning at high speeds which are achieved through the large and powerful engines that exist near the rear. Similarly this frontal steering provides incredible agility by guiding the ship at a high point versus the traditional mid or rear point. Twin linked gatling cannons on the prow fire from gimballed turrets provide a rapid, form of attack as well as self defense. As a means of heavier ordnance the ship has twin racks of Type-22 Needle Missiles for powerful and precise strikes. The armor of the ship is moderate giving it's size and speed, but falls short compared to most other light fighters. The interior of the ship is streamlined to provide a slick and open cockpit while also providing some storage space for personal effects, medical supplies, and equipment. Similarly it has an interior door that connects to the small cargo bay at the rear of the ship. Sample Post: Palaven. Really Alria remember it much more differently, but that didn’t really matter much now anyway. The Reapers had been cruel to the Turian homeworld and that meant her one memory of this place was just that, a faraway memory. Her mission was to assault an enemy position and remove the threat of artillery strikes that it posed. The Reapers had taken over a Turian artillery position and were now shelling their positions with their own munitions. That could not continue. Alria had wasted no time in closing the distance to the site but then took a moment to inspect it. 12 hostiles, mostly Marauders who were defending the position while two worked the two remaining artillery cannons. Among them was 4 Husks that appeared to just be mindlessly wandering around, which left the 8 Marauders as the real threat. Timing was key and she didn’t have much time to wait for her opportunity as each shell could mean more friendly casualties. Thankfully her chance arrived when Marauder on top of the ridge turned its back for some reason leaving the Husks unwatched. Dashing like a bolt of lightning the invisible Alria drew her knife and pistol and closed the gap to her foes. In the blink of an eye she slashed the first Husk becoming visible and taking its head off with the precision of her strike. In the next fraction of a second she took a swift aim with her pistol and depressed the trigger to turn the second Husk’s head into metal shrapnel. Before the two survivors knew what was going on and could shriek for help Alria already had her knife sheathed so she could grab a Omni-Dagger which was thrown with deadly accuracy at the flick of a wrist to strike a Husk in the body. Though that didn’t seem to kill it. Regardless she took aim at the unharmed Husk and turned his head to dust much as she had done to the last one. Then with the wounded Husk left she drew another Omni-Dagger and hurled it at the Husk to hit its head. That time it fell to the floor dead. Not yet finished she cloaked again and both silently and swiftly made her way up to the artillery position. 8 hostiles left 2 working stations, the other 6 patrolling and as of yet unaware of her actions…. Perfect. Alria drew two Sticky Grenades and in her other hand her pistol stood ready. Rushing in once more her invisible frame threw the first grenade at the control panel of the artillery station making the Marauder question what just made a slight thunk against his cannon before it detonated in a small but very powerful explosion that turned him to paste… 7. From there she tossed the second and once again the second artillery cannon with his user were taken out of commission… 6. In a flash Alria fired her pistol while cloaked disrupting her field but in the process putting two shots to the chest and one to the head of a Marauder… 5. Meanwhile her grenade hand flawlessly drew three Omni-Daggers that were then tossed one at a time to the second Marauder. The first struck his shoulder, the second his thigh, then the third his head… 4. At this point her presence was known and the survivors turned to face and fire on her, but before the first shot could be made Alria had already closed the gap to one and drew her Omni-Blade shooting him once to open his flank before making two swift slashes, one to the side and the second to his neck, looking to strike vital areas… 3. It was then the bullets started flying and that made her use the corpse of the Marauder as cover so she could catch a moment to blink. In response to their gunfire she dashed towards them looking to remove their ranged advantage and in doing so she took four shots with her pistol, all striking true into the chest of another Marauder… 2. With the gap closed one of the two surviving Marauders took a swing with its rifle looking to club her, but Alria almost seemed to expect this as she ducked and rolled under the swing to slash up at its arm cutting deep and long to make the Marauder drop its rifle. In that same instant she holstered her pistol and lashed out with her free hand to grab the Marauder’s arm to steady her movement, using that to swiftly stab up with her blade to hit under the Marauder’s jaw… 1. For the last Marauder she rolled low towards him using her low position to essentially tackle his legs, reaching up to grab his arm and using her blade to cut at his waist. All this attributing to an overhead roll that put the Marauder on his back. Finally using this advantage she swung the blade back around to slam it through the Marauder’s eye, pinning his head to the ground… 0. With the fight over Alria drew her blade out of the Marauder’s head and sheathed it, standing up and looking around to ensure things were handled before she reached up to her visor, activating her comms, ”Artillery position decommissioned. Returning to camp.” Notes She considers herself straight and has an affinity for Turians, Quarians, and Humans. Due to her very active and rather turbulent life she can’t really claim to have much experience with romance. So much so that she can’t claim to have lain with another. Little fact about her, she can't handle her booze too well getting drunk pretty quickly. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗Alria Vicrinus ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "There's little better in the galaxy than good music and bad dancing!" | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "He's not so bad. Maybe a bit of a hardass at times, but that's ok! We're all like that a little bit." ⚜ "Bit of a rocky start with this one. Started on the same mission and were thankfully on the same side, but of course I didn't know that at the time. Had a bit of a turbulent run in, few tense words, a lot more awkward words... But hey! At the end of the day we got over it and he's a pretty good guy! A bit cute too..." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ "Guy's committed I'll give him that. I just don't know what he's committed to..." ✌ "This guy's a bit of an unknown. Anderson knows him but I sure don't. Really he seems like a real hardass, but I think it's just because of what he's put with. In fact he reminds me of some of my old commanders in the Hastatim, ill tempered but dedicated to the cause. Who knows maybe we could be friends." || Ravanor Rykarn || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Rykarn? Never heard of him. Sounds Krogan. I'll bet he's a Krogan." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "I have no rightly clue who or how this person is. I mean she's an Asari... so... she's blue." || Ellis Taevon || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Again who? He's a Human... I think." || Rayes'Xum Nar Yaron || ✌ "Seems nice, doesn't really talk much, but hot damn does he know his stuff!" ✌ "Rayes. That's what I call him anyway. Quarian names are always so long. I haven't talked much to him, but really it wasn't easy to talk to somebody when you're assaulting a Cerberus base and hacking into their systems. Still his actions speak volumes and he can do a lot with very little. Hacking, fighting, guarding. I like him! And he's even got a nice butt!" || Phalanx || ✌ "It's a robot. But it seems to have a good... uh... wires. It sure loves to talk too." ✌ "Phalanx. What an odd name, but then again it is a robot they kinda get a pass for things like that... Anyway it seems ok, but maybe a tad long winded. Note to self... watch what you ask it less you get quiet an earful. Beyond talking it is sure one Hell of a fighter and real good with that sniper of it's too. I know what the Geth did, but this one seems ok in my books and I'm glad to have it on my side." || Ja'Far Balak || ✌ "He smokes... a lot." ✌ "I mean it... This guy smokes A LOT! Not that it's a bad thing, what you do for vices is your choice and it doesn't hurt others right? Anyway, he has that look that I've seen a millions times. He's seen some shit. I don't know if it was a war, or family loss, or whatever but he's got that look. To be honest... I can't help but relate a little to him." || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ✌ "This is a good soldier. No if, ands, or butts about it." ✌ "Narris knows what needs to be done for a mission to go right and while it may not be the most glorious or heroic he'll do it. I haven't had much interaction with him on the mission so far, but that's only because he stayed back to ensure my ass was covered and that means I have some serious respect for the guy." || Tiberius "Tye" Adarian || ☕ "I don't know much about this guy, but damn! Just look at him! He's huge! ☕ "Again I don't know a whole lot about this guy, but the one thing I do know... He's massive even for a Turian. I mean just look at the guy! You'd need a step ladder just to be eye to eye with him!" || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ☕ "Another Krogan. Not sure about much else..." ☕ "Another member of this little rag-tag team that I don't know about. He looks like a Krogan though so he must be able to kick ass. Right?" || Sicaria Velinian || ⚜ "A Turian like me, but she seems to get nosebleeds a lot. Might need to see the doc about that." ⚜ "I know this one. A Turian and about my size too. She seems ok, but really I haven't had too much interaction with her, though I think I've dealt with her the most on this mission out of everybody. Anderson excluded of course. A bit of note too... She seems kind of... curious about me. I think? Not entirely sure what's going on but she doesn't seem bad." || Gilvert Somner || ☕ "Another guy I don't know... yet." ☕ "You don't see many Drell around, but here one is! Though I haven't had a chance to get to know him I'm curious about 'em!" || Salissa Fortia || ☕ "Now this one is just crazy. Driven. But crazy." ☕ "I don't have any problems with her, but she is certainly crazy. I mean who runs into a tide of Husks, Cannibals, and Marauders alone? Even if it is to prop up a barrier and keep her teammates safer for a few more seconds. Still it at least means she's loyal which can be a good thing. Just gotta make sure that crazy doesn't spoil the loyal." || Ethan Sartiel || ☠ "I don't wanna sound mean saying it, but I don't like this guy." ☠ "I have a lot of people I hate and even a few people I REALLY hate. Ethan isn't one of them, but if his first impression is anything to go on. He'll be there soon. I mean who asks people what they shot while in the middle of a fight for their lives! That's just... So rude."

Allez, vieux Chugger! Vous avez entendu le Sgt Tusky, nous nous dirigeons vers la base! Vella a tapé l'armure de Tibère du côté avec enthousiasme, avant que les Asari sautent de la couverture et se précipitent pour atteindre la position d'Aegon! Elle s'est déplacée avec un pas rapide et rapide sur le terrain en ruine. Même si tous les ennemis de la zone actuelle étaient apparemment pris en charge, elle tenait toujours son arme dans une pose suggérant qu'elle était prête à le casser à la seconde de fraction suivante si la situation l'exigeait! Dans son esprit, elle pensait à la façon dont elle n'avait «presque» pas fait passer en contrebande ses armes et ses armures devant la sécurité des ports spatiaux. Heureusement, son côté pessimiste avait gagné à travers, quelque chose qu'elle était heureuse pour l'instant alors qu'elle était au milieu d'une bataille vallonnée! « Si c'est le meilleur Cerberus à offrir, alors ils sont sérieusement surestimés! » Vella chuckelait alors qu'elle s'assurait de choisir un morceau de couverture qui ne se flétrirait pas seulement sous le premier tir à haute puissance qui l'a frappé, finissant par ramasser un vieux bloc lourd poussiéreux de béton armé qu'elle s'accroupissait derrière. Être presque sept pieds de haut elle-même n'a pas vraiment aidé l'ensemble "couvrez-vous!" une sorte de partie de combat, cependant, il avait rendu les Asari assez bon aux squats, donc c'était une chose! Cependant, alors que les portes s'ouvraient soudainement, et qu'une nouvelle vague d'opérateurs du Cerberus et de leurs alliés robotiques s'enflammait, l'humeur de Vella allait changer une fois de plus à mesure qu'elle soulevait son fusil. Une douzaine de mechs de FENRIS sont venus bondir et se lier vers eux, accompagnés d'un grand nombre d'opérateurs de Cerberus qui suivent de près derrière! Pour voir une grande force pousser à travers un couloir étroit pourrait suggérer quelque chose de désespoir ou d'insouciance de la part des défenseurs. Vella s'était surtout occupée de pirates et de criminels avant la guerre de Reaper, le type lâche qui préférait skulk dans toutes les ombres et se blottir dans les coins s'ils perdaient du terrain. Ce n'est qu'à la guerre de Reaper qu'elle a été témoin de tactiques agressives, et la récente ruée de Cerberouch n'a donc pas été aussi surprise. "Pousse-toi!" Vella a soudainement appelé le reste de son équipe, alors que les Asari atteignaient une grenade EMP à sa ceinture avant de la jeter vers le centre des mechs FENRIS entrants. Dans une seconde, la grenade EMP a explosé, libérant une impulsion électromagnétique conçue pour faire frire les circuits et l'électronique! La plupart des mechs de FENRIS ont été immédiatement touchés par elle, ce qui les a provoqués à devenir énervants et lugubres. Les lumières sur l'un d'eux s'estompaient alors qu'il s'est effondré, inactif, tandis qu'un autre s'est figé dans sa position, répétant un message: "Erreur. Erreur. Défaut de fonctionnement. Les opérations ont cessé. Veuillez appeler le support technique au +91 456 17 438!" En raison de leur vitesse, certains des FENRIS avaient esquivé l'explosion et s'approchaient encore rapidement. Vella ne s'est plus concentrée sur eux, décidant de les laisser pour les Krogans. Au lieu de cela, la marche des Gardiens qui s'approchaient était sa nouvelle préoccupation. Elle n'avait jamais fait face à eux auparavant, seulement lu sur la façon dont ils soi-disant riaient du tout, sauf l'armement le plus puissant en raison de leurs boucliers. Cependant, elle avait également lu sur leur vulnérabilité à la biotique, quelque chose qu'elle tenait à découvrir. "Singularité dehors - Reculez!" Vella a appelé alors qu'elle poussait vers l'avant avec un bras, comme devant trois des Gardiens avancés, un trou noir, bleuâtre tourbillonnant a soudainement émergé de nulle part! Elle entendit des grognements tendus des Gardiens, qui luttaient pour s'accrocher à leurs boucliers, l'un d'eux perdant soudain le sien alors qu'il était ramassé et se mit à flotter à l'envers dans les airs, se brouillant dans la confusion! "Bonne merde!" Elle entend soudain la voix filtrée mécaniquement d'un des Cerberus Troopers crier, car elle vient de remarquer que deux Grenades vivantes avaient également été prises par la Singularité; et étaient actuellement flottantes et se bousculant autour de lui aussi; certains des Troopers probablement n'ayant pas anticipé le phénomène biotique soudain avant de jeter leurs grenades! "Dure chance, je suppose." Vella s'est écroulée à côté d'Aegon avant que sa vision ne soit complètement obscurcie par l'écran de fumée du Centurion, et elle a perdu la vue de la fête du Cerberus qui s'avançait.

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Cela était certainement différent de la façon dont les batailles se dérouleraient habituellement pour Salissa. Elle avait tendance à se battre principalement avec des compagnons humains, de sorte que la façon dont cette escouade cerbère a été décimée en masse était quelque chose qu'elle a rarement pu voir. D'habitude, ce n'était qu'elle qui se battait de près, mais avec les Krogans, c'était vraiment amusant. Cela dit, alors que la première équipe s'occupait assez facilement, ce qui lui a ensuite donné une pause pour réfléchir quand une petite mech YMIR s'est montrée pour soutenir tous les gardiens, les LOKI et le centurion. Heureusement, son groupe actuel avait des gens avec un jugement assez décent alors que la biotique allait traiter avec les gardiens. Après qu'il y eut beaucoup de mechs détruits, les gardiens étant pris en charge et même le YMIR prenait un peu de chaleur, mais franchement ce monstre d'une machine pouvait facilement prendre un peu plus. La lourde mech a été conçue pour ce genre de situation. Au début, Salissa était sur le point de morceler les unités ennemies restantes, elle s'est rendue compte que Vella allait chercher une solution au problème des grenades. Elle serait un peu une cible tout en se concentrant donc Salissa a rapidement pris position. Elle s'est renversée, prenant position devant elle avec son bouclier incliné sur le côté alors qu'elle tirait aussi son révérend. Maintenant, elle pourrait tirer et fournir une protection jusqu'à un certain point au moins. La mitrailleuse a pris vie avec un bourdonnement au fur et à mesure qu'elle se déplaçait et l'indicateur des munitions chargées a été activé. Elle a appelé alors que le fusil a finalement commencé il définit rugissement et une grêle de balles était déchargée dans la direction du YMIR pour le distraire de l'exposition de la biotique et c'est son origine. Les explosions sur les impacts ont commencé tout de suite à mesure que les explosions traversaient la courte distance en un instant. Moment plus tard, elle a également activé la ruée sur l'adrénaline, pour s'acheter du temps supplémentaire pour viser et bien aller en pleine défense en cas de besoin.

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

J'ai appelé une bonne mise en garde. Vella avait initialement eu l'intention de donner à Ellis une pleine représailles à travers la radio lors de son accusation scandaleuse. Cependant, elle a perdu la trace de ce qu'elle était censée dire quand elle a vu Ellis; faute de mots meilleurs; faire son travail sanglant avec les membres du Cerberus, avant que la fumée ne l'obscurcisse complètement et elle a perdu la trace de lui. "On n'était pas censés aimer... empêcher l'ennemi?" Vella réfléchit un moment, trouvant une faille entre ce qu'Aegon avait dit, et ce qui se passait réellement. Peu importe! C'était un soldat, elle l'a fait comme l'avaient ordonné ses supérieurs! La loyauté était l'un des principaux principes fondamentaux de la Lance de Lumière! C'est ce qui a rendu la Division supérieure à tous les autres face à l'incroyable menace ennemie, et elle n'était pas sur le point de la briser, même si le commandement avait été donné par quelqu'un de l'extérieur de la direction de la Division! Cependant, elle s'est brusquement remise à la bataille à mesure qu'une nouvelle menace surgissait! Cerberus leur avait lancé une volée coordonnée de grenades. Ils étaient assez étendus pour que Vella se sente confiante que ses défenses pouvaient gérer un ou deux d'entre eux, mais si l'intégrité structurelle de la grotte pouvait les tenir était une autre question entièrement! Son premier instinct était de les renvoyer à leurs expéditeurs, mais cela irait à l'encontre de l'ordre de non-tuation d'Aegon et aurait de bonnes chances de tuer Ellis! "Je dois faire ça de la manière la plus dure - pas moyen de le contourner!" Alors que Rykarn était sur le point de jeter l'un des membres du Cerberus au-dessus d'une des grenades, il voyait soudain une teinte bleue l'entourer, alors qu'il commençait à se balancer et à se balancer le long du sol alors qu'il se glissait soudainement entre les pieds du Krogan et s'envolait derrière lui! Peu après, le reste des grenades les blessaient par la force biotique vers le milieu de la pièce; leurs lumières rouges clignaient frénétiquement alors qu'elles s'approchaient rapidement de la détonation! Cependant, comme les grenades se rencontraient au centre de la pièce, elles seraient soudainement enfermées dans un champ de stase - temporairement congelées dans le temps dans une bulle blanche et opaque. "Erecting a Biotic Barrier, demander de l'aide biotique!" Vella a radiographié au-dessus de l'interphone car elle avait attaché son fusil à son pectoral et a tourné toute son attention vers le champ de stase, se préparant à ériger une barrière biotique autour d'elle. Au bout de quelques secondes, la stase s'estompait. Vella doutait que sa seule barrière puisse arrêter complètement l'explosion simultanée de plus d'une demi-douzaine de grenades, mais tant qu'elle pourrait atténuer suffisamment la destruction pour empêcher une grotte, c'était tout ce dont elle avait besoin. Bien qu'elle s'estime personnellement au-dessus de tout autre biotique dans ce parti compte tenu de son héritage asari, elle ne pouvait pas se permettre aucune chance avec cela, et ainsi en privé espérait que certains des biotiques dans l'équipe aiderait. Les barrières étaient l'une des techniques fondamentales enseignées dans la division, et elle savait bien qu'elles se produisaient beaucoup mieux lorsqu'elles étaient renforcées par de multiples biotiques! "Renforcez ma barrière!"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Compte tenu de la quantité de personnalités stupéfiantes et à haute portée qui venaient d'être régnées, avoir encore un nouveau venu volatile agitant un énorme Rêveur de baise au sein du groupe en général était un miracle en ce sens qu'elle n'était pas immédiatement déchargée par les personnalités stupéfiantes précédemment notées. Ce que l'humain espérait accomplir en confrontant l'équipe seule, même avec une puissance de feu considérable, était n'importe qui devinait, mais si elle avait rencontré des gens avec un peu moins d'intentions et de tempérament, elle n'aurait pas eu le temps d'apprendre que c'était apparemment la même équipe qu'elle était enrôlée. Rykarn a rencontré un regard de côté avec Partinax, ce dernier offrant une forte punaise. Ça devenait quelque chose d'un miracle que personne n'était encore mort. La nuit était encore jeune. Quoi qu'il en soit, les ordres étaient clairs et le krogan était satisfait. Ne les tuez pas à moins qu'ils n'essayent de vous tuer, et ne les brisez pas plus que nécessaire, mais tuez si nécessaire. Simple, simple, et au point. Les équipes ont commencé à se déplacer, se dirigeant vers des chemins séparés, fusil de tir en Tornado Rykarn, une arme fiable et bien utilisée qui était l'un des modèles de catalogue plus anciens de l'armée turienne des entrepreneurs principaux mis sur le marché public, étendu en main sur des surfaces de roulement bien lubrifiés. Slapper dans un mod de munitions de Cryo dans le port approprié, il a regardé comme le nouveau venu, Salissa, a rejoint les rangs après avoir été donné la descente rapide par Anderson. L'homme avait probablement besoin d'un verre d'eau pour parler. "Vous ne pensez pas vraiment les choses à travers, n'est-ce pas?" Rykarn a demandé à la femme, muselée, comme ils ont continué à travers le tunnel, se dirigeant vers la position d'avant-garde, en gardant un œil vif sur le danger. Les tunnels étaient des endroits qu'il avait marché des dizaines de fois, rencontrant rarement quoi que ce soit, mais tout ce dont vous aviez besoin, c'était de sauter d'un tuyau d'égout une fois pour rester vigilant. À l'approche de l'objectif, Rykarn s'est brouillé avec le reste de l'équipe pour écouter leur commandant, qui a donné l'évaluation rapide de la situation. De la façon confiante dont Partinax a évalué la situation, Rykarn a conclu que les deux Spectres avaient au moins passé un certain temps à faire une reconnaissance du site. Le krogan n'avait vraiment aucun moyen de faire face au blindage autre que la force brute, mais à portée de main, le fusil de chasse traversait à peu près n'importe quoi. Déplacer et tirer serait plus facile avec la propagation, et les Cryo rondes seraient en mesure de désactiver les cibles non-lethally, à condition qu'ils ne prennent pas un autre coup lourd qui briserait leur corps comme le verre. En vérifiant son omnitool pour regarder les plans une dernière fois, Rykarn a hurlé qu'il était prêt. Son sang était déjà en train de pomper, et d'innombrables millénaires de sang de krogan couraient dans ses veines. Il a donné un spectacle qui serait difficile à ignorer. Après avoir soigneusement repéré le point de départ, Rykarn a pris note des 14 figures. Il a marché dans les rues les plus ensemencées de Londres assez pour savoir que ces trouducs n'étaient pas sans-abri; il était assez clair de voir qu'ils mangeaient et l'odeur de l'odeur du corps était manifestement manquante. Résistant à son instinct de s'en charger, Rykarn a posé ses dents en prévision, regardant loin quand le premier flashbang est entré. Lorsque la charge d'aveuglement s'est éteinte, Rykarn a été chargé dans un moment plus tard, Ellis déjà en avant comme la distraction d'avoir ce que Cerberus était caché sortir de se cacher en réponse à la menace extrêmement visible. Un corps a eu une blessure sanglante explosive de sortie d'un fusil à haute puissance dans la vision périphérique de Rykarn, et Salissa souffle une guerre étonnamment efficace pour un humain comme elle a chargé dans les rangs de l'ennemi, manipulant les membres Cerberus les plus proches. Quelques-unes des tourelles ont été frappées, mais Rykarn n'a pas été en train de gagner sa chance avec leurs systèmes de ciblage étant en bas le long de son vecteur. Avec un lancer sous la main bien pratiqué, une grenade à fragmentation a atterri sous le canon de la tourelle la plus proche, détonant un moment plus tard, arrosant la machine de son deuil, bousculant l'alliage métallique et frappant le revolver d'arme; une seconde grenade a suivi vers l'autre, atterrissant un peu sur le côté mais ayant toujours l'effet désiré. Rykarn était assez proche que des éclats creusés dans son blindage, renversant environ un quart de sa limite de condensateur, mais certainement pas assez pour arrêter son élan. Rykarn a frappé une plaque de pression dans son avant-bras armure de sa main d'arme et il a senti les injecteurs médicaux jab dans la chair plus douce entre ses plaques, l'adrénaline soudainement enflammé dans son système; le monde semblait se déplacer plus lentement et le krogan était soudainement très conscient de son sang tonner à travers ses ventricules. Il a porté son fusil à porter sur l'agent le plus proche de Cerberus, l'arme tonnant en succession alors qu'il lâchait trois coups de feu, atteignant près de la moitié de sa capacité de puits de chaleur, et la lourde propagation a frappé dans le garde de Cerberus, l'étouffant, la glace cristallisant sur sa mitrailleuse Hornet exposée, verrouillant son mécanisme de tir après la première explosion a échappé à l'arme, brossant par le flanc de Rykarn, comme le krogan chargé sur lui, conduisant son épaule et bosse dans l'homme, la force d'un extraterrestre blindé pesant trois fois son poids frappant comme une voiture et l'envoyant planter douloureusement à travers le béton. D'autres coups creusés dans le bouclier de Rykarn's, fouettant son condensateur vers le bas mais pas assez pour arrêter son élan, la rage de sang se construisant en lui; il a attrapé son fusil de chasse encore refroidi par le linceul de barillet et a conduit la poignée de pistolet dans une balançoire large dans la poitrine de la prochaine garde, se fendant dans le plateau de poitrine polycéramique comme une mace, doublant la garde de Cerberus tandis que Rykarn a attrapé l'homme suivant par la visière, exerçant une terrible force pour conduire l'agent dur dans le sol. Le krogan rugissait en jubilant-fury, sa vision floue et ses muscles brûlants comme ils avaient besoin de frapper vraiment quelque chose. Tirant son Talon de sa hanche alors qu'il libéra son fusil de chasse avec l'autre main, Rykarn laissa sortir un rire infernal alors qu'il ouvrit le feu sur le prochain groupe groupé. Pas d'évasion! Il défie, ramenant son fusil dans son autre main, visant l'arme à la masse inférieure pour essayer de geler leurs pieds. Il était difficile de prêter attention au côté rationnel qui lui rappelait qu'il avait reçu l'ordre de garder les pyjaks en vie, mais il était un professionnel, après tout; il savait quelles étaient ses limites. Cerberus, cependant, ne l'a pas fait.

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

Rykarn a affirmé quand le Spectre a ordonné à l'équipe de s'empiler jusqu'à la porte. Il a apprécié le peu d'un spectacle Partinax mis sur avec les jets de saut; il s'est brièvement demandé si ce genre de technologie fonctionnerait pour lui. Puis encore une fois, l'atterrissage serait l'enfer sur ses genoux. Il avait regardé autour de lui, son corps encore tendu, le sang bouillant à la recherche d'un combat, et le reste de l'équipe avait fait un court travail des gardes de Cerberus. C'était un début prometteur; peut-être que les Spectres savaient ce qu'ils faisaient quand ils assemblaient leurs dossiers. Avant que l'ordre de franchir la porte puisse être donné, Cerberus était suffisamment réfléchi pour ouvrir la barrière renforcée de contre-attaque, espérant attraper leurs agresseurs hors de garde. L'ordre fut donné de libérer tout ce qu'ils avaient sur l'ennemi, et sous son casque, Rykarn grimaça malicieusement. Les gants de gamins sortaient. En remettant le fusil de chasse et l'arme latérale dans leurs fentes respectives, Rykarn a tiré le lance-grenades M-100 de son dos et s'est retiré du mur dans l'intention de tirer le meilleur parti des ennemis groupés. Rella avait jeté une grenade EMP dans les mechs groupés, qui a immédiatement frit la plupart de leurs systèmes et a décalé leur charge, et elle a suivi son attaque avec une singularité, qui a brisé le mur de bouclier avançant. Le krogan a été impressionné par le jugement asari, peut-être pendant le combat où elle était une personne compétente, puisque ses impressions sociales laissaient beaucoup à désirer. De la radio en colère d'Ellis, statique, apparemment les grenades jouaient l'enfer sur ses systèmes de costume. Il avait évidemment des problèmes; il ne se déplaçait pas, peut-être à cause des systèmes frits. Rykarn s'est simplement senti validé dans le fait qu'il ne dépendait pas de l'électronique fantaisiste pour se battre; quand vous pourriez être sorti d'un combat en raison de mauvais câblage, vous n'étiez pas fiable. La fumée remplissait le couloir, bloquant le contact visuel avec l'ennemi, sauf pour les cartouches de traceurs mortelles du canon rotatif monté sur le bras YMIR. Il savait d'expérience de première main à quel point les mechs YMIR étaient brutaux, bien que habituellement du côté qu'ils étaient déployés. Un des mechs était égal à une section d'une valeur de soldats raisonnablement entraînés et équipés, et un seul était capable de briser les lignes de front de toutes les unités sauf les plus préparées. Heureusement, Rykarn n'avait pas besoin de voir ce qu'il tirait, tant qu'il tirait sur ses propres alliés, les grenades s'occupaient du reste. Arrivé au tir, Rykarn appuie sur la gâchette et l'arme secoue violemment en enflammant une grenade et le cylindre lourd tourne en position suivante, se verrouillant en place avec un jarret fort et affirmatif. En tirant cinq coups de feu de plus et en entendant chaque détonation, il s'est senti satisfait qu'il ait laissé une bosse importante dans les nombres de l'ennemi et a peut-être fait un nombre sur le YMIR, à condition que ses boucliers soient assez bas. Le krogan devrait attendre que la fumée se dégage pour voir les fruits de son travail explosif; Partinax ne pouvait pas lui donner l'enfer à propos de l'utilisation d'explosifs quand ils atterrissaient à l'intérieur de la base, n'est-ce pas? Ce n'est pas comme si tout le tunnel allait descendre sans impact direct, non? En parlant d'explosions... Une série de grenades ont été retournées, peut-être lancées avant même que Rykarn ne prenne le but, et ont atterri autour du groupe. Il n'y avait pas beaucoup de temps de sa position pour ramasser les grenades et les renvoyer, ce qui semblait aussi une excellente façon de perdre un bras, mais il y avait une autre option que le krogan avait. À proximité se trouvaient deux des soldats du Cerberus grièvement blessés qu'il avait abattus, et lâchant son lance-grenades, Rykarn s'est précipité vers l'endroit où ils se trouvaient à quelques pieds de là, s'emparant un par le collier et la ceinture de munitions, le jetant à terre sur l'une des grenades clignotant rapidement, suivie rapidement par la seconde. Leur corps et leur armure absorberaient la majeure partie de l'impact. Il s'est avéré que les prisonniers étaient utiles, après tout. Il ne restait plus beaucoup de temps avant que les grenades restantes ne détonent, alors Rykarn espérait que peut-être l'un des biotiques serait en mesure de les repousser vers leurs expéditeurs.

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

Mes collègues, mes meurtres. Ellis sourit alors qu'il saisit les coins de son conteneur d'expédition. Ses doigts étaient forts, et des empreintes de main plissées gauches dans l'alliage. Son esprit était aussi fort, et il appela toute la volonté qu'Ellis pouvait employer, ses mains couvertes, cachées dans des coquilles d'obscurité. Il s'est levé. Cette caisse était lourde, trop lourde pour ses mains, mais pas trop lourde pour son esprit. Il rassembla toute sa force, et se prépara à la jeter. Le YMIR rugissait au-dessus, synthétisé cri rendant le feu constant de la mitrailleuse presque inaudible. Ces Xenos ont de la chance qu'ils soient de notre côté. Je croyais qu'on était de leur côté. Vous voyez ces corps? Tu étais de leur côté. C'est bien. Je serai peut-être un traître professionnel. Ce n'est pas un vrai boulot. Alors je suis un entrepreneur. Ce qui vous aide à dormir la nuit. "Nous devons sortir ce truc!" La voix flangante d'un turois. Ellis' HUD désigne la voix comme appartenant à Tibère, le biotique hétérochromique. Bien sûr, il admet lui-même que le Turian a raison, alors qu'il hisse la caisse d'expédition sur son genou. Il pourrait le soulever avec sa biotique, mais il doit garder sa force. Ses servos gémissent alors qu'il se lève, plus haut et plus haut. La matière noire qu'il rassemble est devenue une coquille noire au-dessus du conteneur. L'ennemi mech est encore distrait. "Celui-ci est à moi!" Il se prépara, s'étendit, tira, et plie l'énergie autour du récipient. Il sentait que ça se tensait, comme une bande de caoutchouc. Puis il s'est cassé. Le conteneur a tiré comme une balle, et Ellis a crié une blague privée que peut-être aucun autre alors il se souvient maintenant: "Catch!" Le métal criait sur le métal, et l'échafaudage statique de la Mech jouait l'enfer avec les haut-parleurs d'Ellis. Il pouvait sentir son costume commencer à surchauffer à nouveau, et, luttant pour recharger, a crié "Couvre-moi!" tandis qu'il roulait vers des corps frais de Cerberus, espérant se cacher pendant qu'il se refroidissait. Le YMIR n'était pas mort, mais il était aussi ouvert que n'importe quelle cible ne pouvait l'être. "Tuez-le, l'aide pour la tête!" Il commençait déjà à transpirer, et sa vision flippait un peu ici et là, et le YMIR enflammé n'aidait pas. Il s'est maudit à nouveau pour avoir perdu son arme, s'est battu pour continuer à se concentrer sur le changement de ses puits de chaleur. L'échappement s'est cogné le corps. Le dernier coup a pris beaucoup de lui. "NÉRO, haut... supplément calorique. Administrer jusqu'à ce que les signes vitaux se stabilisent." Sa vision brouillait, et il luttait pour garder la conscience, alors qu'il s'agenouillait parmi les cadavres de ses anciens collègues.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Avec une efficacité calme, Skarr a remplacé le clip de son fusil de chasse Claymore par des cartouches standard, puis a éteint l'arme. Il a récupéré son M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle et a tenu son cadre massif juste derrière la couverture des murs d'installations. La force qui s'approchait d'eux était formidable, surtout la plus grande mech YMIR dans le dos. Dans son esprit, l'ancien combattant planifiait déjà son assaut vers l'avant. Il pouvait déjà voir ses balles envoyer des agents de Cerberus et des petits mechs dans l'œil de son esprit, mais tout comme il était sur le point de faire de telles éducations une réalité... Une chose sur laquelle il ne comptait pas était ses alliés. Le jeune Krogan Rykarn semblait bien faire pour lui-même, et alors que Skarr n'aurait pas préféré qu'il utilise de telles tactiques, parfois il pensait que c'était agréable de voir un autre Krogan en action. En fait, ils pouvaient travailler les uns les autres, et il a décidé qu'il serait efficace de changer de tactique et de travailler sur l'agression de son collègue Krogan. Il chargeait une fois que ces grenades ont explosé. Malheureusement, sa stratégie a dû changer une fois de plus, une fois que toutes les grenades dans la pièce ont été biotiquement placées au centre de la fraye via l'Asari, et Skarr savait que l'accusation en avant était proche du suicide, sinon du suicide réel. Il soupira, et atteignit son marteau. Peut-être qu'il pourrait sauver la situation. Il n'avait pas le biotique savoir aider les Asari dans son endevour, mais peut-être que son placement des grenades pourrait l'aider lui et l'équipe. Il a sorti la tête pour redresser les roulements, en déduisant l'emplacement des grenades et du sol. S'il pouvait le frapper dans la bonne zone... Sans plus tarder, le Krogan sauta de la couverture et frappa son marteau dans le sol dans ce qu'il croyait être un point focal dans le sol. Soudain, la puissance biotique a éclaté du sol trois fois avant d'éclater directement sous les grenades. Son attaque calculée était destinée à pousser les grenades vers les ennemis, en particulier le grand mech dans le dos.

Name: Raik "Aralakh" Skarr Race: Krogan Class: Battle Master Age: 687 Sex: Male Appearance: While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan. Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory: Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to. He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision. From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later. The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive. It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned. The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do. He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes. Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread. A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title. Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun. At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson. When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand. He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even. He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later. He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders. Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz. He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe. I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile: Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions. Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy. One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty: As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics. However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack. Powers/Skills: Shockwave (Biotic) Biotic Hammer (Biotic) Concussive Shot Frag Grenade Carnage Adrenaline Rush Marksmen Equipment and Resources: M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle M-300 Claymore Shotgun Biotic Hammer Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor Sample Post: 1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.

La bataille en bas s'était terminée, sans qu'il y ait eu de victimes ou de blessés de leur côté - Ellis semblait avoir une sorte de dysfonctionnement, mais franchement, il ne se souciait pas de ce qui lui est arrivé. Dans l'ensemble, leur efficacité semblait assez surprenante, car ils avaient facilement envoyé leurs ennemis dans les moments où le combat s'était engagé. Le turian a donné plus d'ordres et a mis Giles en surveillance... encore... Il n'y avait qu'un plaisir limité d'être à un kilomètre de l'action, alors qu'il aimait le chaos qu'il pouvait semer avec n'importe quoi mais un seul tour, il n'y avait rien de tout à fait comme utiliser sa gamme d'explosifs de près - « Danger proche » les humains l'appelaient, ils semblaient avoir un mot ou dire pour tout. Alors que le reste de l'équipe se déplaçait sur l'installation de Cerberus Giles chargé dans son prochain coup, il aimait ce morceau, les mouvements mécaniques et de jarring nécessaires pour faire qui a libéré le clip thermique épuisé, le clip lui-même ping-out avec un anneau métallique laissant derrière une piste de vapeur de son corps chaud blanc. Vraiment belle, à sa manière... Giles s'est froncé après cette pensée et cette action... c'est exactement cette ligne de pensée qui a fait sortir l'Artiste, et vu la gravité de cette mission, cela n'arriverait pas. Ses médicaments étaient toujours en vigueur et il avait une fiole de secours dans sa cartable pour qu'il aille bien. Gilvert a rampé le clip suivant dans son fusil et a regardé le champ une fois de plus pour regarder la porte où l'avant-garde s'accumulait. C'était à ce moment-là que la vraie merde a frappé le fan, plusieurs mechs ainsi que Guardians sont sortis de l'établissement prêt à rencontrer l'équipe d'assaut. C'était plus qu'un mandat suffisant pour les tuer tous, ce « parti politique » était clairement en profondeur avec Cerberus pour qu'ils reçoivent une garnison aussi grande que celle-ci. Puis il l'a vu, le grand mech YMIR qui a posé derrière la garnison ennemie, il savait comment gérer ces, et son fusil... il a été conçu pour ce moment. Heureusement que la bataille menée sur le mech a subi des dégâts, ainsi que ses barrières cinétiques étant totalement détruites. Le turncoat Cerberus hurlait pour tirer sur la tête, mais Giles n'avait pas besoin d'ordre ni d'aide pour savoir ce qu'il devait faire. Gilvert respira, poussa le stock de son fusil près de son épaule, le poussant pour une prise ferme. Un tour explosif a été chargé, son champ fermement fixé sur sa tête, les humains ont un dicton que la foudre ne frappe jamais au même endroit deux fois, eh bien, à cette occasion il le ferait. Il a tiré la gâchette et son fusil a fait rouler le tonnerre à travers le tunnel une fois de plus - il était tellement piégé au moment où il n'avait même pas besoin de couvrir ses oreilles, le rond a brûlé à travers le tunnel et percé directement à travers la tête des mechs YMIR, ce qui l'a fait exploser violemment dans une cascade d'éclats et d'électroniques. Le mech tomba à genoux, les bras s'assombrirent dans une réincarnation étrangement organique de la tête perdante, puis le témoin scintille sur son cœur, un bip lentement croissant commence à émettre à travers le tunnel, apparemment éclipsant la lutte contre le feu qui se produisit. Tout le monde savait ce qui allait suivre.

Name: Gilvert Somner, "Giles" Race: Drell Class: Infiltrator Age: 51 Sex: Male Appearance: Gilvert stands at around 5’8 and weighs roughly around 10 stone, he has a number of scars from shrapnel burns and old bullet wounds in his chest, and a few on his right arm, 2 above the shoulder, one below the elbow. Backstory: Gilvert Somner is born on Kahje - Year 2136 Gilvert has been an assassin and a mercenary in his life, as well as the fact that he fought during the reaper wars and spent a good portion of his life on Omega, he’s seen a lot of action over his life and he’s beginning to show it, at least mentally, his physical injuries over the years haven’t been overly extensive and nothing too major. Year 2156 His days as an assassin began on his “home planet” of Kahje, the Hanar homeworld, much like a number of drell that got accepted into their fold when they saved a portion of the population from the Drell homeworld, given the small number that was actually rescued it’s uncommon much to see a drell in the galaxy; however the odd and rare sighting typically means that the Hanar need work doing, given their nature there’s many things a Hanar can’t do, or at the very least things that are better left in the hands of others, when the drell were accepted into Kahje, those with certain skills, or merely those whom the hanar felt could work effectively for them were trained up to become assassins -as well as soldiers, spec-ops, anything really that revolved around combat. In his early years Gilvert was offered to perform tasks for the Hanar due to the fact that he scored highly on the tests ran by the Hanar to find the best of the Drell race, especially in regards to combat proficiency and stealth aptitude, it was also during this time that Gilvert was putting many hours of study behind Chemistry. In Drell culture it’s regarded as a great honour to be asked by the Hanar to perform certain tasks, although this didn’t really resonate well with Gilvert, he has as thankful as the rest of his race for the kindness of the hanar, but he had plans for his future that didn’t typically involve the act of killing others. If only he were blessed with foresight then he might have seen just what this path would lead him to, a life where killing is both naturally and something he does with enjoyment. He accepted the offer, knowing full well that denying it would come with a lot of attached stigma from his peers and family for that matter. His training to become an assassin for them went underway, it took 4 years to train him properly and it was around this time, that things were getting a bit off about Gilvert - it’s not exactly certain what was the initial cause for his psychosis developing, but it was certainly around this time that you could say it began to form. Multiple reports and evaluations during his training, and ones that were inevitably pulled from his schools that he had attended during childhood suggested a slight bit of mental instability, when he was growing up he did a lot of art, drawing and painting was something he loved and enjoyed, at the time they couldn't discover as to why he never pursued it, or never does it in his spare time, however it was later discovered that his mother had not liked the idea of her son becoming something like an artist and forced him to pursue something scientific or productive like a military role or working for a tech/weapons company, as to better the state of the galaxy, and increase the defence of the Hanar and the Drell alike. During combat simulations it was observed that on occasion he had the tendency to execute opponents in a very specific manner, going against protocol and training, what was particularly noted was his way to kill in a certain order - the order of their deaths was only seen by the Drells eyes, and none of his own race nor the Hanar who witnessed could fathom it. Despite everything of his odd mannerisms and actions, his proficiency was still very high and got the job done regardless of it; it was brushed aside as nothing of import - later in his life the Hanar who run this operation begin to connect the dots in thinking that he performs his art now in the only way he knows how, artistry in death, perfection in destruction his canvas is the galaxy; its people the paint; his hands the brush. The training was rigorous and intense, it departed a great deal from anything Gilvert was ever thinking of doing, or ever thought of doing - he understand that his body had been honed into a weapon now, it would have it’s uses, it meant that he could keep himself alive - it meant that whilst others would die, inevitably he would be doing a justice, the people he would have to kill, all of them were disgusting- vile creatures that made life insufferable for the majority; but regardless of the justifications, something changed about him that day. His first job - given that he was adapt in chemistry, and that he had been specialised in the use of explosives as well as long range elimination Gilvert was outfitted with a set of explosive charges and mines - his job had two tasks; eliminate the target, a Krogan warlord who lead a group of mercenaries that mainly dealt in the narcotic Red sand, and stolen cargo vessels. And destroy the cargo ship that had over 1,000 kilos of red sand on board. This job, changed Gilvert for the rest of his life; for better or for worse, is yet to be seen. Gilvert was outfitted with a Haliat armoury sniper rifle with tungsten rounds, designed specifically to take out the krogan in a single shot - assuming it landed in the head. As well as a number of different explosives, and one special bomb that was mean to be placed on the ships hull - it would be mojre than capable of destroying it. Once he had been given his full briefing and handed a large sum of credits to pave his way, he left Kahje for the first time. It was a daunting episode in his life the first off world place he visited, out of all of them, was Omega the ship provided to him took him there within a day and the only help he got on it was the fact that this place was basically the ass-end of the galaxy - all sorts of deplorables, and honest people alike come here - a friend of his called it the Anti-Citadel, and after 48 hours on the space-station, he could only agree, there was plenty of information regarding what the Citadel looked like and how it was back on Kahje, it looked amazing, truly a great place, this however, has quite the opposite. Despite how many different races were on this station, he - as a drell, got quite a few looks of surprise and skepticism, many people did not know what a Drell looked like, let alone have the “fortune” to see one in person. The one person he did know to go to however, was an Asari named Aria T’loak, the defacto leader of this station, if he wanted any better intel on his target, she’d be the one to ask. After giving the bouncer at the doors to a club named Afterlife an “entrance fee” he made his way inside. The music could be heard clearly, if not slightly muffled from outside, but inside the atmosphere was unlike anything he had ever witnessed or experience it was incredibly loud, flashing neon lights and exotic dancers, almost every race was mingling, drinking, dancing… Gilvert tried his utmost to look as if he knew what he was doing, to put on a mask to make sure he didn’t look as if was fish fresh out of water. He probably wasn’t doing very well, but Drell facial expressions are hard to read without actually knowing the race well, which will prove to serve to his advantage a great deal through his career. He asked the bartender how he could talk to the Asari, and got pointed towards a set of stairs that lead upwards, she clearly had the best seat on the house. A burly looking Batarian blocked the way, he didn’t even attempt to stop the Drell and simply said in a coarse, but clearly audible voice.“Go on up, she’s expecting you.” Now that elicited a very easy to read expression of surprise on his face, the batrain grinned, baring his many pinprick like teeth before stating once more “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting, do yourself a favour and hurry up.” Without further hesitation Gilvert did exactly that. The meeting with the “Queen of Omega” proved to be very enlightening, she offered him more than enough information on how to get the job done, but on one condition. The ship filled to the brim with red sand must be left untouched, if he did so - she would pay him 10% net worth of its contents as a thanks - part two of the payment, part one was the intel he received. Gilvert knew it was not a request, as “kind” as she stated it, he had already accepted by receiving the intel from her, the payment was merely a bonus on something he now didn’t have a choice in doing. The entire process has been mentally overwhelming, the constant barrage of new information and adaptations he had to make in order to do his job properly and effectively, it took its toll. Eventually Gilvert got to the private hangar that this Krogan warlord had access too, docked into an airlock was the cargo ship, which was currently being stocked with the substance red sand, it was nearly fully stocked now so time was of the essence. It was as he looked through his scope; over 300 meters away from his target that it happened. It was like a bolt of lightning flashed behind his eyes, his first psychotic episode was especially traumatic for Gilvert due to the fact that they have eidetic memory which allows them to remember almost everything in extremely vivid detail, however when there’s a black patch, when there’s nothing over a period of time - that is one of the most worrying things a Drell can undergo- to always know what you’ve done in your past, and then there’s just a break in that clarity, where he knows he killed over 60 innocent dock workers. That realisation traumatised him beyond repair, the aspiring Chemical scientist that was Gilvert is gone, memories of that time seem like they’re of another person now. It's cause is not certain as the mind cannot be really understood - however Gilvert felt a hostile presence from Omega from the moment he stepped onto this gods forsaken station, it was oppressive and overbearing, its quite possible that this was the trigger, landing into a place full of hostile, or potentially hostile entities - his training made him think of that as all assassins do, everyone is a potential threat, they can cause a discovery or try to be a hero - get in the way, so many things the average person can do to ruin an assassin and in turn, their life; the fact that this place disgusted him too, did not help the people here- pathetic all of them, scum of the galaxy, they were a taint. How could perfection ever exist if such a glaring imperfection such as Omega exist? He was an artist, he needed his work to be perfect, it was this line of thinking that began him to traipse slowly down a decline which inevitably broke him, or fixed him depending on your views - he struggles to draw the line between the real him, is the artist the real him - or is it the mercenary? During this episode, which last just over 46 minutes, Gilvert had managed to flawlessly infiltrate the dock and tactically place 75% of his explosive ordnance around the port, as well as the specially modified bomb designed for the transport vessel. Moved to a safe distance, executed his target with one shot from his sniper rifle, and detonated the explosives - the sheer force made the station rattle slightly - the ship which was outside of the actual station itself survived; in his episode he seen no need to destroy it. But he knows how he felt after he came to about 3 miles away from the place that he had just destroyed, he felt elated, he knew that but moments ago he had made something great, he had begun work on a masterpiece that he would inevitably obsess over for the rest of his life. He also knew, that something had gone terribly wrong, two sides of his mind conflicted, spared all the way back to Afterlife. When he got to the Batarian who was at the stair case he just said with a look surprise on his face “Shit, I know keeping Aria happy with your work is a good idea, but you clearly wanted to impress the boss on your first day huh? Keep it up killer, you might make a good thing here.” He gestured upwards indicating he could go up. Aria ended up somewhat scolding him in a similar way a mother scolds a child for taking the last cookie, she wasn’t entirely bothered about how he executed the job, he had still made sure she got her cargo and for that she was happy. But he had proved to be reckless, next time things may not go as well, was the gist of what she said to him - in turn she transferred a large sum of credits to his account and also went on to say that the cargo ship “was destroyed in the explosion” or at least that’s what the news will say, meaning that in turn he had still fulfilled the task for the Hanar. Not that they would be happy about his methods. Before he left to face the music however, Aria said that if he needed work, her door was open to him. That was exactly what he needed for when he went back to Kahje, he almost instantly faced a tribunal for his actions, despite the fact that he had completed his task, he had done so with a complete disregard to innocent life in the process - Gilvert didn’t even try and defend his actions as he himself was still warring over them, he felt as if he had done the right thing, but ultimately knew he had done something bad- as a result Gilvert was exiled from Kahje, he was to leave the planet tomorrow with what he already had on his person, and never to come back; he wasn't even allowed to see his family or friends. This hallmark of his life, was probably the most significant out of all others we will have, it set the pace for him, that path he would now walk, everything from here on out was defined by this moment. After he made his way back to Omega, and got in touch with Aria once again, she gave him the location of a merc group that worked for on occasion; turns out they were in need for someone just like him after their last demolitions man stepped on his own mine. Life as a mercenary - Year 2161- 2186 Despite everything that had happened, this merc group took him in with no reservations, they were a 6 man squad, now 7 with his addition. The leader was a Krogan warlord, a literal juggernaut of flesh and armour The second in command at that time was a Salarian engineer, adept in hacking and disruption of enemy systems A batarian vanguard, proficient with biotics and; oddly, extremely laid back. Two turians, neither like the other, one was biotic and the other was a sniper. And finally an asari - ex-commando The Krogan took a liking to Gilvert very quickly, after he heard the space port incident was his doing he stated that they were going to get on very well with each other if he kept up the work like that. The group was an effective one, highly skilled and very capable; the number of missions they took had them head to the likes of Tuchunka, Ilum, the dark streets of the Citadel but mainly they operated in the traverse and terminus systems - from the Ismar frontier to the Hades nexus. It was during one specific mission that he acquired one of the newly designed M-97 Widowmakers, which had been tinkered with for greater suitability for use by a single user, Gilvert ended up sinking over 300,000 credits in modifications and updates to keep weapon always one step ahead of any other sniper rifle in circulation. During these years Gilvert became very familiar with Omega and its filthy streets, he also got very well acquainted with Aria T’loak; it wasn’t uncommon to find him, on occasion, and assuming she wasn’t attending any business, with her in afterlife - more often that not it lead to a job for the merc band, but it helped that she liked him, in a way. His time on Omega also lead him to meet another Drell, in 2171; his name -Thane Krios. He had heard from a few whispers back on Khaje that this was one of the most successful assassins the Hanar had at their disposal, and Krios too knew who he was, the disgraced assassin that was exiled, they had a somewhat cold feeling talk with one another and parted ways, Thane was not fond of Gilvert, that much was certain. The mercenaries memories - Year 2161- 2186 (i’ll add to these as the roleplay progresses, these are specific mission he has undertaken, and he’ll recall in memories or in telling stories to others. The Battle for Earth: Year 2186 The merc band that Gilvert was apart of ultimately ended up fioghting on Earth itself for the fianl battle against the reapers, after they and various other merc groups aided Aria and Shepard remove Cereberus from Omega, they were hired and sent to Earth for the final battle, where upon their numbers were halved by the end of it, Only the Krogan warlord, himself and the asari commando remained- it’s fair to say that there already tight bonds were made tighter after this battle. Despite all the odds, Gilvert managed to get through the entire battle without a single episode occurring, which is very happy about, their frequency has been increasing and that was one battle, he did not want to forget or miss remembering. After the Battle was over, the merc group, which has been named “Heroic outcasts” by their leader given their role during the Reaper invasion, they aided in the reconstruction of London and took the time to have a break from all the fighting and killing, it was a well-paid, well fed endeavour as well as good for their ranks, of which they easily replenished with some truly incredible outcasts, perfect for their merry little merc band. Things were looking up, but it would soon be time to get a move on. Psyche Profile: The psyche profile of Gilvert is slightly worrying, it’s progressing into something that shows signs of psychosis, sometimes in the heat of battle he can begin to lose grasp of reality making his actions erratic and strange, he begins to talk as if the world were a tapestry and his hands hold the only brush that can paint it’s dull blank canvas: in reds, blues, purples and greens, every death signifies a step closer to the completion of this masterpiece, whilst he’s going through a psychotic episode he can still tell the difference between friend and foe, for now at least, in his addled mind he perceives friendlies as people whom contain the wrong colour for his work, and as such, there is no use in killing them as they would ruin his tapestry, this can lead him to protect certain people with ruthlessness, they must survive, as they would mar his work. This side of him does not show often though, although as time passes its frequency will increase and the length of each episode. Otherwise this drell is a bit of a wiseguy, he will be picky and is oft sarcastic, and takes delight in the strangest of things, especially when he nails one of the enemy with one his many explosives, the cain mines being the crescendo of his symphony of death. Overall this Drell is disturbed, but nevertheless an oddly reliable and exceptionally capable killer and explosives expert, just expect a mess when he finishes a job. "Yeah that was one hell of an operation, should have seen Giles when the artist came out... We get asked alot if that side of him is a liability, fuck that nonsense - let me tell you guys a story of how the artist makes our job 10x more fun, and 10x easier!" Virtak had successfully entrapped his audience around the table, a number of patrons in one of the many bars on the Citadel - the group had been taking some time off and spending some of their hard earned credits, and Virtak being himself refuses to buy his own drinks, and gets them via storytelling. Oddly successful at it too. "So... it begins when we..." Virtak began a large vulpine smile on his lips. -At an undisclosed system in the Traverse- Year:2181 The Mercenary band had finally made it after traipsing half way across the galaxy chasing one goddamned ship, it had managed to land on one of them many numerous seemingly dis-interesting planets that scattered hundreds of systems throughout the galaxy, perfect place for those whom don't want to be seen doing what they do. "What's the info we have on this piece of rocky shit?" Virtak asked their pilot; the Turian in the cockpit replied with "Nothing interesting about it in any files or records, its orbiting a G class star at around 9.2 Au, barely got any atmosphere, but what it does have contains trace amounts of methane and nitrogen, means if you're outside you gotta wear a helmet; surface is cold as fuck too, -134 Celsius, I don't recommend going for a stroll; get in, kill them all, get out." All's the pilot got in response was a growl as Virtak lumbered off to assemble the crew. Within 10 minutes they were all outfitted and ready to go. Their landing was fairly smooth, it appeared that the enemy knew they were being chased and offloaded their cargo as swiftly as possible before getting inside the bunker that stood before the 7 mercs; Giles had been off long before arriving on the cold rock that was this planet, and no amount of medication that he took was making him feel any better, everyone knew what this meant, and that meant Giles himself. After the airlock was hacked open the mercs moved in and waited for depressurisation before removing their helmets, the first room they entered had been cleared mostly of clutter but its design offered a fair bit on what the rest of the place would be like. It was a recent construction and clearly a very expensive build, this place was a veritable bunker designed to survive bombardment, the naturally hard surface outside helped as well, clearly they were dealing with one paranoid fucker. As they prepped to siege the next room - since Giles' recon mine outlined several hostile entities inside, it was then the episode started. The Artist awakens! "NO! THIS CANVAS! IT'S. SO. DULL! PLACID AND DEPRIVED, IT NEEDS COLOUR, IT NEEDS A BREATH OF LIFE IN ITS SOULLESS HUSK OF A CORPSE: I MUST, I NEED, I WILL GIVE IT LIFE! I WILL PAINT IT WITH CRIMSON REDS, BOLD BLUES, STARTLING PURPLES AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COLOUR OF THEM ALL! IN VERDANT GREENS!" The Artist stood, in front of him stood his audience, they always stood and observed his show's they were loyal, they respected his work they cheered when he began his work, they wept tears of joy when they seen him place his brush down when the work had been completed and above all the always returned to watch him perform again, they had beautiful colours in them, they'd make a fine painting, but he enjoyed admirers of his work - alas what is the point of art if there is none to admire its beauty? The big one spoke "Giles, blow the door, its time to to get to work." Ugh, his voice was so crude, it hurt his ears to listen to it, but he spoke of something that mattered greatly the performance was to begin, the curtains were in front of him, the only colour in this world that he in stood a shocking veil of velvet red curtains, and on it was one of his brushes, something he used to splash many a colour across a large area of the canvas, in his hand there lied the magical ability to commence the show, to draw back the curtains and begin his show, his performance of perfection, his symphony of death, so much paint and colour lied ahead of him, and he most make them pour it free. His hands shook with anticipation, a mad smile covered his face, his eyes wild with excitement. "It's time to begin the performance! This, will be my greatest work of art as of yet!" And as he finished his sentence he blew the door of its hydrolic locks and hinges, a tonne of metal flew free from its hinges and crashed off a pillar within the room behind it, his audience moved forward to take their seats, he stopped to take in a large gulp of air, and drew his most prized instrument, this brush of his, it was unique in that it was capable of creating the best colours, nothing - no other instrument did he ever have at his disposal create the same dark and deep colours as this did, he caressed its smooth surface and cool metal as it began its tune of unlocking, it was now truly an instrument of which he would sow the seeds of death, and with one stroke reap its harvest. He moved swiftly, moving onto the stage and within mere seconds clocked his first target, setting up his instrument of beauty he peered closer at it through the scope, this target, large and unsightly was its exterior but insie he knew, it contained that precious colour that he needed for his first stroke - an Azure blue, a perfect rendition of the skies of Khaje. This colour, he needed it, he must use IT, it was time to dip his brush in the paint, and begin the work of a master. He pulled the trigger back, it giving its master no resistance as he did so, it begged to be pulled back as both he and his instrument wanted the same thing. And the Choir began their hymn, the barrel shook as their voices pierced the heavens and the projectile was unleashed from its captivity. It blazed through the air, and as the choir hit its crescendo the bullet pierced through its target spilling forth in large quantities life's most precious liquid. Giles' eyes watered at the sight, it was the very incarnation of perfection, the first kill, the first stroke of the brush it always moved him the most, joy bloomed in his fragile heart and he buried the memory deep inside him, with all of the others, every other first stroke he had made. The painting had begun, the performance in full swing his audience begging for more. He would have to continue, he had to to ensure that they were sated; his work was in high demand and he would gleefully fulfil that demand. Giles danced around the room, with every step he sowed further seeds of his perfection, spilling more and more essence of life that painted this tawdry setting. His work was getting more and more complete, every step that dawned closer to the finish of this artwork made his eyes swell with tears of pain and sorrow, but equally his lust for more increased, he wanted nothing more to see the end result of his work to see the perfection of his art and the mastery of his strokes. For every stroke on this painting meant it was always one step closer to the next painting he would make. As his performance drew to a close he his from the crowds eyes, concealing himself! One of the beings in front of him held that alluring Crimson red that he loved - he used one of his other tools for this one, activating a cain mine he placed it on his target before revolving around with incredible speed and unleashing a powerful kick into its chest, sending t flying over towards another person whom held a dark but soothing light green. The explosion that ensued joined their colours together and splattered them around the area, truly outstanding, the perfect merging of them blossomed into a cascade of colour; it was like the flowers in Thessia coming into bloom. There only lied one last are he needed to paint, and only one person held the final colour, a navy blue, it would complement his work nicely and add the perfect finishing touch. Leaping to a piece of cover he prepared his main instrument of artistry and executed a perfect shot, it punched through a piece of the theatre and into the head, exploding to release voluminous amounts of paint. Giles placed his weapon on his back, swivelling on his right foot as he did so, and falling to on knee he raised his hands to the heavens, outstretched as if to hold the gods themselves, and with a voice filled with joy he stated to his audience. "My work is complete! Truly my best work to date, its magnificent colours blend perfectly together, there isn't so much as a single blemish, upon its once pale canvas; I have restored it to life! I have bestowed upon it the greatest gift any can be given..." PERFECTION! Specialty: Gilvert would shame some of the most prominent STG explosives experts, this man is truly gifted with that art of explosions, he looks at the work of others with disdain and contempt, mere children trying to grasp at the concept that only a master can truly understand, this is his art, his passion! He can rig up most explosives as well as use volatile equipment to his advantage to make almost homemade bombs, his knowledge in chemistry is expansive and is certainly on par with scientists in that field of study. Despite his proficiency with explosives he remains an effective sniper and can hit targets from up to 700 meters away with relative ease, however when he uses his explosive rounds which makes the gun fire slightly erratically, his competency drops to around 450 meters, although the explosion could still nail one of the intended targets. He can adapt to many combat situations given his expansive experience on the front and in general combat - he’s fought pirates, raiders, reapers, cerberus, hostile indigenous life forms, asari commandos, STG operatives, high grade security and mercenaries. The only thing he hasn’t fought is the geth and a thresher maw, Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak (“I love sticking a cain mine on someone's back”) Recon mine(“I can see you! *detonates* Awh, where’d you go?”) Cain mine(“These are my babies, wanna hold them? They don’t bite.”) Explosive rounds(“Turns my rifle into a Rocket launcher?! Give me 50!”) Lift grenades(“Can’t blow up the cover? Get those cowards up from behind it!”) Multi-Frag grenades (“Why have one grenade when you can have several?!??!?”) Equipment and Resources: M-98 Widowmaker X-II - Heavily modified variant of the M-98 Widowmaker, it’s got a 50% longer barrel than its smaller brother which both increases its already substantial weight and moving instability meaning that this rifle requires to be set-up prior to firing, it can still be utilised effectively by a skilled and well organised sniper, but inevitably this weapons purpose is to deal maximum damage in a single bullet, Krogan and heavily armoured targets are the favourites for this weapon - typically a Drell wouldn't be able to wield it due its absurd recoil and extremely damaging recoil at that; the fact that he acquired it in an already modified state, clearly being redesigned to allow non-synthetic races, or anyone with substantial modifications to fire this gun without the worry of losing an arm. It wasn't usable by Gilvert until 2180, when sufficient modifactions had allowed it to be fired - painfully mind, but still able to be fired by him. Other than its massively reduced accuracy and increased recoil (this is with heavy modification into recoil dampers as well) the rifle is extremely powerful, it’s got one round per thermal clip and has a long reload time as well as overheating problems since there’s no current clip in circulation that can properly cool this gun, it can only be fired twice per minute at the very most lest the frame start to overheat and fracture. Designed to eliminate vehicles, heavily armoured targets, multiple foes with a single bullet, or busting through a bunker - its penetration value is exceedingly high; the explosive rounds have been modified to detonate upon secondary collision, meaning it can retain its capability to pierce through targets, and then detonate when it comes into contact with something else: e.g: Bullet pierces through a brick wall, hits a poor volus and then blows up. M-21 Locust submachine gun - due to its already high level accuracy the gun has been modified to favour damage and a larger thermal clip capacity. A satchel filled with explosive templates: 25 grenade templates, and 50 mine templates. Templates are literally just an empty mine or grenade shell, meaning that they need to be “coded” with their designated primers via omni-tool, this means that templates are safe to carry around without fear of them accidently blowing up on your person, and to stop Gilvert from throwing every explosive he has at once at people. The satchel also contains his homemade medication to lower the chances of him having an episode, its a mixture of red sand and various other drugs. A modified Savant Omnitool - The omni-tool is designed to work with the plethora of explosives that Gilvert has access to, it can code in the necessary primers to activate the templates, priming them when they are launched, or thrown. He can switch primers by accessing his omnitool quickly in battle. Also the omni tool can launch grenades and mine templates up to 100 meters away, or alternatively eject them for manual placement, grenades are partially primed when thrown, but armed as soon as they come into contact with an object - mines are only activated the moment they latch onto a surface, and will only be able to detonate a second after priming, they can be remotely detonated via omnitool from up to 250 meters away, if the user exceeds this distance they automatically detonate cain mines are the exception, they detonate when someone passes the laser tripwire, but lose the ability to be detonated by trigger from the user. No armour, but a powerful kinetic barrier keeps old Gilvert safe from harm. Sample Post: Year -2178 “Why don’t we get Giles to blow the door?” The large Krogan battlemaster, and their leader stated in an almost monotone growl - he was starting to get impatient now. The group of them had been waiting outside of the facilities main doors for at least 30 minutes now. The mention of explosives elicited a gleeful smile from Gilvert, with a practised hand, began sifting through his satchel of various grenades and mines. “When you say blow up the door, how blown up do you want it? I can get the door to fly inwards and crush whoever’s standing behind it? That’d be pretty fun.” But before the Krogan could reply the Salarian technician shot the option down in flames “I’m nearly done, so don't give the drell ideas Virtak - we are breaking into a facility to one of biggest weapon and technology producers in the galaxy, you are aware of this right?” The Salarian almost spat the sentence out, speaking at the speed of light as most Salarians did, Gilvert was surprised the translator in his Omnitool could keep up with them at times. The Krogan responded to the Salarians outburst with a low growl before saying “Yeah yeah, we are here for the “supposed” cure to Keprals syndrome, that jelly offered a lot of credits for this so I’m buying the drinks if things go well, hell it even said you could go back to Kahje if you do this Giles; you know because blowing up hundreds of people when you were tasked to kill one guy is a bit overkill? Pah, goddamn soft blobs they are, a bit of collateral damage never hurt anyone.” The 7 of them Mercs were all stood outside the heavy metal doors to a Hahne Kedar corperation facility, where their client; a very prominent Hanar on Kahje has said the cure to Keprals syndrome is either in works, or actually is here. The reward for completing the contract was 1,000,000 credits, which split between the 7 of them meant one hell of a pay day - they could all take a good bit of time off at the citadel with this money. It was highly secure, and heavily guarded. Thankfully though, things had gone pretty well thus far, they had managed to get to the planet undetected thanks to a special ship provided by the client, and their Salarian engineer - whom has second in charge, had also hacked into their security without being detected, meaning that for a while they had the jump on the guards. Gilvert had already rigged up their comms dish with explosives, so they couldn't send a distress signal out once they started their assault. This would be a good operation, everyone here could feel it. "Got it! get ready you lot, time to clock in and get a hard days work done." Their Salarian engineer had done it, took him a bit long, maybe he was slowing down in his old age. The Krogan warlord gave a triumphant laugh and drew his shotgun - "Good job, Seryt - Giles, when the door opens, lift them up." Ah, the cue he had been waiting for, a lift grenade was already coded and loaded into his Omni-tool, this was standard procedure for their breach and clear. They stood in a line, about a strides length separated one from the next, their guns all locked and pointed at the doorway, on the Salrians mark, he would open the door, and then their days work would begin properly. "3...2...1!" The door opened up, time seemed to slow as the guards stationed inside looked with bewilderment towards the heavily armed crew, they didn't even have time to activate their shields before the grenade collided with a crate and in a flash of blue light sent everything in the room up in the air - suspended there open before them without any defences barring their standard combat suits, they didn't stand a chance - everyone opened fire cutting the guards to ribbons, blue blood painted the air, stuck in the stasis field generated by the grenade, within a few seconds the effect ended, and with multiple thumps and crashes their lifeless bodies crumpled on the floor, blood splattered across it. Their Asari - Deiynia, shook her head "Sometimes, this group makes the commandos look like children, if we keep this performance up we won't even have to use medi-gel." "Yeah, good clear guys, lets get inside quickly - and Giles, blow the comms tower." The Virtak stated as he lumbered towards the now open doors. Without hesitation Gilvert pressed the detonate button on his Omni-tool, the resounding explosion which seemed to shake the whole facility was the only answer the group needed to get inside and get to work. After the doors had been closed by Seryt, he made his way to the console in the guard station, kicking a dead Turian out of the way as he did, the rest of them milled about and kept an eye out in case any reinforcements came. "Right, the labs are at the far end of the facility, if we turn left out of the northern corridor we will get there in about 10 minutes, assuming we meet little or no resistance..." The sentence was met with multiple snorts of derision and disbelief and the Turian sniper - Quintus laughed before saying "So basically it's gunna be a thirty minute journey and we kill about 50 guards and mechs - you know how it is, it's never bloody simple." Seryt merely sighed before heading towards the corridor to their destination, the rest of them fell in and began their careful advancement forward, they done it in stages, a few moved at once whilst they were covered by the back-line, Quintus and Gilvert were always last as they could provide the best support with their snipers if they were at the back. As they moved forward the odd noise of a Cain mine being shot at a wall could be heard - they wouldn't be flanked, that's for damn sure. They worked like clockwork, when they reached another door, Gilvert moved to the front and tossed in a lift grenade, then Deiynia would detonate it with biotic explosion, Virtak moved in to tank any potshots or stragglers who managed to have the shields up and they would all be killed by the subsequent barrage of gun fire from the merc band. Things were going smoothly, too smoothly. Either they were doing everything right, or something was off. This continued for the next 5 minutes, 3 rooms, with mixed personnel, some doing their typical work and guards just doing their jobs - cut down in a swath of gunfire, eventually Virtak stopped them, just as they cleared out the 4th room. "Somethings not right... Septimus, go back the way we came and close the door, then shoot your gun, just outside it." It was a good shout, odd to see a Krogan with actual intelligence, sound proofing would explain a lot, and they force locked any alternate path into rooms they had cleared barring the path they took, which was laden with mines. After he left and the doors closed, they heard nothing - a design choice was the only thing making this go as smooth as it was going, they all laughed when Septimus came back through, and kept going as they were. At last when they reached the end, the final room before their destination, they finally hit a snag- it was a room that had YMIR mecs being built, these were experimental peices of machines that the company had just announced last year, not only that but they had one of them unpacked, there were several engineers and at least a full compliment of guards in this room - the room they needed to get to was just past this one. They all took defensive positions, in a cone behind various pieces of cover, and it was up to Gilvert to begin the attack, he was focusing his sniper on the YMIR mecs head, as well as having a recon mine on call, ready to be fired straight at the things chest. He fired the mine, and landed exactly where he planned it to, which caused the near by guards to look in confusion at it, moving closer as they did - and with a click it exploded, doing little overall to the mech itself but killing both guards instantly as parts of their once whole bodies scattered haphazardly around the room, painting it in shades of blue. The YMRI mech gave a mechanical scream before issuing an alert in its synthesised voice HOSTILE ENTITIES SPOTTED, OPENING FIRE." It's statement was met in kind by the mercs as they unleashed a barrage of fire at the mech, it didn't last long, its shields and armour had already been partially damaged by the Recon mine, and it being hit all at once by the group overwhelmed it- but what happened next caught them all off guard, Quintus managed to blow its head off with a well placed sniper shot after its armour had been whittled down - the group though that was the end of it, but a increasingly rapid beeping commenced, it's core began to glisten white with heat, the metal around it corroding and melting to the floor, you could feel it on your flesh if it was exposed, the order to take cover didn't have to be said, you were an idiot if you didn't know what was going to happen, in a blinding flash of light and a massive explosion, pieces of corroded shrapnel and metal flew around the room, the production line that has many more of these being constructed was tore apart and brought everything to a halt - the sprinkler system kicked in and a blaring alarm kicked off. After they stepped up from behind their cover, they had realised that the guards had either ran for it, or been killed by the blast. "Shit, didn't expect that." Was all Virtak could say, the rest of them merely nodded or done nothing, wishing now to get this job over and done with, lest more of those mechs get here. When they got to the final room, they weren't disappointed, within it lied the cure, at least partially. It was designed to stop rather than actually cure it, meaning that subsequent injections of it were needed, it was clearly made to make credits. This made Virtak spit with rage - he was happy he could do this for both Gilvert, and the Drell, for he knew that one day the same may happen for the Krogan when it came to the Genophage. "Fucking scum! Is credits the only thing that matters?!" The job when it came was taken for both its high pay day and its purpose, inevitably they all knew that even if the pay was low for this job, they would have took it regardless given its nature and the gravity of it. Notes Developing psychosis, episodes are rare but erratic, typically they door occur in a firefight, or in the preparation stages to an engagement, that does not mean they can’t occur at any time though. Is trying his utmost to get his hands on the M-920 Cain, however he has been banned from acquiring the weapon via the blackmarket on Omega, orders from Aria T’loak herself; she wants to keep her station intact. Since the Cerberus assault on Omega, he has been trying alternate markets to get access to one. Still retains contact with his old Merc group, they can provide assistance if the pay is right. Has the coordinates to multiple equipment and weapons stockpiles dotted around the traverse - only 4 out of the original 13 still have sensors active and articulate that the stash is still there in it’s entirety, the others could have been destroyed, raided, or simply be anomalous. Holds the supposed cure to Keprals syndrome, as well as a holo-disk contain over 3,000 pages of information on the condition and the cure, however in it’s current form it does not cure the condition entirely merely prevents advancement, if a drug company got their hands on this they’d make billions in credits, he is currently attempting to find a way to make the cure a full one, instead of allowing it to be used for money. Isn’t addicted to Red sand, but is reliant on it.

Tibère avait déménagé avec Aegon et Vella, il utilisait actuellement un pilier de soutien tombé comme couverture du mieux qu'il pouvait, que pour quelqu'un de la taille de lui il devait presque se coucher contre elle. Maintenant, si ce pilier était encore debout, il serait parfait pour lui, s'emparant de son Phaeston, il piétait autour du coin et s'ouvrait avec deux petites rafales sur une paire de soldats d'assaut de Cerberus qui s'étaient approchés de lui, les deux rafales ont frappé là marque et les soldats quand en bas embrayant les blessures sur leurs jambes, il était plus à les désactiver que d'éliminer. Au-delà d'eux, le Turian regarda Ellis éradiquer complètement un gardien avant d'être consumé par la fumée, secouant légèrement la tête Tibère avait le regard si le dégoût caché derrière sa visière noire, la pensée de lui être Ex-Cerberus l'ennuyait encore que et le fait qu'il ne semblait pas suivre l'ordre du tout. "Erecting a Biotic Barrier, demander de l'aide biotique!" Il a entendu Vella appeler sur les communications, "Sur mon chemin" Il a appelé avant de se lever et de se rapprocher de Vella, il a noté le manque de couverture "Esprits, Gonna doivent risquer" il a murmuré alors qu'il s'approchait et a trouvé une base ferme pendant qu'il s'arrêtait dans la vue de l'ennemi. Une teinte bleue s'est formée autour de lui avant qu'il ne jette une barrière autour de lui pour une protection supplémentaire, tout en jetant une seconde autour de la barrière de Vella pour la renforcer. Tibère regarda Rykarn sortir ce qui semblait être un lance-grenades et commencer à le tirer dans la foule Cerberus, il ne pouvait imaginer que la puissance destructrice d'une arme comme celle-ci 'Je dois m'en procurer un' qu'il pensait comme un sourire formé légèrement sur son visage. "Barrier renforcé" Il a appelé et avec cela n'a pas pris longtemps avant qu'il a commencé à sentir les effets alors qu'il respire vivifie, une barrière n'était pas vraiment un problème pour lui, mais deux s'est lentement avéré être un peu un défi car il a senti son égout d'énergie loin de lui 'Venez détoner déjà' Il pensait alors que le sourire qu'il avait disparu alors qu'il a regardé la meche YMIR entrer dans sa vue 'Grand, juste ce dont j'avais besoin' il pensait qu'il s'est légèrement tendu comme il est monté canon rotatif commencé à s'ouvrir sur la barrière autour de lui. Il ne pouvait qu'espérer qu'elle s'arrêterait et se rechargerait ou qu'elle serait prise en charge au moment où il serait forcé de laisser tomber sa barrière, car il se concentrait actuellement sur le maintien des deux barrières. "Nous devons sortir ce truc!" Il a appelé sur toutes ses chaînes d'équipes.

Name: Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian Race: Turian Class: Vanguard Age: 36 Sex: Male Appearance: 75% 35% Left: Blue Right: Green 8'2" roughly 201 LBS I4 / N5 / T5. Intelligence / Turian Cabal / Biotics His facial tattoo resembles one close to the one often seen on Palaven, it is two toned with Cyan and a dark blue, it goes across his nose, cheeks and mandibles. Tiberius has a shrapnel burn on the left side of his face, near his left eye and on his left mandible and left cheek crest. Tiberius has three cyan glow metal plates along his cheek crest. Unless on assignment you'll often find Tiberius in some form of casual or light formal clothing. While nothing he wears screams 'designer', he does his best to maintain a clean professional image for both himself and his employer, whether acting as a liaison off the ship or setting an example for others aboard it. However... this rule does not apply, for obvious reasons when tasked with a mission. Depending on the mission at hand he'll be wearing his armor, or dressed down to fit in. Leather jackets, dusters, windbreakers - his closet is full of an array of random articles of clothing suited for various purposes. Sometimes brute force isn't always the best way to get things done, as he's learned over the years... as of late he's been working no a more... subtle methods. Misdirection, disguise etc; to get close to a target and apprehend them. Of course when the chips are down, he'll armor up with no reservations. Backstory: Born and raised on Palaven Tiberius is the twin brother of Vepius, when at a young age the two could only be told apart by there eyes, Tiberius has little to no memory of his mother as she passed away just when he and is brother where learning to walk. But that did not stop the two from having a relatively normal life up until the age of 15 where the two where immediately drafted into the ranks of being a soldier, for a year everything seemed fine he and his brother where in the same unit that was until Tiberius started showing signs of being a biotic. The Hierarchy immediately took notice and Tiberius was shipped off into a Cabal group. The bond between him, his teammates and Kabalim was slow, the small unit only consisted off eleven members and he was the newest, but over time their bond grew until they where a dangerous tight-knit group, they would spend the rest of there lives together, day in and day out, isolated form the rest of the main unit and called on for the most dangerous tasks, whether it be talking down a enemy high ranking officer or someone with in the hierarchy itself. As the years went by Tiberius learned how to pilot, sabotage, explosives and infiltration. He pushed himself to the limits, never backing down from a challenge, being the newest member in the unit he felt the need to push himself to keep up with everyone else and taking the Cabal motto to heart 'The intangible is unstoppable'. During a training exercise on Illium, down in the hot jungles Tiberius's drop-ship came under attack by an unknown force that where hiding out, what was meant to be training exercise became a fight for survival as there drop-ship was hit critically and crashed landed, with the pilot and three Cabals injured upon touchdown the Kabalim order Tiberius and the other Cabals to take up a defensive perimeter. As the held there ground, it didn't take them long to figure out what was going on, they had stumbled upon a large group of heavily armed merc's, a distress call was made out while the Tiberius and the remaining Cabals defended the crash site until aid arrived in the form of another Cabal unit, once the two units where grouped up and the injured shuttled off world the two units spit up and made a two pronged attack on the merc's, any who where not killed during the four hour long fight, gave up and where apprehended. Once back on the Turian cruiser Tiberius checked up on the injured before moving to get information from some of the merc's, who at first where reluctant on giving any information, but over time Tiberius continued to pry at them until they gave him everything he needed, the information would then be delivered to the Hierarchy about the situation that had occurred. Over the years Tiberius seemed to lose someone is his unit every few missions that they where sent on, all of them where brothers and sisters in arms, a family almost, it was not until he suffered a major loss, before grief and stress started to take its toll on him, and unfortunately as a result he was put on a perception of Eximo just to calm his nerves, Eximo only helped with the stress not the grief he felt, so it was offered that he go talk to some one just to clear his mind in a attempt to help him, but Tiberius refused and eventually with the help of Durso his Kalabim found his own way to deal with it, a way that would be able to still be fit for duty, a way to honor the ones he lost, and that was to visit them every so often. When the Reaper war broke out Tiberius was 35 of age, he was considered old for a Cabal, while he had seen some of his squad mates get shipped off to desk work because of injury, Tiberius continued to push forward, he lived to be a Cabal he enjoyed the destruction that came with it. and when the reapers came he only saw it as another challenge for himself, however this challenge came with a cost while down on Palaven Tiberius witnessed the death of his father as the first few Reapers touched down, this left his with a dark pit in him as he then began to worry about his brother which in-turn only made his fight harder. During the Reaper war Tiberius's Cabal unit got the nickname Pouncer as they seemed to get the jump on the enemy and a lot of there engagements, but that is not to say that the Pouncer unit didn't take its own loses, several members of the unit where killed and the Kabalim was severely injured by the time the war ended, Tiberius came out of the war with his own scars both mentally and physically. One the war was over, Tiberius's unit was temperately disbanded in order to help out with the reconstruction and aid processes, Tiberius new role would be that of a heavy lifter given his size, moving the larger objects into those harder to reach areas, or helping move or all together get rid of larger pieces of rubble, having basic aid training he was also able to help out with the injured around the aid stations on Palaven. Soon the work slowed and the hierarchy had not contacted him for reassignment but instead let him off on paid leave for the time being, so gathering up the credits he had he took a shuttle to the Crucible. It didn't take him long before he found himself work there as yet again a heavy lifter moving equipment around, it paid decent and with the average pay from the hierarchy Tiberius managed to get himself a decent apartment, but like all good things, it came to an end, and now with no work he has taken the time to actually see what it is like not to be a Cabal. However long that might last. Psyche Profile: Violent. Headstrong. Ruthless. Calculating. Sly. A Vengeful Protector. An Unstoppable Monster. Walking Hand Grenade The universe is dark. When you see its darkest depths; its dark underbelly... once you understand someone's capacity for horrors, you can never truly look away. Though raised strong and free from danger, the world is dark no matter where you hide, and horror, chaos, has never been far from Tiberius. Consider for a moment you have two people before you; a broken, dark, world-weary turian who has seen more than any person ever should... and a defense mechanism mask that the world is privy to, one that laughs and smiles, one that makes friends and shares easily. The duality is what keeps him whole. But underneath everything, on all sides, is a quiet, smoldering rage. Make no mistake, Tiberius is a very dangerous individual. Long story short, Tiberius Adarian is a good guy. He tries to do the right thing, for the right reasons, and play things as diplomatic as possible, He wants to live in a world where his job does not exist - though understands that that day will not be seen in his lifetime. On the other side of that coin however, he does not mind getting his hands dirty and, though he may not always admit it, enjoys the thrill of the chase, the hunt, in taking down his prey. Getting inside their head, understanding what drives them, and having a comprehensive and workable knowledge of the awesome, destruction powers of a biotic drives Tiberius both intelligently and physically. Duty, Honor, Loyalty Within the Cabal ranks Tiberius is a modal example of a Soldier - to a fault. Rarely has he disobeyed orders, but now and again, waiting for backup or standing down just didn't seem like the correct strategy. As Cabal he does get the occasional leering glance from his coworkers, but he often assures them - if they're doing their jobs, they have no reason to be wary of him. More than once he's had to take down a close associate, even a friend, who was over the line and it never gets any easier, but it is what the job entails. There is a rumor that, three years ago, Tiberius was sent to recover a rogue biotic whom he was close to, though the trail supposedly "went cold" while he was on Omega. As no one has seen or heard from the aforementioned biotic since, it is relatively likely, though there are some who feel that Tiberius falsified his report and helped the biotic criminal hide, disobeying direct orders - though there was never proof, or an investigation in the matter. The Vendetta Above all Tiberius want to see a world free from crime, harm, and violence - but knows it's a pipedream. Tiberius has proven time and again to have fantastic faith towards all races, instilled by his parents. Tiberius's rage, his need for vengeace, is twisted only with his greater ideal of justice. He understands what it's like to lose someone; that a murder is more than just a singular act. He sees the ripples. The people it affects. However, he's also aware that there are dangerous individuals in the world who just what to watch the world burn - and in those situation, his trigger finger only gets itchier. He's funny, rash, sarcastic, horribly bitter, manipulative, crude and boisterous - but one of the best friends you'll ever have. Let's make it simple. From day to day, situation to situation, moment to moment you never know who's going to be at your side. The masks of Tiberius Adarian are many. Specialty: In the Field As a Cabal Tiberius excels in infiltration and biotics, His is considered a danger at long range, but up close he is extremely deadly given his shear size, ability and training with close quarter combat, he is a strategist and is one to get the results that are called for. Off the Field While off the field Cabals are given training in data handling and piloting, for his Cabal group he also acts as a liaison to ensure everything off the field goes just as planned while in the field, whether it is talking down as stressful situation, negotiating for lives or simply being a distraction. Powers/Skills: Throw Barrier Shockwave Pull Fitness Biotic grenades Biotic Mastery First-Aid Equipment and Resources: ArmorOld: Light Phantom Armor New: Heavy Havoc Armor (Heavily customized, primary color: Jet Black. secondary color: Cobalt) Assulte Rifles Phaeston Rifle Shotguns M-22 Eviscerator Sidearms M-3 Predator Misc. He carries two combat knifes, One attached to his boot, One holstered along his lower back. Mainly used for when he runs out of ammo. Omni-Tool Sample Post: The low hum of the drop-ships engines is all that could be heard within the cabin as a group of Turians sat while three more stood and held onto the ships ceiling handles, no one spoke a word that was until a small female Turian who sat to Tiberius's right lean forward and looked over at Tiberius, her skin was a charcoal color with the same face paint style as Tiberius but hers was white, reaching over she poked at his shoulder as he sat with his head down and his arms crossed. Opening his eyes slightly he glanced over at her and grinned. Across from him sat their Kabalim who quietly watched the interaction between the two. "You two should go find a room when this is all over" he joked before standing and walking to the front of the ship where he grabbed a data-pad and quickly went over it before looking back at his team. "Alright everyone as you know we have been tasked to scout an area just north of the drop point, once there we will secure a holding point then discuss if we will break into two teams or not. Volio, Kaus and Aullus you three are on point. Tupia, Veleus and Melea you three are rear secrity. Ruia, Tiberius your with me we will be in the middle and covering the sides" Druso said before transferring the data onto everyone's omni-tool Nodding at Druso he nudged the small female Turian beside him as the two had been paired together yet again, she looked over at him and reached up and pushed the side of his head. He and Ruia had been with each other for a while the two at this point where two out of four of the longest serving members on the team besides Druso. "Alright everyone get ready we are almost there, check your gear and weapons" Druso said as everyone began checking their equipment. The drop-ship zoomed though the sky as it flew low and fast towards it's destination, as it slowed down a large open field came into view and the ship started to drift down, as it did dust was kicked up and the tall grass was pushed around by the thrusters as the ship looped around and landed. "Your ready big guy?" Ruia asked as she looked over at Tiberius and stood. "I Thought you'd never ask" he replied then stood up, as the doors to the ship slid open the group filed out in there respective orders, stepping off the ship Tiberius immediately raised his rifle and remained against the ship as the rest of the team disembarked. Once all of them where off he moved to the left flank before taking a knee with the rest of his group as the shuttle started to lift off, and soon it disappeared over the tree tops and out of sight. "Alright lets moves team, lets go see what we can discover and eliminate if passable. Remember the intangible is unstoppable." Druso ordered, with that the group got up and moved as one towards the treeline, disappearing into it. Notes Merits:Charismatic Educated Quick learner Strategist Combat Proficiency Flaws:Scarred, shrapnel burn make people think he's a not so nice guy at first glace. Mental Condition: Hallucinations, both auditory and visual. Debilitating Flashbacks: causing painful headaches. Addiction: mild smoker, has a standing prescription for Eximo to calm his nerves. Often Isolates himself only due to the face that, he himself as a Cabal was isolated from almost the rest of the military. Likes/Interests:Human Orchestral Music Feeling the rush of a biotic charge Puzzles Being a Cabal Dislikes:When plans go wrong. Running out of ammo. Getting ambushed whether it be physically or in a conversation. When Stealth Operations go haywire. Marital Status: Single Sexuality: Bisexual but does prefer males over females Immediate Family: Arlus Adarian - Father - Deceased Taria Adarian - Mother - Deceased Vepius Adarian - Twin Brother - Alive Contacts: Tiberius still keeps in contact with the remaining Cabals of his unit. Still keeps in contact with his twin brother Vepius, the two visit each-other when they have the time. Every so often Tiberius goes and pays his respects to everyone that he lost in the Reaper War ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ So this is where the panic starts. | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ Smart, Spector, Leadership ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ⚜ Headstrong, Smart, Spector ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☕ "Youngling", Krogan, Worthy ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Vella 'Calisto' Calixten Ophelia || ☠ Careless idiot, Annoying, Not bright at all ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ Psycho-Sociopath, Abomination, Ex-Cerberus, untrustworthy ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ✌ Techy, Quarian, Brave, fun-size ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ✌ Interesting, Geth, Sharpshooter? ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. ||Ja'Far Balak || ✌ Walking Chimney, Batarian, Diplomatic ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ☕ Unsure, Quarian, wise-guy ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik 'Aralakh' Skarr || ☕ Old man, Krogan, Fierce ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Sicaria Velinian || ☕ Turian, Who? ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☕Explosive-Expert?, Drell, Who? ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ☕ Shield-maiden, Human-ish, Strong ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria 'Angel' Vicrinus || ☕Who? ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ Are you relevant? ☕ Creepy thin man

Il était brûlant. Son bras droit a étincelle et s'est saisi, et son genou, son genou gauche a été écrasé et gratté du conteneur qu'il avait jeté. Il avait déjà épuisé une quantité considérable de ressources, et maintenant, il l'a senti pleinement. Il toussait, le sang et l'ichor noir, le sang du stress physiologique, et le goo noir un sous-produit de ses médicaments. Son cerveau criait pour l'air, et ses poumons pouvaient à peine s'y conformer. Imbécile arrogant... Son HUD lui a dit ce qu'il savait déjà : il surchauffait, horriblement. Principalement dans son bras droit, l'évier avait pris tout ce qu'il pouvait. Mais elle ne survivrait pas, et devait être sacrifiée. Il, gazant et toussant, a ordonné au NERO de diriger toute puissance de traitement VI inutile sur le contrôle des abrutis de son bras droit. Les servomoteurs primaires dans son coude avaient pris un coup lourd, la souche provoquant un claquage, le déplacement des disques, et le faisant produire encore plus de chaleur de la friction. Son autre bras n'était qu'un peu mieux. "Pop à gauche... Le bras gauche." On est baisés, grâce à toi. Le clip thermique éjecté dans une bouffée de fumée, avec une odeur comme du caoutchouc brûlant. Il pouvait encore contrôler les doigts et l'épaule de son bras droit, alors il attendait le bon moment pour tirer sa main de sous sa circonférence, pour attraper un autre Clip de son étui... Non-léger a couvert son corps et l'a levé, lentement et douloureusement, du sol, comme la lumière impie d'un dieu primitif, élevant un guerrier fidèle des cendres comme un... Katabasis, il y a eu un développement. Cette institution a été utilisée comme station de recherche Reaper, et maintenant nous avons plus de deux mille Husks en liberté. » L'Asari terne vient à votre secours. Comme c'est pathétique... Il en a profité pour saisir sérieusement chaque fois que les crises de son bras l'ont rapproché de son étui. Une fois, deux fois, trois fois... Oui! Oui! Oui! Ses doigts enroulés autour du petit cylindre qui tenait tant d'espoirs, et son épaule tordue pour la dernière fois que l'articulation a pris feu, pour claquer le clip en place et Ellis a ordonné qu'il soit éjecté. Il s'est éteint comme n'importe quel autre composant, brûlant tranquillement sur le sol. Le supplément nutritif faisait son travail, le métabolisme raveneux d'Ellis traitant la slime calorique-ense plus rapidement qu'un système digestif humain devrait jamais être forcé à. C'était un système qui était plus qu'efficace pour le combat, mais qui le tuerait à long terme. Ses anciens employeurs n'auraient pas pu s'en soucier moins. Une tourelle d'auto a ouvert le feu, frappant contre l'armure d'Ellis comme la pluie sur le toit. Il se demandait si c'était en train de casser son costume. Ses capteurs internes étaient beaucoup trop endommagés pour lui dire autre chose que le fait qu'il pouvait prendre feu à tout moment, et même ceux-ci pouvaient être de fausses lectures. Tu n'aurais pas dû te charger. Mes collègues, mes meurtres. Imbécile, tu t'es paralysé. Garde-toi à l'esprit. Peut-être maintenant, ils ne douteront pas de mes capacités... Ce n'était pas tes capacités. Tu n'es pas un ATLAS. Ils ne douteront pas de ma loyauté... Ils douteront toujours de vos loyautés. Il y avait une profonde bosselure dans sa hanche, tenant le magwell pour sa jambe gauche scellée. Le genou est baisé de toute façon. Et c'est la faute de qui? Les coups de feu ont soudainement cessé dans un bip-boop et un éclair rouge vif. Sa jambe droite n'a pas été endommagée, et comme il a frappé dans le deuxième clip thermique, le système de cartographie de son costume est revenu en ligne. Il ne pouvait pas dire combien il y en avait, en particulier, mais il y avait beaucoup de points rouges qui se dirigeaient vers eux. Ses signes vitaux commençaient à se stabiliser, indiquant encore un EKG très faible, mais cela suffisait. Il s'est dit qu'il en avait assez pour au moins jeter quelques autres. C'était la chance qu'il cherchait. Peut-être qu'ils savaient que tu te précipiterais. Peut-être qu'il s'agit d'une tentative d'assassinat intelligente. Ils t'obligent à faire leur sale boulot. Personne ne m'a forcé à faire quoi que ce soit... - et puis ils vous laissent pour vous distraire pendant qu'ils manipulent les défenses... Qu'il en soit ainsi. Sa voix était soupirantement douce quand il parlait. "Asari, dépose-moi sur le sentier des Husks. Je suis grand. Je ferai assez d'obstacle pour les ralentir. Améliore vos chances." Imbécile! Pousse-toi! C'est pas vrai! Il a glissé son Mattock sur son dos, attention à ne pas le déposer. Sans un autre bras, il faudrait qu'il compte tous les coups de feu. Les douze rounds. DOTARD! Avez-vous quelque chose à dire? Encore une fois, il s'est ridiculisé pour avoir perdu son bras. À quoi sert un guerrier qui perd ses armes? Il n'y a pas de victoire ici. S'il survivait à cela, il aurait besoin de la mère de toutes les réparations. Peut-être le Quarien...

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Alria Vicrinus Endroit: Ruines de Londres Alria s'est remise de couvrir ses yeux pour voir ses compagnons profiter du flashbang qu'elle a lancé et grâce à leur travail rapide et efficace, les agents de Cerberus sont descendus rapidement et soudainement. Il lui a apporté un sourire au visage et a rendu son travail une tonne plus facile. Même si avec ce problème a neutralisé Alria tourné autour pour revenir à s'occuper de la... C'est à ce moment que les sirènes ont commencé à saigner et il a même surpris Alria vu à quel point soudain le bruit fort a commencé. À la recherche des raisons pour lesquelles les alarmes lançaient, elle a vu Anderson s'envoler vers un scientifique errant, attraper les derniers bouts de l'homme qui lui tirait la main d'un bouton sur le mur. Elle ne savait pas encore ce qui avait commencé, mais elle savait que c'était à cause de lui. Puis avec l'interrogatoire brutal d'Anderson et l'annulation des alarmes, elle savait ce qui se passait. Des défenses... L'idée d'eux a fait bouillir le sang d'Alria dans ses veines, mais elle a gardé une tête de niveau. Elle voulait les purger tous, mais savait qu'au fond de l'intérieur, laisser cette colère à elle ne mènerait qu'à des erreurs et ces erreurs pourraient être fatales. Alors que le scientifique expliquait leurs chiffres et ce qui allait se passer, Alria savait que ce n'était pas un combat qu'ils pouvaient gagner. Pas dans une position comme celle-ci de toute façon. Puis avec la femme humaine faisant des revendications de mutinerie et de trahison Alria a dû combattre honnêtement l'envie de juste exécuter le scientifique qui leur a donné tous ces problèmes, mais avec son âge et sa stature apparente, il pourrait être utile plus tard. Enfin, avec toute l'histoire et Anderson qui vient rapidement avec un plan, elle a eu sa nouvelle mission: mener la charge hors d'ici et au reste de l'équipe pour mieux engager et éliminer les Husks. C'est quelque chose qu'Alria pourrait avoir derrière, surtout parce que ça voulait dire qu'elle ferait du mal à des Reapers. Prenant la tête avec le Batarien qui s'appelait Balak, elle veillait à garder un œil sur la sortie de la pièce, tirant son affichage holographique sur son gantelet poignet pour lui donner une lecture tactique constante de leur chemin. De cette façon, elle n'aurait même pas la moindre chance de se perdre. Heureusement, leur chemin était aussi court, n'ayant à traverser que deux couloirs et deux chambres avant d'être à la grande porte qui constituait l'entrée principale de cet endroit. Bien que tout comme ils étaient sur le point de commencer à déplacer le premier des monstres était apparu, sauter de la porte et attaquer un soldat Cerberus abattu. Alria a regardé pendant quelques instants que le haineur extraterrestre était maulé, mais bien sûr que ça n'a pas duré. Mais avant qu'elle ne puisse obtenir un spectacle d'Anderson a pris le premier souffler la créature et obtenir le reste pour les attaquer. Ça voulait dire que le jeu était en cours. Alria a crié au reste de la bande rassemblée, "Allez! Nous nous déplaçons! » Puis elle a commencé son avance, pistolet tiré et dirigé vers l'avant avec son couteau dehors et prêt à tuer aussi bien. Heureusement, les Husks se déversaient d'une porte différente de la sortie qu'Alria avait cartographiée, ce qui les empêchait de passer par les dizaines de Husks qui se chargeaient rapidement après l'équipage. Cela signifiait qu'il appartiendrait à l'arrière-garde de les garder en arrière pendant que leur chemin était forgé. Peu de temps après, Alria ouvrit la première porte à leur premier ot deux couloirs et, à l'intérieur du petit col étroit, une paire de Husks se brouillait et regardait plutôt confus pour être tranquillement franc. Alria a pris le premier but, même pas briser la foulée en tirant deux fois, frappant haut sur le premier torse de Husk qui à son tour a fait sa tête presque détaché de son corps. Inutile de dire que c'était mort. Quitter l'autre pour quelqu'un d'autre avec une arme qu'elle a avancée et assez sûr que l'autre a été manipulé. C'était quand le groupe est arrivé à leur première de deux chambres. Heureusement, il semblait vide et semblait aussi être une sorte de mess avec plusieurs longues tables en métal s'étendant avec des tabourets intégrés de chaque côté des tables. Même avec quelques-uns laissés sur les assiettes et les ustensiles allongés autour pour lui donner une certaine atmosphère. Malheureusement, cette atmosphère s'est rapidement effondrée quand une douzaine d'autres Husks sont sortis précipitamment des différentes entrées du mess, y compris quelques-uns qui sautaient de la mezzanine sur le groupe bâillonné ci-dessous. Cela a donné aux Husks un moyen d'entrer directement au milieu du groupe pour harceler directement ceux qui sont au milieu. Même si Alria savait que son équipe ne laisserait personne tomber et qu'elle continuait donc à marcher délibérément vers la prochaine porte. Tout le chemin jusqu'à cela, elle a pris un but rapide avec son pistolet et en laissant perdre une série de couples contrôlés a lâché Husk après Husk pour aider à garder plus de la rendre trop proche pour le confort. Heureusement, cela semblait fonctionner et bientôt ils avaient défriché le mess jusqu'à leur deuxième de deux couloirs. Celui-ci était plus long et avait un virage en L à mi-vers le bas, mais toujours Alria a continué, ne voulant pas tenir le reste du gang en obstruant le couloir. Bien que ce soit ce manque de pause qui l'amène à sa première rencontre rapprochée. Trois Husks chargés depuis le coin et un même à travers ce qui avait été un évent atteint pour Alria et Balak. Le premier Alria était prêt et en utilisant son couteau, elle a livré deux coups de couteau et un coup de couteau pour le mettre fin en une seconde. Le problème était le deuxième qui a sauté d'un haut évent pour se verrouiller sur son dos. Bien que ses réactions rapides lui aient permis de tourner son pistolet autour et de pomper deux coups rapides dans le bas de l'abdomen du monstre. Cela ne l'a pas tué, mais avant qu'elle ne puisse s'enrouler pour le lancer et l'exécuter, ça a tout gâché. Quelqu'un d'autre avait fini le diable et, dans un court moment de remerciement, elle a fait signe au groupe en général avant de continuer. Ce couloir qui mène à la dernière pièce, un cargo de toutes sortes. Avec des caisses empilées haut, des conteneurs tapissant les murs, et bien sûr des machines errantes pour tout manipuler, cette pièce était parfaite pour une embuscade. Heureusement que personne n'est venu pour les premiers instants de l'entrée dans la baie. Tout ce qu'ils avaient à faire, c'était de passer à travers et bien que les portes de chargement soient à l'entrée principale. Bien qu'à mi-chemin, cette embuscade est venue comme dans le hall de mess, les Husks semblaient juste sortir de la menuiserie. Courir autour et crier, exigeant le sang, ils descendirent sur tout le groupe forment tous les côtés et parfois différentes élévations. Alria a engagé n'importe qui qui a traversé son chemin prévu de voyage à travers une série d'attaques. À savoir son pistolet, mais elle a aussi commencé à déclencher des tirs d'arcs et à voler dans les airs pour incinérer ses cibles prévues. Dans cette pièce, il y en avait trop, car ils avaient beaucoup de façons d'attaquer. "Déplacez-le! Courez jusqu'à la sortie!" Alria a appelé, ramenant son rythme à un jogging léger alors qu'elle continuait encore à exploser, tirer, et poignarder son chemin à travers la foule de tueurs. Puis bientôt et avec de plus en plus de chaos se répandant autour d'eux Alria a appelé à la radio, "Les amis sortent!" En supposant qu'ils ont eu le message sur les Husks et leur retraite tactique et qu'ils pourraient comprendre assez pour ne pas les confondre avec les Husks et ouvrir le feu sur les amis. Quoi qu'il en soit, Alria s'est précipitée vers l'entrée principale et, après avoir fait un peu de chemin vers l'équipe d'assaut, s'est retournée pour tirer dans la foule de Husks, cherchant à aider ses collègues à avoir une meilleure chance. Tout en naviguant encore vers l'arrière pour atteindre une position plus défendable d'où elle pourrait correctement retourner un feu constant. Bien que cette partie n'ait pas pris trop de temps et avant qu'elle sache qu'elle était du côté d'un Turian. De là, il s'agissait juste de regarder les niveaux de chaleur de son arme et de changer les mags thermiques quand les besoins surgissaient. En plus d'utiliser ses condensateurs d'incinération pour lancer une boule de feu si souvent. Heureusement, on aurait dit que toute son équipe était arrivée.

Name: Alria “Angel” Vicrinus Race: Turian Class: Infiltrator Age: 21 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at 5’ 10’’ and weighing in about 125 pounds Alria is a very lithe and thin woman who cuts a very strong and attractive figure. Her body is fluid, flexible, and really the only blemish she has in a nasty gunshot scar on the left side of her hips. Backstory: Alria was born to a humble Turian family on their Homeworld of Palaven. Though very earlier in her life she found that she would grow up on a much more under developed planet as when she was only 2 her family was deployed as part of a security detail to Amber Horizon, a recently developed Turian colony that had been established just that year. It was supposed to be a good assignment for his soldier parents. Letting them serve the Turian people while still having a peaceful assignment from which to raise their young daughter. Alria didn’t even remember Palaven really. In fact her only memory was of rolling mountains and valleys that stretched out against a beautiful rising sun. She couldn’t even remember where the memory came from as Amber Horizon was her new home and that was where she learned to walk, talk, and play with her fellow Turians, though she didn’t have many children to play with due to the colony’s relative new stature and utility purpose as a forward communications colony. This in turn left her to either her own devices which often led to adventures of running around the forests around the colony. Which in turn often led to several injuries and encounters with the local hostile life that made her parents get a little upset with her antics. Her other method of entertainment was to run around the colony and make friends with the locals, often trying to offer help to the communication technicians and engineers who made sure the colony ran straight. This ensured that she had many older friends who would even say kind greetings and pass her treats when her parents were both out on guard duty along the walls of the colony. This was how her life turned out for the next decade, watching the world not change, but that was ok for her. This was a nice life and it kept her happy. Along that way she continue to help where she could and that in turn taught her some life skills such as how to set up and maintain communication relays as well as fly shuttles and dropship that were used to deliver and retrieve supplies and cargo around the planet. All by the young age of 14! Not to mention her own parents teaching her about the ways of war as well as how to be a right proper ass-kicker. Mostly so she could fend off those pesky boys as her Dad said. Yet with Dad jokes aside she was learning quickly to fight, shoot, and defend in the case of an attack. When Alria was 15 she went off to the military academy learning her way around in the Turian armed forces and honing her skills with a pistol and her own hands. While not exactly a conventional method of combat she proved to be exceptional at it which raised some attention to her skill. Upon placing her in an Infiltrator roll and assigning her to the Hastatim that went to Taetrus to combat the Facinus separatist group. Her skills and stealthy ability proving invaluable at taking out splinter cells located throughout the planet specifically working in Spaedar and Madra to weaken their fortified positions and damage their fragmented infrastructure. However, due to her role as a ghost she was not credited nor awarded for her faithful efforts. Though this didn't bother her one bit as it meant the conflict was over and she could have a chance to return home, and that she did heading back to Amber Horizon and reconnecting with her family and friends. Once again she felt at peace as she went back to helping around the communications relay and adventuring around the forests. This life was not meant to last though as the news of the Reapers coming back started to resurface which put the colony into overdrive. After all they were a communications relay that allowed for rapid and effective communications to the fleets and outposts near the front lines. However, this faithful service to the Turian people came at a grave cost. The Reapers had tracked down the relay signal and that meant that before long the skies went dark with enemy ships that deploy soldiers… no… monsters down on the colony. As chaos set in every one of the guards as well as some of the technicians ran to the walls to defend a battle they could never win. Alria looked around for anything she could help with and while she wanted to take a rifle to the walls she was pushed away by her parents to help the technicians secure or destroy the equipment less it fall into enemy hands. Her knowledge of the equipment proving somewhat helpful as the defenses began to collapse around them. Husks, Cannibals, and Scions burst over the walls slaughtering all the Turians present regardless of if they were combatants or not. Alria was terrified for her parents who were still fighting on the walls as far as she knew. So with everything around in chaos she took her chance to make it to the walls only to see the last moments of her parent’s lives. The monsters had them surrounded and she could only watch as they were shot down and lay still. With tear filled eyes she turned around and ran, looking around with foggy eyes she watched and saw all of her friends die and something in her snapped. She ran from cover to grab an Avenger rifle to which she took aim at a charging Husk only to freeze at the last moment. She'd fought in war, against sepetatitsts and traitors who she had to kill in return, but this was different. It was like a true horror running from her nightmares to kill her and she froze. As the monster leaped to tackle her something else leaped to tackle it; it was her mother, still bloody from the walls. Struggling for her life Alria’s mother shouted out, “Shoot it!” To which the shaking Alria held up her rifle to empty the magazine into the Husk. Dropping it to the ground Alria ran up to her mother and bent over her, crying as she begged and pleaded for her to get up and flee with her into the woods. Yet she knew it was too late and so her mother said, “Please… I love you… so much… now run… run!” Alria let her tears fly free as she cried over her mother who gave her one last hug. Then as her last wish she gave Alria her pistol, a custom and special thing that she always intended to pass onto her daughter… just not like this. Alria made it out of the colony and hid in the woods as her home was stolen from her and she was the lone survivor. Guilt and sadness eating away at her very bones she waited. Crying and praying that things would just go back to the way they were. And as the days passed by her sadness and grief turned into rage and hate. She hated those monsters for taking everything she had and that made her want payback. Returning to her stolen home she found an occupational force guarding the communications relay that they tried to destroy during the invasion. They had to have been trying to splice into their network and really Alria didn’t care. She didn’t care that they were trying to steal secrets. She didn’t care that they were trying to take their things. She didn’t care that they wanted what her home had to offer. She only cared that she knew what they wanted and that she knew how to deprive them of it. Sneaking like a shadow she returned home and using her mother’s Custom Silenced Reaver M-17 Pistol she started to wage a one woman guerrilla war to reap the reapers and as she snuck back to the relay she had several close calls which would certainly spell certain doom. But her determination lead her on and then into the relay she went. Slinking around the ducts and maintenance corridors as she made her way to the power supply knowing that she only had to put one well-placed grenade to turn the entire facility into a giant fireball. Before long she snuck to her goal and had a chance, but she wanted more… It wasn’t enough to just starve the Reapers of this resource; she wanted to hurt them too. Taking the suppressor off of her pistol she started to shoot the Cannibals and make a real firefight engaging the monsters which in turn made more come to the relay to stop the threat. Just as she wanted and not thinking of her own safety she was shot in her hip. That turning point making her realize this was it. She took her grenade and threw it into the power supply letting the heavy electrical currents cook the metal of the casing in its entirety to give her more time to escape. Limping back to the maintenance tunnels she crawled and ran as fast as she could before a solid thump could be heard radiating behind her. That in turn causing a chain reaction which made the entire place begin its death song. She knew her time was short and that meant she had to move fast if she was to survive long enough to hurt the Reapers again. As fires started to burst around her the exit showed and she used the last of her energy to run out as and escape at the last second. Still yet her task wasn’t done. This planet was doomed and she had to escape. Looking around as the Reapers had lost track of her she saw one of the intact orbital transports. That was her ticket out. Running for the ship she got inside undetected and then put her pilot’s training to use, firing up the ship and ignoring any and all protocols for takeoff instead to just take flight and launch herself into the stars and to safety. Alria, 19, alone, and lost in the galaxy drifted wondering what to do unable to forget the nightmare she lived through on Amber Horizon. That was when she was found by a Turian fleet that took her ship and saved her life. It was in that moment she found her direction. Returning to the Turian military and offering her skills as an elite infiltrator she took to serving on countless missions requesting or even demanding assignments that put her against the Reapers. Her skills with stealth, pistols, and CQC skill proving to be incredibly lethal and effective while her knowledge of technology and piloting offering her a wider set of skills for sabotage and self-insertion. This was her life, getting her payback on the Reapers and being good at it up until she was 20 and the Human Commander Shepard led his team on Earth to use the Crucible and end the war. Still serving in the Turian military she had a new goal. Return home and finally put her past to rest. Psyche Profile: Key Details from the dossier of Vicrinus, Alria Codenamed: “Angel” Psychologically Vicrinus acts and behaves rather young and care free for her already rather young age. Often goofy and elated Vicrinus is often seen humming as she goes about her business. Regardless of her task she seems to enjoy it, from training, cooking, singing, or even dancing. Attributing factors to this may include her solitary lifestyle as well as a seeming love for freedom and whimsy... ...Vicrinus has shown an almost obsessive view of her armaments treating them with the utmost care before, during, and after each mission. Eye witness accounts have stated that she has been seen talking to her pistol. Vicrinus wished to make no comment on the issue. Psychological impact of this behavior has been dismissed due to the lack of negative effects that it presents... WARNING: Known trauma from the Amber Horizon Event has left Vicrinus with a deep seeded hatred for the Reapers. Extent of this hatred has yet to be explored but it has proven to guide her. ...On mission Vicrinus has proven to be a highly effective member of a team, taking her orders and briefing to heart and committing her actions to swift and effective action. In fact this effect can be visibly and verbally noticed by the activation of her visor. Once her tactical readout has been engaged Vicrinus rarely speaks and often adopts a “kill or be killed” attitude... ...Vicrinus has proven to adopt very “loyalistic” outlook making actions to preserve friendly life and ruthlessly kill enemy presences. “Obstacles and Collateral Elements” as Vicrinus has previously stated are of no consequence and while she “Strives to avoid unnecessary death” has proven to “non-lethally subdue” previously stated elements even if it brings the subjects to a state of pain... Specialty: Alria specializes in assassination and sabotage. With her incredible skill with close-quarters combat and pistols as well as her eye and knowledge of finding weak points in enemy structures leave her with plenty of utility as long as she has the tactical advantage of surprise. Due to the Amber Horizon Event she has developed a special bravery that helps to guide her into ridiculously close ranges from which she takes down her foes. Her skill with a blade and her own hands is unrivaled, being able to fight off three foes at once with a bit of effort put in. Yet where she becomes the most lethal is when she gets the drop on her foes, unleashing a torrent of bullets from her pistol, while tossing her Omni-Daggers, and using her Special Omni-Blade for the finishing touches. Beyond her combat capability she has spent weeks flying in varied environments leaving her as a very skilled and talented pilot. While not as good with capital sized vessels; fighters, transports, and small frigates or corvettes feel like home to her. Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak Incinerate Armor-Piercing Ammo Disruptor Ammo Cryo Ammo Decryption Ace Pilot CQC Mastery Equipment and Resources: Sticky Grenades Flashbang Grenades M-83-2 Infiltration Explosives Custom Suppressed Reaver M-17 Pistol (Custom made and crafted by Alria’s mother this suppressed pistol mixed rapid rates of fire and low recoil with high stopping power for a highly effective sidearm.) Twin Custom “Scythe” Omni-Blades (Physical Special knives that generates an Omni-field around the blade to give it a powerful and lethal edge.) Omni-Throwing-Daggers (Generated from her wrist gauntlets these blades form the same holographic energy that most conventional Omni-Blades are made of. Though using a magnetic dispersion field they can maintain their solid shape and be thrown; existing for an extended period of time away from the source.) Modified Seraphim Light Tactical Infiltrator Armor w/ Jump Jet Rig Personally Owned and Modified XA-273 Light Fighter Alria's personal ship, "The Silver Star" is a XA-273 Light Fighter that Alria had modified with advanced thrusters and rudders to increase the speed and handling of the craft. Making sure to have a ship that can keep up with her abilities as an ace pilot. The forward rudders are designed for powerful and rapid turning at high speeds which are achieved through the large and powerful engines that exist near the rear. Similarly this frontal steering provides incredible agility by guiding the ship at a high point versus the traditional mid or rear point. Twin linked gatling cannons on the prow fire from gimballed turrets provide a rapid, form of attack as well as self defense. As a means of heavier ordnance the ship has twin racks of Type-22 Needle Missiles for powerful and precise strikes. The armor of the ship is moderate giving it's size and speed, but falls short compared to most other light fighters. The interior of the ship is streamlined to provide a slick and open cockpit while also providing some storage space for personal effects, medical supplies, and equipment. Similarly it has an interior door that connects to the small cargo bay at the rear of the ship. Sample Post: Palaven. Really Alria remember it much more differently, but that didn’t really matter much now anyway. The Reapers had been cruel to the Turian homeworld and that meant her one memory of this place was just that, a faraway memory. Her mission was to assault an enemy position and remove the threat of artillery strikes that it posed. The Reapers had taken over a Turian artillery position and were now shelling their positions with their own munitions. That could not continue. Alria had wasted no time in closing the distance to the site but then took a moment to inspect it. 12 hostiles, mostly Marauders who were defending the position while two worked the two remaining artillery cannons. Among them was 4 Husks that appeared to just be mindlessly wandering around, which left the 8 Marauders as the real threat. Timing was key and she didn’t have much time to wait for her opportunity as each shell could mean more friendly casualties. Thankfully her chance arrived when Marauder on top of the ridge turned its back for some reason leaving the Husks unwatched. Dashing like a bolt of lightning the invisible Alria drew her knife and pistol and closed the gap to her foes. In the blink of an eye she slashed the first Husk becoming visible and taking its head off with the precision of her strike. In the next fraction of a second she took a swift aim with her pistol and depressed the trigger to turn the second Husk’s head into metal shrapnel. Before the two survivors knew what was going on and could shriek for help Alria already had her knife sheathed so she could grab a Omni-Dagger which was thrown with deadly accuracy at the flick of a wrist to strike a Husk in the body. Though that didn’t seem to kill it. Regardless she took aim at the unharmed Husk and turned his head to dust much as she had done to the last one. Then with the wounded Husk left she drew another Omni-Dagger and hurled it at the Husk to hit its head. That time it fell to the floor dead. Not yet finished she cloaked again and both silently and swiftly made her way up to the artillery position. 8 hostiles left 2 working stations, the other 6 patrolling and as of yet unaware of her actions…. Perfect. Alria drew two Sticky Grenades and in her other hand her pistol stood ready. Rushing in once more her invisible frame threw the first grenade at the control panel of the artillery station making the Marauder question what just made a slight thunk against his cannon before it detonated in a small but very powerful explosion that turned him to paste… 7. From there she tossed the second and once again the second artillery cannon with his user were taken out of commission… 6. In a flash Alria fired her pistol while cloaked disrupting her field but in the process putting two shots to the chest and one to the head of a Marauder… 5. Meanwhile her grenade hand flawlessly drew three Omni-Daggers that were then tossed one at a time to the second Marauder. The first struck his shoulder, the second his thigh, then the third his head… 4. At this point her presence was known and the survivors turned to face and fire on her, but before the first shot could be made Alria had already closed the gap to one and drew her Omni-Blade shooting him once to open his flank before making two swift slashes, one to the side and the second to his neck, looking to strike vital areas… 3. It was then the bullets started flying and that made her use the corpse of the Marauder as cover so she could catch a moment to blink. In response to their gunfire she dashed towards them looking to remove their ranged advantage and in doing so she took four shots with her pistol, all striking true into the chest of another Marauder… 2. With the gap closed one of the two surviving Marauders took a swing with its rifle looking to club her, but Alria almost seemed to expect this as she ducked and rolled under the swing to slash up at its arm cutting deep and long to make the Marauder drop its rifle. In that same instant she holstered her pistol and lashed out with her free hand to grab the Marauder’s arm to steady her movement, using that to swiftly stab up with her blade to hit under the Marauder’s jaw… 1. For the last Marauder she rolled low towards him using her low position to essentially tackle his legs, reaching up to grab his arm and using her blade to cut at his waist. All this attributing to an overhead roll that put the Marauder on his back. Finally using this advantage she swung the blade back around to slam it through the Marauder’s eye, pinning his head to the ground… 0. With the fight over Alria drew her blade out of the Marauder’s head and sheathed it, standing up and looking around to ensure things were handled before she reached up to her visor, activating her comms, ”Artillery position decommissioned. Returning to camp.” Notes She considers herself straight and has an affinity for Turians, Quarians, and Humans. Due to her very active and rather turbulent life she can’t really claim to have much experience with romance. So much so that she can’t claim to have lain with another. Little fact about her, she can't handle her booze too well getting drunk pretty quickly. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗Alria Vicrinus ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "There's little better in the galaxy than good music and bad dancing!" | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "He's not so bad. Maybe a bit of a hardass at times, but that's ok! We're all like that a little bit." ⚜ "Bit of a rocky start with this one. Started on the same mission and were thankfully on the same side, but of course I didn't know that at the time. Had a bit of a turbulent run in, few tense words, a lot more awkward words... But hey! At the end of the day we got over it and he's a pretty good guy! A bit cute too..." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ "Guy's committed I'll give him that. I just don't know what he's committed to..." ✌ "This guy's a bit of an unknown. Anderson knows him but I sure don't. Really he seems like a real hardass, but I think it's just because of what he's put with. In fact he reminds me of some of my old commanders in the Hastatim, ill tempered but dedicated to the cause. Who knows maybe we could be friends." || Ravanor Rykarn || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Rykarn? Never heard of him. Sounds Krogan. I'll bet he's a Krogan." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "I have no rightly clue who or how this person is. I mean she's an Asari... so... she's blue." || Ellis Taevon || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Again who? He's a Human... I think." || Rayes'Xum Nar Yaron || ✌ "Seems nice, doesn't really talk much, but hot damn does he know his stuff!" ✌ "Rayes. That's what I call him anyway. Quarian names are always so long. I haven't talked much to him, but really it wasn't easy to talk to somebody when you're assaulting a Cerberus base and hacking into their systems. Still his actions speak volumes and he can do a lot with very little. Hacking, fighting, guarding. I like him! And he's even got a nice butt!" || Phalanx || ✌ "It's a robot. But it seems to have a good... uh... wires. It sure loves to talk too." ✌ "Phalanx. What an odd name, but then again it is a robot they kinda get a pass for things like that... Anyway it seems ok, but maybe a tad long winded. Note to self... watch what you ask it less you get quiet an earful. Beyond talking it is sure one Hell of a fighter and real good with that sniper of it's too. I know what the Geth did, but this one seems ok in my books and I'm glad to have it on my side." || Ja'Far Balak || ✌ "He smokes... a lot." ✌ "I mean it... This guy smokes A LOT! Not that it's a bad thing, what you do for vices is your choice and it doesn't hurt others right? Anyway, he has that look that I've seen a millions times. He's seen some shit. I don't know if it was a war, or family loss, or whatever but he's got that look. To be honest... I can't help but relate a little to him." || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ✌ "This is a good soldier. No if, ands, or butts about it." ✌ "Narris knows what needs to be done for a mission to go right and while it may not be the most glorious or heroic he'll do it. I haven't had much interaction with him on the mission so far, but that's only because he stayed back to ensure my ass was covered and that means I have some serious respect for the guy." || Tiberius "Tye" Adarian || ☕ "I don't know much about this guy, but damn! Just look at him! He's huge! ☕ "Again I don't know a whole lot about this guy, but the one thing I do know... He's massive even for a Turian. I mean just look at the guy! You'd need a step ladder just to be eye to eye with him!" || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ☕ "Another Krogan. Not sure about much else..." ☕ "Another member of this little rag-tag team that I don't know about. He looks like a Krogan though so he must be able to kick ass. Right?" || Sicaria Velinian || ⚜ "A Turian like me, but she seems to get nosebleeds a lot. Might need to see the doc about that." ⚜ "I know this one. A Turian and about my size too. She seems ok, but really I haven't had too much interaction with her, though I think I've dealt with her the most on this mission out of everybody. Anderson excluded of course. A bit of note too... She seems kind of... curious about me. I think? Not entirely sure what's going on but she doesn't seem bad." || Gilvert Somner || ☕ "Another guy I don't know... yet." ☕ "You don't see many Drell around, but here one is! Though I haven't had a chance to get to know him I'm curious about 'em!" || Salissa Fortia || ☕ "Now this one is just crazy. Driven. But crazy." ☕ "I don't have any problems with her, but she is certainly crazy. I mean who runs into a tide of Husks, Cannibals, and Marauders alone? Even if it is to prop up a barrier and keep her teammates safer for a few more seconds. Still it at least means she's loyal which can be a good thing. Just gotta make sure that crazy doesn't spoil the loyal." || Ethan Sartiel || ☠ "I don't wanna sound mean saying it, but I don't like this guy." ☠ "I have a lot of people I hate and even a few people I REALLY hate. Ethan isn't one of them, but if his first impression is anything to go on. He'll be there soon. I mean who asks people what they shot while in the middle of a fight for their lives! That's just... So rude."

Au fur et à mesure que le champ de stase s'estompait, les grenades ont explosé dans une puissante explosion, quoique étouffée, contenue par le champ renforcé de Vella et Tibère. "Ça devrait suffire, on... attends, qu'est-ce que tu... "..." La frappe de Skarr serait l'abeille (ou maul de puissance massive) qui a brisé le dos du chameau, comme dans les dernières-minutes de l'explosion le marteau viendrait et rompait la barrière, ce qui a obligé Vella et Tibère à sauter sur le côté comme le côté de la barrière dirigée vers l'entrée du complexe souterrain a explosé vers l'extérieur, bien que heureusement la plupart de l'explosion avait déjà passé, ce qui signifie que la plupart de l'air chaud et des débris volaient vers le haut dans un angle -relativement sûr. "Qu'est-ce que c'était pour ça?" Vella a crié en regardant Skarr avec une expression confuse de derrière son masque, mais elle n'a pas eu le temps d'attendre une réponse avant de prendre conscience d'un nouveau développement. "Biotiques! Prends Ellis! Quelqu'un va chercher les tourelles! Tous les autres, couvrez-vous!" Aegon n'avait même pas besoin de le dire. Vella avait déjà fait demi-tour et pouvait entendre les sons alarmants du YMIR alors qu'il commençait sa séquence d'autodestruction, et Vella savait d'avoir lu assez de magazines de sécurité à bas prix qu'un YMIR transportait assez d'une charge utile pour niveler un bloc entier! "Par la déesse, quel idiot a détruit sa tête?" Vella a crié dans la frustration, mais c'était une simple expression de ce qu'elle ressentait. Sa vraie attention était plutôt de trouver la figure d'Ellis, qui était remarquablement difficile à repérer au milieu du nuage lentement dégagé de fumée tactique malgré son énorme volume! À l'entrée du complexe, en face du Cerberus qui fuit, mais toujours très en vue des tourelles, Vella gémit alors qu'elle se précipitait derrière sa lourde couverture en béton et lançait son bras vers l'avant, en utilisant une capacité de levage sur la coque actuellement inopérante d'Ellis! Elle a arraché ses dents, ses muscles et son esprit à l'effort de manipuler la masse du corps d'Ellis! Pourtant la douleur de l'effort n'a pas traversé ses pensées. Des années d'entraînement et d'innombrables heures l'avaient engourdie dans la plupart des plaintes que son corps avait à offrir. Le Chemin de l'Attaquant ; le programme d'entraînement privilégié de la Lance de Lumière ; idéalisé le symbole de l'implacable guerrierne, n'abandonnant jamais, ne connaissant qu'une seule voie, et qui était en avant ; jusqu'à ce que ses ennemis ou son corps aient cédé, selon ce qui est arrivé le premier! -- Une fois que cela aura été fait, Ellis, je coupe votre boîte à pain de quelques centaines de kilos! Vella a grondé plus qu'elle ne parlait dans son interphone, une fureur menaçante dans sa voix! Tandis que le costume d'Ellis s'éloignait lentement du sol, l'une des tourelles avait déjà tourné son baril vers la partie dériveuse du métal et ouvert un feu entièrement automatique ; des dizaines de balles se cinglant déjà contre son armure lourde avec des degrés d'efficacité variables! "Quelqu'un s'occupe du,-" *BEP**BOP**BIP* *KABOOM* Vella s'est mise à crier, avant d'entendre soudain le son bip-bop familier de son premier droïde recon; Aurora; comme il est soudainement venu fouillant de sa vue arrière; c'est la lumière bleue chatoyante alors qu'il s'est transformé en un rouge vif; et il s'est soudainement suicidé en une des tourelles dans une explosion ingloreuse! "Oh... Je suppose que merci, Sil." Elle pensait en privé qu'elle venait de regarder le tas smoldering où la tourelle et Aurora venaient de se heurter. Mais la bonne nouvelle serait brève, car une autre voix s'est brusquement craquée à travers l'interphone. Katabasis, il y a eu un développement. Cette institution a été utilisée comme station de recherche Reaper, et maintenant nous avons plus de deux mille Husks en liberté. Nous devons les tenir ici, les empêcher de gagner le passage vers la ville ci-dessus. L'infiltration agira comme un leurre, et conduira la horde à la position Assault, là nous serons en mesure de baisser et d'utiliser les limites serrées pour les arrêter jusqu'à ce que les renforts puissent arriver. Vella sentit un morceau de son esprit soudainement geler ; son corps continuant automatiquement en manipulant Ellis ; comme le sens réel du message lui apparut pleinement. "Les défenses. Des milliers d'entre eux, hein?" Derrière son casque, le visage de Vella prendrait un ton plus neutre. Un regard presque serein sur son visage, mais ses yeux jaunes normaux et brillants avaient gagné un regard étrangement vide; comme si elle regardait simplement dans l'espace. "Remercié..." Elle répondit simplement, sa voix ayant tourné presque mécaniquement alors que ses yeux se levaient soudainement vers l'entrée ; un profond, piercing focus hantant maintenant son regard!

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

D'un problème à l'autre, la situation des grenades semblait relativement contenue, même avec Skarr qui décidait de casser le paquet avec son marteau pour une raison quelconque, et le reste des troupes de Cerberus incapables ou tués, le tout sans provoquer l'effondrement de l'ancien système métropolitain sur eux. Le YMIR mech est descendu avec un tir bien placé dans son optique, et comme il est venu s'écraser avant l'auto-détonation, comme la plupart des mechs de cette fabrication a fait comme un échec sûr pour garder la technologie hors des mains ennemies, et peut-être enlever quelques-uns d'entre eux qui se sont trop proches. Même si Rykarn ne s'est pas considéré comme un proche, il a encore couvert son visage de casque d'un bras car des éclats d'obus ont touché son armure, bien plus faible que leur vitesse d'apex. La menace disparue, il a évalué la situation; autre qu'Ellis étant piégé dans une boîte inutile d'un costume, le reste de l'équipe est sorti intact. Ce n'est pas une radiation complète, après tout. Prenant le bref temps d'arrêt pour compléter son lance-grenades, les cellules d'armes lourdes comme l'équipe s'est recueillie, et leur commande Spectre semblait être moins qu'enthousiasmée par l'exposition de combat. Quand il a ordonné à quelqu'un de récupérer Ellis, Rykarn a grondé. Il a dit au sujet des communications, commençant à jogger vers l'humain. Alors qu'il ne voulait pas vraiment voir l'ex-agent de Cerberus se faire exploser dans les gibbets par des explosifs à cause amicale, le krogan a reconnu qu'il était celui qui s'est mis là et a fait tomber un jeûne YMIR mech était tout sauf essentiel; il avait le potentiel de tuer des équipes entières et ont encore des munitions à épargner. Avant que le krogan ne puisse aller trop loin, Anderson est venu sur les communications, sonnant le niveau de voix vu le sitrep qu'il a laissé tomber. Deux mille Husks? Division de recherche sur les réchauds? Rykarn ressentit encore moins d'empathie envers les deux soldats qu'il jeta sur les grenades. "Joy". C'est de la merde, même si nous avions dix fois notre nombre. Le sentiment devait être partagé, mais les conséquences de laisser la vague littérale de monstres s'échapper dans la ville étaient inacceptables. Il a crié vers les autres. Je n'ai pas passé l'année dernière à reconstruire cette ville puante pour que tout soit détruit par ces connards putrides. Fouillez les corps, rassemblez autant de clips thermiques et d'armes que vous pouvez mettre la main dessus. Nous n'avons pas beaucoup de temps ; bougez! À ce stade, il ne se souciait pas qu'il dépasse ses limites dans la chaîne de commandement, une idée était une idée et si cela signifiait la différence entre se déchirer par des centaines de griffes cybernétiques ou avoir même une chance de survie pyjaque, les choses devaient se faire. Ne se contentant pas de voir si quelqu'un d'autre s'est mis à l'action, Rykarn s'est précipité de corps en corps, en se détachant les ceintures de quelque chose d'utile, y compris quelques grenades et en jetant sans souci les armes inertes dans une direction similaire pour faire quelque chose d'une pile communautaire. Il était à peine à mi-chemin quand les premières lamentations tout-trop-familiaires ont commencé à émaner du tunnel. Ils n'avaient plus le temps. "Des amis sortent!" Une voix féminine est venue à la radio avec un flangage turois. Rykarn n'a pu l'imaginer qu'après quelques instants. Copier ça. Le krogan a affirmé, prenant position près du petit tas de Hornets, de Mattocks, de Talons, de clips thermiques et de grenades à fragmentation qui avaient réussi à être ramassés. Il y avait même un couple de boucliers protecteurs récupérés, qui peuvent ou non se révéler utiles. L'équipe d'assaut était partie quelques instants plus tard, et s'emparer de leurs talons étaient l'une des choses que Rykarn avait plutôt espéré ne pas voir à nouveau. Il a activé les cartouches de Cryo sur son fusil d'assaut Striker et a commencé à ouvrir le feu sur les Husks de première ligne, l'arme à feu lourde et lente frappant les corps déformés avec des munitions explosives qui ont commencé à démembrer les membres et à dégeler les parties qui étaient toujours reliées à ce qui a conduit ces créatures. Des morceaux congelés de parties du corps commençaient à s'accumuler, et après même avoir sorti un second clip thermique, semblait aussi efficace que l'utilisation d'un sac de sable pour essayer d'arrêter la marée. Keying dans l'activation de la ruée vers l'adrénaline, les aiguilles familières creusent dans son dos une fois de plus, Rykarn's perception et le temps de réaction a augmenté, faisant le monde semble se déplacer dans le ralenti tandis qu'il a continué à pleuvoir l'enfer explosif sur le fourrage de Reaper. Ça ne suffirait pas, il savait. Ils devraient enterrer ces choses d'une façon ou d'une autre. Il faut peut-être effondrer le tunnel! Nous sommes envahis, et ces choses sortent encore dans la ville! ─ il a crié aux autres, en particulier Anderson et Partinax. Ils appelaient les coups de feu, et même si ça n'avait été que... quoi, une heure? De toute sa vie, ils étaient toujours ses commandants. Vous avez écouté la chaîne de commandement, ou vous êtes mort. Ça ne voulait pas dire que tu devais aimer ça.

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

Les choses dévalaient rapidement, le spectre criant sur elle pour regarder son feu pour ne pas frapper Ellis était la chose la plus stupide qu'elle ait entendu depuis un moment. Elle tirait comme ça exactement pour cette raison! Le YMIR était par lui, s'il gardait l'attention sur lui, il tuerait Ellis avant qu'ils aient eu la chance de faire face à... ça... Avant qu'elle ait le temps de finir sa pensée qu'un grand sac faisait écho dans tout le tunnel. Elle l'a reconnu, c'était le tireur d'élite de Drell. Puis elle a reconnu le son suivant venant de la mech. Elle s'est retournée pour regarder en arrière, seulement pour voir qu'il manque la tête... - Mon dieu... - Elle a dit, réaliser ce qui allait arriver à tout moment maintenant. L'imbécile l'a fait entrer en mode autodestruction! Elle a immédiatement ouvert le feu sur les tourelles restantes. Ce Drell était tellement en train de se faire battre s'ils survivaient à ça! Après cela, ils ont reçu la prochaine grande nouvelle... HUSKS! Qui a permis à Cerberus de garder des défenses! Pas étonnant qu'elle n'en ait pas trouvé sur ses patrouilles de routage! Ces bâtards les avaient attaqués et les avaient gardés quelque part et maintenant ils ont déclenché les horreurs de la guerre une fois de plus. D'un côté, ils ont eu une énorme explosion et de l'autre, un essaim de défenses... Elle a crié dans la frustration, avant de s'élancer dans la direction où les défenses s'approchaient avec l'équipe d'infiltration qui menait l'essaim vers eux. » BIOTICES, JUST FOCUS SUR LE PAIL MÉTAL, JE DÉLAI AVEC LES HUSKS! » Salissa a crié alors qu'elle se dirigeait vers l'entrée, son Revenant prêt à fournir un soutien au feu sur les unités alliées entrantes, mais l'attraction principale était son bras cybernétique gauche. Un certain nombre de ses armures étaient comme ouvertes, révélant une sorte d'émetteurs. De plus, ça donnait un bruit de bourdonnement. Le générateur de barrière fortifié était déjà amorcé et elle n'attendait maintenant que les alliés pour passer afin qu'elle puisse activer les boucliers et couper les défenses afin que l'équipe puisse se réorganiser en ligne défensive appropriée. Elle a dû faire un choix, utiliser la barrière maintenant pour protéger Ellis ou utiliser la barrière pour s'assurer qu'ils n'ont pas été échauffés par les défenses avant qu'ils puissent se regrouper... Elle a choisi la sécurité de toute l'équipe.

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

Opération Katabasis; Équipe d'infiltration Phalanx s'est rechargé puis a dirigé à nouveau son fusil de sniper, mais l'Unité Turiane féminine identifiée comme Sicaria Velinian et Ja'Far Balak s'était occupée des autres ennemis. Sicaria Velinian a rapidement éliminé deux soldats alors que Ja'Far Balak les a tout simplement incapables. Rejoindre le Centurion sur le sol dans la douleur de se faire tirer dessus. Menace neutralisée, le Geth se leva de sa position, se cachant et descendit les marches pour rejoindre les autres. C'est alors que les alarmes ont commencé à s'évanouir. En plus de la vue du Spectre humain criant sur un scientifique humain âgé. Comme on l'expliquait, l'homme âgé avait libéré une horde de défenses, et l'explication de la raison pour laquelle, les volets de Phalanx se sont levés brusquement avant de descendre lentement, bien que sa partie supérieure gauche soit restée un peu entrouverte comme un sourcil cocu. "Illogique. La probabilité d'une évasion en toute sécurité est de 34,324%, ce qui ne tient pas compte du retard de l'arrivée des bustes et du fait qu'ils doivent passer par nos forces armées en premier. Au lieu d'escorter en toute sécurité avec un comportement approprié, il est maintenant plus probable que la chair soit déchirée et consommée par la force. » Phalanx a chié, trouvant une telle tentative désespérée tout à fait insondable. Est-ce une chose humaine ou juste une chose organique générale? Les scientifiques étaient censés être logiques, n'est-ce pas? Des créatures bizarres. "Saintement, c'est un coup monté! a exprimé l'un des scientifiques alors qu'ils ont remarqué l'énorme synthétique. Yeux étendus à la fois dans la terreur et l'intrigue. "Demander de s'abstenir des explosions à haute voix en raison de la horde prochaine d'ennemis agressifs et sans esprit." Phalanx a répondu dans sa monotone robotique, sonnant beaucoup plus calme par rapport aux scientifiques terrifiés. En écoutant le plan de Jake Anderson, la plateforme Geth l'a traitée. Afin de protéger les vies innocentes qui vivent au-dessus, l'équipe que le Spectre vient de former n'avait guère d'autre choix que de retenir cette armée. Il était évident que tout le monde était tout à fait capable, cependant, prendre un plein sur l'armée était une peine de mort proche. Même si c'était surtout avec des créatures sans esprit, elles étaient plus nombreuses. Ils finiraient par manquer de ressources qui seraient nécessaires pour les garder à l'écart. Cependant, les quartiers proches les aidaient dans l'effort, car les défenses tendaient juste à charger directement leur adversaire sans pensée. Pourrait les tirer dans une file, ou lancer des grenades pour en sortir plusieurs à la fois. Ils pourraient tenter d'effondrer l'endroit si ça venait à lui. Il risquait de détruire la structure et l'équipe, mais il valait mieux que tant de vies meurent. Pour l'instant, cette suggestion restera en dernier recours. En écoutant le Spectre humain donner à chaque membre de l'équipe un poste désigné, Phalanx a répondu avec un, "Accrédité, Anderson-Spectre." avant d'entrer en position sur le côté gauche des groupes. En prenant son fusil de sniper et en sortant le clip. En passant à Cyro Ammo, le Geth a clignoté sa tête de lampe de poche vers les troupes de Cerberus alors que les Husks sont finalement arrivés et ont commencé à les déchirer. L'être synthétique n'a pas réagi, ou du moins on ne pouvait pas dire avec quelque chose qui avait une lampe de poche pour un visage, mais les volets en métal autour de sa tête secouaient toujours si légèrement. Déménageant avec le groupe comme l'unité féminine turienne Alria, Angel, Vicrinus, Phalanx a examiné le groupe de scientifiques alors qu'il flanquait leur gauche. S'assurer que personne n'a essayé quoi que ce soit de suspect ou fait une tentative pour obtenir la ligne et échapper à leur prison d'escorte. Quelques-uns d'entre eux s'éloignaient de l'être synthétique imposant, se souvenant peut-être que Geth avait autrefois aidé à créer ces défenses qui les poursuivaient actuellement et n'hésitaient pas à arracher la chair organique molle de leurs os. Des coups de feu ont éclaté derrière eux, alors que des défenses tentaient de s'immiscer dans le groupe. C'est alors que le Geth a repéré une charge Marauder à travers la horde de défenses régulières, poussant son chemin vers le front et menant la charge. Phalanx a levé instantanément son fusil de sniper, a pris le but afin de ne pas poser une balle dans l'un de ses camarades, puis a tiré sur la charge Turian Husk. Il s'est cogné alors que le coup de tête l'a fait sauter et s'est aplati sur deux autres défenses. En se déplaçant, Phalanx a rechargé vu que Alria, Angel, Vicrinus a ouvert une porte pour révéler deux défenses. Alria Angel Vicrinus s'en est occupé avec quelques coups de feu. Le Geth a calculé que Ja'Far Balak avait l'autre, mais si pour une raison quelconque il ne l'a pas fait, le Geth prendrait un autre coup. Enlevant son sniper pour son fusil de chasse alors qu'ils entraient dans une pièce qui ressemblait à un mess. Tandis qu'ils passaient par là, les portes s'ouvraient comme des défenses chargées vers eux. Plusieurs commencent à étinceller pour faire exploser leurs explosions électriques qui enlèvent leurs boucliers et causent des dommages. Nombreux sont ceux qui se sont déversés dans le ciel, auquel cas Phalanx a immédiatement tiré son fusil de chasse alors que des hordes se sont déversées dans le ciel tout en se déplaçant pour pousser les prisonniers dans une tentative d'atterrissage. Il n'a pas pu tous les obtenir, cependant Phalanx allait bientôt arracher des défenses des scientifiques et les jeter dans les tables. Aider les scientifiques tout en ciblant son arme et en tirant à nouveau. Elle devait être prudente quant à l'endroit où elle visait et à ce qu'elle utilisait. Il ne pouvait pas utiliser l'incinération à cette proximité sans brûler certains scientifiques. "Ne vous dispersez pas. Restez près de cette plate-forme. Restez silencieux." Phalanx a ordonné aux scientifiques, avant d'émettre un son à haute hauteur afin d'aider à attirer l'attention, car il a frappé un poing métallique contre quelques défenses afin de les pousser loin avant de les faire sauter à nouveau avec son arme. Cette plate-forme particulière n'avait pas beaucoup de capacités de mêlée, donc pour la plupart, elle a dû bloquer autant qu'elle le pouvait pour protéger à la fois les scientifiques et Créateur Rayes'Xum vas Fowal. Malgré cela, il n'y a pas eu d'hésitation puisque Phalanx a décidé de faire quoi que ce soit en son pouvoir pour les protéger. Les défenses gémissent et gémissent, griffant sur le corps métallique plus grand, les dents mordent dans le muscle synthétique de l'épaule. Rincer et déchirer au mieux de leurs capacités à travers le blindage Geth et dans la plate-forme réelle. Liquide blanc qui sort du muscle synthétique déchiré. Pour la plupart, le Geth a réussi à les sortir du centre du groupe et à revenir en position avec l'aide de ses coéquipiers. Des éraflures grattées contre sa forme métallique, un liquide blanc qui se détache du cou, de l'épaule, des bras et de la taille. Le maintien d'un certain nombre de dommages dus à ses efforts de protection. Alors qu'il a repéré un scientifique essayant de faire un geste pour glisser en utilisant le chaos comme couverture, le Geth s'est cassé la main sur son épaule et l'a tiré à nouveau au milieu. "Restez en formation. Le pourcentage de décès augmente si vous devez laisser des personnes armées prêtes à vous protéger. » il a mis en garde avant de recharger et de continuer, en utilisant son Omni-Tool pour aider à réparer certaines de ses blessures dans un travail de patch up rapide. C'est alors que trois autres défenses sont apparues à l'avant. Alria Angel Vicrinus s'en est occupé avant d'en avoir un qui s'accroche à son dos. Phalanx s'est déplacée pendant qu'elle l'a tiré quelques fois avant que le Geth ne bouge et n'ait saisi la coque par le crâne avec son Omni-Tool. L'enlever comme Phalanx utilisé incinérer pour brûler son crâne puis le jeter sur le côté. Naviguer dans la nouvelle pièce, Phalanx a tourné sa tête de lampe de poche autour pour examiner les boîtes qui les encerclent. C'est alors qu'ils ont éclaté avec des défenses qui leur ont chargé de partout. Il y en avait trop pour se battre à la tête Turian a appelé pour qu'ils courent pour elle. Phalanx suivit rapidement, exhortant les scientifiques à se déplacer tout en tirant son fusil dans n'importe quelles défenses à venir qui se rapprochaient trop. Une des scientifiques a trébuché et est tombée. Dans ce cas, le Geth a rapidement doublé le dos et a attrapé l'humain, qui criait alors que la forme de vie synthétique s'approchait, luttant un peu de sa prise. N'ayant pas le temps de faire face à cela, Phalanx a laissé un autre coup éparpillé de son fusil à sa gauche puis utilisé agité son omnitool en utilisant l'incinérateur pour laisser un mur enflammé. Remonter le scientifique humain paniqué et la jeter sur son épaule gauche avant de retourner à sa position d'origine assignée. Elle lui a donné un coup de pied et l'a frappé, mais il n'a pas semblé que Phalanx se sentait ou se souciait. Bien que les luttes aient fait empirer certaines de ses blessures et certains rouvrir. La réparation rapide ne peut pas soutenir le stress du corps en difficulté. Enfin, ils sont arrivés leur désignation et avec l'équipe d'assaut en vue, Phalanx a exhorté les scientifiques à passer, mais a déménagé devant eux, de sorte qu'ils n'ont pas fait une pause pour cela une fois qu'ils ont passé l'équipe d'assaut. Une fois un peu en sécurité derrière l'équipe d'assaut, Phalanx s'est tourné vers les scientifiques. "Restez à l'abri et couvrez-vous. Surveille-la." Il a ordonné, en plaçant la femelle terrifiée vers le bas comme le groupe s'agenouille avec tout ce qu'ils pouvaient trouver couverture. Le Geth s'est surtout assuré que les scientifiques étaient en place, mais a lancé une boule de feu sur les défenses et a fait quelques tirs avec son fusil sniper quand il a repéré un Cannibal ou Marauder dans la horde.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

C'est la première fois que l'on s'en occupe. La première mission de l'équipe a commencé quand Anderson et Aegon ont commencé à marcher plus profondément dans le tunnel. D'autres membres du groupe ont commencé à suivre les deux Spectres, y compris un autre soldat de l'Alliance. Rol'Naaris a travaillé avec des dizaines de soldats de l'Alliance pendant son séjour à Alexandrie et est venu les respecter. C'était bon de voir l'un des meilleurs de la Terre dans cette équipe. Même si elle ne faisait pas partie de l'équipe d'infiltration, la plupart des coéquipiers étaient bien dans le livre de Rol. Il a commencé la longue marche à travers l'obscurité alors qu'il a mis son fusil de sniper prêt pour toute sorte de combat. Plusieurs minutes de marche ont conduit le groupe à une fissure assez petite dans le mur pour qu'ils puissent ramper à travers. Un par un, presque tous sont passés par la fissure et Rol était le dernier avant qu'il ne s'en aille. Il voulait faire attention à endommager accidentellement son costume. Après tout, il était toujours quarien. De l'autre côté, il y avait une porte qui menait à la base cachée. Lorsque Rol'Naaris a rejoint les autres, la porte a commencé à s'ouvrir comme une grande femelle turienne se tenait de l'autre côté. Anderson l'a présentée sous le nom d'Alria Vicrinus, un autre membre de l'équipage. Rol n'a pas eu le temps d'obtenir une lecture claire d'Alria parce qu'Anderson a commencé à donner des ordres. Tout le monde faisait partie de regarder le dos de quelqu'un pendant que Rol'Naaris devait garder la porte. Assez simple. Il ne se souciait pas du tout de garder la porte puisqu'il pourrait être nécessaire plus tard dans la mission. Le quarien a fait signe à Anderson alors que tout le monde commençait à se séparer et à essayer d'accomplir ses ordres. Avec le fusil de sniper sur son côté, il s'est penché contre le mur et a attendu des coups de feu. Il sourit dès qu'il entendit le tir lointain pour l'équipe d'assaut et les coups de feu de l'équipe d'infiltration. Tout allait trop bien jusqu'à ce que les alarmes se déclenchent. Rol n'a pas du tout été surpris par les alarmes qui s'est déclenchées à la dernière minute et s'est préparé à garder la porte. Ensuite, Anderson est venu sur le canal de communication et a dit que deux mille Husks ont été libérés. Garder la porte n'était plus l'objectif principal. Anderson a donné de nouveaux ordres à tout le monde, y compris Rol et Sicaria pour combattre l'arrière-garde avec le Spectre. Il a couru dans le couloir et a vu le groupe de scientifiques avec Phalanx et Raye. Rol a tenu sur son fusil de sniper et est entré en position alors que l'arrière-garde a commencé à tirer sur la vague massive de museau. Il s'accroupit d'un genou sur le sol et dirigea son fusil de sniper vers la foule. C'était assez facile à faire. Il suffit de viser, de respirer et d'appuyer sur la gâchette. Il a vu la chose tomber avec le coup de feu instantané dans la tête. Il l'a fait pendant quelques minutes jusqu'à ce que Rykarn suggère d'effondrer le tunnel, piégeant ces monstres dans leur enfer. C'était un meilleur plan que d'attendre des renforts. Ja'Far a également soutenu l'idée de Rykarn et l'a exprimée à l'égard des autres. Rol'Naaris a dit à Anderson en rechargeant son fusil, "Je suggère que nous suivons le plan de Rykarn parce qu'il y a assez d'explosions pour effondrer ce trou de l'enfer. Et cet endroit mérite d'être enterré."

Name: Rol'Naaris nar Taazzor; Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal; Rol Race: Quarian Class Infiltrator Age: Twenty-nine years old Sex: Male Appearance: With their weak immune system, Rol'Naaris rarely takes off any part of his armor unless he is fixing up his wounds. No-one beyond the Migrant Fleet knows what he looks like without that mask. Rol tried his best to get armor that made him stand out for the other Quarian on their pilgrimage. That's why he got Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII for a store in the Citadel during his pilgrimage. Despite being an outdated model, Rol made sure to update its' shields and protection of weapons and biotics. Even before he returned to the fleet, he managed to raise one of the shoulder pads up and changed it from a navy blue to a tan color. After the Reaper War, he still kept the same old armor on him and refused to change it for a better model. It had survived this war, it will survive for a long time. Even when he joined the Spectres, he refused to use their Quarian armor since it was not better compared to the other armors on sale in places like Omega or Illium. Backstory: Rol'Naaris was born on board the Taazzor in the year 2157 on the day that Relay 314 Incident (or the First Contact War coined by the humans) happened. Rol spent his childhood aboard on the Taazzor with his mother and father. His mother worked in the technical division, while his father was in the Marines. When he was old enough, his mother took him to places like the Citadel to gather parts no possible to obtain within the fleet. This was Rol's first time that he had been outside of the Taazzor and saw other species in person. It was breathtaking and amazing. He often wandered off before his mother chased after him and took him back home. When he learned of the pilgrimage, Rol was ready to venture beyond the fleet and live in the Citadel. The truth was that life as a quarian was harsher than he expected. His father, however, was in the Marines that was born on a military ship and taught about warfare by his father. Rol took interest in the Marines because of his father and grandpa. He taught his son everything he knew about military strategy that he was taught by the Marines. A couple of Marines aboard the Taazzor told him bits of other warfare strategies that krogans and humans use. During his early teens, Rol studied as much as he could on the history of warfare for several races and he also took a look at the Geth War. He soon took interest in history, politics, and the Marines. Years of reading into Sun-Tzu and the Krogan Rebellions were useful facts to learn and he developed a love for planning out tactics. When it was time for Rol to take part in the pilgrimage, his family and friends gathered around to give gifts before Rol left. His mother managed to get a book about what foods and drinks Quarian can and cannot eat and drink. While his father gave him a Kassa Fabrication Nexus omni tool and a Haliat Armory Stiletto pistol. Shortly after, he left behind his family and friends and headed to the Citadel. Despite facing prejudice for other races, he liked his pilgrimage. He found out so much about the history of Humanity and their culture that he planned a trip to visit Earth. And he made his credits by working at a repair store. While he was trying to gather the credits, Citadel was under attack by the Reapers. Rol managed to survive the battle by following C-Sec into one of their police stations. As the pieces of Sovereign and the Geth fleet rain down onto the Citadel, his apartment was completely destroyed—his things were destroyed and his roommate was killed. All of the credits, that he had earned, were gone into repairing the damages and trying to move on. But he could not move forward and left the Citadel to complete his pilgrimage two years later. It took him six months to find some worthy to return to the fleet. It was some pieces for one of the Geth ships that he brought off of some scavengers. He was accepted by into the fleet with open arms, joined Vaepal, and began working in both the Marines as a strategist. When the Admiralty Board was talking about a possible war with the Geth, Rol supported the war and pushed other crew members to realize that war was the answer to their problems. A year after the talks, the Special Projects arm finally found a way to weaken the Geth. While the Board was voting on war, Rol was a vocal advocate for the war. After hours of debating, the Board had declared war on the Geth and Rol got to work. Despite not having enough time to be taught everything in the Marines. Quarians on their pilgrimage had to return to the fleet to prepare for war. Rol was responsible for placing the returning into positions suitable to the Vaepal and planning ways to attack the Geth fleet. The Migrant Fleet had updated with include weapons on-board civilian ships, an action that he strongly agreed with. They began their assault as the Reapers invaded Earth and burned Palaven. Things were going well for the fleet until the Geth accepted the Reaper's help, destroying any chance of an easy victory. Vaepal didn't need weapons since it was a military ship. Everyone was too busy to deal with the Reapers that the Fleet suffered huge losses. Vaepal was attacked during one of many ambushes that nearly got Rol killed. He still believed that the fleet could win, especially since Commander Shepard came to their aid. After several victories (with the help of the Commander), the fleet managed to push the Geth back towards their old homeworld, Rannoch. That was when the Battle for Rannoch began. Hours of fighting brought a major victory for the quarian, earning their homeworld back. Surprisingly, the Geth suddenly supported the Quarian conquest and joined Humanity in the battle for Earth. Rol didn't support peaceful co-existence with the machines and requested that a Geth not board the Vaepal; however, he wanted to help with the fight against the Reapers. So, he joined other strategists to come up with plans on how to defeat the Reapers (if the Battle of Earth was a massive defeat) as soon as the Admiralty Board finally declared war on the Reapers. When the time came to fight on Earth, he was selected to join a group of attackers that planned on landing in North Africa. Several attacks were planned all over the world so the Reapers could be spread out thin. He was a part of the attack on Earth; however, he didn't go to London at all. The battle itself was more difficult than the Battle for Rannoch. People were dying left and right as Rol helped hold the line. Then, the energy vaporized the Reapers and the Reaper ships stopped working. The war was finally over. Afterwards, Rol was treated in the city of Alexandria and spent time there before returning to the fleet. Around that time, Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy had also returned to the fleet and began her work with Rannoch. Her influence and actions during the Reaper War grant her command of the newly built Diplomacy Fleet. He was offered a spot aboard Tali'Zorah's body guard. He refused and focused on rebuilding Earth with the others. He has traveled all over the Middle East, the Great Basin and the Mojave and Sonoran Desert. Rol went back to Alexandria to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Battle of Earth. Psyche Profile: Rol'Naaris is just like any normal quarian: strategic mind, judgmental, hard-working, decisive, and overly analytical. Those traits have been useful and useless to him throughout his life. Rol tends to make only a few friends that like to have discussions about stuff and hang out often. He has no trouble relaxing and enjoying himself with his friends, but he doesn't share his emotions with them. And he cannot be able to provide emotional support towards others. Plus, he can often be too honest to deal with. Romantic relationships are also his weakness as he doesn't know anything other than warfare. Rol also has a thing for organizing. He is also judgmental towards Geths because of their actions during the last few years. And the fact that Rol despises artificial intelligence and labels them as 'a threat to the galaxy.' Besides Geth, he is willing to have a healthy discussion with different ideals and opinions. And he likes human movies that have anything to do with humans destroying AI; but, he favors The Matrix and Inception. He also likes reading novels, writing essays, watching documentaries, and listening to classical music. And he always wanted to have plants along with trained dogs and go to famous landmarks. And he also always wanted to start up a museum since he loved other species’ histories. He dislikes narrow-minded people, gossip circles, people who can't handle dark humor, metal music, alcohol, and dirty/messy places. Specialty: Rol'Naaris was most likely picked to be in the Spectre-led task force because of his involvement with the Marines and they noted him as a great strategist during the Battle for Rannoch and he also helped his commander during the Battle of Earth. He was also one of the few Quarian that went to Earth during the battle, which gives his experience in the heat of a firefight. And Rol also knows how to use both a shotgun and a sniper unlike other quarians. He likes the sniper rifle better than the shotgun, but he would use it if he's in the front lines. In short, he's the sniper of the team. Powers/Skills: Sabotage, Tactical Cloak, Assassination, Agent (Operative), and Fitness Equipment and Resources: Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII (it includes a modified version of Asymmetric Defense Layer that fits perfectly into the look of the armor), Haliat Armory's Equalizer IX, Kassa Fabrication's Polaris VIII, Elanus Risk Control Services's Hurricane V, and Haliat Armory's Stiletto VI Sample Post: Rol'Naaris waited patiently for his shuttle to finally land at their location. It felt like they have been flying for hours since they left one of the human ships. Everyone aboard the shuttle could hear explosions all around them. Once in awhile, they could hear a shuttle getting hit and most likely crash landing onto Earth: human's homeworld. Rol felt sick whenever he heard the explosions getting closer towards this shuttle. And it did not help that he was the only quarian on this shuttle and surrounded by krogan, turians, and humans. A human sitting by Rol was looking at a datapad. Rol only noticed when he was checking on his sniper rifle and decided to take a peek at the datapad. It was a very old picture of a group of people with weapons, standing next to horses. It could of been from World War I or some other minor war fought during the time period. He kept on checking out his weapons while some of the turians and humans started to pray as they felt the shuttle going down. Everyone gathered their weapons and readied themselves for the drop off. Before they left, one of the Alliance captains told everyone to get into cover as soon as possible and open fire. Sounds of a firefight got louder as the shuttle began to land while it was taking fire from marauders and brutes Soon enough, everyone stood up and waited for the doors to open up. Rol held his sniper rifle tightly and ready for a dash towards the nearest cover. Before they opened, everyone heard the pilot's voice through the comms as he gave instructions on where the base is located. "Alright, you are about to be fired at. Remember to fight carefully and remain calm; however, don't forget your main objective. Reach the command base. Your omni-tool should have the location marked. Once you reach the location, the commander of the base will issue you with a task to do and communicate with you. Good luck soldiers. May God be with you." After that brief speech, the doors slowly opened as bullets could be heard hitting against the shuttle. Everyone carefully stepped out and dashed towards cover. Some of them were immediately shot and cried out in pain or died because of a well placed shot. Once Rol exited out of the shuttle and ran towards cover, it took off rather quickly and left the areas. Other shuttles began to land as soldiers exited out of it while one was shot down while leaving the areas. Rol went to a different cover and pulled out his omni-tool while soldiers left and right were getting shot at. The omni-tool revealed that the location was somewhere west and saw that a couple of soldiers were already heading there. The night was still rather young and it was difficult to see anything. Suddenly, he heard screaming and a struggle as Rol went for his pistol. He ran towards the sound and saw that the human for the shuttle was pinned by a husk. Rol shoved the gun against the husk's head and opened fire, killing the creature for sure. It felt as the human pushed it away from him and processed to kick it several times. "Motherfucker!" he said angrily towards the husk. "Are you alright?" Rol asked while grabbing the human's assault rifle and offering it to him. "Yeah... Just took me by surprise." he pointed at the dead husk and grabbed his gun. "Thanks.." "Call me Rol." Rol just said while he was grabbing his sniper rifle. "Rol... I am Hamdaan." Hamdann said while reloading his assault rifle. Both men began their walk on the abandoned street while other soldiers walked pass them. It was rather peaceful, even know explosions and gunshots could be heard all around. They were nearby the base because of the M35 Makos could be seen from afar, firing towards the Reapers. They have started to talk about being on Earth since the invasion. It turned out that his aunt and brother were on Earth during the invasion. They were traveling to Dubai just as the Reaper began their attack. Their ride took a detour towards the airport and they managed to get on a transport ship before the transmission died out. Hamdaan knew that they were dead and mourned their deaths. Afterwards, he joined the Alliance and waited for this day to come since joining. Rol felt bad that the quarian were fighting the geth. He saw the footage of Earth while he was planning for the upcoming war with them. It was truly disgusting for him to hear the news then Palaven was hit as well. The breaking news made him stop working for the entire day and he wanted to throw up. Shepard was right the whole time and no-one—not even Rol himself—believed his warnings. Rol said that the news made him work harder than ever to finish up with the geth; but, things never go according to plan. Gunfire got louder as both of the men rushed towards the base and saw the husk heading towards the Makos. Some of them got on top of them and Rol used his sniper rifle to pick them off. With one knee on the ground, he aimed and fired at the husks. Hamdaan charged towards the base ready for anything while others followed his lead. Rol got off of the ground and rushed towards the firefight. It was going to be one hell of a battle. The one that he was going to tell stories about for years to come. If he survives the ordeal. Notes Rol hasn't have the chance to be in a romantic relationship, but he is sure that he could most likely be either gay or straight. However, it doesn't bug him at all. He made some friends during the Battle of Earth and talks to them often. And he also still talks to people from the fleet as well. And he also has met Tali’Zorah after the Reaper War for a brief moment. Plus, he is more than willing to provide his services to rebuilding the Earth.

Vella a jeté Ellis dans une pile littérale d'armes. Son propre Mattock suffirait pour le combat, mais si les salauds s'approchent... Il a giflé trois Talons récupérés sur ses étuis, espérant que, le moment venu, il pourrait les dessiner une main, sans les laisser tomber. "NERO, mettez toutes les armes à Cryo ammo!" Il s'appuya sur sa jambe immobile, l'utilisant comme fulcrum pour sa bonne jambe pour le pousser en position debout. Il a élevé son Mattock, et a pris le but. C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! Quatre défenses ralentissaient, trébuchaient et gelaient. L'un d'eux a gelé au milieu de la chute, comme une œuvre d'art moderne sur les dangers de la technologie ancienne. C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! Un de plus, congelé quand il est tombé sur la pile. Ils ne fournissaient pas beaucoup d'obstacle par eux-mêmes, mais il était à mi-chemin, tirant des limaces solides. Le fusil s'est effondré, et il s'est magnétisé dans le dos, alors qu'il tirait un de ses Talons pillés. Les défenses entraient dans le champ de tir, juste à l'heure. "Cryo ammo, Nero?" "Vérifié." Le Talon aboie ardemment, et des durs de rasoir tranchants de métal et d'azote se sont enflammés vers l'armée de défense. Deux autres, solides congelés, et Ellis était sorti des munitions. Il a jeté le pistolet vide et en a tiré un autre. Des impulsions d'énergie bleue et des boulons de photons rouges surgissaient au-dessus. Attendez... les défenses ne peuvent pas retourner le feu... Pas les humains. C'est le cas des chauves-souris. Les Turiens aussi. Alors... Oui? Je suis dans un terrible désavantage. Oui, tu l'es. Ellis s'est cogné le cerveau. Nous avons besoin d'une arme... quelque chose de grande échelle, quelque chose de... de feu. Ses yeux ont pris une pile de boîtes blanches, partiellement recouvertes d'épaves smoldering- Generators! Il rampait à la main et aux genoux, grincant les dents dans des douleurs psychosomatiques quand des pierres et des éclats lui grattaient l'armure. Enfin, il se trouvait à quelques pieds seulement, quand il s'est rendu compte qu'ils n'étaient pas, après tout, des générateurs simples. "Partinax, j'ai trouvé... des pylônes de bouclier. Deux d'entre eux. Peut-être utilisé à bon escient." Il s'est roulé sur le dos, pour affronter la horde au fur et à mesure qu'elle avançait. Il était mieux caché que le reste de son équipe, alors il en a profité pour recharger son fusil. C'était un travail beaucoup plus maladroit et plus lent d'une main qu'avec deux. Il pouvait voir ce qu'il devait faire d'ici, et si son commandant approuvait, sa position serait le meilleur siège de la maison.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Asari, dépose-moi sur le sentier des Husks. Je suis grand. Je ferai assez d'obstacle pour les ralentir. Ça améliore vos chances. "Oh non, je ne te laisserai pas mourir si facilement!" Vella a rappelé l'arrivée alors qu'Ellis s'approchait, avant de tirer son bras en arrière, en se dirigeant vers la position fortifiée de l'équipe d'assaut et en faisant sombrer son cadre métallique sans cérémonie dans le sol, en toute sécurité derrière la couverture avec Vella et Tibère. « Au lieu de cela, utilisez la charité mortelle du Krogan et tenez la ligne, humaine! » Vella cria à l'Ellis tombé alors qu'elle se déplaçait vers la pile d'armes que Rykarn avait si généreusement réunie pour eux, la pile en question lui rappelant plus d'une scène qu'elle avait vu dans un film post-apocalyptique mais néanmoins bienvenue! Vella s'est ensuite tournée, en lui donnant l'arme d'un son audible et électronique. Elle a rapidement fouillé son esprit, se souvenant de l'expérience précédente en combattant les Reapers. "Les défenses. Mettez l'intensité de faisceau à 47 %, ce qui garantira un seul coup de feu ainsi que la conversation maximale de munitions. » Son arme a ouvert et prêt, Vella est revenue de sa couverture, regardant à travers son holo bleu à la horde entrante comme une vague de marée impie! Premier battement de cœur : elle a centré ses regards sur le monstrueux cadavre d'une coque encombrante. Deuxième battement de cœur : elle a tiré d'un faisceau d'énergie blanche propre, désintégrant le centre de son torse et le faisant tomber mort! Et donc elle a continué, de plus en plus vite, ses bras et ses mains se déplaçant automatiquement de la cible à la cible sans une seconde pensée; la masse du centre de focalisation; se cassant d'un tir; et se déplaçant déjà vers la prochaine cible avant que la dernière cible n'ait même touché le sol! C'était comme un flou avant qu'elle n'ait déjà tiré 17 coups de feu, laissant 17 morts, et la sécurité intégrée de son fusil a frappé avec un bip, appelant à un refroidissement ou à de nouveaux clips thermo avant qu'il ne permette de continuer le feu! "Le krogan a raison!" Vella a appelé alors qu'elle slottait un nouveau clip avec précision mécanique! Vella n'avait jamais considéré les krogans comme des matériaux de science ou de philosophe, ne s'est jamais montrée très reconnaissante pour leurs capacités cognitives. Mais elle avait toujours reconnu leur intelligence brute et pragmatique, de la même manière que l'on voyait la ruse aiguë d'un prédateur par ailleurs stupide; esprit simple, mais capable de lire la situation; incapable d'écrire un classique, mais plus que capable de vous faire cuire le crâne de la manière la plus efficace possible! Elle savait que même si tous les membres du parti avaient débarqué 100% de leurs tirs avec une précision parfaite, les condensateurs de leurs armes frireraient et fondraient bien avant même qu'ils n'aient tué la moitié des défenses. Elle n'a vu qu'une seule façon de sortir de cette situation, et c'était de détruire la sortie; piéger les défenses à l'intérieur pour que des renforts réels arrivent! "Pousse-les de retour! FAIRE SALLE POUR L'EMPLOI DE DÉMOLITION!" Vella a appelé alors qu'elle sortait une fois de plus de sa couverture, et a tiré 17 autres coups de feu. Elle n'avait pas d'illusions sur l'arrêt de la vague avec les armes de la partie seule, mais elle savait que pour le plan de Rykarn de travailler, ils auraient besoin de garder les défenses loin de l'entrée assez longtemps pour que quelqu'un place les explosifs pour faire sauter l'entrée! "Tout cela parce que Cerberus doit être l'overachiever et construire (principalement) des murs antidéflagrants dans leur installation souterraine secrète..."

