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C'est la première fois qu'il y a un problème. Une fois que Partinax a terminé la visite du HSV Kharon, Rol'Naaris a commencé à marcher vers sa chambre à l'intérieur du HSV Kharon. Il y avait un an depuis qu'il vivait à bord d'un navire et il allait prendre le temps de se sentir assez à l'aise. Et il a déjà manqué Alexandrie et les sons de sable frappant son armure pendant une journée venteuse tout en marchant autour des marchés. Il arriva bientôt sur le pont d'ingénierie et s'assura d'éviter Octavio Tatum ou Rol'Naaris allait passer une demi-heure à écouter des faits inutiles sur les entraînements FTL. Sa chambre a été conçue pour un quarien afin d'enlever leurs casques et leur équipement sans mourir. Une fois qu'il est parti à l'intérieur de la pièce, les portes se sont fermées et verrouillées pendant qu'il regardait la pièce sans âme. Il savait qu'il devait parler à l'un des Spectres pour le laisser le décorer. Rol'Naaris s'est assis sur son lit et a passé quelques minutes sur son appareil omni-outil, cherchant des choses à mettre dans sa chambre. Une fois qu'il a fait ses courses, il est sorti de son lit et a quitté sa nouvelle chambre. Au moins, c'était privé. Mais il ne voulait pas s'asseoir et ne rien faire. Il a commencé à marcher autour du navire, allant de pont en pont, s'habituer à sa nouvelle maison. Il a remarqué que l'équipage était surtout composé de turians. Après tout, le Kharon était un navire turois conçu. Rol'Naaris n'a pas été dérangé la surpopulation des turiens alors qu'il continuait à marcher autour du navire. Puis, il s'est retrouvé sur le pont d'observation tribord. C'était un endroit parfait pour se détendre et regarder l'obscurité de l'espace pour la première fois en un an. Il était assis sur l'un des canapés et écoutait les sons calmes en arrière-plan. Bien sûr, ses pensées ont commencé à tirer le meilleur de lui. Ils étaient semblables à ce qu'il pensait au mémorial. Ceux qu'il envoyait à leur mort commencèrent à hanter ses pensées. Même les sons de la nature ne pouvaient pas supprimer les pensées. Il était temps de retourner quitter cette pièce avant qu'il ne fasse quelque chose d'embarrassant. Il s'est levé du canapé et a commencé à se diriger vers sa chambre en évitant le psychologue asari. Il a commencé à respirer à l'intérieur et à l'extérieur pendant qu'il allait à l'ascenseur et a attendu qu'il l'emmène au pont d'ingénierie. Une fois que les portes de l'ascenseur se sont ouvertes, il est sorti et s'est immédiatement dirigé vers sa chambre. Rol'Naaris avait besoin de faire quelque chose pour que les pensées s'en aillent; cependant, il ne savait pas quoi faire. Il attendit à la porte de sa chambre ouverte et le quai entra rapidement. La porte s'est refermée et s'est refermée en voyant le casier. Il a appris à se déshabiller de son temps avec les Marines et a su que son fusil de sniper avait besoin d'un contrôle de routine. Donc, il a commencé à travailler sur le dépouillement de son fusil de sniper, Equalizer IX. C'était plus paisible de faire quelque chose plutôt que de s'asseoir et d'écouter de la musique calme. Les pensées s'en allèrent surtout pendant qu'il dépouillait son fusil de sniper deux fois. Par la suite, il a sorti son omni-outil et a commencé à surfer sur l'extranet. Rol'Naaris a attendu qu'il s'ennuie ou qu'il se passe autre chose qui l'a fait arrêter. Tant qu'il a travaillé sur son arme, il n'a pas eu à penser à autre chose que de s'assurer que cela fonctionne encore à la fin de la journée.

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.

"Merci, Koriandr. Tous mes dossiers devraient être en ordre maintenant, passez une bonne journée », a dit Sicaria en sortant de la baie médicale, toutes ses affaires ont été réglées pour l'instant. Tout ce qu'elle avait maintenant était un temps libre glorieux avec lequel elle pouvait faire tout ce qu'elle voulait. La nourriture était hors de question, son appétit n'était toujours pas revenu, et elle n'était pas particulièrement épuisée. Le choix lui a été volé comme son omni-tool pinged, illuminer et inciter le Turian à ouvrir un message de personne d'autre que Alria. Elle l'a lu deux fois pour s'assurer qu'elle n'hallucinait pas... elle flirtait avec elle? C'était tout à fait possible, elle ne pouvait jamais le dire avec des messages écrits, et la capitale « REALLY » faisait pencher les choses plus vers des intentions romantiques. Cela dit, elle a pompé les freins sur son esprit une seconde, pour autant qu'elle le sache, Alria était droite. Elle a perdu un peu d'espoir, mais il y avait peut-être une petite chance. C'était mieux que rien. Elle a commencé à taper. "Je vais mieux, et le bateau est sympa. Et je n'ai pas vraiment eu trop, juste besoin de trouver des endroits pour tout. Tu veux que je passe un peu?" Elle a frappé envoyer quand elle a commencé à se déplacer pour l'ascenseur, errant sans but jusqu'à ce qu'elle ait une sorte de réponse.

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 Emplacement: HSV Kharon, Hanger Bay - A bord de l'étoile d'argent Le siège de Kavar. La bataille la plus brutale et la plus sanglante pour tacher les étoiles. Au-dessus des flammes de la guerre s'enflamma à travers le ciel et les étoiles autrefois paisibles comme des navires de combat et des combattants. L'ancien Al'rakai a déchiré l'univers, coupant les galaxies et transformant les étoiles en poussière, mais cela s'arrête maintenant. Ici et maintenant dans cette position finale entre les bâtards qui brûlent la galaxie, et les braves hommes et femmes de la grande Hiérarchie Turienne. À côté d'elle, le général Vindictus coupa des pans d'ennemis, sculptant les Al'rakai comme s'ils étaient du blé à un faux avec son Mexta Sun Scythe, dit être forgé dans les derniers vestiges du soleil mourant de Palaran comme le Al'rakai mangé de sa lumière.Et pourtant, peu importe combien il a tué, peu importe combien de sang brillant a fait briller son armure dans la lumière pâle du soleil mourant, ils n'arrêtaient pas de venir. Alors que la lumière mourante d'un soleil mourant commençait à s'estomper dans l'obscurité, de même le destin de Vindictus. C'était pour lui... Pourtant, alors qu'il en vint à accepter son destin, le destin s'en alla sur un dropship lourdement armé, éclairant les champs autour de lui par des tours incendiaires, tournant le champ de bataille à une vue de beau salut. Du côté de la dropship, l'homme du lourd blaster répétitif était le seul et unique amour de la vie de Vindictus, Nivia. L'ancienne reine des Blood Fang mercs et l'ancienne amie d'enfance de Vindictus. Elle était pour lui un ange et comme ses ailes la laissaient tomber, elle courut à travers le champ pour embrasser son amour. Mais avant que les deux se rencontrent en lien doux, une fissure tonnerre jaillit du ciel et Nivia fut engloutie dans les flammes, léchée par la chaleur cruelle et lancée aux pieds de Vindictus. Il ne pouvait pas supporter le poids de son cœur et comme il s'agenouillait pour tenir son corps brisé près de lui, il entendit ses derniers mots: "Je t'aimerai toujours... S'il vous plaît... s'il vous plaît... vivez... pour moi..." Il a appelé les étoiles, criant à haute voix pour voir la cause du meurtre. Le chef d'Al'rakai, le seigneur général Aral'kan Vatis lui-même dans son regard cruel, tenant un lance-roquettes sur son épaule. "MURDERER! Je vous jure que je vais... Ding!... C'est quoi, ça? C'est quoi, ça? J'ai dit! Je vous jure que je vais... "DING"! Dégustation de son chapitre Alria regarda de son livre à la source du son, "Oh~! C'est fini! » Marquant son espace et installant son livre de romance, elle s'est promenée jusqu'au petit grille-pain qu'elle avait dans son navire, l'ouvrant et mettant le pain dextro chaud sur une assiette. Après un peu plus de préparation, elle était prête à profiter d'une bonne collation. Les choses s'étaient calmées un peu plus tôt et c'était exactement ce qu'Alria espérait et attendait, mais en vérité, alors qu'elle continuait à manger sa collation, elle n'arrêtait pas de penser à Sicaria. Elle semblait tellement ennuyée et dérangée par quelque chose et ça n'allait pas! Vers son lit, Alria a atteint son bras pour allumer son omni-tool, tirer sur ses contacts et commencer à assembler un message à Sicaria, "Hé! Je sais que quelque chose ne va pas chez toi. Etes-vous..." Non, non, non, ça semble presque accuser. "Comment ça va, Sicaria? Je sais qu'on vient de dire au revoir, mais je me demandais... Ça a l'air trop collant. "Tout va bien? Je sais qu'on vient de se séparer, mais est-ce que tu t'installes sur le bateau? On a un tas de trucs, alors si vous voulez de l'aide, je serai plus que prêt à vous aider à déballer! » Alria a dactylographié, se hantant et pensant que ça n'avait pas l'air si mauvais, mais peut-être qu'un petit ajout aiderait. "Je me suis amusé aujourd'hui. Nous devrions vraiment le refaire bientôt! » Assez bien... peut-être. En poussant l'envoi, elle a laissé le message passer par l'inverse des données, espérant que Sicaria était encore éveillée et que le message ne la dérangerait pas trop.

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."

Le lendemain, HSV Kharon Après le déjeuner, les tons dulcet de Talos ont filtré sur l'interphone du navire, communiquant à tout le monde sur le Kharon, "Tous les agents de terrain, s'il vous plaît signaler au hangar. L'impérateur Partinax et le lieutenant Anderson tiendront une séance d'information sous peu. Après plusieurs minutes, la Force opérationnelle Katabasis a été encombrée dans le hangar, plusieurs dropships déjà chargés avec des baies d'équipage prolongées. Il y avait déjà quelques dizaines de Turiens, beaucoup d'entre eux avec des cicatrices étendues, des tatouages, et même l'étrange cybernétique. Ils ont été un groupe dur et ont considéré les membres du groupe de travail avec des niveaux d'évaluation variables à presque l'hostilité. Les pilotes de Vorcha se penchèrent contre leur embarcation, vêtus de combinaisons de vol avec des casques démoniaques. Aegon se tenait à l'avant de la formation, entre les troupes et les dropships, couchés en armure mais avec l'insigne Spectre bien en vue sur la plaque de poitrine à côté de son sigil Blackwatch et Imperator épées. Jake était vêtu d'une combinaison tactique plus subtile. Ils attendirent que tout le monde soit assemblé et Aegon activa son omni-outil affichant deux vues tactiques distinctes, l'un d'un château sur une colline surplombant une vaste nature sauvage, l'autre de la zone douze, communément connue sous le nom d'ETown, un rag-tag hodge-podge de bâtiments préfabriqués et des logements temporaires pavés parmi les ruines d'un quartier londonien. Aegon s'est exprimé : « Nous nous séparons en deux équipes maintenant. L'équipe de sécurité du Kharon et l'équipe d'assaut de la Task Force, dirigée par moi-même, se dirigeront vers la zone 12. Les tensions s'élèvent et une foule massive s'est accumulée à l'extérieur du quartier. Les contre-protecteurs des réfugiés se rassemblent en masse et la situation pourrait se transformer en émeute à tout moment. Normalement, ce ne serait pas une préoccupation Spectre, mais des informations que nous avons reçues indiquent que Cerberus prévoit d'enflammer cette émeute et de répandre la violence à travers la ville, avant de souffler une bombe de distorsion et d'éradiquer tout en un kilomètre carré. » « Toutes nos ressources terrestres sont occupées à essayer de retenir les foules, ainsi qu'à faire face à un certain nombre d'autres complications. Donc nous devons aller là-bas, éviter cette émeute si nous pouvons et désamorcer cette bombe avant qu'elle n'enlève des milliers de personnes. S'il s'en va, la ville et peut-être même toute la planète verront du sang couler entre les réfugiés extraterrestres et les habitants. Le général Coats et un détachement militaire spécial sont déjà sur le terrain, mais nous avons aussi des raisons de croire que Cerberus a déjà planté des agents armés à l'intérieur de la Zone. Si ça devient moche, on verra un broyeur de viande là-bas. Alors bras vers le haut lourd. En même temps, nous devons veiller à ne pas causer trop de dommages collatéraux. C'est un bourbier que je sais, mais si c'était facile, ils n'auraient pas eu besoin de nous. Jake?" Jake hoche la tête et avance : « Notre autre objectif est plus subtil, mais pas moins essentiel. Des extrémistes de Terra Firma ont pris en otage plusieurs étrangers et sympathisants étrangers et prévoient de les exécuter en direct sur l'Extranet. Alliance Marines fera l'acte. Nous devons l'arrêter ou il enverra des ondes de choc à travers la planète et la galaxie. Le commandant Vega et son équipe s'occuperont de notre équipe secrète que je dirigerai. Nous allons tomber d'une haute altitude, atterrir dans la forêt et nous rendre à ce château abandonné que Cerberus et Terra Firma ont occupé. Si ça tourne fort, il sera presque impossible d'y entrer, donc ça doit être fait tranquillement, au moins jusqu'à ce qu'on soit à l'intérieur. Puis nous trouvons les otages et les sauvons avant les exécutions et nous appelons le Kharon pour l'évacuation et le soutien au feu." Jake a parlé, "Avec moi dans l'équipe d'otages sera Aviza, Phalanx, Tiberis, Alria, Rol, Rykarn, et Sicaria. Le reste d'entre vous descendra à ETown avec Aegon et ses marines." Aegon a poursuivi : « Ces missions seront de la plus haute importance. L'échec signifie la mort immédiate de milliers d'innocents et la propagation de la discorde et du chaos qui pourraient en réclamer d'innombrables autres. En tant que tel, nous devons résoudre toutes les questions maintenant. Parlez-en si vous avez des questions."

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.

Giles a été surprise de voir combien ses camarades s'étaient levés dans leur temps libre, en 24 heures les Asari - Vella avait réussi à briser les relations entre l'humanité et les asari un peu plus loin - il était en fait impressionnant à quel point quelqu'un pouvait être particulièrement inepte étant donné qu'elle a été affectée à un groupe Spectre; son temps ici serait incroyablement court si elle faisait quelque chose comme ça à nouveau. Les choses n'ont pas vraiment amélioré non plus, lorsque s'est produit l'opposition entre un agent N7 et les Spectres, ou que Giles simplement se tenait derrière le Krogan pour l'événement de celui-ci, sans but d'être tiré sur un argument de qui a les plus grandes boules. Aucun coup de feu n'a cependant été tiré, bien que cela resterait un problème en bas de la ligne, juste un des nombreux qui devenait rapidement une liste exhaustive. La visite de leur nouvelle maison a prouvé que les Spectres étaient sérieux à ce sujet, ils semblaient avoir quelqu'un pour tout, bien sûr Giles a dû participer à des sessions hebdomadaires obligatoires pour le counseling.... Quelque chose qui n'était pas nécessaire ni n'aiderait, l'artiste est apparu chaque fois qu'il le ressentait, ou sans rime ou raison - Giles ne savait pas, il s'en est contenté du mieux qu'il pouvait; certains Asari qu'il n'a jamais rencontré auparavant ne répondront pas au problème qu'il a eu depuis plus de 30 ans. Mais si cela empêcherait Aegon d'exploser à nouveau un vaisseau sanguin, ce serait probablement pour le mieux, la seule condition qu'il imposera à Aegon est de s'assurer qu'il n'a jamais eu à partager la pièce avec cette boîte de conserve Ellis, sinon tout serait bien. La tournée s'est terminée après environ 10 minutes, et Giles savait qu'il devait faire quelques choses et discuter avec quelques-uns d'entre eux pour mettre ses affaires en ordre, mais pour le moment, inspecter ses quartiers de couchage devrait suffire. La pièce était assez grande, elle pouvait facilement accueillir le groupe qui l'utiliserait pour leur repos ainsi que la place pour réellement marcher et faire des choses sans qu'il se sente comme si c'était exigu - un élément inhabituel, mais un accueil pour un navire d'avoir pour son équipage. Giles devrait s'habituer à ne pas avoir beaucoup de place par rapport à ce qu'il a eu depuis un an, mais ça ne prendrait pas longtemps. Sur le chemin de sa couchette, ou au moins celle qu'il revendiquera pour lui-même Giles a failli trébucher sur un gros morceau de métal qui a été jeté sur le sol, une plaque de poitrine de l'armure de quelqu'un... Giles maudit alors qu'il l'a ramassé "Blast it, who does this appartened to?" Le bruit soudain et brusque de quelque chose de métal frappant l'extérieur de la capsule de sommeil d'Aviza était une ennuie malvenue, l'éveillant grossièrement de son sommeil très nécessaire. Pendant un moment, Aviza a essayé d'ignorer ce qui venait de se passer et a fermé les yeux une fois de plus, se repositionnant pour être plus à l'aise. Quelques instants passeraient alors qu'Aviza essayait de se détendre, mais il semblait que le sommeil était désormais hors de question. Avec un soupir d'irritation, le Turian s'assit sur son lit et atteignit un petit panneau de contrôle à sa gauche, tournant sur les gousses lumières intérieures. Après des étirements, Aviza ouvrit la porte privée sur sa nacelle de couchage et en sortit les jambes afin qu'elles soient maintenant solidement placées sur le plancher métallique du navire en dessous d'elle. Sa tête s'est accrochée en avant et ses mains ont été placées sur son visage tandis qu'une légère céphalée s'estompait lentement. Dans un instant, elle abaissait les mains sur ses genoux et s'asseyait tout droit avant de tourner le regard, encore un peu éblouie, à la Drell qui se tenait maintenant devant elle, tenant une plaque de poitrine dans ses mains. Il y avait un moment de silence avant qu'Aviza ne parle, mais quand elle l'a fait, elle a parlé d'un ton sans émotion. "Cette cuirasse a l'air d'être faite pour s'adapter à un Turian, donc je suppose que ce n'est pas la tienne." Aviza prenait le morceau d'armure de la Drell avant de l'inspecter, "Quelque chose a frappé la porte de ma capsule de sommeil, ça a dû être ça. J'espère que vous n'êtes pas celui qui a fait une telle chose?" Ses yeux rencontreraient rapidement les siens. Le bruit derrière elle a attiré son attention sur la capsule de sommeil au-dessus de la sienne. Une autre femme Turian avait décidé de se coucher au-dessus d'elle, le reste était très évident. "Regardez où vous entreposez votre équipement, prenez mieux soin de lui et il prendra mieux soin de vous." Aviza a jeté l'armure dans la capsule de sommeil au-dessus d'elle, en s'assurant qu'elle ne frapperait personne quand elle l'a fait. En retournant à la Drell, Aviza s'est vite excusée : « Mes excuses, apparemment vous n'étiez pas celle qui m'avait réveillée. » Après un rapide bourrage, Aviza parlait une fois de plus. "Vous êtes le seul Drell que je connaisse sur le navire à part Lyora, donc vous devez être Giles, n'est-ce pas? Je suis Aviza Norea, je n'ai jamais eu la chance de me présenter à tout le monde avant l'arrivée des deux Spectres. Après un moment de la tenir, sa question a été répondue, un autre Turian - celui que Giles n'avait pas vu auparavant, a pris la main de l'armure et jeté à l'intérieur du lit-pode au-dessus d'elle, se retournant à Giles, elle s'est excusée et s'est présentée. "Une autre Turiane que je vois, nous semble avoir attiré beaucoup d'entre vous, hélas qui ne peut pas être dit de ma propre race... de toute façon, je suis Gilvert Somner, alias Giles, l'expert explosif résident, et parfois psychopathe, mais ne laissez pas cette partie vous inquiéter." Giles a dit plaisanter. Giles s'est déplacé vers le lit qui était à gauche de Aviza et a laissé un sac sur les draps bien cousus. En arrivant dans le sac, il a enlevé un ensemble de vêtements généraux, quelques « joggers » gris confortables comme les humains les appelaient et un t-shirt bleu clair, les vêtements humains fonctionneraient assez bien jusqu'à ce qu'il réussisse à réparer son costume de combat ou à demander un remplacement. Giles a poursuivi sa conversation en changeant, révélant plusieurs pansements et bandages de la mission d'hier, quelque chose d'autre qu'il aurait à changer/supprimer. " Aviza, qu'est-ce qui t'amène à l'équipe Spectres, y a-t-il quelque chose en particulier où tu es bon? Aviza est rapidement entrée dans son état d'esprit médical quand elle a vu les multiples pansements qui couvraient des parties du corps de Giles. "Vous êtes blessé? Depuis combien de temps avez-vous ces pansements et ces pansements sur vos blessures? Pouvez-vous me dire de quel genre de blessures vous souffrez actuellement? Plus tu peux me donner d'informations, mieux je peux te traiter." Aviza fermait les mains ensemble et attendait une réponse. Giles a été momentanément reprise à la réponse d'Aviza, mais il était évident qu'elle était un médecin d'une sorte - probablement plus expérimentée qu'Alria qui a effectué les pansements. Giles leur répondit en les recouvrant de sa chemise : « De petites blessures, semblables à des éclats - mais tous les débris ont été enlevés d'eux et aucune des blessures n'est osé ou infectée - ne vous inquiétez pas, j'ai déjà eu un talon militaire intégré dans mon omoplate, ce n'est que quelques égratignures. » Aviza hocherait la tête dans la compréhension et la reconnaissance « Très bien, prenez bien soin d'eux et assurez-vous qu'ils ne deviennent pas infectés, ou vous serez dans la baie médicale, très probablement très malade. » Aviza se tenait alors sur ses pieds et continuait à parler, "Vous m'avez demandé si je suis particulièrement bon à quoi que ce soit, je dirais oui. Je suis formé aux premiers soins et aux traitements médicaux avancés, à l'ingénierie avancée, et j'ai des années de formation de Havoc. Et toi? Quels sont vos domaines d'expertise?" Giles fit signe à l'audition de la réponse d'Aviza, se penchant contre son "pod" il répondit. "La chance de s'assurer que nous ne mourrons pas sur le terrain, hein? Ça va être amusant, vu votre travail, je suppose que vous avez été informé sur l'Artiste? Et comme je l'ai dit plus tôt, je suis l'expert en explosifs, si vous voulez que quelque chose de grand soit réduit à une fraction de sa taille, alors vous allez me vouloir là-bas." "Expert en démolition, hein? Je pense que nous nous entendrons bien, tant que vous ne vous faites pas exploser en faisant une erreur. » Aviza sourit légèrement à ce commentaire, ajoutant qu'elle aussi, avait une formation à travailler avec les explosifs. "Mon acceptation dans l'équipe a été le dernier moment, donc je n'ai pas été informé de ce soi-disant Artiste, est-ce que vous par hasard?" Aviza faisait maintenant des allers-retours à travers la grande pièce, en gardant les yeux sur la Drell tout le temps. Giles grimaçait légèrement avant de répondre : « Oui, d'une certaine manière, l'artiste est presque une autre entité qui apparaît au hasard, il est psychopathe et extrêmement dangereux - je n'ai jamais de souvenir de quand il apparaît mais de ce que j'ai entendu dire est qu'il peut généralement déterminer entre ami et ennemi, ce qui ne signifie pas toujours que les alliés sont en sécurité près de lui cependant - quand il apparaît au combat la meilleure chose à faire est d'agir comme si rien n'avait changé, aussi difficile que cela puisse paraître, et s'il essaie de tuer l'un de l'équipe, c'est le meilleur pour l'invalider, évidemment je préférerais ne pas mourir au nom de l'autre moitié de moi. En dehors du combat, il est préférable de s'assurer qu'il n'est pas près d'explosifs et d'armes en général, une fois que cela est assuré, j'entends qu'il fait pour un conversationniste intéressant. Les médecins m'appelleraient fou, thérapeutes, perturbés, et la plupart des gens croient que je ne suis rien d'autre qu'un danger et une responsabilité pour ceux qui m'entourent, mais je m'en occupe autant que je peux, 30 ans et je n'ai pas encore tué un camarade dans les armes. Le sourire sur le visage d'Aviza s'effacerait rapidement dans un regard d'inquiétude. "Madame et dérangée ne décrivent pas correctement ce qui vous arrive. C'est une classe Un exemple de schizophrénie, peut-être même un trouble dissociatif de l'identité. Je ne veux pas offenser ce que je suis sur le point de dire, mais avoir quelqu'un avec l'un des troubles mentaux que je viens d'énumérer, n'est pas adapté à la ligne de travail dans laquelle vous êtes actuellement employé. Puisque mes mots signifieront peu pour les Spectres en ce moment, je recommande très fortement que vous prenez une sorte de psycho suppresseur puissant jusqu'à ce qu'un vrai traitement puisse commencer. Je vais vérifier l'équipement dans la baie médicale et d'enquêter plus loin sur cela avec le Dr Nola-Xen vas Qwib Qwib et le Dr Tenno Kala. Etiez-vous celui qui a donné un nom à cette personnalité alternée ou qui a fait quelqu'un d'autre? Il est tout à fait possible que cet artiste se soit donné son propre nom." Est-ce que le reste de l'équipe était au courant de ce soi-disant Artiste? sinon, ils avaient le droit de savoir. Giles n'a pas été surpris de la réponse qu'il a reçue, mais ce n'est pas celui qu'il voulait entendre, changeant légèrement sa position. "Des termes comme ça ne signifient rien, "schizophrénie" "troubles de l'identité", des termes donnés par des gens qui ne comprennent pas ce qu'ils sont confrontés, l'esprit n'est pas quelque chose que vous pouvez simplement gifler certains termes et étiquettes et vous pensez que vous savez que c'est le fonctionnement intérieur, l'artiste est là et mon propre médicament fait généralement bien de le repousser pendant de longues périodes de temps, mais rien ne le fera partir, nous sommes le même, il est moi et je suis lui, aucun médecin ne peut guérir qui vous êtes; je traite avec lui et cela est suffisant. Et non. Je ne l'ai pas nommé, la galaxie est sa toile, et il tient la seule brosse qui remplit le vide incolore, c'est comme ça qu'il perçoit les choses, il ne s'est jamais appelé l'Artiste, mais c'est un terme qui lui convient assez bien compte tenu de ses méthodes et de la façon dont il considère son sens perverti de la réalité. » Les commentaires de Giles au sujet d'Aviza et de ses collègues médecins ne comprenant pas les troubles psychologiques et le fonctionnement intérieur de l'esprit ont laissé son sentiment sans amusement et légèrement irrité. "Vous parlez de ces termes comme s'ils n'avaient pas de sens et ceux qui les utilisent sont sans instruction et sans indice de ce qui se passe réellement. Avec tout le respect que je vous dois et sans vouloir vous offenser, vous êtes inexact avec votre déclaration. Il y a eu d'innombrables études à travers de nombreuses espèces au cours de plusieurs siècles qui prouvent scientifiquement que nous sommes corrects, encore et encore. » « Gardez à l'esprit que je ne suis pas ici pour discuter avec vous de ces sujets, mais je trouve irrespectueux de ne pas tenir compte de toutes les informations que les gens ont passé toute leur vie à se rassembler comme sans sens et incorrecte. Je vous respecte assez pour ne pas aller plus loin dans les détails ou pour vous demander pourquoi vous pensez que ces choses sont fausses. Tout ce que je demande maintenant, c'est de la compréhension et de la coopération. Souvenez-vous que je suis là pour vous aider quand je peux. » Aviza soupirait, elle allait avoir à discuter avec les deux Spectres sur Giles et son bien-être mental, ainsi que sur la façon dont il pourrait, et très probablement, affecter l'ensemble de l'équipage. « Ne vous inquiétez pas Giles, je vais prendre soin de tout cela pour vous et vous assurer que vous êtes en état de pointe, à la fois mentalement et physiquement. J'ai travaillé dans ce domaine pendant la majeure partie de ma vie et j'ai été enseigné par certains des meilleurs de la galaxie. » Elle tapotait alors légèrement la Drell sur son épaule gauche rassurante. Giles a supposé que quelqu'un disant que tout ce qu'il a passé sa vie n'est rien d'autre qu'un mensonge et/ou qu'il n'a pas de sens les offenserait probablement. Quoi qu'il en soit, elle ne semblait pas la prendre à cœur et la tenir sur lui, ce qui était gentil, elle semblait n'avoir que de bonnes intentions et vouloir aider Giles. Drôle, personne n'a jamais voulu aider son état, il a simplement vécu avec, et son escouade mercenaire et Aria son patron vient de le supporter, ses compétences ont fait le bagage supplémentaire en vaut la peine. Le sentiment de quelqu'un qui s'occupait réellement de son bien-être était étranger à lui, d'abord Alria, et maintenant Aviza - il devrait s'habituer à cela. " Je ne voulais pas offenser, c'est simplement comme ça que je l'ai toujours perçu, il n'y a pas grand chose à faire pour l'aide à la santé mentale dans un endroit comme Omega ou quand vous êtes un mercenaire, je suppose que c'est comme ça que je l'ai fait au cours de ces années. J'en ai déjà parlé à Aegon, il traite encore quoi faire à ce sujet - mais il est sûr de supposer que je pense que je vais rester dans l'équipe, du moins pour l'instant - en termes de "aide" Je n'ai jamais rien eu de tel en termes d'artiste, donc il est difficile de dire ce qui va se passer. Aviza lui a donné une tape sur l'épaule, d'une manière rassurante. "Merci quand même Aviza, mais ne perdez pas de sommeil sur moi, je peux me débrouiller, et en partie je peux m'occuper de l'artiste. "Ne pensez à rien, je comprends d'où vous venez et votre raisonnement. Je suis heureux d'apprendre que vous avez parlé à Aegon à ce sujet cependant, aide à me mettre un peu plus à l'aise quand il s'agit de ce qui Artiste chose." Aviza croisait alors les bras au-dessus de sa poitrine, tournant la tête pour regarder hors des quartiers vivants avant de retourner son regard à Giles. "Je vais prendre congé et me faire du thé chaud dans le mess. Si vous avez besoin de quelque chose, vous savez où me trouver." Avec ces derniers mots, elle s'est tournée et a quitté les quartiers. Sur son chemin à travers l'intérieur du navire, elle a réussi à attraper la vue du Geth connu sous le nom de Phalanx et l'Asari connu sous le nom de Vella, debout plus loin dans le couloir métallique, conversant l'un avec l'autre. "Bonjour à vous deux, pardonnez-moi un instant." Aviza se promenait entre eux pour entendre Phalanx dire quelque chose au sujet de rejoindre l'Asari dans les douches ou l'aider à construire plus de drones et de technologies d'armes. Elle a eu envie de commenter, mais a gardé sa bouche fermée et a continué à marcher vers la cuisine. Une fois arrivée, elle utilisait son data-pad pour taper sur les haut-parleurs du navire à l'intérieur de la salle de mess / cuisine et de jouer une de ses chansons préférées personnelles sur eux. Le processus de fabrication du thé était assez simple, tout ce qu'elle avait besoin de faire était d'ajouter de l'eau chaude dans une tasse qui avait un type de sac de thé dexo-protéine à l'intérieur, puis attendre qu'il soit raide. Pendant qu'elle attendait, elle tapotait son pied gauche sur le sol en dessous d'elle, en rythme avec la musique.

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.

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. Les yeux violets de Vella s'élargissaient visiblement tandis que l'Asari se penchait vers l'avant pour regarder la pièce que Phalanx lui avait présentée, ramassant le petit drone et la tenant dans ses mains. "C'est si joli! J'aime beaucoup les courbes épurées de ce design! » Vella dit alors qu'elle a déplacé son autre main vers la pièce aussi, la déplaçant comme ses yeux dardés sur le drone; inspectant chaque petit angle de chaque crevasse possible; l'Asari semblait tellement fixé sur le petit drone que dans son esprit elle a complètement oublié la serviette enveloppée autour d'elle pendant qu'elle se déplaçait et tombait tout de suite, la laissant dans le nu alors qu'elle étudiait le drone dans un moment, comme si elle était possédée par elle! Il a fallu un certain temps à Vella pour commencer à placer le drone sur la table, et son cerveau a commencé à enregistrer la dernière partie du message du Geth. "Vous pouvez le rendre encore plus grand?" Vella s'écria d'un ton soudain, presque comme si elle était sur le point de demander le fruit interdit. Comme si elle s'était soudain retrouvée dans une conspiration, les yeux de Vella dardaient vers la porte de la pièce, toujours fermée et sans bruit de quiconque frapper ou sur le point d'entrer, et puis retour à la lampe-tête toujours brillante et innocente qui était étrangement innervante mais adorable visage de Phalanx. "Combien pouvez-vous faire de ce drone de combat?" Vella demanda, se penchant de plus près, sa voix descendit à presque un murmure. "Et si, disons, je devais aller à l'ingénierie et... trouver un accord pour obtenir les meilleures pièces. Combien de drones pourriez-vous faire penser?" * Le lendemain, Vella s'est retrouvée avec le reste de l'équipe et de l'équipage, se réunissant dans le hangar. Elle ne portait que des cuirs Asari de série avec leur simple système de barrière cinétique, le cuir noir avec son blanc gris, sa garniture hexagonale solidement assise sur son corps comme une seconde peau, son armure encore dans son casier. Bien que souvent appelé cuirs, le costume n'était guère un cuir normal; il était plus chimiquement traité plastique et des éléments en caoutchouc spécialisé au point qu'il ne pouvait plus être appelé «cuirs». Il lui a donné un haut degré de flexibilité, et correctement ajusté, il était presque le même que de ne rien porter du tout. En regardant autour du hangar, Vella se sentait à l'aise. Surtout. Elle ne se souciait pas des Turiens. Bien qu'ils aient fait un effort pour ressembler à des hardasses durs qui étaient tout à fait incapables de comprendre des concepts comme les « émotions » ou la « compassion », Vella savait que derrière leurs échelles épaisses, la plupart des Turiens étaient assez stables émotionnellement. Si quoi que ce soit, la guerre et le désastre semblaient être une chose saine sur la psyché turienne. Vella avait entendu dire que les taux de suicide chez les Turiens n'étaient jamais inférieurs à ce qu'ils étaient en guerre, ironiquement. Cependant, c'est surtout la Vorcha qui a maintenu Vella au malaise, et son bras dérive contre nature près du pistolet Acolyte à ses côtés. Vorcha était agressive, impulsive, courte pensée; et en tant que société, incapable de former n'importe quel semblant d'ordre social. Vella s'était rendue dans des zones principalement peuplées de Vorcha, et à cette époque, elle avait surtout regardé les rues poussiéreuses et criminelles du désordre et du chaos, à travers la caméra d'une tourelle de véhicule télécommandée! Les avoir sur le même navire que le reste de l'équipage était ridicule. Elle était convaincue que les Vorcha n'étaient qu'une bombe à retardement, et la seule explication logique de leur présence ici serait que les hauts gradés considéraient cette mission comme trop dangereuse pour risquer la vie de certains de leurs pilotes de chasse. Elle a dû admettre que si vous aviez besoin de canonnier, Vorcha n'était pas un mauvais choix. Elle ne voulait pas être avec le canon.Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? "Ce n'est pas le moment de deviner, Vel! N'appelez pas le soutien aérien pendant la mission, et tout va bien se passer! » Vella a poussé les pensées hors de sa tête pour se concentrer sur le briefing à la place. Elle avait raté la partie sur la raison pour laquelle les réfugiés se battaient... contre quelqu'un... mais elle avait entendu dire qu'il y avait une bombe, et qu'il fallait la diffuser, et si naturellement, lever la main. "Ouais, euh, comment avons-nous prévu de trouver cette bombe?" Vella a demandé, se tournant vers Aegon. -- Parce que si nous ne savons pas encore comment, j'aurai peut-être quelques idées!

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!