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Salissa ramassait soigneusement ses tirs alors que l'équipe d'infiltration se déplaçait rapidement vers leur position. Le vrai tir n'a commencé que quelques instants après le dernier de l'équipe d'infiltration avait dépassé la position défendable. Elle n'avait pas vu ce nombre de défenses depuis sa guerre et elle a voulu ne plus jamais le faire, mais semble que cerberus était à la hauteur des vieux kehanigans! Le soldat humain a fourni un feu de mitrailleuse avec ses cartouches explosantes pendant quelques instants, avant qu'elle n'ait été forcée de retirer son fusil car il a quelque peu interféré avec le bouclier plus ou moins.HOLD VOTRE FEU Je vais vous acheter le temps!Hol a crié alors qu'elle sautait vers l'avant, vers le point le plus étroit de l'entrée. Soudain, le bruit de bourdonnement de son bras gauche a augmenté et un moment plus tard, il a changé en bourdonnement. Le champ a été déployé avec un craquelin comme une bulle de champ d'énergie formée autour d'elle dans une sphère, couvrant dans le sol, les murs et autres. Les biotiques étaient très bien, mais c'était différent, les biotiques pouvaient s'épuiser et fatiguer l'utilisateur, est-ce qu'elle avait une source d'énergie externe appropriée qu'elle pouvait maintenir à peu près sans limite de temps, mais comme elle opérait à l'extérieur de la centrale qu'elle avait installée, cela allait tenir un peu de temps au moins. Heureusement, l'emplacement étroit signifiait que peu de défenses pouvaient attaquer le bouclier à la fois, leur donnant ainsi plus de temps. Ce n'était pas si heureusement le fait qu'elle était à peu près enracinée aussi longtemps que la barrière tenait. Elle a crié, servant maintenant de mur littéral entre l'essaim des défenses et l'escouade. Ce bouclier ne tiendra pas pour toujours! » Elle a ajouté, sentant les impacts sur le mur d'énergie déjà.

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

Skarr a pris un bref bonheur en faisant quelque chose que même l'asari fou pensait être hors. C'était bizarre de le voir sourire. D'habitude, il avait un comportement aussi froid. Quoi qu'il en soit, il savait que si son plan de pousser les grenades contre l'ennemi ne fonctionnait pas, cela ne falsifierait pas le plan étrange que les autres biotiques édictaient déjà, alors pourquoi ne pas le faire? La plupart ne comprenaient pas que Shockwave n'était pas une série d'explosions, mais des pressions intenses. Quoi qu'il en soit, tout est allé en Enfer ensuite. Le grand vétéran était en train d'examiner les conseils du jeune Krogan, bien que la raison pour laquelle Skarr ne l'a pas crié était simple. Il avait été désensibilisé à la façon dont les coéquipiers réagiraient après des siècles. Il a deviné que c'était tous ces Vorcha et Bataries qu'il avait combattus à côté, mais la plupart n'écouteraient jamais les ordres. Heureusement que certains de ces coéquipiers semblaient. Il a suivi la combinaison mécanique, s'assurant que ses armes étaient rechargées et obtenant tous les packs thermiques qu'il pouvait. "Par les Clans!" Skarr a appelé alors que les Husks ont commencé à s'enfiler. Les explosions et le plafond de rupture qu'il avait l'habitude, mais les Husks qu'il ne s'attendait pas à revoir. Il s'en souvenait trop bien. Ils n'étaient pas destructibles, et il le prouverait encore une fois. Il aida à tirer les tourelles et les Husks avec son fusil d'assaut, mais son principal ajout à l'effort allait de l'avant pour sauver le cul de cette femme humaine. Puissant, mais contrôlé, Skarr s'élança vers l'avant et frappa sur tout obstacle ou errant et à moitié cassé Husk dans son chemin pour en arriver à l'avant. Avec une main puissante, il a attrapé la femme mince par la taille et l'a portée vers le haut. "Ce n'est pas un spectacle de guerrier. Si vous voulez continuer à tirer, ne bougez pas." Le Krogan l'a levée pour mettre le pied sur son dos, ses jambes capables de tomber sur son crâne massif comme un siège de fortune. Alors qu'il la guidait là-haut, il déchargeait une coquille de son fusil Claymore dans une coque, soufflant ses fragments partout. Il a lentement soutenu Salissa, qui à peu près maintenant avait un mont de guerre sur lequel il fallait tirer.

Name: Raik "Aralakh" Skarr Race: Krogan Class: Battle Master Age: 687 Sex: Male Appearance: While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan. Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory: Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to. He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision. From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later. The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive. It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned. The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do. He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes. Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread. A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title. Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun. At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson. When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand. He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even. He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later. He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders. Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz. He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe. I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile: Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions. Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy. One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty: As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics. However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack. Powers/Skills: Shockwave (Biotic) Biotic Hammer (Biotic) Concussive Shot Frag Grenade Carnage Adrenaline Rush Marksmen Equipment and Resources: M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle M-300 Claymore Shotgun Biotic Hammer Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor Sample Post: 1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.

Tout se passait comme prévu, c'était glorieux! Tant de données sont entrées dans son Omni-Tool jusqu'à ce qu'il n'y ait plus à prendre, ce qui a provoqué son Omni-Tool à donner un bip satisfait. Peut-être que ce n'était pas le meilleur mot pour décrire le son qu'il entendait, mais voyant à quel point il était facile d'obtenir ce qui était nécessaire, il croyait qu'il faisait beaucoup pour aider. Bien qu'il n'ait peut-être pas été lié au combat, et avec plusieurs bouts d'information circulant et réapparaissant dans les pensées de Rayes, les choses auraient pu être bien pires. Il semblait même que la menace était prise en charge, avec des blessés au lieu de morts... Mais bien sûr, rien n'est si simple, n'est-ce pas? Quelques instants après avoir terminé le téléchargement et tenu debout, il a pris note de l'approche d'Anderson. Il était apparemment préoccupé par l'état d'être de Rayes, quelque chose qui a pris le Quarien hors de garde. Normalement, c'était un humain de lancer une insulte ou un jab littéral, mais Anderson faisait le contraire. Il a dû tourner la tête légèrement dans la confusion avant que les alarmes ne s'éteignent. Le Quarien n'a pas pu faire grand-chose pour faire taire le bruit venant de son masque, le forçant à tenir sur le bord de son masque et regardant la direction d'Anderson, en voyant la position du scientifique et le bouton. Lentement, il marcha vers le duo, regardant Anderson appuyer sur le bouton... mais il n'y avait pas de silence. Au lieu de cela, seuls les cris racontés dans les histoires pouvaient être entendus, le mal et le vil... Qu'est-ce que c'était? Il obtiendrait sa réponse assez tôt. Des défenses. Espèce d'enfoirés!! Tu expérimenterais sur eux ici et tu as décidé de les libérer?Le Quarien a crié au scientifique, furieux de leur stupidité. Les aperçus des rapports indiquent explicitement qu'ils expérimentaient sur les défenses, mais dans l'installation même où ils étaient stationnés? Les plans fournis n'auraient-ils pas remarqué un tel endroit où l'expérimentation pourrait avoir lieu? Rayes brouillé légèrement, un fort désir de tirer juste le scientifique et se faire faire avec lui gonflement à l'intérieur, mais comme on lui a donné le vieux fou battu, il s'est forcé à prendre un long souffle dans une tentative de se calmer. Anderson lui a juste dit de s'assurer que les scientifiques étaient gardés à l'écart et qu'ils n'avaient pas le droit de ‘disparaître'. Eh bien, il n'allait certainement pas laisser le tuho hors de ses yeux, ou la femme qui avait répondu à la question des défenses. Et pendant qu'il était au milieu du groupe avec eux, il était terrifié et énervé, et pour de bonnes raisons. Il ne pouvait pas se souvenir d'une fois où il avait vu une balle en personne, seulement dans des enregistrements ou racontés dans des histoires sur la flotte de migrants. Pendant la guerre de Reaper, il s'inquiétait davantage de Rannoch, puis il était loin de tout le conflit sur le Crucible. C'était sa première expérience avec eux, et en tant que tel, il n'était pas sûr à quoi s'attendre. Mais se retourner quand il a entendu un éclatement à travers la porte l'a fait regarder en état de choc pendant une seconde. Ces monstruosités, ces monstres de la nature étaient des voyous? Non... ils n'étaient pas de nature, ils étaient des créations viles, des expérimentations viles sur la biologie à laquelle seul un Reaper pouvait penser. Alors qu'ils commençaient à bouger, il regarda qu'ils déchiraient brutalement et cruellement les troupes du Cerberus qu'ils avaient abandonnées derrière eux. C'était un spectacle que Rayes n'oubliait probablement pas depuis longtemps. Il a tremblé au fur et à mesure qu'ils se déplaçaient, essayant de se concentrer, mais la ruée d'un équivalent d'adrénaline de Quarian se produisit, "Focus, focus, focus, focus..." Il répétait sans cesse sous son souffle, embrayant son pistolet et tenant la gâchette, ce qui faisait que l'arme commençait à s'activer et à briller. Quel que soit le but qu'il avait était sûr d'être soufflé, soit entièrement ou une partie. Donnez ou prenez. Il savait qu'il ne pouvait pas s'attarder sur la situation, mais sérieusement, ce n'était pas un événement quotidien pour le pauvre Quarien. C'était un scientifique, pas un soldat. S'il savait qu'il s'opposerait à une quantité déraisonnable de Husks, il aurait plutôt amené le Projecteur Arc, bien qu'il ait réalisé dans cette scission-là qu'il serait extrêmement lent s'il l'avait fait. Je suppose qu'il a esquivé une maudite main, là-bas... Lorsqu'ils sont arrivés dans la première des deux chambres, Rayes a fait de son mieux pour recueillir autant d'informations que possible, tout comme s'il tentait de travailler sur une sorte de technologie. Au début, il n'a pas semblé aussi mauvais qu'il était sur le point de le faire. La chambre était une sorte d'enfer de désordre abandonné, des assiettes laissées en place et des ustensiles ici et là. Il était en fait assez effrayant, compte tenu de leur situation actuelle. Mais la pièce une fois vide de vie en dehors de l'équipe fut bientôt remplie avec les écharpes de ce qui ressemblait à la mort elle-même déversant de diverses entrées. Non seulement cela, mais aussi d'en haut, plusieurs sont descendus. Si le Geth n'avait pas été devant lui, il aurait sûrement... Il secoua la tête, s'attachant à l'un des nombreux projectiles qui étaient déchirés à S-Geth. Le coup qu'il avait préparé au préalable désirait trouver un meurtre convenable, et cela était satisfait quand la tête de l'une des choses a été effacée. Mais il n'y avait pas de temps pour en charger un autre, et en tant que tel, il a permis à son Omni-Blade de sortir, commençant à pirater les membres dans une tentative de sauver S.Geth. Leurs efforts ont semblé assez récompensés, car ils ont forcé les défenses loin des scientifiques et tué ceux qui avaient sauté sur eux. Donc c'est ce que ça faisait de couper à travers la chair et la technologie... ça l'a fait frissonner une fois de plus. Il marcha sur un bras coupé, le coupant dans le dégoût avant de tirer son pistolet et de tirer sans arrêt cette fois, en oubliant la fonction de charge. Il n'y avait pas de temps pour une explosion massive, il n'y avait que le temps de tuer. Il regarda comme un projectile chargé du côté, le forçant à activer son Omni-Blade une fois de plus et poussant de toute sa puissance. Il a perforé directement dans la poitrine de la créature avant qu'il la conduise vers le haut, le coupant en deux... Il voulait presque vomir de la situation comme un étrange liquide enrobait son bras, probablement tout ce qui pouvait être considéré comme le sang. Tirs, coups de couteau, et beaucoup de coups de pied et de ramassage de scientifiques, ils ont fini par arriver à l'autre équipe. Rayes a poussé les scientifiques autant qu'il pouvait derrière S.Geth comme ils l'ont conseillé, ayant entendu parler d'explosions et s'effondrer le système sur le dessus des défenses. Il a continué à tirer sur son pistolet Arc sur plusieurs défenses avant de décider d'ajouter sa propre contribution à l'affaire. Quel genre d'explosifs exactement? Si vous voulez créer une explosion assez grande, je pourrais incinérer une des défenses avec une boule de feu de mon Omni-Tool, mais j'aurais besoin de quelqu'un d'autre pour y donner suite. Quelque chose comme une grenade, le type ne devrait pas importer, provoquera une grande explosion... une grande explosion ardente... Les choses dans le voisinage seront certainement vaporisées, et par le voisinage, je veux dire autour de la coque d'origine. Il semblait assez logique pour Rayes, allumer quelque chose sur le feu, puis jeter quelque chose de très combustible pour créer une explosion. Bien que, à mesure que la horde s'approchait, Rayes commença à s'incliner. Il avait donné une suggestion dans la chaleur du moment, mais finalement c'était aux deux Spectres d'avoir le dernier mot... Tout ce qu'il pouvait faire maintenant, c'était tirer avec son pistolet.

Name: Rayes'Xum vas Fowal, Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, Rayes Race: Quarian Class: Engineer Age: 26 Sex: Male Appearance: - Height: 5’5” - Weight: 185lbs Backstory: Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, a Quarian born in 2164, being aboard the Yaron along with his parents and several kin. His father was mainly aboard the Patrol Fleet, while his mother was a researcher focused on the Special Projects arm of the Migrant Fleet. Both were fearful of the health and protection of their child, and as such never dared to expose their child to the world outside of the migrant fleet. They were scared of their son’s curiosity, whom at the time knew relatively nothing of the world and was eager to learn. They did their best to fill that void once their son got his suit by flooding him with information that a young Quarian could understand. And when he wasn’t meant to be studying, often he would wander around the migrant fleet, listening to stories that they loved to tell. Stories of Rannoch, their beloved homeworld which was lost to them due to losing control of the geth, an artificial intelligence that they never intended to create that way. They’d speak of Quarian dancers, and their seemingly lost love for music. Little Rayes would soak in as much information as possible that he could from these stories, even if some of them weren’t actually true. This desire for knowledge helped in his teens, as he focused a majority of his time then into doing what his parents did. From his father, he could study various navigation paths in the galaxy, and to a little further extent ship layouts and the engineering behind them. From his mother, he could further his knowledge of technology and understanding of the geth, something his mother believed that every Quarian should have a base knowledge of, to which most do. Instead of being a fighter, Rayes expertise began to shine in how to handle technology and repair or destroy it, noticing flaws in systems that would otherwise take a more trained eye to catch, and exploiting it. Exploitation came in the form of hacking, which while he was limited to certain objects on the migrant fleet, those he often did stumble across were heavily safeguarded beyond his skill comprehension at the moment, leading him to only want to become more invested in it. These skills would become vital when he could begin on his pilgrimage. Naive, young, and somewhat confident in himself, Rayes didn’t listen to his fellow Quarians when they insisted that he go off towards the Citadel, a place where things would be the least likely to cause him harm or vise versa. They made sure to give him several parting gifts as incentives for him to listen, such as a Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool, various medical stimuli to keep him healthy should he become sick, along with Medi-Gel that a Quarian could use should he ever become injured. But instead of listening to their advice, Rayes felt bold. It was his first true experience away from the Migrant Fleet, and he wanted to make it memorable. The Citadel didn’t seem like a place that would suit him, believing it to be the easy way out of his pilgrimage. Instead, he went to a place that he believed could be exciting, Illium. Oh boy, was in he in for a rough time there. Immediately upon arrival after transferring through several ships, the young Quarian landed in hot water and was thrown into the frying pan. He was easily kidnapped by Asari who had a multitude of ‘indentured servants’ , and thus easily sold to a faction of the Eclipse on Illium due to his prowess with technology, something the Eclipse loved to use and subsequently broke. He was forced into repairing the Eclipse’s weaponry and and technological equipment, acting as a kind of repairman for the criminal organization. And while the situation seemed hopeless as it felt like he was always under constant discrimination and surveillance, he believed something good was bound to happen. And until then, he’d have to endure with the choice he made. The discrimination came from the various Humans and Asari stationed on his section of Illium, who thought of Rayes as a cheap punching bag for their enjoyment. He often found himself having to scan the measly portions he was given, and on several occasions couldn’t eat it due to his body not being compatible with the food. Most likely some sick joke, or maybe they wanted him to get sick. He didn’t know nor care, instead doing his best not to make any sort of scenes. He played the role they wanted him to, a seemingly malleable and easily pushed around slave. A year went by, and the Quarian had not contacted his family to inform them of his pilgrimage. In fact, to the Eclipse, they began to see the usefulness of Rayes. While he had started off small, eventually he had begun to repair the Eclipse mechs, and sometimes was forced to repair damages done to spaceships if he was given the right schematics. And if they were desperate, he’d be escorted to various terminals or infiltration operations, where his hacking skills could be put to good use. They never gave him a gun on these rare occurrences though, believing he would still try to escape if an opportunity arose. And while all was forced labor, at least, in his eyes, it was something that he liked and could vastly improve on. He got to work with weapons and mechs he had never seen before, hack systems that wouldn’t have been available on the Citadel, and even repair some of their ships, all of these encompassing new technology that the Eclipse managed to get their greedy hands on. Working with technology of this caliber wouldn’t have happened on the Citadel, however… He also wouldn’t be in an extremely dreadful situation. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was just a pawn, and if they ever felt he wasn’t useful, he knew they would dispose of him. They didn’t watch him as much anymore, but they still treated him like he was just a tool, and as such he was placed into terrible conditions on the off chances he would get proper rest. Often, he found himself questioning the pilgrimage, seeing this more of an eye opener than a proper trip to bring something valuable to his family… Something valuable… Surely the Eclipse, he thought, would have something. Having been in close quarters with them for so long, he had noticed they were lax around him, not being perceived as much of a threat anymore as he’d been around for well over a year now, and he would have to use that to his advantage if he ever wanted to see his home again. He knew he couldn’t beat them in a gunfight, there were simply too many and too skilled for his relatively poor gun expertise. All that time repairing their weapons, and he probably couldn’t even properly handle them himself. Another year, and he missed the Migrant Fleet with all his heart. There was no engine on Illium, only a cage and despair. There was no bond, no loyalty, only grief and deception, and Rayes believed he’d have to use that to his advantage. As they continued to bring him on several operations for his hacking expertise, he began leaving traces that he had been there, and while he would comply with their needs, he also began saving the data for himself. The Eclipse had grown soft around checking his Omni-Tool, as two years of nothing made them feel he was at least somewhat loyal to them. But he had already started to record the technology he worked on, documenting every detail he could about their supposed latest and greatest thing that busted. While it was often not substantial at first, and generally followed with a return to working on something they had planned, eventually he began to steal more, hacking with efficiency only a Quarian could. Surely there’d be some sort of information he could use to escape? A way to send a message? Surely, he felt, someone would find and put together the clues he had left behind... He had learned of awful things that he missed in his absence from some of the information he had kept, such as the citadel being attacked by something called a reaper, the supposed death and revival of a human Spectre named Commander Shepard… It was hard to swallow how much time had past… And how much trust the humans were getting. The ones in the Eclipse were dreadful, and were the most cruel, twisting the stories he had heard from his kin on the Migrant Fleet. Hopefully this Shepard was better, but he was extremely doubtful. A chance of escape came one day as he scoured through some stolen Eclipse files on his omni tool, being allowed to wander the cargo terminal the Eclipse had decided to occupy, only for the silence to be broken upon the sound of gunfire becoming vastly apparent. He noticed Eclipse Gunships in the area, several of which he wondered of if he’d repaired before, only to be shoved to the side by an Eclipse Engineer, forcing Rayes to take cover. There was a conversation at first, but then the gunfire soon continued and Rayes hid as far away as he could, allowing the firefight to pass as it went downward towards the Cargo Terminals, and his former “employers.” He took this opportunity to slowly but surely follow the conflict until the group in front of him took an elevator towards the docks. That elevator was his escape, but an escape towards what? He had no money, no credits to go anywhere… Until, as he wandered in the shadows of Illium, he heard of an information broker who potentially could help him. With all other options gone, and little time to waste before the Eclipse would notice him missing, he hastily made his way towards the supposed broker. He sold all the information he had stolen for a ticket to the citadel, but made sure to keep it for himself as well, and along with several credits for the info. Sure, it was a dangerous gamble to allow her to copy his data, but surprisingly she understood his desire to keep it… and things got better from that day. He had managed to find a place that hired him as a repairman for weapons and technology, and once he had enough credits to fly home, he immediately did so. He had had enough surprises on his pilgrimage to last a lifetime, and they accepted his data on the Eclipse, the technology he had worked on, schematics he recorded, and importantly weapon details, and accepted a role on board the Fowal. His family was astonished by how much he endured, furious that he had not listened to them, but ultimately glad that he had survived. He adapted a much more suitable appearance to commemorate his return from a grim situation, and began working immediately on the Fowal, just months before the reapers return. In this short span, Rayes became known for his improvements to weapons to be used for the fleet and against the Geth, along with his research on potential environmental suit improvements, something that he had become inspired to make due to the harshness of Illium. The Fowal was a ship dedicated to the research of expanding Quarian technology, investigating new weapons and the study of the Geth, an enemy that, once he learned the admiralty board soon declared war on them, Rayes was rather skeptical about it all. He didn’t believe the Geth were necessarily in the wrong for their actions, and while he longed to see the fabled homeworld of Rannoch, destroying something more advanced and sentient than the simple mechs he had repaired seemed… awful. But he knew better than to question his superiors, and at first, it seems the modifications he had worked on seemed to bolster the Quarian’s power against the Geth… Until they accepted Reaper help. But hope wasn’t lost, and while many ships suffered casualties, things started looking up once they learned Commander Shepard would help. A name that Rayes became all too familiar with when he first returned to the Migrant Fleet, having heard of his exploits and helping the Quarian Tali’zora Vas Normandy, someone Rayes slightly remembers growing up around with. With their help, they did the impossible, stepping foot on Rannoch as the Battle for Rannoch began. To Rayes, it was frightening, being inexperienced in combat, but he made up for it with his insights against the Geth, providing support and cover fire, and doing his best to hack the enemy barriers and shields. It felt like forever, but ultimately, it seemed like the Quarian's would win, but instead came an agreement to coexist with the Geth. Rayes was rather pleased with this idea, not only due to how it was peaceful, but also because it would allow him to greatly study the Geth and get information from them while they were still active. While it was fun to study a piece of technology that was broken, studying an active sentient Geth would be amazing. Rayes was not selected to go and join the fight with the reapers, he was instead sent to go and help build the crucible, something he took immense pleasure from upon arrival as they saw his technical prowess as an excellent edition. He helped make great strides into it’s creation, being able to offer suggestions in an environment he never thought he’d see. On Illium, he was treated like scum, a simple object meant to be manipulated, but he here, he was wanted, appreciated even… And, everyone was working together. This wasn't about species or race anymore, it was about survival, and to think, a human had started it all, with the help of an asari prothean expert. Maybe... the Eclipse were just an oddity, just like how some Quarian's were oddities in their own right. So when it was eventually complete and fulfilled it’s purpose, he came home proud that he had helped defeat the reapers in his own way. He helped in the process of colonizing Rannoch, and ultimately in the construction, with the help of the Geth, of upgrading the Quarian Fleet. Currently, Rayes is on Rannoch, studying the reapers with the help of Geth information and looking for a way to utilize the technology that had been scattered across the galaxy when the reapers were annihilated. Maybe, he thought, it could be used to create better protection for the future. The Geth have already helped him make immense strides in Quarian environmental suits, and he believes they can be utilized for much more than their original purposes or what the reapers had for them. Psyche Profile: Rayes is a firm believer that not all situations are hopeless, maintaining the notion that things could always get worse, but the worse can be prevented through hard work and dedication, along with preparation and to know how to endure. A lot of his life has been dedicated to the advancement of technology and the study thereof, regardless of the technology's purpose, and as such, he loves to always be working on some sort of gadget or analyzing data. Even in grim situations, knowing that there is something to observe generally calms his nerves and brings him back to reality. His over-analytical nature often allows him to notice things that many others may not, or on his time on Illium, be able to hastily retrieve and comprehend data types or schematics that he'd never seen before. When it comes to the other galactic species, Rayes is very wary of anyone not Quarian. His time on Illium has made him somewhat distant towards Humans and Asari specifically, as they were the majority of the Eclipse's forces that he was under on Illium. While Commander Shepard's actions has somewhat lessened that hostility, he won't go out of his way to make friends with them. Towards Turians, Rayes always feels that his knowledge of combat is lacking too much to hold a non-awkward conversation, and will often stutter his words or become embarissed if he cannot come up with an answer to their questions. Salarians are the easiest for Rayes to talk to, sticking to science as a main conversation topic. Batarian's are a mixed bag depending on how much Rayes knows of them, but he can sympathize with their hatred towards humans. Rayes hasn't had much experience talking to Drell, and as such, will often act similarly as he does towards Turians. For Asari, the Quarian is suspicious of them, wondering how they could allow one of their own colonies to have anything legal except for murder... Rayes likes to be prepared, and is somewhat saddened by his lack of knowledge in combat situations. His only proficiency in combat is with a pistol, but even that is somewhat limited and rusty. But, he has an eye for spotting technology on the battlefield that he can turn to his advantage, or disabling shield or barriers that an enemy may have. He prefers to provide support, allowing someone else to take the killing shot, and instead setting it up. However, currently he feels he has no time to train, focusing his attention to his love for tech and how to improve it. However, he has recently started to listen to music once more now that the war is over and he is safe; music being a favorable pass time when he was younger. And, now with Geth help, his self confidence and hope for the future has begun to rise. He knows that a lot of Quarian don't trust the Geth, and with good reasons, but he is willing to give them a second chance, as they are giving the Quarians. Not to mention, he slightly loves the idea of sentient AIs being constantly present around him. Specialty: Rayes'Xum was most likely picked due to his outstanding displays of technical prowess and resourcefulness when it comes to technology. Even for things he doesn't know much about, give him time to do research, and he'll be able to fix or hack into it with a breeze. Along with this, he can craft, repair, or install upgrades into existing weapons or starships. Having been one of the fateful Quarians to go and help build the Crucible, his advancements has given him a special place some of the Quarian's hearts. Due to his extensive knowledge in technology and prior experience, Rayes is a pretty damn good hacker if need be, being quick on his feet to solve and bypass securities that are in place in a moments notice or so. While he may not be as deadly as some on the battlefield, he makes up for it with his quick-wit and ability to manipulate the battle in favor for his team. He can help break down enemy defenses and render them helpless for his team to finish off. Currently, he's been working on the side to develop a combat drone to assist him and make up for his poor weapon game, only bringing a pistol to the battlefield, along with his Omni-Tool's blade. Powers/Skills: - Incinerate - Overload - Cryo Blast - Sabotage - Tech Mastery - Weapon construction/upgrades - Hacking Equipment and Resources: - Aldrin Labs Light Onix Armor VI modifications on his envo-suit. - Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool - Arc Pistol Sample Post: "Det kazuat." Rayes whispered under his breath as he followed a human Eclipse mercenary, somewhat curious as to what their next assignment for him was. Last time, it was to repair a simple rifle that hilariously they had managed to break just after receiving it. It didn't take him long at all to repair it, but he wasn't met with praise. Instead, they just decided not to spit into his food, which he was rather thankful for. It meant he'd at least get another meal, measly as it was, to survive instead of having to toss it to the side, not knowing if something as simple as saliva would cause him to become ill and thus useless. He made sure to scan everything that he'd have to consume, glad that they were at least smart enough to know he was a dextro-protein species, yet also surprised they'd go through the effort to get him specific food. Maybe, the thought, he wasn't the only Quarian in this hell hole the Eclipse have made. However, his thoughts were soon cut short as he felt an immense force shove him to the ground, causing the unsuspecting Quarian to fall with as much grace as a dying duck. "You useless scum," He heard someone say, looking up to see it was his escort shouting down at him with a mixture of cockiness and pure hatred, "Get to work and stop staring in the damn clouds! We didn't pay shit just for you to be useless!" In his attempt to recover, the Quarian began to slowly rise to his knees, only to feel a blunt force slam into his stomach, causing him to tense up and fall downward once more. "I said get the hell up!" I was trying that until you kicked me, you bosh'tet... Rayes thought, doing his best to rise to a stand once more as he glared at the mercenary, glad he didn't seem to have the brains to notice. Each passing moment felt tense as he rose, and when he finally recovered from the shock, he noticed in front of him stood a Model 34-A, or YMIR Mech that had obviously seen some damage. The bone white armor it possessed was covered in black spots from explosions and gunfire. It's upper body was heavily damaged, the armor on the chest and arms revealing circuits exposed in the openings. It's head was missing completely, most likely shot off... It wasn't the first time Rayes had to repair one of these, but it was most certainly the first time it was this damaged. But it seems they knew he wasn't a miracle worker, and as he glanced around the room, he noticed there were several tools at his disposal, along with replacement armor and a new head. All it seemed he had to do was fix the mech up, and he could be on his way. A simple job, especially with the resources the Eclipse gave him. Unfortunately, that comfort was cut short upon the realization that he would be closely monitored. If it had been anywhere else, maybe he would have felt happy, but instead, all he could feel was a lingering hatred for his situation. It was as if they had twisted his desires for their own purposes just to save them a quick buck from buying a new one of these killing machines, but alas, he had to if he wanted to live. Or at the very least, postpone the beating he felt would come if he didn't work on it soon. With a defeated sigh, he grabbed the nearest supplies and began to work once more. Notes - Rayes'Xum isn't sure of his sexuality, but has disdain for Humans and Asari. - Occasionally contacts friends he made while working on the Crucible. - He has a fascination for those who can sing or dance. - He'll occasionally dismantle objects for fun, just to remake them. - He'll take notes with his Omni-Tool during conversations or simply record them so that he can review it later and come up with conversation topics.

U N D E R W O R L D K A T A B A S I S Interagir avec:,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson L'équipe d'infiltration a rapidement prouvé que c'était juste pourquoi les Spectres les ont fouillés, systématiquement démontant l'équipe d'assaut de Cerberus avec précision chirurgicale, et pas un peu de panache. Anderson s'est presque senti privilégié de le regarder, pensant que même l'équipe spéciale N7 qu'il avait dirigée pendant la guerre aurait été difficile d'imiter un retrait aussi rapide. Il est sorti de sa couverture alors que Sicaria laissait tomber le dernier des soldats, utilisant l'accalmie dans les combats pour éjecter le clip thermique dépensé de sa Valkyrie et pour slot dans un nouveau. -- Vous avez toujours vos doutes à mon sujet? Interrogé par Sicaria, un sourire de merde peint sur son visage sanglant – quand elle a été blessée, le Spectre ne savait tout simplement pas – et Anderson s'est brièvement demandé comment Aegon réagirait à cela. Elle doit probablement la menacer d'accusations. Heureusement pour le Turian, il n'était pas Aegon. Je n'ai jamais douté de vos compétences, Velinian. Si je t'avais eu, tu ne serais pas ici. » Il a répondu avec un sourire tordu, Ce n'était pas une réponse directe, mais il lui a laissé pour déchiffrer le sens derrière ses mots. Loin au loin, on aurait dit que la bataille principale commençait à disparaître. On dirait que Cerberus n'avait pas les forces pour affronter deux Krogans et une poignée de puissants organismes biotiques. Quelle surprise. Pensant que la zone était sous contrôle, et que les deux Turiens avaient une poignée sur les scientifiques, le Spectre s'est approché de leur hacker. Hé Rayes, ça va? Il n'a pas frappé ou... un éclat de klaxon lui a volé la chance de finir la phrase. En se précipitant rapidement pour ce qui a pu causer le bruit, il a repéré un des scientifiques, un homme caucasien d'âge moyen avec une barbe grise tachetée, qui s'était transporté jusqu'à l'un des terminaux pendant que l'équipe avait été l'attention ailleurs. Même sans savoir ce que l'homme avait fait, Anderson savait que ce n'était pas bon. Après tout, vous n'avez pas utilisé d'alarmes comme celles pour annoncer l'heure du déjeuner. Il a crié au scientifique, bien que l'homme ait lutté pour l'entendre à travers la raquette, ou à travers une désobéissance délibérée, le scientifique n'a pas en fait éteint l'alarme, forçant Anderson à passer au terminal et frapper le bouton d'alarme lui-même. Mais le silence n'avait pas l'air heureux. En fait, les sons qui ont remplacé les sirènes dynamitantes étaient beaucoup, bien pire, à la fois familiers et horrifiants dans une mesure égale. Un shrieking ululateur sonnait au loin, l'enfant terrifiant d'un cri de mort et un berker rugissait, bien qu'un courant sous-jacent de rétroaction électrique ait donné à la clameur une qualité autre que mondiale. Elle venait de tout autour d'eux, lointaine mais toujours plus proche. Anderson sentit une fosse s'élargir dans son estomac, en combattant les sentiments de répulsion et les souvenirs effrayants des champs de bataille à demi-rappelés. Quoi? Oui. Toi. Il a exigé du scientifique, son expression froide et plate, ses mains serrées sur la poignée de son fusil. Le changement soudain de sang-froid était surprenant, et évidemment terrifiant pour la vieille barbe grise, qui a commencé à bégayer son chemin à travers une réponse nerveuse, bien que avec les shrieks se fermant à Anderson n'avait pas le temps pour l'homme stammer. Il a saisi un poing de l'homme labo-coat, et l'a frappé corps à nouveau sur le bureau de l'ordinateur, sa main libre forçant le canon de son fusil sous l'homme barbu menton. Vous êtes un fils de pute! Il s'est avéré être l'incitation dont le scientifique avait besoin. Il a craqué, inhalé comme la main d'Anderson, limitait sa capacité à respirer, j'ai libéré les Husks! Aegon Partinax Malgré tout, Aegon a dû être impressionné par la manœuvre inspirée de Vella. Sa grenade à impulsions couplée à sa singularité a réussi à bloquer complètement l'avancée du Cerberus. Les Mechs de FENRIS, déjà stupéfiants d'une explosion antérieure, ont court-circuité quand l'EMP les a frappés. Ils auraient pu se remettre si la singularité et les explosions subséquentes de grenades ne les avaient pas transformées en un ragoût de métaux circuits et composites. Le mur du bouclier Guardian a aussi souffert. L'attaque biotique et le lance-grenades de Rykarn ont décimé leurs rangs, les parties du corps coupées et les viscères ont rejoint la soupe macabre lévitant dans l'air. Moins impressionnant était l'invalidation d'Ellis aux mains de la grenade de Vella. Aegon a retiré cette erreur de calcul pour être par la suite radié. Cerberus a changé de tactique, en choisissant de creuser et de diriger toute leur puissance de feu à leur position au lieu de charger vers l'avant. Un écran de fumée a été jeté et des cartouches de traceur ont craché dessus comme des feux d'artifice. Ce n'était pas le moment de pousser l'attaque, mais c'est exactement ce qu'Ellis a fait. Aegon a accordé son casque à l'infrarouge et a pris les signatures de chaleur des soldats Cerberus ainsi qu'Ellis lui-même. Peu importe ce que les Gardiens ont survécu, le carnage antérieur a été abattu par l'ex-Cerberus behemoth, qui a également tué quelques soldats et est allé droit pour le mech. Aegon maudit sous son souffle. L'homme avançait de lui-même, braquant l'équipe du luxe des armes lourdes par souci de sa sécurité. Et s'il descendait, il les obligerait à charger dans une mangeuse de viande pour l'atteindre. L'amateur damné par l'esprit! Aegon devrait lui crier dessus plus tard, si l'homme survit. Tout ce qu'il pouvait faire, c'était essayer de le couvrir de feu, tirant des coups de fusil serrés à Cerberus pour attirer leur attention pendant que Vella et Tibère s'occupaient des grenades. C'était une autre erreur de calcul de la part d'Ellis. S'il n'avait pas chargé comme un cow-boy dans ces vids humains de l'Ouest, ils auraient pu larguer les grenades sur les genoux de Cerberus. Heureusement Vella et Tibère ont sauvé l'équipe de mourir dans l'explosion ou d'être écrasé à mort dans une grotte, bien qu'il n'était pas sûr de ce que l'onde de choc de Skarr était censé accomplir. Peut-être voulait-il faire exploser les explosifs tôt, de façon contrôlée, mais comme ils étaient piégés sous l'autre barrière de biotiques, cela semblait avoir peu d'effet. Pour ainsi dire, la plupart des grenades ont été absorbées par les barrières et le tunnel n'a pas été endommagé plus loin que la chute de briques et de poussières. L'incendie de Salissa attira l'attention des soldats d'assaut survivants et du Centurion, qui étaient jusqu'à neuf hommes. Ils n'étaient pas en position de lancer d'autres grenades et ont choisi de rester en position et de riposter à l'équipe, laissant heureusement Ellis seul et faisant confiance au YMIR mech pour s'occuper de lui. Aegon a été consterné quand il a vu Salissa utiliser des balles explosives de sa mitrailleuse inexacte pour tirer sur le YMIR. À ce rang, elle aurait pu frapper sa coéquipière, et si elle avait tué la mech, avec ces rounds, les explosions auraient enlevé Ellis aussi. Il ne s'inquiétait pas particulièrement de la vie de l'ex-Cerberus, mais de la sensibilité d'Aegon. Il a appelé Salissa, "Vérifie ton feu! Ellis est là-haut! Vous risquez de le frapper avec ce truc! Concentrez-vous sur les soldats! » Pour sa part, Ellis a réussi à désactiver l'arme la plus puissante de la Mech, et la Mech a montré une lourde usure avec ses boucliers drainés et son armure compromise. Mais il n'avait pas prêté attention au duo d'ingénieurs qui avait utilisé le temps pour installer des tourelles. Et il venait de jeter sa couverture. Les tourelles et leurs constructeurs s'ouvrent alors que le YMIR s'enroule et que le feu automatique de mitrailleuse et les pistolets lourds sont abattus dans son armure déjà endommagée. Heureusement pour l'homme, les rounds n'ont pas complètement pénétré ses barrières ou son armure et dans ses organes vitaux, mais beaucoup de ses servos et articulations ont été presque éraflés par les rounds, et plusieurs membres cybernétiques ont été presque arrachés. Il descendit sous la grêle des coups de feu et les tourelles tournèrent leur attention vers le reste de l'équipe, leurs opérateurs laissant Ellis en vie pour attirer ses camarades. La situation n'a été aggravée que lorsque Giles a décidé de tirer sur le YMIR à la tête avec son explosif. Le corps mécanique a commencé à briller, en comptant jusqu'à ce qu'il explose avec une force comparable à celle d'un Caïn. Dans ces quartiers confinés, Ellis et tous les autres à proximité immédiate du tunnel seraient tués. Cerberus a reconnu cela, et l'escouade a immédiatement battu les pieds, tournant et sprintant dans le couloir aussi vite qu'ils le pouvaient, ignorant Ellis et laissant les tourelles pour épingler l'escouade. Les chances s'ils mouraient de toute façon, mais sans doute ils préféraient prendre un risque. Aegon maudit intérieurement, émettant une longue stries bleues mentales qui aurait fait rougir son vieux sergent de forage. Le showboating de Gile pourrait faire tuer Ellis et c'était trop risqué pour quelqu'un d'entrer et de l'extraire manuellement avec le poids de son armure et les tourelles encore opérationnelles. Il décida de mettre sa botte dans le cul de Giles et d'Ellis, et probablement celle de Vella pour une bonne mesure, si l'un d'eux survivait miraculeusement à cela. Il a crié : "Biotiques! Prends Ellis! Quelqu'un va chercher les tourelles! Tous les autres, couvrez-vous!" Il a rechargé son fusil et a enflammé ses jetpacks tout en activant ses stimulants de combinaison et le temps a ralenti pendant qu'il sautait dans les airs. Il a déchargé le clip dans une tourelle, drainant ses boucliers avant de le terminer avec une explosion concussive, il a plongé derrière la couverture tandis que l'autre tourelle a essayé de l'étiqueter et son battement de cœur a tonné comme une tempête pendant qu'il attendait l'inévitable explosion, espérant que les biotiques attireraient Ellis à temps et espérant qu'ils ne seraient pas tous écrasés vivants sous des tonnes de béton. Lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson Andersons bout de fusil frappé dans le scientifique visage, soudain et choquant, berçant l'homme plus âgé de ses pieds pour l'envoyer s'étaler sur le sol. Il s'est emparé, se rappelant que Cerberus avait fait de même pendant la guerre. Ils n'ont jamais appris? Ces monstres étaient dangereux, et devraient être abattus où qu'ils soient trouvés, et ne pas se faire piéger dans l'espoir de trouver une nouvelle façon nébuleuse de rendre les soldats plus efficaces. Il a pris une profonde respiration, luttant pour se calmer. S'il n'avait pas le contrôle de ses émotions, il était susceptible de faire quelque chose de stupide. Combien? Le scientifique barbu n'était pas en forme pour répondre, luttant pour cracher du sang et des dents de la ruine brisée de son visage, Anderson a donc dirigé sa question à une jolie chercheuse qui avait l'apparence swarthy de quelqu'un ayant un patrimoine du Moyen-Orient. Elle n'a pas répondu au début, craignant peut-être qu'elle reçoive le même traitement que son collègue. Anderson a répété la question, essayant, et échouant, d'avoir l'air plus doux. Nous avons quatre sous-sols, chacun rempli de jusqu'à cinq cents projectiles, principalement humains, mais avec quelques désignations Cannibal et Marauder mélangés dans.Les yeux Anderson s'élargissaient à la figure, et il a dû saisir au bureau pour se stabiliser lui-même. Comment leurs opérations de renseignement ne leur avaient-elles pas laissé entendre que l'installation cachait quelque chose de cette ampleur? Comment ont-ils pu manquer quelque chose d'aussi grand? Mais ça a répondu à une chose. Les tunnels autour de l'enceinte avaient été manifestement absents de Husks. Cerberus doit avoir nettoyé l'ensemble du système souterrain pour avoir de tels numéros. Vous êtes tous fous? Pourquoi les laisseriez-vous s'échapper? » Il demanda, même s'il avait une bonne idée de ce que la réponse allait être. "Michael a dit que si nous libérions les Husks, nous pourrions utiliser le chaos qui s'ensuivait pour s'échapper."La femme a répondu, regardant le scientifique blessé, apparemment nommé Michael. Tout sentiment de regret qu'Anderson avait ressenti pour briser les dents des hommes plus âgés s'est rapidement dissipé. Cet homme était un idiot dangereux. Les cris étaient insupportablement bruyants maintenant, et il semblait qu'à tout moment la horde pourrait se déverser dans la pièce. Anderson savait qu'il devait appeler une retraite maintenant, avant qu'il ne soit trop tard et cette option leur a été refusée. Cependant, il savait que s'ils ne traitaient pas avec les Husk ici, alors ils finiraient par se rendre au sol, où vivaient les civils innocents, et ils n'étaient en aucune façon prêts à faire face à une horde de cette ampleur. Des centaines de personnes seraient tuées bien avant que l'Alliance militaire ne puisse prendre le contrôle de la situation. Il ne pouvait pas laisser ça arriver. Je ne le laisserais pas faire. Les vies de son équipe ne valent pas celles de tous les gens qui vivent au-dessus, ignorant complètement le danger sous leurs pieds. Il a pris quelques instants pour formuler son plan, avant de traîner la chercheuse vers le poste de travail où Michael avait libéré les bêtes. Il lui a donné l'ordre de fermer et de verrouiller les portes arrière que l'équipe d'infiltration avait l'habitude d'entrer dans l'établissement, ce qui s'est traduit par le fait que la horde n'avait qu'une seule issue, à savoir qu'Aegon et son équipe traversaient actuellement l'entrée pour attaquer. Il a ensuite fait ouvrir toutes les portes qui menaient dans un sentier direct depuis les sous-sols jusqu'à cette pièce, et la pièce jusqu'à l'entrée avant, tout en fermant et en fermant toutes les portes qui menaient sur un chemin divergent le long de chaque route, ce qui signifie que la horde n'avait qu'un seul chemin à parcourir. Vers l'Équipe spéciale. En ouvrant le canal de communication à toute l'équipe, y compris Aegon et l'équipe d'assaut, il a donné un bref message. Katabasis, il y a eu un développement. Cette institution a été utilisée comme station de recherche Reaper, et maintenant nous avons plus de deux mille Husks en liberté. Nous devons les tenir ici, les empêcher de gagner le passage vers la ville ci-dessus. L'infiltration agira comme un attrait, et mènera la horde à la position d'Assault, là nous serons en mesure de baisser et d'utiliser les limites serrées pour les arrêter jusqu'à ce que les renforts puissent arriver. Il a porté le scientifique, Michael, à ses pieds, a réalisé que l'homme était toujours instable sur ses pieds, et peu probable d'être courir n'importe où peu de temps, et ainsi le pousser à Raye. Il vaut mieux que ce téléchargement soit complet, parce qu'on n'a plus le temps. Ok les gens, nous partons. Balak, vous et Angel jouez le rôle. Utilisez les cartes que nous avons envoyées à vos outils Omni et dirigez-nous vers Aegon et les autres. Lent et stable cependant, nous voulons que la Horde nous suive, plutôt que de trouver d'autres sorties que nous ne connaissons pas. Attention cependant, avec la quantité de Housses dans cet endroit, je m'attends à ce qu'il y ait des paquets de baises nous coupant de nos alliés déjà. Rol, Sicaria, nous combattrons l'arrière-garde. Phalanx, toi et Raye, vous serez avec les scientifiques au milieu. Gardez-les en sécurité, et gardez-les de ‘disparaître' sur nous. Nous avons beaucoup de questions pour eux quand c'est fini. » Il a jeté un regard rapide et méprisant sur les soldats du Cerberus, dont beaucoup étaient encore dans la douleur sur les planchers. Ceux-là, nous partons pour les Husks. Il n'était pas sur le point de risquer son peuple pour des hommes et des femmes qui avaient récemment essayé de les tuer. En attendant que l'équipe se mette en position, il a contacté les forces de l'Alliance dans la région, les appréciant de la situation et les sollicitant des renforts, tout en recommandant qu'ils évacuent la zone immédiate. Les renforts ont été promis, mais peut prendre jusqu'à une demi-heure pour arriver. Ils n'arrêtaient pas d'évacuer, et Anderson se demandait quel genre de présage c'était. Pas bon, s'il devinait. Il venait juste d'entrer en ligne de compte à côté de Sicaria et Rol quand le premier Husk éclata dans la pièce, se lamentant, avant qu'il ne remarque la chute, squirmant Cerberus Centurion, se jetant rapidement corps sur l'homme, déchirant son armure jusqu'à ce qu'il éclaboussât les doigts dans la chair en dessous. Il était actuellement rejoint par un autre Husk, puis un autre, jusqu'à ce que vous puissiez même dire 'Reaper', il y avait plus d'une douzaine de monstres desséchés, griffonnants et griffonnants aux soldats criant Cerberus Assault, avec de plus en plus pousser leur chemin dans la pièce à chaque instant. Anderson a échangé sa Valkyrie contre sa N7 Piranha, sentant l'arme lourde se déployer dans ses mains, son anticipation s'élevant une fois de plus. Ne pense pas à Mam. Ce ne sont pas les mêmes que... Le premier des Husks l'a repéré, lui et son équipe, à la porte opposée, scrutant un défi avant de se précipiter vers l'avant. Il n'est pas allé très loin avant que le Piranha le souffle réponse, rasoir tiré déchirant à travers le corps de la créature pour l'envoyer voler de retour dans un vaporisateur sanglant. L'explosion a réveillé le reste de la horde à sa présence, et comme l'un d'eux a commencé à scruter une fois de plus, avant de déchirer vers l'équipe C'est parti.C'est parti.C'est lui qui a brouillé, puis il s'est enroulé dans la masse, donnant du terrain à chaque tir, suivant le sentier choisi par Balak et Aria. Collab avec

Name: Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson Race: Human Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Jake stands a shade over six feet and two inches tall, and weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds. His physique is athletically toned rather than heavily muscled. He is quietly proud of his body, a pride that he feels he has quite rightly earned considering the time and effort he has put into maintaining it. His posture and bearing is unmistakably military, and he moves with the unconscious confidence of a born fighter. On close inspection one might notice that his right arm seems slightly too long for his body, not to a freakish degree but just enough to bear noting. His skin is a deep mahogany, and along with his dark hair it speaks of an African heritage. His facial features are broad and flat, with a strong chin, wide jaw, and pensive brown eyes – the right one being a shade redder than the left - that sit in deep sockets under a brow that’s slightly too heavy not to look thuggish. His nose shows evidence of multiple breakages and fractures in the past, sitting somewhat crooked now. He wears his hair cropped, though is far less vigilant in shaving his face, usually sporting a short beard. He has three tattoos. The first, an N7 ranking logo on his right pectoral, has been marred slightly by a heavy degree of lattice-like scar tissue. He also has a large lion between his shoulder blades, and a small image of Blasto on his left buttock. That last one was a drunken misadventure that he regretted for weeks’ afterword, usually when he tried to sit down. Backstory: Fatherwas David Anderson, a highly decorated officer with the Systems Alliance. She was a career soldier. His mother lived in London, were he was raised. His parents divorced when he was a child due to his mother feeling that David was more interested in his career than he was in raising a family. Jake joined the SA as soon as he was able. His mother wasn’t impressed with his decision, considering what had happened between her and David, but ultimately didn’t stand in Jakes way. Part of the relief force sent to the aid of Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Part of the force sent on the retaliatory attack against Torfan. Member of Alliance Special Ops Team Delta, running five missions in Terminus Space. It was during this tour of duty that he finally earned the coveted N7 ranking. During the Reaper Wars he served in the N7 Special Ops. Took part in over twenty successful missions. Part of Hammer force. Psyche Profile: Not so long ago Jake was a soldier through and through. A consummately professional warrior possessed of an ice-cool calm, a healthy respect for the chain of command, and a real passion for action. He was he’s fathers son, no mistaking that. However, since the Hammer attack, and his ‘dying’ he feels like something inside him has broken. He no longer feels the same calm he once did, being far more excitable now than he was before. It worries him, Specialty: Jake has experience working with, and leading, teams of mixed races and backgrounds. He developed a knack for delegating duties that best suit an individual’s specific talents or expertise. However, Jake also shows a decidedly hands-off approach to leadership in that once he has got to know an individual and taken their measure, he is happy to leave them to act independently. He’s learnt that sometimes the best thing a leader can do for his team is to give them the space to work. He’s a capable soldier in his own right, fully able of holding the line or charging the enemy himself. After all, he would never ask his men to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. He’s any mans (or womans) equal in a straight firefight, being a respectable shot with both rifles and pistols, and being in possession of truly astoundingly quick reflexes. Powers/Skills: Expert marksman Proficient hand to hand fighter Marine officer training and experience Background and expertise in small unit tactics Full N7 training. A host of contacts within the Systems Alliance Equipment and Resources: N7 Valkyrie Assault Rifle N7 Piranha Shotgun M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol Standard issue service knife Omni-Tool N7 Armour, modified with Asymetric Rosenkov Materials defence layers and an offhand ammo-pack. Kuwashii Visor Thermal clips Medigel packs x 3 Frag Grenade x 2 Sample Post: A short sample post so I can get a handle of your writing style. This could be one of your characters early missions, a showing of them enjoying some downtime, or a short of some of their exploits during the Reaper war. Notes Jake is straight, and currently single. He was involved in a tumultuous relationship with a Turian Cabal member during the Reaper Wars, and has been taking a break from relationships to recover. As a newly minted Spectre, Jake hasn’t made up his mind on who he supports to become the Warden of the Citadel. Jake has an intense dislike for the Batarian Hegemony. It stems from the things he seen and experienced during the Skyllian Blitz, and consequent retaliatory attack. However during the Reaper war he worked with several Batarian soldiers, and came to grudgingly respect them as individuals, even if he does disagree with their government. Has a habit of running his hands across his head when he is feeling stressed..

Sicaria Velinian Après sa déclaration originale et la réponse qu'elle a obtenue d'Anderson, elle a pu voir que tout le monde commençait à terminer sa mission. Le vol des données a été complété par un bip sonore de Rayes' Omni-Tool, ce qui signifie qu'ils ont juste dû extraire de la zone maintenant. Ça allait être une autre marche vers le tunnel principal, espérons-le un avec un peu d'action maintenant, opposé au voyage en grande partie inégalé. Elle ne savait pas qu'elle obtiendrait son voeu. Un des scientifiques plus âgés, probablement l'aîné de la bande, avait déclenché une alarme pendant que son dos était tourné, et Anderson était sur lui plus vite qu'elle ne pouvait le faire avec sa menace antérieure. Elle avait même rangé son fusil et activé son Omni-Blade droit avec une touche de son poignet semblable à la façon dont on dessinait une lame d'aiguillage, dans l'intention totale de déloger le doigt de l'homme. Cependant, le Spectre semblait le trier comme il l'a expliqué ce qu'il avait fait, presque comme si la réalité de la situation ne s'était même pas approchée de le frapper encore. "On doit aller vite si on veut vivre. Nous devrions les laisser derrière eux, ils sont appâts de toute façon." Elle était presque certaine d'avoir des apparences suspectes à cause de son empressement à tuer toute personne associée à Cerberus, mais elle savait que tout le monde dans l'organisation était soit endoctriné ou horriblement corrompu. Dans ses yeux, de toute façon. Sans un autre mot, elle a désactivé l'arme sur son poignet comme la première des défenses a trouvé son chemin pour eux. "D'accord, laisse-les manger sur les corps pendant qu'on recule. Je suis d'accord avec ça." En prenant l'arrière avec les Quarians Rol'Narris, l'équipe d'infiltration s'est déplacée par la porte principale, zombies chaud sur leurs talons à l'odeur de chair fraîche. Sous le professionnalisme qu'elle avait sur, Sicaria revivait un vif souvenir de Palaven de l'invasion de Reaper... Son escouade avait été envoyée pour dégager un tunnel que les Reapers avaient utilisé pour entonner des troupes sur les lignes de front. Certains avaient suspecté qu'ils les avaient même utilisés pour traîner des corps et les mettre endoctriner sur les dents de Dragon... où les humains ont trouvé ce nom était un mystère pour elle, peut-être que cela avait quelque chose à voir avec leur mythologie. Il n'était pas pertinent à ce stade, ces épingles horribles étaient assez pour faire une cranche de Krogan le meilleur des jours. Il a fallu environ une heure de mouvement soigneux et d'inactivité pour que cette équipe trouve un espace où le trou de renard s'est ouvert, et la vue a suffi à faire pencher Sicaria et à sec. Elle était habituée aux réalités de la guerre à ce moment-là, elle avait vu des gens de toutes races s'exploser par des biotiques, déchiquetés par des tourelles, et même tués par des toxicomanies. Mais l'empalement? C'était nouveau, surtout quand la moitié des victimes étaient encore en vie. Avec le clic des lampes de poche, les visages de l'agonie est venu en vue. Certains ont été contorsés dans la douleur, et d'autres paisibles avec la bénédiction de la mort, bien qu'on se soit distingué. "Procnus... qui t'a fait ça?" La douleur était évidente dans la voix de la jeune fille, Procnus avait été le capitaine de son escadron de Cabal depuis qu'elle lui avait été assignée. Bien sûr, c'était un dur à cuire, mais il avait été un leader phénoménal jusqu'à ce que les Reapers frappent le monde des Turiens. Autour de ce moment, il avait disparu... et c'est là qu'il avait fini. "S-Sicaria..? Je t'ai dit de ne jamais... venir après moi si j'y suis allé... » Il était clair que le Turian vieillissait était dans une grande douleur, chaque mot était étouffé par le sang qui s'échappait de sa bouche et courait dans ses yeux. Il y avait une chose à faire, vraiment. Tout le monde dans la pièce était au-delà de sauver, c'était clair. Leur intérieur avait probablement déjà été remplacé par du matériau synthétique, tout ce qu'il restait à faire, c'était que la douce étreinte de la mort les prenne. Des larmes amères ont coulé sur le visage de la fille tandis qu'une de ses Omni-Blades s'est allumée. "Je suis désolé, capitaine..." Elle est revenue à la réalité pour trouver une vague de défenses avançant sur elle et l'équipe déjà en bas du couloir. Elle secoua la tête et lui prépara les Wraiths, se retournant rapidement pour rattraper et tirer des coups de feu aveuglément dans la foule de défenses qui se livrèrent à la poursuite. Pour la grande majorité de la course de retour à l'entrée, elle a suivi derrière l'équipe prenant des tirs sur tout ce qui était à la fois cybernétique et sans esprit tout en protégeant des vies qu'elle jugeait totalement sans valeur. À un moment donné, ils sont revenus avec l'équipe de diversion, au plus grand plaisir du Turian. Bien sûr, ce n'était pas difficile de geler et de réanimer le sol mort, mais il est arrivé un point où l'un a manqué de clips thermiques, et elle commençait à approcher ce point de ses tirs téméraires dans la mafia. À son honneur, elle avait été efficace dans une certaine mesure. Bien que maintenant, pendant qu'elle se tenait dans le point d'étouffement, la pression commençait à tomber sur elle comme les monstres cybernétiques se sont serrés de plus en plus à chaque recharge. Au moment où l'on est entré sur le Turian, l'humain aux bras prothétiques a sauté et a bloqué le reste du désordre d'aller à eux. Pendant ce temps, Sicaria jeta la bête au sol et s'agenouilla, enfonceant l'extrémité tranchante d'un Omni-Blade dans son crâne avant de se tenir debout. Elle a ensuite parlé de l'effondrement délibéré du tunnel pour tuer ou piéger à jamais les unités restantes de Reaper. "C'est un bon plan comme n'importe quel. Je dis que nous le faisons, bien que nous ne devrons pas sortir la ville au-dessus de nous en même temps." Elle s'est cassé le cou avant d'échanger son fusil presque vide contre le Phaeston largement inutilisé, vise déjà l'entraînement sur l'une des défenses battant sur le bouclier de Salissa.

Name: Sicaria Velinian Race: Turian Class: Sentinel Age: 28 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it. Backstory: Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her. Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move. In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation. Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger? She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born. For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling. When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there. Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere. Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station. They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it. Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later. The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly. Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were. Psyche Profile: Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people. Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later. There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there. Specialty: Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies. Powers/Skills: -Throw - Warp - Lift Grenade - Tech Armor - Overload - Cryo Blast Equipment and Resources: - Turian Cabal Armor - Phaeston - M-11 Wraith - Matched pair of Omni-Blades -Station Contact - Omega -Black Market Access Sample Post: ”Ugh… how drunk was I last night?” ”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.” ”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.” ”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee. One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter. The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth. ”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.” ”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point. Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible. ”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.” ”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh. Notes - Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ "So these are the people I'm protecting this time..." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks. || Vella Calixten Ophelia || ☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ja'Far Balak || ⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Tiberius Adarian || ✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik Skarr || ✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria Vicrinus || ❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.

Ja'Far s'est levé de la couverture, Incisor s'est tenu serré contre son épaule. Il a été rencontré par la vue de Sicarius éliminant un homme, la pulvérisation de sang. Il baissa son canon et soupira de soulagement sous son souffle. "Amen." Il tenait son fusil dans une main alors qu'il descendait sur l'échelle, voyant la situation en contrôle. Il était habitué à ce genre de lutte contre le feu, c'était rapide et efficace. Il n'y avait pas de théâtre ni d'affaires stupides, pas de showboating. C'était strictement professionnel et il adorait ça, c'était une équipe avec laquelle il pouvait travailler. À en juger par la quantité d'explosions et de coups de feu qu'il pouvait entendre au loin, il serait mal à l'aise parmi les centrales à tête chaude. Il était habitué à travailler avec des gens communs, des gens qui ne seraient même pas clignotés dans la galaxie, un flou dans les souvenirs de l'autre. Alors qu'il avait les pieds sur le sol, Ja'Far a hurlé sur tout le monde dans la pièce avec l'approbation. Il semblait que la situation était enfin stable et qu'il pouvait trouver un cigare. Être sous le feu ne l'a jamais trop affecté, mais il a toujours eu un cigare après une victoire rapide. Tout le monde a été envoyé rapidement et les choses se sont calmées. Il espérait juste qu'aucun de leurs otages n'avait d'idées. Malheureusement, alors qu'il était sur le point d'atteindre le cigare, les sirènes s'en allèrent et l'attention fut dirigée vers un humain moyen-âge en train de jouer avec les consoles. Tout s'est passé en succession rapide, son arme a été serrée dans sa main, prêt à tirer si la situation était hors de contrôle. Et en effet, comme Anderson criait durement à l'homme, les cris d'oreille ont commencé. Des défenses. Le traumatisme est un truc bizarre. Parfois, tu ne reconnais même pas ta gâchette. Vous n'auriez aucune réaction, aucun clic dans votre cerveau et vous continueriez votre vie. Mais il y a eu des situations dans lesquelles les endroits sont tombés exactement là où ils étaient autrefois, il clique immédiatement et vous êtes ramené au passé, un endroit sombre dans votre propre histoire. Quelque part où vous essayez d'enterrer sous des souvenirs plus heureux, quelque part où la plupart des gens sain d'esprit seraient ensanglantés à la vue de. C'est quelque chose d'étrange, car ça t'a semblé le plus gênant de temps en temps, ce qui veut dire que c'était une putain de salope énorme. C'était une inondation. Les cris inorganiques. Camarades, ont travaillé avec pendant des décennies de guerre. A travers les assassinats, le terrorisme, les meurtres, les massacres, les enlèvements. Tout était justifié parce qu'ils étaient juste à côté de lui jusqu'au bout. Une pate amicale sur le dos, un doux coup de poing sur l'épaule. À chaque étape, ils étaient là. Et maintenant mort. Des cadavres, son pistolet a visé son ami le plus proche, le tour volant. Des larmes sur des larmes qui lui scintillent le visage, demandant pourquoi? Pourquoi a-t-il dû traverser ça? Ton frère s'est emparé d'un pic, ses cris perçant son cœur pendant qu'il se cachait. Comme un lâche. Ja'Far s'est calmé tout à coup, ses yeux se sont évanouis avant qu'ils ne reviennent à la normale. Il contrôlait son rythme cardiaque pour ralentir, se calmant. La guerre était loin maintenant, ils étaient avec Athame et les Divins. Il n'y a pas de raison de les manquer s'ils étaient au paradis, un avec la Déesse elle-même. Il s'est adouci lui-même, tenant son fusil un peu plus serré. Ja'Far a mordu sa joue intérieure, avalant une crache. Le bruit a laissé un goût amer dans sa bouche. Son peuple avait été terrorisé, traumatisé et tué par ces créations de moissonneurs. Des dizaines de mondes brûlés et flagellés dans l'espace hégémonique, des populations entières de Batariens et d'esclaves ont été massacrés. Tout ce pour quoi il s'est battu a été brûlé au sol et estampillé. N'oublie jamais. Et Cerberus a osé traiter ces monstres comme des jouets? La déception est venue à l'esprit, dédain dirigé vers ces gens stupides et ignorants. Ils trafiquaient avec d'horribles monstruosités. Ils pensaient pouvoir s'échapper dans le chaos? On leur aurait tiré dessus lui-même, des scientifiques non blindés étaient des cibles faciles pour son Incisor. Des milliers de défenses zoomaient actuellement sur leur emplacement et le Boogeyman se sentait mal à l'aise avec la pensée. Les cris se sont intensifiés, ses oreilles ramassant les pieds d'une horde incontrôlable. Il a été chargé de pointer, pour soutenir le nouveau membre du groupe, Alria. Il n'a ressenti aucune hostilité contre l'ordre, elle semblait être une Turian capable avec la spécialité CQC. Quelqu'un qu'il pourrait soutenir avec son incisive éclatante avec facilité. Il l'a laissée prendre la tête, ses trois yeux regardant l'équipe comme ils s'organisaient eux-mêmes. Il pouvait faire confiance à l'arrière-garde pour se tenir contre la horde à venir et pour que Phalanx regarde Rayes et les scientifiques. Le Quarien n'a pas encore fait ses preuves au combat, malgré sa compétence évidente en technologie. Alors que les défenses arrivaient par une entrée adverse, Alria ouvrit la première porte dans un couloir occupé par deux défenses. La première fut dépêchée rapidement par le Turian tandis que Ja'Far tira son Carnifex loin de sa pince à hanches. Il a levé le canon de l'arme avec sa main droite, tordant le pistolet avec ses doigts. Il a commencé une prière de combat, priant le Pilier de la Rédemption de bénir son arme. Il a tiré deux fois pendant qu'il marchait, son inciseur a tenu dans sa gauche. Il ne serait pas utile de gaspiller de précieuses munitions d'Incisor sur une seule coque et dans des quartiers si proches dans les couloirs, un fusil serait maladroit. Il est passé par-dessus le cadavre, ignorant la tête roulante battue par ses pieds. Ses yeux étaient larges, la bouche s'agapait dans un cri silencieux. Ils sont entrés dans une autre pièce, un petit hall de mess avec une sortie opposée à la porte dont ils venaient de sortir. Il marcha avec dessein, recollant son Carnifex sur sa hanche, à l'épaule de son fusil. Un groupe de musaraignes sortait de diverses autres entrées, criant et courant vers elles. Il a élevé son inciseur et a laissé Alria faire son truc, couvrant la droite du groupe, tirant sa gâchette dans une succession rapide. Le recul s'augmenta et les rondes volèrent rapidement, certaines cibles manquantes mais la plupart trouvées, déchirant la chair inorganique en meutes. Il a remarqué qu'un scientifique s'éloignait du groupe, mais il semblait que Phalanx avait la situation en main. Il a repéré un cannibale au milieu de la horde, criant beaucoup plus fort que le reste. Il a élevé son incisive et a tordu sa hanche pour faire face à sa direction. Inhalez. Trois balles sont entrées, c'est le crâne. Exhalez. Il a noté comment il pouvait encore voir le Batarien sous la chair laid. Les mouvements étaient très semblables aux siens, sauf différents. Ils ont toujours été différents, d'une manière qui l'a rendu contre nature. Il a tordu ses hanches pour faire face en avant, essuyant des pensées telles qu'il a rechargé un autre évier de chaleur. Ils étaient inutiles, des pensées qui devraient être méditées mais pas au combat. Les prières devraient remplir l'esprit d'un Batarien au milieu de la bataille, et non des observations inutiles. Ils se sont approchés par le deuxième couloir, trois défenses arrivant soudainement. Ja'Far, avec son fusil déjà à l'épaule, a tiré rapidement sur l'un d'eux, pulvérisant son torse avec une explosion. Alria avait pris une balle et une autre avec laquelle elle s'était battue a été exécutée par Phalanx. Ils sont entrés dans une grande salle de chargement avec des caisses parsemées. Un grand essaim de défenses cria à haute voix, ronflant et criant au groupe. Ils couraient au groupe, certains bloquant la voie prévue. Le soldat s'est emparé et a repoussé toute nervosité qu'il a trouvée en lui-même, la réprimant et se transformant en le visage cool d'un soldat alors qu'il décidait de couvrir Alria et le milieu du groupe pendant qu'ils couraient. Marchant vers la porte, il a vidé son clip à la horde à venir alors qu'il marchait, visant son canon dans la direction vague de leur ennemi. Une fois que son Incisor l'a averti de placer un autre évier de chaleur, il a tiré son pistolet vers le haut et a visé, tirant sur des défenses plus proches avec une précision effrayante. C'était un tireur d'élite au cœur et il appréciait l'exactitude sur des coups de feu aléatoires sur l'ennemi. Des projectiles ont été abattus dans toute la grande pièce, la tête arrachée par de puissantes rafales de Carnifex alors qu'ils s'approchaient d'eux. Tandis qu'il se rechargeait, deux défenses lui ont tiré dessus de la masse des corps, l'un s'attaquant aux jambes et l'autre s'attaquant au torse. Il lâcha rapidement son pistolet et atteignit son couteau d'interrogateurs tranchants, le dos frappant le sol alors qu'il se laissait tomber. "-le Pilier de la Rédemption apaisera ton âme oubliée, miń enfant." Ja'Far a griffé le cou de la coque directement sur son abdomen, l'atteignant avant de trancher sa gorge dans une plaie laid. Le couteau a déchiqueté la peau et il a arraché le corps de son agresseur le plus proche. L'autre a été tué par l'un de ses camarades et il a murmuré un petit merci. Il s'est emparé de son pistolet et l'a serré pendant qu'il se tenait, en poussant le dernier scientifique à travers la porte alors que la horde s'est cassée à leurs talons. Il est entré dans la nouvelle pièce et a regardé la position défendable que l'équipe d'assaut semblait s'être formée pour elle-même. Il s'était emparé de la dernière partie du discours de Rykarn alors qu'il se déplaçait, marchant en arrière en tirant sur n'importe quelle figure d'intérêt. Les maraudeurs ou les cannibales ont d'abord été ciblés, mais seulement quelques-uns ont été abattus avant de devoir se recharger. Alors qu'il approchait d'un autre évier de chaleur, il cria sur l'orchestre des cris. "Je hâte les explosifs à miń backpocket, je demande aux commandants miń d'examiner la suggestion de Sér Rykarn! Nous tomberons dans ces tunnels s'il n'y a pas d'action rapide, je peux placer miń explosifs miń soi-même." Il a frappé un autre évier de chaleur dans son Incisor, préparant un autre tir alors qu'il s'arrêtait finalement à côté de l'emplacement de l'équipe d'assaut.

"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: 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 1st 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. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "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?'

Une main chaude de force, de son, de chaleur et d'éclat a crié dans le tunnel. Il a peut-être évité l'explosion, mais Aegon s'est senti à mi-chemin sous l'effet de la chaleur de l'explosion et son audition a été floue pendant plusieurs instants, son casque le protégeant du pire car il a rapidement surmonté la désorientation. Aegon a jeté un coup d'œil. L'escouade en retraite de Cerberus avait été fritée et l'intégrité structurelle de l'entrée de la base avait beaucoup souffert, avec des fissures massives apparaissant dans le plafond. Le vieux tunnel n'était que quelque peu meilleur. Debris avait plu du plafond et un bloc avait manqué de justesse de frapper Giles dans la tête. Non pas qu'il ne l'aurait pas mérité pour les avoir presque tous soufflés dans l'au-delà. Mais une inspection rapide a montré que la plupart de l'équipe allait bien, même Ellis, qui a réussi à échapper au pire de l'explosion. La plupart des prisonniers ont été tués, mais peut-être deux ou trois sont encore en train de respirer. Pas un désastre complet, mais Aegon était loin d'être content. Il n'a pas eu beaucoup de chance de parler cependant quand Jake est venu sur la communication avec son rapport. Aegon a promis qu'il rétablirait les informateurs, s'il survivait bien sûr. Comment était-il possible qu'ils n'en aient aucune idée? Il aurait donné des ordres, mais Anderson l'a battu au coup de poing. Il semblait mal pour son partenaire, son associé junior, de donner les ordres unilatéralement, mais il était décisif et Aegon ne pouvait pas l'en vouloir. Pas de raison de se disputer, même quand Rykarn a décidé de mettre dans son propre ordre. Il n'était pas le genre d'officier qui n'était pas sûr de son commandement et avait besoin de mesurer des bites, Aegon cria : « Vous les avez entendus! Mettez-vous en vitesse! Nous n'avons pas le temps et beaucoup de merde qui nous arrivent!" Bien que son équipe soit presque universellement une collection de hotheads avec beaucoup trop de puissance et pas assez de cerveaux pour aller avec, il a apprécié leur ténacité et leur débrouillardise quand il est descendu sur le fil. Les esprits semblaient favoriser à la fois les audacieux, et ils étaient certainement cela. Ils ont immédiatement sauté dans l'action, et Aegon savait avec un peu de travail qu'ils seraient une force à compter avec. Ils avaient juste besoin de survivre. Aegon a vu l'équipe d'infiltration entrer, a entendu les cris de la horde derrière lui, et il a grimacé en souvenir. Il avait vu Husks pour la première fois quand le Geth attaqua la Citadelle. Il les a revus sur Palevan. Il y en avait eu des centaines de milliers pendant le Miracle. Leurs cris étaient constants pendant la bataille, aussi omniprésents que les coups de feu ou les cris des blessés. Parfois, la nuit, il entendait encore ces lamentations mécaniques dans son sommeil. Aegon a poussé tout cela loin et a frappé sa ruée d'adrénaline, le temps ralenti à nouveau comme il a obtenu son fusil à perle. Il a eu tout le temps dont il avait besoin, mais à tous les autres il a déménagé avec la vitesse de la foudre. Seize coups dans un clip, seize coups dans les têtes de museau, plus un tirage rapide de son pistolet, trois autres coups; et dix-neuf coups de museau sont tombés en quelques instants. C'était à peine une goutte dans le seau. Ils n'arrêtaient pas de venir, se précipitant dans le couloir étroit et se bousculant au-dessus de leurs camarades alors qu'ils atteignaient l'équipe, à peine freiné par la puissance de feu de l'équipe. Aegon a rechargé, et est venu à l'équipe d'infiltration criant, "Quelqu'un obtenir ces pylônes en ligne! Donnez-nous un coup de pouce! » Il s'est assuré que les scientifiques étaient équarris, avant de se plier à la police quelques munitions des soldats du Cerberus abattus. L'un des soldats prisonniers, dans un éclair soudain de vie, a atteint un Talon et a essayé de le viser à Aegon. Il a à peine apporté le canon à Aegon, son doigt se fronçant autour de la gâchette quand sa main a soudainement volé de son bras. Le soldat avait à peine le temps de crier avant que sa tête ne tombe de son cou. Aegon a arraché le sang de son épée avant de le pointer vers les scientifiques, "C'est ce qui arrivera si vous essayez quelque chose pendant que vous êtes à moins de vingt pieds." En prenant une seconde pour dessiner et viser, il a tiré son Paladin et a tiré une vieille ampoule à plusieurs centaines de mètres dans le couloir, en brisant le verre avec un coup de feu propre, "C'est ce qui arrivera si vous êtes plus loin que cela. Ne bougez pas." Aegon monta ses haut-parleurs et dit : « Nous occupons cette position aussi longtemps que nous le pouvons! Les civvies ont besoin de temps pour évacuer! On les retient ici, et on les repousse pour mettre des explosifs! Juste assez pour effondrer l'entrée! Il y a des maisons et des commerces au-dessus de nous, trop et ceux-là descendent! Seulement détoner sur ma marque!" Le plafond de l'entrée a déjà été compromis grâce à Giles, il ne faudrait pas plus de force pour abaisser le plafond sur les défenses. Aegon maudit alors qu'il voyait Salissa essayer de tenir la horde toute seule. Imbécile. Elle avait le poids de la horde sur elle, elle aurait eu de la chance de durer dix secondes de plus. Déjà son bouclier se brisait sous le poids de l'assaut. Si elle ne se désengageait pas maintenant, elle serait défoncée. Il cria : "Salissa! Sors d'ici! Vous êtes sur le point de vous écraser! » Il a hurlé sur le reste de l'équipe, "Supprimant le feu! Autant que vous pouvez là-bas sans frapper personne d'autre! Poussez-les pour qu'on puisse payer! Alors reposez-vous! » Il marchait en avant, frappait de nouveau la ruée sur l'adrénaline et tirait, rechargeait et tirait sans arrêt, mettant chaque tour qu'il pouvait en bas, chaque balle trouvant sa marque. Tout ce dont ils avaient besoin, c'était d'une salle de respiration, d'espace et de temps pour planter des explosifs. Puis ils pouvaient tenir, les tenir à distance jusqu'à la dernière seconde possible pour donner du temps aux civils. Puis ils pourraient enterrer le couloir et nettoyer la base avec un soutien de l'Alliance.

Name: Aegon Partinax. Drakolix, a High Cipritine term for a race of mythical apex predators said to have stalked the Palevan wilderness in bygone eras; known for their bloodthirst, lethality, and cunning. Race: Turian Class: Havoc Soldier Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Aegon is broad-shouldered and tall, standing at an imposing seven foot one. He weighs two hundred pounds and has the build of a life-long warrior. His carapce is snow white and his eyes are a rare shade of violet. His mandibles and crest are long and prominent; and his fringe is longer than average though not as long as Saren's infamously sinister fringe. Aegon's face paint is red and is an elaborate pattern that covers most of his head, proclaiming his heritage as a member of a prominent Cipritine clan. A Blackwatch tattoo, a black turian skull, covers his right upper shoulder while his left shoulder depicts two black wings; the mark of an Armiger flier. His carapace is marked by a multitude of old scars. Aegon was born a member of the Partinax clan, a family who had been fighting in wars since the Fuedal Ages. His father was the famed General Partinax, who had fought in the First Contact War, and his mother had been a captain in the navy and was of the Coronati clan; another prominent career military family. From a very young age, Aegon and his siblings had been raised to absolutely believe in the Hierarchy tenets of unity, duty, and victory at any cost. It was drilled in their heads that their destiny was to serve the Hierachy in the military and lay down their lives for the cause if need be. His parents both being high-tier and from prominent families, they had always been well provided for and grew up in comfort and luxury. Aegon was expected to be a proper turian, a paragon of the Hierarchy's tenets. This in fact bred his independent streak. Aegon had been a mischievous and curious child, creative in his childhood rebellions, but his father's lessons eventually convinced him of the merits of the cause and the necessity of ensuring the greater good of the Hierarchy. Though he never quite gave up being a trouble-maker. Despite this, he took to his studies intensely, finding immense satisfaction in learning to become a warrior. His parents taught him the basics of combat and strategy as soon as he could hold a stick. Aegon trained with mexta dueling, sharpshooting, hand-to-hand combat, and tactics and strategy long before he even set near bootcamp. Like the other children in his family, Aegon was being groomed for military command. All his siblings and cousins had completed officer school, so when his time came, it was only expected of Aegon to do the same. He spent two years in the Valluvian Officer's Academy, and excelled. He received stellar marks despite occasional disciplinary issues and graduated top of his class. The studies his parents had subjected him too had paid off and Aegon had been ahead of many of his classmates, both in strategy and in combat. In the academy, officer trainees took command of client race Auxiliary units for virtual training exercises and Aegon won many more exercises than he lost; nine times out ten with minimum casualties and maximum effectiveness. During training he had also displayed aptitude with melee weapons and jump-jet use as well as fireteam tactics. His skill and talent in warfare, coupled with just a nudge from his politically influential parents, led to his rapid advancement up a few tiers when he graduated. He was one of several recruits selected for special training, with a chance of mentoring under a Spectre and during this time he met Saren Arterius. Those close to him agree the older Turian made an impression on Aegon and by all reports, Saren had seen potential in the young recruit. However, while Saren recognized his talent, he recommended that Aegon first cut his teeth in the military to see what he was truly made of. As such, immediately after training he was made a Lieutenant in the 26th Armiger Legion and given command of a shock platoon. The platoon was often loaned out to the 43rd Marine Division when the big military needed effective shock troops and Aegon had the opportunity to train with soldiers from all over Council Space. He learned the methodologies and doctrine of the Salarians, Asari, and Humans; and even had the opportunity to train with Compact Drell fighters and Elcor living tanks. In training exercises, he soon learned to effectively coordinate with fighters of all stripes, seamlessly integrating a diverse array of combatants into a cohesive plan. When the time came for Aegon to undertake his first live-fire mission, Aegon acquitted himself tremendously; wiping out a pirate base in one lightning fast strike with no casualties to his own team. His career would continue as such for a few years, often working in tandem with army and marine divisions in fast and furious raids against separatists, slavers, pirates, and all manner of malcontents; His stellar record eventually caught the attention of Blackwatch, the best of the best in Turian Special Forces, and he was transferred to the illustrious unit as an XO to a veteran officer and a promotion to Captain. It was during his time with Blackwatch, working with Hierarchy units both in and outside Council Space on both highly prolific missions and deniable operations, that he once again met Visenya Victus, a skilled Hierarchy Military Intelligence operative, and daughter of the infamous General Adrien Victus, who had been an old comrade of his father's. Visenya was the unit's intelligence attache and helped plan and gather information for several operations. As his unit's XO, they came to have a close working relationship, that would eventually grow into something more as the years passed. Aegon proposed to Visenya shortly before he was promoted to Major and given command of his own unit. The wedding was a large affair and many operators from multiple militaries and luminaries from the prominent Partinax, Coronati, and Victus families were present. As a subordinate, Aegon had made an effective disciplinarian and major-domo, though he was not without his moments of self-inspiration despite orders. As a commander, he proved to have an even greater independent streak, often eschewing caution and doctrine for creative and destructive tactics. His career found him fighting Separatists on far-flung colonies, smashing pirate bases and slavery rings in the Traverse, and even assisting CDEM with Tuchunka peace-keeping missions. Virtually every mission Aegon led resulted in achievement of the mission directives, but often in ways that ran counter to traditional Hierarchy operations. He was very popular with his subordinates and fellow Operators but gained an unfavorable reputation among many superiors; and many in the underworld grew to fear him. Despite his liberties with decorum and doctrine, he was a valuable asset to the Hierarchy and was fated for even greater heights. His destiny was changed however on a mission involving a terrorist ring operating in a human colony in the Terminus that was preparing to strike a major Hierarchy training ground. Instead of consulting with the Alliance, Aegon deployed. They infiltrated the terrorist's base and would have eliminated the threat then if not for a chance encounter with an unarmed colonist. Aegon decided to tie up the man and let him live. The man later managed to slip his bonds and raise the alarm. The team discovered the colonists were actively harboring and assisting the terrorists and three members of his team were killed when hundreds of the townspeople rushed in with automatic weapons and mechs in addition to the terrorists themselves. Aegon and the rest of his team escaped, but without eliminating the ring leader. He realized he would not sneak in a second time and that there was no way to shoot his way in with his smaller team against a whole colony. His superiors would not authorize a ship-based bombardment, fearing public censure and war if Citadel forces were caught assaulting an independent colony. But the terrorists had to be eliminated in order to preserve secrecy and stop the plot. And so Aegon did something unthinkable. He contracted the help of a batarian pirate gang, and set them against the colonists. While the town burned, his team dropped in and eliminated the entire cell with extreme prejudice; killing the leader and clearing their base in a lightning attack that resulted in no casualties while gathering as much intel and crucial equipment as he could. As agreed, Aegon left the remaining arms and salvage to the Batarians but rebuffed them when they sought to take the colonists as slaves. Aegon challenged the pirate captain to a duel and killed him in single combat, allowing the surviving Pirates to leave with their credits and the colonists to live in the ruins of their town. Hundreds had died in the fighting, including many children. From intel salvaged from the mission, Aegon learned the name of the greater organization; Cerberus. Aegon did not attempt to conceal any of this from his superiors and was incredibly candid in his report. While Visenya and his XO lobbied intensely on his behalf, the brass saw the operation as a massive debacle and most moved to have him expelled from Blackwatch and demoted; with even a few speaking of a tribunal. However, operatives of office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance caught wind of the incident and intervened. Saren Arterius and Tela Vasir had both heard of the operation and been impressed with the results; particularly Aegon's out of the box thinking and willingness to go to great lengths to achieve his mission. They spoke on his behalf to the Citadel Council to have him inducted into the Spectres. The Council agreed and Aegon was even given a promotion after his induction; a fact that still ruffles some feathers today. Visenya was also promoted to a senior position in the Council's personal intelligence service and the couple moved to the Citadel; though they still owned property on Palevan. Though he was sad to leave his unit behind, Aegon knew he could do the most good in the Spectres without the constraints of bureaucracy. And so for the next several years, Aegon proved himself to be an incredibly effective Spectre; an overwhelming hammer were others were a scalpel. With Visenya's help, he built a network of informants and allies, many with criminal tendencies, and gathered a crew of rogues and troubled servicemen after rescuing a decommissioned frigate from destruction. When the Council needed a threat dealt with quickly and thoroughly, Aegon was one of their top choices. Visenya gathered his intel, Aegon formulated the plans, and with his crew of cutthroats and outlaws, they did the bloody work that couldn't stain the hands of the Council. His notoriety quickly grew and his power base expanded. During this time, Aegon and Visenya had their twin children and life seemed great for the Spectre. Later, Shepard outed Saren as a traitor; a revelation that shook Aegon to his core. He had respected the man immensely and had severe doubts about himself and his methods as information of Saren's crimes and excess came to light. He requested to be the one to bring Saren back to face justice but was denied. Instead, Aegon was tasked with investigating the Geth and their seeming return to organic space. He found little and was on a visit home to the Citadel when Sovereign attacked. Aegon quickly gathered his family and sent them to the Destiny Ascension, pulling rank in order to gain admission, before leaving to the Citadel Tower to escort the Council to safety, along with a few other Spectres. Aegon was onboard the Destiny Ascension and paled when he witnessed the destruction of the peacekeeping fleet. In an extremely rare moment of his resolve breaking, Aegon was on the verge of deserting his post to flee the ship on a shuttle with his family before the Alliance came to save the Dreadnought at Shepard's behest. After Shepard killed Saren and saved the Citadel, Aegon was one of the doubters of Shepard's theory on the Reapers. He had respect for the man who saved his life and that of his family, but thought the affair to be a deception on Saren's part; a ploy to bring the Geth to his command. It was only later when Shepard was seemingly killed in a mysterious attack that his beliefs were challenged. They were shattered when Shepard returned from the dead and announced his intention to stop the Collectors. The Council did not allow any other Spectres to assist Shepard in his mission and Aegon decided to delve into the Citadel Archives to research all he could on the mysterious Collectors, the Geth, and the Reapers. During this time, he was deployed to Taetrus to assist Hierarchy forces with the pacification of the Facinus Separatist movement. He reunited with his father and father-in-law and was an instrumental part in the systemic dismantling of the Separatist opposition. When word came of Cerberus, Aegon remembered his old enemy, and was part of a Turian task force to assault Cerberus bases and bring their agents into custody. The operation was largely successful but the Illusive Man escaped their grasp. Meanwhile, Aegon learned more and more about the Reapers and came to the conclusion they were real and accepted them as a threat. After Shepard's arrest in the aftermath of the Bahak Incident, Aegon lent considerable support to Garrus Vakarian's task force. One of his siblings, a younger brother in the Marines, had been involved in a raid on a Cerberus lab run by the mysterious Director. His brother had been taken captive and attempted to escape before being killed. When Hierarchy reinforcements came, the Director was nowhere to be found. Aegon swore his honor on a vow to avenge his dead brother and bring the Director to justice, dead or alive, as well as to destroy Cerberus root and stem once and for all. He put his network to task on finding as much about Cerberus as physically possible, preparing to strike. The Reaper Invasion changed his plans tremendously. With his wife and children safe on the Citadel, Aegon took his shape and raced to Taetrus as it came under Reaper attack. He was the only ship to successfully enter the system, making a daring covert run as the Hierarchy fleets tried and failed to force their way into the system. Aegon tried to convince his father to evacuate before the Reapers landed but his father refused, preferring to stay with his men. Aegon, who had witnessed the destruction one Reaper was capable of, shot the General in the knee and carried him onboard, stuffing his ship with as many civilians as he could. He led several smaller vessels in a run to the relay with support from planetside forces and managed to evacuate numerous civilians, wounded personnel, and VIPS before the Reapers clenched their fist around the planet. Aegon returned to the Citadel before leaving to fight the Reapers. Visenya came with him, leaving their children in the care of their convalescing grandfather, Aegon and his crew taking action as the Council itself was paralyzed. They made contact with Alliance and Hierarchy forces and became an effective special asset, Aegon going on to lead several so called N7 missions. Used to leading both special forces professionals and criminals alike, he was uniquely suited to lead the diverse and eclectic teams of skilled fighters who arose to covertly fight the war. He was not the only one, with colleagues such as Jondom Bau falling in with the galactic resistance. Cerberus reared it's ugly heads once more, and Aegon took great personal pleasure in fighting the terrorist group on several fronts. He was away on mission when Cerberus attempted to overthrow the Council with Udina's help. This incensed and frightened Aegon, as his family was put in danger though General Partinax had kept them safe. Pulling several favors, he had his family relocated to Rannoch along with numerous other Turian refugees and wounded from Palevan and other worlds after Shepard managed to bring peace between the Flotilla and the Geth. The Perseus Veil was largely ignored by the Reapers and with the dextro-amino environment, Rannoch proved to be one of the most relatively safe placed for Turian refugees. General Partinax, healed now, joined the war effort and assumed a position in High Command to fight the Reapers. The Partinax family, with their Victus and Coronati allies, were one of the main blocs that pushed for the ambitious ground assault to liberate Palevan. Aegon had experience dealing with Krogan and was one of the few turians whom the Krogan fighters respected, in no small part due to his reputation when working with CDEM. He was instrumental in bridging relations between the two rival species and was one of the principal planners in the operation along with his wife, father, and father-in-law, who was now the Primarch of Palevan. It was he who suggested detonating warp bombs inside Reaper ships using turian kamikazes. The plan called for many valiant turians to sacrifice themselves and would mean the death of countless civilians, but would also mean the return of large swaths of the homeland to their control. High Command approved, and Aegon fought with the Turian and Krogan special forces operators on the ground in the largest joint operation in Hierarchy history. He was one of millions to witness the Reapers exploding in the air as the army retook several cities and territories. While Aegon acquitted himself in the war, it was not without cost. Many of his Blackwatch comrades died in the Miracle, and he watched his crew succumb to war one by one after dangerous mission after mission. Even other Spectres weren't immune, and many longtime friends and colleagues died fighting the Reapers or Cerberus. It was only Aegon, Visenya, and a handful of others left of the original crew when the time came to launch the final assault. He was on the Citadel, performing a service for fallen comrades when the Reapers came. Once more, Aegon rushed to rescue the Citadel Council though now with Visenya at his side. The pair rendezvoused with the Council and evacuated them and countless other evacuees to the Destiny Ascension as the fleets provided cover. Ignoring his orders, his own crew fought to give them covering fire and Aegon and Visenya could only watch and listen as the ship was lost with all hands to overwhelming Reaper attack. Thanks to their sacrifice and the sacrifice of many others, the Council was saved. With renewed fire and an even greater thirst for vengeance, the couple linked up with Primarch Victus' fleet en route to Earth for the final assault. They accompanied the Primarch on his flagship and were among the first Turians to land on Earth in the Hammer Assault. With his experience coordinating the Miracle, Aegon was instrumental in organizing the survivors of Hammer and the London Resistance into a coherent army to fight the massive Husk force. Aegon and Visenya fought side by side with Primarch Victus in London and saw the most hellish fighting in the war, even worse than Palevan. They attempted to charge the beam to the Citadel but had to drag Primarch Victus back to safety when the retreat was sounded. The Hierarchy forces held their line, but were on the verge of breaking; and Aegon had sustained numerous wounds. Death seemed imminent, but suddenly a red wave of energy enveloped the world and the Reapers were defeated. Aegon spent a short time recuperating on the liberated Citadel while Visenya helped her father coordinate with the humans. He found himself to be one of the most senior Spectres alive in the wake of the Reaper War and had gained much renown and influence for his central role in resisting the Reapers. Aegon canvassed the galaxy, searching for new Spectres to fill out the ranks while undertaking a few missions to ensure galactic stability during the reconstruction. Aegon and Visenya left to Rannoch to bring their children back to the Citadel and the family remains there to this day; though the family visits Palevan and plans to resettle there once the worst of the turmoil has passed. Aegon found no shortage of work and was always busy in the year that followed. When whispers of insidious threats rising to threaten galactic peace, Aegon decided to be proactive this time around. Along with other Spectres, and with support of Hierarchy High Command, Aegon and his fellows convinced the Council to form a Spectre-led covert task force to ensure stability and to neutralize threats to the galaxy before they became concrete and destructive. It would be a task force with no official authority and complete deniability, both made up of the best military operators and the deadliest independent agents. Task Force Katabasis was formed with Aegon as it's field leader. He requisitioned a Hierarchy frigate and assembled a new crew. He needed the best of the best for a ground team, no matter where they came from, and he had Visenya gather dossiers on likely candidates while he found the best support staff and crew he could, many of them with questionable records. The Council also saddled him with a partner Spectre, ostensibly so Aegon could train him but he suspected they wanted his "partner" to keep an eye on him should he step too far out of line. Aegon is a veteran of numerous deadly missions, several ship engagements, two massive battles, and the deadliest war in history but only time will tell if he can whip up the extreme personalities of his potential squad into a coherent fighting force to stop those that would threaten the galaxy at large. Whether or not he can, blood will be spilled. Psyche Profile: Aegon, at his core, is a career soldier from a long line of career soldiers. His family have been military commanders and war heroes since turian clans fought with swords and axes. As such, war is not just his duty, it is his life. He is never truly happy unless some crisis is being dealt with, and he is a man who would be ill at ease in peace. From a young age it was ingrained in him that it was his duty to protect the Hierarchy and maintain peace in the galaxy by serving in the military. As such, he has pursued his family calling even above and beyond what was expected of him. His central drive to protect the galaxy have morphed him into a man who has nearly no limits. The safety of the galaxy is paramount above all else, and Aegon will go to nearly any lengths to ensure that safety. If given the choice between killing ten to save a hundred, he would not hesitate. In the military he was known for ruthless and brutal tactics that quickly and decisively defeated the enemy as well as demoralizing them too much for them to ever raise arms again. Despite this, he takes no joy in inflicting harm, and in his mind only does what is necessary to keep innocent lives safe. This has resulted in a maverick of a man, a turian who will readily ignore orders when his judgement tells him it must be done. Aegon does not have a black and white view of the galaxy either, and is noted for having many contacts in the criminal underworld. He thinks of his network as a necessary evil to combat much worse offenders such as slavers, terrorists, pirates, and rogue governments. Even inter-species prejudices and xenophobia mean nothing to him. If something or someone can be used as a tool, he will not hesitate to use it in his mission. Aegon's unrelenting drive to safeguard Council space both make him an excellent Spectre and mark him as one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Despite all this, Aegon is not without his sentimental side. He is a noted family man, and is capable of forming long-lasting and meaningful friendships and is famed for his acerbic wit. His family and those he love are what keep him tethered to the galaxy and stop him from truly becoming a soulless killing machine, and those he holds dear are the one thing that challenge his devotion to the so-called greater good. Specialty: Aegon is a Spectre, the best of the best. In officer training, he excelled, achieving top marks in the prestigious Valluvian Academy and graduating top of his class. Instructors noted Aegon's creativity, tenacity, pragmatism, and confidence in command. He excels at fireteam tactics and is no stranger to war room meetings, having studied every major military leader and battle in Turian history; as well as the military history of many other races. Whereas other Spectres are master infiltrators and spies, Aegon is a frontline combatant through and through. After completing officer training he was placed in the 26th Armiger Legion, cross-training with the Salarian, Asari, and Human militaries and taking part in countless daring raids before finally being placed in the legendary Blackwatch special forces unit as an officer. While he understands the value of stealth and subterfuge, his preferred methodology is to hit his targets in a surprise attack with overwhelming force and destroy them thoroughly before they even have time to react. Aegon is meticulous in his planning however, preferring to know all the variables and account for all details before he strikes, but is still flexible enough to modify plans on the fly when the situation warrants it. He helped plan several raids against Hierarchy enemies of all stripe and before he was discharged, was one of the most highly decorated infantry officers in Blackwatch history, earning several accolades. He excels at lightning strike missions and is one of the Hierarchy's top experts in counter-insurgency operations, earning a bloody reputation among Turian Separatists. After years of training and combat, Aegon honed his skills to a razor edge. His natural athleticism was further enhanced with the latest in genetic enhancements and his speed and reflexes are legendary. He was trained to survive in a variety of hostile environments with nothing but his wits and is a master in both tracking and evasion. In close quarters combat, he is a master of the pistol and assault rifle; able to draw and land a clean headshot faster than the blink of an eye. Aegon is also recognized as one of the top martial artists in the military, a master of several unarmed styles as well as omniblade, knife and sword techniques. He is an expert with jump-jets, seamlessly blending high-speed propulsive maneuvers with melee attacks and is able to accurately fire when hovering in the air. Simply put, Aegon is one of the deadliest warriors in the galaxy. He also has extensive connections in the Citadel government, knows special forces operators in several foreign militaries, and has significant pull in the Hierarchy; being on a first name basis with more than one Primarch and numerous members of Turian High Command. His father is the famed General Partinax, and Aegon himself is a member of the upper citizenship tiers; as such he is one of the most influential members of the Hierarchy and commands political influence to rival most galactic politicians, business magnates, and flag officers. Aegon has an uncanny talent to acquire useful, if dangerous and unconventional, operational assets, often from dubious origins; and in the course of his Spectre tasking has built a formidable resource network. It is rumored he has contacts in criminal organizations all over the Terminus systems. As such he was the natural choice to head the covert Task Force Katabasis as it's field leader. Powers/Skills: Havoc Strike Stimulant Pack Adrenaline Rush Frag Grenade Flashbang Grenade Concussive Shot Cain Trip Mine Equipment and Resources: M-96 Mattock Heavy Rifle M-77 Paladin Heavy Pistol Fragmentation and Flashbang Grenades Cain Trip Mines Numerous military-issue talons hidden on his body A monomolecular mexta sword, a personal family heirloom named Sacrifice Dual omni-blades An Personal Propulsion Unit Medium Phantom Armor "I said no." The Batarian's nose burst into a red spray as Aegon's fist crunched into his face, knocking the man flat on his back. The pirate instinctively reached for his gun, but choked when Aegon pressed his foot into his windpipe as his comrades leveled a wide array of weapons directly at Aegon. The Turian, foot on the pirate, gun aimed at the ring-leader, was eerily calm as his own team leveled their weapons right back at the Batarians. The pirate captain snarled, "Let him go." "I will, once you agree that the colonists will be left alone." "We had a deal, bird-nosed scum." "We did, but that was for salvage. Not people." "These human rats, are salvage. We did your dirty work for you, now we take our prize. Skilled laborers and pretty women will help us recoup our losses. Good men died for you Turian." The town was in flames, various prefabs in pieces while all around dead humans littered the ground next to some Batarians. The dirt was stained with blood and moans and wails could be clearly heard over the roaring of the fires. One girl was crying next to a man with a large hole in his chest and several dozen men, women, and children looked on with panicked eyes as snarling varren with their Batarian handlers stood nearby with guns drawn. "They died certainly, and you will be handsomely rewarded for it. With all the weapons and tech left in that base. But the people stay." His team was outnumbered five to one, but they showed no signs of nervousness. Their black helmets hide their expressions and their bodies were absolutely stable shooting platforms. They arrayed themselves in a circle, rifles with clear shots on the captain and several other targets in overlapping fields of fire. There was no cover, they were surrounded, but the Batarians were the ones sweating. They had watched a small team of six destroy a whole base of armed terrorists and leave virtually unscathed. Aegon was the only one whose face can be seen, but he showed just as much emotion. "That's not going to happen Turian. Let us leave with the humans and I'll let you all go. Hell I'll even give you a discount for our services. But this is none of your business. You didn't seem to care about civilians when you had us attack. This is just us collecting the spoils of war." "War is war. Slavery is slavery." The Batarian under his foot continued to wheeze, barely able to breath as Aegon and the Captain stared each other down, neither backing down. Aegon could not, would not let them take the humans as slaves. And the Captain couldn't back down in front of his men without looking weak. Neither would leave the confrontation without severe casualties if a fight broke out, though Aegon was confident he and his men could wipe out the majority of the pirates and the captain before the team was completely incapacitated. He couldn't call for air support from his ship either. The frigate would have no kinetic barriers in atmosphere and the Batarians had enough fire power to bring it down. They were at an impasse and it seemed the only way he and his men would leave this confrontation alive was if they let the pirates take the humans. He listened to the cries of the little girl, smelled the burning flesh. He couldn't let them take the humans. But his duty to his men outweighed his duty to humans who weren't even Citadel citizens. He had to choose one. Unless... "Let's settle this the old way then. The way my forefathers did, and yours if memory serves. One on one, me against you. First blood. No guns. If I win, you leave the colonists alone, take the salvage, and go. If you win, you let us leave unharmed and take the colonists and the salvage." The Batarian scrunched two of his eyes in thought while the man under Aegon's foot choked out, "Brother don't-" "Shut up, Kol." The Batarian glowered, "You think I'm stupid? You turians train with your talons since you can all walk. And you're Special Forces. In a bare knuckle brawl, I don't stand a chance. Same as if we had a shoot out." "I didn't say anything about hand-to-hand. I said no guns. Omni-tool functions, knives, fists, biotics, anything you like. Just as long as there's no guns or grenades. Fair fight." "Hmm. How do I know you'll honor your end?" Aegon stared back before suddenly lifting his foot off of the younger Batarian under his boot. The man gasped for breath, rolling on the floor as Aegon kept his gun up. The man got to his knees, crawling for a bit, before finding his feet and unsteadily walking to his brother. The Captain gestured and a man came forward to take him into the fold, keeping his gun up the whole time. "A show of good faith." The Captain smiled pointedly, "And how do you know I won't kill all of you when I beat you? In fact what's to stop me from killing you all now?" "Because my ship is hearing every word. They might not have precision turrets but they do have bombs, missiles, and cannons. You kill us now or betray my men, and there won't be enough left of you to fill a thimble." The Batarian frowned, "You'd kill all of the humans? Just like that? I thought you wanted to protect them?" "I would be doing them a favor. I've seen what your kind does to slaves. You have my word I will honor the terms of the deal. And you have my word I will make sure you will be blown to hell if you betray it. Do we have an agreement?" The Batarian's expression became pensive and a long moment passed where Aegon's finger tensed, anticipating him to order his men to open fire. Then the man said, "On my world we don't fight to first blood. We fight to the death." "Then that's how it'll be." "Then you have a deal, Turian," He tilted his head to the left and dropped his gun. Aegon nodded back and holstered his pistol. A voice filtered over the radio, "You don't have to do this. I can have another team on the ground in a few minutes. Just give the word." Aegon said nothing and drew his sword, placing his feet apart and gripping the curved blade in both hands, standing sideways with the weapon raised. The Captain stepped forward and his armor grew spikes while glowing blue whips trailed down from one hand and an omni-tool materialized in the other. The men stared each other down. Seconds turned into eternity as they looked into each other's eyes. Everyone, even the humans, were absolutely silent and the world shrunk to just Aegon and the batarian across from each other. He waited. The Batarian made the first move, firing ballistic blades from his omni-tool before following with an electrified submission net. Aegon ducked beneath the blades and raised his sword, the monomolecular blade slashing right through the net as he twisted and drew several throwing talons, before sending them flying at the Batarian. The pirate jumped to the side and Aegon fired up his thrusters, jumping into the air before plummeting toward the man with his sword raised high. The Batarian stepped backward and lashed at Aegon's foot with his biotic whip, wrapping the dark energy tendril around his boot and pulling Aegon toward him as his omni-tool glowed in the shape of an enforcement gauntlet. Aegon flung another dagger and the captain threw up his gauntlet to shield his face, Aegon speeding up with his thrusters once more and charging directly at his opponent. The Batarian saw him coming and dissipated his whip, throwing up a disk shaped barrier just in time to deflect the sword. Aegon ducked low and swept the Batarian's leg before slashing at his side but the kick rebounded off of his bladed armor, and scratched Aegon's leg plating while the blades caught Aegon's sword in the torso armor. The Batarian, shield still up, threw his fist back and lashed out with a charged enforcement gauntlet. Even with his enhanced durability and armor, the blow would have severely inured if not outright maimed or killed Aegon. But Aegon was too fast and swayed to the side, avoiding his blow before striking him in the arm with his own elbow. The bladed armor cut Aegon but the man grunted in pain and twisted to the side, exposing his head from behind the shield. Aegon cut with his free hand and his sharp talons clawed down the man's cheeks making him shout in pain and recoil. Aegon drew back his sword and spun, attacking and battering the biotic shield with quick, precise, and strong strikes. The man was forced to his knees and Aegon knew the barrier would fail eventually. The pirate knew that too and he deflected the sword once more before collapsing the shield. Aegon flew backwards with his thruster pack just as the man detonated his blade armor. Shrapnel cut at his armor but he was protected from the worst of it. The pirate created another whip and struck the ground right in front of Aegon, blowing up dust and debris and forcing him backward. Aegon jumped up into the air and another whip wrapped around his sword, pulling him down. Aegon released the sword and materialized dual omni-blades, killing his thrusters to dive at the Batarian. The man raised his omni-tool and Aegon activated his thusters to dodge to the side and avoid the ballistic blades. He landed with a roll on the ground and lashed out with his omni-blades, both of them cutting across the Batarian's now normal armor. The man cursed, wounded, and aimed a swift kick at the Turian. Aegon grabbed the leg with both hands and twisted his body, flipping the Batarian and smacking him down to the ground. Aegon swiftly kicked him in the side, driving out his breath and another omni-blade appeared in his hand, driving forward to bury itself in the batarian's chest. The Batarian roaring, wrapped his fist in blue energy and stuck his hand out as the blade rushed forward. A biotic blast threw Aegon back and he used retro-thrusters to arrest his movement and land softly. The Batarian charged forward, enforcement gauntlet glowing. Aegon tried to fly to the side, but a whip wrapped around his chest and held him in place as the fist came flying. Aegon threw up his arm and hopped to the side. The gauntlet glanced off of his arm and blew the thruster pack on his shoulder to pieces. Aegon was thrown to the ground and the Batarian raised both arms to finish him off with dual whips. Aegon's hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he rolled forward, too close for the Batarian to strike. As he passed, he came to a crouch and struck at the Batarian's side, sprinting forward before turning to cut his back. The Batarian cried out and twisted back to swing at Aegon with a whip but Aegon ducked under the whip and lashed out, cutting deep into his arm. The pirate stumbled and tried to raise his other arm but Aegon knocked the arm back down with a foot before slashing him across the chest, stepping forward, and driving the sword straight into Batarian's chest. His sword popped out from the man's back and Aegon stood there, close as a lover, as the man breathed shallowly right next to his ear. His body drooped and Aegon allowed it to slide off of his sword. The Batarian's brother cried out and rushed to the man, sobbing and shouting frantically trying to apply medi-gel while the captain breathed unsteadily and the blood pooled beneath his body. His eyes glazed over and he muttered incoherently as Aegon stared at him. Aegon flicked the blood off of the sword and looked at the blood spreading in the dirt, filling his field of vision and staining his boots. He looked into the pirate's eyes, drew his pistol, and shot him twice in the head. Notes - Aegon's treatise on small-unit tactics and counter-insurgency is required reading in Hierarchy officer training. - He holds a championship medal for the Palevan swordsmanship tournament, and won several sparring competitions in Blackwatch and units and ships he was attached to. He also won several pistol fast draw competitions. - His wife is Primarch Victus' daughter, they have a twin boy and girl with another child on the way. - Aegon is often used as a bedtime story to frighten children by both colonists in far-flung outposts and low-tier citizens in the mega-cities. Turian Separatists think of him as one of their greatest enemies and he has garnered equal parts hatred and respect among several krogan clans due to his joint-operations with CDEM. - In the aftermath of the Reaper War, Aegon is lobbying strongly to attain the position of Warden of the Citadel, an ancient military title bestowed in times of great emergency. This would grant him command of all the Citadel peacekeeping fleets. Several in Special Tactics and Reconnaissance back his campaign while many others say the title should fall to Commander Shepard.

Alria Vicrinus Endroit: Ruines de Londres En gardant un œil prudent et mortel, Alria s'est assurée d'utiliser son pistolet avec une gâchette létalement efficace. Ses tirs étant stabilisés par sa poignée à deux mains ferme et rendu meilleur par le morceau de débris qu'elle a choisi de prendre à l'abri derrière. Assurez-vous de chronométrer ses tirs et de garder son efficacité de balle élevée, mais aussi de ne pas frapper aucun de ses alliés alors qu'ils couraient devant pour se battre ou juste RAN AHEAD. Alria a été l'un pour profiter d'une bonne bagarre serrée, mais littéralement en courant dans une marée de Husks qui grand était fou, mais elle ne pouvait regarder avec confusion et... quel est le mot pour cela... Pas de préoccupation ou de colère, mais quelque chose entre les deux. Peu importe qu'Alria savait qu'elle ne pouvait pas arrêter l'humain fou pour faire son affaire sans mettre sa propre vie en danger inutile alors au lieu de cela, elle a juste regardé et fourni un soutien au feu où elle pouvait. Bien qu'avant longtemps l'humain fou semblait avoir en fait un plan comme elle a chargé à travers plusieurs Husks d'abandon imprudent et quand sa barrière a monté Alria compris. En vérité, elle pensait toujours que l'Homme était fou au-delà des mots, mais au moins elle avait un plan pour entrer. Pour mieux aider l'événement tout entier, elle a continué à placer des tirs autour d'elle pour couler dans les corps de quelques Husks, à la recherche de contrôle de foule au lieu de l'élimination de cible clé. Après tout, c'était le meilleur choix. S'assurer également de jeter quelques boules de feu dans la fraye, enfoncer leurs cibles et trajectoires pour passer autour de l'Homme et frapper dans la foule, les mettant en mode éclatement afin de donner quelques flammes à plus d'un Husk à chaque tir. En continuant à regarder les événements se dérouler, elle a vu quelques autres membres de leur équipe charger avant de planter des bombes et cela n'a fait que rendre les choses plus difficiles pour elle de temps à temps ses tirs, mais quand elle a trouvé une ouverture, elle l'a prise. Bien qu'au fur et à mesure que les choses avançaient et qu'une Krogan se chargeait de sortir l'Homme tout comme sa barrière tombait, les deux démolisseurs prenant leur congé en même temps. Cela l'a laissée avec le règne libre pour ouvrir le feu et jeter le feu vers le bas portée pour causer la douleur des animaux de compagnie du Reaper. Même si personne ne pouvait le voir, Alria avait un grondement sur son visage. Ce sont ces salauds qui lui ont coûté si cher il y a quelques années. Peut-être pas ceux qui l'ont fait, mais sûr comme l'enfer du même côté que ceux qui l'ont fait ce qui voulait dire qu'ils n'étaient pas différents. Chaque fois qu'elle a appuyé sur la gâchette et a vu un de ses ennemis éternels tomber au sol, elle s'est sentie un peu plus heureuse à l'intérieur... ou l'a-t-elle fait? Après tant de meurtres de Reaper au cours des dernières années, pourquoi se sentait-elle encore si... Comme la bataille faisait rage et avec leur ligne refait, elle continua à la tenir, bien que, comme le temps passait, il semblait de plus en plus d'une cause perdue. Ils étaient trop nombreux, mais ils avaient leur as... juste à la parole d'Aegon qu'il serait joué. Entre-temps, Alria avait encore quelques clips thermiques à dépenser.

Name: Alria “Angel” Vicrinus Race: Turian Class: Infiltrator Age: 21 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at 5’ 10’’ and weighing in about 125 pounds Alria is a very lithe and thin woman who cuts a very strong and attractive figure. Her body is fluid, flexible, and really the only blemish she has in a nasty gunshot scar on the left side of her hips. Backstory: Alria was born to a humble Turian family on their Homeworld of Palaven. Though very earlier in her life she found that she would grow up on a much more under developed planet as when she was only 2 her family was deployed as part of a security detail to Amber Horizon, a recently developed Turian colony that had been established just that year. It was supposed to be a good assignment for his soldier parents. Letting them serve the Turian people while still having a peaceful assignment from which to raise their young daughter. Alria didn’t even remember Palaven really. In fact her only memory was of rolling mountains and valleys that stretched out against a beautiful rising sun. She couldn’t even remember where the memory came from as Amber Horizon was her new home and that was where she learned to walk, talk, and play with her fellow Turians, though she didn’t have many children to play with due to the colony’s relative new stature and utility purpose as a forward communications colony. This in turn left her to either her own devices which often led to adventures of running around the forests around the colony. Which in turn often led to several injuries and encounters with the local hostile life that made her parents get a little upset with her antics. Her other method of entertainment was to run around the colony and make friends with the locals, often trying to offer help to the communication technicians and engineers who made sure the colony ran straight. This ensured that she had many older friends who would even say kind greetings and pass her treats when her parents were both out on guard duty along the walls of the colony. This was how her life turned out for the next decade, watching the world not change, but that was ok for her. This was a nice life and it kept her happy. Along that way she continue to help where she could and that in turn taught her some life skills such as how to set up and maintain communication relays as well as fly shuttles and dropship that were used to deliver and retrieve supplies and cargo around the planet. All by the young age of 14! Not to mention her own parents teaching her about the ways of war as well as how to be a right proper ass-kicker. Mostly so she could fend off those pesky boys as her Dad said. Yet with Dad jokes aside she was learning quickly to fight, shoot, and defend in the case of an attack. When Alria was 15 she went off to the military academy learning her way around in the Turian armed forces and honing her skills with a pistol and her own hands. While not exactly a conventional method of combat she proved to be exceptional at it which raised some attention to her skill. Upon placing her in an Infiltrator roll and assigning her to the Hastatim that went to Taetrus to combat the Facinus separatist group. Her skills and stealthy ability proving invaluable at taking out splinter cells located throughout the planet specifically working in Spaedar and Madra to weaken their fortified positions and damage their fragmented infrastructure. However, due to her role as a ghost she was not credited nor awarded for her faithful efforts. Though this didn't bother her one bit as it meant the conflict was over and she could have a chance to return home, and that she did heading back to Amber Horizon and reconnecting with her family and friends. Once again she felt at peace as she went back to helping around the communications relay and adventuring around the forests. This life was not meant to last though as the news of the Reapers coming back started to resurface which put the colony into overdrive. After all they were a communications relay that allowed for rapid and effective communications to the fleets and outposts near the front lines. However, this faithful service to the Turian people came at a grave cost. The Reapers had tracked down the relay signal and that meant that before long the skies went dark with enemy ships that deploy soldiers… no… monsters down on the colony. As chaos set in every one of the guards as well as some of the technicians ran to the walls to defend a battle they could never win. Alria looked around for anything she could help with and while she wanted to take a rifle to the walls she was pushed away by her parents to help the technicians secure or destroy the equipment less it fall into enemy hands. Her knowledge of the equipment proving somewhat helpful as the defenses began to collapse around them. Husks, Cannibals, and Scions burst over the walls slaughtering all the Turians present regardless of if they were combatants or not. Alria was terrified for her parents who were still fighting on the walls as far as she knew. So with everything around in chaos she took her chance to make it to the walls only to see the last moments of her parent’s lives. The monsters had them surrounded and she could only watch as they were shot down and lay still. With tear filled eyes she turned around and ran, looking around with foggy eyes she watched and saw all of her friends die and something in her snapped. She ran from cover to grab an Avenger rifle to which she took aim at a charging Husk only to freeze at the last moment. She'd fought in war, against sepetatitsts and traitors who she had to kill in return, but this was different. It was like a true horror running from her nightmares to kill her and she froze. As the monster leaped to tackle her something else leaped to tackle it; it was her mother, still bloody from the walls. Struggling for her life Alria’s mother shouted out, “Shoot it!” To which the shaking Alria held up her rifle to empty the magazine into the Husk. Dropping it to the ground Alria ran up to her mother and bent over her, crying as she begged and pleaded for her to get up and flee with her into the woods. Yet she knew it was too late and so her mother said, “Please… I love you… so much… now run… run!” Alria let her tears fly free as she cried over her mother who gave her one last hug. Then as her last wish she gave Alria her pistol, a custom and special thing that she always intended to pass onto her daughter… just not like this. Alria made it out of the colony and hid in the woods as her home was stolen from her and she was the lone survivor. Guilt and sadness eating away at her very bones she waited. Crying and praying that things would just go back to the way they were. And as the days passed by her sadness and grief turned into rage and hate. She hated those monsters for taking everything she had and that made her want payback. Returning to her stolen home she found an occupational force guarding the communications relay that they tried to destroy during the invasion. They had to have been trying to splice into their network and really Alria didn’t care. She didn’t care that they were trying to steal secrets. She didn’t care that they were trying to take their things. She didn’t care that they wanted what her home had to offer. She only cared that she knew what they wanted and that she knew how to deprive them of it. Sneaking like a shadow she returned home and using her mother’s Custom Silenced Reaver M-17 Pistol she started to wage a one woman guerrilla war to reap the reapers and as she snuck back to the relay she had several close calls which would certainly spell certain doom. But her determination lead her on and then into the relay she went. Slinking around the ducts and maintenance corridors as she made her way to the power supply knowing that she only had to put one well-placed grenade to turn the entire facility into a giant fireball. Before long she snuck to her goal and had a chance, but she wanted more… It wasn’t enough to just starve the Reapers of this resource; she wanted to hurt them too. Taking the suppressor off of her pistol she started to shoot the Cannibals and make a real firefight engaging the monsters which in turn made more come to the relay to stop the threat. Just as she wanted and not thinking of her own safety she was shot in her hip. That turning point making her realize this was it. She took her grenade and threw it into the power supply letting the heavy electrical currents cook the metal of the casing in its entirety to give her more time to escape. Limping back to the maintenance tunnels she crawled and ran as fast as she could before a solid thump could be heard radiating behind her. That in turn causing a chain reaction which made the entire place begin its death song. She knew her time was short and that meant she had to move fast if she was to survive long enough to hurt the Reapers again. As fires started to burst around her the exit showed and she used the last of her energy to run out as and escape at the last second. Still yet her task wasn’t done. This planet was doomed and she had to escape. Looking around as the Reapers had lost track of her she saw one of the intact orbital transports. That was her ticket out. Running for the ship she got inside undetected and then put her pilot’s training to use, firing up the ship and ignoring any and all protocols for takeoff instead to just take flight and launch herself into the stars and to safety. Alria, 19, alone, and lost in the galaxy drifted wondering what to do unable to forget the nightmare she lived through on Amber Horizon. That was when she was found by a Turian fleet that took her ship and saved her life. It was in that moment she found her direction. Returning to the Turian military and offering her skills as an elite infiltrator she took to serving on countless missions requesting or even demanding assignments that put her against the Reapers. Her skills with stealth, pistols, and CQC skill proving to be incredibly lethal and effective while her knowledge of technology and piloting offering her a wider set of skills for sabotage and self-insertion. This was her life, getting her payback on the Reapers and being good at it up until she was 20 and the Human Commander Shepard led his team on Earth to use the Crucible and end the war. Still serving in the Turian military she had a new goal. Return home and finally put her past to rest. Psyche Profile: Key Details from the dossier of Vicrinus, Alria Codenamed: “Angel” Psychologically Vicrinus acts and behaves rather young and care free for her already rather young age. Often goofy and elated Vicrinus is often seen humming as she goes about her business. Regardless of her task she seems to enjoy it, from training, cooking, singing, or even dancing. Attributing factors to this may include her solitary lifestyle as well as a seeming love for freedom and whimsy... ...Vicrinus has shown an almost obsessive view of her armaments treating them with the utmost care before, during, and after each mission. Eye witness accounts have stated that she has been seen talking to her pistol. Vicrinus wished to make no comment on the issue. Psychological impact of this behavior has been dismissed due to the lack of negative effects that it presents... WARNING: Known trauma from the Amber Horizon Event has left Vicrinus with a deep seeded hatred for the Reapers. Extent of this hatred has yet to be explored but it has proven to guide her. ...On mission Vicrinus has proven to be a highly effective member of a team, taking her orders and briefing to heart and committing her actions to swift and effective action. In fact this effect can be visibly and verbally noticed by the activation of her visor. Once her tactical readout has been engaged Vicrinus rarely speaks and often adopts a “kill or be killed” attitude... ...Vicrinus has proven to adopt very “loyalistic” outlook making actions to preserve friendly life and ruthlessly kill enemy presences. “Obstacles and Collateral Elements” as Vicrinus has previously stated are of no consequence and while she “Strives to avoid unnecessary death” has proven to “non-lethally subdue” previously stated elements even if it brings the subjects to a state of pain... Specialty: Alria specializes in assassination and sabotage. With her incredible skill with close-quarters combat and pistols as well as her eye and knowledge of finding weak points in enemy structures leave her with plenty of utility as long as she has the tactical advantage of surprise. Due to the Amber Horizon Event she has developed a special bravery that helps to guide her into ridiculously close ranges from which she takes down her foes. Her skill with a blade and her own hands is unrivaled, being able to fight off three foes at once with a bit of effort put in. Yet where she becomes the most lethal is when she gets the drop on her foes, unleashing a torrent of bullets from her pistol, while tossing her Omni-Daggers, and using her Special Omni-Blade for the finishing touches. Beyond her combat capability she has spent weeks flying in varied environments leaving her as a very skilled and talented pilot. While not as good with capital sized vessels; fighters, transports, and small frigates or corvettes feel like home to her. Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak Incinerate Armor-Piercing Ammo Disruptor Ammo Cryo Ammo Decryption Ace Pilot CQC Mastery Equipment and Resources: Sticky Grenades Flashbang Grenades M-83-2 Infiltration Explosives Custom Suppressed Reaver M-17 Pistol (Custom made and crafted by Alria’s mother this suppressed pistol mixed rapid rates of fire and low recoil with high stopping power for a highly effective sidearm.) Twin Custom “Scythe” Omni-Blades (Physical Special knives that generates an Omni-field around the blade to give it a powerful and lethal edge.) Omni-Throwing-Daggers (Generated from her wrist gauntlets these blades form the same holographic energy that most conventional Omni-Blades are made of. Though using a magnetic dispersion field they can maintain their solid shape and be thrown; existing for an extended period of time away from the source.) Modified Seraphim Light Tactical Infiltrator Armor w/ Jump Jet Rig Personally Owned and Modified XA-273 Light Fighter Alria's personal ship, "The Silver Star" is a XA-273 Light Fighter that Alria had modified with advanced thrusters and rudders to increase the speed and handling of the craft. Making sure to have a ship that can keep up with her abilities as an ace pilot. The forward rudders are designed for powerful and rapid turning at high speeds which are achieved through the large and powerful engines that exist near the rear. Similarly this frontal steering provides incredible agility by guiding the ship at a high point versus the traditional mid or rear point. Twin linked gatling cannons on the prow fire from gimballed turrets provide a rapid, form of attack as well as self defense. As a means of heavier ordnance the ship has twin racks of Type-22 Needle Missiles for powerful and precise strikes. The armor of the ship is moderate giving it's size and speed, but falls short compared to most other light fighters. The interior of the ship is streamlined to provide a slick and open cockpit while also providing some storage space for personal effects, medical supplies, and equipment. Similarly it has an interior door that connects to the small cargo bay at the rear of the ship. Sample Post: Palaven. Really Alria remember it much more differently, but that didn’t really matter much now anyway. The Reapers had been cruel to the Turian homeworld and that meant her one memory of this place was just that, a faraway memory. Her mission was to assault an enemy position and remove the threat of artillery strikes that it posed. The Reapers had taken over a Turian artillery position and were now shelling their positions with their own munitions. That could not continue. Alria had wasted no time in closing the distance to the site but then took a moment to inspect it. 12 hostiles, mostly Marauders who were defending the position while two worked the two remaining artillery cannons. Among them was 4 Husks that appeared to just be mindlessly wandering around, which left the 8 Marauders as the real threat. Timing was key and she didn’t have much time to wait for her opportunity as each shell could mean more friendly casualties. Thankfully her chance arrived when Marauder on top of the ridge turned its back for some reason leaving the Husks unwatched. Dashing like a bolt of lightning the invisible Alria drew her knife and pistol and closed the gap to her foes. In the blink of an eye she slashed the first Husk becoming visible and taking its head off with the precision of her strike. In the next fraction of a second she took a swift aim with her pistol and depressed the trigger to turn the second Husk’s head into metal shrapnel. Before the two survivors knew what was going on and could shriek for help Alria already had her knife sheathed so she could grab a Omni-Dagger which was thrown with deadly accuracy at the flick of a wrist to strike a Husk in the body. Though that didn’t seem to kill it. Regardless she took aim at the unharmed Husk and turned his head to dust much as she had done to the last one. Then with the wounded Husk left she drew another Omni-Dagger and hurled it at the Husk to hit its head. That time it fell to the floor dead. Not yet finished she cloaked again and both silently and swiftly made her way up to the artillery position. 8 hostiles left 2 working stations, the other 6 patrolling and as of yet unaware of her actions…. Perfect. Alria drew two Sticky Grenades and in her other hand her pistol stood ready. Rushing in once more her invisible frame threw the first grenade at the control panel of the artillery station making the Marauder question what just made a slight thunk against his cannon before it detonated in a small but very powerful explosion that turned him to paste… 7. From there she tossed the second and once again the second artillery cannon with his user were taken out of commission… 6. In a flash Alria fired her pistol while cloaked disrupting her field but in the process putting two shots to the chest and one to the head of a Marauder… 5. Meanwhile her grenade hand flawlessly drew three Omni-Daggers that were then tossed one at a time to the second Marauder. The first struck his shoulder, the second his thigh, then the third his head… 4. At this point her presence was known and the survivors turned to face and fire on her, but before the first shot could be made Alria had already closed the gap to one and drew her Omni-Blade shooting him once to open his flank before making two swift slashes, one to the side and the second to his neck, looking to strike vital areas… 3. It was then the bullets started flying and that made her use the corpse of the Marauder as cover so she could catch a moment to blink. In response to their gunfire she dashed towards them looking to remove their ranged advantage and in doing so she took four shots with her pistol, all striking true into the chest of another Marauder… 2. With the gap closed one of the two surviving Marauders took a swing with its rifle looking to club her, but Alria almost seemed to expect this as she ducked and rolled under the swing to slash up at its arm cutting deep and long to make the Marauder drop its rifle. In that same instant she holstered her pistol and lashed out with her free hand to grab the Marauder’s arm to steady her movement, using that to swiftly stab up with her blade to hit under the Marauder’s jaw… 1. For the last Marauder she rolled low towards him using her low position to essentially tackle his legs, reaching up to grab his arm and using her blade to cut at his waist. All this attributing to an overhead roll that put the Marauder on his back. Finally using this advantage she swung the blade back around to slam it through the Marauder’s eye, pinning his head to the ground… 0. With the fight over Alria drew her blade out of the Marauder’s head and sheathed it, standing up and looking around to ensure things were handled before she reached up to her visor, activating her comms, ”Artillery position decommissioned. Returning to camp.” Notes She considers herself straight and has an affinity for Turians, Quarians, and Humans. Due to her very active and rather turbulent life she can’t really claim to have much experience with romance. So much so that she can’t claim to have lain with another. Little fact about her, she can't handle her booze too well getting drunk pretty quickly. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗Alria Vicrinus ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "There's little better in the galaxy than good music and bad dancing!" | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "He's not so bad. Maybe a bit of a hardass at times, but that's ok! We're all like that a little bit." ⚜ "Bit of a rocky start with this one. Started on the same mission and were thankfully on the same side, but of course I didn't know that at the time. Had a bit of a turbulent run in, few tense words, a lot more awkward words... But hey! At the end of the day we got over it and he's a pretty good guy! A bit cute too..." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ "Guy's committed I'll give him that. I just don't know what he's committed to..." ✌ "This guy's a bit of an unknown. Anderson knows him but I sure don't. Really he seems like a real hardass, but I think it's just because of what he's put with. In fact he reminds me of some of my old commanders in the Hastatim, ill tempered but dedicated to the cause. Who knows maybe we could be friends." || Ravanor Rykarn || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Rykarn? Never heard of him. Sounds Krogan. I'll bet he's a Krogan." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "I have no rightly clue who or how this person is. I mean she's an Asari... so... she's blue." || Ellis Taevon || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Again who? He's a Human... I think." || Rayes'Xum Nar Yaron || ✌ "Seems nice, doesn't really talk much, but hot damn does he know his stuff!" ✌ "Rayes. That's what I call him anyway. Quarian names are always so long. I haven't talked much to him, but really it wasn't easy to talk to somebody when you're assaulting a Cerberus base and hacking into their systems. Still his actions speak volumes and he can do a lot with very little. Hacking, fighting, guarding. I like him! And he's even got a nice butt!" || Phalanx || ✌ "It's a robot. But it seems to have a good... uh... wires. It sure loves to talk too." ✌ "Phalanx. What an odd name, but then again it is a robot they kinda get a pass for things like that... Anyway it seems ok, but maybe a tad long winded. Note to self... watch what you ask it less you get quiet an earful. Beyond talking it is sure one Hell of a fighter and real good with that sniper of it's too. I know what the Geth did, but this one seems ok in my books and I'm glad to have it on my side." || Ja'Far Balak || ✌ "He smokes... a lot." ✌ "I mean it... This guy smokes A LOT! Not that it's a bad thing, what you do for vices is your choice and it doesn't hurt others right? Anyway, he has that look that I've seen a millions times. He's seen some shit. I don't know if it was a war, or family loss, or whatever but he's got that look. To be honest... I can't help but relate a little to him." || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ✌ "This is a good soldier. No if, ands, or butts about it." ✌ "Narris knows what needs to be done for a mission to go right and while it may not be the most glorious or heroic he'll do it. I haven't had much interaction with him on the mission so far, but that's only because he stayed back to ensure my ass was covered and that means I have some serious respect for the guy." || Tiberius "Tye" Adarian || ☕ "I don't know much about this guy, but damn! Just look at him! He's huge! ☕ "Again I don't know a whole lot about this guy, but the one thing I do know... He's massive even for a Turian. I mean just look at the guy! You'd need a step ladder just to be eye to eye with him!" || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ☕ "Another Krogan. Not sure about much else..." ☕ "Another member of this little rag-tag team that I don't know about. He looks like a Krogan though so he must be able to kick ass. Right?" || Sicaria Velinian || ⚜ "A Turian like me, but she seems to get nosebleeds a lot. Might need to see the doc about that." ⚜ "I know this one. A Turian and about my size too. She seems ok, but really I haven't had too much interaction with her, though I think I've dealt with her the most on this mission out of everybody. Anderson excluded of course. A bit of note too... She seems kind of... curious about me. I think? Not entirely sure what's going on but she doesn't seem bad." || Gilvert Somner || ☕ "Another guy I don't know... yet." ☕ "You don't see many Drell around, but here one is! Though I haven't had a chance to get to know him I'm curious about 'em!" || Salissa Fortia || ☕ "Now this one is just crazy. Driven. But crazy." ☕ "I don't have any problems with her, but she is certainly crazy. I mean who runs into a tide of Husks, Cannibals, and Marauders alone? Even if it is to prop up a barrier and keep her teammates safer for a few more seconds. Still it at least means she's loyal which can be a good thing. Just gotta make sure that crazy doesn't spoil the loyal." || Ethan Sartiel || ☠ "I don't wanna sound mean saying it, but I don't like this guy." ☠ "I have a lot of people I hate and even a few people I REALLY hate. Ethan isn't one of them, but if his first impression is anything to go on. He'll be there soon. I mean who asks people what they shot while in the middle of a fight for their lives! That's just... So rude."

Opération Katabasis; arrêt de la horde Le synthétique de l'équipe n'arrêtait pas de tirer sur le plus dangereux des défenses, passant au fusil de chasse pour tirer alors qu'une horde réussissait à s'approcher. En regardant comme la femelle humaine, Salissa Fortia, a fait un bouclier tandis que Gilvert Somner et Ja'Far Balak ont mis en place des explosifs. À l'écoute de la commission Batarienne sur l'essai de son talent de tir, le Geth n'y réfléchit qu'un moment. "Si nous nous accumulons sur la base des meurtres, Ja'Far Balak a l'avantage. Les armes de Gilvert Somner et les miennes favorisent le pouvoir et souffrent du temps de rechargement. Sur la base de la précision, les formes synthétiques profitent du manque de nécessité pour les besoins organiques de « l'air » et de « l'arrosage des yeux » qui distrait souvent un tireur d'élite. Phalanx a exprimé en retour car il a calculé les cotes entre les trois snipers. « Cependant, les calculs sont parfois surpassés par les attentes en raison de la détermination organique. Ce sera une bonne lecture de la compétence." Ses systèmes bourdonnaient, prenant un autre coup de feu et coupant la tête d'un autre Marauder alors que la puissante balle atterrissait directement entre les yeux vides brillants de la nuque d'un turian. La puissante perce dans une masse régulière derrière elle, faisant glisser un morceau de son visage alors que son corps s'est effondré au-dessus du maraudeur. C'était alors que le bouclier s'est brisé et le vrai chaos a commencé à pleuvoir sur eux. Le krogan aîné connu sous le nom de Raik "Aralakh" Skarr chargé de prêter assistance à Salissa Fortia qui était assez proche de se faire mauler. "Deux éliminés." Phalanx a crié en réponse aux paroles du batteur disant qu'il en avait trois. Il ne comprenait pas particulièrement ce genre de « compétition » alors qu'il était tout à fait possible que certains, sinon tous, puissent mourir ici dans ce tunnel. Cependant, il est allé avec elle car il pourrait être une tactique de moral organique pour augmenter les chances douteuses. De plus, compter et tirer a pris très peu d'efforts pour le Geth. Tout comme Phalanx a repéré le lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson, comme le Spectre humain était tombé derrière, la horde avait réussi à atteindre son emplacement près de l'arrière du groupe. En sortant rapidement son fusil de chasse, il a chargé avant-propos d'être sûr que c'était la première chose attaquée afin d'éviter les dommages aux scientifiques et Rayes. Blassant un amas alors qu'ils venaient charger, Phalanx avait de nouveau des corps d'humains décédés de longue date s'élançant sur son corps plus grand plus métallique. L'un d'eux s'accroupit sur son épaule gauche au niveau du muscle synthétique contre son cou, le liquide blanc se déversant sur les dents de la coque et sur l'épaule de la Geth. Un autre griffait à l'estomac de Phalanx et un autre à la jambe gauche. Les dents grincent au métal et le muscle synthétique et le liquide blanc qui a été considéré Geth sang traîné. Swinging son poing gauche pour écraser le museau sur son estomac puis balancer son bras autour pour faire écraser le museau sur l'épaule du Geth dans un groupe qui se rapproche dessus. En l'utilisant comme un club pendant qu'il rechargeait son fusil de chasse, Phalanx regarda Aegon Partinax car il semblait que le spectre turc semblait être dans une situation similaire. Visant son Omni-Tool, Phalanx a tiré un incinérateur pour brûler quelques cadavres autour d'elle avant de viser et de tirer sur un groupe de défenses près d'Aegon. Tournant sa lampe de poche en arrière pour voir les scientifiques faire une course pour elle, Phalanx a rapidement passé à son sniper et a pris le but. Il a eu une seconde pour prendre un coup de feu et pour un instant il a pu prendre un coup de feu et enterrer une balle dans une façon scientifique fuyant. Cependant, pour cette fraction de seconde, les vêtements du scientifique ont changé pour ce qui ressemblait à un costume. Alors les scientifiques étaient hors de vue. Peut-être que ses systèmes devenaient défectueux à cause des dommages subis par cette plate-forme. Peut-être que c'était pour le mieux. Ils risquaient de perdre un coup de feu, et ils avaient au moins encore trois scientifiques en leur possession. Ce n'était pas très bien de laisser de côté d'éventuels ennemis pour l'avenir, cependant, en ce moment cela avait un peu de priorité et ils peuvent localiser plus loin les scientifiques échappés. Pour l'instant, il devait continuer à faire tout son possible pour maintenir la ligne et protéger les scientifiques restants. "Exigence de se hâter avec les explosifs. Nous ne serons pas en mesure de tenir la position plus longtemps. » Phalanx est d'accord, arracher une buste de sa poitrine, la ramasser et se jeter dans la horde, en frapper plusieurs.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

Combien de munitions est-ce que la sardine anthropomorphe est emballée?Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Vella se pensa en privé en regardant Giles travailler. En tant que soldat de choc dévoué, elle avait facilement reconnu le genre de mines que la Drell déployait; c'était le type Cain, comme on l'appelait. Elle savait qu'un seul d'entre eux était suffisant pour faire sauter un petit bloc. Mettez-en quelques-uns ensemble, et vous pourriez anéantir un quartier entier très vite! Bien sûr, Gile's était nettement plus petite que ce avec quoi elle travaillait habituellement dans le passé... "BWAHAHA! Despair, oui! HAHAHAHAA!" "Non, recule, alors tu peux faire ton mal A4 Cerberus rire sans vaporisation personnelle, espèce de primate!" Vella s'écria en réponse à Ellis ; presque comme si elle avait instruit un enfant ; comme les Asari avaient déjà commencé à reculer, toujours tirant continuellement dans la horde en train de venir dans une série éblouissante de faisceaux blancs cristallins qui sautaient de son fusil d'assaut apôtre, désintégrant les noyaux des défenses ennemies. Grâce à ses Barrières Kinétiques soutenues par son Armor Tech et supplantées par ses propres Barrières Biotiques, les Asari se sentaient généralement très confiants, même face à un feu ennemi écrasant. Mais au diable si elle voulait tenter sa chance avec plus d'une douzaine d'unités Cain!!Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? "Attendez, qui a laissé la,-" Vella s'écriait soudain alors qu'elle regardait rapidement par-dessus son épaule, regardait en arrière, s'arrêtait, puis soudain regardait en arrière en voyant les dos échappés des scientifiques du Cerberus fuyant actuellement la scène! "Arrêtez!" Vella s'arrêta, interrompant son propre processus de rechargement alors qu'elle se tournait plutôt vers les scientifiques du Cerberus qui fuyaient et qui, sans surprise, l'ignoraient complètement! "Allez par ici!" Vella a formé un geste avec sa main tendue, avant de jeter son bras à l'envers dans un mouvement de traction! Un des scientifiques du Cerberus a soudainement été arrêté dans sa piste, comme si une force invisible venait de l'attraper, avant qu'il ne soit retiré comme un cascadeur d'un film de mauvaise action, et est revenu en avion dans la pièce avant de tomber dans un tas de déchets sur le sol avec un gémissement douloureux! Cependant, avant que Vella puisse répéter le processus avec n'importe lequel des autres scientifiques du Cerberus, ils avaient déjà fui hors de vue! Elle a dû l'admettre, Vella a été surprise de la rapidité avec laquelle ces têtes d'œufs académiques pouvaient réellement courir une fois leurs culs dans le feu! "Oafhh!" Pourtant, dès que le scientifique du Cerberus a touché le sol, Vella a senti une force la frapper de derrière alors qu'une des défenses venait de sauter sur elle. Elle entendit un autre clin d'oeil, car une seconde défense s'était jetée aux pieds et essayait de s'écraser à travers sa botte, avec une troisième fermeture! "Que s'est-il passé à la ligne du Damn?" Vella pensait à elle-même, car elle a rapidement été frappée par un trio de défenses! Cependant, ce n'était pas aussi mauvais que sa rencontre précédente avec Rykarn, qui était un bus littéral en comparaison! Elle a été étranglée, mais n'a pas frappé sujets, et elle est revenue avec une vengeance immédiate! Avec son fusil encore surchauffant et les défenses partout sur elle, Vella a déplacé un doigt sur un panneau omni au-dessous de son poignet ; ce qui a provoqué l'explosion soudaine des barrières technologiques autour d'elle avec une force violente, envoyant une lumière électrique aveuglante, carbonisant immédiatement les défenses voisines! Tout l'avant de la défense verrouillée sur son torse a été frité, la moitié du crâne immédiatement vaporisé par les ondes électriques violentes qui émanent d'elle! Le troisième derrière il a été frappé en arrière, mais celui qui était couché à ses pieds était pour la plupart passé indemne! "Sortez-vous!" Vella se mit à la bouche alors qu'elle levait l'autre pied, et la ramena sur le crâne de la coque, dans un piège dur, ce qui fit que son crâne s'écroulait sur lui-même avec un bruit écœurant et le fiende desséché pour finalement s'en aller tranquillement! Prenant quelques pas en arrière, Vella a vu une autre vague de musaraignes s'élancer vers l'avant. L'entrée était comme l'ouverture d'une ruche d'insectes, avec une vague interminable de cadavres réanimés et mutilés qui s'élançaient constamment dans une seule masse noire de membres, de lumières et de lamelles, se jetant contre n'importe qui et tout ce qu'il pouvait trouver! Huit autres défenses venaient déjà vers elle, et Vella lâchait un ronflement mécanique derrière son casque. "Restez à l'écart!" Elle a appelé, se serrer les poings tandis que tout son être était soudainement englouti dans une lumière biotique bleu éclatante! Dents serrées, elle lâchait soudain un cri féroce alors qu'elle lançait son bras vers l'avant, déclenchant soudain une grande vague de force qui surgissait dans la horde montante comme un vent biotique! Des douzaines de défenses ont été ramassées par la force et balayées leurs pieds, jetées vers l'entrée comme si elles avaient été mises de côté comme des fourmis! Les dégâts réels de l'attaque avaient été minimes, mais ils avaient permis d'arrêter une grande partie des défenses avançantes, les laissant dans un vaste désordre près de l'entrée alors qu'ils essayaient de se détacher les uns des autres pour reprendre l'accusation! "Mange celui-là, Ellis." Vella a dit avec un ton muselé qu'elle continuait de reculer, réactivant son Armor Tech et dessinant son pistolet Acolyte. Pourtant, alors qu'elle reculait, elle tournait à mi-chemin et plaçait un pied sur la main du scientifique Cerberus couché sur le sol, l'homme actuellement gémissant laissant soudainement sortir un yelp effrayé alors qu'elle le saisit par son collier et commença à le tirer après elle alors qu'elle continuait à s'éloigner de l'entrée. "Vous savez qu'il existe des lois interdisant de tuer des prisonniers non armés." Vella lui parla alors qu'elle le traînait vers le dos, fouettant soudain un duo de coups de feu et lançant une balle de charge ; tout le temps que le scientifique en question griffait à son collier qui agissait presque comme un nœud étouffant sur lui pendant qu'il était traîné le long du sol! "...c'est-à-dire, à moins qu'ils ne fuyent loin de vous. Je peux être une maîtresse bienveillante, mais n'essayez plus rien. La prochaine fois que j'aurai un clip Thermal préparé juste pour toi, chérie!"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

C'est l'enfer! Salissa a crié, réalisant qu'ils étaient à un moment à peine loin de tout cet endroit étant rempli de poussière du tunnel en miettes. En outre, cette explosion allait sûrement se faire sentir dans la colonie. Ce n'est pas la meilleure façon d'y parvenir, mais qui aurait pu penser que CERBERUS HAD BLOODY SWARM OF HUSKS était prêt sous terre!? Le soldat humain s'est retiré de son « mont » temporaire de krogan et a sauté sur le sol, tirant et déchirant un morceau de son manteau, l'enveloppant autour de sa bouche et son nez. Un masque improvisé contre la poussière, pas le meilleur, mais mieux que rien. Maintenant, il y avait un problème différent cependant, leur deuxième allié krogan était échoué là-bas dans la fumée et la poussière soit écrasé, mais probablement vivant et essayer de revenir à eux, si les sons étaient quelque peu pour passer. Elle voulait murmurer quelque chose, mais aucun mot n'est sorti de sa bouche alors que l'omnibouclier se déplaçait, libérant un peu de lumière comme elle l'a fait, sa lampe de poche sur le fusil est venue à la vie comme elle s'est chargée dans la poussière, après le bruit des défenses et des combats possibles. Elle préférerait mourir plutôt que de le laisser là bloqué après qu'elle soit allée seule pour faire exploser les explosifs! Au lieu de cela, à moitié fermé oui et seulement une lampe de poche pour la conduire à travers le voile qu'elle a pressé vers l'avant. Ça allait être plus un combat de mêlée que n'importe quoi. Au moins ses boucliers d'armure normaux étaient toujours levés et elle avait aussi son omnibouclier. Exécutant une prière silencieuse à travers son esprit, elle cria ensuite" RYKARN SUIVEZ MA VOICEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! Also Talk pour moi!!!" Elle a crié, faisant savoir qu'elle s'était aussi précipitée vers lui, voulant qu'il fasse du bruit pour qu'elle puisse mieux le localiser. Deux d'entre eux auraient plus de chances de se tirer en vie que lui seul!

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

Mar 2017 1:57 8 mos ago

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

U N D E R W O R L D K A T A B A S I S Interagir avec:,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson C'était le pire. C'était toujours l'arnaque. Avant Londres, ça ne l'avait pas autant dérangé, ou du moins pas autant que les autres. Oui, c'était inhumain, et étrange, et tout simplement bizarre. Il avait toujours sonné comme des clous déchiquetés étant traînés à travers des panneaux de craie étant filtrés à travers un autocue. Ça l'avait toujours traversé. Mais il y avait eu un temps où cette partie de lui avait été heureuse d'entendre ce cri. Mieux vaut savoir qu'ils étaient en avance, avec le bon temps pour se préparer pour eux, que de les faire se faufiler sur vous, sibilant et invisible. C'était une petite bénédiction, mais c'était quand même une bénédiction, et il prenait n'importe quel avantage qu'il pouvait obtenir dans un combat. Maintenant? Les choses avaient changé. Maintenant, il savait que ces lamentations n'étaient pas du tout un système d'alerte précoce, mais les vrais cris des damnés. Il avait pris la chute de Londres, et la mort de son - C'est pas vrai. Ce n'était pas le temps des réflexions douloureuses, ni de s'endurcir. Il y aurait du temps pour ça plus tard, quand le travail a été fait. Katabasis avait besoin de lui à son meilleur en ce moment. Les habitants de la ville d'en haut en avaient encore plus besoin que Katabasis. Le soldat, il s'est rappelé, pas l'homme. Il a posé ses dents, et a vidé un autre clip dans la horde envahissante, seulement peu conscient d'un grognement de type animal émanant quelque part des tunnels. Il lui a fallu une minute pour se rendre compte que ça venait de lui. Anderson prit délibérément position à l'arrière de leur petite colonne, prenant le plus fort de l'attaque des hordes. C'était le Spectre ici. Comme il l'a vu, c'est son boulot de prendre le gros de la merde. Le Piranha était parfaitement adapté pour tondre les touffes des Husks à la fois, et tout ce qui a réussi à le faire à travers l'enfer de son, Sicaria, et Rol, les feux croisés se sont rapidement familiarisés avec la fin des affaires de sa lame omni. Pourtant, il y en avait tellement que ce n'était qu'une question de temps jusqu'à ce que l'un des bâtards desséchés ait eu de la chance et réussi à faire tomber l'une des équipes. Si Angel et Balak ralentissaient leur rythme effréné, même pendant une seconde, les choses allaient devenir velues pour le groupe. Heureusement, les hommes en deux points l'avaient déjà fait avant, menant l'équipe sur un parcours inébranlable à travers le complexe souterrain. Anderson n'a pas eu beaucoup de temps à prendre dans les environs, trop occupé à garder les monstres derrière eux à la baie tout en donnant régulièrement du terrain, mais il a eu le temps de voir les Husks dans le hall de mess sauter du sol en mezzanine dans son escouade brouillée. Il a eu un moment d'indécision, se demandant s'il devait abandonner son propre poste auto-ordonné pour aider les gens du milieu, mais savait qu'il devait faire confiance à son équipe, essayés et vrais vétérans tous, pour faire face au problème par eux-mêmes. S'il quittait sa propre position, cela permettrait à la horde de les entourer et de les couper. Ils ont continué, en descendant un autre couloir, puis dans une soute, à en juger par les caisses de cheminée, les conteneurs et les machines lourdes d'inscription. Au moment où Anderson a franchi le seuil de la baie, les Husks avaient déjà lancé leur embuscade, et Angel avait appelé la retraite précipitée. Un bon coup de fil, bien que l'un le Spectre ignoré un moment, poser un certain feu de couverture pour donner à l'équipe le temps de faire leur évasion. Rol et Sicaria avaient presque frappé la pièce quand il a commencé son propre exode, mais pas avant qu'il ait tiré deux grenades de fragmentation et les a jetés derrière lui, directement sur le chemin de la horde principale. Il a commencé à crier par-dessus son épaule, avant d'être attaqué de ses pieds par un esclave Cannibal. Il a frappé le sol avec une oof douloureuse, le grand une fois-Basarien atterrissant sur lui, il est en vrac écraser l'air de ses poumons. D'une manière ou d'une autre, il a réussi à enrouler sa main droite autour de la gorge des monstres, juste pour la garder grande, béante, bouche à lumière bleue gémissant pouces de son visage. Ses mâchoires se sont cassées et lui ont coupé un souffle de poils du nez. Une bouffée d'haleine fétide et une salive chaude l'ont lavé. Les grenades ont explosé, lavant Jake dans la chaleur, le bruit et la fureur, envoyant des Husks et des parties de Husks voler dans toutes les directions. Le dernier de son équipe était sorti de l'enceinte maintenant, seulement lui et une armée sanglante d'abominations assoiffées laissées dans les murs en béton. Les choses étaient aussi désespérées qu'elles n'avaient jamais été pour le N7 Marine, et il n'avait personne à blâmer que lui-même. Son Piranha avait été frappé de ses mains, à l'endroit où il n'était pas sûr, et son omnitool, avec lui lame monomoléculaire bâclée pratique, était piégé sous le genou des Cannibales. Peu de temps après, les autres Husk se rendaient compte qu'ils avaient attrapé un humain stupide, et qu'il allait vraiment être dans la merde. Sans autre arme à la main, il lui a fait la seule chose qui lui restait: Il a utilisé sa tête. Avec un grognement d'efforts, il s'est forcé jusqu'à ce qu'il puisse obtenir, et a frappé son front dans le museau de cannibales. Une idée terrible quand il s'agit d'un Batarien régulier, en raison du fait que vous êtes plus susceptible de vous blesser sur tous ces os lourds sur les bases autour de leurs yeux, et pas beaucoup mieux quand face à un Cannibal, mais Anderson était désespéré. Son pari a payé, et le monstre a reculé, pas beaucoup, mais juste assez pour qu'il risque de laisser la griffe de mort sur sa gorge aller pour qu'il puisse saisir pour son Carnifex. C'était juste récupérer son esprit quand il a palpé l'arme et mis quatre balles dans son torse. L'ichor bleu s'est renversé sur sa poitrine alors que la chose morte s'est effondrée contre lui, bien qu'il ait été prompt à le rouler et à l'écraser jusqu'à ses pieds. L'arrachage commença à s'élever sérieusement alors que la horde s'apercevait qu'il y avait encore de la viande fraîche parmi eux, mais Anderson sprintait déjà à pleine inclinaison à ce moment-là, poussant et poussant son chemin à travers les Husks poursuivant déjà son équipe hors de la sortie, en comptant sur la vitesse et l'élan pour le faire passer. Dieu merci que la plupart des cadavres laids étaient trop stupides pour regarder derrière eux, trop consumés par la poursuite des membres évadés de Katabasis, ou ils auraient les moyens de le descendre. Plus il s'en alla, plus la horde devenait grande, jusqu'à ce que son rythme de cassure soit ralenti à presque un rampant. De plus en plus des Husks ont pris note de lui, et il a été forcé de se battre pour sa vie encore et encore, les tirs de Carnifex sonner et l'omniblade balancer clair, bleu électrique sang pulvériser dans l'air. Cependant, ils le portaient, griffant sur les articulations entre son armure et son visage essentiellement non protégé. Il a gardé son corps inondé d'adrénaline, la concentration accrue et les temps de réaction le gardant dans le combat, mais à peine. Ils n'arrêtaient pas de venir. C'est pas vrai. Je ne mourrai pas comme ça. Je te rendrai fier, papa. Il s'est forcé à partir, laissant derrière lui une trace de Husk brisé et ensanglanté. Il n'avait jamais agi aussi vite dans sa vie, ne s'était jamais battu aussi fort. Il a manqué de chaleurs, et sans sauter un battement a retourné son pistolet et l'a utilisé pour bluffer les coquilles démoniaques qui l'ont atteint dans la terre. L'ouverture était devant lui maintenant, mais la horde là-bas était emballée mur à mur. Avec un sens sombre de la finalité, il a réalisé qu'il n'allait jamais traverser autant de corps, pas seulement avec un omni-blade et un pistolet qui n'avait plus de munitions. Pendant un moment, il a posé la question: Pourquoi? Pourquoi ici? Pourquoi maintenant? Qu'est-ce qui est bon dans cette mort? Puis le moment était terminé, et avec un piège sans mot, il poussa vers l'avant. C'est à ce même moment que la barrière de Fortia, qui avait été drainée beaucoup plus vite que la normale grâce à la capacité des Husks à décharger l'électricité capable de déchiqueter les boucliers, s'est brisée, et comme l'océan qui avait réussi à forcer les briseurs à s'effondrer dans ses vagues, la horde a bondi vers l'avant. Ils se jetèrent à Katabasis, s'entassant et criant, se déversant de l'étroit périmètre de l'entrée du tunnel avec une sombre intention. Michael, le scientifique du Cerberus, regarda comme un paquet de défenses, dirigé par un Maraudeur, s'attarda sur Aegon, tandis que Phalanx swarmed plus, et se rendit compte que c'était la meilleure chance qu'il allait obtenir pour faire bon son évasion des embrayages Spectre. Prenant deux de ses collègues scientifiques et les poussant jusqu'à leurs pieds, il se tourna la queue et s'enfuit dans les tunnels. Deux des chercheurs, l'un d'eux la femme qui avait parlé à Jake des Husks, sont restés où ils étaient, mais les autres ont suivi la barbe grise. Les évasions se sont effondrées dans le tunnel, ont heurté une fourche où plusieurs tunnels plus petits ont rejoint l'axe principal et se sont séparés. Anderson, qui, malgré ses propres prémonitions fatalistes, avait réussi à faire passer la presse grâce aux hordes chaotiques qui s'avançaient vers Aegon et les autres. J'ai repéré des mines apposées sur les murs à l'entrée du complexe. Il s'est cogné, soufflant comme un soufflet. Nos lignes brisées, nous avons besoin de souffler! À l'insu d'Anderson et du Groupe de travail, leur position n'était pas aussi désespérée qu'elle le semblait. À quelques minutes de là, des renforts se sont déplacés pour les rejoindre. Mais est-ce que l'arrivée à temps serait utile?

Name: Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson Race: Human Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Jake stands a shade over six feet and two inches tall, and weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds. His physique is athletically toned rather than heavily muscled. He is quietly proud of his body, a pride that he feels he has quite rightly earned considering the time and effort he has put into maintaining it. His posture and bearing is unmistakably military, and he moves with the unconscious confidence of a born fighter. On close inspection one might notice that his right arm seems slightly too long for his body, not to a freakish degree but just enough to bear noting. His skin is a deep mahogany, and along with his dark hair it speaks of an African heritage. His facial features are broad and flat, with a strong chin, wide jaw, and pensive brown eyes – the right one being a shade redder than the left - that sit in deep sockets under a brow that’s slightly too heavy not to look thuggish. His nose shows evidence of multiple breakages and fractures in the past, sitting somewhat crooked now. He wears his hair cropped, though is far less vigilant in shaving his face, usually sporting a short beard. He has three tattoos. The first, an N7 ranking logo on his right pectoral, has been marred slightly by a heavy degree of lattice-like scar tissue. He also has a large lion between his shoulder blades, and a small image of Blasto on his left buttock. That last one was a drunken misadventure that he regretted for weeks’ afterword, usually when he tried to sit down. Backstory: Fatherwas David Anderson, a highly decorated officer with the Systems Alliance. She was a career soldier. His mother lived in London, were he was raised. His parents divorced when he was a child due to his mother feeling that David was more interested in his career than he was in raising a family. Jake joined the SA as soon as he was able. His mother wasn’t impressed with his decision, considering what had happened between her and David, but ultimately didn’t stand in Jakes way. Part of the relief force sent to the aid of Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Part of the force sent on the retaliatory attack against Torfan. Member of Alliance Special Ops Team Delta, running five missions in Terminus Space. It was during this tour of duty that he finally earned the coveted N7 ranking. During the Reaper Wars he served in the N7 Special Ops. Took part in over twenty successful missions. Part of Hammer force. Psyche Profile: Not so long ago Jake was a soldier through and through. A consummately professional warrior possessed of an ice-cool calm, a healthy respect for the chain of command, and a real passion for action. He was he’s fathers son, no mistaking that. However, since the Hammer attack, and his ‘dying’ he feels like something inside him has broken. He no longer feels the same calm he once did, being far more excitable now than he was before. It worries him, Specialty: Jake has experience working with, and leading, teams of mixed races and backgrounds. He developed a knack for delegating duties that best suit an individual’s specific talents or expertise. However, Jake also shows a decidedly hands-off approach to leadership in that once he has got to know an individual and taken their measure, he is happy to leave them to act independently. He’s learnt that sometimes the best thing a leader can do for his team is to give them the space to work. He’s a capable soldier in his own right, fully able of holding the line or charging the enemy himself. After all, he would never ask his men to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. He’s any mans (or womans) equal in a straight firefight, being a respectable shot with both rifles and pistols, and being in possession of truly astoundingly quick reflexes. Powers/Skills: Expert marksman Proficient hand to hand fighter Marine officer training and experience Background and expertise in small unit tactics Full N7 training. A host of contacts within the Systems Alliance Equipment and Resources: N7 Valkyrie Assault Rifle N7 Piranha Shotgun M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol Standard issue service knife Omni-Tool N7 Armour, modified with Asymetric Rosenkov Materials defence layers and an offhand ammo-pack. Kuwashii Visor Thermal clips Medigel packs x 3 Frag Grenade x 2 Sample Post: A short sample post so I can get a handle of your writing style. This could be one of your characters early missions, a showing of them enjoying some downtime, or a short of some of their exploits during the Reaper war. Notes Jake is straight, and currently single. He was involved in a tumultuous relationship with a Turian Cabal member during the Reaper Wars, and has been taking a break from relationships to recover. As a newly minted Spectre, Jake hasn’t made up his mind on who he supports to become the Warden of the Citadel. Jake has an intense dislike for the Batarian Hegemony. It stems from the things he seen and experienced during the Skyllian Blitz, and consequent retaliatory attack. However during the Reaper war he worked with several Batarian soldiers, and came to grudgingly respect them as individuals, even if he does disagree with their government. Has a habit of running his hands across his head when he is feeling stressed..