La veille, Sicaria avait pris note de l'heure après qu'Alria lui avait rendu son message et s'était mise au lit. Ils n'étaient pas mauvais du tout, doux et de soutien était surprenant d'un matelas sur un navire militaire, bien qu'elle avait encore du mal à dormir. Il lui a fallu longtemps pour comprendre pourquoi, bien que la réponse soit vite venue dans un désir de simplement avoir quelqu'un à côté d'elle, comme même un petit lit se sentait vide sans deux personnes l'occupant. Le résultat a été de commettre un acte pécheresse qui est mieux hors d'être décrite, commis silencieusement avec l'écran de vie privée de sa couchette fermée serrée, jusqu'à ce qu'elle se soit évanouie quelque temps tard dans la nuit, probablement le matin technique. Quand le matin est arrivé, le coup aigu d'alarme l'a forcée à sortir de son sommeil malsain qui n'avait pas fait grand - chose pour la rafraîchir. Avec son corps qui protestait contre tout léger mouvement, elle ouvrit un tiroir dans le mur à sa gauche et sortit une paire de pantalons, dans laquelle elle glissa avant d'ouvrir l'écran et de se balancer les jambes. Elle était au moins à moitié habillée avant de se rendre au mess, dans l'intention de prendre un petit déjeuner. Malheureusement, il semble qu'elle ait manqué Alria dans le processus. Quelques heures plus tard, au cours de laquelle elle s'était acclimatée au navire, l'équipe a été appelée pour un briefing, auquel elle a pris son armure et a récupéré ses armes avant de descendre au hangar. Là, Jake et Aegon ont expliqué la situation et ont donné les missions de l'équipe. L'équipe d'otages semblait solide en un coup d'oeil, des gens qui pouvaient diffuser une situation avec diplomatie sous les formes d'Aviza, Rol, Alria et Rykarn. Et si les choses deviennent sanglantes? C'est alors que Rykarn échangeait des rôles et que les autres intervenaient. Bien qu'elle ait eu une pensée agaçante à l'arrière de sa tête, qu'elle a demandé avec un coup de doigts. "Monsieur, j'ai entendu dire que les humains avaient une politique, "nous ne négocions pas avec les terroristes". Est-ce que nous suivons cela ou est-ce que la négociation est une option?" Elle s'est arrêtée, puis a ajouté quelque chose comme une pensée après. "Je suis d'accord avec l'une ou l'autre option, monsieur."

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 Emplacement: HSV Kharon, Hanger Bay - A bord de l'étoile d'argent Alria a regardé que son omni-outil affichait une icône 'texte'. Lui faire savoir qu'une réponse était en route. Donc prendre une minute pour regarder et attendre avant d'obtenir une réponse. Venez? Hé, ça ne peut pas être une mauvaise idée, surtout parce que Sicaria a besoin de cours de danse. Toutefois, il y a eu un léger problème. La journée tombait et la rumeur au sujet du navire était qu'ils auraient une journée chargée demain. Autant qu'elle voulait avoir une fille que la nuit de danse. Cela peut devoir attendre un jour plus approprié. Au lieu de cela, elle a commencé à lui envoyer un texto : « J'aimerais que tu viennes, mais je ne pense pas que c'est le bon moment. Il est tard et nous avons du travail à faire demain. Mais je prends un chèque de pluie!" De là, Alria se mit à nettoyer après sa petite collation et, avant longtemps, se mit à se coucher, à se dépouiller des soies et à s'enfoncer dans ses draps, après avoir fermé la porte à son navire bien sûr. A partir de là, c'était juste une nuit de rêves doux et de pensées curieuses pour ce que demain apporterait. Venez le lendemain Alria se réveilla et après un moment de réveil plutôt paresseux et lent qui impliquait beaucoup de trudging avec les yeux fermés. Elle s'est habillée dans ses civils avant de prendre son départ de son navire. C'était un jour paresseux de prendre le petit-déjeuner du mess du navire, avant de décider de prendre une minute et de vérifier son navire. Vraiment rien n'avait mal tourné ou avait besoin d'être regardé, mais ça n'a jamais fait mal de prendre soin de votre bébé. En prenant ce cours d'action jusqu'au déjeuner, elle a encore mangé du désordre. Une fois dans le service de la nourriture, elle s'est juste promenée dans le bateau, se dirigeant vers le hangar pour enquêter sur les allumettes de sparring. Pensant si elle voulait donner quelques leçons aux garçons, mais avant qu'elle puisse humilier l'équipage, les interphones sont venus la convoquer à un briefing. Ayant déjà été dans le hangar, ce n'était pas grand-chose de retourner dans son vaisseau et de se transformer en tenue plus "formelle". Elle dévore son armure et se charge avec ses armes. De là, elle a quitté l'Étoile d'Argent pour voir quelques autres déjà debout au sujet de l'attente. Décider de les rejoindre, elle n'a pas attendu beaucoup plus longtemps avant que les choses commencent et les patrons sont venus livrer le plan. L'exposé a été assez simple et a donné les principaux points. Quand ils ont conclu et qu'on leur a dit qu'il s'agissait d'une question, Alria a levé la main comme une écolière et s'est exprimée pour demander : « Pour nous, sommes-nous débarrassés de la force mortelle ou cherchons-nous un minimum de victimes? Tant qu'il est silencieux, bien sûr! Et aussi, suis-je à nouveau en cours de reconnaissance avancée?" Ses questions sont assez simples et innocentes, la plupart du temps à la recherche de ses orientations spécifiques et si cela l'obligerait à faire ce qu'elle fait de mieux. S'éterniser en silence, tuer tranquillement, et travailler à partir de son savoir-faire spécial pour aider ses semblables.

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."

C'est la première fois qu'il y a un problème. L'alarme s'est déclenchée pendant que Rol'Naaris faisait des étirements de corps entiers après avoir travaillé pendant une heure. Il était debout depuis trois heures et c'était à cause des cauchemars. Ils étaient semblables à ceux qu'il avait de retour sur Terre et cela a fait que Rol'Naaris ne dormait pas toute la nuit. Donc, il a vérifié son fusil de sniper (encore une fois) et son fusil de chasse pour tous les dommages qui devaient être réparés. Deux fois. Par la suite, il est descendu au mess pour boire quelque chose et a découvert Kalozi, le cuisinier Elcor, qui commence à cuisiner les repas des équipages pour le petit déjeuner. Le quarien s'est emparé de sa nourriture liquidée et a commencé à boire. Comme le système immunitaire des quariens était faible, leurs aliments devaient être liquidés afin que le corps ait été piégé en pensant qu'il obtenait de la nourriture solide. Cependant, grâce à la geth, cela change assez rapidement. Les machines ont commencé à puiser dans des combinaisons quariennes afin d'améliorer le système immunitaire. L'idée d'un geth en train de taper sur le costume de Rol'Naaris l'a mis dehors. Une fois son repas terminé, Rol'Naaris remercia le cuisinier et mit son assiette sur un tapis roulant et retourna dans sa chambre. Puis, il a commencé à dresser une liste d'articles qu'il voulait pour sa chambre. Un oiseau de paradis, un cactus d'Echinopsis et un palmier de yucca sans épines pour lui rappeler les endroits qu'il a visités sur Terre. Puis, il a voulu obtenir deux images vidéo pour qu'il puisse utiliser l'un comme une fenêtre tandis que l'autre pourrait être utilisé pour regarder les nouvelles ou les films. Enfin, il a aussi ajouté dans quelques datapads sur l'histoire humaine, krogane et turienne dans la guerre, la politique et la religion. Il a apporté quelques datapads sur la religion asari mais leurs religions ne correspondaient pas à la personnalité de Rol'Naaris. Avant de terminer, il a ajouté dans une statue antique en laiton canon avec des roues sur elles faites à l'époque victorienne par les Britanniques pour mettre sur son bureau. Ces choses allaient coûter beaucoup de crédits; cependant, Rol'Naaris a vérifié son solde et il avait assez pour payer ces articles. Puis, son onmi-tool s'est éteint et s'est rapidement éteint lorsque Rol'Naaris a saisi le datapad et a quitté sa chambre. Il a cherché Relli, le spécialiste des achats, et l'a trouvé dans la soute. Rol'Naaris lui a remis la liste et lui a dit, "Voici la liste des choses que je souhaite avoir de ma chambre." Relli a saisi le datapad et l'a regardé pendant un moment. "Tout semble aller bien. Ça prendra du temps avant que je vous donne le prix. Venez voir une fois la mission d'aujourd'hui terminée." Le salarien a dit de rendre le datapad à Rol'Naaris. Il a remercié Relli avant de retourner à la salle pour s'entraîner un peu plus. Après quelques heures, il est entré dans le cintre pour un briefing sur la mission. Le quarain se tenait près du front alors qu'Aegon a commencé la réunion. Il y avait des otages à l'intérieur du château pendant que la foule devenait agitée. Apparemment, Cerberus et Terra Firma voulaient que la foule déclenche une émeute pour qu'ils puissent tuer tout le monde dans la région. Rol'Naaris a été placé dans l'équipe d'otages parmi d'autres membres de l'équipage. Quand tout le monde avait posé ses questions, Rol'Naaris a commencé à les poser. "Combien d'otages sont à l'intérieur du château? Est-ce qu'on connaît la disposition et l'âge du château? Et combien d'ennemis sont à l'intérieur du château?"

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 lendemain... Un bourdonnement vigoureux a secoué le poignet de Rykarn alors qu'il se réveillait d'un sommeil sans rêve, la fonction d'alarme de son omni-outil synchronisée avec les systèmes embarqués du Kharon, l'éveillant avec le reste de l'équipage prévu pour ce quart. Ses couchages de fortune étaient adéquats, bien qu'il lui ait fallu cinq minutes pour s'asseoir au bord de son lit dans une méditation aux yeux fermés pour calmer son agitation et son anxiété agressive d'être coincé dans les limites de la coque d'un navire. Il ne s'est jamais soucié des voyages dans l'espace, et bien qu'il n'ait pas été une épave en station à bord d'une, il y avait toujours une partie de lui qui aspirait au sol solide et à l'air frais. Il avait appris à contrôler son état d'esprit pendant des décennies de pratique. Ce n'était pas seulement lui; la plupart des krogans n'ont pas pris dans les espaces restreints des navires bien, et beaucoup ont dû être sédatifs pendant le voyage. Celui qui a décidé que le krogan avait besoin de son propre espace était évidemment celui qui connaissait suffisamment l'espèce pour savoir comment atténuer les risques. Après cette routine de méditation, Rykarn traversa méthodiquement les mouvements d'armure et quinze minutes après que son alarme se soit déclenchée, il se dirigea vers le mess où Kalozi, le cuisinier Elcor était dur à préparer le compliment du petit déjeuner de l'équipage. Rykarn s'assit à la fin de l'un des bancs et parcourut sans réfléchir les manchettes de l'actualité qu'il mangeait, s'arrêtant à skimmer un article d'une course de chien et de varren qui avait eu lieu la veille à Leeds. Il s'est avéré que les lévriers terriens étaient considérablement plus rapides que les varrens grisâtres, qui semblaient avoir du mal à trouver des maisons avec des humains qui traitaient le chien et les poissons comme des créatures comme un chien, oubliant que la plupart d'entre eux étaient à peine apprivoisés par les prédateurs avec un pedigree violent substantiel sous leurs yeux de poissons perlés. Beaucoup d'enfants stupides ont été mordus, et les varren ont été abattus comme s'ils étaient le problème. Pour une espèce qui a suivi rapidement son chemin sur un siège du Conseil, l'humanité était sûre d'être pleine d'idiots. Parmi les autres titres, on peut citer une brasserie de 230 ans qui a pris feu, un milliardaire qui tente de créer un musée axé sur le réaper avec de vraies pièces de réaper qui s'avèrent impossibles à obtenir grâce à l'intervention du gouvernement, et quelques autres choses qui ne valent pas la peine d'être notées. Étonnamment, la fusillade contre les Husk n'a pas vraiment fait la nouvelle; il n'y avait à peine aucun mot sur l'effondrement du complexe de l'appartement. C'était comme si les médias avaient un ordre gag pour éviter une panique généralisée. Finissant son repas et plaçant son plateau sur une bande transporteuse qui est retournée à la zone de lavage des plats, Rykarn a eu vingt minutes jusqu'à la réunion et ainsi fait son chemin à Relli, la sous-espèce salarienne hors marque qui prenait encore un peu d'habitude, sens de l'apparence. "Je comprends que tu es celui à qui nous parlons si nous voulons obtenir quelque chose." Le Lysenthi a levé les yeux depuis son terminal. "Quelque chose comme ça. Tant qu'il n'est pas ouvertement hors de la raison." "Très bien. J'ai besoin de quelques choses pour mes quartiers." Rykarn a dit de remettre une liste à Yonn via datapad. « Certaines plantes à fleurs, quelques plantes carnivores, je peux nourrir des rongeurs morts. Un de ces bonsaïs que les humains me disent sont relaxants. L'une de ces images vidéo qui ressemble à vous regarde par la fenêtre quelque part, pour commencer. Du point de vue de l'équipement, trois caisses de grenades Hanhe-Kadar, quelques jets de chaleur vintage universels et un étouffement intelligent pour une ligne de fusil Tornado de 5e génération. Pouvez-vous faire en sorte que cela arrive?" Relli l'a regardée sans beaucoup de considération. "C'est assez simple. Je vais payer ça et vous obtenir l'estimation d'ici le temps que vous revenez de la mission aujourd'hui." Le Lysenthi a dit de remettre le datapad. Avec un échange rapide d'agréments, Rykarn s'est rendu dans la zone d'entraînement et s'est joint à l'entraînement physique du matin qui était prévu pour l'équipage. Quelque temps après le déjeuner, un briefing a été appelé et Katabasis a été assemblé dans le cintre. Debout sur le côté, bras croisés, Rykarn a écouté poliment l'équipe qui a été informée de la situation. Cela a surpris le krogan qu'il a été affecté à l'équipe de sauvetage en otage. Après que les autres eurent posé leurs questions, il prit la parole. « Tous respectent vos choix de leadership, mais cela n'aurait-il pas plus de sens pour moi d'être en devoir d'émeute? Un krogan est imposant et peut physiquement soumettre n'importe quoi à côté d'un Yahg, et me jeter dans une situation délicate comme sauver des otages sans risquer leur vie est un peu comme apporter un lugehammer pour construire une maison d'oiseaux. Sans dire que j'aurais un problème à suivre les ordres, mais je ne suis pas vraiment un instrument de précision. Je m'inquiète de frapper un otage avec une arme répandue ou d'être un peu trop visible pour une insertion tranquille. »

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.

Hyperion regarda Karma, puis retourna à la table. "Si vous nous dites vraiment la vérité sur vous ayant un grand plan, alors comptez sur moi." Hyperion regarda le groupe assis à la table. " Mes noms Hyperion, j'étais une Beta Tester de retour quand on pouvait vraiment se déconnecter." Alors qu'il regardait autour de lui, il continua à dire : « Pendant mon temps comme testeur, j'ai trouvé un tas de bons endroits pour les articles et quelques bons terrains d'entraînement à broyer. » Hyperion a dit avec un sourire. "Mais seulement si vous pouvez me promettre que nous allons tous travailler ensemble, et que je pourrais avoir un peu d'affaires parallèles tout en travaillant avec la guilde." Il a ri pendant un petit moment, puis il a regardé le groupe en silence.

Reserve, pl0x. Edit: CS done. Username: Exile Appearance: Exile stands at 5'10" and has a lanky, but not unfit, build. He has medium-length dark brown hair and green eyes, and generally wears light chest armor. His clothes are primarily dark grey with red details. Current Weapon: Balanced Short Sword. Favorite Attributes: Spirit and dexterity. Weapon styles unlocked: One-handed sword fighting. Real Age: 17 Real Name: Jacob Taylor Gender: Male Personality: Jacob tends to be a somewhat loud and verbose person, and it can rub people the wrong way. He tends to come off as being mean, but he really is just way too blunt and direct about things. In truth, he's a good person, and anyone who knows him knows that he's a much better friend than he may seem. He's the sort of person who tries to defend his friends and loved ones, and sometimes just a stranger in desperate need of help. Other: Jacob heard about the game from a friend who was a beta tester, so he knows a couple of tricks, but he has never had hands-on experience until the full release of SAO. He has also taken Jiu-Jitsu outside of gaming, so he knows his way around actual hand to hand combat, but given that the game is all about swords, who knows how much good that will do.

Juste ma chance! Karma a crié au sommet de ses poumons. Elle était assise à table avec les autres comme elle l'a dit, créant momentanément le silence dans la taverne. Après quelques secondes de silence, les choses ont repris. Karma savait que tout le monde avait la même chose en tête. Plongée dans un jeu, où votre vie est constamment accrochée dans l'équilibre. Elle avait déjà eu sa dépression, les larmes avaient déjà été versées, maintenant était son temps pour évacuer sa frustration et sa colère. Karma avait la tête dans les mains, les dents serrées. "Alors, quel est votre plan pour nous aider à sortir d'ici rapidement, et pourquoi nous avez-vous choisis à la main pour cette guilde de votre, sûrement il y a beaucoup d'autres qui seraient plus avides." a dit l'un des autres à la table. Elle l'a regardé, il semblait être son âge. C'était à tout le moins réconfortant, mais encore insuffisant pour atténuer le stress de la situation. Karma a couru une main à travers ses cheveux blonds courts et a ensuite reposé son menton dessus. Elle a regardé les autres à la table, le groupe était très divers, et très ramassé. Ses yeux se rendirent ensuite à l'homme qui se présenta comme Crepus, nom intéressant, pensait Karma. Quand il a lancé l'idée de commencer une guilde, Karma a pris un moment pour y réfléchir. C'était une bonne idée juste après une telle crise? Et si elle était morte toute seule, qui le saurait? Karma leva la main, "Um..." elle lâcha la gorge, "Je suppose que je vais d'abord... Je suis maman... Le karma. Le premier MMO et VR pour moi... ne s'attendait pas à ce que ça arrive." Karma soupira et regarda Crepus, "Je vais suivre. C'est peut-être pour le mieux que nous partageons nos ressources si nous voulons en arriver là. »

Karma Appearance Current Weapon Balanced Short Sword Favorite Attributes Luck and Intelligence Weapon styles unlocked - Basic One Handed (Looking to unlock Cutlass swords?) Real Age 19 Real Name Madelynn Taylor Gender Female Personality She is always the chance taker, and it seems to work out for her. It isn't known if she is secretly a genius who knows what can and can't be accomplished, or she's just stupidly lucky. Karma/Madelynn is a proud person, rising up to challenges and always trying to prove herself to others. She looks after her friends, knowing her seemingly unlimited amount of luck can rub off on them if she's around. Don't make her angry though, karma is a bitch sometimes. Other Karma is stupidly lucky. She usually played single player games, with SAO being her both her first MMO and first VR game.

Alria & SicariaCollab entre & Alria était en effet dans un état de déshabillage en fait on peut même l'appeler nue comme elle a été trouvée seulement dans ses sous-vêtements comme elle arrière bout secoué sauvagement. Comme la chanson jouait ainsi pour elle dans sa danse folle et non structurée. Ce n'est qu'à ce moment-là qu'elle s'est assombrie dans l'un de ses mouvements qu'elle a vu Sicaria se tenir dans la porte comme une souche. Avec un sourire large et distant sur son visage, elle courut à Sicaria s'emparant de sa main et la tirant dans le navire en disant: «Allez! Nous sommes sur le point de frapper la bonne partie!" Une fois que Sicaria a été amenée dans la fête d'une Alria lâchée alors qu'elle a commencé à se balancer les hanches à nouveau, applaudissant ses mains au-dessus de sa tête au rythme de la chanson. Chaque fois qu'ils appelaient des handclaps, elle lui donnait la chanson. -- Attendez, quoi!? Le sang coulant sur son visage, le plus âgé des deux a été tiré dans le combattant sans protestation, son corps se déplaçant de son propre gré tandis que son esprit s'est dégradé à rien d'autre que l'égarement. Avant de le savoir, elle s'est retrouvée dans une triste tentative de danser dans un style semblable à celui du commandant Shepard lui-même. Aussi maladroite que soient ses mouvements, elle a eu un bon regard sur Alria sans son casque pour la première fois, et elle pouvait en fait sentir la chaleur se lever sur son visage. Peu de temps après, alors que la chanson jouait, le visage de la femme devint une jolie nuance de bleu, à l'exception de ses tatouages du visage et ses mouvements devenaient progressivement plus agités, ce qui ne faisait qu'ajouter à son incapacité à danser. "Allez! Tu as plus que ça!" Alria a appelé sur la musique probablement trop forte, l'arrêtant presque nue dans la danse alors qu'elle a saisi les mains de Sicaria et cette fois quand la chanson a appelé pour les claquements de main, elle a fait Sicaraia clap au rythme, toujours balançant ses hanches largement et trainant autour, essayant d'apporter une vie dans la prude avant elle. "Lâche-moi! Ne vous en foutez pas et dansez avec ce qui vous semble naturel! » Elle a continué à le dire. En réponse, Sicaria a pris une profonde inspiration et a pris le conseil du jeune Turian, prenant plus de l'espace confiné et commençant à se déplacer presque sans sens. Ses pas étaient parfaitement sur le rythme cependant, mais il n'y avait pas beaucoup de rime ou de raison à rien d'autre. À toutes fins utiles, elle se moquait de rien et essayait de ne rien frapper. "Comme ça?" Elle a crié sur la musique. -- Oui! Alria a crié en arrière sur les airs, laissant aller Sicaria pour reprendre sa propre danse, mais avant que les choses puissent vraiment aller à nouveau la chanson a pris fin, les laissant faire avec le silence qui est venu entre les chansons. Pourtant, avant que la chanson suivante de sa playlist ne commence Alria erre vers son système de haut-parleurs et frappe la pause. En retournant à Sicaria, elle a dit, "Vous avez beaucoup à apprendre jeune. Un jour, je te ferai bien danser." De là, elle est allée dans son placard et a sorti un sweat à capuche gris foncé, le glissant sur sa tête et couvrant son haut du corps avant d'aller chercher un ensemble de pantalon gris lâche pour couvrir sa moitié inférieure, "Qu'est-ce qui vous amène ici? J'ai quelque chose pour moi?" Elle a demandé. Aussi embarrassant que ce fût, Sicaria avait continué à danser pendant cinq secondes après la fin de la musique, étant devenu totalement perdu dans le bruit. Quand elle s'est arrêtée, elle avait l'air vraiment confuse une seconde avant d'essuyer le sang de son nez. -- Eh bien, pas tout à fait. Je peux m'asseoir? J'ai besoin de parler de quelque chose, et... eh bien, je n'ai personne d'autre pour me tourner vers ici." Une seconde plus tard, son omni-outil clignait à la vie et elle tapait quelques boutons, le traducteur universel en lui invalidant au cas où quelqu'un décidait de fouiner. Alria avait calme le grand sourire sur son visage jusqu'à ce que Sicaria commence à parler. Cela semblait sérieux et la dernière chose qu'elle voulait c'était que Sicaria pense qu'elle souriait à son malheur. Au lieu de ça, elle a hurlé et a pointé vers son lit en disant, "Ouais, euh... prends un siège sur mon lit. Qu'est-ce qui t'arrive?" Curieuse de voir ce qui s'est passé quand elle a fini de s'habiller avant de s'asseoir à côté d'elle sur son lit. "D'accord, donc..." elle a commencé, prenant place à côté de l'autre Turian. "Je sais que c'est un truc domestique et je ne devrais pas avoir à vous embêter avec ça, mais..." elle s'est coupée, incapable de trouver les mots ou la volonté de continuer la ligne de dialogue. Au lieu de cela, elle retombe sur le lit et couvre son visage de ses mains. "Peut-être que je vais vomir..." Elle a murmuré, laissant ses mains glisser sur son visage et se reposer au-dessus d'elle. Les yeux jaunes de la femme, normalement aiguisés, paraissaient ternes en un coup d'œil, traduisant un sentiment de défaite. "Je me fiche de ce que c'est. Le fait est que ça vous dérange et c'est la partie dont nous avons besoin de nous inquiéter. Allez. Dis-moi ce que tu as en tête." Elle a dit, se repliant beaucoup comme Sicaria devait être sur le terrain avec elle, regardant de son côté pour voir le Turian flustered s'enfoncer lentement plus profondément dans sa tristesse. En fait, elle a presque reconnu ce regard. C'était un sentiment de perte et c'était quelque chose qu'elle comprenait... en quelque sorte, "Je sais qu'il est difficile de perdre quelque chose dont vous vous souciez, mais le garder en bouteille ne va pas vous aider. Donnez-moi quelque chose pour travailler, sinon je vais juste retourner sur ma musique et vous faire danser plus." Elle a dit, en essayant de faire sourire Sicaria au moins un peu. Ça a marché, l'une des mandibules de Sicaria a été ramenée dans un sourire à la menace. "Je suis déjà descendue? Très bien, très bien." Elle a pris un souffle et a regardé le plafond, une petite partie de la vie revenant à ses yeux. "J'ai fait une erreur que je pensais que ma copine serait d'accord avec, c'était le genre de chose que nous avons fait tout le temps, et elle m'a largué ce matin à cause de ça..." elle a admis, voix mourante à la fin, bien qu'il semblait plus qu'elle se remémorait que regrettant. Comme quelqu'un qui avait perdu la passion dans sa vie. "Je me sens... vide, je suppose. On était ensemble depuis si longtemps, et maintenant? Elle reniflait alors que les larmes commençaient à bien se mettre dans ses yeux, les mandibules se fermaient bien. Alria a vu Sicaria devenir plus triste et plus triste jusqu'à ce qu'elle commence à pleurer. Elle a touché le torse de Sicaria, "Venez maintenant. C'est bon. Je ne pense pas pouvoir dire quoi que ce soit pour aider, mais quoi que tu aies fait... tu dois te demander. C'était vraiment si mauvais? Est-ce vraiment de ta faute ou est-ce vraiment de sa faute?" Elle s'est exprimée, voulant essayer de l'aider à traverser cet événement. "Tu as l'air d'être quelqu'un de bien. C'est vraiment de ta faute?" « C'est... c'est ma faute », gémit Sicaria, couvrant son visage et réfléchissant intérieurement un moment avant qu'elle ne roule sur son côté, faisant face loin d'Alria. « Nous avions une... relation ouverte, et je l'ai prise trop loin... » Elle renifla à nouveau et tira les genoux vers sa poitrine, armure restreignant un peu le mouvement. Alria s'est approchée de Sicaria, posant sa main sur son épaule pour essayer de la serrer un peu, « Hé assez à ce sujet. Je ne sais pas grand chose des relations ouvertes, mais pour moi le mot ouvert signifie ouvert. Vous ne pouvez pas ajouter des règles à quelque chose comme ça ou les pousser sur les gens hors du bleu. Comment étiez-vous censé savoir ce qu'il faut?" Elle a commencé à frotter l'épaule de Sicaria pour essayer de la faire s'ouvrir. "Je ne suis pas bon à ça ok. Juste... Que dois-je faire pour vous aider et vous rendre heureux à nouveau?" Avec un soupir léger, la fille a regardé Alria autant que son cou l'aurait laissé. "Pouvons-nous sortir quelque temps avant de décoller? J'ai besoin de faire des courses, je ne peux pas vivre dans mon armure. Je ne sais pas comment Vakarian pourrait faire ça." Les larmes dans ses yeux ont lentement commencé à se sécher, bien que sa voix restait un peu plus qu'un croûte. "Bien que je ne sois pas sûr si je suis heureux est une possibilité, ne peut pas juste oublier trois ans de ma vie." Son emprise sur ses genoux s'est un peu relâchée. Alria a hurlé, berçant de nouveau son épaule pour la rassurer : « Oui, on peut y aller. Je ne pense pas que nous partions pour un peu plus longtemps alors allons vous chercher quelque chose de gentil." Elle a dit, se penchant sur le lit avant de s'asseoir et d'attraper quelques choses ainsi que de terminer sa tenue pour qu'elle puisse partir en ville. "Si vous avez quelque chose que vous voulez attraper maintenant." "J'ai tout ce que j'ai apporté avec moi." Elle s'est roulée du lit et s'est levée, bien qu'elle ait enlevé ses armes de ses tapis de mag-holsters et les ait déposées. "C-Sec n'est plus un fan d'armes." Avec ça, elle a commencé à se déplacer pour la porte du navire. "Oui, j'aimerais qu'ils me laissent au moins avoir mon bras de côté, mais ils sont tellement ennuyeux à ce sujet maintenant. Quoi qu'il en soit, allons-y." Elle a commenté après Sicaria hors de son navire et de retour dans la soute de Kharon. Derrière elle, elle a enfermé son vaisseau plus sur le réflexe que tout avant de traverser la baie avec Sicaria, ce qui a permis à la sortie de retourner à la Citadelle. "Quel que soit l'endroit où tu veux en premier?" Sicaria a suivi près derrière Alria, presque comme un chien perdu. Le soldat en elle prit la relève et tous les signes de ce qui s'était passé dans le navire disparurent, à part les yeux légèrement rougis. Au fur et à mesure qu'ils s'en allaient, elle retourna son traducteur. "Aucune idée, je n'ai jamais été dans le Présidium avant. J'aurais même pu m'offrir beaucoup ici... » Sa voix s'enfuit alors qu'elle traversait le sas, donnant une vague de passage à Kano au fur et à mesure qu'ils allaient. "Pas comme j'ai besoin de beaucoup, cependant. Juste quelques tenues à tourner à travers." Alria a donné une vague à Kano ainsi qu'elle est partie pour la Citadelle avec Sicaria, « Eh bien, je sais un peu sur l'endroit et je connais quelques magasins de cul de kick. En fait, celui-ci a de grands vêtements et un bon prix! Allez! Je connais même le chemin à partir d'ici." Elle a riposté joyeusement, cherchant à changer le regard de Sicaria en celui d'un plus heureux. Puis avec ce bout fait et trié, elle a pris la charge et forgé un chemin dans les profondeurs de la Citadelle Commons, à la recherche d'un endroit très spécifique qu'elle venait de trouver! Drellicious!, une culture pop et un magasin de vêtements de tee graphique. Si tu voulais de la merde avec des aliens de chibi, des t-shirts fan de Blasto, et un apperal fait sur mesure qui a pris la forme de n'importe quoi! Vous voulez un sac à dos Normandy SR2! Ils l'ont ici! Alria savait que Sicaria trouverait quelque chose ici, elle le savait! "Allez! Nous ne sommes pas de plus en plus jeunes dans le coin! » Alria a appelé, se chargeant dans le magasin sans regarder en arrière. "Alria, attendez!" Esprits, cette fille était rapide! Le plus âgé des deux a été forcé de donner la poursuite et simultanément skim à travers n'importe quelle sélection qui avait été près de l'entrée, ce qui a conduit à quelques occasions manquées. Cependant, elle s'est vite emparée et a posé une main sur l'épaule de la fille pour la régner un peu. "Je ne suis pas aussi rapide que toi, tu sais." Elle a repris son souffle et a commencé à regarder autour de quoi les vêtements étaient disponibles, bien qu'elle ait immédiatement pris une des chemises Blasto. La balise XL sur elle impliquait ce à quoi elle serait utilisée à l'avenir. Après quelques regards sur le stock, Sicaria ouvrit la bouche. "Tout ce que vous pourriez me voir ici? Tout doit aller avec du violet et du gris." À perte de vue, elle a griffé l'arrière de son cou. Alria recula à la main sur son épaule presque en étant attirée dans la poitrine de Sicaria comme elle était dans sa zone. "Grille... Je pourrais te voir dans tout ça. Il ne s'agit pas de "style" ou de "fashion" il s'agit de bien paraître! Ici!" Elle l'a rappelée, prenant une chemise de fan Blasto VI et la jetant à Sicaria. Ensuite, en utilisant la chemise comme couverture, elle s'est enfuie dans le magasin, s'emparant et regardant quelques choses elle-même, y compris un ensemble d'oreilles Pyjack de bobine qu'elle a glissé sur sa tête, les laissant rebondir autour pendant qu'elle a sauté autour du magasin. Sicaria s'est simplement laissée frapper avec la chemise, manque d'énergie pour la poursuivre à nouveau. La suivante sur sa liste était une chemise de propagande "Don't Fear The Reaper" qui dépeignait un Reaper se faisant piéger par un dessin animé Shepard presque comme si c'était un gros bug. En le tenant, elle a balancé sa tête autour d'une étagère pour la montrer à Sicaria, "Esprits J'ai besoin de ceci! Qu'est-ce que tu en penses!" Elle s'est retournée la tête pour regarder l'apparent ballon tenant une chemise de propagande. "Je pense que je suis surpris qu'ils soient encore en train de vendre... en prendre un. Moyenne." Elle s'est retournée vers un rack plein de sweats, à la recherche d'un qui correspondrait soit à ses tatouages, soit à sa carapace, de préférence les deux. Un moment plus tard, elle a creusé un bleu pâle avec quelques marques noires sur le dos. "Hé, je peux avoir une opinion à ce sujet? Trop flashy?" Alria a regardé d'une autre étagère maintenant portant des lunettes'sassey Krogan' qui dépeignaient un chibi Krogan donnant quelques sas sérieux dans chaque lentille. Toujours avec ses oreilles Pyjack. "Trop flashy... C'est à peine assez flashy! Tiens, essaie ça!" Alria a appelé à jeter Sicaria un T-shirt "Blasto Babe" qui avait des courbes de fader à l'avant pour faire croire que le porteur berçait un corps irréalistement chaud. "Mais encore, cette autre chemise fait ressortir tes yeux. Je dis : gardez-le! » Puis tout aussi vite qu'elle est apparue, elle a disparu pour aller trouver des accessoires plus stupides. Au compliment, Sicaria rougit à la légère. Cela faisait longtemps qu'elle n'avait rien eu de tel, bien qu'elle l'ait laissé disparaître aussi vite qu'il était venu. Sa compagne dans ce magasin commençait à agir comme une idiote, et elle a dû freiner le comportement tôt ou tard. "Alria, calme-toi. Et replacez les oreilles." Elle a replié la chemise fader vers le haut et l'a glissé dans un rack quelque part avant d'attraper deux chemises moins intéressantes, dont l'une était blanche et l'autre noire. Elle a changé de section maintenant, à la recherche de pantalons ou de sous-vêtements, quel que soit le premier. C'était les sous-vêtements. Elle n'était pas à la recherche de quoi que ce soit de fantaisie, donc elle a tout simplement attrapé un paquet d'entre eux au hasard avant de continuer. Alria a entendu les paroles de Sicaria et est apparue de derrière une autre étagère maintenant portant les oreilles de Pyjack, les lunettes Sassy Krogan, et quelques perles en plastique pas cher sans cou autour de son cou. En parlant pour dire, "Esprits, vous n'êtes pas amusant!" J'ajoute un ton de plaisanterie pour montrer qu'elle jouait. Peu importe ce qu'elle a fait, elle a tout remis car elle s'approchait de l'heure de départ de leur premier arrêt et elle a dû acheter quelques chemises. Bien qu'avant d'aller au registre, elle ait trouvé Sicaria donnant son moyen 'Ne craignez pas le Reaper' chemise, et la rejoignant dans la recherche de sous-vêtements. La plupart d'entre eux avaient des dessins et des décalcomanies, les mêmes que ceux que Sicaria a attrapés étaient tout simplement si fade. En fait, ça a fait gémir Alria à haute voix. En prenant le sac de sous-vêtements que Sicaria avait et en le remettant, elle a attrapé un autre jeu qui dépeignait un cœur à l'arrière, « Vivez un peu... faites-moi confiance. C'est mieux." Elle a dit avant de quitter Sicaria pour conclure ses achats en paix. L'ancien Turian a regardé le paquet pendant une longue seconde, prenant dans les détails du contenu du sac en plastique. Un peu lacy, des décalcomanies sur certains, globalement squelettiques... était-ce qu'elle a laissé entendre quelque chose? De toute façon, ils étaient plus attrayants... Un tour de plus à travers le magasin mériterait une paire de jeans noirs ajustés à Turians et quelques paires de sueurs recouvertes de divers décalcomanies. Quelques instants plus tard, elle est sortie du magasin avec deux sacs à la main et des yeux rebondissant autour de la foule dans une tentative de trouver la fille qui était allée au magasin avec elle. Ça n'a pas aidé qu'elle soit un Turian de taille à peine moyenne à la recherche d'une taille plus courte. "Hé Alria! Où es-tu allé?" Elle a appelé. Alria a attendu un peu avant d'avoir vu Sicaria quitter le magasin. Bonne nouvelle, ça n'a pas pris beaucoup de temps pour qu'elle se retrouve. "Facile de crier. Je suis juste là. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" Elle a posé à Sicaria avant de commencer à marcher, en supposant que Sicaria a trouvé suivre. Dans son esprit, ils avaient au moins deux arrêts à faire. Réalisant son erreur, Sicaria se tenait avec ses mandibules esquissées dans l'équivalent d'une puanteur. "Je te cherchais, c'était tout. Aussi, essayiez-vous d'insinuer quelque chose avec ces sous-vêtements?" Elle a peut-être sauté un peu, mais ça aurait pu être fructueux de demander. Elle suivit encore le jeune Turian à travers la foule, ne sachant pas où ils allaient. Alria a hurlé quand Sicaria a posé sa question, « Tout le monde oui je l'étais. Vous étiez en train de choisir des vêtements normaux pour les gens. Vous devez vous détendre et vivre une vie! Et si cette vie prend la forme de sous-vêtements cardiaques, qu'il en soit ainsi!» La confiance dans sa voix était presque palpable, mais même alors elle marchait sur les guider à leur prochain arrêt, Arturius Tailoring. C'était une boutique de théâtre de classe. Tout était stupide, comme aller à une balle formelle dans un château fantaisie. La façon dont Alria l'a vu. Sicaria aurait besoin de quelque chose qu'elle pourrait porter sur un rendez-vous chaud. Surtout maintenant qu'elle était célibataire. "Allez, tu as besoin d'une robe." Elle a déclaré une question de fait avant de se rendre à l'intérieur du magasin STUPID formel et snobby. "Alria, je ne suis pas vraiment une fille fantaisiste, si tu attrapes ma dérive." Quoi qu'il en soit, elle a suivi la fille en se demandant exactement combien de ce tissu haut de gamme elle pouvait raisonnablement se permettre. Elle a dû l'admettre, certaines robes et autres étaient très gentilles ici, mais pas exactement sa vitesse. Alria avait à peine fait l'entrée dans l'endroit fantaisiste et snobby avant que Sicaria s'arrête et parle sa pisse, "Oh allez! Tout le monde a besoin d'une robe! Même si vous ne le portez pas même une fois par mois, vous en avez encore besoin! » Elle a dit, essayer de convaincre Sicaria que c'était une bonne chose à faire. Elle s'arrêta et secoua la tête, échangeant ses deux sacs à une main. "Je ne suis pas celui qui porte une robe, des règles... à moins qu'elle ne soit faite d'une manière très spécifique. Au-delà, je n'en ai pas porté depuis les funérailles de mon grand-père, il y a six ans." Elle a expliqué, laissant encore ses yeux fléchir autour et regarder les vêtements exposés. "De plus, je pense que tout ici est assez loin en dehors de ma fourchette de prix. Pas vraiment envie de dépenser tous mes creds sur une robe que je porterai deux fois." Alria a pué et a traversé ses bras, mais à la fin de la journée Sicaria a eu quelques points. Tout ici était à prix STUPIDLY et ça n'a pas aidé à ce qu'elle n'ait pas et ne allait pas porter sa robe autant. Et bien et la fin de la journée, il n'avait pas vraiment besoin d'être fait tout de suite, "Ok bien, vous gagnez. Allons manger quelque chose alors, je suis à moitié affamée ici." Elle a dit en fausse défaite avant de sortir de l'atelier et vers la cour de nourriture à un rythme très tranquille, regardant autour de tous les autres magasins sur le chemin, prenant note des endroits qu'elle aurait à frapper plus tard. Peu de temps après, ils sont arrivés à la cour de la nourriture à laquelle ils avaient tranquille la sélection de différents styles à choisir. Chaque culture apporte différentes cuisines pour tous à essayer. Bien sûr, ils auraient besoin de trouver un endroit dextro-friendly, mais cela ne devrait pas être difficile, "Eh bien, puisque c'est votre grand rendez-vous, ce qui semble bon pour vous?" Alria a posé, passant le choix à Sicaria. La salle de restauration avait toute la variété, petits magasins de presque chaque course mis en place autour d'une grande salle de style cafétéria. Ses yeux se ferment sur deux endroits en particulier, côte à côte, l'un composé de Turians et l'autre de Quariens. "Hmm... nous pourrions obtenir quelque chose d'Aephus, l'endroit a de la bonne nourriture et de la nostalgie. Mais j'ai toujours aimé Quarian qui-" elle s'est coupée pour la deuxième fois car elle a réalisé quelque chose qui pourrait être considéré comme important. "Avez-vous appelé ça un rendez-vous?" Elle regarda le jeune Turian, son visage renversant une fois de plus cette belle nuance de bleu. Alria s'est mise à regarder Sicaria et son curieux tour d'émotion... ainsi que le ton de la peau... "Oui! Réfléchissez-y. Si tu étais un mec, tu ne dirais pas que ce serait très proche d'un rencard? Je le ferais! Quoi qu'il en soit, ne nous inquiétons pas de ça... Je me sens étranger aujourd'hui donc je vote Quarian!" Elle se mit déjà à marcher vers l'endroit de Quarian, mais dans son esprit elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de penser à la réaction de Sicaria à sa petite blague. Elle a dit qu'elle venait de rompre avec sa GIRLFRIEND après tout... Peut-être qu'elle... non... peut-être? Atteindre le comptoir Alria a commandé un repas rapide, l'amenant à son plateau, puis à l'une des nombreuses tables inoccupées qui jonchaient le centre de la cour de nourriture. Prendre un siège et prélever quelques-unes des vésicules avant de creuser. Sicaria s'approcha du comptoir et commanda quelque chose de semblable à l'autre fille, rentrant et s'asseyant en face d'elle. Elle s'assit dans le silence pendant un long moment et cueillit à son repas lentement, mullant sur les événements de la journée. Mais assez tôt, elle a parlé. "Alria, je veux juste dire... merci de m'avoir fait sortir. Ça veut dire beaucoup, que tu t'en sortirais pour faire quelque chose comme ça. Pour quelqu'un que vous venez de rencontrer, pas moins." Elle a griffé l'arrière de son cou dans la pause maladroite qui a suivi, excessivement nerveuse à propos de la réponse. Alria était occupée à tondre et à s'étouffer sur sa nourriture quand Sicaria est venue, ce qui a peut-être ajouté au silence maladroit, mais quand elle parlait Alria a pris une pause dans son repas. C'était sympa d'entendre ça, mais vraiment ce n'était pas nécessaire, "C'est le moins que je pouvais faire. Tu as l'air d'être quelqu'un de bien et ça vaut le coup! » Son ton joyeux tient fort, mais il y avait quelque chose d'autre dans sa voix cette fois. "Et euh... Je suis content d'emmener un ami faire du shopping! Je veux dire que c'est ce que les amis font bien?" Elle a crié heureux comme toujours. Sicaria s'arrêta à nouveau alors qu'elle écoutait son compatriote, les yeux s'attardant à nouveau comme l'accent l'avait mis sur les choses. "Erm... ouais, c'est ce que font les amis... Je crois." Elle riait incomfortablement dans la suite et continuait à cueillir à sa nourriture, bien qu'il était quelque peu évident qu'elle n'avait pas beaucoup d'appétit. Elle a mis son bras gauche sur la table et s'est reposée la joue dessus, regardant le repas avant elle. Alria avait déjà arrêté de manger pour qu'elle puisse parler à Sicaria mais quand elle a vu à quel point elle était visiblement malheureuse, Alria ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de demander : « Quelque chose ne va pas? Vous vous amusiez il y a une minute. Est-ce que c'est quelque chose que j'ai dit?" Elle demanda innocemment, préoccupée par le fait que Sicaria commençait à retourner dans le triste endroit et bien sûr que c'était la dernière chose qu'Alria voulait. Elle soupira et poussa sa nourriture dans sa boîte avec sa fourchette un moment avant de répondre. "Ce n'est pas ce que tu as dit... c'est... oh qui je plaisante?" Elle n'a demandé à personne en particulier, secouant la tête et laissant sa main gauche tomber sur la table. "C'était ce que tu as dit, mais pas tout seul. Je n'ai pas l'habitude d'être seul... et je m'attendais à ce que quelqu'un le remplisse immédiatement." Elle a laissé tomber la tête sur la table et a laissé les deux bras glisser sous elle, les jambes suivant le costume pour finir sous la chaise d'Alria. "Désolé, je ne devrais pas t'embêter avec cette merde..." elle a murmuré. "Non, non, non, non. Ne dis pas que je suis là pour t'entendre. Je suppose que je suis juste confus. Tu sais que je suis là pour toi, n'est-ce pas?" Alria a demandé de revenir vite comme elle pouvait sans interrompre Sicaria. C'était presque douloureux de la voir comme ça, mais ce qui est plus pour Alria, c'était à quel point c'était déroutant. Qu'est-ce que c'est que ça à propos de quelqu'un qui remplit des taches tout de suite et quoi-pas. Elle ne pouvait pas parler de trouver un autre si vite. L'aînée a ramassé la tête et a regardé à blanc sur la table. "Vous n'avez pas besoin d'être, je suis probablement trop de désordre pour vous de toute façon." Elle n'a montré aucun signe d'arrêt de la façon auto-abusive qu'elle parlait, le ton indiquant qu'elle essayait en fait de la repousser à ce stade. Sa tête est retombée sur la table. Alria secoua la tête avec acharnement : "Arrête ça! Tu n'es pas un gâchis, encore moins un qui ne peut pas être réparé. Tout ça ne t'aide pas du tout! Répète après moi. Je suis génial. C'est ça. Dis juste ça." Alria a dit avec confiance et presque aveuglante, fuyant la première chose qui lui est venue à l'esprit. Au-delà de cela, bien qu'elle ait pris les mains tendues de Sicaria, en les tirant pour lui faire savoir qu'Alria n'allait pas lâcher prise sur cette affaire. Elle a pris ses mains et les a serrées à demi-cœur, transmettant un nombre important d'émotions tout à la fois. La détresse, la peur, mais le chagrin le plus visible. "Je ne sais pas comment ça va aider, mais..." elle soupira, puis respira avant de reparler. "...je suis géniale", murmura-t-elle, à peine audible à quelqu'un qui serait à côté d'elle. Alria a serré les mains de Sicaria plus fort qu'elle ne l'a fait, leur donnant un remorqueur ludique avant de dire, "Louder dammit! Je n'ai vu que tes lèvres bouger cette fois-là. Je veux vous entendre le dire!" Sa stature et sa posture se déplaçant pour s'asseoir droit avant de se pencher sur la table pour se rapprocher d'elle, espérons déplacer une partie de sa confiance aveugle télépathiquement à Sicaria. Sicaria a levé les yeux en réponse, semblant s'élever un peu. "Très bien..." elle a grondé, puis elle s'est débarrassée de la gorge. "Je suis génial." Elle était plus bruyante cette fois, mais encore plus silencieuse et moins motivée qu'elle n'aurait dû l'être. Mais c'était encore un progrès. Elle a donné aux mains d'Alria un serre-tête en réponse, réparant sa posture et se penchant légèrement. "Vous y arrivez mais tout ce que j'ai entendu c'était imma mama. Parle femme!" Elle a continué à dire bérate/motivate vers Sicaria voulant obtenir cette confiance pour dire des choses stupides en public. Après tout... pas à pas. "Maintenant dites-le encore une fois et utilisez votre grande voix de fille!" Une certaine gaieté revenait à elle, allant jusqu'à lui glisser les mains de celle d'Alria et dans ses bras, l'acier froid des gantelets se déplaçant dans le tissu de son sweat à capuche. Elle était hors de son siège à ce moment-là, à moitié debout et penchée vers l'avant. Dans ce qui était la chose la plus proche qu'elle pouvait obtenir à crier sans réellement le faire, elle a répondu. "Je suis géniale!" L'aîné Turian regarda dans les yeux de la plus jeune, un grand sourire sur son visage. Son cœur a aussi commencé à courir, bien qu'elle n'ait pas nécessairement connecté les deux choses. Alria était un peu stupéfaite de voir la réaction de Sicaria à cela et le plein d'engagement que même elle n'était pas tout à fait prête à faire. Awkwardly regardant autour de voir un tas de gens regarder elle regarda en arrière à Sicaria et lui donna un pouce vers le haut avec un sourire maladroit. "Oui, tu l'es! Ne venez pas manger et retournons au vaisseau. Je n'aimerais pas traverser toutes ces conneries seulement pour être laissé derrière parce que nos nouveaux patrons ont décidé de décoller plus tôt. » Elle a fini, attaquant sa nourriture comme si c'était son dernier repas à finir rapidement. Sicaria a lâché l'autre Turian avant de regarder vers le bas sa nourriture, l'appétit toujours pas revenir après la nouvelle motivation qu'elle avait été donnée. Elle a joué ses mandibules dans une punaise avant de déposer la fourchette dans la boîte, la refermant immédiatement après et la ramassant d'une main. Dans l'autre main, c'était ses sacs de courses. "Oui, ça craint." Elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de regarder l'écharpe de la fille descendre le reste de sa nourriture, étouffant un rire avec sa main libre. Une fois terminée avec sa nourriture et le plateau et les ordures sont retournés à leurs endroits appropriés, elle a saisi son sac avant de commencer à se diriger vers le cintre où le Kharon a été amarré. Heureusement, ils n'avaient pas passé trop de temps dehors et les chances d'être encore là étaient garanties. Sur le chemin du retour, avec son cœur qui bat toujours un kilomètre par minute, a fait quelque chose qu'elle regretterait probablement plus tard. Elle a échangé ses biens à sa main gauche et, avec quelque chose qu'elle ne pouvait pas tout à fait comprendre ennuyant son jugement, elle a glissé sa main droite dans la gauche libre d'Alria. Et à la légère, au cas où les choses n'allaient pas comme elle l'avait prévu. Alria était occupée à faire son chemin et à se balancer les mains au ralenti, à la laisse jusqu'à ce que Sicaria fasse un mouvement pour elle et s'accroche doucement. Au début, ses réactions lui ont donné un coup de pied et elle s'est repliée légèrement, mais pas assez pour échapper à son emprise. De là, son rythme ralentit alors qu'elle regardait la poignée de Sicaria : « Est-ce que quelque chose ne va pas? » Elle a demandé, pensant que c'était une réaction à avoir peur ou ne pas vouloir perdre Alria dans une foule, ce qui était très peu caractéristique dans l'esprit d'Alria. Quand elle se pencha sur le mouvement, une série de doutes courut dans son esprit, bien qu'elle décidât de s'en tenir à son plan stupide de toute façon et de s'occuper de ce qui s'est passé par la suite. "Eh bien, pas vraiment mal, persuade..." Elle a donné à sa main une légère pression pour un certain niveau de rassurance avant de continuer. "Je veux juste m'assurer que je ne te perde plus dans la foule." Elle toussait légèrement à mesure que sa bouche s'assèche. "Les esprits et vous m'avez traité de bizarre!" Alria a dit en rigolant, secouant un peu son bras pour s'emparer de Sicaria avant de lâcher prise et d'essayer de s'en tirer. Je me suis rendu compte que c'était une grosse blague de Sicaria. Puis, avec sa main en retour, elle continua vers la baie de Kharon, ramenant son rythme et disant à Sicaria: «Allez! Ce n'est pas beaucoup plus loin maintenant!" Presque la défier à une course, mais l'éviter en raison de leurs sacs. Tout comme Alria avait dit que le Kharon n'était pas à plus de 5 minutes et avec les deux Turians de retour à bord, Alria a fait son chemin pour chercher le hangar, lire pour mettre son sac sur son navire et stocker les chemises dans sa garde-robe. Adieux, Sicaria a quitté Alria au retour du navire. Elle s'est certainement sentie mieux après toute l'épreuve, bien que pendant combien de temps ait été une bonne question. Elle avait encore quelques questions dans la tête, cependant, la première étant directement liée à la sexualité du jeune Turian... même si elle pouvait attendre. Entre-temps, elle a traversé le navire jusqu'aux quartiers de l'équipage et s'est trouvée une couchette environ qui était actuellement fermée, et s'est mise à déballer sa nouvelle propriété. La nourriture serait laissée à la base de l'échelle pour le moment. Elle a fait un point, cependant, de retirer de son armure et de changer en jeans noir, chemise blanche, et sweatie bleu qu'elle avait acheté. Et oui, cela incluait les sous-vêtements cardiaques. Alria a proposé Sicaria de la même manière qu'elle l'avait fait, lui souhaitant bonne chance et de beaux rêves car ils avaient une très longue aventure devant eux. Puis avec cette prise en charge, elle s'est mise sur sa chambre, en rangant ses chemises de nouveauté et bien sûr ses oreilles de pyjack bobble obtenir une place spéciale dans sa garde-robe avec le reste de ses objets drôles et bizarres. Puis avec cela fait, un peu de relaxation sonnait pour être le meilleur et se détendre elle a fait, enlever son sweat à capuche et pantalon avant de retomber sur son lit, attraper un bon livre, et lire son temps loin dans le confort de son lit incredbly doux.