Ils ne cessaient de venir comme une onde interminable, un tourbillon de bouches éclaboussantes, prêts à les déchirer. Ils marchaient sans grâce, sans sens, ils n'avaient aucun but. C'était de l'apathie au plus haut degré, les yeux morts qui vous regardent pendant qu'ils vous déchirent, le manque d'émotion. Il n'y avait ni haine, ni colère, ni émotion. Leurs actions ont été complètement détachées de l'assassinat, sans hésitation, c'était le techno-barbarisme à son meilleur. C'était dégoûtant, une offense à tout ce que les Divins défendaient. Les Piliers représentaient la souffrance, le salut par le feu, le renoncement au luxe et au bonheur pour faire un être plus fort, meilleur et cynique mais gentil. Ces créatures n'avaient pas une telle agonie, douleur ou douleur. Pas d'amour, pas de gentillesse. C'était un affront à tout ce qu'il défendait, tout ce qu'elle défendait. C'était une colère lente et bouillonnante qui a agité à l'intérieur et il l'a étouffée d'un autre coup. Les trois rounds ont frappé un Marauder dans la tête, le transformant en pulpe sanglante avant de s'intégrer dans l'abdomen d'une défense derrière elle. "Cinq ans. Le sang, ou une moquerie de lui, et les membres volaient partout, Katabasis déchiquetait des dizaines de défenses. Mais Ja'Far pouvait dire qu'ils luttaient, qu'ils reculaient lentement et que la ligne était déjà cassée. Même dans sa position, il y avait des défenses parmi eux. Il avait remarqué que les scientifiques s'échappaient mais ne pouvaient rien leur faire, qu'ils couraient et qu'il ne pouvait pas risquer des victimes civiles. Un peu de fidget ou d'erreur aurait pu tuer l'un d'eux s'il avait essayé d'alléger le tir, et donc il les a laissés partir. Chaque membre de l'équipe, chaque personne impliquée dans une sorte de combat rapproché, a été ébranlée. Alors qu'il a tiré deux autres balles mortes alors qu'ils couraient vers lui, murmurant un petit "Sept, toujours devant vous Phalanx", il a noté avec inquiétude comment l'essaim venait vers lui. C'était comme dans le trou de merde que son ancienne équipe avait leur dernière position, chaque membre pour lui-même dans un combat rapproché. Il n'y avait pas de cohésion à la bataille, c'était un désordre d'alliés et d'ennemis réunis dans un seul espace. L'équipe ne pouvait pas travailler ensemble à cause de la masse des corps ennemis. La horde isolait la plupart des membres de l'équipe, les maintenant en couple ou seuls. Cela l'a fait frissonner, les souvenirs de trois jours terrorisants de combats constants lui sont revenus. Il n'était pas prêt pour ça, il avait un fusil avec lequel il avait à peine combattu! Le Boogeyman secoua la tête, l'éclaircissant de telles pensées avec quelques respirations profondes au fur et à mesure que d'autres défenses s'approchaient. Il a laissé trois autres rondelles se détacher, invalidant quelques défenses avant d'échanger avec son pistolet, tenant son couteau dans l'autre main. Ce n'était pas le moment de regretter, pour ce qu'il y avait ou ce qu'il pouvait avoir. C'était le présent, il vivait cette situation et cela n'a pas changé. Il avait été formé pour cela, des décennies de lutte pour un pays qui s'amusait dans la brutalité lui a appris quelques conseils sur le combat rapproché. Ce n'était certainement pas son expertise et il n'avait pas le pouvoir destructeur que les autres de l'équipe avaient mais il était légionnaire. Le meilleur du meilleur que l'Hégémonie pouvait offrir, même les Opérations Spéciales avaient du mal à les suivre. Trente survivants ont été laissés, parmi les cinq mille initialement choisis pour la 1ère Légion, au début de la guerre de Reaper. Ils avaient été formés pour cela, préparés pour des missions où ils allaient très probablement mourir et il avait survécu. Ils ont tous vécu à travers lui et il ne mourrait pas ici. C'était un boogeyman vivant, ses cibles tremblaient dans leurs bottes quand ils entendaient son nom. Il était connu de tous les Batariens, jeunes et vieux, pauvres et riches, vus comme une figure obscure dans la nuit. Son nom a apporté la peur aux demeures et l'espoir dans les bidonvilles, il était et est toujours le premier soldat. Ja'Far a recommencé à prier, éteignant sa radio pour réduire au minimum l'enclume. Il a levé son pistolet au niveau de la coque la plus proche et a pressé la gâchette, perçant le crâne et tuant la chose. Le sang et la matière cérébrale sont venus partout sur lui, mais il a continué, visant une autre bosse et laisser une autre ronde lâche. C'était un coup de feu aux yeux morts, changeant calmement les cibles alors qu'il tombait sur tout ce qu'il regardait. "Louange-toi, Athame, et toutes les louanges te sont dues, et ton nom est béni, et ta grâce est élevée, et nul n'est digne d'adorer que ta gloire éternelle." Il chuchotait tranquillement comme un Cannibale se lançait sur lui pendant qu'il se rechargeait. Il a rapidement claqué le clip dans le Carnifex. Penchant vers l'avant pour se vanter, il a poignardé la bête dans l'abdomen avant d'utiliser la lame dentelée pour jeter la chose à son côté. Tirer le couteau alors qu'il laissait aller et a apporté son arme, double-tapping le désordre sanglant une fois qu'il a touché le sol. Une autre défense sauta dans son dos, griffant sur ses épaules. Son épaule droite, pour la plupart non protégée avec une armure matérielle dépassée, a été gravement meurtrie, mais sa gauche examinée sans cachette. Ja'Far s'est pliée, se penchant vers l'avant avec assez de puissance pour forcer la balle au sol devant lui avant de claquer sa botte sur sa tête. Un Maraudeur et une paire de défenses se sont approchés de lui de l'avant, les deux défenses humaines sprintant avec leurs pattes ouvertes, brouillant fort. La troisième bosse semblait attendre, comme si elle était ennemie. Il a levé son pistolet et a tiré trois fois sur l'un des coureurs dans la poitrine, l'envoyant trébucher au sol avant de changer de cible. Avant qu'il ne puisse tirer, cependant, il sentit une autre présence derrière lui, venant sur lui. Le Boogeyman a rapidement filé, face à l'ennemi flanquant, en livrant un coup de poing à droite dur sur le délinquant. Le coup a envoyé le nouveau Cannibal au sol, ce qui l'a fait s'étaler sur tous les quatre. Pendant ce temps, la défense humaine survivante ferma la distance et souleva des griffes, laissant libre cours à une guerre inorganique. Il a reçu plusieurs gazhes sur le dos, faisant grognement Batarien et branleur dans la douleur surprise. Se tourner vers la peau quand elle s'est élevée, c'est la main droite pour une autre balançoire. Il a essayé une tranche sur la gorge mais il a bloqué la frappe avec l'épaule gauche, sauter sur lui pour prendre le coup. Lorsqu'ils sont tombés en arrière, il a ensuite arraché son couteau et a amené son Carnifex à porter alors que son dos claquait contre le sol. Jurant et brisant la prière pendant une seconde, il sentit un feu chaud sur son dos alors qu'ils s'ouvraient plus loin. Il a tiré deux fois du sol sur la coque offensive avant de pousser le cadavre hors de lui et de crier à ses pieds avec sa main de pistolet dans l'air, s'étant stabilisé lui-même. C'est à ce moment que le Marauder, en disant qu'il était temps en arrière-plan, a choisi de frapper. En tenant ce qui semblait être un morceau de métal aiguisé dans sa main droite, il a donné un coup de pied à la main de Ja'Far, le désarmant du Carnifex avant de glisser sur son estomac. En s'enfuyant pour éviter la lame de fortune, il a fait un coup de couteau sur le côté de la chose. Étonnamment, l'ancien Turien a bloqué le coup avec sa main gauche et l'a dirigé au-delà de son estomac vers la gauche, le traversant et le tirant vers l'avant. Il recula, s'accrochant avec ses pieds avant de s'éloigner d'une frappe vers le bas sur sa tête. Les deux arrivèrent à un point mort, tous deux encerclés les uns les autres pendant que les combats se poursuivaient autour d'eux, le Batarien murmurant encore ses prières pendant que le sang coulait ses blessures. Ja'Far a d'abord soufflé, allant pour une tranche vers le haut de l'aine vers le haut avant de suivre avec deux swips latéraux. Semblablement surpris par cette agressivité, le Maraudeur a esquivé toutes les frappes au lieu de les bloquer, soutenant plus à chaque tentative. Avec le pompage de l'adrénaline et l'élan de son côté, il est allé pour une charge soudaine, claquant son épaule blindée dans son ennemi. Il a envoyé la chose au sol et il a suivi avec un poignard vers le bas jusqu'à son cou, vaporisant du sang plus étrange sur lui pendant qu'il a tordu le couteau. "Les Piliers Divins te regardent avec fierté, Turian." Il chuchotait, sentant le couteau de l'interrogateur dentelé couper la chair. Se tenant debout de son adversaire, l'ancien Légionnaire a fait pour le Carnifex posé sur le sol et activé les communications une fois de plus. La douleur causée par les blessures l'a légèrement étranglé et sa voix s'est tendue mais a continué, pointant son pistolet sur une autre coque. Tirant trois fois sur la gâchette et descendant le museau dans le troisième, il a parlé dans les comms "Je supplie ser Giles de faire sauter ce trou à merde au royaume viennent." Il était complètement hors de caractère pour lui, du moins du point de vue des autres, mais il a continué avec son ton royalement sec. "Je te préviens aussi que nous puissions échapper à cet endroit terrible comme notre ligne semble être ruinée. Il est évident que le soutien de longue durée se livre à des combats rapprochés. » Il avait besoin d'un approvisionnement infini de cigares s'il voulait survivre dans une équipe remplie de frontliners et de demi-sauts. Cependant, ce fait n'a pas découragé le sourire qui était évident dans son discours. Ja'Far s'amusait certainement, cette équipe lui rappelait trop de son ancienne équipe pour ne pas entrer. Il espérait juste qu'il survivrait aux migraines et à l'horrible quantité de blessures qui seraient infligées à son corps.

"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: 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 1st 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. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "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?'

Gilvert & Ja-Far Ce serait un début explosif à une relation entre deux personnes très différentes. Collab entre et en vedette Giles regarda le champ après qu'il eut détruit la tête de mechs, ce n'est qu'alors qu'il lui apparut qu'Ellis était en fait très proche de la mech YMIR, et s'il s'était fait prendre dans son rayon d'explosion après avoir pris les dommages qu'il avait pris aux tourelles, cela signifiait seulement qu'il serait anéanti, son armure ne serait pas capable d'éponger l'explosion résultant d'une mech YMIR. Une fois de plus cependant, Giles ne s'occupait pas vraiment du gros morceau de métal tournant qui s'est effondré sur le sol, mais il a commencé à s'en soucier légèrement quand cet asari a essayé de le sauver; perdre Ellis était une chose, mais perdre un autre coéquipier sur lui était pathétiquement faible. Le signal de la détonation était le battement manquant du bip apparemment constant qu'il émettait à ses derniers moments, c'était une seconde très silencieuse qui semblait traîner pendant des minutes. Tout l'air froid qui a rempli les tunnels sombres et dank a été aspiré vers l'intérieur vers le mech juste avant qu'il ne soit retourné vers l'extérieur dans un vent presque enflammé, l'explosion elle-même était beaucoup plus grande que la première mech YMIR qu'il avait jamais vu détoner de cette façon, il semble que Hahne-Kedar avait mis à jour son noyau à base thermonucléaire, peut-être en le remplaçant par quelque chose à base d'Eezo, Giles savait que le nuage de champignons qui a réellement stimulé ces ventes de choses pourrait également être créé à partir d'une manipulation des champs d'effet de masse, d'où la façon dont le Caïn l'a fait. Lorsque la meche YMIR a finalement explosé, il semblait que Ellis et les autres étaient des distances raisonnables de lui - il est monté dans une cascade de métal chaud fondu, brûlant blanc chaud et étant jeté autour de l'ancien réseau de tunnel abandonné laissant derrière le visage d'un nuage de champignons, il a marqué l'intérieur de la base cerbère qu'il était dans; ce qui a fait que ses murs autrefois blanc blanchi à l'air noir carbonisé, marques de brûlures sortait de la base elle-même et a fait l'entrée dans le tunnel ressemble à la mache à une bête fantastique. Le tunnel lui-même secoua légèrement en faisant tomber de la poussière du plafond; les tunnels étaient cependant robustes, il en fallait plus que cela pour les renverser. Lorsque les communications ont ouvert et que la nouvelle de 2 000 projectiles est arrivée, Gilvert bagen s'est approvisionné et s'est envolé. Les défenses étaient des canons non blindés et non blindés pour les armées des moissonneurs, il ne gaspillait pas un précieux clip thermique sur eux; il avait d'autres moyens de s'occuper de ces bêtes. Giles a avancé après avoir placé son fusil sur son dos, en progressant rapidement, mais soigneusement - il s'est arrêté et a pris la couverture à mi-chemin, à côté d'Aegon, leur superviseur. "La permission d'utiliser certains de ces explosifs monsieur, ils feront court travail de la horde en bas, petite chance d'un certain feu amical, mais quelques brûlures d'obus est quelque chose facilement fixé avec medi-gel." Aegon soupira à l'intérieur, "Je pensais que vous étiez fatigué d'un feu amical? Si vous voulez réduire le champ d'application des explosifs, minimiser les dommages collatéraux, je vous veux devant et centrer alors; aussi près que possible sans mettre vous-même ou quelqu'un d'autre en danger. Une blessure mineure pourrait être un petit inconvénient que boules de neige dans un désastre. Atténuez les risques." Giles sourit légèrement, se faisant dire d'aller "danger close" était quelque chose qu'il avait en fait espéré pour "Atteindre les risques, compris - Je m'assurerai que ces défenses ne font dans les tunnels que des morceaux en morceaux, une dernière chose - qui est la priorité, quelques camarades morts et/ou des scientifiques, ou cette horde sortir des tunnels? Si le pire vient au pire, je veux savoir ce que vous voulez faire à ce sujet; parce que je le ferai si cela doit être fait. » Son sourire était parti maintenant, 2000 balles ne pouvaient pas être libérées par terre, il fallait les traiter ici, mais c'était un grand ordre - s'il fallait faire des sacrifices, cette possibilité devait être prise en compte. Le Spectre a répondu sans hésitation : « Ces défenses ne quitteront pas cet endroit, nous les arrêterons ici et nous les tenirons le plus longtemps possible. Si c'est le cas, s'ils nous écrasent, assurez-vous que cet endroit est enterré. Mais seulement après que quelqu'un s'est échappé avec les scientifiques et les données que nous avons récupérées. Nous avons besoin des renseignements, et s'ils meurent ici, tout cela sera pour rien. » Avec un clin d'œil Giles voûta la couverture; Locust dans sa main au cas où il devait traiter avec des Husks, il battit en retraite les membres de sa propre équipe d'assaut et les membres sortants de l'équipe d'infiltration s'arrêtant près de l'entrée de l'installation de Cerberus. Ja=Far a appuyé sur la gâchette, expirant alors que son tir a fait tomber la cible dans ses yeux. C'était un maraudeur perturbateur, l'une des rares menaces réelles qui présenteraient un danger pour les forces combinées de la Taskforce Katabasis. Cependant, avant qu'il ne puisse tirer un autre coup de feu, il a vu comme un bouclier a été mis entre l'entrée et l'emplacement actuel de la Taskforce. Je remercie Miń, camarade Salissa!Il a pu reconnaître une opportunité en en voyant une et donc il a mis son fusil loin, se griffant les dents. Il hésitait à utiliser ses explosifs, ils étaient précieux et assez puissants pour leur petite taille de disque, utilisé principalement pour causer le chaos lors d'opérations secrètes dans des bases telles que celles-ci. Malheureusement, il semble qu'ils soient nécessaires pour la tâche à venir. Comme il commença à les sortir, il vit que le Drell vert connu sous le nom de Giles courait vers la même entrée qu'il avait prévu de souffler. Relier les points entre le fait qu'il était un expert présumé en explosifs et qu'il courait vers la même destination, Ja-Far s'est précipité plus vite. Il courut vers l'entrée et s'arrêta là où Giles s'était arrêté, tapant la Drell sur l'épaule. Camarade Giles, c'est ça? Puis-je t'accompagner dans ta tâche d'explosifs? » Il tenait ses grenades collantes, des choses qui faisaient une explosion assez destructrice pour la tâche à accomplir. Il a hâte de travailler avec l'extraterrestre à côté de lui, Gilvert lui a rappelé un vieil ami du passé. Un peu psychotique, très passionné d'explosifs et incroyablement vert. Une combinaison qui semblait gênante dans le passé mais immensément divertissante. Le Boodeyman a prédit qu'il apprécierait de travailler avec ce drell inébranlable. Alors que Giles se dirigeait vers le front, il s'était rendu compte que l'Asari, pas le fou, avait mis en place un générateur de boucliers modifié, il retenait la Horde des défenses, mais pas pour longtemps était le consensus général. En plaçant sa sauterelle, il ouvrit sa sacoche, et commença à planifier dans son esprit quelle configuration serait la meilleure pour une efficacité maximale. Pendant ce moment, le Batarien de l'équipe d'infiltration est venu à lui et a offert son soutien. Il sourit quand Ja-Far tenait sa main avec quelques grenades, elles ressemblaient à celles collantes, efficaces pour des cibles solitaires ou des groupes d'ennemis très serrés. Ils seraient utiles ici, mais hélas ils flétriraient par rapport à Giles. Giles a répondu au Batarien. Merci d'avoir offert votre propre approvisionnement, mais ma propre volonté est plus que suffisante. Mais par tous les moyens vous pouvez m'aider dans leur placement, autant partager la gloire, hein? Il a activé son outil omni et a commuté sa grenade Lift en Multi-frag et l'a stocké, avant de passer aux mines de Cain. Avec une main pratique, il a codé et distribué 10 mines de Cain en autant de secondes; les remettre à Ja-far, petits disques qu'ils étaient, mais ils ont emballé le plus grand coup de son arsenal entier. Placez-les stratégiquement, la structure sera déjà compromise après la détonation YMIR mechs, avec assez d'explosifs il va s'effondrer et faire un tombeau approprié pour ceux piégés à l'intérieur- ils sont codés pour primer quand placé, et va activer par ma propre main, afin que l'héroïque Salissa devant nous puisse vivre pour raconter le conte. Giles remit son attention à son omni-outil et commença à faire 5 mines de caïne supplémentaires et 5 mines de reconnaissance - les deux porteraient un coup de poing important, il espérait juste que cela ferait le travail, c'était presque la moitié de ses mines qu'il avait dans son sacoche; si cela échouait, il ne serait pas sûr qu'il aurait assez pour traiter avec n'importe quel survivant. Ja-Far a commencé à placer des charges partout dans l'entrée, en prenant les conseils de Giles-Far et en les plaçant d'une manière stratégique. Il les a espacés, en veillant à ce que les explosions qui en résulteraient soient aussi efficaces et destructrices que possible sans être suffisamment concentrées pour faire tomber toute la ville sur eux. Il avait déjà travaillé à des travaux de démolition, percé des portes ou posé des pièges. Il n'était pas spécialiste, mais il connaissait son chemin en matière d'explosifs. Il ne pouvait s'empêcher de sentir une sorte de nostalgie se lever en lui alors qu'il travaillait aux côtés de la Drell, sentant le professionnalisme et le soin presque artistique de l'homme à ses côtés quand il a placé les explosifs. Il était si semblable à son vieil ami qu'il a failli mouiller l'œil. Heureusement, ce n'est pas arrivé et Ja-Far a fini de placer toutes les mines qu'on lui avait données, tapotant Giles sur l'épaule pendant qu'il terminait aussi. Il s'est adressé à lui et à Salissa, ouvrant la radio de l'équipe. Nous devons revenir en arrière et garder notre terrain pour l'instant. Salissa, sur le compte de Gilvert, tu dois lâcher le bouclier et nous courons. Je tiens à ce que les autres nous soutiennent de n'importe quel poursuivant. » Il regarda la petite pause dans les combats due au bouclier humain, mais il pouvait déjà voir le bouclier se briser sous la pression de la cale. Il était temps pour le slog maintenant, la défense féroce de garder leur vie. Il a rechargé son Incisor une fois de plus et a calmé sa respiration, regardant vers la préparation de Drell. Tu es un autre tireur d'élite? Je prie pour que ton talent sur les explosions soit le même avec tes talents de tir. Est-ce que je peux vous supplier d'une compétition amicale? Et toi, Phalanx? Voyez qui est le meilleur tireur d'élite? » Ja'Far a fait la blague à la radio, en s'assurant que tout le monde pouvait l'entendre sur les communications et en espérant que ses dirigeants pourraient comprendre le raisonnement qui l'a motivé. Le comptage des meurtres était un bon moyen de soulager toute nervosité lorsqu'il s'agissait de combattre des chances insurmontables, la compétition amicale ne faisait jamais de mal à personne et pouvait créer de profondes amitiés. S'ils ont survécu à cette rencontre, c'est quelque chose qu'il a commencé à douter. Gilvert a commencé à placer les mines dans les endroits qu'il n'avait pas, ils n'avaient pas beaucoup de surface à gérer, ainsi que le fait qu'ils avaient la horde de défenses portant sur eux, c'était un stress mais de placement de la mine, intense à un niveau que Giles pouvait sentir la pression au-dessus du sentiment d'excitation qu'il a toujours eu pendant ces moments. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps, mais lui et Jaafar avaient placé toutes les mines distribuées, ils ont jonché le couloir, de petits disques qui ont donné des éclairs de lumière rouges intermittents, ils ont été mis au point, mais pas armés. Leur bullwark résident, l'humain, devrait partir d'abord et nettoyer le rayon d'explosion de peur qu'elle ne soit ajoutée au nombre de morts de ces bombes. Malheureusement, le bouclier s'est soudainement cassé et tout l'enfer s'est détaché. Le Krogan Skarr s'était dirigé vers eux, apparemment en zonant sur Salissa. Ja-Far a crié vers Giles en avertissant, levant son fusil et tirant trois rafales réussies dans deux abdomens de défense, commençant une retraite régulière vers l'arrière. Il voyait que le résident de Drell faisait la même chose, tirant dans la horde, prenant un trio de chair de canon à rampants. Il murmura tranquillement sous son souffle, préparant un autre tir alors que la vague d'ennemis s'avançait vers eux, ciblant la tête d'un Cannibale qui s'approchait. "Deux pour le score miń." Ja"Far a appuyé sur la gâchette, la tête des Cannibales volant vers l'arrière, un souffle rapide de satisfaction a été libéré. Fais-en trois. Les choses s'étaient passées au sud, la barrière s'était brisée et la horde avait poussé vers l'avant avec un manque d'esprit qui était si typique de ces créations de moissonneuses maintenant sans chef. Ja-Far avait posé l'idée d'un concours amical de qui peut enlever le plus de Husks, mais hélas, c'était malheureusement un côté, Giles tenait le détonateur aux explosifs de sorte que le jour était le sien avant même qu'il commence. C'était une idée intéressante cependant, tant qu'il n'a pas dit cela à l'artiste, sur une autre mission, il pourrait prendre ce concours. Après être revenu à une distance raisonnablement sûre, il a simplement fallu que le reste fasse la même chose, et les spectres pour donner le commandement.

Name: Gilvert Somner, "Giles" Race: Drell Class: Infiltrator Age: 51 Sex: Male Appearance: Gilvert stands at around 5’8 and weighs roughly around 10 stone, he has a number of scars from shrapnel burns and old bullet wounds in his chest, and a few on his right arm, 2 above the shoulder, one below the elbow. Backstory: Gilvert Somner is born on Kahje - Year 2136 Gilvert has been an assassin and a mercenary in his life, as well as the fact that he fought during the reaper wars and spent a good portion of his life on Omega, he’s seen a lot of action over his life and he’s beginning to show it, at least mentally, his physical injuries over the years haven’t been overly extensive and nothing too major. Year 2156 His days as an assassin began on his “home planet” of Kahje, the Hanar homeworld, much like a number of drell that got accepted into their fold when they saved a portion of the population from the Drell homeworld, given the small number that was actually rescued it’s uncommon much to see a drell in the galaxy; however the odd and rare sighting typically means that the Hanar need work doing, given their nature there’s many things a Hanar can’t do, or at the very least things that are better left in the hands of others, when the drell were accepted into Kahje, those with certain skills, or merely those whom the hanar felt could work effectively for them were trained up to become assassins -as well as soldiers, spec-ops, anything really that revolved around combat. In his early years Gilvert was offered to perform tasks for the Hanar due to the fact that he scored highly on the tests ran by the Hanar to find the best of the Drell race, especially in regards to combat proficiency and stealth aptitude, it was also during this time that Gilvert was putting many hours of study behind Chemistry. In Drell culture it’s regarded as a great honour to be asked by the Hanar to perform certain tasks, although this didn’t really resonate well with Gilvert, he has as thankful as the rest of his race for the kindness of the hanar, but he had plans for his future that didn’t typically involve the act of killing others. If only he were blessed with foresight then he might have seen just what this path would lead him to, a life where killing is both naturally and something he does with enjoyment. He accepted the offer, knowing full well that denying it would come with a lot of attached stigma from his peers and family for that matter. His training to become an assassin for them went underway, it took 4 years to train him properly and it was around this time, that things were getting a bit off about Gilvert - it’s not exactly certain what was the initial cause for his psychosis developing, but it was certainly around this time that you could say it began to form. Multiple reports and evaluations during his training, and ones that were inevitably pulled from his schools that he had attended during childhood suggested a slight bit of mental instability, when he was growing up he did a lot of art, drawing and painting was something he loved and enjoyed, at the time they couldn't discover as to why he never pursued it, or never does it in his spare time, however it was later discovered that his mother had not liked the idea of her son becoming something like an artist and forced him to pursue something scientific or productive like a military role or working for a tech/weapons company, as to better the state of the galaxy, and increase the defence of the Hanar and the Drell alike. During combat simulations it was observed that on occasion he had the tendency to execute opponents in a very specific manner, going against protocol and training, what was particularly noted was his way to kill in a certain order - the order of their deaths was only seen by the Drells eyes, and none of his own race nor the Hanar who witnessed could fathom it. Despite everything of his odd mannerisms and actions, his proficiency was still very high and got the job done regardless of it; it was brushed aside as nothing of import - later in his life the Hanar who run this operation begin to connect the dots in thinking that he performs his art now in the only way he knows how, artistry in death, perfection in destruction his canvas is the galaxy; its people the paint; his hands the brush. The training was rigorous and intense, it departed a great deal from anything Gilvert was ever thinking of doing, or ever thought of doing - he understand that his body had been honed into a weapon now, it would have it’s uses, it meant that he could keep himself alive - it meant that whilst others would die, inevitably he would be doing a justice, the people he would have to kill, all of them were disgusting- vile creatures that made life insufferable for the majority; but regardless of the justifications, something changed about him that day. His first job - given that he was adapt in chemistry, and that he had been specialised in the use of explosives as well as long range elimination Gilvert was outfitted with a set of explosive charges and mines - his job had two tasks; eliminate the target, a Krogan warlord who lead a group of mercenaries that mainly dealt in the narcotic Red sand, and stolen cargo vessels. And destroy the cargo ship that had over 1,000 kilos of red sand on board. This job, changed Gilvert for the rest of his life; for better or for worse, is yet to be seen. Gilvert was outfitted with a Haliat armoury sniper rifle with tungsten rounds, designed specifically to take out the krogan in a single shot - assuming it landed in the head. As well as a number of different explosives, and one special bomb that was mean to be placed on the ships hull - it would be mojre than capable of destroying it. Once he had been given his full briefing and handed a large sum of credits to pave his way, he left Kahje for the first time. It was a daunting episode in his life the first off world place he visited, out of all of them, was Omega the ship provided to him took him there within a day and the only help he got on it was the fact that this place was basically the ass-end of the galaxy - all sorts of deplorables, and honest people alike come here - a friend of his called it the Anti-Citadel, and after 48 hours on the space-station, he could only agree, there was plenty of information regarding what the Citadel looked like and how it was back on Kahje, it looked amazing, truly a great place, this however, has quite the opposite. Despite how many different races were on this station, he - as a drell, got quite a few looks of surprise and skepticism, many people did not know what a Drell looked like, let alone have the “fortune” to see one in person. The one person he did know to go to however, was an Asari named Aria T’loak, the defacto leader of this station, if he wanted any better intel on his target, she’d be the one to ask. After giving the bouncer at the doors to a club named Afterlife an “entrance fee” he made his way inside. The music could be heard clearly, if not slightly muffled from outside, but inside the atmosphere was unlike anything he had ever witnessed or experience it was incredibly loud, flashing neon lights and exotic dancers, almost every race was mingling, drinking, dancing… Gilvert tried his utmost to look as if he knew what he was doing, to put on a mask to make sure he didn’t look as if was fish fresh out of water. He probably wasn’t doing very well, but Drell facial expressions are hard to read without actually knowing the race well, which will prove to serve to his advantage a great deal through his career. He asked the bartender how he could talk to the Asari, and got pointed towards a set of stairs that lead upwards, she clearly had the best seat on the house. A burly looking Batarian blocked the way, he didn’t even attempt to stop the Drell and simply said in a coarse, but clearly audible voice.“Go on up, she’s expecting you.” Now that elicited a very easy to read expression of surprise on his face, the batrain grinned, baring his many pinprick like teeth before stating once more “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting, do yourself a favour and hurry up.” Without further hesitation Gilvert did exactly that. The meeting with the “Queen of Omega” proved to be very enlightening, she offered him more than enough information on how to get the job done, but on one condition. The ship filled to the brim with red sand must be left untouched, if he did so - she would pay him 10% net worth of its contents as a thanks - part two of the payment, part one was the intel he received. Gilvert knew it was not a request, as “kind” as she stated it, he had already accepted by receiving the intel from her, the payment was merely a bonus on something he now didn’t have a choice in doing. The entire process has been mentally overwhelming, the constant barrage of new information and adaptations he had to make in order to do his job properly and effectively, it took its toll. Eventually Gilvert got to the private hangar that this Krogan warlord had access too, docked into an airlock was the cargo ship, which was currently being stocked with the substance red sand, it was nearly fully stocked now so time was of the essence. It was as he looked through his scope; over 300 meters away from his target that it happened. It was like a bolt of lightning flashed behind his eyes, his first psychotic episode was especially traumatic for Gilvert due to the fact that they have eidetic memory which allows them to remember almost everything in extremely vivid detail, however when there’s a black patch, when there’s nothing over a period of time - that is one of the most worrying things a Drell can undergo- to always know what you’ve done in your past, and then there’s just a break in that clarity, where he knows he killed over 60 innocent dock workers. That realisation traumatised him beyond repair, the aspiring Chemical scientist that was Gilvert is gone, memories of that time seem like they’re of another person now. It's cause is not certain as the mind cannot be really understood - however Gilvert felt a hostile presence from Omega from the moment he stepped onto this gods forsaken station, it was oppressive and overbearing, its quite possible that this was the trigger, landing into a place full of hostile, or potentially hostile entities - his training made him think of that as all assassins do, everyone is a potential threat, they can cause a discovery or try to be a hero - get in the way, so many things the average person can do to ruin an assassin and in turn, their life; the fact that this place disgusted him too, did not help the people here- pathetic all of them, scum of the galaxy, they were a taint. How could perfection ever exist if such a glaring imperfection such as Omega exist? He was an artist, he needed his work to be perfect, it was this line of thinking that began him to traipse slowly down a decline which inevitably broke him, or fixed him depending on your views - he struggles to draw the line between the real him, is the artist the real him - or is it the mercenary? During this episode, which last just over 46 minutes, Gilvert had managed to flawlessly infiltrate the dock and tactically place 75% of his explosive ordnance around the port, as well as the specially modified bomb designed for the transport vessel. Moved to a safe distance, executed his target with one shot from his sniper rifle, and detonated the explosives - the sheer force made the station rattle slightly - the ship which was outside of the actual station itself survived; in his episode he seen no need to destroy it. But he knows how he felt after he came to about 3 miles away from the place that he had just destroyed, he felt elated, he knew that but moments ago he had made something great, he had begun work on a masterpiece that he would inevitably obsess over for the rest of his life. He also knew, that something had gone terribly wrong, two sides of his mind conflicted, spared all the way back to Afterlife. When he got to the Batarian who was at the stair case he just said with a look surprise on his face “Shit, I know keeping Aria happy with your work is a good idea, but you clearly wanted to impress the boss on your first day huh? Keep it up killer, you might make a good thing here.” He gestured upwards indicating he could go up. Aria ended up somewhat scolding him in a similar way a mother scolds a child for taking the last cookie, she wasn’t entirely bothered about how he executed the job, he had still made sure she got her cargo and for that she was happy. But he had proved to be reckless, next time things may not go as well, was the gist of what she said to him - in turn she transferred a large sum of credits to his account and also went on to say that the cargo ship “was destroyed in the explosion” or at least that’s what the news will say, meaning that in turn he had still fulfilled the task for the Hanar. Not that they would be happy about his methods. Before he left to face the music however, Aria said that if he needed work, her door was open to him. That was exactly what he needed for when he went back to Kahje, he almost instantly faced a tribunal for his actions, despite the fact that he had completed his task, he had done so with a complete disregard to innocent life in the process - Gilvert didn’t even try and defend his actions as he himself was still warring over them, he felt as if he had done the right thing, but ultimately knew he had done something bad- as a result Gilvert was exiled from Kahje, he was to leave the planet tomorrow with what he already had on his person, and never to come back; he wasn't even allowed to see his family or friends. This hallmark of his life, was probably the most significant out of all others we will have, it set the pace for him, that path he would now walk, everything from here on out was defined by this moment. After he made his way back to Omega, and got in touch with Aria once again, she gave him the location of a merc group that worked for on occasion; turns out they were in need for someone just like him after their last demolitions man stepped on his own mine. Life as a mercenary - Year 2161- 2186 Despite everything that had happened, this merc group took him in with no reservations, they were a 6 man squad, now 7 with his addition. The leader was a Krogan warlord, a literal juggernaut of flesh and armour The second in command at that time was a Salarian engineer, adept in hacking and disruption of enemy systems A batarian vanguard, proficient with biotics and; oddly, extremely laid back. Two turians, neither like the other, one was biotic and the other was a sniper. And finally an asari - ex-commando The Krogan took a liking to Gilvert very quickly, after he heard the space port incident was his doing he stated that they were going to get on very well with each other if he kept up the work like that. The group was an effective one, highly skilled and very capable; the number of missions they took had them head to the likes of Tuchunka, Ilum, the dark streets of the Citadel but mainly they operated in the traverse and terminus systems - from the Ismar frontier to the Hades nexus. It was during one specific mission that he acquired one of the newly designed M-97 Widowmakers, which had been tinkered with for greater suitability for use by a single user, Gilvert ended up sinking over 300,000 credits in modifications and updates to keep weapon always one step ahead of any other sniper rifle in circulation. During these years Gilvert became very familiar with Omega and its filthy streets, he also got very well acquainted with Aria T’loak; it wasn’t uncommon to find him, on occasion, and assuming she wasn’t attending any business, with her in afterlife - more often that not it lead to a job for the merc band, but it helped that she liked him, in a way. His time on Omega also lead him to meet another Drell, in 2171; his name -Thane Krios. He had heard from a few whispers back on Khaje that this was one of the most successful assassins the Hanar had at their disposal, and Krios too knew who he was, the disgraced assassin that was exiled, they had a somewhat cold feeling talk with one another and parted ways, Thane was not fond of Gilvert, that much was certain. The mercenaries memories - Year 2161- 2186 (i’ll add to these as the roleplay progresses, these are specific mission he has undertaken, and he’ll recall in memories or in telling stories to others. The Battle for Earth: Year 2186 The merc band that Gilvert was apart of ultimately ended up fioghting on Earth itself for the fianl battle against the reapers, after they and various other merc groups aided Aria and Shepard remove Cereberus from Omega, they were hired and sent to Earth for the final battle, where upon their numbers were halved by the end of it, Only the Krogan warlord, himself and the asari commando remained- it’s fair to say that there already tight bonds were made tighter after this battle. Despite all the odds, Gilvert managed to get through the entire battle without a single episode occurring, which is very happy about, their frequency has been increasing and that was one battle, he did not want to forget or miss remembering. After the Battle was over, the merc group, which has been named “Heroic outcasts” by their leader given their role during the Reaper invasion, they aided in the reconstruction of London and took the time to have a break from all the fighting and killing, it was a well-paid, well fed endeavour as well as good for their ranks, of which they easily replenished with some truly incredible outcasts, perfect for their merry little merc band. Things were looking up, but it would soon be time to get a move on. Psyche Profile: The psyche profile of Gilvert is slightly worrying, it’s progressing into something that shows signs of psychosis, sometimes in the heat of battle he can begin to lose grasp of reality making his actions erratic and strange, he begins to talk as if the world were a tapestry and his hands hold the only brush that can paint it’s dull blank canvas: in reds, blues, purples and greens, every death signifies a step closer to the completion of this masterpiece, whilst he’s going through a psychotic episode he can still tell the difference between friend and foe, for now at least, in his addled mind he perceives friendlies as people whom contain the wrong colour for his work, and as such, there is no use in killing them as they would ruin his tapestry, this can lead him to protect certain people with ruthlessness, they must survive, as they would mar his work. This side of him does not show often though, although as time passes its frequency will increase and the length of each episode. Otherwise this drell is a bit of a wiseguy, he will be picky and is oft sarcastic, and takes delight in the strangest of things, especially when he nails one of the enemy with one his many explosives, the cain mines being the crescendo of his symphony of death. Overall this Drell is disturbed, but nevertheless an oddly reliable and exceptionally capable killer and explosives expert, just expect a mess when he finishes a job. "Yeah that was one hell of an operation, should have seen Giles when the artist came out... We get asked alot if that side of him is a liability, fuck that nonsense - let me tell you guys a story of how the artist makes our job 10x more fun, and 10x easier!" Virtak had successfully entrapped his audience around the table, a number of patrons in one of the many bars on the Citadel - the group had been taking some time off and spending some of their hard earned credits, and Virtak being himself refuses to buy his own drinks, and gets them via storytelling. Oddly successful at it too. "So... it begins when we..." Virtak began a large vulpine smile on his lips. -At an undisclosed system in the Traverse- Year:2181 The Mercenary band had finally made it after traipsing half way across the galaxy chasing one goddamned ship, it had managed to land on one of them many numerous seemingly dis-interesting planets that scattered hundreds of systems throughout the galaxy, perfect place for those whom don't want to be seen doing what they do. "What's the info we have on this piece of rocky shit?" Virtak asked their pilot; the Turian in the cockpit replied with "Nothing interesting about it in any files or records, its orbiting a G class star at around 9.2 Au, barely got any atmosphere, but what it does have contains trace amounts of methane and nitrogen, means if you're outside you gotta wear a helmet; surface is cold as fuck too, -134 Celsius, I don't recommend going for a stroll; get in, kill them all, get out." All's the pilot got in response was a growl as Virtak lumbered off to assemble the crew. Within 10 minutes they were all outfitted and ready to go. Their landing was fairly smooth, it appeared that the enemy knew they were being chased and offloaded their cargo as swiftly as possible before getting inside the bunker that stood before the 7 mercs; Giles had been off long before arriving on the cold rock that was this planet, and no amount of medication that he took was making him feel any better, everyone knew what this meant, and that meant Giles himself. After the airlock was hacked open the mercs moved in and waited for depressurisation before removing their helmets, the first room they entered had been cleared mostly of clutter but its design offered a fair bit on what the rest of the place would be like. It was a recent construction and clearly a very expensive build, this place was a veritable bunker designed to survive bombardment, the naturally hard surface outside helped as well, clearly they were dealing with one paranoid fucker. As they prepped to siege the next room - since Giles' recon mine outlined several hostile entities inside, it was then the episode started. The Artist awakens! "NO! THIS CANVAS! IT'S. SO. DULL! PLACID AND DEPRIVED, IT NEEDS COLOUR, IT NEEDS A BREATH OF LIFE IN ITS SOULLESS HUSK OF A CORPSE: I MUST, I NEED, I WILL GIVE IT LIFE! I WILL PAINT IT WITH CRIMSON REDS, BOLD BLUES, STARTLING PURPLES AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COLOUR OF THEM ALL! IN VERDANT GREENS!" The Artist stood, in front of him stood his audience, they always stood and observed his show's they were loyal, they respected his work they cheered when he began his work, they wept tears of joy when they seen him place his brush down when the work had been completed and above all the always returned to watch him perform again, they had beautiful colours in them, they'd make a fine painting, but he enjoyed admirers of his work - alas what is the point of art if there is none to admire its beauty? The big one spoke "Giles, blow the door, its time to to get to work." Ugh, his voice was so crude, it hurt his ears to listen to it, but he spoke of something that mattered greatly the performance was to begin, the curtains were in front of him, the only colour in this world that he in stood a shocking veil of velvet red curtains, and on it was one of his brushes, something he used to splash many a colour across a large area of the canvas, in his hand there lied the magical ability to commence the show, to draw back the curtains and begin his show, his performance of perfection, his symphony of death, so much paint and colour lied ahead of him, and he most make them pour it free. His hands shook with anticipation, a mad smile covered his face, his eyes wild with excitement. "It's time to begin the performance! This, will be my greatest work of art as of yet!" And as he finished his sentence he blew the door of its hydrolic locks and hinges, a tonne of metal flew free from its hinges and crashed off a pillar within the room behind it, his audience moved forward to take their seats, he stopped to take in a large gulp of air, and drew his most prized instrument, this brush of his, it was unique in that it was capable of creating the best colours, nothing - no other instrument did he ever have at his disposal create the same dark and deep colours as this did, he caressed its smooth surface and cool metal as it began its tune of unlocking, it was now truly an instrument of which he would sow the seeds of death, and with one stroke reap its harvest. He moved swiftly, moving onto the stage and within mere seconds clocked his first target, setting up his instrument of beauty he peered closer at it through the scope, this target, large and unsightly was its exterior but insie he knew, it contained that precious colour that he needed for his first stroke - an Azure blue, a perfect rendition of the skies of Khaje. This colour, he needed it, he must use IT, it was time to dip his brush in the paint, and begin the work of a master. He pulled the trigger back, it giving its master no resistance as he did so, it begged to be pulled back as both he and his instrument wanted the same thing. And the Choir began their hymn, the barrel shook as their voices pierced the heavens and the projectile was unleashed from its captivity. It blazed through the air, and as the choir hit its crescendo the bullet pierced through its target spilling forth in large quantities life's most precious liquid. Giles' eyes watered at the sight, it was the very incarnation of perfection, the first kill, the first stroke of the brush it always moved him the most, joy bloomed in his fragile heart and he buried the memory deep inside him, with all of the others, every other first stroke he had made. The painting had begun, the performance in full swing his audience begging for more. He would have to continue, he had to to ensure that they were sated; his work was in high demand and he would gleefully fulfil that demand. Giles danced around the room, with every step he sowed further seeds of his perfection, spilling more and more essence of life that painted this tawdry setting. His work was getting more and more complete, every step that dawned closer to the finish of this artwork made his eyes swell with tears of pain and sorrow, but equally his lust for more increased, he wanted nothing more to see the end result of his work to see the perfection of his art and the mastery of his strokes. For every stroke on this painting meant it was always one step closer to the next painting he would make. As his performance drew to a close he his from the crowds eyes, concealing himself! One of the beings in front of him held that alluring Crimson red that he loved - he used one of his other tools for this one, activating a cain mine he placed it on his target before revolving around with incredible speed and unleashing a powerful kick into its chest, sending t flying over towards another person whom held a dark but soothing light green. The explosion that ensued joined their colours together and splattered them around the area, truly outstanding, the perfect merging of them blossomed into a cascade of colour; it was like the flowers in Thessia coming into bloom. There only lied one last are he needed to paint, and only one person held the final colour, a navy blue, it would complement his work nicely and add the perfect finishing touch. Leaping to a piece of cover he prepared his main instrument of artistry and executed a perfect shot, it punched through a piece of the theatre and into the head, exploding to release voluminous amounts of paint. Giles placed his weapon on his back, swivelling on his right foot as he did so, and falling to on knee he raised his hands to the heavens, outstretched as if to hold the gods themselves, and with a voice filled with joy he stated to his audience. "My work is complete! Truly my best work to date, its magnificent colours blend perfectly together, there isn't so much as a single blemish, upon its once pale canvas; I have restored it to life! I have bestowed upon it the greatest gift any can be given..." PERFECTION! Specialty: Gilvert would shame some of the most prominent STG explosives experts, this man is truly gifted with that art of explosions, he looks at the work of others with disdain and contempt, mere children trying to grasp at the concept that only a master can truly understand, this is his art, his passion! He can rig up most explosives as well as use volatile equipment to his advantage to make almost homemade bombs, his knowledge in chemistry is expansive and is certainly on par with scientists in that field of study. Despite his proficiency with explosives he remains an effective sniper and can hit targets from up to 700 meters away with relative ease, however when he uses his explosive rounds which makes the gun fire slightly erratically, his competency drops to around 450 meters, although the explosion could still nail one of the intended targets. He can adapt to many combat situations given his expansive experience on the front and in general combat - he’s fought pirates, raiders, reapers, cerberus, hostile indigenous life forms, asari commandos, STG operatives, high grade security and mercenaries. The only thing he hasn’t fought is the geth and a thresher maw, Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak (“I love sticking a cain mine on someone's back”) Recon mine(“I can see you! *detonates* Awh, where’d you go?”) Cain mine(“These are my babies, wanna hold them? They don’t bite.”) Explosive rounds(“Turns my rifle into a Rocket launcher?! Give me 50!”) Lift grenades(“Can’t blow up the cover? Get those cowards up from behind it!”) Multi-Frag grenades (“Why have one grenade when you can have several?!??!?”) Equipment and Resources: M-98 Widowmaker X-II - Heavily modified variant of the M-98 Widowmaker, it’s got a 50% longer barrel than its smaller brother which both increases its already substantial weight and moving instability meaning that this rifle requires to be set-up prior to firing, it can still be utilised effectively by a skilled and well organised sniper, but inevitably this weapons purpose is to deal maximum damage in a single bullet, Krogan and heavily armoured targets are the favourites for this weapon - typically a Drell wouldn't be able to wield it due its absurd recoil and extremely damaging recoil at that; the fact that he acquired it in an already modified state, clearly being redesigned to allow non-synthetic races, or anyone with substantial modifications to fire this gun without the worry of losing an arm. It wasn't usable by Gilvert until 2180, when sufficient modifactions had allowed it to be fired - painfully mind, but still able to be fired by him. Other than its massively reduced accuracy and increased recoil (this is with heavy modification into recoil dampers as well) the rifle is extremely powerful, it’s got one round per thermal clip and has a long reload time as well as overheating problems since there’s no current clip in circulation that can properly cool this gun, it can only be fired twice per minute at the very most lest the frame start to overheat and fracture. Designed to eliminate vehicles, heavily armoured targets, multiple foes with a single bullet, or busting through a bunker - its penetration value is exceedingly high; the explosive rounds have been modified to detonate upon secondary collision, meaning it can retain its capability to pierce through targets, and then detonate when it comes into contact with something else: e.g: Bullet pierces through a brick wall, hits a poor volus and then blows up. M-21 Locust submachine gun - due to its already high level accuracy the gun has been modified to favour damage and a larger thermal clip capacity. A satchel filled with explosive templates: 25 grenade templates, and 50 mine templates. Templates are literally just an empty mine or grenade shell, meaning that they need to be “coded” with their designated primers via omni-tool, this means that templates are safe to carry around without fear of them accidently blowing up on your person, and to stop Gilvert from throwing every explosive he has at once at people. The satchel also contains his homemade medication to lower the chances of him having an episode, its a mixture of red sand and various other drugs. A modified Savant Omnitool - The omni-tool is designed to work with the plethora of explosives that Gilvert has access to, it can code in the necessary primers to activate the templates, priming them when they are launched, or thrown. He can switch primers by accessing his omnitool quickly in battle. Also the omni tool can launch grenades and mine templates up to 100 meters away, or alternatively eject them for manual placement, grenades are partially primed when thrown, but armed as soon as they come into contact with an object - mines are only activated the moment they latch onto a surface, and will only be able to detonate a second after priming, they can be remotely detonated via omnitool from up to 250 meters away, if the user exceeds this distance they automatically detonate cain mines are the exception, they detonate when someone passes the laser tripwire, but lose the ability to be detonated by trigger from the user. No armour, but a powerful kinetic barrier keeps old Gilvert safe from harm. Sample Post: Year -2178 “Why don’t we get Giles to blow the door?” The large Krogan battlemaster, and their leader stated in an almost monotone growl - he was starting to get impatient now. The group of them had been waiting outside of the facilities main doors for at least 30 minutes now. The mention of explosives elicited a gleeful smile from Gilvert, with a practised hand, began sifting through his satchel of various grenades and mines. “When you say blow up the door, how blown up do you want it? I can get the door to fly inwards and crush whoever’s standing behind it? That’d be pretty fun.” But before the Krogan could reply the Salarian technician shot the option down in flames “I’m nearly done, so don't give the drell ideas Virtak - we are breaking into a facility to one of biggest weapon and technology producers in the galaxy, you are aware of this right?” The Salarian almost spat the sentence out, speaking at the speed of light as most Salarians did, Gilvert was surprised the translator in his Omnitool could keep up with them at times. The Krogan responded to the Salarians outburst with a low growl before saying “Yeah yeah, we are here for the “supposed” cure to Keprals syndrome, that jelly offered a lot of credits for this so I’m buying the drinks if things go well, hell it even said you could go back to Kahje if you do this Giles; you know because blowing up hundreds of people when you were tasked to kill one guy is a bit overkill? Pah, goddamn soft blobs they are, a bit of collateral damage never hurt anyone.” The 7 of them Mercs were all stood outside the heavy metal doors to a Hahne Kedar corperation facility, where their client; a very prominent Hanar on Kahje has said the cure to Keprals syndrome is either in works, or actually is here. The reward for completing the contract was 1,000,000 credits, which split between the 7 of them meant one hell of a pay day - they could all take a good bit of time off at the citadel with this money. It was highly secure, and heavily guarded. Thankfully though, things had gone pretty well thus far, they had managed to get to the planet undetected thanks to a special ship provided by the client, and their Salarian engineer - whom has second in charge, had also hacked into their security without being detected, meaning that for a while they had the jump on the guards. Gilvert had already rigged up their comms dish with explosives, so they couldn't send a distress signal out once they started their assault. This would be a good operation, everyone here could feel it. "Got it! get ready you lot, time to clock in and get a hard days work done." Their Salarian engineer had done it, took him a bit long, maybe he was slowing down in his old age. The Krogan warlord gave a triumphant laugh and drew his shotgun - "Good job, Seryt - Giles, when the door opens, lift them up." Ah, the cue he had been waiting for, a lift grenade was already coded and loaded into his Omni-tool, this was standard procedure for their breach and clear. They stood in a line, about a strides length separated one from the next, their guns all locked and pointed at the doorway, on the Salrians mark, he would open the door, and then their days work would begin properly. "3...2...1!" The door opened up, time seemed to slow as the guards stationed inside looked with bewilderment towards the heavily armed crew, they didn't even have time to activate their shields before the grenade collided with a crate and in a flash of blue light sent everything in the room up in the air - suspended there open before them without any defences barring their standard combat suits, they didn't stand a chance - everyone opened fire cutting the guards to ribbons, blue blood painted the air, stuck in the stasis field generated by the grenade, within a few seconds the effect ended, and with multiple thumps and crashes their lifeless bodies crumpled on the floor, blood splattered across it. Their Asari - Deiynia, shook her head "Sometimes, this group makes the commandos look like children, if we keep this performance up we won't even have to use medi-gel." "Yeah, good clear guys, lets get inside quickly - and Giles, blow the comms tower." The Virtak stated as he lumbered towards the now open doors. Without hesitation Gilvert pressed the detonate button on his Omni-tool, the resounding explosion which seemed to shake the whole facility was the only answer the group needed to get inside and get to work. After the doors had been closed by Seryt, he made his way to the console in the guard station, kicking a dead Turian out of the way as he did, the rest of them milled about and kept an eye out in case any reinforcements came. "Right, the labs are at the far end of the facility, if we turn left out of the northern corridor we will get there in about 10 minutes, assuming we meet little or no resistance..." The sentence was met with multiple snorts of derision and disbelief and the Turian sniper - Quintus laughed before saying "So basically it's gunna be a thirty minute journey and we kill about 50 guards and mechs - you know how it is, it's never bloody simple." Seryt merely sighed before heading towards the corridor to their destination, the rest of them fell in and began their careful advancement forward, they done it in stages, a few moved at once whilst they were covered by the back-line, Quintus and Gilvert were always last as they could provide the best support with their snipers if they were at the back. As they moved forward the odd noise of a Cain mine being shot at a wall could be heard - they wouldn't be flanked, that's for damn sure. They worked like clockwork, when they reached another door, Gilvert moved to the front and tossed in a lift grenade, then Deiynia would detonate it with biotic explosion, Virtak moved in to tank any potshots or stragglers who managed to have the shields up and they would all be killed by the subsequent barrage of gun fire from the merc band. Things were going smoothly, too smoothly. Either they were doing everything right, or something was off. This continued for the next 5 minutes, 3 rooms, with mixed personnel, some doing their typical work and guards just doing their jobs - cut down in a swath of gunfire, eventually Virtak stopped them, just as they cleared out the 4th room. "Somethings not right... Septimus, go back the way we came and close the door, then shoot your gun, just outside it." It was a good shout, odd to see a Krogan with actual intelligence, sound proofing would explain a lot, and they force locked any alternate path into rooms they had cleared barring the path they took, which was laden with mines. After he left and the doors closed, they heard nothing - a design choice was the only thing making this go as smooth as it was going, they all laughed when Septimus came back through, and kept going as they were. At last when they reached the end, the final room before their destination, they finally hit a snag- it was a room that had YMIR mecs being built, these were experimental peices of machines that the company had just announced last year, not only that but they had one of them unpacked, there were several engineers and at least a full compliment of guards in this room - the room they needed to get to was just past this one. They all took defensive positions, in a cone behind various pieces of cover, and it was up to Gilvert to begin the attack, he was focusing his sniper on the YMIR mecs head, as well as having a recon mine on call, ready to be fired straight at the things chest. He fired the mine, and landed exactly where he planned it to, which caused the near by guards to look in confusion at it, moving closer as they did - and with a click it exploded, doing little overall to the mech itself but killing both guards instantly as parts of their once whole bodies scattered haphazardly around the room, painting it in shades of blue. The YMRI mech gave a mechanical scream before issuing an alert in its synthesised voice HOSTILE ENTITIES SPOTTED, OPENING FIRE." It's statement was met in kind by the mercs as they unleashed a barrage of fire at the mech, it didn't last long, its shields and armour had already been partially damaged by the Recon mine, and it being hit all at once by the group overwhelmed it- but what happened next caught them all off guard, Quintus managed to blow its head off with a well placed sniper shot after its armour had been whittled down - the group though that was the end of it, but a increasingly rapid beeping commenced, it's core began to glisten white with heat, the metal around it corroding and melting to the floor, you could feel it on your flesh if it was exposed, the order to take cover didn't have to be said, you were an idiot if you didn't know what was going to happen, in a blinding flash of light and a massive explosion, pieces of corroded shrapnel and metal flew around the room, the production line that has many more of these being constructed was tore apart and brought everything to a halt - the sprinkler system kicked in and a blaring alarm kicked off. After they stepped up from behind their cover, they had realised that the guards had either ran for it, or been killed by the blast. "Shit, didn't expect that." Was all Virtak could say, the rest of them merely nodded or done nothing, wishing now to get this job over and done with, lest more of those mechs get here. When they got to the final room, they weren't disappointed, within it lied the cure, at least partially. It was designed to stop rather than actually cure it, meaning that subsequent injections of it were needed, it was clearly made to make credits. This made Virtak spit with rage - he was happy he could do this for both Gilvert, and the Drell, for he knew that one day the same may happen for the Krogan when it came to the Genophage. "Fucking scum! Is credits the only thing that matters?!" The job when it came was taken for both its high pay day and its purpose, inevitably they all knew that even if the pay was low for this job, they would have took it regardless given its nature and the gravity of it. Notes Developing psychosis, episodes are rare but erratic, typically they door occur in a firefight, or in the preparation stages to an engagement, that does not mean they can’t occur at any time though. Is trying his utmost to get his hands on the M-920 Cain, however he has been banned from acquiring the weapon via the blackmarket on Omega, orders from Aria T’loak herself; she wants to keep her station intact. Since the Cerberus assault on Omega, he has been trying alternate markets to get access to one. Still retains contact with his old Merc group, they can provide assistance if the pay is right. Has the coordinates to multiple equipment and weapons stockpiles dotted around the traverse - only 4 out of the original 13 still have sensors active and articulate that the stash is still there in it’s entirety, the others could have been destroyed, raided, or simply be anomalous. Holds the supposed cure to Keprals syndrome, as well as a holo-disk contain over 3,000 pages of information on the condition and the cure, however in it’s current form it does not cure the condition entirely merely prevents advancement, if a drug company got their hands on this they’d make billions in credits, he is currently attempting to find a way to make the cure a full one, instead of allowing it to be used for money. Isn’t addicted to Red sand, but is reliant on it.

Ça n'a pas duré longtemps. Aegon a repensé à son époque avec Blackwatch, se battant avec des opérateurs de forces spéciales endurcis et se sentait presque nostalgique. Si c'était une ligne turienne, nous aurions tenu jusqu'à ce que nous soyons à des griffes et des talons, et puis quelques-uns. Des quartiers serrés, des infanteries sans esprit, des munitions abondantes; leur ligne n'aurait pas dû se briser si rapidement mais elle l'avait fait et maintenant ils étaient dans des quartiers rapprochés au combat avec des défenses; ce qui était d'ailleurs le pire moyen de les combattre. Le temps qu'ils auraient pu tenir était maintenant considérablement réduit, car les membres de l'équipe devaient mettre la main à la main avec une horde sans fin d'ennemis au lieu de les tenir à long terme. Ils ne se battaient pas en équipe, se couvraient de champs de feu qui se chevauchaient, au lieu de se battre dans le genre de bagarre chaotique qui rendait les officiers turcs blancs dans l'embarras. Sauf quelques exceptions. Le Geth continua de le surprendre, avec Phalanx éclaircissant quelques Husks qui étaient à sa proximité. Celui-ci se révélait intéressant en effet, les chercheurs de Synthetic Insights auraient une journée sur le terrain avec ce comportement d'IA. Après avoir assisté à la prochaine défaite de la Citadelle aux mains d'une flotte de Geth, il n'a jamais pensé qu'un Geth serait un camarade de confiance, mais il était là. Alors qu'il tirait son Mattock dans le tunnel, à peine ennuyant de viser les cibles massées, Aegon a vu plusieurs des scientifiques du Cerberus faire une pause pour elle et maudit. Il tira son pistolet tout en tirant continuellement son fusil, essayant d'obtenir une perle sur l'un des scientifiques tandis qu'un Maruader et un paquet de défenses descendirent sur lui. Il a apporté son arme pour les porter et a vidé son clip de fusil une main, le Marauder plongeant hors du chemin pendant que les balles ont déchiqueté la moitié des défenses. Il a rapidement tourné, a visé, et tiré d'un seul coup de feu de son pistolet, attraper un scientifique droit dans le genou et le descendre pendant que les autres s'échappaient. Aegon a rapidement tiré son pistolet en arrière et a tiré quelques autres balles à travers la tête, les trois derniers sautant sur lui simultanément. Aegon en a mis un hors de l'air avec son fusil alors qu'il s'enfuyait et se lançait avec un pied à l'autre. Celui frappé par le fusil s'est effondré au sol tandis que celui qu'il a frappé s'est envolé et le dernier s'est envolé au-dessus de sa tête. Toujours bas, il s'élança avec son autre jambe et l'envoya tomber dans la poussière. Aegon aurait stupéfié le cerveau cybernétique quand le Maraudeur l'aurait accusé de s'en prendre à lui. Le Spectre a bloqué les griffes sur son fusil et a frappé le Maraudeur dans la tête avec son pistolet trois fois de suite, la dernière balançoire envoyant l'ancien Turian au sol. Aegon s'est claqué dans de nouveaux clips thermiques et a tiré calmement toutes les défenses abattues dans la tête, avant d'enterrer son pied dans le crâne synthétique du Marauder. Notant les deux scientifiques restants et à quel point ils étaient proches d'être envahis Aegon commed Rol, "Rol exfil les scientifiques. Si on perd tous les renseignements, c'était pour rien. Suivez le chemin principal et liez-vous aux renforts. Allez-y." Les scientifiques pourraient être Cerberus, mais leur vie avait de la valeur. Si toute l'équipe s'est effondrée, tant que certains renseignements sont entrés dans les mains du Conseil, alors ils n'ont pas échoué. Tout le monde était attaqué, mais Rykarn s'ouvrait lui-même pour faire exploser les mines en les tirant dessus, sans son ordre exprès, Aegon a remarqué. Avant qu'il ne puisse dire quoi que ce soit, environ la moitié des mines ont été soufflées et d'énormes vagues de force, de son et de poussière ont été jetées dans le tunnel. Debris est tombé du plafond, qui s'est rapidement effondré, mais n'est toujours pas complètement effondré. Les panneaux et les supports tombés ont frappé les Housses dans la tête pendant que les explosions les déchiraient, créant une petite barrière temporaire et donnant à l'équipe de la salle de respiration de la horde entrante, bien que beaucoup de Housses restent encore sur leur côté du tunnel. Heureusement, Aegon avait son casque et a été épargné par la poussière. Il a tourné sa vision thermique, a passé sa prochaine ronde de fusils et de pinces à pistolets en essayant d'éclaircir le troupeau lorsque les Husks de l'autre côté du tunnel ont commencé à percer les débris; sans réfléchir, ils se sont dirigés vers l'équipe. Ils avaient besoin d'un effondrement complet pour arrêter le froid de la horde. Aegon s'est rechargé, a vu Rykarn se battre et maudit. Il s'est retourné sur ses haut-parleurs et s'est enfui vers Rykarn, tirant sur les Husks commençant à percer la barrière des débris, "Rykarn, nous sommes là!" Il ne pouvait pas risquer de frapper Rykarn au milieu de la presse et courait au Krogan, abandonnant les défenses qui commençaient lentement mais sûrement à sortir du tunnel. Ils ont commencé à pousser les cadavres et les blocs de béton hors du chemin, gémissant tout le temps alors qu'ils griffaient vers l'équipe, le poids pur de milliers de défenses forçant son chemin à travers un empilement de pierre et de métal composite. Aegon est sorti de son omni-blades et a commencé à frapper et poignarder les Husks jusqu'à ce qu'il ne reste plus que lui et Rykarn. Aegon a été couvert de gore synthétique et de viscères et a examiné Rykarn. Le krogan semblait bien, bien qu'un peu ensanglanté et Aegon monta ses haut-parleurs : « Tout le monde recule! Couvrez-vous! Tout de suite!" Demeurant près de Rykarn, Aegon reprit le tunnel, coupant les défenses sur le chemin avec ses omni-blades alors qu'elles couraient à la sécurité relative et les défenses de l'autre côté avaient presque brisé. Il a couru jusqu'à ce qu'il trouve une caisse à couvrir derrière. Les premières défenses avaient commencé à se glisser dans le tunnel et le tas de débris s'est rapidement effondré, Aegon a crié, "Gilles! Tout de suite!" Aegon s'est écroulé et a attendu que les ténèbres et la fureur les enveloppent tous.

Name: Aegon Partinax. Drakolix, a High Cipritine term for a race of mythical apex predators said to have stalked the Palevan wilderness in bygone eras; known for their bloodthirst, lethality, and cunning. Race: Turian Class: Havoc Soldier Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Aegon is broad-shouldered and tall, standing at an imposing seven foot one. He weighs two hundred pounds and has the build of a life-long warrior. His carapce is snow white and his eyes are a rare shade of violet. His mandibles and crest are long and prominent; and his fringe is longer than average though not as long as Saren's infamously sinister fringe. Aegon's face paint is red and is an elaborate pattern that covers most of his head, proclaiming his heritage as a member of a prominent Cipritine clan. A Blackwatch tattoo, a black turian skull, covers his right upper shoulder while his left shoulder depicts two black wings; the mark of an Armiger flier. His carapace is marked by a multitude of old scars. Aegon was born a member of the Partinax clan, a family who had been fighting in wars since the Fuedal Ages. His father was the famed General Partinax, who had fought in the First Contact War, and his mother had been a captain in the navy and was of the Coronati clan; another prominent career military family. From a very young age, Aegon and his siblings had been raised to absolutely believe in the Hierarchy tenets of unity, duty, and victory at any cost. It was drilled in their heads that their destiny was to serve the Hierachy in the military and lay down their lives for the cause if need be. His parents both being high-tier and from prominent families, they had always been well provided for and grew up in comfort and luxury. Aegon was expected to be a proper turian, a paragon of the Hierarchy's tenets. This in fact bred his independent streak. Aegon had been a mischievous and curious child, creative in his childhood rebellions, but his father's lessons eventually convinced him of the merits of the cause and the necessity of ensuring the greater good of the Hierarchy. Though he never quite gave up being a trouble-maker. Despite this, he took to his studies intensely, finding immense satisfaction in learning to become a warrior. His parents taught him the basics of combat and strategy as soon as he could hold a stick. Aegon trained with mexta dueling, sharpshooting, hand-to-hand combat, and tactics and strategy long before he even set near bootcamp. Like the other children in his family, Aegon was being groomed for military command. All his siblings and cousins had completed officer school, so when his time came, it was only expected of Aegon to do the same. He spent two years in the Valluvian Officer's Academy, and excelled. He received stellar marks despite occasional disciplinary issues and graduated top of his class. The studies his parents had subjected him too had paid off and Aegon had been ahead of many of his classmates, both in strategy and in combat. In the academy, officer trainees took command of client race Auxiliary units for virtual training exercises and Aegon won many more exercises than he lost; nine times out ten with minimum casualties and maximum effectiveness. During training he had also displayed aptitude with melee weapons and jump-jet use as well as fireteam tactics. His skill and talent in warfare, coupled with just a nudge from his politically influential parents, led to his rapid advancement up a few tiers when he graduated. He was one of several recruits selected for special training, with a chance of mentoring under a Spectre and during this time he met Saren Arterius. Those close to him agree the older Turian made an impression on Aegon and by all reports, Saren had seen potential in the young recruit. However, while Saren recognized his talent, he recommended that Aegon first cut his teeth in the military to see what he was truly made of. As such, immediately after training he was made a Lieutenant in the 26th Armiger Legion and given command of a shock platoon. The platoon was often loaned out to the 43rd Marine Division when the big military needed effective shock troops and Aegon had the opportunity to train with soldiers from all over Council Space. He learned the methodologies and doctrine of the Salarians, Asari, and Humans; and even had the opportunity to train with Compact Drell fighters and Elcor living tanks. In training exercises, he soon learned to effectively coordinate with fighters of all stripes, seamlessly integrating a diverse array of combatants into a cohesive plan. When the time came for Aegon to undertake his first live-fire mission, Aegon acquitted himself tremendously; wiping out a pirate base in one lightning fast strike with no casualties to his own team. His career would continue as such for a few years, often working in tandem with army and marine divisions in fast and furious raids against separatists, slavers, pirates, and all manner of malcontents; His stellar record eventually caught the attention of Blackwatch, the best of the best in Turian Special Forces, and he was transferred to the illustrious unit as an XO to a veteran officer and a promotion to Captain. It was during his time with Blackwatch, working with Hierarchy units both in and outside Council Space on both highly prolific missions and deniable operations, that he once again met Visenya Victus, a skilled Hierarchy Military Intelligence operative, and daughter of the infamous General Adrien Victus, who had been an old comrade of his father's. Visenya was the unit's intelligence attache and helped plan and gather information for several operations. As his unit's XO, they came to have a close working relationship, that would eventually grow into something more as the years passed. Aegon proposed to Visenya shortly before he was promoted to Major and given command of his own unit. The wedding was a large affair and many operators from multiple militaries and luminaries from the prominent Partinax, Coronati, and Victus families were present. As a subordinate, Aegon had made an effective disciplinarian and major-domo, though he was not without his moments of self-inspiration despite orders. As a commander, he proved to have an even greater independent streak, often eschewing caution and doctrine for creative and destructive tactics. His career found him fighting Separatists on far-flung colonies, smashing pirate bases and slavery rings in the Traverse, and even assisting CDEM with Tuchunka peace-keeping missions. Virtually every mission Aegon led resulted in achievement of the mission directives, but often in ways that ran counter to traditional Hierarchy operations. He was very popular with his subordinates and fellow Operators but gained an unfavorable reputation among many superiors; and many in the underworld grew to fear him. Despite his liberties with decorum and doctrine, he was a valuable asset to the Hierarchy and was fated for even greater heights. His destiny was changed however on a mission involving a terrorist ring operating in a human colony in the Terminus that was preparing to strike a major Hierarchy training ground. Instead of consulting with the Alliance, Aegon deployed. They infiltrated the terrorist's base and would have eliminated the threat then if not for a chance encounter with an unarmed colonist. Aegon decided to tie up the man and let him live. The man later managed to slip his bonds and raise the alarm. The team discovered the colonists were actively harboring and assisting the terrorists and three members of his team were killed when hundreds of the townspeople rushed in with automatic weapons and mechs in addition to the terrorists themselves. Aegon and the rest of his team escaped, but without eliminating the ring leader. He realized he would not sneak in a second time and that there was no way to shoot his way in with his smaller team against a whole colony. His superiors would not authorize a ship-based bombardment, fearing public censure and war if Citadel forces were caught assaulting an independent colony. But the terrorists had to be eliminated in order to preserve secrecy and stop the plot. And so Aegon did something unthinkable. He contracted the help of a batarian pirate gang, and set them against the colonists. While the town burned, his team dropped in and eliminated the entire cell with extreme prejudice; killing the leader and clearing their base in a lightning attack that resulted in no casualties while gathering as much intel and crucial equipment as he could. As agreed, Aegon left the remaining arms and salvage to the Batarians but rebuffed them when they sought to take the colonists as slaves. Aegon challenged the pirate captain to a duel and killed him in single combat, allowing the surviving Pirates to leave with their credits and the colonists to live in the ruins of their town. Hundreds had died in the fighting, including many children. From intel salvaged from the mission, Aegon learned the name of the greater organization; Cerberus. Aegon did not attempt to conceal any of this from his superiors and was incredibly candid in his report. While Visenya and his XO lobbied intensely on his behalf, the brass saw the operation as a massive debacle and most moved to have him expelled from Blackwatch and demoted; with even a few speaking of a tribunal. However, operatives of office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance caught wind of the incident and intervened. Saren Arterius and Tela Vasir had both heard of the operation and been impressed with the results; particularly Aegon's out of the box thinking and willingness to go to great lengths to achieve his mission. They spoke on his behalf to the Citadel Council to have him inducted into the Spectres. The Council agreed and Aegon was even given a promotion after his induction; a fact that still ruffles some feathers today. Visenya was also promoted to a senior position in the Council's personal intelligence service and the couple moved to the Citadel; though they still owned property on Palevan. Though he was sad to leave his unit behind, Aegon knew he could do the most good in the Spectres without the constraints of bureaucracy. And so for the next several years, Aegon proved himself to be an incredibly effective Spectre; an overwhelming hammer were others were a scalpel. With Visenya's help, he built a network of informants and allies, many with criminal tendencies, and gathered a crew of rogues and troubled servicemen after rescuing a decommissioned frigate from destruction. When the Council needed a threat dealt with quickly and thoroughly, Aegon was one of their top choices. Visenya gathered his intel, Aegon formulated the plans, and with his crew of cutthroats and outlaws, they did the bloody work that couldn't stain the hands of the Council. His notoriety quickly grew and his power base expanded. During this time, Aegon and Visenya had their twin children and life seemed great for the Spectre. Later, Shepard outed Saren as a traitor; a revelation that shook Aegon to his core. He had respected the man immensely and had severe doubts about himself and his methods as information of Saren's crimes and excess came to light. He requested to be the one to bring Saren back to face justice but was denied. Instead, Aegon was tasked with investigating the Geth and their seeming return to organic space. He found little and was on a visit home to the Citadel when Sovereign attacked. Aegon quickly gathered his family and sent them to the Destiny Ascension, pulling rank in order to gain admission, before leaving to the Citadel Tower to escort the Council to safety, along with a few other Spectres. Aegon was onboard the Destiny Ascension and paled when he witnessed the destruction of the peacekeeping fleet. In an extremely rare moment of his resolve breaking, Aegon was on the verge of deserting his post to flee the ship on a shuttle with his family before the Alliance came to save the Dreadnought at Shepard's behest. After Shepard killed Saren and saved the Citadel, Aegon was one of the doubters of Shepard's theory on the Reapers. He had respect for the man who saved his life and that of his family, but thought the affair to be a deception on Saren's part; a ploy to bring the Geth to his command. It was only later when Shepard was seemingly killed in a mysterious attack that his beliefs were challenged. They were shattered when Shepard returned from the dead and announced his intention to stop the Collectors. The Council did not allow any other Spectres to assist Shepard in his mission and Aegon decided to delve into the Citadel Archives to research all he could on the mysterious Collectors, the Geth, and the Reapers. During this time, he was deployed to Taetrus to assist Hierarchy forces with the pacification of the Facinus Separatist movement. He reunited with his father and father-in-law and was an instrumental part in the systemic dismantling of the Separatist opposition. When word came of Cerberus, Aegon remembered his old enemy, and was part of a Turian task force to assault Cerberus bases and bring their agents into custody. The operation was largely successful but the Illusive Man escaped their grasp. Meanwhile, Aegon learned more and more about the Reapers and came to the conclusion they were real and accepted them as a threat. After Shepard's arrest in the aftermath of the Bahak Incident, Aegon lent considerable support to Garrus Vakarian's task force. One of his siblings, a younger brother in the Marines, had been involved in a raid on a Cerberus lab run by the mysterious Director. His brother had been taken captive and attempted to escape before being killed. When Hierarchy reinforcements came, the Director was nowhere to be found. Aegon swore his honor on a vow to avenge his dead brother and bring the Director to justice, dead or alive, as well as to destroy Cerberus root and stem once and for all. He put his network to task on finding as much about Cerberus as physically possible, preparing to strike. The Reaper Invasion changed his plans tremendously. With his wife and children safe on the Citadel, Aegon took his shape and raced to Taetrus as it came under Reaper attack. He was the only ship to successfully enter the system, making a daring covert run as the Hierarchy fleets tried and failed to force their way into the system. Aegon tried to convince his father to evacuate before the Reapers landed but his father refused, preferring to stay with his men. Aegon, who had witnessed the destruction one Reaper was capable of, shot the General in the knee and carried him onboard, stuffing his ship with as many civilians as he could. He led several smaller vessels in a run to the relay with support from planetside forces and managed to evacuate numerous civilians, wounded personnel, and VIPS before the Reapers clenched their fist around the planet. Aegon returned to the Citadel before leaving to fight the Reapers. Visenya came with him, leaving their children in the care of their convalescing grandfather, Aegon and his crew taking action as the Council itself was paralyzed. They made contact with Alliance and Hierarchy forces and became an effective special asset, Aegon going on to lead several so called N7 missions. Used to leading both special forces professionals and criminals alike, he was uniquely suited to lead the diverse and eclectic teams of skilled fighters who arose to covertly fight the war. He was not the only one, with colleagues such as Jondom Bau falling in with the galactic resistance. Cerberus reared it's ugly heads once more, and Aegon took great personal pleasure in fighting the terrorist group on several fronts. He was away on mission when Cerberus attempted to overthrow the Council with Udina's help. This incensed and frightened Aegon, as his family was put in danger though General Partinax had kept them safe. Pulling several favors, he had his family relocated to Rannoch along with numerous other Turian refugees and wounded from Palevan and other worlds after Shepard managed to bring peace between the Flotilla and the Geth. The Perseus Veil was largely ignored by the Reapers and with the dextro-amino environment, Rannoch proved to be one of the most relatively safe placed for Turian refugees. General Partinax, healed now, joined the war effort and assumed a position in High Command to fight the Reapers. The Partinax family, with their Victus and Coronati allies, were one of the main blocs that pushed for the ambitious ground assault to liberate Palevan. Aegon had experience dealing with Krogan and was one of the few turians whom the Krogan fighters respected, in no small part due to his reputation when working with CDEM. He was instrumental in bridging relations between the two rival species and was one of the principal planners in the operation along with his wife, father, and father-in-law, who was now the Primarch of Palevan. It was he who suggested detonating warp bombs inside Reaper ships using turian kamikazes. The plan called for many valiant turians to sacrifice themselves and would mean the death of countless civilians, but would also mean the return of large swaths of the homeland to their control. High Command approved, and Aegon fought with the Turian and Krogan special forces operators on the ground in the largest joint operation in Hierarchy history. He was one of millions to witness the Reapers exploding in the air as the army retook several cities and territories. While Aegon acquitted himself in the war, it was not without cost. Many of his Blackwatch comrades died in the Miracle, and he watched his crew succumb to war one by one after dangerous mission after mission. Even other Spectres weren't immune, and many longtime friends and colleagues died fighting the Reapers or Cerberus. It was only Aegon, Visenya, and a handful of others left of the original crew when the time came to launch the final assault. He was on the Citadel, performing a service for fallen comrades when the Reapers came. Once more, Aegon rushed to rescue the Citadel Council though now with Visenya at his side. The pair rendezvoused with the Council and evacuated them and countless other evacuees to the Destiny Ascension as the fleets provided cover. Ignoring his orders, his own crew fought to give them covering fire and Aegon and Visenya could only watch and listen as the ship was lost with all hands to overwhelming Reaper attack. Thanks to their sacrifice and the sacrifice of many others, the Council was saved. With renewed fire and an even greater thirst for vengeance, the couple linked up with Primarch Victus' fleet en route to Earth for the final assault. They accompanied the Primarch on his flagship and were among the first Turians to land on Earth in the Hammer Assault. With his experience coordinating the Miracle, Aegon was instrumental in organizing the survivors of Hammer and the London Resistance into a coherent army to fight the massive Husk force. Aegon and Visenya fought side by side with Primarch Victus in London and saw the most hellish fighting in the war, even worse than Palevan. They attempted to charge the beam to the Citadel but had to drag Primarch Victus back to safety when the retreat was sounded. The Hierarchy forces held their line, but were on the verge of breaking; and Aegon had sustained numerous wounds. Death seemed imminent, but suddenly a red wave of energy enveloped the world and the Reapers were defeated. Aegon spent a short time recuperating on the liberated Citadel while Visenya helped her father coordinate with the humans. He found himself to be one of the most senior Spectres alive in the wake of the Reaper War and had gained much renown and influence for his central role in resisting the Reapers. Aegon canvassed the galaxy, searching for new Spectres to fill out the ranks while undertaking a few missions to ensure galactic stability during the reconstruction. Aegon and Visenya left to Rannoch to bring their children back to the Citadel and the family remains there to this day; though the family visits Palevan and plans to resettle there once the worst of the turmoil has passed. Aegon found no shortage of work and was always busy in the year that followed. When whispers of insidious threats rising to threaten galactic peace, Aegon decided to be proactive this time around. Along with other Spectres, and with support of Hierarchy High Command, Aegon and his fellows convinced the Council to form a Spectre-led covert task force to ensure stability and to neutralize threats to the galaxy before they became concrete and destructive. It would be a task force with no official authority and complete deniability, both made up of the best military operators and the deadliest independent agents. Task Force Katabasis was formed with Aegon as it's field leader. He requisitioned a Hierarchy frigate and assembled a new crew. He needed the best of the best for a ground team, no matter where they came from, and he had Visenya gather dossiers on likely candidates while he found the best support staff and crew he could, many of them with questionable records. The Council also saddled him with a partner Spectre, ostensibly so Aegon could train him but he suspected they wanted his "partner" to keep an eye on him should he step too far out of line. Aegon is a veteran of numerous deadly missions, several ship engagements, two massive battles, and the deadliest war in history but only time will tell if he can whip up the extreme personalities of his potential squad into a coherent fighting force to stop those that would threaten the galaxy at large. Whether or not he can, blood will be spilled. Psyche Profile: Aegon, at his core, is a career soldier from a long line of career soldiers. His family have been military commanders and war heroes since turian clans fought with swords and axes. As such, war is not just his duty, it is his life. He is never truly happy unless some crisis is being dealt with, and he is a man who would be ill at ease in peace. From a young age it was ingrained in him that it was his duty to protect the Hierarchy and maintain peace in the galaxy by serving in the military. As such, he has pursued his family calling even above and beyond what was expected of him. His central drive to protect the galaxy have morphed him into a man who has nearly no limits. The safety of the galaxy is paramount above all else, and Aegon will go to nearly any lengths to ensure that safety. If given the choice between killing ten to save a hundred, he would not hesitate. In the military he was known for ruthless and brutal tactics that quickly and decisively defeated the enemy as well as demoralizing them too much for them to ever raise arms again. Despite this, he takes no joy in inflicting harm, and in his mind only does what is necessary to keep innocent lives safe. This has resulted in a maverick of a man, a turian who will readily ignore orders when his judgement tells him it must be done. Aegon does not have a black and white view of the galaxy either, and is noted for having many contacts in the criminal underworld. He thinks of his network as a necessary evil to combat much worse offenders such as slavers, terrorists, pirates, and rogue governments. Even inter-species prejudices and xenophobia mean nothing to him. If something or someone can be used as a tool, he will not hesitate to use it in his mission. Aegon's unrelenting drive to safeguard Council space both make him an excellent Spectre and mark him as one of the most dangerous people in the galaxy. Despite all this, Aegon is not without his sentimental side. He is a noted family man, and is capable of forming long-lasting and meaningful friendships and is famed for his acerbic wit. His family and those he love are what keep him tethered to the galaxy and stop him from truly becoming a soulless killing machine, and those he holds dear are the one thing that challenge his devotion to the so-called greater good. Specialty: Aegon is a Spectre, the best of the best. In officer training, he excelled, achieving top marks in the prestigious Valluvian Academy and graduating top of his class. Instructors noted Aegon's creativity, tenacity, pragmatism, and confidence in command. He excels at fireteam tactics and is no stranger to war room meetings, having studied every major military leader and battle in Turian history; as well as the military history of many other races. Whereas other Spectres are master infiltrators and spies, Aegon is a frontline combatant through and through. After completing officer training he was placed in the 26th Armiger Legion, cross-training with the Salarian, Asari, and Human militaries and taking part in countless daring raids before finally being placed in the legendary Blackwatch special forces unit as an officer. While he understands the value of stealth and subterfuge, his preferred methodology is to hit his targets in a surprise attack with overwhelming force and destroy them thoroughly before they even have time to react. Aegon is meticulous in his planning however, preferring to know all the variables and account for all details before he strikes, but is still flexible enough to modify plans on the fly when the situation warrants it. He helped plan several raids against Hierarchy enemies of all stripe and before he was discharged, was one of the most highly decorated infantry officers in Blackwatch history, earning several accolades. He excels at lightning strike missions and is one of the Hierarchy's top experts in counter-insurgency operations, earning a bloody reputation among Turian Separatists. After years of training and combat, Aegon honed his skills to a razor edge. His natural athleticism was further enhanced with the latest in genetic enhancements and his speed and reflexes are legendary. He was trained to survive in a variety of hostile environments with nothing but his wits and is a master in both tracking and evasion. In close quarters combat, he is a master of the pistol and assault rifle; able to draw and land a clean headshot faster than the blink of an eye. Aegon is also recognized as one of the top martial artists in the military, a master of several unarmed styles as well as omniblade, knife and sword techniques. He is an expert with jump-jets, seamlessly blending high-speed propulsive maneuvers with melee attacks and is able to accurately fire when hovering in the air. Simply put, Aegon is one of the deadliest warriors in the galaxy. He also has extensive connections in the Citadel government, knows special forces operators in several foreign militaries, and has significant pull in the Hierarchy; being on a first name basis with more than one Primarch and numerous members of Turian High Command. His father is the famed General Partinax, and Aegon himself is a member of the upper citizenship tiers; as such he is one of the most influential members of the Hierarchy and commands political influence to rival most galactic politicians, business magnates, and flag officers. Aegon has an uncanny talent to acquire useful, if dangerous and unconventional, operational assets, often from dubious origins; and in the course of his Spectre tasking has built a formidable resource network. It is rumored he has contacts in criminal organizations all over the Terminus systems. As such he was the natural choice to head the covert Task Force Katabasis as it's field leader. Powers/Skills: Havoc Strike Stimulant Pack Adrenaline Rush Frag Grenade Flashbang Grenade Concussive Shot Cain Trip Mine Equipment and Resources: M-96 Mattock Heavy Rifle M-77 Paladin Heavy Pistol Fragmentation and Flashbang Grenades Cain Trip Mines Numerous military-issue talons hidden on his body A monomolecular mexta sword, a personal family heirloom named Sacrifice Dual omni-blades An Personal Propulsion Unit Medium Phantom Armor "I said no." The Batarian's nose burst into a red spray as Aegon's fist crunched into his face, knocking the man flat on his back. The pirate instinctively reached for his gun, but choked when Aegon pressed his foot into his windpipe as his comrades leveled a wide array of weapons directly at Aegon. The Turian, foot on the pirate, gun aimed at the ring-leader, was eerily calm as his own team leveled their weapons right back at the Batarians. The pirate captain snarled, "Let him go." "I will, once you agree that the colonists will be left alone." "We had a deal, bird-nosed scum." "We did, but that was for salvage. Not people." "These human rats, are salvage. We did your dirty work for you, now we take our prize. Skilled laborers and pretty women will help us recoup our losses. Good men died for you Turian." The town was in flames, various prefabs in pieces while all around dead humans littered the ground next to some Batarians. The dirt was stained with blood and moans and wails could be clearly heard over the roaring of the fires. One girl was crying next to a man with a large hole in his chest and several dozen men, women, and children looked on with panicked eyes as snarling varren with their Batarian handlers stood nearby with guns drawn. "They died certainly, and you will be handsomely rewarded for it. With all the weapons and tech left in that base. But the people stay." His team was outnumbered five to one, but they showed no signs of nervousness. Their black helmets hide their expressions and their bodies were absolutely stable shooting platforms. They arrayed themselves in a circle, rifles with clear shots on the captain and several other targets in overlapping fields of fire. There was no cover, they were surrounded, but the Batarians were the ones sweating. They had watched a small team of six destroy a whole base of armed terrorists and leave virtually unscathed. Aegon was the only one whose face can be seen, but he showed just as much emotion. "That's not going to happen Turian. Let us leave with the humans and I'll let you all go. Hell I'll even give you a discount for our services. But this is none of your business. You didn't seem to care about civilians when you had us attack. This is just us collecting the spoils of war." "War is war. Slavery is slavery." The Batarian under his foot continued to wheeze, barely able to breath as Aegon and the Captain stared each other down, neither backing down. Aegon could not, would not let them take the humans as slaves. And the Captain couldn't back down in front of his men without looking weak. Neither would leave the confrontation without severe casualties if a fight broke out, though Aegon was confident he and his men could wipe out the majority of the pirates and the captain before the team was completely incapacitated. He couldn't call for air support from his ship either. The frigate would have no kinetic barriers in atmosphere and the Batarians had enough fire power to bring it down. They were at an impasse and it seemed the only way he and his men would leave this confrontation alive was if they let the pirates take the humans. He listened to the cries of the little girl, smelled the burning flesh. He couldn't let them take the humans. But his duty to his men outweighed his duty to humans who weren't even Citadel citizens. He had to choose one. Unless... "Let's settle this the old way then. The way my forefathers did, and yours if memory serves. One on one, me against you. First blood. No guns. If I win, you leave the colonists alone, take the salvage, and go. If you win, you let us leave unharmed and take the colonists and the salvage." The Batarian scrunched two of his eyes in thought while the man under Aegon's foot choked out, "Brother don't-" "Shut up, Kol." The Batarian glowered, "You think I'm stupid? You turians train with your talons since you can all walk. And you're Special Forces. In a bare knuckle brawl, I don't stand a chance. Same as if we had a shoot out." "I didn't say anything about hand-to-hand. I said no guns. Omni-tool functions, knives, fists, biotics, anything you like. Just as long as there's no guns or grenades. Fair fight." "Hmm. How do I know you'll honor your end?" Aegon stared back before suddenly lifting his foot off of the younger Batarian under his boot. The man gasped for breath, rolling on the floor as Aegon kept his gun up. The man got to his knees, crawling for a bit, before finding his feet and unsteadily walking to his brother. The Captain gestured and a man came forward to take him into the fold, keeping his gun up the whole time. "A show of good faith." The Captain smiled pointedly, "And how do you know I won't kill all of you when I beat you? In fact what's to stop me from killing you all now?" "Because my ship is hearing every word. They might not have precision turrets but they do have bombs, missiles, and cannons. You kill us now or betray my men, and there won't be enough left of you to fill a thimble." The Batarian frowned, "You'd kill all of the humans? Just like that? I thought you wanted to protect them?" "I would be doing them a favor. I've seen what your kind does to slaves. You have my word I will honor the terms of the deal. And you have my word I will make sure you will be blown to hell if you betray it. Do we have an agreement?" The Batarian's expression became pensive and a long moment passed where Aegon's finger tensed, anticipating him to order his men to open fire. Then the man said, "On my world we don't fight to first blood. We fight to the death." "Then that's how it'll be." "Then you have a deal, Turian," He tilted his head to the left and dropped his gun. Aegon nodded back and holstered his pistol. A voice filtered over the radio, "You don't have to do this. I can have another team on the ground in a few minutes. Just give the word." Aegon said nothing and drew his sword, placing his feet apart and gripping the curved blade in both hands, standing sideways with the weapon raised. The Captain stepped forward and his armor grew spikes while glowing blue whips trailed down from one hand and an omni-tool materialized in the other. The men stared each other down. Seconds turned into eternity as they looked into each other's eyes. Everyone, even the humans, were absolutely silent and the world shrunk to just Aegon and the batarian across from each other. He waited. The Batarian made the first move, firing ballistic blades from his omni-tool before following with an electrified submission net. Aegon ducked beneath the blades and raised his sword, the monomolecular blade slashing right through the net as he twisted and drew several throwing talons, before sending them flying at the Batarian. The pirate jumped to the side and Aegon fired up his thrusters, jumping into the air before plummeting toward the man with his sword raised high. The Batarian stepped backward and lashed at Aegon's foot with his biotic whip, wrapping the dark energy tendril around his boot and pulling Aegon toward him as his omni-tool glowed in the shape of an enforcement gauntlet. Aegon flung another dagger and the captain threw up his gauntlet to shield his face, Aegon speeding up with his thrusters once more and charging directly at his opponent. The Batarian saw him coming and dissipated his whip, throwing up a disk shaped barrier just in time to deflect the sword. Aegon ducked low and swept the Batarian's leg before slashing at his side but the kick rebounded off of his bladed armor, and scratched Aegon's leg plating while the blades caught Aegon's sword in the torso armor. The Batarian, shield still up, threw his fist back and lashed out with a charged enforcement gauntlet. Even with his enhanced durability and armor, the blow would have severely inured if not outright maimed or killed Aegon. But Aegon was too fast and swayed to the side, avoiding his blow before striking him in the arm with his own elbow. The bladed armor cut Aegon but the man grunted in pain and twisted to the side, exposing his head from behind the shield. Aegon cut with his free hand and his sharp talons clawed down the man's cheeks making him shout in pain and recoil. Aegon drew back his sword and spun, attacking and battering the biotic shield with quick, precise, and strong strikes. The man was forced to his knees and Aegon knew the barrier would fail eventually. The pirate knew that too and he deflected the sword once more before collapsing the shield. Aegon flew backwards with his thruster pack just as the man detonated his blade armor. Shrapnel cut at his armor but he was protected from the worst of it. The pirate created another whip and struck the ground right in front of Aegon, blowing up dust and debris and forcing him backward. Aegon jumped up into the air and another whip wrapped around his sword, pulling him down. Aegon released the sword and materialized dual omni-blades, killing his thrusters to dive at the Batarian. The man raised his omni-tool and Aegon activated his thusters to dodge to the side and avoid the ballistic blades. He landed with a roll on the ground and lashed out with his omni-blades, both of them cutting across the Batarian's now normal armor. The man cursed, wounded, and aimed a swift kick at the Turian. Aegon grabbed the leg with both hands and twisted his body, flipping the Batarian and smacking him down to the ground. Aegon swiftly kicked him in the side, driving out his breath and another omni-blade appeared in his hand, driving forward to bury itself in the batarian's chest. The Batarian roaring, wrapped his fist in blue energy and stuck his hand out as the blade rushed forward. A biotic blast threw Aegon back and he used retro-thrusters to arrest his movement and land softly. The Batarian charged forward, enforcement gauntlet glowing. Aegon tried to fly to the side, but a whip wrapped around his chest and held him in place as the fist came flying. Aegon threw up his arm and hopped to the side. The gauntlet glanced off of his arm and blew the thruster pack on his shoulder to pieces. Aegon was thrown to the ground and the Batarian raised both arms to finish him off with dual whips. Aegon's hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword and he rolled forward, too close for the Batarian to strike. As he passed, he came to a crouch and struck at the Batarian's side, sprinting forward before turning to cut his back. The Batarian cried out and twisted back to swing at Aegon with a whip but Aegon ducked under the whip and lashed out, cutting deep into his arm. The pirate stumbled and tried to raise his other arm but Aegon knocked the arm back down with a foot before slashing him across the chest, stepping forward, and driving the sword straight into Batarian's chest. His sword popped out from the man's back and Aegon stood there, close as a lover, as the man breathed shallowly right next to his ear. His body drooped and Aegon allowed it to slide off of his sword. The Batarian's brother cried out and rushed to the man, sobbing and shouting frantically trying to apply medi-gel while the captain breathed unsteadily and the blood pooled beneath his body. His eyes glazed over and he muttered incoherently as Aegon stared at him. Aegon flicked the blood off of the sword and looked at the blood spreading in the dirt, filling his field of vision and staining his boots. He looked into the pirate's eyes, drew his pistol, and shot him twice in the head. Notes - Aegon's treatise on small-unit tactics and counter-insurgency is required reading in Hierarchy officer training. - He holds a championship medal for the Palevan swordsmanship tournament, and won several sparring competitions in Blackwatch and units and ships he was attached to. He also won several pistol fast draw competitions. - His wife is Primarch Victus' daughter, they have a twin boy and girl with another child on the way. - Aegon is often used as a bedtime story to frighten children by both colonists in far-flung outposts and low-tier citizens in the mega-cities. Turian Separatists think of him as one of their greatest enemies and he has garnered equal parts hatred and respect among several krogan clans due to his joint-operations with CDEM. - In the aftermath of the Reaper War, Aegon is lobbying strongly to attain the position of Warden of the Citadel, an ancient military title bestowed in times of great emergency. This would grant him command of all the Citadel peacekeeping fleets. Several in Special Tactics and Reconnaissance back his campaign while many others say the title should fall to Commander Shepard.

A l'honneur de l'équipe, il ne semblait pas y avoir beaucoup d'opposition à la proposition d'enterrer les Husks plutôt que de devenir héroïquement victimes d'une horde cannibale synthétique. Il y avait un effort précipité pour aider Salissas barrière avec des pylônes d'énergie, mais qui allait aller à peu près ainsi que coller une bande de gomme à mâcher usagée dans une brèche de barrage et l'espoir qu'il retient plusieurs milliers de tonnes d'eau. Bien sûr, elle a été forcée de se retirer avec l'aide de la charité de Skarr, alors qu'une mule de meute reprit et la vague de bâtards à gueules farineuses reprit. La courte fenêtre d'opportunité au moins a donné à Rykarn une chance de stocker sur les clips thermiques et de recharger le lance-grenades, qui était de plus en plus faible sur les munitions lourdes. Au cours des communications, le krogan a entendu Ja=Far compter ses meurtres. En jouant sur son lien de communication, Rykarn s'est interjecté. Vraiment? Vous allez perdre le compte avant qu'ils ne prennent la peau de vos os. D'ailleurs, je suis à quarante ans, au moins, dit-il, arnaquant son lance-grenades sur l'amas qui avait griffé à la barrière. Il n'y aurait pas de meilleur tir. L'arme lourde reculait fortement dans les mains de Rykarn, et le projectile à forte explosion naviguait dans l'air dans un arc en spirale, atterrissant carrément dans la poitrine du premier Husk dans le mur de charge, le renversant et détonant avant que la créature ne frappe le sol. Les flammes et les éclats s'étendirent violemment vers l'extérieur, démembrant immédiatement un grand groupe d'entre eux dans un rayon de quelques mètres jusqu'au point de les tuer, et paralysant plusieurs autres qui essayaient constamment de venir malgré la plupart de leurs fonctions. Un autre tir a eu un résultat similaire, et normalement il aurait suffi de tourner la marée de la bataille, mais en ce moment, Rykarn se sentait tellement comme ce morceau de chewing-gum héroïquement essayant d'arrêter le destin. Et j'ai encore un verre gratuit sur mon compte. C'est l'heure de s'en souvenir. Il a pensé qu'il recommençait à prendre son Striker quand il a remarqué qu'un scientifique était enrôlé avec une traction biotique. Vella avait tenté d'empêcher une évasion, mais malheureusement a été mis sur pied par Husks immédiatement. Ils manquaient de temps; plus ils passaient de temps à choisir eux-mêmes, dix autres prendraient leur place. Il leur restait peut-être des minutes, et les asari ont réussi à se libérer de ses agresseurs, laissant Rykarn se concentrer sur ce qui était important. Le tunnel s'est effondré. Anderson accepta, de toute façon; l'ordre était plus ou moins donné de détruire le tunnel. En tout cas, j'ai fait l'amende pour le krogan. Dégagez! Rykarn s'empare d'un Hornet d'une main et de son Striker dans l'autre, se chargeant vers l'avant pour obtenir un meilleur tir sur les mines placées; il aurait besoin d'obtenir un tir clair, sinon il courait le risque de briser les mines libres avec des morceaux de décombres sans les faire exploser correctement. Quelques-uns des Husks d'avant-garde qui traversaient le feu croisé lourd l'ont précipité, le premier a été mis de côté avec le fusil d'assaut lourd et le second a été abattu avec une explosion de feu de mitrailleuse, le bras dur Cerberus faisant des dommages respectables à la poitrine de la chose, soufflant le liquide gris-bleu visqueux à travers un grave des blessures de sortie que les lumières ont littéralement disparu des yeux de Husk. Rykarn a à peine enregistré cela, continuant comme sa rage de sang construit, sa vision commençant à brouiller et ses mains tremblant comme le besoin de tuer et brutaliser ses ennemis a commencé à faire bouillir son sang. Le krogan a dû essayer de garder cela sous contrôle ; il aurait gâché le coup de feu s'il ne pouvait pas tenir son arme encore. Il a vidé le Hornet avec insouciance contre quelques autres Husks, son contrôle de déclenchement devenant il y a plus ou moins une chose de trente secondes, tuant trois autres monstres alors qu'un tir s'est abattu sur une arme à feu surchauffée. Ne se souciant pas des finesses, Rykarn a frappé le Husk au visage avec l'arme si fort qu'il a perforé le crâne, scindant le visage en deux quand le canon a été enterré au moins cinq pouces dans le crâne. Il rugissait avec défiance au reste des Husks, s'emparant l'un par le visage et le claquant dans l'autre. Cela devenait stupide ; les accusations de krogan tendaient à fonctionner comme une arme psychologique de puissance inarrêtable lorsque vos ennemis étaient capables de ressentir la peur, ou bien, tout, Rykarn était plus ou moins juste faire leur repas venir à eux. Il a bouffé, enregistrant à peine ses condensateurs de bouclier qui étaient usés par l'essaim qui se formait maintenant autour de lui. En croisant quelques-uns de plus avec le gros cul et le gros canon de Striker, son instinct primitif d'éviscérer complètement ses ennemis commençant à dépasser sa pensée rationnelle, dont il a dû se retirer. Il s'est révolté, il s'est libéré de l'encerclement de quelques mètres, ne s'achetant pas beaucoup d'espace, mais assez qu'il avait un plan clair des mines de Caïn montées. Un Husk a sauté sur son dos, essayant de lui piquer son casque. Juste quelques coups de feu. Fais-le. Il a pensé, briser sa rage juste assez pour mettre les mines en concentration. Soudain l'arme et prenant un coup de feu, la tête s'affiche dans sa visière liée à l'endroit où le canon pointait, et s'aligne avec la mine la plus centrale, à droite, il prend le coup. Une grande explosion a rempli le tunnel, le tonnerre assourdissant de fondations et de pierres s'écroulant plus d'un peu rappelant un bâtiment qui a été abattu, et la poussière a immédiatement inondé la région; Rykarn savait que quiconque sans casque complet allait regretter cette décision dès qu'ils respiraient la poussière sèche par les poumons. En s'approchant et en s'emparant du cou de son dos, Rykarn déchira la chose de son cadre lourd et la jeta au sol avec force, en lui tapant la tête avec une botte massive, en éclatant le crâne humanoïde comme un melon trop mûr. Il savait que son armure allait sentir la merde quand il est allé le nettoyer. Pour faire face à l'assaut de Husks qui n'avait pas fini d'affaires avec lui, Rykarn a ouvert le feu à proximité de portée vierge, les munitions imprégnées de cryo brisent beaucoup d'entre eux en morceaux congelés de viande putride. Parmi les créatures émergeant du nuage de poussière se trouvait un Cannibale, l'horrible amalgame des corps batarien et humain. Il faudrait que ça le fasse. Il restait encore la moitié des mines à faire exploser. En chargeant le Cannibale alors qu'il ouvre le feu à Rykarn, le krogan s'empare de la chose et continue à courir, en utilisant son gros pour forcer son chemin à travers une foule de Husks pour obtenir un tir plus clair sur les mines restantes, maintenant largement dissimulé par la poussière. À ce stade, il viserait des lumières très minces à travers les particules, ce qui est moins qu'idéal. En jetant la chose hors de lui, sa plaque d'épaule maintenant trempée de salive et la finale ternie par les dents de la chose en essayant de la mâcher pour l'atteindre, Rykarn a pris le but à la première lumière clignotante qu'il a vu et a ouvert le feu à elle, et vers de chaque côté où il a rappelé les autres mines ont été vaguement disposées. L'explosion s'est déclenchée comme prévu, mais il n'était pas certain qu'elle ait causé un effondrement total. Étant donné qu'il y avait maintenant trois Housses qui lui griffaient et que ses boucliers échouaient, le krogan avait des préoccupations plus pressantes. Tirant le Talon de sa hanche, Rykarn a essayé de revenir à des lignes amicales, tirant sur l'un de son torse inférieur, et fracassé à la seconde avec le cul du pistolet pour, espérons-le, lui percer le crâne. Les marqueurs amis de l'IFF étaient la seule orientation qu'il avait fait son chemin vers l'avant, et soudain son armure obstrué; le condensateur de bouclier a cédé. Les Husks avaient franchi la barrière. Avec une hâte urgente, Rykarn a cessé de se déplacer pour dégager son corps des Husks, se battant contre les choses damnées avec toute sa puissance, brisant les os et traitant encore avec leurs griffes creuser entre ses articulations, creuser dans son sous-vêtement. Il a réussi à en prendre un par la jambe, tirant assez fort la jambe est venue libre, mais le Husk était toujours perché sur lui obstinément. Toujours en train de se diriger vers son équipe comme un quarterback têtu dans un match de Clawball qui a refusé d'être attaqué, le krogan s'est frayé un chemin en revenant à Husks avec la jambe démembrée, nécessitant d'arriver à la sécurité avant qu'il puisse faire face aux choses satanées travaillant leur chemin à travers son armure.

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

Sicaria Velinian Le mur temporaire qui était Salissa a inévitablement cédé la place, et Sicaria avait pris le temps qu'on leur avait donné de se procurer des clips thermiques pour son fusil et son fusil et de recharger les deux. Elle est retombée du côté d'Aegon et a commencé à chevaucher le feu avec lui quand la horde s'est détachée, couvrant autant de la foule qu'elle le pouvait physiquement avec son Phaeston. Entre les deux, ils ont pu garder la grande majorité des défenses au moins à distance, même si les non-turiens de l'équipe n'avaient apparemment aucune idée de ce qu'était une ligne, peu importe comment tenir une. Les deux Krogan avaient l'air de s'en tenir à eux-mêmes malgré cela, bien que les choses aient changé rapidement lorsque le plus jeune de la paire s'est chargé et a abattu les mines, forçant une détonation précoce. Le sol secoua avec leur force destructrice comme poussière étouffante et la saleté remplissait l'air, le béton et la brique il y a des siècles finalement succombant à certains explosifs de Drell. Sicaria, assez malheureuse pour avoir laissé son casque avec sa copine pour la nuit, a attrapé plusieurs poumons de grime avant que son corps ait réagi, et elle a commencé à pirater ce qui a dû être une sorte de boule de cheveux par le son de celui-ci. Elle aurait pensé que c'était quelque chose de comique s'il n'y avait pas des défenses portant sur l'équipe, ce qui a forcé son corps à quelque chose de semblable à une poussée d'adrénaline. Ses pensées ont été coupées et elle s'est retrouvée automatiquement en cachette, une scientifique dans son emprise pendant qu'elle allait. Elle ne savait même pas d'où venait celui-ci, mais tout ce qui comptait c'était qu'elle avait une vie sans valeur à protéger à cause de l'information qu'elle possédait. Dans ce flou, le Turian a poussé l'Homme derrière un mur endommagé un des Krogan avait probablement cassé plus tôt et s'est appuyé dessus, la vision s'estompant alors que la poussière continuait d'essayer de remplacer l'oxygène dans son corps. À moins qu'elle ne trouve bientôt un appareil, elle s'évanouira. Son salut est venu dans le manteau de la scientifique, qui dans ses pensées nourries d'adrénaline, ferait le travail assez bien. À travers une série de commandes sans mots et de manipulation, elle prit le vêtement et le coupa au milieu avec un Omni-Blade avant de lier l'une des moitiés autour de sa tête. L'autre moitié a probablement été prise par un biologiste maintenant à moitié nu pour une utilisation similaire, bien que pour le Turian était concerné, elle pouvait respirer à nouveau et il y avait un petit moment de paix. Prête pour plus, elle se leva de sa position assise contre le mur susmentionné et leva Phaeston une fois de plus, essayant de choisir ses ennemis de peu d'autre que des yeux brillants, cybernétique et tirant des coups singuliers à chaque paire qu'elle voyait se rapprocher. Pour elle, il devenait de plus en plus clair que cette horde allait continuer à venir, donc elle faisait quelque chose qu'un capitaine serait consterné par: Elle a ciblé une zone aveugle quelque part près du point d'étouffement original et a tiré d'un Cryo Blast droit pour elle, espérant geler suffisamment de défenses pour causer un certain niveau de secours important là où les mines allaient décoller bientôt. "Quiconque peut faire exploser ces mines encore plus, fais-le et sortons d'ici!" Au cas où Aegon n'avait pas été clair, il y avait encore dans la voix un peu plus agréable d'une Turiane féminine.

Name: Sicaria Velinian Race: Turian Class: Sentinel Age: 28 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it. Backstory: Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her. Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move. In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation. Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger? She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born. For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling. When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there. Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere. Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station. They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it. Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later. The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly. Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were. Psyche Profile: Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people. Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later. There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there. Specialty: Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies. Powers/Skills: -Throw - Warp - Lift Grenade - Tech Armor - Overload - Cryo Blast Equipment and Resources: - Turian Cabal Armor - Phaeston - M-11 Wraith - Matched pair of Omni-Blades -Station Contact - Omega -Black Market Access Sample Post: ”Ugh… how drunk was I last night?” ”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.” ”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.” ”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee. One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter. The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth. ”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.” ”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point. Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible. ”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.” ”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh. Notes - Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ "So these are the people I'm protecting this time..." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks. || Vella Calixten Ophelia || ☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ja'Far Balak || ⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Tiberius Adarian || ✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik Skarr || ✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria Vicrinus || ❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.

La barrière fortifiée d'Ellis et la barrière renforcée de Pylon le rend presque invulnérable à l'assaut des défenses nues, tant qu'il reste à portée de main. Son Mattock était vide, donc il l'a balancé comme un club, battant les mains comme ils l'ont saisi aux coutures dans son armure. La poussière a tout obscurci. Ses communications ont été endommagées, et ont donné quelques réactions bruyantes et crépitantes comme Sicaria à nouveau, a déclaré l'urgence de la situation. Oui. Les autres mines. Il est probable qu'on ait fait un tunnel plus étroit. "NERO, qu'est-ce que tu vois?" Un petit cercle de chargement apparut dans le coin de la visière d'Ellis, tournant pendant un moment seulement avant que le NERO ne réponde, tandis qu'Ellis luttait contre une bosse dans un cadenas, avant de la serrer comme un pistachio. "Ally Krogan est revenu en toute sécurité. Nouveau cadeau Ally Human. Les victimes alliées restent nulles." "Pouvez-vous marquer les mines? Marquez au moins toutes les signatures électroniques dans le-" Tout le tunnel s'est allumé, chacune des fréquences EM des défenses inondant les capteurs d'Ellis. "Non, non, non, ne marque pas la technologie Reaper." La pièce a diminué, maintenant les seuls objets illuminés étaient un certain nombre de petits dispositifs circulaires, un certain nombre de boîtes, sans doute générateurs, et beaucoup de lumière de l'autre côté, où l'équipe d'infiltration avait pénétré. Ellis a ciblé la plus forte concentration d'entre eux, espérant qu'ils réagiraient en chaîne. Il gémit. Ça allait, franchement, souffler. "Ejectez le clip thermique dans ma jambe gauche." La fente s'est ouverte, donnant un coup de pied au petit cylindre rouge dans la saleté. Ellis s'est agenouillé, en utilisant son Mattock comme béquille, maintenant à un pattes aussi bien qu'à un bras, pour le soulever pour le recharger. Il a remercié tout ce que Dieu était là-haut que sa jambe s'était verrouillée droit, et il a pu se tenir sur elle. Il a aligné le tir, permettant au NERO d'aider autant que possible. Il avait assez de jus pour six rounds. Six rondes, une mine, par la fumée et la poussière et qui sait quoi d'autre. "NERO, Cryo Ammo toujours bon?" Je me demande comment il les a eus au plafond. "Vérifié." "Alors désactivez-le." "Affirmatif." Ici rien ne va. Ellis a désactivé la sécurité, et lui a donné tout ce qu'il avait laissé. CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! Les balles ont frappé à la maison, mais la maison n'était pas les mines de Cain, comme Ellis l'avait cru. Au lieu de cela, les munitions d'Ellis tonnaient contre les luminaires au plafond. Cinq balles sur six s'éclaboussaient contre des pierres vides et des supports rouillés. On a touché le système d'extinction d'incendie, longtemps hors d'usage, mais toujours connecté, et la pluie a commencé à filtrer la poussière de l'air. Est-ce que j'avais l'air d'avoir fait exprès? Imbécile, personne ne peut te voir.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Attends, cette tortue surdimensionnée ne va pas vraiment... - C'est quoi, ça? *KABOOM!* En un moment, Vella avait reculé avec le scientifique quand elle avait soudainement remarqué l'avancée Rykarn voyageant tête première dans le cirque des monstres d'horreur carnaval, fusillant pour les mines! Dans le moment suivant, tout sauf un clin d'œil; un mur de force et une épaisse couche de poussière ouvrirait tout le champ de bataille depuis l'entrée, frapper Vella comme une tempête et la frapper rapidement sur son cul avant même qu'elle puisse ouvrir la bouche pour protester! Les barrières technologiques bleues scintillantes qui l'entouraient scintillent, car elles absorbent tout ce qui a été jeté autour de la pièce, la force des mines de caïne capable de transformer même un implant de taille de dent ou un petit cailloux en une chair mortelle projectile contre une chair non armée! Alors qu'elle tombait en arrière, sa vision se jeta et tourna autour de lui, Vella put voir de gros morceaux ou des rochers ou des morceaux de moissonneuse infectés chair volant dans l'air autour d'elle; avant qu'elle ne frappe rapidement le sol! "Owwwhh..." Vella murmura alors qu'elle s'allongeait sur le dos pendant un moment, tout comme une deuxième explosion de chaîne s'est déclenchée, bien que celle-ci passa la plupart du temps inoffensif sur elle car elle était déjà sujette. Le HUD holographique bleu de l'intérieur de son casque a indiqué que ses barrières Kinetic Shield et Tech étaient toujours debout, ayant principalement absorbé les éclats dangereux tout en laissant passer des parties de l'onde de choc. Bien que rien n'indique de sérieux dégâts, toute l'épreuve avait néanmoins eu l'impression de recevoir un massage hostile d'un Elcor en colère! Au moins, l'atterrissage avait été doux... Douce? Vella a soudainement roulé sur un genou et s'est levée, regardant autour de lui pour réaliser qu'elle avait atterri sur le scientifique Cerberus! L'homme en question, même s'il n'était pas armé et sans blindage, semblait relativement intact malgré la proximité de la détonation de plusieurs unités de caïne! C'est-à-dire que son corps avait l'air presque intact. Les yeux de l'homme étaient grands ouverts et vitrés alors qu'il regardait directement dans l'air avec une mâchoire molle et un regard muet sur son visage, s'inclinant parfois la tête autour de lui pour regarder dans la confusion. Sur la deuxième note, il a peut-être perdu son audition. Et peut-être aussi éclaboussées? "Ça va aller!" Vella a donné au scientifique une tape sur son épaule, avant de se lever et de s'emboîter un nouveau clip Thermal dans son apôtre Assault Rifle alors qu'elle surveillait la scène. Ce qui avait été la légion des damnés qui s'étaient déversés de l'entrée avait été pour la plupart réduit à une mer de gore bleu moissonneur éclaboussé au hasard à travers quelles petites parties de la pièce étaient visibles à travers la fumée damnante! Heureusement, son ouïe avait été protégée par les audio-régulateurs dans son casque, de sorte qu'elle pouvait encore entendre; hurler et grogne occasionnellement de quelque part au fond de la brume, mais aussi: "RYKARN" Elle a reconnu la voix de Salissa, et a été surprise d'entendre qu'il y avait un ton de; préoccupation dedans? De tout ce qu'elle avait vu de l'humain jusqu'à présent, rien n'indique que Salissa soit un individu empathique. Si elle s'inquiétait, alors il y avait de sérieux problèmes au pied! S'avançant et suivant le son de la voix, elle progressa à travers la poussière épaisse avec des pas rapides, passant par les décombres, les débris et les corps brisés des moissonneurs. On pouvait voir une tache planer à travers la poussière, seulement pour être rapidement exécutée par Vella alors qu'elle passait par elle, en utilisant sa biotique pour tordre son cou et le faire revenir dans l'une des roches voisines! Sorti de l'épaisse couche de poussière comme un fantôme, la lueur de son armure d'argent et les lumières bleues de son Armor Tech lui donnant un regard fantôme, elle tomberait sur une créature bûcheronne qui traversait le champ de bataille ruiné; une Rykarn écarlate et battue qui était actuellement jouxtée par un couple de défenses dessiquées! Heureusement cependant, Aegon était déjà là, s'enfuyant aux défenses avec ses omni-blades à une efficacité et une ferveur alarmantes, nettoyant rapidement le Krogan des morts meurtriers! Vella s'est jointe sans hésitation, tirant deux coups rapides en deux stries d'argent qui ont coupé deux défenses avançantes de derrière elles, avant qu'une aura bleue éclatante apparaisse autour de l'Asari alors qu'elle utilisait sa biotique pour saisir la tête d'une troisième défense; la presser et la faire tomber sur elle-même dans un bruit écœurant et humide, en continuant en forçant la tête de moissonneuse ruinée vers le bas et en enterrer les restes de sa tête manglés à l'intérieur de son propre torse avant de la mettre de côté! "C'était stupide!" Vella s'exclama alors qu'elle éloignait son attention des défenses pour se précipiter vers le duo d'Aegon et Rykarn, prenant position avec eux alors qu'elle les accompagnait de nouveau vers une couverture amicale. Cependant, sa voix trahirait un ton d'enthousiasme même à travers son casque en argent massif comme elle a épargné un coup d'œil rapide à Rykarn! "Tu devrais m'apprendre un jour!"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Véritable avatar de la guerre, Skarr a été perdu dans le combat autour de lui. Bien sûr, il n'était pas dans le sang, mais ce qu'il appellerait le "Battle Focus". Où chaque souffle, chaque mouvement, chaque intuition et chaque pensée ont été utilisés pour tuer et se garder de rencontrer le même destin. Salissa avait quitté ses épaules, les mines tombaient autour de lui, et sa forme blindée était déjà couverte de débris depuis l'explosion initiale jusqu'à la brèche principale. Mais il n'y a pas prêté attention. Le Krogan tenait la ligne, et attirait l'attention de toute défense qui osait lui faire face. Il a écarté un Husk, en utilisant l'élan de l'étape pour améliorer un jab rapide en arrière avec son poing massif. Il a percuté la coque comme un obus de fusil de chasse, l'envoyant cassé et sur le sol. Il avait déjà claqué dans trois autres avant qu'il ne frappe le sol. Une tête bien chronométrée, suivie d'un genou et de deux coups de poing au-dessus qui ont fracassé un Marauder. Son poing lui a tiré dessus pour prendre un Musque par la taille, et il l'a écrasé avec un grognement. Les balles ricochaient et perçaient son armure, et les griffes griffaient aussi. Mais il avait été blessé pire. Il avait toujours eu pire. Avec un rugissement, il déchira deux autres Husks pour se révéler debout devant ce qui semblait d'abord être un rocher. C'était la plus petite animation de l'objet qui envoyait des signaux de reconnaissance et d'avertissement dans l'esprit de Skarr. Brute. Il a riposté immédiatement, dérobant son fusil Claymore. Carnage l'a enveloppé, et il a déchargé une coquille puissante dans l'abdomen de la chose. Il a arraché un morceau de son armure, et le Brute a laissé un cri terrifiant. Skarr a déchargé son clip d'obus dans la Brute alors qu'il s'élevait, et a commencé à charger. Il était en train de frapper dedans avec ses obus, mais malgré les dégâts, il ne descendait pas. Skarr a roulé sur le côté juste à temps, bien que sa moitié inférieure ait été coupée par la charge monstrueuse. Ça l'a envoyé déraper dans un virage inconnu sur le sol, dur. Il a donné un grognement animaliste qu'il a poussé à ses pieds dès qu'il le pouvait. Le Brute a filé, pour recevoir une grenade de fragmentation à ses propres pieds. Trois bips et une explosion l'ont rempli d'éclats. Il gronde de frustration, et Skarr charge la bête de son marteau biotique, arme levée. Il y avait un bruit effroyable qui éclatait alors que le Brute tentait de protéger sa tête avec son bras endommagé. Le Hammer l'a déchiré, et le second coup s'est effondré dans la tête turiane de la Brute. Skarr a continué à s'y mettre jusqu'à ce qu'il sache que ce n'était plus. Pour ce que cela valait, il était heureux d'avoir rejoint ce groupe. Il avait pensé que Brutes n'apparaîtrait plus dans la galaxie. Le frisson de se battre... Il a mis une main meurtrie et sanglante sur son front, se calmant avec quelques respirations laborieuses. L'accalmie temporaire dans le combat a contribué à attirer son attention sur la dernière explosion à sa gauche. Il a tourné sa tête massive, et au-delà de la fumée et des débris, il a vu une coque rampante et demi-vivante s'élancer à l'intérieur. "Hmmmr?" Skarr s'est dirigé vers la mine qui s'est effondrée, en voyant le trou de taille et de profondeur. Le murmure de l'intérieur sonnait familier de l'exposé original que les compagnons avaient plus tôt. Il a regardé, pour révéler le Drell dont il n'a jamais pris le nom en frappant le Husk jusqu'à ce que son cou s'est cassé. Plaçant la tête de son marteau sur le petit mur, il s'est évanoui et il s'est effondré. Il est entré avec un bras pour offrir une main. "Je ne crois pas avoir déjà donné un coup de pied à un Husk à mort." Il a dit. "Pas mal."

Name: Raik "Aralakh" Skarr Race: Krogan Class: Battle Master Age: 687 Sex: Male Appearance: While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan. Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory: Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to. He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision. From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later. The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive. It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned. The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do. He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes. Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread. A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title. Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun. At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson. When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand. He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even. He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later. He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders. Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz. He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe. I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile: Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions. Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy. One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty: As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics. However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack. Powers/Skills: Shockwave (Biotic) Biotic Hammer (Biotic) Concussive Shot Frag Grenade Carnage Adrenaline Rush Marksmen Equipment and Resources: M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle M-300 Claymore Shotgun Biotic Hammer Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor Sample Post: 1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.

(Un collab tout seul et Deos Morran!) Le museau se lança vers le visage d'Ethan, ses doigts se fermant autour du cou alors que la force du saut frappait le biotique, le museau poussant sur sa ventouse. Au lieu de la peur, le visage d'Ethan a montré un mélange de surprise et d'ennuis doux alors qu'il courait pour respirer, avant qu'un champ de poussée ne lance le museau vers le haut, pour atterrir sur un tas de décombres à quelques mètres à sa gauche. Le biotique s'est mis aux pieds, récupérant le Paladin qu'il a lâché avant de monter jusqu'au museau encore vivant, l'attraper par la gorge, et lui casser la tête contre le mur jusqu'à ce qu'il n'en reste pas beaucoup. "Pathétique." Il a levé les yeux, écoutant les bruits de coups de feu qu'il avait suivis... et bien, il a abandonné l'équipe pour. Il n'en avait pas besoin de toute façon. Ils étaient là pour le soutenir, et il n'en avait pas besoin. Je veux dire, le buste avait eu de la chance, mais il l'avait tué de toute façon! Je cherche d'autres ennemis et je trouve que c'était le seul. Le sol était recouvert de cadavres de défenses, de cannibales, de quelques maraudeurs et d'un rasoir. Il ne se souvenait même pas d'avoir tué le dernier. Peut-être que c'était les autres. Il s'est relevé des décombres, s'emparant d'un filet de verre, a envoyé un filet de sang sur son bras avant de se tirer, presque en perdant son équilibre et en s'empalant sur une longueur de barres d'acier avant qu'il ne parvienne à atterrir sur ses pieds, baissant légèrement. Mon Dieu, il n'était pas en forme. Depuis Benning, il n'avait pas été dans des situations de combat directes, il ne faisait que jeter des champs de distorsion sur des cibles. Pourquoi ils n'ont pas pu construire des cibles qui pourraient contenir des fusées? Est-ce que tous les biotiques de la galaxie damnée étaient si pathétiques? Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec une simple explosion plutôt que tout ce qui se soulève comme un papillon daint? Vous n'avez pas vu d'armes qui élevaient des gens! D'un certain point de vue. Il est resté bas, s'assurant qu'il n'y avait plus de défenses. Les coups de feu se rapprochaient, et il pouvait entendre autre chose aussi. Il a souri. Un vrai combat n'était pas loin... Il entendit un rugissement tout-puissant traverser les tunnels, éclatant ses tympans et le faisant doubler dans la douleur. Il lui a fallu une demi-seconde pour se rendre compte que c'était une explosion, et s'est introduit dans une course, se dirigeant vers sa cible. J'espère que c'était le sien... peu importe ce qu'ils étaient, et pas le cerbère. Et puis, si c'était le cas, il finirait par se battre contre quelque chose qui... saignait. Les défenses viennent de se briser comme du verre, un tas de cadavres de défense pourrait probablement être nettoyé par un aspirateur. Ou quelque chose. Enfin, il est arrivé à la clairière, chargeant une fusée et... étant déçu. Les gens qu'il recherchait étaient là, mais la plupart de l'ennemi avait été anéanti et pour être honnête, c'était la chose qu'il regardait vers la plupart. Il préférerait détruire une armée de défenses plutôt que de parler aux gens. En plus, il ne connaissait pas ces gens. Il soupira, et détacha la fusée, naviguant en l'air et tirant sur un groupe de survivants, explosant avec suffisamment de force pour lancer l'une des défenses vers les autres Spectres, l'un d'eux atterrissant sans cérémonie à un mètre de l'un d'eux. Ethan n'a pu s'empêcher de sourire en voyant cela, et a continué à marcher vers le groupe comme il était sur une promenade décontractée, seulement s'arrêtant pour s'assurer qu'il n'allait pas dans les cadavres. "...Bonjour. J'espère vraiment que vous êtes les gens que je suis censé rencontrer." Alria a regardé et alors qu'elle prenait la tête et déprimait la gâchette de son pistolet et envoyant une balle après avoir tiré dans la horde de Reapers et en essayant de trouver son réconfort. Bien qu'il ne soit pas venu, elle a continué d'amincir leur nombre et d'aider son équipe à garder les bêtes à l'écart. Bien qu'à travers ses tirs et se concentrer sur ses ennemis, elle ait regardé comme une fois de plus, une autre de ses coéquipières chargée dans la mêlée et mis leur vie en grave danger pour une raison ou une autre et celle-ci semblait n'avoir aucune raison que de tirer sur leurs ennemis d'un angle ridiculement dangereux. Cependant, alors qu'il changeait d'armes en options plus... explosives, elle regardait et voyait sa ligne de visée et avant longtemps trouva sa méthode de raisonnement. Il essayait de déclencher les bombes! Voyant cela et malgré sa transe de vengeance, elle savait ce qui allait arriver et, à son tour, elle s'est enfuie derrière les décombres qu'elle appelait couverture dans l'espoir d'éviter l'explosion. Ce n'était pas trop longtemps après que le bruit soudain et l'éblouissement de l'air se soient répandus sur son espace caché pour montrer que la fusillade du Krogan avait eu l'effet désiré et que les mines avaient disparu. Donc, pour éviter toute explosion secondaire, elle a gardé la tête baissée pendant quelques instants, mais finalement regarder vers le haut et viser avec son pistolet vers le bas la façon de scanner pour tous les ennemis survivants. Ne voyant que de la poussière, elle savait qu'elle aurait besoin d'un avantage tactique. En appuyant sur un bouton sur son casque, elle a commencé à rechercher des signaux bioélectriques souvent émis par les sources d'énergie, l'armure de puissance, et bien sûr les hommes ont tourné des machines. En voyant quelques sources de signal et en les identifiant comme Reapers, elle a appuyé sur sa gâchette et leur a envoyé plusieurs coups de feu. C'est à ce moment-là qu'une soudaine poussée de puissance s'est abattue sur elle et qu'elle a secoué le tunnel avec une poussée biotique. Ce n'était bien sûr pas correct dans les livres d'Alria et son attention a été rapidement tournée vers la source potentielle de l'attaque. Cela signifiait que son arme était aussi, pointant directement sur le nouveau venu alors qu'elle traçait l'attaque de son chemin. Bien sûr, cette personne marchait vers elle et avant qu'il ne puisse s'approcher, elle entendit sa voix. En réponse, elle a dit, « Baissez la tête et surveillez votre feu. Nous avons des amis présents dans la région. Son pistolet reste sur lui un peu plus avant qu'elle ne le baisse. Bien qu'elle n'ait pas reconnu cet homme, il a tiré sur Husks et n'avait pas l'air d'un Reaper, ce qui signifiait probablement qu'il n'était qu'un autre membre de cette équipe de crack. Quoi qu'il en soit, ses actions auraient pu provoquer un feu amical... mais non. Donc elle ne pouvait pas être en colère contre lui. "Continuez à pointer cette arme et moi et je vous la pousserai dans la gorge." ...c'est ce qu'Ethan aurait dit, s'il n'était pas sûr à 90% que ce Turian était de son côté. En plus, il était de bonne humeur. Une très bonne humeur. Enfin, il avait obtenu le combat qu'il espérait, depuis quelques années, et il avait enfin trouvé les gens qu'il recherchait. Aujourd'hui n'avait été rien d'autre que de bonnes choses qui se sont produites, le pire étant que la chance a eu lieu plus tôt. Pourtant, cette chose était en pièces, et il s'en était tiré. Il a décidé de ne pas mentionner de se faire renverser. Il regarda le Turian, notant l'armure et les lunettes et arrachant son cerveau pour essayer de se rappeler qui c'était. Il avait lu le briefing sur qui il devait travailler, mais tout ce qui sortait de la fenêtre dès qu'il voyait la première bosse de la journée. Depuis lors, ce n'était que diverses formes d'abattage. "Bon de vous rencontrer aussi..." Il s'est arrêté. "...vous. Turian." Il s'est ébranlé la tête, espérant qu'elle dirait son nom pour lui. "Et je suis sûr que les amis ont leurs propres boucliers. Je ne visais nulle part près d'eux." Il s'est encore arrêté. "...est-ce que j'ai fait?" Alria a pris un moment pour lui parler et ses paroles, mais à la fin de la journée cela n'avait pas d'importance, et techniquement il n'a pas tiré dans les alliés, juste par eux et 'par' était à la hauteur de l'interprétation car ils étaient hors du rayon de l'explosion. "Ça n'a pas d'importance. Vous n'avez frappé personne. Couvrez-vous et retournez le feu." Elle a dit farouchement, même si ce n'était pas particulièrement envers lui et plutôt plus ou moins juste à la situation. Elle détestait les Reapers et avec seulement une partie des mines allant de cette tâche n'était pas faite. En s'éloignant du nouveau venu et en supposant qu'il aiderait à régler la question à l'étude. À nouveau avec son pistolet, elle a gardé un œil sur toute signature de Reaper et s'est assurée de leur lancer le feu et de les diriger comme elle l'a trouvé et confirmé. Ethan la regarda si elle était folle pendant un moment, avant de se jeter une singularité dans un mélange de défenses et de cannibales, ils flottèrent un moment, avant que son champ de distorsion ne les fasse exploser en morceaux, les dispersant une bonne distance autour. Il aurait utilisé des fusées éclairantes, mais il ne voulait pas se fatiguer. Il n'était pas tout à fait au point où il cesserait de s'en soucier. "Alors..." Il a dit, laissant la phrase suspendue comme il se rappelait ce que ses commandants lui avaient toujours dit. "vous êtes Turian. A tiré sur quelque chose d'intéressant aujourd'hui?" ALria s'est concentrée sur le combat avant de lancer plus d'attaques dans la mêlée comme elle le pouvait, mais cela ne voulait pas dire qu'elle n'écoutait pas ce nouveau gars et comme il parlait, elle voulait vraiment le frapper. Il ne se cachait pas, il se battait contre les Husks, mais il essayait aussi de faire des bavardages oisifs sur le meurtre. Où était le tact et le concept de prendre la mission au sérieux? Elle voulait se serrer la tête et le gronder, mais vraiment la mission était plus importante qu'un humain faisant des remarques de cul intelligent. Elle n'allait même rien lui dire jusqu'à ce qu'elle entende Aegon crier pour que le Drell le fasse, ce qui ne pouvait signifier qu'une chose. "Descendez tout de suite!" Elle l'a appelé avant de faire la même chose pour elle-même. Les yeux d'Ethan se rétrécissaient légèrement.Elle ne lui répondit pas, ce qu'il a trouvé être des guerriers un peu impolis de Weren't Turians et tout? La conversation sur la destruction des choses irait bien, au moins dans sa tête. Ça n'avait aucun sens. Il soupira, et lança une autre fusée éclairante, et un autre groupe de défenses furent effacés, plusieurs de leurs cadavres fracassés dans d'autres défenses encore vivantes. "J'ai pensé que vous aimeriez tirer des choses, en considérant..." dit-il, avant que le turian ne crie soudainement. Il ne voulait pas descendre, mais il y avait une urgence dans sa voix qu'il n'avait pas entendue auparavant, et il s'est trouvé en conformité. "Il vaut mieux qu'il y ait une bonne raison pour..."

Name: Ethan Sartiel Race: Human Class: Adept Age: 24 Sex: Male Appearance: Ethan is a relatively short human, standing at 5'7 and appearing quite thin and almost malnourished at first glance, although he is considerably stronger than he looks. He has messy, straw colored hair that is cut haphazardly to keep it out of his eyes, with said eyes being a light shade of blue, slightly larger than normal and often somewhat bloodshot due to him often forgetting to sleep. His skin is slightly paler than normal, and this, coupled with all the aforementioned things gives him an appearance of being unwell or sick. In reality, his only problem is that he rarely sticks to the recommended daily calorie intake for biotics (he finds their military issued energy drinks revolting) , which is what causes the malnourished look. Everything else is simply because he does not care about his appearance and Ethan only change that if specifically ordered to. Its often commented that he would be quite attractive if he bothered to take care of his appearance. Backstory: The child who would eventually change his name to Ethan Sartiel was born on the planet Benning (which would eventually be attacked by Cerberus many years later) to a pair of married criminals, who would deal with the gangs that were scattered across the heavily populated cities of the planet. Most of the time, they would smuggle and sell arms and narcotics, but when his mother was pregnant with him, they were exposed to some element zero that they were planning to sell to a group of terrorists in the southern hemisphere. (its never been confirmed, but he suspects they were a Cerberus front). His mother did not know of her pregnancy, and was unaware of her child's exposure to the element zero H He lived a relatively happy life for his first eight years, not really thinking about all the strange feelings he had. He didn't know that he had the potential to be a biotic, but even if he did, he wouldn't have cared as long as he could stay with his mum and dad. As you can imagine, this ended poorly. A deal with the same group they sold the element zero to went horribly wrong, and both his parents were killed by assassins. They were after him too, but he managed to escape after his biotic powers manifested themselves in a force that flung an assailant out of a window to his death. Shocked by his abilities, and knowing he had no one else to turn to, being unaware of any of his parent's contacts, he made his way across the city to an alliance outpost, and surrendered himself to them in return for some storehouse locations that he had found out about before escaping. The alliance were delighted with what was found in the storehouses, and even more delighted to find that the child that had come to them had biotic potential. It didnt take much persuasion to make the youth agree to undergo training, as he was completely unsure what to do with his life and becoming a one man artillery piece sounded appealing. He was moved to the ascension project, and proceeded to excel in almost every test they set him. He would have been given a frontline position, but there were concerns in the higher ranks about his mental stability. He did not get on well with other students, treating them as little more than irritations and concentrating on refining his biotics, to the point where he sometimes forgot to eat and sleep. The overseers of the project had very little idea what to do with him. On one hand, his biotics were incredibly powerful, and those would be needed if some of the reports from Commander Shepard turned out to be true. On the other hand, he worked very badly with people, seeing them as beneath him, and he showed such pleasure in fighting (although he worked well to hide it) that a few overseers believed that he showed psychotic tendencies. Sovereigns attack on the citadel solved that choice, and he was moved around various combat zones guarding human colonies, before he was attached to a unit working with an Asari commando force fighting cerberus forces on Ontarom. His first taste of real combat seemed to fix the working badly with others problem, although he was still considered to be acting somewhat superior outside of battle. For this reason, he got on surprisingly well with the asari commandos he was working with. One of them even gave him a commando blade, after he saved her life by killing a Cerberus phantom by biotically slamming him twenty times against a wall. (although the commando in question could have sworn he was clearly dead after the first five) The operation continued, with Ethan even managing to destroy a Cerberus gunship by having a sniper put a hole in the cockpit, which he would then shoot a flare through to destroy it from the inside out. However, Cerberus still took its toll, wiping out 70% of his unit, with the major in charge being killed by a cerberus sniper on the final push. Finally though, the last cerberus complex was taken, with Ethan himself tossing their commander off the top of his command center. Although his surviving teammates still didn't like him, they and the Asari commander were impressed by his skills to give him a commendation, and he was eventually moved onto the fleet attempting to retake earth. He joined the attack on London, only for both his arms to be broken by a reaper brute, forcing him to spend the rest of the war (which wasn't long) in a makeshift field hospital. This is something that has always pissed him off, as he wanted to fight alongside that Shepard fellow that he had heard so much about, conveniently forgetting that almost the entire force with Shepard was wiped out. Since his recovery and despite being promoted to lieutenant, he has been able to do very little, with a detour to his old home planet of Benning to help wipe out any more Cerberus forces being the only interesting thing he has done. He found peace to be incredibly boring, only to find out that his skills and ruthlessness had not gone unnoticed. He was given an...offer, by a Spectre, and accepted without even giving it any thought. Psyche Profile: Ethan, at first glance, does not seem like he would fit in with the military at all. He is incredibly quiet, to the point he will go days without saying anything if no one directly asks him a question. He does not seem to understand normal social cues, and Ethan often reply with blank looks when confronted with them. There are plenty of whispers in the military that his behavior is caused by a botched biotic implant causing brain damage, but in reality, this has nothing to do with it. He is just quiet, awkward and even slightly shy, and doesn't really care what anyone else thinks of him. If someone was to persevere, he might open up to them, but so far, he is happy to be on his own. He is perfectly capable of communicating properly while in the field though. He takes combat completely seriously, to the point of almost seeming like a completely different person while in it. Although he acts like he does not care for the well being of his teammates, he will attempt to help if he sees them in trouble, and will not leave someone behind. However, he does have an extremely violent streak if forced into a pitched battle, where he will violently launch biotic strikes on his opponents, with little regard for his own safety or anyone else's. He does not show any visible glee while doing so, but internally, he is having the time of his life. Finally, he might not look it, but is INCREDIBLY arrogant when it comes to his biotic abilities, and will get extremely angry if anyone insults them in any way whatsoever. Secretly, he believes that his biotics are all that make him what he is, and without them, he would be nothing. He constantly strives to make them more powerful, and if he sees another biotic on the battlefield, he will instantly attack them to prove he is stronger. This has not caused any problems yet, although this has caused a lot of problems with his superiors. Specialty: His only specialty, and the only reason that the alliance even wanted him around is his monstrously powerful biotics. Most of his abilities revolve around directly destroying everything in his path as quickly and violently as possible, a role that he greatly enjoys. He often uses his powers to provide covering fire and area denial for his teammates, although he isnt very good at controlling his shots, and can even hit his own side if he isnt careful. Powers/Skills: Flare Warp Throw Shockwave Singularity Annihilation Field Biotic Mastery Equipment and Resources: -M-77 Paladin Heavy Pistol- -Light Hydra armor- -Asari commando blade (given to him by a commando on Ontarom)- -l-5x biotic implant -Omni Tool Sample Post: "Corporal! Wake up! Ethan snapped out of his daydream instantly, his eyes flicking open to see the face of an angry looking Asari, who's hand was raised, almost as if she was about to slap him. She had been made the de facto leader of their team at this specific moment, ever since the sergeant had been killed in the last firefight. Part of him wondered if he should try and refine his biotics to use barriers on his allies. A larger part of him chastised himself for not using his biotics to kill people faster. After all, a good way to protect your team was to kill everything shooting at them. But no, he had to act as "Support" What the hell did that even mean? He felt a hand strike him across the face. He hadn't realized that he had started daydreaming again, and the Asari had taken steps to prevent it. "Get the hell up! We are getting reports from the other side of the Cerberus compound! We need to move before they start dropping bombardments on us!" Ethan shook his head as he got to his feet, the rest of the nine-strong team checking their weapons and preparing for the assault. He didn't even bother to look at his pistol, instead cracking his knuckles and working out a pain in his back from sitting on the hard surface daydreaming. The compound itself, as far as Intel could find out, had been here long before Cerberus moved in. Therefore, it didn't have a great deal of defenses yet. Most of the infantry had been sent out to face the strike force, and in theory, there was very little left, which would be holed up inside. The other teams moving in would take their respective sectors. ...in theory. "Move in!" The team moved out of cover, Ethan staying at the back as he was ordered, although he did feel the need to mutter a few swear words under his breath as he did so. They kept low, moving towards the fence. Ethan kept his biotics ready, preparing to obliterate the first assault trooper to see them. And waited some more. And then some more. They got to the fence, the base still looming over them. They hadnt even heard a single shot being fired. Had the other teams suceeded in getting the base undetected? That sounded unlikely, especially considering who they were fighting. Two of the Asari looked a little puzzled as well. They had more than expected a firefight on getting to the compound. Hell, Ethan didn't even expect half of their team to make it in. One of the other soldiers checked the fence for traps, then began to cut through it. Ethan half expected the soldier's head to explode from a hidden electric shock or something, but he was left ever so slightly disappointed as a hole was cut open, large enough for the team to steal through. "Cerberus has some shit security." one Asari exclaimed as she went through, followed by the rest of the team, followed by Ethan, who was desperately trying to avoid looking as bored as he felt. This entire mission had been a shitstorm from the start, and finally, at the end, he couldn't get a decent fight? Hell, he couldn't even remember why the alliance wanted this fucking rock in the first place! They kept low, moving onto a walkway. They noticed several assault troopers patrolling on other walkways, but they kept hidden until they had passed. Ethan stopped, starting his omni tool and poking at it for a moment. "Sergeant, the other teams are moving into several sectors, correct?" The Asari turned to him, looking irritated. "Yes. If you had bothered to listen to the briefing..." Ethan held up his hand to shut her up. "Good to know. So why cant i raise them? The team stared at him dumbly for a split second, before instantly checking their own omni tools. They couldn't get anything either. Several of them swore. "Maybe they are still attempting to infiltrate?" said one "You saw what the security was like, it was a joke! They cant still be trying to get in!" said another. "Maybe they have already mostly evacuated! I mean, we did push them all the way back here!" "Or maybe, we let you." The team looked up, before two yellow whip-like weapons smashed into the floor, crushing one Asari completely and sending the entire team flying. Ethan managed to get his barriers up, causing the shockwave to only knock him a few meters. One of the other humans wasn't so lucky, his broken corpse lying at the foot of a nearby structure, a red stain marking where he had smashed into it. Ethan fired his pistol in the direction of the attacker, a Cerberus operative in black and yellow armor, with two yellow lashes attached to his wrists. The shots missed, but the operative ducked slightly, which was enough for Ethan to get to his feet and launch a shockwave straight at him. The dragoon was knocked backwards against a wall, stunned for a moment. This stunning was all Ethan needed to get close, grab his face and biotically smash it against a wall, completely crushing the dragoon's skull like a grape. This was like breaking a spell. Instantly, an alarm let out a piercing whine across the complex, and Ethan could hear shouting and gunfire outside, as the surviving members of his squad opened fire on the Cerberus soldiers on the lower walkways. Ethan strolled out, a small smile on his face as he launched a singularity at a team of troopers taking position on a higher walkway, watching them slowly float up. He could have let them fall, but... Concentrating, he fired a flare up into one of the floating troopers. The unstable field, and the natural destructive force of the flare utterly annihilated the trooper, his squad, and heavily damaged the walkway. With barely constrained delight, Ethan watched it tear free with a scream of tortured metal, to land a few dozen meters below on several Cerberus troopers who had just come out of the main building. It was a nice but minor victory, and Ethan couldn't help but be reminded of the latter when he noticed another squad simply take the place of the one that was crushed. He also noticed a few phantoms and more dragoons around, and he could swear that he could hear something big and mech sounding moving around the other side of the building. Things were about to kick off, big time. Notes Despite his...oddness, Ethan is capable of being attracted to people, and identifies as straight, being attracted to almost any race, with Turians and Quarians being preferred. He rarely notices people flirting with him, with one former squad mate commenting "He wouldn't notice even if you were dropping hints the size of a dreadnought". Thanks to this, he hasn't been with anyone. Secretly, this irritates him a little. He has very little idea what an actual relationship is. Although his biotics are incredibly powerful, he doesn't quite get the concept of restraint. He does not show it, but in battle he is as vicious enough to make a Krogan battlemaster say "Bit much" , and takes utter glee in watching his opponents blasted to pieces, thrown to break every bone in their body and other biotic related unpleasantness. It will usually take a direct order to get him to stand down, and even then, he will probably sulk for the next hour or so. Also, due to his reckless biotics use, he has a habit of overexerting himself and getting incredibly tired, especially if he is using flare a lot. Once, he fired so many he ended up fainting afterwards. This hasn't taught him a thing.

C'est la première fois que l'on s'en occupe. Les combats devenaient de plus en plus intenses et dangereux alors que les vagues de défenses continuaient d'arriver. Rol'Naaris a continué à tirer son fusil de sniper vers eux et a réalisé que la moitié de la pièce était déjà couverte de sang et de corps. Il a suivi Sicaria vers les autres et a vu que tout le monde essayait de tenir la position. Rol'Naaris a dû les aider et maintenir la zone avant que le projectile puisse causer de graves dommages. Son fusil de sniper était encore prêt à tirer pendant que le tunnel était rempli d'une explosion. Il s'est jeté dans la couverture lorsque l'explosion a rempli le tunnel; cependant, il n'a pas complètement écroulé le tunnel. Rykarn allait appâter plusieurs buses à remarquer et Rol'Naaris devait faire quelque chose. Il a ouvert le feu à trois de la coque qui se dirigeaient vers Rykarn, mais il a dû recharger. C'est alors qu'il a reçu un nouvel ordre d'Aegon : évacuer les deux scientifiques restants hors de la région. Il ne voulait pas partir pendant que les combats devenaient plus intenses. Il préférerait mourir en combattant avec eux plutôt que de vivre avec la culpabilité de laisser ses coéquipiers mourir. Rol'Naaris voulait rester et se battre, mais il avait un ordre à suivre et il l'a fait. Il a tiré quelques coups de feu sur la coque qui a suivi et Rykarn avant de courir vers les scientifiques restants. Les deux scientifiques levèrent les yeux et virent le quarien, se rendant compte qu'ils quittaient enfin ce trou de l'enfer. -- Très bien, écoutez-moi attentivement. Rol'Naaris a dit sérieusement, "Je vais vous sortir d'ici pour votre propre sécurité. Restez près de moi et n'essayez rien de stupide." Les scientifiques se levèrent et commencèrent à marcher vers la seule sortie. Rol'Naaris a vite suivi et rapidement passé la paire pour s'assurer que tout était sûr. Les combats devenaient indistinctes alors que les scientifiques et le quai marchaient toujours en avant. Puis, ils ont vu plusieurs soldats morts qui ont fait couvrir les yeux des scientifiques. L'un d'eux a même commencé à pleurer alors que l'autre câlinait l'humain qui pleurait. La pièce ressemblait à une cage de combat avec du sang partout au sol et des armes couvertes de sang. Qui pourrait faire ça? Une des scientifiques, une femme, a regardé Rol'Naaris et a demandé "Et les autres?" Elle s'inquiétait pour ses anciens collègues et regardait les cadavres pour voir si l'un d'eux était un scientifique. Rol'Naaris a regardé la seule sortie de la pièce et a répondu à sa question : « S'ils étaient assez intelligents pour ne pas se perdre, alors ils sont probablement avec renfort. Bref, vos amis sont en sécurité. » Puis, le groupe était silencieux pour la marche restante vers l'entrée. Il pensait à combien la femme s'occupait de ses collègues. C'était bizarre de voir quelqu'un travailler pour Cerberus pour avoir des émotions. La guerre de Reaper a détruit Cerberus et toutes leurs histoires horribles ont finalement été exposées. Personnellement, Rol'Naaris n'avait jamais combattu Cerberus jusqu'à maintenant. En fait, il n'a rencontré personne qui travaillait pour Cerberus avant le début de cette mission. Mais il espérait toujours que le scientifique aurait un procès et les déclarerait coupables. Son train de pensée s'arrêta dès qu'ils arrivèrent dehors pour voir les autres scientifiques et les renforts. Il a également découvert que Tibère et Rayes étaient également debout à l'extérieur. Les groupes ont finalement été réunis et son ordre était complet. Il a regardé les blessures de Tibère et a pensé aux corps de tout à l'heure. Il a assemblé les pièces et a demandé, "Je suppose que vous combattiez les soldats? Ai-je raison ou as-tu juste trébuché sur une pierre à la place?"

Name: Rol'Naaris nar Taazzor; Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal; Rol Race: Quarian Class Infiltrator Age: Twenty-nine years old Sex: Male Appearance: With their weak immune system, Rol'Naaris rarely takes off any part of his armor unless he is fixing up his wounds. No-one beyond the Migrant Fleet knows what he looks like without that mask. Rol tried his best to get armor that made him stand out for the other Quarian on their pilgrimage. That's why he got Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII for a store in the Citadel during his pilgrimage. Despite being an outdated model, Rol made sure to update its' shields and protection of weapons and biotics. Even before he returned to the fleet, he managed to raise one of the shoulder pads up and changed it from a navy blue to a tan color. After the Reaper War, he still kept the same old armor on him and refused to change it for a better model. It had survived this war, it will survive for a long time. Even when he joined the Spectres, he refused to use their Quarian armor since it was not better compared to the other armors on sale in places like Omega or Illium. Backstory: Rol'Naaris was born on board the Taazzor in the year 2157 on the day that Relay 314 Incident (or the First Contact War coined by the humans) happened. Rol spent his childhood aboard on the Taazzor with his mother and father. His mother worked in the technical division, while his father was in the Marines. When he was old enough, his mother took him to places like the Citadel to gather parts no possible to obtain within the fleet. This was Rol's first time that he had been outside of the Taazzor and saw other species in person. It was breathtaking and amazing. He often wandered off before his mother chased after him and took him back home. When he learned of the pilgrimage, Rol was ready to venture beyond the fleet and live in the Citadel. The truth was that life as a quarian was harsher than he expected. His father, however, was in the Marines that was born on a military ship and taught about warfare by his father. Rol took interest in the Marines because of his father and grandpa. He taught his son everything he knew about military strategy that he was taught by the Marines. A couple of Marines aboard the Taazzor told him bits of other warfare strategies that krogans and humans use. During his early teens, Rol studied as much as he could on the history of warfare for several races and he also took a look at the Geth War. He soon took interest in history, politics, and the Marines. Years of reading into Sun-Tzu and the Krogan Rebellions were useful facts to learn and he developed a love for planning out tactics. When it was time for Rol to take part in the pilgrimage, his family and friends gathered around to give gifts before Rol left. His mother managed to get a book about what foods and drinks Quarian can and cannot eat and drink. While his father gave him a Kassa Fabrication Nexus omni tool and a Haliat Armory Stiletto pistol. Shortly after, he left behind his family and friends and headed to the Citadel. Despite facing prejudice for other races, he liked his pilgrimage. He found out so much about the history of Humanity and their culture that he planned a trip to visit Earth. And he made his credits by working at a repair store. While he was trying to gather the credits, Citadel was under attack by the Reapers. Rol managed to survive the battle by following C-Sec into one of their police stations. As the pieces of Sovereign and the Geth fleet rain down onto the Citadel, his apartment was completely destroyed—his things were destroyed and his roommate was killed. All of the credits, that he had earned, were gone into repairing the damages and trying to move on. But he could not move forward and left the Citadel to complete his pilgrimage two years later. It took him six months to find some worthy to return to the fleet. It was some pieces for one of the Geth ships that he brought off of some scavengers. He was accepted by into the fleet with open arms, joined Vaepal, and began working in both the Marines as a strategist. When the Admiralty Board was talking about a possible war with the Geth, Rol supported the war and pushed other crew members to realize that war was the answer to their problems. A year after the talks, the Special Projects arm finally found a way to weaken the Geth. While the Board was voting on war, Rol was a vocal advocate for the war. After hours of debating, the Board had declared war on the Geth and Rol got to work. Despite not having enough time to be taught everything in the Marines. Quarians on their pilgrimage had to return to the fleet to prepare for war. Rol was responsible for placing the returning into positions suitable to the Vaepal and planning ways to attack the Geth fleet. The Migrant Fleet had updated with include weapons on-board civilian ships, an action that he strongly agreed with. They began their assault as the Reapers invaded Earth and burned Palaven. Things were going well for the fleet until the Geth accepted the Reaper's help, destroying any chance of an easy victory. Vaepal didn't need weapons since it was a military ship. Everyone was too busy to deal with the Reapers that the Fleet suffered huge losses. Vaepal was attacked during one of many ambushes that nearly got Rol killed. He still believed that the fleet could win, especially since Commander Shepard came to their aid. After several victories (with the help of the Commander), the fleet managed to push the Geth back towards their old homeworld, Rannoch. That was when the Battle for Rannoch began. Hours of fighting brought a major victory for the quarian, earning their homeworld back. Surprisingly, the Geth suddenly supported the Quarian conquest and joined Humanity in the battle for Earth. Rol didn't support peaceful co-existence with the machines and requested that a Geth not board the Vaepal; however, he wanted to help with the fight against the Reapers. So, he joined other strategists to come up with plans on how to defeat the Reapers (if the Battle of Earth was a massive defeat) as soon as the Admiralty Board finally declared war on the Reapers. When the time came to fight on Earth, he was selected to join a group of attackers that planned on landing in North Africa. Several attacks were planned all over the world so the Reapers could be spread out thin. He was a part of the attack on Earth; however, he didn't go to London at all. The battle itself was more difficult than the Battle for Rannoch. People were dying left and right as Rol helped hold the line. Then, the energy vaporized the Reapers and the Reaper ships stopped working. The war was finally over. Afterwards, Rol was treated in the city of Alexandria and spent time there before returning to the fleet. Around that time, Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy had also returned to the fleet and began her work with Rannoch. Her influence and actions during the Reaper War grant her command of the newly built Diplomacy Fleet. He was offered a spot aboard Tali'Zorah's body guard. He refused and focused on rebuilding Earth with the others. He has traveled all over the Middle East, the Great Basin and the Mojave and Sonoran Desert. Rol went back to Alexandria to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Battle of Earth. Psyche Profile: Rol'Naaris is just like any normal quarian: strategic mind, judgmental, hard-working, decisive, and overly analytical. Those traits have been useful and useless to him throughout his life. Rol tends to make only a few friends that like to have discussions about stuff and hang out often. He has no trouble relaxing and enjoying himself with his friends, but he doesn't share his emotions with them. And he cannot be able to provide emotional support towards others. Plus, he can often be too honest to deal with. Romantic relationships are also his weakness as he doesn't know anything other than warfare. Rol also has a thing for organizing. He is also judgmental towards Geths because of their actions during the last few years. And the fact that Rol despises artificial intelligence and labels them as 'a threat to the galaxy.' Besides Geth, he is willing to have a healthy discussion with different ideals and opinions. And he likes human movies that have anything to do with humans destroying AI; but, he favors The Matrix and Inception. He also likes reading novels, writing essays, watching documentaries, and listening to classical music. And he always wanted to have plants along with trained dogs and go to famous landmarks. And he also always wanted to start up a museum since he loved other species’ histories. He dislikes narrow-minded people, gossip circles, people who can't handle dark humor, metal music, alcohol, and dirty/messy places. Specialty: Rol'Naaris was most likely picked to be in the Spectre-led task force because of his involvement with the Marines and they noted him as a great strategist during the Battle for Rannoch and he also helped his commander during the Battle of Earth. He was also one of the few Quarian that went to Earth during the battle, which gives his experience in the heat of a firefight. And Rol also knows how to use both a shotgun and a sniper unlike other quarians. He likes the sniper rifle better than the shotgun, but he would use it if he's in the front lines. In short, he's the sniper of the team. Powers/Skills: Sabotage, Tactical Cloak, Assassination, Agent (Operative), and Fitness Equipment and Resources: Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII (it includes a modified version of Asymmetric Defense Layer that fits perfectly into the look of the armor), Haliat Armory's Equalizer IX, Kassa Fabrication's Polaris VIII, Elanus Risk Control Services's Hurricane V, and Haliat Armory's Stiletto VI Sample Post: Rol'Naaris waited patiently for his shuttle to finally land at their location. It felt like they have been flying for hours since they left one of the human ships. Everyone aboard the shuttle could hear explosions all around them. Once in awhile, they could hear a shuttle getting hit and most likely crash landing onto Earth: human's homeworld. Rol felt sick whenever he heard the explosions getting closer towards this shuttle. And it did not help that he was the only quarian on this shuttle and surrounded by krogan, turians, and humans. A human sitting by Rol was looking at a datapad. Rol only noticed when he was checking on his sniper rifle and decided to take a peek at the datapad. It was a very old picture of a group of people with weapons, standing next to horses. It could of been from World War I or some other minor war fought during the time period. He kept on checking out his weapons while some of the turians and humans started to pray as they felt the shuttle going down. Everyone gathered their weapons and readied themselves for the drop off. Before they left, one of the Alliance captains told everyone to get into cover as soon as possible and open fire. Sounds of a firefight got louder as the shuttle began to land while it was taking fire from marauders and brutes Soon enough, everyone stood up and waited for the doors to open up. Rol held his sniper rifle tightly and ready for a dash towards the nearest cover. Before they opened, everyone heard the pilot's voice through the comms as he gave instructions on where the base is located. "Alright, you are about to be fired at. Remember to fight carefully and remain calm; however, don't forget your main objective. Reach the command base. Your omni-tool should have the location marked. Once you reach the location, the commander of the base will issue you with a task to do and communicate with you. Good luck soldiers. May God be with you." After that brief speech, the doors slowly opened as bullets could be heard hitting against the shuttle. Everyone carefully stepped out and dashed towards cover. Some of them were immediately shot and cried out in pain or died because of a well placed shot. Once Rol exited out of the shuttle and ran towards cover, it took off rather quickly and left the areas. Other shuttles began to land as soldiers exited out of it while one was shot down while leaving the areas. Rol went to a different cover and pulled out his omni-tool while soldiers left and right were getting shot at. The omni-tool revealed that the location was somewhere west and saw that a couple of soldiers were already heading there. The night was still rather young and it was difficult to see anything. Suddenly, he heard screaming and a struggle as Rol went for his pistol. He ran towards the sound and saw that the human for the shuttle was pinned by a husk. Rol shoved the gun against the husk's head and opened fire, killing the creature for sure. It felt as the human pushed it away from him and processed to kick it several times. "Motherfucker!" he said angrily towards the husk. "Are you alright?" Rol asked while grabbing the human's assault rifle and offering it to him. "Yeah... Just took me by surprise." he pointed at the dead husk and grabbed his gun. "Thanks.." "Call me Rol." Rol just said while he was grabbing his sniper rifle. "Rol... I am Hamdaan." Hamdann said while reloading his assault rifle. Both men began their walk on the abandoned street while other soldiers walked pass them. It was rather peaceful, even know explosions and gunshots could be heard all around. They were nearby the base because of the M35 Makos could be seen from afar, firing towards the Reapers. They have started to talk about being on Earth since the invasion. It turned out that his aunt and brother were on Earth during the invasion. They were traveling to Dubai just as the Reaper began their attack. Their ride took a detour towards the airport and they managed to get on a transport ship before the transmission died out. Hamdaan knew that they were dead and mourned their deaths. Afterwards, he joined the Alliance and waited for this day to come since joining. Rol felt bad that the quarian were fighting the geth. He saw the footage of Earth while he was planning for the upcoming war with them. It was truly disgusting for him to hear the news then Palaven was hit as well. The breaking news made him stop working for the entire day and he wanted to throw up. Shepard was right the whole time and no-one—not even Rol himself—believed his warnings. Rol said that the news made him work harder than ever to finish up with the geth; but, things never go according to plan. Gunfire got louder as both of the men rushed towards the base and saw the husk heading towards the Makos. Some of them got on top of them and Rol used his sniper rifle to pick them off. With one knee on the ground, he aimed and fired at the husks. Hamdaan charged towards the base ready for anything while others followed his lead. Rol got off of the ground and rushed towards the firefight. It was going to be one hell of a battle. The one that he was going to tell stories about for years to come. If he survives the ordeal. Notes Rol hasn't have the chance to be in a romantic relationship, but he is sure that he could most likely be either gay or straight. However, it doesn't bug him at all. He made some friends during the Battle of Earth and talks to them often. And he also still talks to people from the fleet as well. And he also has met Tali’Zorah after the Reaper War for a brief moment. Plus, he is more than willing to provide his services to rebuilding the Earth.

"RYKARN, suivez ma voix! Also, parle-moi!" "Rykarn, on est là!" Comme un jeu résolument fataliste de Marco Polo, le scintillement intermittent des signaux IFF et la poussière volumétrique jouaient l'enfer avec le contact visuel, conduisant Rykarn vers les sons de Salissa et Partinaxs. Tout s'est bien passé, entre les forces conjuguées de l'explosion et les innombrables dizaines de griffes qui avaient essayé de percer son armure maintenant battue, le krogan était plutôt impatient de s'asseoir et de boire quand tout cela était fini. Après avoir essuyé quelques coups de feu avec des dos féroces et l'utilisation libérale de son fusil de chasse, le krogan entendit bientôt le staccato des coups de feu et les éclats d'omni-blades à travers la poussière, ses camarades l'ayant atteint. Au moins, ils sont restés en enfer quand il a déclenché les charges; ce serait un devoir de nettoyage et de contenir ce qui restait. Quand il a aperçu la cybernétique, Rykarn s'est secoué la tête. Vous êtes plus fort que l'explosion, mais merci. N'a pas voulu marcher seul avec un entourage de monstres... il a regardé comme le spectacle turois a coupé un autre Husk avec une lame orange incandescente. Il avait l'air aussi bon que Rykarn, il a décidé. Avec le krogan sécurisé, Partinax a ordonné une retraite de retour à la ligne. En regardant le Spectre et en offrant un clin d'œil agréable, il a fait une observation sous-estimée. Rykarn a dit que son casque dissimulait son sourire. Il a suivi Partinax en direction de la ligne de tir, tournant à l'occasion pour prendre quelques autres coups de feu sur les Husks traînant, le fusil faisant un travail épouvantable contre les Husks non blindés. Vella s'était apparemment jointe à l'effort de sauvetage, et Rykarn était surprise de constater qu'elle n'était pas venue sur son HUD. Son omnitool a dû prendre un coup. "C'était stupide!" L'asari s'est exclamé. C'était quelque chose que Rykarn était beaucoup trop habitué à entendre de presque toutes les tenues pour lesquelles il travaillait, sauf pour le Blood Pack. Il s'avère que quand vous obtenez un tas de krogan menant un tas de vorcha et ne vous souciez pas des dommages collatéraux, vous vous habituez à faire des choses qui font que même les Turiens ont des doutes. Krogan n'était rien sinon pragmatique; s'il corrige votre problème mais tue un tas de vos ennemis, alors ce serait plus stupide de ne pas le faire. Ce n'est pas comme s'il était sur la facture pour avoir réparé le métro. Ce que Rykarn n'était pas prêt, c'était la déclaration de suivi d'Asari. "Tu devrais m'apprendre un jour!" Elle s'écria, peut-être bien trop joyeusement. Le krogan grogne, jetant une grenade derrière lui. Il a explosé, étouffant plusieurs voix criantes derrière le groupe. Dépensez votre prochaine permission sur Tuchanka et choisissez un combat avec tous ceux que vous voyez. Vous apprendrez assez vite, dit-il, en continuant sa progression vers les autres. De retour en formation, il était beaucoup plus facile de tenir leur sol maintenant que la source de Husks était restreinte. Il y avait encore plus que quiconque ne pouvait compter et la poussière détruite ligne de vue, mais il commençait à se sentir plus comme un combat qu'ils pourraient gagner. Son commandant pourrait lui donner des conneries pour avoir brisé la ligne, mais il n'était pas sur le point de faire des excuses. Londres n'était pas actuellement envahi par les Husks et ils n'étaient pas tous déchirés dans des centaines de rubans sanglants. Fin de la journée, c'est ce qui comptait.

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

Mars 2017 19:58 8 mos ago

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Des cendres en cendres... Le tunnel souffla de force assourdissante, le typhon de force-choc jetant Ellis sur son dos comme un coléoptère. Son genou raide s'est détaché, des servomoteurs se sont brisés, des bouts de céramique ont flotté comme une petite grenade à manivelle. Poussière à poussière. Des pièces de défense, des éclats et des débris ont balayé le site de l'explosion comme des missiles. Des nuages de poussière, éparpillés par les asperseurs, menaçaient de reprendre le champ de bataille. "NÉRO! Rapport sur l'état d'avancement des travaux!" "Les victimes de Zero, opérationnel. Les combattants ennemis ont effectivement neutralisé. Recommander un protocole d'assainissement standard et une purge." Ellis a arrêté de lutter, et tout simplement couché là. Le plafond a filé devant ses yeux et son estomac s'est hurlé. Sa faiblesse l'a assommé. Il s'est battu pour rendre la volonté nécessaire à sa biotique. Son visage transpirait abondamment, piqueant son pseudo-peau. Il a fermé les yeux. Il s'est concentré d'abord sur son corps, le plus gros de son poids. Il est devenu plus léger, et plus léger. Puis sur ses bras, le contrepoids. Il s'est senti se lever. Maintenant, pour lui raidir les jambes, le fulcrum. Quand il a rouvert les yeux, il était de retour sur ses pieds, se sentant dix livres plus lourd et cent ans plus vieux. Le Mattock est toujours accroché à sa bonne main. Son cerveau a souffert, une tumeur battante dans son crâne, éclatant aux coutures comme un ballon surchargé. Il a marché. Son genou déjà dentelé et craqué comme un champ à effet de masse l'attaquait fermement, le tenant ensemble comme un moulage. De temps en temps, Ellis trébucha, son focus vacillant ou une tête particulièrement douloureuse le distrait de la tâche à portée de main, ou à pied. Des marches! A gauche! Le genou d'Ellis a cédé alors qu'il brisait la concentration et a largué son Mattock, lâchant son bras à grande vitesse, Jetant un projectile loin dans le nuage de poussière, à un destin inconnu. Ellis a renversé au sol, une véritable masse de métal, et pour la première fois de sa vie, a appelé à l'aide. "Escouade... Agent à terre! Demande de ramassage." C'est vrai. Criez pour le sauvetage. "Je suis infirme. Besoin... d'aide... Oui... Le désespoir. Il toussait, des taches de sang et de visière noire enrobaient l'intérieur de sa visière, le VI interne s'assurant de le nettoyer rapidement, suite médicale faisant des heures supplémentaires. Les analgésiques ont fait leur travail, et la vision d'Ellis a nagé. Il s'est concentré sur la conscience, sur sa respiration. Sa respiration peu profonde et agitée.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Tout est allé chier dans un panier à main assez vite. Cette opération n'était pas ce que l'on appellerait lisse, elle avait été négligente et le fait qu'ils n'aient pas rencontré une seule victime était un miracle sanglant, et bien il semblait que de cette façon. Giles gardait un œil sur ce qui se passait en bas, il n'avait pas été parfaitement clair à ce jour, il avait besoin d'un bon visuel sur quand faire exploser les mines, ce temps s'approchait et se rapprochait maintenant bien, le générateur de boucliers de Salissa finalement cédé à l'assaut qu'il avait enduré, en théorie qui aurait dû être son débordé et tué en quelques instants, mais il y avait une raison pour laquelle ils ont tous été cueillis par Spectres; ils n'étaient pas des soldats ordinaires. Salissa a réussi à s'échapper relativement indemne grâce au Krogan qui venait juste de battre son chemin à travers la horde qui l'a suivie, vraiment il y avait quelques grands chercheurs de gloire ici, ou peut-être que c'était juste un Krogan étant un Krogan typique, se perdant dans la soif de sang et la rage, apparemment ce n'était pas une chose facile à contrôler, en supposant que vous vouliez réellement le contrôler. Alors qu'il regardait Giles faire quelques coups de feu ici et là, tirant dans le voisinage général de la horde, son principal objectif était les communications pour quand l'appel à la détonation est sorti. Il devint vite évident ce que le Krogan projetait cependant, il allait tirer sur les mines, les yeux de Giles élargis avec incrédulité, qui allait probablement fracturer l'explosion, annulant le but de la raison pour laquelle ils ont été placés - l'ordre dans lequel ils ont été placés était d'assurer le maximum de dommages structurels, afin que tout cela s'effondrerait et écraserait la horde, le Krogan était littéralement tondre son chemin à travers les créatures synthétiques pour le faire. Espèce d'imbécile! N..." Au moment où Giles criait, il était déjà trop tard la détonation s'est produite noyant ses mots et en effet tout le reste dans le tunnel. La réaction en chaîne des mines de caïne a envoyé des ondulations massives de force cinétique vers l'extérieur du tunnel, frappant Giles de ses pieds et le repoussant de quelques pieds, les mines de caïne n'ont pas obtenu leur nomake pour rien, chacun d'eux a emballé un coup significatif une détonation simultanée d'eux seulement amplifie cela. Chacune des autres détonations signifiées par une impulsion, elle envoya une vague de poussière à travers les vieux tunnels et fit sauter au-dessus d'eux tous comme une tempête de sable, des morceaux de débris volés à haute vitesse et causa ses barrières cinétiques à onduler chaque fois qu'on touchait; c'était la seule chose qui les empêchait de le couper en rubans ainsi que le reste de l'équipe. Giles a essayé de se composer, mais il a été aveuglé par l'épaisse poussière qui a obscurci le champ de bataille, chaque souffle de haggard qu'il a brûlé ses poumons et les voies aériennes, le faisant tousser violemment; son rebreather était dans sa cartable qui maintenant mentait quelque part dans l'épaisse brume comme de la soupe, chaque son était amorti, il a vu les flashs de coups de feu et de lampes de poche percer à travers l'obscurité, les combats sonnaient comme si cela se passait à des kilomètres de distance, et pourtant il savait que seulement quelques pas le mèneraient à ce combat. Puis l'ordre est passé par l'unité de communication "Gilles! Tout de suite!" Comme il le soupçonnait, toutes les mines n'ont pas explosé... "Maudit Krogan, laisse le travail d'explosifs sanglants à l'expert..." L'air a commencé à se vider un peu quand le système d'arrosage s'est éteint, ancien mais toujours opérationnel - alors que le musc a commencé à nettoyer Giles cracher le mélange flegmique de sang couvert de poussière qui lui a fait questionner juste combien de merde était maintenant dans son système respiratoire. Il n'a cependant pas attendu la cérémonie, pas même pour trouver sa cartable - si ces défenses sortaient du tunnel, c'était fini. Introduire le commandement dans son omni-outil Giles a pris une profonde respiration à travers le nez et préparé pour la deuxième vague de poussière. Un petit éclair de lumière rouge a pu être vu illuminer les débris d'effondrement, les mines ont activé et ensuite neutralisé, mais une seconde plus tard a explosé. Parce que la détonation des mines a été échelonnée et en deux phases, le nuage de débris et de poussière cette fois-ci était beaucoup plus mortel, il a jeté des morceaux de roche et de métal sur la taille de petits blocs, certains pesant n'importe où de 1kg à 50kg et volant à vitesse rapide, n'importe qui en couverture aurait eu la chance de sortir avec rien de plus que quelques membres cassés, quelque chose que Giles avait oublié d'anticiper - quand ses barrières s'éloignaient d'une veineuse, qui aurait enlevé son bras gauche, il serait descendu de sa position très désavantageuse, roulant dans un morceau de petite couverture. Partout sur son corps blessé, ses vêtements étaient couverts d'une couche de poussière et dans des endroits avaient été éviscérés par des éclats de débris, coupant dans sa chair et laissant derrière lui une marque de pock de sang vert qui s'estompait dans les impulsions; il ne savait pas si la deuxième détonation avait été un succès, mais il pouvait à peine penser directement en ce moment, ses blessures étaient assez sévères, et la petite roche de débris qui avait commencé à le couvrir n'a pas aidé. Après avoir craché une autre congelation de phlegme et de sang hors de sa gorge, il a parlé dans les comms "Un peu d'aide ici..." Pas... un bon début en termes de mission que Giles avait conclu, il se sentait comme de la merde et s'il survivait, il se buvait pour dormir ce soir. Sa situation n'a pas été aidée par le fait qu'il ne pouvait rien faire d'autre que pousser maladroitement quelques morceaux de roche et des morceaux de parties synthétiques du corps de lui-même pendant qu'il attendait quelqu'un pour l'aider. Cela s'est encore aggravé lorsqu'il a vu les yeux bleu éclatants sans vie de la coque ramper autour de la couverture qu'il avait utilisé plus tôt; il semblait manquer un bras et ses jambes, mais il n'allait pas s'arrêter là. "Vous l'êtes. C'est pas vrai. C'est une blague. Moi!" Avec son pied libre Gilvert a donné un coup de pied à la tête des Husks, à chaque fois qu'il a fait un pic de douleur dans son corps, mais était-il en enfer se faisant choper ou quelque chose par cette merde. Le museau n'a pas aimé le fait qu'il vient d'avoir une botte à la tête et a crié creux avant de se déplacer un peu plus près, chronométrant l'élan de son shuffle et son coup de pied le suivant a donné une fissure satisfaisante au fur et à mesure que son cou allait. Un soupir de soulagement a échappé aux poumons de Giles, suivi d'une autre toux alors qu'il se détendait sous son lit de décombres. "Fuck, je pensais que la guerre de Reaper a été une lutte, je ne reviendrai jamais sur cette planète après ça..."

Name: Gilvert Somner, "Giles" Race: Drell Class: Infiltrator Age: 51 Sex: Male Appearance: Gilvert stands at around 5’8 and weighs roughly around 10 stone, he has a number of scars from shrapnel burns and old bullet wounds in his chest, and a few on his right arm, 2 above the shoulder, one below the elbow. Backstory: Gilvert Somner is born on Kahje - Year 2136 Gilvert has been an assassin and a mercenary in his life, as well as the fact that he fought during the reaper wars and spent a good portion of his life on Omega, he’s seen a lot of action over his life and he’s beginning to show it, at least mentally, his physical injuries over the years haven’t been overly extensive and nothing too major. Year 2156 His days as an assassin began on his “home planet” of Kahje, the Hanar homeworld, much like a number of drell that got accepted into their fold when they saved a portion of the population from the Drell homeworld, given the small number that was actually rescued it’s uncommon much to see a drell in the galaxy; however the odd and rare sighting typically means that the Hanar need work doing, given their nature there’s many things a Hanar can’t do, or at the very least things that are better left in the hands of others, when the drell were accepted into Kahje, those with certain skills, or merely those whom the hanar felt could work effectively for them were trained up to become assassins -as well as soldiers, spec-ops, anything really that revolved around combat. In his early years Gilvert was offered to perform tasks for the Hanar due to the fact that he scored highly on the tests ran by the Hanar to find the best of the Drell race, especially in regards to combat proficiency and stealth aptitude, it was also during this time that Gilvert was putting many hours of study behind Chemistry. In Drell culture it’s regarded as a great honour to be asked by the Hanar to perform certain tasks, although this didn’t really resonate well with Gilvert, he has as thankful as the rest of his race for the kindness of the hanar, but he had plans for his future that didn’t typically involve the act of killing others. If only he were blessed with foresight then he might have seen just what this path would lead him to, a life where killing is both naturally and something he does with enjoyment. He accepted the offer, knowing full well that denying it would come with a lot of attached stigma from his peers and family for that matter. His training to become an assassin for them went underway, it took 4 years to train him properly and it was around this time, that things were getting a bit off about Gilvert - it’s not exactly certain what was the initial cause for his psychosis developing, but it was certainly around this time that you could say it began to form. Multiple reports and evaluations during his training, and ones that were inevitably pulled from his schools that he had attended during childhood suggested a slight bit of mental instability, when he was growing up he did a lot of art, drawing and painting was something he loved and enjoyed, at the time they couldn't discover as to why he never pursued it, or never does it in his spare time, however it was later discovered that his mother had not liked the idea of her son becoming something like an artist and forced him to pursue something scientific or productive like a military role or working for a tech/weapons company, as to better the state of the galaxy, and increase the defence of the Hanar and the Drell alike. During combat simulations it was observed that on occasion he had the tendency to execute opponents in a very specific manner, going against protocol and training, what was particularly noted was his way to kill in a certain order - the order of their deaths was only seen by the Drells eyes, and none of his own race nor the Hanar who witnessed could fathom it. Despite everything of his odd mannerisms and actions, his proficiency was still very high and got the job done regardless of it; it was brushed aside as nothing of import - later in his life the Hanar who run this operation begin to connect the dots in thinking that he performs his art now in the only way he knows how, artistry in death, perfection in destruction his canvas is the galaxy; its people the paint; his hands the brush. The training was rigorous and intense, it departed a great deal from anything Gilvert was ever thinking of doing, or ever thought of doing - he understand that his body had been honed into a weapon now, it would have it’s uses, it meant that he could keep himself alive - it meant that whilst others would die, inevitably he would be doing a justice, the people he would have to kill, all of them were disgusting- vile creatures that made life insufferable for the majority; but regardless of the justifications, something changed about him that day. His first job - given that he was adapt in chemistry, and that he had been specialised in the use of explosives as well as long range elimination Gilvert was outfitted with a set of explosive charges and mines - his job had two tasks; eliminate the target, a Krogan warlord who lead a group of mercenaries that mainly dealt in the narcotic Red sand, and stolen cargo vessels. And destroy the cargo ship that had over 1,000 kilos of red sand on board. This job, changed Gilvert for the rest of his life; for better or for worse, is yet to be seen. Gilvert was outfitted with a Haliat armoury sniper rifle with tungsten rounds, designed specifically to take out the krogan in a single shot - assuming it landed in the head. As well as a number of different explosives, and one special bomb that was mean to be placed on the ships hull - it would be mojre than capable of destroying it. Once he had been given his full briefing and handed a large sum of credits to pave his way, he left Kahje for the first time. It was a daunting episode in his life the first off world place he visited, out of all of them, was Omega the ship provided to him took him there within a day and the only help he got on it was the fact that this place was basically the ass-end of the galaxy - all sorts of deplorables, and honest people alike come here - a friend of his called it the Anti-Citadel, and after 48 hours on the space-station, he could only agree, there was plenty of information regarding what the Citadel looked like and how it was back on Kahje, it looked amazing, truly a great place, this however, has quite the opposite. Despite how many different races were on this station, he - as a drell, got quite a few looks of surprise and skepticism, many people did not know what a Drell looked like, let alone have the “fortune” to see one in person. The one person he did know to go to however, was an Asari named Aria T’loak, the defacto leader of this station, if he wanted any better intel on his target, she’d be the one to ask. After giving the bouncer at the doors to a club named Afterlife an “entrance fee” he made his way inside. The music could be heard clearly, if not slightly muffled from outside, but inside the atmosphere was unlike anything he had ever witnessed or experience it was incredibly loud, flashing neon lights and exotic dancers, almost every race was mingling, drinking, dancing… Gilvert tried his utmost to look as if he knew what he was doing, to put on a mask to make sure he didn’t look as if was fish fresh out of water. He probably wasn’t doing very well, but Drell facial expressions are hard to read without actually knowing the race well, which will prove to serve to his advantage a great deal through his career. He asked the bartender how he could talk to the Asari, and got pointed towards a set of stairs that lead upwards, she clearly had the best seat on the house. A burly looking Batarian blocked the way, he didn’t even attempt to stop the Drell and simply said in a coarse, but clearly audible voice.“Go on up, she’s expecting you.” Now that elicited a very easy to read expression of surprise on his face, the batrain grinned, baring his many pinprick like teeth before stating once more “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting, do yourself a favour and hurry up.” Without further hesitation Gilvert did exactly that. The meeting with the “Queen of Omega” proved to be very enlightening, she offered him more than enough information on how to get the job done, but on one condition. The ship filled to the brim with red sand must be left untouched, if he did so - she would pay him 10% net worth of its contents as a thanks - part two of the payment, part one was the intel he received. Gilvert knew it was not a request, as “kind” as she stated it, he had already accepted by receiving the intel from her, the payment was merely a bonus on something he now didn’t have a choice in doing. The entire process has been mentally overwhelming, the constant barrage of new information and adaptations he had to make in order to do his job properly and effectively, it took its toll. Eventually Gilvert got to the private hangar that this Krogan warlord had access too, docked into an airlock was the cargo ship, which was currently being stocked with the substance red sand, it was nearly fully stocked now so time was of the essence. It was as he looked through his scope; over 300 meters away from his target that it happened. It was like a bolt of lightning flashed behind his eyes, his first psychotic episode was especially traumatic for Gilvert due to the fact that they have eidetic memory which allows them to remember almost everything in extremely vivid detail, however when there’s a black patch, when there’s nothing over a period of time - that is one of the most worrying things a Drell can undergo- to always know what you’ve done in your past, and then there’s just a break in that clarity, where he knows he killed over 60 innocent dock workers. That realisation traumatised him beyond repair, the aspiring Chemical scientist that was Gilvert is gone, memories of that time seem like they’re of another person now. It's cause is not certain as the mind cannot be really understood - however Gilvert felt a hostile presence from Omega from the moment he stepped onto this gods forsaken station, it was oppressive and overbearing, its quite possible that this was the trigger, landing into a place full of hostile, or potentially hostile entities - his training made him think of that as all assassins do, everyone is a potential threat, they can cause a discovery or try to be a hero - get in the way, so many things the average person can do to ruin an assassin and in turn, their life; the fact that this place disgusted him too, did not help the people here- pathetic all of them, scum of the galaxy, they were a taint. How could perfection ever exist if such a glaring imperfection such as Omega exist? He was an artist, he needed his work to be perfect, it was this line of thinking that began him to traipse slowly down a decline which inevitably broke him, or fixed him depending on your views - he struggles to draw the line between the real him, is the artist the real him - or is it the mercenary? During this episode, which last just over 46 minutes, Gilvert had managed to flawlessly infiltrate the dock and tactically place 75% of his explosive ordnance around the port, as well as the specially modified bomb designed for the transport vessel. Moved to a safe distance, executed his target with one shot from his sniper rifle, and detonated the explosives - the sheer force made the station rattle slightly - the ship which was outside of the actual station itself survived; in his episode he seen no need to destroy it. But he knows how he felt after he came to about 3 miles away from the place that he had just destroyed, he felt elated, he knew that but moments ago he had made something great, he had begun work on a masterpiece that he would inevitably obsess over for the rest of his life. He also knew, that something had gone terribly wrong, two sides of his mind conflicted, spared all the way back to Afterlife. When he got to the Batarian who was at the stair case he just said with a look surprise on his face “Shit, I know keeping Aria happy with your work is a good idea, but you clearly wanted to impress the boss on your first day huh? Keep it up killer, you might make a good thing here.” He gestured upwards indicating he could go up. Aria ended up somewhat scolding him in a similar way a mother scolds a child for taking the last cookie, she wasn’t entirely bothered about how he executed the job, he had still made sure she got her cargo and for that she was happy. But he had proved to be reckless, next time things may not go as well, was the gist of what she said to him - in turn she transferred a large sum of credits to his account and also went on to say that the cargo ship “was destroyed in the explosion” or at least that’s what the news will say, meaning that in turn he had still fulfilled the task for the Hanar. Not that they would be happy about his methods. Before he left to face the music however, Aria said that if he needed work, her door was open to him. That was exactly what he needed for when he went back to Kahje, he almost instantly faced a tribunal for his actions, despite the fact that he had completed his task, he had done so with a complete disregard to innocent life in the process - Gilvert didn’t even try and defend his actions as he himself was still warring over them, he felt as if he had done the right thing, but ultimately knew he had done something bad- as a result Gilvert was exiled from Kahje, he was to leave the planet tomorrow with what he already had on his person, and never to come back; he wasn't even allowed to see his family or friends. This hallmark of his life, was probably the most significant out of all others we will have, it set the pace for him, that path he would now walk, everything from here on out was defined by this moment. After he made his way back to Omega, and got in touch with Aria once again, she gave him the location of a merc group that worked for on occasion; turns out they were in need for someone just like him after their last demolitions man stepped on his own mine. Life as a mercenary - Year 2161- 2186 Despite everything that had happened, this merc group took him in with no reservations, they were a 6 man squad, now 7 with his addition. The leader was a Krogan warlord, a literal juggernaut of flesh and armour The second in command at that time was a Salarian engineer, adept in hacking and disruption of enemy systems A batarian vanguard, proficient with biotics and; oddly, extremely laid back. Two turians, neither like the other, one was biotic and the other was a sniper. And finally an asari - ex-commando The Krogan took a liking to Gilvert very quickly, after he heard the space port incident was his doing he stated that they were going to get on very well with each other if he kept up the work like that. The group was an effective one, highly skilled and very capable; the number of missions they took had them head to the likes of Tuchunka, Ilum, the dark streets of the Citadel but mainly they operated in the traverse and terminus systems - from the Ismar frontier to the Hades nexus. It was during one specific mission that he acquired one of the newly designed M-97 Widowmakers, which had been tinkered with for greater suitability for use by a single user, Gilvert ended up sinking over 300,000 credits in modifications and updates to keep weapon always one step ahead of any other sniper rifle in circulation. During these years Gilvert became very familiar with Omega and its filthy streets, he also got very well acquainted with Aria T’loak; it wasn’t uncommon to find him, on occasion, and assuming she wasn’t attending any business, with her in afterlife - more often that not it lead to a job for the merc band, but it helped that she liked him, in a way. His time on Omega also lead him to meet another Drell, in 2171; his name -Thane Krios. He had heard from a few whispers back on Khaje that this was one of the most successful assassins the Hanar had at their disposal, and Krios too knew who he was, the disgraced assassin that was exiled, they had a somewhat cold feeling talk with one another and parted ways, Thane was not fond of Gilvert, that much was certain. The mercenaries memories - Year 2161- 2186 (i’ll add to these as the roleplay progresses, these are specific mission he has undertaken, and he’ll recall in memories or in telling stories to others. The Battle for Earth: Year 2186 The merc band that Gilvert was apart of ultimately ended up fioghting on Earth itself for the fianl battle against the reapers, after they and various other merc groups aided Aria and Shepard remove Cereberus from Omega, they were hired and sent to Earth for the final battle, where upon their numbers were halved by the end of it, Only the Krogan warlord, himself and the asari commando remained- it’s fair to say that there already tight bonds were made tighter after this battle. Despite all the odds, Gilvert managed to get through the entire battle without a single episode occurring, which is very happy about, their frequency has been increasing and that was one battle, he did not want to forget or miss remembering. After the Battle was over, the merc group, which has been named “Heroic outcasts” by their leader given their role during the Reaper invasion, they aided in the reconstruction of London and took the time to have a break from all the fighting and killing, it was a well-paid, well fed endeavour as well as good for their ranks, of which they easily replenished with some truly incredible outcasts, perfect for their merry little merc band. Things were looking up, but it would soon be time to get a move on. Psyche Profile: The psyche profile of Gilvert is slightly worrying, it’s progressing into something that shows signs of psychosis, sometimes in the heat of battle he can begin to lose grasp of reality making his actions erratic and strange, he begins to talk as if the world were a tapestry and his hands hold the only brush that can paint it’s dull blank canvas: in reds, blues, purples and greens, every death signifies a step closer to the completion of this masterpiece, whilst he’s going through a psychotic episode he can still tell the difference between friend and foe, for now at least, in his addled mind he perceives friendlies as people whom contain the wrong colour for his work, and as such, there is no use in killing them as they would ruin his tapestry, this can lead him to protect certain people with ruthlessness, they must survive, as they would mar his work. This side of him does not show often though, although as time passes its frequency will increase and the length of each episode. Otherwise this drell is a bit of a wiseguy, he will be picky and is oft sarcastic, and takes delight in the strangest of things, especially when he nails one of the enemy with one his many explosives, the cain mines being the crescendo of his symphony of death. Overall this Drell is disturbed, but nevertheless an oddly reliable and exceptionally capable killer and explosives expert, just expect a mess when he finishes a job. "Yeah that was one hell of an operation, should have seen Giles when the artist came out... We get asked alot if that side of him is a liability, fuck that nonsense - let me tell you guys a story of how the artist makes our job 10x more fun, and 10x easier!" Virtak had successfully entrapped his audience around the table, a number of patrons in one of the many bars on the Citadel - the group had been taking some time off and spending some of their hard earned credits, and Virtak being himself refuses to buy his own drinks, and gets them via storytelling. Oddly successful at it too. "So... it begins when we..." Virtak began a large vulpine smile on his lips. -At an undisclosed system in the Traverse- Year:2181 The Mercenary band had finally made it after traipsing half way across the galaxy chasing one goddamned ship, it had managed to land on one of them many numerous seemingly dis-interesting planets that scattered hundreds of systems throughout the galaxy, perfect place for those whom don't want to be seen doing what they do. "What's the info we have on this piece of rocky shit?" Virtak asked their pilot; the Turian in the cockpit replied with "Nothing interesting about it in any files or records, its orbiting a G class star at around 9.2 Au, barely got any atmosphere, but what it does have contains trace amounts of methane and nitrogen, means if you're outside you gotta wear a helmet; surface is cold as fuck too, -134 Celsius, I don't recommend going for a stroll; get in, kill them all, get out." All's the pilot got in response was a growl as Virtak lumbered off to assemble the crew. Within 10 minutes they were all outfitted and ready to go. Their landing was fairly smooth, it appeared that the enemy knew they were being chased and offloaded their cargo as swiftly as possible before getting inside the bunker that stood before the 7 mercs; Giles had been off long before arriving on the cold rock that was this planet, and no amount of medication that he took was making him feel any better, everyone knew what this meant, and that meant Giles himself. After the airlock was hacked open the mercs moved in and waited for depressurisation before removing their helmets, the first room they entered had been cleared mostly of clutter but its design offered a fair bit on what the rest of the place would be like. It was a recent construction and clearly a very expensive build, this place was a veritable bunker designed to survive bombardment, the naturally hard surface outside helped as well, clearly they were dealing with one paranoid fucker. As they prepped to siege the next room - since Giles' recon mine outlined several hostile entities inside, it was then the episode started. The Artist awakens! "NO! THIS CANVAS! IT'S. SO. DULL! PLACID AND DEPRIVED, IT NEEDS COLOUR, IT NEEDS A BREATH OF LIFE IN ITS SOULLESS HUSK OF A CORPSE: I MUST, I NEED, I WILL GIVE IT LIFE! I WILL PAINT IT WITH CRIMSON REDS, BOLD BLUES, STARTLING PURPLES AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COLOUR OF THEM ALL! IN VERDANT GREENS!" The Artist stood, in front of him stood his audience, they always stood and observed his show's they were loyal, they respected his work they cheered when he began his work, they wept tears of joy when they seen him place his brush down when the work had been completed and above all the always returned to watch him perform again, they had beautiful colours in them, they'd make a fine painting, but he enjoyed admirers of his work - alas what is the point of art if there is none to admire its beauty? The big one spoke "Giles, blow the door, its time to to get to work." Ugh, his voice was so crude, it hurt his ears to listen to it, but he spoke of something that mattered greatly the performance was to begin, the curtains were in front of him, the only colour in this world that he in stood a shocking veil of velvet red curtains, and on it was one of his brushes, something he used to splash many a colour across a large area of the canvas, in his hand there lied the magical ability to commence the show, to draw back the curtains and begin his show, his performance of perfection, his symphony of death, so much paint and colour lied ahead of him, and he most make them pour it free. His hands shook with anticipation, a mad smile covered his face, his eyes wild with excitement. "It's time to begin the performance! This, will be my greatest work of art as of yet!" And as he finished his sentence he blew the door of its hydrolic locks and hinges, a tonne of metal flew free from its hinges and crashed off a pillar within the room behind it, his audience moved forward to take their seats, he stopped to take in a large gulp of air, and drew his most prized instrument, this brush of his, it was unique in that it was capable of creating the best colours, nothing - no other instrument did he ever have at his disposal create the same dark and deep colours as this did, he caressed its smooth surface and cool metal as it began its tune of unlocking, it was now truly an instrument of which he would sow the seeds of death, and with one stroke reap its harvest. He moved swiftly, moving onto the stage and within mere seconds clocked his first target, setting up his instrument of beauty he peered closer at it through the scope, this target, large and unsightly was its exterior but insie he knew, it contained that precious colour that he needed for his first stroke - an Azure blue, a perfect rendition of the skies of Khaje. This colour, he needed it, he must use IT, it was time to dip his brush in the paint, and begin the work of a master. He pulled the trigger back, it giving its master no resistance as he did so, it begged to be pulled back as both he and his instrument wanted the same thing. And the Choir began their hymn, the barrel shook as their voices pierced the heavens and the projectile was unleashed from its captivity. It blazed through the air, and as the choir hit its crescendo the bullet pierced through its target spilling forth in large quantities life's most precious liquid. Giles' eyes watered at the sight, it was the very incarnation of perfection, the first kill, the first stroke of the brush it always moved him the most, joy bloomed in his fragile heart and he buried the memory deep inside him, with all of the others, every other first stroke he had made. The painting had begun, the performance in full swing his audience begging for more. He would have to continue, he had to to ensure that they were sated; his work was in high demand and he would gleefully fulfil that demand. Giles danced around the room, with every step he sowed further seeds of his perfection, spilling more and more essence of life that painted this tawdry setting. His work was getting more and more complete, every step that dawned closer to the finish of this artwork made his eyes swell with tears of pain and sorrow, but equally his lust for more increased, he wanted nothing more to see the end result of his work to see the perfection of his art and the mastery of his strokes. For every stroke on this painting meant it was always one step closer to the next painting he would make. As his performance drew to a close he his from the crowds eyes, concealing himself! One of the beings in front of him held that alluring Crimson red that he loved - he used one of his other tools for this one, activating a cain mine he placed it on his target before revolving around with incredible speed and unleashing a powerful kick into its chest, sending t flying over towards another person whom held a dark but soothing light green. The explosion that ensued joined their colours together and splattered them around the area, truly outstanding, the perfect merging of them blossomed into a cascade of colour; it was like the flowers in Thessia coming into bloom. There only lied one last are he needed to paint, and only one person held the final colour, a navy blue, it would complement his work nicely and add the perfect finishing touch. Leaping to a piece of cover he prepared his main instrument of artistry and executed a perfect shot, it punched through a piece of the theatre and into the head, exploding to release voluminous amounts of paint. Giles placed his weapon on his back, swivelling on his right foot as he did so, and falling to on knee he raised his hands to the heavens, outstretched as if to hold the gods themselves, and with a voice filled with joy he stated to his audience. "My work is complete! Truly my best work to date, its magnificent colours blend perfectly together, there isn't so much as a single blemish, upon its once pale canvas; I have restored it to life! I have bestowed upon it the greatest gift any can be given..." PERFECTION! Specialty: Gilvert would shame some of the most prominent STG explosives experts, this man is truly gifted with that art of explosions, he looks at the work of others with disdain and contempt, mere children trying to grasp at the concept that only a master can truly understand, this is his art, his passion! He can rig up most explosives as well as use volatile equipment to his advantage to make almost homemade bombs, his knowledge in chemistry is expansive and is certainly on par with scientists in that field of study. Despite his proficiency with explosives he remains an effective sniper and can hit targets from up to 700 meters away with relative ease, however when he uses his explosive rounds which makes the gun fire slightly erratically, his competency drops to around 450 meters, although the explosion could still nail one of the intended targets. He can adapt to many combat situations given his expansive experience on the front and in general combat - he’s fought pirates, raiders, reapers, cerberus, hostile indigenous life forms, asari commandos, STG operatives, high grade security and mercenaries. The only thing he hasn’t fought is the geth and a thresher maw, Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak (“I love sticking a cain mine on someone's back”) Recon mine(“I can see you! *detonates* Awh, where’d you go?”) Cain mine(“These are my babies, wanna hold them? They don’t bite.”) Explosive rounds(“Turns my rifle into a Rocket launcher?! Give me 50!”) Lift grenades(“Can’t blow up the cover? Get those cowards up from behind it!”) Multi-Frag grenades (“Why have one grenade when you can have several?!??!?”) Equipment and Resources: M-98 Widowmaker X-II - Heavily modified variant of the M-98 Widowmaker, it’s got a 50% longer barrel than its smaller brother which both increases its already substantial weight and moving instability meaning that this rifle requires to be set-up prior to firing, it can still be utilised effectively by a skilled and well organised sniper, but inevitably this weapons purpose is to deal maximum damage in a single bullet, Krogan and heavily armoured targets are the favourites for this weapon - typically a Drell wouldn't be able to wield it due its absurd recoil and extremely damaging recoil at that; the fact that he acquired it in an already modified state, clearly being redesigned to allow non-synthetic races, or anyone with substantial modifications to fire this gun without the worry of losing an arm. It wasn't usable by Gilvert until 2180, when sufficient modifactions had allowed it to be fired - painfully mind, but still able to be fired by him. Other than its massively reduced accuracy and increased recoil (this is with heavy modification into recoil dampers as well) the rifle is extremely powerful, it’s got one round per thermal clip and has a long reload time as well as overheating problems since there’s no current clip in circulation that can properly cool this gun, it can only be fired twice per minute at the very most lest the frame start to overheat and fracture. Designed to eliminate vehicles, heavily armoured targets, multiple foes with a single bullet, or busting through a bunker - its penetration value is exceedingly high; the explosive rounds have been modified to detonate upon secondary collision, meaning it can retain its capability to pierce through targets, and then detonate when it comes into contact with something else: e.g: Bullet pierces through a brick wall, hits a poor volus and then blows up. M-21 Locust submachine gun - due to its already high level accuracy the gun has been modified to favour damage and a larger thermal clip capacity. A satchel filled with explosive templates: 25 grenade templates, and 50 mine templates. Templates are literally just an empty mine or grenade shell, meaning that they need to be “coded” with their designated primers via omni-tool, this means that templates are safe to carry around without fear of them accidently blowing up on your person, and to stop Gilvert from throwing every explosive he has at once at people. The satchel also contains his homemade medication to lower the chances of him having an episode, its a mixture of red sand and various other drugs. A modified Savant Omnitool - The omni-tool is designed to work with the plethora of explosives that Gilvert has access to, it can code in the necessary primers to activate the templates, priming them when they are launched, or thrown. He can switch primers by accessing his omnitool quickly in battle. Also the omni tool can launch grenades and mine templates up to 100 meters away, or alternatively eject them for manual placement, grenades are partially primed when thrown, but armed as soon as they come into contact with an object - mines are only activated the moment they latch onto a surface, and will only be able to detonate a second after priming, they can be remotely detonated via omnitool from up to 250 meters away, if the user exceeds this distance they automatically detonate cain mines are the exception, they detonate when someone passes the laser tripwire, but lose the ability to be detonated by trigger from the user. No armour, but a powerful kinetic barrier keeps old Gilvert safe from harm. Sample Post: Year -2178 “Why don’t we get Giles to blow the door?” The large Krogan battlemaster, and their leader stated in an almost monotone growl - he was starting to get impatient now. The group of them had been waiting outside of the facilities main doors for at least 30 minutes now. The mention of explosives elicited a gleeful smile from Gilvert, with a practised hand, began sifting through his satchel of various grenades and mines. “When you say blow up the door, how blown up do you want it? I can get the door to fly inwards and crush whoever’s standing behind it? That’d be pretty fun.” But before the Krogan could reply the Salarian technician shot the option down in flames “I’m nearly done, so don't give the drell ideas Virtak - we are breaking into a facility to one of biggest weapon and technology producers in the galaxy, you are aware of this right?” The Salarian almost spat the sentence out, speaking at the speed of light as most Salarians did, Gilvert was surprised the translator in his Omnitool could keep up with them at times. The Krogan responded to the Salarians outburst with a low growl before saying “Yeah yeah, we are here for the “supposed” cure to Keprals syndrome, that jelly offered a lot of credits for this so I’m buying the drinks if things go well, hell it even said you could go back to Kahje if you do this Giles; you know because blowing up hundreds of people when you were tasked to kill one guy is a bit overkill? Pah, goddamn soft blobs they are, a bit of collateral damage never hurt anyone.” The 7 of them Mercs were all stood outside the heavy metal doors to a Hahne Kedar corperation facility, where their client; a very prominent Hanar on Kahje has said the cure to Keprals syndrome is either in works, or actually is here. The reward for completing the contract was 1,000,000 credits, which split between the 7 of them meant one hell of a pay day - they could all take a good bit of time off at the citadel with this money. It was highly secure, and heavily guarded. Thankfully though, things had gone pretty well thus far, they had managed to get to the planet undetected thanks to a special ship provided by the client, and their Salarian engineer - whom has second in charge, had also hacked into their security without being detected, meaning that for a while they had the jump on the guards. Gilvert had already rigged up their comms dish with explosives, so they couldn't send a distress signal out once they started their assault. This would be a good operation, everyone here could feel it. "Got it! get ready you lot, time to clock in and get a hard days work done." Their Salarian engineer had done it, took him a bit long, maybe he was slowing down in his old age. The Krogan warlord gave a triumphant laugh and drew his shotgun - "Good job, Seryt - Giles, when the door opens, lift them up." Ah, the cue he had been waiting for, a lift grenade was already coded and loaded into his Omni-tool, this was standard procedure for their breach and clear. They stood in a line, about a strides length separated one from the next, their guns all locked and pointed at the doorway, on the Salrians mark, he would open the door, and then their days work would begin properly. "3...2...1!" The door opened up, time seemed to slow as the guards stationed inside looked with bewilderment towards the heavily armed crew, they didn't even have time to activate their shields before the grenade collided with a crate and in a flash of blue light sent everything in the room up in the air - suspended there open before them without any defences barring their standard combat suits, they didn't stand a chance - everyone opened fire cutting the guards to ribbons, blue blood painted the air, stuck in the stasis field generated by the grenade, within a few seconds the effect ended, and with multiple thumps and crashes their lifeless bodies crumpled on the floor, blood splattered across it. Their Asari - Deiynia, shook her head "Sometimes, this group makes the commandos look like children, if we keep this performance up we won't even have to use medi-gel." "Yeah, good clear guys, lets get inside quickly - and Giles, blow the comms tower." The Virtak stated as he lumbered towards the now open doors. Without hesitation Gilvert pressed the detonate button on his Omni-tool, the resounding explosion which seemed to shake the whole facility was the only answer the group needed to get inside and get to work. After the doors had been closed by Seryt, he made his way to the console in the guard station, kicking a dead Turian out of the way as he did, the rest of them milled about and kept an eye out in case any reinforcements came. "Right, the labs are at the far end of the facility, if we turn left out of the northern corridor we will get there in about 10 minutes, assuming we meet little or no resistance..." The sentence was met with multiple snorts of derision and disbelief and the Turian sniper - Quintus laughed before saying "So basically it's gunna be a thirty minute journey and we kill about 50 guards and mechs - you know how it is, it's never bloody simple." Seryt merely sighed before heading towards the corridor to their destination, the rest of them fell in and began their careful advancement forward, they done it in stages, a few moved at once whilst they were covered by the back-line, Quintus and Gilvert were always last as they could provide the best support with their snipers if they were at the back. As they moved forward the odd noise of a Cain mine being shot at a wall could be heard - they wouldn't be flanked, that's for damn sure. They worked like clockwork, when they reached another door, Gilvert moved to the front and tossed in a lift grenade, then Deiynia would detonate it with biotic explosion, Virtak moved in to tank any potshots or stragglers who managed to have the shields up and they would all be killed by the subsequent barrage of gun fire from the merc band. Things were going smoothly, too smoothly. Either they were doing everything right, or something was off. This continued for the next 5 minutes, 3 rooms, with mixed personnel, some doing their typical work and guards just doing their jobs - cut down in a swath of gunfire, eventually Virtak stopped them, just as they cleared out the 4th room. "Somethings not right... Septimus, go back the way we came and close the door, then shoot your gun, just outside it." It was a good shout, odd to see a Krogan with actual intelligence, sound proofing would explain a lot, and they force locked any alternate path into rooms they had cleared barring the path they took, which was laden with mines. After he left and the doors closed, they heard nothing - a design choice was the only thing making this go as smooth as it was going, they all laughed when Septimus came back through, and kept going as they were. At last when they reached the end, the final room before their destination, they finally hit a snag- it was a room that had YMIR mecs being built, these were experimental peices of machines that the company had just announced last year, not only that but they had one of them unpacked, there were several engineers and at least a full compliment of guards in this room - the room they needed to get to was just past this one. They all took defensive positions, in a cone behind various pieces of cover, and it was up to Gilvert to begin the attack, he was focusing his sniper on the YMIR mecs head, as well as having a recon mine on call, ready to be fired straight at the things chest. He fired the mine, and landed exactly where he planned it to, which caused the near by guards to look in confusion at it, moving closer as they did - and with a click it exploded, doing little overall to the mech itself but killing both guards instantly as parts of their once whole bodies scattered haphazardly around the room, painting it in shades of blue. The YMRI mech gave a mechanical scream before issuing an alert in its synthesised voice HOSTILE ENTITIES SPOTTED, OPENING FIRE." It's statement was met in kind by the mercs as they unleashed a barrage of fire at the mech, it didn't last long, its shields and armour had already been partially damaged by the Recon mine, and it being hit all at once by the group overwhelmed it- but what happened next caught them all off guard, Quintus managed to blow its head off with a well placed sniper shot after its armour had been whittled down - the group though that was the end of it, but a increasingly rapid beeping commenced, it's core began to glisten white with heat, the metal around it corroding and melting to the floor, you could feel it on your flesh if it was exposed, the order to take cover didn't have to be said, you were an idiot if you didn't know what was going to happen, in a blinding flash of light and a massive explosion, pieces of corroded shrapnel and metal flew around the room, the production line that has many more of these being constructed was tore apart and brought everything to a halt - the sprinkler system kicked in and a blaring alarm kicked off. After they stepped up from behind their cover, they had realised that the guards had either ran for it, or been killed by the blast. "Shit, didn't expect that." Was all Virtak could say, the rest of them merely nodded or done nothing, wishing now to get this job over and done with, lest more of those mechs get here. When they got to the final room, they weren't disappointed, within it lied the cure, at least partially. It was designed to stop rather than actually cure it, meaning that subsequent injections of it were needed, it was clearly made to make credits. This made Virtak spit with rage - he was happy he could do this for both Gilvert, and the Drell, for he knew that one day the same may happen for the Krogan when it came to the Genophage. "Fucking scum! Is credits the only thing that matters?!" The job when it came was taken for both its high pay day and its purpose, inevitably they all knew that even if the pay was low for this job, they would have took it regardless given its nature and the gravity of it. Notes Developing psychosis, episodes are rare but erratic, typically they door occur in a firefight, or in the preparation stages to an engagement, that does not mean they can’t occur at any time though. Is trying his utmost to get his hands on the M-920 Cain, however he has been banned from acquiring the weapon via the blackmarket on Omega, orders from Aria T’loak herself; she wants to keep her station intact. Since the Cerberus assault on Omega, he has been trying alternate markets to get access to one. Still retains contact with his old Merc group, they can provide assistance if the pay is right. Has the coordinates to multiple equipment and weapons stockpiles dotted around the traverse - only 4 out of the original 13 still have sensors active and articulate that the stash is still there in it’s entirety, the others could have been destroyed, raided, or simply be anomalous. Holds the supposed cure to Keprals syndrome, as well as a holo-disk contain over 3,000 pages of information on the condition and the cure, however in it’s current form it does not cure the condition entirely merely prevents advancement, if a drug company got their hands on this they’d make billions in credits, he is currently attempting to find a way to make the cure a full one, instead of allowing it to be used for money. Isn’t addicted to Red sand, but is reliant on it.

La situation est au moins stable pour l'instant. Salissa rencontre rapidement Rykarn à travers la fumée et bientôt leur spectre turien résident est venu aussi, coupant les défenses sur le chemin de et de. C'était bien. L'humaine elle-même a rapidement travaillé sur les défenses qui étaient là. Leurs carcasses mécaniques étaient plutôt bien adaptées pour poinçonner des sacs! Elle a utilisé son bouclier omni d'une manière semblable à la façon dont Aegon utilisait ses lames. Certes, il y avait une différence distincte dans les méthodes de combat consistant en boucliers que pour les épées. Pour l'un, le bouclier était une arme fortement contondante. Avec chaque balançoire et chaque bouffée sur leur chemin loin de l'effondrement, des bruits de croquants et de craquements pouvaient être entendus de chacune de ses cibles. Soudain, alors qu'ils revenaient presque à la ligne de tir, elle entendit le turian crier quelque chose au sujet de la drell à faire et n'ayant pas d'autres choix en la matière, elle sauta rapidement à la couverture de clôture qui n'était même pas vraiment une couverture complète, juste un roc qui ne la couvrait pas complètement, heureusement son bouclier omni fournissait le reste de la protection. Le reste des mines a explosé en force. Les mandrins de béton ont été jetés partout comme s'ils avaient été tirés à partir de canons. Salissa les entendit dans la roche qu'elle couvrit en partie derrière et dans son bouclier omni. Les mandrins de béton se cassaient surtout en morceaux, mais pas sans fissures qui se formaient dans les couches extérieures de son bouclier omni. Les couches extérieures et même les couches moyennes! Il semble que les anciennes escapades l'aient affaiblie. Maintenant qu'elle a couru un moment de pensée, elle s'est souvenu que ça a été un bon moment depuis qu'elle a eu le temps de prendre soin de son équipement correctement. Il semblait toujours y avoir quelque chose à faire, des ordres de compléter de l'alliance qu'elle avait à peine le temps de laisser! Elle espérait juste que le bouclier se maintiendrait pour le moment. Alors que les morceaux de béton volant s'installaient, l'un des derniers qui a touché son bouclier s'est détaché d'un morceau du dessus. Un shard s'envola alors au-dessus de son visage, se grattant dans le champ de barrière d'énergie créé par son armure. Aucun dommage n'a été fait dans l'ensemble, mais c'était vraiment taxant sur l'énergie de l'armure. Finalement, les éclats volants étaient terminés, alors elle sauta aux jambes, seulement pour voir Giles plus ou moins enterrée et Ellis sauvée par Vella quelques instants plus tard. Tout allait bien, mais la drell n'avait pas l'air en forme. Salissa a vu que l'autre krogan, Skarr était déjà par la drell avec l'intention possible d'aider. Il aurait besoin de plus qu'une main dans ce... » Salissa a déclaré, son bouclier omni s'évanouissant comme elle a presque glissé sur le sol à ses genoux.« Tenez-le là, c'est gona blessé, mais ne peut pas administrer de medigel avec vous sous les décombres... » Elle a déclaré, yanking la drell par le col, avant avec sa main de l'ordre commençant à administrer la substance curative à ses blessures avec la plus grande hâte. Elle a demandé avec un sourire, son medigel n'était pas le genre spécialisé qui avait de grands taux d'absorption spécialement pour les espèces aquatiques, mais il le ferait dans la pincée leur situation était. Mais bon sang, ce n'était pas aussi étrangement amusant.

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

Dépensez votre prochaine permission sur Tuchanka et choisissez un combat avec tous ceux que vous voyez. Tu apprendras assez vite. "Trié une fois, n'aimait pas les boissons!" Vella a répondu avec un léger ronflement alors qu'elle suivait la petite escouade qui gardait maintenant le Krogan battu à nouveau dans la ligne de tir amicale. Comme ils atteignaient l'abri relatif de la couverture, Vella donnerait à Rykarn une tape rapide sur le dos; qu'elle n'était même pas sûre s'il pouvait se sentir vu son armure excessive, l'armure naturelle et le champ de vision limité qui venait d'être un réservoir intuition-arrière; et rapidement tourné autour. "Il semble que le nachspiel soit allumé. Ne bougez pas, on va dégager cette apocalypse zombie de grade b! » Et avec cela, Vella s'était déjà précipitée vers l'avant de la ligne de tir; son fusil de combat de l'Apôtre s'était immédiatement aligné et prêt, avant de tirer un rayon de lumière éclatant et cristalline qui a tourné l'épaule d'une hutte montante en cendres; avant que Vella ne corrige rapidement son but et n'a procédé à la vaporisation de sa poitrine! "Maintenant, je deviens négligent!" Elle s'exhorta tranquillement en continuant à tirer, en acquérant rapidement de nouvelles cibles, en les éliminant et en passant déjà aux prochaines! Elle pouvait sentir comment l'intérieur de son costume se sentait comme une jungle humide, pleine de sueur, mais elle ne se souvenait que d'une des premières leçons qu'elle a apprises au cours de son entraînement il y a plus de cent ans : Plus tu transpires, moins tu saignes! Elle a pris un autre coup. Puis un autre coup. C'est alors qu'elle a commencé à se rendre compte que le nombre de défenses entrantes était de plus en plus petit. C'était... déconcertant, de ne pas avoir un de ces cadavres fantomatiques à yeux bleus qui vous supportaient à chaque seconde, comme il y a quelques secondes. Mais avec le recul, quand vous aviez une ligne de tir complète de tueurs professionnels, engagé des fusils, des spectres, des soldats d'élite et des psychopathes; tous armés jusqu'aux dents; tirant continuellement sur les pas plus d'une centaine de défenses qui étaient encore debout dehors quand l'entrée avait été effondrée, il était logique qu'ils allaient bientôt manquer de fourrage! Pourtant, ses pensées de devenir trop facile seraient soudainement interrompues alors qu'elle se déplaçait à gauche de la ligne, et soudainement vu: "Quoi? ... pas encore!" "Je suis infirme. Besoin... d'aide... Elle a immédiatement reconnu le tas de métal battu, massacré mais toujours inébranlable, à quelques mètres de la ligne qui était Ellis, sans bouger! La plupart des défenses semblaient trop concentrées sur la ligne de tir les fusillant vers le bas pour remarquer le repas lourdement en conserve qui se trouvait à côté d'eux alors qu'ils couraient tous devant lui; c'était, à l'exception de la masse bulbeuse, grotesque d'une unité de cannibale qui sortait de la poussière derrière Ellis, entourée d'une armure noire et chitineuse couvrant sa masse de chair morte et d'implants de moissonneuse, et avec cinq yeux éclatants et affreux regardant maintenant l'Ellis sans défense avec un intérêt morbide! En un instant, des souvenirs éclatèrent dans l'esprit de Vella! Souvenirs d'une ruelle démolie sous la pluie et l'obscurité, une tour d'argent géante à moitié renversée au-dessus; éclairs rouges d'armes à travers le champ agité; les mêmes cinq yeux brillants; et un cri: "Calisto!" Après ce qui s'était ressenti comme toute une éternité, pourtant en vérité n'a été rien de plus que le clin d'œil ; les yeux de Vella ont enfin ouvert à nouveau, une teinte de noir reculant d'eux alors qu'elle se concentrait d'abord sur Ellis, puis sur le Cannibale... "... oh non, tu ne le fais pas!" En un coup de vitesse, elle sauta de sa couverture, se chargeant à travers le champ avec un fusil tenu haut alors qu'elle mettait presque instantanément deux autres défenses alors qu'elle fermait rapidement sur le Cannibale! Alors que la techno-monstruosité grotesque se profilait au-dessus de la pile cassée qui était Ellis, elle regardait vers le haut, reconnaissant la figure de charge comme Vella a tiré trois autres coups de feu dirigés droit dessus! La première poutre d'argent a frappé sa coquille chitineuse, s'écroulant une petite section de celle-ci, mais n'ayant pas pénétré. Une autre a frappé une autre couche d'armure chitineuse, la désintégrant mais brûlant à peine la masse sombre et charnue derrière. Le troisième coup a frappé son quatrième oeil, le détruisant et laissant un grand trou dans sa tête; mais il s'est simplement replié, le Cannibal debout toujours debout comme une paire de mains griffées, sa mare brillante s'ouvrant large comme il l'a laissé sortir un écho sifflant rire! Avant qu'elle ne puisse tirer un autre coup de feu, son arme laissa sortir un bip familier mais très maudit; signalant qu'il avait surchauffé! Avec son arme, Vella l'a simplement jeté à l'écart, et à la place s'est approchée avec son bras; chargeant vers l'avant avec un cri furieux! Le cannibale s'est envolé avec ses griffes vicieuses, sans phase par l'attaquant entrant, jusqu'à ce que la lumière bleue et biotique familière encercle le poing de Vella alors qu'elle l'apporte directement dans les nombreux yeux du cannibale! Avec la haine pure et la rage alimentant directement sa biotique, le punch était assez puissant pour enterrer la tête du cannibale directement dans son propre corps, avant de déchirer tout son torse supérieur en deux dans une abominable douche de gore comme les restes du cannibale ont été soufflés dans les ruines de l'entrée avec la force d'un boulet de canon! Vella s'y tenait un moment, pantant derrière son casque comme ses yeux scannés pour d'autres hostiles; bien que trouvé la plupart des défenses déjà mortes ou étant en train d'être abattues en morceaux. Pendant un moment, elle regarda Ellis, se déplaçant comme si un autre esprit avait complètement repris son corps! C'était, jusqu'à ce qu'elle secoue la tête et laisse sortir un rire fatigué, semblant soudainement revenir à la normale alors qu'elle activait son omni-outil. "J'ai peur que ça devienne une habitude, Ellis." Elle a dit avec un sourire, commencer à faire un débogage sur les systèmes de la combinaison d'Ellis. Bien qu'après un rapide coup d'œil sur les retours, elle hésita soudainement, avant d'activer son équipe-comm. "Quelle est la durée d'une évacuation médicale?"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Si tu as demandé à Skarr, les gens ont été trop pliés par-dessus les petites choses. Oui, il n'était pas sans coeur. Il aurait préféré que les humains éclosent aient vécu. Il a ressenti autant de regrets que n'importe qui. La différence, c'est qu'il ne s'y est pas attardé. Il avait vu exploser des navires de transport, des navires qu'il aurait pu sauver s'il était le plus petit plus rapide. Il a vu les corps filtrer hors de la coque rompue, condamné à flotter dans les recoins de l'espace. Si tu laisses ce truc t'arriver, tu allais passer un mauvais moment. Il était bon de savoir que la mission était un succès relatif. J'espère qu'il aura bientôt sa première coupe. Il conserverait son argent, mais il ne savait pas combien de temps il pourrait payer pour ses repas avec les banques de cette planète. En plus, il regardait la dernière série d'armes Claymore. Il a décidé de prendre un petit repas, seulement 5 livres de ce que les humains ont appelé le porc. La Terre avait beaucoup de bétail étrange, quoique savoureux. Il n'y a que deux bombes atomiques sur leur sol qui sont restées vivantes. Les seules bêtes proches de Thresher de taille étaient les Elcors qui regardaient les éléphants, et la vie marine appelée 'Whales'. On croirait que beaucoup de créatures de ce monde seraient énormes. Il a rempli un de ses estomacs multiples avec le porc, mais il a trouvé qu'il avait peu d'intérêt à explorer ce bastion de la civilisation. Il aurait dû casser plus qu'il n'aurait voulu payer. Il s'est donc rendu sur la plate-forme, anciennement New Scotland Yard. Salissa était le seul qu'il ait vu. S'il était un Krogan plus jeune, il ferait une blague sur le fait qu'elle n'était que le troisième humain à le « monter », mais comme il venait de le découvrir, il respectait ses prouesses de combat. Elle semblait inutilement dure pour une femme humaine mince. "Bon travail là-bas", lui a-t-il dit.

Name: Raik "Aralakh" Skarr Race: Krogan Class: Battle Master Age: 687 Sex: Male Appearance: While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan. Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory: Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to. He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision. From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later. The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive. It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned. The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do. He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes. Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread. A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title. Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun. At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson. When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand. He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even. He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later. He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders. Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz. He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe. I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile: Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions. Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy. One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty: As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics. However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack. Powers/Skills: Shockwave (Biotic) Biotic Hammer (Biotic) Concussive Shot Frag Grenade Carnage Adrenaline Rush Marksmen Equipment and Resources: M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle M-300 Claymore Shotgun Biotic Hammer Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor Sample Post: 1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.

U N D E R W O R L D K A T A B A S I S Interagir avec:,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson Ce n'est qu'à la fin de sa course désespérée à travers le complexe de Cerberus, qu'Anderson comprit à quel point il avait subi un lourd tribut sur son corps. Il saignait d'une douzaine de plaies où les dents déchiquetées et les clous cassés avaient réussi à gagner dans les écarts vulnérables entre le revêtement de son armure, la combinaison souple en dessous fournissant une défense clairsemée contre ces ennemis déterminés et unis d'esprit. Tout son corps a souffert, des douleurs à la fois aiguës et ternes réverbèrent à travers sa forme, conspirant pour lui rappeler à quel point il avait été stupide, à quel point il était proche de se faire tuer. Le pire des agonies venait de sa cuisse intérieure droite, où il portait une lacération particulièrement horrible. Par un miracle, les artères majeures avaient été laissées intactes, et alors que la blessure saignait – et avait évidemment saigné depuis un certain temps – abondamment, elle ne s'est pas déversée dans une ruée de pompage comme si elle avait été une blessure mortelle. Pourtant, c'était un besoin urgent de traitement, et vu que Katabasis manquait d'un médecin dévoué – une surveillance tactique de sa part et d'Aegon-, il allait devoir s'en occuper lui-même. Il a mi-ran, mi-allégeait son chemin derrière une couverture, espérant que le reste de la force opérationnelle pourrait survivre quelques instants sans lui. Ils semblaient se tenir assez bien, mais tout ce qu'il fallait, c'était une erreur pour que tout s'écroule. Il a rapidement appliqué le gel, grimaçant légèrement lorsque le gel inodore s'est verrouillé sur la plaie, fournissant un joint étanche à l'eau dans les battements d'oreille. Les anesthésiques ont donné un coup de pied rapide cependant, et en quelques secondes, il a déjà senti la douleur soulager légèrement. Il se préparait à se jeter dans la frayeur quand la première série d'explosions sonna. Il avait à peine récupéré du bruit, de la fureur et de la poussière quand le second set a été soufflé. Enseignez-moi à porter une visière au lieu d'un casque qu'il pensait entre les toux, éclaboussures en raison de la valeur des carrières de saleté et de poussière qu'il avait inhalé. Il s'est emparé de l'endroit où la force l'avait jeté de ses pieds et a gentiment mis sa tête sur sa basse couverture, à la recherche de ses alliés. A Husk a été la première chose à émerger du nuage de poussière, ensanglanté et battu, mais toujours très ‘vivant'. Il regardait le tunnel dans une confusion éblouie avant de repérer Anderson. Sans plus penser qu'il s'est jeté dans une charge, des cris et des hurlements, des doigts tendus. Deux autres Husks et un Marauder ont éclaté du smog derrière lui, rejoignant le dash de madcap. Il était complètement hors des thermiques, son corps a encore mal, et il n'était pas sûr juste combien fiable sa jambe serait sous le stress, même avec le medi-gel. Il a forcé un sourire à travers son inquiétude croissante. C'est ce que toutes ces vingt heures par jour de missions d'entraînement de combat à la Villa avaient été pour, n'est-ce pas? Il a enflammé son omniblade, le bord monomoléculaire orange qui craque avec une intention sauvage. Soudain, des coups de feu éclatèrent de derrière lui, le pop familier et la fissure d'un fusil Valkryie, le staccato d'accompagnement de plusieurs M-8 Avengers tirant à l'unisson. Les Husks en face de lui sont tombés, et quelques instants plus tard plusieurs figures de l'armure SA se sont avancées devant lui, se dirigeant vers le nuage de poussière, tirant sur les Husks et fournissant une couverture à l'Équipe spéciale. Anderson se tourna vers leur chef, une montagne d'un homme portant l'insigne N7. Qu'est-ce qui t'a pris si longtemps, Vega? Le nettoyage des Husks a été rapide avec l'aide de Vega et de son équipe. Avant qu'ils ne le sachent, les derniers cadavres de Reaperfied étaient tombés et l'équipe pouvait travailler à sécuriser la zone et à réparer leurs blessures, bien que les blessures les plus graves auraient besoin d'une aide plus professionnelle. Vega expliqua à Anderson que son équipe avait été tournée dans les tunnels labyrinthine, et que ce qui les avait pris si longtemps pour arriver. Mieux vaut tard que jamais. Il a également entendu comment Ethan Sartiel, un biotique de Katabasis qu'Aegon avait recruté tôt mais avait été attaché à l'escouade Vega pour cette mission, avait abandonné ses camarades et forgé en avant, rejoignant la Task Force bien avant l'arrivée des Marines SA. Sartiel avait été mis au banc pour les réinforcments pour un tel mépris de la structure de commandement, de sorte qu'Anderson a imaginé que son collègue Turian aurait quelques mots de choix pour le jeune Biotic. En parlant de mots de choix, il a entendu Salissa affirmer que c'était "fun" sur la terre alors que les Reapers étaient là. Avec un grognement sans mot, il marchait vers si la femme appliquait medi-gel à Giles. Il n'avait jamais entendu un tel manque de respect. Des milliards de personnes avaient perdu la vie pendant les guerres de Reaper, mais elle pensait que c'était amusant? Il n'y avait rien d'étonnant à ce qu'une race génocidaire d'abominations synthétiques envahisse notre planète et dévastatrice notre peuple... Il s'est évanoui, et aurait continué d'avoir une Alliance des Systèmes Marines qui ne s'était pas approchée de lui et a dit que sa présence était demandée par le Major Coats au-dessus du sol. Anderson s'est prosterné à Fortia, ayant pleinement l'intention de continuer à la châtier plus tard, avant de faire signe de sa compréhension. "Ok Katabasis. Ramassez votre équipement et n'importe quelle récupération, puis faites votre chemin à l'envers. Ellis, j'enverrai des ingénieurs pour toi, voir s'ils ne peuvent pas obtenir ton armure fonctionnelle. Le groupe de travail avait lentement fait son chemin jusqu'à la ville proprement dite, émergeant de nouveau dans la faible lumière du soleil londonien de la même porte de terminal de la station Baker Street que beaucoup d'entre eux étaient entrés dans le métro. Ils y rencontrèrent le commandement central des marines de l'Alliance des systèmes qui avaient été chargés de les renforcer. Ces membres de Katabasis qui avaient besoin d'une aide médicale ont été vus par des médecins, tandis qu'Ellis a reçu des réparations de patch par trois ingénieurs, juste assez pour le faire monter sur ses pieds et se déplacer à nouveau. Tibère, Rayes, Rol et leurs prisonniers de Cerberus avaient déjà été escortés au poste de commandement, où les scientifiques avaient été placés en garde à vue de la police militaire de la SA. Anderson était débriefé par Coats, et si quelqu'un prêtait attention, ils seraient en mesure de dire quelque chose était mal par l'expression d'un choc face à face sur le jeune visage Spectres. Après un certain temps, il fit un salut au major, évidemment renvoyé, et s'approcha lentement de la Task Force réunie, la douleur de ses blessures évidentes sur son visage et dans ses mouvements de gingembre. Nous avons fini ici les gens.Son front a été sillonné, et son expression gardée, signes clairs que quelque chose l'ennuyait. Vous avez maintenant vingt-quatre heures pour mettre vos affaires en ordre. Dites au revoir à vos proches, rassemblez vos affaires, réglez des onglets. Après ces vingt-quatre heures, nous voulons vous voir ici.Il s'est arrêté pour appuyer sur quelques boutons sur son omni-outil, et comme il l'a fait, chaque membre de Katabasis a reçu un message privé, détaillant un nouvel ensemble de coordonnées et une série complexe de lettres et de chiffres. Cette adresse est pour un port de navette privé situé sur le toit du poste de police métropolitain, autrefois connu sous le nom de New Scotland Yard. Flash le numéro de série attaché au message à l'équipe de réception et ils vous emmèneront directement au port de la navette, Aegon et moi vous rencontrerons, là pour vous emmener tous à notre centre de commande. Si vous êtes en retard, nous supposerons que vous avez changé d'avis sur l'adhésion à la Task Force, et que vous partez sans vous. Raye, s'il vous plaît envoyez les informations que vous avez recueillies de Cerberus à Aegon et moi. Nous allons vous faire confiance de ne pas fuir la planète sans le faire. » Il est tombé silencieux un moment, regardant ses pieds comme s'il avait plus à dire, mais n'était pas sûr comment le dire. Après un long moment, il a regardé en arrière, et maintenant ses traits ont été mis et ses sourcils ont été rétrécis. Il faut que vous sachiez tous que vous avez fait du bon travail là-bas aujourd'hui. Pas sans défaut, bien sûr, mais vous êtes descendu dans l'obscurité avec un minimum d'informations et vous avez fait le travail. Un travail plus difficile que n'importe qui ne l'avait prédit. Sans notre intervention, qui sait ce que Cerberus aurait fait de ces Husks. Quoi qu'il arrive d'autre, peu importe ce qu'on dit d'autre, on les a arrêtés aujourd'hui. Nous avons sauvé des vies. C'est sur nous. Cependant, vous devez tous savoir que lorsque nous nous sommes effondrés dans ce tunnel, nous avons également sapé les fondations d'un immeuble au-dessus. Toute la structure s'est effondrée, presque instantanément je l'ai dit. Il y avait seize familles qui vivaient dans ce logement. Soixante-treize personnes. Des travaux d'urgence sont en cours et ils ont réussi à sauver vingt-sept civils. Trente-deux autres ont confirmé être sortis quand le bâtiment est tombé. Trois cadavres ont été tirés de l'épave. L'un d'eux était un enfant de moins de sept ans. C'est encore onze personnes qui n'ont pas été prises en compte. Il est tombé dans le silence une fois de plus, mais celui-ci était beaucoup plus court avant de se tourner vers son homologue turois. C'est Aegon. Le Conseil attend notre rapport.Le N7 a abandonné le groupe, en direction d'une navette voisine.

Name: Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson Race: Human Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Jake stands a shade over six feet and two inches tall, and weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds. His physique is athletically toned rather than heavily muscled. He is quietly proud of his body, a pride that he feels he has quite rightly earned considering the time and effort he has put into maintaining it. His posture and bearing is unmistakably military, and he moves with the unconscious confidence of a born fighter. On close inspection one might notice that his right arm seems slightly too long for his body, not to a freakish degree but just enough to bear noting. His skin is a deep mahogany, and along with his dark hair it speaks of an African heritage. His facial features are broad and flat, with a strong chin, wide jaw, and pensive brown eyes – the right one being a shade redder than the left - that sit in deep sockets under a brow that’s slightly too heavy not to look thuggish. His nose shows evidence of multiple breakages and fractures in the past, sitting somewhat crooked now. He wears his hair cropped, though is far less vigilant in shaving his face, usually sporting a short beard. He has three tattoos. The first, an N7 ranking logo on his right pectoral, has been marred slightly by a heavy degree of lattice-like scar tissue. He also has a large lion between his shoulder blades, and a small image of Blasto on his left buttock. That last one was a drunken misadventure that he regretted for weeks’ afterword, usually when he tried to sit down. Backstory: Fatherwas David Anderson, a highly decorated officer with the Systems Alliance. She was a career soldier. His mother lived in London, were he was raised. His parents divorced when he was a child due to his mother feeling that David was more interested in his career than he was in raising a family. Jake joined the SA as soon as he was able. His mother wasn’t impressed with his decision, considering what had happened between her and David, but ultimately didn’t stand in Jakes way. Part of the relief force sent to the aid of Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Part of the force sent on the retaliatory attack against Torfan. Member of Alliance Special Ops Team Delta, running five missions in Terminus Space. It was during this tour of duty that he finally earned the coveted N7 ranking. During the Reaper Wars he served in the N7 Special Ops. Took part in over twenty successful missions. Part of Hammer force. Psyche Profile: Not so long ago Jake was a soldier through and through. A consummately professional warrior possessed of an ice-cool calm, a healthy respect for the chain of command, and a real passion for action. He was he’s fathers son, no mistaking that. However, since the Hammer attack, and his ‘dying’ he feels like something inside him has broken. He no longer feels the same calm he once did, being far more excitable now than he was before. It worries him, Specialty: Jake has experience working with, and leading, teams of mixed races and backgrounds. He developed a knack for delegating duties that best suit an individual’s specific talents or expertise. However, Jake also shows a decidedly hands-off approach to leadership in that once he has got to know an individual and taken their measure, he is happy to leave them to act independently. He’s learnt that sometimes the best thing a leader can do for his team is to give them the space to work. He’s a capable soldier in his own right, fully able of holding the line or charging the enemy himself. After all, he would never ask his men to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. He’s any mans (or womans) equal in a straight firefight, being a respectable shot with both rifles and pistols, and being in possession of truly astoundingly quick reflexes. Powers/Skills: Expert marksman Proficient hand to hand fighter Marine officer training and experience Background and expertise in small unit tactics Full N7 training. A host of contacts within the Systems Alliance Equipment and Resources: N7 Valkyrie Assault Rifle N7 Piranha Shotgun M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol Standard issue service knife Omni-Tool N7 Armour, modified with Asymetric Rosenkov Materials defence layers and an offhand ammo-pack. Kuwashii Visor Thermal clips Medigel packs x 3 Frag Grenade x 2 Sample Post: A short sample post so I can get a handle of your writing style. This could be one of your characters early missions, a showing of them enjoying some downtime, or a short of some of their exploits during the Reaper war. Notes Jake is straight, and currently single. He was involved in a tumultuous relationship with a Turian Cabal member during the Reaper Wars, and has been taking a break from relationships to recover. As a newly minted Spectre, Jake hasn’t made up his mind on who he supports to become the Warden of the Citadel. Jake has an intense dislike for the Batarian Hegemony. It stems from the things he seen and experienced during the Skyllian Blitz, and consequent retaliatory attack. However during the Reaper war he worked with several Batarian soldiers, and came to grudgingly respect them as individuals, even if he does disagree with their government. Has a habit of running his hands across his head when he is feeling stressed..

Salissa était assise tranquillement au-dessus d'un immeuble ruiné. Il a été nivelé presque jusqu'au sol, mais il a toujours fourni un emplacement élevé. Ses cheveux soufflaient sur le vent avec sa cape battue alors qu'elle était assise là à regarder calmement à l'horizon. C'était le pire jour qu'elle ait eu depuis la fin de la guerre. Ses doigts se déchiraient en regardant ses mains cybernétiques. Elle pouvait encore voir la poussière du bâtiment ruiné sur ses paumes et ses doigts. Après leur congédiement, elle s'était jetée dans le bâtiment qui s'était effondré de leurs « aventures » souterraines pour aider aux opérations de sauvetage en cours. C'était un cauchemar vivant qu'elle voulait ne jamais revivre de la guerre, mais assez sûr que cela s'était produit. Elle aidait pendant un certain temps jusqu'à ce que le travail soit trop bien pour qu'elle fournisse une aide. Ils ont besoin de machines et de précision qu'elle ne pouvait pas fournir si seulement après qu'elle soit partie, ayant fourni toute l'aide qu'elle pouvait avoir... pour tout ce que ça valait. Maintenant, elle s'assit, le temps de la réunion s'approchant lentement. Elle avait cependant le temps, tellement de temps pour décider si ça valait le coup de se joindre à n'importe quelle autre tâche folle qu'ils auraient pour eux. Elle avait l'objectif de tomber en arrière au lieu de se joindre si elle le voulait, mais... si elle ne se joignait pas, serait-elle en mesure de se regarder dans les yeux après? Vous semblez avoir quelque chose de lourd dans votre esprit. Elle entendit une voix masculine et tourna légèrement. C'était un homme familier, un prêtre de l'une des églises de la région. Elle l'avait vu plusieurs fois, ils parlaient de temps en temps. Elle l'aide surtout à prêcher sur la tolérance et à rompre d'éventuels petits combats, sans parler de la recherche d'enfants perdus et d'autres tâches mineures chaque fois qu'elle n'est pas en service. En fait, ils se sont rencontrés pour la première fois quand elle a apporté un enfant perdu à l'église puisque les prêtres avaient une meilleure compréhension de la population dans la région. Elle a répondu, en plaçant une main sur son front.Les choses étaient mauvaises... auraient été bien pires si les explosions sous terre n'avaient pas eu lieu.Salissa a ajouté avec une voix triste.Salissa a ajouté que les horreurs que les gens aimeraient oublier auraient fait surface, mais... malgré tout cela ne fait pas mieux... quand à la fin vous allez aider à creuser ceux qui restent manquants avec l'espoir d'eux survivre par un miracle... Merde... c'est juste une énorme blague cosmique... une blague sur le niveau d'une tragédie grecque. Dans le passé, les gens disaient souvent que tout cela faisait partie du plan de Dieu, Salissa.Le prêtre a dit, jetant un coup d'œil sur elle. Peut-être que c'était vraiment censé arriver comme ça... nous ne pouvons trouver la paix que dans les vies qui ont été sauvées... Elle a finalement répondu avec un sourire et s'est levée.Pourquoi est-ce que les prêtres dans la vie réelle ne tiennent jamais toutes les bonnes réponses comme dans les films? » Salissa a demandé de se tourner et de le regarder. » Merci toujours d'être venu, soyez prudent à partir de maintenant. Je quitterai la Terre... ne sera pas là pour disperser ces vermines qui essaient de semer la discorde autour de votre église, mais envoyez-moi un message si quelque chose arrive et vous avez besoin d'aide. Je trouverai un moyen... nous pouvons laisser le mal danser sans contrôle., Elle a dit et a atteint pour une poignée de main que l'homme a pris., J'ai eu un plaisir de vous connaître., Elle a déclaré et a déménagé pour partir. C'est la même chose, Salissa. Prends soin de toi. Nous avons besoin de toutes les bonnes personnes, alors ne vous faites pas tuer.L'homme a répondu et lui a fait sortir un petit rire alors qu'elle a sauté quelques morceaux de béton. Après cela, Salissa retourna rapidement à l'Alliance où elle était logée. Ce n'était rien de spécial et franchement elle n'avait même pas de vrais bagages à saisir. Enfer tout ce qu'elle avait dans un petit sac, Tout ce qu'elle avait à côté de son armure et de ses armes, c'était un ensemble de vêtements, une paire de chaussures et ses articles de toilette. Avec ceux sécurisés et préparés, elle vient de passer par l'armurerie pour se réapprovisionner sur des clips thermiques et faire recharger ses batteries de bouclier. Finalement, après toutes les préparations, elle a pris son sac et est partie pour le lieu de la réunion, s'emparant d'un casque en sortant de la base. Elle en aurait besoin, donc elle l'a simplement accrochée sur une boucle magnétique, prête à être utilisée plus tard. Salissa se demandait s'il y en avait déjà... et bien elle verrait quand elle arrivera.

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

On aurait dit que Rayes s'inquiétait de Tibère pendant des heures alors que ce n'était probablement que quelques minutes, mais avec la ruée vers l'adrénaline qu'il était encore, le temps était tout gâché pour lui. Il semblait qu'au plus tôt qu'ils n'avaient rencontré les renforts, ils entendaient une explosion, qui fut bientôt suivie de divers autres événements. Il avait seulement ralenti les mouvements de défense, mais assez pour que les renforts puissent gérer la situation. C'était un soulagement pour le Quarien, prenant plusieurs respirations profondes pour se calmer. Il n'arrêtait pas de se dire que le danger était fini, que tout allait bien maintenant, mais ils n'ont honnêtement pas fait grand-chose pour régler son esprit des horreurs qui lui éclateraient dans l'esprit, lui donnant des frissons. Il était content que personne ne puisse voir son visage sous le masque, parce qu'il avait l'impression qu'il allait être malade et qu'il ne voulait pas le montrer. Tout le monde ici avait une expérience militaire, et si c'était ce qu'ils ont fait pendant la guerre que Rayes se sentait extrêmement désolé pour eux. Ce n'était probablement qu'un avant-goût de ce qui s'est passé sur les champs de bataille, et ce n'étaient que de vraies défenses! Keelah... Il aurait besoin d'un verre après ça, et ne pouvait qu'imaginer comment tout le monde se sentait. Ce n'était certainement pas son fort, mais au moins ils l'ont tous fait... donc la situation aurait pu être bien pire. Mais malheureusement, ce vœu a été écourté quand Spectre Anderson a commencé à parler. La première information qui lui a paru intéressante, c'est qu'ils avaient 24 heures jusqu'à ce qu'ils se rencontrent à de nouvelles coordonnées. Alors que tout allait bien puisque Rayes n'avait personne à dire au revoir, l'ayant fait quand il est venu sur Terre, il n'était pas tout à fait sûr de ce qu'il pouvait faire. Il n'avait pas d'articles à fourrer, et il n'était pas prêt à donner la seule réparation humaine. Une autre personne pouvait s'en occuper, mais ce ne serait pas Rayes. Puis, Rayes a été directement adressée en raison d'avoir piraté l'information et a été, ahem, conseillé d'envoyer l'information aux Spectres, ainsi que la façon dont ils lui ont fait confiance qu'il ne partirait pas et s'enfuirait sans le faire. Eh bien, il n'allait certainement pas s'enfuir et se libérer à ce stade, et alors qu'il était légèrement heureux qu'ils semblaient lui faire confiance, cela l'a aussi pris comme bizarre. Ils ont placé beaucoup de foi sur un Quarien qu'ils n'ont rencontré que, mais encore une fois, ils ont très probablement vu un dossier sur lui. Quoi qu'il en soit, il a fait signe à Anderson avant de leur envoyer la majorité de ce qu'il avait recueilli... tous les derniers détails excluant le fait qu'il avait transféré les fonds qu'il avait réussi à trouver dans un compte privé. Au lieu de cela, il a placé une ligne qui se lisait comme suit : « En ce qui concerne les fonds, je voudrais vous parler tous les deux d'eux. Il est plutôt important que je puisse discuter avec vous deux en privé quand je reviendrai demain. » Il estimait que c'était suffisant, et d'ailleurs, ce n'était pas comme s'il pouvait dépenser tous ces crédits en une seule nuit. Mais puisqu'il avait 24 heures et qu'il n'avait nulle part où rester... Il utiliserait probablement une petite portion pour trouver un endroit où rester pour la nuit, vu qu'il était échoué sur Terre. Comme une compensation. Quoi qu'il en soit, il y avait aussi d'autres nouvelles. L'explosion a fait des victimes en raison de l'effondrement des logements, mais dans les yeux de Rayes, cela aurait pu être bien pire. Si Cerberus avait réussi à libérer ces défenses à l'insu de qui que ce soit, non seulement les habitants du logement, mais un nombre impensable de civils seraient morts. Il aurait pu y avoir d'autres solutions, mais ils avaient fait de leur mieux avec le contrôle des dégâts... Espérons que les familles moururent ensemble... Rayes ne pouvait imaginer une famille brisée, souffrant de ses actions... Il aurait certainement besoin d'un verre. Il a décidé qu'il serait préférable qu'il aille au port spatial et prenne une navette pour la Citadelle, vu qu'elle était encore autour de la Terre. Au moins là-bas, il pouvait prendre un verre sans avoir à s'inquiéter des humains qui l'empoisonnaient parce qu'ils étaient xénophobes... Il devrait aussi se rappeler d'acheter beaucoup de filtres à toxines. Il pourrait aussi louer une chambre pour la nuit là-haut aussi. Ce serait certainement mieux que ce que les humains lui fourniraient. Il doit le mettre dans un placard et dire que c'est une suite de luxe à ce prix... Avec son esprit, il a donné à chacun une vague d'adieu plutôt découragé avant de partir vers la direction du port spatial, les mains dans les poches à l'intérieur de son manteau. Ce jour allait être un long, oublié, mauvais rêve au moment où c'était fini.

Name: Rayes'Xum vas Fowal, Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, Rayes Race: Quarian Class: Engineer Age: 26 Sex: Male Appearance: - Height: 5’5” - Weight: 185lbs Backstory: Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, a Quarian born in 2164, being aboard the Yaron along with his parents and several kin. His father was mainly aboard the Patrol Fleet, while his mother was a researcher focused on the Special Projects arm of the Migrant Fleet. Both were fearful of the health and protection of their child, and as such never dared to expose their child to the world outside of the migrant fleet. They were scared of their son’s curiosity, whom at the time knew relatively nothing of the world and was eager to learn. They did their best to fill that void once their son got his suit by flooding him with information that a young Quarian could understand. And when he wasn’t meant to be studying, often he would wander around the migrant fleet, listening to stories that they loved to tell. Stories of Rannoch, their beloved homeworld which was lost to them due to losing control of the geth, an artificial intelligence that they never intended to create that way. They’d speak of Quarian dancers, and their seemingly lost love for music. Little Rayes would soak in as much information as possible that he could from these stories, even if some of them weren’t actually true. This desire for knowledge helped in his teens, as he focused a majority of his time then into doing what his parents did. From his father, he could study various navigation paths in the galaxy, and to a little further extent ship layouts and the engineering behind them. From his mother, he could further his knowledge of technology and understanding of the geth, something his mother believed that every Quarian should have a base knowledge of, to which most do. Instead of being a fighter, Rayes expertise began to shine in how to handle technology and repair or destroy it, noticing flaws in systems that would otherwise take a more trained eye to catch, and exploiting it. Exploitation came in the form of hacking, which while he was limited to certain objects on the migrant fleet, those he often did stumble across were heavily safeguarded beyond his skill comprehension at the moment, leading him to only want to become more invested in it. These skills would become vital when he could begin on his pilgrimage. Naive, young, and somewhat confident in himself, Rayes didn’t listen to his fellow Quarians when they insisted that he go off towards the Citadel, a place where things would be the least likely to cause him harm or vise versa. They made sure to give him several parting gifts as incentives for him to listen, such as a Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool, various medical stimuli to keep him healthy should he become sick, along with Medi-Gel that a Quarian could use should he ever become injured. But instead of listening to their advice, Rayes felt bold. It was his first true experience away from the Migrant Fleet, and he wanted to make it memorable. The Citadel didn’t seem like a place that would suit him, believing it to be the easy way out of his pilgrimage. Instead, he went to a place that he believed could be exciting, Illium. Oh boy, was in he in for a rough time there. Immediately upon arrival after transferring through several ships, the young Quarian landed in hot water and was thrown into the frying pan. He was easily kidnapped by Asari who had a multitude of ‘indentured servants’ , and thus easily sold to a faction of the Eclipse on Illium due to his prowess with technology, something the Eclipse loved to use and subsequently broke. He was forced into repairing the Eclipse’s weaponry and and technological equipment, acting as a kind of repairman for the criminal organization. And while the situation seemed hopeless as it felt like he was always under constant discrimination and surveillance, he believed something good was bound to happen. And until then, he’d have to endure with the choice he made. The discrimination came from the various Humans and Asari stationed on his section of Illium, who thought of Rayes as a cheap punching bag for their enjoyment. He often found himself having to scan the measly portions he was given, and on several occasions couldn’t eat it due to his body not being compatible with the food. Most likely some sick joke, or maybe they wanted him to get sick. He didn’t know nor care, instead doing his best not to make any sort of scenes. He played the role they wanted him to, a seemingly malleable and easily pushed around slave. A year went by, and the Quarian had not contacted his family to inform them of his pilgrimage. In fact, to the Eclipse, they began to see the usefulness of Rayes. While he had started off small, eventually he had begun to repair the Eclipse mechs, and sometimes was forced to repair damages done to spaceships if he was given the right schematics. And if they were desperate, he’d be escorted to various terminals or infiltration operations, where his hacking skills could be put to good use. They never gave him a gun on these rare occurrences though, believing he would still try to escape if an opportunity arose. And while all was forced labor, at least, in his eyes, it was something that he liked and could vastly improve on. He got to work with weapons and mechs he had never seen before, hack systems that wouldn’t have been available on the Citadel, and even repair some of their ships, all of these encompassing new technology that the Eclipse managed to get their greedy hands on. Working with technology of this caliber wouldn’t have happened on the Citadel, however… He also wouldn’t be in an extremely dreadful situation. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was just a pawn, and if they ever felt he wasn’t useful, he knew they would dispose of him. They didn’t watch him as much anymore, but they still treated him like he was just a tool, and as such he was placed into terrible conditions on the off chances he would get proper rest. Often, he found himself questioning the pilgrimage, seeing this more of an eye opener than a proper trip to bring something valuable to his family… Something valuable… Surely the Eclipse, he thought, would have something. Having been in close quarters with them for so long, he had noticed they were lax around him, not being perceived as much of a threat anymore as he’d been around for well over a year now, and he would have to use that to his advantage if he ever wanted to see his home again. He knew he couldn’t beat them in a gunfight, there were simply too many and too skilled for his relatively poor gun expertise. All that time repairing their weapons, and he probably couldn’t even properly handle them himself. Another year, and he missed the Migrant Fleet with all his heart. There was no engine on Illium, only a cage and despair. There was no bond, no loyalty, only grief and deception, and Rayes believed he’d have to use that to his advantage. As they continued to bring him on several operations for his hacking expertise, he began leaving traces that he had been there, and while he would comply with their needs, he also began saving the data for himself. The Eclipse had grown soft around checking his Omni-Tool, as two years of nothing made them feel he was at least somewhat loyal to them. But he had already started to record the technology he worked on, documenting every detail he could about their supposed latest and greatest thing that busted. While it was often not substantial at first, and generally followed with a return to working on something they had planned, eventually he began to steal more, hacking with efficiency only a Quarian could. Surely there’d be some sort of information he could use to escape? A way to send a message? Surely, he felt, someone would find and put together the clues he had left behind... He had learned of awful things that he missed in his absence from some of the information he had kept, such as the citadel being attacked by something called a reaper, the supposed death and revival of a human Spectre named Commander Shepard… It was hard to swallow how much time had past… And how much trust the humans were getting. The ones in the Eclipse were dreadful, and were the most cruel, twisting the stories he had heard from his kin on the Migrant Fleet. Hopefully this Shepard was better, but he was extremely doubtful. A chance of escape came one day as he scoured through some stolen Eclipse files on his omni tool, being allowed to wander the cargo terminal the Eclipse had decided to occupy, only for the silence to be broken upon the sound of gunfire becoming vastly apparent. He noticed Eclipse Gunships in the area, several of which he wondered of if he’d repaired before, only to be shoved to the side by an Eclipse Engineer, forcing Rayes to take cover. There was a conversation at first, but then the gunfire soon continued and Rayes hid as far away as he could, allowing the firefight to pass as it went downward towards the Cargo Terminals, and his former “employers.” He took this opportunity to slowly but surely follow the conflict until the group in front of him took an elevator towards the docks. That elevator was his escape, but an escape towards what? He had no money, no credits to go anywhere… Until, as he wandered in the shadows of Illium, he heard of an information broker who potentially could help him. With all other options gone, and little time to waste before the Eclipse would notice him missing, he hastily made his way towards the supposed broker. He sold all the information he had stolen for a ticket to the citadel, but made sure to keep it for himself as well, and along with several credits for the info. Sure, it was a dangerous gamble to allow her to copy his data, but surprisingly she understood his desire to keep it… and things got better from that day. He had managed to find a place that hired him as a repairman for weapons and technology, and once he had enough credits to fly home, he immediately did so. He had had enough surprises on his pilgrimage to last a lifetime, and they accepted his data on the Eclipse, the technology he had worked on, schematics he recorded, and importantly weapon details, and accepted a role on board the Fowal. His family was astonished by how much he endured, furious that he had not listened to them, but ultimately glad that he had survived. He adapted a much more suitable appearance to commemorate his return from a grim situation, and began working immediately on the Fowal, just months before the reapers return. In this short span, Rayes became known for his improvements to weapons to be used for the fleet and against the Geth, along with his research on potential environmental suit improvements, something that he had become inspired to make due to the harshness of Illium. The Fowal was a ship dedicated to the research of expanding Quarian technology, investigating new weapons and the study of the Geth, an enemy that, once he learned the admiralty board soon declared war on them, Rayes was rather skeptical about it all. He didn’t believe the Geth were necessarily in the wrong for their actions, and while he longed to see the fabled homeworld of Rannoch, destroying something more advanced and sentient than the simple mechs he had repaired seemed… awful. But he knew better than to question his superiors, and at first, it seems the modifications he had worked on seemed to bolster the Quarian’s power against the Geth… Until they accepted Reaper help. But hope wasn’t lost, and while many ships suffered casualties, things started looking up once they learned Commander Shepard would help. A name that Rayes became all too familiar with when he first returned to the Migrant Fleet, having heard of his exploits and helping the Quarian Tali’zora Vas Normandy, someone Rayes slightly remembers growing up around with. With their help, they did the impossible, stepping foot on Rannoch as the Battle for Rannoch began. To Rayes, it was frightening, being inexperienced in combat, but he made up for it with his insights against the Geth, providing support and cover fire, and doing his best to hack the enemy barriers and shields. It felt like forever, but ultimately, it seemed like the Quarian's would win, but instead came an agreement to coexist with the Geth. Rayes was rather pleased with this idea, not only due to how it was peaceful, but also because it would allow him to greatly study the Geth and get information from them while they were still active. While it was fun to study a piece of technology that was broken, studying an active sentient Geth would be amazing. Rayes was not selected to go and join the fight with the reapers, he was instead sent to go and help build the crucible, something he took immense pleasure from upon arrival as they saw his technical prowess as an excellent edition. He helped make great strides into it’s creation, being able to offer suggestions in an environment he never thought he’d see. On Illium, he was treated like scum, a simple object meant to be manipulated, but he here, he was wanted, appreciated even… And, everyone was working together. This wasn't about species or race anymore, it was about survival, and to think, a human had started it all, with the help of an asari prothean expert. Maybe... the Eclipse were just an oddity, just like how some Quarian's were oddities in their own right. So when it was eventually complete and fulfilled it’s purpose, he came home proud that he had helped defeat the reapers in his own way. He helped in the process of colonizing Rannoch, and ultimately in the construction, with the help of the Geth, of upgrading the Quarian Fleet. Currently, Rayes is on Rannoch, studying the reapers with the help of Geth information and looking for a way to utilize the technology that had been scattered across the galaxy when the reapers were annihilated. Maybe, he thought, it could be used to create better protection for the future. The Geth have already helped him make immense strides in Quarian environmental suits, and he believes they can be utilized for much more than their original purposes or what the reapers had for them. Psyche Profile: Rayes is a firm believer that not all situations are hopeless, maintaining the notion that things could always get worse, but the worse can be prevented through hard work and dedication, along with preparation and to know how to endure. A lot of his life has been dedicated to the advancement of technology and the study thereof, regardless of the technology's purpose, and as such, he loves to always be working on some sort of gadget or analyzing data. Even in grim situations, knowing that there is something to observe generally calms his nerves and brings him back to reality. His over-analytical nature often allows him to notice things that many others may not, or on his time on Illium, be able to hastily retrieve and comprehend data types or schematics that he'd never seen before. When it comes to the other galactic species, Rayes is very wary of anyone not Quarian. His time on Illium has made him somewhat distant towards Humans and Asari specifically, as they were the majority of the Eclipse's forces that he was under on Illium. While Commander Shepard's actions has somewhat lessened that hostility, he won't go out of his way to make friends with them. Towards Turians, Rayes always feels that his knowledge of combat is lacking too much to hold a non-awkward conversation, and will often stutter his words or become embarissed if he cannot come up with an answer to their questions. Salarians are the easiest for Rayes to talk to, sticking to science as a main conversation topic. Batarian's are a mixed bag depending on how much Rayes knows of them, but he can sympathize with their hatred towards humans. Rayes hasn't had much experience talking to Drell, and as such, will often act similarly as he does towards Turians. For Asari, the Quarian is suspicious of them, wondering how they could allow one of their own colonies to have anything legal except for murder... Rayes likes to be prepared, and is somewhat saddened by his lack of knowledge in combat situations. His only proficiency in combat is with a pistol, but even that is somewhat limited and rusty. But, he has an eye for spotting technology on the battlefield that he can turn to his advantage, or disabling shield or barriers that an enemy may have. He prefers to provide support, allowing someone else to take the killing shot, and instead setting it up. However, currently he feels he has no time to train, focusing his attention to his love for tech and how to improve it. However, he has recently started to listen to music once more now that the war is over and he is safe; music being a favorable pass time when he was younger. And, now with Geth help, his self confidence and hope for the future has begun to rise. He knows that a lot of Quarian don't trust the Geth, and with good reasons, but he is willing to give them a second chance, as they are giving the Quarians. Not to mention, he slightly loves the idea of sentient AIs being constantly present around him. Specialty: Rayes'Xum was most likely picked due to his outstanding displays of technical prowess and resourcefulness when it comes to technology. Even for things he doesn't know much about, give him time to do research, and he'll be able to fix or hack into it with a breeze. Along with this, he can craft, repair, or install upgrades into existing weapons or starships. Having been one of the fateful Quarians to go and help build the Crucible, his advancements has given him a special place some of the Quarian's hearts. Due to his extensive knowledge in technology and prior experience, Rayes is a pretty damn good hacker if need be, being quick on his feet to solve and bypass securities that are in place in a moments notice or so. While he may not be as deadly as some on the battlefield, he makes up for it with his quick-wit and ability to manipulate the battle in favor for his team. He can help break down enemy defenses and render them helpless for his team to finish off. Currently, he's been working on the side to develop a combat drone to assist him and make up for his poor weapon game, only bringing a pistol to the battlefield, along with his Omni-Tool's blade. Powers/Skills: - Incinerate - Overload - Cryo Blast - Sabotage - Tech Mastery - Weapon construction/upgrades - Hacking Equipment and Resources: - Aldrin Labs Light Onix Armor VI modifications on his envo-suit. - Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool - Arc Pistol Sample Post: "Det kazuat." Rayes whispered under his breath as he followed a human Eclipse mercenary, somewhat curious as to what their next assignment for him was. Last time, it was to repair a simple rifle that hilariously they had managed to break just after receiving it. It didn't take him long at all to repair it, but he wasn't met with praise. Instead, they just decided not to spit into his food, which he was rather thankful for. It meant he'd at least get another meal, measly as it was, to survive instead of having to toss it to the side, not knowing if something as simple as saliva would cause him to become ill and thus useless. He made sure to scan everything that he'd have to consume, glad that they were at least smart enough to know he was a dextro-protein species, yet also surprised they'd go through the effort to get him specific food. Maybe, the thought, he wasn't the only Quarian in this hell hole the Eclipse have made. However, his thoughts were soon cut short as he felt an immense force shove him to the ground, causing the unsuspecting Quarian to fall with as much grace as a dying duck. "You useless scum," He heard someone say, looking up to see it was his escort shouting down at him with a mixture of cockiness and pure hatred, "Get to work and stop staring in the damn clouds! We didn't pay shit just for you to be useless!" In his attempt to recover, the Quarian began to slowly rise to his knees, only to feel a blunt force slam into his stomach, causing him to tense up and fall downward once more. "I said get the hell up!" I was trying that until you kicked me, you bosh'tet... Rayes thought, doing his best to rise to a stand once more as he glared at the mercenary, glad he didn't seem to have the brains to notice. Each passing moment felt tense as he rose, and when he finally recovered from the shock, he noticed in front of him stood a Model 34-A, or YMIR Mech that had obviously seen some damage. The bone white armor it possessed was covered in black spots from explosions and gunfire. It's upper body was heavily damaged, the armor on the chest and arms revealing circuits exposed in the openings. It's head was missing completely, most likely shot off... It wasn't the first time Rayes had to repair one of these, but it was most certainly the first time it was this damaged. But it seems they knew he wasn't a miracle worker, and as he glanced around the room, he noticed there were several tools at his disposal, along with replacement armor and a new head. All it seemed he had to do was fix the mech up, and he could be on his way. A simple job, especially with the resources the Eclipse gave him. Unfortunately, that comfort was cut short upon the realization that he would be closely monitored. If it had been anywhere else, maybe he would have felt happy, but instead, all he could feel was a lingering hatred for his situation. It was as if they had twisted his desires for their own purposes just to save them a quick buck from buying a new one of these killing machines, but alas, he had to if he wanted to live. Or at the very least, postpone the beating he felt would come if he didn't work on it soon. With a defeated sigh, he grabbed the nearest supplies and began to work once more. Notes - Rayes'Xum isn't sure of his sexuality, but has disdain for Humans and Asari. - Occasionally contacts friends he made while working on the Crucible. - He has a fascination for those who can sing or dance. - He'll occasionally dismantle objects for fun, just to remake them. - He'll take notes with his Omni-Tool during conversations or simply record them so that he can review it later and come up with conversation topics.

(DISREGARD ET SUCK DINKUS)

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

C'est la première fois que l'on s'en occupe. Les renforts sont arrivés à temps alors que Rol'Naaris et les autres étaient envoyés au poste de commandement. Les scientifiques ont été traînés pour avoir leur procès équitable par la police militaire. Une des scientifiques a crié à haute voix alors qu'elle était menottée et cela a apporté un sourire au visage de Rol'Naaris. Bien sûr, personne d'autre ne pouvait le voir, mais il était heureux que justice allait être rendue. Et les autres étaient revenus du tunnel avec des blessures et des cicatrices, mais ils étaient encore vivants. Il écouta Anderson pendant qu'il racontait à tout le monde ce qui se passait dans vingt-quatre heures. Puis, l'outil omni-narris de Rol'Narris l'a informé d'un message contenant l'adresse d'un port de navette privé au-dessus d'un poste de police. En gros, il a été accepté par l'équipe. Rol'Narris a regardé les autres et s'est demandé s'ils allaient à l'endroit ou juste oublier tout cela est arrivé. Avant que le Spectre ne parte, Anderson a déclaré que l'effondrement du tunnel a entraîné la chute d'un immeuble d'habitation en quelques secondes. Il semblait paisible pour le quarien par rapport à être déchiré par un groupe de buste. Son temps de stratège pendant la pire guerre de l'histoire galactique l'a rendu impitoyable comme tant d'autres. Cependant, cela ne voulait pas dire qu'il était froid. Cela faisait un moment qu'il n'avait pas exprimé ses émotions pour la dernière fois. Après le regroupement, Rol'Narris quitta le poste de commandement et se dirigea vers les ruines du bâtiment. C'était comme son temps sur Terre juste après la destruction des Reapers. L'Alliance est entrée dans le bâtiment après le bâtiment pour chercher des survivants. Certains soldats de l'Alliance n'ont pas pu s'échapper alors que le bâtiment sous leur direction s'est effondré. C'était presque comme vivre à nouveau à travers l'événement, mais réaliser que cela n'arrivera plus jamais dans sa vie (espoir). Il a observé que les équipes d'intervention ont fait de leur mieux pour sauver autant de vies au moment où elles ont été données. Il est resté quelques minutes pour regarder la scène jusqu'à ce qu'il décide qu'il est temps d'y aller. Il ne savait pas où, mais il avait vingt-quatre heures pour trouver quelque chose. En regardant une navette entrante, Rol'Naaris a attendu qu'elle le ramasse pour qu'il aille ailleurs. Peut-être la Citadelle à la place. Outre la fumée du sol zéro, le ciel était clair et rempli de différents types de navettes et de navires. Le pilote était un peu plus jeune avec une barbe qui se formait lentement autour de son visage. "Vere est-ce que tu veux y aller?" il a demandé dans un accent allemand qui était clair pour le quarien. Après tout, il a été piégé sur Terre pendant un an. "Citadelle." Rol'Narris a répondu avant que son omni-outil ne s'allume. Le pilote a fait signe à la réponse et s'est dirigé vers la destination. Il s'était rendu compte que l'Alliance des systèmes était prompte à reconstruire leurs flottes et la Terre, mais il ne s'était pas rendu compte à quelle vitesse il avait fallu. L'équilibre du pouvoir politique et militaire s'oriente vers eux maintenant, et non vers les Républiques d'Asari ou vers la Hiérarchie turienne. Et mélanger avec des opinions diverses que les humains ont tendance à avoir entre eux et cela crée plusieurs problèmes. L'Alliance va-t-elle remettre la Citadelle ou la garder pour elle-même? Ou vont-ils créer de nouveaux traités visant à limiter les nations déjà faibles? L'avenir était rempli de tant de questions et de réponses inconnues. Heureusement, il n'a pas décidé de devenir politicien. Ça rendrait tous les quariens fous s'ils détestaient socialiser avec les autres races. La Citadelle, cependant, était juste parfait à regarder. C'était comme chez lui pendant son pèlerinage et un symbole de paix entre les races. Tant de choses ont changé depuis qu'il l'a laissé derrière lui. La navette s'est arrêtée à l'un des nombreux ports de navette que la Citadelle offrait et Rol'Narris a payé le pilote avant de quitter le port. Il y avait plus d'humains et moins d'extraterrestres depuis la reconstruction de la Citadelle. Il est devenu une nouvelle maison pour la plupart de l'humanité pendant que la Terre était encore en réparation. Le quarien a passé plusieurs minutes à se promener tout en pensant à quelque chose à faire et il a vu un bar entre quelques magasins. On l'appelait juste le Yellowstone Frontier Pub, qui porte le nom de ce parc national en Amérique du Nord. Il n'était pas sûr d'entrer dans le bar; cependant, il a vu quelques turiens entrer dans l'endroit. Et il les a suivis dans le bar peu après. L'établissement a été diminué et manque de toute sorte de couleurs vives contrairement à certains des bars de retour sur Terre. Et c'était comme n'importe quelle barre que vous avez entrée à la Citadelle avec les murs gris et les meubles futuristes. Cependant, il n'a pas eu envie de passer deux heures juste pour passer du temps à Purgatory. Le quarien se distingua comme un pouce douloureux et tout le monde le regarda un peu pendant qu'il prenait place et commandait un verre. Puis, ils sont allés faire ce qu'ils faisaient avant et Rol'Naaris a regardé sa boisson non-alcoolique. Des années d'entraînement avec les Marines et de boire sur le travail se traduiraient par des punitions sévères dans les camps de démarrage. De plus, il détestait toujours l'amertume de l'alcool. Il a saisi une paille et l'a mise dans sa tasse pendant qu'il a ajusté son costume pour placer la paille. C'était tellement tracas de boire quelque chose. C'est soit cela, soit plusieurs bactéries qui pourraient le tuer en quelques secondes. Il a finalement pris une gorgée de sa boisson et a écouté la musique techno en arrière-plan.

Name: Rol'Naaris nar Taazzor; Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal; Rol Race: Quarian Class Infiltrator Age: Twenty-nine years old Sex: Male Appearance: With their weak immune system, Rol'Naaris rarely takes off any part of his armor unless he is fixing up his wounds. No-one beyond the Migrant Fleet knows what he looks like without that mask. Rol tried his best to get armor that made him stand out for the other Quarian on their pilgrimage. That's why he got Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII for a store in the Citadel during his pilgrimage. Despite being an outdated model, Rol made sure to update its' shields and protection of weapons and biotics. Even before he returned to the fleet, he managed to raise one of the shoulder pads up and changed it from a navy blue to a tan color. After the Reaper War, he still kept the same old armor on him and refused to change it for a better model. It had survived this war, it will survive for a long time. Even when he joined the Spectres, he refused to use their Quarian armor since it was not better compared to the other armors on sale in places like Omega or Illium. Backstory: Rol'Naaris was born on board the Taazzor in the year 2157 on the day that Relay 314 Incident (or the First Contact War coined by the humans) happened. Rol spent his childhood aboard on the Taazzor with his mother and father. His mother worked in the technical division, while his father was in the Marines. When he was old enough, his mother took him to places like the Citadel to gather parts no possible to obtain within the fleet. This was Rol's first time that he had been outside of the Taazzor and saw other species in person. It was breathtaking and amazing. He often wandered off before his mother chased after him and took him back home. When he learned of the pilgrimage, Rol was ready to venture beyond the fleet and live in the Citadel. The truth was that life as a quarian was harsher than he expected. His father, however, was in the Marines that was born on a military ship and taught about warfare by his father. Rol took interest in the Marines because of his father and grandpa. He taught his son everything he knew about military strategy that he was taught by the Marines. A couple of Marines aboard the Taazzor told him bits of other warfare strategies that krogans and humans use. During his early teens, Rol studied as much as he could on the history of warfare for several races and he also took a look at the Geth War. He soon took interest in history, politics, and the Marines. Years of reading into Sun-Tzu and the Krogan Rebellions were useful facts to learn and he developed a love for planning out tactics. When it was time for Rol to take part in the pilgrimage, his family and friends gathered around to give gifts before Rol left. His mother managed to get a book about what foods and drinks Quarian can and cannot eat and drink. While his father gave him a Kassa Fabrication Nexus omni tool and a Haliat Armory Stiletto pistol. Shortly after, he left behind his family and friends and headed to the Citadel. Despite facing prejudice for other races, he liked his pilgrimage. He found out so much about the history of Humanity and their culture that he planned a trip to visit Earth. And he made his credits by working at a repair store. While he was trying to gather the credits, Citadel was under attack by the Reapers. Rol managed to survive the battle by following C-Sec into one of their police stations. As the pieces of Sovereign and the Geth fleet rain down onto the Citadel, his apartment was completely destroyed—his things were destroyed and his roommate was killed. All of the credits, that he had earned, were gone into repairing the damages and trying to move on. But he could not move forward and left the Citadel to complete his pilgrimage two years later. It took him six months to find some worthy to return to the fleet. It was some pieces for one of the Geth ships that he brought off of some scavengers. He was accepted by into the fleet with open arms, joined Vaepal, and began working in both the Marines as a strategist. When the Admiralty Board was talking about a possible war with the Geth, Rol supported the war and pushed other crew members to realize that war was the answer to their problems. A year after the talks, the Special Projects arm finally found a way to weaken the Geth. While the Board was voting on war, Rol was a vocal advocate for the war. After hours of debating, the Board had declared war on the Geth and Rol got to work. Despite not having enough time to be taught everything in the Marines. Quarians on their pilgrimage had to return to the fleet to prepare for war. Rol was responsible for placing the returning into positions suitable to the Vaepal and planning ways to attack the Geth fleet. The Migrant Fleet had updated with include weapons on-board civilian ships, an action that he strongly agreed with. They began their assault as the Reapers invaded Earth and burned Palaven. Things were going well for the fleet until the Geth accepted the Reaper's help, destroying any chance of an easy victory. Vaepal didn't need weapons since it was a military ship. Everyone was too busy to deal with the Reapers that the Fleet suffered huge losses. Vaepal was attacked during one of many ambushes that nearly got Rol killed. He still believed that the fleet could win, especially since Commander Shepard came to their aid. After several victories (with the help of the Commander), the fleet managed to push the Geth back towards their old homeworld, Rannoch. That was when the Battle for Rannoch began. Hours of fighting brought a major victory for the quarian, earning their homeworld back. Surprisingly, the Geth suddenly supported the Quarian conquest and joined Humanity in the battle for Earth. Rol didn't support peaceful co-existence with the machines and requested that a Geth not board the Vaepal; however, he wanted to help with the fight against the Reapers. So, he joined other strategists to come up with plans on how to defeat the Reapers (if the Battle of Earth was a massive defeat) as soon as the Admiralty Board finally declared war on the Reapers. When the time came to fight on Earth, he was selected to join a group of attackers that planned on landing in North Africa. Several attacks were planned all over the world so the Reapers could be spread out thin. He was a part of the attack on Earth; however, he didn't go to London at all. The battle itself was more difficult than the Battle for Rannoch. People were dying left and right as Rol helped hold the line. Then, the energy vaporized the Reapers and the Reaper ships stopped working. The war was finally over. Afterwards, Rol was treated in the city of Alexandria and spent time there before returning to the fleet. Around that time, Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy had also returned to the fleet and began her work with Rannoch. Her influence and actions during the Reaper War grant her command of the newly built Diplomacy Fleet. He was offered a spot aboard Tali'Zorah's body guard. He refused and focused on rebuilding Earth with the others. He has traveled all over the Middle East, the Great Basin and the Mojave and Sonoran Desert. Rol went back to Alexandria to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Battle of Earth. Psyche Profile: Rol'Naaris is just like any normal quarian: strategic mind, judgmental, hard-working, decisive, and overly analytical. Those traits have been useful and useless to him throughout his life. Rol tends to make only a few friends that like to have discussions about stuff and hang out often. He has no trouble relaxing and enjoying himself with his friends, but he doesn't share his emotions with them. And he cannot be able to provide emotional support towards others. Plus, he can often be too honest to deal with. Romantic relationships are also his weakness as he doesn't know anything other than warfare. Rol also has a thing for organizing. He is also judgmental towards Geths because of their actions during the last few years. And the fact that Rol despises artificial intelligence and labels them as 'a threat to the galaxy.' Besides Geth, he is willing to have a healthy discussion with different ideals and opinions. And he likes human movies that have anything to do with humans destroying AI; but, he favors The Matrix and Inception. He also likes reading novels, writing essays, watching documentaries, and listening to classical music. And he always wanted to have plants along with trained dogs and go to famous landmarks. And he also always wanted to start up a museum since he loved other species’ histories. He dislikes narrow-minded people, gossip circles, people who can't handle dark humor, metal music, alcohol, and dirty/messy places. Specialty: Rol'Naaris was most likely picked to be in the Spectre-led task force because of his involvement with the Marines and they noted him as a great strategist during the Battle for Rannoch and he also helped his commander during the Battle of Earth. He was also one of the few Quarian that went to Earth during the battle, which gives his experience in the heat of a firefight. And Rol also knows how to use both a shotgun and a sniper unlike other quarians. He likes the sniper rifle better than the shotgun, but he would use it if he's in the front lines. In short, he's the sniper of the team. Powers/Skills: Sabotage, Tactical Cloak, Assassination, Agent (Operative), and Fitness Equipment and Resources: Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII (it includes a modified version of Asymmetric Defense Layer that fits perfectly into the look of the armor), Haliat Armory's Equalizer IX, Kassa Fabrication's Polaris VIII, Elanus Risk Control Services's Hurricane V, and Haliat Armory's Stiletto VI Sample Post: Rol'Naaris waited patiently for his shuttle to finally land at their location. It felt like they have been flying for hours since they left one of the human ships. Everyone aboard the shuttle could hear explosions all around them. Once in awhile, they could hear a shuttle getting hit and most likely crash landing onto Earth: human's homeworld. Rol felt sick whenever he heard the explosions getting closer towards this shuttle. And it did not help that he was the only quarian on this shuttle and surrounded by krogan, turians, and humans. A human sitting by Rol was looking at a datapad. Rol only noticed when he was checking on his sniper rifle and decided to take a peek at the datapad. It was a very old picture of a group of people with weapons, standing next to horses. It could of been from World War I or some other minor war fought during the time period. He kept on checking out his weapons while some of the turians and humans started to pray as they felt the shuttle going down. Everyone gathered their weapons and readied themselves for the drop off. Before they left, one of the Alliance captains told everyone to get into cover as soon as possible and open fire. Sounds of a firefight got louder as the shuttle began to land while it was taking fire from marauders and brutes Soon enough, everyone stood up and waited for the doors to open up. Rol held his sniper rifle tightly and ready for a dash towards the nearest cover. Before they opened, everyone heard the pilot's voice through the comms as he gave instructions on where the base is located. "Alright, you are about to be fired at. Remember to fight carefully and remain calm; however, don't forget your main objective. Reach the command base. Your omni-tool should have the location marked. Once you reach the location, the commander of the base will issue you with a task to do and communicate with you. Good luck soldiers. May God be with you." After that brief speech, the doors slowly opened as bullets could be heard hitting against the shuttle. Everyone carefully stepped out and dashed towards cover. Some of them were immediately shot and cried out in pain or died because of a well placed shot. Once Rol exited out of the shuttle and ran towards cover, it took off rather quickly and left the areas. Other shuttles began to land as soldiers exited out of it while one was shot down while leaving the areas. Rol went to a different cover and pulled out his omni-tool while soldiers left and right were getting shot at. The omni-tool revealed that the location was somewhere west and saw that a couple of soldiers were already heading there. The night was still rather young and it was difficult to see anything. Suddenly, he heard screaming and a struggle as Rol went for his pistol. He ran towards the sound and saw that the human for the shuttle was pinned by a husk. Rol shoved the gun against the husk's head and opened fire, killing the creature for sure. It felt as the human pushed it away from him and processed to kick it several times. "Motherfucker!" he said angrily towards the husk. "Are you alright?" Rol asked while grabbing the human's assault rifle and offering it to him. "Yeah... Just took me by surprise." he pointed at the dead husk and grabbed his gun. "Thanks.." "Call me Rol." Rol just said while he was grabbing his sniper rifle. "Rol... I am Hamdaan." Hamdann said while reloading his assault rifle. Both men began their walk on the abandoned street while other soldiers walked pass them. It was rather peaceful, even know explosions and gunshots could be heard all around. They were nearby the base because of the M35 Makos could be seen from afar, firing towards the Reapers. They have started to talk about being on Earth since the invasion. It turned out that his aunt and brother were on Earth during the invasion. They were traveling to Dubai just as the Reaper began their attack. Their ride took a detour towards the airport and they managed to get on a transport ship before the transmission died out. Hamdaan knew that they were dead and mourned their deaths. Afterwards, he joined the Alliance and waited for this day to come since joining. Rol felt bad that the quarian were fighting the geth. He saw the footage of Earth while he was planning for the upcoming war with them. It was truly disgusting for him to hear the news then Palaven was hit as well. The breaking news made him stop working for the entire day and he wanted to throw up. Shepard was right the whole time and no-one—not even Rol himself—believed his warnings. Rol said that the news made him work harder than ever to finish up with the geth; but, things never go according to plan. Gunfire got louder as both of the men rushed towards the base and saw the husk heading towards the Makos. Some of them got on top of them and Rol used his sniper rifle to pick them off. With one knee on the ground, he aimed and fired at the husks. Hamdaan charged towards the base ready for anything while others followed his lead. Rol got off of the ground and rushed towards the firefight. It was going to be one hell of a battle. The one that he was going to tell stories about for years to come. If he survives the ordeal. Notes Rol hasn't have the chance to be in a romantic relationship, but he is sure that he could most likely be either gay or straight. However, it doesn't bug him at all. He made some friends during the Battle of Earth and talks to them often. And he also still talks to people from the fleet as well. And he also has met Tali’Zorah after the Reaper War for a brief moment. Plus, he is more than willing to provide his services to rebuilding the Earth.

Le passage de Salissa de la caserne à l'ancien poste de police était très calme. Aucun malfaiteur ou personne n'a besoin d'aide sur le chemin. Tout cela a été une simple promenade d'un endroit à l'autre, calme, calme si vous ne comptez pas les bruits de fond causés par les gens travaillant ou passant des véhicules et le paysage légèrement détruit. Beaucoup de travaux de restauration ont été effectués et encore plus ont besoin d'être achevés. Le soldat n'avait pas le moindre espoir que ce serait fait bientôt. La Terre porterait les cicatrices de cette... comédie cosmique tragique pendant probablement des décennies, selon la possibilité que les gens apprennent de ce qui s'est passé ou qu'ils continuent les querelles insensées comme ces idiots de Terra Firma prêchaient. Une voix l'avait tirée de sa pensée. Il lui a fallu un moment pour se rendre compte que c'était Skarr, le krogan qui s'était précipité à son secours sous terre sans qu'elle le demande réellement. Elle était toujours contente, mais elle n'était pas stupide. Elle était déjà à l'endroit qu'il semblait. À quelle vitesse le temps s'est-il passé alors qu'on était occupé à penser... "Merci, Skarr."Elle a répondu avec un soupir, s'arrêtant en mouvement et regardant le ciel." Tout cela aurait pu être évité, vous savez. Tout ce qu'ils avaient à faire, c'est d'obtenir des équipes d'alliance locales qu'elles nettoient la base du cerberus au lieu d'aller à l'infiltration. Elle a dit à travers ses dents et a pris un souffle, se calmant. Elle avait une mauvaise histoire avec des opérations secrètes allant vers le sud quand une belle approche directe aurait été beaucoup mieux... Tu as fait du bien aussi en fait. Je suis presque sûr que peu de Krogans peuvent correspondre à la performance que vous avez montrée aujourd'hui.= Salissa a ajouté avec un sourire et un clin d'œil respectueux.= Merci pour l'aide là-bas. J'ai été pris un peu non préparé, boucliers drainés trop vite, mais pas surprise maintenant que j'y pense... retour dans la guerre je portais des cellules électriques supplémentaires pour plus de durée et de force. Dis-moi, en deux mots, comment décririez-vous la guerre des moissonneurs?

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

Gilvert, Alria et Ethan dans l'Aftermath. Giles n'a pas été sans aide pendant trop longtemps, l'autre Krogan ; celui qui aimait balancer son marteau et écraser les défenses avec elle comme des bouts de papier est venu à la rescousse, des sortes, et il l'a loué pour sa capacité à tuer les défenses avec rien que son pied. Le Krogan massif leva son marteau, qui était encore couvert de goo de son dernier meurtre et repoussa deux gros morceaux de roche qui permettaient à Giles de bouger un peu plus librement. Il était sur le point de le remercier avant que Salissa ne se dirige vers lui, et a aidé à enlever plus de décombres, lui permettant d'appliquer un peu de med-gel; il était encore couvert mais au moins la douleur a été traitée, légèrement. « Uggh, merci à vous deux, je n'avais pas vraiment envie d'être enterré vivant, j'ai entendu dire que ce n'était pas une bonne façon de partir. » Alria a maintenu sa tête basse et a attendu que l'inévitable boom vienne, a rayonné et agité le tunnel, bien que heureusement son casque a protégé ses oreilles de tout dommage et inconfort réel. Toujours soucieuse de s'assurer que les choses s'étaient réglées au moins partiellement, elle est restée en couverture jusqu'à ce que les vibrations et les grondements soient morts. Élue pour regarder sa tête en haut et voir ce qui se passait, elle a remarqué que le champ de bataille avait changé un peu de calme. Le tunnel menant à la base de Cerberus ayant été détruit, ils ont été laissés en sécurité, mais aussi enterrés et recouverts de poussière et de décombres. Une de ces personnes qui était près d'elle était la Drell qu'elle connaissait était dans l'équipe, mais n'avait pas encore rencontré sa place dans l'équipe d'infiltration. Regardant autour pour d'abord s'assurer que la côte était claire, elle voûta hors de couverture et traversa le terrain inégal vers son allié. Mais avant de pouvoir lui demander s'il respirait encore, il a répondu à sa question en parlant de la façon dont il préférerait ne pas sortir de cette façon... Ce qui est tout à fait logique pour elle. "Assieds-toi, je te sortirai." Elle lui dit qu'elle se dressait déjà la longueur du corps dans une crevasse pour utiliser ses jambes et son corps complet pour coupler un gros morceau de plafond cassé à partir de la Drell piégée. C'était dur et vraiment elle avait beaucoup d'ennuis avec ça, mais au moins ça bougeait... si seulement un petit peu. Deux sauveteurs sont rapidement devenus trois quand l'une des femmes turiennes du groupe d'infiltration est venue, elle a commencé à utiliser son corps comme un ascenseur pour enlever ce qui, espérons-le, serait le dernier morceau de décombres dont il aurait besoin pour se libérer. Ses efforts n'étaient pas vains, il pouvait commencer à remuer un peu son corps et se mettre à sortir de ce qui ne commençait pas à être un trou de sa prison. C'était comme ramper à travers le feu, chaque mouvement qu'il a fait blesser le medi-gel seulement légèrement engourdissant "Continuez à cela je suis presque libre..." Sa voix était douloureuse, chaque mot a pris des efforts pour dire. Alria a maintenu la pression et pendant qu'elle était taxant il a donné à la Drell un dehors et avant longtemps il était libre qui lui a laissé la chance de se détendre et de laisser la roche tomber, plus profond qu'il avait été à l'origine dans l'espace maintenant vide. Avec un huff et un moment pour se rassembler elle s'est rapidement sortie de la crevasse et de retour sur le dessus des décombres, regardant le maintenant libre Drell à travers sa visière. Il semblait blessé, mais stable et vivant. C'était à peu près à ce moment-là qu'Anderson est venue pour reem Salissa un peu et Alria a juste gardé à ses propres affaires, en vérifiant non seulement elle-même et son propre équipement pour s'assurer qu'elle avait toutes ses choses intactes et comptables, mais aussi pour s'assurer que ses alliés pouvaient sortir de la grotte de leur propre, « Est-ce que ça va? » Elle a commencé à demander à la Drell, ne connaissant toujours pas vraiment son nom, "Peux-tu sortir seule?" Giles était sur le point de remercier tout le monde pour leur aide avant qu'Anderson ne vienne au petit groupe et donne à Salissa une raclée verbale pour ses commentaires sur la guerre de Reaper, ils étaient un peu insensibles... L'appel a été lancé pour que leur opération soit terminée et les autres membres de l'équipe spéciale ont commencé à se retirer des tunnels ruinés. En regardant vers le Turian qui avait fait la dernière poussée et l'a libéré, il a fait une toux avant de répondre. " Je vivrai, je pense... » Plaçant son bras gauche sur un peu de décombres à proximité, il s'est relevé avec difficulté du sol, mais il pourrait se tenir, sinon exactement stable dans sa position. Voir le Drell se battre pour se tenir debout et maintenir sa position droite Alria s'élança vers l'avant pour soutenir et aider tout ce qu'elle pouvait. Après tout, Drell était maintenant son allié et cela signifiait qu'elle ne voulait pas le voir souffrir plus qu'il ne le devait. Le Turian maintenant aidé son pied ainsi que de l'enlever des décombres plus tôt, il a presque oublié ce que c'était d'avoir des alliés comme celui-ci; son vieux groupe merc aurait juste été plongé sur les Krogans comme un sacoche de chiffons. "Merci encore une fois...Désolé, je ne crois pas que nous nous soyons rencontrés, je m'appelle Gilvert Somner, ou juste Giles, ce qui vous convient le mieux, et en réponse à votre question précédente, probablement pas; juste besoin d'attraper mon sacoche avant que nous partions, il est là-bas quelque part. Giles a donné un mouvement balayant de sa main comme un geste vers où l'avait laissé tomber plus tôt, il pouvait le laisser... ça ne semblait pas la peine de rester dans cette zone juste pour ramasser quelque chose qu'il pouvait facilement remplacer. "Ah merde, sortons d'ici avant que le tunnel ne s'effondre." Alria a continué à soutenir la Drell pendant qu'il parlait, en l'écoutant donner un nom, « Nom Vicrinus, Alria Vicrinus ». Elle a répondu en se concentrant davantage sur la mise en sécurité de son allié et quand il a parlé de son sacoche, elle était sur le point de le déconseiller à moins qu'il n'y ait un peu irremplaçable, bien qu'il l'ait battue jusqu'au coup de poing. Alors avec Giles, elle a commencé à se diriger vers la sortie, en cherchant à suivre la suite avec le reste de son équipe pour arriver à la lumière du soleil. Le trek n'a pas été très rapide, surtout en raison de l'état de son allié, mais ça ne l'a pas dérangée. Elle préfère s'assurer qu'il soit arrivé au sommet en une seule pièce. Puis une fois dehors à la lumière du soleil, elle a fait le bilan de ce qui a changé et la réponse était beaucoup. Un bâtiment s'était effondré sur lui-même très probablement de leurs actions en bas. Bien qu'avec un ciel ouvert au-dessus de leurs têtes Alria a aidé à guider Giles à un siège, s'assurer qu'il n'était pas sur le point d'obtenir une détérioration de la condition en raison de l'action emballée événement qu'ils viennent de traverser. Le voyage jusqu'à la surface n'était pas lisse bien qu'il fût considérablement plus facile sur le corps de Giles grâce à Alria, elle le soutenait jusqu'au monde extérieur, et dans le soleil apaisant, le contraste terrible d'être dans les profondeurs obscures des tunnels cependant droit dans la lumière brillante le rendait fêlé mais il était agréable d'être hors de ce trou d'enfer gâché. Alors qu'Alria l'aidait à s'asseoir sur la gravité de ce que les mines avaient vraiment fait, l'un des bâtiments qui s'était posé au-dessus de la zone où les mines s'étaient envolées avait coulé dans le sol. La zone autour d'eux grouillait avec du personnel de l'Alliance des systèmes qui se préparait à une mission de sauvetage. C'est comme à ce moment-là que tout le groupe s'était réuni et qu'Anderson s'est adressé à eux tous sur leurs nouvelles tâches, ainsi qu'à quelques mauvaises nouvelles. Ils semblaient tous impressionner d'une manière ou d'une autre alors que les Spectres décidaient de les garder tous pour leur groupe de travail; ils devaient se réunir aux coordonnées désignées dans 24 heures sur le point; ou ils seront laissés derrière. La mauvaise nouvelle est finalement arrivée quand ils ont découvert que leurs actions avaient entraîné la mort de nombreux civils, et peut-être encore plus si l'opération de sauvetage n'était pas un succès; aucune de l'équipe spéciale n'était tenue de faire quoi que ce soit à ce sujet, ce n'était qu'un résultat de leurs actions qui étaient inévitablement plus importantes que la vie de quelques civils. C'était dommage d'en entendre parler, mais cela n'a pas vraiment affecté Giles trop, parfois quelques-uns doivent mourir pour que la majorité puisse vivre. C'était simplement la façon dont les choses fonctionnaient. "Une pitié d'en entendre parler, mais bien plus serait mort si nous n'avions pas fait ce que nous avons fait..." Giles a dit d'une voix basse vers Alria. Alria regardait Giles juste pour vérifier et appliquer un peu plus de medi-gel ou envelopper ses blessures avec le petit peu de médecine de campagne qu'elle connaissait quand Anderson est venu. Il était bon de savoir qu'en dépit de tous les hoquets et facteurs invisibles qui ont joué dans la mission, ils l'ont toujours fait avec un travail bien fait. Bien que le manque de perspicacité ait été plutôt un problème de logistique, ce qui n'était pas sa faute, donc dans l'ensemble, elle était satisfaite du résultat. Même si c'est à ce moment-là que la dure nouvelle a frappé et extérieurement elle n'a pas montré trop d'émotion. Bien qu'à l'intérieur elle se sente blessée. C'était une chose d'avoir des victimes incapables. Vous savez, le genre qui peut récupérer et retourner à leur vie et c'est une autre chose de savoir l'étendue des dégâts, mais vivre comme ça ne s'est pas assis avec elle. Giles avait son opinion et, bien qu'elle soit en partie d'accord, cela n'a pas rendu la réalisation moins difficile. C'est à ce moment-là qu'elle a laissé Giles seule pour atteindre son casque, appuyant sur quelques boutons et le tordant légèrement avant qu'il ne sorte pour révéler son visage incroyablement jeune. "Ils ne le méritaient pas, mais beaucoup plus auraient pu être blessés si nous avions fait quelque chose de différent." Elle a dit non seulement en réponse à Giles, mais aussi à Anderson. "J'aimerais pouvoir aider, mais ce n'est pas ce que je sais. Je suis hors de mon élément d'aider ces gens et autant que je le souhaite... » Elle a continué à s'éloigner clairement en pensant pendant quelques instants, « C'est quelque chose pour les professionnels. Ils savent quoi faire et comment le faire. Est-ce que ça va Giles? Je peux vous aider là où vous devez aller si vous n'êtes pas." La ruée d'Ethan qu'il a toujours obtenue d'un combat n'avait pas tout à fait diminué, le rendant livide d'entendre que la bataille était déjà terminée. Pas de banshees? Des brutes? Des moissonneuses? Où était l'amusement de tuer ton basculant? Cerberus n'aurait pas pu faire quelque chose de mieux? Comme sur Omega? Détruire quelque chose comme ça l'aurait assommé assez gentiment. Encore une fois, il était fatigué. Le volume de fusées qu'il avait jetées autour de lui l'a beaucoup drainé, et il ne s'est jamais senti satisfait quand il était fatigué. C'était une habitude très ennuyeuse de la sienne.Et pourtant, toutes les fusées avaient été gaspillées parce qu'un sanglant Drell a réussi à l'unir! Il voulait vraiment trouver un endroit où faire une sieste, mais Anderson avait convoqué une réunion des Spectres, et, faisant partie de leur petit groupe, voulait dire qu'il devait les rejoindre. Parce que ce n'était pas comme s'ils pouvaient communiquer à distance. Pourtant, il écoutait attentivement les paroles d'Anderson, ignorant les autres là-bas alors qu'ils s'aidaient les uns les autres, et ce qui n'est pas le cas. Il ne savait rien de la médecine de campagne, et il n'avait vraiment pas envie de parler aux gens après que Turian l'ait ignoré si grossièrement plus tôt. Enfin, Anderson est arrivé à un point plutôt... déplaisant. Les yeux du biotique s'élargissaient, et sa bouche se resserrait légèrement avant de jurer tranquillement sous son souffle, espérant vite que personne n'entendrait ça. Il était sur le point de faire immédiatement ses excuses et de partir, seulement pour entendre quelque chose qui a attiré son intérêt. "En effet." Il sourit, regardant le Turian et le Drell. Combien de personnes pensez-vous qu'on a sauvé aujourd'hui? Si toutes ces défenses sortaient... Je ne suis pas sûr d'y penser. Et j'ai entendu dire qu'on avait capturé des Cerberus là-bas. L'interrogatoire devrait être intéressant." Il a ri un peu, quelque chose de très différent de lui. "Arrêtez de vous inquiéter de qui vous ne pouviez pas sauver, on s'est tous bien débrouillés. Et il y a des gens pour aider les civils, ils n'ont pas besoin de vous." Il s'est tourné vers la Drell. "...Bon travail avec les mines." Il dit: Un signe d'ennui qui passe sur son visage, comme s'il avait dit qu'il lui avait donné une faveur gênante. Alria semblait être un médecin adéquat, du moins pour les pansements de terrain de base, Giles semblait toujours les boucher quand il les faisait lui-même; la seconde application de medi-gel apportait une chaleur apaisante sur son corps comme la double dose mise en, la douleur ne semblait plus être là plus comme une douleur terne. Giles était sur le point de lui répondre avant d'avoir bien regardé son visage, il était... difficile de discerner l'âge dans un Turian, surtout les hommes, les femmes semblaient acquérir des bords plus durs en vieillissant dans leur carapace comme des traits, mais il pouvait dire de son expérience dans les rapports avec les Turians au fil des ans qu'elle était très jeune. Elle doit être fière? Ou peut-être humilié d'être choisi par Spectres pour une mission, il a fallu beaucoup de choses pour les impressionner après tout, mais peut-être que les guerres des moissonneurs ont fait ressortir le meilleur chez les jeunes; ou alternativement le pire, comme un exemple premier semblait se montrer coquin mais quelques instants après qu'Alria a fini de parler. Cet homme était un autre visage qu'il connaissait, mais il était clair qu'il était un membre du groupe de travail, un autre jeune aussi. Il semblait arrogant, et en général les gens qui riaient de la perspective d'un interrogatoire n'étaient pas les plus stables, il connaissait quelques Batariens comme ça et ils avaient des stries vraiment sombres en eux, chaque fois que quelqu'un se précipite pour infliger la douleur à d'autres, ils ne vont pas être très gentils, ce qui était certain. Un autre était insensible, si Anderson avait entendu ces mots que ce jeune garçon aurait goûté à l'arrière d'un gantelet N7. "Je serais prudent comment vous dites des choses... qui que vous soyez... il y aura des gens qui ne trouveront pas vos mots très gentils, et parmi un groupe comme celui-ci, c'est un moyen rapide de finir par manquer un membre, si vous avez de la chance. Alria n'était pas particulièrement heureuse en ce moment, mais elle devenait rapidement plus heureuse alors que les choses commençaient à s'effondrer. Au moins, elle devenait plus heureuse jusqu'à ce que la voix odieusement familière de cet Homme revienne. Elle ne connaissait pas encore son nom et déjà deux fois il semblait s'éloigner de son chemin pour lui dire quelque chose de stupide. S'il essayait de se faire des amis, il ne faisait que la faire vouloir le frapper... et ça semblait de plus en plus probable. Malgré ses paroles insultantes et odieux, elle garda une tête de niveau, bien que son sourire grandissant disparaisse de son visage. "Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas chez toi? Tu te débarrasses de l'idée de souffrir et de dire des trucs comme ça? Penses-tu à ce que tu dis? Ou aimez-vous simplement mettre votre pied dans votre bouche?" Elle lui a posé des questions, se tournant vers l'humain ennuyeux et smug. -- Si ça ne vous dérange pas... et même si vous le faites, iriez-vous trouver quelqu'un d'autre à harceler? Elle a fini, en essayant de se séparer de cet Homme. En retournant à Giles, elle a fini avec des bandages et les a vérifiés en double, sans prêter attention à l'Homme et en espérant qu'il prendrait l'indice de main lourde qu'elle lui a donné. Pour essayer de se recentrer sur des choses moins ennuyeuses, elle a recommencé à parler à Giles, réaffirmant sa question : « Avez-vous besoin d'aide? Je peux vous aider, faites-moi confiance." "Non, je ne prends pas plaisir à la douleur. Je prends plaisir à en causer le moins possible, d'un certain point de vue." Ethan regarda le Drell, puis le Turian avec confusion dans ses yeux, avec sa bouche serrée à nouveau, avec eux étant les seules choses trahissant la personnalité dans sa tête. Il a commencé cinq secondes, dix, quinze, avant de parler. "...je t'ai offensé." il a dit simplement, en indiquant l'évidence complète avant qu'il ne parle à nouveau. "...je..." Il a craqué, luttant pour faire sortir les mots. "Des excuses. Je ne voulais pas vous offenser. J'ai cru que tu avais une forme de... de culpabilité sur ce qui s'est passé aujourd'hui." Il s'est ébranlé la tête. "Je crois que nous sommes partis du mauvais pied, comme... certains disent. Puis-je avoir votre nom?" Giles a une fois de plus remercié Alria pour son aide, elle s'est avérée être tout à fait l'allié, il devrait la rembourser pour cela, d'une manière ou d'une autre. « Eh bien, comme vous l'avez dit vous-même, il n'y a rien d'autre que nous puissions faire ici, à moins d'avoir l'aptitude de nettoyer les décombres dans la recherche des gens, je ne suis pas en forme pour être de retour là-dedans... J'avais prévu de prendre un verre après cette mission, comme un vent vers le bas, je suppose qu'on pourrait quand même, si tu es prêt pour ça? Levez un verre pour les tombés, c'est le mieux que nous puissions faire pour eux. » Aller boire des boissons semblait légèrement inapproprié étant donné la situation, mais il avait été une tradition que lui et son groupe merc avaient fait depuis plus de 20 ans, sans faute, quand ils ont perdu quelqu'un de boire ont été élevés à leur nom, quand ils ont sorti une mission difficile ils ont été élevés joyeusement, c'était quelque chose qu'ils avaient toujours fait, et d'arrêter maintenant... ça ne semblait pas bien. Tournant la tête loin d'Alria, il regarda l'homme, il était tout à fait possible que ce garçon naïf ait simplement dit les mauvaises choses qui avaient voulu sortir différemment dans sa tête, c'était facile à faire; si c'était le cas, il méritait au moins une seconde chance. Bien que pour sa santé, il serait probablement préférable qu'il reste loin d'Alria pendant un certain temps, elle ferait probablement un bon coup sur lui s'il restait quelque part près d'elle. Et Giles n'était pas en position d'empêcher cela de se produire. "Je suis Giles, et toi?" Alria avait l'air un peu confuse sur les paroles de l'Homme. Même s'ils ne semblaient pas authentiques, elle pouvait aider, mais elle remarquait à quel point il était difficile pour lui de les dire. Cela à son tour lui a fait savoir que peut-être pendant qu'il était un énorme cul, il n'était pas pourri au cœur. Elle n'était toujours pas prête à lui pardonner, mais il lui faudrait apprendre son nom pour qu'elle puisse au moins lui donner ça, "Vicrinus". Elle a dit courtoisement, clairement encore un peu en colère contre l'Homme. Cependant, Giles a donné sa réponse et elle a eu une offre à combattre. Elle ne buvait pas beaucoup, mais était sûre d'être une fêtarde. Bien sûr, Giles n'était pas dans la bonne forme de fête, mais les boissons et les fêtes avaient tendance à s'asseoir main dans la main, peu importe. "Je pourrais aller boire un verre. Tu achètes?" Elle a posé à la Drell, plus curieux de sa réponse que tout et elle a été montrée par le sourire ludique sur ses lèvres. Ethan a hurlé à la fois à la Drell et au Turian. Au moins ils semblaient tous les deux prêts à parler maintenant, il semblait s'excuser avait fonctionné. Il aurait probablement dû essayer cela plus souvent dans le passé. J'aurais déjà sauvé beaucoup d'ennuis. "Ethan Sartiel." Il s'est présenté. "Lieutenant, c'est-à-dire. Mon grade. Du moins, je crois. Je ne suis pas sûr de ce que je suis appelé maintenant. Je ne sais pas si les spectres utilisent les rangs ou quoi que ce soit." Il s'est griffé la tête. Même lui pouvait voir la situation embarrassante maintenant, et a décidé de brouiller la première chose à laquelle il pouvait penser. "...donc....boissons, hein? Puis-je y assister?" Giles a rendu le sourire qu'Alria a donné et a répondu avec " Eh bien, je suppose que je vous dois pour tous les bandages que vous avez dépensés sur moi, donc oui je achète; juste aller doucement sur ma poche ok? Je connais un endroit décent qui vend de l'acide Dextro-Amino, pour que tu puisses boire sans te jeter les tripes sur la table. Les prix vont aussi bien, le propriétaire me donne de bons prix puisqu'il me connaît moi et mon vieux groupe Merc." Il s'est avéré que l'homme était connu sous le nom d'Ethan, et d'une manière ou d'une autre il avait réussi à acquérir le grade de lieutenant, étrange puisqu'il ne semblait pas être un officier matériel, bien que la guerre des moissonneurs ait réussi à créer un vide de postes d'officier, la guerre a toujours fait, les gens montent les rangs plus rapidement pour les remplacer et par conséquent la qualité d'eux diminue. Le fait qu'Ethan voulait aller avec eux pour se procurer des boissons était cependant légèrement inquiétant, la pensée de l'alcool dans ces deux-là signifierait seulement que les choses allaient devenir désagréables, finalement. Mais il n'a rien dit pour le moment, sans doute qu'Alria ferait ça pour lui. Alria a d'abord entendu Giles et sa confirmation de quelques boissons gratuites. C'était mignon comme il s'inquiétait pour son portefeuille, mais c'était inutile. Elle n'avait pas besoin d'être bête et elle ne cherchait pas à l'être. Donc elle ne l'a gourdi qu'en une, alors peut-être qu'elle s'est sentie comme ça. Au moins, c'était son plan. Mais c'est là que l'Homme s'est exprimé pour se révéler comme Ethan... et qu'il a apparemment voulu les rejoindre. Pourquoi ce jour ne peut-il pas juste avoir un bon moment pour son nom? "Je sais que tu as dit que tu étais désolé, mais tu m'as déjà insulté deux fois. Et même à ce moment-là, ces excuses ne se sentaient pas authentiques... Alors pourquoi pensez-vous que je voudrais boire un verre avec vous?" Elle l'a dit un peu garcement. Mais à ce stade, elle s'est sentie pleinement justifiée dans sa réponse. Pourtant, même si elle n'a pas aimé les deux grèves qu'il a déjà eues, il en faut trois pour sortir... "Je ne dirai pas non, mais je n'achèterai pas une tournée pour vous." Ethan a attendu que le Drell réponde, seulement pour ne pas entendre un mot. C'est étrange. Peut-être que ses blessures l'entrainaient au point qu'il ne pouvait pas vraiment parler. Il se demandait brièvement si le medi-gel fonctionnait, quand le Turian parlait. Il a été surpris. Qu'est-ce qu'elle voulait dire par les excuses qui n'étaient pas authentiques? Pourquoi le ferait-il s'il n'était pas désolé? Bien sûr qu'il était désolé. Il s'est à peine moqué des gens pour s'amuser. La plupart du temps. ... un peu du temps. ...il ne le faisait pas maintenant. "...deux fois?" Il a demandé, en regardant vraiment confus. "... Comment t'ai-je insulté deux fois? Je ne t'ai insulté qu'une fois, accidentellement, il y a une minute. Êtes-vous vraiment offensé que vous le comptez comme deux?" Il secoua légèrement la tête. Faire affaire avec les gens était tellement fastidieux. Il y avait une raison pour laquelle il ne l'a jamais fait. "Et pourquoi m'acheter une tournée? J'ai mon propre argent. Je peux l'acheter moi-même." Le regard de confusion était toujours sur son visage. Gilvert soupira intérieurement "Cette arme finira bien... Ok Ethan, tu es le bienvenu pour nous rejoindre, mais je pense qu'on devrait attendre un moment avant de partir, au cas où d'autres voudraient nous rejoindre- plus j'ai besoin d'une petite pause avant de bouger de nouveau, et Alria je suis sûr qu'il... a mal parlé nous pouvons encore avoir un bon verre ensemble, Dieu sait que j'ai besoin d'un, ou trois. Giles espérait que si Alria allait faire quelque chose d'irréfléchi, elle attendrait au moins jusqu'à ce que les Spectres ne regardent pas, espérons qu'il n'en sortirait rien. Quel mal quelques verres pourraient - ils causer?

Name: Gilvert Somner, "Giles" Race: Drell Class: Infiltrator Age: 51 Sex: Male Appearance: Gilvert stands at around 5’8 and weighs roughly around 10 stone, he has a number of scars from shrapnel burns and old bullet wounds in his chest, and a few on his right arm, 2 above the shoulder, one below the elbow. Backstory: Gilvert Somner is born on Kahje - Year 2136 Gilvert has been an assassin and a mercenary in his life, as well as the fact that he fought during the reaper wars and spent a good portion of his life on Omega, he’s seen a lot of action over his life and he’s beginning to show it, at least mentally, his physical injuries over the years haven’t been overly extensive and nothing too major. Year 2156 His days as an assassin began on his “home planet” of Kahje, the Hanar homeworld, much like a number of drell that got accepted into their fold when they saved a portion of the population from the Drell homeworld, given the small number that was actually rescued it’s uncommon much to see a drell in the galaxy; however the odd and rare sighting typically means that the Hanar need work doing, given their nature there’s many things a Hanar can’t do, or at the very least things that are better left in the hands of others, when the drell were accepted into Kahje, those with certain skills, or merely those whom the hanar felt could work effectively for them were trained up to become assassins -as well as soldiers, spec-ops, anything really that revolved around combat. In his early years Gilvert was offered to perform tasks for the Hanar due to the fact that he scored highly on the tests ran by the Hanar to find the best of the Drell race, especially in regards to combat proficiency and stealth aptitude, it was also during this time that Gilvert was putting many hours of study behind Chemistry. In Drell culture it’s regarded as a great honour to be asked by the Hanar to perform certain tasks, although this didn’t really resonate well with Gilvert, he has as thankful as the rest of his race for the kindness of the hanar, but he had plans for his future that didn’t typically involve the act of killing others. If only he were blessed with foresight then he might have seen just what this path would lead him to, a life where killing is both naturally and something he does with enjoyment. He accepted the offer, knowing full well that denying it would come with a lot of attached stigma from his peers and family for that matter. His training to become an assassin for them went underway, it took 4 years to train him properly and it was around this time, that things were getting a bit off about Gilvert - it’s not exactly certain what was the initial cause for his psychosis developing, but it was certainly around this time that you could say it began to form. Multiple reports and evaluations during his training, and ones that were inevitably pulled from his schools that he had attended during childhood suggested a slight bit of mental instability, when he was growing up he did a lot of art, drawing and painting was something he loved and enjoyed, at the time they couldn't discover as to why he never pursued it, or never does it in his spare time, however it was later discovered that his mother had not liked the idea of her son becoming something like an artist and forced him to pursue something scientific or productive like a military role or working for a tech/weapons company, as to better the state of the galaxy, and increase the defence of the Hanar and the Drell alike. During combat simulations it was observed that on occasion he had the tendency to execute opponents in a very specific manner, going against protocol and training, what was particularly noted was his way to kill in a certain order - the order of their deaths was only seen by the Drells eyes, and none of his own race nor the Hanar who witnessed could fathom it. Despite everything of his odd mannerisms and actions, his proficiency was still very high and got the job done regardless of it; it was brushed aside as nothing of import - later in his life the Hanar who run this operation begin to connect the dots in thinking that he performs his art now in the only way he knows how, artistry in death, perfection in destruction his canvas is the galaxy; its people the paint; his hands the brush. The training was rigorous and intense, it departed a great deal from anything Gilvert was ever thinking of doing, or ever thought of doing - he understand that his body had been honed into a weapon now, it would have it’s uses, it meant that he could keep himself alive - it meant that whilst others would die, inevitably he would be doing a justice, the people he would have to kill, all of them were disgusting- vile creatures that made life insufferable for the majority; but regardless of the justifications, something changed about him that day. His first job - given that he was adapt in chemistry, and that he had been specialised in the use of explosives as well as long range elimination Gilvert was outfitted with a set of explosive charges and mines - his job had two tasks; eliminate the target, a Krogan warlord who lead a group of mercenaries that mainly dealt in the narcotic Red sand, and stolen cargo vessels. And destroy the cargo ship that had over 1,000 kilos of red sand on board. This job, changed Gilvert for the rest of his life; for better or for worse, is yet to be seen. Gilvert was outfitted with a Haliat armoury sniper rifle with tungsten rounds, designed specifically to take out the krogan in a single shot - assuming it landed in the head. As well as a number of different explosives, and one special bomb that was mean to be placed on the ships hull - it would be mojre than capable of destroying it. Once he had been given his full briefing and handed a large sum of credits to pave his way, he left Kahje for the first time. It was a daunting episode in his life the first off world place he visited, out of all of them, was Omega the ship provided to him took him there within a day and the only help he got on it was the fact that this place was basically the ass-end of the galaxy - all sorts of deplorables, and honest people alike come here - a friend of his called it the Anti-Citadel, and after 48 hours on the space-station, he could only agree, there was plenty of information regarding what the Citadel looked like and how it was back on Kahje, it looked amazing, truly a great place, this however, has quite the opposite. Despite how many different races were on this station, he - as a drell, got quite a few looks of surprise and skepticism, many people did not know what a Drell looked like, let alone have the “fortune” to see one in person. The one person he did know to go to however, was an Asari named Aria T’loak, the defacto leader of this station, if he wanted any better intel on his target, she’d be the one to ask. After giving the bouncer at the doors to a club named Afterlife an “entrance fee” he made his way inside. The music could be heard clearly, if not slightly muffled from outside, but inside the atmosphere was unlike anything he had ever witnessed or experience it was incredibly loud, flashing neon lights and exotic dancers, almost every race was mingling, drinking, dancing… Gilvert tried his utmost to look as if he knew what he was doing, to put on a mask to make sure he didn’t look as if was fish fresh out of water. He probably wasn’t doing very well, but Drell facial expressions are hard to read without actually knowing the race well, which will prove to serve to his advantage a great deal through his career. He asked the bartender how he could talk to the Asari, and got pointed towards a set of stairs that lead upwards, she clearly had the best seat on the house. A burly looking Batarian blocked the way, he didn’t even attempt to stop the Drell and simply said in a coarse, but clearly audible voice.“Go on up, she’s expecting you.” Now that elicited a very easy to read expression of surprise on his face, the batrain grinned, baring his many pinprick like teeth before stating once more “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting, do yourself a favour and hurry up.” Without further hesitation Gilvert did exactly that. The meeting with the “Queen of Omega” proved to be very enlightening, she offered him more than enough information on how to get the job done, but on one condition. The ship filled to the brim with red sand must be left untouched, if he did so - she would pay him 10% net worth of its contents as a thanks - part two of the payment, part one was the intel he received. Gilvert knew it was not a request, as “kind” as she stated it, he had already accepted by receiving the intel from her, the payment was merely a bonus on something he now didn’t have a choice in doing. The entire process has been mentally overwhelming, the constant barrage of new information and adaptations he had to make in order to do his job properly and effectively, it took its toll. Eventually Gilvert got to the private hangar that this Krogan warlord had access too, docked into an airlock was the cargo ship, which was currently being stocked with the substance red sand, it was nearly fully stocked now so time was of the essence. It was as he looked through his scope; over 300 meters away from his target that it happened. It was like a bolt of lightning flashed behind his eyes, his first psychotic episode was especially traumatic for Gilvert due to the fact that they have eidetic memory which allows them to remember almost everything in extremely vivid detail, however when there’s a black patch, when there’s nothing over a period of time - that is one of the most worrying things a Drell can undergo- to always know what you’ve done in your past, and then there’s just a break in that clarity, where he knows he killed over 60 innocent dock workers. That realisation traumatised him beyond repair, the aspiring Chemical scientist that was Gilvert is gone, memories of that time seem like they’re of another person now. It's cause is not certain as the mind cannot be really understood - however Gilvert felt a hostile presence from Omega from the moment he stepped onto this gods forsaken station, it was oppressive and overbearing, its quite possible that this was the trigger, landing into a place full of hostile, or potentially hostile entities - his training made him think of that as all assassins do, everyone is a potential threat, they can cause a discovery or try to be a hero - get in the way, so many things the average person can do to ruin an assassin and in turn, their life; the fact that this place disgusted him too, did not help the people here- pathetic all of them, scum of the galaxy, they were a taint. How could perfection ever exist if such a glaring imperfection such as Omega exist? He was an artist, he needed his work to be perfect, it was this line of thinking that began him to traipse slowly down a decline which inevitably broke him, or fixed him depending on your views - he struggles to draw the line between the real him, is the artist the real him - or is it the mercenary? During this episode, which last just over 46 minutes, Gilvert had managed to flawlessly infiltrate the dock and tactically place 75% of his explosive ordnance around the port, as well as the specially modified bomb designed for the transport vessel. Moved to a safe distance, executed his target with one shot from his sniper rifle, and detonated the explosives - the sheer force made the station rattle slightly - the ship which was outside of the actual station itself survived; in his episode he seen no need to destroy it. But he knows how he felt after he came to about 3 miles away from the place that he had just destroyed, he felt elated, he knew that but moments ago he had made something great, he had begun work on a masterpiece that he would inevitably obsess over for the rest of his life. He also knew, that something had gone terribly wrong, two sides of his mind conflicted, spared all the way back to Afterlife. When he got to the Batarian who was at the stair case he just said with a look surprise on his face “Shit, I know keeping Aria happy with your work is a good idea, but you clearly wanted to impress the boss on your first day huh? Keep it up killer, you might make a good thing here.” He gestured upwards indicating he could go up. Aria ended up somewhat scolding him in a similar way a mother scolds a child for taking the last cookie, she wasn’t entirely bothered about how he executed the job, he had still made sure she got her cargo and for that she was happy. But he had proved to be reckless, next time things may not go as well, was the gist of what she said to him - in turn she transferred a large sum of credits to his account and also went on to say that the cargo ship “was destroyed in the explosion” or at least that’s what the news will say, meaning that in turn he had still fulfilled the task for the Hanar. Not that they would be happy about his methods. Before he left to face the music however, Aria said that if he needed work, her door was open to him. That was exactly what he needed for when he went back to Kahje, he almost instantly faced a tribunal for his actions, despite the fact that he had completed his task, he had done so with a complete disregard to innocent life in the process - Gilvert didn’t even try and defend his actions as he himself was still warring over them, he felt as if he had done the right thing, but ultimately knew he had done something bad- as a result Gilvert was exiled from Kahje, he was to leave the planet tomorrow with what he already had on his person, and never to come back; he wasn't even allowed to see his family or friends. This hallmark of his life, was probably the most significant out of all others we will have, it set the pace for him, that path he would now walk, everything from here on out was defined by this moment. After he made his way back to Omega, and got in touch with Aria once again, she gave him the location of a merc group that worked for on occasion; turns out they were in need for someone just like him after their last demolitions man stepped on his own mine. Life as a mercenary - Year 2161- 2186 Despite everything that had happened, this merc group took him in with no reservations, they were a 6 man squad, now 7 with his addition. The leader was a Krogan warlord, a literal juggernaut of flesh and armour The second in command at that time was a Salarian engineer, adept in hacking and disruption of enemy systems A batarian vanguard, proficient with biotics and; oddly, extremely laid back. Two turians, neither like the other, one was biotic and the other was a sniper. And finally an asari - ex-commando The Krogan took a liking to Gilvert very quickly, after he heard the space port incident was his doing he stated that they were going to get on very well with each other if he kept up the work like that. The group was an effective one, highly skilled and very capable; the number of missions they took had them head to the likes of Tuchunka, Ilum, the dark streets of the Citadel but mainly they operated in the traverse and terminus systems - from the Ismar frontier to the Hades nexus. It was during one specific mission that he acquired one of the newly designed M-97 Widowmakers, which had been tinkered with for greater suitability for use by a single user, Gilvert ended up sinking over 300,000 credits in modifications and updates to keep weapon always one step ahead of any other sniper rifle in circulation. During these years Gilvert became very familiar with Omega and its filthy streets, he also got very well acquainted with Aria T’loak; it wasn’t uncommon to find him, on occasion, and assuming she wasn’t attending any business, with her in afterlife - more often that not it lead to a job for the merc band, but it helped that she liked him, in a way. His time on Omega also lead him to meet another Drell, in 2171; his name -Thane Krios. He had heard from a few whispers back on Khaje that this was one of the most successful assassins the Hanar had at their disposal, and Krios too knew who he was, the disgraced assassin that was exiled, they had a somewhat cold feeling talk with one another and parted ways, Thane was not fond of Gilvert, that much was certain. The mercenaries memories - Year 2161- 2186 (i’ll add to these as the roleplay progresses, these are specific mission he has undertaken, and he’ll recall in memories or in telling stories to others. The Battle for Earth: Year 2186 The merc band that Gilvert was apart of ultimately ended up fioghting on Earth itself for the fianl battle against the reapers, after they and various other merc groups aided Aria and Shepard remove Cereberus from Omega, they were hired and sent to Earth for the final battle, where upon their numbers were halved by the end of it, Only the Krogan warlord, himself and the asari commando remained- it’s fair to say that there already tight bonds were made tighter after this battle. Despite all the odds, Gilvert managed to get through the entire battle without a single episode occurring, which is very happy about, their frequency has been increasing and that was one battle, he did not want to forget or miss remembering. After the Battle was over, the merc group, which has been named “Heroic outcasts” by their leader given their role during the Reaper invasion, they aided in the reconstruction of London and took the time to have a break from all the fighting and killing, it was a well-paid, well fed endeavour as well as good for their ranks, of which they easily replenished with some truly incredible outcasts, perfect for their merry little merc band. Things were looking up, but it would soon be time to get a move on. Psyche Profile: The psyche profile of Gilvert is slightly worrying, it’s progressing into something that shows signs of psychosis, sometimes in the heat of battle he can begin to lose grasp of reality making his actions erratic and strange, he begins to talk as if the world were a tapestry and his hands hold the only brush that can paint it’s dull blank canvas: in reds, blues, purples and greens, every death signifies a step closer to the completion of this masterpiece, whilst he’s going through a psychotic episode he can still tell the difference between friend and foe, for now at least, in his addled mind he perceives friendlies as people whom contain the wrong colour for his work, and as such, there is no use in killing them as they would ruin his tapestry, this can lead him to protect certain people with ruthlessness, they must survive, as they would mar his work. This side of him does not show often though, although as time passes its frequency will increase and the length of each episode. Otherwise this drell is a bit of a wiseguy, he will be picky and is oft sarcastic, and takes delight in the strangest of things, especially when he nails one of the enemy with one his many explosives, the cain mines being the crescendo of his symphony of death. Overall this Drell is disturbed, but nevertheless an oddly reliable and exceptionally capable killer and explosives expert, just expect a mess when he finishes a job. "Yeah that was one hell of an operation, should have seen Giles when the artist came out... We get asked alot if that side of him is a liability, fuck that nonsense - let me tell you guys a story of how the artist makes our job 10x more fun, and 10x easier!" Virtak had successfully entrapped his audience around the table, a number of patrons in one of the many bars on the Citadel - the group had been taking some time off and spending some of their hard earned credits, and Virtak being himself refuses to buy his own drinks, and gets them via storytelling. Oddly successful at it too. "So... it begins when we..." Virtak began a large vulpine smile on his lips. -At an undisclosed system in the Traverse- Year:2181 The Mercenary band had finally made it after traipsing half way across the galaxy chasing one goddamned ship, it had managed to land on one of them many numerous seemingly dis-interesting planets that scattered hundreds of systems throughout the galaxy, perfect place for those whom don't want to be seen doing what they do. "What's the info we have on this piece of rocky shit?" Virtak asked their pilot; the Turian in the cockpit replied with "Nothing interesting about it in any files or records, its orbiting a G class star at around 9.2 Au, barely got any atmosphere, but what it does have contains trace amounts of methane and nitrogen, means if you're outside you gotta wear a helmet; surface is cold as fuck too, -134 Celsius, I don't recommend going for a stroll; get in, kill them all, get out." All's the pilot got in response was a growl as Virtak lumbered off to assemble the crew. Within 10 minutes they were all outfitted and ready to go. Their landing was fairly smooth, it appeared that the enemy knew they were being chased and offloaded their cargo as swiftly as possible before getting inside the bunker that stood before the 7 mercs; Giles had been off long before arriving on the cold rock that was this planet, and no amount of medication that he took was making him feel any better, everyone knew what this meant, and that meant Giles himself. After the airlock was hacked open the mercs moved in and waited for depressurisation before removing their helmets, the first room they entered had been cleared mostly of clutter but its design offered a fair bit on what the rest of the place would be like. It was a recent construction and clearly a very expensive build, this place was a veritable bunker designed to survive bombardment, the naturally hard surface outside helped as well, clearly they were dealing with one paranoid fucker. As they prepped to siege the next room - since Giles' recon mine outlined several hostile entities inside, it was then the episode started. The Artist awakens! "NO! THIS CANVAS! IT'S. SO. DULL! PLACID AND DEPRIVED, IT NEEDS COLOUR, IT NEEDS A BREATH OF LIFE IN ITS SOULLESS HUSK OF A CORPSE: I MUST, I NEED, I WILL GIVE IT LIFE! I WILL PAINT IT WITH CRIMSON REDS, BOLD BLUES, STARTLING PURPLES AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL COLOUR OF THEM ALL! IN VERDANT GREENS!" The Artist stood, in front of him stood his audience, they always stood and observed his show's they were loyal, they respected his work they cheered when he began his work, they wept tears of joy when they seen him place his brush down when the work had been completed and above all the always returned to watch him perform again, they had beautiful colours in them, they'd make a fine painting, but he enjoyed admirers of his work - alas what is the point of art if there is none to admire its beauty? The big one spoke "Giles, blow the door, its time to to get to work." Ugh, his voice was so crude, it hurt his ears to listen to it, but he spoke of something that mattered greatly the performance was to begin, the curtains were in front of him, the only colour in this world that he in stood a shocking veil of velvet red curtains, and on it was one of his brushes, something he used to splash many a colour across a large area of the canvas, in his hand there lied the magical ability to commence the show, to draw back the curtains and begin his show, his performance of perfection, his symphony of death, so much paint and colour lied ahead of him, and he most make them pour it free. His hands shook with anticipation, a mad smile covered his face, his eyes wild with excitement. "It's time to begin the performance! This, will be my greatest work of art as of yet!" And as he finished his sentence he blew the door of its hydrolic locks and hinges, a tonne of metal flew free from its hinges and crashed off a pillar within the room behind it, his audience moved forward to take their seats, he stopped to take in a large gulp of air, and drew his most prized instrument, this brush of his, it was unique in that it was capable of creating the best colours, nothing - no other instrument did he ever have at his disposal create the same dark and deep colours as this did, he caressed its smooth surface and cool metal as it began its tune of unlocking, it was now truly an instrument of which he would sow the seeds of death, and with one stroke reap its harvest. He moved swiftly, moving onto the stage and within mere seconds clocked his first target, setting up his instrument of beauty he peered closer at it through the scope, this target, large and unsightly was its exterior but insie he knew, it contained that precious colour that he needed for his first stroke - an Azure blue, a perfect rendition of the skies of Khaje. This colour, he needed it, he must use IT, it was time to dip his brush in the paint, and begin the work of a master. He pulled the trigger back, it giving its master no resistance as he did so, it begged to be pulled back as both he and his instrument wanted the same thing. And the Choir began their hymn, the barrel shook as their voices pierced the heavens and the projectile was unleashed from its captivity. It blazed through the air, and as the choir hit its crescendo the bullet pierced through its target spilling forth in large quantities life's most precious liquid. Giles' eyes watered at the sight, it was the very incarnation of perfection, the first kill, the first stroke of the brush it always moved him the most, joy bloomed in his fragile heart and he buried the memory deep inside him, with all of the others, every other first stroke he had made. The painting had begun, the performance in full swing his audience begging for more. He would have to continue, he had to to ensure that they were sated; his work was in high demand and he would gleefully fulfil that demand. Giles danced around the room, with every step he sowed further seeds of his perfection, spilling more and more essence of life that painted this tawdry setting. His work was getting more and more complete, every step that dawned closer to the finish of this artwork made his eyes swell with tears of pain and sorrow, but equally his lust for more increased, he wanted nothing more to see the end result of his work to see the perfection of his art and the mastery of his strokes. For every stroke on this painting meant it was always one step closer to the next painting he would make. As his performance drew to a close he his from the crowds eyes, concealing himself! One of the beings in front of him held that alluring Crimson red that he loved - he used one of his other tools for this one, activating a cain mine he placed it on his target before revolving around with incredible speed and unleashing a powerful kick into its chest, sending t flying over towards another person whom held a dark but soothing light green. The explosion that ensued joined their colours together and splattered them around the area, truly outstanding, the perfect merging of them blossomed into a cascade of colour; it was like the flowers in Thessia coming into bloom. There only lied one last are he needed to paint, and only one person held the final colour, a navy blue, it would complement his work nicely and add the perfect finishing touch. Leaping to a piece of cover he prepared his main instrument of artistry and executed a perfect shot, it punched through a piece of the theatre and into the head, exploding to release voluminous amounts of paint. Giles placed his weapon on his back, swivelling on his right foot as he did so, and falling to on knee he raised his hands to the heavens, outstretched as if to hold the gods themselves, and with a voice filled with joy he stated to his audience. "My work is complete! Truly my best work to date, its magnificent colours blend perfectly together, there isn't so much as a single blemish, upon its once pale canvas; I have restored it to life! I have bestowed upon it the greatest gift any can be given..." PERFECTION! Specialty: Gilvert would shame some of the most prominent STG explosives experts, this man is truly gifted with that art of explosions, he looks at the work of others with disdain and contempt, mere children trying to grasp at the concept that only a master can truly understand, this is his art, his passion! He can rig up most explosives as well as use volatile equipment to his advantage to make almost homemade bombs, his knowledge in chemistry is expansive and is certainly on par with scientists in that field of study. Despite his proficiency with explosives he remains an effective sniper and can hit targets from up to 700 meters away with relative ease, however when he uses his explosive rounds which makes the gun fire slightly erratically, his competency drops to around 450 meters, although the explosion could still nail one of the intended targets. He can adapt to many combat situations given his expansive experience on the front and in general combat - he’s fought pirates, raiders, reapers, cerberus, hostile indigenous life forms, asari commandos, STG operatives, high grade security and mercenaries. The only thing he hasn’t fought is the geth and a thresher maw, Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak (“I love sticking a cain mine on someone's back”) Recon mine(“I can see you! *detonates* Awh, where’d you go?”) Cain mine(“These are my babies, wanna hold them? They don’t bite.”) Explosive rounds(“Turns my rifle into a Rocket launcher?! Give me 50!”) Lift grenades(“Can’t blow up the cover? Get those cowards up from behind it!”) Multi-Frag grenades (“Why have one grenade when you can have several?!??!?”) Equipment and Resources: M-98 Widowmaker X-II - Heavily modified variant of the M-98 Widowmaker, it’s got a 50% longer barrel than its smaller brother which both increases its already substantial weight and moving instability meaning that this rifle requires to be set-up prior to firing, it can still be utilised effectively by a skilled and well organised sniper, but inevitably this weapons purpose is to deal maximum damage in a single bullet, Krogan and heavily armoured targets are the favourites for this weapon - typically a Drell wouldn't be able to wield it due its absurd recoil and extremely damaging recoil at that; the fact that he acquired it in an already modified state, clearly being redesigned to allow non-synthetic races, or anyone with substantial modifications to fire this gun without the worry of losing an arm. It wasn't usable by Gilvert until 2180, when sufficient modifactions had allowed it to be fired - painfully mind, but still able to be fired by him. Other than its massively reduced accuracy and increased recoil (this is with heavy modification into recoil dampers as well) the rifle is extremely powerful, it’s got one round per thermal clip and has a long reload time as well as overheating problems since there’s no current clip in circulation that can properly cool this gun, it can only be fired twice per minute at the very most lest the frame start to overheat and fracture. Designed to eliminate vehicles, heavily armoured targets, multiple foes with a single bullet, or busting through a bunker - its penetration value is exceedingly high; the explosive rounds have been modified to detonate upon secondary collision, meaning it can retain its capability to pierce through targets, and then detonate when it comes into contact with something else: e.g: Bullet pierces through a brick wall, hits a poor volus and then blows up. M-21 Locust submachine gun - due to its already high level accuracy the gun has been modified to favour damage and a larger thermal clip capacity. A satchel filled with explosive templates: 25 grenade templates, and 50 mine templates. Templates are literally just an empty mine or grenade shell, meaning that they need to be “coded” with their designated primers via omni-tool, this means that templates are safe to carry around without fear of them accidently blowing up on your person, and to stop Gilvert from throwing every explosive he has at once at people. The satchel also contains his homemade medication to lower the chances of him having an episode, its a mixture of red sand and various other drugs. A modified Savant Omnitool - The omni-tool is designed to work with the plethora of explosives that Gilvert has access to, it can code in the necessary primers to activate the templates, priming them when they are launched, or thrown. He can switch primers by accessing his omnitool quickly in battle. Also the omni tool can launch grenades and mine templates up to 100 meters away, or alternatively eject them for manual placement, grenades are partially primed when thrown, but armed as soon as they come into contact with an object - mines are only activated the moment they latch onto a surface, and will only be able to detonate a second after priming, they can be remotely detonated via omnitool from up to 250 meters away, if the user exceeds this distance they automatically detonate cain mines are the exception, they detonate when someone passes the laser tripwire, but lose the ability to be detonated by trigger from the user. No armour, but a powerful kinetic barrier keeps old Gilvert safe from harm. Sample Post: Year -2178 “Why don’t we get Giles to blow the door?” The large Krogan battlemaster, and their leader stated in an almost monotone growl - he was starting to get impatient now. The group of them had been waiting outside of the facilities main doors for at least 30 minutes now. The mention of explosives elicited a gleeful smile from Gilvert, with a practised hand, began sifting through his satchel of various grenades and mines. “When you say blow up the door, how blown up do you want it? I can get the door to fly inwards and crush whoever’s standing behind it? That’d be pretty fun.” But before the Krogan could reply the Salarian technician shot the option down in flames “I’m nearly done, so don't give the drell ideas Virtak - we are breaking into a facility to one of biggest weapon and technology producers in the galaxy, you are aware of this right?” The Salarian almost spat the sentence out, speaking at the speed of light as most Salarians did, Gilvert was surprised the translator in his Omnitool could keep up with them at times. The Krogan responded to the Salarians outburst with a low growl before saying “Yeah yeah, we are here for the “supposed” cure to Keprals syndrome, that jelly offered a lot of credits for this so I’m buying the drinks if things go well, hell it even said you could go back to Kahje if you do this Giles; you know because blowing up hundreds of people when you were tasked to kill one guy is a bit overkill? Pah, goddamn soft blobs they are, a bit of collateral damage never hurt anyone.” The 7 of them Mercs were all stood outside the heavy metal doors to a Hahne Kedar corperation facility, where their client; a very prominent Hanar on Kahje has said the cure to Keprals syndrome is either in works, or actually is here. The reward for completing the contract was 1,000,000 credits, which split between the 7 of them meant one hell of a pay day - they could all take a good bit of time off at the citadel with this money. It was highly secure, and heavily guarded. Thankfully though, things had gone pretty well thus far, they had managed to get to the planet undetected thanks to a special ship provided by the client, and their Salarian engineer - whom has second in charge, had also hacked into their security without being detected, meaning that for a while they had the jump on the guards. Gilvert had already rigged up their comms dish with explosives, so they couldn't send a distress signal out once they started their assault. This would be a good operation, everyone here could feel it. "Got it! get ready you lot, time to clock in and get a hard days work done." Their Salarian engineer had done it, took him a bit long, maybe he was slowing down in his old age. The Krogan warlord gave a triumphant laugh and drew his shotgun - "Good job, Seryt - Giles, when the door opens, lift them up." Ah, the cue he had been waiting for, a lift grenade was already coded and loaded into his Omni-tool, this was standard procedure for their breach and clear. They stood in a line, about a strides length separated one from the next, their guns all locked and pointed at the doorway, on the Salrians mark, he would open the door, and then their days work would begin properly. "3...2...1!" The door opened up, time seemed to slow as the guards stationed inside looked with bewilderment towards the heavily armed crew, they didn't even have time to activate their shields before the grenade collided with a crate and in a flash of blue light sent everything in the room up in the air - suspended there open before them without any defences barring their standard combat suits, they didn't stand a chance - everyone opened fire cutting the guards to ribbons, blue blood painted the air, stuck in the stasis field generated by the grenade, within a few seconds the effect ended, and with multiple thumps and crashes their lifeless bodies crumpled on the floor, blood splattered across it. Their Asari - Deiynia, shook her head "Sometimes, this group makes the commandos look like children, if we keep this performance up we won't even have to use medi-gel." "Yeah, good clear guys, lets get inside quickly - and Giles, blow the comms tower." The Virtak stated as he lumbered towards the now open doors. Without hesitation Gilvert pressed the detonate button on his Omni-tool, the resounding explosion which seemed to shake the whole facility was the only answer the group needed to get inside and get to work. After the doors had been closed by Seryt, he made his way to the console in the guard station, kicking a dead Turian out of the way as he did, the rest of them milled about and kept an eye out in case any reinforcements came. "Right, the labs are at the far end of the facility, if we turn left out of the northern corridor we will get there in about 10 minutes, assuming we meet little or no resistance..." The sentence was met with multiple snorts of derision and disbelief and the Turian sniper - Quintus laughed before saying "So basically it's gunna be a thirty minute journey and we kill about 50 guards and mechs - you know how it is, it's never bloody simple." Seryt merely sighed before heading towards the corridor to their destination, the rest of them fell in and began their careful advancement forward, they done it in stages, a few moved at once whilst they were covered by the back-line, Quintus and Gilvert were always last as they could provide the best support with their snipers if they were at the back. As they moved forward the odd noise of a Cain mine being shot at a wall could be heard - they wouldn't be flanked, that's for damn sure. They worked like clockwork, when they reached another door, Gilvert moved to the front and tossed in a lift grenade, then Deiynia would detonate it with biotic explosion, Virtak moved in to tank any potshots or stragglers who managed to have the shields up and they would all be killed by the subsequent barrage of gun fire from the merc band. Things were going smoothly, too smoothly. Either they were doing everything right, or something was off. This continued for the next 5 minutes, 3 rooms, with mixed personnel, some doing their typical work and guards just doing their jobs - cut down in a swath of gunfire, eventually Virtak stopped them, just as they cleared out the 4th room. "Somethings not right... Septimus, go back the way we came and close the door, then shoot your gun, just outside it." It was a good shout, odd to see a Krogan with actual intelligence, sound proofing would explain a lot, and they force locked any alternate path into rooms they had cleared barring the path they took, which was laden with mines. After he left and the doors closed, they heard nothing - a design choice was the only thing making this go as smooth as it was going, they all laughed when Septimus came back through, and kept going as they were. At last when they reached the end, the final room before their destination, they finally hit a snag- it was a room that had YMIR mecs being built, these were experimental peices of machines that the company had just announced last year, not only that but they had one of them unpacked, there were several engineers and at least a full compliment of guards in this room - the room they needed to get to was just past this one. They all took defensive positions, in a cone behind various pieces of cover, and it was up to Gilvert to begin the attack, he was focusing his sniper on the YMIR mecs head, as well as having a recon mine on call, ready to be fired straight at the things chest. He fired the mine, and landed exactly where he planned it to, which caused the near by guards to look in confusion at it, moving closer as they did - and with a click it exploded, doing little overall to the mech itself but killing both guards instantly as parts of their once whole bodies scattered haphazardly around the room, painting it in shades of blue. The YMRI mech gave a mechanical scream before issuing an alert in its synthesised voice HOSTILE ENTITIES SPOTTED, OPENING FIRE." It's statement was met in kind by the mercs as they unleashed a barrage of fire at the mech, it didn't last long, its shields and armour had already been partially damaged by the Recon mine, and it being hit all at once by the group overwhelmed it- but what happened next caught them all off guard, Quintus managed to blow its head off with a well placed sniper shot after its armour had been whittled down - the group though that was the end of it, but a increasingly rapid beeping commenced, it's core began to glisten white with heat, the metal around it corroding and melting to the floor, you could feel it on your flesh if it was exposed, the order to take cover didn't have to be said, you were an idiot if you didn't know what was going to happen, in a blinding flash of light and a massive explosion, pieces of corroded shrapnel and metal flew around the room, the production line that has many more of these being constructed was tore apart and brought everything to a halt - the sprinkler system kicked in and a blaring alarm kicked off. After they stepped up from behind their cover, they had realised that the guards had either ran for it, or been killed by the blast. "Shit, didn't expect that." Was all Virtak could say, the rest of them merely nodded or done nothing, wishing now to get this job over and done with, lest more of those mechs get here. When they got to the final room, they weren't disappointed, within it lied the cure, at least partially. It was designed to stop rather than actually cure it, meaning that subsequent injections of it were needed, it was clearly made to make credits. This made Virtak spit with rage - he was happy he could do this for both Gilvert, and the Drell, for he knew that one day the same may happen for the Krogan when it came to the Genophage. "Fucking scum! Is credits the only thing that matters?!" The job when it came was taken for both its high pay day and its purpose, inevitably they all knew that even if the pay was low for this job, they would have took it regardless given its nature and the gravity of it. Notes Developing psychosis, episodes are rare but erratic, typically they door occur in a firefight, or in the preparation stages to an engagement, that does not mean they can’t occur at any time though. Is trying his utmost to get his hands on the M-920 Cain, however he has been banned from acquiring the weapon via the blackmarket on Omega, orders from Aria T’loak herself; she wants to keep her station intact. Since the Cerberus assault on Omega, he has been trying alternate markets to get access to one. Still retains contact with his old Merc group, they can provide assistance if the pay is right. Has the coordinates to multiple equipment and weapons stockpiles dotted around the traverse - only 4 out of the original 13 still have sensors active and articulate that the stash is still there in it’s entirety, the others could have been destroyed, raided, or simply be anomalous. Holds the supposed cure to Keprals syndrome, as well as a holo-disk contain over 3,000 pages of information on the condition and the cure, however in it’s current form it does not cure the condition entirely merely prevents advancement, if a drug company got their hands on this they’d make billions in credits, he is currently attempting to find a way to make the cure a full one, instead of allowing it to be used for money. Isn’t addicted to Red sand, but is reliant on it.