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.

Pour le moins, Aero a été très surpris d'être approché par Crepus dans tout ce chaos. L'homme l'avait conduit dans une taverne, promettant un moyen de sortir de l'enfer où il était coincé maintenant. Aero a déjà versé quelques larmes, qui pourrait lui en vouloir? La vie qu'il avait, vient d'arracher sur quelques instants, une réalisation telle que cela traumatiserait même les plus puissants des hommes. Il a déjà manqué sa famille et ses amis, juste parce qu'il savait qu'il ne pouvait pas être avec eux. Cela a pris le dicton « vous ne savez jamais ce que vous avez vraiment, jusqu'à ce qu'il soit parti », à un tout nouveau niveau. Puis, comme toujours, il a réfléchi. C'était un joueur très compétent, qui surpassait celui des testeurs non béta. Qui peut dire qu'il n'a pas pu survivre? Bien sûr, il n'était pas le plus « guerrier » d'un joueur, mais il avait un cerveau, et une forte volonté de vivre. Peut-être, peut-être, former cette guilde pourrait l'aider à survivre jusqu'à la fin. Ainsi, comme il s'asseyait incomfortablement autour de la table de chêne, à côté d'étrangers, il trouva de l'espoir. Aero a donné du crédit à Crepus, il était un orateur très inspirant et motivant. Il a fait faire d'Aero, pour une fois dans sa vie, un bond de foi. Il n'a pas pensé aux statistiques ou aux probabilités, il... Crois-moi. Crepus a terminé son long discours en disant au groupe de se présenter, ce qui a fait de l'Aero cringe. Oh oui, il a dû interagir avec les gens. Quelle traînée. À vrai dire, c'était sympa d'être avec d'autres humains. Il écouta leurs présentations jusqu'à ce qu'Aura intervienne. C'était une festive, elle lui en a rappelé un si ses vieux profs de "pas de conneries". Une fois que la fille aux cheveux bleus s'est calmée, Aero a décidé que c'était son tour, surtout parce qu'il n'y avait plus personne pour parler, sauf lui... J'étais un bêta-testeur, et je veux rentrer chez moi vraiment." Il leur a donné des sourires de brebis, un peu embarrassés, il n'avait plus rien à dire. "J'espère qu'on pourra tous sortir d'ici en vie." C'était déprimant de dire, pourquoi sa bouche l'a trahi comme ça? Il essayait de dire un peu d'inspiration, mais ça n'a pas marché comme ça. Il a essayé...

Username: Aero Appearance: Aero is 6'4" with a tall, lanky build. He has wiry muscles, which makes him look weaker than most in the game, though he can hold his own. Aero has a kind face, with grey eyes and fiery red hair. Current Weapon: Balanced Short Sword (I am allowed to completely change his weapon as the rp progresses? I want him to become an archer) Favorite Attributes: Intelligence, dexterity Weapon styles unlocked: Basic One-Handed Sword Real Age: 17 Real Name: Benjamin Stone Gender: Male Personality: Aero is an awkward, nerdy kind of guy. He prefers to be alone, which explains why he still isn't very comfortable in the guild. Aero is very kind, except when he is in battle. He becomes weirdly calm and calculating in fights. Aero believes in destiny, and is determined to make it out of SAO alive. He will do whatever it takes. Other: Aero was a Beta Tester, which helped him extensively. Along with his superior intelligence and knowledge of video games, Aero is quite skilled in Sao.

Pendant que les autres parlaient, Aura est restée immobile et silencieuse. Se tenant en arrière dans sa chaise, une jambe croisée l'autre, les blancs de ses doigts étaient visibles sur les poings qu'elle tenait sur ses genoux, son expression trahissait aucun signe de colère, de peur, ou de quelque chose de cette nature. Elle semblait calme à l'extérieur, mais à l'intérieur... elle n'était rien d'autre. Je ne vais pas mourir ici. Pas dans ce jeu... Il y a trop de choses que je... Je n'ai pas fini. elle s'est dit avec un rétrécissement des yeux. Apparemment, les six autres autour de cette table allaient l'aider à atteindre son objectif de sortir de SAO vivant, mais le truc était... Aura a dû participer à ça, aider tout le monde et travailler en équipe... Un soupir a été le premier bruit sonore qu'elle a fait depuis que le GM Akihiko Kayaba a annoncé qu'ils étaient piégés ici. Pas de pleurer... c'était pour les enfants, pas de crier que c'était des conneries ou tout un mensonge, Aura croyait que paniquer était la seule chose qu'elle ne devait pas faire dans cette situation. Mais à l'intérieur... elle avait très... très peur. Quand personne n'a parlé un instant ou deux, Aura a décidé qu'il était temps qu'elle se présente aussi. Assis et entonnant ses poings, elle regarda ses mains et vit les marques rouges de ses ongles creuser dans sa chair. Qui a tiré un autre soupir d'elle avant qu'elle coure une main à travers ses cheveux et a commencé à parler, en gardant les yeux concentrés sur les extrémités de ses serrures violettes comme elle a fait comme une tentative de tenir sur sa façade calme. "Mon nom... son aura." Elle a fermé les yeux et a pris un petit souffle avant de regarder les autres autour de la table. "J'y suis. Mais je ne veux vraiment pas avoir à garder n'importe lequel d'entre vous. D'après ce type... elle a jeté son pouce dans la direction de Crepus, « Vous avez tous quelque chose à apporter à la table, donc je suppose que vous êtes tous assez compétents pour prendre soin de vous. J'espère que ça marchera comme nous le voulons... mais pas de sentiments difficiles pour quelqu'un ici, s'il y a un moment où je sens que cette guilde fait plus mal que de l'aider... alors je vais partir. À part ça, je suppose que je peux jouer bien et "travailler en équipe" ou quoi que ce soit." Elle regarda de nouveau autour de la table et ses yeux s'appuyèrent sur l'autre fille pendant un long moment. Sa tête s'inclinait légèrement avant qu'elle ne s'appuyât sur sa chaise et ne lançait les yeux sur ses genoux. Une fois de plus, Aura est devenue calme et silencieuse. En vérité, sa peur s'était apaisée juste en étant près des quelques individus à la table. Bien qu'elle ne l'admette jamais à haute voix, ils l'ont fait se sentir en sécurité. J'espère qu'elle n'aurait pas à partir... Mais maintenant, il y avait autre chose que la peur qui lui traînait dans l'esprit. Cette fille... Où l'ai-je vue avant?

Username: Hyperion Appearance: He appears to be a medium size, white male. He is about 5'8" with obsidian black hair that goes down to his shoulders. His Armour covers his chest and his forearms. There colors are black with a red trim to help hide himself during a exploration. Current Weapon: Heavy Short Sword Favorite Attributes: Strength and Luck. Weapon styles unlocked: One handed Sword fighting Real Age: 19 Real Name: Kyle Gender: Male Personality: Hyperion is a very aggressive person towards people not in the guild, but to those in it he is a very out going person. Other: Hyperion was a beta tester, but instead of trying to get up as far as he could he stayed closer to the lower levels and to find all the cool hidden things that were put into the game. He wants to eventually open up a shop of his very own to sell all the things he has found (and stolen)

Hyperion assis dans sa chaise attendant que la guilde fasse quelque chose qu'il a remarqué face à Karma palming. Ce sera un tour très intéressant. Hyperion pensait à lui-même. Comme Hyperion a commencé à se tenir debout, il s'est souvenu de tous les coffres secrets sont où tous les points de rectification faciles sont qui sont cachés à tous ceux qui ne l'ont pas vraiment cherché. Alors qu'Hyperion était là, il s'est rendu compte que les taches normales de broyage seraient déjà remplies, presque jusqu'au maximum. " Quelle est cette zone de broyage Crepus?" Hyperion a demandé de savoir si certains étaient bons cachés.

Username: Hyperion Appearance: He appears to be a medium size, white male. He is about 5'8" with obsidian black hair that goes down to his shoulders. His Armour covers his chest and his forearms. There colors are black with a red trim to help hide himself during a exploration. Current Weapon: Heavy Short Sword Favorite Attributes: Strength and Luck. Weapon styles unlocked: One handed Sword fighting Real Age: 19 Real Name: Kyle Gender: Male Personality: Hyperion is a very aggressive person towards people not in the guild, but to those in it he is a very out going person. Other: Hyperion was a beta tester, but instead of trying to get up as far as he could he stayed closer to the lower levels and to find all the cool hidden things that were put into the game. He wants to eventually open up a shop of his very own to sell all the things he has found (and stolen)

Aero a volontiers accepté les demandes d'amis de tout le monde. Pour une fois dans sa vie, il avait des amis. Dans la vraie vie, il n'avait que des jeux, des livres et Internet. C'est drôle, il a des amis dans une situation où il pourrait mourir à tout moment. Il a remarqué qu'Aura devenait agitée et la suivait. Il ne savait pas si elle était triste, alors il a dit, "um. Ça va? Vous semblez... Frustré, il s'est étouffé. Il a mis ses mains derrière la tête et s'est abstenu de garder le contact visuel. Aero aurait souhaité qu'il ait essayé d'être plus social dans la vie réelle, être dans une Guilde allait être plus difficile qu'il ne pensait. Il ne pouvait même pas parler à ses coéquipiers...

Username: Aero Appearance: Aero is 6'4" with a tall, lanky build. He has wiry muscles, which makes him look weaker than most in the game, though he can hold his own. Aero has a kind face, with grey eyes and fiery red hair. Current Weapon: Balanced Short Sword (I am allowed to completely change his weapon as the rp progresses? I want him to become an archer) Favorite Attributes: Intelligence, dexterity Weapon styles unlocked: Basic One-Handed Sword Real Age: 17 Real Name: Benjamin Stone Gender: Male Personality: Aero is an awkward, nerdy kind of guy. He prefers to be alone, which explains why he still isn't very comfortable in the guild. Aero is very kind, except when he is in battle. He becomes weirdly calm and calculating in fights. Aero believes in destiny, and is determined to make it out of SAO alive. He will do whatever it takes. Other: Aero was a Beta Tester, which helped him extensively. Along with his superior intelligence and knowledge of video games, Aero is quite skilled in Sao.

Karma a gardé son menton reposé sur ses mains alors qu'elle regardait tout le monde pendant qu'ils se présentaient. Elle avait l'air d'un bon groupe, mais elle ne mettait sa confiance sur aucun d'entre eux pour l'instant. Elle se leva et s'étendit, non pas qu'elle en ait besoin, plus d'habitude de s'étirer de s'asseoir que tout. "Eh bien... Nous y voilà, je suppose. Un clan." Elle semblait un peu maladroite en disant que, c'était vraiment son premier goût d'une société MMO, bien qu'un mauvais exemple, les clans étaient une chose nouvelle pour elle. "J'imagine que ça aurait du sens si on s'ajoutait à nos listes d'amis?" Avec cela, elle agita la main et porta son menu, en choisissant chacun d'eux et en demandant s'ils voulaient être amis. Après tout cela a été dit et fait, elle a regardé sur les noms d'eux tous, essayant de se souvenir d'eux tous. Elle était sûre qu'elle l'avait fait. Alors Crepus a parlé de quelque chose. Elle a griffé l'arrière de sa tête, "Uhm... Pleurer?" Elle n'a pas compris le terme, "Ah quoi que ce soit, je vais juste suivre l'exemple. Je suppose que je serai euh..." Karma a pensé à quel genre de rôle elle prendrait, n'y ayant pas vraiment pensé, "Tactician? Stratégiste? Je ne sais pas..." Karma soupirait, évidemment pas trop bon à ce genre de chose, "quelqu'un me suggère quelque chose?" Elle a eu un peu de blush sur son visage, embarrassé qu'elle avait prouvé son inexpérience en MMO lingo. Mais Karma était déterminée, bien qu'il ne semblait pas comme ça. Elle avait déjà conclu que ces personnes en face d'elle étaient les seules vraies camarades qu'elle n'aurait jamais eues dans cette affaire; liées ensemble depuis le premier jour. Si elle devait être la cervelle de l'opération, elle aurait besoin d'apprendre tout ce qu'il y avait à apprendre sur les MMO, sur SAO, appliquer ces connaissances, et surtout, montrer les résultats. "Ya, laisse aller... Grinding..." elle s'est fait la gueule, sans savoir ce que ça voulait dire.

Karma Appearance Current Weapon Balanced Short Sword Favorite Attributes Luck and Intelligence Weapon styles unlocked - Basic One Handed (Looking to unlock Cutlass swords?) Real Age 19 Real Name Madelynn Taylor Gender Female Personality She is always the chance taker, and it seems to work out for her. It isn't known if she is secretly a genius who knows what can and can't be accomplished, or she's just stupidly lucky. Karma/Madelynn is a proud person, rising up to challenges and always trying to prove herself to others. She looks after her friends, knowing her seemingly unlimited amount of luck can rub off on them if she's around. Don't make her angry though, karma is a bitch sometimes. Other Karma is stupidly lucky. She usually played single player games, with SAO being her both her first MMO and first VR game.