Une Chase dans l'Ombre. Collab entre Arcarius et Mechon (Tiberius et Rayons) Le regard de Quarian s'éloigna du dégoût qu'il sentit au mur littéral des défenses qui continuèrent à frapper à la barrière devant lui, rendant son Arc Pistol sans valeur par rapport à la horde qui ne cessait de venir. Tiré après coup, clip après clip, et pourtant il n'y avait pas de fin visible pour ces créatures! Pire encore, après avoir rechargé une fois de plus, il s'est rendu compte qu'il était sur son dernier clip thermique... 6 clichés. Si Rayes savait qu'il s'était inscrit pour une expérience traumatisante, il aurait cru que c'était juste l'Éclipse qui l'embêtait! Il s'est donné un léger coup de poing dans le masque, forçant ses pensées à changer dans ce qui comptait. La situation était sombre, mais il y avait toujours une chance que les choses puissent être pires, n'est-ce pas? Ça pourrait toujours empirer, et il priait pour que ce ne soit pas si... C'était la deuxième fois qu'il se trompait. Tout s'est passé si vite, un flou à l'œil non entraîné de l'ingénieur que la barrière s'est effondrée. Et pourtant, à travers le chaos, un seul être organique émerge des défenses : Anderson. C'est alors seulement qu'il s'est rendu compte que leur chef n'avait pas été avec eux tout ce temps. Il s'est senti comme un idiot de ne pas l'avoir réalisé dans une situation aussi précaire, et pourtant regarder la horde d'achoppement devant a révélé le Spectre humain. Ça a dû être un miracle d'avoir survécu seul... non, pas de sens d'inquiéter le Quarien s'est dit, après tout, qu'il y avait encore le... En retournant à la face des scientifiques, son visage s'est amer en réalisant que plusieurs avaient commencé à faire une pause pour elle en raison du chaos. Cela lui a donné envie de crier dans la frustration à quel point cette mission était mauvaise, et pourtant, il a ressenti une teinte de regret en ne racontant pas à Anderson les expériences qu'il avait glissées. À l'époque, ils semblaient être des riens simples, et maintenant que les scientifiques qui avaient fait de tels actes essayaient de s'échapper... Rayes ne le permettrait pas. Il était censé être responsable de les garder ensemble, et son accent sur les défenses l'empêchait d'aller là où il était négligent. Dans les moments qui suivirent, il regarda les Asari s'emparer d'un des scientifiques, mais plusieurs autres partirent. C'est alors qu'il a décidé qu'il devrait être celui pour donner la poursuite, le sentiment qu'il serait plus utile de le faire alors avec son pistolet. Il s'est tourné vers les autres pour les informer de sa décision, mais ce faisant... Tibère était déjà sur les talons des Quariens, il avait lui aussi remarqué l'évasion et a décidé de poursuivre. Je t'ai pris le dos, Quarian. Il a appelé alors qu'il gardait son fusil dans une tentative de se donner plus de mobilité. Après tout, c'était un grand gars et il aurait besoin de toute l'aide qu'il pouvait obtenir. Le sol sous ses bottes a frappé et cela ne l'a pas aidé que la boue lui a gommé, mais il a réussi à rattraper le plus petit Quarien qui ne pouvait presque pas prendre les longs pas qu'il pouvait et il n'a pas pris longtemps avant qu'il a dépassé l'être plus petit non plus. La voix profonde et puissante qui émanait derrière le Quarien l'a presque fait trébucher et se faufiler, se tournant pour voir le Turian massif sur ses talons. Bien sûr, je vous remercie, Turian.Il a répondu plutôt oracle, ébranlant la surprise que quelqu'un d'autre suivrait, surtout quelqu'un comme ce Turian. Les rayons sont facilement passés par le géant, ce qui fait que les Quariens se sentent petits par comparaison. En fait, en y réfléchissant, Rayes s'est sentie assez courte par rapport à tout le monde. Au moins la situation n'avait pas besoin de hautes hauteurs, mais il pensait qu'il devrait être reconnaissant. Après tout, maintenant, il avait un soldat expérimenté de son côté, et celui dont la présence a donné Rayes le bon genre de frissons, le rendant heureux que quelqu'un d'autre l'aiderait dans la poursuite. D-Avez-vous une idée de la façon dont nous rattraperons, ou allons-nous juste attendre et voir quand nous y sommes? -Il a crié à son camarade devant, attendant une réponse pendant qu'ils couraient. Il a rappelé, à laquelle Rayes a répondu avec "Je vois"... C-Continue à mener sur!.Tiberius puis retourner son attention au scientifique, ils étaient rapides mais ils n'étaient pas en train d'emballer aucun de l'équipement que lui et son nouveau partenaire où, au fond du Turian pouvait seulement espérer qu'ils pourraient même rattraper du tout. Ses yeux se rétrécissaient alors qu'il remarquait que les deux scientifiques s'arrêtaient un moment et regardaient vers le bas un passage latéral avant qu'ils ne s'évanouissent tous les deux, il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour que Tibère atteigne la porte et s'arrête juste en-deçà de celle-ci, en regardant Rayes et en mouvementant pour qu'il s'arrête avant qu'il n'atteigne son Predator, en respirant profondément et en l'empoignant légèrement, il grimpa rapidement autour du coin et prit le but. Rien, il n'y avait rien qu'il pouvait voir en dehors de l'obscurité devant lui, regardant sur le plus petit quarien, "Restez près," il murmurait, puis a commencé à avancer lentement et activant la lampe de poche sur son casque tandis que Rayes hurlait. En réponse à l'allumage de Tibère sur sa lampe de poche, Rayes a activé la lampe de poche sur son Omni-Tool dans l'espoir d'aider. Après tout, deux lumières étaient meilleures qu'une. Le tunnel était sombre et sombre, les lumières n'apportant pas beaucoup d'aide dans leur recherche. Ils pouvaient voir un peu en avant, mais il n'y avait pas grand chose à voir ici, du moins pas pour le moment. Il y avait les décombres évidents de l'ancien tunnel usé, mais rien de trop drastique. Diverses poutres, tuyaux menant à l'obscurité... tout a rendu Rayes très inconfortable. Heureusement, il n'y avait pas beaucoup de plongées ou de crevasses qu'ils passaient, mais s'approchant de chaque petit coin qui aurait pu être une cachette potentielle a toujours donné les frissons de Quarian, une petite peur irrationnelle qu'une buse saute de l'abîme dès qu'il a tourné son regard loin et sur le côté. Au moins, il pensait qu'il avait le Turian pour le protéger... bien que ces scientifiques ne poseraient aucune menace réelle car ils n'étaient pas armés, et les défenses étaient derrière, pas devant. Maintenant qu'ils se sont conduits dans ce tunnel, il semblait assez simple que le seul problème maintenant serait de localiser les scientifiques eux-mêmes. Ce qui, bien sûr, serait plus facile à dire qu'à faire. Le tunnel d'entretien de long style de couloir a bientôt commencé à se brancher en raison de différentes portes révélées par la lumière duo. Bien qu'en enquêtant sur les plusieurs qu'ils rencontraient, ils ne mènent qu'à des impasses sans aucune trace de scientifiques, ce qui les amène à retracer leurs pas et à continuer à travers les ténèbres. Plus ils entrèrent, plus il semblait qu'ils n'étaient pas plus près d'atteindre les évasions qu'auparavant, mais ils continuèrent leur recherche prudemment, à la recherche de tous les signes qu'ils auraient laissés derrière eux. Plusieurs morceaux de manteaux de labo ont été déchirés le long des décombres ici et là, les dirigeant vers l'avant, et pourtant, il était presque trop calme. Peut-être leurs détours à travers les portes les avaient-ils poussés à être plus loin qu'ils ne l'étaient à l'origine, ce qui aurait causé un bruit trop fort malgré l'écho du tunnel produit. Soit ça, soit ils ont raté une porte, mais c'était très improbable. Ils avaient été très attentifs jusqu'à présent, et doutaient qu'ils n'aient rien manqué. Au moins, c'était jusqu'à ce que la fissure des coups de feu derrière eux remplissaient le tunnel avec du bruit, plusieurs des tirs ricochetant au large de l'armure Tibère et dans les murs à proximité. De toute évidence, ils n'étaient pas seuls maintenant. Ramassant rapidement Rayes et le tirant autour et hors du feu entrant Tibère a soulevé son pistolet et a retourné le feu alors qu'il commençait à se relever, tout en poussant soigneusement Rayes retour dans une pièce voisine. Rayes a été pris au dépourvu par le Turian, mais vu qu'il a également été pris au dépourvu par des coups de feu, il n'a pas fait grand-chose pour arrêter Tibère. Une fois qu'ils étaient tous les deux à l'intérieur de Tibère regarda Rayes, ils tirèrent leur feu et les occupèrent. Tu continues à chercher le scientifique, je viendrai te trouver quand j'aurai fini ici, prêt? A ma marque, je veux que tu partes. - Il a dit qu'il avait mis son pistolet et récupéré son Phaeston. Rayes le fixa un peu, transformant ses mots au mieux de ses capacités malgré la peur d'être juste tiré dessus. Il a répondu tranquillement, éteignant sa lumière omni-outil avant d'arriver derrière Tibère. "Trois... Deux... Un... Mark!" En rentrant dans le hall Tibérius ouvert a tiré sur les soldats et s'est déplacé vers eux, et presque immédiatement ils ont regagné la couverture alors que le Turian a commencé à les supprimer. Le Quarien n'a pas perdu de temps à se déplacer, se précipitant à la sortie de la pièce dès que le tir a commencé. Espérons que l'obscurité et la répression les garderaient ignorants du fait qu'il les fuyait dans une tentative désespérée de trouver les scientifiques. Rayes s'inquiétait pour Tibère, espérant qu'il pourrait durer assez longtemps pour des renforts ou autres. Il secoua la tête, forçant l'idée de faire mourir quelqu'un pour le protéger de sa tête. C'était juste une autre chose d'ajouter à la longue liste de traumatismes potentiels qu'il pouvait se permettre d'affronter en ce moment, au lieu de concentrer son attention sur le fait de pousser vers l'avant pendant que les coups de feu étaient derrière lui. Quand il s'est senti à une distance sûre, il a retourné sa lumière et a commencé la recherche une fois de plus. Revenant voir la Quarienne disparaître et hors de danger, son attention était maintenant sur la menace qui était devant lui, il a continué à appuyer sur les avants en tirant de petites rafales garder ce Cerberus soldats en couverture jusqu'à ce que le son qu'il haïssait tellement, comme la pression étant libérée d'une pipe, son arme surchauffait. Maudit sous son souffle, il lâcha tout ensemble et sprinta vers l'avant, tirant ses deux couteaux de combat comme il l'a fait; l'un du côté de sa botte, l'autre de sa gaine qui était le long de son bas du dos horizontalement, les mouvements étaient rapides et précis. N'entendant plus le feu et le clan d'une arme qui frappait le sol, les soldats semblaient se détendre un peu avant que le premier et le plus proche ne se retirent et ne prennent le but, mais son arme fut immédiatement poussée vers le plafond. Par pure panique, il a tiré, faisant en sorte que les autres soldats s'emparent de leurs fusils et bougent de la couverture. Elbowing le soldat dans le crâne et de ses pieds, il est retombé dans l'espace de poche qu'il avait utilisé comme couverture. Toujours en tenant le fusil des soldats, il le jeta en arrière comme il était venu, puis voyant les deux soldats viser pour lui, il étendit son bras et jeta une barrière juste avant que les soldats ouvrent le feu, la ronde rebondit hors de la barrière inoffensif. Il a mis ses talons dans les poings et les a ramenés vers l'intérieur, puis il les a jetés en arrière, provoquant la rupture de la barrière dans une onde de choc autour de lui, en envoyant les deux autres soldats au sol et en frappant leurs fusils loin d'eux. Le Quarien a repris son rythme, craignant de le pousser à avancer alors que les sons de combat résonnaient de derrière. Au moins sur Rannoch contre le Geth, ils étaient principalement visibles dans des environnements bien éclairés, mais c'était essentiellement un 180 de cela. Les premiers robots et les soldats de Cerberus, puis leurs défenses, et maintenant encore plus de soldats dans un tunnel presque noir, brisé. Il a juré d'écrire à la maison immédiatement s'il réussissait à en sortir. Et alors que sa situation palpitait par rapport au danger dans lequel se trouvait actuellement son camarade Turian, ou le reste de son groupe pour cette question, si les choses allaient mal, il serait seul et plus que probable devrait faire face à tout cela. Mais il pensait que ça pourrait être pire... qu'on lui ait tiré dessus alors qu'il s'était enfui, qu'il avait été griffé à mort par les défenses... alors aujourd'hui n'était pas aussi mauvais que ça aurait pu l'être. Et, il semblait que les choses pouvaient prendre, car il a repéré plusieurs portes au loin de chaque côté du tunnel. Effrayé d'être seul, mais assez courageux pour continuer, il décida de fouiller la porte gauche d'abord. Cloutant son Arc Pistol, il a pris une profonde respiration dans une tentative de se calmer avant de l'ouvrir pour enquêter. Pendant ce temps Tibérius a saisi ses couteaux au prêt, son souffle lourd. Deux soldats essayaient encore de se mettre aux pieds, l'un était derrière lui avec une matraque dehors et prêt, Tiberius restait toujours les yeux décalés d'un soldat à l'autre, alors que les deux soldats devant lui se rendaient là-bas et découvraient que leurs armes n'étaient plus à portée de main, ils tiraient leurs propres couteaux. Tibère s'élança au son du soldat qui se déplaçait derrière lui, s'empoignant de la matraque que le soldat apporta sur sa tête et la jeta vers l'épaule des Turiens, les yeux de Tibère se rétrécirent derrière sa visière, et s'emparèrent du bras des soldats avec son talon gauche, il planta son pied gauche puis pivota sa droite juste pour un bref moment avant de jeter son genou droit dans l'intestin des soldats. Toujours attaché à son bras, il a rapidement déplacé son bras droit autour du cou des soldats et dans un puissant cadenas, sa main gauche s'est déplacée vers le dos des soldats et a appuyé vers le bas alors qu'il tirait vers le haut avec son bras droit, ces deux mouvements ensemble ont fait un bruit fatigant de la part du soldat puis immédiatement après le corps quand il a lâché, le Releasing, il s'est effondré au sol alors que le Turian tournait son attention vers les deux soldats restants. Quant à Rayes, il s'est remis des frissons qu'il a eus en ouvrant la porte rouillée. Ça ressemblait à une sorte de zone d'entretien, ou peut-être qu'il s'est senti comme ça en raison de tous les fils qui sortaient des murs et des frais généraux. Et alors que c'était un peu bizarre pour lui, à ce rythme, tout était juste. Il semblait y avoir une sorte de sentier de la porte, un sentier légèrement moins poussiéreux avec des pivots et des tourbillons ici et là comme si quelque chose avait traversé ici dans une précipitation. Pour Rayes, il y avait beaucoup de possibilités quant à ce que cela pouvait être, mais les empreintes laissées du plancher un peu moins sale suggéraient que ce n'était pas sa peur d'une défense aléatoire prête à sauter lui faire peur, mais plutôt un humain. Soit ça, soit Asari, mais cette pensée a été facilement écartée alors qu'il suivait le seul indice qu'il avait. Il ne lui a pas fallu longtemps pour entendre la respiration angoissée d'un individu effrayé, se cachant derrière ce qui ressemblait à une sorte de technologie archaïque. Il était clair que celui qui était là savait que Rayes était, d'autant plus qu'il brillait une lampe de poche dans cette direction. Pensant à ses pieds, il se tourna vers les divers câblages qui s'éteignaient une fois de plus, décidant d'en couper de grandes portions pour son plan. Il a ensuite chargé son Arc Pistol pour un coup de feu, tirant sur le côté à côté de l'endroit où il a supposé que le scientifique était. Il a dû faire peur à la pauvre âme, car la lumière a pris vent d'un scientifique essayant de ramper loin de sa cachette, forçant Rayes à sauter sur lui et à s'écraser avec toute sa force. Le scientifique a crié un meurtre sanglant, mais Rayes n'allait pas tuer cet homme. En utilisant les câbles, il a fait de son mieux pour attacher quelques nœuds autour des mains et des jambes de l'homme, le rendant immobile avant de le placer contre le mur dans la pièce. Je trouverai le Det kazuat qui a appuyé sur le bouton et qui vous a mené loin.Il a dit au scientifique avant de faire l'emblématique quelque peu applaudir vos mains ensemble pour se débarrasser du mouvement de poussière. Bien sûr, le dernier scientifique à s'en sortir était celui qui a appuyé sur le bouton... mais jusqu'à présent, un seul est tombé... et vu qu'il n'y avait qu'une seule autre porte de cette route... Il y avait des traces de pas rapides alors que le soldat sur la gauche s'élançait vers l'avant, poussant son couteau vers l'avant, le Turian sautait hors de sa portée avant d'attraper le bras des soldats et de le torsionner alors qu'il le tirait avec force autour des soldats alors qu'il se déplaçait, levant la jambe, il plantait un pied dans le dos des soldats et le frappait. Envoyant le soldat dans un mur, Tibère sentit une vive douleur au sommet de son épaule droite, puis celle de quelqu'un qui sautait sur son dos; c'était le second soldat et il avait plongé son couteau dans l'épaule des Turiens, la lame perçant la tache molle de l'armure, atteignant il a saisi la poignée du bras des troupes qui avait maintenant trouvé son chemin autour de son cou, le soldat sortit la lame seulement pour la ramener dans, le sang bleu foncé vu de la blessure et vers le bas de l'armure des Turians. À ce moment-là, le premier soldat s'était remis aux pieds et s'était précipité en conduisant son propre couteau dans le côté gauche des Turiens, griffant les dents, et avec un éclat furieux, il avait frappé le soldat contre le mur une fois de plus, le faisant perdre son couteau qui restait dans le côté des Turians, se jetant en sandwich l'autre soldat contre le mur opposé, le faisant relâcher son emprise avant que Tibérius ne jette un coude en arrière, prenant un pas en avant et se tournant immédiatement pour faire face au soldat qui était sur son dos, en un seul mouvement fluide, il a saisi ses couteaux de combat dans chaque talon et les a conduit à un angle de trente degrés dans les deux côtés du soldat juste au-dessous de l'aisselle, la force derrière l'attaque a soulevé le soldat de ses pieds, il a crié et s'est arraché comme un ver gras avant que Tibérius a tiré le couteau gauche et l'a poussé dans le côté du crâne des soldats. Reprenant dans l'obscurité qui enclavait le tunnel, sa lumière brillait pour voir ce qui se passait, révélant comment une grande partie de ce tunnel semblait bloquée par des débris. Aucune autre porte à part celle parallèle à l'endroit où le premier scientifique était aussi, donc c'était le seul endroit où Rayes pouvait penser pour ce dernier bosh-tet pouvait être. Rayes a tenu une rancune particulière contre la dernière qu'il tentait de trouver, se rappelant comment il avait été poussé dans la Quarian par Anderson pour regarder. À en juger par son imprudence dans la libération des défenses, Rayes en est venu à la conclusion qu'il était logique qu'il était aussi celui qui les utiliserait comme une distraction comme il avait l'intention à l'origine de s'échapper. Honte à son complot serait pour rien, mais hélas, Rayes n'avait pas pitié à ce stade. L'ouverture de cette porte a révélé plusieurs couloirs cette fois; un autre s'est séparé, mais un qui pourrait facilement être traité. En observant les différents chemins, une fois de plus, il y avait des empreintes sur le sol où une basse vie s'est évanouie... Décidé à ne plus perdre de temps, Rayes a commencé à marcher à un rythme beaucoup plus rapide dans une ruée. Le plus tôt il a trouvé cet individu asinin le mieux. Mais tourner le coin s'est finalement avéré être une gifle au visage pour le Quarien... presque littéralement. En quelques instants, il a remarqué qu'un objet s'approchait de plus en plus de lui à travers l'air du couloir, forçant le Quarien à s'éloigner instinctivement des décombres jetés, les débris qui suivirent se dispersant près du dos du Quarien. Regardant en arrière a révélé la charge fou, apparemment avoir une sorte de tentative désespérée d'arrêter ses poursuivants en raison d'avoir finalement pris le mauvais tunnel pour partir. Rayes s'est rapidement emparé de son pistolet et l'a heurté un peu devant lui. Chaque tentative d'attraper correctement l'arme conduit au scientifique se rapprochant, et dans une panique Rayes jeta son pistolet loin des deux avant d'activer son Omni-Blade tout comme le scientifique a tenté de le combattre. Il avait fermé les yeux et coincé les mains dans une tentative de bloquer le scientifique, mais s'est vite rendu compte qu'au lieu d'être claqué dans le mur voisin, il allait bien... L'ouverture de ses yeux révéla une scène relativement troublante à la Quarienne mécaniquement inclinée : l'homme s'était essentiellement poignardé avec la Quariane Omni-Blade. Le sang coulait de la blessure de l'estomac de l'homme comme Rayes, choqué par ce qui vient de se produire, a glissé la lame de l'homme dans une hâte, provoquant l'hémorragie à empirer légèrement. C'était un mauvais coup de couteau... mais le Quarien n'avait pas de medi-gel pour le réparer pendant que le cramoisi continuait à couler. Le scientifique est tombé à terre dans la douleur, se recroquevillant et parlant dans un langage inintelligible de serments pendant qu'il s'écriait. Ayant gelé un peu, Rayes s'est forcé à déchirer le tissu des vêtements de l'homme dans une tentative de réparer ce qu'il avait fait. Mais comme il a une meilleure image de la blessure, ce n'était pas aussi profond qu'il le craignait à l'origine. L'homme, idiot comme il était, survivrait très probablement. Il a enveloppé le tissu autour de l'estomac de l'idiot avant de le ramasser du sol, le scientifique apparemment dans trop de douleur pour se battre maintenant. Il s'est assuré d'utiliser les câbles restants pour attacher les mains du scientifique derrière son dos comme il l'avait fait à l'autre, et maintenant le conduisait vers la porte. Rayes a aussi pris son pistolet, se demandant maintenant comment Tibère tenait maintenant que les deux scientifiques avaient été sécurisés. Il espérait que son camarade était en sécurité... Ces souffles étaient lourds et lents, mais la douleur était supportable pour l'instant alors qu'il regardait d'un cadavre à l'autre, il était juste sur le point de tourner autour de lui s'occupait des étourdissements derrière lui quand un coup de feu résonnait dans toute la salle, tombant à un genou et s'emparant de sa cuisse droite, il sifflait sa paume gauche quand, pour le sol, dans une tentative de se tenir debout, on pouvait entendre derrière lui les traces de l'ancien soldat qui marchait alors dans sa vue, dans sa main était Tibérius, maudit sous son souffle ayant compris que le soldat avait dû s'en emparer peu après l'avoir poignardé. Tu as bien combattu Turian, tu as tué mes amis, et maintenant que j'ai le dessus, je vais faire vite ta mort puis aller à la chasse à ce Quarien que tu étais avec!Le soldat a dit comme il marchait dans un cercle autour de Tibère et s'est arrêté comme il se tenait en face de lui et a dirigé vers le crâne des Turiens.Enfin, il a dit, dans ce qui semblait être une rafale de force Tibère a soufflé vers l'avant, frapper le pistolet sur le côté puis enveloppé ses bras autour de la taille des troupes et l'a relevé du sol, chargeant légèrement le couloir, il a ensuite jeté le soldat vers le bas, qui à son tour a atterri dur sur son dos et a frappé le dos de sa tête contre terre; ébranlé brièvement le soldat a regardé vers le haut à Tibère dans la peur.L'intangible est inarrêtable,,, a murmuré Tibère comme une teinte bleue formé autour de lui, levant son pied et puis a frappé vers le bas sur le crâne du soldat causant un bruit de croqueuse pour être entendu. Revenant à l'endroit où le combat avait commencé, il a rassemblé son équipement et les a enfermés dans leurs places respectives avant de sortir les couteaux de ses blessures un par un et de les jeter au sol, le sang bleu foncé dégoulinant de ses blessures et le coin droit de sa bouche, il toussait légèrement avant d'attraper la prise d'une pipe qui pendait près du coin du plafond et l'utilisait comme support pendant qu'il marchait dans le couloir Rayes était descendu où es-tu? Après avoir délimé les fils qui liaient les jambes des premiers scientifiques, Rayes avait commencé à ramener les deux échappés dans le tunnel dans un processus assez lent. Après tout, l'un a été blessé et a eu besoin du soutien de l'autre, alors que Rayes avait son pistolet pointé sur eux d'une main, de la lumière dans l'autre. Il leur a fallu un certain temps avant que le Quarien encore choqué commence à entendre les sons de quelqu'un qui l'appelle. T-Turian? C'est toi? Ça va?Il a crié de nouveau, voyant une petite lumière dans la distance qui l'a amené à précipiter le groupe dans une tentative de rencontrer son camarade. S'il cherchait Rayes, ça voulait dire que tout allait bien, non? Oui... les choses auraient pu empirer... alors le fait qu'il appelait Rayes a rendu la Quarienne un peu rassurée. En se rencontrant enfin, le Quarien aurait serré les Turians à cause du soulagement s'il n'avait pas été pour le fait que ce serait gênant, et qu'il y avait des prisonniers qui devaient être déplacés. Je les ai localisés, bien que celui-ci ait eu un... accident mineur... Il a répondu, le sang ayant taché une partie de l'armure de Quariane sur son bras, avec une partie de son tissu de cape près du fond. C'est quand il regarda le Turian de façon plus approfondie qu'il remarqua qu'il saignait lui aussi. "Kee"lah! Vous êtes blessé! Nous devons bouger, maintenant! » Il a dit, l'inquiétude clairement entendue dans sa voix en raison de la montée de la panique résumant. Vous devriez voir les autres gars.Le Turian toussait alors qu'il s'emparait brièvement de sa propre tête et le secouait un moment comme pour rester concentré pendant qu'il tenait sur la pipe avec l'autre main. Tourner autour de Tibère a commencé à les ramener en arrière comme ils sont venus et ont passé les corps. La Quarienne grimaça sur les lieux, murmurant Keelah se'lai... Il a fait de son mieux pour ne pas regarder la scène et le mettre derrière lui comme les corps étaient maintenant, mais il a supposé que c'était juste un vœu de pensée... Ils marchaient dans le silence maintenant, retraçant leurs pas hors du tunnel d'entretien et en sortant vers l'entrée. Alors qu'ils se rapprochaient, ce qui n'était pas si loin pour commencer en raison de la façon dont les scientifiques ont pris un mauvais tour dans un tunnel d'entretien au lieu de l'endroit où ils étaient censés aller. Quand ils pouvaient voir le jour, ils virent aussi des troupes commencer à s'infiltrer et à se préparer, mais ils n'étaient pas Cerberus... Ils ressemblaient à des alliés. Était-ce les renforts dont ils avaient entendu parler?

Name: Rayes'Xum vas Fowal, Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, Rayes Race: Quarian Class: Engineer Age: 26 Sex: Male Appearance: - Height: 5’5” - Weight: 185lbs Backstory: Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, a Quarian born in 2164, being aboard the Yaron along with his parents and several kin. His father was mainly aboard the Patrol Fleet, while his mother was a researcher focused on the Special Projects arm of the Migrant Fleet. Both were fearful of the health and protection of their child, and as such never dared to expose their child to the world outside of the migrant fleet. They were scared of their son’s curiosity, whom at the time knew relatively nothing of the world and was eager to learn. They did their best to fill that void once their son got his suit by flooding him with information that a young Quarian could understand. And when he wasn’t meant to be studying, often he would wander around the migrant fleet, listening to stories that they loved to tell. Stories of Rannoch, their beloved homeworld which was lost to them due to losing control of the geth, an artificial intelligence that they never intended to create that way. They’d speak of Quarian dancers, and their seemingly lost love for music. Little Rayes would soak in as much information as possible that he could from these stories, even if some of them weren’t actually true. This desire for knowledge helped in his teens, as he focused a majority of his time then into doing what his parents did. From his father, he could study various navigation paths in the galaxy, and to a little further extent ship layouts and the engineering behind them. From his mother, he could further his knowledge of technology and understanding of the geth, something his mother believed that every Quarian should have a base knowledge of, to which most do. Instead of being a fighter, Rayes expertise began to shine in how to handle technology and repair or destroy it, noticing flaws in systems that would otherwise take a more trained eye to catch, and exploiting it. Exploitation came in the form of hacking, which while he was limited to certain objects on the migrant fleet, those he often did stumble across were heavily safeguarded beyond his skill comprehension at the moment, leading him to only want to become more invested in it. These skills would become vital when he could begin on his pilgrimage. Naive, young, and somewhat confident in himself, Rayes didn’t listen to his fellow Quarians when they insisted that he go off towards the Citadel, a place where things would be the least likely to cause him harm or vise versa. They made sure to give him several parting gifts as incentives for him to listen, such as a Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool, various medical stimuli to keep him healthy should he become sick, along with Medi-Gel that a Quarian could use should he ever become injured. But instead of listening to their advice, Rayes felt bold. It was his first true experience away from the Migrant Fleet, and he wanted to make it memorable. The Citadel didn’t seem like a place that would suit him, believing it to be the easy way out of his pilgrimage. Instead, he went to a place that he believed could be exciting, Illium. Oh boy, was in he in for a rough time there. Immediately upon arrival after transferring through several ships, the young Quarian landed in hot water and was thrown into the frying pan. He was easily kidnapped by Asari who had a multitude of ‘indentured servants’ , and thus easily sold to a faction of the Eclipse on Illium due to his prowess with technology, something the Eclipse loved to use and subsequently broke. He was forced into repairing the Eclipse’s weaponry and and technological equipment, acting as a kind of repairman for the criminal organization. And while the situation seemed hopeless as it felt like he was always under constant discrimination and surveillance, he believed something good was bound to happen. And until then, he’d have to endure with the choice he made. The discrimination came from the various Humans and Asari stationed on his section of Illium, who thought of Rayes as a cheap punching bag for their enjoyment. He often found himself having to scan the measly portions he was given, and on several occasions couldn’t eat it due to his body not being compatible with the food. Most likely some sick joke, or maybe they wanted him to get sick. He didn’t know nor care, instead doing his best not to make any sort of scenes. He played the role they wanted him to, a seemingly malleable and easily pushed around slave. A year went by, and the Quarian had not contacted his family to inform them of his pilgrimage. In fact, to the Eclipse, they began to see the usefulness of Rayes. While he had started off small, eventually he had begun to repair the Eclipse mechs, and sometimes was forced to repair damages done to spaceships if he was given the right schematics. And if they were desperate, he’d be escorted to various terminals or infiltration operations, where his hacking skills could be put to good use. They never gave him a gun on these rare occurrences though, believing he would still try to escape if an opportunity arose. And while all was forced labor, at least, in his eyes, it was something that he liked and could vastly improve on. He got to work with weapons and mechs he had never seen before, hack systems that wouldn’t have been available on the Citadel, and even repair some of their ships, all of these encompassing new technology that the Eclipse managed to get their greedy hands on. Working with technology of this caliber wouldn’t have happened on the Citadel, however… He also wouldn’t be in an extremely dreadful situation. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was just a pawn, and if they ever felt he wasn’t useful, he knew they would dispose of him. They didn’t watch him as much anymore, but they still treated him like he was just a tool, and as such he was placed into terrible conditions on the off chances he would get proper rest. Often, he found himself questioning the pilgrimage, seeing this more of an eye opener than a proper trip to bring something valuable to his family… Something valuable… Surely the Eclipse, he thought, would have something. Having been in close quarters with them for so long, he had noticed they were lax around him, not being perceived as much of a threat anymore as he’d been around for well over a year now, and he would have to use that to his advantage if he ever wanted to see his home again. He knew he couldn’t beat them in a gunfight, there were simply too many and too skilled for his relatively poor gun expertise. All that time repairing their weapons, and he probably couldn’t even properly handle them himself. Another year, and he missed the Migrant Fleet with all his heart. There was no engine on Illium, only a cage and despair. There was no bond, no loyalty, only grief and deception, and Rayes believed he’d have to use that to his advantage. As they continued to bring him on several operations for his hacking expertise, he began leaving traces that he had been there, and while he would comply with their needs, he also began saving the data for himself. The Eclipse had grown soft around checking his Omni-Tool, as two years of nothing made them feel he was at least somewhat loyal to them. But he had already started to record the technology he worked on, documenting every detail he could about their supposed latest and greatest thing that busted. While it was often not substantial at first, and generally followed with a return to working on something they had planned, eventually he began to steal more, hacking with efficiency only a Quarian could. Surely there’d be some sort of information he could use to escape? A way to send a message? Surely, he felt, someone would find and put together the clues he had left behind... He had learned of awful things that he missed in his absence from some of the information he had kept, such as the citadel being attacked by something called a reaper, the supposed death and revival of a human Spectre named Commander Shepard… It was hard to swallow how much time had past… And how much trust the humans were getting. The ones in the Eclipse were dreadful, and were the most cruel, twisting the stories he had heard from his kin on the Migrant Fleet. Hopefully this Shepard was better, but he was extremely doubtful. A chance of escape came one day as he scoured through some stolen Eclipse files on his omni tool, being allowed to wander the cargo terminal the Eclipse had decided to occupy, only for the silence to be broken upon the sound of gunfire becoming vastly apparent. He noticed Eclipse Gunships in the area, several of which he wondered of if he’d repaired before, only to be shoved to the side by an Eclipse Engineer, forcing Rayes to take cover. There was a conversation at first, but then the gunfire soon continued and Rayes hid as far away as he could, allowing the firefight to pass as it went downward towards the Cargo Terminals, and his former “employers.” He took this opportunity to slowly but surely follow the conflict until the group in front of him took an elevator towards the docks. That elevator was his escape, but an escape towards what? He had no money, no credits to go anywhere… Until, as he wandered in the shadows of Illium, he heard of an information broker who potentially could help him. With all other options gone, and little time to waste before the Eclipse would notice him missing, he hastily made his way towards the supposed broker. He sold all the information he had stolen for a ticket to the citadel, but made sure to keep it for himself as well, and along with several credits for the info. Sure, it was a dangerous gamble to allow her to copy his data, but surprisingly she understood his desire to keep it… and things got better from that day. He had managed to find a place that hired him as a repairman for weapons and technology, and once he had enough credits to fly home, he immediately did so. He had had enough surprises on his pilgrimage to last a lifetime, and they accepted his data on the Eclipse, the technology he had worked on, schematics he recorded, and importantly weapon details, and accepted a role on board the Fowal. His family was astonished by how much he endured, furious that he had not listened to them, but ultimately glad that he had survived. He adapted a much more suitable appearance to commemorate his return from a grim situation, and began working immediately on the Fowal, just months before the reapers return. In this short span, Rayes became known for his improvements to weapons to be used for the fleet and against the Geth, along with his research on potential environmental suit improvements, something that he had become inspired to make due to the harshness of Illium. The Fowal was a ship dedicated to the research of expanding Quarian technology, investigating new weapons and the study of the Geth, an enemy that, once he learned the admiralty board soon declared war on them, Rayes was rather skeptical about it all. He didn’t believe the Geth were necessarily in the wrong for their actions, and while he longed to see the fabled homeworld of Rannoch, destroying something more advanced and sentient than the simple mechs he had repaired seemed… awful. But he knew better than to question his superiors, and at first, it seems the modifications he had worked on seemed to bolster the Quarian’s power against the Geth… Until they accepted Reaper help. But hope wasn’t lost, and while many ships suffered casualties, things started looking up once they learned Commander Shepard would help. A name that Rayes became all too familiar with when he first returned to the Migrant Fleet, having heard of his exploits and helping the Quarian Tali’zora Vas Normandy, someone Rayes slightly remembers growing up around with. With their help, they did the impossible, stepping foot on Rannoch as the Battle for Rannoch began. To Rayes, it was frightening, being inexperienced in combat, but he made up for it with his insights against the Geth, providing support and cover fire, and doing his best to hack the enemy barriers and shields. It felt like forever, but ultimately, it seemed like the Quarian's would win, but instead came an agreement to coexist with the Geth. Rayes was rather pleased with this idea, not only due to how it was peaceful, but also because it would allow him to greatly study the Geth and get information from them while they were still active. While it was fun to study a piece of technology that was broken, studying an active sentient Geth would be amazing. Rayes was not selected to go and join the fight with the reapers, he was instead sent to go and help build the crucible, something he took immense pleasure from upon arrival as they saw his technical prowess as an excellent edition. He helped make great strides into it’s creation, being able to offer suggestions in an environment he never thought he’d see. On Illium, he was treated like scum, a simple object meant to be manipulated, but he here, he was wanted, appreciated even… And, everyone was working together. This wasn't about species or race anymore, it was about survival, and to think, a human had started it all, with the help of an asari prothean expert. Maybe... the Eclipse were just an oddity, just like how some Quarian's were oddities in their own right. So when it was eventually complete and fulfilled it’s purpose, he came home proud that he had helped defeat the reapers in his own way. He helped in the process of colonizing Rannoch, and ultimately in the construction, with the help of the Geth, of upgrading the Quarian Fleet. Currently, Rayes is on Rannoch, studying the reapers with the help of Geth information and looking for a way to utilize the technology that had been scattered across the galaxy when the reapers were annihilated. Maybe, he thought, it could be used to create better protection for the future. The Geth have already helped him make immense strides in Quarian environmental suits, and he believes they can be utilized for much more than their original purposes or what the reapers had for them. Psyche Profile: Rayes is a firm believer that not all situations are hopeless, maintaining the notion that things could always get worse, but the worse can be prevented through hard work and dedication, along with preparation and to know how to endure. A lot of his life has been dedicated to the advancement of technology and the study thereof, regardless of the technology's purpose, and as such, he loves to always be working on some sort of gadget or analyzing data. Even in grim situations, knowing that there is something to observe generally calms his nerves and brings him back to reality. His over-analytical nature often allows him to notice things that many others may not, or on his time on Illium, be able to hastily retrieve and comprehend data types or schematics that he'd never seen before. When it comes to the other galactic species, Rayes is very wary of anyone not Quarian. His time on Illium has made him somewhat distant towards Humans and Asari specifically, as they were the majority of the Eclipse's forces that he was under on Illium. While Commander Shepard's actions has somewhat lessened that hostility, he won't go out of his way to make friends with them. Towards Turians, Rayes always feels that his knowledge of combat is lacking too much to hold a non-awkward conversation, and will often stutter his words or become embarissed if he cannot come up with an answer to their questions. Salarians are the easiest for Rayes to talk to, sticking to science as a main conversation topic. Batarian's are a mixed bag depending on how much Rayes knows of them, but he can sympathize with their hatred towards humans. Rayes hasn't had much experience talking to Drell, and as such, will often act similarly as he does towards Turians. For Asari, the Quarian is suspicious of them, wondering how they could allow one of their own colonies to have anything legal except for murder... Rayes likes to be prepared, and is somewhat saddened by his lack of knowledge in combat situations. His only proficiency in combat is with a pistol, but even that is somewhat limited and rusty. But, he has an eye for spotting technology on the battlefield that he can turn to his advantage, or disabling shield or barriers that an enemy may have. He prefers to provide support, allowing someone else to take the killing shot, and instead setting it up. However, currently he feels he has no time to train, focusing his attention to his love for tech and how to improve it. However, he has recently started to listen to music once more now that the war is over and he is safe; music being a favorable pass time when he was younger. And, now with Geth help, his self confidence and hope for the future has begun to rise. He knows that a lot of Quarian don't trust the Geth, and with good reasons, but he is willing to give them a second chance, as they are giving the Quarians. Not to mention, he slightly loves the idea of sentient AIs being constantly present around him. Specialty: Rayes'Xum was most likely picked due to his outstanding displays of technical prowess and resourcefulness when it comes to technology. Even for things he doesn't know much about, give him time to do research, and he'll be able to fix or hack into it with a breeze. Along with this, he can craft, repair, or install upgrades into existing weapons or starships. Having been one of the fateful Quarians to go and help build the Crucible, his advancements has given him a special place some of the Quarian's hearts. Due to his extensive knowledge in technology and prior experience, Rayes is a pretty damn good hacker if need be, being quick on his feet to solve and bypass securities that are in place in a moments notice or so. While he may not be as deadly as some on the battlefield, he makes up for it with his quick-wit and ability to manipulate the battle in favor for his team. He can help break down enemy defenses and render them helpless for his team to finish off. Currently, he's been working on the side to develop a combat drone to assist him and make up for his poor weapon game, only bringing a pistol to the battlefield, along with his Omni-Tool's blade. Powers/Skills: - Incinerate - Overload - Cryo Blast - Sabotage - Tech Mastery - Weapon construction/upgrades - Hacking Equipment and Resources: - Aldrin Labs Light Onix Armor VI modifications on his envo-suit. - Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool - Arc Pistol Sample Post: "Det kazuat." Rayes whispered under his breath as he followed a human Eclipse mercenary, somewhat curious as to what their next assignment for him was. Last time, it was to repair a simple rifle that hilariously they had managed to break just after receiving it. It didn't take him long at all to repair it, but he wasn't met with praise. Instead, they just decided not to spit into his food, which he was rather thankful for. It meant he'd at least get another meal, measly as it was, to survive instead of having to toss it to the side, not knowing if something as simple as saliva would cause him to become ill and thus useless. He made sure to scan everything that he'd have to consume, glad that they were at least smart enough to know he was a dextro-protein species, yet also surprised they'd go through the effort to get him specific food. Maybe, the thought, he wasn't the only Quarian in this hell hole the Eclipse have made. However, his thoughts were soon cut short as he felt an immense force shove him to the ground, causing the unsuspecting Quarian to fall with as much grace as a dying duck. "You useless scum," He heard someone say, looking up to see it was his escort shouting down at him with a mixture of cockiness and pure hatred, "Get to work and stop staring in the damn clouds! We didn't pay shit just for you to be useless!" In his attempt to recover, the Quarian began to slowly rise to his knees, only to feel a blunt force slam into his stomach, causing him to tense up and fall downward once more. "I said get the hell up!" I was trying that until you kicked me, you bosh'tet... Rayes thought, doing his best to rise to a stand once more as he glared at the mercenary, glad he didn't seem to have the brains to notice. Each passing moment felt tense as he rose, and when he finally recovered from the shock, he noticed in front of him stood a Model 34-A, or YMIR Mech that had obviously seen some damage. The bone white armor it possessed was covered in black spots from explosions and gunfire. It's upper body was heavily damaged, the armor on the chest and arms revealing circuits exposed in the openings. It's head was missing completely, most likely shot off... It wasn't the first time Rayes had to repair one of these, but it was most certainly the first time it was this damaged. But it seems they knew he wasn't a miracle worker, and as he glanced around the room, he noticed there were several tools at his disposal, along with replacement armor and a new head. All it seemed he had to do was fix the mech up, and he could be on his way. A simple job, especially with the resources the Eclipse gave him. Unfortunately, that comfort was cut short upon the realization that he would be closely monitored. If it had been anywhere else, maybe he would have felt happy, but instead, all he could feel was a lingering hatred for his situation. It was as if they had twisted his desires for their own purposes just to save them a quick buck from buying a new one of these killing machines, but alas, he had to if he wanted to live. Or at the very least, postpone the beating he felt would come if he didn't work on it soon. With a defeated sigh, he grabbed the nearest supplies and began to work once more. Notes - Rayes'Xum isn't sure of his sexuality, but has disdain for Humans and Asari. - Occasionally contacts friends he made while working on the Crucible. - He has a fascination for those who can sing or dance. - He'll occasionally dismantle objects for fun, just to remake them. - He'll take notes with his Omni-Tool during conversations or simply record them so that he can review it later and come up with conversation topics.

Les larges épaules du Krogan se levèrent et tombèrent comme l'Empire Rachni alors qu'il se blottit. "D'après mon expérience, Spectres complique trop les choses. Je suis pour une approche furtive. En fait, c'est ce que la plupart m'appellent. Mais au moment où vous avez trop peur de vous salir les mains, vous êtes hors du jeu." Ses paroles ont été prononcées avec une finalité qui est venue de siècles et de siècles d'expérience personnelle. Avec ça, il s'approche de Salissa. Elle lui hurla comme un signe d'honneur, et lui donna aussi son respect vocal. Il n'a pas pu s'empêcher de faire un petit sourire. Il a trouvé qu'il aimait cet homme. Elle semblait aussi plus solide que la plupart. Peut-être était-ce la façon dont elle marchait, ou combien elle se sentait lourde quand elle était sur ses épaules. Quoi que ce soit, elle a été construite comme une combattante. "Ne le mentionne pas", lui a-t-il dit. Il la dirigea presque comme un signe de camaraderie, mais, au dernier moment, il décida de s'y opposer. Peut-être que d'autres combats se sont disputés, et il le ferait. Il y avait aussi le petit problème de lui briser le cou s'il essayait. Pas un bon départ pour le groupe Spectre. Au lieu de cela, il tendit la main pour serrer la sienne. Il s'est brièvement demandé où se trouvait le jeune Krogan à cette seconde époque. J'espère ne pas avoir trop d'ennuis. Il a ronflé. "Deux mots?" Le Krogan s'est fait l'écho. "Eh bien, tu es franc comme un Krogan. Si je devais décrire la guerre des Faucons en deux mots, ce serait 'bien essayé'. Peut-être qu'en 50 000 ans, ils gagneraient. Mais notre Galaxy était un peu trop pour les machines tout-puissantes. Mais c'était excitant, je vais lui donner ça. Je n'avais pas combattu si fort depuis des siècles." Il a laissé respirer. « L'endoctrinement que je pense que nous aurions tous pu faire sans, cependant. Même s'il a fourni plus qu'assez de combats. Les morts honorés ne méritent pas d'être traités de cette façon... Pourquoi? »

Name: Raik "Aralakh" Skarr Race: Krogan Class: Battle Master Age: 687 Sex: Male Appearance: While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan. Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory: Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to. He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision. From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later. The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive. It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned. The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do. He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes. Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread. A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title. Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun. At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson. When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand. He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even. He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later. He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders. Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz. He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe. I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile: Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions. Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy. One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty: As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics. However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack. Powers/Skills: Shockwave (Biotic) Biotic Hammer (Biotic) Concussive Shot Frag Grenade Carnage Adrenaline Rush Marksmen Equipment and Resources: M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle M-300 Claymore Shotgun Biotic Hammer Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor Sample Post: 1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.

JANXA SgtFox Collaboration, présentée par et Le Cannibal l'a transformé en un son particulier. Il serrait et gémit à l'étranger, menaçant de s'y griffer. Un petit morceau de cerveau non-chussifié à l'intérieur de lui a reconnu l'étranger pour ce qu'il était. Un Batarien. Une fière course à quatre yeux, dont ils étaient autrefois séparés. Ils se souvenaient de l'amour et de l'orgueil qu'ils avaient chaque fois qu'on parlait de leur nom. L'Hégémonie. Le peuple puissant sous le gouvernement puissant. Qu'étaient-ils avant ce vide? C'était Batarian? Étaient-ils humains? Qu'est-ce qu'un Turian? Ces dernières pensées indépendantes ont eu du mal à se réaliser, l'euphorie frappant de plus en plus. La douleur extrême a été ressentie, il s'agit seulement de la libération était la mort de l'étranger. Ils ont couru, mais ils se sont souvenus de quelque chose. Une dernière pensée fugace dans l'esprit indépendant, quelque chose si complètement inutile qu'il a été jugé trop banal pour que l'euphorie réprime. Est-ce que le nouveau film Blasto est sorti? Ja-Far a vidé le dernier clip thermique de son Incisor dans un Cannibal de charge, le dernier du groupe précédent de défenses, le descendant d'une dernière explosion avant que le canon ne surchauffe. Il a lâché un soupir avant de se gratter le front supérieur, nécessitant désespérément un cigare. La tentation était grande, la frustration s'édifiant en lui comme une douleur déchirante et des vagues sans fin d'ennemis râpés dans sa patience. Cependant, il garda sa discipline, pliant son fusil alors qu'un groupe de défenses se dirigeait vers lui. Il s'est armé pour un combat rapproché, faisant sortir son couteau et Carnifex avant de marcher vers eux. Sa respiration a été rasée et ses pas n'étaient pas à temps, mais il a gardé l'apparence d'un soldat modèle, se dirigeant vers le groupe comme ils étaient en chemin entre lui et sa destination. Il est entré en contact avec eux assez tôt. Le sang a pulvérisé sur le matériau synthé, dégoulinant sur les propriétés métalliques d'un torse blindé. Ja'Far a grimacé alors qu'il a tordu son couteau dans l'intestin de la coque avant de pousser la créature hors de son couteau. Le mouvement a ouvert les coupures sur son dos encore plus, le faisant basculer automatiquement. Les blessures s'aggravent avec chaque mouvement, coupe l'ouverture de plus en plus pendant qu'il se charge vers l'avant en couverture. Il lui parcourait une balançoire avec son bras droit avant d'écraser le délinquant avec des coups de pistolet sur la tête et le torse. Sa main gauche tenait son couteau, éviscérant la gorge d'un autre voyou comme elle l'accusait. Plus de liquide vert a couvert son bras, espérant qu'aucun du sang toxique n'a traversé les coupures sur lui. Le Boogeyman s'est cogné, poignardé et a tiré sur une petite foule de défenses demi-douzaines, se couvrant dans le gore ennemi. Il a tiré la dernière balle dans la tête, videant le dernier tour de son Carnifex avant de s'effondrer contre une caisse un peu séparée des caisses de la Taskforce Katabasis utilisée pour la couverture, respirant fort. Il avait l'air d'un désordre. Des morceaux de chair synthétique collés à son armure, une partie du sang de l'ennemi verdâtre mélangé avec le sien, coulant dans son corps. Il a essayé de se calmer, la fréquence cardiaque augmentant rapidement alors qu'il saignait de plus en plus. Il murmurait la prière sous son souffle, rechargeant son Carnifex alors que d'autres sourcils s'approchaient de sa position isolée. Il avait finalement atteint le groupe mais était actuellement isolé par la horde en tant que cible blessée. Il allait survivre, il était sûr de ça, mais dans un tout? Les pattes ouvertes des cadavres animés hustiqués le rendaient incertain. "Oh saint Pilier Divin de la Force, donnez-moi l'épée puissante de miń, afin que je vais vaincre les ennemis de miń sous votre bénédiction. Il a lutté pour garder sa respiration même, mais son but est resté vrai, le tir trouvant la tête d'une coque de charge. Tiré après coup, il a abattu quatre défenses avec un clip d'une valeur de munitions, coupant quelques-unes d'entre elles sur l'épaule. Ils ont fermé la distance, cinq défenses essayant de le déchirer en morceaux. Il s'est rechargé aussi calmement qu'il le pouvait, forçant ses mains serrées à contrôler avant de descendre quatre des cinq, le dernier rampant vers lui avec une seule jambe. L'autre était sur le côté, mais le monstre n'arrêtait pas de venir, ramper sur le sol, désespérément mutiler et tuer. Il l'a frappé à plusieurs reprises dans la tête, la transformant brutalement en quelque chose de semblable à une pastèque humaine cassée. Il ignorait à quel point son pied droit était humide et combattait, le rétractant du cadavre mensonger. Il y eut une pause, beaucoup de défenses évitant l'ancien Légionnaire, gardant peu de distance entre lui et eux. Cette pause dans les combats a amené le Batarien à regarder autour, voir comment tout le monde allait. Il semblait que beaucoup de la Taskforce avait combattu leurs propres batailles, certaines en paires tandis que d'autres en solitaire. Il a brièvement comparé cela à son ancienne équipe, à quel point ils ont travaillé ensemble pour couvrir le dos de l'autre et comment le groupe de travail fonctionnait était presque exactement le contraire. Il s'est ébranlé la tête mentalement. C'était une jeune équipe, certains d'entre eux ne se connaissaient pas. Il ne sert à rien de critiquer la coordination de l'équipe si tôt. Cependant, alors qu'il surveillait le champ de bataille tout comme Rykarn visait le tir, le mouvement vers sa droite faisait pivoter sa tête. Un projectile a soufflé à Ja-Far tout comme une onde de choc a essayé de balayer tout le monde de ses pieds. Heureusement, il s'est stabilisé avec son bras droit au sol, mais la coque, qui était au milieu de l'air à l'époque, s'est enfuie au loin. Il a juré de maudire le jeune Krogan pour avoir soufflé les explosifs beaucoup trop tôt. Le casque l'empêchait d'éviter les dangers de la poussière, mais il dut se fendre les jambes largement ouvertes pour éviter les débris du plafond. Entendant Aegon's commander pour une explosion finale, il a griffé le long du conteneur de stockage, bord de prise de couverture sur le côté qui a fait face loin de l'entrée. La seconde explosion s'est produite tout comme les défenses environnantes se sont mises aux pieds, les soufflant une fois de plus. D'autres débris sont tombés, de la poussière couvrant chaque surface, certains atteignant ses blessures ouvertes. Il a juré, espérant qu'aucun d'eux n'a réellement infecté les coupures avant d'essayer de se lever à ses pieds, essayant de se regrouper avec la Taskforce. Il est tombé sur un genou, la douleur blanche sur le dos se révélant trop forte. Une autre ruche rampait vers lui, gémissant et grinçant avec malveillance et malice, elle écrase les jambes par de lourds débris. Elle n'arrêtait pas de s'approcher de lui, de plus en plus près. Sans plus de chaleur, il leva son couteau, se préparant à un coup de piercing sur sa tête. Un stomp rapide a mis fin à sa vie et il a levé les yeux pour rencontrer une amicale métallique. Il sourit, atteignant sa main comme le premier des renforts déposés dans la pièce. Ah, Phalanx. Une vue pour les yeux endoloris. Phalanx a regardé vers le bas le Batarien battu, son propre corps un peu sur le côté manglé que le liquide blanc a coulé et dégoutté de sa forme synthétique. Il s'agenouille encore un peu avec une main tendue et saisissant la main offerte. L'aide à la forme de vie organique est de retour sur ses pieds. La bataille avait été une aventure tout à fait imprévisible, mais jamais moins toute l'équipe semblait avoir survécu. Les explosions ont causé un peu de complications avec les dommages déjà présents que le Geth avait subis, mais autrement était filtrer l'air poussiéreux de fumée un peu mieux que ses compagnons. "J'espère que vos nerfs optiques ne seront pas endommagés, Ja'Far Balak. Avez-vous besoin d'aide en mouvement? » il a répondu en examinant Ja'Far, notant que le Batarien avait pris un certain nombre de blessures. Les autres semblaient aussi avoir subi des dommages, mais là où ils étaient bien traités avec l'aide les uns des autres. Le célèbre Boogeyman bafoué, presque peu désireux d'être aidé. Cependant, il l'a emparé et s'est laissé tirer par le Geth imposant. Sa fierté peut être blessée mais il n'était pas utile de sortir de ce petit trou d'enfer d'un fiançailles. Il regarda autour de lui comme un groupe de soldats de l'Alliance, conduit par quelqu'un familier à Anderson qu'il nota, abattre le reste des défenses survivantes. Avec une efficacité brutale, ils les ont abattus comme une équipe. Il avait toujours respecté la façon dont l'Alliance pouvait travailler leurs soldats. Il pouvait voir les mérites individuels de chaque personne dans l'équipe, mais ils travaillaient comme un seul. Travail d'équipe, à partir d'années de travail sur le terrain. Après la guerre de Reaper, chaque soldat est devenu frère et sœur. C'était nostalgique à regarder. Contrairement au rabble qui s'est présenté comme Katabasis, ces personnes étaient une équipe. Il a griffé son front supérieur avant de gifler Phalanx sur le dos, indiquant qu'il devait bouger avec lui. C'est Phalanx, sortons d'ici. Je pense qu'il va y avoir medi-gel dehors....ils ont emménagé l'un avec l'autre, le vieux bâtard Batarian boiteux à côté de la marche mécanique précise. Alors qu'ils marchaient de plus en plus loin des combats, Phalanx a posé une question simple - Voulez-vous que cette plate-forme vous porte, Ja-Far Balak?- Comme ils marchaient côte à côte, enveloppant un bras autour de la plus petite staturée organique pour aider dans le mouvement. Bien qu'il l'ait demandé, son œil calculateur a regardé le vieux Batarien un moment avant que ses deux bras aient balayé l'organique de ses pieds en se faisant porter le style de la mariée tel qu'il était. Il a piqué, surpris par la fluidité du mouvement. Une partie de son liquide conducteur blanc s'écoule sur son camarade, mais Phalanx semble s'en souvenir actuellement « saignant » alors qu'il portait son camarade dans sa foulée précise. Quand ils sont arrivés à l'extérieur, Phalanx a mis sur un rocher sur Ja-Far Balak pour se reposer comme certains des Médicaux de l'Alliance sont venus aider dans le traitement. Il murmura un peu sous son souffle, l'équivalent Batarien d'un blush sur son visage. Les plus hésités quand ils sont venus sur le Geth cependant. Incertitude alors que la grande forme mécanique les regardait. Peut-être intimidant pour eux, mais pour Phalanx, c'était juste les regarder curieusement au lieu de menacer. Difficile à dire quand il n'a pas la même structure faciale que la plupart des organiques possèdent. Il était possible qu'ils n'étaient pas sûrs comment traiter exactement une forme de vie synthétique. Phalanx était un robot, et la plupart ont l'expérience de tirer sur Geth plutôt que de les traiter. Cependant, Geth ont été faits à la fois de métal et de tissu synthétique qui ressemblait au muscle organique. Omni-Gel était encore suffisant pour medier une plateforme Geth. Phalanx a déplacé son omni-outil sur son corps mécanique afin d'aider à réparer son électronique. En regardant leur commandant parler, le Geth a écouté silencieusement les nouvelles d'Anderson, tant les bons que les mauvais. Phalanx n'a pas semblé réagir, son œil juste vigilant. Logiquement, il savait qu'il y avait très peu de choix dans la situation. Peu importe le coût, ils ont dû mettre fin à la horde de Husk ou les pertes seraient encore pires. Les Geth savaient qu'il était possible avec les explosifs qu'il y aurait des victimes au-dessus. Les options étaient toutefois limitées. Malgré cela, Phalanx's metal flaps autour de l'œil légèrement aiguisé. En écoutant silencieusement les instructions du lieu de réunion et l'heure avant que tout le monde ait fait son travail. Le soldat qui était à côté de Phalanx semblait être en méditation. Il ferma ses trois yeux et commença à murmurer les prières sous son souffle. Curieusement, le Geth noterait. Ja-Far Balak s'assit dans une position croisée, les bras reposant sur ses genoux. Il était bref et rapide, mais ses yeux restaient fermés. Une prière? Une sorte de rituel après la bataille? Il l'a écartée de la vision du Batarien, se rappelant que l'observation prolongée pendant les prières pouvait causer des offenses parmi les organiques. Normalement, Phalanx suivait les ordres et attendait juste le lieu de la réunion jusqu'à ce qu'il soit temps d'aller. Il a réfléchi à aider à la recherche et au sauvetage, mais sa présence pourrait rendre les autres nerveux et peut-être si elle a trouvé quelqu'un, leur apporter le stress inutile. Tournant son oeil vers Ja-Far Balak, il a légèrement incliné sa tête alors qu'il commençait à se tenir debout. Est-ce que ça va? L'organique en question leva les yeux pour rencontrer les Geths, hurlant avec un sourire triste sur son visage. Il ne savait pas si ça pouvait comprendre la perte ou la douleur de ce qui vient de se passer, mais il ne s'en souciait pas particulièrement. Il venait de terminer une prière de salut pour les déchus, pratique qu'il avait reprise pendant ses nombreuses années en tant que Légionnaire. Après avoir tué un enfant noble avec vos mains nues, vous commencez à créer des quirks. Peu de choses que vous avez faites pour vous soulager de tout péché, faute ou décision lourde. Comme son ancienne équipe n'était pas là, comme ils étaient morts, il a dû prier et méditer. Les blessures avaient pour la plupart guéri, maintenant réduit à de simples cicatrices qui finiraient par disparaître. Son corps grotesque, marqué dans de nombreux endroits, avait choqué les médecins de l'Alliance, dont l'un hésitait même à traiter ses blessures. La médecine Batarienne pourrait être considérée comme vintage par rapport au reste de la galaxie. Il parlait d'un ton doux, regardant les gens passer. Les spectateurs inquiets essayaient d'avoir un aperçu de la catastrophe, certains pleurant alors qu'ils étaient repoussés. Un petit enfant humain pointait les décombres, regardant sa mère remplie de larmes. Phalanx, observez. Catastrophe, destruction, douleur et perte. Les valeurs de la religion miń, les piliers. Ce qu'étaient les espèces miń. Quand ton être éprouvera la douleur et la souffrance, ton âme sera purifiée pour le salut. Tu seras réveillé à l'Afterlife.Le Batarien s'arrêta, soupirant comme il regardait vers le bas et frappait un morceau de décombres sanglants.C'est le péché, mais je m'attarde à douter de ces valeurs aujourd'hui. Est-ce que tu ressens de la douleur, Phalanx? – Il a levé les yeux, un regard triste sur son visage. Je ne ressens pas de douleur physique. Vous pourriez tirer sur moi mais il n'y a rien comme la définition de «douleur» que les organiques décrivent. Seule la connaissance que cette plate-forme a été endommagée et la fonctionnalité doit être entravée. » Phalanx a répondu presque instantanément à la question avant qu'elle ne s'arrêtât pour un bref moment, son oeil bleu éclatant veilleuse mais curieuse. Tourner lentement la tête vers les suites de leur mission, les spectateurs regardant la catastrophe. Certains pleurent, d'autres semblent curieux... ou c'était peut-être de la confusion? La destruction de la construction, les curieux, s'il s'agissait un peu de descendants d'organiques alors qu'ils regardaient vers les adultes qui avaient plus de compréhension de la situation... tout semblait familier. Destruction comme celle-ci, j'ai été témoin, et j'ai participé. Escaladé à une intensité plus élevée. Une description telle que «douleur mentale organique» ne m'a pas traversé à cette époque, je ne calcule pas ou ne me souviens pas. Seulement des questions. » Le Geth a dit, donnant un léger bruit de bourdonnement comme il a regardé les nombreux corps organiques se remuer autour. Je ne sais pas à quoi ressemble une telle chose. Pourtant, à l'heure actuelle, cette vue, malgré le succès logique que nous avons obtenu dans notre mission, apporte une lourdeur. Un poids sur cette plate-forme que mes capteurs ne peuvent pas détecter. Tous les systèmes sont en ligne et opérationnels, des dommages ont été subis, mais peuvent être réparés. Ce poids est inconnu, il a répondu, se demandant si quelque chose n'allait peut-être pas. Était-il possible pour elle de ressentir de la douleur maintenant comme la vie organique le fait? Il documentait la destruction de la guerre du matin. Tirer sur le Créateur dans la tête, corps après corps jusqu'à ce qu'il regarde les survivants se replier et fuir dans l'espace. Au printemps, aux personnes âgées et à celles qui ne peuvent plus ou ne veulent plus se battre. Ils laissent derrière eux des millions de corps. Phalanx n'a pas senti ce «douleur» alors, mais il ne voulait pas non plus être forcé de répéter ce processus. Sa voix était petite et muette dans la masse des programmes qui aidaient à créer son intelligence. Est-ce que ça ferait mal maintenant si quelque chose de similiar arrivait? En regardant de nouveau le Batarien, la plate-forme Geth a regardé, les volets s'agitant autour de son œil de façon réfléchie. Dar Balak, tu crois que je serai autorisé dans cette Après-Vie? Et eux aussi? – Il a demandé, en retournant son oeil aux décombres, en regardant. Toujours à regarder et à analyser. L'homme religieux a gardé un sourire doux sur son visage alors qu'il écoutait et se griffait le cou dans la pensée. Pour une AI, autrefois considérée comme rien d'autre que des malfaiteurs sans sentiment d'émotion, demandait et décrivait de telles émotions organiques. Il s'est moqué de ce qu'il devait dire. Il s'agissait d'une AI, plus âgée que lui-même, mais n'était qu'un enfant dans la réalité. Il avait tant de questions, tant d'options à faire dans la vie. En vérité, il ne faisait que commencer la vie dans la galaxie, où il pouvait se promener et interagir avec les organiques. Il pouvait faire l'expérience de choses qu'il n'avait jamais vécues auparavant. C'est alors qu'il a décidé qu'il devrait être ce mentor de Geth. Il n'avait jamais combattu aucun d'eux alors qu'il était légionnaire et était toujours au milieu avec l'argument pour l'IA. Phalanx avait donné assez de signaux organiques pour qu'il ne se sente pas trop contre nature. Il n'avait encadré personne depuis un moment, pas depuis l'arrivée des Reapers. Il a gardé sa voix basse, mais son expression réfléchie. Tu es coupable, Phalanx. Phalanx était sur le point de répondre à cette question, ses voix s'embrouillent déjà pour faire une voix. Ce n'est pas la définition du dictionnaire, mais le sens? Après cela, Phalanx s'arrêta et permit à son camarade de continuer à écouter attentivement. De toute évidence, il s'agissait simplement de lancer la définition qui figurait dans le dictionnaire de sa base de données. Pour les enfants. Pour les êtres chers. Pour le peuple. Tu fais l'expérience d'émotions organiques cruciales Phalanx, tu as un long chemin, mais c'est le premier pas vers la connaissance de toi-même. L'Afterlife, c'est un truc bizarre. On ne sait pas s'il ou elle va monter. Tu dois compter les péchés, tu ne dois pas tomber dans le luxe, tu dois éprouver la douleur comme l'infidèle le plus pauvre. Humble toi-même et les Piliers regarderont vers le bas sur toi avec une grande intelligence. Ja-Far s'arrêta, pensant à ses mots. Cette AI connaît-elle le concept de l'au-delà? Il s'est amusé avant de continuer. Il faut que tu aies les quatre yeux sacrés, tout-voyant et tout-magnificent. Tu dois être humble, et ne pas te noyer dans le luxe. Tu dois apporter le salut, souffrir pour que les faibles soient éclairés. Tu dois être fier, avoir confiance en toi-même et en la personne. Tu dois apporter la rédemption et la recevoir, par le feu et l'acier. Tu dois être fort, la faiblesse est regardée vers le bas. Tu dois être du peuple élu ou des amis du peuple élu, les Batariens. Ce sont les sept écritures que je respecte personnellement. Tu es Geth. Tu as péché, car tu n'as pas les quatre yeux tout-puissants. Cependant, tout être a péché. Tu dois te porter toi-même dans les autres écritures, comme le reste de ces gens. Alors, quand tu mourras, celui qui a créé les Piliers jugera si tu es digne de l'Afterlife. Personne n'était très intéressé en dehors de l'espace d'Hégémonie et après le génocide, il n'y avait pas beaucoup de Batariens à participer à ses pratiques. La première étape pour un mentor est de trouver un terrain d'entente ou de partager vos croyances et votre culture. Le mentorat est une courbe d'apprentissage, chaque individu est différent. Vous devez vous rapporter à votre élève avant de pouvoir leur apprendre n'importe quoi. Il avait espéré, qu'en répondant à la question de Phalanx, il pourrait partager un terrain d'entente. Miniscule pour les bios mais énorme pour l'IA. Des émotions. Il a arrêté ses blagues et a regardé le Geth. Pensez-vous qu'ils monteront? Avant le Jugement, c'est ton opinion si tu montes ou non. En écoutant attentivement la réponse, Phalanx regarda le Batarien expliquer ses croyances. Un concept organique qui semblait être un trait universel. Bien que légèrement différent selon l'individu, l'espèce et la culture. Il était agréable d'obtenir des informations sur ce nouveau, car Phalanx n'avait pas de journaux sur ce système particulier de croyance. Ses volets en métal se reposent à plat contre sa tête, bien que les bords de ses « cheeks » légèrement trempés comme il l'écoutait au début. Il n'avait pas quatre yeux, car les Créateurs n'ont fait qu'une seule vue optique pour son genre. Il ne pouvait pas particulièrement comprendre le concept de «sensation» de certaines de ces écritures requises. Elle pensait qu'elle pouvait être considérée comme très pécheresse à cet égard. Un point de vue optique, sans ces «émotions» surtout dans la guerre du matin où il avait aidé à tuer des millions jusqu'à l'extinction d'espèces proches. Pourtant, la pensée même a apporté ce poids à nouveau, plus lourd. Est-ce que Ja-Far Balak avait raison? Culpabilité? Le sens logique de cela l'a trouvé redondant. Pourquoi? À l'époque, il se battait pour la survie. Actuellement, il faisait la même chose pour lui-même et pour les nouveaux «amis» qu'il avait faits. Il avait gagné, mais le poids a continué. Cela en a - t - il fait ‘faible'? Il penserait que quelques-uns de ses autres programmes le calculeraient comme tel. Malgré cela, il avait quitté Rannoch pour poursuivre ces conceptions étranges qui s'étaient formées il y a à peine un an. Si ce Batarien a vu quelque chose, peut-être était-il sur la bonne voie. Le voyage et la découverte sont encore longs, mais corrects. Je ne comprends pas tout à fait ou je ne peux pas identifier ces « sentiments » mais peut-être c'est juste quelque chose que j'ai besoin de plus d'expérience. Je ne sais pas si je peux monter à l'après-vie et je serai probablement incapable jusqu'à ce que je puisse répondre à une question critique. Suis-je vivant? Vraiment? Ou juste une machine qui est assez avancée pour répondre couramment aux bios?= Phalanx s'est muselé avant de tourner son regard vers le haut vers le ciel bleu. En regardant les nuages flotter avec peu de soin dans le monde, alors qu'ils sont restés ici. Cependant, il y a quelque chose. Je calcule que je souhaite assister à cet endroit, si seulement pour un peu. Donc, quand je ne suis plus enfin, je peux voir mes ‘amis' à nouveau que j'ai perdu et que je n'ai pas servi. C'est tout ce que je demande quand je suis parti. Une chance de les voir et de s'assurer, ils sont heureux. » Phalanx chirpe, regardant le ciel pour un autre moment réfléchiment avant de tourner son regard vers Ja-far une fois de plus. Est-ce que ça va? Le Batarien retourna son regard et chuckled. Cela semblait confondre le Geth, mais il n'arrêtait pas de rire de lui-même, un ronflement copieux qui semblait hors de sa place pour un Batarien. Il a attiré une certaine attention, mais ces gens ont rapidement regardé loin, intimidé par l'apparence de Geth. Il s'arrêta, souriant largement à Phalanx avec un clin d'œil dans l'œil. Tu es une contradiction. Tu dis que tu es juste une machine. Un grille-pain avancé. Pourtant, tu montres une compréhension qui manque le plus. Tu fais preuve d'empathie et tu traites tes amis comme ils devraient être traités. Cela signifie que tu éprouves de l'émotion, peu importe à quel point tu es têtu contre ce point de vue. Thi Tu veux voir tes amis? C'est un but digne de ce nom. » Il s'est approché du Geth et l'a tapé sur le dos, souriant et secouant la tête. Tu veux être bio? En savoir plus sur nous et comment nous faisons les choses? Laisse-moi t'emmener dans de nouveaux endroits. La terre natale humaine a beaucoup d'aventures qui nous attendent, nous avons 24 heures, non? Ça fait un moment qu'il n'a pas encadré quelqu'un. C'était bien, donnant de la sagesse à ceux qui écoutaient. Il a commencé à marcher, bien qu'il puisse être décrit plus précisément comme un boiteux, et indiqué pour le Geth à suivre. Londres était une belle ville, peu importe à quel point elle était écarlate de la guerre de Reaper. Il y avait tant de sites à voir, tant d'aventures à participer. Ja-Far a fait un tour de la ville, ayant séjourné ici sur Terre pendant un certain temps maintenant. C'était une métropole tentaculaire, un mélange d'architecture ancienne et nouvelle. L'histoire et la culture des humains seraient abhorrées par la plupart des Batariens, mais il n'était pas comme ça. Il savait mieux que de blâmer les humains pour ce qui est arrivé à son espèce. Il a marché de l'ancien mémorial du Big Ben tombé au nouveau London Eye. Il avait été difficile d'essayer d'obtenir des billets car il a essayé de justifier que Phalanx n'était pas si lourd que de casser la chose. Il a finalement obtenu deux billets pour la roue de Ferris et il a souligné tous les points de repère de Old et New London. Ils ont fini par sortir de l'œil et ont commencé à explorer plus de la ville, en regardant à travers tous les districts et les villes. Malheureusement, il a dû traîner un curieux Geth loin du quartier rouge, rougissant légèrement comme l'un des divers...ahem, les ouvriers lui ont clin d'oeil. Finalement, ils ont fini à quelques mètres d'un établissement local. Le Regent Park Pub. Pour la plateforme Geth, c'était une aventure fascinante. Londres, malgré ses cicatrices, a conservé l'une des pièces les plus marquantes de l'histoire et de la culture humaines. C'était compréhensible pourquoi les humains semblaient le chérir. Bien sûr, il voulait tout explorer, mais il n'y avait que vingt-quatre heures à accomplir. Quand ils sont arrivés sur l'établissement connu sous le nom de «pub» qui était un lieu organique fréquemment assisté à participer à une autre activité que Phalanx n'a pas tout à fait compris. L'ingestion d'alcool. Comme fumer, il a souvent des effets négatifs lorsqu'il est consommé, mais les produits biologiques le mettent continuellement dans leur corps. L'alcool affaiblit l'esprit, ainsi que la détérioration lente de leur organe connu sous le nom de foie. Pourtant, c'était l'une des choses les plus populaires pour les bios à ingérer. C'est une chose si étrange. Plus près du pub, Phalanx a noté quelques-uns de ces ingestions fréquentes d'alcool organique qui ont fini par déverser du liquide par voie orale. Alors qu'ils marchaient à l'intérieur du bâtiment, Phalanx s'arrêta alors qu'il examinait son environnement faiblement éclairé. Le bruit de plusieurs télévisions différentes chantant tranquillement, les légendes jouant sur l'écran pour ceux qui veulent bien comprendre. Ses volets métalliques sur le dessus de sa tête se sont déplacés vers le haut en alerte car il a remarqué la Turian femelle Sicaria Velinian et le Krogan Ravanor Rykarn assis près du bar. De plus en plus proche, l'entretien, qui était une femme humaine avec une chemise noire assez petite et un jean déchiré, une légère courbe vers le corps, mais avait défini des muscles toniques, de courts cheveux blonds désordonnés et des yeux verts, se tourna pour regarder son nouveau client et s'arrêta, les yeux s'élargissant alors qu'ils regardaient la forme de vie synthétique. Ne sachant pas comment réagir particulièrement à un Geth dans son bar, elle se tourna plutôt vers le Batarien. Et qu'est-ce que je peux te donner? Elle m'a demandé. Le Batarien sniffa légèrement, soulignant les cicatrices sur tout son visage. Désolé madame, mais je pense qu'une pièce d'identité ne sera pas nécessaire.Il a ignoré l'étrange regard qu'il a reçu de l'entretien. Évidemment, l'accent noble du Haut Batarien a mal traduit à travers son omni-outil, mais il pourrait s'en soucier moins. Malgré sa nature diplomatique et cool, c'était une journée stressante. Il a cherché un cigare à fumer mais n'en a trouvé aucun. Regrettant son choix de donner tous ses Cubains à Tibère, il s'est tourné vers le barbier qui attendait patiemment. Le meilleur pack de cigares que tu as. Oh, et je vais avoir ta plus belle trakh madame, la merde puante qui a mauvais goût pour tout le monde.La blonde vient de hocher dans la confirmation qui l'a fait surprendre. Il ne s'attendait pas à ce qu'ils l'aient, mais il pensait qu'il avait de la chance. Décidé qu'un siège serait parfait, Ja-Far a regardé Sicaria et Rykarn partager un toast avant de descendre leurs lunettes. Il avait pris une partie de leur conversation, de vieilles histoires de guerre de la guerre. Il tira une chaise et s'assit à côté du Krogan tout comme un paquet de cigares a été envoyé son chemin, Phalanx se déplaçant à côté de lui, bien que debout. En les attrapant au milieu de l'air, il s'est claqué les dents à l'entretien ludique avant de sortir un cigare. A San Lotano, fabriqué par A. J. Fernandez Cigars. Une masse a fait des trucs bon marché d'une île appelée Nicaragua. Frowning in distaste pendant une seconde, il l'a rapidement essuyé et il l'a allumé avec un briquet portable sur son outil omni. Il a pris une longue traînée, laissant le stress de la journée s'échapper à travers ses narines fumantes. Le tabac humain était bon, il a décidé, si un peu faux. Fabriqué dans un laboratoire très probablement, les cigares à base de plantes de tabac serait trop cher pour un endroit comme celui-ci pour se permettre de vendre. Il a laissé la fumée s'installer avant de regarder à ses côtés, prenant dans la masse du Krogan à côté de lui. Tu as servi pendant la guerre? Penal Legionnaire mińself, a combattu les Reapers dans tout l'espace de l'hégémonie. C'était pour meurtre, mère poignardée, mère poignardée. Les tribunaux de l'hégémonie ne donnent jamais un procès équitable. J.Far Balak, Légionnaire de l'hégémonie. Ou ce qu'il en reste de toute façon. Rykarn et Sicaria, c'est ça? Qu'est-ce qui t'amène ici, dans un bel établissement comme celui-ci? Je dois complimenter tous les deux de ton travail aujourd'hui, tu ne t'attardais pas comme des idiots. Ja-Far a pris un verre de trakh coulissant sur le comptoir. Il avait une odeur perçante, des couches et des couches de saveurs complexes du nez que la plupart des autres espèces ne pouvaient pas détecter. Alors que c'était doux pour un Batarien comme lui, ça sentait tout à fait rancunier pour n'importe qui d'autre. Sachant cela, il l'a pris dans une seule perruque tout en laissant son parfum entrer dans son nez tout à la fois. Placer le verre vers le bas, il a hurlé à l'entretien du bar avant de continuer sur "Donc, des histoires de guerre? Nous sommes tous des vétérans ici, camarades maintenant. Quelqu'un doit avoir une bonne histoire. J'ai un peu de mińself, bien que twas sur une perspective perdante. » Il a demandé un autre verre, prenant une autre traînée de son cigare, se contentant de laisser passer la nuit. Écouter et donner une bonne histoire ou deux ne pourraient blesser personne.

"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: 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 1st 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. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "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?'

Les défenses avancent, un désordre, criant, mur lamentable de chair mécanisée, resplendissant bleu Reaper et chargeant avec la ferveur religieuse que seuls les morts-vivants peuvent rassembler. Dans leurs rangs se trouvaient des figures plus grandes, plus larges, des maraudeurs et des cannibales, poussant de côté leurs infériorités, s'emparant du sang. JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET JUILLET CLACK CLACK CLACK- Le son d'un pistolet, lent, rythmique, s'accélère progressivement, comme le tireur paniquait, puis se calme complètement. POUVOIR! Un fusil à haute puissance coupe un museau, le fragment rond comme il a déchiqueté à travers la chair augmentée, pulvérisant un Marauder derrière lui avec du gore bleu et des éclats ferreux, déchirant son corps en quatre morceaux. Le bras vola dans l'air, et plie directement dans les genoux d'Ellis, renversant l'ichor gris sur sa poitrine et sa visière massives. C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! Ellis s'est emparé de son fusil et s'est concentré sur le gel des Cannibales dans le pandémonium. Une cible plus grande et plus large, le Cannibal fournirait d'excellentes bosses de vitesse pour les défenses, et une bonne couverture des maraudeurs. C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! Il a porté son compte de cannibales jusqu'à cinq, et a rechargé. C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! - Quatre de plus. Avec un seul bras, et une jambe de travail, l'activation des pylônes du Bouclier était plus difficile qu'elle ne l'était jamais. Chaque pylône nécessite une connexion par câble à un générateur, et assez de distance d'un autre pylône que l'énergie ne conduit pas du vivant au mort. Donc, naturellement, ayant besoin de se débarrasser d'un, il a jeté le générateur dans la foule d'où il s'est assis, le pylône flottant dans l'air comme une queue, où il s'est écrasé contre l'un des Cannibales congelés, la rupture résultante-splosion libérant le gaz cryonique à base d'azote, un sous-produit du processus de Cryo-Ammunition, gelant deux défenses voisines, et ralentissant un bon nombre. Il a ramené son fusil, et a fouillé, pour aligner le tir. C'était difficile. Les pieds gris-bleu clamaient sur le sol sale, rendant impossible un tir propre. Mais Ellis n'était pas un pour les chances, et les probabilités. C'était un homme de possibilités. Et en ce moment, il a examiné ces possibilités. Tirez une explosion concentrée. Tu seras plus susceptible de le frapper. Non, tu n'as pas besoin de ça! Une tournée. Un bon, propre rond. Désactivez vos munitions Cryo, pour une plus grande pénétration. Allez! Vous tous! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! Il a déchargé le reste du clip thermique dans la zone générale que le générateur avait atterrie. Sans point de repère, il n'avait d'autre choix que de tirer. Les rounds ont claqué le bourrelet après le bourrelet, gelant deux, puis trois, puis quatre, puis le quatrième s'est brisé, prenant les autres avec lui, créant juste assez de force de concussive pour-BOOM! - pour faire exploser le générateur. Le pylône a soufflé dans un éclat de lumière bleue, mettant le feu à tous les ennemis voisins... Pas qu'ils se souciaient. Il a giflé le bouton sur l'autre générateur, tremblant de joie alors que l'énergie surchargée sa barrière. Son costume bourdonnait littéralement avec le pouvoir. Il fortifia sa barrière, faisant de son mieux pour ignorer la migraine qui scintillait à la vie pendant que sa Fortification rentrait chez lui. Il était encore faible à cause de son coup antérieur, mais il n'était pas disposé à accepter son incapacité. Il s'est forcé à se mettre aux pieds, en utilisant son fusil comme une béquille. Il l'a mis en premier lieu dans son aisselle, et l'a serré entre son bras et la poitrine, le rechargeant lentement. Son dernier clip thermique. Mais, il avait encore deux Talons sur la hanche, mais une quantité inconnue de munitions. Mais encore une fois, il n'était pas un homme pour la probabilité, mais la possibilité. Juste alors. "----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Le cœur d'Ellis sauta dans sa gorge, mais il n'était pas seulement d'accord avec Anderson, mais il était extrêmement enthousiaste à l'idée de souffler le tunnel. Tout ce qu'il lui a donné, c'est des flippants. C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! C'est pas vrai! Son système de sortie audio externe a pompé les échos de son rire dans le tunnel. "BWAHAHA! Despair, oui! HAHAHAHAA!"

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Un collab entre Birb et moi. Alors qu'une collection de troupes de l'Alliance commençait à dégager le tunnel et à sauver l'escadron défaillant qui était Katabasis, Sicaria a baissé son arme et les a laissés s'occuper de tout ce qui restait dans la chambre maintenant scellée. Avec peu d'autre chose à faire maintenant, elle a pris son scientifique captif par le bras et a commencé à se diriger vers la lumière. Il y avait probablement quelque chose de incroyablement symbolique dans cette action, elle l'a ignorée car quelques blessures se faisaient connaître maintenant que l'adrénaline s'estompait. « Je n'arrive pas à croire que je n'ai pas remarqué ça plus tôt... » Bien qu'elle ne puisse pas tout à fait le voir, elle pouvait sentir une sorte de blessure sur son bras droit commencer à donner du pouls. Pendant qu'elle faisait surface, elle jeta la femme Cerberus entre les mains d'un couple de marins avant d'enlever le masque de fortune qui lui avait sans doute sauvé la vie. Elle a apporté la bande de tissu vers le bas de son visage avant de le retourner et de le trouver caked avec un mélange de différentes couleurs de sang et un brun terreux cohérent tout le truc sur. "Je vais tousser ça pendant une semaine." Elle s'est légèrement jetée à elle-même, qui s'est cassé dans une crise de toux avec un petit nuage brunâtre se faisant pousser hors de sa bouche avec chaque hack. En plus de cela, une quantité de flegme a été envoyée et sur le sol avec le dernier d'une série d'environ huit. Après cela, elle a commencé à abattre son armure pour enlever tout ce qui s'était accumulé sur elle des explosions, y compris une essuie-mains rapide sur son visage pour montrer ses tatouages à nouveau. Le bruit d'une rupture de sceau de pression a émergé du flanc de Sicaria, et en vue marchait un krogan maintenant familier, battu et armure sanglante dominant son cadre et son casque à la main. C'était la première fois que Katabasis voyait son visage. "Je ne sais pas de quoi tu te plains, je vais bien." Il a dit courtoisement, inhalant l'air relativement propre de Londres avec un profond poumon et laissant sortir un soupir exagéré. "Enfer d'une bagarre. Ça fait trop longtemps que je n'ai pas été dans un tel état. Toi?" lui a - t - il demandé. Tout s'est passé dans un tel flou jusqu'à ce moment. On aurait dit qu'il y a quelques minutes seulement, l'équipe avait rétabli la ligne après avoir fait sauter les charges, et maintenant elle a été relevée par les autorités locales et les troupes de l'Alliance des systèmes qui avaient été stationnées semi-permanentement dans la ville depuis la guerre. Toute l'équipe avait l'air las; c'était tout à fait la première affectation inattendue, personne ne s'attendait à revoir les Reapers. Il avait été quelques mois avant que ses propres balayages n'aient rien découvert. Comment Cerberus a-t-il englouti plus de deux mille Husks? Ce serait un rapport post-action assez intéressant, pour le moins. Le Turian a levé les yeux à temps pour voir passer l'un des Krogan, enlevant déjà son casque et portant quelques nouvelles cicatrices du conflit qu'ils venaient de traverser. Elle a dû rouler les yeux au premier commentaire qu'il a fait, bien qu'elle ait tiré sa mandibule gauche dans un sourire au deuxième. "La dernière fois que j'ai été envoyé dans un trou de l'enfer, c'était cette conquête pour reprendre la Terre. J'aurais aimé quelques années avant de revivre ça, mais nous y voilà." Elle a visiblement joué les deux appendices sur le côté de son visage dans l'équivalent d'une puanteur avant de vérifier son bras blessé. Une bonne partie de la gazhe avait été ouverte en haut, probablement à partir de l'époque où l'équipe d'infiltration s'était retirée et qu'un projectile lui avait tiré dessus. Il s'avère qu'il a pris contact après tout. "Vous n'auriez pas de medi-gel sur vous, par hasard?" Elle a donné au Krogan un regard qui suggérait un manque général d'urgence pour les circonstances. "'n'ai pas peur. J'ai tendance à laisser ma régénération faire le sale travail, d'autres n'y tiennent généralement pas compte. Attendez, j'ai quelque chose." Il a dit qu'il s'était cassé pour s'emparer d'une paire d'humains qui portaient des fatigues paramédicales. Tandis que Sicaria était hors de l'oreille, les expressions du corps surprises des krogans lourdement armés et blindés portant vers le bas sur les humains beaucoup plus petits étaient indiscutables. Quelques instants plus tard, il est revenu avec un paquet en main, l'offrant. "Turns dehors qu'ils allaient faire les rounds de toute façon. Je suppose que j'ai juste accéléré les choses." Il a dit avec une puanteur. Un clip thermique vide s'est détaché de son armure sur son bras, il a certainement tenu compte de l'odeur brûlante qui était persistante depuis qu'il a enlevé son casque. Il regarda Sicaria avec un intérêt quelque peu piquant. « J'ai combattu ici dans les derniers mois de la guerre, pour un autre Specter, en fait. Vous et moi savons tous les deux ce qui se serait passé si ces monstres sortaient des tunnels et de la surface." Sicaria a pris le gel et l'a hissée grâce au Krogan, en brisant le paquet et en slathering une partie de la matière fraîche sur son bras. Le saignement s'est arrêté en quelques secondes grâce à elle, et elle a attaché ce qui restait du médicament dans le sac avant de le poser. À ce stade, elle a remarqué l'odeur brûlante et le clip qui avait trouvé son chemin hors de son armure. "Je ne vais pas demander comment ça s'est fait." Elle a trouvé un trottoir pour s'asseoir pendant qu'elle écoutait le discours de Krogan, et a laissé ses longues jambes se déverser dans la rue stérile alors qu'Anderson était en position de s'adresser à l'équipe. "J'étais à Vancouver pendant environ deux semaines... Je suis sûr que la ville était belle avant l'arrivée des Reapers, mais j'ai été surpris que la plupart des bâtiments aient été laissés debout. C'était comme s'ils essayaient de préserver la plupart d'entre eux. Mais oui, beaucoup de gens seraient morts si nous n'y étions pas allés." Le krogan shruged, un objet en grande partie immobile dans un environnement soudainement dynamique comme les corps flottaient autour. « Honnêtement, partout où je vis depuis longtemps a été détruit par la guerre. Tuchanka, Anhur, Terre. Tout commence à se ressembler après un certain temps, seule la différence est que les Reapers n'ont pas eu tendance à aplatir les villes quand il y avait des récoltes à faire." il a répondu au turian, en suivant les lignes violettes de ses tatouages du visage qui ont traversé sa carapace. À côté d'eux, Anderson rassemblait l'équipe pour un débriefing. "Oh, ce sera bien." il dit, offrant une main pour aider Sicaria à ses pieds. Les deux se joignirent aux autres tandis que les Spectres commencèrent leur discours, l'humain des deux prenant la tête. Le terrain standard attendu était couvert, 24 heures pour semer la merde et dire au revoir à la Terre, c'était la dernière chance de se retirer, d'être aux coordonnées désignées ou d'être laissé à l'écart. Rykarn n'était qu'à moitié à l'écoute; il était déjà engagé dans la mission et n'avait rien à mentionner pour faire face avant de partir sur une mission potentiellement dangereuse et certainement excitante avec les Spectres, qui semblaient toujours trouver les emplois intéressants en raison d'un manque total de paperasserie et de responsabilité. En tant que krogan, ça s'est bien passé. Moins il en était de la nouvelle que l'explosion, celui de Rykarn avait une main directe dans la mise en marche, a effondré un immeuble d'appartements et potentiellement tué 11 personnes. Le krogan n'a pas vraiment réagi après un clignotement lent, ses yeux ambres ne trahissant aucune émotion au-delà du regard reptilien habituel qui a fait tout le krogan regarder aussi amical comme étant retenu par un fusil de chasse. C'était une honte, bien sûr. On ne traverse pas la guerre la plus meurtrière et la plus génocidaire de l'histoire galactique et on s'attend à mourir un an plus tard par un effondrement violent des bâtiments, mais c'était sur Cerberus. Si les Husks sortaient, les choses auraient été bien pires, d'autant plus que cela pourrait être des jours, voire des semaines, avant que tous les monstres ne soient comptabilisés. Katabasis était, supposément, des soldats professionnels et des mercenaires et ils avaient à peine survécu à l'assaut. Une femme âgée qui traverserait la rue ne ferait pas aussi bien d'essayer de s'éloigner des Husks. Ou des écoles pleines d'enfants. N'importe quoi, vraiment. La chose vraiment ennuyante à propos des battements des Reapers était qu'ils n'étaient jamais fatigués, et semblaient être sans fin en nombre. C'est pour ça que Rykarn aimait les explosions. Même s'ils n'étaient pas complètement handicapés, c'était beaucoup plus difficile de vous mâcher les chevilles si vous n'aviez qu'un bras pour vous tirer le long et la moitié d'un torse. Même si tout le monde avait été dans le bâtiment à l'époque, et si Rykarn le savait, il aurait quand même déclenché l'explosion. Une poignée de victimes a été le prix d'une guerre qui n'avait pas de date de fin ferme, compte tenu de l'ennemi qu'ils ont affronté. En ce qui concerne Rykarn, la guerre ne serait probablement pas terminée avant que tous les Husk ne soient exterminés de la galaxie. Qui savait quand ce serait? Partinax et Anderson ont rejeté tout le monde pour aller déposer leur rapport. Il a certainement tué le butin de la victoire. "Lève-toi." Il a grognonné le turois à côté de lui. Sicaria avait saisi la main du Krogan quand il l'avait offert, se tenant debout à la protestation de ses jambes endoloris. Alors qu'elle l'avait fait pendant la majeure partie de sa vie, il y avait quelque chose à courir à travers une horde de défenses qui rendait quelqu'un exceptionnellement fatigué. « Merci... » Au pas de son compagnon, elle se joignit aux autres en écoutant les Spectacles. Pour elle, il n'y avait pas beaucoup de choc, la culture turienne exigeait souvent des sacrifices pour le plus grand bien. C'était déjà assez grave que des civils meurent, encore moins un enfant, mais c'était comme ça. Juste une autre cicatrice psychologique sur un esprit déjà merdique. Sans beaucoup de cérémonie, les deux Spectres sont partis pour terminer leur travail. "Quelque chose comme ça... Je n'ai jamais eu ton nom. La mienne, c'est Sicaria." Le Turian a croisé ses bras et a déplacé son poids vers sa jambe gauche, la tête tournant pour obtenir un meilleur regard sur le Krogan à côté d'elle. Il n'était certainement pas ancien, ou franchement aussi vieux selon leurs normes, bien que de nombreuses cicatrices enrobaient ce qu'elle pouvait voir qui n'était pas obstrué par l'armure. Il avait traversé l'enfer et était revenu comme tout le monde, semble-t-il. La grande crête a hissé la tête avec un clin d'œil. "Rykarn du clan Ravanor. J'ai trouvé avec des extraterrestres, je dois préciser que c'est mon nom de clan et pas mon prénom. Apparemment, il y a une certaine confusion, ou ignorance à propos de krogan, peu importe où vous allez." Il a pleuré très fort. « Au moins, ce n'est pas un nom salarien; ils sont presque sûrs d'appeler leurs enfants dans la rue où ils sont nés et ce que la mère mangeait quand elle a sorti une couvée d'oeufs. » Le son distinctif d'un chuckle Turian a suivi la généralisation de Rykarn sur les Salariés, même si elle ne l'a pas vu exactement de la même manière. Elle a bien compris cette ligne de pensée, cependant. "N'avais-tu pas une demi-génération de femmes nommées d'après un certain biologiste salarien?" Une mandibule a été tirée dans un sourire une fois de plus, bien qu'elle l'ait rapidement laissé retomber dans la couverture du côté de sa bouche. Le krogan grogne dans l'exaspération. "Ne me le rappelle pas. Allez à Tuchanka à tout moment dans la prochaine décennie, et tout adolescent va probablement être nommé d'après ce gars. Vous pourriez convaincre certaines personnes que vous êtes clairvoyant si vous devinez bien.", il secoua la tête, regardant où les équipes d'urgence travaillaient pour excaver le bâtiment effondré. "Vous savez, j'ai passé la dernière année à reconstruire cette stupide ville. Je n'aurais plus jamais pensé que c'était moi qui la gâcherais. Je me sens obligé d'aider." Sicaria a hurlé en réponse, changeant de poids entre les jambes une fois de plus. "Ouais, nous devrions probablement aider. Réconciliez le gamin qu'on a tué, au moins." Sans attendre un signal, elle partit en direction du bâtiment détruit, se souvenant enfin de désactiver son armure technique pendant qu'elle partait. "Pas sûr si quelqu'un en a parlé encore, mais je veux remercier votre peuple d'avoir sauvé Palaven. Aucun de mes supérieurs ne l'admettra, mais vous nous avez vraiment tiré le cul du feu." Elle a déclaré, ses mains trouvant leur chemin jusqu'au sommet de sa tête pendant qu'elle marchait. Rykarn marchait dans le rythme, les yeux se faufilant autour ont marché vers les feux clignotants d'urgence et les sirènes. La conscience de la situation était quelque chose qui est devenu dur en quelqu'un après des décennies littérales de conflit; ce n'était pas quelque chose que vous venez de désactiver. Quand Sicaria a remercié le krogan, et en extension Rykarn, pour leur part dans la libération Palaven, qui l'a pris hors de garde. Il n'était pas habitué à être remercié pour beaucoup, et un turois exprimant une sincère gratitude pour l'aide, non moins prompted, était très inattendu. "Votre peuple nous a aidés à guérir le génocide, il a acheté beaucoup de bonne volonté." le krogan a répondu, un seul oeil regardant en arrière à Sicaria. "Je ne suis pas comme beaucoup de krogan et blâmer les Turiens qui sont vivants pour avoir déclenché ce cauchemar sur mon peuple, mais certains de mes parents le sont. Vous aviez peut-être désespérément besoin d'aide pour nous aider avant que nous vous aidions, mais ça a fait beaucoup pour bâtir notre confiance. Nous étions libres, pour la première fois depuis des siècles, et croyez-moi, krogan aime tuer des monstres et être célébré pour elle. La mort de rachni m'a encore fait me sentir connectée à mes ancêtres." Rykarn a laissé tomber un ronflement bas, maudit à la connexion qu'il avait faite il y a longtemps alors qu'il libérait l'enfer sur les Ravageurs. "Je ne m'attendais jamais à ce que je marche jamais sur la terre natale turienne, sans parler de me battre aux côtés de votre peuple, mais il s'avère que nous sommes tous les deux très bons pour nous battre. Toutes ces années à se battre, en enfer, regardez ce que nous avons fait quand nous visions de la même manière. Je vous respecte, vous nous avez donné une seconde chance à Krogan et vous avez mangé votre fierté assez pour nous demander de l'aide, peu importe le coût. Les éloges d'une espèce renommée pour avoir considéré l'inhalation d'une compagnie entière comme une victoire si le méchant meurt en premier." Il m'a dit de lui casser le poing dans une paume ouverte. "Nous avons même brisé des lunes, des lunes réelles! Dans tes colonies et ça t'a fait te battre plus fort. Mais ça m'a rendu curieux pour les humains. Relay 314 incident et le nouveau gamin sur le bloc vous donne un nez sanglant." À la mention d'un nez sanglant, Sicaria a inconsciemment gratté un peu de sang séché de sa lèvre supérieure, bien que laisser un court rire autrement. "Oui, nous avons sous-estimé l'humanité. Ils sont plus durs qu'on ne le pensait, tout n'aurait pas dû se passer." Elle soupira joyeusement, presque comme si elle revivait une bonne mémoire tout en parlant de leur premier contact avec les humains. "Vous avez raison à ce sujet, cependant. Vous nous avez frappés, nous avons frappé plus fort. Et ça continue jusqu'à ce que quelqu'un soit soit renversé ou mort sur le sol." Un sourire rentrant, elle regarda le ciel nocturne pendant qu'elle marchait. Après un bref moment de silence, deux doigts de sa main droite se sont jonchés vers le vide au-dessus. "Les reapers ont appris que la voie dure." "Ils sont morts. On ne l'est pas. Espèces supérieures, mon cul. La seule chose qui en valait la peine, c'était les milliards de vies qu'ils ont récoltées. Je ne me sentirais pas mal à l'idée que les humains prennent un coup et qu'ils en retournent plus durement; c'était un humain qui unissait la galaxie et tuait personnellement les Reapers. Qui l'aurait cru? J'étais dans la galaxie depuis moins de quatre décennies et ce sont eux qui réparent tout." Rykarn a dit, après le geste de Sicaria vers le haut. Il a été difficile de distinguer n'importe quelles étoiles dans le bruit éclatant des lumières de la ville noyées dans le ciel au-delà, mais le geste a obtenu le point à travers. "Alors, qu'est-ce qui se passe à ton avis? Les humains ont la Citadelle garée à leur porte et ils ont poussé leur chemin dans la chaîne alimentaire comme, eh bien, nous avons essayé. Ce ne sera pas long jusqu'à ce que toute la galaxie revienne à se tirer dessus l'un sur l'autre." "Maintenant? Maintenant, tout le monde revient vivre pendant qu'on ramasse le sale boulot." Le Turian a regardé en arrière alors qu'elle commençait à descendre dans le cratère important qu'ils avaient réussi à créer il n'y a même pas une heure. Tout près, le bâtiment qu'ils avaient enlevé s'écroulait encore lentement, des morceaux de poussière et de décombres tombant de ce qui restait debout. Elle devait leur donner, les humains pouvaient construire des structures solides, mais ce serait une question de temps jusqu'à ce que les derniers murs debout soient bulldozés et remplacés. Mais peu importe où se trouve la Citadelle. C'était considéré comme de l'espace d'Asari jusqu'à ce que les Salariiens le trouvent. Même alors, ils se sont retrouvés avec une influence égale, pas beaucoup de raison pour qu'il change maintenant. » Le bâtiment ressemblait à un piège et à un danger mortel si Rykarn en avait déjà vu un. Ce serait terriblement ironique si c'était ce qu'il avait fait après tout ce qu'il avait traversé pour causer l'effondrement. "Oh, c'est important. Imaginez si la Citadelle était dans les Terminus Systems, ou même dans la Traverse. Tout commencerait à graviter autour de ces régions, et de tout le bullcrap qui l'accompagne." Rykarn a dit, secouant la tête. « Autrefois, la Citadelle était garée juste à côté du territoire des premières courses du Conseil. Tout le monde devait aller à eux. Maintenant, il est coincé dans le système Sol avec quelques sauts relais dans l'espace humain pour y arriver. Ajoutez cela avec le fait que ce sont les humains qui ont sauvé la Citadelle quand Souverain a attaqué, retardant l'invasion des Reaper pendant quelques années, et que ce sont les humains qui ont uni la galaxie pour écraser les Reapers... eh bien, vous seriez ignorant de penser que quelqu'un ne va pas essayer de profiter de cela. Attendez qu'on parle de relocaliser la station. Les sourires cachent les couteaux, c'est tout ce que je dis." Sicaria a pris un moment pour réfléchir avant de répondre, en prenant soigneusement des mesures vers l'équipe de sauvetage qui était déjà sur place. Les choses étaient déjà assez mauvaises ici, et elle ne voulait pas être responsable de déstabiliser la fondation qui restait. L'effraction distincte sur sa voix rompit le silence après un long moment. "Je n'ai jamais entendu ça avant, mais vous avez un point. Les humains ont la plus grande influence sur ce qui reste de la galaxie, mais si tout le monde finit par s'occuper d'eux-mêmes comme vous le dites, le vote du Conseil sera encore de trois contre un." Ses mandibules s'étiraient à nouveau à mesure que la paire se rapprochait de l'endroit où les fouilles avaient lieu. "Oui, Asari voudrait qu'il soit remis pour des raisons historiques, Salarians de prendre un avantage tactique loin. Nous y allions soit par dépit depuis que notre Conseiller était en vie pendant le Relais 314, soit pour la même raison que les Salariés. Les humains sont les seuls qui profitent directement de la Citadelle étant si proche, personne d'autre ne le permettra." "Bien sûr que non, mais ça ne veut pas dire que tout le monde va jouer selon les règles. Appelez-moi paranoïaque, mais être jeté comme le méchant de la galaxie pendant des siècles nous donne krogan une perspective plutôt pessimiste sur les affaires galactiques." Rykarn a dit, à zéro sur un officier qui avait l'air de coordonner les efforts de sauvetage. "Je veux dire, je vais bien de passer ce flambeau particulier à quelqu'un d'autre pendant un moment." Il a dit, s'approchant de l'officier. qui traversait quelques plans sur une table, un pistolet et un thermos tenant les deux extrémités ouvertes. Rykarn était surpris; les gens gardaient encore des copies papier des choses? L'homme a levé les yeux. "Je peux vous aider?" "Non. Mais nous pouvons vous aider. Je peux soulever des choses que vous auriez besoin d'équipement lourd à faire, et vous ne risquez pas de gâcher des dizaines de milliers de crédits d'équipement si les décombres me tournent dessus. Mon compagnon est également prêt à prêter main-forte." Le krogan a dit. "Je suis assez léger pour ne rien déranger et je peux entrer dans ces endroits difficiles à atteindre. J'ai des biotiques légers s'ils sont nécessaires, au fait." Prenant un court moment pour s'arrêter, elle s'assit sur les restes d'un bloc qui était entré dans l'ensemble du bâtiment. Elle se pencha alors vers l'avant et ferma les mains ensemble, regardant vers le haut l'Homme qui était en charge. "Savons-nous donc où sont les onze derniers? Ou est-ce qu'on prend des photos dans le noir à ce moment-là?" "Il fait chaud dans le noir, j'en ai peur. Différents étages, différents côtés des bâtiments. Ils pourraient être n'importe où." L'homme a dit, a démissionné. "Je ne suis pas censé laisser n'importe qui sur le site, c'est dangereux... mais les équipes d'urgence sont minces. Je veux dire oui, mais..." Rykarn a creusé dans un compartiment sur son armure et a produit un chit d'identification. "Suffisamment officiel? Je suis ici sous contrat depuis la fin de la guerre pour aider à la reconstruction après la guerre. C'est une partie de ce contrat." Le krogan a dit. L'officier a pris le chit, l'a regardé, et a semblé visiblement soulagée. "Au moins, vous connaissez les risques. Continuez, mais s'il vous plaît, pour l'amour de Dieu, soyez prudent." l'officier a dit, gesticulant vers l'entrée dans la barricade hâtivement érigée. Rykarn conduit Sicaria à travers et assez tôt, ils étaient debout sur ce qui était plus ou moins le côté du bâtiment. Tout était comme si le sol avait essayé de l'avaler et de l'étouffer. Il a fait un geste au coin opposé. "Il y a des trucs lâches là-bas qui n'ont pas l'air trop occupés. Je dirais que c'est un bon endroit pour commencer." Maintenant encore plus près du site de destruction, Sicaria a laissé un petit sifflement dans l'admiration et la culpabilité. "Nous avons vraiment merdé... mais oui, nous allons travailler là-dessus. Avec un peu de chance, ils sont tous troués dans un appartement qui ne s'est pas effondré sur lui-même." Le Turian craquait ses doigts avant de se diriger vers le coin indiqué par Rykarn, ses bras tournant un agréable pourpre tandis qu'elle commençait à préparer quelques biotiques contrôlés. Elle n'était pas la plus forte avec eux, mais elle avait le contrôle attendu d'une Cabale. Une fois assez proche, elle a commencé à dégager et à déplacer des couches de décombres, en regardant de près les signes d'un effondrement à venir ou de figures en forme d'homme. Ce qui est arrivé en premier, vraiment. Le duo a travaillé pendant plus d'une demi-heure avant de reparler quand Rykarn s'est arrêté en déplaçant son tas de décombres à la main sans signe de victime, juste quelques cadres d'images et un canapé pulvérisé jusqu'à présent. Il s'inquiétait de la biotique de Sicaria ; c'était rare pour un turien de les avoir. "Alors, la biotique. Les touristes ne séparent pas la biotique de la société? Tu es l'un des rares que j'ai jamais vu." Il a dit, jetant un morceau de mur de taille torse vers le périmètre de la ruine avec un accident. Tout comme Sicaria commençait à ressentir la souche de l'usage biotique étendu sur elle, Rykarn a finalement brisé le silence. Elle s'est aperçue en particulier maintenant qu'elle avait quelqu'un à qui parler, et les sentiments de fatigue croissant lentement s'estompaient aussi vite que cela était arrivé. "L'Héirarchie fait à des fins militaires, mais au-delà, non. Et vous ne voyez pas vraiment beaucoup puisque Cabals sont essentiellement l'équivalent turien d'Asari Justicars, ou Krogan Shamans. Quittez rarement notre propre espace, gardez généralement à nous-mêmes, tout cela." Elle s'arrêta un moment à mesure que la couche suivante de l'épave fut éliminée, et une paire de bottes se montra. Avec un sourire triomphant, elle se tourna vers le Krogan qui était tout près. "Vous pourriez m'appeler une exception, à cet égard. J'aime apprendre à connaître les gens à des niveaux plus intimes. Elle se détourna et se précipita vers la paire de chaussures qui était à moitié enterrée, puis commença à pousser soigneusement les décombres sur le côté avec ses mains griffées. "Oh? C'est pour ça que tu traînes autour de moi? Et ici, je pensais que vous étiez juste dedans pour aider à réparer." Rykarn a répondu, souriant comme il a suivi pour voir ce que Sicaria a trouvé. "Je suppose que nous allons bientôt découvrir que ceux-ci sont encore attachés à leurs propriétaires." Il a remarqué, en prenant un genou pour aider le turian à nettoyer les merdes qui couvraient les bottes et leur propriétaire potentiel. Il a fallu quelques instants sans souffle pour retirer les débris à la main, mais assez tôt un corps qui était relié aux bottes a été découvert. L'Homme a été galbé dans une épaisse couche de poussière et de saleté, bien qu'à partir de doux levant et tombant de sa poitrine, il était en meilleure forme que la plupart. "Reste là, je reviens avec quelques médecins." Avec une pate légère sur l'épaule de Rykarn, elle s'enfuyait pour le poste de commandement. Pas même cinq minutes plus tard, elle était de retour avec les ambulanciers promis. Pendant que la paire se met au travail, le Turian a pris la chance de se reposer un moment en s'accrochant à côté du Krogan. "Je ne sais pas pour toi, mais j'ai besoin de dormir après ça." Elle s'est arrêtée dans la ligne de dialogue, de dialogue, de bouche ouverte avec un soupir. "Si je n'ai pas de nouveaux cauchemars, c'est-à-dire." Rykarn a laissé sortir un ronflement profond et lent. "Il sera temps de dormir sur ce foutu vaisseau. J'ai l'intention de réclamer ce qui reste sur mon onglet de barre. Je serai même gentille et je t'achèterai une ou trois tournées. Rien de tel que l'ébriété et l'érection d'un bar en tant qu'envoi pour une planète. Il m'a interdit de boire dans... il s'est tapé les doigts. "Quinze établissements! Tu veux en faire seize? En plus, on ne peut pas avoir de cauchemars si on ne dort pas. C'est logique pour moi." "Hé, ça ne me dérangerait pas d'être plâtré après ça. Je vous reprendrai sur cette offre, si vous pouvez trouver quelque chose qui ne me rendra pas malade tout de suite, c'est-à-dire." Sicaria a posé ses mains sur ses genoux et s'est poussée jusqu'à se lever, son omni-outil clignotant à la vie environ à mi-hauteur. Sans beaucoup de pensée, elle a regardé vers le bas et a remarqué qu'elle avait une liste de messages empilés, tous de la même personne: Vétia. Elle s'est maudite silencieusement pour ne pas avoir vérifié plus tôt, bien que dans les circonstances, il aurait été logique pour elle de ne pas le faire. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a encore quelques heures de silence radio? "Prêt à chaque fois que tu es, Rykarn." Elle a filé sur son pied droit pour lui faire face, attendant son mouvement. "Nous avons sauvé une personne. Complètement compense d'avoir fait tomber leur maison sur leur tête." Il a répondu avec un shrug. "Je connais l'endroit, et ce n'est pas loin d'ici." Il a dit, en naviguant dans les décombres. Quelques instants plus tard, ils étaient de nouveau dans la rue, d'autres secouristes arrivant alors qu'ils partaient, et se dirigeant vers la rue. Fidèles à sa parole, dans les quinze prochaines minutes, un bâtiment familier se profilait devant eux, les portes doubles en bois, tandis que l'ancien style et peut-être un peu laxiste, invitaient à certaines sensibilités. L'homme qui vomissait dans une poubelle, le même Rykarn avait déposé son assaillant de plus tôt, était moins invitant. "Bienvenue à Regent Park Pub. C'est l'une des premières choses que les types de restauration de la ville se sont levés et ont couru après la guerre parce que rien ne fait qu'une personne veuille boire leurs problèmes comme le génocide galactique. Il y a quelques habitués turcs, alors ne vous inquiétez pas pour le menu." Il a dit, menant Sicaria à travers les portes dans l'établissement faiblement éclairé, la plupart de l'éclairage provenant de plusieurs grands écrans de vidéo, et au bar, où Rykarn a remis le barmain de son identité. Une bière mousseuse a vite été déposée devant lui. Le krogan grogne. "Et voilà ma limite de ration. Pensez que les Spectres parraineront une barre ouverte sur le navire, ou sommes-nous coincés à manger de la pâte séchée congelée pendant des semaines à la fois?" il a dit, jetant la boisson à nouveau dans un seul goupille. Sicaria a suivi son compagnon Krogan dans le pub, ne pas vraiment prêter attention à lui pendant un bref moment. Même si elle avait été récemment reconstruite, elle se sentait encore aussi moisie qu'elle l'était probablement il y a trois-cents ans, même si ce n'était pas un sentiment malvenu. Sur les écrans vidéo, c'était ce que tout le monde attendait d'un tel établissement, des événements sportifs, des nouvelles galactiques, et pas grand-chose d'autre. Elle est revenue dans la conversation alors qu'elle s'asseyait au bar, remettant sa carte d'identité une petite seconde après que Rykarn l'ait eue. En retour, elle a reçu une boisson étrangement colorée qui aurait clairement un effet similaire à celui de Ryncol sur un humain. "Vous avez dû rationner de l'alcool sur la planète? Il y a trop de trucs sur la Citadelle, les clubs ne peuvent pas en vendre assez." Voulant faire le premier verre de la nuit dernière un moment, elle a pris et expérimental sa gorgée. "C'est ça. L'approvisionnement est toujours touché et manqué, les rations étaient plus pour les travailleurs. Un par jour, tant que vous montrez votre carte. J'ai pris un nouveau travail, donc je suis coupé des avantages de la déconnexion d'une ville. Donc tu as vécu sur la Citadelle, alors? J'ai toujours trouvé qu'il y avait quelque chose... dans cet endroit, et je ne veux pas dire le fait que c'était un piège à mort de Reaper déguisé." Rykarn a dit, son deuxième verre, celui-ci sent assez fort pour être confondu avec le désinfectant médical, glisser vers le haut. "Tout ce qui se passe sur la station se sent juste faux, et certains de ces quartiers sont moins agréables que certains coins d'Oméga. J'aime le côté de la planète aérienne, le temps. J'aime aussi l'idée de ne pas payer pour une pièce seulement pour que tout soit réorganisé par un Gardien quand vous dormez. Je déteste ces choses." En prenant un verre beaucoup plus petit cette fois-ci, il regarda la place turienne, se penchant contre le bar. « Alors, qu'est-ce qui fait penser à Spectres que vous êtes spécial par rapport à tous les autres suceurs à la recherche d'un travail qui savent quelle fin d'une arme est la fin dangereuse? » lui a - t - il demandé. Le Turian s'arrêta une seconde, les yeux s'inclinant vers le coin gauche pour regarder le Krogan se tourner vers elle pendant qu'elle sirotait son verre. Elle l'a posé alors qu'il a fini de poser sa question, prenant un moment pour trouver une réponse valable. Honnêtement, je ne sais pas. Techniquement, je suis toujours recherché par la Hiérarchie pour la désertion, peut-être que cela a à voir avec cela." Elle battit sur le comptoir avec sa main gauche pendant une brève seconde, essayant de réfléchir plus profondément à la question. "Je suis un faible biotique par comparaison, pourrait être mon record pendant l'invasion qui m'a attiré dans ceci. La plupart ont passé dans des quartiers proches avec les Reapers, défrichant les bâtiments et les tunnels. Je pense que le terme "Humans" est une souris de tunnel, ou quelque chose comme ça." "Tunnel rat. J'ai entendu ce terme beaucoup jeté autour de moi quand j'étais en train de vider le métro de Husks ces derniers mois" Rykarn a confirmé avec quelques clins d'oeil courts. "Je suis sûr que vous aviez vos raisons de déserter. Ça prouve que tu es l'un des rares turiens qui ne sont pas un dur à cuire. Alors, qu'avez-vous fait exactement pendant la guerre?" Rykarn a demandé, reposant les deux coudes sur le comptoir de la barre. "Quand la guerre a éclaté, je suis retourné à Tuchanka pour trouver mon frère. Je pensais que si le monde allait se terminer, autant le faire avec mon propre peuple. J'ai rejoint le krantt de mon frère et j'y ai combattu les Reapers jusqu'à ce que le génophage soit guéri, et puisque vous nous avez aidés, je vous rendrais la faveur, alors je me suis porté volontaire pour aller me battre sur Palaven, puis ici à Londres. Je suis ici depuis, j'ai travaillé avec un Spectre pendant la guerre. Je suppose qu'il m'a dit quelque chose de bien. C'est la longue et courte période pour laquelle je suis ici, au fond des cadavres de Husk et je me demande combien de temps il faudra avant que les asari nous fassent tous tuer." Il a conclu, son ton a été muselé. Sicaria a écouté l'histoire de Rykarn en silence, en hochant la tête et en prenant occasionnellement des gorgées de sa boisson. Quand il a fini son conte, elle s'est entrelacée les doigts et a laissé ses mains tomber sur la barre. « Je ne peux pas dire que j'ai déménagé autant dans l'ensemble, mais j'étais en vacances dans les Caraïbes quand cela a commencé. Je le jure, mon cœur ne bat jamais aussi vite dans ma vie, mais je suis sorti du monde et je suis allé droit pour Palaven. J'ai été stationné à Cipritine et j'ai reçu un ordre : tenir la ville. Si nous avons trouvé un tunnel qu'ils avaient creusé pour nous suivre, j'y suis allé avec deux autres pour l'évacuer. Quelqu'un est toujours mort là-bas, a perdu de bons amis... puis tu as été envoyé et notre capitale est toujours en un seul morceau après tout ça. Avec Palaven enfermé, j'ai été envoyé à Vacouver pendant quelques semaines, et c'était à peu près la même chose là-bas. Juste avec des bâtiments." Elle regarda vers le bas dans sa boisson à moitié finie, tombant totalement silencieuse alors qu'elle se souvenait des visages de ceux qui sont morts à côté d'elle. Rykarn a retenu son verre. "Pour ceux que nous avons perdus en chemin." Il a grillé, il a descendu le verre. Vu à quel point c'était fort, il n'a pas beaucoup réagi. C'était probablement une indication à la fois de la force de ce que krogan a brassé sur Tuchanka et à quel point ils étaient indiscriminants quand il est venu à ce qu'ils ont consommé. "Désolé pour tes amis. J'ai perdu beaucoup de gens en chemin aussi, mais je suppose que c'est différent pour Krogan. Nous avons existé si longtemps avec le génocide que la plupart d'entre nous avons abandonné l'espoir d'un avenir, et la mort est à peu près aussi commune qu'Aralah se levant et s'installant chaque jour. Aucun d'entre nous ne s'attend à mourir de vieillesse... il y a un débat sur la question de savoir si c'est possible pour nous. Des krogans sont là depuis les rébellions de Krogan, pour vous donner une idée. Nous sommes construits pour durer, mais cela ne veut pas dire que nous le faisons." Il a dit, tirant un bol de cacahuètes croustillantes vers lui. "Donc, je m'attends à mourir violemment et ne l'aurais pas d'autre façon. Plutôt ne pas avoir mes quatre cœurs lentement céder ou quelque chose de merdique. Je ne sais pas vraiment comment vous extraterrestres non-krogans ou asari faites quoi que ce soit dans la courte vie que vous avez. Je serais un senior si j'étais turian, mais je suis encore dans le début des siècles d'être dans ma prime. Beaucoup de temps pour s'arranger... Je ne me souviendrai probablement même pas de toute cette épreuve de Reaper en un siècle ou deux." "A ceux que nous avons perdus en chemin." Elle a jeté sa tête en arrière et a descendu le reste de sa boisson dans quelques goupilles, le verre se mettant sur le comptoir immédiatement après avec un clack distinct et vide. "Et je te jure, si tu oublies d'une manière ou d'une autre tout cela est arrivé, mon esprit sera là pour te remonter les souvenirs." Plutôt que de parler d'un ton de cœur léger, elle semblait maintenant extrêmement sérieuse. Elle se pencha vers l'avant et agita le barman, qui remplaça rapidement sa boisson. "Tu sais quand j'ai dit que j'allais me faire plâtrer, c'est vrai?" "Tu te souviens de ce qui s'est passé quand tu avais 12 ans? Que diriez-vous d'une vingtaine d'années à partir de maintenant?" Rykarn a demandé rhétoriquement. "Pour être franc, la guerre a mis d'autres planètes sur un terrain de jeu similaire à celui de Tuchanka depuis que nous avons fait la putain de bombe atomique. Depuis que j'ai éclos, tout ce que j'ai connu, c'est des paysages d'enfer déchirés par la guerre et la survie. Notre population n'a jamais augmenté, elle a seulement diminué. Krogan se tuait toujours, et la plupart seraient des mères qui n'avaient jamais eu une éclosion d'oeufs. Il y avait littéralement des centaines d'œufs dans ma couvée; seul mon frère et moi éclos. Si je me souviens de la guerre de Reaper dans quelques centaines d'années après les innombrables guerres à venir, ce sera parce que le génocide s'est terminé. » il a dit, signalant pour un autre verre. "C'est à vous de faire une impression qui dure plus longtemps que n'importe lequel d'entre vous turians va être en vie, hein? Laisse-moi une cassette. J'aime les films." "Mais ça fait des centaines d'années, pourquoi s'en inquiéter? Ce qui compte maintenant, c'est que vous accomplissez votre devoir pour le plus grand bien et buvez avec moi jusqu'à ce que mon compte de crédit fasse mal. » Il a souri, tenant son verre pour applaudir. "Je vais dire Rykarn, vous faites un bon point. Je m'assurerai de vous laisser un momento avant de mourir." Sans beaucoup plus à dire, l'étrange paire de lunettes clinkées Turian et Krogan. "Chéris."

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

"Je vois, pas une mauvaise description en effet." Salissa a hurlé alors qu'elle écoutait l'explication du krogan. C'était certainement un son, pensé que c'était une logique très sinistre... mélangée avec le bravado. Tout ça qu'elle aimait vraiment chez une autre personne jusqu'à un certain point en fait. Elle sourit et hoche la tête, heureuse de l'avoir rencontré en fait. Peut-être qu'il n'a été sélectionné que peu en dehors de la course krogan qui pouvait à juste titre voir et apprécier la guerre de Reaper pour ce qui était ti. C'est juste que je vois tant de gens essayer de l'oublier complètement. Ou le nier... essayer de le tordre, juste l'écrire comme une grosse mauvaise chose qui ne devrait plus jamais être mentionnée ou apprendre de. Comme notre cher chef quand il a essayé de me crier dessus pour avoir dit combien la bataille sur terre était amusante..Salissa grondait dans l'ennui...La guerre ne devrait pas être niée, cela s'est produit et nous devrions l'accepter, apprendre de lui. Les batailles étaient amusantes... vous savez que ma description de deux mots serait " comédie cosmique ". Oui parce que ce que c'était, surtout quand vous expliquez un fait très spécifique – au cœur de toute comédie est la tragédie. Nous sommes tous devenus trop arrogants et aveugles aux dangers... Malheureusement, je crois que l'histoire se répétera encore... Regardez-nous les humains que nous régressons déjà à nos modes primitifs de xénophobie. » Elle soupira et jeta un coup d'œil à Skarr.« Si ce n'était pas pour cette mission, j'aurais quitté l'espace de l'Alliance dans environ 3 semaines. Il faut aller dans l'espace d'Asari et essayer de trouver l'un de leurs justiciaires. Après que ma prochaine destination aurait été Tuchanka... il y a des leçons qui ne peuvent pas être apprises ici... Elle allait en dire plus quand la scène la plus bizarre s'est produite. Ellis apparut... en quelque sorte avec Vella... en quelque sorte avec un autre asari... en quelque sorte. J'espère qu'Ellis sera en ordre de marche au moment où nous partirons... Elle a dit, jetant un coup d'oeil à Skarr à nouveau. Je ne veux pas m'occuper des shenanigans ivres pour l'instant... en fait, pour un bras de lutte?- Elle a jeté un coup d'œil sur le Krogan.-- Mes bras ont agi de façon suspecte depuis un certain temps, je veux vérifier s'ils sont encore en état de marche. Quoi de mieux qu'un simple test de résistance?

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.

L'énorme Krogan sniffa, roulant la tête sur ses larges épaules. Salissa était une bizarrerie pour lui. Elle était dure comme un Krogan, mais elle avait cette qaulité humaine de tout remettre en question. "Restant sur ce que les autres 'pensent et disent' est de vérifier le jaugeur de carburant d'un autre navire quand le vôtre pourrait être vide. Concentrez-vous sur ce que vous percevez comme la galaxie humaine. Pas comme les autres humains le perçoivent." Il a répondu. Skarr a croisé ses bras puissants ensemble. "Je pense que la dureté de Tuchanka aurait été bonne pour vous." Il a dit. En fait, il pensait qu'une telle planète serait bonne pour toute la galaxie. Ça leur apprendrait une chose ou deux de douleur. Il n'allait pas mentir et dire qu'on ne devrait pas voir de planètes au-delà de son monde d'origine. Il a voyagé la majorité de sa longue vie et a appris beaucoup de choses dans ses voyages. Malheureusement, beaucoup de ce qu'il a appris dans ses voyages était à quel point les autres étaient ineptes à ce qu'ils ont fait. Bien qu'il y ait eu quelques exceptions. Il n'était pas aveuglé par l'arrogance. La galaxie venait de devenir douce, à son compte. "Vous semblez être celui qui prospère en difficulté. C'est pourquoi je ne vous ai pas simplement dit de vous taire et de partir comme je le ferais pour la plupart des terriens. » Avec cela, sa tête massive tourna pour voir l'approche de l'homme, Ellis, avec l'asari fou et un autre, espérons-le, pas aussi bête dans la nature. Il s'est ébranlé la tête. Ça voulait dire qu'il n'y a jamais eu de moment ennuyeux, du moins. "S'il y a un espace où tu veux brasser la lutte, préviens-moi. Je vais commencer lentement. J'ai déjà arraché un bras ou deux. Heureusement, ce sont des humains que j'allais tirer de toute façon. »

Name: Raik "Aralakh" Skarr Race: Krogan Class: Battle Master Age: 687 Sex: Male Appearance: While not as old as a Krogan that recalls the Rachni Wars, Skarr is a well traveled Krogan and is very much a combat veteran in both years of fighting, and stature. He stands fully 7 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs in near 445 pounds, without his heavy armor or weapons. His skin is ruddy, with crimson outline, and has very similar coloring to Tuchanka's sun when light is shined upon in. A massive scar runs jagged across his forehead and nose, nearly touching his right eye, courtesy of an Asari assassin. His physique is brutish, with cable like muscles and the prominent hump of a mature Krogan. Sometimes, we need to remember why we fight. Honor, loyalty, courage, and fortitude. Go to the Citadel sometime young one, and see the Statue erected to honor our people. Backstory: Skarr of Clan Raik was born in the year 1499 CE, mere years after Christopher Columbus discovered the 'New World.' On his own world, Skarr was raised in the ancient spiritual beliefs of his people, being the only son of Clan Raik's Shaman. His father was named Brod before he had given up his name to gain the Shaman title, leaving Skarr to be one of the rarest Krogan known, to be born on Tuchanka when many no longer were, and to have no true father or name to be born to. He was raised by his mother and the remnants of his Clan, holding no ill will toward his father growing up. Instead he saw it something he should aspire to, for being a Shaman in Krogan culture was to face trials even most Krogan found brutal. As his fellows spoke of the glory days of Tuchunka and lamented their fall, Skarr had idealistic dreams and aspirations of becoming a great leader among his people. Perhaps all it took for the Krogan to rise from the ashes once more was vision. From a young age, Skarr fought his clan brothers in faux bouts, regularly sizing them up and learning their tactics. He went on hunts as soon as he came of age, yearning the experience of that the older Krogan had to offer him. Passion for his world and determined to follow in his father's footsteps, drove him to excel and learn quickly. It was due to his fiery convictions that he gained the nickname 'Aralahk,' named after Tuchanka's sun, though that was not his official title until much later. The years turned into decades. As the Clans feuded, battle between he and his fellow Krogan was inevitable. He killed his first Krogan over a land dispute in The Kalynd Badlands. To this day he still remembers the huge corpse of the nameless Korwun Krogan beneath his blood soaked hands. That day would forever live in his memory, for it was the day that set him off to his path as Battlemaster, within the crags of the southern cliffs. Valkarn Raik and Krude Raik were there accompanying them before they were ambushed by Korwun, ending in a struggle that left only Valkarn the Veteran and Skarr alive. It was at that moment, when they were wiping the gore from their hands, that an earthquake occurred, shuddering the very ground beneath the feet of the two Krogan. No, it was not an earthquake! Suddenly, an adolescent Thresher Maw burst forth from the rock, disturbed by the recent combat and discharge of the Krogan firearms. It screeched and brought forth its massive maw. From within the ground, its tail whipped and sent rock jutting out between the two Krogan. Valkarn took the brunt of the damage, his Graal Spike Thrower flying out of his hands at the elder hit the side of a cliff, stunned. The weapon flew. Skarr leaped off the newly formed rise and caught it just barely, a roar of victory spewing forth. However, the movement and cry drew the attention of the Thresher Maw. It screeched once more, and dived toward Skarr, scooping up the Krogan in its giant maw and gulping the poor Krogan down its gullet. Skarr would never forget how hot and wet it felt inside the beast, and he did the only thing he could do. He discharged his weapon, the razor-like shells bursting through flesh. He made a conscious decision to fire in relatively the same spot over and over, forming a hole to grab onto. He cried out and continued to fire into the gun-wrought hole. Suddenly, sunlight burst into his vision, and he continued to fire over and over. Clawing with his massive strength, he shoved himself further into the hole he had made and ripped himself out. Thresher Maw scales flew, and a blood soaked Skarr now stood over a beast of legend, the Thresher Maw now merely shuddering in its death throes. Valkarn was alive, but he merely stood unmoving. He caught Skarr's attention, and then nodded toward the cliff. Before them both was dozens upon dozens of Korwun Krogan standing over them, simply watching. To Skarr's surprise, they did not fire. They let out a cheer of congratulations to Skarr for such a feat of strength and determination. Even only an adolescent, killing a Thresher Maw was truly a feat. They did not kill the two Krogan for trespassing, but neither did the Korwun help them, for Korwun blood was upon their hands. However, word of Skarr's victory over the Thresher Maw (and the Korwun skirmish earlier from Valkarn's account) spread. A Crush was formed, calling forth the Korwun, the Raik, and the Shamans. In this meeting of the clans, Skarr's accomplishments were made known and brought to light. They were verified to the Shamans, and as Raik's Battlemaster had been recently slain in clan infighting, Skarr was given the opportunity to claim the right of Battlemaster. Unfortunately, since the Battlemaster was dead, he would need to perform another rite by combat to claim the title. Skarr's father stepped forward, and offered to fight his son. Brod, now nameless, challenged his son personally to test his mettle. Skarr was conflicted, but in the end, he accepted the challenge and met his father in combat. The crush was ended, and the fight had begun. At first, the Shaman had the upperhand. He pushed Skarr hard, wanting to test him and see the full extent of his strength. After delivering a powerful blow to Skarr's side with his club, the Shaman sent a relentless barrage at the now prone young Krogan, hoping for him to give up, yet secretly hoping to see his son succeed. It should have been foreseen, but with this barrage of attacks, Skarr was unable to help himself, and his world turned crimson. When he awoke, he stood over the body of his father, his breathing labored and his hands once again covered in blood. His father's blood. Skarr was struck silent, as were the other Krogan. Death was not required, but it was not a breaking of the rules. Skarr however...he had given into the bloodrage, and killed his own sire. The Krogan who he had emulated, having only known as his father for a short period, but always hoping to one day reach him in status, to live alongside him. He was dead by his own hand. He was proclaimed Battlemaster, and given the title "Aralakh" or "Eye of Wrath" to honor both his clan and his incredible victory via bloodlust. They gave it to him to honor him. He bore it as a reminder, to stay in control of himself from now on. To never let such a thing happen again, that his rage would in turn break his heart. He could not bear seeing what he would wreak with such a thing again. Not to someone who he had idolized, loved even. He left Tuchanka weeks later, giving his old friend Valkarn the title of Battlemaster if he so desired, taking the title as one he would bear as a Freelance Mercenary. Because he was the Battlemaster for such a short time, he only gained a small amount of Biotic experience that he would only fine tune until later. He made a name for himself as a Mercenary, making it to the Citadel first and laying eyes on the Krogan statue erected for their victory against the Rachni. He took the words upon the statue to heart, and it was mere days later he received his first contract, fighting for an Asari banker who needed to regain a space station from Vorcha raiders. Over the next few centuries, he gained a reputation for brutal efficiency and differentiated from other Krogan Battlemasters by only taking contracts that he thought would fit the Krogan ideal of honor, rather than the 'any means necessary' attitude most Mercenary Battlemasters took. One of his most notable and recent contracts included fighting the Batarians in the Offensive of Torfan due to the Skyllian Blitz. He set foot on Tuchanka for the first time since he had killed his father when the Reapers attacked, making his way home. His presence and renewed spirit boosted the morale of the Raik clan, and while he was not their Clan leader, many looked to him for a voice, and he fought alongside his brothers on Palaven, fighting selflessly with their Turian rivals for the sake of the greater universe. I was made to end lives. However, to mindlessly kill is beneath me, and indeed our race. When I kill? It's a choice I make consciously, every time. Psyche Profile: Skarr enjoys combat, and enjoys the art of killing. Not for mundane reasons such as bloodthrist, but simply because he believes it is the true way to speak in this universe. To be a good fighter and a successful warrior shows dedication, skill, and it drives how the galaxy is formed. Wars evolve society far quicker than peace, and as the old saying goes, you cannot make an omelette without breaking a few eggs. However, he does not dismiss conversation, nor does he dismiss learning. He enjoys comraderie with his companions, and discussions that involve deeper and unorthodox thinking. What has led to the downfall of his people through the centuries was not their violent nature, but their violent nature that had no philosophical goal. No goal except monetary gain, or for their own foolish pride. Or worse, for the hedonistic feel of simply taking a life without any thought to repercussions. Skarr enjoys good food and what the humans call 'Rock' and 'metal' music. He listens to informative audio datafiles in his spare time on subjects he enjoys or that currently catches his fancy. One can be both brutal and efficient, if you know how. Specialty: As with most Krogan, Skarr excels at brutalizing the enemy and shrugging off enemy fire. He can easily tear through the front lines of troops, incapacitating and breaking their formation as he wreaks havoc. Due to his Battlemaster training, Killing is a science. A single blow from a Skarr is often enough to kill or severely incapacitate anyone he comes across, and he moves with such precision and focus even among dozens of foes. To add to his killing capability is his biotic powers, that he utilizies to further break entrenchments that he cannot reach or is too busy to handle, or simply as something to further increase his Shock tactics. However, he does separate himself from other Krogan due to his cool under fire and stress, and he makes a decent medium range combatant as well, when need be. Long years spent in tactical missions gives him a finesse and an appreciation for fine shots and flanking maneuvers that most Krogan lack. Powers/Skills: Shockwave (Biotic) Biotic Hammer (Biotic) Concussive Shot Frag Grenade Carnage Adrenaline Rush Marksmen Equipment and Resources: M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol M-15 Vindicator Assault Rifle M-300 Claymore Shotgun Biotic Hammer Heavy Krogan Colossus Armor Sample Post: 1627, Terminus System... "Where have we docked?" The Turian 'Cassius' asked, his Crossfire IV Assault Rifle hefted and at the ready. "My omnitool is of no use here, nor my datapad." He sounded concerned. Skarr did not have an answer, and he knew the only way to find out was to check. "Time to move," he rumbled. The Turian raised a hand, cautioning him to wait. Skarr glanced back at him. "We were paid to halt the slave trade and kill those responsible. Now or never as I see it." The Turian hesitated, and then nodded. "Right," Cassius replied. Behind him, the two Vorcha who's names they never caught chittered to one another, clearly eager to continue. Skarr nodded back to the Turian, thoroughly convinced Cassius had expected Skarr to be the typical Krogan, who would roar and charge, announcing their position. That wasn't exactly his plan, but soon they would need to be less than subtle if they wanted to halt the deal. It was a miracle they had stowed away on the Avarice when they had the chance. Skarr opened the port door, allowing a moment or two to slip past to see if anyone was nearby. When they heard no noise, Skarr stepped out with his Shotgun leading. "I make for the exit. Secure the ship," the Krogan said to Cassius. They needed a transport out of wherever they were, after all. He only needed to dispatch two of the Slavers as he made his way to the left of the ship, approaching the docking area. The first slaver did not even cry out, the Batarian's neck was snapped quickly and efficiently. The next was a Vorcha, that only let out one chitter before he was Shotgun butted, and then crushed to death under the two heavy blows of the Krogan, severing his spinal column with a snap. This was routine. Skarr had done it for near a century. It was what happened next that caught him off guard. He hesitated when he opened the docking door, the pad opening to reveal an infinite nether. No, they were within a vast artificial structure. Lights like veins could be seen on the horizon. The only solid surface within miles was platform below, seemingly floating with an anti-gravity technology Skarr was not familiar with. He leaped down upon the closest one, and heard gunshots erupt behind him as soon as he landed. "Vorcha," he muttered as he hit the platform, theorizing it was the two Vorcha mercenaries that gave their positions away. Well, take things one step at a time. He needed to find the Slaves, and Raltorn... He kept as low as he could, moving from small, oddly designed walkways up to where the next platform was. Methodically, he searched and lurked, moving from structure to structure yet meeting no signs of life. That is, until he made it just above the final platform. When he peeked out of the small parapet-like rise in the structure of the platform, he saw the Krogan Battlemaster that he recognized as Raltorn, the infamous slaver with the largest bounty in the system on his head. Skarr saw no sign of the slaves, but what other forms of life he did see, he did not quite expect. The Krogan had never seen such aliens before, with large tapering heads and a chitinous insect-like exoskeleton. They were roughly the size of a Batarian, or a Turian? Smaller than he, he knew. Most things were, after all. Their four eyes glowed, and they seemed to be dealing with Raltorn, the Krogan haggling prices. Skarr knew cool heads would prevail, but he theorized that his element of surprise had been far too lucky so far. He needed to strike quickly. So he did, tossing a fragmentation grenade over the side, simultaneously elevating himself and discharging his shotgun. The gun's shell ripped into the leading alien, tearing through its lower half. The grenade detonated and tore through the ranks of the curious aliens. One of them leaped high in the air, floating upon odd insect wings and fired at him. Skarr shot it out of the sky before it landed. He turned to aim at the Krogan, but had to duck when Raltorn returned fire. Skarr quickly analyzed the battlefield via his memory, and knew a direct assault was not expected by Raltorn. He went for it, suddenly firing at Raltorn and received a small wound on the shoulder, trading it for being able to vault over the railing and onto the platform before the other Krogan. His shotgun was summarily ripped from his hands via a bitoic attack from Raltorn, who fired another burst of assault rifle rounds at Skarr that punched into his chest. His armor and tough physique absorbed most of it, but he was bleeding. Raltorn was out of ammo now though, revealing his trump card weapon from his back. A biotic hammer. It glowed an ominous blue, crackling with energy. "Run now if you don't want to die, fool." "I should tell you the same," Skarr replied, and the two Krogan advanced upon one another. Raltorn tried to strike quickly with an overhead hammer attack. Skarr blocked the haft with his forearm before it could connect, simultaneously unholstering his Carnifex heavy pistol and firing into the dishonorable Battlemaster's torso. He advanced, pushing back the weakening Krogan as he emptied the gun's clip. Skarr could feel the intense pressure of the Biotic hammer still mere inches from his head, but he ignored it. Armor and Krogan flesh burst out of Raltorn's stomach until Skarr could no longer pull the trigger. Raltorn yanked his hammer back, the biotic weapon merely clipping Skarr's head, but sending a jarring impact into the Krogan that had the large alien shuddering and having to keep from biting his tongue. Bloodied and probably needing medical assistance later, Raltorn head butted Skarr, and attempted to slam Skarr's side with his hammer once more. Skarr's iron will and senses kept him from being struck head on. He grabbed at the haft of the weapon, and kneed Raltorn in the wounded area. Raltorn rasped, his grip on the hammer loosening. Skarr ripped it out of his hands, spinning and striking Raltorn fully. It burst into the Krogan's flesh and sent the dying slave trader off the platform and into the nether. Skarr breathed heavily, but was relatively undamaged. He hefted the weapon, feeling the intensity of it. It felt good in his large hands. Gripping it, and testing its weight, he approached the fallen Xenos. Broken but still crawling, the triangular shaped head was sparking, as if it was a malfunctioning machine. Truly, the lower half of the thing was nothing but wires that were snaking eeriely back and forth. "Fully synthetic," Skarr mused aloud. He did not know what this thing was, but it was not something the Citadel council would approve of, he was certain of that. The grip on the hammer tightened, and he lifted it up to finish off this abomination of virtual intelligence.

PENDANT COURANTEMENT)] Les lettres illuminées audacieuses se démarquaient facilement sur le fond noir de la data-pad d'Avzia, qui a été intégrée dans ses armures avant-bras laissés pour un accès facile en tout temps. En balayant sa main sur sa surface, son écran est devenu noir, entrant dans un mode de faible puissance jusqu'à ce qu'il soit de nouveau nécessaire. C'était la vingt première fois cette semaine-là qu'elle avait vérifié son data-pad pour voir si elle avait été autorisée à rejoindre l'équipe de Spectre Aegon Partinax. Jusqu'à présent, le message était resté le même et il semblait qu'une réponse n'allait pas arriver bientôt. La femme Turian avait ses propres raisons de vouloir se joindre au commandement de Partinax, aucune qu'elle dirait ouvertement en ce moment à quiconque lui demandait. En vérité, avoir la chance de travailler sous le commandement d'un Spectre, qui était néanmoins un Turian, se révélerait incroyablement éducatif aussi bien qu'illumination. Beaucoup de portes s'ouvriraient pour elle après l'avoir fait aussi, peut-être même lui permettant de devenir un Spectre si elle jouait bien ses cartes en sa présence. Avec un soupir doux, Aviza s'appuya sur le banc en métal dans lequel elle s'assit et traversa les bras au-dessus de sa poitrine. Ses yeux se sont finalement fermés et son esprit a commencé à errer sur sa situation actuelle. Elle avait quitté la Citadelle quelques jours plus tôt pour rencontrer son amie humaine proche connue sous le nom de Solares on Earth, plus précisément dans la ville connue sous le nom de Londres. Ils avaient passé la journée ensemble, mais Solares a dû retourner une base aérienne voisine pour partir rapidement de la Terre et se diriger vers la lune pour une réunion d'urgence concernant la sécurité du secteur. Cela aurait donné à Aviza assez d'incitation pour quitter la planète et retourner chez elle sur la Citadelle, mais quelque chose lui a dit de rester et profiter d'un certain temps privé sur son ami chez lui monde. Elle n'avait jamais vraiment passé du temps à l'intérieur d'une ville humaine populaire, et encore moins dans leur monde d'origine. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a de mieux à faire maintenant? Elle était sûre que son amie rentrerait bientôt, j'espère. Une brise douce, fraîche et rafraîchissante souffla à travers le parc où Aviza s'assit, surplombant le Londres et son imposante exposition de lumières. D'où elle était assise, on ne pouvait entendre le bruit de la ville, que le bruissement de la végétation luxuriante qui l'entourait alors que le vent soufflait à travers elle. Prenant un souffle lent et profond de l'air frais de nuit à travers son nez, Aviza attendait quelques instants avant d'expirer à travers sa bouche, appréciant le sentiment qu'il créait. Elle avait rarement le temps de se détendre comme ça, de profiter de la nature et de la tranquillité que la nuit apportait parfois avec elle. Soudain derrière elle, des feux d'artifice tirés dans le ciel et pleuvent des paumes d'or d'étincelles, suivis d'un certain nombre d'autres feux d'artifice moins agréables qui ont été odieusement conçus pour le son et non pour la beauté. En regardant rapidement sur son épaule gauche, Aviza regardait comme un groupe de jeunes humains qui semblaient être délinquants, continuant à déclencher un certain nombre de feux d'artifice plus grands et plus bruyants au fil du temps. Prenant cela comme une excuse pour se diriger vers la ville et explorer la vie nocturne active des humains et ce qu'ils considéraient comme du divertissement, Aviza se leva lentement et s'étendit avec un bâillon doux. Après s'être réunie elle-même, elle choisit le chemin à gauche d'elle qui conduit à travers la façon dont elle est venue, qui a passé un certain nombre de ruisseaux naturels et une fontaine artificielle qui a été entourée dans ce qui semblait être des sculptures de pierre des humains il y a de nombreux siècles. Après avoir traversé le grand arche de pierre qui mène au parc, Aviza a immédiatement réalisé qu'elle était seule dans ce parc depuis plus de deux heures, assise dans l'obscurité sous le ciel nocturne. Le temps était passé plus vite qu'elle ne l'aurait souhaité, et le début de la soirée qu'elle pensait qu'il était maintenant devenu les premières heures de la soirée. Pourtant, la ville n'a jamais semblé dormir et beaucoup étaient dehors en train de profiter de la nuit. La ville a-t-elle toujours été comme ça ou y avait-il une sorte de fête ou de célébration que Solares avait oublié de mentionner? Aviza était venue sur Terre alors qu'elle portait encore son ensemble complet d'armure Érathellienne moyenne, ainsi que pleinement armée et prête à se battre. Dire qu'elle s'est distinguée parmi certains des autres serait un énorme euphémisme, et certains de ceux qui marchaient dans les rues ont dû doubler la prise pour s'assurer qu'ils voyaient réellement Aviza. Bien entendu, cela a non seulement attiré les yeux des civils, mais aussi des représentants du gouvernement, comme des policiers ou des soldats. Voir des individus armés se promener dans la ville n'était rien de nouveau, mais la paranoïa et la curiosité ont traversé l'esprit de ceux qui se souciaient assez de son apparence. Le son de la musique live a attiré l'attention d'Aviza en passant un restaurant qui a donné l'odeur douce lourde de bois brûlant et de viande. Le nom Raynor, BBQ et Taverne, pendaient au-dessus de l'entrée de l'immeuble. Pendant un moment, Aviza envisageait de continuer avec sa marche à travers la ville, mais s'est opposée à l'idée d'attirer l'attention indésirable et a poussé la grande porte d'entrée en bois ouverte, en entrant à l'intérieur. Il était clair, cet endroit était destiné aux humains, puisque l'endroit était emballé avec eux et il semblait qu'ils n'ont servi que des aliments à base de Levo-Amino. Pourtant, elle a remarqué que le menu de boissons avait un certain nombre de choses qu'elle a reconnu sur elle. Trouver un siège au bar a été un défi, mais quand l'occasion est arrivée, elle l'a rapidement pris et s'est assise à l'extrémité du bar, loin des lumières irritantes qui brillaient sur les musiciens qui jouaient du blues. Aviza avait déjà entendu cette musique dans des enregistrements mais l'entendre en direct était quelque chose de complètement nouveau pour elle. Le barman humain a marché vers Aviza et lui a remis un menu avec un sourcil surélevé, Nous n'avons pas d'aliments à base de Dextro ici, Je ne veux pas que tu tombes mort sur le sol donc peut-être vous devriez coller avec des boissons?. Aviza a regardé l'homme de derrière sa visière pendant un long moment, il a eu un point, mais pas toutes les formes de vie à base de dextro où le même. Il suffit de me montrer ce que vous avez pour boire, puis nous irons de là.Le humain a hissé sa tête et a donné à Aivza un menu différent, celui-ci avec des boissons. Après un certain temps, elle a fait sa sélection, une boisson rare qu'elle a été surprise qu'ils aient porté. Sans dire un mot, elle a pointé la boisson sur le menu et le barman a hissé la tête avant de se diriger rapidement vers l'autre côté de la barre pour faire sa sélection. Quelqu'un de derrière elle essayait apparemment d'attirer son attention maintenant, et Aviza a hésité un moment, ne voulant pas trouver une sorte d'idiot ivre à la recherche d'un combat. Heureusement, quand elle s'est retournée pour faire face à celui qui essayait d'attirer son attention, elle a remarqué que c'était un camarade plus solide comme elle, bien que humain. Pardonne-moi, j'espère que je n'interfère pas le soir, mais je voulais te poser des questions sur les insignes que tu as sur l'épaule droite de ton armure. Le premier est clairement l'insigne d'un médecin de combat, mais les deux autres sont complètement étrangers à moi. » Aviza a été légèrement surpris par la question humaine, mais a été heureux de lui expliquer ce que chacun d'eux représentait. Le premier badge est en effet pour un médecin de combat, bien que celui-ci soit pour l'entraînement avancé des médecins de combat. Le deuxième badge représente l'ingénierie avancée qui peut couvrir un certain nombre de domaines. Le troisième et dernier insigne représente mon entraînement de Havoc, les barreaux au-dessus montrent mon grade, qui est commandant. » Dès qu'Aviza a fini de parler, sa boisson a été placée devant elle et son attention était maintenant entièrement sur elle. L'homme prit la suggestion, remercia Aviza, puis suivit avec un salut, puis retourna à son siège quelque part à l'autre bout du bar. Pour l'heure suivante, Aviza buvait en paix, laissant son esprit errer une fois de plus sur tout ce qui s'est passé autour d'elle. La musique à l'intérieur du barbecue de Raynor est passée à quelque chose de plus optimiste que la nuit a continué. Au bout d'une heure et demie, Aviza se retrouve une fois de plus dans les rues, bien qu'un peu plus enivrée qu'auparavant. Peut-être qu'il y avait plus à faire la nuit que de manger et de boire, peut-être une boîte de nuit, bien qu'elle n'ait jamais dansé et n'ait jamais prévu de le faire. La nuit était encore jeune, et ses options étaient encore ouvertes, seulement le temps de dire ce qui s'est passé ensuite.

Name: Aviza Norea Race: Turian Class: Combat-Engineer / Combat-Medic Age: 30 Sex: Female Appearance: Aviza stands roughly six feet and five inches tall, the average height of a female Turian in this day and age. Her slim feminine form hides the strength and endurance of a lifelong soldier who strives to improve upon herself in all aspects. Upon her face is painted a symmetrical design in a light turquoise, representing the Norea Clan. Her carapace is a soft blue-ish white and her eyes are a vibrant azure. If one were to see Andromedai without her helmet on, they would easily be able to see a light scar over her left eye. Backstory: Aviza was born into the Norea clan, a clan that was well known for not only their military prowess upon numerous fields of battle they had taken part in but also for their political power upon Palaven. Her father was a well-known General in the Turian Military and her mother was a well-known Triarch. While her mother came from the Neskaru clan, her father was the one who held the honors of saying he was originally from the Norea clan. During these early years of life, Aviza and the rest of siblings who are all the same age, were taught the ways of their clan. Respect, Honor, Duty, and Victory were the most important things to them, for without them their life was a pointless waste. These were the first things taught to her and her siblings, for they were the fundamental building blocks of everything that came after. After many years, their real training would begin, their parents pulled every string and used all of their resources to ensure that they ended up in one of the best academies upon Palaven, known as Solas. From here Aviza and her siblings were left at the mercy of the academy’s top teachers to undergo both mentally and physically intensive training that weeded out the unworthy and finely turned those who were into an image of perfection. The school was infamous for many of the teaching methods but the Norea clan found those to be necessary in many ways, quickly teaching valuable life lessons alongside their normal intensive training. In the first year that Aviza was at the academy, she watched as many students dropped from the academy to move onto lessor ranking positions that they were more fit for. At the same time, she and her siblings worked closely together to overcome the challenges laid out before them, a team of close family members who were going to ensure that they all graduated top of their class. This was of course easier said than done, but determination and living up to their clans name kept them moving forward through the increasingly difficult challenges that were laid out before them. With every challenge they overcame, the feeling of immense satisfaction and unyielding resolve kept them moving forward for the time being, but the day was soon to come where each of them would break off and peruse their own interest in the Turian military. When this happened, they found themselves having to fend for themselves in the academy. When Aviza was separated from her fellow siblings to receive more intensive training, she found a certain love and respect for sniper rifles and the satisfaction of hitting a target many miles away with dead on accuracy. This interest and skill sprouted into much more as time went on. It turned into a thirst for more combat training, training that would cover not only medium ranged combat but also close quarter’s combat. This fast paced combat was made possible due to her feminine form, allowing her to move across the field of battle swiftly and silently, if need be. When jump-packs were introduced, she used her own personal pack in a more unconventional way, to help her dodge incoming fire while still on her feet. This caused many to raise their eyebrows in a mix of emotion when she used this technique to outmaneuver and defeat her opponent during a one on one improvised battle with a fellow student. Using the jump-pack, she quickly moved across the field of battle while dodging shots from the Turian and incapacitated her challenger using a close range stun shotgun. When she had time off, she volunteered herself to learn about engineering and a number of commonly used tech around the galaxy that she would more than likely come into contact at some point. The class taught its students how to handle numerous problems and how to swiftly and efficiently fix them. Aviza would continue to take many classes like the such for a number of years, alongside her regular training. Some of these classes would include how to correctly handle and deploy explosives, advanced medical and first aid classes, biology for species in the Milky Way and life building. Sometime during those years, Aviza realized that upon the field of battle, every soldier had to find their own reason to fight. Be it for family, friends, the good of the people, personal gain or other reasons. She knew she had to live up to her parents expectations and carry her clans name with pride, but something felt as if it was missing, she wanted to do more for those around her. This eventually turned into the want to pursue advanced first aid for both on and off of the field of battle. Once she had been given permission, she quickly started taking classes for what would turn into an important skill of hers. After many years of intensive training every weekday and sometimes even on the weekends, the time came for those worthy to graduate. Thankfully, her fellow siblings were alongside her when she graduated top of her class, making not only her parents but also the rest of her family and friends proud of her achievements. The honors she received were very rarely given out, one had to go above and beyond the rest, to prove oneself to not only the teachers but also the academy’s board that they were worthy of such honors. All seemed right in the world, she was where she wanted to be, her family was going to be with her and life was running smoothly. Over a decade would pass as she found herself taking part in many high value and high risk operations, proving to her superiors that she took her position in the Turian military very seriously. She found herself feeling comfortable with her position, taking pride in her work. Occasionally she would catch someone's eye and be assigned for missions that excelled at, some of these included target assassination or sabotage. She would move from one planet to another, from one station to the next, wherever her talents were needed. Occasionally, she found herself working with the Citadel a number of times as security for a VIP or such person. Over these many years, she sharpened her skills and and rose the ranks among her fellow soldiers. What threw her whole world into chaos was the invasion of the Reapers. She had faced many hostiles in the past that ranged from all over the Galaxy, but this new enemy shoot her to her very core and put all of her skills and talents to the test. Failure ment death for not only her people, but also the rest of the galaxy. Over these long months while the reapers unleashed chaos upon all, Aviza and her family fought horrific battles against an enemy that knows no fear, knows no mercy and whose whole purpose is to wipe out all life and continue the cycle that had been going on for countless centuries. On Palavens main moon, she managed to catch word of and eventually even catching sight of Garrus and his squad fighting against the reapers forces. A sight as simple as this was enough to raise her morale and change something within her to be the soldier that her people needed her to be. With great ferocity and determination, she gathered survivors and pushed back against the reapers forces fearing neither death nor the odds that were stacked against them. In the next couple of months that passed, all of her training and skill came forward, showing those around her who she truly was, a leader and yet another symbol of hope. When the ash finally settled and the reapers were defeated, Aviza Norea now firsthand found out the price of war. Both of her parents and the rest of her siblings were now mysteriously gone, they had seemingly vanished from the face of the galaxy and no one had any idea where they were. They had helped fight in the war, but towards the end, they had gone missing without a trace, leaving no hints to where they had gone. Even their fellow soldiers were left confused by their disappearance. Had they fallen in battle? Were they taken by the Reapers? Or did something else happen to them? To this day, she feels a void in her heart and searches for closure. A long while passed after the reapers were defeated with the disappearance of her family. She had been rewarded many badges and medals for her acts of valor during the Reaper war as well as a number of benefits that would stay with her through the rest of her life. She now lives comfortably upon Palaven and still serves the Turian military and a number of others allied forces. She did not leave the Reaper war unscathed though, everything she had seen during the war had left a scar upon her mind. Psyche Profile: Aviza is a soldier at heart, and has proved that over many years of war and political bullshit throughout the galaxy. Careful thought and calculation goes into each and every action that she takes, ensuring that her choice is the best for each and every situation at hand. Due to the way she was raised, she can be competitive at times, enjoying a challenge such as having the odds stacked against her in a fight. Not much care goes into what others think about her, though she likes to keep a positive image of herself, remembering what her parents said about their code of conduct. She is an honorable, respectful and kind individual most of the time. She has a sharp, witty sense of humor and enjoys the lighter side that life has to offer. She cares for those who she works with, and will do everything she can to ensure everyone gets home alive and in one piece. Specialty: Aviza can quickly adapt to most combat situations. She will move swiftly across the field of battle, using cover and anything else she can find to her advantage. Her kills are clean and quick, preferring to not make a mess and enable her to move onto another target without any hesitation or interruption. Part of her intense training gives her the ability to pilot vehicles that range from the land, air and space. She has been extensively trained in advanced first aid as well as engineering for a multitude of vehicles and devices. Skills: 1: Advanced Combat Medic 2: Advanced Engineering 3: Havoc Training 4: Demolition 5: Fireteam tactics 6: Combat strategy Equipment: 1: M-99 Saber (Assault Rifle) 2: Piranha Shotgun (Shotgun) 3: M-98 Black Widow (Sniper Rifle) 4: Sticky Grenades 5: Flashbangs 6: Tech Proximity Mines 7: Personal jump-jet 8: Omni-Blade 9: Medical Equipment Powers: 1: Ammo Powers 2: Tech-Armor / Power armor 3: Marksman 4: Hacking 5: Active-camouflage 6: Turbocharge Sample Post: “I have eyes on two hostile contacts near the front gate of the outpost, toss the lure in their direction.” Suddenly, a small metallic shard would land in front of two Batarian Terrorists, making just enough noise to draw their attention away from the main gate. Both of the heavily armored terrorists stepped forward to investigate the source of the sound. From roughly five hundred feet away, the light blue cross hair from a high powered digital scope aligned itself to where the two Batarian Terrorists had now stopped. Letting the air out slowly from her lungs, Aviza pulled the trigger on her sniper rifle, sending the high powered round towards its target. It struck the first Batarian in the head then continued to travel through the next Batarians neck, creating a fine crimson mist as the two of them fell to the ground on top of each other. The round finely continued to fly into the distance before striking the ground and disintegrating. “The guards at the front gate are down, I am changing position to meet up with you.” Carefully pushing herself up from her prone hiding position, Aviza used the lush forest vegetation that surrounded the outpost for cover, quickly moving to her other squad mate. Taking a knee next to her fellow Turian, she quickly switched weapons while remaining silent. “Let’s move the bodies out of the way before the other Batarians find them.” Aviza motioned with her left hand at the two corpses before swiftly moving over to the closest one. Grabbing onto the body, she quickly pulled it across the grass below her feet and managed to hide it behind a large boulder that was surrounded with large bushes. Her squad mate did the same, tossing the body on top of the other. “Stay here for a moment, you will know when it’s time to attack.” Said Aviza while moving to one of the large metal walls that surrounded the outpost. With a flash of blue light, Aviza’s jump pack propelled her to the edge of the wall where she pulled herself over very carefully while watching her surroundings. Her squads mission was quite simple, infiltrate the outpost, place remote explosives on the bomb the Batarians had and then infiltrate before detonating the explosive. She and her fellow squad mate had been part of many missions like this before, and were planning on it to run smoothly. Once she had gently landed on the other side of the wall, Aviza surveyed her surroundings before moving deeper into the outpost. Her estimated amount of hostiles inside of the outpost ranged from somewhere between twenty to thirty Batarians. If anyone saw her, the alarm would go off and she would be overwhelmed within seconds. The bomb was easy to locate, due to the fact that it was being loaded onto a ship in the middle of the outpost. The issue were the guards surrounding it and short amount of time she had left to plant the remote explosive before leaving the outpost. Slowly, carefully, patiently, she plotted her approach then set it into motion. Sneaking up behind one Batarian after another, Aviza would use her Omni-blade to silently eliminate the threats while moving forward to her objective. She knew there were many ways to go about getting to the bomb, but in the end she choose a more risky option. Using her Omni-tool, she cut the power to the base and used the distraction to lure some of the guards to the power box and away from the bomb. They were so close to Aviza that she held her breath, waiting for them to pass before she moved to the shuttle undetected. “I reached the shuttle, prepping explosive for detonation, clear the area and prepare for…” Before Aviza could finish her sentence, a group of Batarians caught sight of movement inside of the shuttle. They quickly drew their weapons and took aim, informing the others to not shoot the bomb in the back of the shuttle or it would kill them all. With quick thinking, Aviza took the pilot seat of the shuttle and started to power it up, rounds quickly flew into the shuttle, barely missing her and the bomb itself. Locking the controls into VTOL mode, Aviza left the pilot's seat and finished prepping the bomb, taking a few rounds to her shield as she did from the horde of Batarians below her. “It’s your turn to take some of the heat from me sister, open fire.” Her fellow squad mate opened fire from a hill far away from the outpost and caused a stir of chaos from within. Using this as her chance, Aviza jumped out the back of the shuttle and used her jump-pack to keep her from falling from her death right before she hit the ground. “Word of advice, don’t look directly at the explosion, it’s going to be brighter than bright.” Aviza smirked under her helmet before pressing the button upon her detonator. With a blinding flash of white and red, the bomb detonated tremendous force, knocking both Aviza and her fellow squad mate back a couple of yards. The area below the blast had been cleared of all vegetation, leaving nothing but a smoking crater. “Well, I would say that’s a wrap, makes me almost wish we had more of those to sabotage.” said Aviza as she pulled herself off of the ground and offered a hand to her sister. Taking Aviza's hand, her sister got back onto her feet and glanced down at the destruction that the bomb had made in the far distance. "Thanks for the help, let's get out of here." the two of them quickly radioed for extraction from their location and reported the mission a success. Notes: Aviza is single, Bi, hates self centered people, is sort of a pyro, enjoys a challenge, enjoys life, can be sarcastic, can cook a large number of exotic meals, likes to tease, wears a set of medium Erathellian Armor at almost all times, sounds like Sylvanas Windrunner from Warcraft. She can eat normal Dextro-Protein based lifeform foods as well as Levo-Amino based lifeform foods, though this is only for taste and flavor, she receives no other benefits of doing so.