Alria, Giles, Tibère et Ethan Après s'être fait patcher Tiberius a réussi à s'éloigner du groupe si les médecins qui semblaient l'avoir sauté quand il était arrivé avec Rayes et les scientifiques, roulant son épaule gauche en essayant de soulager le sentiment serré qu'il restait il marchait lentement autour à la recherche de son casque qu'il avait posé avant d'être emmené, se dirigeant vers un groupe de longues caisses il a déplacé quelques-uns d'entre eux autour alors qu'il a commencé sa recherche, il était important pour lui qu'il ait obtenu les images de la caméra vidéo attachée à elle pour qu'il puisse l'envoyer aux Specters. "Où ai-je placé cette chose" il a murmuré presque ennuyé le fait qu'il l'ait déplacé. Alria a continué de s'asseoir et d'aider Giles comment elle pouvait, mais aussi d'essayer de noyer les sons d'Ethan... Bien qu'elle entende bientôt les sons d'un autre Turian. Heureux d'avoir une autre distraction qu'elle a regardée pour voir la source et trouvé un... un homme turian ridiculement grand qu'elle a combattu à côté brièvement en arrière dans les tunnels. Il n'avait pas l'air d'être dans les meilleures formes, mais il était debout et en mouvement, ce qui était bon. C'est à ce moment-là qu'elle l'a entendu parler de mettre quelque chose quelque part et qu'à son tour, elle a jeté un coup d'œil... puis elle s'est rendue compte. En regardant vers le bas, elle a vu un grand casque en forme de Turian qu'elle utilisait pour s'asseoir. Elle s'est peut-être un peu gênée de s'asseoir rapidement et a déplacé le casque de la caisse sur laquelle il était placé et l'a hissé. "Est-ce que c'est ce que vous cherchez?" Elle a demandé au Turian errant en espérant qu'il ne voyait pas comment elle utilisait son casque... En entendant une voix féminine Tiberius se leva et regarda autour de lui avant de la repérer Turian, la voyant avec son casque, il put l'aider mais soupir avec soulagement comme un léger sourire formé sur son visage alors qu'il marchait vers elle, la regardant vers le bas, il hurla poliment "Oui, en fait, Merci" il dit alors doucement prendre le casque d'elle et le couper à l'arrière gauche de sa taille, appuyant sur quelques boutons sur son omni-outil, il a commencé à télécharger les images de la caméra. -- Je ne crois pas qu'on se soit rencontrés, je suis Tibère Adarien, qui pourriez-vous être? il a demandé avant de s'asseoir sur une création voisine essayant d'obtenir le niveau des yeux avec elle mais en vain. Alria l'a regardé pendant qu'il prenait le casque et lui a parlé. Pas dans le sens où il lui parlait mal, mais qu'il était littéralement si grand qu'il devait regarder en bas juste pour la voir. C'était... quelque chose. Mais ça ne l'a pas vraiment dérangée, elle lui a juste fait un peu curieux de savoir pourquoi il était si grand! Mais peut-être qu'on ne devrait pas remettre en question de telles choses. "Je ne pense pas que nous l'ayons fait. Alria, Alria Vicrinus." Elle a dit, hurlant à l'autre Turian alors qu'il prenait place... toujours en le regardant. "Je suis une autre partie de l'équipe, mais je suis allé de l'avant pour aider un peu. Juste pour vous le dire. Tu veux boire un verre? Nous étions juste sur le point de partir pour quelques-uns." Alria avait été extrêmement gentille avec la façon dont elle avait traité Giles, ses blessures et ses pansements ont tous été très bien fait, et dans l'ensemble, il ne se sentait pas comme s'il allait mourir bientôt - ce qui était tout à fait le soulagement. Les boissons étaient à l'horizon, ce qui était réconfortant de savoir aussi bien; bien que la compagnie de cet homme ne l'était pas. Un petit morceau de temps s'était passé avant que l'un des autres Turian n'entre en vue; clairement distrait par quelque chose - bien que Giles ne s'intéressait pas exactement à ce qu'il faisait et se concentrait plus sur la taille effrayante qu'il était il était alors il s'est rendu compte que c'était le soutien biotique qu'ils avaient sur l'équipe d'assaut; Tibère ou quelque chose de son nom était, un nom Turian très commun, bien que toujours celui qui résonnait la force. Le Turian prit place près de Giles et se présenta; Alria répondit peu de temps après lui avoir remis son casque qui décida maintenant de ce qu'il avait perdu plus tôt. C'est à ce moment que Giles a crié dans "Bonjour Tibère, se sentant bien après cette mission? L'équipe d'assaut s'est certainement amusée... Et oui, Alria a raison en ce sens que nous buvons - je connais un endroit décent à environ 10 minutes d'ici, il a aussi des actions Turian." "Bon de vous rencontrer Alria, ça ne me dérangerait pas de prendre un verre" a-t-il dit avant que le Drell ne parle, tournant son attention vers le mâle qu'il a hissé "Bon à droite, mais je pourrais être mieux et il semble que vous ayez vu de meilleurs jours aussi bien si je le dis moi-même" Tibère a dit avant de saisir une prise de son épaule gauche et de rouler une fois de plus "Parfois je hais le personnel médical" il a murmuré puis a échangé son regard entre les deux et s'est tenu, regardant autour de lui il s'est rapidement assuré qu'il avait tout avant qu'ils sortent, levant son bras, il a apporté son omni-outil et rapidement tapé deux messages cryptés et les a envoyés avant de tourner son attention à la paire. Ethan a suivi le rythme du groupe, décidant (probablement sagement) de garder sa bouche fermée. Essayer de parler aux gens aujourd'hui l'avait laissé avec rien d'autre que des ennuis, si ce Turian était une indication. S'il essayait de parler aux autres, il devinait que la même chose arriverait. Typique. Pourquoi les gens étaient si émotifs? C'étaient des soldats, les émotions ne devraient rien entrer. Oh, merveilleux. Un autre. Ethan le regarda un moment, se demandant s'il portait des échasses avant de lui faire un petit signe. Il ne voulait pas parler à moins qu'il n'en ait absolument besoin. Alria hoche la tête à la réponse de Tibère, heureux d'apprendre qu'il se joindra à eux. Après tout, une fête est toujours meilleure avec plus de gens. Bien que pour ce qui est de l'endroit où cette partie serait et ce qui se passerait là exigerait Giles de renoncer à l'emplacement de cette barre inconnue. "Alors Giles. Je pense qu'il est temps qu'on parte au bar! J'ai hâte de m'amuser après ce "vieux gâchis". De là, Alria se leva, étirant les jambes et le bras pour faire sortir une partie de la douleur avant de retourner face Giles en disant, "J'ai fini tout ce que je peux avec vos bandages donc il n'y a pas de temps comme le présent! Allez!" Elle s'est levée joyeusement en tenant une main pour Giles à prendre et à utiliser pour se lever. Il semblait qu'ils en tant que groupe participeraient dans les boissons, deux Turians, un Drell et un Human- tout à fait la combinaison. Aussi aimable qu'elle ait été cette heure passée, Alria s'est levée et a offert un coup de main pour aider Giles à se tenir debout, tout en proclamant qu'elle pouvait vraiment aller boire ce verre, le sentiment était probablement ressenti mutuellement parmi le petit groupe. "Je ne pouvais pas être plus d'accord avec Alria..." Giles saisit fermement la main d'Alrias, l'utilisant pour l'aider à se tenir debout et après quelques grognements, il aime maintenant le reste d'entre eux. Il se sentirait mieux après une bonne nuit de repos, et un bon alcool dans son système. « L'endroit n'est qu'à environ 10 minutes de marche, il s'appelle la « Couronne impériale » une sorte d'endroit ancien modelé; vieux humain de toute façon - il est assez calme et nous pouvons donner un coup de pied et boire à un succès sur notre première mission ensemble. » Relâcher la main d'Alrias, il lui a donné un sourire chaleureux comme ses remerciements et une signature que pour l'instant il pouvait faire la voie sans aide, et le groupe a dirigé une rue qui semblait être hybridée mélange d'ancienne architecture et de nouvelle, la pierre et le métal fusionné sans couture malgré tous les dommages des guerres de Reaper étant encore évidents dans les endroits. Bientôt, un endroit chaleureux les attendait où ils pouvaient boire un bon verre dans une atmosphère hospitalière; Giles n'était pas idiot, il ne buvait nulle part si les humains avaient un sentiment contre les races Alien - quelque chose qui devenait de plus en plus commun dans les rues de Londres. Le groupe marchait dans le silence relatif à leur trou de boisson, le silence n'était pas tendu ni n'était-il pas gênant, il était tenu dans la contemplation des événements d'aujourd'hui, peut-être que certains d'entre eux ici utiliseraient les boissons pour échapper à ce qui s'était passé, Giles ne savait pas encore. Finalement, ils sont arrivés à destination; le bâtiment était un grand complexe de 3 étages, bien que seuls les deuxième et premier étages aient été utilisés pour le pub. Le bâtiment a été construit à partir de pierre, bien qu'une grande partie de la moitié supérieure ait été reconstruite avec du métal, des marques de brûlures et des trous de pock à partir de coups de feu amarré les travaux de pierre antiques- pas tout à fait inconnu sur les travaux de construction anciens. « Eh bien, nous voilà - je vais prendre les boissons de préférence avec un peu d'aide, vous deux allez prendre un bon siège. » Giles poussa sur les portes renforcées et les laissa tous entrer. Le décor était ce que l'on qualifierait le mieux de « vieux modelé » pour les humains, évidemment c'est un peu plus difficile à discerner pour les extraterrestres, mais une grande partie de l'ensemble était un bois foncé poli, le sol posé avec un tapis rouge et il y avait de nombreuses chaises parsemées autour de nombreuses tables à travers l'endroit, ainsi que des cabines attachées aux murs adjacents, pour plus de confort et une meilleure intimité. Il y avait aussi des places assises spéciales pour Krogan, car leur taille et leur poids énormes allaient briser les chaises ici. Cet endroit n'était pas inconnu de la vue des étrangers, beaucoup de ses clients étaient étrangers comme ses habitués. Quelques personnes ont reconnu Giles et ont fait un petit clin d'œil ou ont juste continué leurs conversations de boissons. Les 4 d'entre eux avaient l'air d'être sortis des guerres de Reaper, mais aucune question n'a été posée à mesure que Giles s'approchait du bar. Alria a d'abord crié, marchant vers Giles et rejoignant son côté. "Je vais aider avec les boissons! Juste pour s'assurer qu'on en ait assez bien sûr! » Son ton joyeux et presque... jovial. Quel que soit son ton, elle a commencé à guider Giles au bar. « Vous semblez connaître un tas de gens ici. Je pense que ça veut dire que tu vas parler. Tu sais... pour nous avoir quelques extras?" Elle impliquait qu'elle se taisait fortement à lui, allant même jusqu'à lui serrer le bras et commencer à s'approcher un peu de lui. Si peut-être pour chuchoter ses mots désagréables à un peu plus d'un ton brouillé. De là, elle monta au bar, s'attachant à Giles comme de la colle, curieux de sa réponse à l'entretien du bar et de ce qui pouvait être fait pour obtenir un jus de fête. Et bien sûr, on a fait semblant d'être un peu... éclairé déjà pour faire un jeu pour désarmer n'importe quel spectateur. En entrant dans le bar derrière la majorité du groupe Tiberius s'arrêta et regarda Giles et Alria partir pour aller chercher les boissons, regardant autour du bar lui-même, il chercha un bon endroit pour s'asseoir, "Well Human lats looking for a table" dit-il alors qu'il continuait à regarder autour avant de repérer une grande cabine ronde dans le coin de la pièce qu'il poussait Ethan légèrement puis se déplaçait vers la cabine avant de commencer à faire son chemin vers elle "Lets assis là-bas, c'est spacieux pour tout le monde". Alors qu'il traversait lentement la pièce, il ne pouvait s'empêcher de remarquer que certains des autres mécènes le regardaient en silence, tandis que d'autres se regardaient et murmuraient les uns les autres. Une fois à la cabine, il est monté à l'intérieur comme déplacé au centre, étant ici dans l'un de ces établissements était étrange pour lui, principalement parce qu'il ne serait généralement jamais pris dans un sur la première place, mais c'était aussi un nouveau sentiment pour lui. se penchant sur le mâle humain qui avait accompagné son petit groupe, il l'étudia tranquillement avant de remarquer qu'il avait une notification sur son omni-outil, lisant que ses messages avaient été reçus et que sa vidéo était prête à être revue. Il ne lui a pas fallu longtemps pour le revoir, il l'avait en mode mouvement rapide, mais en voyant les images à la fin, il a regardé Alria et ses yeux immédiatement rétrécis avant de regarder en arrière et couper toutes les parties inutiles avant d'envoyer les images aux deux spectres, en abaissant l'outil omni-tool qu'il s'est penché contre le stand et a essayé de se détendre "Alors, humain ce qui vous amène ici, avez-vous une idée pourquoi ils vous ont choisi?" il a demandé à Ethan d'un ton bas et profond de voix qui a presque exigé l'attention pour une réponse. Ethan a gardé sa bouche fermée alors qu'il s'approchait du bar, marchant derrière les autres pour qu'il ne soit pas remarqué. En ignorant complètement leur conversation, il s'assit au bar, à quelques places des autres pour ne pas avoir à leur parler s'il ne le voulait pas. Giles a donné un petit coup d'oeil que Tibère et Ethan ont quitté pour acquérir des sièges pour le petit groupe, Alria avait choisi de lui tenir les boissons - un peu excité à la perspective ainsi; c'est presque comme si elle était une personne différente quand ils sont entrés ici, bien que ce côté d'elle était un peu plus élevé qui devait être dit. Il est clair qu'elle attendait avec impatience les boissons, et qu'il se sentait mutuellement. Tandis que Giles se rendait au bar l'Homme qui possédait l'établissement se tenait là avec un sourire sur le visage, il était un homme plutôt rond, son visage était rouge vif dans les joues et au bout de son nez où il s'est arrêté et a commencé à former une moustache plutôt bien soignée, les seuls cheveux qu'il avait sur la tête. Dans l'ensemble, il s'agissait d'un homme très joyeux, sinon d'un homme avec une légère stries sombres - c'était quelqu'un que vous adoreriez en tant qu'ami et la peur en tant qu'ennemi. Chaque personne de la bande Merc de son a appris cela très rapidement. "Les filles! C'est un plaisir de vous revoir! Quiconque a aidé à sauver et à reconstruire la Terre est le bienvenu ici! » Il a donné cette dernière déclaration tout à fait le cri autour de la pièce, dont beaucoup ont levé leurs lunettes ou répondu avec des applaudissements - c'était un message plus qu'un compliment, avec des difficultés croissantes entre les humains et les étrangers, il était facile d'oublier que sans eux la Terre ne serait plus ici. En retournant à la paire, il a reposé ses paumes sur le bar et a demandé 'So. Que puis-je pour vous et votre compagnon? Je ne t'ai pas piquée comme quelqu'un qui fantaisisait les Turians." Giles a vu cela venant d'un kilomètre de large, cela n'a pas aidé qu'Alria ait été enfermée à lui comme un Pyjack dans les mâchoires d'un Varren, il semblait que la simple perspective d'alcool l'avait rendue légèrement... excitable. « C'est une nouvelle coéquipière, j'ai quitté les Héroïques Outcasts pour le moment pour celui-ci; la rémunération n'est pas aussi bonne mais elle ne manque certainement pas d'excitation, je suis ici avec quelques-uns d'entre eux pour célébrer notre première mission ensemble. » Le barman a fait un grand sourire avant de rire "Je vois! Eh bien, Mlle Turian, vous avez tout à fait l'allié ici, surtout quand l'artiste commence à peindre, j'ai entendu beaucoup de choses extraordinaires de celui-ci; de toute façon sur les affaires, qu'allez-vous boire ce soir? Nommez votre poison; considérez-le sur la maison pour ce soir - J'ai le sentiment que ce sera la dernière fois que vous et moi nous verrons pendant un certain temps, Giles." Giles ne voulait pas vraiment qu'on parle de l'Artiste, personne ne le savait encore à l'exception peut-être des Spectres. Mais ce n'était pas mal fait, ils finiraient par apprendre de lui, mieux vaut bientôt que plus tard. Non seulement cela, mais ce salopard était trop perspicace pour son propre bien, il savait que ce serait très bien la dernière fois qu'il boit ici depuis des années, sinon plus jamais - travailler avec les Spectres serait probablement réclamer sa vie, mais pour que les boissons soient gratuites? C'était quelque chose que Giles ne s'attendait pas à ce que cet homme dise, savait-il quelque chose que Giles n'a pas fait ou était-ce simplement une intuition? En laissant de côté ces pensées pour l'instant, le temps d'un verre très nécessaire était là, le medi-gel commençait à s'épuiser pour qu'il ne soit pas venu trop tôt non plus. "J'aurai l'habitude, que voulez-vous Alria?" Alria a maintenu son acte fidèlement au point où certains peuvent même douter de la validité de la déclaration de Gile d'être sa coéquipière. En fait, en raison de son état choisi et jeune apparence, certains peuvent même dire qu'elle est apparue comme une étudiante alcoolique. Encore mieux couler sous le prétexte qu'elle s'est collée à lui comme de la colle, bien que la vraie raison pour laquelle peut être seulement connu d'elle et son esprit sournois. Cependant, il peut être un peu coulé quand l'entretien a parlé de ce que Giles devait travailler avec. Et tout ça à propos des artistes? "Je ne me soucie pas beaucoup des artistes, de l'art et des trucs, mais ça ne me dérange pas. Juste besoin de montrer qu'il peut prendre un verre sans nager dedans!" Elle a appelé avec joie. De là, elle s'est glissée devant Giles pour s'attaquer à la perspective de boissons gratuites et s'est contentée de dire : "Je veux quelque chose de doux... Alors donne-moi ce que tu as." Plus l'utiliser comme une autre pièce appropriée, mais aussi pour obtenir une boisson qui descend facilement. "Et nous ne pouvons pas oublier notre ami! Donnez-moi quelque chose d'autre... quelque chose qu'un mec vraiment, vraiment grand aimerait." Le barman a donné une rafale de rires à la déclaration d'Alria sur la nage. "Tu es sûr de vouloir quitter les parias héroïques Giles?! Elle s'intégrerait bien avec eux! Hahaha!" Lui donner une lingette à l'œil qu'il a encore parlé "Eh bien, vous ne vous inquiétez pas pour Giles, il peut bien gérer ses boissons, son temps passé avec ces Mercs de lui l'a vraiment aidé en termes de boire de ce que j'ai entendu, assez léger il y a quelques années qu'il était." Il a donné un sourire vulpin vers Gilvert avant d'aborder le choix de la boisson d'Alria. "Quelque chose d'agréable, hein? Oui, j'ai quelque chose qui te va très bien... je peux essayer de le trouver." Après avoir creusé un peu derrière la barre, il a sorti une bouteille verte brillante, elle était à peu près à moitié vide et une fois que Giles a espionné le nom de celui-ci, il savait ce que c'était, pensez à mélanger un rosé et un cognac mais y ajoutant une sorte de substance de type crème, c'était un étrange mélange de goûts sucrés et légèrement acidulés qui a aussi emballé un peu de punch. C'était très facile d'oublier que tu buvais quelque chose de fort, étant donné à quel point c'était doux et doux. "Nous voilà, "Veltori Liquer" ou quelque chose comme ça, mon Turian est de la merde..." Il a versé une quantité libérale dans un verre de vin, en pensant que c'est le meilleur endroit où ce type de boisson appartiendrait. "Et quelque chose qu'un grand gars aimerait? Ce n'est pas un Krogan?" Il s'est coupé avant de tourner et d'ouvrir une glacière derrière lui, avec un mouvement rapide, il a rapidement sorti le bouchon de la bouteille d'une bouteille de verre et l'a placé avant Giles - ce n'était pas quelque chose d'aussi fort qu'Alria vient d'être donné, mais il a toujours apprécié une bière fraîche après une mission avant d'aller sur les choses plus difficiles - les humains ont su faire de l'alcool. Alors que Giles ramasse sa bouteille cool, il dit : "Non, c'est juste un Turian... juste l'un des plus gros que j'aie jamais vu." "Je vois, hmmmm... Attendez! J'ai quelque chose qui va le faire descendre sur terre avec tous nos petits gars." Quelques secondes de rifling plus tard, un petit verre d'un liquide très sombre a été présenté. "C'est essentiellement du whisky turc, mais tu sais que je ne nettoierais pas mes toilettes avec ce truc, ça fondrait à travers la céramique - juste lui dire de ne pas le descendre sinon il perdra le sentiment dans ses jambes." Brillant Gilvert a pensé, maintenant il devrait expliquer pourquoi Tibérius était mort après ce soir, si cet homme était armé a son chemin - il a toujours sorti les arrêts quand Giles ou ses mercs sont arrivés ici, il semblerait qu'il va continuer à quelque compagnie que ce soit. "Au fait, nous avons un humain avec nous, donnez-lui juste quelque chose de normal, rien de tel qu'un nettoyeur de moteur galactique." En un clin d'œil, un autre bouchon de bouteille vola dans l'air alors qu'il jetait une autre bière à Giles. "Ici, il peut te rejoindre sur les trucs faibles." une fois de plus, en lui faisant entendre un sourire épouvantable. Alria prit son verre et le porta à son contrôle, mais avant même de prendre son premier verre, elle écouta ce que le barman et Giles avaient à dire. Bien que sans la conversation l'impliquant vraiment, c'était une réaction passive de sa formation. -- Eh bien, je ne sais pas pour vous, mais je vais aller remplir mon devoir! Elle a appelé avec confiance, prenant la boisson de Tibère dans sa main libre et prenant une gorgée de sa propre boisson goûtant la boisson sucrée avant de marcher vers la table qui a été choisie par Tibère. Ethan commençait à se rendre compte à quel point il avait l'air étrange, assis au bar sans rien commander. Les autres semblaient passer un bon moment, et il commençait à se rendre compte qu'il devrait peut-être faire quelque chose aussi. leur parler maintenant pourrait ne pas être une bonne idée, surtout avec ce moyen Turian, mais peut-être qu'il pourrait commander quelque chose, et ils lui parleraient sur un ordre mutuel de... choses. Ironiquement, alors qu'il pensait à cela, il s'est rendu compte qu'il y avait un grand turian juste à côté de lui. À leur question, il avait l'air plutôt perplexe. "Eh bien..." il a commencé. Il n'était pas trop habitué aux gens qui demandaient comme ça. "J'ai une assez bonne idée pourquoi j'ai été choisi, oui. Je suis considéré comme l'un des biotiques les plus destructeurs vivants, apparemment." il a dit avec un regard complètement innocent sur son visage. "Pourquoi t'ont-ils invité? Ont-ils besoin de quelqu'un pour brasser la lutte contre Ymir Mechs?" Tibère ne put s'empêcher de sourire un peu à la remarque humaine, croisant ses bras, il secoua la tête, « Sans doute, j'étais très probablement invité parce que je suis un type de Cabale hautement qualifié, forces spéciales, mais à part qu'il n'y a rien qui me distingue vraiment de la plupart des Cabales autre que ma taille de cisaillement » dit-il ensuite a pris un autre regard autour du bar avant de regarder son outil Omni pour un bref moment. En regardant en arrière, il regardait Giles et Alria parler avec le barman avant de les passer lentement à boire, il ne pouvait pas tout à fait entendre ce qu'ils disaient ou s'ils parlaient de n'importe qui en particulier. C'était bien avant qu'il ne remarque qu'Alria prenne deux verres puis se dirige vers la table qu'il était à "Apportez-moi un verre surprise, intéressant je suppose" il lui a appelé. Alria a fait son chemin vers la table et a pris place; loin d'Ethan, et a passé Tibère sa boisson, « Eh bien parfois les surprises sont les meilleures choses dans la vie. Ne soyez pas un carré que vous ne payez pas pour cela si bas vers le haut!" Avec ça, elle a frappé ses jambes sous la table et a bu une autre gorgée de son verre. Une chose était certaine, comme d'habitude Giles commandait quelque chose de plus fort pour aller avec sa boisson légère, comme c'est le cas chaque fois qu'un défi est lancé par le barman. Ce n'était pas quelque chose de dur, juste un rhum comme une boisson qui a été brassée sur Khaje, quelque chose qu'il aimait beaucoup. En prenant les boissons, il se dirigea vers la table que Tibère avait acquise, où Alria était maintenant assise. Ethan était assis un peu à distance mais assez près pour être impliqué dans toute conversation qui s'est produite; clairement lui et Alria n'allaient pas se mettre bien à proximité afin que ce soit pour le mieux, Poser ses boissons et glisser une bière vers Ethan, il a levé sa bouteille et ordonné un toast. « Eh bien, pour toutes les intentions et toutes les fins qui ont été un travail bien fait aujourd'hui, je dois dire que je suis impatient de travailler avec vous tous plus loin - à notre succès et pour les vies qui ont été perdues aujourd'hui! » Gilvert a proclamé qu'ils ne pouvaient pas oublier les pertes qui ont été subies par leur succès, peu importe à quel point ils étaient nécessaires. C'était à peu près à ce moment-là que Giles a fait son chemin et s'est joint à eux, assis à côté d'elle, en quelque sorte. Les sièges n'étaient pas très proches donc ce n'était pas particulièrement à côté, mais au moins il a mis un corps entre elle et Ethan. Puis, une fois qu'il a parlé d'honorer les morts et la vie, elle a levé son verre dans les applaudissements, pas un étranger de souhaiter au perdu bien sur leur chemin vers le paradis. Ethan a hurlé sans aucun intérêt du tout au grand Turian, avant de se retourner et de se demander si cet endroit avait de la crème glacée. Ça devrait, n'est-ce pas? Reapers n'a pas détruit tous les congélateurs. Au moins, il ne le pensait pas. Ils ne seraient pas attirés par les températures froides, ce serait inutile pour tout ce qu'ils ont fait. "Je me demande si je pourrais apprendre à construire des congélateurs..." il s'est moqué à haute voix, sans aucun contexte pour quelqu'un d'autre avec ses mots. Il a remarqué que quelqu'un s'assoit entre lui et le Turian énervé, mais il s'en foutait. Ils n'avaient probablement rien d'intéressant à dire. Donc c'était une surprise de regarder vers le haut, et de réaliser que quelqu'un avait mis un verre devant lui. Il a entendu les Drell dire quelque chose, mais n'a toujours pas remarqué. Il a cependant levé sa boisson à moitié de cœur, vu que c'était ce que tout le monde semblait faire. Bonté savait pourquoi. Finalement, il s'est ennuyé d'attendre, et a commandé de la glace. Lorsqu'il arriva, il regarda la bouteille par sa main, et se mit à verser le contenu de la bouteille dans le bol. Tibère regarde entre les trois et ramasse son verre et le lève sur son visage et l'odore, au début il fait fourmiller son nez et lui rappelle l'élément détoné zéro, en entendant le toast il leva son verre plus haut et clique son verre contre tous les autres. Normalement Tibérius ne buvait pas, mais quelqu'un d'autre payait et on lui avait offert alors pourquoi le laisser passer "Permets de rester inarrêtable et intangible" il a dit alors pris une gorgée, presque immédiatement sa gorge brûlée alors qu'il reculait visiblement "Esprits qui est fort!" Il a dit qu'il s'était ébranlé la tête. Avec le toast célébré Giles a pris une bonne brindille de sa bière froide. "Ahhhh qui était rafraîchissant..." Giles a été sorti de son rafraîchissement mental par Tibère presque étouffant sur sa boisson, le garde n'était pas mentir ce truc était fort, mais il ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de sourire au recoil de Tibère. C'est alors que Giles se souvint que juste avant le toast Ethan avait fait un commentaire assez étrange, probablement oublié qu'il parlait à haute voix, ainsi que qu'il semblait... distrait. L'homme a versé sa bière dans un bol de glace qu'il venait de commander... Les humains... sont bizarres. "Je ne pense pas qu'ils aient besoin d'officiers de l'Alliance pour apprendre à construire des congélateurs, Ethan." Giles a dit avec un demi-sourire. Giles a pris une autre brindille de sa bière avant de se tourner vers Alria. -- Alors, qu'avez-vous fait avant d'être traîné ici par les Spectres? Pendant qu'il parlait à Alria, la question était dirigée et destinée à tout le monde autour de la table, il est temps qu'il commence à apprendre un peu plus sur ses camarades. Alria a pris une gorgée de sa boisson après les applaudissements et en la redescendant commençait déjà à ressentir les effets de ses boissons. Juste quelques gorgées et elle était là? Eh bien, à quoi bon boire si tu ne t'es pas fait foirer. À la question de Giles, bien qu'elle ait crié : "Je... j'ai fait partie des Hastatim. Je me suis mis à être bien... génial et un peu méchant, mais tout ça pour une bonne cause. Puis, bien sûr, la guerre de Reaper s'est produite et nous avons tous perdu notre véritable emploi. » De là, elle a regardé vers le bas et a agité sa boisson un peu en la regardant sans arrêt. "Eh bien, euh... de toute façon. Après ça, j'ai fait mon boulot. Aider où je pouvais et gérer les choses au fur et à mesure qu'elles surgissaient." À ce stade, elle semblait un peu revenir un peu de son état pensif. "Mais assez parlé de moi. Et toi Tibère? Comment s'est passé le passé avant de venir ici?" Tibère s'assit tranquillement en écoutant et en sirotant sa boisson avec soin, ses yeux tournés vers le plafond, sa boisson s'installait régulièrement mais semblait ne pas l'embêter beaucoup pour le moment alors qu'il tournait son attention vers Alria quand elle lui posait une question : « Eh bien, il y a des choses que je ne peux pas vous dire alors que d'autres je ne vais pas simplement parce que je ne connais pas encore très bien l'un d'entre vous, mais ce que je peux vous dire c'est que je dois voyager juste à peu près partout, mais après la guerre des moissonneurs, j'ai continué à voyager et à aider là où je pouvais attendre d'être rappelé au service, et maintenant je suppose que j'ai ma chance. Mon passé était pour la plupart solitaire." Il dit alors avoir pris une autre gorgée de sa boisson, mais cette fois, c'était une gorgée beaucoup plus longue avant qu'il ne pose sa tête sur la table.-- Alors, qu'avez-vous fait avant de vous joindre, et qui pourriez-vous être petit humain? Il dit ensuite s'asseoir brièvement et regarda Ethan puis prit une autre longue gorgée avant de placer sa tête en arrière sur la table. Le nouveau repas d'Ethan semblait fonctionner étonnamment bien, toutes choses considérées. La nourriture a-t-elle toujours eu un meilleur goût après une bagarre? Ou était-ce après la mort imminente, en particulier? Ethan n'était pas sûr, en toute honnêteté. Peut-être qu'il devrait en parler à quelqu'un. Qui était encore le docteur ici... Le grand Turian lui parlait encore, et cette fois, Ethan était assez loin de son petit monde à remarquer. Curieusement, il semblait être une question similaire à la dernière. N'a-t-il pas eu assez de détails à son goût? Comme c'est naze. "Je te l'ai déjà dit." il a dit, essayant, et étonnamment réussi à cacher l'irritation dans sa voix. "Je suis un biotique. C'est très destructeur. Je suis né sur Benning, il s'avère que j'ai été exposé à un élément Zéro, ma mère et mon père faisaient de la contrebande. Ils se sont fait tirer dessus par des gars pour qui ils travaillaient, qui sont venus me chercher, alors je les ai tués." Il ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de sourire un peu. "c'était amusant. Rejoindre l'armée, entraînée sous l'Ascension, a passé les quelques années suivantes à déchirer Cerberus. Puis j'ai été invité ici après qu'une brute m'ait cassé les bras. J'ai quand même réussi à le récupérer." Il a dit, le tout dans le même ton qu'il utiliserait pour commenter le chapeau de quelqu'un. Il s'est assis et a mis sa cuillère dans sa bouche, avant de se rendre compte qu'il n'y avait pas encore mis de glace. "Oh, et mon nom est Ethan Sartiel." Réduire sa boisson à un simple hochet dans le fond de la bouteille Giles a parlé enfin de l'occupation précédente de tout le monde. "Je cours avec un groupe mercenaire depuis 20 ans maintenant, ils sont appelés les Héroïques Outcasts, c'est bien leur nouveau nom donc vous pouvez ou ne pas avoir entendu parler d'eux avant, Si jamais vous êtes allé à la Traverse bien que vous avez probablement. Avant cela, j'étais un assassin pour le gouvernement Khajen, mais ça n'a pas duré longtemps. Alria a tenu compte des histoires de tout le monde, mais n'a pas pu s'empêcher de regarder Giles quand Ethan a parlé avec un visage qui a dit tout, 'est-ce ce gars pour de vrai?' Malgré son scepticisme évident, elle se taisait. "Bon alors! Qu'est-ce qu'il y a de mal à faire? Ou ont été... amenés dans. Peu importe. Tu vois ce que je veux dire" Elle a commencé à dégénérer. sa grâce sociale commence à s'éroder avec la consommation continue de sa boisson, dont elle a pris une autre gorgée. Environ la moitié d'entre elle a fini la première et déjà mélangé ses voyelles. "Tu sais quoi! Je crois que je vous aime bien. Je veux dire un peu. Je ne t'aime pas beaucoup." Elle a avoué avec brio et maladroitement avoir pointé sur Ethan... et renversé un peu de son verre. "Et tu veux ce grand, "je suis si mystérieux et sombre", mais je vois à travers ça... tu as besoin d'un câlin." Elle a avoué maladroitement pour Tibère. "Mais c'est bon! Parce que maintenant nous sommes bizarres ensemble!" Elle a fini avant de terminer littéralement le dernier tiers de sa boisson dans un très long goupille. Poser le verre sur le comptoir, elle a donné une rotule non cérémonieuse et non lady avant de regarder entre eux à travers les yeux flous. Mais hey qui s'attend à quelque chose de moins après un total léger descend un verre d'une boisson mélangée chargée avec une telle teneur en alcool cachée derrière le goût sucré de fruits et de sucre. "J'ai besoin d'un autre verre Giles!" Giles a été témoin de l'incrédulité d'Alrias et ne l'a considérée qu'avec une mi-coeur, l'humain était égocentrique et égocentrique pas rare des biotiques qui ont laissé ce pouvoir aller à leur tête. Alria semblait s'amuser, bien qu'il ait trouvé amusant qu'elle ait dit plus tôt qu'elle espérait que Giles pourrait nager quand elle-même était en train de se noyer. Déjà exigeant une autre boisson si tôt, après avoir descendu cette liqueur assez forte. Giles a pris une gorgée de son rhum Khaje, il était doux et a laissé une sensation chaude apaisante jusqu'à son estomac où il s'est assis confortablement. " Ai - je l'air d'un Volus pour vous? Que les bars sont ouverts, prenez votre propre boisson, en supposant que vous pouvez marcher en ligne droite jusqu'au bar." Giles l'a dit avec tact. Alria regarda Giles et entendit sa réponse à travers ses sens flous. "Non, tu n'es pas un Volus, mais tu connais le barman! Tu es ami avec lui et je ne suis pas encore là. Allez! Un autre s'il vous plaît!" Ses mots étaient joyeux comme toujours et cela n'a pas été changé par son état d'ébriété, bien qu'il était clair qu'elle ressentait quelque chose. En entendant Alrias commenter qu'il avait besoin d'un câlin Tibère immédiatement assis, ses yeux rétrécis en la regardant, le regard sur son visage disant 'Ne osez pas'. En descendant le petit liquide qui restait dans son verre, il regarda tranquillement le verre vide par la suite alors qu'il envisageait d'en obtenir un autre, renversant le verre à l'envers, il le plaça sur la table "Merci... pour la boisson Giles" il murmura alors qu'il semblait changer d'humeur, "Je... J'ai besoin d'un peu d'air » a-t-il dit alors qu'il s'éloignait de la cabine et commençait à se rendre à la porte, atteignant l'une de ses pochettes, il commençait à se frotter pour ses cigarettes, mais ne les retirait pas tant qu'il n'était pas à l'extérieur. Une fois sorti du pub, il s'éloignait légèrement de l'entrée et se penchait contre le mur, enlevant un briquet qu'il gardait dans la boîte avec ses cigarettes, il en lisait un et faisait une lente traînée avant de faire sauter la fumée dans l'air, il ne se souvenait pas tout à fait de la dernière fois qu'il avait bu un verre, mais s'il pouvait probablement essayer de noyer quelque douleur ou un mauvais souvenir. Il espérait que ce serait différent, mais ce n'était pas seulement pour déclencher quelque chose qu'il gardait au fond de l'intérieur pendant que son esprit commençait à errer. Tout à coup, il semblait être tiré en arrière alors qu'il était léger sur le côté de son omni-outil, le soulevant, il lisait le message qu'il avait reçu, le reste de son équipement était en transit de la Citadelle et à un appartement qu'il avait emprunté ici à Londres. Abaissant son bras, il prit une autre lente traînée de sa cigarette et regarda tranquillement dans le ciel avant de fermer les yeux et d'écouter le bavardage faible de l'intérieur du pub. Les yeux d'Ethan se rétrécissaient légèrement au commentaire d'Alria, bien que son visage ne montre toujours aucune émotion. Au lieu de ça, il a regardé, il lui a encore cuillé de la glace dans la bouche. Après peu de temps, il a parlé. "C'est bon. Je ne pense pas que je t'aime beaucoup non plus. Vous semblez être irrité par les choses les plus banales." Il a fini sa crème glacée et... tout ce qui était dans cette bouteille, câlinant les restes de cette dernière dans sa bouche très soigneusement. Il regarda alors de nouveau les autres, ne s'arrêtant qu'à sortir certains de ses cheveux de ses yeux. "Alors. Et maintenant? Avez-vous tous l'intention de devenir intoxiqué?" Au moins une personne sur trois était d'humeur à boire. Alria, aussi vite qu'elle l'était, tentait de s'amuser, et si Giles avait besoin de lui fournir des boissons alors cette fois était vraiment agréable - alors qu'il en soit ainsi. Le Turian a remercié Giles pour la boisson et a fait son chemin à l'extérieur, il n'était pas parti correctement il a dû prendre de l'air frais - ne peut pas gérer ses trucs forts. Et puis il y avait Ethan qui a versé sa boisson sur la glace... pourquoi était-il presque le plus sain du groupe? Cela l'inquiétait, vraiment - et seulement un verre calmerait ces eaux. En descendant son rhum, qui au lieu de la chaleur subtile et apaisante qu'il donnait normalement est consommateur, il a plutôt donné une forte brûlure sur le chemin vers le bas, il était fugitif et a commencé à faire nager la tête de Giles un peu. "Allez-vous-en." Donner à Alria un remorqueur sur le collier de son armure. "On va boire un autre verre car c'est juste nous deux qui voulons vraiment boire quelque chose. Alria a entendu les paroles d'Ethan et a pointé un doigt chargé dans sa direction, laissant sa bouche ouverte pour reprendre un souffle afin qu'elle puisse le laisser l'avoir. Pourtant, avant de pouvoir prononcer un seul mot, elle sentit le remorqueur sur son collier blindé et sur son instinct et sa réaction purs, elle transforma son doigt en un éclair qui s'empare du poignet de Giles. Contorsion son corps qu'elle a cramponné, loin de la table, et s'est positionnée derrière Giles, déchirant son bras derrière son dos. Cependant, avant d'exercer une quelconque pression, elle s'est détendue et a réalisé ce qui se passait. Alors avec ses sens en arrière, elle a décidé de tirer le meilleur parti de la situation et tout en gardant son bras derrière son dos, elle a glissé son bras à travers le sien et lâché aller, accrochant son bras sur le sien comme ils allaient au bal de promo. "Je pense que c'est une bonne idée. Content que tu sois un jeu pour essayer de me suivre! » Elle se vantait avec confiance et à tort, considérant qu'elle perdait clairement ce concours d'alcool. Ethan avait fini sa glace, et était sur le point de demander quelques secondes quand, hors du coin de l'œil, il a remarqué le remorqueur Drell le Turian sur le collier. Immédiatement, elle a saisi le poignet de la Drell et lui a arraché le bras derrière le dos. C'était un réflexe, mais dans son état étrangement détendu, Ethan n'a pas tout à fait réalisé que et son bras a immédiatement commencé à éclater avec une puissance biotique, prêt à créer un champ de poussée ou deux en un instant. Cependant, comme il l'a fait, il s'est rendu compte que le Turian avait laissé partir le Drell, et il a lentement dissipé l'énergie accumulée dans sa main. "...une bonne douleur." Tibère était sur le point de finir sa cigarette quand il a regardé à l'intérieur du pub, il a eu l'envie de les rejoindre, mais il semblait retomber sur ce qu'il avait toujours été forcé de faire. Prenant la dernière traînée, il jeta la cigarette au sol et marcha dessus avant d'élever son omni-outil et de lire où il devait rencontrer le reste de l'équipe, soupirant à la légère qu'il tournait et se dirigeait vers le poste de police alors qu'il échangeait des messages avec un camarade de cabale via omni-outil. Alria semblait être plus à l'aise avec son entraînement militaire que Giles ne l'avait pensé au départ, étant donné que, même si elle était déjà un peu saoul, elle pouvait réagir rapidement et presque déloger son épaule blessée - mais presque comme si elle se rendait compte à mi-chemin qu'elle a transformé le bras en quelque chose que vous;Voyiez les meilleurs amis ou couples faire. Après lui avoir donné un regard quizical - et son retour d'un regard qui vient de dire "Quoi" comme si Giles avait vu quelque chose d'étrange il s'est juste serré la tête et est allé un long avec elle. "Oui, je ne sais pas comment je vais suivre un buveur assaisonné comme toi Alria, mais essaierais de le faire." Ensemble, la paire est revenue au bar, dont l'entretien les attendait déjà. "De retour pour la deuxième ronde, je vois? Qu'est-ce que ce sera alors?" Dans sa voix joyeuse et verbeuse, il semblait toujours avoir un grand sourire attaché à son visage moustaché. Alria est restée proche de Giles et a bien sûr dû apprécier le fait qu'il avait admis qu'il avait tort et a perdu ce concours et bien sûr avec l'offrande d'un second verre, elle a pris en charge et a amené Giles au bar, l'offrant à faire la conversation pour la plupart comme elle a dit, "Je veux un autre de ce que vous m'avez donné la dernière fois!" Sa demande savait qu'elle laissait ses yeux regarder vers Giles, avant de retourner au barman, puis à Giles, puis au barman. Poursuivant cette tendance indéfiniment. Le barman a commencé à verser un autre de l'exceptionnellement fort comme il était doux, boissons et puis a donné un sourcil levé vers Giles en attendant son choix. "Je vais avoir la même chose à nouveau, s'il vous plaît gardez." Alors que le barman commençait à remplir leurs ordres, Giles se tourna vers Alria pour demander. "Vous avez hâte de travailler avec ces gars? N'importe qui, à moins que les coupables évidents, vous pensez que cela pourrait être un problème, ou un bon plaisir?" Comme il a terminé sa question, les boissons étaient prêtes et placées avant la paire. "Donnez-moi juste un holder si vous voulez un autre tour de vous deux, je dois m'occuper de mes autres patrons maintenant." Alria a laissé aller le bras de Giles pour aller chercher son verre, le prenant à la main et en buvant libéralement maintenant que sa langue a été engourdie et que son palais s'est réveillé. Seulement un tiers de sa boisson a-t-elle parlé, "Je ne sais pas. Je veux dire oui, j'ai hâte de travailler avec vous, mais je ne sais pas pour vous." Elle a commencé à avouer son manque général d'opinion qui était assez étrange étant donné combien elle était libérale il y a quelques instants. "En fait, je ne connais même pas tous les noms de corps. Je veux dire comme... peut-être comme quatre d'entre vous." La dernière partie de son discours a été fortement assombrie à des syllabes aléatoires alors que la grande partie de sa boisson l'a soudainement frappée. Même alors qu'elle regardait Giles, elle buvait de plus en plus de sa boisson fruitée et elle montrait de plus en plus à la fois dans ses mots et le fait que ses yeux commençaient à fléchir. Alria montrait clairement des signes de ne pas avoir manipulé sa boisson - bien que Giles devenait un peu pire pour l'usure, cela fait un moment qu'il n'a pas eu autant de rhum Khajen... " Ouais... pas sûr de qui tout le monde est encore, ce sera un bon boulot pour travailler avec certains d'entre eux... Je ferais mieux de ne pas être coincé avec cet hybride mech/humain ou quoi que ce soit la prochaine fois... » Réduire son verre à un peu sous la moitié de la marque, il a vraiment commencé à exposer ses effets sur lui, la capacité de se concentrer devenait difficile, lentement mais sûrement. Après avoir donné une des balances sur sa tête une égratignure, il a brièvement vérifié son omni-outil pour voir qu'il avait un nouveau courriel. Il était de son groupe de merc et il semblait qu'ils avaient décidé de quitter la Terre et de retourner à Omega parce que, citant « c'était ennuyeux comme de la merde et nous devons tuer quelque chose » avec Giles indisposé et pour le moment ne faisant plus partie de leur équipage, ils avaient décidé de partir. Soupir d'un petit soupir, il lui donna une autre gorgée de rhum. Alria a hissé les mots de Giles en accord avec la plupart de ce qu'il disait et pour les parties qu'elle n'était pas d'accord était dû à un manque de connaissance basé sur une divergence d'opinion. Quoi qu'elle ait continué à descendre son verre à un rythme presque mal conseillé, elle a reparlé, "Alors, qu'en est-il de vous? Tu crois qu'on va avoir des trucs cools? Je veux dire, des fois?" Ses paroles deviennent progressivement de plus en plus lugubres. Bien qu'avant d'attendre une réponse, elle a regardé son Omni-Tool et que c'est l'activation, elle a reparlé, "Ah merde. On est censés être au point de rendez-vous. Allez, on peut prendre ma voiture." Alria, dans son état d'ivresse a fait un bon point - quand Giles a regardé son omni-outil, il n'a même pas pensé à l'heure - comme il se trouve; ils un peu plus d'une demi-journée pour obtenir les choses triées et y arriver. Peut-être que le laisser ici était la bonne décision. "Tu as raison, ne veux pas rater ça- et j'ai des trucs à faire demain aussi... En descendant le reste de sa boisson, Giles attendait qu'Alria fasse de même. Alria a acquiescé à l'accord de Giles et le voir prendre en charge sa boisson l'a fait regarder vers le bas et très soigneusement examiner la sienne. Prendre un million de calculs à la fois et arriver à une conclusion singulière. Elle pourrait finir son verre d'un seul coup... peut-être. Prenant fermement le verre à la main, elle l'a balancé haut et, bien qu'il ait fallu des goupilles très copieuses, elle a terminé avec succès les deux derniers tiers, tremblant et ronflant à la fin cependant. A partir de là, elle a été triée et prête à partir, surtout grâce à l'idée qu'elle avait peut-être 5 minutes avant qu'elle ne la frappe. En sortant du bar pour prendre en charge et avec du verre encore dans sa main, elle a quitté le pub et a convoqué son omni-tool, regardant attentivement l'écran pendant plus de moments que nécessaire avant qu'elle ne commence avec confiance à pousser des boutons. Après quelques instants avait passé un autre rugissement a été ajouté aux sons de navires volants comme un navire assez unique et clairement spécial est venu en vue. Ce n'était pas un design normal et après ce qu'Alria lui a fait, c'était encore moins reconnaissable. Avec ses longues gouvernails avant qui étaient presque aussi longs que le combattant de taille décente. La peinture blanche et noire d'une image nette avec ses accents teintés fournit un joli contraste. Les grands moteurs ont clairement fait plus grand mais léger et la forme élégante coupée avec de nombreux évents de traînée et des jets de couple pour augmenter les performances même immobile. Alria, souriant avec une merde mangeant le sourire, regarda le navire avant de marcher vers lui dans une ligne plutôt courbée. Pendant ce temps, le navire a atterri et, tout en courant, a laissé le train d'atterrissage s'étendre pour s'assurer qu'il était fermement dans un endroit d'atterrissage qui était à peine assez grand pour permettre à l'embarcation d'atterrir. Lorsqu'elle atteignit le flanc du navire, elle poussa encore quelques boutons sur son omni-tool et une glissière d'écoutille sur le côté, fermant et sifflant l'appel pneumatique à chaque étape de l'ouverture avant qu'une porte assez grande pour un Krogan ne soit connue. Dans le même temps, une petite plate-forme a été abaissée vers le bas et a fait une plate-forme suspendue qui a baissé au sol sur les actionneurs. En fait, pour toute personne qui s'initierait aux navires, il serait clair qu'il s'agissait d'un type de porte et d'ascenseur couramment utilisé pour charger des munitions et des petites cargaisons, mais il manquait la plupart des sangles, crochets et broches que la plupart des ascenseurs de fret avaient. Alria marcha dessus et regarda en arrière à Giles : « Entrez! Il n'y a pas beaucoup de place, mais c'est bon!" Elle l'a rappelé, de toute évidence de plus en plus ivre alors que son verre la frappait comme un train en fuite. De là, elle se laissa monter dans la pièce sur son navire, glissant de vue et entrant dans ce qui aurait dû être une baie d'ordonnance, mais était maintenant sa petite maison. Il était à l'étroit et rempli d'effets personnels qui rendaient la pièce déjà petite encore plus à l'étroit, mais il y avait assez de place pour se déplacer. Son lit était soigneusement fait et clairement destiné à un seul avec une petite commode poussée jusqu'au pied de celui-ci. Tout autour à la hauteur de la tête ou juste au-dessus il y avait des étagères en métal qui portaient quelques nick-nacks ainsi que des supports de montage d'armes où elle a commencé à mettre ses armes, chacun ayant apparemment son propre endroit. Pour ses effets personnels, elle avait des affiches sur le mur par son lit avec une autre étagère construite par le lit qui tenait un réveil, quelques verres, quelques photos d'elle avec divers autres Turians et elle et beaucoup d'âges différents allant de l'enfant à l'âge actuel, et Une fois que ses armes ont été remises en place, elle a commencé à se rendre dans un petit placard qui une fois ouvert et les portes retroussées dans le cadre, elle a commencé à enlever son armure, en l'installant dans les espaces faits du casier d'équipement. Plutôt désordonné et lentement décapant tout en trébuchant et tombant dans le casier à plusieurs reprises, provoquant l'engrenage de se battre et de clin d'oeil alors qu'elle dépouillait à son costume de peau qui a agi comme sa deuxième à dernière couche de vêtements. Le navire d'Alrias était assez impressionnant; fortement modifié et clairement bien investi dans cela était pour certain - quand elle l'a demandé à l'intérieur, il a suivi à contrecœur. Elle... n'avait pas vraiment l'intention de voler ça... n'est-ce pas? Il était évident qu'il est arrivé ici par le biais d'un pilote automatique d'une certaine sorte, mais toujours la pensée d'être contrôlé par l'Alria très ivre n'a pas vraiment instiller la confiance. Alors que la paire montait dans son vaisseau de ce qui était une sorte d'ascenseur réaménagé, c'était de plus en plus évident juste à quel point il était ivre lui-même - en descendant ce rhum n'était pas bon pour son esprit, c'est sûr. Une fois à l'intérieur du bateau Giles a commenté - "C'est un très beau bateau, un peu confortable mais je suppose que son conçu pour une personne - il a dû vous faire revenir un peu payer pour quelque chose d'aussi fortement modifié que cela?" Non pas qu'il jugeait bien sûr; la grande arme cylindrique sur son dos était quelque chose qu'il avait investi extrêmement fortement dans - en fait, il a probablement coûté plus que ce navire la quantité qu'il a coulé dedans au fil des années. La chambre dans laquelle ils sont apparus quand l'ascenseur avait terminé son voyage semblait être la chambre d'Alrias - bien qu'elle était vraiment assez exiguë aussi bien que jonchée d'effets personnels, étant donné que ce navire semblait être une sorte de classe de combattant, il était en fait assez surprenant qu'elle ait réussi à s'en sortir avec autant qu'elle l'avait fait pour en faire sa maison, des sortes. Giles était sur le point de dire quelque chose avant qu'Alria ne commence à enlever son armure; presque comme si elle avait oublié Giles était debout dans la même pièce qu'elle - donnant ce qui ne pouvait être que l'équivalent de Drell d'un blush et tourné sur ses talons vers le mur jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit faite. La note mentale qu'il s'était donnée était une liste à cocher de choses qu'il n'avait pas prévu lui arriver en un jour - il devenait assez absurde quant à la longueur de cela maintenant. Alria a continué fidèlement dans sa tâche de se déshabiller, toujours percutant les choses pendant qu'elle allait jusqu'à ce que sa tâche fût finalement terminée et elle a été laissée avec son costume de peau sous armure pour l'habiller. Se baladant et se tenant sur le côté du casier, elle vit Giles à travers les yeux flous et dit joyeusement : « Te voilà! » Apparemment pour l'oublier un moment. À la suite de cet événement, elle a commencé à marcher jusqu'à lui et à son lit, mettant ses mains sur ses épaules et le retournant, tombant presque sur lui dans le processus. "Pourquoi est-ce que je regarde le W~-all? C'est bizarre. Tu es bizarre." Elle s'est évanouie avant de tomber sur le côté pour atterrir sur son lit, rebondissant légèrement alors qu'elle s'installait sur le matelas. L'appel de « Te voilà! » de la même façon qu'une mère fait à son enfant était la confirmation Giles a obtenu qu'elle était finie s'habiller, au moins il l'espérait, se retourner et voir un Turian ivre nu serait juste la "cerise sur le dessus" du gâteau de cluster-fuck qui était aujourd'hui. Heureusement que ce n'était pas le cas, au lieu de ça, il vient d'avoir une triade d'ivrogne "Vous êtes bizarres" Giles a répondu avec un petit soupir de soulagement "C'était un mur plutôt charmant, je ne pouvais pas m'en empêcher" Giles descendit un peu le mur jusqu'à ce qu'il s'asseyât à la base, en regardant Alria retomber sur son lit. "Tu es un vrai léger, tu sais ça? Giles m'a dit de plaisanter. Alria s'est roulée sur son côté, la remettant à Giles alors qu'il parlait et entendant à peine ses mots qui aideraient probablement à répondre pourquoi elle a dit, "Vous êtes une... voie légère. Va te coucher." Elle n'a pas vraiment de sens puisqu'elle a tiré son omni-outil presque normalement et sobrement, appuyant sur un bouton sur lui pour fermer la porte derrière eux avec un sifflement métallique tandis que tout le navire a commencé à trembler et à gronder. Au fur et à mesure que les moteurs commençaient à s'enflammer, le navire vibrait de plus en plus jusqu'à ce qu'il soit encore suivi d'une légère traction vers le haut. Le navire décollait et, comme c'était le cas, les champs à effet de masse à l'intérieur de la cabine gardaient tout relativement immobile, ce qui expliquerait comment toutes ses affaires n'étaient pas éparpillées à l'heure actuelle. Bien que même avec un remorqueur doux, il était clair de dire que le navire était juste en orbite. "Je... je... je... Je suis soûl." Était tout ce qu'elle a réussi à dire avant qu'elle ferme les yeux et s'endormit presque instantanément, s'éloignant dans l'inconscience. La seule réponse de Giles à sa blague était qu'elle lui disait essentiellement la même chose; chiffres. Après l'avoir regardée s'amuser avec son omni-tool pendant un moment, le navire a commencé à donner un coup de pied à la vie après la fermeture de la porte. Giles a soupiré et s'est dit: "Oh, je suis désolé M. et Mme Somner, je crains que Gilvert ne soit mort par Turian ivre, malgré la survie de la guerre de Reaper..." un scénario qu'il pourrait bien faire sans, mais quand Alria a admis le fait qu'elle avait plus de contenu en alcool dans son sang que le sang réel, elle est devenue inconsciente. Giles lui-même avait réussi à récupérer un peu plus de ses sens, mais inévitablement il a frappé partout, et un oeil fermé - espérons qu'un qu'il se réveille réellement d'où serait agréable. Prendre son sniper dans son dos, il l'a reposé sur sa poitrine en traversant ses bras autour de lui comme si c'était une poupée ou quelque chose de ce genre. "G'night Widow... demain, c'est un spectacle de merde. Et avec ça, il a facilement glissé dans un sommeil sans rêve. Quand Giles s'est réveillé le lendemain matin, il a été soulagé que: Un - il s'est réveillé du tout et Deux - sa tête ne se scintillait pas d'une gueule de bois; toujours un coup et manquer avec ce rhum Khaje'n. Quant à Alria, ce serait une histoire différente. Une vérification rapide de son omni-outil a montré qu'ils avaient 4 heures pour se présenter à la réunion, ce qui était plutôt bon, il avait quelques choses à faire. En utilisant sa veuve comme un bâton, il a jonché Alria quelques fois dans les côtes "Venez léger, levez-vous." C'était bien de le faire, dans ses jours de merc, il était toujours au bout de la réception de la "boot de réveil". Alria n'avait pas du tout déménagé dans son sommeil, à boire et fatiguée pour le faire et une fois le cul d'un fusil de sniper a été fourré dans sa poitrine, elle gémit et murmura quelque chose avant de s'en prendre à l'arme. Avec quelques autres pousses bien qu'elle ait eu le message et bientôt elle a dit, "Knock it off... Je me lève..." Bien qu'il y ait eu un mensonge dans cette déclaration alors qu'elle venait de se retourner au début. Pourtant, après quelques instants, elle a ouvert les yeux pour voir la lumière rugueuse frapper son pauvre cerveau et la douleur suivante l'a réveillée. Secouant un peu de silence, elle se retourna et s'assit, remuant doucement le sommeil de ses yeux en regardant autour de sa chambre pour voir Giles assis contre le mur, la regardant en arrière, "Qu'est-ce qui se passe?" C'était sa seule réponse. Giles lui a donné un sourire comme moyen de Bonjour avant de dire « Nous avons environ 4 heures avant d'arriver au point de prise, en supposant que vous avez la capacité mentale de piloter votre navire, j'espérais que vous pourriez me déposer à quelques endroits, j'ai besoin de prendre mes médicaments et d'autres choses triées - cela ne devrait pas prendre longtemps. » Alria l'a écouté mais a gagné en parlant. C'était comme s'il criait tout le temps alors que sa tête sonnait avec les péchés d'hier soir. Quoi qu'il en soit, elle a obtenu son point de vue et a osé ne pas vouloir beaucoup parler, "Je suis bon. Fais-moi juste une faveur et envoie-moi les emplacements." De là, elle se leva de son lit et s'étendit, sentant la douleur dans ses os comme elle l'a fait avant de s'en aller vers la petite porte du côté éloigné de la pièce, poussant un bouton pour l'ouvrir et ramper à l'intérieur pour atteindre le poste de pilotage et le siège du pilote. En prenant sa place à la barre et en éteignant le pilote automatique, elle a pris plein contrôle et a commencé à voler comme si c'était juste un autre jour dans le bureau. Avec les coordonnées de Giles dans son ordinateur de vol, elle l'a emmené aux deux arrêts qu'il avait inscrits. Atterrir à proximité et rester à bord de l'embarcation afin d'aider à gagner du temps. Heureusement, ils en ont eu assez et la paix lui a donné le temps de lutter contre la migraine et la gueule de bois qui l'ont frappée. Puis, à la fin de ses arrêts, elle avait à peine un anneau dans les oreilles. Avec les courses de Giles fait, elle n'avait qu'un dernier endroit où s'arrêter, le point de rencontre. Elle se dirige vers l'endroit qui lui est donné par ses nouvelles amies Spectre et trouve un endroit agréable pour poser le navire, en partie en vue de l'équipage déjà assemblé. De là, elle ouvrit la porte latérale pour que Giles parte devant elle alors qu'elle rentrait dans sa chambre pour commencer à lever lentement son armure. C'était plus rapide que de l'enlever hier soir, mais elle a quand même pris son temps pour essayer de ne pas ramener le mal de tête. Pourtant, avec un peu de temps, elle était prête à partir, à quitter le navire et à se diriger vers les autres en présence, en leur donnant une douce vague pour éviter de parler... et en lui faisant plus de mal à la tête guérissante. Avec ses tâches accomplies, du moins en partie, comme il avait besoin de parler avec les Spectres sur la signature de certains formulaires pour lui permettre de recevoir des expéditions des choses dont il a besoin au navire qu'ils utiliseraient - bien sûr Giles était sous l'hypothèse que l'équipage utiliserait un bateau de type Cruiser pour accueillir tout le monde ici. Giles et Alria avaient atteint le point de rendez-vous un peu à l'avance, et un certain nombre de personnes y attendaient déjà. Il était tôt le matin et le soleil listait paresseusement dans le ciel, pendant bas et gardant l'extérieur assez frais, tot il point était il y avait un léger coup dans l'air. Giles a offert une salutation générale à tout le monde, et d'offrir Ja'Far un clin d'œil par respect; il était très attaché au Batarien. Tout le monde restait silencieux, pas grand chose étant dit ou du moins aucune conversation n'était ouverte quand il était arrivé, l'anticipation pour obtenir ce nouveau travail a commencé Giles deviné - il attendait avec impatience.