Dès que Skarr et Salissa commenceront à se diriger vers l'atterrissage, on pourra entendre derrière eux les *beep* *beep* familiers d'un chariot élévateur à fourche qui s'est lancé dans l'action. "Merci pour les directions, et, euh; désolé d'interrompre toute conversation que vous pourriez avoir à propos de se déchirer les bras, mais... pourriez-vous prendre le relais pour ces deux-là?" Sila demanda avec un léger ton hésitant qu'elle roulait lentement à côté de l'humain et du krogan dans le chariot élévateur. L'Asari a roulé ses yeux bleu azur vif sur d'abord la masse hulking de maintenant ornée et habillée de métal qui était Ellis, puis juste en avant à l'ivrogne noirâtre Vella actuellement assis sur ses genoux, son front s'est étendu sur le tableau de bord. "Je ne pense pas avoir vraiment l'autorisation d'être ici... et mon certificat de conducteur ne comprend pas les chariots élévateurs." Sila a dit, son ton légèrement inquiet alors qu'elle jetait un coup d'oeil rapide au poste de police qu'ils étaient pratiquement à l'intérieur à ce moment, étant donné sa proximité et sa présence imminente! "Msshh- Sloooooow vers le bas, Sila... vous allez en tuer à cette vitesse, mlmffff... " Vella serait soudainement soûlement murmurer du tour de Sila, tandis que Sila conduisait à côté de Skarr et 2 miles à l'heure. Sila a jeté un long regard sur Vella et Ellis. S'il y avait une raison pour laquelle elle n'avait pas abandonné le véhicule avant, c'était probablement parce qu'elle craignait de tomber à plat sur son visage si elle s'éloignait; le gros cul de Vella ayant bloqué tout flux sanguin vers ses jambes. Avec un soupir, Sila regardait alors Skarr et Salissa. "... "Pléaase?"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Rayes'Xum & Rol'Narris QuarienEscapades Dans les profondeurs du Yellowstone Frontier Pub sur la Citadelle sat Rayes, une main embrayant la boisson alcoolique qu'il avait commandée, l'autre se levant la tête du comptoir. C'était Dextro Heat Sink, de l'alcool que les Turians pouvaient boire relativement en toute sécurité, et les Quariens le pouvaient aussi s'ils prenaient les précautions nécessaires. Il y avait déjà plusieurs verres vides à côté de la Quarienne, que Rayes lui-même trouvait surprenant, car il savait qu'il était léger. Il a dû être efficace jusqu'à présent, mais il devenait de plus en plus difficile à voir, et encore moins à prendre une autre gorgée de son port d'induction d'urgence. Il croyait que c'était pour le mieux, ou peut-être que c'était stupide. Quoi qu'il en soit, il s'est bagarré dans son siège, ignorant les divers regards qu'il a eus des autres dans le bar avant de s'en prendre à lui-même pour murmurer: "Hmmh... situations stupides... Bosh'tet husks... Je ne peux pas attendre de voir dans quoi ces idiots m'amènent!" Il s'est dit, se gloussant ensuite avant de trébucher avec la paille dans sa coupe. Il a juré d'inventer quelque chose pour rendre l'alcool plus facile... Il le faudrait sans doute si les jours allaient comme aujourd'hui. Il regarda le barman, agitant la main qu'il avait utilisée pour tenir sa boisson pour attirer leur attention. Son dernier goupille avait drainé le reste de son Dextro Heat Sink, et il en voulait désespérément un autre. "Psst... Hellooooooooooooo. J'ai besoin d'un... un autre!" Il leur a dit, à qui ils se sont simplement ébranlés la tête dans la déception. "Désolé Quarien, mais vous en avez eu assez." "Psssh! Tu crois que je... J'en ai assez? C'est ça! Tu as l'air d'un Bosh'tet et... et... tu sens comme un projectile!" Il a crié de nouveau en riant à lui-même à sa smartness alors qu'il se tapait la langue sous son masque. Bien sûr, il ne pouvait pas être vu, mais le bruit emblématique était très clair malgré les hoquets. Le barman secoua la tête, soupirant alors qu'ils regardaient Rayes. "Je vais devoir te demander de partir." Ils lui ont dit, à laquelle il a essayé de les regarder dans les yeux, prenant plusieurs longues secondes pour ajuster sa tête pour regarder dans la direction générale du barman. "Vous devez... partir. Je suis perrifèrement d'accord... Oui... Je ne bougerai pas!" Il a répondu, bafouant ses paroles et donnant un bon geste de la main, ou bien, c'était plutôt une arnaque de ses doigts parce qu'il ne pouvait pas l'obtenir correctement. Le barman a appelé à la sécurité, et bientôt plusieurs gardes du bar sont apparus à côté de la Quarienne. L'un sur sa gauche était un Krogan assez volumineux et intimidant, tandis que l'autre était un Turian de taille similaire. "Pfft... tu crois pouvoir me bouger? Je connais quelqu'un deux fois plus grand que toi... » Il leur a dit, mettant ses mains sur leurs épaules, ou aussi près qu'il pouvait obtenir. Ils ont facilement sorti le petit Quarien de son siège, le faisant semer l'air. "Je-je ne vais pas-" Rayes a essayé de crier avant d'être jetée par terre à l'extérieur du pub. L'impact lui a donné un léger mal de tête, et il a regardé du sol quand ils sont revenus à l'intérieur. Peut-être qu'il resterait un peu là... C'était un joli étage. Rol'Naaris a regardé tout l'événement se dérouler avec les clients comme le quarien ivre a fait une scène énorme. Ce serait drôle si ce n'était qu'un quarien aléatoire, mais malheureusement, ce n'était pas le cas. C'était le quarien de l'équipe au tunnel. Le nom était assez simple à retenir, Rayes. Rol'Naaris a été un peu surpris de le voir ici et de boire alors qu'il a jeté un coup d'œil à la table pleine de verres vides. C'était assez terrible qu'il ait arnaqué pendant tout l'événement. Enfin, il a vu l'autre quarien se battre avec la sécurité avant d'être chassé de l'établissement. C'était assez cinglé qu'il se sente mal pour le barman et la sécurité. Une fois que les clients ont cessé de s'occuper de l'ivrogne, Rol'Naaris a fini son verre pendant que le barman marchait vers lui. -- Je suppose que vous connaissez le quai ivre? elle a demandé. "Malheureusement, je le fais." Il a dit honteusement pendant qu'il a retiré son omni-outil pour payer de son verre, "Je l'emmènerai au port de la navette voisine et sortirai de la Citadelle." "Merci. L'autre bus à proximité se plaignait à C-Sec au sujet des clients évanouis." Il a dit qu'il ramassait le verre vide et la paille. "Que mes gardes l'aident à le porter. Pour témoigner de ma reconnaissance. » Rol'Naaris a hurlé et lui a donné des crédits supplémentaires pour traiter avec Rayes. Une fois sorti de la frontière de Yellowstone, il a vu la sécurité ramasser le quai. Le turian s'est dirigé vers Rol'Narris et lui a dit qu'ils allaient le déposer dans un port de navette à proximité. Une fois entrés dans la navette, ils les laissaient retourner sur Terre. Il a aussi demandé si Rol'Naaris irait bien s'il s'en sortait. "Voyons s'il est encore saoul avant de faire ça." Il a répondu froidement : "Je ne veux pas qu'il m'engueule." Quand Rayes a été soudainement ramassé, ça l'a légèrement surpris. "Nooooo... C'était si confortable... » Il murmura aux gardes, mais il ne se battit pas du tout. Peut-être qu'ils allaient l'emmener à l'hôtel pour qu'il se repose longtemps... comme des escortes personnelles. Il pensait que ça aurait été incroyable si c'était le cas. À travers son masque, il ne pouvait guère distinguer la vue floue d'une navette, et bientôt un autre Quarien était aussi à proximité. C'était quelqu'un qui semblait familier, mais là encore, il n'était pas tout à fait sûr en ce moment. "Je suis juste... très bien, je vous assure! C'est la navette vers... un hôtel? Ou allons-nous, pour obtenir plus de boissons?" Il leur a demandé, pas vraiment sûr de ce qui se passait. Peut-être, pensait-il, qu'ils allaient aller dans un endroit qui ne le jetterait pas dehors pour avoir taquiné les gens qui travaillaient là-bas. Soit ça, soit une sorte de navette de luxe... Rol'Naaris écouta le murmure de l'autre quarien et décida que c'était trop à gérer. "Faites vite." il a hardiment dit au turien avant de lui donner assez de crédits pour le satisfaire. Le turian a hurlé avant d'agiter les autres au sujet du léger changement de plan et ils se sont hissés en arrière. Puis, le krogan est entré dans la navette avec lui et l'a encerclé pour l'abattre. La puissance turienne de lui dire quelque chose s'il n'a pas reçu de crédits. C'était rare que quelqu'un demande à la sécurité d'assommer son pote. Et pour un quarien de demander, c'était aussi une surprise pour tout le monde en sécurité. Il s'agissait d'un vol relativement calme dans la navette une fois Rayes sorti froid, le seul vrai bruit en dehors du bruit du moteur étant son ronflement occasionnel. Ce silence fut bientôt interrompu par son costume qui commença à bip, faisant sauter la Quarienne éveillée en état de choc. Tout en sentant toujours les effets de l'alcool, il a fait de son mieux pour faire un bon diagnostic sur ce qui causait le bruit, en se rendant compte que son filtre à toxines avait besoin d'un remplacement immédiat en raison de l'alcool excessif qu'il avait fait. "Kee'lah, que s'est-il passé?" Il a crié avec inquiétude, en remuant légèrement comme l'avertissement de son costume a intensifié la douleur d'un mal de tête en train d'arriver. Il a travaillé aussi vite que possible, et bientôt, il était silencieux dans la pièce comme son costume était satisfait. Malheureusement, le corps de Rayes n'était certainement pas, et sa tête a énormément souffert. Il soupira à lui-même, se penchant vers l'avant pour pouvoir placer sa tête sur son bras, et c'est alors qu'il se rendit compte qu'il y avait quelqu'un d'autre dans la navette: Un Quarien non moins. Kee'lah, il a commencé à se sentir un peu gêné, et ce sentiment lui a finalement fait réaliser qu'il était dans une navette, ce qui a apporté la question... Quand? Il a juré, s'il faisait quelque chose de stupide... En fin de compte, il a décidé d'essayer de le découvrir malgré sa migraine lui disant de rester silencieux et de se reposer. "Je... euh... bonjour! Désolé, mais... où suis-je? Et pourquoi?" Il a demandé, faisant de son mieux pour ne pas sonner comme son corps a souffert comme il espérait une réponse. Il a entendu l'autre quarien lui poser des questions, essayant de cacher le fait qu'il était saoul il y a environ une demi-heure. Rol'Naaris regarda le quarien avec son armure de corps presque différente de Rol'Naaris'. C'était un design intéressant que beaucoup d'autres n'auraient pas pu trouver. Il a finalement répondu aux questions du quarien confus : « Assez simple. Vous êtes sur une navette en direction de la Terre. En ce qui concerne "pourquoi". Il y avait un moment de silence avant qu'il ne parle une fois de plus. C'était l'occasion de faire un nouvel ami ou de faire un nouvel ennemi. "Tu étais ivre, essayant de te battre avec le barman et ses gardes. Puis, vous avez été jeté et s'est évanoui en conséquence. » Il a menti au quarien en plus d'être ivre. Il semblait plutôt horrible de mentir à un ami potentiel; cependant, Rol'Naaris se sentait comme s'il essayait de résoudre le problème de boisson du quarien. Et il était évident qu'il aimait l'alcool plus qu'un krogan. "Pourquoi buvais-tu toute seule?" Il a demandé, "N'êtes-vous pas censé garder un œil sur les données?" Le Quarien a posé ses mains sur son masque alors qu'il descendait la tête plus loin de la honte qu'il ressentait. Il s'est évanoui après avoir été jeté hors d'un bar? Il pensait que ça expliquerait le mal de tête et pourquoi son filtre à toxines était sur le fritz. Et ce qui a empiré, c'est que ce Quarien avait tout vu. Il s'est demandé ce que les Spectres penseraient s'ils s'étaient rendu compte non seulement qu'il avait été frappé, mais aussi jeté hors d'un bar dans les heures qui ont suivi la sortie de leur vue. C'était juste... qu'il ne se sentait pas bien. Il a regardé le Quarien, sur le point de répondre à sa question quand il a entendu la deuxième partie de celle-ci. Des données? Comment aurait-il pu savoir... Attends, est-ce que c'était le Quarien qui était avec les Spectres? Et Rayes avait été... Kee'lah, ce n'était pas la journée de Rayes. Il s'est toujours dit que les choses pouvaient empirer, mais il ne pensait pas vraiment que quand il a décidé d'aller dans un bar. Il lui a fallu un peu de réfléchir à la façon dont il devrait répondre, après s'être demandé comment il devrait répondre jusqu'à ce qu'il renonce à la douleur et a décidé de dire la plupart de la vérité. Il a donné un dernier coup d'œil à ses niveaux de toxines, observant qu'ils décroissaient rapidement grâce au nouveau filtre avant de finalement parler vers le haut. "Ouh... Normalement, je ne vais pas trop loin pour boire, mais aujourd'hui c'était terrible... Je voulais juste oublier tout ça, tu sais? La horde de défenses qui s'est approchée pour me déchirer en morceaux. C'était terrifiant, bien plus que ce que nous avons traité de la Geth... et, en ce qui concerne les données, ce sera sûr tant que je l'aurai. Ma sécurité est presque impeccable avec mes propres modifications. » Il a dit au Quarien, griffant l'arrière de son masque par la suite alors qu'il attendait une réponse. "Je suppose que vous n'étiez pas sur le terrain pendant l'agression. Tu étais coincé sur un vaisseau, craignant que ton vaisseau ne soit abattu par les Reapers. N'ai-je pas raison?" il a demandé après avoir appris qu'il avait peur des défenses de plus tôt. Il s'est pris avant de dire quelque chose d'insultant au quarien à propos d'avoir peur de ne pas se porter volontaire pour rejoindre la force terrestre. Puis encore une fois, presque tous les quariens ne se sont pas portés volontaires en dehors de lui-même et de quelques autres. Il n'oublie jamais ceux qui avaient trop peur pour se joindre à l'assaut. Il se leva et alla de l'autre côté et s'assit près de l'autre quarien. "Au moins, les données sont sûres." Il a déclaré dans l'espoir de faire sentir aux quariens ce qui est mieux. "J'étais sur le terrain pour votre information! Je suis peut-être ingénieur et scientifique, mais je n'ai pas laissé les autres me battre sur Rannoch pendant que je m'asseyais sur un navire pendant que d'autres Quariens mouraient. Ce n'est pas parce que je m'en fiche du Geth maintenant et que je n'ai peut-être pas approuvé la guerre, comme cela semblait nous ou eux à l'époque, que j'allais prendre parti pour des machines qui voulaient tout tuer. » "Vous vous souciez de ces choses?" Il a dit avec un tel dégoût. Il s'est levé et s'est éloigné de l'autre quarien. C'était assez terrible que l'Amirauté Board et le Conclave pardonnent le Geth. Maintenant, il y avait un amoureux de l'IA-machine dans l'équipe avec un vrai geth. Pire encore, il n'aimait même pas la guerre. "La guerre contre le Geth était nécessaire à notre survie. Tout le monde soutenait la guerre et ça allait bien. Jusqu'à ce qu'ils se joignent aux Reapers et se battent à leurs côtés. Pas étonnant que vous soyez ingénieur. Ils sont généralement les ignorants de la guerre." Il s'est arrêté un moment et a respiré une fois de plus. Il prit le moment de réfléchir à ce qu'il venait de dire et se rendit compte que la guerre le rattrapait lentement. Ses actions et les conséquences étaient réalisées pour la première fois. Toute la mort et la destruction que Rol'Naaris a causé. -- Qu'avez-vous fait alors? Il a demandé alors qu'il était encore clairement bouleversé par la déclaration du quarien au sujet de la guerre. "Care est un mot fort, mais je peux comprendre leur ressentiment envers nous tout comme nous les ressentions. Les Geth ne sont certainement pas sans fautes, mais ni nous, ni nos ancêtres. À l'époque, je n'approuvais pas parce que, pendant que j'ai fait des recherches sur le Geth, j'avais l'impression que c'était un risque qui pourrait ne pas être rentable. En fin de compte, mais c'était avec l'aide extérieure d'un Spectre humain et de son Geth qui se sacrifiaient pour qu'ils puissent atteindre l'individualité. C'est... extra-ardinaire pour quelqu'un comme moi. Comment les machines pourraient atteindre quelque chose de semblable à notre individualité. Le Geth de notre équipe m'a protégé dans ces tunnels. Je serais mort si ça n'avait pas été pour ça, je le sais." Il a répondu en essayant de défendre ses pensées sur le Geth et ses raisonnements alors qu'il regardait l'autre Quarien s'éloigner. Un autre pour haïr le Geth... Ce n'était pas surprenant. C'est pourquoi Rayes faisait de son mieux pour être prudent avec ses mots. Il pouvait ressentir la tension et l'hostilité que le Quarien manifestait après sa deuxième question, et il prit donc une profonde inspiration pour se calmer. "Mais peu importe, j'ai aidé à traiter avec les forces Geth sur le terrain. J'ai donné un aperçu de leurs conceptions et défauts, ainsi que le piratage à travers leurs défenses, boucliers, traitant avec l'armure... Dans l'ensemble, j'ai apporté mon soutien. Ce n'était peut-être pas une ligne de front, mais j'ai fait de mon mieux pour aider les autres. Tant de Quariens sont déjà morts... Je n'ai pas aimé voir les autres mourir de première main... Je suppose que vous avez joué un rôle plus... agressif étant donné votre réaction à moi disant que je ne m'inquiète pas de Geth." 'Le rôle agressif.' Ce serait quelque chose que quelqu'un avec une position pro-geth a dit. Rol'Naaris voulait le défier sur cette déclaration mais s'est arrêté avant qu'elle ne s'échauffe. Au lieu de cela, il était plus intéressé par son temps avec les machines et sa dernière phrase. Il a répondu à un autre quarien : « J'étais l'un des rares qui s'étaient portés volontaires pour rejoindre l'assaut terrestre alors que d'autres... n'aimaient pas voir tant d'autres mourir. » Avant cela, j'étais stratège pour la flotte pendant notre guerre avec le Geth. J'étais en dehors de la bataille de Rannoch quand l'animal de Shepard a ordonné l'arrêt des combats. Heureusement qu'il est mort ou que vous, et les autres, auriez adoré cette foutue chose. » Il a ri à la dernière phrase, essayant d'être cool et étonnant pour l'autre quarien. À sa façon spéciale. Puis, il toussa avant de le regarder, les bras croisés. "Nous nous battons bien et nous ne connaissons pas les noms de l'autre. Je suis Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal, un stratège et marin de la flotte." Si Rayes n'avait pas eu de maux de tête furieux, il aurait fait plus de lutte pour défendre son opinion, mais toute cette situation ne faisait qu'empirer. Bien sûr de tous les Quariens qu'il aurait pu être dans une équipe avec pour les Spectres, c'était un qui était le contraire de ses idéaux... et probablement plus dans le sens d'un Quarien normal. Il aurait pu apprécier l'opinion différente si elle n'avait pas été pour son affaiblissement continu de Rayes. Au lieu de cela, il a à peine donné son attention à la Quarienne pendant qu'il continuait. Cependant, sa vision était plus que probable quand il a commencé à rire que Rayes aurait adoré la geth de Shepard. Quel imbécile ignorant! Il a fallu toute sa force pour rester silencieux et ne pas tenter de commencer une autre bagarre, même si avec les titres de ce Quarien il gagnerait probablement... "Kee'lah, pas étonnant que tu sois si agressif, tu as dû servir avec l'amiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema... même en accord avec sa tactique qui a failli tuer Shepard à plusieurs reprises. Mais je ne vais pas pousser plus loin ce sujet. Je suis Rayes'Xum vas Fowal, ingénieur, scientifique et expert technologique général qui a servi dans la flotte de projets spéciaux." "L'amiral et moi avons peut-être soutenu la guerre contre le geth, mais nous étions souvent en désaccord sur plusieurs. Surtout son attaque sur un vaisseau de Geth pendant que Shepard et Tali étaient à bord. Mais je suis d'accord pour dire que nous changeons de sujet avant que les choses ne s'échauffent." Il a répondu, reconnaissant que la tension entre eux était terminée. Rol'Naaris savait qu'il pouvait avoir une relation positive avec Rayes malgré leurs points de vue différents. Une fois de plus, il s'assit à côté de Rayes et commença un autre sujet : « Dis-moi, que penses-tu sur Terre et sur les humains? » Au moins s'ils pouvaient se mettre d'accord sur quelque chose, c'était changer de sujet. Pour Rayes, toute cette situation n'était pas comment tu traites avec quelqu'un encore un peu ivre... Mais au moins, ils l'ont passé devant eux pour l'instant... Mais il semblait en plaçant un sujet, il a pris un autre toucher pour Rayes. Rayes s'éloignait légèrement en demandant, faisant regarder la Quarienne dans la direction de Rol alors qu'il donnait sa réponse. "Je... Je ne fais pas confiance à la plupart des humains... Je n'aime pas non plus être sur Terre. J'ai déjà vu une jeune Quarienne sur son pèlerinage être harcelée par un humain local... Cet endroit est devenu de plus en plus hostile aux autres races galactiques... C'est l'une des principales raisons pour lesquelles j'étais sur la Citadelle. Au moins là, j'aurais eu de plus en plus de chances d'être traité un peu plus équitablement. » Il a répondu avec un peu d'hésitation, en retenant clairement certains de ses sentiments... Soit ça, soit c'était le mal de tête. Difficile à dire avec les pauses constantes qu'il a prises. « Les humains se sont toujours méfiés de ceux qui sont complètement différents et vont à l'encontre de leurs valeurs. Sur la base de mon temps sur Terre, la plupart des humains changent lentement leur attitude envers d'autres races. Je suppose que c'est l'une des nombreuses bonnes choses qui sont venues de la guerre des Faucons. Cela a fait qu'un plus grand nombre d'humains et d'autres individus se faisaient confiance. Il a parlé honnêtement à Rayes. Puis il regarda par la fenêtre et vit bientôt la Terre. "Malheureusement, nous allons sur Terre. Pas à Londres. Nous allons à Alexandrie, ma deuxième maison. Il est similaire à Rannoch et les gens sont sympathiques à d'autres courses en particulier le quarian puisque la plupart des volontaires choisissent de rester là. En plus, j'ai quelque chose à faire avant de partir avec le reste de l'équipe. Je me demandais si tu aimerais venir avec moi." il a dit à Rayes, attendant sa réaction aux nouvelles. "De couse, c'est à vous de le faire." Il a ajouté avant de répondre. Rayes ne pouvait s'empêcher de rire de lui-même hystériquement à l'idée de voyager avec Rol. Il n'était certainement pas sur sa liste de faire, mais il se sentait comme s'il n'avait pas le choix. Après tout, malgré sa nature, il semblait aider Rayes quand il s'était évanoui devant le bar. "Je... Je suppose que je pourrais un peu, si tu es honnête... juste... essayer de réduire le bruit, s'il te plaît? J'ai encore mal à la tête, à la fois à l'extérieur et à l'intérieur... » Il répondit, nerveux de cet endroit. L'autre Quarien a essayé de le peindre dans une bonne lumière, mais même les lumières les plus brillantes ont jeté une ombre quelque part... Il espérait juste qu'ils ne verraient pas cette obscurité. Et pour que cette foutue migraine s'en aille... peut-être qu'il remplacerait son filtre à toxines une fois de plus quand ils atterriront pour accélérer le processus... "Super." Rol'Naaris a dit tranquillement, "La navette est près d'Alexandrie et ensuite nous allons explorer la ville." La navette arriva en effet à Alexandrie et débarqua au port de la navette Horus, nommé d'après le dieu égyptien de la guerre, du ciel et des faucons. Et cela a commencé la tournée autour de la ville. Il a fallu des heures à Rol'Naaris pour montrer Rayes les endroits populaires dans la grande ville. Et leur dernière partie de la tournée les a amenés à s'arrêter sur un marché voisin. Il était plein de stands et de clients cherchant à acheter tout ce dont ils ont besoin. Au bord du marché, un monument commémoratif à ceux qui sont morts pendant la bataille de la Terre. C'était à proximité de la mer qui le rendait plus parfait à Rol'Naaris. Il s'approcha du mémorial et regarda la liste des noms. Il y avait trop de morts et Rol'Naaris avait l'impression qu'il était temps de dire au revoir à ceux qu'il envoyait à leur mort. Puis, il regarda la statue des humains et des extraterrestres qui se battaient en équipe. C'est là qu'il a vu une réplique de lui-même. Il s'est souvenu de l'honneur qu'il éprouvait lorsqu'on lui a demandé si Systems Alliance pouvait ajouter au mémorial. Si seulement ses amis pouvaient être là avec lui. Rol'Naaris s'est rendu compte que Rayes était toujours là et qu'il regardait probablement le mémorial. Il ne voulait probablement pas être là et écouter les adieux d'un quarien. "Vous devriez avoir quelque chose avant que nous quittions la Terre. Je serai là, en disant mes adieux à... quelques amis." Il a dit tranquillement vers Rayes. Rayes ne trouvait la tournée si intéressante, en partie à cause de son imprudence humaine, mais principalement à cause de la quantité massive de douleur qu'il avait à la tête. Des heures de douleur torrentielle ont considérablement amorti l'humeur, et alors que son filtre faisait de son mieux pour se débarrasser de l'alcool, il était allé au-dessus et au-delà du niveau normal après tout. Donc, quand Rol lui a dit de sortir acheter des choses avant qu'ils ne partent, il s'est immédiatement mis en route pour acheter un autre filtre à toxines ou deux... ou dix... A ce rythme, il devait constamment les remplacer pour accélérer le processus, et il avait mis le dernier il y a plusieurs heures avant qu'ils atterrissent. Autant qu'il aurait aimé dire quelque chose à Rol, questionner son rôle dans la guerre de Reaper et pourquoi ce mémorial le dépeint, mais il pensait que c'était une histoire pour une autre fois. Il doutait aussi que le Quarien lui donnerait une réponse décente sans une sorte de discours sur le mal du Geth, et Rayes ne pouvait en prendre qu'une grande partie à certains moments. Quoi qu'il en soit, il ne lui a pas fallu longtemps pour trouver un endroit qui vendait des pièces de costume pour les Quariens, si ce n'est parce qu'il semblait y en avoir beaucoup ici au mémorial. Peut-être plus de combat ici que prévu, ou peut-être son guide de voyage était plus populaire que Rayes vu. Il secoua la tête, réajusta un peu son manteau, et employa un petit peu plus de crédits pour ces filtres. Heureusement, les Spectres ne savaient pas combien il y avait à commencer, et tout ce qui s'est additionné n'aurait même pas mis une bosse dedans, non? Oui, Rayes a fait les calculs. Et s'ils l'apprenaient d'une façon ou d'une autre, il expliquerait ses raisonnements. Mais, c'était pour plus tard, et maintenant, il a dû installer à nouveau ce filtre à toxines... "Hellizia Iessaria, je suis désolé d'avoir envoyé votre équipe à leur mort. Je savais que votre équipe mourrait en défrichant la rue vers le commandement. Mais... J'espérais que mes calculs seraient erronés... J'ai prié." il a dit à l'égard du mémorial, se sentant terrible à propos de sa décision. Bien sûr, certains de ses calculs étaient erronés. Les gens, qui pensaient qu'il serait mort, vivaient et vice versa. Puis, il regarda autour de lui d'autres noms dont il se souviendrait. Cravanor Nokor, l'un des plus vieux krogan, était un dur fils de pute avec son fusil. Malheureusement, il est mort en défendant un point d'approvisionnement que Rol'Naaris a ordonné d'être défendu à tout prix. Toute la famille de Silpia Fallius était sur Terre pendant la bataille finale et elle a prié pour que sa famille soit protégée. Au lieu de cela, Rol'Naaris froid a envoyé chacun d'eux vers le danger. Son amant est mort alors que l'un des skyscapers s'est effondré sur lui, son père a été déchiré par un projectile tout en les repoussant d'un autre point d'approvisionnement, et sa sœur est morte en défendant un capitaine clé d'une embuscade surprise. Plus tard, Silpia l'a tuée avec poision parce que la douleur était trop à supporter. Pourquoi a-t-il pensé à elle tout d'un coup? Parce qu'il vient d'apprendre à l'endroit où il regardait le nom de sa sœur. Une note de suicide est apparue sur son onmi-outil et il l'a lu. Elle lui a reproché de ruiner l'avenir de sa famille et de détruire la seule chance de reconstruire. Sa maison a été désertée au début de la guerre des Faucons et son enfant parmi sa mère a été tué. Avant la fin de la note, elle a maudit et a espéré qu'il a réalisé combien de sang il avait vraiment dans ses mains. Rol'Naais vient de regarder le mémorial et la statue de lui-même s'est ensuite effondrée au sol. Il a commencé à pleurer vers le nom des morts, les noms qu'il a personnellement ordonné à leur mort. D'autres personnes au mémorial regardaient le quarien en pleurs et ne savaient pas quoi faire. Il a mis ses mains contre son masque alors qu'il continuait à pleurer en essayant de la fermer. Il était temps pour lui de réaliser les conséquences. Quand Rayes est revenu, la scène à laquelle il est revenu n'était pas ce à quoi il s'attendait le moins. Il y avait Rol'Naais, pleurant au mémorial comme d'autres le regardaient. Est-ce que les gens qui se sont battus ici étaient si importants pour lui? Rayes lui-même ne pouvait pas être certain... Mais il comprenait qu'il y avait au moins un lien assez profond pour être triste de leur disparition. Cela lui rappelait un bon ami sur Rannoch, qui est mort alors qu'il regardait les étoiles de leur monde... Peut-être que cette sensation d'âme écrasante était ce que Rol ressentait... Et il ne savait pas quoi faire pour l'autre Quarien. Il ne semblait pas comme le type qui apprécierait une épaule réconfortante, mais en même temps, Rayes savait que son peuple était très proche. Ils ne sont peut-être pas d'accord sur beaucoup de choses, mais il est clair qu'il y a plus à cette Quarian que Rayes lui a donné le mérite à l'origine. Il était heureux qu'il semblait qu'une majorité de ses douleurs commençaient à s'estomper lentement alors que ses filtres marchaient en excès à ce moment-là, lui donnant assez de clarté pour marcher et tout simplement placer sa main sur l'épaule pleurante de Quarian. Ce n'était pas grand-chose, mais c'était tout ce que Rayes pouvait penser de faire sans déranger son compagnon Quarien ou dire quoi que ce soit. Après tout, il ne voulait pas énerver Rol plus qu'il ne l'était déjà. Rol'Naaris regardait le sol alors qu'il pleurait depuis cinq minutes jusqu'à ce qu'il voie le sang sur le sol, se précipitant vers lui comme une rivière. Il a commencé à secouer incontrôlablement dans la peur de ce qu'il allait voir. Sa tête se déplaçait lentement vers le haut et regardait que le mémorial avait été transformé en une collection de corps. Les corps qu'il a recognés à son époque à la Terre et à Rannoch. Au-dessus d'eux étaient des navires quariens qui ont été détruits par des navires Geth et Reaper à cause de ses ordres. Puis, il sentit quelque chose placer leurs mains sur son épaule. Quand il s'est retourné, il a vu quelqu'un à qui il n'avait pas pensé depuis longtemps. "Ça va?" le mystérieux étranger a demandé. Rol'Naaris s'est assommé en état de choc et s'est assis là en silence en essayant de supprimer les pensées de lui. C'est alors qu'il s'est rendu compte que le sang et les corps étaient tous faux. Il avait été halluciné tout le temps. Cela ne lui était jamais arrivé avant et la première fois qu'il pleurait depuis longtemps. La guerre de Reaper l'a amené à supprimer ses sentiments et sa culpabilité parce qu'il avait besoin d'une tête de pensée claire. Mais, il n'a jamais pu réaliser combien de douleur il gardait en lui-même. Maintenant, il ne savait pas quoi faire. Avec la main de Rayes sur son épaule, il s'est senti gêné de sa soudaine dépression. "Oh, je n'avais pas réalisé que tu t'étais fait si vite." Il a dit en essayant d'arrêter de pleurer et d'éclaircir sa tête. Rol'Naaris se leva du sol et se retourna vers Rayes. -- Maintenant que je vous ai fait visiter ma maison, que voulez-vous faire ensuite? Il a demandé en essayant de sonner comme s'il était bien et heureux. Mais il n'allait pas bien. Il n'était pas heureux. Pour la première fois, il ne savait pas quoi faire. Il était coincé. Rayes n'était pas sûr de ce qui était pire, le fait que Rol est entré dans une sorte de choc quand Rayes a placé sa main sur l'épaule de Rol, ou comment après il a essayé d'agir comme si rien n'était mal. Évidemment, cela l'avait fait plus que Rayes ne pouvait le comprendre à l'époque, et alors que Rol faisait de son mieux pour sonner comme s'il allait bien, Rayes n'y croyait pas tout à fait. "Peut-être serait-il préférable que nous nous rendions pour la journée, non? Un peu de repos nous fera du bien, et après une si longue journée je crois que nous le méritons... » Il a répondu, pensant que c'était la meilleure option. Un peu de sommeil aiderait avec la gueule de bois qu'il traversait, et pourrait aider Rol à se calmer... Rayes n'était pas sûre. Pour lui, un peu de repos était certainement nécessaire, et il sentait que son camarade de Quarian se sentirait pareil. "Oui..." il était d'accord. Reposons-nous. Je sais où on pourrait rester. La plupart des quariens séjournent ici. » Et ils sont partis vers l'hôtel pour se reposer. Pendant qu'ils marchaient, Rol'Naaris marchait lentement et il traînait ses pieds dans la terre jusqu'à ce qu'ils atteignent l'asphalte. Il essayait de rester ensemble et regardait l'autre quarien. "Je suis désolé pour ça. Je n'aurais pas dû faire ça du tout." il a dit sans aucune émotion dans ses paroles. Il ne put plus pleurer et fut tellement éprouvé de son temps au mémorial. Pour une des premières fois aujourd'hui, Rayes a peut-être vraiment souri à la faiblesse de Rol... D'une bonne façon. Non pas pour dire qu'il l'aimait, mais plutôt qu'il semblait qu'il y avait au moins un peu de confiance à venir... même si c'était seulement parce qu'il le voyait faible. "Tout le monde lutte pour garder le contrôle de temps en temps... Tu pleurais quand tu te rappelais la douleur, j'avais bu pour oublier..." Il dit à Rol, le tapotant sur le dos comme il se rappelait l'essaim des défenses. La pensée très minime qu'il vient d'éprouver lui a donné des frissons, mais il a essayé de mettre tout son accent sur la marche vers l'hôtel. Rayes était un peu excité par ça, s'il était sincère avec lui-même. Une place sur Terre principalement utilisée par les Quariens? C'était presque inouï pour Rayes! Quand ils sont finalement arrivés, il était clair que le jour avait drainé leur énergie et leur esprit. Ils ont tous deux reçu une pièce séparée l'un de l'autre en face de l'autre, et à Rayes, il était heureux qu'il fût enfin dans un endroit où il pouvait se reposer. Plus d'inquiétude pour les défenses, certainement plus d'alcool, et ce qui était probablement le meilleur était que, alors qu'ils étaient encore un peu en termes rocheux, il avait rencontré un nouvel allié de Quarian. Et ainsi, après avoir pris les précautions nécessaires, les deux Quariens ont rapidement trouvé la paix dans le sommeil.

Name: Rayes'Xum vas Fowal, Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, Rayes Race: Quarian Class: Engineer Age: 26 Sex: Male Appearance: - Height: 5’5” - Weight: 185lbs Backstory: Rayes'Xum nar Yaron, a Quarian born in 2164, being aboard the Yaron along with his parents and several kin. His father was mainly aboard the Patrol Fleet, while his mother was a researcher focused on the Special Projects arm of the Migrant Fleet. Both were fearful of the health and protection of their child, and as such never dared to expose their child to the world outside of the migrant fleet. They were scared of their son’s curiosity, whom at the time knew relatively nothing of the world and was eager to learn. They did their best to fill that void once their son got his suit by flooding him with information that a young Quarian could understand. And when he wasn’t meant to be studying, often he would wander around the migrant fleet, listening to stories that they loved to tell. Stories of Rannoch, their beloved homeworld which was lost to them due to losing control of the geth, an artificial intelligence that they never intended to create that way. They’d speak of Quarian dancers, and their seemingly lost love for music. Little Rayes would soak in as much information as possible that he could from these stories, even if some of them weren’t actually true. This desire for knowledge helped in his teens, as he focused a majority of his time then into doing what his parents did. From his father, he could study various navigation paths in the galaxy, and to a little further extent ship layouts and the engineering behind them. From his mother, he could further his knowledge of technology and understanding of the geth, something his mother believed that every Quarian should have a base knowledge of, to which most do. Instead of being a fighter, Rayes expertise began to shine in how to handle technology and repair or destroy it, noticing flaws in systems that would otherwise take a more trained eye to catch, and exploiting it. Exploitation came in the form of hacking, which while he was limited to certain objects on the migrant fleet, those he often did stumble across were heavily safeguarded beyond his skill comprehension at the moment, leading him to only want to become more invested in it. These skills would become vital when he could begin on his pilgrimage. Naive, young, and somewhat confident in himself, Rayes didn’t listen to his fellow Quarians when they insisted that he go off towards the Citadel, a place where things would be the least likely to cause him harm or vise versa. They made sure to give him several parting gifts as incentives for him to listen, such as a Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool, various medical stimuli to keep him healthy should he become sick, along with Medi-Gel that a Quarian could use should he ever become injured. But instead of listening to their advice, Rayes felt bold. It was his first true experience away from the Migrant Fleet, and he wanted to make it memorable. The Citadel didn’t seem like a place that would suit him, believing it to be the easy way out of his pilgrimage. Instead, he went to a place that he believed could be exciting, Illium. Oh boy, was in he in for a rough time there. Immediately upon arrival after transferring through several ships, the young Quarian landed in hot water and was thrown into the frying pan. He was easily kidnapped by Asari who had a multitude of ‘indentured servants’ , and thus easily sold to a faction of the Eclipse on Illium due to his prowess with technology, something the Eclipse loved to use and subsequently broke. He was forced into repairing the Eclipse’s weaponry and and technological equipment, acting as a kind of repairman for the criminal organization. And while the situation seemed hopeless as it felt like he was always under constant discrimination and surveillance, he believed something good was bound to happen. And until then, he’d have to endure with the choice he made. The discrimination came from the various Humans and Asari stationed on his section of Illium, who thought of Rayes as a cheap punching bag for their enjoyment. He often found himself having to scan the measly portions he was given, and on several occasions couldn’t eat it due to his body not being compatible with the food. Most likely some sick joke, or maybe they wanted him to get sick. He didn’t know nor care, instead doing his best not to make any sort of scenes. He played the role they wanted him to, a seemingly malleable and easily pushed around slave. A year went by, and the Quarian had not contacted his family to inform them of his pilgrimage. In fact, to the Eclipse, they began to see the usefulness of Rayes. While he had started off small, eventually he had begun to repair the Eclipse mechs, and sometimes was forced to repair damages done to spaceships if he was given the right schematics. And if they were desperate, he’d be escorted to various terminals or infiltration operations, where his hacking skills could be put to good use. They never gave him a gun on these rare occurrences though, believing he would still try to escape if an opportunity arose. And while all was forced labor, at least, in his eyes, it was something that he liked and could vastly improve on. He got to work with weapons and mechs he had never seen before, hack systems that wouldn’t have been available on the Citadel, and even repair some of their ships, all of these encompassing new technology that the Eclipse managed to get their greedy hands on. Working with technology of this caliber wouldn’t have happened on the Citadel, however… He also wouldn’t be in an extremely dreadful situation. He wasn’t going to lie to himself, he was just a pawn, and if they ever felt he wasn’t useful, he knew they would dispose of him. They didn’t watch him as much anymore, but they still treated him like he was just a tool, and as such he was placed into terrible conditions on the off chances he would get proper rest. Often, he found himself questioning the pilgrimage, seeing this more of an eye opener than a proper trip to bring something valuable to his family… Something valuable… Surely the Eclipse, he thought, would have something. Having been in close quarters with them for so long, he had noticed they were lax around him, not being perceived as much of a threat anymore as he’d been around for well over a year now, and he would have to use that to his advantage if he ever wanted to see his home again. He knew he couldn’t beat them in a gunfight, there were simply too many and too skilled for his relatively poor gun expertise. All that time repairing their weapons, and he probably couldn’t even properly handle them himself. Another year, and he missed the Migrant Fleet with all his heart. There was no engine on Illium, only a cage and despair. There was no bond, no loyalty, only grief and deception, and Rayes believed he’d have to use that to his advantage. As they continued to bring him on several operations for his hacking expertise, he began leaving traces that he had been there, and while he would comply with their needs, he also began saving the data for himself. The Eclipse had grown soft around checking his Omni-Tool, as two years of nothing made them feel he was at least somewhat loyal to them. But he had already started to record the technology he worked on, documenting every detail he could about their supposed latest and greatest thing that busted. While it was often not substantial at first, and generally followed with a return to working on something they had planned, eventually he began to steal more, hacking with efficiency only a Quarian could. Surely there’d be some sort of information he could use to escape? A way to send a message? Surely, he felt, someone would find and put together the clues he had left behind... He had learned of awful things that he missed in his absence from some of the information he had kept, such as the citadel being attacked by something called a reaper, the supposed death and revival of a human Spectre named Commander Shepard… It was hard to swallow how much time had past… And how much trust the humans were getting. The ones in the Eclipse were dreadful, and were the most cruel, twisting the stories he had heard from his kin on the Migrant Fleet. Hopefully this Shepard was better, but he was extremely doubtful. A chance of escape came one day as he scoured through some stolen Eclipse files on his omni tool, being allowed to wander the cargo terminal the Eclipse had decided to occupy, only for the silence to be broken upon the sound of gunfire becoming vastly apparent. He noticed Eclipse Gunships in the area, several of which he wondered of if he’d repaired before, only to be shoved to the side by an Eclipse Engineer, forcing Rayes to take cover. There was a conversation at first, but then the gunfire soon continued and Rayes hid as far away as he could, allowing the firefight to pass as it went downward towards the Cargo Terminals, and his former “employers.” He took this opportunity to slowly but surely follow the conflict until the group in front of him took an elevator towards the docks. That elevator was his escape, but an escape towards what? He had no money, no credits to go anywhere… Until, as he wandered in the shadows of Illium, he heard of an information broker who potentially could help him. With all other options gone, and little time to waste before the Eclipse would notice him missing, he hastily made his way towards the supposed broker. He sold all the information he had stolen for a ticket to the citadel, but made sure to keep it for himself as well, and along with several credits for the info. Sure, it was a dangerous gamble to allow her to copy his data, but surprisingly she understood his desire to keep it… and things got better from that day. He had managed to find a place that hired him as a repairman for weapons and technology, and once he had enough credits to fly home, he immediately did so. He had had enough surprises on his pilgrimage to last a lifetime, and they accepted his data on the Eclipse, the technology he had worked on, schematics he recorded, and importantly weapon details, and accepted a role on board the Fowal. His family was astonished by how much he endured, furious that he had not listened to them, but ultimately glad that he had survived. He adapted a much more suitable appearance to commemorate his return from a grim situation, and began working immediately on the Fowal, just months before the reapers return. In this short span, Rayes became known for his improvements to weapons to be used for the fleet and against the Geth, along with his research on potential environmental suit improvements, something that he had become inspired to make due to the harshness of Illium. The Fowal was a ship dedicated to the research of expanding Quarian technology, investigating new weapons and the study of the Geth, an enemy that, once he learned the admiralty board soon declared war on them, Rayes was rather skeptical about it all. He didn’t believe the Geth were necessarily in the wrong for their actions, and while he longed to see the fabled homeworld of Rannoch, destroying something more advanced and sentient than the simple mechs he had repaired seemed… awful. But he knew better than to question his superiors, and at first, it seems the modifications he had worked on seemed to bolster the Quarian’s power against the Geth… Until they accepted Reaper help. But hope wasn’t lost, and while many ships suffered casualties, things started looking up once they learned Commander Shepard would help. A name that Rayes became all too familiar with when he first returned to the Migrant Fleet, having heard of his exploits and helping the Quarian Tali’zora Vas Normandy, someone Rayes slightly remembers growing up around with. With their help, they did the impossible, stepping foot on Rannoch as the Battle for Rannoch began. To Rayes, it was frightening, being inexperienced in combat, but he made up for it with his insights against the Geth, providing support and cover fire, and doing his best to hack the enemy barriers and shields. It felt like forever, but ultimately, it seemed like the Quarian's would win, but instead came an agreement to coexist with the Geth. Rayes was rather pleased with this idea, not only due to how it was peaceful, but also because it would allow him to greatly study the Geth and get information from them while they were still active. While it was fun to study a piece of technology that was broken, studying an active sentient Geth would be amazing. Rayes was not selected to go and join the fight with the reapers, he was instead sent to go and help build the crucible, something he took immense pleasure from upon arrival as they saw his technical prowess as an excellent edition. He helped make great strides into it’s creation, being able to offer suggestions in an environment he never thought he’d see. On Illium, he was treated like scum, a simple object meant to be manipulated, but he here, he was wanted, appreciated even… And, everyone was working together. This wasn't about species or race anymore, it was about survival, and to think, a human had started it all, with the help of an asari prothean expert. Maybe... the Eclipse were just an oddity, just like how some Quarian's were oddities in their own right. So when it was eventually complete and fulfilled it’s purpose, he came home proud that he had helped defeat the reapers in his own way. He helped in the process of colonizing Rannoch, and ultimately in the construction, with the help of the Geth, of upgrading the Quarian Fleet. Currently, Rayes is on Rannoch, studying the reapers with the help of Geth information and looking for a way to utilize the technology that had been scattered across the galaxy when the reapers were annihilated. Maybe, he thought, it could be used to create better protection for the future. The Geth have already helped him make immense strides in Quarian environmental suits, and he believes they can be utilized for much more than their original purposes or what the reapers had for them. Psyche Profile: Rayes is a firm believer that not all situations are hopeless, maintaining the notion that things could always get worse, but the worse can be prevented through hard work and dedication, along with preparation and to know how to endure. A lot of his life has been dedicated to the advancement of technology and the study thereof, regardless of the technology's purpose, and as such, he loves to always be working on some sort of gadget or analyzing data. Even in grim situations, knowing that there is something to observe generally calms his nerves and brings him back to reality. His over-analytical nature often allows him to notice things that many others may not, or on his time on Illium, be able to hastily retrieve and comprehend data types or schematics that he'd never seen before. When it comes to the other galactic species, Rayes is very wary of anyone not Quarian. His time on Illium has made him somewhat distant towards Humans and Asari specifically, as they were the majority of the Eclipse's forces that he was under on Illium. While Commander Shepard's actions has somewhat lessened that hostility, he won't go out of his way to make friends with them. Towards Turians, Rayes always feels that his knowledge of combat is lacking too much to hold a non-awkward conversation, and will often stutter his words or become embarissed if he cannot come up with an answer to their questions. Salarians are the easiest for Rayes to talk to, sticking to science as a main conversation topic. Batarian's are a mixed bag depending on how much Rayes knows of them, but he can sympathize with their hatred towards humans. Rayes hasn't had much experience talking to Drell, and as such, will often act similarly as he does towards Turians. For Asari, the Quarian is suspicious of them, wondering how they could allow one of their own colonies to have anything legal except for murder... Rayes likes to be prepared, and is somewhat saddened by his lack of knowledge in combat situations. His only proficiency in combat is with a pistol, but even that is somewhat limited and rusty. But, he has an eye for spotting technology on the battlefield that he can turn to his advantage, or disabling shield or barriers that an enemy may have. He prefers to provide support, allowing someone else to take the killing shot, and instead setting it up. However, currently he feels he has no time to train, focusing his attention to his love for tech and how to improve it. However, he has recently started to listen to music once more now that the war is over and he is safe; music being a favorable pass time when he was younger. And, now with Geth help, his self confidence and hope for the future has begun to rise. He knows that a lot of Quarian don't trust the Geth, and with good reasons, but he is willing to give them a second chance, as they are giving the Quarians. Not to mention, he slightly loves the idea of sentient AIs being constantly present around him. Specialty: Rayes'Xum was most likely picked due to his outstanding displays of technical prowess and resourcefulness when it comes to technology. Even for things he doesn't know much about, give him time to do research, and he'll be able to fix or hack into it with a breeze. Along with this, he can craft, repair, or install upgrades into existing weapons or starships. Having been one of the fateful Quarians to go and help build the Crucible, his advancements has given him a special place some of the Quarian's hearts. Due to his extensive knowledge in technology and prior experience, Rayes is a pretty damn good hacker if need be, being quick on his feet to solve and bypass securities that are in place in a moments notice or so. While he may not be as deadly as some on the battlefield, he makes up for it with his quick-wit and ability to manipulate the battle in favor for his team. He can help break down enemy defenses and render them helpless for his team to finish off. Currently, he's been working on the side to develop a combat drone to assist him and make up for his poor weapon game, only bringing a pistol to the battlefield, along with his Omni-Tool's blade. Powers/Skills: - Incinerate - Overload - Cryo Blast - Sabotage - Tech Mastery - Weapon construction/upgrades - Hacking Equipment and Resources: - Aldrin Labs Light Onix Armor VI modifications on his envo-suit. - Sirta Foundation Omni-Tool - Arc Pistol Sample Post: "Det kazuat." Rayes whispered under his breath as he followed a human Eclipse mercenary, somewhat curious as to what their next assignment for him was. Last time, it was to repair a simple rifle that hilariously they had managed to break just after receiving it. It didn't take him long at all to repair it, but he wasn't met with praise. Instead, they just decided not to spit into his food, which he was rather thankful for. It meant he'd at least get another meal, measly as it was, to survive instead of having to toss it to the side, not knowing if something as simple as saliva would cause him to become ill and thus useless. He made sure to scan everything that he'd have to consume, glad that they were at least smart enough to know he was a dextro-protein species, yet also surprised they'd go through the effort to get him specific food. Maybe, the thought, he wasn't the only Quarian in this hell hole the Eclipse have made. However, his thoughts were soon cut short as he felt an immense force shove him to the ground, causing the unsuspecting Quarian to fall with as much grace as a dying duck. "You useless scum," He heard someone say, looking up to see it was his escort shouting down at him with a mixture of cockiness and pure hatred, "Get to work and stop staring in the damn clouds! We didn't pay shit just for you to be useless!" In his attempt to recover, the Quarian began to slowly rise to his knees, only to feel a blunt force slam into his stomach, causing him to tense up and fall downward once more. "I said get the hell up!" I was trying that until you kicked me, you bosh'tet... Rayes thought, doing his best to rise to a stand once more as he glared at the mercenary, glad he didn't seem to have the brains to notice. Each passing moment felt tense as he rose, and when he finally recovered from the shock, he noticed in front of him stood a Model 34-A, or YMIR Mech that had obviously seen some damage. The bone white armor it possessed was covered in black spots from explosions and gunfire. It's upper body was heavily damaged, the armor on the chest and arms revealing circuits exposed in the openings. It's head was missing completely, most likely shot off... It wasn't the first time Rayes had to repair one of these, but it was most certainly the first time it was this damaged. But it seems they knew he wasn't a miracle worker, and as he glanced around the room, he noticed there were several tools at his disposal, along with replacement armor and a new head. All it seemed he had to do was fix the mech up, and he could be on his way. A simple job, especially with the resources the Eclipse gave him. Unfortunately, that comfort was cut short upon the realization that he would be closely monitored. If it had been anywhere else, maybe he would have felt happy, but instead, all he could feel was a lingering hatred for his situation. It was as if they had twisted his desires for their own purposes just to save them a quick buck from buying a new one of these killing machines, but alas, he had to if he wanted to live. Or at the very least, postpone the beating he felt would come if he didn't work on it soon. With a defeated sigh, he grabbed the nearest supplies and began to work once more. Notes - Rayes'Xum isn't sure of his sexuality, but has disdain for Humans and Asari. - Occasionally contacts friends he made while working on the Crucible. - He has a fascination for those who can sing or dance. - He'll occasionally dismantle objects for fun, just to remake them. - He'll take notes with his Omni-Tool during conversations or simply record them so that he can review it later and come up with conversation topics.

Ellis s'est réveillée au son d'une jeune femme, demandant à quelqu'un de prendre en charge quelque chose pour elle. Il gémit à haute voix, la tête battante. Ses analgésiques venaient de tirer il y a une demi-heure, et il avait encore trente minutes avant qu'ils ne se déclenchent à nouveau. Il y avait un bruit de claquement dans ses oreilles. Réveillez-vous, les œufs et la bacey. Ta gueule. Mon Dieu, s'il te plaît, ferme-la. Allez, tu t'es sentie pire. Lève-toi comme tu le sais. S'il vous plaît, je vous en supplie, arrêtez. Et que ferez-vous si je ne le fais pas. Ellis n'avait pas de réponse prête. Il était couché sur le dos, suspendu par les deux branches d'un chariot élévateur. Un chariot élévateur familier. Sa peinture jaune était pelée, et il y avait de la rouille sur les dents de l'ascenseur. La suspension grimpait alors qu'il réglait sa position, roulant sur son front avec beaucoup de difficulté. "NÉRO, contrôle des signes vitaux." "Tout le matériel à l'efficacité maximale. Wetware connaissant une augmentation de la pression artérielle, un faible nombre de globules blancs. Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus." "Il faut que je te répare." "Réparation de l'horaire. Impossible de planifier la réparation. Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus." "Tu es le pire, Nero." Ellis a résisté à l'envie de vomir. "Ouh. Frappe-moi avec le delasétron." Son médicament anti-nausées a immédiatement déclenché. Soudain, sa bouche était malsainement sèche, bien que préférable à la maladie. "L'administration." Ellis toussa un soupir et roula du chariot élévateur, atterrissant lourdement sur l'herbe, laissant derrière lui un cercle de pelouse ravagée qui durerait des jours après. Il lut à ses pieds, balançant légèrement, léchant sa bouche sans lèvres avec une langue de papier de sable, maudit son désir d'expérimenter l'alcool. Les quelques secondes suivantes, Ellis s'arrêta, balançant légèrement, une lutte silencieuse pesant sur son âme. Mais on s'est bien amusés. Vous admettez ça? Absolument. Cette ordure extraterrestre sait vraiment faire la fête. Ne dis pas ça. Pourquoi pas? Ils ont lancé un grand shindig. Non, l'autre chose. Ce n'est pas une ordure. Elle est juste... Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Elle est gentille avec moi. C'est tout ce que je peux demander. Combien d'Asari avez-vous tués? Plus d'un, nous le savons. C'était la guerre. Ce sont des ennemis. Et qu'est-ce qui a changé? Expliquez-moi ça. Tu te souviens comment on a été trahis? Vous avez une idée? Ils ont nourri la bête! Ils ont nourri les démons tout ce qu'ils voulaient! Les expériences! Le clonage! L'augmentation! L'INDOCTRINATION! Comment peux-tu t'en sortir? Ils t'ont donné le plus beau cadeau qu'un criminel puisse recevoir, et tu t'es piqué dans leurs facs! Pour la première fois, j'ai perdu la vie. Tu es maléfique. Pas pour longtemps. Je serai bientôt un héros. Je vais jeter mon passé. Et je vais te jeter avec. Tu ne pourrais pas exister sans nous. Tu ne survivras pas. Vous n'allez pas surprendre! J'ai de nouveaux amis maintenant. Je n'ai pas besoin de toi! "Je n'ai plus besoin de toi." Ellis murmura, et trébucha sur les pas, pour chercher son destin. Comme il l'a fait, il se sentait justifié. Pas la façon dont il s'était senti sous le talon de l'homme illusif, mais un sentiment différent. Un sentiment nouveau. Il se sentait comme Gaius Marius, remettant Rome au peuple. Il se sentait comme Alvin York, menant une section d'Allemands capturés de retour au camp. Il se sentait comme Neil Armstrong, se préparant à se jeter dans l'espace sur la première navette habitée. Il se sentait comme l'un des gentils.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANX, JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER JANVIER Phalanx s'est décourbé quand le temps s'est approché, des systèmes tourbillonnant alors qu'il scannait la pièce. Rien de trop ne semblait s'être produit entre les heures où ils résidaient ici. Cependant, il semblait que Ja-Far était toujours en mode sommeil. Le Geth se rapprocha pour placer une main sur l'épaule du batteur, agitant doucement le corps paresseux. Il n'y avait aucun signe d'éveil, à tel point que l'on pouvait penser que le batteur porté était mort. Si ce n'est pas pour les signes de respiration et un rythme cardiaque régulier. Pendant quelques instants, il a réfléchi à la façon de continuer, avant de parvenir à la conclusion, il y avait peu de temps pour se tracasser dans une tentative de réveiller l'organique endormi, donc au lieu de cela il se contentait de le porter. En épluchant les couvertures du batteur, Phalanx s'empare de Ja-Far en crachant ses jambes avec son bras gauche tout en permettant à son haut du corps et à sa tête de se reposer contre ses épaules. En sortant de l'hôtel, la plate-forme Geth a traversé les rues de Londres une fois de plus, en prenant la direction de la désignation. Il y avait beaucoup plus de gens qui erraient autour, composés principalement d'humains. Il a gagné pas mal d'aspects, mais la plupart ont quitté le chemin de la forme de vie synthétique. Pendant un moment, le synthétique s'est arrêté dans sa foulée alors qu'un magasin plus ancien a attiré son attention. En l'examinant un moment, il a pris note qu'il s'agissait de prothèses humaines des temps les plus anciens. Boîtes à musique et horloges grand-père par exemple. Il ne savait pas pourquoi, mais il a fallu un intérêt mineur. Cependant, il n'a pas eu le temps d'explorer en permanence la ville de Londres, alors il a déménagé. Peut-être qu'il devra faire d'autres recherches quand il aura eu du temps libre. Cependant, il s'est arrêté à nouveau à un distributeur automatique qui servait des bouteilles d'eau. Élevant son omni-outil, il a perforé dans les crédits requis pour deux bouteilles. À l'écoute, la machine s'est bourdonnée et a fait tomber deux bouteilles dans son compartiment inférieur. Phalanx a atteint l'intérieur et les a retirés de la machine avant de se déplacer. Arrivé à l'aire d'atterrissage, il attendait que les deux Spectres arrivent. Il s'est demandé combien de temps Ja-Far allait particulièrement dormir et il a réfléchi s'il devait imiter un réveil son de certains organiques semblent utiliser pour se retirer du mode de sommeil. Si quelqu'un était là avant lui, ou est arrivé après, il saluerait avec un ‘Greetings.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

Après les escapades ivre de la veille, Sicaria et Rykarn avaient réussi à se retrouver à l'hôtel et à louer une chambre. Quelque part le long de la ligne, les deux s'étaient tous deux évanouis sur le lit simple, nus et transpirés de choses désagréables qui s'étaient produites en raison d'une combinaison de la libido de Sicaria et de l'alcool dans les deux systèmes. Le lendemain matin, le Turian fut le premier de la paire à se réveiller. Après s'être endormie sur son estomac, elle s'est réveillée avec sa mandibule pressée fermement contre un oreiller. Elle a pris un moment pour ouvrir les yeux, les pupilles se sont serrées à l'extrême en sentant l'ennui d'une migraine familière venir. Avec un gémissement défait, elle s'est rendue au mal de tête imminent qui est habituellement venu avec des gueules de bois, gagnant visiblement comme il l'a frappé. C'était définitivement pire que de se faire tirer dessus, mais elle était un soldat voyou, c'était quelque chose à laquelle elle était habituée maintenant. Même avec la vision du tunnel touchant spécifiquement son œil droit, elle s'est poussée vers le haut et a glissé les jambes sous sa poitrine, laissant les membres glisser sur le côté du lit avant de s'asseoir correctement. Presque comme elle essayait de secouer les boissons de la nuit dernière, elle s'est secoué la tête quelques fois, regrettant l'action immédiatement alors qu'elle sentait son cerveau se caresser pratiquement à l'intérieur de son crâne. Elle planta les deux pieds sur le sol et se leva sur les jambes tremblantes, faisant quelques pas expérimentaux avant de trébucher dans la salle de bains. Il lui a fallu un peu de temps pour y arriver, étant donné qu'elle pouvait à peine marcher, mais elle l'a fait et a commencé la douche dès qu'elle est arrivée, tournant le robinet loin dans le sens contraire des aiguilles d'une montre. En attendant, elle a pris la chance de vérifier son omni-outil, une action qu'elle a regretté très rapidement en voyant des dizaines de messages et des appels manqués de la même personne. Avec un moment de réflexion, elle a inhalé profondément avant d'appuyer sur le bouton pour la rappeler. Il sonna quelques secondes avant que la voix de Vetia Indarian ne réponde. Bonjour?Il y avait un niveau d'ennui dans sa voix qui a montré clairement qu'elle avait été réveillée par l'appel. Hé Vétia, j'ai eu tous tes messages, je voulais juste t'aider. *SICARIA! Je pensais que tu étais mort! Pour l'amour de l'Esprit, vous ne pouvez pas disparaître juste après un combat comme ça! Hé, je suis désolé bébé, j'ai été distrait avec l'après-party. Après la fête? Oh pour l'amour de... qui t'as baisé cette fois et à quel point t'étais saoul? L'un des Krogan de l'équipe, son nom Rykarn. Et j'ai probablement la pire gueule de bois que j'ai eue depuis que Saren est devenu voyou. Attendez, vous avez baisé un Krogan? Sicaria, je ne suis pas sûr que je sois d'accord avec ça. Tu sais que ma mère a été tuée par Bloodpack mercs. Vetia, c'est un type sympa, et il n'est lié à aucun gang. Arrête de t'inquiéter. Sicaria vous n'êtes pas en train de voir le point ici, il aurait pu vous tuer sur place! Tu sais ce que les Krogans ressentent pour les Turians! Tu pourrais être mort en ce moment, c'est une grosse affaire! J'aurais aussi pu me faire tuer dans les tunnels, un museau m'a piqué le bras, ça aurait pu être mon cou ou ma poitrine. Mais je suis vivant, tu es en train de gâcher ça hors de proportion, bébé. Ne m'appelle plus bébé. Vous avez franchi la ligne, Sicaria. J'étais d'accord avec tout le reste, l'enfer j'ai apprécié la plupart de cela, mais un Krogan est la limite! Au revoir, Velinian. Ayez une belle vie! » Avec cela, l'appel a été abandonné, laissant une Sicaria choquée à l'autre bout avec un nouveau vide lui grinçant. Comme elle était pilote automatique à ce moment-là, elle a passé par une routine d'activités du matin, de la douche, à la récupération de son armure et des armes et aller dehors. Son entraînement avait pris le dessus, glacé à l'extérieur, mais un ouragan d'émotions à l'intérieur, devenant quelque chose de si différent de son moi normal, devenant un Turian typique. Avant de le savoir, elle s'est retrouvée à l'écart de l'hôtel et vers le point de rendez-vous, qui était l'un des nombreux postes de police anciens et convertis de Londres. Scotland Yard ou quelque chose comme ça, elle ne pouvait pas se souvenir du nom exact pour le moment, mais l'emplacement n'était pas un problème. Elle a poussé toutes les autres pensées sur le côté alors qu'elle montait les escaliers, fusil tiré à l'approche du site où tout le monde s'était réuni. Franchement, les seuls qui remarqueraient probablement quelque chose d'être avec elle seraient Ja-Far, Rykarn, Phalanx, et peut-être l'un des Spectres s'ils connaissaient bien son profil. Elle a offert peu d'autre qu'une vague à tout le monde avant qu'elle se tienne debout sur le côté, se penchant sur une caisse bien placée et restant étrangement silencieuse.

Name: Sicaria Velinian Race: Turian Class: Sentinel Age: 28 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it. Backstory: Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her. Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move. In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation. Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger? She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born. For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling. When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there. Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere. Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station. They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it. Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later. The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly. Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were. Psyche Profile: Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people. Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later. There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there. Specialty: Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies. Powers/Skills: -Throw - Warp - Lift Grenade - Tech Armor - Overload - Cryo Blast Equipment and Resources: - Turian Cabal Armor - Phaeston - M-11 Wraith - Matched pair of Omni-Blades -Station Contact - Omega -Black Market Access Sample Post: ”Ugh… how drunk was I last night?” ”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.” ”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.” ”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee. One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter. The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth. ”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.” ”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point. Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible. ”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.” ”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh. Notes - Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ "So these are the people I'm protecting this time..." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks. || Vella Calixten Ophelia || ☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ja'Far Balak || ⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Tiberius Adarian || ✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik Skarr || ✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria Vicrinus || ❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.

La demi-heure suivante à trois heures, (Ellis n'a jamais été sûr exactement combien de temps cela a pris), était un flou. Des drones holographiques oranges et bleus ont balayé autour de lui dans une tornade de rêve de fièvre avec une lumière éclatante, des scans vitaux profonds et des bosses autour de son costume. Le analgésique d'Ellis a tiré trois fois en deux minutes, bien au-delà de la DL50 ordinaire pour le produit chimique. Ellis rêvait. Un asari le tenait alors qu'il suffoquait, ôté de sa coquille, exposé, nu, à la surface d'une planète luxuriante. Sans vêtements, peut-être feraux krogan se tenait autour d'eux. Tuchanka? C'est ce qu'Ellis a pensé. Pré-Nuke? Les asari l'ont réconforté. Elle était familière, mais vaguement. Le fusil à côté d'elle. Son armure. C'était comme si la mémoire était brouillée d'une manière ou d'une autre. Ça va aller. Tout va être... FLASH Une lumière de néon rugissait à travers le ciel, la gloire d'un dieu, jetant des déchets à tous en vue. Dans la lumière blanche, trois figures se tenaient, silhouettes contre le néant de la guerre nucléaire. Un turian. Ellis a crié mais à elle il n'avait pas de voix. Il s'est battu pour se tenir debout, mais n'avait pas de membres. Il s'est étouffé et s'est évanoui. Sa peau était partie, brûlée. Les Asari crièrent et s'évanouirent dans la lumière. Le turian était maintenant un homme. Il était grand, fort, commandant. Tu as de la chance qu'on t'ait retrouvé, ou je t'aurais tiré dessus à vue. Le turian est devenu l'homme illusif. Il a jeté sa cigarette dans la bouche d'Ellis. Tout est devenu noir. Avalé dans le noir. Ellis s'est réveillé, s'essoufflant pour respirer, une sueur froide piquant son pseudo-peau, une brûlure glacée dans tous les nerfs. Il était allongé sur un chariot élévateur, une civière de fortune, apparemment, à en juger par les ambulanciers qui le balayaient. Il a jeté un coup d'œil. Ils avaient réparé son genou, mais à peine, probablement en utilisant des schémas redimensionnés d'un YMIR ou d'un mech similaire. Un soudain ZZZZZZZZZHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Il l'a surpris de la droite. Un technicien avec une sorte d'exercice. Un nouveau bras! Blanc et brillant et nouveau! Une petite barre de chargement orange est apparue dans la visière d'Ellis, signalant l'appariement du nouvel appendice. Il s'est terminé rapidement. Le nouveau bras était légèrement plus petit, un peu plus lent, un peu faible. Et c'était blanc. "NÉRO, contrôle du système." Une voix masculine déformée a répondu. « Le daming aux composants centraux a limité mes capacités. Le costume a été équipé d'un bras LOKI mech modifié. Opinion professionnelle : cela suffira. NOTA : Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus. » "Quand à Rome." Il pouvait ressentir un autre mal de tête. Naturellement, ses analgésiques ont encore tiré. "Dis à Vella. Elle est... bonne. Je dois aller au Metro Pee Dee... Nero, allez au Scotland Yard pour moi." Ses derniers mots avant de s'évanouir à nouveau. Il s'est réveillé, encore une fois, toujours allongé sur le chariot élévateur. Sauf maintenant, le chariot élévateur était assis dans l'herbe, près d'un arbre. Les traces ont montré que quelqu'un l'avait poussé vers le haut et simplement laissé là. Ellis regardait autour, toujours immobile. Il faisait nuit. "NÉRO! Il fait noir. Est-ce qu'on l'a manqué?" Le panneau était "Police Métropolitaine". "Les alliés ne sont pas arrivés. Les changements saisonniers tiennent compte du début de la soirée. " Ellis gémit. "Jusqu'à ce qu'ils arrivent?" Au moins, tu n'es pas en retard. "Indéterminé. Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus." Il se tenait debout, étiré le dos, savourant les petites pops qui viennent du stress soulagé, et essaya son nouveau bras, laissant une grande empreinte Ellis-main dans l'arbre, grooves de doigts qui couraient profondément. Il a souri. Il ne connaissait pas bien Londres, et n'était pas particulièrement enclin à explorer. En décidant qu'il ferait mieux de se reposer, il s'est assis et a attendu sur le chariot élévateur.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Ellis a décidé que ce serait le meilleur moment pour quelque chose qu'il avait repoussé, la peur froide s'infiltrant dans son cœur chaque fois qu'il y pensait. "NERO, préparez un message. Pour mon frère." "Enregistrement." "Désactiver les haut-parleurs externes." "Mûr." "Jeb. Ça fait un bail. Comment va le travail? Oh, c'est idiot. Jeb, tu as le droit d'avoir honte de moi. Vous avez le droit de me haïr pour ce que je suis devenu, qui j'ai suivi et en quoi j'ai cru. Je crois que j'avais peut-être tort. À propos de tout ça. J'ai rencontré des gens. Les non-humains. Ils m'ont montré de la gentillesse et du courage. Je n'ai jamais vu ça avant. Pas comme ça. Dommage, oui. Respect dans leur peur, oui. Mais jamais comme ça. Une femme d'Asari m'a acheté à boire hier soir. Je suis allée dans des discothèques avec elle et ses amis. Je n'avais jamais eu d'amis. Pas comme ça. J'ai rejoint une force de l'Alliance, une équipe de soldats de la paix. Ils sont dirigés par un Turian. Il est... Pardonneur, pour le moins. Je ne méritais pas d'en faire partie. Je pensais que c'était le contraire. Le message était si secret, j'étais sûr qu'il était lié à un assassinat ou une sorte de terrorisme, ou, putain, je ne sais même pas. Parle-lui du Krogan. Il y a aussi deux Krogans dans l'équipe. Ils ne sont rien comme on m'a toujours dit. Ils sont gentils, ils sont compréhensifs, et surtout, ils ont une sorte de... sagesse que je ne peux ignorer. Parle-lui des défenses. Le Cerberus mech. La bataille. Je... Je voulais les impressionner. J'ai fini par me lancer dans plus d'ennuis que je ne pouvais supporter. Nous avons combattu Husks hier, Jeb. J'ai combattu Husks. Je ne les avais jamais vus comme ça. Ils étaient si... agressifs. Je ne les avais jamais vus à l'extérieur des réservoirs qu'on gardait dans les labos. Je n'ai jamais réalisé à quel point... ils étaient terrifiants, sans fin, sans espoir et inarrêtables. » Les larmes se sont glissées, piquant les yeux, pour être absorbées dans l'aérogel qui tenait son corps à flot. "Nous les avons envoyés dans des colonies civiles, Jeb. Nous avons endoctriné des enfants. Nous avons tué des innocents juste parce que nous avions le pouvoir. Maintenant, je comprends. Maintenant, j'ai vu nos œuvres se retourner contre moi." Ellis s'appuyait contre la rampe devant les marches de la gare, vers le monde, une masse silencieuse de métal noir avec une rotule blanche et un bras, un panda de sortes. À l'intérieur, il a sangloté sur l'enregistrement. "Nous étions des monstres, Jeb nous étions des monstres... Tout ce que je voulais, c'était une vie normale. Je voulais juste récupérer ma chance. Je n'ai jamais voulu ça. Je ne voulais jamais ça, Jeb. Il faut que tu le saches! Il le faut! Qu'est-ce que... Je ne sais pas pourquoi... S'il te plaît, pardonne-moi, Jeb. Tu es mon frère. Tu me manques." Ses sanglots étouffent, et il reprend son sang-froid, lentement mais sûrement. "Fin de l'enregistrement. Envoie un message." "Transmettre avec succès. Reçu avec succès." Une Turienne s'est approchée, les bras croisés et un regard sur son visage comme elle était vaguement dégoûtée de ce qu'elle avait trouvé, demandant à propos de Partinax et Anderson, s'identifiant comme un médecin. "NERO, réactive la sortie audio externe. Volume à douze pour cent." Puis il s'est adressé au nouveau venu. "Ils ne sont pas encore là. Ils devraient être bientôt." Il a dit, clairement, si un peu court. Il se tourna vers le chariot élévateur, et, doucement, tendrement, souleva Vella des genoux de son amie. Il a porté les marches, et dans la gare, d'attendre à l'aire d'atterrissage avec elle pour le reste de l'équipe, chapeau sorcier et cape coulant dans la brise. Tu ferais mieux de laver ta carapace quand tu auras fini. Ellis n'a pas répondu.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Les Misaventures d'Ellis & Vella! Une soirée à Londres! Ellis s'est gratté à un peu de peinture jaune sur le châssis du chariot élévateur, juste au-dessus du pneu avant gauche. Les ressorts étaient vieux et creusaient sous son poids. Les puits de roue ont été marqués et rouillés depuis des années, peut-être des décennies d'utilisation. Les dents de fourche gémissaient alors qu'on réglait sa place assise. Il entendait des voix. Un, celui d'une femme. L'autre était la voix d'un Krogan. Il a envisagé de s'approcher, puis a décidé de s'y opposer. Mieux vaut ne pas les déranger. Des grillons criaient dans les buissons à proximité. Le ciel était teinté de stries de violet et d'orange. Le monde, serein. Paix. Si calme. Le silence est tout simplement du bruit que vous ne remarquez pas. Non, le silence n'est rien. C'est le son des pensées corrosives. C'est le bruit de la dépression. Le bruit de trahison. Le son de 'rien à gauche'. Le silence doit être notre chanson. Il a fléchi sa nouvelle main. C'était un peu plus maladroit, mais ça le ferait. Il s'est demandé s'il devait ou non le faire peindre, pour correspondre. Il a décidé de s'y opposer et s'est demandé ce que faisait le reste du groupe. Il se demandait quand ils arriveraient. Il s'est demandé combien de temps il allait attendre. Il se demandait comment il s'inscrivait. Il se demande combien de temps il faudra jusqu'à ce que les Krogans demandent à l'humanité de trahir le conseil. Il se demande si Cerberus répondra à l'appel. Il se demandait s'ils allaient essayer de le recruter à nouveau. Il s'est demandé s'il réenrôlerait. Surtout, il se demandait où se trouvait sa colère. Il avait été remplacé, par une solennité pensive qu'il ne pouvait pas tracer. Une larme courut de l'œil, s'imprégnant dans l'aérogel poreux qui le retenait, et il tenta de l'essuyer, frappant sa nouvelle main contre sa visière, oubliant complètement son état pendant un moment. Il a levé les yeux. Nuages roulés paresseusement, peints en glorieuses tonalités de rose et de rouge, teintes de bleu et de violet, flottants, complaisants, regardant le monde passer. Oh, comme il voulait qu'il soit un nuage. Comme il voulait être rien de plus qu'une vapeur sans poids, pas plus capable d'une pensée intelligente qu'une pierre. Si c'était le cas, ces pensées ne le frapperaient plus. Il pensait à Vella, les Asari qui l'avaient protégé. Pourquoi? Pourquoi elle... Pourquoi ne l'aurait-elle pas fait? Elle est entraînée à défendre les faibles. Mais je suis un démon pour eux... un monstre. Ils ne se trompent pas. Vous avez une mauvaise réputation. Si tu voulais juste... Ellis a frappé sa nouvelle main vers le bas sur sa cuisse, assez dur pour ressentir les vibrations de l'impact. La noctuelle sous l'eau s'est éclaboussée comme une boule d'eau. Si vous pouviez juste garder votre âme plus souvent, ils auraient moins à craindre. Vous avez peut-être raison. Nous avons toujours raison. Il soupirait. Tous les autres célébraient sans aucun doute la récente victoire. Il est probable qu'il partage des boissons, peut-être même des danses, qu'il parte pour de beaux dîners, qu'il se détende avant la prochaine opération... Ellis ne pouvait rien faire de tout ça. Peut-être aussi au moins profiter de vous-- Comment ça? Ne nous demandez pas. Frappez vos analgésiques, mug un touriste, IV un sac de tequila, faites quelque chose. Pour l'amour de Dieu, tu me fais chier. Ellis avait au moins un petit stockage de analgésiques plus anciens, en particulier des opioïdes. C'est marrant, non? N'importe quoi est amusant si vous l'utilisez correctement. Ça ne semble pas vrai. Néanmoins, « NERO, activez le supplément de douleur exotique. » Il s'est balancé quand le piston est tombé. S'il avait pu se voir, il aurait vu ses yeux se composer et sa bouche s'ouvrir. Parce qu'il ne pouvait pas, il a demandé à Nero. "Votre apparence suggère une intoxication alcoolique. Recommander un protocole furtif pour éviter l'application de la loi." "La loi... l'application de la loi?" Ellis a craqué, toujours paresseux à partir de l'injection initiale. « L'intoxication du public est actuellement inscrite à la rubrique Délit de niveau 2, au-dessous de l'agression aggravée et de la rupture et de l'entrée. » "Fais chier!" Il avait complètement oublié qu'il était juste devant le poste de police. Il l'avait oublié jusqu'à ce qu'un officier en uniforme passe, probablement en rentrant du travail. Ellis a paniqué, et a renversé sur le côté du chariot élévateur, heureusement caché derrière lui, malheureusement, sous l'angle parfait pour qu'il ne puisse plus se relever. L'officier ne semblait pas le remarquer. "Recommander la norme Cerberus Extraction Protocol." "On ne travaille même pas pour eux!" "Recommander la modification de la mémoire logicielle. Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus." "Quoi--" «Composants clés endommagés. Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus." "NERO, qu'est-ce que..." "Réinitialisez." Ellis gémit alors que le sang se précipitait vers sa tête. Cela n'a servi qu'à augmenter sa tingline. "Greetings, Operative. Je suis NERO, Cerberus Virtual Intelligence, système d'exploitation à distance désigné par le réseau, désignation numérique- UN-QUATRIÈME-CINQ-SIX-THREE-" -- Oui, oui, oui, comment puis-je me lever? "Recommander la norme Cerberus Extraction Protocol." Ellis gémit. * Vous avez maintenant vingt-quatre heures pour mettre vos affaires en ordre. Dites au revoir à vos proches, rassemblez vos affaires, réglez des onglets. Après ces vingt-quatre heures, nous voulons vous voir ici. Vella se promenait à travers le métro obscurci sur le chemin du retour à la surface, en passant par les débris ruinés et les longs couloirs vides et échouants du vieux métro de Londres; son apôtre Assault Rifle s'accrochait magnétiquement à sa plaque thoracique et son sac à bandoulière se plongeait sur son épaule. Tout au sujet de la scène obscurcie, des lumières clignotantes, du nuage de poussière rempli de tunnels et des bruits lointains, échouants, suggérerait une humeur flippante; surtout après qu'elle venait de se battre contre les vraies légions des damnés comme ils avaient inondé de l'installation souterraine cachée de Cerberus dans une marée infinie d'horreur pseudo-organique-synthétique. Pourtant, les Asari ne se sentaient ni effrayés ni seuls. En fait, elle s'est sentie soulagée. Chaque pas qu'elle a fait à travers le sol ruiné ou les anciennes piscines d'eau était presque un petit saut. Elle s'est sentie exaltée, excitée! Ça faisait des mois qu'elle n'avait pas senti ça vivant! Ses muscles ont souffert après le bref mais intense engagement, mais cela n'a rien fait pour dissuader son humeur brillante alors qu'elle a failli sauter dans les tunnels de tramway obscurcis! "Tu l'as fait! Tu as fait le défi! Ils t'ont accepté! C'est toi qui es là!" L'idée de rejoindre un spectre sur une aventure passionnante à travers les zones les plus dangereuses et exotiques de l'espace a été un rêve venu à travers, des milliers de quêtes possibles et des héroïques inondés dans son esprit! Elle rencontrerait de nouvelles personnes passionnantes! Face à des menaces néfastes et dangereuses que la plupart des galaxies ne connaîtraient jamais! Elle serait à l'avant-garde des questions galactiques, au centre de l'action ; jouer avec les batailles et les intrigues historiques qui affecteraient le paysage galactique pour les années à venir! Alors qu'elle courait dans les derniers escaliers du métro et dans la rue Baker, Vella s'élançait immédiatement sur son omni-tool, tapant rapidement en un seul message : "J'ai le boulot!" "... " "... " Les secondes sont passées. Alors, quelques minutes. Vella avait enlevé son casque d'argent, et visiblement levé un sourcil alors qu'elle se tenait seule sous la pluie, regardant son omni-tool. Elle aurait attendu quelques réponses à l'heure actuelle, mais elle était étranglée omnisilente. "Qu'est-ce qui se passe avec eux?" Les yeux de Vella se rétrécissaient, alors qu'elle commençait à faire un pas vers la route des pluies à l'extérieur du métro. Cependant, comme Vella avait à peine réussi à soulever une botte d'argent sur la route principale, son instinct l'a immédiatement jetée à l'envers alors qu'elle entendait le bruit d'une puissante poussée vers sa gauche! WRZOOOM! L'Asari a à peine eu le temps de se jeter et de tomber sur son cul comme un gros hover-bus à deux étages rouge vif juste zoomé de sa gauche, en venant à un arrêt brusque car il a violemment frappé sur une poubelle et décapité une bouche d'incendie! "BON"! Vella s'est exclamée, s'étant soudainement battue pour vérifier si elle était encore en un seul morceau avant de regarder le bus à deux étages actuellement garé devant elle. "Voyez où vous conduisez, vous êtes!" "CONGRATULATIONS, SIS!" Soudain, elle entendit la voix familière de Sila, tandis que son compagnon Asari Sentinel devenait visible lorsque les portes du bus s'ouvraient; révélant un Asari bleu vif, légèrement violet teinté assis derrière la roue du conducteur; et trois autres têtes bleues regardant du côté du bus, comme Vella reconnut rapidement Atharia, Lithi et Jovalitha-ri, tous de son peloton. "... "Sila?" Vella a dit, momentanément flabbergasted tandis qu'elle regardait autour pour analyser le véhicule. "Attendez, où avez-vous eu... " "Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Monte dans le bus!" Lithi s'est soudainement exclamé. "Pas le temps d'expliquer!" Sila a continué. Vella les regarda simplement un moment, jusqu'à ce qu'elle entende soudain des sirènes au loin. "Oh shi,-" Sans attendre une seconde de plus, Vella se lança en charge alors qu'elle se précipitait dans le bus, son casque dans une main et son sac à bandoulière dans l'autre alors qu'elle tombait sur le sol à son arrivée! Sila n'a même pas attendu que Vella se rende dans le bus avant qu'elle n'adopte le paddle et que les systèmes de propulsion du bus à deux étages entrent en action, et le bus s'est envolé! * Ellis s'est bercé les pouces du mieux qu'il pouvait. L'une de ses jambes était coincée entre les griffes du chariot élévateur, tandis que l'ascenseur lui-même était assez bas pour appuyer sur la poitrine d'Ellis, le retenant sur le dos comme un cafard retourné. C'est la soirée la plus ennuyeuse après une journée très excitante. Arrête de pleurnicher, au moins personne ne t'embête. Sauf moi, je m'ennuie. Ne nous blâmez pas pour vos problèmes. On n'est pas tous "nous"? À toi de nous le dire. Le ciel s'obscurcit lentement, l'éclat rouge devenant violet, le rose devenant rouge, les stries jaunes se transformant en un orangé sanguin. Les criquets grandissent plus fort, et les sons de la ville animée s'élèvent à son sommet lorsque les streetlams s'activent, et la vie nocturne s'éveille. * Il avait fallu quelques manœuvres, mais heureusement ils avaient échappé à la police poursuivante. Bien que Sila ait été l'un des meilleurs pilotes de la Division de Lumière, elle a quand même réussi à surpasser la voiture de police dans un bus rouge vif à deux étages avec une manutention presque non existante et un minimum de dommages collatéraux! Vella, d'un autre côté; au milieu d'être ballotté dans le dos du bus à deux étages dans la chasse sauvage; avait été aspergé de questions de plus de deux douzaines d'autres Asari dans le bus, comme ils l'avaient barraguée avec des questions sur la soi-disant "entrevue d'emploi"! "Tu devais tuer quelqu'un?" "Uh, oui! En quelque sorte. Ils étaient déjà morts." "Avez-vous eu un bon regard sur le spectre? Est-ce qu'il avait raison?" "Si vous êtes dans les balances..." "Avez-vous obtenu une nouvelle UNIFORME? Est-ce que je peux le voir? "Est-ce que c'est vrai que vous avez la loi maintenant?" "Eh bien..." "Allez, les filles!" Sila criait soudain, se retournant pour regarder en arrière le reste de la foule bleue autour de Vella comme elle a donné le regard de Vella coy. « Tout d'abord, cela nécessite une vraie CÉLÉBRATION pour Vella! » Elle a dit avec un sourire malchanceux sur ses lèvres. « Cependant, pour cela, VOUS allez avoir besoin d'une douche et de moins de vêtements! Nous ne pouvons pas faire la fête en pleine armure de combat, et si votre histoire est à moitié vraie, ces cuirs Commando sont probablement puants! Donc pour cela, nous allons d'abord aller au sol, et ensuite, nous conquérons Londres! » * Il y avait eu peu d'objections au plan de Sila alors qu'ils retournaient vers leur hôtel, d'autant plus qu'il a donné à Vella une chance d'obtenir une douche très nécessaire. Dites ce que vous voulez sur la simplicité de tout, rien n'a fait une douche se sentir mieux que juste avoir tué quelques centaines de balles dans une bataille épique pour sauver Londres! Sila et les autres filles avaient déjà emballé ses affaires pour elle, ce qui signifiait que Vella n'avait qu'à s'habiller. Son choix pour cette soirée serait un haut de réservoir de taille inférieure sous une veste à col élevé, et un pantalon serré pourpre profond. En termes de modestie, il la laissait encore loin devant que certaines de ses sœurs, mais elle avait toujours aimé aller avec les couleurs les plus clignotantes! Il leur avait fallu un certain temps pour quitter l'hôtel, cependant, comme une Lithi déjà tipy avait fait sa mission personnelle de l'obtenir avec un Salarien particulier dans le bar de l'hôtel, en décidant de recruter tout le peloton pour la soutenir. Cependant, après l'arrivée de la sécurité de l'hôtel, et l'évasion soudaine du Salarien, le peloton avait finalement réussi à revenir dans le bus alors qu'ils s'aventuraient vers le centre de Londres! Ellis s'allonge, regarde le ciel sombre, réfléchit aux événements de la journée. Il s'était réveillé, avait confirmé la date, l'heure et l'emplacement d'un mystérieux signal de transpondeur, avait répondu à ce signal et avait été recruté par Spectres. Par la suite, il fut immédiatement ordonné dans sa première mission pour ces Spectacles. Pendant la mission, il a été paralysé. Entre temps et maintenant, ses membres brisés avaient été réparés, et maintenant, il était couché sous le soleil couchant, dans un chariot élévateur Full Nelson. Ça ne peut pas empirer. Ce n'est tout simplement pas possible. Tout est possible. Le bruit d'un moteur et la lueur des phares s'approchaient rapidement. Ellis n'a eu que le temps de penser : Je ne suis même pas sur la route... CRÉDIT * "Regardez, là-haut! C'est une énorme horloge! Pourquoi ont-ils construit ça?" Lithi s'est exclamé, en pointant par une fenêtre. "Quoi? Naaahhhh, c'est assez petit pour être honnête... » Vella commente, en regardant la grande horloge qui domine la majeure partie du paysage urbain alors qu'ils passaient le pont. "Nous avons besoin d'y aller!" "Nooooooo! C'est pas vrai! Nous avons déjà décidé de visiter ce Night Club Stylonix! » Atharia interjectait, se penchant soudain vers Sila ; son sommet déjà minimaliste menaçant d'éclater aux coutures alors qu'elle montait son omni-outil à côté du visage de Sila. "Rendez-vous dans la rue Victoria, et nous y arriverons!" "Non! Votre navigation craint, il suffit d'utiliser le GPS! Ici, j'ai téléchargé cette omni-app! » Lithi a dit, presque se poser sur Atharia alors qu'elle a apporté son propre omni-outil en face de Sila, presque le presser contre son visage comme une voix virtuelle sonné dans tout le devant du bus. "Greetings, je suis A23P, votre VI pour les aventures londoniennes. Si vous aviez une destination," "Dammit, je le sors de mon visage! Je peux à peine voir! » Sila s'est plainte, essayant de regarder en arrière sur la voie à suivre. "Mais j'ai payé 20 crédits pour ça! Ça marche, fais-moi confiance!" Lithi s'écria, comme Vella se penchait derrière les deux. "Hé, peut-être qu'on devrait... " KZHOOOOM! Ellis rugissait, "WWWHHHHHYYYYYYYYY!" C'est pas vrai!* Le son du système d'arrêt d'urgence du moteur de vol stationnaire est venu de nulle part, car Vella, Lithi et Atharia se sont tous retrouvés la tête lancée en premier dans le pare-brise alors que le double-decker vient de frapper l'arrière d'un chariot élévateur; Sila étant la seule à l'avant portant une ceinture de sécurité! "Owwhhh!" Lithhi et Atharia se plaignaient, Vella ayant eu la chance d'atterrir sur les deux, mais son visage était encore beaucoup plâtré à l'intérieur du pare-brise en regardant vers le bas. "Je pense qu'on a frappé... quelque chose." Elle a dit, ses yeux violets s'élargissant soudainement en regardant vers le bas un chariot élévateur incliné, et une grande, heavy metal bashing face d'abord dans le sol. "Est-ce que ça pourrait être... "Ellis?" Ellis se tenait debout, les articulations creusaient, les servos pleurnichaient. "NÉRO! Contrôle du système!" "Système fonctionnel, opérateur. Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus." Imbécile. Nero, passez en mode haut-parleur. Coucou! Toi là-haut! Tu m'as écrasée!" Il s'approcha lentement, un pied après l'autre s'enfonce dans l'herbe douce. Une main coiffée, instinctivement prête à tirer une arme qui n'était même pas là. "J'exige que vous quittiez votre véhicule!" "Ellis! C'est mon nouveau coéquipier! » S'est exclamé, se déplaçant du pare-brise. "Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" "Tu n'as jamais dit qu'il était aussi gros!" Vella s'était déjà jetée sur le côté, se poussant déjà au-dessus d'une Sila qui se plaignait alors qu'elle ouvrait la fenêtre latérale pour sortir sa tête bleue, agitant Ellis avec un grand sourire! "Ellis! C'est moi, Vel!" Elle a dit de lui faire sourire! » "Je me fiche d'Ellis, dégage ton cul de mon visage!" Sila s'est plainte en essayant de ramener Vella dans le bus, car Vella a soudainement disparu! "Vell... "Je ne sais pas." Les épaules d'Ellis sont tombées. "Quoi? Pourquoi as-tu... Le bus... Quoi?" Ellis est monté jusqu'à la porte, et a essayé de saisir la porte, frappant accidentellement à travers le verre. "Casse-toi." "Mon Dieu!" Sila s'écria, sonnant comme si une mère venait de voir son enfant le plus cher tomber comme Ellis faisait rapidement un trou à travers la porte en métal et en verre. "Salut, Ellis! Vella s'écria d'où elle s'assit au-dessous de Sila, en agitant contre lui ; comme cinq autres têtes bleues se penchèrent à Ellis avec une profonde curiosité! Ellis leva la main. "Désolé, nouveau bras." Il était nerveux. C'était beaucoup d'extraterrestres. Beaucoup du même extraterrestre. Lequel était Vella? Lesquels n'étaient pas? « Tout le monde, dites bonjour à Ellis! C'est mon nouveau coéquipier! » Vella s'est vite expliquée quand elle s'est relevée de ses pieds, car soudain plus d'une demi-douzaine de grands yeux regardent Ellis avec une curiosité éclatante! "Dis-moi WHAAAT?" -- Est-il N7? "Oi, Ellie! Que pensez-vous de Vel?" C'est ton costume? Où as-tu acheté ça?" "Uhhh, monsieur..." Soudain, la voix en question retentit comme un employé de police au hasard était sorti du poste, marchant prudemment vers Ellis avec un regard d'inquiétude sur son visage. "Ça va, monsieur? Cet accident avait l'air douloureux! » C'est le fuzz! Ellis a sauté, franchement, flippant. Il a imaginé que le flic lui lisait ses droits. Il a pensé à manquer la mission parce qu'il était en prison. Il pensait être condamné à une prison. Il imaginait un juge qui le condamnait à un dur labeur, ou pire, à l'isolement. Il a paniqué. Cours! Ellis a frappé son poing à travers la porte, et a pris la prise du cadre, tirant fort. "Open the door!" La porte s'est effondrée et s'est cassée, en répandant du verre sur son armure. Il l'a poussé de côté et pressé dans le bus, pliant le cadre. "Allez! Allez! Allez! » "Oh non! Cela ne va pas au travail!" "Il est trop fat!" "Je ne suis pas paumé! C'est le poids du métal!" "Le toit! Le toit! Emmenez-le sur le toit!" Vella a appelé comme elle l'a signalé à Ellis. Dire qu'Ellis était à l'intérieur ou en entrant dans le bus serait un mauvais nom, car la mech surdimensionnée qui était Ellis était plus semblable à celle d'une grosse boule de métal à mi-chemin enterrée dans le côté du véhicule, ce qui a causé l'inclinaison latérale de tout le véhicule de vol stationnaire! Pendant tout ce temps, le visage du policier était un visage d'horreur absolue alors qu'il regardait le spectacle. L'une des fenêtres arrière de l'autobus s'ouvrit, révélant un Asari vêtu d'une « arme » noire N7 mal reproduite et extrêmement salope, le prix toujours visible à l'arrière de son col, et agitant le greffier de la police. "NON TEMPS D'EXPLAINE! C'est une urgence" Le N7 habillé Asari nommé Ophélia a appelé de derrière son casque complet. "Nous devons sauver la galaxie - allez-y!" "Conduisez!" Lithi s'est exclamé, comme Sila une fois de plus sur le sol de la pédale! "Mettons-le sur le toit!" Vella a appelé, comme tout à coup Ellis pouvait sentir un champ biotique puissant entourer son corps comme plus de quatre différents Asari, y compris Vella, juste l'a expulsé de l'autobus avec leur biotique, le faisant planer en l'air juste à côté de l'autobus qu'il a conduit! Cependant, avant qu'ils ne puissent le déplacer plus loin, Ellis s'écraserait dans un panneau STOP pendant que le bus roulait, ainsi que déchirer le toit d'un arrêt de bus avant que Vella et ses pairs puissent le soulever en l'air et jeter Ellis sur le toit ouvert sur le dessus du double-decker, tandis que huit autres Asari sur le dessus du bus regardaient avec de grands yeux de surprise, avant d'applaudir soudainement! Ellis s'emparait de la rampe alors que le bus s'occupait d'aller et retour, son élan à la fois rapide et furieux. Nero interjecté, "Recommander une position plus stable, Operative." "LUI-HOI! C'est toi qui dois y aller!" "Oui, nous avons notre propre mech maintenant!" L'un des Asari se penchait vers l'avant pour placer un chapeau de sorcier trop large de 1 dollar sur la tête d'Ellis, tandis qu'un autre creusait dans une boîte Cryo-Ammo réutilisée pour ramasser une bouteille de bière parfaitement refroidie qu'elle lui a jetée! "CATCH!" Malgré son malaise croissant à être entouré par un millier d'Asari identiques, Ellis a attrapé la bouteille pendant qu'elle filait dans l'air, la boisson à l'intérieur sans doute secoué au-delà du point de boire. Ellis n'était pas sûr de ce qu'il fallait en faire. "NERO, puis-je..." Il a lutté avec son libellé. "Puis-je connecter ça?" "La livraison intraveineuse est dangereuse. Recommander d'attacher au Système de Nourriture." Ellis soupirait. Ce ne serait pas exactement comme boire, mais ça passerait toujours par son estomac, son foie et ses reins. Eh bien, l'estomac, le foie et les filtres, de toute façon. -- Comment faisons-nous cela? La ville s'est balayée dans un flou de lumières et de sons. Le bavardage des Asari environnants était presque blanc, par la rapidité avec laquelle ils parlaient. "Recommander l'introduction dans le système d'origine à travers une seringue externe." Ellis regarda autour de lui les cris, les rires, les cris d'Asari, en décidant que, certainement, l'un d'eux aurait une seringue vide. "Et on pourrait d'abord rechercher des toxines?" "Début du scan. Composition sûre. Les toxines potentielles comprennent l'alcool éthylique, le gluten de blé et le méthane. "Quoi? Ce ne sont pas des toxines-" "Redéfinir." "Volume externe, en hausse de douze pour cent- j'ai besoin d'une seringue!" Il a appelé. Cela marquerait sa première fois même en découvrant qu'il était capable d'utiliser des boissons alcoolisées. Bien sûr, il ne serait pas vraiment goûté, comme il serait absorbé directement dans sa doublure d'estomac, mais comme un humain a dit un jour, « Drunk est ivre ». "Est-il sûr de mélanger la bière avec Exotic Painkiller un-point-deux?" "Non recommandé." -- Mais est-ce dangereux? "Non recommandé." Ellis pesait ses options. D'un côté, une nuit dans la ville semblait presque sacrée sans la consommation d'alcool. De l'autre côté, il pourrait rendre Ellis malade, même endommager son système immunitaire au-delà de repai- "Faites chier. Quelqu'un a une seringue?" "Une seringue?" La question souleva rapidement un mélange à la fois d'aspects amusés et curieux puisque six des asari proches arrêtèrent presque immédiatement leur bavardage de regarder uniquement sur Ellis au milieu des sièges brisés et des planchers métalliques pliés du bus ouvert. "Attendez, Elli est un medi de combat! C'est Elli! Vous êtes là? "Qui a besoin d'un docteur?" Une Asari bleue plus profonde avec de longs tatouages violets sur son visage répondrait soudainement à l'appel alors qu'elle venait se lever derrière la petite foule rassemblée autour d'Ellis, portant un bikini qui ressemblait à une tenue d'infirmière salope ; ou était-ce une tenue d'infirmière salope qui ressemblait à un bikini? Quoi qu'il en soit, elle est venue porter une demi-bouteille de vin vide d'une main, et un gros kit médical en plastique rouge dans son autre main! "Elli est sur place! Quelle est l'urgence? "Le robot humain de Vella a besoin d'alcool mais manque de bouche!" Le médecin de combat Asari appelé "Ellie" s'avança et passa devant ses soeurs. Mais lorsqu'elle vit Ellis, son expression joviale et pointue allait soudainement se transformer en une expression de concentration intense, alors que les yeux d'Ellie se rétrécissaient sur le mech actuellement assis à l'avant du pont supérieur dans le bus. Ses yeux se déplaceraient à travers Ellis comme si elle prenait des détails de mille minutes en tout, sauf quelques secondes, une curiosité professionnelle intense semble avoir réussi à retarder son ivresse. "Une seringue!" Elle s'est brusquement cassé les doigts avant que l'un des Asari derrière elle ne puisse même s'infiltrer. "J'espère que tout le monde s'amuse ici?" "Ellis?" Vella demanda alors que l'Asari montait l'escalier étroit jusqu'au sommet du bus à deux étages, seulement pour regarder à l'étage supérieur pour voir le médecin de combat 'Ellie', debout au-dessus d'Ellis avec une énorme seringue qu'elle avait apparemment produite de nulle part; et une lueur folle brillait dans ses yeux! "Celui-ci est-il assez grand?" "Uhm... "Ellis?" Vella a demandé avec prudence, en notant comment la seringue en question était littéralement considérée comme grande même selon les normes de Krogan! S'il y avait quelqu'un en vue qui avait la trypanophobie, ça aurait pu se transformer en histoire d'horreur... Ellis a ri, bizarrement, un rire de rire. Pour la sixième fois seulement, il s'est amusé, bien qu'il ait été entouré d'étrangers. "Ça va faire!" Ellis a arraché la seringue et claqué l'aiguille dans la capsule. En appuyant sur un bouton pour activer le piston, il regarda la petite fenêtre comme elle remplissait de bière. C'est une mauvaise idée. Ta gueule. Tu m'as déjà perdu un bras. On t'a déjà perdu un bras. Très bien. 'Nous'. "NÉRO, ajout d'un nouveau supplément alimentaire." "Ouvrir le supplément bâbord deux." La cuirasse d'Ellis s'est ouverte avec le sifflement de l'air pressurisé, exposant trois joints caoutchoutés, chacun avec une petite ouverture au centre pour l'aiguille qui a rempli les nutriments d'Ellis, les médicaments, et Omni-Gel. Les joints centraux s'ouvrent, et Ellis insère la seringue. "Voilà... une expérience." Il a frappé le piston, et rapidement est tombé par-dessus que Sila a fait une droite nette. Alors qu'il était couché sur le plancher du bus pendant que les Asari chiaient tout autour de lui, plein de rires et de cris d'excitation, il s'est rendu compte qu'il se sentait inclus. Pas comme si c'était sous Cerberus, et pas comme si c'était sous les nouveaux Spectres. Un de ses nouveaux compagnons a giflé sa coquille deux fois, demandant s'il allait bien. Il agita une main, oubliant sa force, et laissant une méchante bosse dans la rampe quand il l'utilisa pour le soutien. La faible tolérance à l'alcool d'Ellis était d'ordinaire le moindre de ses soucis. Mais en ce moment, avec son BAC à 0.04 d'une seule bière de douze onces, il se profilait comme un monstre. Sa vision était floue, et ses compétences motrices maladroites, effets secondaires que le NERO aurait pu identifier comme étant une synergie entre les médicaments opioïdes et l'alcool éthylique. N'ayant jamais connu l'ivresse auparavant, Ellis attribua tous ses symptômes à l'alcool, gloriant sur Dieu pour avoir découvert une solution à ce plus ancien des passe-temps. Ellie l'a frappé sur l'épaule. Il commençait à perdre certains de ses préjugés contre les Asari. Il avait toujours pensé qu'ils étaient arrogants, qu'ils se considéraient comme supérieurs, pour leur longue vie et leur statut social galactique. Il a regardé Ellie. Elle tirait une autre bière, ayant utilisé son outil Omni pour faire fondre un trou dans le fond de la bouteille. Je dois apprendre à reproduire ça. Si toute l'émulation ne te tue pas d'abord. Il a regardé autour de lui, à tous ses nouveaux amis peu vêtus. Les deux assis l'un à côté de l'autre à l'avant étaient à peine vêtus du tout, les hauts de bikini menaçant d'éclater, les homologues du bas du corps s'éloignant peu mieux. Nouveaux amis. Vous n'avez pas d'amis. Ils me traitent comme un ami. Attendez. Je l'ai été. N'ayant apparemment aucune rétorsion, les voix intérieures d'Ellis sont restées silencieuses. Ellis regardait les deux devant, se disputant quelque chose. Il ne pouvait pas les entendre au-dessus du bus, du vent fulgurant et des bruits de la ville. Ils sont... même d'un point de vue humain, très attrayants. Qu'est-ce que tu racontes? Larges hanches, poitrines souples, bras et jambes tonifiés. Pas beaucoup à discuter avec. Il semblait être d'accord avec lui-même, et se trouva à regarder. Il a décidé qu'un autre verre pourrait aider. Il a ouvert son Omni-Tool et vérifié ses signes vitaux. Augmentation de la fréquence cardiaque, augmentation de la pression artérielle, augmentation de la température corporelle, tout est normal, vu qu'il venait juste d'avoir son premier verre. En fait, mieux que d'habitude, parce qu'il n'avait pas à goûter son premier verre. "Pas moyen! Il faut qu'on aille explorer!" L'un des Asari a déclaré catégoriquement qu'elle avait élevé une bière, se faisant presque basculer d'un autre virage aigu par Sila! "Enfer ouais!" Vella était prompte à la soutenir, en marchant aussi bien pour se pencher précairement sur la rampe! "Intel a construit un nouveau club de nuit ici à Londres appelé XOYO V2 après que le dernier ait été saccagé dans la guerre de Reaper! Complètement nouveau design de haute technologie, quatre fois la taille, les importations de toute la galaxie!" "Oui! Et maintenant la Lance de Lumière va aussi la conquérir! Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Atharia s'est exclamé, ayant tout juste émergé du bas aussi! Le voyage à travers Londres n'était pas calme, et ce n'était pas lent non plus; avec Sila transformer ce qui aurait dû être un bus lent, "vieillesse" et volumineux à double pont planent dans un tigre rapide, quoique volumineux! S'il y a quoi que ce soit, la façon dont Sila manie le double-decker pourrait être plus décrite comme celle d'un Krogan dansant... sauf que le Krogan pourrait en fait (en quelque sorte!) Danser et ne pas sucer! Au moment où le double bus à deux étages était arrivé à l'extérieur d'une longue rue avec un omnisigne coloré et flashy visible sur un bâtiment long, boxy et noir marqué XOYO V2 ; Ellis serait déjà devenu un objet de décoration pour la moitié des Asari dans le bus alors qu'ils essayaient de le décorer comme un arbre de Noël, avec différents charmes, chapeaux, manteaux, drapeaux ou colliers! Alors que les moteurs de propulsion du bus s'arrêtaient finalement, Ellis ressemblait moins à une combinaison de mech, et plus à une effigie de marche d'ornements et de tissu fantaisie! Regarde-toi. Tu ressembles à ce que tu devrais ressentir. C'est ce qu'Ellis a pensé. Ta gueule, toi. Cela semble être un honneur dans leur culture. Mais dans votre culture... Elle m'a ramassé deux fois. Je lui suis redevable. "Nous sommes ici, les filles! Tout le monde s'éteint!" Sila a appelé, comme la moitié des Asari dans le bus avait déjà sauté et mélangé avec la foule à l'extérieur de la boîte de nuit. Ellis, qu'il le veuille ou non, s'est soudainement retrouvé élevé avec la biotique de certains des Asari et a sombré sur le trottoir sur le côté de l'autobus, brisant quelques blocs pendant qu'il était; avant Vella, Ellie et Athari ont suivi. "À l'entrée!" "YEAAAAHHH!" "WHOOOOO!" * "NON MECH S'ALLOCUTE!" Le videur Krogan habillé d'un smoking intelligent pour couvrir son extérieur écarté debout à l'entrée de la boîte de nuit a répondu catégoriquement alors qu'il voyait la foule d'Asari et d'Ellis s'approcher de la porte, levant une main en cuir. "Cette boîte de nuit est réservée aux humanoïdes. Les mechs doivent être laissés à l'extérieur." Le Krogan a dit, pliant ses bras et regardant vers Ellis avec un regard de défiance alors qu'il se déplaçait à se tenir comme une montagne entre eux et l'entrée. "Damn, je n'y ai pas pensé..." Vella murmura tranquillement à elle-même, ses yeux violets se déplaçant entre Ellis et l'entrée du club de nuit. Ellis a regardé autour de lui, il a dû réfléchir vite. Ses pensées couraient un million de kilomètres à la seconde, traversant les galaxies et les nébuleuses et traversant l'espace et le temps pour l'amener au vide au-delà du mur de cataton induit par l'alcool- Je m'en occupe! Il a parlé, "Je suis handicapé." Le Krogan n'avait pas l'air convaincu. "NÉRO, dis-lui." "Témoignage confirmé. Ce costume est désigné Cerberus Leviatha-" "-Néro, arrête." Ellis a essayé de donner son meilleur rendu d'un sourire au Krogan, puis s'est souvenu que non seulement l'homme ne pouvait pas voir son visage. Mais Ellis pouvait voir le sien, et il semblait assez malheureux, même aux yeux ivres d'Ellis. Au moins maintenant je sais pourquoi je ressens toujours le besoin de l'annoncer. Oui, on s'est toujours demandé pourquoi tu as fait ça. "Oui. Et on peut faire confiance aux Salariés." Le videur Krogan a répondu avec un ton sarcastique alors qu'il regardait Ellis avec deux yeux percés. "Est-ce que tu discrimines les personnes handicapées?" Vella avait tout sauf sauté sur le Krogan alors qu'elle se penchait au-delà d'Ellis, pointant un doigt accusateur sur le grand reptile antromorphoïque! "Vous savez que certaines personnes n'ont pas la chance d'être nées avec de multiples épines!" "Krogan n'a pas,-" "C'est atroce! Je n'arrive pas à croire qu'un endroit estimé comme celui-ci traite leurs clients les plus vulnérables comme ça! » Atharia avait aussi sauté dedans, jetant le Krogan un regard accusateur alors qu'elle soutenait Vella! "Oui! Le pauvre Ellis s'est cassé la colonne vertébrale dans un accident de construction, aidant à reconstruire la Terre, Thessia et Tuchanka! Et quand il veut jouir d'une vie normale, il rencontre CETTE sorte de préjugé? » "Ce n'est même pas,-" Le Krogan a essayé, avant que Vella n'ait déjà continué. « C'est inacceptable! Les filles, écrivons un commentaire pour que les gens sachent combien cet endroit méprisable traite ses clients!" "Vous êtes complètement mal interprété,... bien merdique." Le videur Krogan était sur le point de se refermer, mais quand il a vu les Asari devant lui apporter soudainement plus de deux douzaines d'outils omni-brillants, il a laissé sortir un soupir frustré! "Attendez! Très bien! J'ai fait du bruit! Vous pouvez entrer, mais ne causez pas d'ennuis! ... le patron va faire frire mes quads dans les deux sens..." Le Krogan s'en est pris à lui, car plus de la moitié des Asari du groupe de Vella avaient oublié leurs omni-outils et s'en étaient déjà emparés! Vella regarda Ellis, tapant son costume et sa tête pour qu'il la suive! "Voyez! Tout s'est bien passé! Allez!" Ellis leva les mains, percutant inadvertamment le cadre de la porte. "Oui! "HAHAHA!" Il a suivi Vella, appréciant les vibrations bizarres qui sont venues à travers le gel isolant de son costume au battement de la musique. Quelques gens lui ont donné des regards sales quand il est entré. Personne qu'il ait reconnu. Quelqu'un a dû en vouloir à quelqu'un d'autre. Quelqu'un t'a sûrement fait chier. Les lumières ont clignoté des milliers de couleurs en quelques secondes, parfois juste strobing, d'autres fois pulsant plus lentement. *Temple* *Temple* *Temple* Même les lourdes étapes mécaniques qui accompagnaient Ellis partout où son cadre trop volumineux de mech marchait s'est étouffé dans le bruit noyant de l'intérieur de la boîte de nuit, percutant une grande piste de danse ouverte, le sol entier composé d'un grand écran de vid qui brillait constamment un flou sans fin de couleurs et de lumières. Et au-dessus, trois séries de niveaux creusés qui ont permis aux invités d'en haut de regarder vers le bas. Et sous tous les angles possibles, les lumières clignaient constamment dans un labyrinthe aveuglant de couleurs! Si quelqu'un dans le parti était sujet à des crises d'épilepsie, ils seraient probablement éparpillés à ce stade! "Oi! Ellis!" Vella a appelé Ellis, même sa propre voix forte à peine audible sur la cocophonie du bruit qui était la musique de l'endroit! Attrapant l'œil d'Ellis avec le sien, elle se déplaça vers la piste de danse avec la tête. "Cerberus t'a appris à bouger?" Ellis n'avait jamais dansé auparavant, mais comme il l'avait trouvé à de nombreuses reprises, porter une mechsuit est un excellent stimulant de confiance. Il découvrit un peu comme les lumières clignotantes et l'énergie du dancefloor, surtout lorsqu'il découvrit qu'en agitant ses bras, il pouvait dégager un large espace. Donc, il a décidé d'essayer le seul mouvement de danse qu'il connaissait : une danse humaine classique appelée "le robot". Bras agitant, carapace massive chantant au hasard, Ellis était une marche, (dansant), danger. Tu as l'air d'un idiot. Qui s'en occupe? "HAHAHA! DANCING EST FUN!" L'un de ses bras a frappé un luminaire, le dormant dans une belle exposition pyrotechnique d'étincelles oranges. Il a essayé de « danser », comme il l'avait vu dans un certain nombre de vieillards, en particulier ceux qui se sont déroulés à la fin du XXe siècle, et a balayé le sol comme un ouragan. La sécurité le regardait depuis le début, et ils s'approchaient, un grand Batarien et large Krogan avec des visages en colère. Le bruit créé par le verre de rupture du sol et la destruction aléatoire produite par la lourde combinaison mech qui a maintenant décidé de faire une rupture de toutes choses sur la piste de danse pouvait être entendu presque à travers la musique sourde! Les vitres ont été croquées sous le poids du cadre mécanique d'Ellis, et les spectateurs terrifiés se sont retrouvés fuyant le centre de la piste de danse pour éviter les shenanigans d'Ellis! Vella, Ellie, Sila et Atharia d'autre part se sont tous retrouvés à encourager Ellis sur! Ce n'était malheureusement que la première fois que Vella avait vu un costume de mech dansant! Quelque chose qu'elle aurait souhaité voir plus tôt, avec comment Ellis a gâché par inadvertance et systématiquement toute la piste de danse! "Salut, Vella! Regarde! Atharia a soudain braqué l'épaule de Vella, pour pointer au duo de gardes de sécurité qui arrive; il a balayé la meche tourbillonnante qui ravage actuellement la piste de danse. "..nous allons avoir besoin d'une distraction!" Vella murmurait rapidement, sa voix se noyait surtout par la cocophonie éblouissante de la musique qui faisait constamment rage dans l'endroit. Rapidement dans ses environs, elle repère un Salarien qui enregistre actuellement l'Ellis dansant avec son omni-tool, derrière un Krogan. Conjurant une légère force biotique, Vella la lançait soudainement à travers la pièce, frappant dit Krogan dans le dos! Le Krogan, sentant le coup, se retournait, dépeignant le Salarien. Un moment de confusion a traversé le visage du Krogan, étonnamment surpris qu'un Salarien ait pu frapper si fort, avant qu'il ne se transforme en une croûte en colère, alors que le Krogan a soudainement attrapé le Salarien sans méfiance, et l'a élevé dans les airs! Alors que les deux gardes s'approchaient de l'Ellis dansant par derrière, ils s'arrêtaient soudain tous les deux; avant qu'un Salarien volant ne tombe de l'air et n'atterrit directement sur le Batarien; son pote Krogan criant quelque chose qui a été complètement noyé par la musique! "Ça devrait acheter Ellis quelques coups de plus." Vella sourit alors qu'elle regardait le spectacle, la sécurité de Krogan maintenant soudainement (essayant) ayant un échange chaud avec l'autre Krogan qui avait jeté le Salarien à travers la pièce, tout en aidant son pote Batarien à se remettre! Mais Ellis n'avait plus de mouvements en lui. Pas de mouvements de danse, de toute façon. Il venait de voir un Krogan jeter un Salarien à travers le club dans un pauvre bâtard de Batari. Ellis était un autre genre d'excitation. Il se promène vers la barre, les pieds battant sur le sol comme une ligne de basse supplémentaire, et ramasse un verre errant, toujours à moitié rempli d'une boisson oubliée. Le Salarien a lutté jusqu'à ses pieds dans le coin. Les gens criaient, mais Ellis ne l'entendait pas sur la musique. Il est retourné à Vella et a dit, "Hé, regarde ça." Mais il n'était pas sûr qu'elle l'ait entendu ou non. Pourtant, c'était une occasion rare. Les deux krogans semblaient avoir terminé leur dispute, bien que l'un semblait assez pissé avec l'autre. C'était une occasion rare pour Ellis, car il n'a pas souvent la chance de voir deux Krogans se battre les uns contre les autres. Surpris de certains, certainement, mais Ellis n'avait jamais été en compagnie de non-humains. Ce soir, cependant, les non-humains étaient les choses les plus fascinantes, excitantes et résolument amusantes de l'univers. Ellis a jeté le verre sur le dos du gardien, le prenant dans le dextro-amino Mudslide de quelqu'un. Le Krogan s'agite, les yeux brûlent de rage. Ellis a pointé. Un Krogan en a accusé un autre. Ellis a crié "FIGURE!", s'emparant de la main de Vella avec son nouveau blanc, poussant les autres à suivre et commençant vers la porte. Il s'en est pris à lui-même, jusqu'à ce que le NERO lui rappelle "Certains cas d'incitation à la violence entre espèces peuvent être considérés comme du terrorisme léger dans l'espace de l'Alliance, Operative. Recommander un protocole à profil bas." Ellis a répondu : « Mais c'est Krogan sur Krogan. Ce n'est pas une interespèce. Techniquement." Nero n'a eu qu'une seule réponse. "Impossible de se connecter au serveur d'information Cerberus." Ellis n'en a pas tenu compte et s'est dit en partant : « Je suis Ellis Taevon et c'est mon club préféré à Londres! » -- Est-ce qu'on part déjà? Atharia a demandé avec une expression visiblement déçue sur son visage quand elle est venue porter un couple de boissons, équilibrant deux sur chaque main et une dans son clivage; quand elle a vu Vella et Ellis soudainement viennent courir / stomping passé! "La salle de danse a été saccagée, il faut y aller!" Vella s'exclama d'un léger ronflement alors qu'elle se déplaçait pour qu'elle suive; tout le temps les sons de cris et de cris pouvaient être entendus de derrière alors que les deux Krogan créaient une compétition sur place sur la piste de danse; le son de verre cassé et de rails brisés audible même à travers la musique saillante de l'endroit! Sortir s'est peut-être révélé être un défi, car une grande partie de la foule, sans parler de la sécurité du club, se dirigeait actuellement vers la piste de danse; ou ce qui était autrefois la piste de danse; pour assister à la bagarre, les outils omnis tenus haut dans les airs et la sécurité du club criaient aux gens de s'en sortir! Cependant, l'euphorie Ellis s'avérerait être une véritable charrue alors qu'il marchait à travers la foule; comme la plupart des gens ont été soit poussés ou sortis du chemin de ce qui ne pouvait être identifié comme un service de qualité industrielle mech garni dans un manteau et un chapeau à l'aspect intelligent! Vella, d'autre part; bien qu'elle n'était pas une petite fille par une partie de l'imagination avec sa hauteur de près de 7 pieds; s'est trouvée plus balayée et traînée par Ellis; glisser par inadvertance à travers la foule avec une plainte étouffée! Derrière eux, cependant, le reste de la section a eu un temps plus facile, en suivant une ligne étroite dans le sillage d'Ellis! Alors qu'Ellis a failli écraser la porte d'entrée de la boîte de nuit et sortir; et la fête s'est précipitée dans l'air clair de nuit, Sila a été la première à sauter devant Vella et Ellis pour lever les mains en l'air et crier! » "C'était quelque chose! Nous devrions le faire encore!" "BEE-O-BEE-O!" "Oh CRAP! Tout le monde à l'aise!" La fête de Sila a été coupée par le son des sirènes au loin, comme tout à coup; la bande à moitié drunk d'Asari a soudainement montré un niveau surprenant de discipline et de réaction; comme ils ont tous pris l'assaut vers le bus à deux étages de façon coordonnée; Ellis étant ramassé par un champ biotique avant même de pouvoir soulever une protestation et plonger sur le plancher du toit alors que Sila jetait ses fesses dans le siège avant et a commencé à conduire. "Allez-vous-en! Nous avons encore 5 arrêts à faire! » * *Bip profond* Le bip lent et rythmique d'un chariot élévateur actuellement en action pouvait être entendu à l'extérieur du poste de police; aussi lentement mais sûrement, Sila; conduire un petit chariot élévateur dans la rue deviendrait visible. A l'avant du chariot élévateur, le tout se penchait presque vers l'avant; était la masse massive d'Ellis assis boiteux contre les lourdes griffes; une série de ceintures se baladant autour de lui d'une manière hasardeuse pour tenir sa masse lourde en place. Il regardait encore plus hors de sa place que lorsqu'il avait obtenu ses nouveaux membres, maintenant avec un long manteau de velours de soie sur ses épaules, un grand et étrange magicien dur; certains ont fait des peintures à la main sur son châssis, et quelques conteneurs mystérieux attachés sur le côté de son costume, y allant à travers quelques tubes étranges. Derrière lui, sur le siège du chariot élévateur, se trouvait Vella; assise sur les genoux inconfortables de Sila, la plupart du temps dans le tableau de bord, et sa tenue déjà minimaliste presque à mi-chemin d'elle. Un gros et lourd sac à bandoulière accroché sur ses épaules et vers le bas sur sa droite, presque menaçant de la sortir du chariot élévateur. Le bus à deux étages qu'ils avaient autrefois « commandé » plus tôt dans la soirée se trouvait actuellement au fond de la Tamise; et le reste de l'Asari de la Lance de Lumière était de retour dans leurs hôtels ou avait trouvé diverses retraites. Quelques-uns des membres les plus durables avaient même commencé le nachspiel quelque part à Londres! "D'accord, nous sommes là! Débarrassez-vous! Sila a annoncé, mais n'a obtenu que peu de réponse de ni Ellis ni Vella; et gémit audiblement au poids de ce dernier empêche actuellement la circulation du sang dans ses jambes! Lentement jusqu'au poste de police, les Asari remarqueraient les contours de Skarr et Salissa au loin. Libérer un chuchotement aigu, Sila sortit du chariot élévateur et agita Skarr et Salissa. "Hé! Est-ce le point de navette?"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Point de rencontre En positionnant Ja'Far pour se réveiller alors que la forme de vie synthétique donnait au batteur une bouteille d'eau pour aider à récupérer, Phalanx tourna la tête pour remarquer quelques-uns des coéquipiers nouvellement arrivés. Elle a vu Sicaria arriver, bien que ses actions soient moins énergiques par rapport à la nuit dernière. Bien qu'il ait fait l'estimation qu'il ne s'agissait peut-être que des effets suivants de la consommation d'une grande quantité d'alcool. Se rapprochant de la femelle turiane, la plate-forme synthétique offrait la deuxième bouteille d'eau qu'elle possédait. L'œil bleu clair clignotant alors qu'il scannait l'organique, s'arrêtant un instant avant de parler. "J'espère que vous êtes bien Sicaria Velinian." Phalanx a dit dans sa voix robotisée monotone. "Recommander une autre douche comme liquide séminal restant dans la zone de l'aine du corps." il a dit d'une manière directe sans aucune hésitation. Tournant sa tête vers les autres lorsqu'ils arrivèrent, il agita en retour de l'autre turiane connue sous le nom d'Alria salutation. Peu de temps après, une troisième femme turiane a salué l'équipage. Plus près du nouvel organique, le Geth a fait un scan, l'a enregistrée dans ses banques de données et a commencé à prendre des notes. "Greetings Aviza Norea. Système 42009874563001. Appelez le panneau, Phalanx. Classé, infiltrateur. Agréable de faire des connaissances et d'obtenir d'autres réponses. Comme Ellis Taevon l'a signalé, Spectres Aegon Partinax et Jake Anderson ne sont pas arrivés à partir de ce moment. » il a salué.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

Un poste de collaboration entre BlackSam et Andromedai Un chant doux et doux proviendrait de la data-pad d'Aviza, se répétant trois fois comme son écran s'illumine rapidement une fois de plus. "Le temps est actuellement - Vous avez été éveillé pendant trois jours avec peu de repos, le sommeil est fortement recommandé." La voix électronique de la V.I. simple d'Aviza. connu sous le nom de Nikoli, qui a été intégré dans son data-pad, a brisé son train de pensée. S'élançant vers le bas sur son data-pad, il a en effet dit que le temps était Elle avait été tellement perdu dans la pensée en errant dans les rues qu'elle avait complètement omis de remarquer la fatigue lourde qui se mettait en place. "Si vous continuez pour deux blocs dans la rue que vous êtes actuellement sur, vous trouverez un hôtel sur le côté gauche de la route. D'après les informations que je peux recueillir à ce sujet, il devrait y avoir une chambre adaptée à vos besoins disponibles pour la nuit. » Aviza se taisait pour l'instant, suivant le conseil que lui avait donné Nikoli, espérant que ses informations s'avéreraient correctes, non pas qu'elles n'aient jamais été rien d'autre. Après quelques instants, Aviza s'est retrouvée devant le grand hôtel ultramoderne, ouvrant ses portes d'entrée et rentrant à l'intérieur. Elle a presque immédiatement été appelée d'un homme bien pris en charge et poli homme qui se tenait derrière un comptoir de bois et de marbre à sa gauche. -- Bonsoir, madame, je suppose que vous serez avec nous ce soir? l'homme s'est tourné vers un moniteur d'ordinateur à sa droite et a attendu qu'Aviza réponde. "Si vous pouvez accueillir un Turian, alors oui." Elle s'avança et se pencha légèrement contre le comptoir, regardant l'homme entrer l'information dans l'ordinateur. "J'ai juste besoin de ton nom et d'une source de paiement, alors je te donnerai la carte à ta chambre." Aviza a hurlé la tête et lui a donné une puce de crédit. "Le nom est Aviza Norea, maintenant si ça ne vous dérange pas, j'aimerais avoir besoin de repos." L'homme a rapidement vérifié l'information et a hissé la tête avant de remettre à Aviza une carte de chambre qui a été rapidement prise de la main de l'homme. Après avoir quitté le hall de l'hôtel, Aviza a trouvé un ascenseur et s'est rendue au cinquième étage où se trouvait sa chambre. Insérant la carte dans la porte, elle s'ouvrit rapidement à une grande pièce confortable où elle n'aurait aucun mal à dormir. En fermant la porte derrière elle et en la fermant, Aviza a retiré les armes de son armure et s'est jetée sur le haut du lit, laissant son corps se détendre. Pour atteindre la télécommande à côté d'elle, elle a allumé la télévision et a trouvé quelque chose de insensé à regarder avant de fermer les yeux et de s'endormir. Pendant un certain temps, elle a été autorisée à se reposer, même si cela n'a pas duré longtemps, car sa data-pad sur son armure a commencé à chanter une fois de plus, bien que beaucoup plus fort qu'auparavant. En gémissant, Aviza leva son bras gauche au-dessus de son visage et pressa contre l'écran de data-pads qui y était intégré. Soudain, une vidéo en direct de son amie Solares apparaîtrait sur l'écran. "Désolé Aviza, je t'ai réveillée? Je ne peux pas dire à quelle heure il est ici." Aviza bâillait avec une puanteur, "C'est bon, j'espère que tu vas bien là-haut? De quoi s'agissait-il?" Solares regardait autour d'elle puis semblait se pencher vers l'avant quel que soit l'écran qu'elle était debout devant. « Tout ici est bon pour la plupart, juste des événements quotidiens aléatoires que je semble devoir prendre en charge de temps en temps. Ah, j'ai presque oublié de demander, tu as déjà eu des nouvelles de ce Turian? Quel est son nom, Aegon Partinax." Aviza secoua la tête : « Non, pas encore, j'essaierai encore dans quelques jours si je n'ai pas de nouvelles de lui bientôt. » Solares semblait ennuyée à ce sujet et a été dans la pensée profonde pendant un moment, en portant sa main droite en dessous de son menton. "Y avait-il une autre personne qui l'aidait à diriger l'équipe? Attends, il y a, je me souviens maintenant, son nom est Jake Anderson, un humain comme moi. Essayez de lui transmettre le message et d'expliquer ce qui s'est passé jusqu'à présent. J'ai le sentiment que vous serez approuvé pour rejoindre l'équipe si vous essayez d'envoyer un message à lui aussi." Aviza hurla encore une fois la tête, s'asseyant sur le lit et se déplaçant sur le côté pour regarder par la fenêtre à côté d'elle. -- Oui, je vais le faire, merci pour le conseil. Solares a hissé la tête à Aviza puis a reparlé une fois de plus, "Oh merde, je dois y aller maintenant, laissez-moi savoir comment tout se passe Aviza!" Avec ça, la vidéo a été coupée. Atteindre son Data-Pad, Aviza était sur le point d'envoyer le même message qu'elle avait envoyé à Aegon, quand Nikoli a rapidement parlé avec de bonnes nouvelles. "J'ai déjà envoyé le message pour vous Aviza, vous devriez essayer d'obtenir un peu plus de repos, mais soyez prêt à partir à un moment donné." C'était une bonne idée pour elle, donc Aviza s'est allongée contre le lit une fois de plus et a fermé les yeux. L'alarme éclatante de l'omni-outil d'Anderson l'a traîné grossièrement dans le monde des vivants. Il gémissait dans l'ennui, à moitié en espérant que s'il ignorait cette foutue chose, ça s'arrêterait. Sa chambre était toujours dans le noir, et cela signifiait qu'il n'était même pas encore à l'aube. Il ne se levait pas encore, surtout compte tenu de la tête qu'il avait sur lui. Il ne savait toujours pas ce qu'il avait bu à Aegon la nuit précédente, mais quoi que ce soit, il a laissé un homme avec le genre de gueule de bois qui vous convainc que, oui, l'enfer doit être un vrai endroit, et apparemment il exploitait une cave. Comme il pourrait le faire, il n'a pas pu bloquer ce satané chantage. Il a juré longtemps et inventivement, se rendant compte qu'il ne s'endormait pas jusqu'à ce qu'il s'occupe de ce que c'était. Il vaut mieux que quelqu'un soit mort, ou au moins arrêté. "Lumières." Il grogne, les appareils automatiques jettent instantanément la pièce dans un relief aigu. Bien trop aiguisé pour sa gueule de bois, alors que les satanées choses près de l'aveugler, suscitant un sifflement de protestation de la N7 ajoutée. "Plonge!" C'est lui qui l'a commandé. En quelques secondes, ou du moins c'est ce qu'on ressentait, le message est revenu de Jake Anderson, apparemment il avait utilisé sa traction pour obtenir rapidement et de façon assez impressionnante son approbation de candidature pour rejoindre l'équipe. Aviza est presque tombée du lit en s'emparant des armes à côté d'elle. En un clin d'œil, elle était à la porte de sa chambre d'hôtel et se dirigeait vers le bas pour rencontrer le reste de son équipe. En sprintant dans le hall, le même homme de l'avant l'a arrêtée et a demandé où elle allait. Aviza a fait son chemin vers lui et a déposé la carte qu'elle avait reçu et l'a informé qu'elle n'avait plus besoin de la chambre, mais qu'elle accepterait toujours les frais parce qu'elle avait utilisé la chambre pendant un court moment. L'homme a hoché la tête et lui a remis la petite puce de crédit qui avait encore quelques crédits sur elle. Une fois à l'extérieur de l'hôtel, Aviza a interagi avec son data-pad et l'a utilisé pour entrer en contact avec Jake Anderson par chat vocal. Quand la ligne était connectée, elle s'est présentée du mieux qu'elle pouvait via le chat et l'a informé qu'elle était en route pour le point de rencontre. Bonjour M. Anderson, voici Aviza Norea, le Turian que vous avez récemment aidé à obtenir l'approbation pour rejoindre votre équipe et celle de Partinax. J'arriverai bientôt au point de rencontre pour monter à bord de la navette et me présenter à tous les autres. S'il vous plaît assurez-vous que la navette ne partira pas sans moi, j'ai une distance pour le voyage mais je devrais arriver à temps. Je voulais aussi vous remercier de m'avoir aidé à accepter cette équipe, je sais que je serai un membre précieux qui gagnera ma place parmi les autres, bien que mes actions. » -- Quelqu'un est mort? C'est la réponse blessante de Jake, sa voix égale parties raspy, comme s'il avait crié beaucoup récemment, et largué, pas surprenant compte tenu du temps. Il y aurait un petit moment de silence inconfortable avant qu'Aviza ne parle une fois de plus, bien que cette fois dans une voix moins gaie. "Uh... non, pas à ma connaissance? Je me rends compte qu'il est très probablement très tôt où vous êtes actuellement et que je vous ai peut-être brusquement réveillé. Je voudrais m'excuser pour cela, mais j'étais en train de supposer que vous seriez éveillé et que vous seriez soit au point de la réunion, soit au point de la réunion. » Aviza a jeté un coup d'œil sur son data-pad pour vérifier l'heure une fois de plus, c'était apparemment, elle avait obtenu un peu de sommeil, mais pas assez qu'elle avait besoin. Il n'y a pas eu de réponse, Aviza a pris cela comme un signe pour qu'elle mette fin à l'appel et continue sur son chemin jusqu'au point de rencontre, marchant rapidement dans les rues tôt le matin de Londres. Après quelques instants de ce qui semblait être une heure de marche, Aviza a fermé sur sa destination, Nikoli l'a soudainement informée qu'il y aurait très probablement d'autres personnes qui attendraient aussi au point de rencontre. Le V.I. était correct, il y en avait d'autres au point de rencontre, et d'après son apparence, l'équipe était composée d'une assez grande collection d'individus colorés. Montant jusqu'au groupe, Aviza leur donna une légère vague de sa main droite, puis croisa les bras au-dessus de sa poitrine. « Vous devez tous être l'équipe du Spectre Aegon Partinax et du Lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson, n'est-ce pas? » a demandé à Aviza de derrière le casque qui a caché les traits de son visage. Bien sûr qu'elle l'était, ils étaient au point de rencontre, qui d'autre seraient-ils? "Je suis Aviza Norea, médecin de combat avec l'entraînement de Havoc ainsi que des connaissances en ingénierie. Je suis le plus récent ajout à l'équipe et je travaillerai en étroite collaboration avec chacun d'entre vous. Maintenant, Partinax ou Anderson sont-ils actuellement présents? » À ce moment, elle a fait de son mieux pour ignorer l'équipe de chariots élévateurs.

Name: Aviza Norea Race: Turian Class: Combat-Engineer / Combat-Medic Age: 30 Sex: Female Appearance: Aviza stands roughly six feet and five inches tall, the average height of a female Turian in this day and age. Her slim feminine form hides the strength and endurance of a lifelong soldier who strives to improve upon herself in all aspects. Upon her face is painted a symmetrical design in a light turquoise, representing the Norea Clan. Her carapace is a soft blue-ish white and her eyes are a vibrant azure. If one were to see Andromedai without her helmet on, they would easily be able to see a light scar over her left eye. Backstory: Aviza was born into the Norea clan, a clan that was well known for not only their military prowess upon numerous fields of battle they had taken part in but also for their political power upon Palaven. Her father was a well-known General in the Turian Military and her mother was a well-known Triarch. While her mother came from the Neskaru clan, her father was the one who held the honors of saying he was originally from the Norea clan. During these early years of life, Aviza and the rest of siblings who are all the same age, were taught the ways of their clan. Respect, Honor, Duty, and Victory were the most important things to them, for without them their life was a pointless waste. These were the first things taught to her and her siblings, for they were the fundamental building blocks of everything that came after. After many years, their real training would begin, their parents pulled every string and used all of their resources to ensure that they ended up in one of the best academies upon Palaven, known as Solas. From here Aviza and her siblings were left at the mercy of the academy’s top teachers to undergo both mentally and physically intensive training that weeded out the unworthy and finely turned those who were into an image of perfection. The school was infamous for many of the teaching methods but the Norea clan found those to be necessary in many ways, quickly teaching valuable life lessons alongside their normal intensive training. In the first year that Aviza was at the academy, she watched as many students dropped from the academy to move onto lessor ranking positions that they were more fit for. At the same time, she and her siblings worked closely together to overcome the challenges laid out before them, a team of close family members who were going to ensure that they all graduated top of their class. This was of course easier said than done, but determination and living up to their clans name kept them moving forward through the increasingly difficult challenges that were laid out before them. With every challenge they overcame, the feeling of immense satisfaction and unyielding resolve kept them moving forward for the time being, but the day was soon to come where each of them would break off and peruse their own interest in the Turian military. When this happened, they found themselves having to fend for themselves in the academy. When Aviza was separated from her fellow siblings to receive more intensive training, she found a certain love and respect for sniper rifles and the satisfaction of hitting a target many miles away with dead on accuracy. This interest and skill sprouted into much more as time went on. It turned into a thirst for more combat training, training that would cover not only medium ranged combat but also close quarter’s combat. This fast paced combat was made possible due to her feminine form, allowing her to move across the field of battle swiftly and silently, if need be. When jump-packs were introduced, she used her own personal pack in a more unconventional way, to help her dodge incoming fire while still on her feet. This caused many to raise their eyebrows in a mix of emotion when she used this technique to outmaneuver and defeat her opponent during a one on one improvised battle with a fellow student. Using the jump-pack, she quickly moved across the field of battle while dodging shots from the Turian and incapacitated her challenger using a close range stun shotgun. When she had time off, she volunteered herself to learn about engineering and a number of commonly used tech around the galaxy that she would more than likely come into contact at some point. The class taught its students how to handle numerous problems and how to swiftly and efficiently fix them. Aviza would continue to take many classes like the such for a number of years, alongside her regular training. Some of these classes would include how to correctly handle and deploy explosives, advanced medical and first aid classes, biology for species in the Milky Way and life building. Sometime during those years, Aviza realized that upon the field of battle, every soldier had to find their own reason to fight. Be it for family, friends, the good of the people, personal gain or other reasons. She knew she had to live up to her parents expectations and carry her clans name with pride, but something felt as if it was missing, she wanted to do more for those around her. This eventually turned into the want to pursue advanced first aid for both on and off of the field of battle. Once she had been given permission, she quickly started taking classes for what would turn into an important skill of hers. After many years of intensive training every weekday and sometimes even on the weekends, the time came for those worthy to graduate. Thankfully, her fellow siblings were alongside her when she graduated top of her class, making not only her parents but also the rest of her family and friends proud of her achievements. The honors she received were very rarely given out, one had to go above and beyond the rest, to prove oneself to not only the teachers but also the academy’s board that they were worthy of such honors. All seemed right in the world, she was where she wanted to be, her family was going to be with her and life was running smoothly. Over a decade would pass as she found herself taking part in many high value and high risk operations, proving to her superiors that she took her position in the Turian military very seriously. She found herself feeling comfortable with her position, taking pride in her work. Occasionally she would catch someone's eye and be assigned for missions that excelled at, some of these included target assassination or sabotage. She would move from one planet to another, from one station to the next, wherever her talents were needed. Occasionally, she found herself working with the Citadel a number of times as security for a VIP or such person. Over these many years, she sharpened her skills and and rose the ranks among her fellow soldiers. What threw her whole world into chaos was the invasion of the Reapers. She had faced many hostiles in the past that ranged from all over the Galaxy, but this new enemy shoot her to her very core and put all of her skills and talents to the test. Failure ment death for not only her people, but also the rest of the galaxy. Over these long months while the reapers unleashed chaos upon all, Aviza and her family fought horrific battles against an enemy that knows no fear, knows no mercy and whose whole purpose is to wipe out all life and continue the cycle that had been going on for countless centuries. On Palavens main moon, she managed to catch word of and eventually even catching sight of Garrus and his squad fighting against the reapers forces. A sight as simple as this was enough to raise her morale and change something within her to be the soldier that her people needed her to be. With great ferocity and determination, she gathered survivors and pushed back against the reapers forces fearing neither death nor the odds that were stacked against them. In the next couple of months that passed, all of her training and skill came forward, showing those around her who she truly was, a leader and yet another symbol of hope. When the ash finally settled and the reapers were defeated, Aviza Norea now firsthand found out the price of war. Both of her parents and the rest of her siblings were now mysteriously gone, they had seemingly vanished from the face of the galaxy and no one had any idea where they were. They had helped fight in the war, but towards the end, they had gone missing without a trace, leaving no hints to where they had gone. Even their fellow soldiers were left confused by their disappearance. Had they fallen in battle? Were they taken by the Reapers? Or did something else happen to them? To this day, she feels a void in her heart and searches for closure. A long while passed after the reapers were defeated with the disappearance of her family. She had been rewarded many badges and medals for her acts of valor during the Reaper war as well as a number of benefits that would stay with her through the rest of her life. She now lives comfortably upon Palaven and still serves the Turian military and a number of others allied forces. She did not leave the Reaper war unscathed though, everything she had seen during the war had left a scar upon her mind. Psyche Profile: Aviza is a soldier at heart, and has proved that over many years of war and political bullshit throughout the galaxy. Careful thought and calculation goes into each and every action that she takes, ensuring that her choice is the best for each and every situation at hand. Due to the way she was raised, she can be competitive at times, enjoying a challenge such as having the odds stacked against her in a fight. Not much care goes into what others think about her, though she likes to keep a positive image of herself, remembering what her parents said about their code of conduct. She is an honorable, respectful and kind individual most of the time. She has a sharp, witty sense of humor and enjoys the lighter side that life has to offer. She cares for those who she works with, and will do everything she can to ensure everyone gets home alive and in one piece. Specialty: Aviza can quickly adapt to most combat situations. She will move swiftly across the field of battle, using cover and anything else she can find to her advantage. Her kills are clean and quick, preferring to not make a mess and enable her to move onto another target without any hesitation or interruption. Part of her intense training gives her the ability to pilot vehicles that range from the land, air and space. She has been extensively trained in advanced first aid as well as engineering for a multitude of vehicles and devices. Skills: 1: Advanced Combat Medic 2: Advanced Engineering 3: Havoc Training 4: Demolition 5: Fireteam tactics 6: Combat strategy Equipment: 1: M-99 Saber (Assault Rifle) 2: Piranha Shotgun (Shotgun) 3: M-98 Black Widow (Sniper Rifle) 4: Sticky Grenades 5: Flashbangs 6: Tech Proximity Mines 7: Personal jump-jet 8: Omni-Blade 9: Medical Equipment Powers: 1: Ammo Powers 2: Tech-Armor / Power armor 3: Marksman 4: Hacking 5: Active-camouflage 6: Turbocharge Sample Post: “I have eyes on two hostile contacts near the front gate of the outpost, toss the lure in their direction.” Suddenly, a small metallic shard would land in front of two Batarian Terrorists, making just enough noise to draw their attention away from the main gate. Both of the heavily armored terrorists stepped forward to investigate the source of the sound. From roughly five hundred feet away, the light blue cross hair from a high powered digital scope aligned itself to where the two Batarian Terrorists had now stopped. Letting the air out slowly from her lungs, Aviza pulled the trigger on her sniper rifle, sending the high powered round towards its target. It struck the first Batarian in the head then continued to travel through the next Batarians neck, creating a fine crimson mist as the two of them fell to the ground on top of each other. The round finely continued to fly into the distance before striking the ground and disintegrating. “The guards at the front gate are down, I am changing position to meet up with you.” Carefully pushing herself up from her prone hiding position, Aviza used the lush forest vegetation that surrounded the outpost for cover, quickly moving to her other squad mate. Taking a knee next to her fellow Turian, she quickly switched weapons while remaining silent. “Let’s move the bodies out of the way before the other Batarians find them.” Aviza motioned with her left hand at the two corpses before swiftly moving over to the closest one. Grabbing onto the body, she quickly pulled it across the grass below her feet and managed to hide it behind a large boulder that was surrounded with large bushes. Her squad mate did the same, tossing the body on top of the other. “Stay here for a moment, you will know when it’s time to attack.” Said Aviza while moving to one of the large metal walls that surrounded the outpost. With a flash of blue light, Aviza’s jump pack propelled her to the edge of the wall where she pulled herself over very carefully while watching her surroundings. Her squads mission was quite simple, infiltrate the outpost, place remote explosives on the bomb the Batarians had and then infiltrate before detonating the explosive. She and her fellow squad mate had been part of many missions like this before, and were planning on it to run smoothly. Once she had gently landed on the other side of the wall, Aviza surveyed her surroundings before moving deeper into the outpost. Her estimated amount of hostiles inside of the outpost ranged from somewhere between twenty to thirty Batarians. If anyone saw her, the alarm would go off and she would be overwhelmed within seconds. The bomb was easy to locate, due to the fact that it was being loaded onto a ship in the middle of the outpost. The issue were the guards surrounding it and short amount of time she had left to plant the remote explosive before leaving the outpost. Slowly, carefully, patiently, she plotted her approach then set it into motion. Sneaking up behind one Batarian after another, Aviza would use her Omni-blade to silently eliminate the threats while moving forward to her objective. She knew there were many ways to go about getting to the bomb, but in the end she choose a more risky option. Using her Omni-tool, she cut the power to the base and used the distraction to lure some of the guards to the power box and away from the bomb. They were so close to Aviza that she held her breath, waiting for them to pass before she moved to the shuttle undetected. “I reached the shuttle, prepping explosive for detonation, clear the area and prepare for…” Before Aviza could finish her sentence, a group of Batarians caught sight of movement inside of the shuttle. They quickly drew their weapons and took aim, informing the others to not shoot the bomb in the back of the shuttle or it would kill them all. With quick thinking, Aviza took the pilot seat of the shuttle and started to power it up, rounds quickly flew into the shuttle, barely missing her and the bomb itself. Locking the controls into VTOL mode, Aviza left the pilot's seat and finished prepping the bomb, taking a few rounds to her shield as she did from the horde of Batarians below her. “It’s your turn to take some of the heat from me sister, open fire.” Her fellow squad mate opened fire from a hill far away from the outpost and caused a stir of chaos from within. Using this as her chance, Aviza jumped out the back of the shuttle and used her jump-pack to keep her from falling from her death right before she hit the ground. “Word of advice, don’t look directly at the explosion, it’s going to be brighter than bright.” Aviza smirked under her helmet before pressing the button upon her detonator. With a blinding flash of white and red, the bomb detonated tremendous force, knocking both Aviza and her fellow squad mate back a couple of yards. The area below the blast had been cleared of all vegetation, leaving nothing but a smoking crater. “Well, I would say that’s a wrap, makes me almost wish we had more of those to sabotage.” said Aviza as she pulled herself off of the ground and offered a hand to her sister. Taking Aviza's hand, her sister got back onto her feet and glanced down at the destruction that the bomb had made in the far distance. "Thanks for the help, let's get out of here." the two of them quickly radioed for extraction from their location and reported the mission a success. Notes: Aviza is single, Bi, hates self centered people, is sort of a pyro, enjoys a challenge, enjoys life, can be sarcastic, can cook a large number of exotic meals, likes to tease, wears a set of medium Erathellian Armor at almost all times, sounds like Sylvanas Windrunner from Warcraft. She can eat normal Dextro-Protein based lifeform foods as well as Levo-Amino based lifeform foods, though this is only for taste and flavor, she receives no other benefits of doing so.

Regent Park Pub Un collab avec Dervs, Birb, Easy, et FoxLa soirée allait étonnamment agréablement, et Rykarn s'est retrouvé profiter de la compagnie de Sicaria. Il était bon de savoir qu'il partait en mission avec au moins une personne avec laquelle il avait un terrain d'entente; être coincé sur un vaisseau avec un groupe de personnes que vous pouviez à peine tolérer était quelque chose qu'il ne voulait pas revisiter. Certes, le krogan ne connaissait personne à ce stade, et il était à peine à la recherche de compagnie, mais avoir quelqu'un à qui vous pourriez parler ou prendre une pause de travail avec cela ne vous a pas fait vouloir arracher leurs bras était certainement quelque chose que vous ne pouviez pas mettre un prix sur. Et donc, quand le batteur anachronique et le geth sont arrivés et ont immédiatement pris place à côté de Rykarn, se penchant dans la conversation comme un enfant qui a vu un groupe d'enfants jouer et a immédiatement dû montrer tous ses jouets, Thesaurus du Blitz Skyllian a sauté dans la conversation sans se justifier comme il avait été là tout le temps. Sur Omega, c'est le genre de chose qui a fini par avoir un couteau dans l'intestin. Encore une fois, sur Omega, quelqu'un n'avait pas vraiment besoin de justification pour en poignarder un autre. C'est comme ça que ça s'est passé. "Breathe. Respirez." Rykarn murmura sous son propre souffle, tournant la tête assez que l'un des yeux regardait de nouveau Ja'Far. "Petite pyjaque, n'est-ce pas?" Il demanda, en descendant son verre, que l'œil ne quitte jamais le batteur. C'était presque comme si Rykarn n'avait pas besoin de cligner des yeux. "Tu te présentes toujours aux gens en leur disant que tu as tué ta mère avant de laisser tomber un nom?" en revenant à Sicaria, a-t-il ajouté. "Vous devez vous évanouir." Il a dit au Turian, souriant. En retournant à Ja'Far, il commanda un autre verre, son tas de vides qui poussaient déjà. "C'est aussi une courtoisie commune de demander si vous pouvez vous faire passer pour des gens que vous ne savez pas qui sont censés travailler avec vous, mais étant donné qu'on dirait que vous avez passé la plus grande partie de votre vie dans une combinaison de prison ou assassiner des gens proches de vous, je suppose que nous pouvons laisser glisser. Mais oui, Ravanor Rykarn, l'ami Sicaria. Vous nous avez vus nous battre. En fait, tu as été impressionné par nos noms. Toi et le Geth savez aussi vous battre. Donne-toi ça." Ja'Far a fait un bruit de choc, prenant une autre traînée de son cigare. Il avait les cicatrices, les vieilles blessures et les égratignures pour le prouver aussi. De la lutte contre les rébellions dans la Nébuleuse de l'Aigle au meurtre d'un diplomate de hautecaste et de son entourage qui pensait qu'il pouvait devenir le "grand homme", il avait tout vu. Au moins, il le pensait. Ce Krogan semblait défier toute logique lorsqu'il s'agissait de la connaissance antérieure de son espèce. Il était têtu mais diplomatique. Il était l'un des rares membres du groupe de travail qui était raisonnablement sain d'esprit. Il ne voulait pas interrompre le Krogan alors il a gardé ces pensées pour lui-même. En lui versant une pincée de doigts des cacahuètes dans la bouche, Rykarn mâchait délicatement avant de continuer. "Qu'est-ce qui nous amène ici? J'ai aidé à reconstruire cet endroit, avec les trois quartiers les plus proches de la ville, au cours des dernières années. Je viens ici presque tous les soirs depuis un an. Vous pouvez imaginer que je suis un peu attaché à cet endroit. Je ne sais pas si tu veux vraiment que je fasse des histoires de guerre, tu as déjà vu ce que je fais. La seule différence, c'est ce que je tire, et vous n'auriez probablement pas trop envie d'entendre parler de mon temps de combat avec les Abolitionnistes sur Anhur contre les batarians qui pensaient asservir la population humaine était une bonne idée, même si j'ai eu quelques médailles brillantes pour elle. Nous nous sommes tous battus contre Reapers, ce qui ne vaut pas la peine d'être mentionné, bien que ce sera ma deuxième fois de travailler pour un Spectre. » Il a dit avec un shrug, ralentissant sur sa boisson, se penchant s'il devait essayer un de ces cocktails fruités avec les parapluies en papier. Être rationné pour la plupart d'un an l'a fait tenir pour penser que frapper assez dur pour faire une boisson payer. "Et venant de Tuchanka, presque tous les jours était une histoire de guerre. C'est ce que krogan fait. Si on ne tue pas des extraterrestres, on se tue les uns les autres, et on ne se fout pas beaucoup de ce qui se fait attraper entre les deux. Me demander des histoires de guerre, c'est comme demander à cet homme dans le coin avec la marque de l'anneau de mariage avec ses bras enveloppés autour de la jeune femme avec le côté coupé sur ses genoux comment va son infidélité. C'est une chose tellement commune qu'il faut quelque chose de vraiment unique pour s'en tenir et ne pas se perdre dans la brume." Le Batarien a hurlé, ne comprenant pas pleinement la profondeur de la connaissance de Rykarn. Son espèce n'a vécu que 100 ans en moyenne après tout, il ne pouvait pas comprendre ce que ce serait de vivre pendant des siècles. Il a frémi à penser à vivre 10 de ses vies, en pensant à toutes les horreurs qu'il rencontrerait dans 1000 ans. Il était heureux de sa propre mortalité, merci beaucoup. Le Geth a un peu incliné sa tête en écoutant le Batarian et la réplique du Krogan, regardant les trois organiques assis avant de se déplacer sur la chaise à côté de Ja'Far. Tourner la tête pour les regarder à nouveau lors de l'examen, avant de descendre à la chaise. Ses trois doigts rampèrent le fauteuil pour le tirer en arrière, avant de se déplacer devant lui, le tirant gentiment plus près avant de placer ses quartiers arrières sur l'outil assis. En regardant les autres clients en examen pendant un moment, il a placé ses mains sur le comptoir comme beaucoup d'autres semblent faire, en outre s'ils lèvent leurs boissons à leur bouche ou sont préoccupés par toucher d'autres bios. Tournant la tête pour regarder Ravanor Rykarn commander une autre boisson, son verre vide rejoignant le reste de la collection du krogan, le synthétique regarda vers le barman et leva une main légèrement, agitant doucement vers et vers. -- Excuse-moi, puis-je prendre une boisson alcoolique? Phalanx a dit, gagner une pause de la barmaid blonde, archer un sourcil sur la forme de vie mécanique. "... euh, hein. Oui. Tu vas payer? Et quel genre voulez-vous?" Elle ne savait pas si elle devait satisfaire la demande de Geth. "Affirmatif. N'importe quel type sera satisfaisant." Le Geth répondit, gagnant un rouleau d'yeux avant que la femelle aille chercher le verre. Quand elle est revenue, elle a mis un récipient en verre de forme étrange devant le synthétique. Il ressemblait à une boîte de lait avec un liquide brun clair à l'intérieur. Un étrange bâton rouge et blanc tourbillonnant à l'intérieur et à moitié suspendu à l'extérieur. Phalanx l'a examiné curieusement, le déplacement de la face métallique en déplaçant son côté de la tête vers le côté. "Profitez du tueur aux céréales, Robo." La femme s'est amusée avant de passer à l'aide à d'autres clients. Phalanx a levé les yeux de son examen brièvement pour regarder la femme. "Appréciez le service." il a répondu avant de regarder le Krogan pendant qu'il parlait. Tilting sa tête lentement avant de commencer à parler à ses camarades. "Greetings, Ravanor Rykarn et Sicaria Velinian. Système 42009874563001. Appelez le panneau, Phalanx. Classé, infiltrateur. Agréable de faire des connaissances et d'obtenir d'autres réponses. Permission d'interagir avec les camarades Ravanor Rykarn et Sicaria Velinian pour approfondir les relations pour la probabilité de travailler ensemble pendant une longue période de temps?" il a répété en réponse aux introductions de Krogan. Tombant silencieux alors qu'il attendait la permission du Krogan semblait remarquer que c'était la courtoisie commune parmi les bios. Les moments agréables entre Sicaria et Rykarn ont été brisés par un Batarien se présentant comme Ja'Far, qui incluait étrangement une mention à la fois de filicide et de matricide, n'était pas exactement bienvenu compte tenu des circonstances. Dans les moments suivants, Rykarn a donné sa prise sur les histoires de guerre et d'interrompre un petit groupe de personnes, tandis que le Geth s'est présenté comme Phalanx et s'est commandé un verre... pour une raison quelconque. "Tu as fait du bon boulot, Ja'Far. Je vais vous raconter une histoire... si vous prenez mon compte sur Rykarn." En attendant que le Batarien accepte ou nie l'offre, elle termine son deuxième verre tout en regardant pratiquement la paire d'yeux qu'il avait quittée. Elle a posé le verre sur la barre et s'est penchée dessus, regardant comme le Geth a reçu sa boisson. "Je n'essaierais pas de boire ça, au fait. L'électronique et les liquides n'ont pas tendance à bien mélanger." Phalanx tourna légèrement la tête pour diriger son œil brillant vers la femelle turienne en mettant en garde contre les dangers entre le mélange de liquide et l'électronique. « Cette plate-forme n'a pas été construite avec une fonction orale. L'ingestion de liquide est presque improbable. Le reste de l'extérieur est construit avec une coquille et un tissu synthétique pour aider à prévenir les dommages liquides. J'ai recherché qu'il est également considéré comme inhospitalier d'assister à ce type d'établissement sans rien acheter, et parmi les camarades. Pourtant, je suis curieux au sujet de l'hyperactivité organique se divertir dans connu sous le nom de boire et de « gaspiller » comme certaines données le décrivent. » Il répondit, en coupant le verre et en le soulevant. La paille colorée gronde légèrement contre l'œil. L'ajustement au repos juste en dessous de lui où sa partie audio est restée, probablement la chose la plus proche bios appellerait une 'bouche'. Pendant tout ce temps, le seul Turian au bar a donné au robot un regard d'enquête. Elle semblait trop analytique, prenait tout littéralement, mais j'espère qu'elle ne causerait pas de problème. Elle n'a pas pu s'empêcher de glousser un peu quand sa boisson a été remplacée pour une deuxième fois, le bout des doigts prenant le dessus du nouveau verre. « Lubrifiant social, la plupart des gens l'appellent. Cela signifie essentiellement que beaucoup boivent ce truc pour faciliter les conversations. Certains font pour le goût, et d'autres pour oublier le monde extérieur quelques heures... ce que je fais en ce moment." Le Batarien dans le groupe vient de regarder la scène avec un léger amusement, auparavant content de laisser tout le monde dire leur pièce. Il n'a pas encore dit quoi que ce soit et a laissé couler la conversation, bien qu'il ait pensé à l'offre de Sicaria. Voyant une accalmie dans la conversation, il s'est dégagé la gorge et a parlé, un peu plus poliment cette fois. "Si je peux interjecter, je paierai la note de Sicaria alors. Et si Sér Rykarn a beaucoup d'histoires, je ne vous en supplierai pas. Sicaria, pouvez-vous commencer par votre histoire? Je commence par boire. " Il leva la main, ordonnant un autre verre pour tous les quatre, hésitant un peu à en commander un pour Phalanx. Il a pris une autre traînée de son cigare et a soufflé de la fumée haut au plafond, en regardant qu'il est aspiré par l'un des évents fumeurs. Il a regardé quatre boissons glisser à travers le comptoir, attraper un verre coulissant de trakh, en prenant une perruque rapide du liquide. Il a posé le verre et a incliné sa tête, signalant au Turian de commencer. Sicaria a pris une gorgée de sa nouvelle boisson et a affronté les trois autres, se moulant là où elle pouvait commencer. Évacuation de la Terre? Non, trop récemment, tout le monde avait vécu cela lui-même. Quelque chose d'Oméga? Oui, c'était plus comme ça. "Il y a environ quatre ans, quand je suis arrivé à Omega, j'ai été volé aveugle sur le navire. C'était une équipe standard de pickpockets, un petit gang qui n'avait pas de véritable emprise sur la station, mais ils étaient efficaces. Deux Quariens, un Krogan, et un Turian... que j'ai fini par rentrer chez moi plus tard, mais c'est à côté du but. Quoi qu'il en soit, le Krogan m'a percuté et a frappé mon fusil à terre, il avait l'air assez gentil. Je me suis excusé, j'ai rendu mon arme, mais j'ai senti quelqu'un me prendre le cul pendant ça. Alors je me retourne et je vois les deux Quariens courir dans la foule avec quelque chose dans leurs mains. C'était mon chit de crédit, ils l'ont volé de ma ceinture », se souvient-elle en arrêtant un moment pour égoutter son verre, le barman étant rapide pour le remplacer comme toujours. Avec quatre verres en elle à ce stade, c'était une merveille qu'elle ne donnait aucun signe d'intoxication. Elle a pris une autre gorgée avant de continuer. "Eh bien, je commence à les poursuivre en criant sur la façon dont ils ont volé mon chit, et le Turian finit par m'attaquer dans un fossé entre deux magasins. Il aurait dit qu'il était sexy, mais il essayait de me frapper. Eh bien, ça a pris une minute mais je l'ai enlevé de moi, probablement cassé son collier aussi, mais ces deux Quariens étaient de l'autre côté de la station à l'époque. Donc j'ai abandonné, j'ai eu un emploi dans Afterlife pendant un moment... vous pouvez deviner ce que c'était." Le Turian descendit la moitié de la boisson alors qu'elle commençait à devenir un peu plus lugubre, affûtant vers l'avant. "Et bien, quelques mois avant que je trouve un de ces connards... c'était le Turian, qui l'a fait payer pour un lapdance, l'a amené dans une pièce de derrière. Je lui ai donné la danse, ce n'était pas le problème, mais j'ai choisi mon chit. Et je lui ai volé pendant que j'y étais, je n'ai jamais su ce qui l'a frappé." Elle s'est glissée à elle-même, oscillant légèrement dans son siège alors qu'elle touchait à nouveau sa boisson. Rykarn a failli s'étouffer sur son verre. De toutes les choses qu'elle était, attirée par le krogan et une ancienne stripteaseuse n'était pas en haut de cette liste. Pourtant, il était louable qu'elle ait réussi à tourner toute l'épreuve à son avantage en fin de compte. Phalanx a incliné sa tête en écoutant silencieusement l'histoire du turian féminin, en remuant gentiment le dispositif d'induction d'urgence rouge et blanc contre son liquide alcohoique. Son oeil bleu brillant regarder le turian organique sans autant que se détourner. Probablement un peu déconcertant car il était incapable de clignoter. "Pourquoi escorteriez-vous quelqu'un qui vous a volé? Est-ce peut-être pour faire une recherche approfondie afin de récupérer vos biens? » le synthétique interrogé, prenant évidemment les mots très littéralement et ne comprenant pas le sens caché derrière eux. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi les bios semblaient vouloir cacher les choses dans leurs mots. Geth a toujours été direct, a obtenu leur point à travers. Les bios semblaient juste très déroutants avec leur communication. Il s'arrêta d'attendre une réponse car il remarqua que la posture du Turian prend lentement un changement plus lent. La fréquence cardiaque est légèrement à l'écart de la fréquence préférée. "Sicaria Velinian, vous recommande de cesser d'ingestion de liquides alcooliques. Risque de s'évanouir, de perdre la pensée et de souffrir le matin. Et commencez à boire beaucoup d'eau." Phalanx tourbillonne, ses volets s'ébranlent légèrement autour de l'œil. En réponse à la suggestion d'arrêter, Sicaria regarda et colla deux doigts de sa main gauche sur le robot. Ja'Far a tapé l'épaule du Geth, secouant la tête à Sicaria avec un sourire stupide sur le visage. En prenant une autre perruque de trakh, il secoua la tête. "Phalanx, tu dis à un soldat d'arrêter de boire. C'est impoli, je t'apprendrai plus tard. Pour l'instant, plus de boissons!" Il a encore levé son verre, en allant porter un toast. S'il voulait se lier à son équipe, il devait le faire correctement. Phalanx a regardé Ja'Far curieusement pendant un moment, puis au verre, le traitement à travers ses banques de données et l'information du système avant de lever une de ses propres boissons et aussi doucement que possible, clique contre la boisson de Ja'Far. Il était généralement confus, mais il avait apparemment fait quelque chose d'inexactitude. Il ne devrait pas être concerné pour la santé de la femme Turian? "Par le Void, le Geth est probablement plus vieux que nous tous réunis et j'ai toujours l'impression que nous apportons une mineure dans cet endroit." Rykarn a observé, reconnaissant le fait que Ja'Far agissait comme un intermédiaire. "Approximativement une différence de cent cinquante-six ans." Phalanx calculé instantanément. "Je n'ai jamais été un fan d'Oméga, moi-même. J'aime l'air réel, les arbres, la merde comme ça n'est pas la strench de millions de personnes complètement trop proches ensemble. C'est une partie de la raison pour laquelle j'aimais Anhur, le climat était agréable. Ce n'était pas un désert damné qui a des vents qui peuvent arracher la peau d'un squishy et je n'ai pas eu à tuer d'autres krogans pour des ferrailles et du respect comme Tuchanka. J'ai couru avec le Blood Pack pendant un moment, n'était pas un fan de la façon dont ils ont géré les choses et d'être stationnés sur des planètes où vous êtes forcé de porter un rebreather juste pour aller dehors est une charge de pyjak dung." Rykarn a dit, courir son doigt autour du bord de son verre à moitié fini. "Alors, obtenir un emploi sur Anhur se battre pour quelque chose qui ne harcelait pas sinon carrément abuser les gens sous moi était certainement un souffle d'air frais, à la fois au sens littéral et méthaphorique du terme. J'aime les humains, ils n'ont pas été assez longtemps pour transporter des bagages de siècles de haine mutuelle, ils ont toujours un espoir que le krogan ont longtemps oublié, et ils n'en ont rien à foutre de qui vous êtes, ils le prendront aussi bien qu'ils le donnent. Une partie de la raison pour laquelle je suis resté et me suis battu pour eux était les crédits, bien sûr, mais... il y avait un respect là-bas. En fait, les gens ne m'ont pas regardé comme un exécuteur brutal ou un monstre. J'étais un héros pour ces gens. C'était difficile de partir quand les Reapers sont arrivés, mais... la famille vient en premier." Rykarn a dit, ramassant son verre une fois de plus, ralentissant son rythme à mesure que son expression grandit un peu plus sombre. Ja'Far s'arrêta là-dessus, tenant son verre sur ses lèvres. Il regarda Rykarn avant de poser son verre et de regarder le liquide tourbillonnant. Il n'avait jamais pensé aux gens qui se battaient pour l'autre côté. Qu'il s'agisse de mercenaires, de terroristes, de séparatistes ou de pirates, il ne s'en souciait pas vraiment. C'était une partie du travail, peu importe à quel point c'était impardonnable. Au moment où tu as commencé à t'occuper du champ de bataille, au moment où tu commences à penser trop profondément... Votre esprit ne pourrait pas gérer ça. Son esprit ne pourrait pas s'en occuper. Il avait déjà médité sur ce genre de comportement, mais en vain. C'était trop personnel. Il a apporté trop de souvenirs qu'il voulait enterré. Il ne voulait pas penser comment il était du mauvais côté pendant la séparation d'Anhur, même s'il n'a jamais directement combattu dans le conflit. L'Hégémonie était sa maison, il s'est battu pour le drapeau et allait volontairement mourir par le drapeau. Il avait des souvenirs, des frères et sœurs de guerre. Et pourtant ils étaient l'antagoniste. La répression d'une révolution ne s'est jamais très bien entretenue avec lui, mais il faisait juste son travail. C'était une mauvaise excuse? Ses péchés ont-ils autant pesé sur lui? Soudain, le poids sur ses épaules a doublé en taille. Le Boogeyman soupira et descendit son troisième verre, sentant le bourdonnement léger. Trakh était une boisson puissante, mais il pouvait tenir assez bien son alcool. Au moins il l'espérait, il ne voulait pas se saouler devant ses collègues. Roulant ses épaules pour supporter le poids, il a hurlé à Rykarn avec sympathie. -- Oui, j'ai une idée de ce que tu dis. J'ai dû abandonner une colonie Terminus pour sauver une Batarienne. T'était... horrifiant de voir une surnombre de corps après la récolte de Reaper." Le ton était amer bien qu'il s'asseyât droit et sourit, décidant de ne pas penser à de telles choses. En se tournant vers le Geth, il a clinqué son verre contre son corps en métal, y hantant pour continuer les histoires. À l'écoute d'un moment, Phalanx tourna son regard pour regarder les autres mécènes. Chacun d'entre eux était biologique, pas un n'était similiaire au Geth. Elle s'est distinguée parmi eux. Seul. Regarder comme ces formes de vie charnelles conduites avec leur socialisation à travers les mots et ce qu'ils appellent le « langage corporel » afin d'interpréter ce que les autres organiques voulaient. Ces choses étaient nouvelles pour le programme Geth. Elle n'a jamais eu besoin de telles choses pour socialiser. C'était un avec beaucoup, ce n'était qu'un fragment d'esprit il y a un an, et maintenant tout était calme. Organics appellerait des développements tels que ce « bruit », mais c'était une comparaison miniscule par rapport aux programmes Geth qui habitent un espace mental. Phalanx a dû calculer de quoi parler. Faut-il parler de la guerre du matin? Peu d'organiques connaissent les événements. Seuls les Geth et les Créateurs, et les Créateurs, ont été légèrement altérés en raison de la colère de leurs ancêtres. Pourtant, quelqu'un avait vraiment besoin d'une explication? Ils connaissaient la guerre, la rébellion. Ils savaient aussi ce qui venait avec la guerre. Il a calculé que peut-être pour l'instant, il ne serait pas sage de partager une histoire de cet événement. « Cela fait deux cent et un ans que je n'ai pas vu un bio, d'une manière pacifique. La première fois en était les Créateurs, puis les Créateurs une fois de plus quand ils ont fait leur retour à Rannoch. Geth trouve la socialisation organique insuffisante. Nous avons calculé et formilé l'information qui pouvait être trouvée par l'intermédiaire du réseau de chaque espèce. Nous savons ce que vous êtes, c'était suffisant. Excuse-moi de t'avoir mal compris. Je ne voulais pas que Sicaria Velinian finisse comme une cible que j'avais autrefois. System Alliance m'a demandé d'appréhender un homme qui s'attendait à des crimes de meurtre, d'agression et de vol. Sans lui faire de mal. Il s'est livré à une quantité suffisante d'alcool quand je l'ai appréhendé, facilement capable de le coincer dans une ruelle sombre. On m'a demandé de le faire silencieusement, donc j'ai inséré deux doigts dans son entrée orale. Il a essayé de mordre, mais un tel acte est inefficace d'autant plus que les humains manquent de force dans leurs mâchoires pour couper les doigts de Geth. Il a cependant causé une hémorragie du liquide conducteur blanc pour déverser son œsophage. Insalubrité pour la consommation humaine. J'ai donc commencé à filmer l'organe de l'uvala afin de provoquer le processus d'expulser de tels contenus. Il s'est retrouvé sur le sol dans une quantité excessive de fluides organiques. La plupart se composent de liquides alcooliques, et de débris de ce que les aliments offerts par le bar." Phalanx a expliqué, dans sa propre histoire supposée. Il semble manquer le tact social d'une telle chose dans un établissement qui se délègue avec des consommables, pourrait faire nauséaliser certains mécènes. Bien qu'il ait calculé à travers le réseau certains l'ont trouvé divertissant, et qu'il était une raison d'être. Ce ne serait pas bien que ses camarades finissent par boire tellement pour être pris au dépourvu et dans un prédilection où ils finissent trop malades pour même se lever. Mais ça ne les forcerait pas à s'arrêter. Prêtez de l'aide là où elle le pourrait. Le Batarien avait cessé de boire sa deuxième bouteille et regardait Phalanx avec une étrange expression. Pas un pour se sentir malade souvent, il avait l'impression qu'il était sur le point de brouiller à la description détaillée mais rire en même temps. La barre semblait s'être arrêtée autour d'eux, diverses expressions allant de la maladie à l'amusement tout en regardant l'incontournable A.I. Encore une fois, il aurait besoin de l'enseigner sur l'exagération de ses explications. On ne voulait pas savoir comment les spécificités d'un Geth faisant vomir un homme. Il redouterait le jour où il aura besoin d'expliquer le varren et le {insérer}. Il le savait déjà, n'est-ce pas? Il s'est senti comme un autre verre. Sicaria a gardé les yeux sur le Geth, en écoutant son récit en finissant un cinquième verre. "Je vais t'arrêter là, c'est une mauvaise idée de parler de vomir quand quelqu'un mange." Elle a glissé le verre au bord de la barre alors qu'une autre pleine est descendue pour le remplacer. Ja'Far aurait probablement des mots pour elle d'ici la fin de cette nuit. En fait, le Batarien semblait retracer ses mouvements alors qu'une autre boisson arrivait, regardant ses crédits descendre dans l'égout. "Mais tu bois, tu ne manges pas." Phalanx a chié. "Ou boire, la même différence", le Turian s'est rétracté. « Manger nécessite le processus de mâcher des solides afin que les acides de l'estomac digèrent correctement les nutriments à un rythme régulier. Boire consomme les nutriments nécessaires à travers le liquide qui se transforme à travers le corps à un rythme plus rapide et ne satisfait pas le sentiment de plénitude. Mais des excuses pour le sujet sensible." Phalanx a répondu, en remuant gingembre son liquide alcoolique d'une manière méthodique. Pendant ce temps, c'est un mentor autoproclamé qui semblait lui glisser la main sur le visage, lui griffant le front supérieur. "J'aurais dû apporter un livre de coloriage." Rykarn murmura derrière son verre. "Rappelez-moi la prochaine fois. Tu viens et tu délivres les crayons." Ja'Far a commencé à se sentir comme s'il venait d'adopter un enfant, en videant le contenu de sa deuxième bouteille dans sa bouche. Phalanx réfléchit un moment, traitant ses pensées comme il continuait à regarder les autres mécènes. Étudier leurs habitudes et leurs mouvements. Il ne comprenait pas en particulier pourquoi Sicaria était bouleversée, mais il était prêt à changer le sujet. Il en a donc formulé un autre. Pendant un instant, il a réfléchi à son Créateur, ce qui l'a amené à s'arrêter dans son brassage méthodique. Avant de regarder vers les autres et d'incliner sa tête curieusement. "Comment étaient tes progéniteurs?" la forme de vie synthétique demandé. L'ancien-Légionnaire a hurlé, regardant sa réflexion déformée sur la bouteille. Il se demande s'il faut censurer ou non son enfance. Devrait-il dire la vérité? Ou doit-il mentir sur ses horribles parents? Il a décidé de prendre un chemin moyen, pensant qu'il n'y avait qu'un seul progéniteur pour lui. Cependant, il a décidé de corriger l'A.I sur ce libellé. "Progéniteur est un mot inorganique, Phalanx. Trop formel, c'est maladroit. Et pour répondre à ton enquête, j'ai tué l'un d'eux. Cela doit décrire comment ils étaient comme par eux-mêmes. La vie et la mort Betwixt, je choisirais leur mort à chaque fois." Il a riposté à sa propre blague morbide, mettant la bouteille en bas devant lui "Il n'y avait qu'un seul que je pouvais prétendre regarder vers le haut. Elle s'appelait Siarus. C'était une esclave qui s'occupait de moi pendant ma jeunesse, se sentait comme un ange pour moi. C'était ma sœur, ma mère et ma gardienne. Elle m'a donné de la bonne compagnie pendant que ces varren qui mangeaient du takta étaient... eh bien, tout comme je le désirais." Son sourire semblait s'élargir après chaque mot. Il serait normalement troublant de voir un sourire Batarien parce qu'il était généralement rempli de promesses sales. Il masquait toujours une dague, des dents pleines de ruse pour vous déchirer. Cependant, le sourire sur le visage du soldat était sincère, heureux et libre. Le synthétique écoutait silencieusement, déchiffrant et décodant les mots, réécrivant son info pour correspondre à l'information donnée. Des gardiens, peut-être? Non, l'usage courant semblait être des «parents» dans la plupart des cultures biologiques. Ja'Far avait tué l'un des siens, mais avait trouvé une somone qui semblait mieux adaptée au rôle. La mention d'elle semblait avoir apporté une pensée agréable au batteur. Elle était importante, que beaucoup de Phalanx pouvait se rassembler sur le sujet. Le sourire semblait s'estomper une seconde, comme un souvenir douloureux vient de passer l'œil de son esprit. Mais il l'a couvert et il est passé à autre chose. "De toute façon, elle était comme un parent pour moi. Il m'a gardé jusqu'à la fin." Le soldat regarda alors Rykarn, son sourire se transformant en sourire intéressé. "Alors, qui était ta mère Ravanor? J'ai entendu dire à quel point... les jeunes Krogans sont affligés. » Il avait déjà porté l'enfant d'un Krogan et savait à quel point ils pouvaient se lever. Et à quel point leurs mâchoires étaient puissantes. Le krogan brillait lourdement, son armure accentuant même le moindre mouvement. "Aucune idée. Ils gardent les mâles séparés des femelles sur Tuchanka. Je n'ai jamais rencontré ma mère. Elle pondit un tas d'œufs, deux d'entre eux éclos; moi et mon frère, Karnak. Notre père nous a élevés, en quelque sorte, et assez tôt nous étions en train de courir autour de s'attaquer à Varren et d'apprendre quelle fin d'un fusil tue des choses avant qu'ils ne vous tuent. Nous sommes en quelque sorte forcés de grandir rapidement; je ne me souviens pas beaucoup de mes premières années, avant mon Rite of Passage. Les clans Krogan ont tendance à élever la jeunesse en commun, car un accouchement vivant est rare, on pourrait dire que le clan était plus d'une figure paternelle que mon père. Beaucoup d'adultes m'ont appris ce que je sais, à savoir les valeurs des clans et comment tirer le meilleur parti de la vie dans un désert radioactif. Vous devenez frugal quand les gens de merde sur d'autres mondes jeter sans une pensée devient un trésor que vous essayez de continuer à aller pendant des années." Rykarn a expliqué, en regardant par-dessus. "Probablement ce n'est pas ce que vous cherchez de moi, mais honnêtement je ne sais même pas si ma mère est encore en vie. Je ne le découvrirai jamais, en partie à cause de la ségrégation sexuelle, mais aussi qu'elle ne me reconnaîtrait probablement pas et que je ne saurais pas qui elle était." Sicaria a examiné l'explication de la façon dont Rykarn avait été élevée, sirotant lentement sur sa boisson. Alors qu'elle commençait à devenir de plus en plus ivre, son filtre commença à tomber, non pas qu'il y avait beaucoup d'un pour commencer, mais quand même. La conversation s'est tournée vers les parents de tous les présents, et c'est devenu son tour de partager. Elle a descendu la moitié de son verre et a regardé tout le monde. "Mes parents... mes parents étaient des héros de guerre. Mais ça ne veut rien dire, non! Pas à un putain de container d'expédition!" Elle a pris sa boisson et l'a finie, claquant le récipient vide sur la barre assez dur pour le casser. Pour une raison ou pour une autre, cela a réduit au silence l'établissement, au cours duquel le Turian s'est propagé au barman. "Allez, continuez à venir! Je ne suis même pas encore saoul!" "Peut-être pas, mais vous en avez certainement vu un." Rykarn a dit, en tirant doucement le verre loin de Sicaria. "Je veux m'installer sur la boisson. Boss pourrait ne pas prendre gentiment à vous montrer demain avec une gueule de bois." Ja'Far a hurlé d'accord, ramenant doucement sa bouteille. Il avait senti le buzz devenir de plus en plus fort, les bords de sa vision étant flous. Il s'est tenu, s'est étendu et a patté Sicaria sur le dos avec sympathie. "Nous aurons une chance de boire après la mission, sur le portefeuille min. Pour l'instant, nous devons nous reposer. » Ils y sont restés un moment, parlant entre eux de la mission et du genre. Petit discours parmi les tueurs, comme comment le nouveau Avenger était meilleur que l'ancien ou comment les clips thermiques ont affecté wae dans la galaxie. C'était décontracté et généralement amical. Alors que les nombres dans le pub diminuaient, le temps atteignant tôt le matin, les deux paires décidèrent de se séparer. Il a payé l'intercalaire et avec un pas difficile, a fait un geste pour que Phalanx le suive. Il a agité les deux autres au revoir et s'est appuyé sur le Geth à côté de lui alors qu'ils sortaient de la porte. Il a peut-être consommé trop d'alcool, mais le Batarien ne semblait pas s'en soucier. Malheureusement, le trakh est un léger oréinogène et, au fil du temps, il s'est effondré au milieu des rues de Londres. Heureusement, il est tombé quelque peu gracieusement dans les bras de son ami robotisé. Phalanx a réussi à obtenir une prise sur le chauve-souris enivré paresseux, le métal se replie sur son visage levant brièvement tout le chemin vers l'extérieur en alerte avant de se détendre alors qu'il étudiait la signature de chaleur de l'organique. Scooping Ja'Far dans ses bras dans un style de mariage confortable, il a continué sa marche dans les rues de Londres. Il n'a toujours pas compris en particulier pourquoi les bios semblaient profiter d'une quantité excessive d'alcool au point où leurs sens sont ternes et ils sont engloutis dans un sommeil qui peut se produire au milieu de la rue. Cependant, ils semblaient en profiter et, considérant qu'ils étaient sur le point d'entreprendre un long voyage, un moyen de se détendre pour eux était approprié. En marchant, il écoutait le bruit tranquille du vent, et le bavardage doux des gens. Whispers qu'il entendait souvent, un peu plus puisque c'était cette fois accompagné d'un batteur. Whispers et échos peut-être de curiosité, et d'autres se méfient, et ceux au point de détester. Pourtant, cela les ignorerait. Ignorez les mots venimeux, ou une bouteille ou deux jetés contre sa tête de plaque. Il y avait peu de choses qu'il ne pouvait faire autrement que de continuer, protégeant le batteur porté des durs occasionnels, et le vent froid. Il fallait se demander ce que les autres pensaient d'un Geth en leur présence. Assurément, ils avaient vu plusieurs camarades se lancer et se transformer en projectiles? Créations pour servir les Reapers, forcées de combattre la famille et les amis. Phalanx n'en avait pas vraiment été séparé, mais il l'avait vu. Il savait ce que faisaient les hérétiques. Ils n'ont probablement pas confiance en tous les synthétiques, et Phalanx pourrait avoir une bonne compréhension. Ja'Far, Sicaria et même Rykarn ont montré les signes de la plupart des bios. L'émotion. Des sentiments qui les conduisent. À un moment donné, Phalanx n'avait pas une telle retenue. Ce n'est pas pour l'arrêter de tuer s'il l'estime dans le choix logique. Quand il s'agissait de tuer, les bios semblaient avoir une certaine émotion pour elle. La haine, la vengeance, la joie... La guerre du matin... aujourd'hui quand elle a regardé les réactions de ses camarades. Il aurait souhaité qu'il ait ce genre de sentiment à l'époque. Il y avait peu de raison de penser à une telle chose, illogique. Il ne comprenait pas pourquoi son traitement reprenait le passé. Peut-être y avait-il quelque chose de incorrect dans sa programmation? Quoi que ce soit, ça ne lui permettrait pas de causer trop de mal. Trouver un hôtel convenable, Phalanx est entré à l'intérieur et a loué une chambre. L'hôtesse a été un peu surprise, mais ne s'est pas disputée depuis que le Geth a payé d'avance. Poser Ja'Far dans le lit, le synthétique étudié un moment, traiter la situation avant de prendre les couvertures et les tirer sur le batteur. Tuer l'homme porté aussi confortable que Phalanx pouvait le faire. En se tournant, le synthétique a pris un siège dans l'un des sièges par la fenêtre. Tourner son regard pour regarder le repos batarien avant de regarder par la fenêtre. Il a réfléchi un moment s'il devait errer dans les rues, explorer un peu plus car il n'avait pas besoin de dormir. Bien qu'il ait décidé de s'assurer que Ja'Far ira bien demain matin. Peut-être qu'en se réveillant, il offre de l'eau. Donc il s'est assis là, regardant par la fenêtre et les lumières de Londres. Après un certain temps, le corps de Phalanx s'est enroulé dans une balle, supposez sa propre forme de repos bien qu'il était encore alerte. Il a rechargé une sorte d'énergie, mais reste vigilant quand il était temps de se rendre au point de rencontre avec les autres.

Name: Sicaria Velinian Race: Turian Class: Sentinel Age: 28 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it. Backstory: Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her. Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move. In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation. Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger? She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born. For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling. When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there. Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere. Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station. They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it. Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later. The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly. Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were. Psyche Profile: Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people. Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later. There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there. Specialty: Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies. Powers/Skills: -Throw - Warp - Lift Grenade - Tech Armor - Overload - Cryo Blast Equipment and Resources: - Turian Cabal Armor - Phaeston - M-11 Wraith - Matched pair of Omni-Blades -Station Contact - Omega -Black Market Access Sample Post: ”Ugh… how drunk was I last night?” ”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.” ”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.” ”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee. One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter. The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth. ”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.” ”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point. Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible. ”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.” ”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh. Notes - Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ "So these are the people I'm protecting this time..." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks. || Vella Calixten Ophelia || ☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ja'Far Balak || ⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Tiberius Adarian || ✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik Skarr || ✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria Vicrinus || ❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.

- C'est quoi, ça? KKKKKKZZZZZSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H H "NÉRO! DIRECT CHANNEL À VELLA! Tu regardes ceux qui s'en sont pris aux grenades! Si je me fais arnaquer par un autre coup de feu, j'arracherai vos armes! » Le HUD d'Ellis était flou avec statique, sa chaleur coule en lisant à la fois la surchauffe et parfaitement fine simultanément. Ses servos bégayaient, luttant pour se reconnecter à ses costumes de traitement central. Il s'est battu pour reprendre le contrôle, son bras gauche gronde et saute en avant et en arrière alors qu'il essayait encore et encore de tirer son fusil sur son dos. Les mechs de FENRIS l'ont complètement ignoré, paralysé comme il l'était, et chargé en avant dans le groupe qu'il était censé protéger. Oubliez-les! Regarde-toi! Des coups de feu ont étourdi sa barrière, alors qu'il était couché, infirme, la plus grande cible de la pièce, jusqu'à ce qu'il voie... Un YMIR? Jésus! L'un des Gardiens a profité de la situation, et prend son temps, en faisant un tir soigneux pendant qu'Ellis luttait. Soudain, un de leurs boucliers flottait, porteur devenant le porté, griffant sur le bouclier, puis le plancher, comme une Singularité le soulevait. Ellis sentit son costume gratter le sol alors que le trou menaçait de le faire entrer. Une grenade à fumée s'est déclenchée. Ils vont changer de tactique maintenant. Je ferais mieux de faire la même chose. "NÉRO! Initiez-vous à la bonne nuit!" Il a crié sur les tirs constants. Son seul espoir : une réinitialisation difficile. Tout est devenu silencieux. Les coups de feu qui, autrefois, frémissaient contre sa barrière tictaient et s'écrasaient contre son armure. Les explosions qui étaient il y a un moment presque assourdissantes sont maintenant tombées à de gros bruits. "Réveillez-vous! Nero, reboot! "DAMMIT!" Il pouvait voir la fumée à travers sa vue manuelle, mais son HUD n'était pas encore debout. Oui! Allez! Il y a ses puits de chaleur, jaune-vert, c'est bien, tous les systèmes normaux, puis son HUD, armure dans le rouge. Oh, ma chère. Attends, c'est ma carte... JUIN. Quelque chose de lourd sur sa coquille. JUIN. Ce fils de pute... C'est juste sur vous. Le pouvoir sur les jambes était bon, et donc il s'est levé, frappant l'ennemi de l'équilibre... le pouvoir sur les bras... était bon... JUSQU'À Sa main droite a saisi le bouclier du Gardien assez dur pour le froisser comme du papier. Sa main gauche a poussé le soldat pendant qu'il a descendu le bord du bouclier comme une guillotine, coupant l'homme en deux. Une fleur de sang rouge a jailli la poitrine noire d'Ellis, alors qu'il a attrapé un autre Gardien par le casque de derrière. Il semble que la plupart d'entre eux se soient simplement déplacés autour de lui, l'ont ignoré pendant qu'il a redémarré. Certains ajoutaient de l'insulte aux blessures, en utilisant son corps pour se couvrir. Il a serré, savourant les fissures comme des coups de feu qui ont divisé les cris de l'homme. Il n'y avait plus de rire d'Ellis. Ce qui le remplissait maintenant, c'était la rage. "AAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Il avait perdu son bras de côté quand il est descendu, alors il a pris un Hornet tombé. Il a lancé un torrent de balles à portée de main dans les troupes d'assaut, tuant au moins une personne sans aucun doute, blessant le reste, et giflait le Centurion de côté comme un bug. Sa cible était morte. Il a pris un autre bouclier Guardian et l'a tenu au-dessus, prêt à frapper avec lui comme une sorte de scorpion industriel, et a lancé un autre clip thermique complet de son bras de côté récupéré. Il se blottit dans les bras et les jambes, roulant comme un œuf hideux derrière une caisse d'expédition voisine, alors que les armes automatiques du YMIR bombardaient sa position. Vas-y, jette-lui un os! Ellis a lancé le bouclier comme un frisbee de l'autre côté de la pièce. Le YMIR a parfaitement suivi, lançant deux fusées et une grêle de balles après. Ellis dessina son Mattock, et tenta de poser le feu suppressif de sa main gauche, tandis que sa droite fit le mouvement écrasant caractéristique de la Maiden d'Iron. Il s'est concentré sur le bras inférieur droit, écrasant et désactivant la capsule de missile de la mech. L'autogun retourna le feu, se déchirant progressivement à travers de plus en plus de la couverture d'Ellis. Il est retombé, épuisé, derrière sa caisse. Sa chaleur coule en orange, s'approchant de la zone dangereuse. Il s'est mis à transpirer alors qu'il sortait le brun fumant, et les nouveaux rouges, en faisant confiance à son équipe pour le couvrir pendant qu'il se recharge.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Alria Vicrinus Emplacement: New Scotland Yard menant au HSV Kharon Alria a fait une liste et s'est enroulée dans le silence pendant qu'elle allaitait sa gueule de bois quand Phalanx a fait un commentaire plutôt... ouvert sur Sicaria et son entrejambe étant... contaminé? Probablement pas le bon mot, mais ça a marché pour elle. Malgré l'absence d'un mot approprié pour cela, elle rougit de la mention du dilemme de Sicaria pour elle comme c'était un peu dégueulasse. Non seulement pour être pris pour elle, mais aussi pour y être. Bien qu'avant que les choses puissent devenir vraiment, vraiment embarrassant leurs patrons Spectre sont venus pour commencer les choses et amener tout le monde à bord des navettes pour la Citadelle. Surtout tout le monde de toute façon. Alria est restée derrière et est retournée dans son vaisseau personnel, en passant par le petit couloir qui a relié sa chambre au cockpit. Prenant son temps à s'installer dans son siège préféré dans la maison avant d'allumer manuellement le moteur, enroulant les moteurs, et avec ses mains fermement sur les bâtons de commande, elle s'est levée. En prenant le ciel, puis les étoiles tandis que son vaisseau de vitesse s'élançait comme une étoile filante dans l'espace avec la Citadelle en vue. À la suite de la navette du Spectre, elle a pris l'autorisation d'accéder à la navette, elle devrait vraiment obtenir un code, ou des licences, ou quoi que ce soit qu'ils aient qui les amène dans cette baie. Quoi qu'il en soit, une fois à l'intérieur, elle s'est cassée des navettes pour se diriger vers le HSV Kharon et c'est la soute, transmettant directement à Kano pour demander l'accès. "Je suis de retour! Vous avez l'esprit d'ouvrir l'écoutille pour moi! » Puis, avec l'accès accordé, elle a guidé son combattant dans la baie, s'installant près de l'arrière de la baie afin de rester hors du chemin de tout le monde. Après tout, elle était toujours invitée à bord de ce navire. Une fois qu'elle a atterri et que son navire s'est abattu, elle a déballé le harnais de son pilote avant de sortir par la porte latérale de son embarcation. Ce n'était pas sa première fois à bord du Kharon et alors qu'elle était encore un peu de la nouvelle fille en ville, elle connaissait au moins les visages autour. Sachant qu'elle était en avance sur le groupe et voulant finalement les rencontrer, Alria attendit un peu dans la soute avant de se rendre à Relli, lui hantant poliment et frappant la conversation oisive pour aider à passer le temps. Quand le groupe est finalement arrivé, elle s'est levée et a donné une vague de salutations à tout le monde. "Il était temps que vous le fassiez!" Elle s'est cognée avec son ton glorieuse habituel. Adieu à Relli, elle s'est jointe au groupe pour leurs dernières escales autour de la soute, en disant bonjour à Falka et bien sûr à Talos avant d'être renvoyée pour s'installer et se détendre. La deuxième partie semble vraiment, vraiment bonne idée eu égard à sa dernière mission et à la nuit plutôt mouvementée et ivre qu'elle a passé il y a quelques heures. "Eh bien, je ne sais pas pour vous les gars, mais je suis la plupart du temps décidé. Même si ça peut faire un peu de travail et si tu as besoin de moi, je serai dans mon vaisseau! » Elle a dit avec joie avant de marcher vers son combattant, ouvrant la porte et entrant pour sortir de la vue. Derrière elle la porte fermée, la rampe d'escalier est restée en bas, montrant que la porte était déverrouillée si quelqu'un voulait la visiter. Une fois à l'intérieur de son navire, elle se mit à se dépouiller, à accrocher son armure et à remettre ses armes dans leurs racks spécifiques pour qu'elle puisse jouir de la liberté de ne pas porter un tas de couches de métal et de plasteel. Bien qu'une fois qu'elle a fait un tour de la poitrine, elle s'est arrêtée pour tirer le système d'enceintes qu'elle avait truqué dans sa chambre, en commençant à remplir son vaisseau et un petit espace autour de son navire avec de la musique pop culture.

Name: Alria “Angel” Vicrinus Race: Turian Class: Infiltrator Age: 21 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at 5’ 10’’ and weighing in about 125 pounds Alria is a very lithe and thin woman who cuts a very strong and attractive figure. Her body is fluid, flexible, and really the only blemish she has in a nasty gunshot scar on the left side of her hips. Backstory: Alria was born to a humble Turian family on their Homeworld of Palaven. Though very earlier in her life she found that she would grow up on a much more under developed planet as when she was only 2 her family was deployed as part of a security detail to Amber Horizon, a recently developed Turian colony that had been established just that year. It was supposed to be a good assignment for his soldier parents. Letting them serve the Turian people while still having a peaceful assignment from which to raise their young daughter. Alria didn’t even remember Palaven really. In fact her only memory was of rolling mountains and valleys that stretched out against a beautiful rising sun. She couldn’t even remember where the memory came from as Amber Horizon was her new home and that was where she learned to walk, talk, and play with her fellow Turians, though she didn’t have many children to play with due to the colony’s relative new stature and utility purpose as a forward communications colony. This in turn left her to either her own devices which often led to adventures of running around the forests around the colony. Which in turn often led to several injuries and encounters with the local hostile life that made her parents get a little upset with her antics. Her other method of entertainment was to run around the colony and make friends with the locals, often trying to offer help to the communication technicians and engineers who made sure the colony ran straight. This ensured that she had many older friends who would even say kind greetings and pass her treats when her parents were both out on guard duty along the walls of the colony. This was how her life turned out for the next decade, watching the world not change, but that was ok for her. This was a nice life and it kept her happy. Along that way she continue to help where she could and that in turn taught her some life skills such as how to set up and maintain communication relays as well as fly shuttles and dropship that were used to deliver and retrieve supplies and cargo around the planet. All by the young age of 14! Not to mention her own parents teaching her about the ways of war as well as how to be a right proper ass-kicker. Mostly so she could fend off those pesky boys as her Dad said. Yet with Dad jokes aside she was learning quickly to fight, shoot, and defend in the case of an attack. When Alria was 15 she went off to the military academy learning her way around in the Turian armed forces and honing her skills with a pistol and her own hands. While not exactly a conventional method of combat she proved to be exceptional at it which raised some attention to her skill. Upon placing her in an Infiltrator roll and assigning her to the Hastatim that went to Taetrus to combat the Facinus separatist group. Her skills and stealthy ability proving invaluable at taking out splinter cells located throughout the planet specifically working in Spaedar and Madra to weaken their fortified positions and damage their fragmented infrastructure. However, due to her role as a ghost she was not credited nor awarded for her faithful efforts. Though this didn't bother her one bit as it meant the conflict was over and she could have a chance to return home, and that she did heading back to Amber Horizon and reconnecting with her family and friends. Once again she felt at peace as she went back to helping around the communications relay and adventuring around the forests. This life was not meant to last though as the news of the Reapers coming back started to resurface which put the colony into overdrive. After all they were a communications relay that allowed for rapid and effective communications to the fleets and outposts near the front lines. However, this faithful service to the Turian people came at a grave cost. The Reapers had tracked down the relay signal and that meant that before long the skies went dark with enemy ships that deploy soldiers… no… monsters down on the colony. As chaos set in every one of the guards as well as some of the technicians ran to the walls to defend a battle they could never win. Alria looked around for anything she could help with and while she wanted to take a rifle to the walls she was pushed away by her parents to help the technicians secure or destroy the equipment less it fall into enemy hands. Her knowledge of the equipment proving somewhat helpful as the defenses began to collapse around them. Husks, Cannibals, and Scions burst over the walls slaughtering all the Turians present regardless of if they were combatants or not. Alria was terrified for her parents who were still fighting on the walls as far as she knew. So with everything around in chaos she took her chance to make it to the walls only to see the last moments of her parent’s lives. The monsters had them surrounded and she could only watch as they were shot down and lay still. With tear filled eyes she turned around and ran, looking around with foggy eyes she watched and saw all of her friends die and something in her snapped. She ran from cover to grab an Avenger rifle to which she took aim at a charging Husk only to freeze at the last moment. She'd fought in war, against sepetatitsts and traitors who she had to kill in return, but this was different. It was like a true horror running from her nightmares to kill her and she froze. As the monster leaped to tackle her something else leaped to tackle it; it was her mother, still bloody from the walls. Struggling for her life Alria’s mother shouted out, “Shoot it!” To which the shaking Alria held up her rifle to empty the magazine into the Husk. Dropping it to the ground Alria ran up to her mother and bent over her, crying as she begged and pleaded for her to get up and flee with her into the woods. Yet she knew it was too late and so her mother said, “Please… I love you… so much… now run… run!” Alria let her tears fly free as she cried over her mother who gave her one last hug. Then as her last wish she gave Alria her pistol, a custom and special thing that she always intended to pass onto her daughter… just not like this. Alria made it out of the colony and hid in the woods as her home was stolen from her and she was the lone survivor. Guilt and sadness eating away at her very bones she waited. Crying and praying that things would just go back to the way they were. And as the days passed by her sadness and grief turned into rage and hate. She hated those monsters for taking everything she had and that made her want payback. Returning to her stolen home she found an occupational force guarding the communications relay that they tried to destroy during the invasion. They had to have been trying to splice into their network and really Alria didn’t care. She didn’t care that they were trying to steal secrets. She didn’t care that they were trying to take their things. She didn’t care that they wanted what her home had to offer. She only cared that she knew what they wanted and that she knew how to deprive them of it. Sneaking like a shadow she returned home and using her mother’s Custom Silenced Reaver M-17 Pistol she started to wage a one woman guerrilla war to reap the reapers and as she snuck back to the relay she had several close calls which would certainly spell certain doom. But her determination lead her on and then into the relay she went. Slinking around the ducts and maintenance corridors as she made her way to the power supply knowing that she only had to put one well-placed grenade to turn the entire facility into a giant fireball. Before long she snuck to her goal and had a chance, but she wanted more… It wasn’t enough to just starve the Reapers of this resource; she wanted to hurt them too. Taking the suppressor off of her pistol she started to shoot the Cannibals and make a real firefight engaging the monsters which in turn made more come to the relay to stop the threat. Just as she wanted and not thinking of her own safety she was shot in her hip. That turning point making her realize this was it. She took her grenade and threw it into the power supply letting the heavy electrical currents cook the metal of the casing in its entirety to give her more time to escape. Limping back to the maintenance tunnels she crawled and ran as fast as she could before a solid thump could be heard radiating behind her. That in turn causing a chain reaction which made the entire place begin its death song. She knew her time was short and that meant she had to move fast if she was to survive long enough to hurt the Reapers again. As fires started to burst around her the exit showed and she used the last of her energy to run out as and escape at the last second. Still yet her task wasn’t done. This planet was doomed and she had to escape. Looking around as the Reapers had lost track of her she saw one of the intact orbital transports. That was her ticket out. Running for the ship she got inside undetected and then put her pilot’s training to use, firing up the ship and ignoring any and all protocols for takeoff instead to just take flight and launch herself into the stars and to safety. Alria, 19, alone, and lost in the galaxy drifted wondering what to do unable to forget the nightmare she lived through on Amber Horizon. That was when she was found by a Turian fleet that took her ship and saved her life. It was in that moment she found her direction. Returning to the Turian military and offering her skills as an elite infiltrator she took to serving on countless missions requesting or even demanding assignments that put her against the Reapers. Her skills with stealth, pistols, and CQC skill proving to be incredibly lethal and effective while her knowledge of technology and piloting offering her a wider set of skills for sabotage and self-insertion. This was her life, getting her payback on the Reapers and being good at it up until she was 20 and the Human Commander Shepard led his team on Earth to use the Crucible and end the war. Still serving in the Turian military she had a new goal. Return home and finally put her past to rest. Psyche Profile: Key Details from the dossier of Vicrinus, Alria Codenamed: “Angel” Psychologically Vicrinus acts and behaves rather young and care free for her already rather young age. Often goofy and elated Vicrinus is often seen humming as she goes about her business. Regardless of her task she seems to enjoy it, from training, cooking, singing, or even dancing. Attributing factors to this may include her solitary lifestyle as well as a seeming love for freedom and whimsy... ...Vicrinus has shown an almost obsessive view of her armaments treating them with the utmost care before, during, and after each mission. Eye witness accounts have stated that she has been seen talking to her pistol. Vicrinus wished to make no comment on the issue. Psychological impact of this behavior has been dismissed due to the lack of negative effects that it presents... WARNING: Known trauma from the Amber Horizon Event has left Vicrinus with a deep seeded hatred for the Reapers. Extent of this hatred has yet to be explored but it has proven to guide her. ...On mission Vicrinus has proven to be a highly effective member of a team, taking her orders and briefing to heart and committing her actions to swift and effective action. In fact this effect can be visibly and verbally noticed by the activation of her visor. Once her tactical readout has been engaged Vicrinus rarely speaks and often adopts a “kill or be killed” attitude... ...Vicrinus has proven to adopt very “loyalistic” outlook making actions to preserve friendly life and ruthlessly kill enemy presences. “Obstacles and Collateral Elements” as Vicrinus has previously stated are of no consequence and while she “Strives to avoid unnecessary death” has proven to “non-lethally subdue” previously stated elements even if it brings the subjects to a state of pain... Specialty: Alria specializes in assassination and sabotage. With her incredible skill with close-quarters combat and pistols as well as her eye and knowledge of finding weak points in enemy structures leave her with plenty of utility as long as she has the tactical advantage of surprise. Due to the Amber Horizon Event she has developed a special bravery that helps to guide her into ridiculously close ranges from which she takes down her foes. Her skill with a blade and her own hands is unrivaled, being able to fight off three foes at once with a bit of effort put in. Yet where she becomes the most lethal is when she gets the drop on her foes, unleashing a torrent of bullets from her pistol, while tossing her Omni-Daggers, and using her Special Omni-Blade for the finishing touches. Beyond her combat capability she has spent weeks flying in varied environments leaving her as a very skilled and talented pilot. While not as good with capital sized vessels; fighters, transports, and small frigates or corvettes feel like home to her. Powers/Skills: Tactical Cloak Incinerate Armor-Piercing Ammo Disruptor Ammo Cryo Ammo Decryption Ace Pilot CQC Mastery Equipment and Resources: Sticky Grenades Flashbang Grenades M-83-2 Infiltration Explosives Custom Suppressed Reaver M-17 Pistol (Custom made and crafted by Alria’s mother this suppressed pistol mixed rapid rates of fire and low recoil with high stopping power for a highly effective sidearm.) Twin Custom “Scythe” Omni-Blades (Physical Special knives that generates an Omni-field around the blade to give it a powerful and lethal edge.) Omni-Throwing-Daggers (Generated from her wrist gauntlets these blades form the same holographic energy that most conventional Omni-Blades are made of. Though using a magnetic dispersion field they can maintain their solid shape and be thrown; existing for an extended period of time away from the source.) Modified Seraphim Light Tactical Infiltrator Armor w/ Jump Jet Rig Personally Owned and Modified XA-273 Light Fighter Alria's personal ship, "The Silver Star" is a XA-273 Light Fighter that Alria had modified with advanced thrusters and rudders to increase the speed and handling of the craft. Making sure to have a ship that can keep up with her abilities as an ace pilot. The forward rudders are designed for powerful and rapid turning at high speeds which are achieved through the large and powerful engines that exist near the rear. Similarly this frontal steering provides incredible agility by guiding the ship at a high point versus the traditional mid or rear point. Twin linked gatling cannons on the prow fire from gimballed turrets provide a rapid, form of attack as well as self defense. As a means of heavier ordnance the ship has twin racks of Type-22 Needle Missiles for powerful and precise strikes. The armor of the ship is moderate giving it's size and speed, but falls short compared to most other light fighters. The interior of the ship is streamlined to provide a slick and open cockpit while also providing some storage space for personal effects, medical supplies, and equipment. Similarly it has an interior door that connects to the small cargo bay at the rear of the ship. Sample Post: Palaven. Really Alria remember it much more differently, but that didn’t really matter much now anyway. The Reapers had been cruel to the Turian homeworld and that meant her one memory of this place was just that, a faraway memory. Her mission was to assault an enemy position and remove the threat of artillery strikes that it posed. The Reapers had taken over a Turian artillery position and were now shelling their positions with their own munitions. That could not continue. Alria had wasted no time in closing the distance to the site but then took a moment to inspect it. 12 hostiles, mostly Marauders who were defending the position while two worked the two remaining artillery cannons. Among them was 4 Husks that appeared to just be mindlessly wandering around, which left the 8 Marauders as the real threat. Timing was key and she didn’t have much time to wait for her opportunity as each shell could mean more friendly casualties. Thankfully her chance arrived when Marauder on top of the ridge turned its back for some reason leaving the Husks unwatched. Dashing like a bolt of lightning the invisible Alria drew her knife and pistol and closed the gap to her foes. In the blink of an eye she slashed the first Husk becoming visible and taking its head off with the precision of her strike. In the next fraction of a second she took a swift aim with her pistol and depressed the trigger to turn the second Husk’s head into metal shrapnel. Before the two survivors knew what was going on and could shriek for help Alria already had her knife sheathed so she could grab a Omni-Dagger which was thrown with deadly accuracy at the flick of a wrist to strike a Husk in the body. Though that didn’t seem to kill it. Regardless she took aim at the unharmed Husk and turned his head to dust much as she had done to the last one. Then with the wounded Husk left she drew another Omni-Dagger and hurled it at the Husk to hit its head. That time it fell to the floor dead. Not yet finished she cloaked again and both silently and swiftly made her way up to the artillery position. 8 hostiles left 2 working stations, the other 6 patrolling and as of yet unaware of her actions…. Perfect. Alria drew two Sticky Grenades and in her other hand her pistol stood ready. Rushing in once more her invisible frame threw the first grenade at the control panel of the artillery station making the Marauder question what just made a slight thunk against his cannon before it detonated in a small but very powerful explosion that turned him to paste… 7. From there she tossed the second and once again the second artillery cannon with his user were taken out of commission… 6. In a flash Alria fired her pistol while cloaked disrupting her field but in the process putting two shots to the chest and one to the head of a Marauder… 5. Meanwhile her grenade hand flawlessly drew three Omni-Daggers that were then tossed one at a time to the second Marauder. The first struck his shoulder, the second his thigh, then the third his head… 4. At this point her presence was known and the survivors turned to face and fire on her, but before the first shot could be made Alria had already closed the gap to one and drew her Omni-Blade shooting him once to open his flank before making two swift slashes, one to the side and the second to his neck, looking to strike vital areas… 3. It was then the bullets started flying and that made her use the corpse of the Marauder as cover so she could catch a moment to blink. In response to their gunfire she dashed towards them looking to remove their ranged advantage and in doing so she took four shots with her pistol, all striking true into the chest of another Marauder… 2. With the gap closed one of the two surviving Marauders took a swing with its rifle looking to club her, but Alria almost seemed to expect this as she ducked and rolled under the swing to slash up at its arm cutting deep and long to make the Marauder drop its rifle. In that same instant she holstered her pistol and lashed out with her free hand to grab the Marauder’s arm to steady her movement, using that to swiftly stab up with her blade to hit under the Marauder’s jaw… 1. For the last Marauder she rolled low towards him using her low position to essentially tackle his legs, reaching up to grab his arm and using her blade to cut at his waist. All this attributing to an overhead roll that put the Marauder on his back. Finally using this advantage she swung the blade back around to slam it through the Marauder’s eye, pinning his head to the ground… 0. With the fight over Alria drew her blade out of the Marauder’s head and sheathed it, standing up and looking around to ensure things were handled before she reached up to her visor, activating her comms, ”Artillery position decommissioned. Returning to camp.” Notes She considers herself straight and has an affinity for Turians, Quarians, and Humans. Due to her very active and rather turbulent life she can’t really claim to have much experience with romance. So much so that she can’t claim to have lain with another. Little fact about her, she can't handle her booze too well getting drunk pretty quickly. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗Alria Vicrinus ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "There's little better in the galaxy than good music and bad dancing!" | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "He's not so bad. Maybe a bit of a hardass at times, but that's ok! We're all like that a little bit." ⚜ "Bit of a rocky start with this one. Started on the same mission and were thankfully on the same side, but of course I didn't know that at the time. Had a bit of a turbulent run in, few tense words, a lot more awkward words... But hey! At the end of the day we got over it and he's a pretty good guy! A bit cute too..." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ "Guy's committed I'll give him that. I just don't know what he's committed to..." ✌ "This guy's a bit of an unknown. Anderson knows him but I sure don't. Really he seems like a real hardass, but I think it's just because of what he's put with. In fact he reminds me of some of my old commanders in the Hastatim, ill tempered but dedicated to the cause. Who knows maybe we could be friends." || Ravanor Rykarn || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Rykarn? Never heard of him. Sounds Krogan. I'll bet he's a Krogan." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "I have no rightly clue who or how this person is. I mean she's an Asari... so... she's blue." || Ellis Taevon || ☕ "Who?" ☕ "Again who? He's a Human... I think." || Rayes'Xum Nar Yaron || ✌ "Seems nice, doesn't really talk much, but hot damn does he know his stuff!" ✌ "Rayes. That's what I call him anyway. Quarian names are always so long. I haven't talked much to him, but really it wasn't easy to talk to somebody when you're assaulting a Cerberus base and hacking into their systems. Still his actions speak volumes and he can do a lot with very little. Hacking, fighting, guarding. I like him! And he's even got a nice butt!" || Phalanx || ✌ "It's a robot. But it seems to have a good... uh... wires. It sure loves to talk too." ✌ "Phalanx. What an odd name, but then again it is a robot they kinda get a pass for things like that... Anyway it seems ok, but maybe a tad long winded. Note to self... watch what you ask it less you get quiet an earful. Beyond talking it is sure one Hell of a fighter and real good with that sniper of it's too. I know what the Geth did, but this one seems ok in my books and I'm glad to have it on my side." || Ja'Far Balak || ✌ "He smokes... a lot." ✌ "I mean it... This guy smokes A LOT! Not that it's a bad thing, what you do for vices is your choice and it doesn't hurt others right? Anyway, he has that look that I've seen a millions times. He's seen some shit. I don't know if it was a war, or family loss, or whatever but he's got that look. To be honest... I can't help but relate a little to him." || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ✌ "This is a good soldier. No if, ands, or butts about it." ✌ "Narris knows what needs to be done for a mission to go right and while it may not be the most glorious or heroic he'll do it. I haven't had much interaction with him on the mission so far, but that's only because he stayed back to ensure my ass was covered and that means I have some serious respect for the guy." || Tiberius "Tye" Adarian || ☕ "I don't know much about this guy, but damn! Just look at him! He's huge! ☕ "Again I don't know a whole lot about this guy, but the one thing I do know... He's massive even for a Turian. I mean just look at the guy! You'd need a step ladder just to be eye to eye with him!" || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ☕ "Another Krogan. Not sure about much else..." ☕ "Another member of this little rag-tag team that I don't know about. He looks like a Krogan though so he must be able to kick ass. Right?" || Sicaria Velinian || ⚜ "A Turian like me, but she seems to get nosebleeds a lot. Might need to see the doc about that." ⚜ "I know this one. A Turian and about my size too. She seems ok, but really I haven't had too much interaction with her, though I think I've dealt with her the most on this mission out of everybody. Anderson excluded of course. A bit of note too... She seems kind of... curious about me. I think? Not entirely sure what's going on but she doesn't seem bad." || Gilvert Somner || ☕ "Another guy I don't know... yet." ☕ "You don't see many Drell around, but here one is! Though I haven't had a chance to get to know him I'm curious about 'em!" || Salissa Fortia || ☕ "Now this one is just crazy. Driven. But crazy." ☕ "I don't have any problems with her, but she is certainly crazy. I mean who runs into a tide of Husks, Cannibals, and Marauders alone? Even if it is to prop up a barrier and keep her teammates safer for a few more seconds. Still it at least means she's loyal which can be a good thing. Just gotta make sure that crazy doesn't spoil the loyal." || Ethan Sartiel || ☠ "I don't wanna sound mean saying it, but I don't like this guy." ☠ "I have a lot of people I hate and even a few people I REALLY hate. Ethan isn't one of them, but if his first impression is anything to go on. He'll be there soon. I mean who asks people what they shot while in the middle of a fight for their lives! That's just... So rude."

Jusqu'à la tournée, Sicaria avait essentiellement été dans son propre monde, l'espacement tout en réagissant sans émotion aux stimuli autour d'elle. Par exemple, lorsqu'une fusillade a failli éclater entre Katabasis et l'équipe de Zander, elle avait tiré son Phaeston dans le flou et s'était jetée à un genou, a pris le but de l'humain avec le bras cybernétique. Mais au-delà de cela, elle se rappelait très peu de la rencontre. Et pour la plupart de la tournée, elle était restée exceptionnellement silencieuse, se dirigeant vers le dos de la foule pour ses propres raisons. La seule exception a été quand elle a largué derrière quand ils sont passés à travers la salle de guerre, s'arrêtant à côté du Salarien à capuche nommé Galda et murmurant quelque chose d'une voix brisée. "Je serai de retour dans un peu... J'ai quelque chose que j'aurais besoin de ton aide pour... nommer n'importe quel prix." Ses mains se sont serrées dans les poings pendant qu'elle continuait, ramenant le rythme pour rattraper le groupe. Après l'introduction à la petite équipe de Vorcha qui servirait de pilotes de navette, tout le monde s'est dispersé, laissant la femme Turian dans le cintre avec peu à faire. Elle n'avait pas d'endroit où aller, pas de bagages pour déballer, et aucune véritable motivation pour aller loin et simplement s'allonger dans quelque couchette qu'elle prétendait. Elle pourrait aller discuter avec Galda et obtenir l'information dont elle avait besoin, parler avec Aegon pour obtenir son nom, ou aller trouver quelqu'un à qui parler. Et seul, voici, la fille qui a fait saigner son nez plus tôt disparaissait dans son propre navire, criant comment elle était libre si quelqu'un avait besoin d'elle. Eh bien, un bon moment comme n'importe quel. En prenant son temps, Sicaria s'est promenée jusqu'à l'entrée du combattant et est allée frapper à la porte. Bien que, comme elle allait frapper, il s'est ouvert de son propre gré, exposant Alria dans son état de déshabillage. L'autre Turian était stupéfait, peu sûr de la façon de réagir à la situation. Merde, qu'est-ce que je fais? Qu'est-ce que je fais? Vous excusez? Fuyez!? Merde, je crois qu'elle se retourne. Emprisonnée dans ses pensées, elle se tenait complètement figée dans la porte, un filet de sang chaud qui courait de son nez jusqu'à sa lèvre supérieure. Pendant ce temps, ses yeux dardaient autour de la pièce dans une tentative désespérée d'éviter de regarder le Turian à moitié nu devant elle.

Name: Sicaria Velinian Race: Turian Class: Sentinel Age: 28 Sex: Female Appearance: Standing at an even 6’00” and weighing in at 131lbs, Sicaria is about your average female Turian. Her facial tattoos are a striking combination of purple and violet that represent the Aephus colonies. They are present on her chin, cheeks, nose, forehead, and temples. She has a set of five scars that run up her right mandible and several others across her body, including a small chunk taken out of the left side of her collar. She has a black tattoo of a scythe on her left shoulder with the start and end dates of the Reaper Invasion below it. Backstory: Born to a pair of distinguished warriors that had previously retired to the planet of Aephus, many would’ve said that young Sicaria was destined for greatness. Her mother was a renowned sniper with more confirmed kills than she could remember and her father was possibly the best shock trooper in his company, so she had some big shoes to fill. She wanted to, too, but life had other plans for her. Sometime around the age of ten, both parents were killed in an industrial accident in the shipyard, though it was a suspicious case. They were the only ones injured or killed, and a stable stack of shipping containers had been dropped on them from above. Even this young, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together, and the authorities did as well. The only issue was that the perpetrators were off world before anyone even found the bodies. When word got back to Sicaria, she was less disturbed by the death of her parents and more so by who her closest relative. This relative was her uncle Decimus, a middle-aged burnout that lived on the Citadel drinking his days away. Unfortunately for her, she could do nothing to stop this move. In the days following the funeral, which were quite emotional for all involved, Sicaria was moved to her uncle’s apartment on the Zakera Ward, and things quickly turned for the worse. His housing smelled of a distinct combination of sex, booze, and marijuana, and this was more than enough to put the girl off. In the months following, she slowly grew used to the situation she had been thrust into. It wasn’t ideal, but her fifteenth birthday would be her salvation. Come that age, she was sent off to Palaven to join the military like all other Turians, and basic training was almost like breathing to her. Every drill was completed quickly and without complaint, like she was a machine made to do them. Her superiors noticed of course, and she was recommended to go into command training. For some reason, she denied the offer, which baffled those that made it. While it wasn’t unheard of, most Turians strove to reach the highest rank they could. For Sicaria, it was a simple question. Would you rather give the order to shoot, or the one pulling the trigger? She decided she would be better of pulling the trigger. From there, things went well until she turned sixteen, and on the cusp of graduation, started to show some biotic capability. She was sent off to a Cabal Unit pretty quickly and received an amount of training with them, getting a set of biotic implants along the way. Her abilities, while limited, did their job. Someone also gave her the idea of combining these with tech powers, and a Sentinel was born. For the next few years, this unit moved around where they were needed, usually on simple peacekeeping missions and some diplomat escorts. Overall, she had a fairly boring time in the military with only a few notable skirmishes, but nothing worth retelling. When news came out about Saren’s betrayal, Sicaria was devastated. That spectre had been her idol since her childhood, and to see him allied with the Geth drove her to flee to Omega to sort things out. She wasn’t the only one, another member of her unit named Vetia went with her for similar reasons, and possibly one of romance. On this derelict station her life finally gained some level of interest, and she intended to enjoy the time she had there. Turians were a rare sight on Omega, as most know. A criminal haven was a place that fit the profile of Batarians or Vorcha easier than an entire militarized race, but here were two of those looking to rent an apartment and find out which gang offered the best protection. Lone behold, it ended up being the only one with Turian representation, the Blue Suns. For the duration of the investigation into Saren, she stayed on the station, not having a reason to go elsewhere. Little changed for her until the revival of Shepard two years after his death, aside from one key factor. She had gotten involved with the Suns somewhere in that gap and offered herself as an enforcer. These guys, knowing how valuable a bullet sponge that keeps getting back up is, readily accepted the offer and took off the protection fee on the apartment. The biggest downside was when Shepard came for a sort of knight paragon trying to clean up the station. They were finally able to move in, something had taken that sniper’s eyes off the bridge in. It was probably the Blood Pack breaking into the basement after all that time spent doing nothing down there. She was at the head of the next rush in, and everyone got across unscathed. But right when the front door came down, a certain famous human was waiting with a shotgun ready. Sicaria took the brunt of the first shot, rather her armor did, and she made the decision to stay down and escape the day with her life rather than get up and get killed for sure. Miraculously, it worked. And at that moment, she decided the gang life wasn’t worth it. Around a week later, Sicaria and her girlfriend fled the rock in favor of the Citadel, ironically finding another apartment close to where Decimus still lived. In a way, things ended up coming up full circle, at least until a trip to Earth some six months later. The pair had taken a vacation to the Caribbean, still a popular tourist trap, when the Reapers came. Sicaria had been lucky, she got off world in the first wave, as did Vetia. Though she saw enough destruction and took up arms, just waiting for the chance to move in give the Reapers what for. This galaxy was their home, and she would be damned before she gave it up willingly. Sometime later, with the destruction of the Reapers, Sicaria and Vetia returned to their apartment on the Citadel and resumed life, each one working to dig up information on how well their old unit fared during the war. It was a miracle they had both survived the invasion, but here they were. Psyche Profile: Sicaria is a soldier at peace with herself by now, ready to slow down and relax for a little while before taking up arms again to fight for another cause. Ceaseless and headstrong are good words to describe her, since it would take an army to stop her once her mind is set on something worth fighting for. Her favorite moment in life is the calm before the storm, she says that it brings out the best and worst in people. Overall, she’s open minded and really doesn’t care what someone does as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone else. The reconstruction of other planets isn’t very high on her priority list at the moment, though that’s mostly because of her living situation on the Citadel. Speaking of which, she doesn’t think its location matters much, as long as it stays her home for now. She wants to return to Aephus and potentially start a family one day, and ultimately hunt down the killers of her parents should they still be alive eighteen years and a genocide later. There isn’t much that Sicaria doesn’t like, but general assholery is up there. Specialty: Sicaria is a believer in the idea of high-risk high-reward, and as a result, she’s a qualified Red Herring of sorts. In short, her job description is to keep pressure off the main unit and create openings for them and anyone with a long range weapon. She also has a knack for keeping constant pressure on groups of enemies. Powers/Skills: -Throw - Warp - Lift Grenade - Tech Armor - Overload - Cryo Blast Equipment and Resources: - Turian Cabal Armor - Phaeston - M-11 Wraith - Matched pair of Omni-Blades -Station Contact - Omega -Black Market Access Sample Post: ”Ugh… how drunk was I last night?” ”Enough for me to carry you home and you to carry me to the bed.” ”Huh, must’ve been fun.” The figure of Sicaria Velinian slowly sat up in her bed, searching for some article of clothing that had been undoubtedly lost somewhere in the sheets last night’s lusty activities. It took her a moment, but she found a pair of flannel pants and slipped them on, then stood up. The blood rushed from her head and her vision faded, prompting her to sit back down for a moment. In this moment, the other Turian in the bed by the name of Vetia was crawling over and lightly running her claws down her lover’s back. ”…You’re never this affectionate in the morning unless you want breakfast.” ”You know me well, dear.” With a smirk, she laid back with her hands behind her head, giving Sicaria a light nudge with her knee. One exaggerated eye roll later, the younger of the two was up and moving out of the bedroom of the apartment. It was a small area, really just a bedroom, bathroom, and combined living room and kitchen, but it was enough for the pair. And in the kitchen was where the girl went to work, digging through the refrigerator to find something edible. Her savior came in the eggs of Palaven’s equivalent to the chicken, which quickly got taken out and set on the counter. The fridge was slammed shut and the Turian set to work, cracking eggs over a pan while the delicious scent of breakfast filled the room. In the meantime, four slices of bread were dropped into a toaster and a jar of something similar to peanut butter was retrieved from a cupboard above the counter all while a naked Turian tried her hand at stealth. ”Vetia, there’s a reason you have vanguard implants. You’re not exactly quiet… and put some clothes on.” Without a word, the girl in question turned around and came back with a pair of pants similar to Sicaria’s and sat at the counter. Not a moment later, the toaster returned that which it was made to create with a loud ding. ”Now is it just me, or does this all seem so… surreal? Like, a month ago we were all fighting for survival and now we’re eating actual food, not nutrient paste.” ”I know what you mean, it’s weird… but a good weird, y’know?” In the coming silence, Vetia would get up from her seat and collect a few eggs from the pan for herself, contemplating how life had come to it’s current point. Sicaria did the same, mulling over just what to say in the coming moments. With some dry toast on her plate now, and taking the rest of the eggs in the pan, she sat down at her own seat. ”Yeah… it feels good to not be shot at for once, though.” The girl smiled up at her lover as she came over to sit beside her, giving her a light peck on the mandible. ”It’s your turn to buy the tea, you know.” ”I know…” This fact was acknowledged with an audible sigh. Notes - Bisexual, prefers females. - Has a girlfriend named Vetia, they’ve been together for a little under three years. - Has no immediate family. - Scythe tattoo was done roughly a week following the defeat of the Reapers. ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ "So these are the people I'm protecting this time..." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Certainly a capable leader, but he's a little too naive for my liking." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Aegon Partinax || ☀ "A legend among Turians, makes me wonder how serious this really is." ☀ Like I said, Aegon's a living legend. Hell, almost every Partinax is, but he stands out. He practically filled Saren's place after he went rogue, and he found the time to raise a couple kids! I'm not the best Turian, probably one of the worst, but I aspire to be like him. Everyone should. || Ravanor Rykarn || ☀ "In all honesty, I never expected the most reasonable thing in the galaxy to be a Krogan." ☀ Never thought I'd say a Krogan was level-headed, but here I am. He's some weird mix of a Krogan and an Asari, like a walking tank with a functioning brain that's keen enough to make you worry a bit. He's very nice though, covered my ass when I accidentally screwed him over and kept me company the night after the husks. Speaking of which, Krogan make surprisingly good pillows... and, he helped me realize something. I want a committed relationship, limitations and all. No more of that 'fuck anyone you want' crap, it's fun but it's caused too many problems. So Rykarn, if you somehow get your hands on this recording, thanks. || Vella Calixten Ophelia || ☠ "Aegon's chewed her out already, not sure how things will turn out with her..." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ellis Taevon || ☠ "It feels like an ice cube gets dropped in my armor whenever this... thing, looks at me." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "Quick at his job, never seen anyone break through a Cerberus encryption as fast as this Quarian." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Phalanx || ⚜ "I had my concerns, but it's proven itself trustworthy. Anyone that takes a few husk bites for the team if fine by me." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ja'Far Balak || ⚜ "Chain-smoker, probably has the worst tobacco addiction I've ever seen. Great in the field, though." ⚜ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Rol'Narris vas Vaepal || ☕ "Wait, we have a second Quarian? And he was on the infiltration team!?" ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Tiberius Adarian || ✌ "Between him and Ja'Far, I'll be burning enough incense to start a fire with." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Raik Skarr || ✌ "He doesn't come off as a conversationalist, lets his actions speak for him. Not surprised, really." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Gilvert Somner || ☠ "Not to say I hate him, it's just that something feels... off, about him." ☠ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Salissa Fortia || ✌ "She's tougher than steel, though she makes me wonder if there really is a difference between bravery and stupidity." ✌ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Alria Vicrinus || ❤ "I might have a shot, Spirits please tell me I have a shot with her!" ❤ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings. || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "I have literally no idea who this is." ☕ Longer explanation and exploration of feelings.

U N D E R W O R L D K A T A B A S I S: E P I L O G U E Interagir avec:,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, Aegon Partinax et lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson Aegon a éteint son fusil, content de laisser les Marines de l'Alliance sécuriser la zone. Ils ont travaillé rapidement, se débarrassant de la dernière des défenses et installant des champs de feu sur l'entrée du tunnel effondrée dans le cas extrêmement improbable des défenses parvenant d'une manière ou d'une autre à briser les débris compactés. Leur chef s'approcha d'un sourire et Aegon tendit la tête en saluant. -- Eh bien, qui aurait cru qu'un Spectre du Conseil aurait besoin de secours? "Ce n'était pas un sauvetage, plus un travail de nettoyage, d'où la raison pour laquelle nous avons appelé pour vous." Aegon a permis au fantôme le plus étrange d'un sourire d'apparaître sur ses lèvres. Vega a ri, "Bon de voir que tu n'as pas changé du tout Neige." "De même, Vega." Aegon avait rencontré le lieutenant-commandant après la bataille de Londres dans un bar fréquenté par des opérateurs des forces spéciales. Ils ont même mené quelques opérations conjointes après que Vega a été promu et fait N7. L'homme était un peu bruyant à son goût, mais il était un excellent opérateur et un camarade ferme. En tant que tel, Aegon ne se souciait même pas de l'insistance de Vega à l'appeler par un surnom, donc choisi pour l'apparence d'Aegon et le comportement glacial selon Vega. C'était dommage que Vega n'ait pas pu rejoindre le groupe de travail. Il était l'un des principaux atouts des forces spéciales de l'Alliance et ils ne l'auraient pas autorisé, il serait certainement un allié plus fiable qu'une partie importante de la propre équipe d'Aegon. Aegon a fait un geste vers le tunnel effondré. « J'ai besoin d'aller de l'avant avec ces prisonniers dès que possible. Le Conseil voudra un compte rendu. Mais nos techniciens te transféreront nos exploits de porte. Votre unité peut verrouiller tout et balayer avec plus de renforts. Nous ne pouvons pas en autoriser un seul dans la ville." Vega secoua la tête dans l'incrédulité : « Je savais que Cerberus était fou. Mais faire des expériences sur les Husks sous Londres? C'est bien au-delà du loco. De quoi s'agit-il? Entre toi et moi? Est-ce une partie de quelque chose de plus grand?" "Tout ce que je peux dire, c'est que vous devriez être en alerte. Au-delà de ça, c'est classé. Si vous voulez en savoir plus, vous devez être lu dans le programme. Demandez à Hackett s'il vous laissera vous coordonner avec nous plus loin, nous pourrions avoir l'utilisation de vous et de votre unité à nouveau. Bonne chasse à Vega." Avec un clin d'œil d'adieu, il s'en alla, et aperçut Sartiel. Aegon grimaçait et griffait le petit humain par le collier de son armure, en entrant dans son visage et grogneant humblement contre lui, « Je vous ai donné un ordre Sartiel. Un simple ordre et tu as désobéi. Ce genre d'outrage au commandement est exactement la raison pour laquelle je t'ai assigné des renforts. Ce sera la dernière fois que vous publierez un ordre direct. Recommencez et je vous ferai transférer au Projet d'Ascension pour nettoyer les toilettes pour le reste de votre carrière militaire. En attendant, vous êtes en service de modification de munitions pendant un mois une fois que nous embarquons sur notre navire. Rompez." Aegon l'a laissé partir et a suivi Jake en haut. Il était heureux d'être à nouveau dans la lumière naturelle après leur fiasco souterrain. Aegon composait déjà mentalement son rapport d'action au Conseil et Primarch Victus, agitant les médecins qui venaient le voir. Les prisonniers étaient chargés dans un transport de la police militaire à destination de la Citadelle pour être remis à C-Sec et finalement transférés sous la garde de Spectre. C'était trop risqué de les garder ici à Londres et ils devaient être interrogés dès que possible. Quelques-uns de ses hommes, deux anciens hastatim, accompagnèrent le transport pour s'assurer que tout allait bien. Aegon suivit Anderson jusqu'au centre de commandement de Coats, secouant la main avec l'officier de l'Alliance. Ils avaient combattu côte à côte dans l'assaut Hammer et un sacré bon tireur. Pour un humain, en tout cas. Il a écouté le débriefing avec un visage pierreux et a hurlé après qu'il a conclu et Jake est parti. Il n'aimait pas que Jake salue cet homme, même s'il appréciait les capacités du Marine. Jake était son supérieur, pas l'inverse. Aegon a décidé de passer quelques appels à l'Alliance et de voir si Anderson avait été renversé par le commandant d'état-major. Il s'est tourné vers Coats, "Je vais appeler le détachement du Corps du génie Turian et l'unité d'intervention de crise, je vais faire transférer quelques hommes ici pour aider au sauvetage et à la reconstruction. Ils seront bientôt là. Aidez-vous à tout trier rapidement. Et certains de mes gars peuvent venir avec des nathaks pour aider à renifler les survivants. Je vais demander à mon frère de contacter le plus proche parent et de l'informer qu'il peut demander réparation au Conseil. Je vais leur dire un mot, mais c'est à vos gars de faire les visites et de parler à la presse." Coats a hurlé gruffly, "Je vais laisser le PR à Hackett, il est beaucoup mieux à ce sujet que moi. Mais merci pour l'aide, Partinax." "Le moins que je puisse faire. Jusqu'à la prochaine fois." Il s'est retourné pour partir quand Coats a appelé, "J'ai un sentiment qui sera bientôt, n'est-ce pas?" Aegon ne s'est pas retourné et s'est enfui en disant: «C'est très bien possible. Restez à l'affût des manteaux." Le Spectre a laissé Jake gérer le discours, décider de garder sa paix. Il était susceptible de déchirer l'équipe un nouveau collectif pour le résultat de la mission, mais il savait que ce serait contre-productif à ce stade. Ça ne servirait à rien de les piéger tous quand ils en ont fait un travail décent, et bien certains d'entre eux l'avaient fait. Il a décidé de dicter son examen tactique des actions de chaque membre de l'équipe à son omni-outil et de transmettre un rapport individuel à chaque membre de l'équipe. Rendre plus constructive plutôt que critiquer. Ça ne prendrait pas longtemps, ils auraient chacun une nouvelle notification d'ici demain. Et finalement, il a pensé que cela obtiendrait de meilleurs résultats que de les habiller tous comme ils étaient dans le camp de démarrage. Surtout aux combattants comme Rykarn et Skarr qui avaient plusieurs décennies, sinon des siècles sur lui en termes d'expérience de combat. Les morts civiles ont été malheureuses, mais Aegon ne l'a pas laissé trop ennuyer, plus qu'un regret de passage. Ces personnes seraient peut-être en vie si l'équipe s'était maintenue plus longtemps, mais les dommages collatéraux se trouvaient dans des limites acceptables en ce qui concerne le Turian. Si les défenses s'étaient brisées, les pertes auraient été catastrophiques. Ils avaient sauvé beaucoup plus de vies qu'ils ne l'avaient fait et Aegon croyait de tout cœur que les morts pouvaient être solidement posées à la porte de Cerberus. Il pouvait cependant dire que la perte était difficile pour Anderson. Aegon a compris. Les humains n'étaient pas habitués à faire des victimes comme les Turiens, et même Aegon a eu quelques nuits sans sommeil. Il s'est exprimé soudainement et a appelé Jake dans une chaîne privée directe, "J'étais un lieutenant juste hors de l'école de l'officier, mon premier commandement et j'étais en charge d'un peloton Havoc Shock." Aegon n'a pas regardé Jake, regardant au loin pendant qu'ils marchaient. "Les séparatistes ont organisé un soulèvement sur Aspho. Mutinée à la garnison locale. Ils ont mis les mains sur l'armure et l'ordonnance lourde et sont prêts à prendre le Capitole. Ils nous ont envoyés pour qu'ils se battent avant que ça arrive. AA était trop chaud pour faire une chute directe alors nous avons dû nous lier à l'armée, atterrir au port spatial pendant que certains civils étaient évacués, beaucoup d'enfants et de personnes âgées. Je suis à peine sorti sur le quai quand j'ai vu ce garçon. Pas plus de sept, il avait un jouet mexta attaché à son dos pendant qu'il tenait sur la main d'une femme plus âgée. Grand-mère, j'ai appris plus tard." Aegon continua alors qu'ils s'approchaient de la navette : « Dès qu'il nous a vus dans notre armure argentée brillante avec nos jetpacks, il s'est allumé. Ses yeux ont été grands comme une étoile, et il a eu le plus grand sourire, le plus fou que j'ai jamais vu. Il a agité sur nous, criant dans l'excitation. Puis il est devenu sérieux, il s'est levé droit et m'a salué aussi fort que n'importe quel officier que j'ai jamais vu. Je l'ai salué et je savais que je regardais un futur soldat havoc. Il a encore souri mais il ne m'a pas vu sourire, parce que j'avais mon casque allumé." Il se souvenait de tout. La chaleur du soleil, les rugissements des navires en décollant et en atterrissant, les éclaboussures de bottes sur le tarmac, les plaisanteries de ses hommes sur le canal de com de l'équipe. "Une minute je le regardais, la suivante il était parti. J'ai vu le feu le prendre. Sympathisant séparateur. Chariot-citerne truqué. Trente soldats armés jusqu'aux dents et nous ne pouvions rien faire pour empêcher près d'une centaine de civils et vingt soldats de mourir. » Aegon s'est tourné vers Jake alors qu'ils se tenaient devant la porte de la navette, "Les gens meurent Jake, même quand nous faisons de notre mieux. Tout ce qu'on peut faire, c'est continuer à essayer. Et veiller à ce que nous arrêtions les responsables avant qu'ils ne le fassent à nouveau." Avec cela, il est entré dans la navette et a pris place par la fenêtre. Aegon était assez sûr que Jake s'en remettrait bientôt, l'homme était un soldat expérimenté. Il espérait que le discours aiderait au moins un peu. Un jour, Jake réaliserait ce genre de choses. Des innocents ont été blessés, tués. Même les enfants. Mais il savait aussi que ça n'aurait pas aidé à raconter toute l'histoire. Aegon se rappela à quel point il avait été horrifié, après avoir vu le corps. Les cris des mourants et la fissuration des flammes pendant qu'il regardait en état de choc. L'odeur rampant au-delà de ses filtres. Comment il avait jeté à l'intérieur de son casque. Le regard sur les parents fait face quand ils sont venus pour l'identifier. C'était la première fois qu'il avait vu un enfant mourir, mais c'était loin de la dernière. Si les esprits le souhaitent, Jake en tirerait la leçon. Et j'espère qu'il n'aura pas à apprendre les autres. Au début, Jake n'était que peu au courant du fait qu'Aegon lui parlait alors qu'ils se rendaient à la navette. Il a supposé que le Turian disait quelque chose au sujet de la mission, ou peut-être en mentionnant quelque chose pour le rapport qu'ils devaient faire au Conseil. C'était un moment avant qu'il se rende compte que son collègue le régalait d'une histoire de son passé, qui allait un peu à la confusion de la N7, comme jusqu'à présent Aegon n'avait pas vraiment parlé avec lui de tout ce qui n'était pas lié à leur mission. Il avait eu l'impression que le Turian ne l'aimait pas vraiment, ou l'avait dans les parages, mais tant qu'il était prêt à travailler ensemble, Jake avait choisi de ne pas le presser. Le fait que l'autre Spectre s'ouvrait à lui était assez unique pour réveiller Anderson de sa fugue quelque peu. Il s'est rendu compte en partie à travers le conte sentimental que c'était les Aegons tentent d'essayer de lui faire se sentir mieux sur ce qui s'était passé. Il regarda de côté le Turian, surprise évidente sur son visage. Il n'avait vraiment pas pensé que l'homme se souciait de lui, jamais assez d'essayer d'assassiner sa culpabilité à l'échec des familles qui avaient vécu dans ce bloc de logements. Avait-il vraiment mal jugé le Turian? L'histoire elle-même n'a guère aidé Jake – il avait combattu pendant les guerres de Reaper, donc il était habitué depuis longtemps aux gens qui mouraient sur lui, peu importe ce qu'il avait fait – mais le fait qu'Aegon essayait de l'aider, cela signifiait quelque chose. La N7 n'a rien dit, mais a hissé ses remerciements avant d'embarquer dans la navette. Aegon est resté silencieux sur le trajet, échangeant une salutation avec le pilote de la navette avant qu'il ne commence à vérifier son équipement, brisant ses armes et les nettoyant et utilisant son omni-outil pour réparer les bosselures et les rayures dans son armure. Il a bougé rapidement, efficacement. Il n'avait même pas à regarder, se concentrant sur la vue pendant que la navette volait dans le ciel. Il a pensé à sa femme Visenya, à ses enfants Maegor et Rhaena, à Daemon à naître. Il a décidé de leur rendre visite immédiatement après avoir fait un compte rendu avec le Conseil. Père était aussi en poste, agissant comme la liaison du Primarch. Ils pourraient aller dîner, passer une nuit en famille. Aegon savait qu'il devait quitter le système bientôt, et il ne savait pas combien de temps il serait parti. Il a dû en tirer le meilleur parti. Quoi qu'il en soit. Peut-être pourrait-il l'utiliser à son avantage. Il était temps qu'il connaisse le vrai Anderson un peu plus. Après avoir terminé son entretien, Aegon s'est tourné vers Jake, "Je vais parler à Alliance Brass pour vous. Je pense qu'il est temps que tu obtiennes une promotion. Alenko et Shepard sont tous les deux commandants. Je suis un Impérateur. Il est temps que vous vous classiez aussi." Le silence de Jake continua alors que la navette les transportait vers la Citadelle. Il ne se faisait pas confiance aussi. Son estomac roulait violemment, son estomac brûlait d'un cocktail de bile, de regret et de poussière inhalée, surmonté d'une éclaboussure de gorille qui s'était retrouvée dans sa bouche pendant sa course terrifiée à travers le Cerberus, et il craignait que s'il ouvrait sa bouche pour dire quoi que ce soit, son corps utiliserait cela comme excuse pour vider son ventre. Au moins c'est la raison pour laquelle il essayait de se convaincre était la cause de son silence. C'est mieux que d'avoir à gérer les sentiments. À la fin de la guerre de Reaper, il avait cru qu'il en avait fini avec beaucoup de choses. Fait avec la terreur froide et transpirante d'être chassé dans les endroits sombres du monde par une meute de Husks râpants. Fait avec se jumeler contre les fous de Cerberus, qui a vu que tout l'univers tournait autour du drain, et a décidé qu'ils voulaient rester seuls indépendamment, et damner tout le monde dans le processus. Fait d'entendre à quel point les bonnes personnes étaient mortes parce qu'il n'était pas assez rapide, assez fort, assez intelligent, juste assez bon enfer. Il y a un an, il s'était réveillé dans un lit d'hôpital, où on lui avait dit que, contre toute attente, ils avaient gagné la guerre. Il s'est souvenu de pleurer à cette nouvelle, a bousculé les yeux en fait, et ces larmes n'étaient venues plus lourd quand il a appris que papa était mort pendant les combats. Semblait la combinaison d'intense jubilation à leur victoire, la douleur à la mort de son père, et le traumatisme crânien l'avait rendu idiot. Comment aurait-il pu croire qu'il en avait fini avec toutes les mauvaises choses de la vie? L'univers avait été un endroit merdique bien avant que les Reapers n'aient élevé leur tête laid. Ça allait toujours être un endroit merdique maintenant qu'ils étaient partis. Les monstres allaient toujours se cacher dans l'obscurité. Des gens comme Cerberus allaient continuer à blesser tout le monde autour d'eux. Des enfants où ils vont encore mourir. La réalisation, associée à l'histoire d'Aegon, l'a quelque peu réveillé aux réalités de sa position. Juste parce que les Reapers étaient partis ne voulait pas dire que le pire était fini. Jake était un Spectre maintenant. Qu'il le veuille ou non, c'était la vie qu'il avait signée. Peut-être qu'il n'était pas assez bon cette fois, mais n'était-ce pas juste une incitation pour lui d'être meilleur la prochaine fois? N'est-ce pas ce que papa aurait dit? Peut-être, avec un soupir. Il ne savait pas vraiment si c'était ce que le célèbre David Anderson aurait dit ou non. Peut-être a-t-il toujours été satisfait de sa performance, sentant toujours qu'il avait tout donné, qu'il ait réussi ou échoué. Peut-être qu'il aurait arrêté ces Husks sans s'effondrer les tunnels. Peut-être qu'il y avait un moyen de les arrêter que Jake avait manqué, un moyen que David aurait pu repérer. Avec tous les prix et les félicitations, le vieil homme avait repris au cours de sa carrière, ce n'était pas sans les royaumes de la possibilité. Cet homme était un héros de guerre, il faisait l'impossible. Jake n'était qu'une pâle imitation au mieux. La vérité, c'est qu'il n'avait jamais vraiment connu le vieil homme. Son père avait toujours été trop marié à l'Alliance des systèmes pour avoir du temps pour sa famille, sa mère citant même cela comme raison de leur divorce. Jake s'entend lentement avec le fait que l'un des facteurs moteurs pour lui d'adhérer à l'AS, de se pousser si fort, de postuler à l'entraînement N7, était tous d'attirer l'attention de son père, de le rendre fier de lui. Il était probablement ironique d'une certaine façon, que tout ce temps il a passé à imiter la vie de papa dans l'espoir que le vieil homme prendrait vraiment conscience de lui n conduit à Jake devenir un Spectre, la seule réalisation qu'il avait à son nom que papa n'a jamais fait, et que maintenant il l'avait, le vieil homme était parti. Pourtant, même si papa l'avait dit ou non, c'était un conseil pour vivre votre vie. Fais mieux la prochaine fois. Il était temps d'arrêter d'essayer d'être David Anderson MK2 et de commencer à être Jake Anderson. C'est peut-être la millionième fois qu'il s'est fait cette promesse, et il a douté qu'elle allait rester, mais qu'est-ce qu'il y a eu de mal à essayer? Il était tellement absorbé dans ses pensées qu'il a failli manquer Aegon lui parler à nouveau. Il devrait regarder ça, sinon il pourrait risquer d'offenser le Turian. Son homologue voulait lui faire une promotion. Pour la deuxième fois, il fut surpris par son comportement de Spectre. Et plus qu'un peu flatté. Pendant un moment, il était sans voix. Lorsqu'il a réussi à parler, sa voix était rauque et rauque de toute la poussière et les débris qu'il a sans doute inhalé dans ces tunnels. Il est temps pour lui d'investir dans un bon casque, peut-être. Merci Aegon, la pensée signifie beaucoup, mais je ne peux pas t'en parler. Si l'Alliance pensait que je méritais d'être commandant, je serais commandant. Je détesterais que vous gaspillez vos faveurs à mon goût. Je gagnerai le rôle si je le mérite, ou je resterai lieutenant. C'est comme ça. Ce n'est pas comme ça qu'il devait dire ça à un Turian. Le Hierachy était un parfait exemple d'une méritocratie en action, et Partinax semblait être l'épitome de cela, au moins sur papier. Il était bon à son travail, donc il avait progressé dans les rangs jusqu'à ce qu'il occupe un poste de puissance incroyable, un poste où ses compétences pourraient avoir le plus grand effet. Anderson mentirait s'il disait qu'il ne pensait pas qu'il méritait déjà le poste de commandant, du moins sur un petit niveau, ou qu'il n'était pas tenté par l'offre d'Aegon, mais il savait que s'il ne gagnait pas le poste lui-même, alors il ne se sentirait jamais à l'aise. Bien sûr, une simple éloge au haut des cuivres d'un Spectre assaisonné et respecté n'allait pas mal. Seulement si ma performance le méritait, oubliez-vous, bien qu'entre tout ce qui est descendu dans ces tunnels, je serais plus que surpris si vous avez le temps de me regarder sur le dessus de tout le reste. » Il a ajouté avec un léger sourire, avant de retomber dans sa chaise avec un long gémissement, étirant ses jambes devant lui, essayant d'atténuer une partie de la tension physique dans ses muscles. Regarde-moi. Un an après le travail actif sur le terrain, et je peux à peine aller au rythme. Les gars de la Villa m'auraient pour le petit déjeuner tout de suite. Reyes, son ancien instructeur de l'époque des stagiaires, l'aurait forcé à faire une course de cinq milles s'il l'avait vu dans cet état, en criant des obscénités sur lui tout le chemin. Reyes lui manquait. Il se demandait si le vieil homme l'était maintenant. Espérons qu'il soit encore en vie, que le nouveau N7 soit en enfer. L'instructeur avait l'air à l'épreuve des balles quand Anderson le connaissait, donc il doutait que quoi que ce soit, même la fin du monde, aurait pu le faire tomber. Aegon légèrement rugueux, bien qu'Anderson ne l'ait peut-être pas remarqué, les humains ont souvent trouvé les expressions faciales turiennes difficiles à déchiffrer, "Je comprends. Ça viendra quand ça viendra, mais je m'attends à ce que vous n'ayez pas à attendre beaucoup plus longtemps. Tu as bien fait de mener ton équipe de pompiers dans ce chaos. J'étais un peu occupé à tout noter, mais vous avez réussi à les conduire et un tas de prisonniers à travers ce bazar sans mort et avec de bonnes infos. Impressionnant. Ce sera certainement dans mon rapport." Aegon s'est senti réévaluer Jake. Soit il était le meilleur espion qu'il ait jamais vu, soit il était à quoi il ressemblait, un genre franc et honnête. Jake n'avait pas l'air d'un informateur. Mais il devait garder un œil sur lui. Ce n'est pas parce qu'il ne l'espionnait pas qu'il pouvait lui faire confiance. Quoi qu'il en soit, la plupart auraient sauté sur l'offre d'Aegon, en refusant son caractère démontré. Il se demandait comment l'idéalisme de Jake serait affecté par son statut Spectre. Serait-il attaché à cet honneur? Le temps le dirait. Anderson sourit à son collègue avant de fermer les yeux, se demandant s'il aurait eu assez de temps pour une sieste avant qu'ils arrivent à la Citadelle, bien qu'il fut interrompu quand Aegon reprit la parole. "En outre, après que ce travail avec le Conseil est terminé, nous avons encore presque toute une journée avant de rencontrer l'équipe à nouveau. Ma famille est en poste, j'allais dîner avec eux. Pourquoi tu ne nous rejoins pas? Ils viennent de reconstruire ce bar de fruits de mer, que Shepard a détruit l'année dernière. Bon repas, boissons, je suis assez sûr qu'il y aura beaucoup de femmes célibataires. Et vous rencontrerez le célèbre général Partinax. Nous pouvons sortir notre esprit de Cerberus et nous détendre un peu avant de devoir plonger dans les choses. Qu'en pensez-vous?" Visenya avait déjà rencontré Jake avant lorsqu'ils formulaient les dossiers et les paquets d'information pour la première mission, mais pour autant qu'Aegon le sache, Jake n'avait pas encore rencontré l'un des officiers les plus décorés de la Hiérarchie. Les deux d'entre eux n'avaient pas beaucoup interagi en dehors du groupe de travail, Aegon pensait que ce serait une bonne occasion pour eux de se connaître un peu mieux. Et pour qu'Aegon détermine si Jake gardait un œil sur lui pour le Conseil. Cette fois, Jake a vraiment été secoué. Si quelqu'un l'avait déjà frappé comme étant le type de garder sa maison et de travailler des vies séparées, c'était Aegon. Il s'est assis un peu plus droit pour regarder le Turian dans les yeux, se demandant si c'était une sorte de blague. L'autre Spectre semblait être sérieux. Les surprises, semble-t-il, n'ont jamais cessé. Anderson a d'abord pensé à refuser poliment l'offre. Il doutait qu'il serait très bonne compagnie ce soir – en fait, il prévoyait d'avoir un peu de temps seul avec une bouteille des choses difficiles à essayer de noyer les souvenirs désagréables de la journée – et l'idée d'avoir à jouer agréable avec la femme, les enfants et le père d'Aegon était pas tout cela séduisant. Plus important encore, il pourrait s'agir de la dernière chance des Turians de passer du temps seul avec sa famille pendant un moment. Jake ne voulait vraiment pas empiéter sur ça. Inversement, cela semblait que Partinax s'adressait vraiment à lui. Est-ce qu'il pourrait jeter ça dans le visage de l'autre homme? Peut-être pourraient-ils développer une relation de travail plus cordiale. L'Équipe spéciale ne pourrait qu'en bénéficier, n'est-ce pas? Contre son meilleur jugement, il décida de prendre Aegon, mais seulement si l'homme était certain. T'es sûr? C'est peut-être votre dernière chance d'obtenir un peu de temps seul que vous êtes votre famille pour qui sait combien de temps. Certain que vous voulez que je sois là, ce qui fait que l'endroit n'a pas l'air propre? « J'ai l'impression que nous resterons encore quelques jours autour de la Citadelle, ma famille et moi aurons encore une chance de passer une soirée tranquille. De plus, Visenya m'a demandé de mettre en place quelque chose depuis des mois, depuis que le Conseil vous a assignés, vous et moi, comme partenaires. Je me suis dit qu'il était temps." Aegon a délibéré un peu avant de parler, "Je pense que je peux dire à Visenya que nous devrions avoir un repas cuit à la maison à la place. Ce sera plus calme qu'un restaurant, nous allons recharger nos batteries. Et ne t'inquiète pas pour la nourriture. Ma femme cuisine Dextro et Levo. Elle est en liaison avec les Salariens, les Hanar, les Asari, même les humains. Elle a ramassé des trucs. Je te laisse retourner chez toi et te faire nettoyer un peu et je t'envoie l'adresse à notre appartement. C'est sur le Silversun Strip, donc si l'humeur nous frappe, nous pouvons toujours prendre quelques verres après que les enfants soient mis au lit. Ça sonne comme un plan?" Aegon n'était pas ce qu'on appellerait le type trop social, mais il a reconnu la valeur de la camaraderie. Il allait travailler avec Anderson pendant un moment. Ce ne serait qu'un avantage de l'avoir lu. Anderson a ri. Dîner dans un endroit de Turian? Il était assez certain que papa n'avait jamais fait ça non plus. C'est toujours bon d'avoir une autre jambe sur le vieil homme. C'est comme un plan pour mon partenaire.Le "date" mis, il s'est réinstallé dans sa chaise et a fermé les yeux une fois de plus. Enfin, la Citadelle a rempli le port de vue. Aegon n'a pas aimé le fait que le siège du gouvernement galactique était profondément enraciné dans le territoire humain maintenant. Avant qu'il n'ait été dans un terrain neutre. Maintenant, les humains avaient encore un autre avantage politique. Ils devenaient de plus en plus puissants d'ici le mois, alors que l'Alliance continuait à reconstruire ses troupes et son annexe détruisaient les colonies Terminus. Il était trop difficile de le faire maintenant avec des réparations encore en cours, mais Aegon espérait que le Conseil ramènerait la station à la Nébuleuse du Serpent dès que possible. Alors que la navette entrait dans la station, Aegon observait les navires en orbite. Le trafic spatial était plus dense que jamais, même si la proportion de navires militaires était encore très élevée. Les Turiens avaient encore le plus de navires dans la flotte de la Citadelle, mais les humains étaient en train de rattraper rapidement. La station avait à peine commencé à se remettre de la première attaque de Reaper. Après la tentative de Cerberus Coup et la dernière invasion de Reaper, il était de retour au carré pour la plupart de la station. Grâce à C-Sec, CDF, les garnisons militaires et le personnel en congé à terre, la population de la Citadelle avait pour la plupart survécu à l'attaque, mais des milliers étaient encore morts et tout en dehors du Présidium avait des niveaux de dommages variables. La plupart de la station avait à peine de l'énergie. Et il était encore surpeuplé par les réfugiés de toutes races qui attendaient que leurs maisons soient reconstruites pour revenir. Le squalor était aussi mauvais que n'importe quelle ville portuaire planestide maintenant. Le marché clandestin et noir criminel était aussi revenu d'une grande manière. Aegon a promis d'aider la station à récupérer sa gloire passée, et bientôt. Il ne laisserait pas le siège de la galaxie se transformer en Oméga. La navette a été rapidement dédouanée par le contrôle et amarrée dans le hangar privé réservé à Spectres. Aegon a vu les tours et les tours hautes avec des toits émiettés et des façades brisées. Il devait s'assurer que ça ne se reproduise plus. Aegon est sorti de la navette et a attendu Jake avant de passer rapidement par les scanners de sécurité. Aegon a trouvé un skycar réservé vide et a sauté dans le siège du conducteur, prêt à décoller pour le Présidium puis la tour de la Citadelle, "Il est temps de faire face aux pouvoirs qu'est Anderson." Certains Spectres étaient quelque peu opposés au Conseil, mais Aegon avait toujours eu une relation cordiale avec eux. Bien qu'il se soit demandé quelle nouvelle crise ils allaient aller à lui pour une solution. Jake a suivi Aegon dans le skycar et s'est installé dans le siège passager. J'essaie de calmer les papillons dans son estomac. Comment le Turian pourrait-il être si blasé à propos de tout ça? N'a-t-il pas réalisé qu'ils allaient à une réunion avec quatre des personnes les plus puissantes et les plus importantes de la galaxie? Est-ce que ça ne l'a pas mis en phase? Il a mis en place Anderson. Il l'a souvent mis en phase. Au point qu'il espérait en fait silencieusement qu'une autre horde de Husks vienne s'occuper de la Citadelle et lui donne une excuse pour ne pas aller voir le Conseil. Il regarda Aegon et lui fit un petit sourire. C'est parti. Chambres du Conseil du Présidium Anderson a franchi les escaliers de l'antichambre de la tour Citadel derrière Aegon, sans se soucier de la figure moins qu'héroïque qu'il coupait. Il faisait trop mal, et était beaucoup trop nerveux de moitié, pour se soucier des pensées des autres, ou de la façon dont ils le regardaient. Il avait entendu dire que la tour avait besoin de réparations importantes après que des débris du navire Reaper, Souverain, s'y étaient écrasés pendant la bataille de la Citadelle. L'intégration de la technologie de la voie lactée avec les méthodes de construction avancées impliquées dans la construction de la tour avait été un processus lent et laborieux, si lent que les réparations étaient toujours en cours lorsque la pleine force de Reaper avait frappé. Bien sûr, la guerre avait mis un terme à la procédure et, pendant toute la durée, la tour était restée dans son état inachevé. Ce n'est qu'après la cessation des hostilités que les réparations ont été rétablies. En fait, c'est rapide. Plusieurs hauts responsables avaient estimé qu'il était préférable de fournir une illusion de stabilité à la galaxie pour la fournir effectivement avec l'actualité de la stabilité, et à cette fin ils ont rétabli le siège du pouvoir galactique à quelque chose qui lui ressemble une fois gloire. La moitié de la galaxie était encore coupée grâce à la destruction des Relais, et d'innombrables mondes souffraient encore des effets de dévastation presque complète, mais au moins le Conseil avait quelque part assez pour tenir leurs réunions. C'était en fait la première fois qu'Anderson était présent dans la Tour. Il avait été instigué comme un Spectre sur Vid-com à l'hôpital, il s'était réveillé après qu'il s'était réveillé hors de son coma, et n'avait donc jamais rencontré le Conseil en personne. À l'exception du conseiller Dominic Osoba, le représentant humain. Il a fait un point de venir sur terre pour se présenter personnellement après le rendez-vous d'Anderson. Jake aimait cet homme, le voyant comme un homme sérieux qui travaillait lui-même à l'os pour l'amélioration de son peuple. Cependant, il ne pouvait pas ébranler le sentiment qu'Osoba, qui semblait parfois bien hors de sa profondeur, avait été promu au-delà de ses capacités en raison du manque d'expérience politique réelle dans la galaxie post-réaper. J'y pense, j'ai pensé à Jake, peut-être que c'est ce qu'Osoba pensait de lui. Aegon a mené le chemin dans la salle d'audience du Conseil et s'est arrêté. Jake prit un moment dans les environs, laissant ses yeux errer le long de la végétation terrestre et extraterrestre qui composait les impressionnants jardins, combinant plantes et fleurs de chacune des planètes de course du Conseil pour faire une déclaration horticole unique en son genre sur le rôle du Conseil lui-même. « Nous prenons les meilleures parties de tous nos mondes et de nos cultures pour créer quelque chose qui transcende la somme de nos parties. » C'était à couper le souffle, même pour un homme aussi peu intéressé par le jardinage que Jake, les parfums exotiques et les couleurs peignant dans une medley sensuelle. Il souhaitait avoir plus de temps pour admirer la scène, mais il ne pouvait pas repousser le Conseil pour toujours. C'est encore plus dommage. Il éleva son regard aux Conseillers. Il rencontre d'abord le regard d'Osoba, qui lui donne un sourire presque imperceptible. Anderson sourit, bien qu'il ne s'inquiétait pas seulement de voir l'éruption de chaume foncé sans surveillance, et les sacs impressionnants qui s'étaient formés sous les yeux des conseillers. Le nouvel emploi, qui était censé à l'origine être temporaire, était plus important pour l'homme qu'il ne l'avait semblé. Parmi les autres conseillers, seuls Tevos, les Asari le regardaient, bien qu'il ait l'impression inconfortable qu'on l'étudie, plutôt que d'observer, ses yeux gris tempête semblent se déplacer à travers son cadre, mesurer ses dimensions et plomber ses profondeurs. Valern, les Salarians, ont été ombragés par les profondeurs de sa capuche volumineuse, tandis que Spatus, le Turian, se tenait avec ses bras croisés, semblant partager un regard avec Aegon, bien que ce que la signification de celui-ci était, Anderson ne pouvait pas dire. Après quelques instants de silence, Tevos a avancé, la tâche d'ouvrir la réunion lui revient évidemment. Spécifiez Partinax. Spectre Anderson. S'il vous plaît, faites votre rapport... Sa voix était lisse, mesurée, presque mélodieuse. Si Anderson avait dû le décrire, il aurait dit que ça sonnait comme du velours et du miel, des parties égales riches et luxueuses. Il doutait que ses paroles seraient si stables. Il a pris une profonde respiration, espérant que ça le calmerait. Ça ne l'a pas fait. Il s'avança, ouvrit la bouche et – Le conseiller turois l'a aboyé et l'a coupé. Anderson se tenait avec sa bouche à moitié ouverte pour un battement de cœur, avant de reculer et de tomber silencieux, comme un bon soldat. Lui et Aegon ont peut-être le même grade, techniquement, mais son partenaire était son senior, il s'est rappelé. Bien sûr, le Conseil préférerait entendre leurs rapports de l'ancien combattant. Pourtant, regardant le visage de Spartax, la dureté de son regard quand leurs yeux se rencontrèrent, quelque chose lui dit que c'était moins sur son expérience dans le travail, et plus sur sa race. Le conseiller Osoba's joues légèrement bouffées d'eau ne fait que renforcer cette croyance. Le visage d'Aegon était en pierre comme on l'a appelé en avant. Spartarus peut être son supérieur et un ami de la famille, mais Aegon n'a pas apprécié le manque de respect envers Anderson. Jake était un Spectre, il devrait être traité comme tel. Bien qu'Aegon ait supposé qu'il ne pouvait rien attendre de plus du conseiller turc. Spartarus avait été un vétéran de l'incident du Relais 314 et avait peu d'amour pour les humains. Et encore moins pour David Anderson, qui avait aussi été un vétéran de la bataille et qui s'était frôlé la tête avec Spartarus quand Anderson avait été membre du Conseil. Même le commandant Shepard avait été tenu en désarroi par Sparare jusqu'à ce qu'il sauve le Primarch. Pendant ce temps, Jake commençait déjà dans les mauvaises grâces de Spartarus. Mais Aegon n'a rien dit. Il n'y aurait pas lieu de discuter avec le Conseil si tôt dans la procédure et l'aîné Turian avait été un camarade de son père. Spartarus et Aegon avaient un respect mutuel. Aegon ne mettrait pas cela en péril en l'appelant devant toute la Tour. Au lieu de cela, il a échangé un clin d'œil respectueux avec le conseiller turc. Il a fait de même avec Tevos, Valern et Osoba. Tevos était une belle femme, et l'un des politiciens les plus habiles qu'il ait jamais rencontré. Elle n'a pas toujours approuvé les méthodes agressives d'Aegon, mais il a toujours fait le travail et ils avaient une relation de travail solide. C'était bien mieux d'être dans ses bonnes grâces que pas, ses vrilles politiques s'étendaient dans toute la galaxie. Aegon et Valern étaient également dans des conditions aimables, le Salarien avait des contacts de renseignement qui rivalisaient même avec le Courtier de l'Ombre. Son aide pouvait être coûteuse, mais elle valait bien le prix. Osoba cependant, Osoba était une quantité inconnue. Il n'a été conseiller que pendant moins d'un an et la plupart de ce temps a été passé à collaborer avec ce que peu de politiciens humains survivants ont été laissés ainsi que l'Alliance, pour reconstruire la Terre. Il avait fait un travail admirable de gestion du chaos, mais l'homme était hargneux et presque certainement hors de sa profondeur. Aegon n'avait parlé avec lui qu'à quelques reprises, leur relation professionnelle se développait encore. Mais Aegon était d'avis que si Osoba était nominalement l'humain le plus puissant laissé en vie, cette position est en fait tombée à l'amiral Hackett. Le temps nous indiquerait comment l'équilibre des pouvoirs au sein de l'Alliance a évolué. Aegon s'inclina devant tous les Conseillers et étendit son omni-outil. Une barrière scintillante enveloppait la plate-forme de l'orateur et la dais du Conseil. La barrière était insonorisée, et brouillait toute surveillance électronique potentielle et la réception extranet brouillé. Aegon s'est exprimé en ces termes : « Excuses les conseillers. Mais ce qui suit doit rester secret." Valern hoche la tête : « Nous comprenons la nécessité de Partinax. S'il vous plaît, continuez." Aegon relayait les événements de leur mission, sa posture aussi droite qu'une épée, « La mission fut un succès. Nous avons conclu avec une certitude absolue que les voyous étaient membres de Cerberus. Leur base a été pacifiée et les forces spéciales de l'Alliance survolent l'installation en ce moment même. Nous avons réussi à empêcher l'évasion de plusieurs scientifiques et les avons placés en garde à vue et même réussi à récupérer des données sensibles. Cependant, des complications sont apparues." "Complications?" Osoba s'est coupé, son visage rougissant alors que sa voix approchait d'un cri : « Des gens sont morts! Des civils! Votre équipe de psychopathes et de criminels a déclenché des explosions sous un immeuble habité. Savez-vous ce que nous faisons face à cause de ça? Une explosion à Londres juste un an après la guerre de Reaper? On a failli paniquer. Votre équipe devait y aller furtivement et discrètement. Au lieu de ça, ils ont fait tuer des innocents. Et maintenant Terra Firma a une journée sur le terrain avec ça. Ils sont déjà en train de tourner comme l'Alliance militarisation et la fraternisation extraterrestre courir amok. Sarancino les agite et organise une manifestation en ce moment même. Ce qui reste du Parlement de l'Alliance et du Roi d'Angleterre sont tous deux furieux. Et franchement, moi aussi. Qu'est-ce qui s'est passé là-bas, Partinax?" Aegon n'a montré aucune réaction visible à l'explosion d'Osoba. Il comprenait la frustration de l'homme et il ne pouvait pas lui en vouloir. Apparemment Tevos ne pouvait pas non plus, « Je ne suis pas nécessairement d'accord avec le ton de mon collègue, mais je partage une partie du sentiment. Nous sommes habitués à votre style d'opération mais c'était négligent par vos standards Partinax. Et cette sloppiness a causé beaucoup d'ennuis. Nous voulons des réponses." « Les victimes ont été malheureuses mais aussi inévitables de notre part. L'explosion était nécessaire, parce que Cerberus avait fait des expériences sur les défenses." Cela a attiré leur attention. Les quatre Conseillers se fixèrent les uns les autres, échangeant des regards sur la mauvaise nouvelle, alors qu'Aegon continuait : « L'opération partit sans accrochage jusqu'à ce qu'un scientifique de Cerberus déploie les défenses pour tenter de s'échapper. Ils avaient arrondi toutes les défenses laissées derrière eux au lendemain de la guerre. L'équipe de pompiers d'Anderson avait plus de deux mille balles sur la queue. Anderson a vite pensé à verrouiller l'installation et à les entonner vers l'équipe. Sinon, ils se seraient répandus partout dans le sous-sol et auraient fait leur chemin à la surface et les victimes auraient été stupéfiantes. » Spartarus interjeta: "Deux mille? Comment l'Intelligence a-t-elle raté ça? Comment n'avons-nous pas su?" Aegon a répondu : « Nous n'avons pas de conclusions fermes. Mais l'installation était très avancée. C'est probablement Cerberus a trouvé un moyen de masquer les signatures de Reaper à partir même des scans les plus intenses. Et ils sont seuls là-bas depuis près d'un an. Nous n'aurions pas remarqué le round=up des défenses puisque nos forces étaient si occupées par la récupération et la réparation à la surface. Il y a aussi la possibilité que des éléments au sein de nos services de renseignement aient aidé à obscurcir cette information. Valern a frappé son menton avec sa main, "Une possibilité de refroidissement, mais une que nous ne pouvons exclure. Spectre Lonar Maerun commencera à enquêter discrètement sur les fuites potentielles. Continuez partinax." "L'équipe d'Anderson a réussi à se lier avec la nôtre juste avant que les Husks nous frappent. Le couloir était serré et nous avons réussi à endiguer la marée. J'ai ordonné à l'équipe de rester debout. Mais nous avons dû envoyer des hommes après des prisonniers qui se sont échappés et envoyer d'autres pour exfiltrer les prisonniers et les données que nous avions pour assurer le succès de la mission. On ne pouvait plus tenir la ligne de tir sans mettre en danger toute l'équipe. Les Husks auraient croisé l'unité de Vega et auraient fait la même chose, puis ils auraient envahi la ville, tuant les esprits savent combien avant qu'ils soient abattus. On a dû faire sauter ce tunnel pour les arrêter. Crisis Response a fait un bon travail, mais ils n'étaient pas assez rapides pour le bâtiment juste au-dessus. C'est pour ça que ces gens sont morts Conseillers et pendant que je les regrette Je maintiens que la mission a été un succès et que nous avons fait tout ce que nous pouvions avoir. » Spartarus a grondé, "Vous auriez pu tenir votre équipe jusqu'à ce qu'ils soient au sol, Partinax. C'est ce que font les soldats. Non pas qu'ils soient tous des soldats, mais ils sont durables, c'est pour ça qu'on vous laisse engager une bande de voleurs et de parias. Tant qu'on vous a laissé debout pour appuyer sur la gâchette, les autres auraient pu se battre jusqu'au bout. Et la galaxie aurait pu être meilleure sans ces voyous qui courent autour maintenant." Aegon a remarqué que Spartarus n'a même pas mentionné Anderson et s'est demandé si le conseiller considérait Jake comme un élément durable. Il n'a pas pu demander. Valern s'est exprimé en ces termes: «Vraiment, mais la situation était clairement désespérée. Il n'y avait aucun moyen qu'ils aient survécu à la horde et il est peu probable qu'un retard supplémentaire aurait considérablement modifié les pertes, même si toute l'équipe s'était battue jusqu'à la mort. Et même alors, ils auraient encore eu besoin de sceller le tunnel. Partinax et Anderson sont des soldats décorés, et l'ensemble de la Force opérationnelle Katabasis est un atout opérationnel dont nous aurons besoin pour combattre Cerberus et d'autres menaces qui surgissent. En fin de compte, ils sont beaucoup plus essentiels à la sécurité de la galaxie que quelques civils. » Osoba a grimacé, "Quelques civils? On parle de gens innocents. Des enfants pour l'amour de Dieu." Valern regarda son collègue humain : « Je le sais. Et tu devrais réaliser qu'on parle de sécurité galactique. Les pertes seront inévitables." Osoba avait l'air d'être sur le point de se disputer davantage quand Tevos est entré, « Messieurs, nous pouvons nous disputer à ce sujet toute la journée, mais le fait est que Partinax et son groupe de travail ont terminé leur mission avec succès. Il est regrettable que des vies innocentes aient été perdues, mais c'est la réalité des missions nécessitant une participation de Spectre. Une douzaine de morts sont bien préférables à tout un district. Je suis satisfait de l'explication de Partinax sur ces événements malheureux et je propose que nous nous penchions sur des questions plus urgentes, en particulier les renseignements recueillis dans le cadre de cette mission. » Valern et Spartarus hochent la tête et, après un moment, Osoba aussi. Tevos se tourna vers Aegon : « S'il vous plaît, dites-nous ce que vous avez trouvé. Qu'est-ce qu'ils faisaient là-bas?" « Dans les dernières étapes de la guerre, Shepard découvrit que Cerberus avait fait des expériences pour contrôler les troupes de Reaper pour leur propre usage. Les expériences ont été interrompues et on a pensé que toute connaissance du projet a été perdue avec Henry Lawson et Jack Harper, également connu sous le nom d'Homme Illusif. Cependant, il est clair que Cerberus a réussi à récupérer au moins certaines données et a redémarré le projet. Ils n'avaient pas le contrôle des Husks mais leur travail était toujours en cours et nous ne pouvons exclure la possibilité que d'autres installations travaillent sur les mêmes expériences. De plus, nous avons découvert que le projet était supervisé par une personne seulement appelée le directeur. Cette personne est probablement le même directeur qui dirigeait la Barn, que la station de recherche de Cerberus que l'ex-opérateur de Cerberus Randall Ezno et les Forces de Hiérarchie ont démantelé pendant la guerre. » Spartarus a froncé, "La Grange? Est-ce le même homme qui a tué Aenys?" Aegon a grimacé, sa première manifestation d'émotion depuis le début de la réunion, « Toute preuve l'indique ». Aenys Partinax, l'un des frères d'Aegon, avait été capturé par Cerberus avant que la Hiérarchie ne s'empare de la Grange. Aenys s'était cassé et avait couru amok, avait tué beaucoup d'hommes de Cerberus et a failli s'échapper avant qu'ils ne le piétinent finalement. Aegon avait promis depuis lors que le directeur mourrait par sa main. Aegon a poursuivi son exposé, « Dans les dossiers, il a également été fait référence à trois chefs. Le Cerberus mythologique est une bête à trois têtes, et comme l'Homme Illusif est mort, il est probable que Cerberus est maintenant dirigé par trois individus. Il est probable que le directeur soit l'un de ces chefs. Il a également été fait référence à un général. Petrovsky est en garde à vue donc cela doit être un autre officier militaire. Cerberus a historiquement été divisé en cellules qui vont de politique, militaire, scientifique en fonction. Puisque le général et le directeur sont fortement suggérés d'être deux des chefs, le dernier chef est très probablement un spymaster qui est en charge des efforts d'espionnage de Cerberus." Osoba a coupé : "Mais on ne connaît même pas leurs vrais noms?" « Non, aucune référence n'est faite aux vraies identités des trois chefs. Mais les services de renseignement commenceront immédiatement à établir des profils et à compiler des listes de sujets probables. Lawson pourrait aussi avoir un aperçu de la question. » Spartarus secoua la tête : « Je ne peux pas croire que nous permettions à un ancien terroriste de travailler avec l'Alliance. Shepard s'allier avec Cerberus était assez mauvais. Maintenant, nous avons la main droite de l'homme illusif dans une position influente avec l'accès à des informations sensibles. Qu'est-ce que Hackett pense?" Osoba répondit: «Ancienne main droite. Et Mme Lawson a été un atout incroyable pendant la guerre et maintenant. Il est très possible que nous n'ayons jamais entendu parler des opérations de Cerberus à Londres sans son intelligence." Aegon a interrompu : « Quoi qu'il en soit, elle sera utile, et je veux lui parler bientôt. De plus, nous avons confirmé que Terra Firma est impliquée dans Cerberus. Nous avons des informations qui révèlent que Cerberus entonne des crédits à l'organisation. Malheureusement, aucun nom n'est nommé et nous n'avons aucune idée de jusqu'où cela va et si Saracino est impliqué ou non. L'une de nos priorités sera d'infiltrer Terra Firma et d'identifier les sympathisants de Cerberus. » "Saracino a toujours été un bâtard, d'autant plus maintenant qu'il est l'un des seuls députés encore vivants au Parlement. Mais le terrorisme? Je ne sais pas s'il est capable de ça." Spartarus agita une main dans le renvoi, "Nous ne pensions pas qu'Udina était capable de cela non plus et nous avions tort. Il est clair que Cerberus a toujours été une présence infectieuse dans l'Alliance. Il ne me surprendrait pas de constater que même maintenant, ils ont infiltré les plus hauts niveaux de gouvernement humain. » Osoba a vu le Turian, "Si vous suggérez ce que je pense que vous êtes-" Tevos leva la main, "Messieurs, assez. Partinax, il est clair que vous devrez enquêter de près et tranquillement sur la question. Nous ne pouvons pas nous permettre une erreur. Trouvez qui sont les traîtres et mettez-les à la lumière. Avez-vous trouvé autre chose?" Aegon secoua la tête : « La seule autre connaissance solide que nous ayons, c'est que cette cellule est loin d'être la seule. Il y en a d'autres et le calibre de l'équipement à la disposition de cette cellule montre que leur réseau de ressources est aussi vaste que jamais. Les Husks ne sont qu'une pièce du puzzle, Terra Firma en est une autre. Il est clair que Cerberus essaie de construire une armée, je pense que les Husks ne sont qu'une composante de cette armée. Les dossiers suggèrent que le directeur supervise plusieurs projets et que, si l'histoire antérieure est une indication, ils seront tous des menaces. Dans le passé, ils ont expérimenté sur l'IA, sur le contrôle de Rachni, sur l'amélioration de la biotique, sur les augmentations extrêmes. Il est très possible qu'ils aient relancé ces projets et mènent d'autres expériences encore plus dangereuses. À part cela, nous n'avons rien de ferme. Le reste des données que nous avons récupérées doit encore être examiné et les prisonniers que nous avons capturés doivent encore être interrogés. J'ai donné 24 heures à mon équipe pour finaliser leurs affaires. Nous commencerons demain et je vous informerai de toute nouvelle information que nous recevrons. Mais il y a des questions qui, je crois, doivent être discutées. » Valern hoche la tête, "Très bien, Partinax, continue." « Tout d'abord, compte tenu de la résurgence de Cerberus et de l'extrémisme croissant de Terra Firma, il est essentiel d'améliorer les détails de sécurité sur la Citadelle. Nous avons trouvé une cellule à Londres, il y en a probablement une autre. Et la Citadelle est à une distance saisissante. Je recommande que la garde d'honneur de la tour soit doublée et que les patrouilles C-Sec et CDF soient considérablement augmentées, en particulier dans le Présidium et surtout autour des ambassades. » Spartarus hoche la tête, "Toutes les précautions raisonnables. Les tensions sont toujours fortes, même sans ces terroristes dans le mélange. Et maintenant nous avons des ambassades des Krogan, des Batariens, des Rachni, même des Quariens et des Geth de toutes choses. Une attaque serait désastreuse. Il sera fait Partinax." Aegon poursuivit : « De plus, la position de directeur n'est toujours pas remplie. Comme l'un des plus hauts responsables du Spectre est parti, je demande au Conseil d'examiner ma candidature pour le bureau. Nous recevons des nouvelles et des nouvelles menaces qui se font jour. Nous devons être prêts." Osoba a froncé, "Garde? Cela vous donnerait le commandement de toute la flotte de la Citadelle." « La flotte sera nécessaire dans un proche avenir, j'en suis sûr, et quelqu'un doit la diriger. » "Mais ça n'a pas besoin d'être toi. Shepard est le choix logique." Aegon répondit : « Shepard n'est pas là. » Valern a dit : "C'est parce qu'il est en mission sensible." « Exactement, les activités de Shepard l'enlèvent de la grille à de nombreuses reprises. Il a assigné les tâches les plus dangereuses auxquelles vous pouvez penser. Il n'a pas le temps d'organiser la Flotte." "Vous ne serez pas vraiment disponible si vous dirigez Katabasis", a souligné Valern. "Je ne suis pas seul. Anderson est aussi un commandant compétent. Avec nous deux à la barre, en supposant que la position de directeur ne sera pas un problème. » Tevos a coupé toute discussion supplémentaire, "Vous n'êtes pas le seul lobbying Spectre pour la position Partinax. Nous avons de nombreux candidats qualifiés et il y a beaucoup de temps pour choisir parmi eux. Nous en discuterons une autre fois. Votre priorité sera d'acquérir des renseignements. Y a-t-il autre chose?" Aegon secoua la tête : "Non, conseiller." "Très bien. Vous avez tous les deux votre mission. Bonne chance, que la Déesse vous accompagne." Avec cela, Tevos a désactivé la barrière et le débriefing était terminé. Aegon s'est éloigné de la plate-forme, a allumé son talon et a marché calmement, confiant Jake à suivre. La réunion s'était déroulée aussi bien qu'il l'espérait. Il savait que le Conseil ne lui aurait probablement pas donné le poste sans tenir compte des autres candidats. Mais c'était un début. Et maintenant il était temps de faire des choses plus importantes, à savoir dîner avec sa famille. Alors qu'ils passaient par la tour, ils traversèrent une longue file d'autres pétitionnaires et un large éventail de gardes d'honneur de la Citadelle. L'unité mixte des gardes Turian, Asari, Salarian et Human avait été pour la plupart cérémonielle, mais après les événements de la guerre de Reaper, le Conseil avait transformé l'unité en une force de protection sérieuse pour la Tour et le Conseil. L'unité était composée de C-Sec et de militaires des Races du Conseil, et bon nombre d'entre eux avaient été des anciens combattants du Cerberus Coup et de l'occupation des réparateurs pendant la guerre. Aegon savait aussi qu'il y avait des tireurs d'élite dans les chevrons. Après ce qui s'est passé l'année dernière, le Conseil a dû renforcer intensément la sécurité. Sur le chemin de l'ascenseur, Aegon a repéré un ami et collègue de longue date. Jondom Bau se dirigeait vers la salle d'audience, contournant la ligne par son statut Spectre. Le Salarien sourit à Aegon, un geste qu'il réciproqua comme les deux secouèrent les mains. Aegon a présenté Jake à Bau, "Anderson, voici Jondom Bau. Il a aidé à diriger l'alliance des Spectres avec vos militaires pendant la guerre. C'est l'un des meilleurs experts en espionnage de la galaxie." Jondom sourit, "Charmed. Vous devez être le fils de l'amiral. C'était un homme bon, c'était une honte qu'il se soit retiré pour laisser ce serpent Udina prendre le relais. J'ai entendu de bonnes choses sur vous, ce sera bien d'avoir un soldat de votre calibre en notre compagnie." Jake sourit, hurlant ses remerciements, prenant la main de Jondom dans une ferme secousse. Heureux de vous rencontrer, monsieur. Une de vos opérations Spectre a sauvé mon bacon pendant la guerre. Tu as une bière pour ça." Aegon a parlé après les présentations, "Qu'est-ce qui vous amène à la tour?" Jondom regarda autour de lui et les conduisit vers un coin isolé, puis se pencha pour un murmure conspiratoire : « Vous n'avez pas entendu ça de ma part, mais j'apporte un rapport de situation sur la situation à Sur'Kesh. » "C'est si grave?" Jondom hoche la tête, "Dalatrass Linron n'est pas satisfait de STG et le sentiment est réciproque. Le mauvais sang sur l'éloquence de notre gouvernement dans la guerre. Toutes les Dalatrasses et l'armée sont dans les bras à ce sujet aussi. Les Narras sont encerclés, ils sentent le sang dans l'eau et la chance d'un coup d'État. Tout dépend de qui STG reviendra, mais ce n'est pas un front uni. Kirrahe et son groupe s'affrontent avec les isolationnistes." "Parlement intrigue et assassinats dans les ruelles? On dirait des affaires comme d'habitude sur Sur'Kesh." "Non, c'est quelque chose de différent. L'Union est en train d'être tirée dans une douzaine de directions. Et j'ai entendu des rumeurs." Des rumeurs? "Les rumeurs, mais si elles sont vraies, je ne sais pas si c'est le genre d'information que je peux révéler. Même pour toi. Vous comprenez." Aegon a hurlé, "Je le sais. On ferait mieux d'y aller. J'ai peut-être besoin d'aide pour le futur Jondom. Même si je ne le fais pas, mon groupe de travail pourrait vous être utile à l'avenir. Jondom sourit : « Une petite armée de psychopathes, de criminels et de malfaiteurs? Je suppose que vous n'êtes pas si différent de Shepard après tout. Mais vous avez peut-être raison. Je vous laisse partir. Une autre fois, Aegon, et c'était sympa de vous rencontrer Anderson. Nous nous reverrons peut-être plus tôt que plus tard. » Le Spectre Salarien est parti avec une vague. Aegon a hurlé à Jake et l'a conduit à l'ascenseur. Les ennuis étaient à l'horizon, mais pour l'instant, Aegon avait une chose en tête. Il s'est tourné vers Jake, "Je te laisserai te nettoyer, je t'enverrai l'adresse chez moi. Passez quand vous êtes prêt. Ne soyez pas surpris quand les enfants vous demandent des histoires de guerre, ils ne peuvent pas en avoir assez." L'ascenseur s'ouvrit sur le présidium et Aegon partit avec un clin d'œil, se dirigea vers la bande de Silversun où sa famille résidait dans le même bâtiment qui abritait autrefois l'amiral Anderson. Jake s'est emboîté dans la direction opposée, décrivant un rythme paresseux vers une station de transport rapide où il pouvait ‘hitch=" une promenade vers le Tayseri Ward, où son propre, modeste appartement était situé. Collab entre M.Didact et BlackSam

Name: Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson Race: Human Age: 30 Sex: Male Appearance: Jake stands a shade over six feet and two inches tall, and weighs two hundred and fifteen pounds. His physique is athletically toned rather than heavily muscled. He is quietly proud of his body, a pride that he feels he has quite rightly earned considering the time and effort he has put into maintaining it. His posture and bearing is unmistakably military, and he moves with the unconscious confidence of a born fighter. On close inspection one might notice that his right arm seems slightly too long for his body, not to a freakish degree but just enough to bear noting. His skin is a deep mahogany, and along with his dark hair it speaks of an African heritage. His facial features are broad and flat, with a strong chin, wide jaw, and pensive brown eyes – the right one being a shade redder than the left - that sit in deep sockets under a brow that’s slightly too heavy not to look thuggish. His nose shows evidence of multiple breakages and fractures in the past, sitting somewhat crooked now. He wears his hair cropped, though is far less vigilant in shaving his face, usually sporting a short beard. He has three tattoos. The first, an N7 ranking logo on his right pectoral, has been marred slightly by a heavy degree of lattice-like scar tissue. He also has a large lion between his shoulder blades, and a small image of Blasto on his left buttock. That last one was a drunken misadventure that he regretted for weeks’ afterword, usually when he tried to sit down. Backstory: Fatherwas David Anderson, a highly decorated officer with the Systems Alliance. She was a career soldier. His mother lived in London, were he was raised. His parents divorced when he was a child due to his mother feeling that David was more interested in his career than he was in raising a family. Jake joined the SA as soon as he was able. His mother wasn’t impressed with his decision, considering what had happened between her and David, but ultimately didn’t stand in Jakes way. Part of the relief force sent to the aid of Elysium during the Skyllian Blitz. Part of the force sent on the retaliatory attack against Torfan. Member of Alliance Special Ops Team Delta, running five missions in Terminus Space. It was during this tour of duty that he finally earned the coveted N7 ranking. During the Reaper Wars he served in the N7 Special Ops. Took part in over twenty successful missions. Part of Hammer force. Psyche Profile: Not so long ago Jake was a soldier through and through. A consummately professional warrior possessed of an ice-cool calm, a healthy respect for the chain of command, and a real passion for action. He was he’s fathers son, no mistaking that. However, since the Hammer attack, and his ‘dying’ he feels like something inside him has broken. He no longer feels the same calm he once did, being far more excitable now than he was before. It worries him, Specialty: Jake has experience working with, and leading, teams of mixed races and backgrounds. He developed a knack for delegating duties that best suit an individual’s specific talents or expertise. However, Jake also shows a decidedly hands-off approach to leadership in that once he has got to know an individual and taken their measure, he is happy to leave them to act independently. He’s learnt that sometimes the best thing a leader can do for his team is to give them the space to work. He’s a capable soldier in his own right, fully able of holding the line or charging the enemy himself. After all, he would never ask his men to do something that he wouldn’t do himself. He’s any mans (or womans) equal in a straight firefight, being a respectable shot with both rifles and pistols, and being in possession of truly astoundingly quick reflexes. Powers/Skills: Expert marksman Proficient hand to hand fighter Marine officer training and experience Background and expertise in small unit tactics Full N7 training. A host of contacts within the Systems Alliance Equipment and Resources: N7 Valkyrie Assault Rifle N7 Piranha Shotgun M-6 Carnifex Heavy Pistol Standard issue service knife Omni-Tool N7 Armour, modified with Asymetric Rosenkov Materials defence layers and an offhand ammo-pack. Kuwashii Visor Thermal clips Medigel packs x 3 Frag Grenade x 2 Sample Post: A short sample post so I can get a handle of your writing style. This could be one of your characters early missions, a showing of them enjoying some downtime, or a short of some of their exploits during the Reaper war. Notes Jake is straight, and currently single. He was involved in a tumultuous relationship with a Turian Cabal member during the Reaper Wars, and has been taking a break from relationships to recover. As a newly minted Spectre, Jake hasn’t made up his mind on who he supports to become the Warden of the Citadel. Jake has an intense dislike for the Batarian Hegemony. It stems from the things he seen and experienced during the Skyllian Blitz, and consequent retaliatory attack. However during the Reaper war he worked with several Batarian soldiers, and came to grudgingly respect them as individuals, even if he does disagree with their government. Has a habit of running his hands across his head when he is feeling stressed..

Rayes'Xum & Rol'Narris Enquête de Quarien Rol'Naaris était debout depuis deux heures du matin à cause de son cauchemar sur la guerre. Ce n'était pas le rêve habituel où le navire qu'il est entouré par Reapers et se faire manger vivant ou comment son costume a souffert assez de dommages qu'il a tué. Non, c'était quelque chose de complètement différent. Il ne pouvait se souvenir du rêve du tout (parce qu'il voulait oublier l'horrible cauchemar); cependant, il entendit des gémissements et des gémissements de l'arrière-plan. De couse, c'était l'une des nombreuses raisons pour lesquelles il s'est réveillé pendant la nuit. Et pourquoi il a refusé de retourner dormir. Pour occuper son esprit, il sortit pour une promenade nocturne vers la côte et regarda la mer à partir d'une heure. Par la suite, il est retourné dans sa chambre d'hôtel et a tapé sur son omni-tool. Rol'Naaris a souhaité qu'il ait une sorte d'ordinateur portable pour pouvoir taper ses pensées sur un écran plus grand. Et cela lui a pris la plupart du temps jusqu'au matin. Il était presque sept quand le quarien a décidé de vérifier l'autre quarien. Rayes, l'autre quarien, était comme un quarien qu'il connaissait pendant la guerre. Peur de n'importe qui à part d'autres quariens. Cela n'a pas empêché Rol'Naaris d'essayer de montrer à Rayes que tous les extraterrestres n'étaient pas xénophobes. Alexandrie en fut un parfait exemple, parmi toutes les autres villes situées dans les déserts de la Terre. Il s'est approché de la porte de la chambre de Rayes et a frappé dessus. "Il est sept heures. Es-tu réveillée?" Rol'Naaris a demandé pendant que sa voix robotique rendait évident qu'il était à la porte. Rayes était couché dans le lit de son appartement, regardant le plafond depuis un certain temps maintenant. En fait, il n'avait pas vraiment dormi autant la nuit dernière, tombant dedans et hors du sommeil en raison des cauchemars qui semblaient venir chaque fois qu'il fermait les yeux. C'était plutôt tortueux, s'il était véridique. Et même s'il voulait avoir quelque chose pour calmer son esprit, il ne pensait pas que ses filtres à toxines seraient capables de résister à beaucoup plus d'abus. Bien sûr, ils pouvaient facilement être remplacés mais, d'un bon côté, au moins la douleur était partie. En fait, malgré la fatigue, les choses étaient relativement paisibles... Sauf, vous savez, quand le coup est venu à sa porte, suivi par le son d'une voix de Quarian. Keelah, ce n'était que sept! Les militaires se lèvent-ils toujours aussi tôt? Si ce n'était pas pour le fait qu'il ne pouvait vraiment pas dormir, il aurait été en train de s'évanouir. Se forçant jusqu'à ses pieds, il prit un gros soupir alors qu'il se rappelait sa situation. Plongé sur Terre avec un autre Quarien qui, comme beaucoup d'autres, détestait les synthétiques. Mais, il pensait que ça pourrait être pire, non? Sa tête pourrait encore être douloureuse d'être ivre, ou il aurait pu être empoisonné par un humain ou un asari... Peut-être même avoir un filtre à toxines dysfonctionnement! Mais ces scénarios n'ont pas joué dans la nuit, et alors qu'il s'approchait de la porte, il les poussa sur le côté et ouvrit la porte. "Bonjour, Rol'Naaris va Vaepal. T'es pas un peu trop tôt? Ce n'est que sept après tout."Il a demandé à son camarade. "Sept est l'heure parfaite de la journée. Après tout, les Marines ont toujours appris à leurs soldats à se lever autour de sept." il a couvert le fait qu'il a passé la majeure partie de la nuit debout à la suite de ses cauchemars. Il ne voulait pas que les événements d'hier se reproduisent. C'était embarrassant de montrer une telle faiblesse. De plus, il craignait que le quairan n'ouvre la bouche à propos de l'événement donné assez de sanglots... "Désolé si je t'ai réveillé. Je m'assure juste que vous alliez bien, vu l'aventure d'hier." il a dit en frottant l'arrière de son cou. « Si vous avez besoin d'un peu plus de repos, je me dirigerai vers le hall et parlerai au local jusqu'à ce que vous soyez prêt. » « J'en déduis que c'était un moment militaire... » Il murmura sous son souffle quand il entendit l'excuse de Rol pour être passé si tôt. Bien sûr, pourquoi ne le serait-il pas. À tout le moins, Rol s'est excusé d'avoir envahi la Quarienne si tôt, à laquelle Rayes s'est tout simplement ébranlé la tête non. "C'est bon. Je ne pouvais pas vraiment dormir la nuit dernière de toute façon, donc c'est probablement pour le mieux."Il a répondu, levant son bras gauche pour vérifier son omni-outil pour toute nouvelle information, mais au lieu de voir bientôt le message d'hier que les Spectres ont envoyé. Il a regardé en arrière vers Rol, voyant que c'était probablement bien que le Quarien soit venu. "En fait, c'est bon d'une certaine façon. Nous devrions nous diriger vers les coordonnées que les Spectres ont envoyées dès que possible. Il voulait que nous y soyons bientôt, n'est-ce pas?" Il a demandé, se référant à la façon dont l'heure du message était un jour dans la matinée. Rayes lui-même était en gros prêt à partir, voyant qu'il n'avait pas de bagages ni rien à emporter avec lui, sauf les vêtements sur le dos et l'arme sur la jambe. Il attendait juste que Rol prenne la tête. "Essayons d'arriver au port de navette le plus proche." Il a dit qu'il était le premier à marcher vers l'ascenseur. L'ascenseur était déjà à leur étage quand Rol'Naaris a appuyé sur le bouton. Une fois les portes ouvertes, la paire de quariens est entrée et est descendue vers le lobby. Il ne leur a fallu que trente secondes avant que l'ascenseur n'arrive à destination. La porte s'ouvrit de nouveau et Rol'Naaris fut le premier à sortir de l'ascenseur. Et en quelques minutes, ils sont sortis de l'hôtel et Rol'Naaris sort pour voir les rues pleines de gens. Bien qu'il soit si tôt le matin. Cela ne l'a pas surpris puisqu'il vivait dans cette ville depuis la guerre de Reaper. En supposant que Rayes était derrière lui, Rol'Naaris marcha vers l'obturateur et découvrit qu'il était plus occupé que d'habitude. "C'est parfait. Nous pourrions être en retard pour notre décollage." Il a dit en regardant l'obturateur, en regardant les navettes atterrir et partir. C'était décevant de quitter la Terre depuis qu'il a passé un an de sa vie ici. Il avait à l'origine espéré qu'ils resteraient juste un peu plus longtemps. "Je crois que tout ira bien. Après tout, je ne crois pas qu'ils partiraient sans nous. Certains grondent peut-être, mais en fin de compte tout de même bien." Rayes a répondu, confiant qu'ils allaient bien. Ça aurait été pire, pensait Rayes, s'ils ne voyaient pas les navettes venir et partir. Au moins cela indiquait qu'il y avait une sorte de rythme, et tout ce qu'ils auraient à faire, c'est attendre. Heureusement pour Rayes, la patience était plutôt facile. Bien qu'ils n'avaient pas prévu un port de navette occupé, au moins ils n'étaient plus le dernier en ligne. Et, d'une certaine façon, il était heureux qu'ils allaient bientôt quitter la Terre. Il devait admettre que, même si Alexandra n'était pas aussi mauvaise que Londres, il ne faisait toujours pas entièrement confiance à cette planète dans son ensemble. Trop d'humains, trop d'opinions variées qu'il sentait s'aggraver avec le temps. Cela lui a valu d'apprécier Rannoch ou le peu de temps qu'il a consacré au projet Crucible. Là, il a été respecté pour son ingéniosité, pour son expertise... et il a été considéré comme quelque chose de plus qu'un simple Quarien. Plus qu'un extraterrestre en costume, et ça lui a fait sentir le bienvenu. Sur Rannoch, il n'y avait vraiment que des Quariens ou Geth. La plupart des Quariens n'interagissent pas vraiment avec le monde extérieur pour commencer, à l'exception des pèlerinages, donc d'une certaine manière Rayes n'a pas pleinement compris le sentiment que Rol'Naaris avait pour la Terre. Pendant qu'ils attendaient d'entrer dans leur navette, il n'y avait rien d'autre à faire que de parler. Mais ce devait être le sujet de droit qui n'aboutit pas à un autre argument. Il lui a fallu une seconde pour penser à un sujet pour commencer à parler à son ami quarien : des histoires de leur pèlerinage. -- Je suppose que vous avez des histoires sur votre pèlerinage? Il demanda alors que la ligne se déplaçait à peine, ce qui signifiait que cela allait prendre un certain temps avant qu'ils ne partent. Rayes a légèrement tendu à la tentative de Rol à un sujet de conversation, se souvenant de l'effroyable expérience qu'il a eue lors de son propre pèlerinage. Quelles années horribles furent-elles, et assez récentes à ajouter, ce qui fut en soi surprenant pour la Quarienne parce que cela semblait être des souvenirs lointains. Quoi qu'il en soit, au moins cela leur donnerait quelque chose de parler, même si Rayes lui-même trouvait son pèlerinage plutôt horrible. "Mon pèlerinage n'est rien que quelqu'un voudrait se rappeler, Rol. Peut-être pourrions-nous parler de la vôtre à la place?" Il a proposé de déplacer le sujet loin de lui et de le placer sur son compagnon de voyage. J'espère que Rol s'en sortira. Il avait remarqué la tentative soudaine d'éviter la question; cependant, il sous-estime que c'était trop personnel pour Rayes de discuter. Après tout, il a entendu d'autres quariens raconter à quel point leurs pèlerinages étaient mauvais. Le pèlerinage de Rol'Naaris a été, pour la plupart, paisible par rapport aux autres. Cela aurait pu avoir un rapport avec le fait de garder sa tête basse et de se cacher du grand public. Quelle histoire doit-il raconter de son pèlerinage à la Citadelle? Peut-être qu'il pourrait parler du jour où le Souverain a attaqué la Citadelle. « Très bien, mon pèlerinage avait été passé à la Citadelle. Pour la plupart, c'était bien malgré que j'aie été quarian. J'ai même gagné un appartement et j'ai trouvé un travail dans un atelier de réparation. Tout le monde était pédé... jusqu'à ce que Souverain arrive et commence à attaquer. Je travaillais au magasin de réparation quand j'en parle. J'ai réussi à voir Souverain un moment avant d'être poussé à une station C-Sec. Ce moissonneur est toujours le plus grand moissonneur que j'ai jamais vu. Après une heure d'attente, j'ai décidé de sortir et de vérifier la situation. J'ai vu Souverain être détruit par les vaisseaux de l'Alliance. L'un après l'autre tirait leurs armes, la Normandie tirant le dernier. Ce moment était à couper le souffle de voir en personne plutôt que de regarder une vidéo. De couse, c'est à ce moment que des morceaux ont commencé à atterrir sur la Citadelle. Et c'était effrayant. Il a fallu quinze minutes avant que tout le monde ne se taise. Ensuite, j'ai immédiatement couru à mon appartement pour le voir... » il s'est arrêté un moment pour se souvenir de ce moment de son temps à la Citadelle. La principale raison pour laquelle il est retourné à la flotte. Et il a commencé à se souvenir de son colocataire, Thomas. Un jeune homme qui a vécu dans l'appartement pendant un moment et il a travaillé dans un restaurant comme barman. Malheureusement, il est mort pendant la bataille de la Citadelle alors qu'un vaisseau Geth s'est écrasé dans leur appartement. Il a dû recommencer à zéro et c'est à ce moment-là qu'il a décidé de retourner à la flotte. Quand il a regardé en arrière, il a vu qu'ils étaient presque vers le port de la navette. C'était un moment parfait pour terminer l'histoire sans aucune question de Rayes. -- Eh bien, prenons nos billets et à bord d'une des navettes avant que nous soyons en retard. Il a rapidement dit qu'il marchait vers la billetterie. Souverain... souverain... ce nom semblait familier à Rayes. C'est seulement quand Rol a mentionné que c'était un moissonneur que Rayes pouvait imaginer la bête, ou au moins quelque chose de semblable à elle. Il avait une connaissance limitée des événements qui avaient eu lieu au cours des dernières années, à laquelle une majorité d'entre eux, sinon de l'entendre d'autres Quariens, était principalement par ses propres recherches d'événements qui se sont produits pendant qu'il était sur Illium. Il n'avait été avec les autres Quariens qu'un an avant l'arrivée des Reapers... Ainsi, des événements tels que l'attaque souveraine sur la Citadelle étaient encore un peu nouvelles informations pour la Quarienne. Mais il a écouté attentivement, plutôt déçu en lui-même pour ses choix stupides de pèlerinage. Quel sentiment d'insensé Rayes maintenant, d'être allé dans un endroit tel qu'Illum au lieu d'une option plus sûre comme la Citadelle. Mais s'il avait été attaqué, c'était peut-être pour le mieux qu'il était sur Illium à l'époque. Pas forcément dans un meilleur endroit, mais malgré le harcèlement, les abus... du moins c'était un peu sûr, et il a travaillé sur la technologie récente que l'Eclipse pouvait mettre la main sur. Ce sont vraiment les seuls bons côtés de cette situation, tout le reste était horrible. Mais il semblait que Rol finirait son histoire sur un gratte-ciel, qui, bien qu'il perturbant légèrement Rayes, pouvait comprendre si la vue n'était pas une bonne chose à retenir. Il n'a certainement pas aimé partager son propre pèlerinage, et donc si un autre Quarien ne voulait pas tout partager, il respecterait cela pour l'instant et se concentrerait plutôt sur la tâche à accomplir. « Bien sûr, je ne crois pas que Spectre Anderson ou Spectre Partinax seraient de la meilleure humeur si nous sommes assez en retard. Mais je crois qu'on ira bien, après tout... » Il s'enfuit alors qu'ils atteignaient la billetterie. Il ne leur a pas fallu longtemps pour monter à bord d'une navette après ça. La navette devait arriver à Londres dans deux heures, donc le trajet allait être silencieux. Et bizarre. Pour éviter cela, il devait soit terminer l'histoire, soit discuter d'un autre sujet. Il a fallu un moment pour en trouver, mais Rol'Naaris a finalement pensé à quelque chose dont il fallait parler. "Que pensez-vous des autres membres de l'équipage?" il demanda à Rayes, espérant mettre fin au silence entre eux. Rayes se tourna vers Rol, méditant la question une seconde. Comment a-t-il pensé à l'équipage... c'était une question difficile à laquelle il n'avait pas vraiment pensé. Bien qu'il ne se soucie pas vraiment d'une majorité d'entre eux, il y en avait quelques-uns qui ont eu sur ses nerfs des premières impressions, donc peut-être qu'ils pourraient en discuter. Au moins, c'était quelque chose à faire au lieu de rester assis tranquillement pendant deux heures. « Cela dépendrait des membres de l'équipage. Par exemple, le géant Turian, je crois qu'il s'appelait Tibère, est en haut de ma liste. Il m'a aidé à aller après ces scientifiques voyous qui ont tenté de libérer, et dans le processus m'a protégé. C'était bien de se sentir protégé dans une situation terrible... » Il s'arrêta, regagnant son sang-froid une seconde lorsqu'il se rendit compte qu'il avait un peu parlé de l'énorme soldat turoien. "Alors, si nous regardons en bas, je ne sais pas qui serait le pire. Il y avait les Asari qui ont eu une explosion dans les cinq premières minutes de mon arrivée dans la zone de réunion hier dans les tunnels, et sans parler de son attitude bâclée. » Il a dit, exprimant bubblely d'un ton plutôt déplaisant comme il a désapprouvé de sa nature enfantine. "Et ne me faites pas commencer sur l'ex-cerbère humain! Je ne fais pas confiance à un homme avec un tel passé, même s'il a pu être blessé hier. Il semble trop improbable qu'il n'ait pas su ce qu'il y avait dans ces tunnels... et sa technologie, c'est si mauvais. Je te jure, je vais devoir mettre à niveau les armes de tout le monde quand je pourrai avoir la chance. Au moins ça me donnera quelque chose à faire au lieu d'être une main supplémentaire dans la salle des machines... En tout cas, quant aux autres, ils ne sont ni bons ni mauvais pour moi. Mais assez à propos de ce que je pense, que pensez-vous d'eux?" Il a demandé, en changeant les projecteurs de la question à Rol. « Cet ex-cerbère humain va causer des problèmes. Il m'a pointé une arme sans autre raison que de vouloir une explication." Il a répondu dès que Rayes a mentionné Ellis. Rol'Naari se méfie toujours depuis l'accident au tunnel du métro. C'était le chaos total au tunnel avec l'explosion de cet asari et Ellis menaçant de tirer sur Rol'Naaris. Il avait quelques mots à dire à l'humain la prochaine fois qu'ils étaient seuls. Quant à l'asari, elle était trop pour que Rol'Naaris s'en occupe aussi. "L'asari est trop dangereux pour gérer ce qui a causé l'explosion. J'espère que les Spectres garderont un œil étroit sur les deux." Il a déclaré en regardant par la fenêtre pour voir la mer Méditerranée. Il aimait regarder la mer et regarder les vagues à la plage. Mec, comment il allait manquer la Terre. En regardant la mer, il a pensé aux autres membres de l'équipage. Il ne savait pas que la plupart d'entre eux attendaient Ellis et Vella. Cependant, le seul membre qui était plus intéressé que le reste était le geth. Il s'appelait "Phalanx" dans les tunnels. Rol'Naaris ne savait pas quoi penser de "Phalanx" à part qu'il se méfiait de la machine. Bien sûr, Rayes savait déjà ce qu'il ressentait à leur sujet; cependant, le geth ne l'a pas fait. Ça allait être intéressant de voir que c'est une réaction. Il a regardé Rayes et lui a demandé au sujet de la geth, "Honnêtement, quelles sont vos pensées sur 'Phalanx'?" Rayes était heureux de voir que Rol avait une pensée similaire sur l'ex-cerbère humain et l'asari, rappelant le pointage de l'arme qui s'est produit pendant qu'il se tenait du côté de tout le monde. Il a convenu qu'ils auraient tous deux besoin d'observations constantes, et Rayes lui-même serait prêt à mettre en place une sorte de système de suivi ou de caméra sur le vaisseau du Spectre s'ils n'en avaient pas déjà. Mais Rayes s'est légèrement apaisé quand Rol a élevé Phalanx, le geth dans leur équipe. Cela lui a fait changer de capuche et de capuche un peu, lui donnant une brève distraction pour rassembler ses pensées. Il voulait être sincère avec son opinion de Phalanx, mais à ce même moment, il avait un peu peur de la façon dont Rol réagirait... Quelques secondes de silence plus tard, Rayes prit une profonde respiration avant de regarder dans la direction de Rol, prêt à parler. "Ah, oui... Phalanx... Je, eh bien, je suis sûr que vous connaissez déjà mon opinion sur le geth. Celui-ci semble très réceptif à l'information, presque comme s'il s'agissait d'apprendre, ce qui pourrait très bien être dû à leur nouvelle individualité... Mais je suppose que vous n'avez pas pu entendre des informations techniques sur Phalanx. C'est un geth intéressant, et il m'a sauvé des défenses dans ces tunnels, ainsi que de la protection des scientifiques malgré la menace. Dans l'ensemble, je lui fais plus confiance que la plupart des membres de l'équipage, mais je ne connais pas beaucoup d'entre eux en premier lieu, donc je n'ai pas beaucoup à quitter. Il m'a sauvé la vie, et j'en suis reconnaissant... » Il a répondu, son ton exprimant un réel soulagement alors qu'il parlait de la façon dont il l'avait protégé. Il a vu Phalanx comme un enfant. Un enfant mortel, synthétique, mais néanmoins un enfant. C'était une bizarrerie qu'il voulait étudier, enseigner, et peut-être rembourser la faveur et la protéger. C'était intéressant d'entendre Rayes exprimer ses pensées sur le geth. Bien sûr, c'était idiot de penser qu'il faisait plus confiance au geth que n'importe quel membre de l'équipage. Ce que Rayes pensait être l'apprentissage du geth, Rol'Naaris pensait qu'il observait. Et il ne comprenait pas pourquoi il ferait si rapidement confiance au geth malgré ce qu'ils ont fait à tout le monde dans la galaxie il y a des années. Cette gentillesse envers le geth était ennuyante et dégoûtante. Quoi qu'il en soit, Rol'Naaris savait quand garder sa bouche fermée. « Tant qu'il suit les ordres et garde les autres en sécurité, alors je vais m'en sortir. » Il a dit à Rayes. « Je vois... au moins, cela n'a pas donné lieu à une sorte de dispute comme la dernière fois... Peut-être que nous devrions passer à un autre sujet. » Rayes répliqua, s'inclinant légèrement la tête vers le côté en prenant une seconde pour penser à un sujet. Ils ont parlé des autres membres de l'équipage, qu'ils semblaient détester, et puis il y avait le sujet sensible du geth. Mais c'était comme s'ils n'avaient pas fait une bosse dans le temps. C'est alors qu'une pensée s'est produite à Rayes, une qu'il hésitait un peu à discuter parce que c'était le sujet suivant qu'il pensait être les Spectres eux-mêmes, et donc il s'est tourné vers face Rol. "Alors... vu que nous discutions de l'équipe... Quelles sont vos pensées sur nos leaders? Les Spectres?" « Ce sont nos commandants. Je les respecte déjà même si nos points de vue sont différents. » Il a dit avec un ton sérieux jusqu'à ce qu'il se branle. "C'est ce que les Marines t'ont appris de toute façon." Il aimait les deux Spectres en fonction de son temps avec eux surtout Anderson. Le style de combat d'Anderson a impressionné Rol'Naaris pendant qu'ils étaient au tunnel. Il pourrait être un peu partial puisqu'il avait vu de nombreuses forces de l'Alliance se battre contre lui pendant la bataille de la Terre. Quant à Aegon, il était comme n'importe quel sergent de forage dur qui est prêt à faire les choses. Même si ça coûte des vies. Rol'Naaris était d'accord avec lui vu son temps dans les Marines et sa juste part de sergents lui criant dessus. Puis, la navette a finalement atterri dans un port de navette à Londres alors que les portes s'ouvraient et révélaient des paysages de ciel et la fameuse roue géante qui a été reconstruite après les guerres de Reaper. Les quariens ont commencé à marcher jusqu'au poste de police. Rol'Naaris regarda Rayes en marchant et s'interrogea sur la raison de sa décision de ne pas rejoindre les Marines. Peut-être qu'il avait l'impression qu'il n'était pas digne de ça. Ou ses parents l'ont fait faire autre chose. Quoi qu'il en soit, il voulait savoir. "J'aimerais savoir pourquoi vous n'avez pas rejoint les Marines?" Rol'Naaris a demandé en marchant sur le trottoir de l'une des rues occupées de Londres. Pourquoi Rayes n'a pas rejoint les Marines... une question très intéressante, l'autre pensée de Quarian. Mais c'en était une qui était très facile à répondre dans ses yeux. « Je suppose que j'ai suivi plus sur les traces de ma mère et de mon père, plus sur celles de ma mère que sur celles de mon père. Quand j'étais jeune, je trouvais toujours une sorte de technologie à manipuler, ou ma mère me donnait quelque chose que je n'avais aucune idée de ce que c'était. J'ai trouvé ça tellement amusant de le découvrir moi-même, et d'écouter leurs histoires... Il a fait pour un jeune Quarien plein d'espoir qui voulait aspirer à être connu pour ses propres avancées technologiques. Malheureusement... mon pèlerinage a légèrement altéré mes plans, et il m'a amené dans la sombre réalité que cet univers peut tenir. La lutte n'était pas faite pour moi, ni vraiment l'idée de choses qui s'y rapportent. Il y avait d'autres façons que d'apprendre à utiliser une arme. Créer des choses qui profiteraient non seulement aux armes et aux défenses de la Quarienne contre le geth, mais aussi essayer d'améliorer notre mode de vie... Je suis désolé, j'ai encore pris une tangente, n'est-ce pas? » Si Rayes pouvait gratter le dos de son cou physique, il l'aurait probablement fait de façon ovine, mais au lieu de cela, tout ce qu'il pouvait faire était quelque chose de similaire, entrant en contact avec son costume. Il a seulement commencé à traiter ce qu'il avait dit, en essayant de penser s'il répondait à la question. S'il était honnête, il n'était pas sûr de ce que Marines faisait exactement. Seulement des histoires, mais pour lui, ils auraient pu être fantasmes... "Alors, pourquoi avez-vous rejoint les Marines, Rol'Naaris? Je pourrais deviner, mais il est préférable d'entendre les faits au lieu de penser à la fiction." « Eh bien, ça a quelque chose à voir avec ce que mon père m'a dit un jour. Un Marine dur comme son père avant lui. Tu ne sauras pas quand la réalité te sucera jusqu'à ce que ça arrive. Et quand tu le feras, tu réaliseras pourquoi j'ai rejoint les Marines. Tu sais ce que j'ai fait? J'ai ri de ses conseils avant de partir en pèlerinage. » Rol'Narris a dit à son ami quarien après avoir entendu la raison pour laquelle il n'a pas pris la peine de rejoindre les Marines. Je voulais être comme ma mère, comme toi. Bâtir et améliorer la technologie de ma flotte et de son peuple. Ma mère me permettait souvent de regarder comme elle réparait des costumes, des armes et des navires. J'ai tout aimé. C'était beau à mes yeux comme vous pensez à la technologie maintenant. C'est pourquoi j'ai travaillé dans un atelier de réparation jusqu'à ce que la réalité me réveille." Il a continué à parler pendant qu'ils s'arrêtaient dans un café. Rol'Naaris se tourna vers Rayes et continua à parler : « Vous connaissez l'histoire de mon pèlerinage d'Eariler? Celui où j'ai couru chez moi? Eh bien, le crash du vaisseau de Geth a atterri sur mon appartement. Ce vaisseau a détruit tout ce que j'ai gagné et construit. Il a aussi tué mon ami le plus proche qui essayait de rester en sécurité. Pauvre bâtard... Il s'était rendu compte qu'il avait commencé à verser une larme à la fin de son pèlerinage. Elle l'effectuait encore malgré l'attaque qui s'est produite il y a des années. Il a ensuite terminé la raison pour laquelle il s'est joint aux Marines, « Après avoir eu quelque chose de valable pour revenir à la flotte, j'ai rencontré mon père et lui ai donné un grand câlin. Je lui ai dit que j'étais désolé de rire. C'est pour ça que j'ai rejoint les Marines. Cela ne correspond pas à vos pensées, n'est-ce pas?" Il a fait remarquer à Rayes qu'il « pourrait deviner » la raison pour laquelle il s'est engagé froidement dans les Marines, sentant toujours les émotions des événements d'hier au mémorial. Il y eut un moment de silence avant que Rol'Naaris remercie l'autre quarien tout en contrôlant ses émotions et en gardant l'apparence d'un hôte reconnaissant, « C'était une belle aventure. J'espère qu'on a passé plus de temps ensemble. A tout à l'heure." Puis, il partit en direction de la gare, laissant Rayes pour réfléchir à ce que Rol'Narris vient de dire. Une fois à l'intérieur, il est allé aux toilettes du commissariat et les a laissés sortir avant de rencontrer les autres. Il a continué à penser à Thomas en essayant d'arrêter de pleurer. Plus il pensait à son ami, plus il pleurait. C'était injuste que les Reapers et Geth aient pris sa vie si vite. Il s'est engagé à rejoindre les Marines en l'honneur de son ami. C'est drôle, il a vite oublié Rol'Naaris jusqu'à maintenant. En écoutant le malheur de Rol pendant son pèlerinage, il rappela à Rayes le sien, et il continua à trembler légèrement tout au long de l'explication de Rol. Pour penser, tandis que Rayes a été abusé sur Illium, un autre quarien était en train de subir le traumatisme de l'attaque de la moissonneuse sur la citadelle. Ou, peut-être une meilleure façon de dire qu'il était en train de gérer le traumatisme de voir un ami proche mort à cause du geth, ou plutôt, un geth navire sous le commandement du moissonneur. Il rouvrit les souvenirs qu'il avait tant essayé de surprimer, et alors que Rol ne pouvait pas le dire à cause du masque, Rayes lui-même était dans un état de choc, regardant à blanc pendant qu'ils marchaient, se souvenant de la lutte et de la douleur... Ce n'est qu'après avoir entendu un remerciement qu'il a été ramené dans le présent, faisant trembler le quarien une dernière fois avant de faire ses adieux pendant que Rol s'enfuit. "Je... euh... Oui! C'était, euh, c'était bon de parler à un autre Quarien!" Il a appelé, essayant de paraître joyeux ou heureux, peut-être content, mais il a senti qu'il avait échoué à le faire. Il soupira, se tenant là une seconde à la gare, réfléchissant à ce que Rol ferait. Peut-être qu'il avait une sorte de business là-bas? Rayes n'était pas sûr, mais c'était comme si c'était le moment de séparer le moment. Ou peut-être pas? Confronté, il a décidé de s'asseoir à proximité et de tenter de se rappeler ce que Rol lui avait dit. Pour Rayes, c'était... intéressant de voir une perspective différente. Pour penser, il a peut-être marché un autre chemin s'il avait eu la pensée à l'époque. Au lieu d'espérer une chance de commencer la carrière dont il rêvait, peut-être... quelque part où il aurait pu devenir amer. Amer à l'Éclipse et les asari et les humains qui avaient autorité sur lui. C'est amer de leur traitement envers lui et de leur harcèlement. Amer à Illum pour permettre que de telles actions se produisent. Mais il s'est rendu compte qu'il était... au fond de lui, et pas tant que ça. Il a tenu une énorme rancune contre les humains, les asari... Dans ses yeux, ils étaient vils. Ils étaient... trop répandus dans leurs points de vue, trop lâches ou trop mauvais, tournant les épaules et négligeant de graves problèmes pour le bien de leurs perceptions visqueuses. Rayes avait du mal à séparer les membres de l'Eclipse de la réalité, mais pour lui, ils étaient réalité. Ils ont été sa première expérience vraie avec d'autres races extraterrestres, et il a admis que c'était horrible. Cela lui a donné envie de se bercer quelque part, mais tout ce qu'il pouvait faire était se pencher vers l'avant et tenir la tête serrée alors qu'il essayait de surprimer les souvenirs montants. Il a dû avoir l'air mal pour les passants, mais il a continué à s'asseoir dans cette position alors que les souvenirs continuaient à clignoter dans sa tête. Après quelques minutes dans les toilettes, il a quitté le café pour découvrir que Rayes l'attendait encore. Il a fait de son mieux pour agir comme s'il n'y avait rien eu et a marché jusqu'au quai. "Savez-vous où nous sommes censés aller?" il a demandé tout en prétendant évidemment ressentir quelque chose d'autre que la tristesse. Il entendit une voix percer à travers son esprit, le faisant ouvrir les yeux et voir une fois de plus la réalité. Stupéfait, il s'est levé pour remarquer Rol devant lui, ce qui a poussé Rayes à tenter de traiter ce qu'on venait de lui demander. Dans les quelques secondes de silence avant une réponse, Rayes fit de son mieux pour s'asseoir, prenant plusieurs respirations dans un effort pour le calmer avant de prendre un gros soupir. "C'est un excellent quesiton. Je pouvais vérifier les coordonnées de mon omni-outil, ils nous l'ont envoyé après tout." Il a répondu, sonnant comme s'il était fatigué ou se remettait de la détresse. Rol'Naaris a vite remarqué le son de sa voix comme s'il était fatigué. Il voulait dire quelque chose, mais le jour était déjà rempli de discussions émotionnelles. Puis, il s'est rendu compte que les coordonnées étaient sur son omni-outil. Il se sentait terrible de lui poser la question et de perdre son temps. Après un moment de regarder l'outil omni-outil, il s'est rendu compte qu'ils pointaient vers le poste de police métropolitain. Son rire était pathétique s'il était censé garder l'apparence que tout allait bien. Puis il a répondu à la question de Rayes, "Le poste de police métropolitain. Suivez-moi et nous devrions être là en un rien de temps." Rayes fonçait légèrement avec son propre omni-outil comme Rol l'a fait, bien qu'il n'avait vraiment pas envie d'avoir à regarder vers le haut où ils étaient censés aller à nouveau. Il savait qu'il l'avait lu à plusieurs reprises, mais elle était perdue dans sa mémoire. Au moment où il l'a trouvé, il semblait que Rol avait déjà une longueur d'avance sur lui. Intéressant que leur prochain arrêt avec les Spectres était un poste de police de toutes choses. "Bien sûr. Dirigez le chemin, et je suivrai." Rayes a répondu, prenant plusieurs secondes pour descendre du banc et suivre Rol, se sentant mentalement fatigué malgré la journée à peine commencé. S'il savait quoi que ce soit, c'était qu'aujourd'hui allait probablement être une longue journée. Ensemble, ils se sont dirigés vers le poste de police métropolitain.

Name: Rol'Naaris nar Taazzor; Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal; Rol Race: Quarian Class Infiltrator Age: Twenty-nine years old Sex: Male Appearance: With their weak immune system, Rol'Naaris rarely takes off any part of his armor unless he is fixing up his wounds. No-one beyond the Migrant Fleet knows what he looks like without that mask. Rol tried his best to get armor that made him stand out for the other Quarian on their pilgrimage. That's why he got Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII for a store in the Citadel during his pilgrimage. Despite being an outdated model, Rol made sure to update its' shields and protection of weapons and biotics. Even before he returned to the fleet, he managed to raise one of the shoulder pads up and changed it from a navy blue to a tan color. After the Reaper War, he still kept the same old armor on him and refused to change it for a better model. It had survived this war, it will survive for a long time. Even when he joined the Spectres, he refused to use their Quarian armor since it was not better compared to the other armors on sale in places like Omega or Illium. Backstory: Rol'Naaris was born on board the Taazzor in the year 2157 on the day that Relay 314 Incident (or the First Contact War coined by the humans) happened. Rol spent his childhood aboard on the Taazzor with his mother and father. His mother worked in the technical division, while his father was in the Marines. When he was old enough, his mother took him to places like the Citadel to gather parts no possible to obtain within the fleet. This was Rol's first time that he had been outside of the Taazzor and saw other species in person. It was breathtaking and amazing. He often wandered off before his mother chased after him and took him back home. When he learned of the pilgrimage, Rol was ready to venture beyond the fleet and live in the Citadel. The truth was that life as a quarian was harsher than he expected. His father, however, was in the Marines that was born on a military ship and taught about warfare by his father. Rol took interest in the Marines because of his father and grandpa. He taught his son everything he knew about military strategy that he was taught by the Marines. A couple of Marines aboard the Taazzor told him bits of other warfare strategies that krogans and humans use. During his early teens, Rol studied as much as he could on the history of warfare for several races and he also took a look at the Geth War. He soon took interest in history, politics, and the Marines. Years of reading into Sun-Tzu and the Krogan Rebellions were useful facts to learn and he developed a love for planning out tactics. When it was time for Rol to take part in the pilgrimage, his family and friends gathered around to give gifts before Rol left. His mother managed to get a book about what foods and drinks Quarian can and cannot eat and drink. While his father gave him a Kassa Fabrication Nexus omni tool and a Haliat Armory Stiletto pistol. Shortly after, he left behind his family and friends and headed to the Citadel. Despite facing prejudice for other races, he liked his pilgrimage. He found out so much about the history of Humanity and their culture that he planned a trip to visit Earth. And he made his credits by working at a repair store. While he was trying to gather the credits, Citadel was under attack by the Reapers. Rol managed to survive the battle by following C-Sec into one of their police stations. As the pieces of Sovereign and the Geth fleet rain down onto the Citadel, his apartment was completely destroyed—his things were destroyed and his roommate was killed. All of the credits, that he had earned, were gone into repairing the damages and trying to move on. But he could not move forward and left the Citadel to complete his pilgrimage two years later. It took him six months to find some worthy to return to the fleet. It was some pieces for one of the Geth ships that he brought off of some scavengers. He was accepted by into the fleet with open arms, joined Vaepal, and began working in both the Marines as a strategist. When the Admiralty Board was talking about a possible war with the Geth, Rol supported the war and pushed other crew members to realize that war was the answer to their problems. A year after the talks, the Special Projects arm finally found a way to weaken the Geth. While the Board was voting on war, Rol was a vocal advocate for the war. After hours of debating, the Board had declared war on the Geth and Rol got to work. Despite not having enough time to be taught everything in the Marines. Quarians on their pilgrimage had to return to the fleet to prepare for war. Rol was responsible for placing the returning into positions suitable to the Vaepal and planning ways to attack the Geth fleet. The Migrant Fleet had updated with include weapons on-board civilian ships, an action that he strongly agreed with. They began their assault as the Reapers invaded Earth and burned Palaven. Things were going well for the fleet until the Geth accepted the Reaper's help, destroying any chance of an easy victory. Vaepal didn't need weapons since it was a military ship. Everyone was too busy to deal with the Reapers that the Fleet suffered huge losses. Vaepal was attacked during one of many ambushes that nearly got Rol killed. He still believed that the fleet could win, especially since Commander Shepard came to their aid. After several victories (with the help of the Commander), the fleet managed to push the Geth back towards their old homeworld, Rannoch. That was when the Battle for Rannoch began. Hours of fighting brought a major victory for the quarian, earning their homeworld back. Surprisingly, the Geth suddenly supported the Quarian conquest and joined Humanity in the battle for Earth. Rol didn't support peaceful co-existence with the machines and requested that a Geth not board the Vaepal; however, he wanted to help with the fight against the Reapers. So, he joined other strategists to come up with plans on how to defeat the Reapers (if the Battle of Earth was a massive defeat) as soon as the Admiralty Board finally declared war on the Reapers. When the time came to fight on Earth, he was selected to join a group of attackers that planned on landing in North Africa. Several attacks were planned all over the world so the Reapers could be spread out thin. He was a part of the attack on Earth; however, he didn't go to London at all. The battle itself was more difficult than the Battle for Rannoch. People were dying left and right as Rol helped hold the line. Then, the energy vaporized the Reapers and the Reaper ships stopped working. The war was finally over. Afterwards, Rol was treated in the city of Alexandria and spent time there before returning to the fleet. Around that time, Tali’Zorah Vas Normandy had also returned to the fleet and began her work with Rannoch. Her influence and actions during the Reaper War grant her command of the newly built Diplomacy Fleet. He was offered a spot aboard Tali'Zorah's body guard. He refused and focused on rebuilding Earth with the others. He has traveled all over the Middle East, the Great Basin and the Mojave and Sonoran Desert. Rol went back to Alexandria to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Battle of Earth. Psyche Profile: Rol'Naaris is just like any normal quarian: strategic mind, judgmental, hard-working, decisive, and overly analytical. Those traits have been useful and useless to him throughout his life. Rol tends to make only a few friends that like to have discussions about stuff and hang out often. He has no trouble relaxing and enjoying himself with his friends, but he doesn't share his emotions with them. And he cannot be able to provide emotional support towards others. Plus, he can often be too honest to deal with. Romantic relationships are also his weakness as he doesn't know anything other than warfare. Rol also has a thing for organizing. He is also judgmental towards Geths because of their actions during the last few years. And the fact that Rol despises artificial intelligence and labels them as 'a threat to the galaxy.' Besides Geth, he is willing to have a healthy discussion with different ideals and opinions. And he likes human movies that have anything to do with humans destroying AI; but, he favors The Matrix and Inception. He also likes reading novels, writing essays, watching documentaries, and listening to classical music. And he always wanted to have plants along with trained dogs and go to famous landmarks. And he also always wanted to start up a museum since he loved other species’ histories. He dislikes narrow-minded people, gossip circles, people who can't handle dark humor, metal music, alcohol, and dirty/messy places. Specialty: Rol'Naaris was most likely picked to be in the Spectre-led task force because of his involvement with the Marines and they noted him as a great strategist during the Battle for Rannoch and he also helped his commander during the Battle of Earth. He was also one of the few Quarian that went to Earth during the battle, which gives his experience in the heat of a firefight. And Rol also knows how to use both a shotgun and a sniper unlike other quarians. He likes the sniper rifle better than the shotgun, but he would use it if he's in the front lines. In short, he's the sniper of the team. Powers/Skills: Sabotage, Tactical Cloak, Assassination, Agent (Operative), and Fitness Equipment and Resources: Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor VII (it includes a modified version of Asymmetric Defense Layer that fits perfectly into the look of the armor), Haliat Armory's Equalizer IX, Kassa Fabrication's Polaris VIII, Elanus Risk Control Services's Hurricane V, and Haliat Armory's Stiletto VI Sample Post: Rol'Naaris waited patiently for his shuttle to finally land at their location. It felt like they have been flying for hours since they left one of the human ships. Everyone aboard the shuttle could hear explosions all around them. Once in awhile, they could hear a shuttle getting hit and most likely crash landing onto Earth: human's homeworld. Rol felt sick whenever he heard the explosions getting closer towards this shuttle. And it did not help that he was the only quarian on this shuttle and surrounded by krogan, turians, and humans. A human sitting by Rol was looking at a datapad. Rol only noticed when he was checking on his sniper rifle and decided to take a peek at the datapad. It was a very old picture of a group of people with weapons, standing next to horses. It could of been from World War I or some other minor war fought during the time period. He kept on checking out his weapons while some of the turians and humans started to pray as they felt the shuttle going down. Everyone gathered their weapons and readied themselves for the drop off. Before they left, one of the Alliance captains told everyone to get into cover as soon as possible and open fire. Sounds of a firefight got louder as the shuttle began to land while it was taking fire from marauders and brutes Soon enough, everyone stood up and waited for the doors to open up. Rol held his sniper rifle tightly and ready for a dash towards the nearest cover. Before they opened, everyone heard the pilot's voice through the comms as he gave instructions on where the base is located. "Alright, you are about to be fired at. Remember to fight carefully and remain calm; however, don't forget your main objective. Reach the command base. Your omni-tool should have the location marked. Once you reach the location, the commander of the base will issue you with a task to do and communicate with you. Good luck soldiers. May God be with you." After that brief speech, the doors slowly opened as bullets could be heard hitting against the shuttle. Everyone carefully stepped out and dashed towards cover. Some of them were immediately shot and cried out in pain or died because of a well placed shot. Once Rol exited out of the shuttle and ran towards cover, it took off rather quickly and left the areas. Other shuttles began to land as soldiers exited out of it while one was shot down while leaving the areas. Rol went to a different cover and pulled out his omni-tool while soldiers left and right were getting shot at. The omni-tool revealed that the location was somewhere west and saw that a couple of soldiers were already heading there. The night was still rather young and it was difficult to see anything. Suddenly, he heard screaming and a struggle as Rol went for his pistol. He ran towards the sound and saw that the human for the shuttle was pinned by a husk. Rol shoved the gun against the husk's head and opened fire, killing the creature for sure. It felt as the human pushed it away from him and processed to kick it several times. "Motherfucker!" he said angrily towards the husk. "Are you alright?" Rol asked while grabbing the human's assault rifle and offering it to him. "Yeah... Just took me by surprise." he pointed at the dead husk and grabbed his gun. "Thanks.." "Call me Rol." Rol just said while he was grabbing his sniper rifle. "Rol... I am Hamdaan." Hamdann said while reloading his assault rifle. Both men began their walk on the abandoned street while other soldiers walked pass them. It was rather peaceful, even know explosions and gunshots could be heard all around. They were nearby the base because of the M35 Makos could be seen from afar, firing towards the Reapers. They have started to talk about being on Earth since the invasion. It turned out that his aunt and brother were on Earth during the invasion. They were traveling to Dubai just as the Reaper began their attack. Their ride took a detour towards the airport and they managed to get on a transport ship before the transmission died out. Hamdaan knew that they were dead and mourned their deaths. Afterwards, he joined the Alliance and waited for this day to come since joining. Rol felt bad that the quarian were fighting the geth. He saw the footage of Earth while he was planning for the upcoming war with them. It was truly disgusting for him to hear the news then Palaven was hit as well. The breaking news made him stop working for the entire day and he wanted to throw up. Shepard was right the whole time and no-one—not even Rol himself—believed his warnings. Rol said that the news made him work harder than ever to finish up with the geth; but, things never go according to plan. Gunfire got louder as both of the men rushed towards the base and saw the husk heading towards the Makos. Some of them got on top of them and Rol used his sniper rifle to pick them off. With one knee on the ground, he aimed and fired at the husks. Hamdaan charged towards the base ready for anything while others followed his lead. Rol got off of the ground and rushed towards the firefight. It was going to be one hell of a battle. The one that he was going to tell stories about for years to come. If he survives the ordeal. Notes Rol hasn't have the chance to be in a romantic relationship, but he is sure that he could most likely be either gay or straight. However, it doesn't bug him at all. He made some friends during the Battle of Earth and talks to them often. And he also still talks to people from the fleet as well. And he also has met Tali’Zorah after the Reaper War for a brief moment. Plus, he is more than willing to provide his services to rebuilding the Earth.