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.

Peut-être que c'était son charisme? Ou est-ce que je crois vraiment que son chemin pourrait mener à la route la plus rapide d'ici? Azure se pensa alors qu'il s'asseyait dans la taverne à la table en bois. En regardant autour de lui, il vit de nombreuses personnes dans la panique, mais celles qui étaient à table avec lui semblaient relativement calmes. Il ne pouvait pas vraiment les blâmer, cependant, on leur avait dit essentiellement qu'ils étaient coincés dans un jeu et que s'ils meurent ici, c'est le jeu plus d'eux dans la vie réelle aussi bien. Il a laissé sortir un soupir ennuyant puis a regardé en arrière l'homme qui lui avait offert une place dans sa guilde et promis une sortie, poussant des brins de ses cheveux bleus derrière son oreille, « Alors, quel est votre plan pour nous aider à sortir d'ici rapidement, et pourquoi nous avez-vous choisis à la main pour cette guilde de votre oreille, sûrement il y a beaucoup d'autres qui seraient plus avides. » Azure était curieux de savoir ce que cet homme pensait, sérieusement, en commençant une guilde avec quelques beta testers, et non beta testers, en commençant quand tout le monde est niveau un juste après un tel désordre, qu'est-ce que cet homme était en train de faire? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Celui qui les a invités à la guilde, un homme avec les cheveux assez long pour qu'il puisse toucher le sol a commencé à parler, "Eh bien je crois que les introductions fonctionnent mieux venir d'abord, et puis nous arriverons aux affaires," il s'est levé, révélant une construction assez robuste, même avec une armure bleue aussi simple sur, "Je suis Crepus, je vous ai tous pris main pour cette guilde basé sur des statistiques que j'avais recueillies avant l'incident. Je suis un hacker renommé dans le monde réel, donc je sais quelques choses que même les beta testeurs ne connaîtraient pas." Il a donné un sourire réconfortant, "Et je crois que nous voulons tous sortir d'ici, donc je vais placer ma confiance en vous tous, si vous voulez me faire confiance, nous allons sortir d'ici vivant. Si mes calculs sont exacts, nous pouvons le faire sans perdre un seul membre de notre groupe. » Il a pointé son doigt sur les autres non à leur table, certains pleurant, d'autres agissant hystériques, "Voyez comment vous agissez tous différemment alors que les autres, cela me montre que vous avez tous une volonté brûlante à l'intérieur de vivre, une flamme qui ne sera pas facilement éteinte. J'ai besoin de cette flamme pour que nous, le Phoenix, puissions monter jusqu'au sommet. Nous aurons besoin de battre le patron' revendiquant les récompenses spéciales de dernier succès, frapper tous les meilleurs points de broyage d'abord. D'autres peuvent vous haïr, mais à la fin, ce sera nous pour sauver le reste des joueurs. Il est préférable d'avoir quelques élites qui peuvent faire n'importe quoi, qu'un tas de joes moyens, qui trébuchent et tombent le long du chemin. » La façon dont il parlait était pleine de conviction, il croyait vraiment en tout ce qu'il disait, même d'autres dans la taverne a commencé à remarquer, mais au lieu de lui donner l'air de mépris, il semblait plus qu'ils avaient de l'espoir dans leurs yeux. Quelqu'un qui veut les sortir d'ici et faire face aux dangers. « Alors maintenant, introduisons-nous, nous allons en finir avec les particules numériques. » il s'assit, son menton sur la main, souriant en regardant les autres à la table.

Still need to finish that Drawing of him... Username: Azure Appearance: (hopefully I will finish his drawing someday) Azure stands at 6'1", with his neat azure hair neatly arranged to his neck. He has pale blue eyes, and wears armor that has a unique comination of spikey metal and fur. His avatar favours the colours of white, blue and silver. Current Weapon: Heavy Short Sword Favorite Attributes: Strength and Vitality Weapon styles unlocked: Basic One Hander. Real Age: 19 Real Name: Aaron Conners Gender: Male Personality: Taking more time to think than he does to act, Azure has been noted as a cool, calm and collected individual. He is aware of the crisis that they are dealing with in SAO, but knows that a level head and a quick wit will take him both farther, and give him the best chances of survival. On the negative side though, he does view himself as more important than most people, and though he normally plays nice, it is not beneath him to use people to meet an ends which he desires. Has issues granting trust. Other: Has a twin brother who was involved in the development of Sword Art Online, and although he declined to beta test, he knows more than your average new player would. Hopefully start this up by Thursday or so depending on how many we have.

Quand ils se sont tous arrêtés à la grotte Hyperion a mis sa main sur son épée, juste pour s'assurer que ce qui saute sur lui obtient ce qui leur vient. -- C'est donc ce que vous vouliez que nous broyions? Hyperion a demandé à regarder vers Crepus. "Eh bien, pas vraiment ce que j'avais à l'esprit puisque nous ne sommes pas tous semblent avoir de l'expérience dans le jeu." Il a continué à le dire en regardant autour de lui. "Mais vous êtes le leader de la guilde, donc je suppose que vous savez ce que vous faites." Hyperion murmura alors qu'il regardait vers le ciel virtuel.

Reserve, pl0x. Edit: CS done. Username: Exile Appearance: Exile stands at 5'10" and has a lanky, but not unfit, build. He has medium-length dark brown hair and green eyes, and generally wears light chest armor. His clothes are primarily dark grey with red details. Current Weapon: Balanced Short Sword. Favorite Attributes: Spirit and dexterity. Weapon styles unlocked: One-handed sword fighting. Real Age: 17 Real Name: Jacob Taylor Gender: Male Personality: Jacob tends to be a somewhat loud and verbose person, and it can rub people the wrong way. He tends to come off as being mean, but he really is just way too blunt and direct about things. In truth, he's a good person, and anyone who knows him knows that he's a much better friend than he may seem. He's the sort of person who tries to defend his friends and loved ones, and sometimes just a stranger in desperate need of help. Other: Jacob heard about the game from a friend who was a beta tester, so he knows a couple of tricks, but he has never had hands-on experience until the full release of SAO. He has also taken Jiu-Jitsu outside of gaming, so he knows his way around actual hand to hand combat, but given that the game is all about swords, who knows how much good that will do.

Comme Crepus et Azure se dirigeaient vers la grotte, il y avait une chose qui traversait l'esprit Hyperion 'C'est fou même les ours n'ont pas été réparés nous pourrions encore être embusqués facilement.' "Amusez-vous aussi bien à y aller." Hyperion dit avec un soupir. Alors qu'il se dirigeait vers la caverne, il salit les ours à la main sur son épée. Ça ne va pas être marrant. Il se pensa lui-même alors qu'il se dirigeait vers Azure et Crepus.

Karma Appearance Current Weapon Balanced Short Sword Favorite Attributes Luck and Intelligence Weapon styles unlocked - Basic One Handed (Looking to unlock Cutlass swords?) Real Age 19 Real Name Madelynn Taylor Gender Female Personality She is always the chance taker, and it seems to work out for her. It isn't known if she is secretly a genius who knows what can and can't be accomplished, or she's just stupidly lucky. Karma/Madelynn is a proud person, rising up to challenges and always trying to prove herself to others. She looks after her friends, knowing her seemingly unlimited amount of luck can rub off on them if she's around. Don't make her angry though, karma is a bitch sometimes. Other Karma is stupidly lucky. She usually played single player games, with SAO being her both her first MMO and first VR game.

Karma a mordu sa lèvre alors qu'elle regardait les réactions que tout le monde avait après avoir révélé son inexpérience. Heureusement, Aura a été assez aimable pour l'élaborer, ce qui l'a beaucoup aidée. Elle sourit en retour, gratitude dans ses yeux. "Merci. J'apprécie le détail." Quand Azure a parlé de tout le monde étant un tas de gens heureux, elle n'a pas pu s'empêcher de vomir un peu. "Aww, comme c'est mignon. C'est le mec cool." Karma lui a mis sa langue dessus, le taquinant un peu, "Loosen up, Blue. Oh, et d'accepter ma demande d'ami, déjà." Elle a légèrement essayé de le jabler avec son coude. Karma a reçu les notifications de tout le monde acceptant ses demandes d'amis, elle s'est sentie un peu plus chaude. Peut-être que tout ça était une bonne idée. Elle a eu de la chance d'être choisie pour cette guilde? "Alors. Où?" Elle regarda Crepus alors qu'elle commençait à le suivre par la porte. Elle n'avait aucune idée d'où ils allaient, mais tant qu'elle n'était pas seule pendant ça, ça ne lui dérangeait pas. C'est quand ils sont arrivés au carrefour qu'elle a réalisé qu'elle avait tiré son épée tout le temps, peut-être qu'elle était nerveuse et ne voulait pas être prise avec elle gainée. Elle a pris une profonde respiration et l'a fourré, sachant que les choses ne seraient pas comme ça... avec un peu d'espoir... Puis Crepus a mentionné des ours de combat, et elle a rapidement tiré son épée à nouveau. "Les oreilles?! Je ne sais même pas comment faire un combo! Je jouais peut-être comme... Dix minutes avant que le GM nous téléporte tous! J'ai tué... elle comptait avec ses doigts, "Trois sangliers!"

Karma Appearance Current Weapon Balanced Short Sword Favorite Attributes Luck and Intelligence Weapon styles unlocked - Basic One Handed (Looking to unlock Cutlass swords?) Real Age 19 Real Name Madelynn Taylor Gender Female Personality She is always the chance taker, and it seems to work out for her. It isn't known if she is secretly a genius who knows what can and can't be accomplished, or she's just stupidly lucky. Karma/Madelynn is a proud person, rising up to challenges and always trying to prove herself to others. She looks after her friends, knowing her seemingly unlimited amount of luck can rub off on them if she's around. Don't make her angry though, karma is a bitch sometimes. Other Karma is stupidly lucky. She usually played single player games, with SAO being her both her first MMO and first VR game.

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 Collab avec: et Aegon Partinax et lieutenant d'état-major Jake Anderson Tours Tibérius - Appartement d'Aegon Jake a tiré sur son col de chemises, essayant de travailler un peu de relâche dans le vêtement, puis s'est rendu compte que c'était juste en vain le but de porter un de ces costumes de singe. C'était plutôt un homme à capuche et à trackies, mais il a eu l'impression qu'une paire d'Adidas classiques n'allait pas la couper pour un dîner chic à Aegon. Montrant que les soldats de fer réussiront à s'empêcher de ficler – bien que ne pouvant résister à l'impulsion soudaine de défaire le bouton supérieur sur son manteau de poitrine, juste pour le diable de celui-ci – et sonner la sonnette de porte. Aegon a répondu à la porte et a hurlé à Jake. C'était la première fois que Jake avait vu le Turian hors de son armure et en civil. Il a hurlé chez Jake et il est revenu pour le laisser entrer dans l'appartement, "Merci d'être venu, la famille est excitée de vous rencontrer." Le grand appartement penthouse a été meublé avec goût. Les murs en bois brillaient d'une brillance dorée sous l'éclairage encastré. La plupart des murs portaient des holos de souvenirs de famille ou des peintures qui variaient de vues panoramiques à des scènes de bataille célèbres. Un mur était recouvert d'une calligraphie complexe qui était inscrite de différentes mains. Un piano grand joueur jouait automatiquement une mélodie Cipritine douce. Le mobilier était en cuir véritable et le plancher en bois était recouvert d'un tapis en peau de shatha. L'animal avait été au moins de la taille d'un tigre sibérien, Aegon a fait un geste sur le tapis alors qu'il marchait Jake dans l'appartement, "Papa et moi l'avons traqué pendant près d'une semaine. Il a tué quatre personnes avant qu'on le trouve. J'ai tiré." Jake ne savait pas ce qu'il attendait de la maison d'Aegon, mais ce n'était pas ça. Il avait entendu dire que le Spectre était en fait un homme de famille très engagé, mais auparavant il n'avait pas pu imaginer le vétéran endurci comme autre chose que cela : Un agent d'ops noir de haut niveau, avec un cool comme le comportement de glace et un renégat de la familiarité avec l'hyper-violence. Ici, parmi toutes ces photos de famille et portraits, il semblait presque qu'Aegon pourrait être deux hommes différents. L'un le soldat, l'autre le mari et le père. Jake s'est demandé comment le Turian faisait fonctionner la dualité. Les deux rôles n'allaient pas exactement de pair. Papa n'avait certainement jamais eu le coup. Ses yeux s'attardaient un moment sur la peau de shatha, pensant à lui-même que c'était probablement la chose la plus probable qu'il s'attendait à trouver ici. Des trophées impressionnants tirés de chasses sont arrivés à leur terme depuis longtemps. Ça semblait plus rapide d'Aegon. "Il est à peine à la porte et tu parles déjà de tirer? Tu as un Œuf d'esprit d'une seule piste." Visenya est apparue dans une robe et a enveloppé son bras autour de son mari. Elle avait la même carapace grise foncée et les mêmes yeux ambres que son père, avec une peinture blanche tourbillonnante. Sa forme était lithatique et grande, mais la robe ne dissimulait pas le fait qu'elle était à mi-chemin de sa grossesse. Aegon a glissé pendant que Visenya bougeait pour serrer la main de Jake, "Bon de te voir Jake, j'espère que mon mari n'a pas été trop ennuyeux." Jake a fait un sourire à la femme d'Aegon. Il ne l'avait rencontrée que quelques fois auparavant, et jamais pour longtemps, mais il l'aimait bien. Elle était beaucoup plus facile à s'entendre avec que son mari plus strung, et son sens de l'humour était beaucoup plus développé – lire: existant. Il accepta sa main, et lui donna un doux tremblement, avant de la tirer pour un câlin. Ça l'a peut-être surpris, il n'était pas sûr, mais il était prêt à parier que ça a surpris Aegon. Après un moment, il se laissa aller, se branlant la tête vers son partenaire. Qui ça, l'oeuf? C'est ennuyant? Une chose que j'ai découvert ces derniers mois depuis que je l'ai rencontré, c'est que ma vie ne sera probablement plus jamais ennuyeux. Visenya avait rendu le câlin aussi sincèrement qu'elle le pouvait avec son état, et si Jake était assez rapide et attentif, il aurait remarqué qu'Aegon s'equipait d'une assiette de front en surprise avant de le jouer rapidement et de l'appeler par-dessus son épaule. "Les enfants, venez dire bonjour à l'ami de papa." Il y avait un mouvement du deuxième étage et deux petits enfants turois, tous deux gris argenté aux yeux bleus brillants, descendaient, un grand nathak à fourrure qui se faufilait dans les escaliers après eux. La créature semblable à un loup aurait pu être intimidant si ce n'était pour sa queue qui battait rapidement. Les deux enfants se sont présentés, le garçon était Maegor et la fille était Rhaena, et a serré la main de Jake fermement et énergiquement. Le Nathak a reniflé Jake et a piqué. La bête était presque de la taille d'un poney. Jake l'a vu de façon suspecte, avant que Visenya ne me dise : "Ne t'inquiète pas pour Kolo, c'est un cinglé. J'ai échoué à l'entraînement avant de convaincre Egg de l'emmener. Gratte-lui les oreilles et c'est ton meilleur ami." Avec seulement un soupçon de crainte, le N7 s'y conformait avec sérieux. En quelques instants, le gros chien s'était renversé sur son dos, suppliant les chatouilles du ventre. Jake roughhoused avec Kolo pendant quelques instants, le frottant ventre et cooing sottises sur lui, souriant comme un gamin stupide, puis se souvenait où il était et avec qui il était, et sautait à ses pieds aussi vite qu'un flash, toussant dans l'embarras et faisant son damné pour prétendre que rien de l'ordinaire n'était arrivé pendant qu'Aegon parlait. Aegon pour sa part, a préservé la dignité de Jake en ignorant l'incident, bien que les enfants aient pris le relais où Jake s'est arrêté, "Ma nièce et mon neveu seraient venus, mais ils ont eu un gros match dans l'Armax Arena, vous les rencontrerez sur le navire." On pouvait entendre un autre ensemble de pas s'approcher du balcon et le célèbre général Partinax apparut. Il était d'âge moyen, mais sa peinture du visage était brillante et ses mandibules et ses franges étaient immaculées. Le vieux soldat était encore grand, et était encore plus solide que son fils. Il marchait avec la tête haute, sa posture parfaite, marchant comme s'il était un commandant inspectant les formations de son unité. Aegon fit un geste à son père et se tourna vers Jake : « Mon père, le général Aerion Partinax. Père, lieutenant Jake Anderson." Jake avait fait un salut croustillant et respectueux presque avant qu'Aegon n'ait même fini de présenter son père. Le général a attendu Jake avant de lui rendre le geste et de lui serrer la main. L'emprise des vieux soldats était comme un vice. "Je connaissais ton père. C'est bien. Bon soldat. Mon unité a failli le piéger au relais 314, mais ils ont glissé le filet. Après tout cela, nous avons eu l'occasion de croiser et d'effectuer des opérations conjointes. S'il avait été Turian, il aurait pu être Primarch. La galaxie a perdu un de ses meilleurs soldats. Mais n'importe quel fils d'Anderson est le bienvenu ici." Merci, monsieur. C'est un véritable honneur de vous rencontrer. Et ça l'était. Aucun soldat ne vaut son sel, qu'il soit Turian, humain, Krogan, qui que ce soit, ne savait pas qui était le général Aerion Partinax. Cet homme était une légende vivante. Les histoires de son duel avec Kihilix Tanus avaient atteint presque des proportions homériques, et les récits de sa campagne prolongée contre les séparatistes turois sur Taetrus étaient devenus une lecture compulsive pour tous les candidats N7, ne serait-ce que pour se familiariser avec la tactique de Hiérarchie turienne. Il y avait aussi ce sandwich que les Gonzos avaient nommé d'après lui, mais Jake n'était pas sûr si cette réalisation se classerait tout aussi haut pour l'homme militaire de carrière. La vérité était que le Partinax était en fait assez sec, et aurait vraiment bénéficié de l'ajout de la moutarde au miel. Jake ne pensait pas que c'était le moment de le mentionner. "Papa aurait été très flatté d'entendre ça, mais il n'a jamais parlé de vous affronter. J'aimerais en entendre parler un jour. Partinax sourit légèrement et ses yeux s'éclaircirent d'une lueur nostalgique : « Il ne l'a pas fait? C'était près de Shanxi, après... Visenya mord doucement son beau-père avec un rire, "Papa, nous l'avons invité pour le dîner. Nous ne voulons pas que la nourriture refroidisse, n'est-ce pas?" Le général riait aussi et s'inclinait en acquiescement : « Vous avez raison, bien sûr. En fait, l'histoire serait encore meilleure après quelques verres. » Aegon a fait un geste à la table, qui présentait une grande variété de plats cuits à la maison. Jake aurait reconnu un filet mignon accompagné de macaronis de homard et de purée de pommes de terre au beurre décadent, sur un lieu à côté d'Aegon et de Visenya. Visenya a pris le bras de Jake et l'a escorté à sa place, "J'ai cherché partout une bonne coupe de viande. J'ai dû m'occuper de ce crétin au Zakera Ward Cafe pour l'avoir, mais j'espère que ça te plaira." La famille s'est assise à table, avec le général Partinax à la tête et une mech de service est venue à l'épaule de Jake, "Voudriez-vous quelque chose à boire monsieur? Mme Partinax a acheté une variété de boissons levo-amino pour cette occasion. » Le N7 a rapproché le mech et a chuchoté dans son récepteur auditif qu'il était typiquement un «demi et demi» type de gars, de sorte qu'il serait plus que prêt à accepter une recommandation. En quelques instants, le mech avait rempli un verre d'un liquide de couleur sombre. Jake a pris une gorgée expérimentale, et n'a pas reconnu la boisson. Il n'a pas goûté comme un vin, mais il n'était pas sûr de ce qu'il pourrait être d'autre. C'était vraiment délicieux, donc ça le ferait. Aegon a versé un peu d'or Valluvian dans son verre avant de faire une tête à ses enfants et de leur dire que c'était bien de commencer à manger. Maegor, après avoir pris une bouchée de poisson, a posé à Jake un barrage rapide de questions : « Est-ce vrai que vous êtes N7, comme le commandant Shepard? Et que ton père était conseiller? Avez-vous déjà rencontré le commandant? À quoi ressemble l'entraînement pour être un N7? » Visenya a ri, "Maegor a laissé Jake répondre une question avant que vous lui posiez un quiz entier. Ce n'est pas poli." Jake a rejoint la mère de Maegor en riant de l'enthousiasme du garçon. C'était le gamin d'Aegon? Pas moyen. Il était trop mignon. Il a évidemment suivi sa mère à cet égard. Ne vous inquiétez pas de m'offenser Maegor, j'ai la peau épaisse. Vous posez toutes les questions que vous voulez, et je ferai de mon mieux pour répondre. Le goût était incroyable. Tant mieux que les pâtes nutritives qu'il a été habitué à ce qu'il n'a même pas porté mention. Maintenant voyons... Oui, je suis un N7, tout comme le commandant Shepard, bien que je ne l'ai jamais rencontré. Il a obtenu son diplôme de la Villa, l'endroit où les N7's vont faire leur formation initiale, quelques années avant que je ne le fasse. Je l'ai écouté faire un discours une fois, à distance. C'était vraiment cool. Mais mon père le connaissait. En fait, ils étaient vraiment proches.... Plus près que papa et moi jamais été l'un de l'autre de toute façon, il a pensé avec seulement le soupçon de ressentiment, bien qu'il était rapide à mettre cela en bouteille, avant qu'il a mis un amortisseur sur la nuit. Et oui, le vieil homme était conseiller, pendant un petit moment au moins. Mais la vie politique n'a jamais été pour lui, et il l'a abandonné rapidement. C'était un soldat, à travers et à travers. Certains hommes ne sont pas construits pour une vie tranquille. Ton père et grand-père en sont la preuve. Maintenant, l'entraînement N7? Eh bien, tu dois être dur pour le faire. C'est très dur. Comme le plus dur de l'école. Mais j'ai appris de ton père que tu es si dur, alors qui sait, peut-être que tu découvriras ce que c'est un jour comme toi-même? Mon Dieu, c'était céleste. Comment un Turian a - t - il appris à cuisiner si bien les plats de la terre? Elle ne peut même pas les goûter! Il mâchait un moment en silence. Maegor et Rhaena s'étaient accrochés à tous les mots et Maegor sourit après que Jake eut fini : « C'est tellement cool! Maman nous a emmenés à l'Armax Arena une fois quand le commandant était en compétition. C'était quelqu'un d'autre! Et si tu es N7 aussi, tu dois être super aussi! Tu devrais te battre dans l'arène. Toi et papa seriez invincibles." Maegor rayonnait avec fierté après le compliment, "Merci! Papa nous apprend à tirer et il nous donne des cours d'arts martiaux. Je ne peux pas être un N7 mais dès que je serai dans le camp de démarrage, je serai à Blackwatch et ensuite je serai un Spectre, comme lui." Rhaena a rétorqué : "Ils ne te laisseront pas entrer dans Blackwatch. Tu seras trop jeune alors. Même papa n'est pas entré avant d'être plus âgé." Maegor et Rhaena étaient sur le point d'une petite dispute quand Aegon est intervenu, "C'est assez de ces enfants. Pas de dispute pour le dîner. Maintenant, Maegor, ce sera dur mais si vous vous appliquez vous-même, vous pouvez le faire. J'ai essayé l'entraînement de Havoc en botte et j'y ai servi avant que Blackwatch ne me sélectionne plus tard. Mais vous pouvez essayer une piste d'entraînement spéciale pour l'enrôlement à Blackwatch dans le camp de démarrage aussi. Et vous pouvez obtenir une formation spéciale pour les Spectres en même temps. Si c'est ce que vous voulez, c'est complètement à portée de main. Aussi longtemps que vous mettez dans l'effort." Le général leva son verre en reconnaissance, sa fierté évidente, « Bien sûr qu'il le fera. C'est un Partinax. C'est un guerrier jusqu'à son ADN. N'importe lequel de vous les enfants essayer, vous pouvez le faire." Maegor a posé une autre question à Jake : « Qui est le meilleur N7 ou Blackwatch? C'est une énorme dispute à l'école." Aegon s'est glissé alors qu'il creusait dans son propre steak : « Eh bien, vous pouvez certainement deviner mes pensées sur la question. Bien que ces chasseurs d'Asari ne soient pas une blague non plus." Après un débat amusant sur qui a produit les meilleurs opérateurs des forces spéciales, Visenya a remarqué le plaisir évident de Jake avec la nourriture, souriant avec une satisfaction évidente, « Surpris un Turian peut cuisiner bon levo hein? J'avais de bons professeurs, beaucoup d'espions d'Asari et d'Human qui étaient étonnamment talentueux. » Visenya a commencé à raconter quelques histoires sur les agents qu'elle avait rencontrés au cours de sa carrière clandestine, bien qu'elle ait bien sûr évité tout détail sensible et axé sur des vignettes amusantes. Finalement, elle a commencé à parler de la façon dont elle et Aegon s'étaient rencontrés pendant ses jours à Blackwatch comme elle avait été la liaison de renseignement de ses unités. Aegon, pour sa part, s'est abstenu de parler beaucoup, mais le Spectre avait un sourire sur son visage et n'arrêtait pas de saisir la main de Visenya alors que sa femme racontait leurs histoires. Les enfants étaient particulièrement ravis quand Visenya révélait un rare moment de comédie pour leur père, comme le temps où Aegon avait complètement oublié leur anniversaire. Visenya avait été particulièrement piqué et Aegon a frénétiquement compensé pour elle en payant les pilotes de la compagnie pour skywrite un message pendant que l'unité a fait un exercice. Il avait même lancé l'exercice et s'était fait attraper par l'équipe de recherche simulée parce qu'il avait rassemblé un bouquet de fleurs locales pour elle. Enfin, Aegon a purloiné un laser minier et sculpté un diamant d'un dépôt local avant de proposer à Visenya, qui a bien sûr accepté. Aegon riait : « Le capitaine m'avait habillée devant toute la compagnie pour ces incidents, et j'ai eu ma première écriture. Mais ça en valait vraiment la peine." La mémoire les a fait sourire et Aegon s'est penché pour embrasser Visenya tandis que les enfants ont baisé leur visage dans le dégoût moqueur. Rhaena a dit : "Je veux être un agent secret comme maman, et ensuite je veux être un politicien comme notre autre grand-père. Je pense que c'est tellement cool que ton père était conseiller aussi Jake. Je veux aider les gens comme lui et comment va mon grand-père." Visenya sourit à cela, "Ce n'est pas toutes les voitures rapides et les plages exotiques étant un espion, Rhaena mais vous pouvez certainement le faire. Quant au gouvernement, je ne suis pas sûr que grand-père Adrien aime autant son propre travail. » Le général s'est ébranlé la tête avec un sourire : « Un politicien du Partinax? Ce serait quelque chose. Mais je pense que vous ferez un meilleur travail que la plupart de ces visages nus aux échelons supérieurs. Adrien exclu. Ce qui me rappelle qu'Adrien était avec moi à 314. Nous étions tous les deux des officiers juniors à la fin de l'entraînement quand tout a explosé. Si tu m'avais dit que le gamin stupide que je connaissais à l'époque deviendrait le Primarch, je t'aurais ri au visage. Mais de toute façon, nous avons été embarqués dans Shanxi après le début de l'occupation et quelques semaines plus tard, votre père a dirigé une des unités avancées. Je me souviens de tout ça." Le général s'est lancé dans une longue et bombastique histoire de la rencontre avec l'unité d'Anderson dans une bataille lancée. Le général devenait de plus en plus animé, plus il buvait, gesticulait et criait presque alors qu'il rappelait la bataille sans les détails gory. David Anderson et Aerion Partinax s'étaient même affrontés sur le champ de bataille, s'emparant l'un de l'autre pendant que le combat faisait rage. Ils s'étaient rapidement désarmés l'un l'autre et étaient descendus à des couteaux et bientôt à des poings et des talons. Ils s'étaient battus jusqu'à ce qu'ils soient prêts à s'effondrer, jusqu'à ce qu'Anderson réussisse finalement à donner un coup de pied à Partinax et à prendre son fusil et à forcer Partinax à se couvrir avant de se verrouiller et de retomber avec sa propre escouade avant que les renforts de Turian ne les boxent. Le Général a rappelé toute l'épreuve avec un sourire et les enfants ont été enthousiasmés. À la fin, le général rit et se compose un moment avant de lever son verre, « Un toast. Pour l'amiral David Anderson. Un homme bien, un soldat encore plus fin. Le meilleur que notre galaxie ait à offrir." Aegon éleva son vin en accord, tandis que Visenya éleva un verre de jus et les enfants élevèrent des verres de lait. Ils ont tous serré leurs lunettes ensemble, les Turiens prononçant une proclamation cipritine de respect et bu à la mémoire de David Anderson. Finalement, après le cours principal, est venu désert qui a été tarte a la mode pour la famille Partinax, tandis qu'Anderson a obtenu une version levo pour lui-même. Visenya après avoir fini sa tarte, lui a tapé l'estomac, "Mm. C'était peut-être une mauvaise idée de manger autant. Maintenant, on dirait qu'il y en a deux là-dedans. Je vais m'asseoir sur le patio et prendre l'air. Les enfants, vous êtes excusés, mais rappelez-vous que c'est une nuit d'école, au lit dans deux heures." Maegor et Rhaena ont tous deux supplié leur mère de les laisser rester plus longtemps pour parler à Jake mais Visenya était ferme et les enfants se sont tous deux retirés de la table du dîner et ont sauté sur le canapé pour démarrer un match de holo, Kolo suivi avec ténacité. Le général est sorti de son siège et a dit, "Il est temps pour moi d'avoir un peu de temps de rack. Je ne suis pas aussi jeune que je l'étais et j'ai un programme complet demain. Merci d'être venu Anderson, j'espère que nous pourrons le refaire bientôt. » Le général et Jake ont échangé une autre ronde de saluts et de coups de main avant que le vieux soldat ne remonte les escaliers, marchant pratiquement sur les marches. Aegon et Jake ont été laissés seuls à table pendant que la mech a nettoyé la vaisselle. Aegon s'est versé un autre verre et est arrivé pour une bouteille de vin, en offrant quelques-uns à Jake, "J'espère que vous avez apprécié le dîner. Et maintenant que c'est juste nous, voulez-vous une visite du penthouse? Ou devrions-nous frapper le strip, prendre des verres plus raides? Ou je peux t'appeler un taxi à la maison. Nous avons une longue journée demain." Finalement, il a été décidé que la paire boirai au bar de la maison, avec l'un des mechs d'Aegon les servant. Jake avait énormément apprécié son temps avec la famille Partinax et la glace avait commencé à rompre entre les deux Turiens pendant qu'ils buvaient, échangeant de petits discours. Bientôt Jake s'est levé pour partir, un taxi sur le chemin pour le ramener à la maison et le couple s'est séparé avec une poignée de main ferme. Rendez-vous Point Les deux Spectres sont arrivés en armure pleine et des armes attachées à leurs combinaisons durs. La tête d'Aegon a été découverte et l'équipe a pu voir son éblouissement. Jake a toussé et a dit, "Merci d'être venu à l'heure tout le monde. Les navettes nous emmèneront au shi--" Aegon s'est avancé, débranchant sa cantine et jetant l'eau froide de glace sur la tête de l'asari avant de traîner l'asari grossièrement réveillé vers le haut par les lapelles, avant qu'il se coince un doigt dans la poitrine de Vella, "Vous n'avez pas pu résister, n'est-ce pas? Vous et toute votre sororité dédaignée de chasseurs qui n'ont pas l'esprit d'un tel esprit, vous avez juste dû aller sur une rampe pratique. Tu sais ce que tu as causé? Nous avons pratiquement un incident diplomatique plein sur nos mains!" Pour souligner son point de vue, plusieurs constables de Scotland Yard ont été vus escorter un groupe d'asari rambunctieux dans la station. L'un d'eux a vu Vella et a ouvert la bouche pour dire quelque chose, mais a mieux pensé à cela une fois qu'il a vu Aegon s'embrouiller. "Savez-vous combien de faveurs j'ai dû appeler pour ne pas vous enfermer pour ce petit coup que vous avez tiré? Combien de poursuites la République d'Asari est-elle confrontée maintenant? Vos amis là-dedans sont maintenant un point de discorde puisque la République et l'Alliance ont un match de pisse sur l'extradition et la possibilité d'une cour martiale. Les ambassades et les tribunaux de la Citadelle doivent maintenant s'impliquer pour régler ce bordel et ne pas me faire commencer sur tout le matériel de protestation que Terra Firma vient de recevoir. Vous avez aussi kidnappé Ellis et fait de lui un complice. Tu as merdé Vella, et si je n'avais pas eu besoin de tes talents, je t'aurais donné droit aux autorités pour qu'elles puissent t'extirper entièrement de l'armée." Aegon s'est mise dans le visage de Vella, accrocheant l'asari par le col de sa chemise et grogneant sur elle, "C'est votre dernier incident. Je vous ai déjà donné deux chances. Une troisième fois, et je m'assurerai personnellement que vous êtes déshonoré. Peut-être même jeté dans une cellule, en fonction de la taille que tu as encore foiré. Vous êtes un soldat. Commence à agir comme ça." Aegon s'est écroulé et Jake s'est frotté l'arrière de son cou, "Eh bien, montons dans les navettes alors. Nous nous dirigeons vers la Citadelle." Spectre Bureaux - Dock privé Aegon a conduit l'équipe à la baie d'accostage exclusive pour vaisseau spatial appartenant à Spectre. La majeure partie du quai était vide, la majorité des Spectres étant absents pour une mission prioritaire ou une affectation secrète. Jondom Bau's Silent Step, une frégate légère Union sous-estimée sans couleurs ou emblèmes distinctifs était le navire amarré le plus proche, et l'équipe a pris un coup d'œil de passage des Salariés chargeant des provisions sur le navire pendant qu'ils se déplaçaient dans le compartiment de Katabasis. A la porte de leur amarrage, Aegon a visiblement grimacé, sa main serrée à côté de son pistolet holstered un moment avant qu'Aegon se retienne. Sept figures se tenaient à la porte, toutes sauf une, en pleine armure de combat avec des casques masquant leurs caractéristiques. Une femme officier de l'Alliance avec des barreaux d'amiral se tenait au milieu du groupe les mains croisées derrière son dos, et ses hommes se tenaient tous à l'attention avec des armes attachées à leurs mag-harnesses. La plupart d'entre eux étaient des mâles à larges épaules sauf pour une lithe et mince femme soldat avec une épée attachée sur son dos tandis que l'homme du côté de l'amiral avait un bras cybernétique. Tous les soldats avaient un insigne N7 sur la poitrine. Aegon a subtilement fait un geste à Anderson pour le suivre alors que la paire se dirigeait vers le personnel de l'Alliance. Aegon se tenait à l'aise devant le groupe, sa main s'emparant nonchalamment de la gaine de l'épée attachée à la sienne alors qu'il fermait avec l'officier. Jake s'est abstenu d'atteindre l'une quelconque de ses armes, bien que la tension qu'il ressentait était apparente par les sillons sur son front, et l'étroitesse de ses poings serrés. L'amiral portait l'infâme uniforme noir des officiers de grade N7, avec une armure légère et une casquette de patrouille. Une grosse cicatrice s'est abattue sur une joue et un pistolet Phalanx a été attaché à sa cuisse. Ses yeux étaient verts, mais manifestement améliorés sur le plan cybernétique, et ses cheveux blonds dorés étaient attachés à un chignon, révélant ses pommettes hautes et pointues. Elle était d'une hauteur avec Jake, et solidement construite, avec un physique porté d'une vie de combat. Bien qu'Aegon ait regardé vers le bas sur l'amiral, elle a regardé le dos à niveau sans avoir l'impression d'être intimidée. Aegon s'est exprimé, ne daignant pas saluer l'amiral. Ce n'est pas le cas de Jake, bien que la secousse de son salut ait montré son anxiété croissante. L'amiral a à peine acquiescé en reconnaissance au Spectre humain avant de rendre son attention au Turian. "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." L'amiral Elli Zander était à la tête du Commandement des opérations spéciales de l'Alliance Navy, et l'ancien capitaine du SR-1 de Normandie, alors qu'il était encore en développement, avant que ses problèmes avec la politisation turienne ne l'avaient vue retirée du navire, pour être remplacé par David Anderson. Elle avait été promue dans le sillage d'une action vaillante lorsque l'Alliance est venue au secours du Conseil pendant l'attaque souveraine et a été promue encore plus quand elle a aidé à organiser les équipes de grève N7 pendant la guerre. Aegon l'avait vue à quelques reprises, et ils avaient échangé une ou deux conversations, mais c'était la première fois qu'ils se rencontraient sans qu'il y ait un gâchis d'officiers de la Hiérarchie et de l'Alliance. Leurs conversations ont toujours été brèves et ternes, bien qu'Aegon ait toujours senti une hostilité sous-jacente chez la femme et ait dû s'affronter verbalement avec elle à quelques reprises. Jake d'autre part la connaissait assez bien, car il avait travaillé sous elle pendant son temps avec les N7 Spec-Ops. Il ne pouvait pas dire qu'il l'aimait tant, et était confiant que le sentiment était réciproque. Elle lui a toujours donné le plus merdique, les missions et les missions les plus dangereuses. Parfois, quand il se sentait généreux, il pensait que c'était peut-être parce qu'elle lui faisait confiance pour les voir passer. D'autres fois, il était convaincu que c'était parce qu'elle essayait de le faire tuer. La femme était aussi dure que le vieux cuir de bottes, si contraire qu'elle flottait en amont, et détestait les Turians – ou la plupart des aliens – avec une passion. Elle n'a pas écrit de bonnes nouvelles dans leur futur. Zander a ignoré le léger d'Aegon et a répondu froidement : « C'est agréable 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?" Aegon a ronflé, "Ca suffit. Qu'est-ce qui t'amène ici? Tu es trop tôt pour baptiser notre voyage si c'est pour ça que tu es venu." Zander s'est moquée et a croisé les bras, "Je suis désolé de dire mais je n'ai pas apporté de champagne. Je suis là pour parler." "Si vous voulez planifier une réunion, vous pouvez contacter mon Yeoman et elle verra si elle peut vous crayonner quelque part. Maintenant, si vous nous excusez, nous serons en route." L'amiral n'a pas bougé du tout, "C'est à propos de votre force opérationnelle secrète. Je veux être lu." "Oh, putain d'enfer..." Anderson a murmuré. Il n'aimait pas comment ces cartes tombaient. L'Aegon et Zander l'ont ignoré, bien que l'amiral ait pu le regarder dans l'ennui. Aegon s'est moqué : « Ce n'est pas seulement un amiral classé, ce n'est pas votre problème. C'est l'affaire Spectre." Zander s'est redressé et s'est redressé : « C'est un mensonge à visage nu et vous le connaissez Partinax. Vous transférez du personnel militaire pour votre force opérationnelle, en plus des fugitifs recherchés. Ce Sartiel bio? Et Fortia? Ils sont tous les deux des opérations spéciales et ils sont tous les deux sous ma responsabilité en tant que chef de l'ANSOC. J'ai déjà perdu Anderson pour vous Spectres. Tout transfert aurait dû passer par mon bureau. Sans parler du fait que vous avez réquisitionné Vega et son unité sans mon autorisation." Aegon a dit : "Normalement, je serais allé te voir. Mais j'ai toute latitude du Conseil de la Citadelle pour acquérir mes agents et utiliser les ressources militaires; et mes demandes de transfert et de réquisition ont été directement envoyées et approuvées par Hackett. Si tu as un problème avec ça, prends-le avec lui. Je n'ai pas le temps de jouer aux jeux bureaucratiques et je ne m'excuserai pas pour cela." "Le moins que tu aurais pu faire était de m'informer." Le Turian secoua la tête : "Pas possible. Trop de risques de fuite lorsque ces demandes sont passées par votre bureau. » L'amiral Zander a grimacé, "Je n'aime pas ce que vous insinuez Turian." "Je n'insinue rien à l'amiral. Je vous dis que cette opération est hautement classifiée et que le cercle de ceux qui connaissent les détails est délibérément gardé petit pour empêcher les violations de la sécurité. Moins d'une douzaine de personnes en dehors de mon groupe de travail savent quoi que ce soit d'import. Et si vous voulez changer ça, faites une demande à votre patron. Mais je n'ai aucune obligation de vous fournir des informations. » Jake gémit audiblement. Un diplomate, Aegon ne l'était pas. Zander était difficile à gérer au mieux des temps, mais quand elle pensait que son autorité était contestée, elle pouvait être carrément méchante. La seule minuscule doublure d'argent au nuage de tempête bibliquement proportionné était que les chances où le bon que Jake était sur le point de découvrir la réponse à cette question séculaire: Que se passe-t-il quand une force inarrêtable entre en collision avec un objet immeuble. Son meilleur, et le plus immédiat, devinait que ça allait finir avec un mal de tête titanique. Zander a presque grondé, "Je ne suis pas une barre de beurre que vous pouvez battre dans la soumission Partinax. Je peux geler vos demandes si vous n'êtes pas prêt à travailler avec moi." Aegon croisa les bras et dit : « Alors je n'enverrai pas de demandes, j'enverrai des ordres. » A ce moment, Jake ferma les yeux et commença à frotter le pont de son nez, murmurant des expletives, pas trop tranquillement plus. Mort au sort de son partenaire, Aegon continua à jouer. "Les ordres que vous devrez suivre parce que je suis un représentant dûment nommé du Conseil de la Citadelle et que vous ne l'êtes pas. Ne jouez pas avec moi Amiral, ce ne sera pas amusant pour vous. Maintenant, allons-y et j'oublierai que tout cela est arrivé. » Zander s'est mis au visage, les mains enroulées dans les poings alors que les mains de son équipe dérivent près de leurs armes. Katabasis a aussi atteint le leur, mais personne n'avait tiré, chacun des groupes prenant leurs indications de leurs dirigeants. Zander était une tête plus courte qu'Aegon, mais elle a regardé le Turian sans crainte, "Vous pensez que vous êtes la merde chaude Partinax. Vous pensez que votre statut Spectre et le fait que vous êtes pote avec le Conseil vous donne le droit de faire ce que vous voulez. Même faire sauter un immeuble d'habitation. Mais j'ai aussi des amis. Et je ne laisserai pas un cutlebone spook et son gang de psychopathes – Bonjour pot, mes noms bouilloire. Vous êtes noir. C'est un bourbier sur le territoire humain sans surveillance. Je m'occuperai de ça avec Hackett et je te verrai plus tard, Partinax." "J'en suis sûr. Mais à moins que vous soyez un collègue, je n'ai pas l'intention d'écouter. Je ne vous réponds pas, Amiral. Je ne réponds même pas à Hackett. Vas-y et perds ton temps si tu veux, mais tu ne perdras pas le mien. J'ai du travail à faire." Il était sur le point d'avancer, que l'amiral s'en soit sorti ou non, mais Zander s'est exprimé : "Travailler, hein? C'est-à-dire tuer des enfants?" Aegon brillait sur elle, "Casualités de la guerre, amiral. Je doute fortement que vous n'ayez pas d'enfants sur votre conscience." "Au moins j'en ai une. Je parie que tu as passé une bonne nuit de sommeil pendant que la famille de ce gamin pleurait. Tu as mis un visage dur, en parlant de la façon dont les pertes sont inévitables. C'est facile de dire ça quand on n'a rien à perdre. Je me demande ce que vous ressentiriez si quelque chose arrivait à vos enfants? » Zander a à peine fini la phrase quand la main d'Aegon s'est brouillée dans le mouvement et que son épée a plané sur la peau de l'amiral, le métal monomoléculaire appuyant étroitement sur la jugulaire de la femme. Une simple secousse et ce serait des rideaux pour l'amiral. En même temps, il a tiré son pistolet et l'a dirigé vers le soldat augmenté, qui a tiré et dirigé son fusil d'assaut dès que la lame est sortie. Zander avait été un peu plus lente sur le tirage, et son pistolet est venu devant le front d'Aegon une seconde après que l'épée a pressé sur son cou. Maintenant, les deux équipes tirèrent leurs armes, et Aegon entendit le clin d'oeil des armes qui étaient déchiquetées tandis que chaque camp s'alignait sur des tirs. L'un des N7 brillait d'une aura bio tandis qu'un autre brandissait un omni-outil et le reste nivelait leurs armes, toutes visant Jake et le reste de l'équipe. "Vous pouvez me menacer, Zander. Mais personne ne menace ma famille." Zander a ronflé, "Tu n'oserais pas, Partinax." "Oh non? "Je suis le psychopathe d'un rampage." "Tuez-moi et vous êtes mort Partinax." "Vous serez trop occupé à vous étrangler sur votre propre sang pour tirer d'un coup de feu. Et à partir de cette portée, mon pistolet va percer ce trou de cul là-bas entre les yeux. Et votre équipe est peut-être N7, mais mon équipe les a dépassés. Peu importe ce que je gagne." "Tu es fou, tu es prêt à faire face à un putain de tribunal pour ça? Ils vont te dépouiller de ton statut!" « Je vais leur dire qu'un amiral renégat et bigoté a menacé ma famille et a menacé d'entraver ma mission. Hackett pourrait s'énerver contre moi mais qui vont-ils croire? Le commandant Turian décoré ou quelqu'un avec votre dossier? Ils vont probablement mettre une autre médaille sur ma poitrine." Zander a glissé, ne voulant pas reculer et Aegon l'a regardée tout de suite. Jake s'est mis en marche, en agitant les bras, "Hey assez de ça. Aegon se retire." Aegon secoua la tête : "Non, Anderson. Elle a menacé ma famille." "Elle ne voulait pas dire ça comme une menace Aegon. Elle est juste frustrée par ce qui se passe et elle a été extrêmement terrible de communiquer ce sentiment d'une manière constructive. Mais ce n'est pas une putain de raison de se battre." Voyant Aegon toujours tenant son épée à son cou, Jake a dit, "Admiral s'excuse à Aegon." Zander a crié sur Jake qui se retourna sur elle jusqu'à ce que Zander soupire et laisse son pistolet, "Partinax. J'étais hors ligne." Un long moment s'est écoulé, puis Aegon a fourré son épée. L'équipe de N7 a gardé leurs armes et Aegon a poussé devant Zander, menant l'équipe au sas du navire. Les N7 se sont dispersés et se sont regroupés autour de Zander alors que Jake regardait en arrière, "Vous avez eu de la chance amiral. Tu ferais mieux d'espérer que tu ne reverras plus Aegon." Zander grimacé, "Oh, je vais lieutenant. Comptez dessus." Aegon a conduit l'équipe dans le compartiment du navire, essayant de supprimer une rage presque homicide. Son esprit évoque des possibilités terrifiantes et concocte des représailles encore plus terribles. La peur et la colère se sont battues pour le submerger, mais Aegon n'a pas permis à l'équipe de le voir en dehors des poings serrés et d'une posture rigide. Après plusieurs moments de respiration profonde, il a enfin senti son cœur se calmer une fois de plus. Zander parlait tous. Elle n'essayait rien, même si elle ne faisait rien de si fou. Mais si elle essayait de s'immiscer à nouveau, Aegon allait l'emmener au Conseil. Aegon s'arrêtait par la rampe, au-delà de laquelle le compartiment était enveloppé dans l'obscurité. Il s'est tourné vers l'équipe et a dit, "Dans un avenir prévisible, ce sera à la maison." Aegon a fait un geste vers la cabine de commande donnant sur le compartiment et les lumières ont lentement commencé à s'allumer; révélant le HSV Kharon. Elle était belle, d'un design similaire à celui de la célèbre Normandie avec les mêmes propulseurs extérieurs élégamment incurvés et élégants. Cependant, il y avait quelques différences. Elle était à nouveau à moitié aussi grande que même la Normandie SR-2, la plaçant dans la classe des frégates lourdes; et la peinture blanche tourbillonnante couvrait sa superstructure noire, un clan turois marquant l'orthographe pour tout un navire. La vue a même fait sourire Aegon, "Eh bien, ça n'a pas de sens de rester ici. Laisse-moi te faire la tournée." Aegon marcha jusqu'au sas extérieur, la porte balayant le Spectre avant d'admettre l'équipe. Le sas était juste assez grand pour que l'équipe se presse en même temps, mais pas confortablement. Heureusement, le laser déconné les a rapidement balayés et la porte dans l'intérieur du navire s'est ouverte sous peu. Aegon a pris une posture de défilé et a marché avec confiance avec ses bras derrière son dos, comme son père l'a peut-être fait. Le navire avait la même disposition générale que le navire le plus célèbre de la classe Normandie, mais avec quelques pièces supplémentaires. Aegon a conduit l'équipe au poste de pilotage où deux membres d'équipage travaillent sur des consoles. Le timonier tirait sur les commandes, les quatre de ses bras travaillant en tandem. C'était Nardaki, une race simienne qui était l'un des clients de longue date des Turiens. Son corps était recouvert de doux cheveux dorés et lorsqu'il se tourna vers l'équipe, ils virent des yeux de mousse de mer avec des pupilles semblables à un Asari ou des humains. Aegon a présenté le pilote, « Lieutenant de vol Kano Tovuss. Un des meilleurs pilotes de la Hiérarchie." Le pilote sourit debout pour saluer avec deux des mains avant de dire, "Vous allez me faire rougir patron. J'ai hâte de travailler avec vous tous." Le copilote était un Turian qui a regardé l'équipe et a hurlé silencieusement. Aegon a continué, montrant l'équipe autour du CIC avec sa carte de galaxie et un contingent d'équipage, dont la majorité étaient turois mais il y avait aussi plusieurs volus. Le Yeoman était une jeune Turian nommée Calixta Oraka, qui était à peine hors du camp de botte, tandis que le navigateur était un lieutenant mâle plus taciturne du nom de Thoros Spartarus. L'officier des communications était un spécialiste masculin nommé Kasto Coronati qui a salué poliment le groupe. Tous les trois étaient hautement qualifiés, mais étaient liés à d'éminents fonctionnaires turcs. Il était clair que le navire était censé être la fierté de la flotte de la Hiérarchie. Autour du CIC, plusieurs vilains gardes turians se tenaient avec des armes recouvertes de mag-slings. La plupart d'entre eux étaient marqués ou tatoués, et un grand nombre d'entre eux avaient l'insigne hastatim fièrement affiché sur leur poitrine tandis que d'autres étaient manifestement anciens C-Sec et certains avaient l'apparence d'anciens Soleils Bleus ou Talons. Tous étaient des combattants endurcis et regardaient l'équipe avec insistance mais neutrement. Ils se tenaient tous à l'attention et saluaient intelligemment le passage d'Aegon. Aegon se tenait devant une porte qui lisait le laboratoire de recherche et menait l'équipe. À l'intérieur, ils ont trouvé un très grand laboratoire avec une énorme quantité d'équipement pour les essais biochimiques et l'ingénierie technique. Une quarienne femelle, dans un envirrosuit rouge et blanc, a tapoté sur un terminal tandis qu'un salarien mâle a tapoté sur un terminal. Aegon toussait et les deux scientifiques regardaient vers le haut, « Dr Nola'Xen vas Qwib Qwib et Dr Tenno Kala. Nos experts en biochimie et en technologie, respectivement. Si quelqu'un a besoin d'une bonne mise à niveau, c'est l'endroit où être." Nola'Xen a pratiquement sauté quand elle a vu Phalanx et s'est approchée, "Mon, vous êtes magnifique. Charmé de vous rencontrer." Nola a serré les mains de Phalanx avant de se tourner vers son collègue, "Que pensez-vous docteur?" Tenno hoche vigoureusement, "En effet? Remarquable. S'il vous plaît, j'aimerais faire quelques tests. Et... ma parole!" Tenno a bien regardé Ellis et a immédiatement commencé à le scanner avec un omni-outil, "Cette technologie est incroyable. Une merveille. Un peu malsaine et un peu maladroite, mais conceptuellement parlant... » Nola s'approcha du Krogan, « Vous deux êtes tout simplement merveilleux. J'aimerais absolument étudier comment... » Aegon a tenu un coup de main, « Nous allons vous laisser à vos médecins de travail, sans doute il y aura beaucoup d'opportunités pour apprendre à connaître mon équipe. » Les médecins semblaient un peu déçus, mais hochent la tête et laissent Aegon et l'équipe sortir. Aegon les a conduits à travers une salle où une table de conférence se trouvait à côté d'un port de vue, évidemment un endroit où des dignitaires et des luminaires seraient reçus. Un asari assis à un bureau, bafouant les rapports et Aegon a dit, "Dessia T'Lorro. Vétéran de la République Corps de diplomatie et le personnel de l'ambassade de la Citadelle, ainsi que le titulaire d'un maître de droit intergalactique. Elle sera notre consultante juridique et notre conseiller politique, pour s'assurer que vous n'ayez pas d'ennuis et évitez de marcher sur les orteils. Même si Jake et moi avons le statut Spectre, ça paie de savoir quel genre de tracas nous pourrions causer." L'asari matron ne s'est pas levé et a dit: «Quelques-uns d'entre vous rendent déjà mon travail beaucoup plus difficile qu'il ne le doit, j'apprécierais que certaines personnes agissent plus discrètement.» Elle a crié à Vella et Ellis et Aegon a choisi ce moment pour dire au revoir et se retirer. Aegon se tourna vers Vella, "Ça me rappelle. Tu es de service pour le corps des chiens, maintenant Vella. L'équipage du navire fait tourner une roue, et quoi qu'il arrive, tu aideras cette personne pour la journée. Peut-être que vous commencerez à apprendre une certaine responsabilité." Quelques autres gardes se tenaient devant une porte et un scanner a dégagé toute l'équipe avant de les admettre dans une grande chambre, avec plusieurs bornes et une table d'affichage holographique. Un officier avec une mandibule cybernétique en embuscade sur la salutation d'Aegon, "Dontos Ravarian, mon chef de la sécurité. Dans cette salle de guerre, nous coordonnerons nos missions. Les CQE ici ont aussi une ligne directe vers la Citadelle et toutes les capitales gouvernementales." L'agent de sécurité, qui était encore plus grand qu'Aegon a hurlé à l'équipage et a dit, "Plaisir d'avoir votre équipe à bord. En ce qui concerne la sécurité, je vous demande de respecter tous les règlements du bon sens. Si vous gardez la paix, alors nous nous entendrons bien. Si ce n'est pas le cas, vous me répondrez." Aegon a hurlé et les a conduits à une personne à capuche. C'était une salariée qui sourit à l'équipe et Aegon dit : « Tous les fans du CNS reconnaîtront Galda Valern. » Galda avec son ancre de nouvelles sympathique sourire riait, « ancre de nouvelles par jour, et courtier de l'intelligence par nuit. Je serai votre spécialiste des renseignements. J'ai des contacts dans toute la galaxie à la fois légitimes et moins. Si vous avez besoin de renseignements, venez me voir." Aegon a fait signe à Galda de sortir l'équipe de la salle de guerre, de retourner dans le CIC et dans l'ascenseur, qui a réussi à accommoder le groupe et a abaissé l'équipe jusqu'au pont de l'équipage. Aegon se tourna vers les quartiers de l'équipage et ouvrit la pièce pour révéler une grande caserne avec suffisamment de lits superposés pour loger l'équipage et l'escouade : « C'est là que la majorité d'entre vous dormiront, tandis qu'Anderson et moi avons des quartiers privés. Vous Krogan aurez vos propres chambres privées, puisque nous savons que vous êtes le genre territorial; et les quariens auront leur propre chambre propre, tous ceux-là sur le pont d'ingénierie." Aegon les a conduits à travers le mess jusqu'à la cuisine où un grand elcor se tenait avec un tablier autour de son large torse, "C'est Kalozi, ancien réservoir vivant, mais c'est un cuisinier de génie, à la fois levo et dextro. Il vous gardera tous nourris." L'Elcor hoche la tête, "Flattered: Merci, Aegon. Retiré, mais accueillant: J'ai hâte de travailler avec vous tous. Heureusement : le dîner est dans quelques heures. » Aegon a souligné que les quartiers XO étaient Jake resterait et serait passé à la médibay. À l'intérieur d'un hanar se tenait à côté d'une drelle féminine assise. Aegon a parlé, "Le médecin de notre navire, Koriandr et son vassal compacté Lyora Hanzos, qui est aussi notre instructeur CQC." La drell se tenait debout et souriait à l'équipe, "Glad de vous rencontrer tous. Je suis juste là pour Koriandr, mais si quelqu'un veut des cours pratiques, je suis toujours un jeu. Parfois, les garçons aiment organiser des matchs de sparring, vous êtes toujours libre de mettre votre nom dedans et il pourrait même y avoir de l'argent impliqué." Elle a fait un clin d'œil à l'équipe tandis que Koriandr a dit : « Celui-ci est heureux de faire votre connaissance, mais il espère qu'il n'aura pas à vous voir beaucoup à l'avenir. » Aegon a emmené l'équipe dans la salle d'artillerie où un petit groupe de Turiens calibraient les canons, sous la surveillance d'un volus pétillant, qui s'est retourné et a dit : « Ah... ce doivent être les nouveaux arrivants... si l'un d'entre vous aime jouer aux cartes... Je suis moi-même un dabbler." Aegon a ri, "Erod Farn. Ancien chef d'artillerie sur le Kwunu, il est venu travailler avec nous. Faites attention si vous voulez jouer aux cartes avec lui." Aegon a ensuite conduit l'équipe au pont d'observation tribord qui était rempli d'étagères et apaisant les pièces d'art et les plantes. Sons doux et tranquilles de la nature joués en arrière-plan. Quelques membres d'équipage lisaient, parlaient doucement, méditaient, jouaient aux échecs ou regardaient dans l'espace. Un Asari dans une robe chatoyante foliait à travers un volume avant de le fermer, et se tenant debout avec un sourire pour embrasser Aegon qui l'a rendu avec un sourire maudit, "Konare T'Pavi. Elle s'est entraînée avec le temple d'Athame et tous les grands groupes religieux de la galaxie. Université d'Armali est diplômée d'une maîtrise en psychologie, et elle a passé un certain temps sous le Consort. Si jamais vous avez besoin d'une consultation personnelle ou spirituelle, c'est elle que vous verrez. Vous avez des sessions hebdomadaires obligatoires Ellis. Toi aussi Giles." L'Asari sourit avec éclat à l'équipe : « Quoi qu'il arrive, si vous voulez en parler, je serai heureux d'écouter. Et tout est tout à fait confidentiel, bien sûr. Même Egg ne le saura pas ici. Et si jamais vous avez besoin d'un peu de temps tranquille, c'est pour ça que cette pièce est là." Aegon sourit et conduisit l'équipe au pont d'observation bâbord. Cette pièce était tout le contraire de l'autre pont d'observation. Un ensemble d'holovision a été projeté dans un coin jouant à un jeu de griffe tandis qu'un stand de VR s'asseyait dans un autre, et une balle discoactive inactive a regardé sur plusieurs chaises et canapés. Une salle partitionnée avait une table de poker tandis qu'une table de baby-foot et une table de ping-pong étaient également à proximité. Plusieurs hommes d'équipage hors service se blottis, quelques bras-bras. Un bar se trouvait à un mur et un jeune Turian se tenait derrière le bar, les bras croisés, manifestement espacés tandis qu'une femme d'un âge avec lui parlait de son oreille. Aegon a dit, "Ma nièce Valanna, c'est notre historienne de l'unité. Tout savoir culturel ou historique ésotérique que vous voulez retrouver, voyez-la. C'est mon neveu Konan. Il s'occupera de tous vos besoins liés à l'alcool aussi longtemps que vous ne serez pas en service." Valanna sourit et s'inclina dans l'équipe, tandis que Konan se branlait à peine la tête en reconnaissance. Aegon sourit à Valanna et soupira à Konan alors qu'ils s'en allaient dans l'ascenseur pour se rendre au pont d'ingénierie. Aegon a souligné plusieurs salles de chargement qui serviraient de quartiers privés pour les membres d'équipage ayant des besoins spéciaux. Aegon les marcha jusqu'à la baie d'ingénierie où plusieurs turians et volus consultèrent des datapads et des terminaux tandis que le noyau d'entraînement et l'usine de fusion bombaient doucement. Aegon a présenté l'équipage au chef de l'ingénierie, Octavio Tatum, qui a participé à la création du système de furtivité IES. Il a ensuite donné une conférence moyennement longue sur la façon dont leur noyau de conduite était l'état de l'art et courrait sans le besoin de décharger l'accumulation statique tout en permettant toujours pour la furtivité de courir mais Aegon a poliment interjecté et a pris l'équipe sur leur chemin. Un autre tour d'ascenseur les a emmenés jusqu'à la soute, qui était un abruti d'activité. Plusieurs Turiens étaient en train de faire de l'exercice, et Aegon a pris l'équipe pour voir un grand individu lanky qui ressemblait à un Salarien mais avec un crâne plus bulbe qui manquait des cornes et des yeux plus brillants, des yeux plus légers et des doigts en toile. Il était Lysenthi, une sous-espèce salarienne qui méprisait l'espace de l'Union hors de la rivalité historique entre les deux races. Aegon l'a présenté, "Relli Yonn. Ancien contrebandier, actuel spécialiste des achats. Tout ce que vous voulez, il peut obtenir." Le Lysenthi sourit : « Pour le bon prix, bien sûr. Je prends des crédits, des biens et des faveurs." Aegon a ensuite emmené l'équipe à un coin de la cargobay où plusieurs minifacturiers se tenaient à côté des racks et des racks de canons et d'un ensemble vertigineux d'équipement de combat. Une turiane a serré les mains et s'est prosternée devant l'équipe comme Aegon l'a dit, "Erinna Nero. Notre officier d'armure, venez la voir si vous voulez quelque chose fait, amélioré ou personnalisé. » Erinna hoche la tête : « Tant que tu auras les matériaux, je ferai de mon mieux pour servir. » Un grand rover se tenait devant lui avec une équipe de mécaniciens turois. Aegon a expliqué que le véhicule de combat d'infanterie Aegis pourrait être personnalisé et équipé pour pratiquement tous les types d'opérations, il pourrait même avoir un grand canon attaché pour qu'il soit transformé en char. Il y avait aussi plusieurs speeders en vol qui seraient utilisés pour le scoutisme. Enfin, Aegon a emmené l'équipe à une rangée de petits vaisseaux spatiaux. Elles étaient élégantes et neuves, toutes avec un crâne de Vorcha peint à l'extérieur. Une Vorcha se présenta, secouant la main d'Aegon et embrassant Jake, comme Aegon l'a dit, « Falka, des Diables Void. Elle et son équipe sont tous des vétérans de la guerre de Reaper. Ces vaisseaux là-bas sont polyvalents. Ils peuvent être équipés pour le soutien aérien rapproché, les missions de bombardement, le verrouillage des troupes, ils peuvent même être réaménagés dans des embarcations de chasse. Ces gars seront quelques-uns de vos meilleurs amis dans les jours à venir." Falka sourit dentellement, avant d'emmerder, "Greetings. Avec l'équipe et moi volant, vous arriverez où aller à chaque fois." "Et il y a une dernière introduction à faire. Talos, dis bonjour." "Bonjour, Force opérationnelle Katabasis." Une petite sphère plane flottait d'un compartiment dans la cloison et s'installait dans l'air à côté d'Aegon, puis une forme holographique éthérée se manifestait au-dessus. Sa forme était lumineuse et indistincte, comme un esprit mythique. Aegon poursuivit : « C'est Talos. C'est l'IA enchaîné du vaisseau. Il dirigera nos suites de cyberguerre et les systèmes automatisés de drones et fournira toute l'analyse tactique et le soutien logistique d'un VI de combat. Avec lui, nous aurons un avantage dans notre combat. Son cœur d'IA ne sera accessible qu'à moi et à Jake, mais vous pouvez tous le converser à votre guise. » Talos scintille alors qu'il parlait, « Ce sera avec plaisir que je travaillerai avec vous tous. J'espère vous connaître tous mieux dans les jours à venir. » Aegon s'est tourné vers l'équipe, « Cela conclut 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. »