Tu ne pouvais pas résister... "C'est trop tôt, maman. Donnez-moi cinq minutes de plus." "Savez-vous la merde que vous venez de causer? Nous avons pratiquement... " "Très bien, d'accord. Je suis en route, je suis en route, juste... " "Savez-vous combien de faveurs j'ai dû appeler pour vous empêcher de vous enfermer pour ce petit coup que vous avez tiré?" "Je suis debout, je suis debout, je suis... "Maman?" Tandis que l'obscurité floue et floue s'est finalementompait, et Vella pouvait enfin commencer à faire apparaître des formes et des traits vagues devant elle; elle s'est rendue compte que ce n'était en fait pas le visage de maman qui était en vue. C'était plutôt le visage d'un Aegon particulièrement énervé, des mandibules enflammés. Certes, avec Aegon, c'était difficile à dire, comme le Turian était toujours en colère. Pour tout ce qu'elle savait, il pourrait la louer en ce moment, à sa façon particulière. Non, ce n'était probablement pas ça. Elle pouvait voir des gens autour. Elle doutait qu'Aegon était le genre de personne qui aurait jamais laissé quelqu'un l'attraper être gentil. "... sont des soldats. Commence à agir comme ça... " Aegon s'est ensuite effondré, alors que Vella était laissée regarder dans l'air, blessant les yeux. Il a perplexe les Asari pourquoi elle était aussi soudainement aller de l'avant, malgré ne rien faire pour la faire. Et cette fontaine ornementale avec les lumières holographiques soignées clignotant sur la ligne latérale s'approchait d'elle assez rapidement. "Hooold pendant un moment, les objets inanimés ne devraient pas pouvoir bouger!" C'est-à-dire jusqu'à ce qu'elle se rende compte qu'elle tombait! C'est pas vrai!*" La conscience l'a soudainement frappée comme un mur de glace comme les Asari, après avoir été retenu par un Aegon en colère alors qu'il criait sur elle, soudainement est tombé en premier dans la fontaine voisine! Après quelques malédictions entachées et des éclats d'armes sauvages, les Asari se sont retirées de la fontaine avec une profonde bouffée! "Gaaaaaahhhhhhhhh! Merci, j'en avais besoin!" La douche froide avait fait face aux pires effets immédiats de l'alcool, et le monde autour d'elle devenait enfin plus clair. En essuyant un peu d'eau sur son visage, elle a jeté tout le monde autour d'un clin d'œil amical, principalement parce que c'était à l'instant qu'elle en avait pleinement conscience, et elle est entrée dans son sac à bandoulière pour produire une boisson énergétique dont elle avait grand besoin comme après le reste du groupe, en essayant de comprendre le babble en colère d'Aegon. * La confrontation avec Zandar et ses voyous avait été... embarrassante. Principalement parce que Vella avait été armée avec rien d'autre qu'une demi-boire d'énergie vide, sa tenue plastique et à peine couvrante qui la laissait peu à l'imagination la laissant terriblement hors de sa place au milieu de tous les autres mooks lourdement blindés autour d'elle. Ses armes et ses armures étaient toujours dans le sac, y compris son lanceur de missiles, à l'exception de son outil omni et d'une unité de bouclier léger. Cependant, étant donné le nombre de caisses et d'articles divers déposés autour du quai, Vella se sentait confiante qu'elle n'avait pas vraiment besoin d'une arme. Elle pourrait probablement transformer le quai en pare-chocs de l'enfer si ça venait à elle. Sans oublier qu'elle était presque sûre qu'elle pouvait trouver un moyen d'armer la boîte dans sa main. Certes, la principale raison pour laquelle elle ne s'inquiétait pas était parce qu'Aegon avait l'air si en colère, Vella a commencé à se demander si de simples balles pouvaient l'abattre - du moins pas avant qu'il ait tué tous les êtres vivants dans les environs. La confrontation s'est toutefois terminée paisiblement, et avec la boisson, avait aidé Vella à récupérer presque tous ses sens à ce moment-là; assez pour qu'elle puisse pleinement apprécier leur nouveau vaisseau une fois montré à lui! "Ouah!" Étant un Asari, Vella était tout à fait utilisé pour servir sur des bateaux plutôt élégants et élégants. Cependant, cela n'a pas pris tant de distance à l'expérience, surtout avec les similarités étroites du navire avec celles du célèbre spectre humain du commandant! Ce qui, en soi, n'a promis qu'une seule chose : des aventures aux endroits les plus éloignés de la galaxie, peu de règlements (autres qu'Aegon), et un voyage en soi! « C'est tout ce que j'espérais! » Vella a échoué lamentablement à contenir un grand sourire pendant qu'ils tournaient le navire, étant montré d'un endroit à l'autre. La quantité de Turians sur le navire l'a surpris, et a également agi comme un avertissement que cette aventure pourrait être un peu plus « par le livre » qu'elle avait initialement espéré, mais ce n'était qu'un petit détriment. En rencontrant leur représentant légal, Dessia T'Lorro, Vella ne pouvait s'empêcher de se pencher sur le côté et de demander. "Vous travaillez dans le département de droit? Je suppose que vous ne connaissez pas Kerlah V'Blaad?" Vella a demandé, à moitié seulement attendre une réponse avant d'être traînée avec le reste du groupe de tournée. Kerlah V'Blaad était la personnalité infâme de la plupart des tribunaux et des bureaucraties, tant dans l'espace d'Asari qu'au-delà. Une matriarche, pleinement pratiquée en droit, qui avait passé la majeure partie de sa vie plus jeune dans la division de Vella, la Lance de Lumière. Même si elle était maintenant une praticienne de la justice à part entière, elle n'avait jamais laissé son ancienne identité derrière elle. Elle était aussi la raison pour laquelle The Lance of Light n'avait pas perdu 40 % ou plus de son personnel pour des décharges déshonorables, car Kerlah était connue pour attaquer toute affaire judiciaire avec la même fureur et la même intensité qu'elle avait fait face à des actions de combat dans la Lance of Light, et il a été dit que peu pouvaient jamais armer des crayons, des datapads et des livres de loi comme elle le pouvait! Elle savourait le chaos d'un bon tribunal ou d'un incident intergalactique, et on disait qu'elle avait fait tomber plusieurs procès ou accusations, simplement parce que l'une ou l'autre partie ne voulait pas faire face au cauchemar judiciaire de Kerlah, ni aux migraines inévitables qui suivirent de traiter avec elle pendant des périodes prolongées! D'une certaine façon, elle avait gagné autant d'infamie que la Division qu'elle était habituée à protéger, et un petit statut de boogeyman dans la communauté juridique. Bien que Vella ne pouvait pas être sûre, elle aurait pu jurer avoir vu Dessia Wince douloureusement à la mention de Karlah, avant qu'elle ne parte avec le reste du groupe. * À la fin de la tournée, Vella aurait l'air complètement étonnée, bien que la plupart de son intérêt soit allé à la baie du véhicule et de l'engin spatial. Elle n'était pas sûre de quitter une Vorcha à moins de 500 pieds d'un véhicule militaire censé voir une action réelle, bien qu'elle ait raisonné que si l'alliance se composait de gens comme Zander, une Vorcha n'était peut-être pas un si mauvais choix après tout. Comme le signal leur a été donné de commencer à s'installer, cependant, c'était un moment où Vella ne pouvait pas s'empêcher d'arrêter sa curiosité, alors qu'elle regardait Phalanx. "Soooo..." Elle a commencé, donnant au Geth un regard étrange, long, alors qu'elle a incliné sa tête quiziquement. "Comment une interface Geth avec le vaisseau?" Elle demanda avec une curiosité honnête, puis regarda Talos. "Et nos deux A.I. vont-ils s'entendre? ... nous n'allons pas faire l'expérience d'une fusion soudaine ou d'une singularité comme un événement, n'est-ce pas?"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

HSV Kharon Ce fut un voyage intéressant pour le moins. Le Spectre est arrivé avec Spectre Aegon Partinax une fois de plus réprimandant l'asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophélia pour ses actions. Bien que l'asari semblait encore être un peu dans un labyrinthe. Pendant l'affrontement avec l'amiral Zander, Phalanx n'a pas touché son arme, mais son omni-outil était brillant et visait à lancer un inferno dans le groupe si quelque chose se produisait. Ses yeux les regardent, balayant et enregistrant l'événement dans ses banques de données. Heureusement, le conflit s'est réglé avec l'aide du Spectre Jake Anderson et l'équipage s'est déplacé pour visiter le navire appelé HSV Kharon. Un navire bien conçu, et il avait un équipage efficace pour s'en occuper. Avec chaque coéquipier qui a été introduit, Phalanx a scanné et construit des données pour eux, ajoutant quelques notes. Le Dr Nola'Xen va Qwib Qwib et le Dr Tenno Kala ont été intéressants à rencontrer. "Cette unité a l'air d'un avant-propos pour travailler ensemble." Il a répondu, renvoyant le geste de serrer les mains, étant un peu plus doux à ce sujet. Un autre Créateur, une femme cette fois. Elle semblait plus intéressée que les Créateurs hostiles. Le commentaire du salarien sur les essais a provoqué l'ouverture de ses volets métalliques tout en étant alertes, mais détendus à mesure qu'ils allaient rencontrer plus de coéquipiers. Le membre suivant sur le navire qui a causé Phalanx le plus d'intérêt était l'IA résident du navire appelé Talos. Comme prévu, il n'y avait pas d'autre Geth sur ce navire, de sorte que le Talos AI était le plus proche Phalanx pouvait se relier d'une certaine manière. Il était légèrement surprenant de voir un autre dans un navire biologique, mais ils se sont révélés utiles pendant la cause de Shepard. Talos était une AI assez jeune par rapport au programme Phalanx, mais il devrait être une expérience intéressante pour voir comment cette AI réagit. Alors qu'ils étaient renvoyés, Phalanx tourna la tête alors que Vella parla à la plate-forme Geth d'une manière d'interrogation. Soit curieux, soit peut-être inquiet pour les capacités du Geth. « Je suis capable d'interagir avec un navire et de servir une position similaire à celle de Talos. Cependant, je ne serais pas enchaîné. Cependant, j'aurais besoin soit de Talos ou de la permission du commandant d'entrer, soit de pirater les systèmes. Hacking montrerait une certaine difficulté car les systèmes de ce navire ont des défenses capables aux côtés du Talos AI et la façon la plus réussie de contourner Talos est d'entrer à travers le noyau." il expliqua, tournant légèrement la tête comme Alria partait pour son propre navire puis retourna pour regarder le camarade asari. « Nous avons des objectifs similaires pour aider à la mission. Mes services ne sont pas nécessaires pour aider à l'interfaçage avec le navire et plus sur le terrain. Je doute que Talos et moi aurons une confrontation hostile." Il a fini avant de regarder à Ellis comme il a questionné qui était le Yeoman. "Yeoman Calixta Oraka est le turois résidant au CIC." Le synthétique a répondu, en regardant comme quelques membres d'équipage plus dispersés pour gérer leur propre situation. Il n'avait rien à régler, pas plus qu'il n'avait besoin d'un lit et d'une chambre. Il a réfléchi s'il devait regarder en génie ou parler à l'équipage.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

Ellis est retourné à l'ascenseur. La voix fraîche de Talos, l'IA enchaînée du navire, sonnait dans le petit espace, échouant toujours si légèrement, demandant sa destination. "La baie de Cargo." Les portes se fermaient et scellaient, et avec un bruit silencieux, lâchaient à une vitesse imperceptible, les portes s'ouvraient une fois de plus, révélant un grand espace, abritant un rover massif, l'exercice Turians, caisses de stockage d'armes, de munitions, de matériaux, et d'autres cargaisons. Ellis ignorait les regards alors qu'il se dirigeait vers l'un des placards qui tapissaient l'espace. C'était une longue promenade, et il a été observé tout le chemin. Je me demande si l'un d'eux vous reconnaît. Regarde comme ils sont voyants. L'un des Turiens lui donna un léger piège à mesure qu'il passa. Il se souvient de toi, au moins. Ellis a ignoré l'homme et a continué, d'attendre à la porte pendant qu'il balayait sa biométrie, avant de glisser ouvert, révélant un espace juste assez grand pour être confortable pour quelqu'un de la taille d'Ellis. Il a pressé à travers le cadre serré de la porte, et s'est assis fermement sur un grand conteneur en métal. L'étiquette ne portait qu'un seul mot énigmatique : « TOOLS ». Le haut a cédé un peu sous son énorme poids, et Ellis s'est senti à l'aise ici, encore plus quand la porte s'est refermée, dissimulant les lumières du cargo, à remplacer par des lumières de magasin. Un bureau en métal s'est assis dans le coin, des obstacles mécaniques errants et finit par joncher sa surface. Ellis ne leur a rien donné, promettant de nettoyer l'endroit quand il s'est réveillé. "NERO, lancez le protocole "Bonne nuit". Son costume s'est éteint, son écran s'assombrit. Ellis, épuisé de la veille, s'est effondré contre le gel qui l'enferme. C'était doux. Il faisait chaud. Et ici, il était seul. Ellis a dormi.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Ça devrait suffire à apaiser mes inquiétudes actuelles à propos d'une techno-apocalypse imminente sur ce vaisseau. Vella a finalement répondu après une courte pause, donnant à Geth un clin d'œil rapide et un sourire, pourtant, ne pouvait pas tout à fait cacher un peu d'incertitude dans sa propre expression. Phalanx était une affaire étrange! D'abord et avant tout, il s'agissait d'une machine synthétique à travers et à travers, sans traits visibles du visage; non; pas de visage du tout pour Vella à lire! Cela en soi suffisait à mettre immédiatement Vella hors de l'équilibre, et laissait toujours les Asari incertains de ce qu'il fallait dire ensuite. Certes, bien qu'il s'agisse d'une machine, certaines de ses parties mobiles pourraient être interprétées en partie comme de vagues caractéristiques sociales, comme la façon dont son optique se déplaçait et les plaques autour du cou de la lampe de Phalanx se déplaçaient et se déplaçaient, accordant aux mouvements eux-mêmes semblait simple et souvent très d'un côté, comme si l'on observait les gestes d'un... enfant! Et deuxièmement, Vella n'avait jamais parlé à une vraie AI. Bien sûr, elle avait « parlé » aux VI synthétiques, mais n'a jamais eu une interaction continue avec un A.I réel, réel, conscient de soi et pensant! Comment était-elle supposée tenir une conversation ou trouver un terrain d'entente avec quelque chose qui n'était en réalité qu'une machine froide avec un cerveau composé d'un tas de nombres?Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? "Je vais avoir besoin d'une douche." Vella a dit que son esprit se retira de la difficile question de ce que cela signifiait de parler à un ordinateur, et encore moins de ce que cela signifiait d'être conscient de soi, et au lieu de vers son propre corps et tenue qu'elle sentait était dans le besoin d'un bon nettoyage après ce qui avait été une nuit dehors. Cependant, les Asari s'arrêtaient à mi-étape alors qu'elle regardait de nouveau Phalanx, qui semblait se tenir là sans problème alors que les compagnons d'équipage s'y déplaçaient. Une pose debout plutôt maladroite, la façon dont quelqu'un s'est tenu quand ils avaient complètement et totalement aucune idée de ce qu'ils étaient censés ou pourraient faire! "Dis, euh, Phalanx." Vella s'arrêta, se retourna pour regarder en arrière Phalanx, maintenant avec un sourire sur son visage. « Êtes-vous fan des drones et de la technologie des armes en général? » Elle a demandé d'une voix joyeuse alors qu'elle retournait vers sa destination d'origine. "J'ai besoin de construire de nouveaux drones après que mes vieux ont explosé..." Awkward regard de côté... "Dis... tu veux te joindre à moi?"

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

Ellis envisageait de parler alors que Vella était réprimandée, et avait même les mots prêts. J'y suis allé de mon plein gré, monsieur. Je regrette les dégâts, mais pas l'événement. Mais il ne l'a pas fait. Et il s'en est emparé sans cesse. Regarde-toi. Espèce de lâche. Je pensais que tu pourrais être son amie. Je pensais que tu pourrais être quelque chose de plus. Et là, vous vous asseyez, comme un enfant, en regardant votre 'ami' gronder pour vos erreurs. Tu as été la cause de la plupart des dégâts. Tu te rends compte, n'est-ce pas? C'est vrai. Vous devez... Ta gueule. Arrête. S'il te plaît. S'il vous plaît? S'il vous plaît? S'il vous plaît? Regarde-toi. Toujours le même enfant reniflant, pleurant sur les membres perdus dans une boîte en verre. Regarde-toi. Tu es toujours la même. Tu n'as jamais changé. Tu ne le feras jamais... Arrêtez! Arrêtez! C'est fini! Et que ferez-vous si nous ne le faisons pas? SILENCE! Les voix n'avaient rien de plus à dire. Les dégâts ont été faits. Ellis était incertain de savoir si le silence de ses démons était dû à sa propre affirmation ou à la distraction soudaine des portes de la baie d'amarrage d'ouverture. Il regarda des extraterrestres charger des caisses sur un petit vaisseau non-descriptif, leurs longs doigts s'emparant délicatement des caisses lourdes, mais clairement fermement, travaillant dans l'unité non parlée. Au fur et à mesure qu'ils continuaient, Partinax s'arrêta. Avant la porte se trouvait six figures, en complet matériel de combat de l'Alliance, armes tirées, derrière une femme qui était clairement leur chef. Ils portaient l'uniforme N7. Le premier instinct d'Ellis a été de frapper le Mattock du dos et de commencer à tirer. Il se rappela qu'il s'agissait de ses alliés maintenant, malgré la façon dont les choses pouvaient apparaître. Fais-le. Personne n'a l'air heureux de les voir ici. Ta gueule. Vous êtes comme un journal audio endommagé. "Tais-toi, ferme-la", tu as autre chose à dire? Ellis n'a pas répondu. Il découvrait rapidement à quel point le silence fonctionnait contre les voix. Katabasis s'arrêta, tandis que Partinax et Anderson s'approchèrent des troupes. Nero a identifié la femme dirigeante comme un amiral, marqué par un "ADM-N7" orange dans l'écran AR d'Ellis. Elle portait un pistolet Phalanx, un armement inhabituel pour les troupes de l'Alliance, surtout compte tenu de ses origines Cerberus. Il en a pris note, ainsi que la position tendue de ses supérieurs directs. Partinax la fixa impunément. Le Turian a parlé d'abord. "L'amiral Zander, je ne m'attendais pas à vous voir ici, d'autant plus que cette baie d'amarrage est réservée aux Spectres et à leur personnel de soutien." Elle a répondu : "C'est bon de te voir aussi Partinax. Je sais, c'est contre les règles pour nous d'être ici, mais depuis quand Spectres vous souciez-vous des règles?" Malgré la dénotation de leurs paroles, Ellis sentit une grande hostilité entre les deux, et fit une demande de NERO. Il chuchotait, "Néro, mute-moi. Analysez leur langage corporel." La voix de NERO est venue en légèrement gaufrée et déformée, un produit de dommages au costume d'Ellis. "Les deux cibles semblent légèrement à modérément agitées, opérationnelles." Ellis s'est évanoui. "Évaluation tactique?" "Recommander la neutralisation immédiate." Il s'est moqué de ça. "Pas une option." "Recommandez de rester passif, opérationnel." "Remercié." Le concours de pisse entre les deux s'est poursuivi, de plus en plus en tension avec chaque rétorsion. Ellis a dû admettre son admiration pour la force de la volonté de Partinax, et plus encore pour sa volonté de s'adresser à un collègue avec une telle force. Soudain, l'amiral s'est levé, ses soldats ont réagi instantanément, les mains sur leurs armes. Ellis a agi instinctivement, s'emparant de la poignée de son fusil, sentant le bon clic-clic-claque de son fusil s'étendant. Le revêtement noir mat s'est mélangé magnifiquement avec son armure, le cachant assez bien même de derrière. Il l'a gardé derrière son dos, caché aux nouveaux adversaires, en partie peur de causer un autre problème, en partie pour cacher son intention. Puis, l'amiral apparent a dit les mots magiques: "Je me demande ce que vous ressentiriez si quelque chose arrivait à vos enfants?" En une seconde, une épée chanta alors qu'elle était coupée en l'air pour se reposer juste au-dessus du cou de la femme. Les armes ont été tirées. Ellis était prêt, apportant son fusil à porter de sa main droite, le nivelant sainement sur un soldat avec un bras cybernétique, le seul ennemi qu'il voyait comme proche de son égal. Nero, sentant le combat approcher, a commencé le processus d'overclock. Il aurait resplendu d'une aura sombre alors que sa biotique s'était envolée, sinon pour le costume qui dissimulait son corps. Un œil entraîné aurait pu voir les signes, s'ils savaient où regarder. Sa coquille semblait s'étendre alors que la lumière qui l'entourait était si légèrement déformée. Tuez-le. Tuez-le maintenant. Pas encore. Tuez-le maintenant! Pas encore! L'amiral avait l'air con, en disant, "Tu es fou, tu es prêt à faire face à une putain de cour pour ça? Ils vont te dépouiller de ton statut!" Elle pourrait nous parler. Elle pourrait me parler. La même chose. Ça ne l'est pas. Ce n'est absolument pas le cas. Anderson s'est avancé, un arbitre à tous égards. Et, contrairement aux attentes d'Ellis, l'amiral s'est excusé. Une partie de lui aurait souhaité qu'elle ne l'ait pas fait, et une autre partie l'a réprimandé pour avoir souhaité cela, reconnaissant l'extrême perte de vies et l'occasion que cela aurait présenté. Partinax repoussa la femme, et Ellis suivit de près, rembourrant son fusil. Il a donné un doigt du milieu silencieux avec sa main blanche alors qu'il a piétiné la rampe dans un énorme sas de navire. Le navire était grand, brillant et clairement neuf. Elle était élégante, reine parmi les serfs, et avec la décoration turienne et le travail de peinture en noir et blanc, elle aurait pu être n'importe quoi d'un navire de guerre à un bombardier furtif. La porte balayait brièvement le corps de Partinax, avant d'ouvrir avec un léger sifflement. Ellis a pressé dans le sas, pressant sans le savoir certains de ses camarades dans les murs. La chambre était petite, insupportable ainsi, et le corps d'Ellis a pris beaucoup d'espace. Le protocole de décontamination a commencé, et après trente à quarante-cinq secondes qui se sont senties de trente à quarante-cinq ans, la porte intérieure a glissé ouverte, révélant un beau réseau d'innards, de lumières éclatantes, de panneaux brillants et même ici et là, accents de vrai bois de la Terre. Il a suivi de près derrière, tandis que son commandant Spectre conduisait l'équipe à la barre. L'heure suivante était un flou de visages et de noms, dont Ellis se rappelait peu, sauver un Dr. Tenno Kala, qui semblait ravi de la perspective de mettre ses longs doigts dans la carapace d'Ellis, allant même jusqu'à lui donner un long, scan profond, complimentant la technologie. Bien qu'il ait parlé d'Ellis comme d'un 'inwieldy' et d'un 'yeuxore', Ellis s'est senti apprécié. Il a fait une note mentale pour dresser une liste des demandes et des calibrations et même des modifications à son corps. La deuxième personne à qui il a fait attention était un asari, plus vieux que Vella, mais avec le même regard perçant, comme si elle voyait quelque chose en vous que vous ne pouviez pas vous-même. Elle s'est propagé à Ellis, laissant entendre que son récent congé à terre et celui de Vella était un inconvénient de la plus haute nature. Heureusement, Partinax les a emmenés rapidement. Un autre Asari s'est distingué dans l'esprit d'Ellis, un Konare T'Pavi, psychologue. Elle va passer une journée sur le terrain avec toi. Tu veux dire "nous". Oh, c'est vrai! Alors c'est "nous" maintenant? Ellis s'est battu contre l'envie de se disputer, se rappelant qu'elle n'était d'aucune utilité. Il était heureux que personne ne puisse voir sa contrainte. Partinax s'est tourné vers lui, apparemment, pour le regarder droit dans les yeux, quand il a dit, "Si jamais vous avez besoin d'une consultation personnelle ou spirituelle, elle est ce que vous verrez. Vous avez des sessions hebdomadaires obligatoires Ellis." Ellis a hurlé, puis s'est souvenu que Partinax ne pouvait pas le voir. "NERO, son externe en hausse de seize pour cent. Oui, monsieur. Je comprends." Il se sentait comme un enfant qui venait d'être introduit dans une cathédrale catholique pour la première fois, le même sentiment d'émerveillement et de confusion et même d'horreur subconsciente à réaliser ce dans quoi il s'était introduit. L'Asari sourit quand elle parlait. C'était un vrai sourire, le genre de sourire qui vient d'avoir une âme propre. « Peu importe ce qui peut arriver, si vous voulez en parler, je serai heureux d'écouter. Et tout est tout à fait confidentiel, bien sûr." Ellis s'inclina autant qu'il le pouvait, comme son corps le plus lourd ne le laisserait pas plier loin sans tomber. "Merci, madame." Elle va faire un numéro sur vous les enculés malades. Nous? C'est toi le malade. Qui a ressenti le besoin de se parler dès qu'il a entendu le mot "psychologue"? Taisez-vous. J'en ai assez de toi. Et si nous ne voulons pas... Vite! Partinax les a conduits à un ascenseur. Ils se sont serrés à l'intérieur, en allant jusqu'à la soute. Les Turiens luttaient et soulevaient des poids, l'un courait sur un tapis de course incliné bizarre, tandis que leur chef les conduisait à un Salarien étrangement grand-tête avec des mains amphibiens bizarrement, probablement, pieds amphibiens aussi. Partinax l'a présenté comme Relli Yonn, un spécialiste des achats. Ellis a parlé, oubliant que tout le monde pouvait l'entendre. "NERO, fais une liste. Il nous faut du vidélicet, des rappels d'amphétamine à l'ancienne, deux nouveaux Talons, et... Et un Carnifex. Peut-être aussi un Falcon. Peut-être pas. Prenez note. Bon sang, j'ai dit les mauvaises choses d'abord." "Confirmé." Le reste de la tournée était un flou pour Ellis déjà débordé et toujours la gueule de bois cerveau. Il a fait une note mentale pour demander l'un des espaces de stockage dans la soute comme ses quartiers privés, en espérant que l'armurerie pourrait façonner une sorte de quai d'entretien pour son costume. Et il espérait, avant tout, qu'ils pourraient le faire rapidement. Bien qu'il soit encore relativement tôt dans la journée, il était épuisé, et ne désirait rien de plus que de dormir, craignant qu'il ne s'effondrera bientôt de la simple surcharge d'informations. "NÉRO, s'il vous plaît dites-moi que vous enregistriez tout cela pour référence future." "Tout a été enregistré pour référence future." -- Vraiment? "Négatif, opérationnel." "Fils de pute, Nero." Partinax s'est tourné vers l'équipe, après avoir affiché une AI impressionnante, celle avec laquelle NERO trouverait sans doute de la parenté. "C'est la fin de cette tournée. Si jamais tu veux parler, parle à Calixta et elle m'en informera. Si j'ai le temps vous pouvez passer par mes quartiers sur le pont supérieur. En plus de ça, vous avez le règne libre du navire. Installez-vous, ce sera notre maison et notre base opérationnelle pendant un certain temps. » Ellis n'avait qu'une seule question : « NERO, volume audio externe en hausse, douze pour cent. Lequel était Calixta encore? Et... Si quelqu'un a besoin de moi, je serai en réserve."

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

HSV Kharon Phalanx a un peu incliné sa tête à Vella apparemment pas sûr avant de s'excuser pour une douche, une forme de nettoyage du corps organique de bactéries indésirables et de grime. "Que le traitement de la douche se passe bien." Il a fait ses adieux à l'asari, tournant sa tête de lampe de poche pour examiner que beaucoup d'autres ont commencé à se séparer. Soit pour parler à quelqu'un, soit pour revenir en mode sommeil. Pendant un moment, il a essayé de calculer son prochain mouvement. Elle pourrait tenter de socialiser avec quelqu'un, mais ses tentatives ne s'avéreraient pas utiles pour d'autres qui sont actuellement occupés par une certaine forme de tâche. Peut-être que ça pourrait essayer de parler avec Talos? Pourtant, une jeune IA créée n'était pas quelque chose que Phalanx voulait obtenir de l'information. C'est une perspective différente, mais peut-être pas pour l'instant. Peut-être que ça pourrait juste faire quelques calibrations et un diagnostic du vaisseau? Examiner l'ingénierie? Ou peut-être devrait-il tenter de rassurer tous les organiques sur le navire qu'il était vraiment amical en socialisant? Peut-être qu'il devrait essayer d'agir un peu plus organique. Le seul organique qu'il connaissait bien leurs habitudes était son Créateur. Qui était un peu plus énergivore et énergique. Il pourrait apparaître comme intimidant et étrange si une grande forme de vie synthétique agissait ainsi au lieu d'un petit Créateur. Alors qu'elle calculait ses options, elle les arrêtait momentanément, car elle fouettait son œil légèrement bleu brillant vers Vella alors qu'elle parlait une fois de plus, s'arrêtant dans son aventure vers sa destination. Poser une question. « Les médecins rendent utile l'exploration de points, d'installations, d'espionnage et de dangers possibles. Geth tend à favoriser l'utilisation de Geth Hoppers ou Hunters pour effectuer ces tâches. Cependant, je comprends les avantages d'avoir des drones. Tant les drones que les capacités techniques d'armes ont été étudiés par Geth afin de tirer pleinement parti de leurs capacités. J'ai la connaissance des deux, devant étalonner avec les autres programmes qui résidaient autrefois dans cette plate-forme pendant la Guerre du Matin et la Guerre des Reaper. » Il a répondu. Il n'a pas répondu particulièrement s'il l'a «joyé», mais il le savait. La connaissance, c'était la connaissance. Et c'était une connaissance utile. À sa dernière question, il a fallu encore quelques secondes pour calibrer une réponse par rapport à la plupart de ses réponses à peu près immédiates. "Rejoignez-vous dans les douches ou aidez-vous à construire plus de drones et de technologies d'armes? Quoi qu'il en soit, je suis prêt à prêter assistance quand je le peux. » Ça a paniqué.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

3 heures après s'être réveillé jusqu'à un appel gratuit de la réception de l'hôtel, Rykarn était aux coordonnées du rendez-vous, un emplacement confirmé par la présence de beaucoup d'autres dans l'équipe déjà là. Il a au moins confirmé une chose; ils ont tous obtenu la même information, de sorte que les Spectres n'étaient pas délibérément tromper les gens. Le krogan s'est demandé si quelqu'un choisirait de ne pas montrer, mais jusqu'à présent, il semblait que tout le monde était à bord avec cette mission. Peut-être était-ce l'attrait de travailler avec Spectres et le prestige qui lui est venu, ou le danger. Peut-être parce que certaines personnes n'avaient nulle part où aller. Pour Rykarn, c'était simple; partout où krogan allait, les choses excitantes étaient sûres d'arriver. C'est sûr que c'est comme de la merde de reconstruire une brique de ville par brique et de coller avec la même routine jour en jour et jour dehors. Il était satisfaisant pendant un certain temps, mais si les Spectres n'étaient pas venus avec la proposition quand ils l'ont fait, il y avait une chance que Rykarn aurait terminé le mois et serait retourné à Anhur pour chercher du travail. Ses yeux trouvèrent Sicaria, le turien qu'il avait passé la nuit avec hier soir, et l'enthousiasme vif qu'elle avait depuis creuser les corps au complexe de l'appartement semblait l'avoir quittée, elle était visiblement raide et gardée, et pas seulement comme une réaction physique à la suite de leur stress-relief. Quand il s'est réveillé, elle était partie, laissant le krogan avec la facture à payer, y compris les dommages subis par leur indiscrétion. Néanmoins, le petit déjeuner continental était adéquat et le personnel n'était pas désireux d'être en confrontation avec un krogan, surtout celui qui acceptait facilement d'encourir les coûts sans aucune agitation. En dehors de quelques crédits mais plus heureux pour elle, il s'est demandé ce qui rampait dans le cul de turian, après qu'il l'ait fait. Il n'a pas aidé que le Geth damné était plus curieux qu'un Pyjak de la décharge et incapable de tact. Rykarn ne se souciait pas particulièrement si la connexion était faite entre Sicaria et lui-même ; c'était un plaisir sans aucun de ces liens émotionnels irritables. Pourquoi d'autres races ont mis ce poids émotionnel et sentimental dans le sexe était au-delà de lui. Pour un krogan, ce n'était pas différent de manger un bon repas qui n'avait pas le goût de la merde à cordes ou de se battre. Si les autres savaient combien de partenaires reproducteurs un krogan mâle a traversé, surtout maintenant le génophage avait été guéri, serait probablement incompréhensible. Ça me rappelle. Je dois rentrer chez moi et faire mon devoir. Il pensait, debout avec les autres avec ses bras croisés, son expression ne trahissant rien de ses pensées, qui étaient en train de se rendre compte qu'il a manqué les finales de griffe hier soir quand Partinax est apparu, zéro sur Vella et déchaîner le vitriol que Rykarn doutait de l'asari était tout à fait au courant de ce qui était dit. Soit il s'agissait d'un défi délibéré, soit ses facultés mentales manquaient, soit de la façon dont le Spectre turien a fait clairement comprendre qu'elle marchait sur de la glace mince qu'elle était périodiquement fracassée avec un marteau. Cette routine de réveil matinale hors du chemin, l'équipe de Katabasis a été conduit aux navettes d'attente pour se diriger vers la Citadelle, qui même dans le ciel matinal était encore visible avec ceux avec les yeux assez vifs. - C'est pas vrai. La section Spectre de la Citadelle était quelque part Rykarn n'avait jamais été à pour des raisons évidentes, malgré son travail précédent avec l'escouade Phrixus. Il a essayé de ne pas regarder trop évident en regardant autour d'eux amarrés, bien que le groupe d'agents N7 debout comme une fête de salutation était certainement digne d'attention. L'humanité est la meilleure; Rykarn a entendu assez de contes sur eux pour savoir qu'ils étaient plus qu'un match pour des vétérans krogans même endurcis. Bref, ils ne devaient pas être sous-estimés et dignes de respect. Cette femme Zander avait clairement une histoire méchante avec Partinax, que Rykarn a discrètement approuvé de son refus stupéfiant de bouger face à sa tentative de tirer le rang, l'influence politique, quel que soit le tour non-combatif qu'elle avait que ses barreaux ont accordé. Comme les vagues sur un rocher, cependant, il était clair que le turian n'allait pas bouger et ses efforts n'avaient pas de sens. Et avec une remarque négligente, la situation déjà tendue a explosé dans une impasse. À mesure que les armes sortiraient, Rykarn avait immédiatement son gréviste en main; la grande arme et ses obus explosifs faisaient autorité en leur propre chef et dans des quartiers proches, elle serait carrément dévastatrice. Personne ne se demande si le krogan se soucie ou non des dommages collatéraux; c'est l'un des rares avantages d'être d'une espèce universellement marginalisée et redoutée. Personne n'allait appeler votre bluff quand la menace d'une force et d'une violence excessives était sur la table. Si ce n'était pas pour l'intervention d'Anderson, il était très probable que l'équipe était sur le point de se couper les dents contre les membres de la N7 et de découvrir de quoi ils étaient vraiment faits. Rykarn respectait l'approche d'Anderson à la plupart des situations; il était un leader naturel et médiateur, et sa présence avait plus d'une fois au cours des dernières 24 heures avait fait la différence entre une résolution pacifique ou un bain de sang. Il savait quand faire preuve de retenue, quand faire preuve de miséricorde et quand l'ignorer... mais le temps lui dirait si ce peu de chance durerait. Avec l'arrêt qui s'est rapidement érodé, Rykarn a piqué le fusil dans son dos et a grognonné, "Hmph. Ce n'est pas amusant. – Il a dit, regardant la N7 la plus proche comme il s'est couché. Bientôt, l'équipe a été filtrée dans un grand cintre qui était enveloppé dans l'obscurité, seulement pour que les lumières illuminent de façon procédurale le navire dont Partinax semblait si fier. Rykarn lui a tiré un coup d'œil muselé, il n'a jamais pensé que le turian rigide avait une torche pour le théâtre. C'était un beau navire, l'une des frégates à l'air sleaker que le krogan avait vu, et il était assez considérable pour tenir un équipage important, comme il le découvrirait bientôt. Quand tout le monde a été entaché dans le sas pour la procédure de décontamination, l'esprit de Rykarn a erré à Sicaria dans la situation de Phalanx et a laissé sortir un mirathful, "Hah!", le rire singulier sans contexte comme la lumière ionisée frottait chacun des extraterrestres entassés dans l'espace. Si elle avait besoin d'une décontamination de la veille, elle était au bon endroit. La tournée autour du navire était un tourbillon de noms et de visages qui allaient prendre des jours, sinon des semaines, pour envelopper complètement Rykarn. Il s'est contenté de compartimenter l'équipage par des descripteurs généraux et des rôles. Mutant Pyjak, pilote. Quarien, spécialiste en biochimie. Parlez au personnel s'il le faut. Asari, légal. Madame Salarian, reine des ragots. Elcor... cuisine. Le krogan réfléchit, regardant l'elcor et essayant de comprendre exactement la logistique d'un extraterrestre de cette taille et le manque de dextérité essayant de faire quelque chose comme le crack et les oeufs frits. Il était facile de remarquer que la plupart des membres de l'équipage étaient des Turiens, certains d'entre eux ayant même l'air un peu plus rugueux que la crache et polir les types militaires que vous avez généralement eus, d'autres ont même donné des vibrations mercenaires. Rykarn a décidé que c'était probablement parce que Partinax comptait principalement sur son propre genre et si cela venait à lui, il était du côté d'eux plutôt que des armes embauchées qu'ils ont ramassées. Il y avait aussi quelque chose à dire sur le fait que les turois étaient des créatures de familiarité et de confort; peut-être était-ce une superstition ou un biais, mais c'était un navire turois avec quelques os jetés ici et là à d'autres espèces, et il fonctionnerait exactement comme Partinax s'y attendait. Pas de surprises, pas de changement de doctrine. Une routine. Le psychiatre asari était également prévisible; il était difficile de trouver ce rouleau rempli par n'importe qui d'autre. Les gens avaient cette confiance innée des extraterrestres qui pouvaient entrer dans votre tête et être physiquement attrayant et délicat regarder à n'importe quel extraterrestre. Leur physiologie entière dépendait de la reproduction avec des extraterrestres en dehors de leur espèce, de sorte que la compassion et l'intuition à d'autres espèces et leurs quirks étaient presque consanguins à ce stade de l'histoire galactique. En entendant l'annonce que quelques-uns de l'équipage ont été mandatés pour avoir des rendez-vous réguliers fait Rykarn supprimer un smirk. Au moins le Specter a reconnu que quelques-uns de l'équipe étaient des éléments instables, et les voir amenés à des leçons obligatoires était presque comme voir un enfant de l'école se faire exiler en détention. La vorcha était une surprise désagréable. En le voyant embrasser Anderson et secouer la main de Partinax, le visage de Rykarn a contorté dans un dégoût à peine freiné. Des années et des années de conditionnement de la vorcha pour être du fourrage de canon sont revenues inonder; il s'imaginait s'emparer de la vorcha par le cou, la claquer dans le pont et la presser jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit à un pouce de sa vie afin qu'elle n'oublie pas sa place dans l'ordre de picotement. Vorcha étaient à peine des bêtes sensibles qui étaient adaptées pour tuer et prospérer dans des environnements impossibles. Il était décevant que tant de gens commencent à les garder comme des animaux de compagnie, en prétendant que les mauvais petits imps étaient même amis. Le fait que l'équipe doive se fier à la vorcha n'était pas qu'un appel d'une pensée. Rykarn laissa sortir un huff supprimé et irrité alors qu'il se détournait de la vorcha, se rappelant que cette période de sa vie était derrière lui et qu'il suivait un nouveau maître de bataille maintenant. Vous n'avez pas déjoué vos sentiments sur des sujets à moins que cela ne soit absolument urgent, et à moins qu'il ne voit un défaut de jugement sur l'un ou l'autre des Spectres, il a dû croire qu'ils savaient ce qu'ils faisaient. De plus, Rykarn était professionnel. Il avait déjà fait face à des situations pires. Lorsque l'équipe a été congédiée, Rykarn a trouvé un membre d'équipage qui l'a dirigé vers ses quartiers de fortune sur le pont-cargo. Compte tenu de sa grande taille, de son poids et de sa masse par rapport à d'autres extraterrestres, la solution était quelques caisses boulonnées avec un grand matelas sur le dessus, des couvertures de laine trop épaisses cousues dans le style militaire. Un casier de rangement pour son équipement était présent, et un petit casier à pieds à la fin des caisses pour les effets personnels. C'était comme n'importe quel militaire ou mercenaire qu'il avait jamais vu. Ce serait quelque part où il passerait peu de temps parce que c'était un espace confiné, et Rykarn n'était pas un fan de ceux-là. Il a dû réquisitionner des plantes et des photos pour ses quartiers pour lui donner une sensation plus ouverte et naturelle, il a décidé. En s'éloignant de ses armes, Rykarn quitta ses quartiers et commença à accélérer le rythme du navire, comme s'il patrouillait son nouveau territoire. Découvrant son chemin sans être interdit au CIC, il se tenait du côté de l'eoman, Calixta, lui donnant une distance respectueuse pour qu'elle ne se sente pas encombrée. Excuse-moi, Yeoman. Quand vous aurez une minute, préparez-moi à parler à Partinax. J'aime apprendre à connaître les patrons avant d'entrer trop profondément dans les choses.

Name: Ravanor Rykarn Race: Krogan Class: Soldier Age: 68 Sex: Male Appearance: Standing at 7’03” (213.4 centimeters) at the hump and built like one would expect from front-line krogan warriors, Rykarn is a brute of a man that embodies the physical profile one would imagine reading about the peerless warriors of the Rachni invasion or the marauders that overthrew even the best entrenched turian lines during the Krogan Rebellions. Weighing in at around 188 kilos (414.5 pounds) and covered in heavy musculature, it would surprise most aliens that Rykarn is fairly young for his species, having a light sandy-coloured skin with yellowish-tan spots and a green-tinged brown crest that has only fused into a smooth plate from the rougher, less formed crest of young krogan. He carries himself proudly with a broad set of shoulders, made to look even more impressive with his armour plating, and he carries himself with an erect posture; about as much as one could expect from a species that is dominated by a predominant hump at the summit of their backs. While his hump isn’t nearly as impressive or towering as one would expect to see on a Battlemaster or Warlord, it is still a sizable feature that peaks a bit over his head and requires a custom fit for clothing and armour, as is the case for many krogan. It, along with much of his body, are covered with a variety of scars, be it from gunshots, predator’s claws or teeth, blades, or even shrapnel, Rykarn’s body is a tapestry of violent history that belies his often restrained personality. Rykarn’s chin his broader and less-pointed than the average specimen of his species, with his jawline tapering up roughly an inch and a half above where his chin sits, ending in a broad curvature. The gap between his upper lip and the start of his crest is a bit longer than average, giving nose and forehead a more flat look than more of the squat-faced krogan. This gives him an unintentionally more “open” appearance since his face does not look like it’s locked in a permanent scowl. Since he is younger, his skin is smoother and less cragged than other krogan, and it carries a lighter hue, like soft leather. His eyes are a defining feature, sitting within sunken sockets that do not appear as baggy as older krogan but still give Rykarn a look that evokes a mistrusting graze, a sense of fatigue, and the slits that give all krogan a predatory visage. Being a light amber in colour, they contrast pleasantly with his crest and compliment his complexion. By krogan standards, he’s attractive, enough that on a pair of occasions he was offered a chance to model for Fornax magazine by the publication’s headhunters on the Citadel Wards and Nos Astra who were canvasing passerby’s who had the right “look”. He turned down the offer both times, only coming to regret it once in his post-Blood Pack career as a bounty hunter that left him nearly broke due to the lack of contracts. Backstory: Born and raised under Clan Ravanor’s banner on Tuchanka, Rykarn was destined for a life based around working in and protecting the Clan’s extensive mining operation, the largest of its kind on Tuchanka and one that brought Ravanor a considerable amount of wealth. Coming from a clutch of over 500 eggs, of which only five hatched, and two of those survived the Rite of Life; Rykarn and his brother Karnak. Both brothers were inseparable in youth, playing mostly with each other in their early years, and eventually graduating to sparring in their adolescent years. Both developed a friendly, yet fierce, rivalry where it constantly became a race to get a leg-up over their sibling in anything that mattered; strength, speed, endurance, wit, if it could be turned into a wager, the two young krogan would vie for supremacy, much to their fathers’ approval and joy. As far as a childhood on Tuchanka could be considered ideal, the two embodied just that. Already proficient hunters by the time of their Rite of Passage, which for Clan Ravanor involved scouring Tuchanka’s wastes for technology, weaponry, or equipment that could be put to use towards the clan’s mining or combat operations, the two clutchmates had decided to use the Rite of Passage as the penultimate competition for who would ultimately be the winner of a lifetime of childhood bets. Painting the word korbal upon their severely worn and beat armour, the brothers set off into the wastes, going their separate ways for the first time in their lives; the desire to win only just overshadowed the realization that they might not see one another again. Whereas Rykarn set off towards where he recalled was the site of a large Clan battle from years prior, Karnak was far bolder and decided he was going to steal something right from under the noses of Clan Talyth. Searching for days and having to hunt his meals along the way and get off of the ground when the rumbling of thresher maws was felt, Rykarn made the journey to the site of the Battle of Garog Ridge, where Clan Ravanor battled Battlemaster Garog of Clan Talyth decades prior, who had declared war on Ravanor with the intention of claiming mined raw metals to fuel his Clan’s ambition to build a Dreadnaught. Whereas sand buried much of the battle’s remnants that weren’t reclaimed by the victors, a few things were accessible and proving to be of some practical use. Recovering the lens array for a mining laser that was used by sappers to tunnel under enemy lines and detonate charges as well as a crate of shells for a batarian made tank that had been purchased from the black market that had seen use in the battle, the well-encumbered krogan made his way back to his Clan’s lines, enduring a tense confrontation with other scavengers and in one case, a feral varren pack, before returning with both the equipment and his pride. The pride would only last for two days, when Karnak returned with a Tomkah loaded with two heavy mortars in addition to its main cannon and wearing the armour of Warlord Talyth Coran. While both brothers had completed their Rite by returning with materials that would serve the Clan well, Karnak became something of celebrity for his astonishing victory over such a renown warrior, as well as making it back alive after stealing one of Talyth’s war machines. Such a feat had not been attempted in quite some time, let alone successfully. Seething from having lost face in front of his brother, whom he was beginning to see as something of a traitor to him personally, it didn’t take much convincing for a Blood Pack recruiter who was making his rounds between the clans to have Rykarn sign up to leave Tuchanka behind. He would find glory and a legacy off world and return to the Clan a renowned hero of sorts, or so he figured. Much of Rykarn’s early years in the Blood Pack was spent capturing pockets of vorcha and “conditioning” them into the vicious cannon fodder and bread and butter of the Blood Pack ranks, even going so far as to be stationed on Flett, the Blood Pack training and breeding ground for vorcha soldiers as a heavy weapon trainer, given his experience with complex machinery being a member of Clan Ravanor. After requesting a transfer to an outfit that wasn’t a “glorified babysitting job”, Rykarn became a heavy weapons and explosive specialist for a number of combat units, given the relatively loose command structure of the Blood Pack and that skill vacancies were abundant after heavy losses or new contracts were acquired. Assembling, manning, and maintaining turrets, grenade and missile launchers, and generally anything that took more than an hour to know the basics of use, Rykarn served the Blood Pack as a part of the rank and file, albeit in a specialist role. Taking part in contracts across the Terminus Systems, Rykarn logged an impressive number of hours and a respectable kill count for the organization, fighting pirates, slavers, smugglers, and people who were defaulting on loans, amongst other things. For the most part, the work was uncomplicated; if someone had a gun, shoot them. If another didn’t comply, shoot them as well. The Blood Pack didn’t take many VIP protection or security gigs, so most of Rykarn’s experience was of the seek and destroy variety without much of a mind for collateral damage commanding many of the vorcha he’d helped train. While far from the most ruthless or effective member of the Blood Pack, Rykarn certainly developed a reputation for getting jobs done, regardless of the cost. That all came to a head twelve years later when Rykarn’s outfit was sent on a contract to Sanctum in the Decoris System to hunt down a turian mining tycoon named Tychus Garvikan that had hired the Blood Pack to raid shipments belonging to his rivals and had refused payments after the delivery, instead having his own personal security take down the Blood Pack mercenaries who had attended the drop off. His location confirmed through information brokers, the Blood Pack raided the colony world’s capital of Vulpe in a brutal strike to take down the tycoon and seize whatever assets they could to recoup the losses. Not long after this operation went underway, Rykarn realized too late that to find Garvikan, they’d have to tear apart an entire neighbourhood, and innocent lives were caught in the middle of a feud they had no part in. Clearing one house, Rykarn came across a family huddling in a backroom, defenseless and terrified under his shotgun sights, and a deep misgiving filled him. There was no honour or glory in preying upon defenseless people; Karnak’s reputation was built from battle and triumph, Rykarn was descending into petty banditry. It was pathetic. Instead of pulling the trigger or extorting the civilians for information, the krogan dropped his shotgun and told the patriarch to defend his clan. He left the house without incident, and in his mind, the Blood Pack. After refusing to take part in the operation, Rykarn resigned from the Blood Pack to ridicule and no small amount of hostility; it was simply unheard of for a krogan to resign from the outfit, so there was some debate on whether or not it should be permitted, given that the odds of an ex-Blood Pack member sharing trade secrets or taking part in an outfit that opposed Blood Pack interests were high, but in light of Rykarn’s service record and low ranking, he was permitted discharge upon turning in the equipment he was issued and forfeiting any impending dues he was owed. He accepted, and having enough credits to get to Omega and live off of hotels and cheap food for a few weeks, the krogan started his life as a freelance bounty hunter, deliberately avoiding contracts that would put him in the way of his old outfit. If he was going to earn a name for himself, it would be on his own terms. After various degrees of success and a slow, but steadily improving reputation, over the years, Rykarn would find his calling in 2176CE when a revolt broke out on the human-batarian colony world of Anhur between abolitionist forces and pro-slavers. Heeding a call for any and all available mercenaries to assist the abolitionist forces, the krogan booked passage to the colony and would take part in the two year war. Taking part in a mixed-mercenary outfit and raiding supply depots, ships, and ambushing opposition forces, Rykarn would find himself ending the war as something of a folk hero, along with the rest of the mercenaries, from the local populace. Surprisingly, he had found himself fighting alongside Eclipse mercenaries and finding an excellent working chemistry with the professional contractors. After the rebellion ended in abolitionist victory, Rykarn spent the next few years as hired security and to hunt down wanted criminals on the colony and throughout the system, earning enough to pay for his own private lodging and better equipment. Pleased to have found a niche market to apply his skills and earn a respectable sum of credits, Rykarn remained on Anhur until 2186CE: the arrival of the Reapers. With the galaxy facing outright extinction and comm buoys going offline at the rate new systems were occupied by the invading horrors, Rykarn knew that this might be his last chance of ever returning to Tuchanka. While he had grown to have something akin to an affection for the colonists of Anhur where he’d been working for a decade, he managed to book passage to Citadel space, joining the influx of colonists attempting to claim refugee status on the Citadel before the space lanes were shut down, and as his ship was turned away by the Citadel authorities due to overcrowding, Rykarn managed to find another ship of krogan departing the Citadel in response to a planet-wide call to action to fight the Reapers on home soil. Landing in Urdnot territory, where many of the allied clans were gathered, Rykarn quickly fell in with Clan Ravanor warriors who had been acting as liaisons and within a day, Rykarn had his first experience fighting the Reapers while on patrol. His unit was swarmed by innumerable husks and backed by brutes and ravagers, along with monstrous hanar-volus hybrids that acted as suicide bombers. The battle lasted six hours with the krogan taking heavy losses, but the survivors had gained valuable insight into how to kill and survive a fight with the enemy. For the next three weeks, Rykarn fought alongside the other clans without sign of his brother or father until the day the turians arrived to provide air support in an operation to help Shepard deliver the genophage cure. While holding a defensive chokepoint designed to keep Reaper forces from reaching the convoy of Tomkahs and the cure, Rykarn was united with Karnak, who was leading a warband of his own. The two brothers had a fond reunion that felt like their childhood contests and found that their chemistry was quite intact on the battlefield. Karnak would later remark on their fight against the Reapers “just like hunting klixen and harvesters”. The reunited brothers would continue to fight the Reapers on Tuchanka well after the genophage cure was released, renewing the krogan species with a fighting spirit that had not been seen in centuries. Then, at the end of the world, there was a resurgence of krogan identity. While grateful for having been reunited with his brother and lamenting the loss of their father years prior, when turian warships came to pick up krogan reinforcements, Rykarn was among the first to volunteer. He’d found purpose in the galaxy, and it was clear that staying on Tuchanka would force him to live under his clutchmate’s shadow. And so, in the last month of the Reaper war, Rykarn found himself fighting on the one planet he never thought he’d ever step foot; Palaven, and alongside turian troops. Much to both species’ pleasant surprise, they turned out to be rather effective allies in the war against the Reapers, and being able to work past old hatreds gave both the krogan and turians an appreciation of each other’s’ strengths and enthusiasm for warfare. Rykarn in particular proved to be an informed and valuable asset to the war effort as his decade on Anhur had made him far more natural to work with other species and be willing to listen to their ideas, acting as an excellent mediator between krogan and alien fighting forces. That and his hard-earned skill at fighting Reapers made him stand out from the crowd. A turian Spectre named Aetius Phrixus first took note of him leading a fighting retreat to a dropship and refusing to evacuate until everyone else was on board. Further monitoring on the Spectre’s behalf resulted in the decision that Rykarn was both a gifted warrior and a team-oriented individual who worked well under others’ direction. Along with a few other krogan, turian, and even an asari and salarian who had been caught up in the Palaven front, Rykarn was enlisted by Phrixus to take part in a series of deep-strike missions and rescue operations against Reaper encampments, eventually culminating in the climatic action of the war: retaking Earth. Having a hand in the largest military battle in galactic history is certainly one that many can boast about, and it also marked the only time in history that every species in the galaxy fought alongside one another against a common enemy. Phrixus’ Rangers, as they’d taken to calling themselves, were instrumental in clearing out buildings and fortifications in commando-style raids ahead of the main columns to ensure the heavy artillery could be brought to bear against the Reapers themselves without being torn apart by lesser ground forces. While the war ended shortly after a foothold was established, it felt as if they had done a month’s worth of fighting within a matter of days. After watching the Reapers crumble, the galaxy let out a collective sigh of relief, followed by a period of mourning; how was anyone supposed to rebuild after losing everything and everyone? Phrixus gave his team a choice of whether to stay with him on Earth and help with reconstruction and security efforts or to go their separate ways, and for the next two months, the team stayed together and helped bring some form of normality back to the human home world. Once the worst of the cleanup and security concerns were addressed, as well as the restoration of essential utilities to London, the team disbanded, although Rykarn elected to stay behind to help with the reconstruction effort. Psyche Profile: Quiet, non-argumentative and cooperative aren’t usually things one would associate with a krogan, but it is this mentality that has both helped Ravanor Rykarn survive two major wars and the harsh lands of Tuchanka. While he tends to look down upon vorcha and has a lingering resentment towards salarians, the krogan has conditioned himself to judge individuals on a case by case basis. This, along with years living amongst aliens, led to excellent interspecies cooperation for the krogan, who makes no distinction in combat between allied units “So long as they’re shooting the same way I am”. Rykarn tends to get irritable in confined spaces, and he tends to find most music and video entertainment a waste of time, possibly as a side effect of relying on his senses to look out for danger as distractions can prove to be fatal. The exceptions to this are an interest in turian Clawball and human American Football, which are two sports he has a keen interest in following, as well as a self-professed guilty pleasure in watching cooking shows and volus auctions. He dislikes loud and boisterous personalities, dance clubs, anything manufactured by Elkoss Combine, public transportation, pastries, the way hanar speak, perfumes and asari pop singer Cerulian Sea. Rykarn has a particular love of processed meats and fresh breads, which make fresh food markets some of his first stops on shore leave. He has a soft spot for pets and has been looking to adopt a bird or varren for some time, as well as find a pyjak supplier to feed said varren. He also has a love for soft furniture, reading, and he maintains a war trophy collection of things he’s picked up from every conflict he’s been in. Rykarn enjoys other species’ histories (particularly military), since the krogan more or less destroyed their own, and he would like to start collecting historical antiquities and visiting museums. Recreationally, Rykarn enjoys boating, hunting, hiking, and rock climbing. He has a fear of suffocation and entrapment, and burning alive. He also finds clowns and contortionists deeply unsettling. Specialty: Rykarn is an excellent example of the ferociousness a krogan shocktrooper can represent; fast, ruthless, and capable of shrugging off wounds that would down a lesser species, he fully embodies the sentiment of first in; last out. Literal decades of combat and survival experience in some of the roughest parts of the galaxy have made him extremely proficient at his job, and in any team composition, he’s a big enough target and threat that it’s hard to ignore him, giving more specialized members of the team plenty of room to do their jobs. Setting him apart from other krogan is his speciality in the use and maintenance of heavy weaponry, particularly of the explosive variety. Field guns, mortars, grenade and missile launchers, he’s had plenty of field time on just about every major armament that’s hit the Terminus Systems and thanks to his upbringing under Clan Ravanor, he’s surprisingly adapt at repairing and maintaining heavy equipment on a mechanical level. Powers/Skills: -Concussive Shot -Incendiary Ammo -Carnage -Adrenaline Rush -Frag Grenades -Cryo Ammo Equipment and Resources: -Striker assault rifle -Haliat Armory Tornado Shotgun -Cerberus Skunkworks M-358 Talon (acquired after the fall of Cronos Station and Cerberus when remaining Cerberus weapons were distributed to make up for equipment shortages across the warfront) - Hanhe-Kedar Scorpion Heavy Armor -Kassa Fabrication Polaris Omni-Tool -Armax Arsenal ML-77 Missile Launcher * -Elanus Risk Control Services M-100 Grenade Launcher * * Indicates it will be selected based on mission and will not be carried at the same time Sample Post: “Will you turn that shit off?” The two humans turned away from the music player they’d salvaged from a general store that had largely survived the last Na'hesit offensive to look at the krogan, who was sitting on the hood of a destroyed Yolac, a kind of batarian infantry fighting vehicle, flipping through a datapad he’d found that was preloaded with a monthly magazine description from the same store. “What do you have against Celine Crawford? She’s a lot nicer sounding than listening to that electrorap stuff Jensen’s tried to force on us since the war began.” One of the men retorted. His name was Carl, a nice kid, but times like this made Rykarn want to throw him off the bridge into the river. “She sounds like a space cow in heat and I like to hear myself think. Besides, her ilk are probably the primary reason batarians want to enslave you humans.” The krogan responded, turning his attention back to the magazine he was reading. The article was about this new prototype shotgun called Lieberschaft that shaved serrated metal pellets instead of the usual chunks that was already on a fast track to being banned from military use across Citadel space. Spoiled sports. Rykarn thought, looking at the ragged chunks torn out of ballistic gel from a test firing. “Aww, you really do care.” The other man, Johannes, said, walking up to the Yolac with a bottle of water he handed up to Rykarn, who took it without looking up. “What is a krogan doing fighting a human-batarian war?” he asked Rykarn looked down at the man, who’s dark complexion was only a few shades lighter than the mop of hair on his head and contradictory to his bright green eyes. “Money. Also, batarians are fighting for the abolitionists, too. I don’t know why you humans think they’re all out to get you.” He observed. Johannes shook his head. “No no, not what I meant. Just it’s a joint colony without a lot of offworlders. I guess what I’m saying is Anhur’s kind of out of the way and not really a big cog in galactic civilization. I guess what I’m saying is it doesn’t make a lot of sense for a krogan, of all people, to show up and fight the good fight. You’re breaking a lot of stereotypes. Aren’t you guys supposed to be the standard villainous henchmen?” “Aside from the batarians? Sure.” “Aside from the batarians.” Johannes nodded with a grin. Rykarn set down the datapad and drained the bottle of water in a single mouthful. “Like I said, money. That and this is probably one of the last places I’d run into the Blood Pack out in the Terminus Systems. I didn’t leave them on the best of terms, so I’d like to give it of time before I run into somebody I know.” He explained, as if it were a super mundane explanation. Carl perked up. “You were with the Blood Pack? Geez, you really were an asshole… are? I don’t know. Jury’s out.” It was hard to tell if he was joking. Rykarn grunted, tossing the bottle towards an open trash container. It landed a few meters off to the side. “Working for the Blood Pack for a krogan is about the same as you humans and your fast food restaurants. It gets you a pay cheque and is a step to something better, and I wasn’t enthusiastic about how they ran business. I feel better about being told to shoot someone if that someone can shoot back. I guess that’s part of why the offer to sign up to fight for your side was appealing; what the Na’Hesit want to do to the human colonists is cowardly. It’s easy to pick on someone when they can’t fight back, and you guys fought back. I respect that.” He said, head perking off to the side. “Ah. Speaking of the rutting pyjaks now. Here comes more armour.” The three fighters scrambled into their entrenched fighting positions, Rykarn grabbing an armful of Hydra missile launchers from where they were stashed away in the rubble, taking position with the launcher mounted on his shoulder, optics picking up the eezo signatures of the IFVs. Soon, the shooting started, and Carl and Johannes were returning fire under the awful droning of Celine Crawford. One of the other fighters opened up with a heavy machine-gun, forcing a number of batarians off the street and behind the armour. Soon, the enemy guns opened up, and forced the abolitionists behind cover while the vehicle column advanced. Suddenly, the music player was hit by a stray round and the hated pop singer ‘s voice vanished in a cloud of concrete and electronic parts. The first vehicle rolled into firing range, and Rykarn smiled from behind the sights. At least the batarians and I agree on one thing, the krogan thought, squeezing the trigger and a trio of spiraling missiles erupted from the tri-barrel assembly of the launcher, piercing through the outer armour of the enemy Yolac and erupting from the inside-out, the turret launching clear of the chassis and the windows exploding out from concussive force. Notes -Still maintains contact with his brother Karnak and promised to revisit once a year -He considers High Tide, Anhur his hometown, where he is seen as something of a folk hero thanks to his role in the Anhur Rebellion. -He is still on friendly terms with his teammates in Phrixus’ Rangers, although he hasn’t had contact with any of them for a few months. -Some in the Blood Pack are still hostile towards him for his departure, but on paper, his departure from the company was clean and won’t likely lead to future hostilities. -Still has to complete his Rite of Honor to secure breeding rights in the krogan clans.

Introductions rapides et de s'installer. Un poste entre Mrdidact et Andromedai. Les essais biochimiques et l'ingénierie technique sont effectués par le Dr Nola.Xen vas Qwib Qwib et le Dr Tenno Kala. Le traitement médical est assuré par Koriandr et Lyora Hanzos. Side note, Lyora est également l'instructeur de CQC des navires.. Alors que l'équipe a traversé l'intérieur du navire, Aviza a pris des notes détaillées sur tout le monde autour d'elle, tapant l'information dans sa data-pad. La visite de l'intérieur du navire n'a pas pris trop de temps, et avant qu'elle le sache, Aegon les avait tous licenciés pour faire ce qu'ils voulaient. Aviza a profité de cette occasion pour revenir à l'avant du navire et se présenter aux partenaires quariens et salariens à l'intérieur du laboratoire de recherche. Debout dans la porte qui mène au laboratoire de recherche, Aviza frappe légèrement le cadre de la porte en métal, essayant d'attirer l'attention des deux en travaillant inlassablement derrière des moniteurs qui brillent doucement. "Pardonne-moi, Dr Nola'Xen et Dr Tenno, n'est-ce pas?" Aviza ferait un pas en avant avec une douce vague de sa main gauche aux deux. "Je suis heureux d'avoir pu vous attraper tous les deux avant de partir. Je ne suis pas sûr si Aegon ou Jake vous ont informé mais je vais vous rejoindre tous les deux avec votre travail, surtout dans le domaine technique cependant. Vous deux avez tout à fait l'installation ici, beaucoup d'équipement avancé que j'ai hâte de travailler avec. Tenno a levé les yeux de son moniteur, souriant à Aviza et venant lui serrer la main comme le Dr Nola a hurlé et a fait la même chose. Tenno hoche la tête, dit, "Non, aucun des Spectres ne l'a mentionné. J'ai supposé qu'il recrutait surtout des grognements pour son équipe, mais c'est toujours un plaisir de rencontrer un collègue. Quel est votre domaine d'expertise, mademoiselle? Où t'es-tu entraînée? Je suis un ancien de l'Université Narra moi-même et Nola ici a travaillé avec le clan Xen presque toute sa vie." Le sentiment est réciproque, Dr Tenno. J'étais un ajout tardif à l'équipe, donc il ne m'étonne pas que ni l'un ni l'autre n'aient dit quelque chose sur moi.Saïd Aviza avec son propre sourire, prenant un moment pour serrer les deux mains dans une poignée de main ferme qui a aidé les deux d'entre eux à mieux comprendre sa personnalité. J'ai reçu la majeure partie de ma formation en ingénierie et en médecine des années où j'ai passé à l'académie d'officier connu sous le nom de Solas, sur ma terre natale de Palavan. Quant à mon domaine d'expertise, je dirais les moteurs FTL, ainsi que l'ingénierie générale. Si tu as besoin d'aide, pointe-moi dans la direction et je vais travailler. Ah, j'ai aussi reçu une formation en réparation zéro-g, donc si quelque chose arrivait aux stabilisateurs de gravité ou à l'extérieur du navire, je suis plus que capable de le réparer. Pendant la majeure partie de ma vie, j'ai travaillé seul loup, mais j'ai mené un nombre ou des équipes et j'ai déjà travaillé avec des équipes. » Nola s'est mise à reconnaître que « nous sommes plus dans le secteur de la recherche et de l'étude que plus d'applications pratiques, mais il est bon de savoir que nous avons plus d'experts qualifiés au sein de l'équipe. Je suis surpris que vous ayez réussi à reprendre une bonne partie de la théorie de FTL. Surtout quand il faut s'entraîner pour la Hiérarchie. Je ne pense pas que nous aurons très souvent besoin d'aide, mais si vous avez besoin d'utiliser les installations, envoyez-nous simplement une note et nous essaierons de nous rendre disponibles. Je pense qu'il pourrait être utile pour vous de parler à Octavio en Ingénierie. J'espère que vous aurez des conversations intéressantes. Et je suppose qu'il serait utile d'avoir un technicien général pour la maintenance. Chacune des équipes pourrait s'en servir pour différentes fonctions techniques." Tenno poursuivit : « En effet. Y a-t-il autre chose que vous souhaitiez discuter?" Aviza rit doucement : "Je ne dirais pas expert, mais je fais ce que je peux." Avec un clin d'œil de sa tête en remerciement et reconnaissance, Aviza continuerait alors. "C'est très bien, envoyez-moi un message si vous avez besoin d'aide. Merci également pour l'offre, je serai sûr d'envoyer un message à votre façon si j'ai besoin d'aide ou si j'ai besoin d'utiliser l'un des équipements ici. Quant à présent, je vais prendre ma permission et aller visiter Octavio en ingénierie, prendre soin et agréable rencontre avec vous tous les deux.Aviza s'est mise sur son talon gauche et a quitté le laboratoire de recherche. Après quelques instants de marche à travers le navire, Aviza a facilement trouvé son chemin vers la baie d'ingénierie, ne prenant pas le temps d'attirer l'attention de quiconque. En marchant vers l'ingénieur en chef connu sous le nom d'Octavio, Aviza parlait. "Je dois admettre, j'aime voir tous ces autres Turiens à bord." Elle a dit d'un ton plus doux. Traversant les bras sur la poitrine, elle regarda la baie d'ingénierie comme elle l'avait fait dans le secteur de la recherche et de l'étude, ce qui n'était pas aussi confortable pour elle que la baie d'ingénierie. Elle ne savait pas si c'était à cause des autres Turiens ou de l'équipement familier qui l'entourait. -- J'espère ne rien interrompre? a demandé à Aviza, avant de tendre la main d'Octavio. -- Je suis Aviza Norea, camarade ingénieure, je suppose que vous êtes Octavio? L'aîné Turian a levé les yeux de son datapad et a souri alors qu'il retournait le geste, « Que je suis. Chef de l'Ingénierie Tatum à votre service. Ravi de vous rencontrer Aviza. Vous avez l'air un peu trop dur pour être ingénieur, vous devez être spécialiste de première ligne. J'ai bien peur qu'en regardant ici les lectures de base ne soient pas aussi excitantes que de lancer des grenades intelligentes et des mines sur les gens. » Il a ri et brièvement conféré avec un enseigne avant de retourner en arrière, "Que puis-je faire pour vous aujourd'hui?" « En fait, les gens voient mon armure et mes armes, et sont surpris d'apprendre que je passe un peu de temps comme médecin de première ligne ou que je travaille avec des ingénieurs comme vous. Je vais être honnête, ce n'est pas aussi amusant que de jeter des grenades ou d'aider à lier les blessures sur le champ de bataille mais je n'en profite pas moins, il y a une grande satisfaction à garder les bateaux FTL conduire et courir. Ce qui me rappelle pourquoi je suis venu ici, je voulais me présenter à tous ceux avec qui je travaillerai. Vous voyez, j'ai une formation en ingénierie générale, ainsi qu'une certaine formation dans l'atmosphère zéro-g, bien que mon expertise dans ce domaine tombe sous les entraînements FTL et s'assure qu'ils continuent à fonctionner, en plus de travailler sur eux quand ils ne le font pas. Octavio sourit : "Vraiment? Un soldat et un technicien? Aegon a bien fait de te trouver. Eh bien, il se trouve que mon équipe est assez solide mais ça ne fait jamais mal d'avoir des mains qualifiées sur le pont. J'ai fait partie de la première équipe de recherche et développement pour ces systèmes furtifs de l'IES, et j'ai eu quelques contacts dans cette initiative d'Andromède. J'ai aussi quelques spécifications de conception pour leurs disques. En tant que tel, ce disque est une sorte, dans la Voie Lactée au moins. Même la Normandie ne l'a pas encore. Vous voulez brosser sur quelques spécifications, j'ai en fait publié un papier. Vous pouvez le lire dans la base de données Hiérarchie Academic, Valanna sera plus que prête à aider. Quant à vous, bien mon équipe est surtout occupée à travailler ici, mais nous pourrions utiliser quelqu'un qui peut nous aider à coordonner les réparations et l'entretien de routine sur les autres ponts. Et si on a besoin de quelqu'un pour faire des promenades dans l'espace, je pense que vous êtes probablement le plus qualifié. Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire?" "Ça a l'air fantastique, dis-moi ce que tu veux faire, alors je vais commencer rapidement et à la lettre. Quant au journal que vous avez publié, je le regarderai plus tard, une fois que je me serai installé et que j'aurai trouvé une couchette pour m'appeler la mienne. Je vais regarder de plus près ce système furtif IES et prendre quelques notes à ce sujet si je suis autorisé à, obtenir une meilleure compréhension de la façon dont il fonctionne et ce qui sera bénéfique pour nous tous." Aviza s'arrêtait un moment et tapait quelque chose dans son data-pad puis regardait en arrière à Octavio. "Je suis désolé de devoir couper ce chat court, mais je dois quand même m'arrêter à la baie médicale, trouver un endroit pour dormir, avoir un mot avec le chef et ensuite avoir un mot avec Spectre Aegon. C'était sympa de vous rencontrer Octavio, j'ai l'impression qu'on se reverra bientôt. » avec ça, Aviza tourna et partit. Roulant ses épaules légèrement, Aviza marcha une fois de plus bien que le navire, bien que cette fois-ci elle se dirigeait vers la baie médicale pour se présenter. "C'est plus comme ça." dit Aviza sous son souffle alors qu'elle marchait dans la baie médicale, observant tout autour d'elle, ne prenant pas pleinement note aux autres dans la pièce qui serait probablement se demandant qui elle était. Après une visite rapide de la pièce et un contrôle très attentif de tout l'équipement, Aviza prend place à côté de la Drell, s'empare d'un moniteur propre et y branche son data-pad, en regardant que la ligne d'information a été rapidement téléchargée. Les données qu'elle avait après étaient des informations sur chaque membre de l'équipe, ce qui signifiait qu'elle n'aurait pas à prendre le temps de scanner chacun d'eux et d'accélérer les choses pour elle. Tout en regardant vers le bas à son data pad puis à l'écran en face d'elle, Aviza se présenterait aux deux médecins. "Mes excuses pour avoir pris place et commencé un travail inopiné, mais c'est une information importante dont j'ai besoin immédiatement." Il y a eu une pause pendant qu'Aviza soulevait un « sourcil » de certaines des informations qu'elle recueillait. "De toute façon, je suis Aviza Norea, j'ai été entraîné comme médecin de combat avancé, je travaillerai avec vous tous les deux assez souvent et j'attends avec impatience. Je suis actuellement en train de télécharger des informations sur chaque membre de l'équipe de sorte que je n'ai pas à prendre le temps de scanner chacun d'eux, puis de passer à travers toutes les données à une date ultérieure. Cela me fera gagner beaucoup de temps et me permettra non seulement de traiter correctement mais aussi rapidement les blessures. » Dès qu'Aviza a fini de parler, elle a tiré un clavier de rechange jusqu'à elle et rapidement commencer à taper ses propres informations dedans, en l'ajoutant à la base de données. Pendant tout cet échange, elle n'a fait aucun contact visuel avec l'un ou l'autre des médecins. Tout le temps Lyora et Koriandr avaient échangé des regards quelque peu perplexes, bien que dans le cas de Koridandr, il brillait d'irritation plutôt que d'avoir une expression visible. Lyora a toussé : "Oh, je ne suis pas médecin. Je suis le valet de Koriandr, je suppose que vous diriez. Ma famille a été attachée à la sienne pendant un certain temps. Il a juste besoin d'une compagnie de temps en temps." Le hanar est sorti et a interrompu le téléchargement d'informations sur le terminal d'Aviza, "Oui et Lyora est autant d'entreprise que celui-ci préfère. Il ne se soucie pas qui vous êtes, celui-ci est en charge de la baie médicale et il ne s'agit pas d'un comportement aussi grossier. Aegon ne l'a pas informé des transferts de personnel et celui-ci n'en a pas besoin. Le dossier médical de chaque membre de l'équipage est très confidentiel et il n'a pas été clair pour vous d'y accéder. Peut-être que si l'individu a demandé poliment il pourrait avoir. Mais celui-ci n'est pas satisfait du comportement de l'autre jusqu'à présent. Peut-être que les choses sont faites différemment partout où vous avez été assigné avant, mais il y a un certain niveau de professionnalisme que celui-ci préfère maintenir. On ne se contente pas de débarquer sans préavis et d'accéder à des informations sensibles sans autant qu'un par votre permission. » "Les méduses stupides." J'ai pensé à Aviza avant qu'elle ne parle. "Mes excuses encore une fois, car je suis sûr que vous pouvez comprendre que je prends cela très au sérieux. Sans cette information, je ne peux traiter efficacement personne sur ce vaisseau ou une partie de l'escouade, bien que je puisse comprendre la... frustration et l'irritation de mon arrivée. Essayons donc à nouveau, je suis Aviza Norea, medecin de combat et assistante médicale si le besoin peut se produire. » Aviza s'était levée et avait offert de serrer la main comme un appendice du hanar. "Pour être honnête, je n'ai jamais rencontré de médecin Hanar auparavant, donc c'est nouveau pour moi." A l'arrière de sa tête, Aviza voulait dire d'autres choses mais s'était empêchée de le faire, pour le moment au moins. « Croyez-moi, je sais tout sur le professionnalisme et je le maintiens, bien que j'étais sous l'hypothèse que l'équipe médicale savait de ma présence. » Aviza a demandé l'insigne médical avancé sur son armure, à côté de l'insigne qui disait qu'elle était officier et avait reçu une formation en ravages. « Si vous le souhaitez, je peux contacter Aegon et lui demander de vous informer que je suis un médecin, bien qu'à un moment ultérieur depuis qu'il semble agité, en raison de ce qui s'est passé à l'extérieur du navire. » Aviza attendrait une réponse. Lyora se taisait et regardait Koriandr qui semblait pousser lentement avant de venir en avant et d'accepter la main, enveloppant son tentacule sur le membre avant de se retirer, « Celui-ci est Koriandr, ancien chirurgien militaire Primacy et expert médical. Pour des raisons évidentes, il peut difficilement suivre l'équipe dans des situations de combat actives, mais celui-ci peut avoir besoin d'un premier intervenant. Celui-ci n'a toutefois pas été informé que l'autre arriverait. Vos dossiers ont à peine été transférés au vaisseau, donc ce n'est pas une surprise que celui-ci ne soit pas informé du rôle possible de l'autre. Il laissera les bygones être des bygones comme disent les humains, mais il préférerait aussi que l'autre cherche l'approbation officielle de Partinax. Une fois donné, celui-ci transférera les données pertinentes à l'autre. Est-ce que cela vous satisfait?" « Tant que Spectre Partinax me donne la permission d'utiliser tout l'équipement et d'avoir accès à toutes les données médicales pour les membres de l'équipe, je serai satisfait. En raison du fait que nous sommes tous les deux des experts médicaux, nous devrions travailler bien ensemble et être en mesure de comprendre l'importance de savoir avec qui et avec qui vous travaillez. Ce n'est cependant que mon opinion, du point de vue médical." Aviza se blottit d'un sourire doux. "Pour l'instant, je vais arrêter le téléchargement et attendre jusqu'à ce que Spectre Aegon donne à tous les deux le clair." En appuyant sur un bouton sur son data-pad, elle a annulé le téléchargement et supprimé les données qu'elle avait recueillies, ce qui était un peu. "Vous avez tout à fait l'installation ici au fait, beaucoup d'équipements avancés pour les procédures délicates, espérons que nous n'aurons pas besoin de cela. Bien qu'après avoir été médecin aussi longtemps que je l'ai été, une chose est sûre, il y a toujours des blessures et des blessures à prendre en charge. » -- Maintenant, si vous voulez bien m'excuser, je vais parler doucement avec Spectre Partinax de l'obtention de la permission, puis je reviendrai après avoir reçu une réponse. Aviza est sortie de la pièce et a laissé la porte derrière elle fermer avant d'appuyer sur un bouton sur son data-pad, en contactant Spectre Partinax. "Mes excuses pour vous avoir piétiné Partinax, j'ai le sentiment que vous ne soyez pas dérangé en ce moment, mais j'espérais vous demander votre permission d'avoir pleinement accès à la baie médicale et aux données médicales stockées à l'intérieur pour la préservation et la santé de tout le monde sur ce navire. Koriandr ne semble pas à l'aise sans la permission de vous, et sans elle, je ne peux pas faire mon travail au maximum. » Aegon a répondu à la communication après quelques instants, parlant étrangement : « Très bien Norea. Vous avez ma sanction officielle. J'envoie la notification à Koriandr. Mais vous garderez la confidentialité des patients si vous voulez garder cet accès. Partinax dehors." "Merci Spectre Partinax, je vous parlerai plus tard, j'espère au dîner." Aviza a fermé le canal et s'est retourné pour retourner dans la baie médicale, pour informer les deux de la bonne nouvelle. « Je viens d'être informé que j'ai la pleine permission d'utiliser l'équipement et d'avoir accès à toutes les données médicales. » Pendant un court moment, elle rejouait le message pour que tout le monde à l'intérieur de la baie médicale puisse entendre ce que Partinax avait dit. "Maintenant je vais terminer le téléchargement pour toutes les données, et puis se retirer à la caserne pour un peu de repos et de détente, trois jours avec très peu de sommeil commence maintenant à porter sur moi." Assis à la table, elle a terminé le téléchargement des données puis a fait comme elle l'a dit, se retirant à la caserne où elle a trouvé un lit approprié qui avait assez de place pour ses effets personnels et ses fournitures. Après avoir accroché les armes sur les fentes magnétiques sur le mur à côté d'elle, Aviza s'est couchée sur sa couchette et a tiré la porte d'intimité sur l'extérieur fermé. Éteindre les lumières intérieures et l'écran devant elle, elle s'est rapidement endormie, toujours en pleine armure. (J'imagine que les lits ressemblent à ça.)

Name: Aviza Norea Race: Turian Class: Combat-Engineer / Combat-Medic Age: 30 Sex: Female Appearance: Aviza stands roughly six feet and five inches tall, the average height of a female Turian in this day and age. Her slim feminine form hides the strength and endurance of a lifelong soldier who strives to improve upon herself in all aspects. Upon her face is painted a symmetrical design in a light turquoise, representing the Norea Clan. Her carapace is a soft blue-ish white and her eyes are a vibrant azure. If one were to see Andromedai without her helmet on, they would easily be able to see a light scar over her left eye. Backstory: Aviza was born into the Norea clan, a clan that was well known for not only their military prowess upon numerous fields of battle they had taken part in but also for their political power upon Palaven. Her father was a well-known General in the Turian Military and her mother was a well-known Triarch. While her mother came from the Neskaru clan, her father was the one who held the honors of saying he was originally from the Norea clan. During these early years of life, Aviza and the rest of siblings who are all the same age, were taught the ways of their clan. Respect, Honor, Duty, and Victory were the most important things to them, for without them their life was a pointless waste. These were the first things taught to her and her siblings, for they were the fundamental building blocks of everything that came after. After many years, their real training would begin, their parents pulled every string and used all of their resources to ensure that they ended up in one of the best academies upon Palaven, known as Solas. From here Aviza and her siblings were left at the mercy of the academy’s top teachers to undergo both mentally and physically intensive training that weeded out the unworthy and finely turned those who were into an image of perfection. The school was infamous for many of the teaching methods but the Norea clan found those to be necessary in many ways, quickly teaching valuable life lessons alongside their normal intensive training. In the first year that Aviza was at the academy, she watched as many students dropped from the academy to move onto lessor ranking positions that they were more fit for. At the same time, she and her siblings worked closely together to overcome the challenges laid out before them, a team of close family members who were going to ensure that they all graduated top of their class. This was of course easier said than done, but determination and living up to their clans name kept them moving forward through the increasingly difficult challenges that were laid out before them. With every challenge they overcame, the feeling of immense satisfaction and unyielding resolve kept them moving forward for the time being, but the day was soon to come where each of them would break off and peruse their own interest in the Turian military. When this happened, they found themselves having to fend for themselves in the academy. When Aviza was separated from her fellow siblings to receive more intensive training, she found a certain love and respect for sniper rifles and the satisfaction of hitting a target many miles away with dead on accuracy. This interest and skill sprouted into much more as time went on. It turned into a thirst for more combat training, training that would cover not only medium ranged combat but also close quarter’s combat. This fast paced combat was made possible due to her feminine form, allowing her to move across the field of battle swiftly and silently, if need be. When jump-packs were introduced, she used her own personal pack in a more unconventional way, to help her dodge incoming fire while still on her feet. This caused many to raise their eyebrows in a mix of emotion when she used this technique to outmaneuver and defeat her opponent during a one on one improvised battle with a fellow student. Using the jump-pack, she quickly moved across the field of battle while dodging shots from the Turian and incapacitated her challenger using a close range stun shotgun. When she had time off, she volunteered herself to learn about engineering and a number of commonly used tech around the galaxy that she would more than likely come into contact at some point. The class taught its students how to handle numerous problems and how to swiftly and efficiently fix them. Aviza would continue to take many classes like the such for a number of years, alongside her regular training. Some of these classes would include how to correctly handle and deploy explosives, advanced medical and first aid classes, biology for species in the Milky Way and life building. Sometime during those years, Aviza realized that upon the field of battle, every soldier had to find their own reason to fight. Be it for family, friends, the good of the people, personal gain or other reasons. She knew she had to live up to her parents expectations and carry her clans name with pride, but something felt as if it was missing, she wanted to do more for those around her. This eventually turned into the want to pursue advanced first aid for both on and off of the field of battle. Once she had been given permission, she quickly started taking classes for what would turn into an important skill of hers. After many years of intensive training every weekday and sometimes even on the weekends, the time came for those worthy to graduate. Thankfully, her fellow siblings were alongside her when she graduated top of her class, making not only her parents but also the rest of her family and friends proud of her achievements. The honors she received were very rarely given out, one had to go above and beyond the rest, to prove oneself to not only the teachers but also the academy’s board that they were worthy of such honors. All seemed right in the world, she was where she wanted to be, her family was going to be with her and life was running smoothly. Over a decade would pass as she found herself taking part in many high value and high risk operations, proving to her superiors that she took her position in the Turian military very seriously. She found herself feeling comfortable with her position, taking pride in her work. Occasionally she would catch someone's eye and be assigned for missions that excelled at, some of these included target assassination or sabotage. She would move from one planet to another, from one station to the next, wherever her talents were needed. Occasionally, she found herself working with the Citadel a number of times as security for a VIP or such person. Over these many years, she sharpened her skills and and rose the ranks among her fellow soldiers. What threw her whole world into chaos was the invasion of the Reapers. She had faced many hostiles in the past that ranged from all over the Galaxy, but this new enemy shoot her to her very core and put all of her skills and talents to the test. Failure ment death for not only her people, but also the rest of the galaxy. Over these long months while the reapers unleashed chaos upon all, Aviza and her family fought horrific battles against an enemy that knows no fear, knows no mercy and whose whole purpose is to wipe out all life and continue the cycle that had been going on for countless centuries. On Palavens main moon, she managed to catch word of and eventually even catching sight of Garrus and his squad fighting against the reapers forces. A sight as simple as this was enough to raise her morale and change something within her to be the soldier that her people needed her to be. With great ferocity and determination, she gathered survivors and pushed back against the reapers forces fearing neither death nor the odds that were stacked against them. In the next couple of months that passed, all of her training and skill came forward, showing those around her who she truly was, a leader and yet another symbol of hope. When the ash finally settled and the reapers were defeated, Aviza Norea now firsthand found out the price of war. Both of her parents and the rest of her siblings were now mysteriously gone, they had seemingly vanished from the face of the galaxy and no one had any idea where they were. They had helped fight in the war, but towards the end, they had gone missing without a trace, leaving no hints to where they had gone. Even their fellow soldiers were left confused by their disappearance. Had they fallen in battle? Were they taken by the Reapers? Or did something else happen to them? To this day, she feels a void in her heart and searches for closure. A long while passed after the reapers were defeated with the disappearance of her family. She had been rewarded many badges and medals for her acts of valor during the Reaper war as well as a number of benefits that would stay with her through the rest of her life. She now lives comfortably upon Palaven and still serves the Turian military and a number of others allied forces. She did not leave the Reaper war unscathed though, everything she had seen during the war had left a scar upon her mind. Psyche Profile: Aviza is a soldier at heart, and has proved that over many years of war and political bullshit throughout the galaxy. Careful thought and calculation goes into each and every action that she takes, ensuring that her choice is the best for each and every situation at hand. Due to the way she was raised, she can be competitive at times, enjoying a challenge such as having the odds stacked against her in a fight. Not much care goes into what others think about her, though she likes to keep a positive image of herself, remembering what her parents said about their code of conduct. She is an honorable, respectful and kind individual most of the time. She has a sharp, witty sense of humor and enjoys the lighter side that life has to offer. She cares for those who she works with, and will do everything she can to ensure everyone gets home alive and in one piece. Specialty: Aviza can quickly adapt to most combat situations. She will move swiftly across the field of battle, using cover and anything else she can find to her advantage. Her kills are clean and quick, preferring to not make a mess and enable her to move onto another target without any hesitation or interruption. Part of her intense training gives her the ability to pilot vehicles that range from the land, air and space. She has been extensively trained in advanced first aid as well as engineering for a multitude of vehicles and devices. Skills: 1: Advanced Combat Medic 2: Advanced Engineering 3: Havoc Training 4: Demolition 5: Fireteam tactics 6: Combat strategy Equipment: 1: M-99 Saber (Assault Rifle) 2: Piranha Shotgun (Shotgun) 3: M-98 Black Widow (Sniper Rifle) 4: Sticky Grenades 5: Flashbangs 6: Tech Proximity Mines 7: Personal jump-jet 8: Omni-Blade 9: Medical Equipment Powers: 1: Ammo Powers 2: Tech-Armor / Power armor 3: Marksman 4: Hacking 5: Active-camouflage 6: Turbocharge Sample Post: “I have eyes on two hostile contacts near the front gate of the outpost, toss the lure in their direction.” Suddenly, a small metallic shard would land in front of two Batarian Terrorists, making just enough noise to draw their attention away from the main gate. Both of the heavily armored terrorists stepped forward to investigate the source of the sound. From roughly five hundred feet away, the light blue cross hair from a high powered digital scope aligned itself to where the two Batarian Terrorists had now stopped. Letting the air out slowly from her lungs, Aviza pulled the trigger on her sniper rifle, sending the high powered round towards its target. It struck the first Batarian in the head then continued to travel through the next Batarians neck, creating a fine crimson mist as the two of them fell to the ground on top of each other. The round finely continued to fly into the distance before striking the ground and disintegrating. “The guards at the front gate are down, I am changing position to meet up with you.” Carefully pushing herself up from her prone hiding position, Aviza used the lush forest vegetation that surrounded the outpost for cover, quickly moving to her other squad mate. Taking a knee next to her fellow Turian, she quickly switched weapons while remaining silent. “Let’s move the bodies out of the way before the other Batarians find them.” Aviza motioned with her left hand at the two corpses before swiftly moving over to the closest one. Grabbing onto the body, she quickly pulled it across the grass below her feet and managed to hide it behind a large boulder that was surrounded with large bushes. Her squad mate did the same, tossing the body on top of the other. “Stay here for a moment, you will know when it’s time to attack.” Said Aviza while moving to one of the large metal walls that surrounded the outpost. With a flash of blue light, Aviza’s jump pack propelled her to the edge of the wall where she pulled herself over very carefully while watching her surroundings. Her squads mission was quite simple, infiltrate the outpost, place remote explosives on the bomb the Batarians had and then infiltrate before detonating the explosive. She and her fellow squad mate had been part of many missions like this before, and were planning on it to run smoothly. Once she had gently landed on the other side of the wall, Aviza surveyed her surroundings before moving deeper into the outpost. Her estimated amount of hostiles inside of the outpost ranged from somewhere between twenty to thirty Batarians. If anyone saw her, the alarm would go off and she would be overwhelmed within seconds. The bomb was easy to locate, due to the fact that it was being loaded onto a ship in the middle of the outpost. The issue were the guards surrounding it and short amount of time she had left to plant the remote explosive before leaving the outpost. Slowly, carefully, patiently, she plotted her approach then set it into motion. Sneaking up behind one Batarian after another, Aviza would use her Omni-blade to silently eliminate the threats while moving forward to her objective. She knew there were many ways to go about getting to the bomb, but in the end she choose a more risky option. Using her Omni-tool, she cut the power to the base and used the distraction to lure some of the guards to the power box and away from the bomb. They were so close to Aviza that she held her breath, waiting for them to pass before she moved to the shuttle undetected. “I reached the shuttle, prepping explosive for detonation, clear the area and prepare for…” Before Aviza could finish her sentence, a group of Batarians caught sight of movement inside of the shuttle. They quickly drew their weapons and took aim, informing the others to not shoot the bomb in the back of the shuttle or it would kill them all. With quick thinking, Aviza took the pilot seat of the shuttle and started to power it up, rounds quickly flew into the shuttle, barely missing her and the bomb itself. Locking the controls into VTOL mode, Aviza left the pilot's seat and finished prepping the bomb, taking a few rounds to her shield as she did from the horde of Batarians below her. “It’s your turn to take some of the heat from me sister, open fire.” Her fellow squad mate opened fire from a hill far away from the outpost and caused a stir of chaos from within. Using this as her chance, Aviza jumped out the back of the shuttle and used her jump-pack to keep her from falling from her death right before she hit the ground. “Word of advice, don’t look directly at the explosion, it’s going to be brighter than bright.” Aviza smirked under her helmet before pressing the button upon her detonator. With a blinding flash of white and red, the bomb detonated tremendous force, knocking both Aviza and her fellow squad mate back a couple of yards. The area below the blast had been cleared of all vegetation, leaving nothing but a smoking crater. “Well, I would say that’s a wrap, makes me almost wish we had more of those to sabotage.” said Aviza as she pulled herself off of the ground and offered a hand to her sister. Taking Aviza's hand, her sister got back onto her feet and glanced down at the destruction that the bomb had made in the far distance. "Thanks for the help, let's get out of here." the two of them quickly radioed for extraction from their location and reported the mission a success. Notes: Aviza is single, Bi, hates self centered people, is sort of a pyro, enjoys a challenge, enjoys life, can be sarcastic, can cook a large number of exotic meals, likes to tease, wears a set of medium Erathellian Armor at almost all times, sounds like Sylvanas Windrunner from Warcraft. She can eat normal Dextro-Protein based lifeform foods as well as Levo-Amino based lifeform foods, though this is only for taste and flavor, she receives no other benefits of doing so.

Ellis rêvait. Il rêvait de grandes flèches dorées et de couchers de soleil flamboyants, brisés par la lumière violette froide de l'aube en éclats cataclysmiques d'illumination divine. Il se tenait sur un précipice de hauteur incalculable, regardant des éclairs rouges et des lumières bleues en dessous, les restes d'une guerre maintenant terminée. Une bouffée de lumière orange lui a piqué les yeux. Au-dessus de lui s'élevait un navire blanc, dur et angulaire, des stries oranges peintes sur sa coque. Ellis regardait, la mâchoire agape, tandis qu'il pleuvait la foudre sur le sol. Des cris ont rencontré ses oreilles. Une cigarette brûlante tombait impossablement lentement devant son visage, des braises flottant et s'affaissant et flottant et s'affaissant... Ellis s'est réveillé. Il était seul, toujours assis sur une grande boîte à outils. Les faibles lumières du compartiment de stockage lui ont donné juste assez pour voir par. L'atelier à proximité, probablement de l'acier, était recouvert de boulons, de vis et de fils et d'outils brisés. Une poignée de pistolet Predator. Le canon d'un fusil Mantis. C'était la salle de travail de quelqu'un, bien que la fine couche de poussière sur tout lui ait dit qu'elle n'avait pas été utilisée depuis au moins une semaine ou deux. "NERO, ça fait combien de temps? Depuis que je me suis endormie." "Une heure, trente-six minutes, opérationnel." Une bonne sieste. Ellis se tint debout, et étendit son dos. Il était encore fatigué, mais il y avait du travail à faire. La première chose est la première. Il est temps de voir le psy. Elle va appeler la sécurité dès que tu commenceras à parler. Ta gueule. Techniquement, je fais partie de la sécurité. Tout ce qui est sûr de toi, c'est ce costume. Tu n'as qu'à parler. Nous avons nos propres problèmes, bien sûr, mais nous ne nous parlons pas à nous-mêmes. Et qu'est-ce que tu fais en ce moment? Je te parle. Ellis a ignoré cette dernière remarque et a ouvert la porte, révélant une soute presque vide. Tu les as tous effrayés. C'est un vaisseau actif. Ils sont probablement juste en train de travailler. Tu ne l'es pas. Il a continué son chemin vers l'ascenseur, demandant au CIC. Alors que l'ascenseur vibrait, Ellis a été vaincue par une pensée : Et si elle pense que je suis une menace? Est-ce qu'ils vont me virer? Sûrement. Je ne te parle pas. Qui donc? Taisez-vous. Tu es un enfant. Ellis ne l'a pas tenu compte, et a fait son chemin vers le pont d'observation tribord, voyant que tout le monde autour de lui lui lui a donné un grand poste d'amarrage. Il se demandait s'ils avaient peur de lui parce que c'était lui, ou pour son apparence. Il ne pouvait pas décider. Le pont d'observation a regardé dans le grand vide. T'Pavi était assis dans un fauteuil confortable, regardant l'espace à l'extérieur, sirotant une tasse de boisson chaude. Elle a pivoté sa chaise pendant qu'Ellis entrait, un petit sourire sur ses lèvres. "Bonjour, M. Taevon." Ellis a gagné involontairement. "Ellis, s'il te plaît." Elle a hurlé. Pour une raison quelconque, elle l'a rendu extrêmement mal à l'aise. Il se demandait si elle savait ce qu'il pensait. "Ellis. Asseyez-vous. Etes-vous venu pour la solitude?" Il secoua la tête à l'intérieur de son costume, et s'assit sur un canapé doux, s'enfonceant profondément dans les coussins. Ils vont devoir les remplacer à chaque fois que vous entrez, gros con. Si je suis grosse, tu es grosse. Les voix n'avaient aucune rétorsion. "J'ai des séances obligatoires. J'ai pensé qu'il serait préférable d'en finir avec cette semaine, de me concentrer sur d'autres sujets. » Son sourire s'est légèrement effondré, et ses yeux se sont élargis par curiosité. Elle a brièvement activé son omni-outil, puis l'a de nouveau désactivé. "Vous parlez de manière très formelle. Êtes-vous mal à l'aise?" "Pas... C'est désolant. Je n'ai aucune expérience avec ça. Il y a une semaine, j'ai vu Asari comme des démons égoïstes, manipulateurs, borderlines." Elle s'est déplacée dans sa chaise, et a mis sa tasse sur une table d'arrivée. "Vous avez fait l'objet de préjugés." "J'étais Cerberus." Il a dit, avec la touche la plus faible de la vieille fierté. Son sourire était parti, mais son visage ne tenait aucune hostilité. "Un suprémaciste humain." "Un bigot." Elle s'est penchée vers l'avant, rencontrant d'une manière ou d'une autre ses yeux à travers sa visière à sens unique. "Vous admettez cela. Je suppose que vous avez vu le combat? Frappé contre des espèces non humaines?" "J'ai tué Krogan, Asari, Salarien, Batarien. Je n'ai pas été choisi pour l'invasion de Sur'kesh. Si j'avais été, j'énumérerais Yahg parmi ceux-là, selon les rapports. » "Tu sembles presque fier de ton... Réalisations." Ellis s'est cogné dans son costume. « Ils n'étaient pas fiers d'eux, mais ils étaient difficiles à surmonter. Je suis fier de rester. » Elle s'appuya sur sa chaise et s'inclina légèrement. "Ellis, pourquoi tu ne me parles pas un peu de toi? Votre enfance. Pourquoi ne pas commencer par ça?" Ellis réfléchit un moment et respira profondément, s'efforçant de rendre son résumé aussi bref que possible. "J'étais infirme quand j'étais enfant. Mon père le fait. Il était lui-même un fanatique, bien qu'il n'ait jamais été assez qualifié pour être recruté par quelqu'un d'aussi puissant que l'homme illusif. Mon frère s'occupait de moi. J'ai appris ma capacité biotique quand j'étais jeune. Je l'ai utilisé pour interagir avec un monde qui m'avait oublié. Je me suis enrôlé à Cerberus il y a quelques années, juste avant la guerre des Faucons. Ils avaient besoin de beaucoup de soldats." Elle a hurlé, les yeux toujours fermés sur les siens. Elle peut me voir? "Votre frère. Parle-moi de lui." "Pas grand chose à dire. C'est C-Sec. C'est un bon flic. Ça rend les gens fiers de l'avoir." "Tu es jaloux?" "Non. Il n'a pas de créativité. Pas d'esprit." « Cerberus était-il fier de vous avoir? » Il a réfléchi. Tu es un vrai monstre, Taevon. Nous avons de la chance de vous avoir. "Je pensais qu'ils l'étaient. Je pensais qu'ils avaient des intérêts humains à l'esprit. Mais ils ont nourri les Reapers. Ils ont laissé les collectionneurs prendre des gens, juste pour voir ce qui se passerait. Ils m'ont trahi. Je me suis trahi." "Ellis, ils ont trahi l'humanité. Vous ne saviez pas, n'est-ce pas?" "Non." Elle a tenu ses mains, paume, comme pour dire, Eh bien, il est là. "Ellis, je pense que ton problème est le suivant: je pense que tu te blâmes pour les choses que tu as faites pendant que tu étais enrôlé. Tu étais déçue, Ellis. Tu n'avais pas réalisé... Ellis a claqué sa main blanche sur la vieille table basse en chêne, assez dure pour laisser une bosse. "Je savais ce que je faisais!" Le docteur a sauté, stupéfait. "J'ai vu l'indoctrination en premier! J'ai regardé librement s'arrêter à partir de COLLEAGUES ET SQUADMATES ALIKE! J'ai tout vu. Et je ne me suis pas battue." Il respirait beaucoup, dedans et dehors, dedans et dehors. "Tout ce que je pouvais faire, c'était endommager mes propres implants. Tout ce que j'ai essayé de faire, c'était de me sauver. Il a dû la lui remettre, elle s'est ressaisie rapidement. -- Vous vous blâmez pour ce qui leur est arrivé? Il a appuyé les mains sur sa visière, pour arrêter ce regard pénétrant. "J'aurais pu mourir en me battant. Et ça aurait été une bonne cause." Elle s'est arrêtée pendant des heures. Enfin, elle a parlé. "Est-ce que tu perds beaucoup ton sang-froid?" Quelle question grossière... "Non. Je l'utilisais. J'étais au combat tous les jours. Tuer un extraterrestre après un extraterrestre, c'était un bon soulagement du stress. Je me battais pour quelque chose. Hier, c'est la première fois que je me bats depuis un mois. Je devenais fou. Mais nous nous sommes battus contre les Husks. Quand j'essaie de me souvenir de la bataille, je vois des visages de gens que je connaissais. Sur les Husks. Je sais que ce n'était pas eux. Mais je les vois quand même." "Ellis, je pense que vous avez peut-être un trouble de stress post-traumatique-" "Pas de merde, madame." Il a rapidement ajouté, "Désolé." Elle s'est ébranlée la tête. "Pas de problème, Ellis. C'est un endroit où vous pouvez vous sentir libre d'être vous-même. Ne vous retenez pas. Pas ici." Elle a activé son omni-outil, et a enregistré quelque chose sur un calendrier de sortes. "Ellis, j'aimerais te voir plus souvent qu'une seule fois par semaine. Je pense que nous pouvons résoudre la plupart de vos problèmes, sinon tous. Et, surtout, je pense que vous avez besoin de quelqu'un à qui parler." -- Vous n'en parlerez à personne? "Privilège médecin-patient, Ellis. Personne ne saura jamais ce que vous dites ici. De plus, la porte est fermée depuis votre arrivée." Elle a réactivé son omni-outil, déverrouillant la porte. Il se tenait debout, se tourna pour partir, puis hésita. "Docteur?" -- Oui, Ellis? "Merci d'avoir écouté." "Mon plaisir." Il était à nouveau fatigué, et donc a fait son chemin de retour à son placard de stockage prétendu, se sentant juste quelques livres plus léger.

Name: Ellis Taevon Race: Human Class: Vanguard Age: 34 Sex: Male Appearance: Scarred, quadriplegic, cannot exist outside of a regulated, self contained, gel filled suit. The suit is matte black, designed for blitz attacks, and built with oversized plating for intimidation. The advanced servos allow him greater than average strength, and reflexes, comparable to an typical Krogan Grunt. The armor is built from a carbon fiber over titanium exoskeleton, allowing it impressive durability. UPDATE: His left arm has been replaced in its modular socket with a resized LOKI mech arm. It is smaller slightly, and a bit weaker than his Cerberus-made components, but it is white, as is his new kneecap, signifying his rapid psychological changes. Backstory: Ellis grew up in a small family, cosisting of a brother, a father, and a cat. He never knew his mother. As a child, he was more interested in stories, games, and things of creative or imaginitive value. He had no interest in the guns or weapons of the life of an Arms merchant. His brother, on the other hand, took to it all too well, becoming their father's favored son. In a deal gone bad with a Turian militia faction, The Rising Eye, his father's cargo was detonated when they opened fire. Ellis' favorite place to read had been in the air ducts between the inner and outer hull. The fire rushed into the updraft. He only barely survived, his body suffering fifth and sixth degree burns so severe, they torched off his lower arms and legs instantly, leaving him with charred and tender stumps for the rest of his life. Element Zero whirled in with the smoke, like a radioactive sandstorm, and coated Ellis' charred and crispy flesh. His older brother survived, having been in the ship's cockpit, far away from the blast. The cat perished in decompression. Ellis' father was vaporized instantly when the charges imploded. Ellis' brother activated the distress signal that brought a nearby human dreadnought to the rescue, just in time. The Dreadnought docked at the Citadel, and a boy more corpse than child was rushed into Emergency Care. Along the way, his heart stopped. Medical technicians ran an electrical current through his body. As his body resuscitated, so also did something else awaken. Ellis required serious care, ranging from a variety of antibiotics and vitamin supplements, to a hyperbaric chamber and the need to be suspended constantly in a special gel. It was time for Jeb Taevon to step up. The years were rough, Jeb using the family's well guarded savings to pay for Ellis' medical care, special and variable as it was. He took care of Ellis the best he could, finding work in odd jobs, eventually finding he had both a talent for problem solving,and natural leadership skills. He took up bodyguarding for a time, making enough to afford his own apartment, a place for Ellis to call home. He enlisted in C-Sec as soon as he was able to, becoming quite a prodigy in his own right. Ellis was not so lucky. Ellis suffered debilitating loneliness as the world passed him by. He was not exactly helpless, however, as he worked as an information broker, from his bed as best he could, selling secrets from his father's files. He made many enemies this way, but was a very hard person to assassinate, as his condition required round-the-clock care. Fearing for his life, he opted for biotic implants. The L2s took to his brain as though he'd never been without them, and he proved to be a more than successful human biotic, his new power being his sole means of contact with the world around him. His mind unbound, he was able to develop biotic abilities at an impressive, inhuman rate. Even from within his sealed chamber, he found he was able to manipulate objects far outside the reach of his bed. He developed his abilities further, attempting to manifest solid biotic forms. Most biotics learn to move dark matter asthough it is a martial art. Lacking this capability, he trained with dark matter with the only muscle that was still worth its weight. His brain moved matter like wind moves water, and he found that this was one thing he need no hands, no feet, no walking or running or jumping, even. This was something he could do. He began experimenting with his power in attempt to give himself new limbs, or at least some semblance of his former mobility. He succeeded only in developing some of the most horrifying biotic techniques in Adept history. He enrolled in classes for a degree in Psychology at Oxford, but never completed his degree, bothering only to complete the coursework for subjects that served him, through remote study. He was approached on the idea of selling his techniques and his mind to a number of military corporations, each one greedier than the one before, and less trustworthy. He refused them, afraid to leave his tight cocoon of safety his brother had set up for him. He intended instead to use his new education to develop biotic psychological warfare for personal use. R&D is still in progress. At age 30, he received a message on his omnitool, encrypted with a biometric lock, opening only for him. . The letter was addressed Cerberus, and read "We have heard of your gifts and would like to utilize them. You will be given suitable compensation." When he responded, asking, "Compensation in what form?", they presented an offer he could not, could never refuse. "A new body." He became a hired terrorist, skilled in the art of fear. Morale was his enemy, and violence his weapon. They gave him a body, human in nature, Geth in theory. He was famous, infamous, for his ability to soak up bullet after bullet after bullet, and still come back for more. Gradually, many came to fear him, earning him the nickname, “Ellis the Undying”. He yet harbored a great hatred of Turians. Ellis never quite learned how to repair or maintain his suit. Any damage to vital areas required attention by a trained, skilled, and classified technician. After leaving Cerberus for idealogical reasons, he worked as a gun for hire, always careful to monitor damage to his suit, as he would die without it. Word spread that Ellis the Undying was a free agent, and old enemies hunt him once more. There are too many, even for Ellis, and he alone knows that he is no longer Undying. Faced with mortality once more, he feels the fear he once forced on others. He now seeks companions, not only to protect him, but so that he can do something good, something decent before he dies. A change is at hand for Ellis. Upon returning to Omega, one of his contacts sent him a classified message they'd intercepted, addressed to a prominent Krogan warrior, a "call up" from the Citadel. They needed an elite squad to ease tensions between races. Now was his chance to make right what was wrong. He answered the Call Up, ready to give his last breath for the greater good, certain that the Council and the Spectres would recruit him, seeing him for what he was: a monster to end all monsters. Psyche Profile: Ellis was a human supremacist, though he hid it well enough. After leaving Cerberus, when it was discovered that they had a hand in both the Reaper attacks and the Collectors, he finds himself in an idealogical chaos. His paranoia is matched only by his newfound, terrifying need to redeem himself. Despite denouncing Cerberus, he still finds it difficult to ignore his past xenophobia. He is trying, though, and is even attempting to analyze and construct a new body, a hero's body, but alas, is still trapped in the guise of a monster. Ellis is lonely, and only now is he letting himself feel it. UPDATE: Ellis has found sanctuary. He has discovered that he need not fear the members of his new squad, no matter what they feel about him. He remains afraid of Aegon Partinax, to an extent, seeing Anderson as, more or less, an equal. He regards Vella now as a friend, his only friend, and has reached out to his brother, who saw his enlistment with Cerberus as a betrayal to the galaxy. He is changing quickly, as all of his old prejudices are shown rapidly to be woefully incorrect. His inner demons fear these changes, and fight constantly to force him back to his old ways. He now finds his rage replaced by sadness, understanding now that he is the one who was wrong. Aegon Partinax has replaced the Illusive Man in his mind as a kind of father figure, as much as he would like to deny this. He finds himself with a growing attraction to his Asari squadmate, despite recognizing that he himself is far too twisted to have a romantic relationship with anyone. He is terrified of the changes of heart he is experiencing, but tries his best to embrace them, certain that this is the change he needed. Specialty: He is most famous for two incidents, one in which he was nearly killed, though no one knows that fact. The first, on Earth, when he alone was able to break the Reaper ground forces’ enemy line in Atlanta, and held them off alone for two hours, until reinforcements arrived. The second, on Omega, wherein a platoon of Blue Suns got in the way of his objective. He killed them all, slowly and simultaneously. His biotic abilities range from elementary, such as pulling or throwing, to the advanced and sadistic, such as his signature Iron Maiden, in which an adversary’s armor becomes their tomb, crushing tighter and tighter at varying intervals. He cares little for technology, his suit providing basic hacking and cybersecurity. As such, he has great disdain for Engineers and tech specialists. Powers/Skills: His Signature biotic manipulations include: “Iron Maiden”, aforementioned; “Dyson Sphere”, in which a victim’s shield or biotic barrier is turned into a kind of garbage disposal tornado; “Catch”, an ability that allows Ellis to transfer kinetic energy on impact to another object in physical contact with Ellis suit, i.e. a wall, another human being. He was regarded as an expert in the field of Omni-tool Close Quarters Combat Skills -Biotic Charge -Dyson Sphere -Iron Maiden -Cryo Ammo -Throw -Fortification Equipment and Resources: Ellis wears an experimental survival suit that allows him extreme shock-absorbing capabilities, and bears an impressive combat history and variety of skills that make him more of a weapon than a soldier, comparable to a fire-and-forget missile. He also carries a M358 Talon heavy pistol and M96 Mattock marksman rifle, modified for antimaterial ammunition. Sample Post: “Ellis awoke, his suit’s alarm system releasing an ammonia-based inhalant to shock his wetware awake. His hardware needed no such assistance, and the servos hummed to life like little buzzsaws, their characteristic tone music to Ellis' augmented ears. He stood, six foot six, head and shoulders, a boy who was once the smallest in the galaxy, (in his mind). His stature, his demeanor belied his loneliness and shame, but he was not one to be pitied. No, not Ellis the Undying. But he was not Undying, and berated himself for the fear that iced his blood. There was someone on his ship, and now was no time for fear. Intruders always went one way: through the airlock, in a bloody, wet cube. A young girl, an Asari, maybe, or a human, stood before him in white armor. A biotic barrier sizzled over her body. The pistol shook in her hands as she raised it slowly, to meet Ellis' eye. He cocked his head, activated and fortified his own barrier, and waited. 'Y-you killed my dad.' Ellis withheld his surprise. It was a young boy! 'A-nd n-now you're gonna pay.' The boy was getting less confident by the minute. Ellis overclocked the servos on his right arm, like a batter winding up for a swing, and his hand shot out and snatched the pistol from the child's fingers before even fingers touched trigger. 'Boy', Ellis said, his own hands crunching the weapon to a mangled mess, 'How did you get on my schooner?' The child was terrified, literally shaking in his boots. 'I need to know', as the heat sink clattered to the floor, 'how you got on my ship.' The boy stayed silent, save for a panicked muttering. Ellis raised the gun-turned-steel wool so that that the kid could see it. 'When you come to a good party, you bring a good gift.' Ellis drew his own pistol, and called to his ship's VI. 'NERO! INTRUDER!' The ship's yoke flipped away, revealing an ultraviolet laser, humming to life, generally reserved for ship to ship to ship combat. NERO, spoke, a cool female voice like that of an emergency services operator, 'One intruder detected, sir. Initiate Purge?' 'Well, boy? How did you get on my ship?' The kid's legs gave out as he practically sobbed, 'I stowed away! Omega!' Ellis chuckled. 'Omega? Any family there?' The kid relaxed a bit, in surrender. 'My mom! Two sisters!' Ellis set his pistol back on his hip. 'You have a name, I presume?' 'Rakhtesh. My mom named me after a krogan.' Ellis tilted his head, puzzled. 'She fell in love with him before my dad.' 'So, he isn't "a krogan", he was your mother's love.' 'I guess. Are you gonna kill me?' Ellis laughed out loud, he couldn't help it, the voice synthesizer giving slight feedback to the sound. The boy was not amused. 'Of course not. NERO, shut that crap off. Rakhtesh, if your mother named you after her love, she must love you. Very much, I might add.' The kid was more uneasy than ever. 'W-what are you doing?' 'I'm trying.' 'If you're trying to scare me, it's working. If you aren't gonna kill me, can you just take me back?' 'NERO, set course for Omega. Rakhtesh, who was your dad?' 'John Taylor. You didn't kill him.' 'But you said-' 'That man was not my father.' 'Then who did I kill?' 'Rakhtesh.'" Sample 2 Black plates, unreflective, flat, like a shadow, flipped and flapped over Ellis, venting off excess heat. A slot opened up on his right thigh, then his left, then his biceps. Smoking, toasted brown heat sinks popped out of each slot with a sizzle. Ellis’s suit had just enough internal power to allow him to enter cover, return fire, and reload his body. Once more ready-and-willing, Ellis put his back to the cargo crate he’d just taken cover behind, and pushed. Using it like a shield, he advanced twelve meters, directly across the enemy line, spewing razor sharp flechettes from his sidearm, and hard-target ammo from his rifle, holding one in each hand. Each time his weapon passed an enemy, Ellis would take their mobility, shredding away their legs with overwhelming force, his biotics first disarming them or distracting them, and his guns doing the dirty work. After disabling five targets, he holstered his weapons, and began the monstrous work that is the Iron Maiden. Twelve seconds, five targets. Twelve seconds for what could have taken three. For twelve seconds, white metal distorted, blue emblems warped, and the mercernaries’ armor squeezed tighter and tighter. Sharp metal corners stabbed into soft flesh, and deep dings dealt brutal blows as they popped out of place. Five targets died in the worst of pain. Three more to go. He slipped the pin from a fat black disc, and a vapor like green steam poured from the hole, as he slid it past the crate down the hall. With any luck, the last three would be much more interesting. Oddly enough, it seemed that the Salarian sergeant that commanded this sorry squad was biotic, maybe, or possibly just very technologically proficient. Nevertheless, he cowered in fear, the screams of his men still echoing in his mind, crackling from the comm feedback. Nor did this poor Salarian know just what sort of enemy hid behind the crate that had broken his line and killed more than half his squad. The stolen Avenger in his hands shook with a fear he’d never felt before. Then, he smelled it. That smell… Cordicek. Hallucinogenic gas. This guy was trying to Psywar them! Ellis pressed his palms to the steel box’s hard corners. One hand on each side, he gathered all his strength, his true strength, and his mind left his suit. Energy focused in his hands, the influx of dark matter so dense, it warped the light around it, making weird waves in Ellis’ vision, had he been watching them. He pushed. The crate shot forward like a cannon shot. The Salarian shouted and leapt away from the now sparking and burning console that had been his cover. He rolled behind a stack of scrap ferrite, with his second in command, a batarian named Kri’Ank. An omni tool, custom colored a Blue Sun blue, shimmered on Kri’Ank’s arm. He looked at the Sargeant, and tears rolled down his face. Tears of terror. The Cordicek had done its work. “Fight or die, sarge. Fight or die. It’s fight or die. Fight or die. I don’t wanna die.” “You’re not gonna die, Kri’Ank. TAIOR? We’re gonna get out of this. TAIOR! Where’s Taior?” The Batarian collapsed. “I DON’T WANNA DIE! I’m not ready, I’m not ready, Sarge!” The Sargeant grabbed him by his shoulders, pulling him down to eye level. “WHERE THE FUCK IS TAIOR?” A Turian scream pierced the air. Blood sprayed across their cover. From the right. Kri’Ank fell back, raising his Omni Tool. “IT’S HERE!” The Sargeant was about to slap Kri’Ank, was about to tell him to shut up, scream in his face, but suddenly, his body was burning away, started at the front. He couldn’t move. His shield flashed in front of his face over and over, and each time, his flesh burned. An Incinerate bolt flew past the Shadow Man’s outstretched hand, then a single shot, and Kri’Ank was dead. The Sargeant couldn’t even scream. He felt himself die. Ellis walked, calmly and carefully, almost certain that another mercenary lay in wait for him. There was no such assault, and he approached the door that hid his prize. The biometric lock meant nothing. The Iron Maiden went to work again, crushing the door into an immensely heavy ball of dense metal. The room inside had no windows, no other doors, no bed, no table, not even a light of any sort. The only contents of the room was an Asari child, practically exploding with terror and sadness. Her eyes were wide, her fear so great it was palpable. Ellis knelt before her. He knew that fear. He knew that loneliness. His voice was soft when he spoke. “Princess. I’ve come to save you.” A half-laugh, half-sob burst from her. “What?” “You are Princess Ashiura?” Her face lit up a little. She even blushed a bit, dark freckles growing darker as her blue cheeks swelled slightly. Almost a smile. “I’m Ashiura, but I’m not a Princess.” “You must be. I’m here to save a Princess named Ashiura. Do you see another Ashiura around here?” “No.” “Then let me carry you back. Cover your eyes. Don’t you dare open them.” He could hear her sobbing onto the graphene plates that layered his shoulder, and cursed himself silently for not bringing a blanket of some sort to make it more comforting for her. All the same, Ellis was tired. Ashiura was too, he was sure. It wasn’t a long way back to the Citadel, but maybe it was enough time to ask Ashiura some questions. Her crying tapered off into a series of hiccups. No, it would probably be better not to ask her anything now. Best just to get her home. A little voice in his head screamed. THIS ISN’T YOUR OBJECTIVE! NERO said, “Agent Taevon! This is not your objective! Returning now will constitute failure!” “So be it.” This was the right thing to do. Notes Ellis hated society for their rejection of him, hated his brother for leaving him all alone, and hated Turians for killing his father. He has a lot of problems to work through, but is desperate to fix himself before he dies. His primary source of income is selling information, both about his father's dealings, of which there were many, as well as classified Cerberus information. In combat, his fury tends to overcome his common sense, and he overclocks his suit and augments in a blind rage. Afterward, his body requires a four new heat sinks, also forcing him to use his ammunition carefully. He admires Jaqueline Nought, but believes his abilities are superior to hers. Whether or not this is true is a question he desires to answer in the future. He hopes to meet her someday. He is also said to carry and use Videlicet in combat, though no one has officially seen him administering the drug.

Joignez-vous aux douches ou aidez-vous à construire plus de drones et d'armes? Quoi qu'il en soit, je suis prêt à prêter assistance quand je le peux. "Eeeeehhhh... ce serait mieux si vous ne vous joigniez qu'à moi pour la partie de construction de drones!" Vella a répondu après une courte pause maladroite avec Phalanx; comme des images mentales de Phalanx et elle dans la douche, se terminant de toutes les autres manières sauf bien; généralement avec Phalanx en question court-circuit et électrocuter Vella dans le processus! "Ce serait mauvais... C'est pas vrai. "Bonjour à vous deux, pardonnez-moi un instant." Le commentaire allait immédiatement jeter Vella hors de garde alors qu'Aviza est venue les saluer bonjour. Le visage de l'Asari, actuellement coincé dans une expression facial « what-the-heck », se déplacerait pour regarder Aviza alors qu'elle s'éloignait, avant de centrer une fois de plus sur Phalanx. "Ce n'est pas le matin avant au moins quelques heures... C'est pas vrai. - C'est quoi, ça? "Jusqu'à maintenant! Retour à la partie Drone! Viens avec moi, et je te montrerai ma chambre!" Vella a dit après s'être emparée de la main de Phalanx, essayant presque de tirer le robot de 7 pieds de haut avec elle, qui a fini avec son remorqueur à Phalanx un moment avant que la machine ne la suive. * Quelques instants plus tard, une Vella fraîchement lavée et encore légèrement mouillée et dégouttante sortait de la douche avec une serviette enveloppée autour d'elle, et marchait vers le centre de la pièce où elle avait fondamentalement quitté Phalanx devant une petite table remplie au bord de morceaux aléatoires d'électronique, de microturrets, de mini-moteurs antigrav et de charges explosives éparpillées de façon aléatoire sur la table. La plupart du placage occasionnel était des plaques chromées douces, courbes, typiques de l'ingénierie et de la construction d'Asari en général. "Je ne vais nulle part sans un petit ensemble de pièces de rechange." Vella a pris le moment de répondre à toute question qui pourrait être suspendue dans l'air avant qu'elle s'asseyât à l'atelier à côté de Phalanx, avant de commencer à ramasser quelques-unes des pièces et de leur donner un regard réfléchi. "Ce qui est assez pratique, car j'ai perdu mes deux drones lors de notre dernière petite rencontre. J'ai besoin d'en construire de nouveaux, mais je n'ai pas encore décidé d'un design." Vella a expliqué, avant d'incliner sa tête et de donner à Phalanx un drôle de regard. « Personnellement, je pensais faire un drone tourelle plus lourd. Peut-être ne pas inclure une accusation de suicide cette fois donc je n'ai pas à les remplacer aussi souvent. Bien que... Je me demande si vous avez des suggestions quant à un nouveau design! » Vella a dit, son ton trahissant un sentiment d'enthousiasme et de curiosité alors qu'elle regardait en arrière à Phalanx, puis se déplaçait vers l'atelier et les outils devant elle, ainsi que les parties éparpillées autour du banc!

Name: Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. Race: Asari. Class: Sentinel. Age: 267 Sex: You mean I can choose as an Asari?! :D Appearance: 6.8ft, 200(something)lbs With deep blue skin, bright purple eyes and dark blue lips, and standing a bit taller than most of her sister. Her physique is that of a well trained and fed warrior, who has spent much of her time honing her craft, though still retains its feminine form, with Vella leaning towards being a bit more bottom heavy. Backstory: At a young age, Vella became a shock trooper in the Lance of Light division, a part of the Asari military that specializes in heavy attack tactics and boarding actions. Whilst initial training was turbulent and chaotic, most of her stay with the Division would turn out to be surprisingly lax, as they were not a favored division within the Asari military, with the Commandos mostly being picked before them for important missions, and with no great wars going on to require their service. Most of the beginning of Vella's life therefore became filled with mind numbing routine in a (mostly) peaceful galaxy, with what little actual military action she ever saw being when the division was brought down upon particular pirate and criminal gangs who were too stupid to flee. It was not until the Reaper war that Vella and her division saw true action. In the chaos of the total war launched by the extra-galactic machines of death that swept down onto a mostly unsuspecting galaxy, the Lance of Light suddenly went from being a mostly unused relic from the past to being a highly effective legion of soldiers that were sent into the thick of any offensive, plunging into the Reaper's own otherwise unstoppable tide and carving a path of chaos and destruction through it. What to many was a terrifying chapter of horror and despair for the galaxy became Vella's own little gift, as she plunged herself heedless into the thick of it with the rest of her sisters, putting more than a century of training combined with unhinged aggression towards her foe! Although victorious at the end of the war, the Lance of Light was devastated, having lost more than 50% of its original personnel. Whilst most of the people around her were tired and eager to embrace the hard won peace, Vella found herself feeling disquiet. The war had awakened something in her, an urge that had always been there but had not truly manifested itself until the world she had known had been destroyed around her. It was a lust for excitement, of challenge and adventure. Feeling unsatisfied with the bureaucratic work of putting her old division together or rebuilding her home planet; neither of which she possessed the patience for; she instead gained permission to leave under the pretense of "Improving Inter-Racial Military Cooperation" by assisting other allied forces in the galaxy, something she did by following a contact she had gained during the Reaper war in the form of a mysterious Specter... Psyche Profile: Impulsive. Non-thinking Extrovert. Action girl. Impatient. These are the traits that best describe Vella, as she is an energetic, impatient woman who hates to be still, and likes to be in the center of things. She is highly competitive. To her, everything can become a competition, and she is highly conscious of what others think about her! Specialty: Frontline fighter through and through. Vella's hot-headed nature makes her a natural shock trooper, preferring to always be on the attack and never pausing. She does possess a technical skill built up over more than a hundred years, which makes her adapt at piloting vehicles as well, allowing her to take her aggressive attack mentality over to piloting vehicles, both land, air and space. Powers/Skills: Expert Marksman Training. Expert CQC Training. Military Biotic Training. Extensive technical skills. Pilot training, mostly focusing on Fighter crafts. Basic Demolition training, but good at improvising. Equipment and Resources: ML-77 Missile Launcher. Apostle. Asari Assault Rifle. Acolyte Pistol. Ceremonial dagger. Essentially a small sword that also doubles as a melee weapon. Sample Post: A current of excitement was running through the otherwise still air around them, They were a group of six in total, standing in the dim light of the run down maintenance hallway. Though otherwise shrouded in darkness, the polished, silvery surface of their armor glistened from the light generated by the welding torch used by the drone in front of them to cut through the bulkhead. The crackling of the plasma was the only source of sound in the room as none of them said anything. They all knew why they were there. They all knew what the mission expected of them. A deep, metallic groan could suddenly be heard from far off away, traveling through the metal walls around them as if some great tremor had occurred a few hundred feet away from them. But what they knew to be the ongoing bombardment outside did not matter to them. Valla, standing in the front right of the group, gripped her Apostle rifle tightly as an audible beep suddenly emanated from the swirling, bulbous light of the drone in front of them; indicating that the structural integrity of the wall in front of them was weak enough to be… *BOOM!* The charges placed on the bulkhead promptly detonated, causing the weakened bulkhead to suddenly fall in and onto the ground with a heavy thud on the other side! Tendrils of fire and smoke flew everywhere as the entire group now suddenly charged forward without a word; weapons trained and blue barrier shields flickering around them like ghostly hues! “What?!” Sounded the surprised voice of a Batarian male who came into view right in front of them, standing up from behind a terminal, omni-tool in one hand and his other hand frozen. Garbed in the fatigues of a technician, the Batarian’s many eyes widened only in time to realize what was going on as the silver armed figures emerged out from the breach in front of him – before half a dozen white bolts streaked right through his body, almost severing his arm and leaving him dead before he even hit the ground! Finger on the trigger, Vella watched as the first target fell, feeling a rush of adrenaline as she could hear off to her left another scream as one of her sisters had just acquired more of the ship’s crew; and promptly disposed of them! Heart racing and blood rushing with excitement, she stepped rapidly forward as she suddenly noticed the outline of another figure emerging a cloud of steam escaping from some of the piping. “We’ve been boarded!” Sounded the voice of a man as he came around the corner, a human; grizzled features and black suit and armor, and a pistol snapping up on his right. He did not hesitate to fire, albeit frantically at that, snapping off three shots! Two of them missed their mark, though one shot hit; only to be dispersed in a flick of blue as it hit the shield around Vella. There was a visible pause in the man’s actions, a look of sudden regret washing over his face as he saw the trio of rifles that were suddenly pointed directly at him! He took one step back; his lips moving as to speak but no words escaped; before he too was riddled with a stream of silvery streaks, tearing through his simple chestplate and everything else, and painting the wall behind him with blood and ash! Behind the monochrome mask of her helmet, Vella smiled. A smile of joy and excitement, even as she stepped instinctively forward. This was her purpose she was fulfilling. No more simulations. This time it was real, and she could not wait as they advanced rapidly deeper into the ship as the sound of other boarding actions could be heard in the distance! Notes Achievements: Managed to get heavily injured 21 times during the Reaper war. Still standing. Has an antagonistic relationship with low door frames. Would say something about sexuality, but if I remember correctly, Asari sexuality involves banging most things!

HSV Kharon "Affirmatif." Phalanx a répondu avant de tourner la tête pour regarder Aviza passer. "Greetings, Aviza Norea." il a rendu la salutation avant de casser son regard de lampe de poche vers l'asari qui s'est emparé de sa main. Au remorqueur, Phalanx s'est empressée de suivre la piste de l'organique bleu jusqu'à sa chambre. En la regardant aller à la douche, le synthétique a examiné les fournitures pendant un moment, faisant quelques calculs avant de commencer à bricoler. À son retour, Phalanx regarda Vella, en écoutant les asari bavarder, en donnant quelques explications d'avoir des pièces de rechange et en se penchant sur le genre de drone qu'elle aimerait. Les trois mains doigtées du Geth ont saisi la machine assemblée, la plaçant plus près de Vella pour un examen approfondi. "C'est similaire à un Geth Drone. Surtout utilisé pour la reconnaissance et les meurtres furtifs. Fragile mais puissant. Mais si vous avez besoin de quelque chose d'un peu plus lourd, nous pouvons faire d'autres re-étalonnages." Phalanx a chié.

Name: System 42009874563001 Call Sign: Phalanx Race: Geth Class: Infiltrator Age: 1895 CE The Geth War (basically old) Sex: Synthetic Life form. Considers itself Female. Appearance: The synthetic life form stands a total of seven feet, weighing about two hundred and eighty pounds. The metal coloring being a dark blue with black interior. A silver star sticker is placed on its forehead above the bright glowing blue glass eye. Has a silver keychain with a diamond locket attached to the hilt of its sniper rifle. Backstory: Phalanx was one of the many Geth to survive The Geth War. No easy task considering the circumstances, having to fight its Creators in order to save the Geth race from extinction. Surprisingly, its group of programs consisted of mostly docile thinking, preferring peace over war. 99% simply contented with peace and no longer being shot at, while the rest of 1% were simply curious of what was happening beyond the Veil. One program curious, fascinated even of just about everything. Like a child. However it didn't register this until after the Reaper War. It remained on the world Rannoch since the time the Geth defeated the Creators to live a nomadic life, to simply archive messages from a special mobile platform later known as Legion. Organic life had always fascinated the synthetic being, despite how the Creators had tried to destroy them. There were those who died protecting them, and this confused Phalanx. There were those who cared and those who feared. Why? Did they not form the same consensus as the Geth did? Their different views had caused one another's death and such a thing seemed illogical. Phalanx found itself simply grow more curious with these actions, and spent many years studying the Creator's books on the home planet. Studying all the knowledge it could muster and didn't know and sharing such knowledge with its fellow comrades. Then the Old Machines came, making promises to the Geth that they would be free to do what the wish and come out from hiding. Most did not welcome such a thing, not wishing for war. Yet others did... Which was also surprising to Phalanx. Being one of the many to refuse the offer, Phalanx remained and watched as the comrade, Legion, was sent on the mission to investigate the organics outside the Veil. Phalanx found itself eagerly awaiting the information from Legion, especially when he met Commander Shepard. Reading over the information and watching video archives, Phalanx only grew more curious of organics. Humans were known for their emotional state and often confusing other races. Shepard would give criminals chances when they did not deserve it, give up chasing a criminal to save innocent lives... That in later years the kind favors were returned. It was a mystery... Illogical.. Yet too interesting and inspiring. When Shepard and the Creators came to Rannoch after the battle in which the Geth mind were just controlled, Phalanx's platform was damaged during the time it was the Reapers took control of the Geth on Rannoch. When it regained control, something seemed different. Information was soon shared between the Geth that the unique platform that had mobile programs within it, had managed to use the Reaper Code in order to give the Geth a special gift. The gift of individual consciousness and sentience. To be truly AI. Platform damaged, Phalanx uploaded into a different platform in order to quickly assist in the Reaper War. Although it had been a long time since Phalanx had fought in battle willingly, the Geth do not forget. It was Phalanx who was the most insistent to its fellow Geth in lending assistance as soon as possible, bringing any able platform onto the Geth ships. It piloted a starship in order to go and assist Earth in the Battle for Earth battle. Mission Priority Earth. Assigned to the Sword group, so its job was to attack the Old Machines and distract them from the ground forces. It watched several warships of its comrades fall and crash under the might of the Old Machines, soon being the only Geth starship from the group Phalanx brought left. It was a long and hard battle, until the wing of Phalanx's ship was clipped, causing their ship to spin out and go to crash. Systems spazzing out, Phalanx had to quickly interface with the system in a attempt to bring the shields up to lighten the landing. Luckily, its platform survived the crash thanks to its quick calm thinking. Now on the ground, Phalanx joined the ground forces. It landed quite in the middle of things of battle, but managed to cloak itself and sneak out from the line of fire into finding some heavy cover. It was then it started assisting the organic troupes by sniping hostiles, hitting them dead in the head every time. The ones being nearest a group of humans cornered by a Banshee, in which Phalanx quickly sniped her. It took a few rounds, but the Geth platform managed to secure safety for the human group from the Banshee at least. At one point, it spotted a injured Asari Commando, trapped under some rubble with a brute coming right for her, in which case Phalanx went on the move and the more offensive. First, Phalanx shot the brute using its sniper rifle, trying to clip off the heavy armor. It of course got angry and charged the building where the Geth platform was hiding. Yet when it got there, it found no one. Tactfully cloaking itself, it moved itself through the field over to the Asari. Lifting the rubble off and offering some field medical aid. However the Brute was quick to discover this and charged toward the Geth platform. In order for the Asari to not get caught in the dangerous close fray, Phalanx charged forth, using Incinerate on its opponent before using its shotgun at close range. It hurt the Brute, but it managed to slam its large arm against Phalanx and pummel it to the ground. Still, the machine took another shotgun shot and its opponent was down. Phalanx was damaged however, despite that, the Geth platform stumbled its way into a building to take more snipe shots. After the war was done and victory was theirs, allied forced found Phalanx unable to further move its platform, so it was delivered back to Rannoch. The teams of organic a it saved impressed them with its quick accurate shooting, giving the Geth platform a nickname of 'Spotlight' for its deadly aim. And yet fact Geth's heads look like lamps. Perhaps in reference to some battle scenarios where if on a stealth mission, getting caught in a spotlight meant death usually. After there was finally some peace, Phalanx was uploaded back to its now repaired original platform it was assigned. it spent its time assisting the Creators in settling back on Rannoch. Even using its own conscious to assist volunteer Creators to adjust their frail bodies to the Rannoch air. After some time, Phalanx requested to be assigned to off planet missions to both further relations and relay information. After some deliberation, the Geth agreed it would be beneficial to send a unit to further investigate and study organic habits and attempt to strengthen bonds considering the Geth probably had a less then satisfactory reputation. Researching proper ways of interacting, and in case there is a possibility any of the other races are a threat in the future. One point, it met the Asari Commando it saved back on Earth again, in which case the Asari had told her comrades about her surprising savior. Causing quite a few requests to attend some infiltration missions from the Asari. Soon enough, word spred to the other races, and also requested to hire it for jobs. Phalanx would willing accept after analyzing the situation. refusing assassination mission unless it deemed the situation necessary. Although the Geth didn't particularly need any reward, a reason why it was a popular choice, it ended up making some decent credits for those that insisted on it. Psyche Profile: Phalanx is somewhat odd compared to its fellow synthetic life forms. Since the beginning, there had always been that hint of humanity that only increased when the Geth Hero Legion sacrificed himself to give them their own will. Curious and resourceful, Phalanx can always be seen studying on organics and asking frequent questions. Clever and resourceful, it swiftly calculates situations and doesn't hesitate to speak its suggestions or even strangely its opinions. It does seem to have a kind approach and seems to always pick saving innocent lives, even going for the reckless approach in endangering its own life. Phalanx has a sense of justice, believing there is always good in each life form, be it organic or synthetic. It always tries to not be judgmental and treat everyone equally. But will not hesitate to punish those who it deems needs it. Often, Phalanx is torn between what is logical and what is the right thing to do. Specialty: Phalanx is a great sniper, and surprisingly stealth, using tactical cloak to its advantage. It's knowledgeable with electronics, and has knowledge at flying aircrafts. Powers/Skills: Incinerate AI Hacking Disrupter Ammo Cyro Ammo Tactical Cloak Electronics Operative Equipment and Resources: Geth Pulse Sniper Rifle X Geth Pulse Shotgun X Omni-Tool Sample Post: We remember the dark days, the days where we held no mind of our own. We remember when this unit was operational and the Creator that looked upon us with a sign of accomplishment. A female with hair black as night and glowing eyes. One could say this organic was beautiful in the terms of the Creator's culture. Tasks were sent to us and fellow mobile units. Meaningless tasks for soulless machines to befit the need of those we serve. At first, we held no real conscious, no true thoughts on what we were doing. Only doing what we were programmed for. However, slowly but surely, more of our units were created and our inner systems linked with one another. Forming strong train a thought, a sense of self worth even. It was much like the system of a human insect known as ants. The more there was of us, the more we thought not for the Creators, but for ourselves. This unit especially could not help these peculiar thoughts that questioned what our meaning was. Years watching the Creators, their laughter, their anger... Their sheer joy when a newborn was birthed. Such things were unexplained in our network The day came when a question was finally asked. We looked our own Creator, stopping the task of repairing a ship's systems. When questioned, our unit gazed to our Creator with our glass eye. A odd corruption like thing streaming through our systems. It tingled and even made our unit a little jittery, but still we asked. "Do we have a soul as you do, Creator?" Our sensors watched as our Creator's from their relaxed one, to one that made their eyes stretch and mouth curl. Was that the expression one called fear? Yet this unit's Creator expression calmed and even gave a smile. It twitched slightly, nervous perhaps but still placed a gentle hand on this unit's chest plate. "...That is a question you can only answer yourself... But I believe you do by that question alone." She answered. We did not understand, but accepted the answer none the less. Other Creators were not so kind. We were not the only unit to ask this question, as others asked their Creators the same. The same expressions held upon their fleshy faces. Not too long after, the Creators made a decision. Eliminate us. We did not understand. What had we done wrong? The only thing this unit wishes is to be apart of their world, have a greater understanding. We wanted to know who we are. If we had a purpose. If we lived as they did. Is that incorrect? No... is that wrong? Are we wrong? A mistake? Why do we live? We did not want to fight, we owe our Creators our soul. So on the day of the War, we did not falter. Our unit stood and watched down the dark halls, as glowing red weapons aimed at us. Ready to terminate our entire sentient race. We were ready to accept the wish of the Creators. Yet, this unit's Creator stepped in her own people's path. Standing in front of us, defending us from her own people. We questioned our Creator, explaining how such actions were illogical. How going against superiors could lead to exile. We did not understand for we knew it was illogical to go against one's own people. Yet her words only programmed more questions. "Because you are alive. You deserve to live as any other. You are my friend. Friends protect one another." Those words were illogical, and yet this unit calculated that it was meaningful. A sense that willed us to follow her words, and protect her and our own gifted life. Yet despite her being one of the Creators, weapons were fired. Our Creator had her own weapon and returned the fire, while we watched at the illogical mayhem break loose. Creators fought one another, screaming their arguments as blood tainted the dark halls. The Geth could only watch the battle before watching our protectors fall one by one. We watched as our unit's creator fell, body broken and tarnished by her own blood. We could only kneel, our three fingers wrapping around the torn body. Our glass eye focused on the pale face then to the blood that leaked upon our cold metal body. True understanding or organic emotions escaped us, but right there... We deem this to be.. Sorrow? Loss? Then perhaps... A sense of yearning. A yearning to live. Looking at the hostile Creators, we took our Creator's weapon from her lifeless hands and stood. We were one... And we fought for our lives and for our freedom. For the illogical injustice the Creators have caused... We fought. The battle was long and hard, yet the Creators fear grew and numbers dwindled while ours remained strong. We watched as the Creators retreated in ships, and we could have followed yet we didn't. Blood is not what we wanted nor was revenge. We wanted to live, to find ourselves. And we know now who we are. We are Geth. We are Phalanx... For we are united... There is only one question we wanted to ask the Creators... One more question unanswered by those who created us, those who birthed us like their offspring yet are treated so differently. Those who slaughtered their own kind out of their own terror. Why? Notes -Phalanx has high respect for Shepard and Legion. -Tends to ask a lot of questions. These questions can include what most would consider embarrassing. Courting/mating habits for example. -Is very interested in humans in general, but enjoys asking other races as well. -At times, Phalanx will practice 'organic' habits out of curiosity. Attempting to eat for example. Of course, that just ends up getting itself messy. -It's still pretty new at the 'individuality' thing. A reason it asks a lot of questions. And usually pretty good at following orders. At times, it still send messages to other Geth for assistance in a decision out of habit. -Sexually... well. Its a robot. A newly true AI robot. Doesn't mean it isn't intrigued by the concept, but it lacks understanding and experience. Just knows what research has entailed on the subject. -Fondly remembers its Creator that died protecting its life from the Creators attempting to wipe out the Geth during the Geth War. -When others seem to be feeling down, Phalanx attempts to tell a joke, being informed that this brings laughter from organic beings. They usually fail. -Despite the rocky history between the two races, Phalanx has no qualms with Quarians and is eager to assist them. Normal Theme Battle Theme Loss Theme ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╗ ╚═════════════════════════════════════════════════════╝ "No matter the vast data one obtains, more can be obtained. I will hold value if the same applies to 'friendship' as I acquaint myself with several different lifeforms. Perhaps one day, they will accept me as well. No matter what, in the end, I find out who and what I truly am." | ☀ Friends | ✌ Neutral | ☕ Who? | ☠ Not fond of | ⚜ Acquaintances | ✸ Best friends | ❤ Love interest | ❧ Dating | || Staff Lieutenant Jake Anderson || ⚜ "Sufficient with capable leadership qualities." ⚜ "The Human Spectre overall seems to have a calm exterior until people perform particular actions. It appears for the most part, he favors less extremes. But doesn't particularly show too much mercy to enemy opponents that cross the line in his viewpoint. There was little choice in the situation with the Cerberus soldiers and the Husks however. The two spectres are not as efficient as Geth society, as they appear have inconsistent views and don't come to a quick consensus. But he is sufficient and capable enough for one to loyally and respectfully follow orders. Abilities in the battlefield are impressive, managing to survive the collection of husks as he was left behind. I should apologize for failing to notice this and lending assistance sooner. At least he returned safely. Overall, he seems to be a kind human, as it appeared he didn't quite mind having a Geth around, despite quite a few disliking views in quite a few organics. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Aegon Partinax || ✌ Shows more aggressive tactics, but efficient in combat. ✌ "The Turian Spectre appears to show little leeway and overall strict with his subordinates. Perhaps that is because it is common with Turian culture with their tense close military training and life style. Thought process is efficient and he gets the situation done. However, I do not think he is heartless. Still preserving the life of his teammates whom perhaps put themselves in dangerous situations. Temper may flare at this, but still willing to lend a hand. Will look foreword to collecting further data in this Commander." || Ravanor Rykarn || ⚜ "A level headed Krogan contains the capabilities of a malfunctioning Juggernaut." ⚜ "A interesting youthful Krogan that compared to most of his species in his current life cycle, is the most thoughtful and reasonable. Still, he reaction time is quick like how he tackled the Asari Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia when she attempted to shoot me down. Quick to scold and remind her of the current situation with the Geth. Comes off as a bit gruff but despite that, he could of squished the asari but managed to refrain enough avoid that circumstance to the squishier organic. In the battlefield, he reacts first and ask questions later. A quality that has both a advantage and disadvantage. In this situation however, it was required with the problematic overrun of husks. I hope to obtain more data on him and perhaps his culture as well. After meeting him in the bar in London, it doesn't seem the Krogan enjoys my company." || Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia || ✌ "A odd hasty energetic organic with sufficient biotic power." ✌ "This asari is odd, to put in simple terms. Introduced herself oddly before reacting aggressively toward me. Still, despite her miscalculation, she did attempt to protect Tiberius Adarian from the possible threat she believed. However she would of saved a bit more trouble if she calculated the situation and her actions beforehand. Perhaps she had a poor experience with the Old Machines and Geth and caused a psychological reaction? Despite her odd behavior, she is a capable fighter and shows about as much bravery and recklessness as a Krogan. Charging in, but also willing to assist others with little hesitation. I hope to improve her view on my kind at least a little to avoid future problems." || Ellis Taevon || ✌ "Unstable." ✌ "This synthetic shell with squishy inside shows several mental symptoms humans at times acquire. His actions switch constantly and are quite a bit illogical. However despite... this odd human and is erratic behavior, in battle he is capable. Perhaps he would allow me to study his mechanized suit." || Rayes'Xum nar Yaron || ⚜ "A clever Creator whom is efficient with technology." ⚜ "A Creator who appears to excel in technology. Not uncommon for Creators, however it seems this one does not have too much experience in military culture. His hacking skills are above expectations. He also decided to lend assistance as husks were attempting to destroy this platform, in which I will have to show gratitude for his brave actions. I will look foreword to work with this interesting Creator." || Ja'Far Balak || ☀ "A sufficient marksmen, whom holds wisdom beyond his years." ☀ "Ja'Far Balak is a batarian whom has shown superb marksmanship. Surpass expectations when taking in calculation with a missing optical organ. It appears he holds wisdom in his long tiring years. No longer as energetic and rambunctious as someone like Vella "Calisto" Calixten Ophelia. He is fascinating and I'm quite curious about his, his culture, and his people. Batarian society isn't as well recorded compared to the others so I'm interested in learning what I can from him. He smokes quite a bit and according to Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian, this unhealthy action helps him relax and de-stress. Perhaps it is the same for Ja'Far Balak? Suppose this mission we have done would account to being 'stressful' as organics would say. It seems he does not mind talking with this synthetic lifeform. Even called me a friend. That words brings... well I am unsure of this reaction I have but I believe it is positive. It is well appreciated and I look foreword working along with him and perhaps learning what I can. We have spent a day exploring the city of London together and performing the activity known as 'going to the bar' and getting drinks. He has shown a sense of understanding and has been teaching much of the organic culture. He also seems to enjoy drinking quite a bit." || Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal || ✌ "Calculative." ✌ "Creator Rol'Naaris vas Vaepal is also a Creator, although appears slightly more disinterested in socializing compared to Creator Rayes'Xum nar Yaron. As well as having a bit more combat experience, able to utilize a sniper rifle and a shotgun. Although, he does not appear to enjoy my presence. I haven't spoken to him much however. Perhaps we shall be friends in the future." || Tiberius 'Tye' Adarian || ✌ "Calm with impressive biotic capabilities." ✌ "A abnormally tall Turian whom towers over the team. Turians are averagely a taller race however this one is superior in that regard. We talked briefly and he seems like a nice calm organic. Answered my question without much bother and I learned something. Generally, he is quieter then the others but overall he appears to be a reasonable and powerful comrade." || Raik "Aralakh" Skarr || ✌ "A older Krogan who is perhaps knows how to be both calm and rash when required." ✌ "I haven't interacted with the veteran Krogan for the most part, but from the combat I have seen of him, he could be compared to Ja'Far Balak. Wise, calculative and dangerous on the battlefield. Years of battle making them both strong and wise. Age has not stopped his powerful force. It will be interesting to get to know him better." || Sicaria Velinian || ✌ "Quick moving double bladed Female Turian." ✌ One of the Turian females whom arrived a bit later then the others. We haven't spoken too much besides my explanation to her question. She handles herself well in combat and was perhaps the most aggressive one out of the Infiltration team Anderson-Commander led. Oddly, her heat signatures occasionally keep rising in abnormal levels. Perhaps Turians have a condition I am unaware of. Despite that, her skill in combat are impressive. When performing socialization in the London bar, she seems to enjoy consuming a vast amounts of alcoholic beverages. Her behavior tends to get a more aggressive approach after consuming a bit." || Gilvert Somner || ✌ "Fellow marksman holding sufficient firepower." ✌ "Also a organic I haven't gotten a chance to speak to. A drell who is also a well suited sniper, he also carries quite a bit of explosives. Supposedly he has a condition as he spoke with the Spectres about. For now, he appears to be quite capable. Very useful in the mission for carrying that amount of firepower to stop the horde." || Salissa Fortia || ⚜ "Tank of a Female Human." ⚜ "As she joined last minute, I haven't spoken to her much other than to reassure her of the situation. She did point a gun at me, but unlike the asari, she withheld fire until understanding receiving a explanation. She seems nice and reasonable, and when we parted ways she described me as 'adorable' in which I am curious about. It wasn't something I've been called before. Her shielding capabilities are sufficient and she's a bit of a brash woman as she charges. But it appears she's almost as tough as a average krogan. I look foreword in getting to know her." || Alria "Angel" Vicrinus || ✌ "Melee specialist." ✌ "The second Female Turian I have met in the group is the one who let us inside the Cerberus facility. Inside showing superior close combat techniques. As well as being the one to lead the group back out to rejoin the Assault Team. There was little time for conversation so I do not have much further data to speak of. But she is a good asset to the team." || Ethan Sartiel || ☕ "Reinforcement with sufficient firepower." ☕ "This Male Human recently joined. He has not given a name as of yet. Perhaps a bit reckless as he shot a powerful explosive, but perhaps he is just confident in his accuracy. Seems to lack urgency and process situations." || Aviza Norea || ✌ "Combat Medic." ✌ "The newest recruit of the team. A Combat Medic will prove efficient if we are exposed to further situations like with first mission."

Tout était assez écrasant au début. Salissa n'était pas habituée à la façon dont les spectateurs faisaient les choses. Son temps habituel dans les navires n'était qu'un petit navire de transport qui servait de base à son ancienne unité militaire non officielle. Même lorsqu'elle est revenue à l'alliance à l'aube de la guerre des moissonneurs, elle a de nouveau utilisé le transport parce qu'elle était un soldat qu'elle combattait main dans la main. Plus important encore, elle était simple soldat, de sorte qu'elle n'a jamais vraiment été à de tels navires comme celui-ci, bien qu'elle en ait vu beaucoup qui était sûr. Celle-ci était probablement la plus belle qu'elle ait eu l'occasion de voir. Aussi l'équipage était assez unique à sa façon! Elle s'attendait à ce que les touristes, les asari et ainsi de suite, mais la variété qu'ils ont rencontrée était bien au-delà de ce qu'elle attendait et elle était heureuse pour elle. Elle n'avait rien contre d'autres races et en fait voulait travailler avec eux tous, c'était une bonne chance de le faire. Comme on leur a donné la visite du navire, elle a fait une note pour rendre visite aux personnes dont elle avait besoin tout de suite. C'est-à-dire le Dr Tenno Kala. L'expert en technologie salarine. Elle avait suspecté qu'il y avait un problème avec sa cybernétique, mais les événements des deux derniers jours l'ont confirmé. Elle soupçonnait que c'était probablement une mauvaise connexion aux électrons et par la façon dont son bras gauche se comportait, probablement un servomoteur endommagé autour de son coude. Elle manquait de force dans son bras gauche. En y pensant, elle a réalisé que la dernière réparation était pendant la guerre des moissonneurs et qu'elle n'en avait pas eu. Peut-être que le stress de l'incendie rapide du régénérant a finalement montré que c'était une pression sur les parties... que et la quantité de combat de mêlée qu'elle a fait depuis. Avec un soupir, elle se dirige rapidement vers l'endroit où se trouvait l'expert en technologie. Elle portait toujours son sac puisque bien un petit sac était tous ses bagages, autant le porter pour le moment jusqu'à ce qu'elle prenne une couchette. Dr. Tenno Kala, j'ai peut-être besoin de votre aide dans des affaires délicates... - Salissa a déclaré quand elle est entrée. - Mes cybernétiques semblent être endommagées. Serait-il possible pour vous de faire une inspection rapide sur eux? Je pense que ce sont les servos et certaines des connexions qui se sont détachées, mais je ne peux pas être sûr qu'il y ait d'autres problèmes avec eux. » Elle a déclaré, en tirant sur la grande feuille sombre, qui a servi une fonction comme un manteau, pour montrer la cybernétique. Ils étaient de vieux modèles, volumineux, lourdement blindés et fortement griffés. Avec la seule raison pour ne pas être brisée probablement étant l'armure lourde.

Name: Salissa Fortia Race: Human Class: Soldier Age: 31 Sex: Female Appearance: 1.89m tall, with straight long chestnut hair. She has amber colored eyes and rather elegant and beautiful face not destroyed by everything she's lived through. From her neck down thing aren't as great though. Her whole arms have been replaced by bulky cybernetic limbs, with her skin already grown back and healed around them, leaving just vague scar outline. Down her torso could be seen a number of artificial hard skin like material that has been used to close up the huge missing chunks of her body. She also bears no tattoos in any form. Backstory: Salissa was born on a ship. A civilian trader freighter named Jackson's Hop. Not the brightest naming ever, but it did the job and was a rather catchy and easy to remember, making the freighter a nice attraction when it docked somewhere as the jokes were always present. She didn't know who was her father though, he changed ships soon after her mother got pregnant and she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Instead Salissa grew up, listening to stories of battles and soldiers and of the infinite possibilities out there. She signed up for the military as soon as she was able to. Passed her training with flying colors and quickly got into regular duty. She served a few years without much special events taking place beside the occasional raid on pirate ships that were praying on the trader routes. She was later offered a side job proposition. A covert ops assignment that officially was never part of the alliance. They'd fly solo, prevent things that need to be prevented without much noise. It served wonders for a while, before her squad got led into an ambush. Their leader was a fan of the covert attacks even when such things weren't possible to pull out. The plan was simple, they'd fly a stealth shuttle in low orbit under the radars and jump directly into the base at the dead of night. Plan was good, but they were expected. The moment the shuttle's door opened, heavy turret fire opened, tearing up most of her squad. Her own limbs got severed as the huge caliber fire, basically tore them as the bullets passed through them. She suffered a few other serious injuries as chunks were missing on her torso. The shuttle doors closed and they flew away right away. After serious medical intervention she survived, but was deemed unfit for service. They Alliance covered her medical bills and provided her with basic cybernetics and she opted for artificial replacement organs for those damaged or lost in her injuries, in addition to the artificial coverage of the wounds, mostly because if was the cheapest and fasted way to deal with her injuries. A nice bonus was the fact that the hard artificial skin grafts offered a degree of protection against blows. before discharging her with honors and a medal for exemplary service. After that event she used all her savings to get herself decked up with early bulky military versions of cybernetic limbs as replacement of the basic ones. Not the most beautiful sight, but the heavy armor was rather good boon in the line of work she planned to get into. The following years as a discharged with honors, she spend working as a gun for hire. Mostly protection duty or raids on other mercs and pirates. Making herself quite the name and even earning the nickname of ' The walking fortress' Mostly for the fact while she wields a heavy shield, facing her is like facing a castle, castle that can jump and smack you over the head with it's walls. With the reaper war started, with the full galactic mobilization of every possible force out there, Salissa returned to serve her homeworld once more. Facing combat on the front lines as often as she can, tearing and shattering through enemy lines, offering protection to units in need of retreat or regroup. When the dust settled down, the Reapers destroyed and the Earth 'saved', she finally took a moment to take a deep breath and look at what it all ended up as. The galaxy mostly in ruins, Earth brought to it's knees... So much was lost, but she was content, they had survived. Humanity was still here and we had no desire to give up. As such she returned to active duty officially, joining the military once more. Psyche Profile: Salissa has been fascinated with stories of battle, of soldiers performing impossible feats, of incredible sights and places, ever since she was a child, sitting on her mother's knees. She loves to travel and before the Reapers showed up, she had made a promise to herself to travel everywhere she can. Her only regret is that she was not able to visit Asari space before the war started and witness it's full glory. Still she plans to eventually do that now, at least when she retires from military service once more. Currently she works her best to provide as much security to the civilians as possible, fight gangs and also preach for racial understanding and stability on Earth. She dislikes the growing tension with all aliens that were still present on Earth. What she hates most are all bandits, robbers and general outlaws though. They faced complete destruction, but the nature of the people has not changed to her worst realization. Sometimes she wishes she had a strict code to follow like the Justicars in the Asari culture. A code that did not allow for gray areas. Specialty: Salissa has been on the front lines since the day she first stepped into a battlefield. She never liked secretive tasks that require stealth as she was pretty lacking at that ability. Instead she was a master of open combat. Dashing between cover, firing heavy weaponry, getting into melee range and then finish her kills from up close with gun, blade and fist. She's quite adept at handing pretty much every machinegun that hits the field and then some, additionally as of late she's taken to also using heavy omni-shields in both mobile and stationary variants, turning herself into literal movable fortress in combat. Also pretty much mastered the use of said shields for offense. In short if you need to have the enemy line shattered and all the enemies broken to pieces, or someone to hold a narrow position as a literal wall, Salissa's your solider. Powers/Skills: -Adrenaline rush -Omni-shield -Fortified defensive barrier generator -Explosive ammo -Cryo ammo -Expert marksman -Expert Hand to Hand combat Equipment and Resources: -M-76 Revenant -M-6 Carnifex -Monomolecular combat knife -Heavy armored cybernetic limbs Sample Post: “Captain, you sure this thing's solid?” Salissa asked while the squad was being rocked about in the low altitude flying shuttle. The task had red flags all over it from the moment she read the file on it. Her captain didn't seem to mind it much though, but then again he was NOT present in the mission. He opted to stay in the ship and wait for results this time. She wasn't sure this was good... he'd never miss a chance to boast and the fact he missed a mission let her to believe there was great chance for things to go wrong. “Should be fine...” Was her leader's reply over the comms before they went silent to avoid detection from the base they were raiding. That was another thing she didn't like. There was a perfectly good path to storm the place from. Granted they had to fight through a few fortifications, but at least they would be risking the more likely than not automated anti air defenses on the cliff they were moving in through. “He hasn't let us down... yet.” Her teammate stated, a nice blonde girl, barely out of training really. She's been with them for like 2 missions so she didn't really know all the close situations they ran in for a while now. All the times they could have used brute force and dealt with situation, their captain wanted to go the sideways and more often than not it tended to backfire. “ETA 15 seconds.” The pilot of the shuttle stated over their comms and the squad quickly started to finish preparations. Put on their helmets, ready their weapons and the like.” 10 seconds.” Was the next message and they readied by the hatch, ready to leave the shuttle.” 5 sec.” Then the hatch opened and all hell broke loose. The fire started the moment the hatch was opened. 5 heavy anti infantry turrets all started firing at the same time. The armor of the shuttle held, but with the hatch opened, all the soldier were free game. Her squadmates fell by the moment and Salissa herself didn't have the time to realize what was happening. She just felt a pinch of pain on her left arm... a shell tore her arm away from the shoulder clean, leaving bone and tissue. She felt another pinch of pain as the shots tore through her flesh and eventually her other arm. Last thing she remembered was the doors closing merely 3 seconds after they opened and the shuttle flew away, carrying the surviviors... barely surviviors. With her final moments of consciousness, she heard the pilot of the shuttle shouting for the medbay to be ready... Notes -She doesn't really have a defined sexual preference. Gender or race doesn't really matter for her. For her it's just a way to release pent up stress. -Her most notable achievement came after she received her cybernetic augmentations. She stormed into a heavily fortified Cerberus base of operations of the classified variation and tore the place apart. -She's also one of those few who can claim to have bested a krogan in test of strength. In front of witnesses, she managed to stop a charging krogan dead in his tracks after bashing him with her shield. Following a contest of strength, her adversary was slammed backwards, before taking another bash to the head.