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.

Ce groupe de ragtags a été cueilli à la main? Sérieusement? Azure écoutait silencieusement alors que tout le monde se présentait, il avait vraiment du mal à voir ce que les qualités rédemptrices de la plupart des membres du groupe avaient, mais il était encore tôt, pire scénario, ils pouvaient être utilisés comme monstre et pièger le fourrage. « Eh bien, dans ce monde, je vais sous le nom d'Azure, je n'ai aucune intention de mourir, et même si je n'étais pas bêta-bêta-testeur, mon frère travaillait sur SAO, et à mon grand désagrément et sa joie, me jetait au hasard des spoilers, donc je connais quelques secrets ici et là. » Il tourna alors son regard vers tous ses nouveaux compagnons qui avaient déclaré qu'ils étaient beta testeurs, Y aurait-il vraiment une différence notable entre les joueurs beta et non beta dans une guilde? ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Bien joué, maintenant que nous nous connaissons tous, nous devrions probablement frapper le moulin." Se tenant debout, Crepus poing a pompé l'air, "Je vais jouer comme un réservoir, donc vous devrez vous concentrer sur les dégâts." Il a commencé à se lever et à partir : « Eh bien, allons-nous partir avant que plus de gens ne se dirigent vers l'endroit de mouillage? Il est encore tôt, donc nous devrions être en mesure de réclamer la plupart des monstres là-bas." Il a ouvert sa fenêtre et envoyé tous les invités du parti, afin qu'ils puissent partager l'expérience.

Still need to finish that Drawing of him... Username: Azure Appearance: (hopefully I will finish his drawing someday) Azure stands at 6'1", with his neat azure hair neatly arranged to his neck. He has pale blue eyes, and wears armor that has a unique comination of spikey metal and fur. His avatar favours the colours of white, blue and silver. Current Weapon: Heavy Short Sword Favorite Attributes: Strength and Vitality Weapon styles unlocked: Basic One Hander. Real Age: 19 Real Name: Aaron Conners Gender: Male Personality: Taking more time to think than he does to act, Azure has been noted as a cool, calm and collected individual. He is aware of the crisis that they are dealing with in SAO, but knows that a level head and a quick wit will take him both farther, and give him the best chances of survival. On the negative side though, he does view himself as more important than most people, and though he normally plays nice, it is not beneath him to use people to meet an ends which he desires. Has issues granting trust. Other: Has a twin brother who was involved in the development of Sword Art Online, and although he declined to beta test, he knows more than your average new player would. Hopefully start this up by Thursday or so depending on how many we have.

Sicaria & AegonCollab entre & Après son déballage, qui ne prit que quelques minutes, Sicaria monta dans sa couchette et s'assit les jambes accrochées au-dessus du bord. Elle a apporté son bras gauche autour de son front alors que son omni-outil est venu à la vie dans son orange familier, la lueur presque comme une amie pour elle à ce moment. Étant donné le jour où elle a eu, elle a pris un moment pour simplement apprécier la technologie qu'elle avait construit dans son bras; que presque tout le monde avait construit dans son bras. C'était une merveille, que la société galactique avait atteint un tel point, mais ils avaient d'une manière ou d'une autre. D'une certaine manière, les choses avaient toujours été en plein cercle, sans début ni fin spécifiques. Mais maintenant que l'extermination totale de la vie a été exclue? Tout était possible. Elle s'assit et regarda la lumière chaude et orange pendant quelques minutes, en pensant à ce que cela signifiait vraiment pour elle, avant que sa main droite ne monte sur le côté de la lumière dure. Quelques toboggans ici, bouton presse là, et elle a eu le nom de l'eoman de Kharon tiré vers le haut. Avec une liste de courses pour courir sur le navire, elle a commencé à taper aussi vite que ses trois doigts le permettraient. Vers: Calixta Oraka De: Sicaria Velinian Objet: Réunion avec Aegon Message: Désolé pour l'abruptité, mais je suis l'un des membres de l'équipe qu'Aegon et Anderson ont réunis et j'ai besoin d'organiser une réunion avec le premier. Il est libre dans 10-15 minutes? Le Turian a frappé le bouton d'envoi et s'est couché sur sa couchette, se croisant les jambes l'une sur l'autre et entrecroisant les doigts derrière la tête, laissant diverses choses courir dans son esprit alors qu'elle attendait une réponse. Dans ce trou, elle entendit un Drell entrer dans la caserne et se déplacer sur son pectoral, qui lui fut jeté quelques instants plus tard. Elle l'a attrapée et l'a placée sur le côté, puis s'est penchée sur le bord. "Désolé à ce sujet, toujours à la recherche d'endroits pour garder des trucs." Quelques instants plus tard, Sicaria a eu un ping sur son omnitool et en l'ouvrant, Calixta est apparue sur l'écran du poignet avec un sourire, "Hé, Velinian. J'ai eu votre message et vous avez de la chance. L'Imperator est en fait assez libre. Il s'entraîne dans ses quartiers en ce moment, mais quand j'ai demandé, il a dit qu'il pouvait vous presser. Tu peux aller au pont supérieur maintenant, si tu veux. Devrais-je lui dire que tu viens?" « S'il vous plaît, faites-le », a commencé Sicaria, se balançant les jambes sur le bord de la couchette une fois de plus et tombant au sol, en veillant à éviter d'empiler Aviza en cas d'accident. "J'aimerais vous poser une question pendant que je me lève? Eh bien, un couple vraiment, mais vous avez l'idée." Pendant qu'elle parlait, elle s'est enfuie de la caserne et a commencé pour l'ascenseur au centre du navire. Calixta a hurlé, tapant sur un datapad pendant que la vidéo-chat avec l'autre Turian, "Bien sûr, c'est assez lent en ce moment. Qu'est-ce que tu veux savoir?" L'autre extraterrestre a appuyé sur le bouton pour appeler l'ascenseur, peu surpris qu'il ait été utilisé depuis qu'elle l'avait utilisé pour quitter le cintre. "Hmm... d'abord, je veux savoir pourquoi j'ai été choisi pour cette équipe. Je n'ai pas un dossier incroyable et par tous droits vous devriez essayer de m'arrêter en ce moment." Elle a déplacé son poids sur sa jambe gauche. Calixta a pensivement baisé son front comme elle a répondu, évidemment un peu trépidant à propos de répondre, "Eh bien, je ne peux pas parler aux raisons exactes de Partinax. Mais je crois que ça a à voir avec ta spécialité biotique. Il n'y a pas beaucoup de biotiques turiens, et la plupart d'entre eux sont liés à Cabals. Aegon veut le meilleur, mais la Hiérarchie serait réticente à transférer leurs Cabalistes à son commandement. Du moins pas sans d'énormes ficelles attachées. Quand il a entendu qu'il y avait un cabaliste voyou, il a probablement pensé que c'était une grande opportunité. Il n'aime probablement pas le fait que tu, euh, as déserté. Mais il est beaucoup plus indulgent à propos de ce genre de choses que beaucoup de commandants. Beaucoup de ses contacts sont des types inférieurs au monde, et une bonne partie de l'équipe de sécurité sont d'anciens mercs. Aegon est plus préoccupé par l'utlicité que par la légalité en ce qui concerne les actifs." "C'est logique. Mais il sait que j'étais impliqué dans les Soleils, ce qui me met en danger. Personnellement, j'aurais jeté un coup d'œil sur quelqu'un avec mon dossier, même si j'étais la seule Cabale sur laquelle il pouvait se mettre la main. Et je sais que ce n'est pas le cas, il a pris Tibère à bord." Elle regarda l'ascenseur s'arrêter sur son sol, l'incitant à entrer dans celui-ci à mesure que la porte s'ouvrait. Elle s'est penchée sur le côté et a appuyé sur un des boutons qui mèneraient aux quartiers d'Aegon. "C'est à côté du but, je suppose." Elle s'est arrêtée une seconde, puis s'est tapé le pied et a hissé sur quelque chose que Calixta ne pouvait voir ou n'était pas là. "Rappelez-moi d'aller voir le docteur... quel est son nom, Koriandr, n'est-ce pas? Toutes mes informations seront datées d'environ quatre ans." Calixta a hurlé, "Bien sûr. Je vais lui faire un mot. Préparons un rendez-vous après avoir parlé au patron. Juste avertissement, il est poli, mais il peut être un peu... étouffant. Y a-t-il autre chose que vous aimeriez?" "Merci, mais pourriez-vous le déplacer en arrière une heure? J'ai un autre arrêt que je dois faire à l'avance... et merci pour l'avertissement." Sicaria a levé les yeux de l'hologramme pendant que l'ascenseur ralentissait et s'arrêtait, la porte s'ouvrant un moment plus tard. Elle est sortie et elle s'est fermée derrière elle, en descendant comme quelqu'un d'autre a appelé l'ascenseur. Avant qu'elle ne soit la porte des quartiers d'Aegon Partinax, la maison loin de la maison d'un soldat légendaire, elle a eu la chance de servir en dessous. Elle n'allait pas mentir, elle était terrifiée et savait qu'il n'avait aucune raison de l'aimer. Si je veux avoir une vie normale après tout ça, je vais devoir le faire. Et bien, voilà... Elle a frappé à la porte avec sa main droite. Aegon Partinax, le Drakolix, a branlé Sacrifice dans sa main avant de tourner de la hanche et de trancher la cible à travers son abdomen avant de tourner et de poignarder vers l'arrière, empalant l'épée à travers la poitrine de la cible. La cible holographique, créée avec des champs d'effet de masse spécialement étalonnés et un projecteur, a flippé et est virtuellement morte. Il a été dépouillé à la taille et portait seulement la couche de tissu pour son armure de jambe, son endoskeleton blanc neige taper sur le muscle qui déchirait. Une autre cible a surgi et cette fois Aegon a coupé avec un sauvage balayage latéral, décapitant la tête artificielle en un seul mouvement. Il a entendu les coups à la porte et savait que Sicaria était là. Aegon, désactivé les projecteurs et gainé l'épée, mettant une robe légère et saisissant une cantine d'eau alors qu'il tournait sur son omni-tool et ouvrit la porte, « S'il vous plaît entrez. » Aegon se tenait droit et traversait les bras, indiquant une bouteille voisine de Cipritine Gold, "Drink? J'étais assis depuis le Relais 314. Qu'est-ce qui t'amène ici?" La porte s'ouvrit au commandement d'Aegon, accueillant Sicaria à quelques pas. Elle s'est arrêtée très tôt et s'est tenue droite, en battant un salut si net qu'elle aurait pu être confondue avec un cadet relevant du Primarch lui-même. Cependant, elle n'était pas une cadetne relevant du Primarch, et elle a abandonné le geste une seconde plus tard. Elle est restée à l'attention jusqu'à ce qu'on lui en dise le contraire. "Pas de merci, monsieur. J'ai besoin d'une tête claire pour l'instant." Sa position s'est levée pendant une seconde alors qu'elle prenait une respiration, le cœur courait avec un certain niveau de peur. Elle s'est évanouie la gorge sans qu'il soit nécessaire avant de parler à nouveau. "J'ai besoin d'une faveur, monsieur. Tu sais que je suis un criminel... et j'ai besoin que mon nom soit effacé. "Monsieur." Elle regarda le Turian plus grand, une mandibule qui secouait légèrement des nerfs, bien qu'elle refusât de briser le contact visuel. Aegon n'a pas daigné rendre le salut après que Sicaria ait abandonné le mouvement, mais il a hurlé : « A l'aise, Velinian. Vous n'êtes plus à la structure de commandement de la Hiérarchie, mais j'apprécie le geste. Bien que je suppose que c'est pour ça que tu es là." Il a maintenu le contact visuel avec l'autre Turian, son visage inscrutable comme il semblait prendre la mesure d'elle pendant un moment. Puis il s'est hurlé, a manifestement terminé son examen comme il buvait dans la cantine avant de parler, "Oui, j'ai lu votre dossier. Des scores techniques et de combat impeccables. Performance Stellar sur le terrain. Value Cabalist avec une certaine compétence en ingénierie aussi bien. Les parents étaient décorés. Tu as été une vraie jeune Sicaria, une carrière très prometteuse. C'est un atout. Et puis tu as déserté." Aegon a posé la cantine et a croisé ses bras, à propos d'elle neutrement, "Mais c'est tout dans le passé maintenant. Tu es dans mon équipe maintenant et tant que tu es avec moi, la Hiérarchie ne te touchera pas. En fait, ils ne s'embêteront probablement pas même après que tu aies avancé. Alors dis-moi. Vous aviez l'air d'aller bien en dehors de la Hiérarchie. Pourquoi veux-tu revenir?" Il s'est tenu droit, attendant une réponse. La femelle ne s'est détendue que légèrement, bien qu'elle ait dû se demander un moment. A-t-elle vraiment voulu revenir, ou a-t-elle essayé de s'enfuir à nouveau, seulement sans alias cette fois-ci. "La vérité, c'est que j'ai lutté. Une petite crache brille sur un disque public et la bonne connexion fait des merveilles." Elle a admis, regardant le sol et secouant la tête. "Et je veux revenir réparer les erreurs que j'ai faites. J'ai fait des dégâts, et je veux réparer ça." Elle a fini, marchant sans arrêt pendant que sa mandibule continuait à se serrer. Aegon a continué à la regarder pendant quelques instants, avant finalement de hanter légèrement "Je sais ce que tu veux dire. Vous n'étiez pas le seul Turian à perdre la foi après que Saren soit devenu voyou. Et vous n'êtes certainement pas le seul à déserter. Mais tu veux vraiment revenir. Peu importe ce que je pense de vos décisions Sicaria, vous étiez un soldat modèle et un atout. Nous avons perdu trop de bonnes personnes pendant la guerre et la Hiérarchie aura besoin d'autant d'anciens combattants et d'experts que possible. Je vais travailler sur le changement de votre statut. Je vais parler à mes contacts au Haut Commandement, voir à propos de vous procurer une amnistie et une réintégration." Le Turian a frappé ses talons à travers sa mandibule pendant un moment dans la pensée, "Ce ne sera probablement pas facile. Primarch Victus pourrait être mon beau-père, mais ne vous attendez pas au favoritisme sur ce front. La désertion est une tâche difficile à laver. Ils l'approuveront sans doute, mais avec des conditions. Ils voudraient sûrement vous mettre dans une unité de surveillance. Enfermez-vous dans une Cabale qui a un fanatique pour un Kabalim. Mais si vous voulez être transféré à mon commandement, ils voudront sûrement une faveur. Une démonstration de loyauté. Et ce sera très certainement dangereux. Êtes-vous sûr de vouloir cette Sicaria?" Elle a répondu presque instantanément, croisant les bras et son poids se déplaçant vers sa jambe droite. "J'aurais envie de tricher si on me laissait rentrer sans problème. Donc aucun prix n'est trop élevé pour moi, monsieur." Elle est restée silencieuse un moment, regardant autour de la pièce dans la pause. -- Bien que cela en vaut la peine d'attendre, afin que vous puissiez me garder sans aucune corde attachée, monsieur. Même si ce n'était pas en faveur de ses intérêts personnels d'attendre, elle pensait qu'il serait préférable d'attendre que la mission de Katabasis soit terminée. Aegon semblait satisfaite de sa réponse et aurait même pu paraître heureuse, mais il était difficile de le savoir à coup sûr. Aegon a décroché les bras et consulté un datapad, regardant un rapport alors qu'il continuait à parler, "Pas de soucis à ce sujet. Cette opération ne sera pas brève. Cerberus n'est qu'une pièce d'un très grand puzzle. J'ai le sentiment que nos intérêts et ceux du Haut Commandement pourraient se croiser. Si nous jouons ce droit, nous pouvons poursuivre notre plus grand objectif et vous rétablir en même temps. » Aegon a posé le datapad, "Je vais transmettre la demande au Haut Commandement et je vous tiendrai informé de tout développement. Peut-être que Dessia peut aider à régler les choses aussi. Y a-t-il autre chose que vous vouliez discuter?" "Hmm..." Sicaria a commencé, les yeux dérivent sur la forme d'Aegon. Ils se sont enfermés sur son épaule où elle pouvait voir la cachette d'une épée sur son dos, quand une idée s'est glissée dans sa tête. -- Pas nécessairement discuter, mais j'ai une question, monsieur. Ses bras décrochés et sa main gauche ont trouvé son chemin vers sa hanche, tandis que la droite a fait un geste oisif à son épaule. "Combien de fois as-tu quelqu'un avec qui t'entrainer?" Aegon a soulevé un sourcil par surprise, "Pas très souvent. Les enthousiasmes pour les styles anciens ne sont pas aussi communs qu'auparavant. Vous êtes un duel?" Aegon semblait légitimement curieux maintenant, pour la première fois pas complètement et absolument déjà sûr de la situation. Il a traversé le porte-armes sur un mur, tous assemblés sous une armure à l'ancienne. Aegon a placé Sacrifice à nouveau sur le manteau et a récupéré deux longues épées de mexta moins ostentatoire. "Où t'es-tu entraînée? Quelle forme favorisez-vous? Tu es sûr d'être prêt? Il n'y a pas de public qui regarde, pas de paris pour Lyora à organiser. Des espaces crampés, pas beaucoup de place pour le manucure. Ce n'est pas un endroit idéal pour un duel." Aegon a jeté Sicaria un des mextas, la lame avait encore un bord mais était traditionnellement forgée, plutôt que d'être une lame monomoléculaire. Il avait été fait à l'ancienne, par un maître de l'artisanat dont la famille avait façonné l'acier depuis l'âge de Fuedal. Aegon s'est dit : "Et tu me fais face." "Je ne me qualifierais pas de dualiste, je suis un peu trop hors d'usage pour." Elle a pris un battement pour attraper l'épée qui volait sur elle, la main droite se fermant fluidement autour de la poignée de la lame comme il a été fait pour s'adapter à sa main. Elle a donné à l'arme une balançoire expérimentale alors qu'elle écoutait le Drakolix poser plusieurs questions en succession rapide. "Je suis autodidacte, en fait. Peu d'endroits sur l'Aephus ou sur la Citadelle qui offrent des enseignements." Elle a expliqué, tournant l'arme dans sa main. Croyez-le ou non, l'équilibre était tout aussi bon que les lames modernes. "Et à vrai dire, je n'ai jamais appris le nom d'aucune forme. Juste vraiment choisi ce qui a fonctionné et l'adapter en quelque sorte, et pourquoi vous limiter à une seule discipline quand vous avez la biotique pour vous donner un avantage?" Sa mandibule droite a été retirée dans un sourire alors qu'elle s'était rendue compte qu'elle venait de menacer Aegon par accident. -- Excuses, monsieur. Je commence à déformer les gens quand ma vie est en danger." Aegon riait : "Ne t'inquiète pas pour Velinian. Pas de danger ici. C'est juste amusant." Aegon dérobé, jetant le vêtement sur un canapé voisin et dessinant la mexta avant de placer la gaine loin. Il avait évidemment l'intention de combattre sans chemise et sans armure. Aegon a donné à la lame un twirl expérimental, tordant l'épée dans un cercle et le tournant autour de son dos dans un motif complexe, un mouvement porté d'années de pratique et d'habileté durement acquise. Il a tenu l'épée et s'est prosterné devant Sicaria avant de prendre sa garde, tenant la lame dans les deux mains et tournant la lame vers le bas. Aegon a attendu, regardant les mouvements de Sicaria avec ses yeux violets troublants. D'une manière semblable à Aegon, Sicaria a jeté son sweat à capuche sur le côté avant de lui donner son épée un simple tour dans la main. Par la suite, elle a aussi jeté la chemise puisqu'elle n'avait pas l'intention de mettre des trous dans un nouveau vêtement. Prête pour le combat à venir, elle s'inclina devant son adversaire et pointa son côté gauche vers lui. Son épée, pour toutes les raisons, était hors du chemin, bien qu'elle rebondisse légèrement sur ses orteils. Presque comme l'art en mouvement, elle a poussé dans une attaque, une balançoire vers le haut entrant pour la poitrine du mâle. Aegon était prêt. Au lieu de bloquer ou de parier, il a esquivé, sautant rapidement sur le côté de son adversaire et livrant une coupe bidirectionnelle balayante sur le côté de Sicaria tournant à la hanche alors qu'il sautait avant d'atterrir dans un garde. Un peu tard sur la réaction mais néanmoins là, Sicaria a dévié le coup en posant le plat de la lame contre son avant-bras pour être utilisé comme un bouclier. Cela lui a permis l'attaque non conventionnelle d'essayer de frapper au col avec le plus plein plutôt que de trancher avec le bord. Aegon s'enfuit sous le coup, lâchant avec une coupe aux jambes de Sicaria, entravant sa mobilité ou en la forçant le dos. Rapidement, elle a sauté au-dessus de la balançoire et s'est posé sur ses orteils, pompel de son arme en descendant dans une tentative de frapper la tête d'Aegon. Aegon, voyant Sicaria sauter au-dessus de la lame et du pommier descendant, se précipita vers l'avant pour éviter la frappe et diriger une charge d'épaule à Sicaria avant d'effectuer une pirouette suivie d'une coupe diagonale à deux mains. L'accusation a pris Sicaria hors de sa garde et l'a renvoyée hors de portée de la balançoire, bien qu'elle ait retrouvé son équilibre un petit moment plus tard et a échangé sa position. Son poids s'est déplacé vers l'avant et son bras gauche a été légèrement relevé, épée pointée vers le bas au sol dans une poignée serrée. "Tout revient à moi maintenant." elle riait, un sourire venant à son visage. Aegon retourna dans une haute garde et il sourit à l'autre Turian "Bon. Je n'ai pas eu autant de plaisir depuis des siècles." Aegon se sépara les jambes, les deux bras s'emparant de la mexta alors qu'il torsa la lame vers Sicaria et commença à se déplacer lentement dans un cercle vers son côté gauche, ses yeux ne la laissant jamais. Elle s'est légèrement cognée et a gardé un œil sur lui, le poids se déplaçant à nouveau sur sa jambe arrière. -- Pas même avec votre femme, monsieur? A la fin de ce commentaire, sur le moment où Aegon s'est complètement approchée de son côté gauche, elle a filé sur son pied droit et a fait une tranche de dos à son épaule. Mais elle n'était pas à portée de main. Comme elle a suivi avec son bouffon, elle a répété l'action précédente, sauf qu'elle lançait pour son adversaire en coupant le sol avec son pied gauche. La distance entre eux a été fermée en un instant pendant qu'elle filait pour lui, la ruche maintenant empoignée des deux mains. Aegon, regardant attentivement Sicaria n'avait pas été fascinée par le commentaire ou ses feintes, la lame passant devant lui comme il le savait. En regardant son adversaire tendu, il se demandait ce qu'elle pouvait planifier. Elle sauta sur lui, l'épée clignotant dans une tranche tourbillonnante et si Aegon n'avait pas été un maître duelliste et le destinataire de vastes modifications génétiques, il aurait très probablement été frappé. En l'état, ses réflexes rehaussés et aiguisés ont à peine évité le coup. En un éclair, l'épée d'Aegon s'entrecoupait avec Sicaria et il y avait un anneau de clarion pendant que l'acier se heurtait. Aegon ne s'attendait pas à ce que Sicaria soit si volumineux, mais il s'est ajusté. Ne donnant pas à Sicaria une chance de récupérer, Aegon a livré une série de slashes et de coupes staccato, mettant l'accent sur la vitesse au-dessus de la force. Son épée sifflait dans les airs alors qu'il lançait un barrage de frappes, ses yeux violets se penchaient sur Sicaria alors qu'il se déplaçait rapidement. Elle put d'abord suivre le rythme, bien qu'au fur et à mesure que les grèves venaient, elle se retrouva en train de faire des parries et des blocs de plus en plus désespérés. Il tournait le combat en sa faveur, et elle tomba rapidement derrière son rythme, ce qui lui donna peu d'options pour essayer de gagner le dessus. Avant qu'elle ne le sache, il y avait une balançoire qui lui arrivait, elle ne pouvait tout simplement pas manœuvrer son épée pour bloquer, donc elle n'avait qu'une petite chance d'avoir un plan stupide. La femelle laissa tomber son centre d'équilibre et apporta sa main gauche pour rencontrer l'épée de son agresseur et s'élança simultanément au Drakolix avec son arme. Aegon a gardé calmement l'offense, sûr que Sicaria allait bientôt se boucler. En effet, elle l'a fait et Aegon pensait qu'une victoire rapide était probablement imminente. Mais une autre partie de lui rappelait qu'une partie de Sicaria n'était pas conventionnelle et déterminée. Il ne pouvait pas prédire ce qu'elle ferait, mais elle essaierait probablement quelque chose. Elle leva la main pour bloquer sa main d'épée et Aegon fut quelque peu jeté par le mouvement de désespoir. Puis il vit l'épée qui clignotait vers lui et il comprit. Aegon abandonna la prochaine grève et retourna en arrière, entrant dans un garde et mettant la distance entre lui et son adversaire. Aegon a été visiblement impressionné, « Stratégie intéressante. C'est risqué. Mais gratifiant. Aegon était maintenant prudent, savait que Sicaria était ingénieux et rusé. Il avait tous les avantages physiques, mais il ne pouvait pas la refuser. Mais elle commençait à avoir l'air fatiguée. Aegon a dit, "Si vous avez besoin d'une pause, nous pouvons prendre quelques minutes Vellinian. Laissez-vous reprendre votre souffle." Il a gardé sa garde et a attendu pour voir si elle ferait un mouvement. Un autre sourire rampant sur son visage, elle tomba des orteils et descendit son épée. -- Je vais vous donner cette offre, monsieur. Elle a posé l'arme à quelques pieds de la bouteille de Cipritine Gold de plus tôt avant de se pencher sur la surface, les jambes traversant. "Depuis longtemps que j'ai tenu une épée. Ça fait du bien de recommencer." Elle a commencé à respirer par la bouche, en remplissant ses poumons avec autant d'oxygène que possible. Aegon sourit et gaina l'épée, se penchant l'arme contre un canapé alors qu'il s'asseyait à côté d'elle. Son adrénaline était debout et il respirait un peu plus vite que d'habitude, mais il n'était pas aussi exercé qu'elle. Il s'est entraîné presque tous les jours et il aurait fallu beaucoup plus de duel pour que la fatigue commence à s'installer. "Ça fait longtemps que je n'ai pas eu de partenaire d'éparpillement approprié. Visenya est plus un passionné de couteau et père devient un peu vieux pour le jeu. Mais vous avez un talent naturel, Sicaria. Un peu rouillé peut-être, mais bon instinct. Une bonne formation et vous seriez un solide matériel duelliste." Aegon a récupéré une cantine d'eau, l'offrant à Sicaria alors qu'il pointait vers un mur qui tenait plusieurs accolades, trophées et médailles, se concentrant sur une petite pièce d'argent, "C'est de mon premier tournoi. J'avais quatorze ans et je suis arrivé deuxième de tous les autres étudiants. Bien sûr que ce n'était pas assez bon pour moi. Rhaenys Coronati, mon cousin, était celui qui m'a battu. Et je la remercie pour ça. Sans ça, je n'aurais pas dû m'entraîner si fort. Jour et nuit, constamment." Il a indiqué une longue rangée d'autres trophées du tournoi, tous d'or. Aegon a regardé Sicaria, "Chaque fois que vous avez envie de perfectionner vos compétences, vous pouvez essayer de voir si je suis disponible. Je peux commencer à vous enseigner des styles traditionnels, augmenter votre base de compétences. Qu'est-ce que ça veut dire?" Pendant qu'il parlait, Sicaria regardait à travers son cabinet de trophées. Tout était incroyablement impressionnant, des statues et des médailles le faisant être une variante véridique et légale d'un Jay Gatsby. "Des leçons d'épée du légendaire Aegon Partinax? Tu devrais me tuer pour me faire dire non. La question est : est-ce que je peux offrir quelque chose en retour? » Elle déchira les yeux loin des accolades et se tourna vers le Turian plus grand. -- Et ne dites pas ma loyauté, vous l'avez déjà, monsieur. Aegon sourit : « Alors c'est réglé. Chaque fois qu'on est libres, on peut s'entraîner une heure ou deux. Mais un avertissement juste, Vellinian, marcher sur le chemin de l'épée n'est pas un exploit facile. Ce sera comme un camp de botte partout. Sauf avec moins de profanité et plus de blessures. Ce ne sera pas quelque chose que vous ne pouvez pas gérer." Il a été un peu repris par sa déclaration de loyauté, inutilisée à de telles proclamations. Son visage était difficile à lire. Il aurait pu être harcelé. Consterné. Ou même reconnaissant. Tout ce qu'il pouvait faire, c'était faire un clin d'œil, regarder Sicaria et regarder droit dans ses yeux, "Merci Sicaria. C'est un honneur de vous avoir dans l'équipe." Aegon était silencieux pendant un moment, peu sûr de ce qu'il fallait dire, « Je ne peux rien demander plus loin de vous Sicaria. Vous êtes prêt à donner votre vie la cause, même si la cause pense que vous êtes un traître. Ce genre de dévouement est aussi précieux que n'importe quoi. Mais... si vous n'avez pas de fiançailles, vous aimeriez peut-être rester un peu? Pas de duel. Juste nous deux." "J'en serais ravi, monsieur. Bien que j'aie une réunion avec Koriandr..." elle s'est arrêtée pour vérifier son omni-outil, naviguant à travers quelques choses jusqu'à ce qu'elle trouve une horloge. "... environ quarante-cinq minutes. Je dois mettre à jour toutes mes informations médicales." Ses coudes ont trouvé leur chemin sur le comptoir alors qu'elle glissa un peu plus bas, regardant autour de la pièce et prenant tout pour la première fois réelle. -- Si vous avez des questions pour moi, c'est le moment, monsieur. Aegon a indiqué le canapé, « Ici, nous pouvons être plus à l'aise. Ha, est-ce que j'ai l'air d'un humain? Pleine d'enquêtes personnelles et de questions de sondage? - Oui. Comment avez-vous trouvé la vie en dehors de la Hiérarchie? Est-ce que c'est mieux que la vie à l'intérieur?" Aegon semblait enfin se détendre quelque peu, assis sur le canapé et ne pas être si rigide. Il n'a toujours pas mis de chemise non plus. Sicaria, par contre, est allée récupérer sa chemise. Elle a glissé dedans comme elle a répondu. « Il y a certainement beaucoup plus de liberté à l'extérieur, mais je ne dirais pas que c'est un commerce digne. Omega est un trou de l'enfer, et les extrémités des Wards ne sont pas beaucoup mieux." Elle s'arrêta alors qu'elle s'asseyait sur l'extrémité opposée du canapé, les jambes se croisant bien. "Mais ça change quelque chose chez tous ceux qui restent là assez longtemps. Ils les brisent et les reconstruisent différemment, on pourrait dire. » Aegon s'est versé un verre. Mais pas du vin. Un jus de fruits. Véritable jus de baies de tupo directement des hauts plateaux de Kilika. Il en a offert à Sicaria comme il l'a dit. "Comme un camp de démarrage d'une certaine façon. Tu aurais dû me voir avant que je commence la base. Mais comment Omega t'a-t-il changé?" Elle accepta la boisson et la mit sur la table d'extrémité à côté d'elle, scindant légèrement à la pensée d'Aegon étant un jeune Turian rambuntueux avec une arme. « Cela m'a amené à mon plus bas niveau, m'a mis contre des cotes presque aussi impossibles que nous contre les Reapers. » Elle s'est arrêtée pour siroter sa boisson, la main droite s'installant sur ses genoux. "Bien que j'ai découvert que beaucoup d'autres races comme nous tout autant que les Asari, en termes de physique." La femelle s'est bercée brièvement, regardant par terre. -- Si je puis me permettre, comment étiez-vous avant la base? Aegon s'est moqué du commentaire avant de contempler le plafond, son esprit revenant vers sa jeunesse, "Vraiment dit-on? J'étais une vraie tête chaude. Pas de respect pour les règles. Pas de respect. Pas de limites. J'étais trop intelligent pour mon propre bien et ma bouche était aussi rapide que ma main d'épée l'est maintenant. Je ne peux même pas te dire combien de fois j'ai rendu mes parents presque fous. Je me suis disputé avec un groupe de garçons plus âgés une fois. Complètement évitable, mais j'ai fini avec un œil noir et plus de bleus que je ne pouvais compter. L'un d'eux a perdu une dent. Et je n'avais absolument aucun regret. Ils s'attaquaient à un enfant de Nardaki, le traitant de domestique. Et je les ai affrontés sans une seconde pensée. J'ai marché jusqu'au battement de mon propre tambour. Boot m'a un peu redressé. Aegon sourit, se souvenant de son jeune moi impétueux : "Et toi?" Elle a encore siroté son verre, souriant à l'histoire. Même quand il était jeune, Aegon semblait être un paragon à part entière. "J'aurais fait la même chose. Mais moi? J'étais un enfant perdu avant le camp de démarrage, le passé troublé et tout. Mais j'ai survécu, et je suis sorti plus dur pour cela." Elle soupirait légèrement, tournait légèrement le verre et regardait le jus se déplacer. "Mon oncle était un mort-vivant, un burn-out qui a culminé pendant son service qui n'a rien fait d'autre que d'engager des prostituées et de boire toute la journée. Donc, la base m'a sauvé, vraiment. N'importe quoi vaut mieux que de passer au-dessus des canettes de bière pour aller dans votre chambre." Elle a regardé vers le haut et a ébréché les deux mandibules dans une punaise. "Cela m'a mis presque tout en branle, cependant. Alors ça s'est bien passé." Aegon écoutait attentivement, mais ne sachant pas décevoir Sicaria en faisant preuve de pitié. Aegon avait grandi privilégié, avec tout ce dont il avait besoin. Il a parfois oublié que tous les Turiens n'ont pas grandi de cette façon. Il leva un verre en reconnaissance, "Mais pas à la Hiérarchie. Tu crois toujours au sacrifice. Devoir. Fidélité. Fraternité. Si vous me le demandez, vous êtes un romantique." Il a tout mis dans son verre un peu, "Comment ça s'est passé avec ta copine? Est-ce qu'elle est d'accord pour que tu serves encore? Sicaria a avalé fort à cette question, assis silencieux pendant un long moment. Alors qu'elle avait été flattée par Aegon quelques secondes auparavant, elle était maintenant dans une position embarrassante. Elle a répondu d'une voix basse et faible. "Elle avait ses soucis, mais... nous avons rompu ce matin. Je vous épargnerai les détails." Son verre a été retourné à la table finale et elle s'est réajustée pour faire face au mâle un peu plus. "Je suis désolé Sicaria, je ne savais pas. Je ne vais pas vous presser pour des détails. Comment te sens-tu?" Aegon se sentait un peu mal à l'aise. Ce genre de cœur à cœur n'était pas son fort. Mais il se sentait d'une certaine façon obligé d'essayer, "Je sais combien il peut être difficile d'équilibrer la vie du soldat avec une vie d'amour." Elle soupira avant de répondre, le regardant avec des yeux ternes. "J'ai menti quand j'ai dit qu'Oméga m'a ramené à mon niveau le plus bas. Tu me vois là-bas en ce moment..." Elle s'est laissée s'assommer dans le siège un peu avant de continuer. "Bien que regardant en arrière, il est devenu presque rien d'autre que le sexe sans signification après la première année. C'était peut-être une bonne chose qu'on se soit séparés, et Alria m'aide à y arriver. C'est une sainte, je le jure, qui fait tout ce qu'elle peut pour rendre la journée meilleure pour tout le monde. » Il y avait presque un désir visible dans ses yeux maintenant, comme la simple mention de la fille l'avait revivifiée. Aegon n'a rien dit, écoutant et laissant Sicaria parler. Il ne connaissait pas les mots pour l'aider, mais il pensait qu'une oreille serait encore quelque chose. Après un moment de débat interne intense, dans lequel Aegon a soutenu avec à la fois un sentiment de gêne et des règlements contre la fraternisation, Aegon s'est penché vers Sicaria et a placé une main réconfortante sur son épaule, "Vous êtes de retour avec la Hiérarchie maintenant. Vous êtes dans mon équipe. Ça veut dire que tu es l'un des nôtres et que tu le seras toujours. Et que je serai là pour aider de toute façon que je peux." Aegon avait déjà dit ces mots. Il les a toujours voulus. Et il les a presque toujours déçus. Est-ce que cette fois-ci serait différente? Il ne savait pas, mais il devait essayer. Ces paroles lui apportèrent un léger sourire en regardant le prochain Turian. -- Merci, monsieur. Elle l'a tiré dans un câlin fugace avant de laisser aller et de se lever. "Je devrais être en route, laissez-moi un message si vous avez besoin de moi pour quelque chose. Ou demandez à Talos de me crier dessus, si vous le jugez approprié." Avec cela, elle a récupéré son sweat à capuche et l'a glissé avant de se diriger vers la porte, laissant s'occuper d'autres questions moins importantes.

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.

Ces derniers jours avaient été difficiles, non seulement pour le coven, mais pour le leader plus précisément. Riley avait été écrasée pour voir son amie morte et Nathan ne savait pas quoi faire. Il avait proposé de chercher le meurtrier, mais elle avait refusé. Ce soir-là, Nathan était très, très saoul. Depuis, Nathan a essayé son plus dur pour réconforter Riley, sans beaucoup de succès. Si elle avait besoin de quelque chose, ou de quelqu'un de mort, il pouvait le faire, mais les questions du cœur avec lesquelles il avait peu d'expérience. Il n'y avait pas eu besoin de cela jusqu'à maintenant et Nathan devenait frustré par son incapacité. Il l'a presque perdue quand le chef de meute des bêtes l'a menacée. Il attendait juste que le signal saute sur ce chien avant que Riley ne l'appelle. C'était il y a un moment, maintenant il attendait n'importe quoi. Il savait qu'elle pouvait le sentir, mais personne d'autre ne le voulait. Quand l'Alpha est revenu, Nathan était prêt à vomir, tout ce qu'il lui fallait, c'était une demi-raison d'attaque et il le ferait. Les deux ont salué civilement sinon durement et Riley a appelé Nathan, lui disant qu'il devait partir. Pas un pour désobéir, Nathan est parti prendre sa place devant l'entrée, avec un paquet à quelques mètres d'avance sur lui. Nathan a gardé stoïque, un bref flashback de son premier coven griffé à l'avant-garde avant d'être battu. Ils étaient ici, avec nous, dans un but plus élevé. Alors Nathan se tint immobile et endura leur puanteur jusqu'à ce que Riley sorte et lui fasse un petit discours. Lorsque Nathan entra dans la pièce après qu'elle l'eut fait, il eut quelques mots à lui dire. Profitant de son courage, Nathan allait faire quelque chose qu'il n'avait jamais fait auparavant. Donnez ses propres ordres à son chef. Nathan dit avec difficulté: "Je ne peux pas vous permettre d'aller seul, c'est dangereux. Si quelque chose t'arrivait, le corbeau serait perdu... Je n'ai pas la force de voir une autre chute parce que je n'étais pas là! » Nathan perdait son compositeur et il se sentait embarrassé à travers lui. Ça ne lui ressemble pas du tout. Après sa petite explosion, Nathan tomba dans l'une des chaises de la pièce et laissa sa tête tomber entre ses mains. J'essaie désespérément de retrouver une forme de dignité.

Nathaniel Duncan Griev "Keep this in mind fledgling, try anything to harm this coven and I will personally rip out your heart." Nickname: Nathan, its shorter than saying "Nathaniel" all the time. Plus only Riley calls him Nathaniel. Age: 24 Gender: M Sexuality: Hetero Species: Vampire Role: Leaders Right Hand Appearance: Tall, blond, and handsome. These are the words Nathan uses to describe himself and for the most part its true. Standing 6'4, he fits the tall description to a T. The blond because of his dirty blond hair and lighter, less dark clothing choices. Finally the handsome. Nathan is fair skinned, with only a small scar located on his chin to mar his visage and strong features like a heavy set jaw, broad shoulders, and heavy set muscles, he would be considered a catch by anyone's standards. Of all the things he takes pride in the most, its his tattoos. The one that most people see is the sleeve on his right arm. The original was just a flower surrounded by feathers and he just added from there. He has several more located on his body, the one he paid the most for and has the most pride in is the one located were his heart would be. This ornate tattoo is mostly a large rose that covers a large portion of his pectoral, with several tribal bands making the celtic trinity knot in the background. Underneath is a banner that reads "Munus est, ut sacrificet mihi or "My duty is to serve". Clothing wise, Nathan prefers mid casual clothes and his his usual line up includes. A vest, a button up with rolled sleeves, a tie, a pair of jeans, and a pair of dress boots. Personality: How Nathan acts is dependent on which company he holds. When in the company of superiors, he will be respectful, quiet, and ready to serve his leader. When around subordinates, he is fairly apathetic to what they do as long as they respect him and the leader. When around people he considers his equal however, Nathan becomes much more relaxed. He will laugh, crack jokes, and even drink a little around his friends, but these people are far and few in between so most people consider him a stick in the mud. Nathans views of the humans are complicated. While he prefers their blood overall, he has trouble going through with it. So he mostly focus' on the scum of the earth when he goes to feed. Early on in his vampire life, he had made a friend among the humans and once word of this reached his superiors, he was ordered to kill her. Ever being the good soldier, he did and has regretted it ever sense. This is the reason he has trouble feeding on innocent people, because he knows they are more than just cattle to be fed on...not that he would tell anyone. There are two things that Nathan truly hates in this world, Scummy humans and werewolves. The former is because they deserve his wrath, picking on the weak and defenseless makes him sick, so he makes them feel what its like to be the victim. However Nathan hates werewolves more. When he was just a fledgling, several werewolf packs had banded together to take out his coven. Peace negotiations were in the works for months and a peace offering was going to be made, when the negotiator came back it was in pieces. During the full moon they attacked, knowing that they were trapped and cornered the coven fought with all they had, but their numbers were too great and one by one the coven fell apart. Eventually the coven had killed enough wolfs for them to leave, but it was a hollow victory. The Coven leader had died and there were too few to rely on each other. So they torched the mansion along with the vampires and wolfs and went their separate ways. History: Before he was a vampire, Nathan was a soldier. Enlisting at eighteen, Nathan had gown through several tours of duty before he met the leader of his first coven. His turning was a rather traumatic one and he lost most of his memories in the process, leaving only his muscle memory and fighting instincts intact. Taking advantage of this blank slate of a man, the coven leader christened him "Nathaniel Duncan Griev" and started to groom him into his right hand. This included refining his already formidable fighting skills into the perfect hit man, who knew how to take down vampires and werewolves alike. However as you know, his coven was wiped out before his training was complete and he wandered for a couple of years before meeting Riley and her Coven of Rose. After he was excepted, Nathan quickly proved himself a competent right hand was taken as such. From his position he takes the protection of the coven very seriously and will take out any threat to it, being werewolf, vampire, or something else. Other: Nathan's secondary power is his abnormal strength, even by vampire standards and can easily overpower most vampires with little to no effort. Secondly unlike most vampires, he does not have a voice of velvet. It is quite baritone and gravely, something the ladies appreciate greatly.

On n'est pas tous des gens heureux. Azure parlait d'un ton plus élevé, avec un sarcasme épais en couches, il l'a même dramaturgé en agitant ses bras tout en parlant. Après avoir riposté à son propre commentaire, il continua à suivre Crepus. Il a une vague idée de l'aménagement de la ville, et où les routes mènent si on choisit de les suivre assez longtemps. On dirait qu'il s'est divisé en quatre directions principales, le Nord, l'Est, le Sud et l'Ouest. Des trucs standard, vraiment. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- En suivant la route pavée vers le sud, ils furent conduits jusqu'à un chemin croisé, un sentier restant plus propre, avec quelques pierres manquantes, mais autrement un sentier reconnaissable. Pour ceux qui avaient été beta testeurs, ils reconnaîtraient qu'il a conduit à une autre ville, qui, juste à côté, avait la zone renommée pour les monstres du premier étage les plus forts. L'endroit idéal pour broyer si l'on veut le faire en combattant les ennemis les plus forts, Boar Riding Goblins. Parce que quand deux des monstres les plus basiques se réunissent, et se tiennent simplement debout l'un sur l'autre, ça les rend forts. La logique du jeu vidéo est la meilleure. Mais ce n'était pas le chemin que Crepus a pris. Il aventura l'autre, plus de chemin de terre, et même alors, il s'en détourna pour suivre un ruisseau, jusqu'à ce qu'il atteigne l'embouchure d'une caverne. « Nous voilà, » a-t-il dit, fouettant instinctivement son front de sueur. -- Alors, qui est prêt à combattre des ours? Il sourit et regarda finalement en arrière pour voir ceux qui l'avaient suivi. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Azure a donné un regard stupéfait en réponse. Aucun mot ne pouvait échapper à ses lèvres en ce moment.

Still need to finish that Drawing of him... Username: Azure Appearance: (hopefully I will finish his drawing someday) Azure stands at 6'1", with his neat azure hair neatly arranged to his neck. He has pale blue eyes, and wears armor that has a unique comination of spikey metal and fur. His avatar favours the colours of white, blue and silver. Current Weapon: Heavy Short Sword Favorite Attributes: Strength and Vitality Weapon styles unlocked: Basic One Hander. Real Age: 19 Real Name: Aaron Conners Gender: Male Personality: Taking more time to think than he does to act, Azure has been noted as a cool, calm and collected individual. He is aware of the crisis that they are dealing with in SAO, but knows that a level head and a quick wit will take him both farther, and give him the best chances of survival. On the negative side though, he does view himself as more important than most people, and though he normally plays nice, it is not beneath him to use people to meet an ends which he desires. Has issues granting trust. Other: Has a twin brother who was involved in the development of Sword Art Online, and although he declined to beta test, he knows more than your average new player would. Hopefully start this up by Thursday or so depending on how many we have.

C'était stupide. C'est complètement idiot. "Ils ne méritent pas notre aide." Keller grondait en colère alors qu'elle s'accrochait près du côté de l'Alpha de son sac, les yeux ambres éblouissants dans les beaux escaliers qu'ils montèrent à la tanière du chef du Coven, "et nous n'avons pas besoin de la leur." Ses commentaires ont été accueillis avec de faibles grognements, des avertissements de fermer ou de retourner, et elle a rapidement cessé de pleurnicher, tournant son attention vers le plafond. Une maison si élégante, si grande et blanche et pourtant suffocante. C'est désolant. C'était différent de la grande forêt remplie de vent juste à l'extérieur, et il a laissé Keller avec un tel sentiment de peur qu'elle ne pouvait tout simplement pas arrêter de trembler. Les deux sont finalement arrivés au deuxième étage, et son Alpha a rapidement fait son chemin vers une porte et est entré, lui demandant de rester à l'extérieur jusqu'à ce qu'il ait fini de parler avec l'autre chef. Ses protestations se sont heurtées à un regard en colère, puis elle était seule, tremblant à l'intérieur des murs confinés du hall. Il y avait un léger bavardage en bas, la plupart sonnaient comme des disputes ou des commérages, mais Keller l'utilisait comme quelque chose pour la garder occupée, jouant un jeu silencieux qu'elle n'avait inventé que quelques secondes auparavant. Son dos s'appuyait contre le mur, et ses oreilles s'accrochaient sur certaines voix, puis ces voix seraient soit distinguées, soit ignorées. Ce jeu a continué jusqu'à ce qu'une présence inconnue entre dans le hall, et elle s'est tournée pour voir l'homme de la main droite du leader, Nat-quelque chose. Keller permit à ses yeux d'éblouir au sol pendant que ses mains s'accrochaient aux griffes, préparées pour toute attaque non désirée, mais elle semblait être ignorée, et il se tenait plutôt devant la porte où l'Alpha était entré. Soudain, la porte s'est ouverte, et le vampire n'a pas bougé, il s'est tenu comme une pierre alors que son Alpha sortait de la pièce. Il y a eu un moment de silence épais, et Keller a failli sauter sur l'homme stupide, mais tout a été coupé court comme une voix féminine appelée le gars Nat et a permis à l'Alpha de revenir dans le hall. Elle s'approcha de l'homme plus grand, le regardant avec des yeux profonds, "Comment ça s'est passé?" La situation a été expliquée alors qu'ils ont commencé le court trek en bas, et tout ce qu'elle pouvait faire était de hochement et soupirer. Au bas des marches, Keller a reçu l'ordre de partir et de rejoindre le Pack. Son travail était de garder tout le monde calme, ce qui n'était pas exactement le meilleur genre de travail pour quelqu'un si excitable, mais elle a fait de son mieux jusqu'à ce que le leader du Coven descende enfin pour se tenir sur le pas inférieur aussi bien. « Nous devons nous entendre beaucoup mieux que nous ne l'avons été autrement, nous perdrons cette guerre et ceux qui nous intéressent. Marché conclu?" le vampire a parlé, et Keller s'est moqué de son caractère décontracté, mais a rapidement fixé son expression comme un grognement familier et l'éblouissement a été tourné vers elle. Le reste du Pack écoutait assez doucement le discours, les visages montrant leur colère et leur agacement, mais d'autres sages, ils étaient calmes et polis. La réunion s'est terminée par une interruption, la deuxième au commandement du Coven. Quelque chose à propos d'eux étant découvert. Immédiatement, les Packs et les membres du Coven commençaient à murmurer, se regardant avec inquiétude. Keller a essayé de les calmer, mais hélas elle avait perdu le contrôle dans son groupe. L'Alpha revint de son côté et fit taire les commérages d'une écorce forte. Riley était revenu à l'étage, se préparant probablement à la "réunion" qui avait été mentionnée, et Keller s'est tourné vers l'Alpha, la curiosité a atteint son sommet, "Qui les attendait?" Elle s'interrogea tranquillement, à laquelle il répondit avec une lueur et une vague de la main, comme pour la brosser, et avec une renifle, elle retourna dans le Pack et commença à se mêler et à bavarder comme les autres. Je ne suis utile à rien d'autre, semble-t-il.

Willow Rudi Keller "Get busy living or get busy dying." Nickname: Keller or Will. Absolutely hates to be called Willow. Age: Gave up on counting when she turned 110. Appears to be in her early 20s. Gender: Female Sexuality: Pansexual Species: Werewolf Role: Beta Appearance: Keller is a rather grubby girl, with pale, normally bruised skin, long white-blonde hair, and expressive amber eyes. Stands at about 5'6 feet and is extremely thin and lanky, weighing only about 90 pounds at most. What she lacks in strength and muscle, she makes up with speed, thus leaving her to be very underweight and light. Her face is narrow, normally hidden behind tangled layers of blonde, and is fairly pretty despite her crazed grins and glaring, burning eyes. Normally wears darker-colored outfits and especially likes shirts and pants and dresses that are comfortable and easy to move in. Always wears the same pair of combat boots, which are large and clunky and very worn. Doesn't care much for her appearance, so her face is normally makeup-less and covered with dirt or oils or even blood depending on the time of day. Her arms and legs and torso are covered in many scars and bruises from falls and fights and hunting. As a wolf Keller is lean and quick. Her amber eyes are brighter than in her human form and her pelt is somewhat shaggy, but healthy. Personality: Keller is a rather... Wild soul. She is desperate for a fast-paced type of life and can normally be found running through the woods, giggling her strange giggle, or even exploring the city's rooftops if she's feeling extra adventurous. Cunning but aggressive, Keller rarely gets along with others outside of her pack, and only finds interests in those that can match her crazy attitude or her slyness. A consistent liar, Keller is rather good at feigning innocence and can twist the truth very gradually around her finger if she ever needs to. To her, life is a large game to play, and because of this mindset she is very rarely serious, which can be good or bad depending on the situation. Loyal to her friends and family, Keller will never leave anyone she knows in need, yet to strangers she is strangely abrasive and cruel. Surprisingly somewhat of an intellect, she is someone who is good at thinking up plans during fast or stressful situations, and this leads to Keller being a know-it-all who enjoys flaunting her knowledge on seemingly meaningless things, like plants and tracks and human wars. Extremely stubborn and strong-willed, Keller will rarely back down from a challenge and will always fight for what she believes is right, despite her lack of strength. Very moody, there are times when she can be happy one second and depressed the next. As a wolf she is much more territorial and dislikes people getting too close, both mentally and psychically. History: Keller was born, one snowy night, into a family that only consisted of only a mother and father. Her father, who went by Jez, was the very rough and tough beta of the pack, while her mother, Marie, was as soft and kind as anyone scout could be. Both were of werewolf decent, and because of this their little Willow was born into the power as well. They lived a quiet life within a close knit pack, content and bountiful in both food and love, and the family couldn't be happier. As she grew, it became evident that Keller was very interested in being an Alpha wolf one day, despite her family's words of discouragement. She began to fight more, begged to join her father on hunting missions, and also became very interested in books and listening to her mother's knowledge on other creatures and plants. Dreams became ambitions, and on one sunny day she suddenly challenged the their pack's Alpha to a duel. Needless to say, she became a laughing stock. 'How dumb could this female be?' They would ask, 'She's barely over the age of twenty and still believes she can take on OUR Alpha? Ha!' And she was teased, nicknamed "Weepy Willow", and eventually she grew tired of her own name and began calling herself Keller. Her parent's, despite being gossiped about, still tried their best to love and support her. It took a few weeks for everything to die down again, and Keller, now feeling defeated and weak, became much more aggressive and secretive then before. Life slowed to a snails pace, and soon she was lost in a rut. One day, while Keller was lazing around in the trees, she met another girl named Sara. A lone wolf, pretty, and so different from the life Keller had been witnessing. They talked, discussed their lives, and eventually began to meet up every night to discuss their days and explore the forest together. And it was a good change. Slowly, they grew closer, going from acquaintances, to friends, to lovers. Their meet ups were kept a secret, as to save Will anymore unneeded teasings, and life once again became exciting. One day, while lazing around under the moon, Sara suggested that they go hop around the city rooftops. Keller, at first being kind of hesitant, finally caved and they spent the rest of their night spying on the creatures of the city, leaping from roof to roof with ease, laughing and crying with fright and excitemnt. Keller had more fun in that one night then she had any other time in her life. When the sun began to rise the two parted ways with a kiss and expected to see each other later on that day, but in the end it didn't turn out that way. When Keller arrived at their meeting place once the moon was up again she was met with a ghastly sight. Sara, the once beautiful, crazy, blue-eyed and golden haired girl, was strung up on their meeting tree like a fish. Her face, once pale and dirty, was blue and bloated, with blood and saliva dripping from her mouth and nose. Her thick sweater, the only article of clothing hse owned, was ripped open, and words were carved deep into her flesh. They read: "A warning. Watch out for us." in deep reds and browns. Keller was horrified, sickened, and utterly furious. She ripped through the woods in a flurry of rage, screaming out in anger until someone from her pack found her and attempted to calm her down. And Sara was gone. So, Keller was once again devoured by her pack's life, and this time, she did not seek freedom from the rut and instead focused on aiming for the top once more. She trained, fought, taugh herself, and once both her parents were dead and gone she managed to claim her father's role as Beta of the pack. Other: Theme - Avid smoker. Hehe, I really enjoyed the Lego Movie, didn't you?

Ça fait deux jours. Deux jours entiers depuis qu'ils se sont rassemblés. Elle s'assit dans sa chambre avec la main contre le front et un soupir s'échappant à travers ses lèvres séparées. Elle ne sait pas si elle pourrait faire face au fait que son corbeau et la meute ont dû littéralement se rassembler et se battre contre ces chasseurs humains. Elle a baissé la tête encore plus loin, en pensant aux événements qui se sont déjà produits devant elle. Sa meilleure amie mourante, la meute et le corbeau se disputent littéralement toutes les heures de chaque jour et pire, l'alpha a déjà essayé de la tuer mais Nathaniel était là pour la sauver. Qu'est-ce qu'elle ferait de lui? Elle voulait que Nathaniel tue l'alpha là où il se trouvait, mais ça aurait causé encore plus de tension entre les deux factions. Riley ne savait pas quoi faire à ce stade. Elle était perdue. Et parce qu'elle était perdue, tout comme tout le monde. Ses yeux s'évanouissaient au son des pas qui venaient de son côté. Elle s'est retournée et a vu que c'était l'alpha, qui était venu s'excuser d'avoir failli la tuer. "Il est un peu trop tard pour s'excuser." Elle s'est retournée pour faire face au mur et il s'est penché plus près et s'est assis sur son lit. Ses yeux s'élargissaient alors qu'elle tournait un peu pour le regarder. "Je serai prudent si j'étais toi. Nathaniel est très protecteur de moi et je détesterais le voir te tuer." Elle a parlé, mais l'alpha n'a rien dit, sauf qu'il était extrêmement désolé. Riley roula les yeux puis le regarda en se levant de son lit. Chante-moi une autre chanson parce que celle-ci vieillit. Comment vous attendez-vous à ce que votre paquet s'entende avec mon coven si vous essayez de me tuer? C'est quoi, ça? Elle l'a interrogé vers lui. Elle s'est ébranlée la tête. Elle se rapprocha de la fenêtre et enveloppa les bras autour d'elle. "Tu sais, quand j'ai découvert qu'un humain avait tué mon ami, je voulais faire payer toute la ville pour ce qu'ils avaient transpiré. C'est un groupe d'élite de chasseurs là-bas et nous devons les trouver." Ses yeux se rencontrèrent une fois de plus alors qu'il hurlait, puis quitta la pièce. "C'est bon, Nathaniel, laisse-le passer." Elle a dit en regardant par la fenêtre, mais elle pouvait sentir la présence de Nathaniel à travers l'autre côté du mur. Une larme est tombée de son œil droit alors qu'elle l'essuyait rapidement. Elle reniflait un peu, mais ne pleurait pas. Elle se souvient qu'ils ont amené son amie déjà morte dans sa maison et leur ont montré la blessure, mais elle ne s'en souciait pas. Son amie était morte et c'était tout ce dont elle s'intéressait. Riley s'est assise sur le lit, secouant la tête. Il doit y avoir justice. La ligne doit être tracée à un moment donné. Elle se leva et se fixa rapidement avant de descendre les escaliers, tous les yeux étaient placés sur elle lorsqu'elle atteignit le pas inférieur. "Hmm, hey, premier ordre des affaires..." Elle s'est arrêtée en marchant plus près pour se tenir devant tout le monde. « Nous devons nous entendre beaucoup mieux que nous ne l'avons été autrement, nous perdrons cette guerre et ceux qui nous intéressent. Marché conclu?" Elle a soulevé un sourcil délicat à ceux qu'elle parlait aussi, puis a attendu qu'ils répondent avant de continuer. "Deuxièmement, nous devons être prudents quand nous sortons dans leur monde parce que si nous ne le sommes pas, alors nous pourrions être les prochains à partir, vous ne savez jamais." Elle a dit un peu dur mais avec un ton sincère. Riley a ensuite examiné l'alpha puis de retour à leurs membres respectifs. "Et moi et l'alpha sommes les chefs de l'accusation, alors ce que nous disons va. Ça va?" L'alpha se leva et hurla la tête, puis se retourna vers sa meute, en s'assurant qu'ils comprenaient. Riley regarda ses membres, mais savait que la plupart d'entre eux n'étaient toujours pas sûrs de faire confiance aux loups-garous. Ses yeux secouèrent quand elle entendit quelque chose à l'extérieur, mais savait que c'était son second commandement, qui venait juste d'entrer. "Dernier rapport?" Elle l'a interrogé vers lui. "Rien. Je suppose qu'ils nous attendent." Il a dit, presque hors d'haleine. Elle a encore baissé la tête puis l'a relevée. "Bien sûr que je devrais leur rendre visite moi-même." Et avec cela dit, ses oreilles entendirent les mutters de la meute et les membres de la coven quand elle monta dans sa chambre et se changea immédiatement. "N'essaye même pas de m'arrêter, Nathaniel." Elle a dit sans le regarder. "Je sais que c'est ton travail de me protéger, mais je pars seul." Elle savait que ça écraserait Nathaniel si elle devait être blessée ou tuée. Après tout, il était dans le coven plus longtemps que n'importe quel autre taré en bas. Elle le regarda puis soupira tout en s'asseyant sur le lit, apportant ses genoux à la poitrine et enveloppant ses bras autour d'eux. Riley savait que Nathaniel avait quelque chose à dire et elle était toujours prête à écouter ses paroles aimables ou dures de sagesse.

I would also like to be in the pack, also female. I really enjoyed The Fault In Our Stars! Rylan Joan Fletcher "Hello, friend!" Nickname: Rye, but usually just goes by Rylan Age: She’s at most 100, but appears to be in mid to late teens. Gender: Female Sexuality: Panromantic Species: Werewolf Role: Scout Appearance: Rylan stands at a decent five two, with the physique of a twelve year old boy, much to her annoyance. She’s average with weight, still sporting some of her baby fat, which is slowly working into muscle. She has a rather adolescent look to her; appearing as a young teen, with a youthful roundness to her face. Her complexion is a rather tan as she enjoys the outdoors more than being cooped up inside. She sports silver eyes that appear bright and attentive. Rylan has easy to manage short brown hair that she doesn’t do much with in the sense of styling, usually up and ready when she wakes up. Rylan usually wears clothes that aren’t to constraining, and tends to wear baggy clothes, mostly shorts and jeans as well t-shirts. Her outfits lack a sense of style and at times don’t even match, but she doesn’t mind. On her feet she wears a simple pair of slip on shoes as she can’t figure out how to tie her shoes and they are easiest to put on. Her wolf form shares the same silver grey eyes as her human form does, but her fur is a tad darker than her hair. Personality: She faces every day with a smile. She treats everyone she meets with respect and kindness. She’s rather submissive with her pack given she isn’t the strongest and isn’t much of a leader. Rylan isn’t the sharpest light bulb in the toolbox, but she makes that up with loyalty to her pack and those in it. She’s curious and is equivalent to that of a puppy, including the naivety of one. Although, with her childishness comes impulsiveness that could get her hurt. With her quiet demeanor, she makes an excellent tracker and hunter. She can be rather stubborn and it takes a lot to convince her otherwise. Rylan is a carefree girl with no worries. In her wolf form, she’s still playful but less tolerant to strangers. History: Rylan was born to a loving family of lycan decent. She has an older brother who sadly didn’t share werewolf abilities, but he was still loved dearly by both Rylan and her parents. One day, Rylan, her brother and mother had stayed home, their father had gone off on a scouting mission as he usually did, probably hunting as well patrolling. However, he came back sooner than usual with a panicked look. When asked what was wrong, he shook his head, ushering his family to hide quickly and there was no time to explain. With questions being thrown at him left and right, he finally muttered the name of one of their greatest enemy, the Cacciatori. He had the children hid away in a closet, but his wife wouldn’t budge, given they’ve been through so much, she wanted to face this next obstacle with him together. They told their children to be as silent as possible, as these were dangerous people who will harm them. Rylan’s brother didn’t have much to fear, but he still had the werewolf gene and could pass it along, so they probably wouldn’t be very tolerant towards him. The children waiting, the silence before the storm, that is until they heard the door break open. Rylan grew anxious as they heard they’re parents shouting at the strangers to leave. They then heard the barks and growls of their werewolf selves, as the shouting of the strangers as they began to fight. Rylan was a quite young at the time, didn’t understand the danger they were in, and she shifted as well, letting out her own version of a battle howl, much to her brother’s fear. This attracted one of the Cacciatori, who had found them. Rylan had no fear, and quickly went for the attack, but she was no match as she didn’t even come up to the man’s knees, and he easily kicked her flying. Before he could do any more, their parents had taken down the man. Their mother became human once more, placing her daughter’s wolf form in her son’s arms, and directed them to run far away and keep as quiet as they could as there were more of the Cacciatori around. Their mother was vulnerable in her human form, and one of the men took this to their advantage, killing her easily with an axe to the neck. Their father ended his life in revenge, going into a frenzy at the loss of his wife. Rylan had come to, pulling her frozen brother out the back way and into the forest, and in the distance; they heard the strangled cry of their father’s last cry. They were orphans from then on. They rest of the pack had come too late, as the Cacciatori were gone, and left behind the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. Hours later, they finally found Rylan and her brother, shaken up very badly and took them in. The two were raised by the older members of the pack. It was possible that due to this tragic event, Rylan had stopped talking and became mute and hasn’t spoken since. Her brother found his own life outside of the pack and speaks to his sister often, but stays away from werewolf business. Other: She’s mute and usually communicates by writing down what she has to say or sign language to those who may know it. Can send her thoughts to others werewolves telepathically while she herself is in her wolf form so she’s not completely silent.

Eh bien, c'est la partie qui distingue cette zone des autres zones de haut niveau à broyer. Il y a eu une erreur dans le codage de cette zone. Crepus s'est tourné vers Karma qui s'inquiétait de ne pas être positif au sujet de la lutte contre les ours, « L'erreur le rend pour que les ours ne puissent pas se battre ensemble, seulement un peut se battre à la fois, et ils sont faciles à taquiner aussi. Comme je l'ai déjà mentionné, je vais me concentrer sur la défense et taquiner l'ours, vous devez les tuer, un à la fois. C'est assez facile?" Il a donné un sourire avant de marcher dans la grotte, et hors de la vue immédiate de tous les autres. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Azure était encore incertain si c'était le meilleur mouvement, ou s'il marchait simplement dans un piège à mort attendant d'arriver. Les mots d'Exile leur parlèrent d'un peu de réconfort, mais il savait mieux que de se fier à la possibilité de «qu'en est-il si le gm nous tire les jambes». « Si le GM ment, alors il n'y a certainement pas de quoi s'inquiéter, mais vu que nous ne pouvons pas nous déconnecter, et qu'il a fait ressembler nos personnages à nous, je ne le laisserais pas frire notre esprit. » Il est passé par son menu et a finalement accepté la dernière demande de l'ami, il allait juste l'ignorer, par dépit, mais a choisi de prendre la route la plus haute... que et il était préférable d'avoir des gens autour dans le pire des scénarios. -- Eh bien, allons-nous le suivre? Je dirais les dames d'abord, mais je ne pense pas que ce soit le moment approprié pour cela." Sans plus d'adieu, Azure entre aussi dans l'entrée noire de la grotte. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- La grotte était humide, le bruit de l'eau coulant des échos, seulement noyé au hasard par des grognements de snorts et d'autres bruits faits par les ours couchés à l'intérieur. Chaque étape sur le sol a dû faire preuve de prudence pour ne pas glisser ou glisser, et plus ils sont entrés, une odeur putride remplirait l'air. Un mélange odieux d'animaux mouillés, de matières fécales et de chair pourrissante. Crepus et Azure attendaient les autres à l'intérieur de l'ouverture, pointant vers la première cible qui n'avait pas encore remarqué le groupe, pas loin était un second ours, donc cela fonctionnerait facilement comme une course d'essai pour voir si l'information que Crepus avait était correcte et vraie.

Still need to finish that Drawing of him... Username: Azure Appearance: (hopefully I will finish his drawing someday) Azure stands at 6'1", with his neat azure hair neatly arranged to his neck. He has pale blue eyes, and wears armor that has a unique comination of spikey metal and fur. His avatar favours the colours of white, blue and silver. Current Weapon: Heavy Short Sword Favorite Attributes: Strength and Vitality Weapon styles unlocked: Basic One Hander. Real Age: 19 Real Name: Aaron Conners Gender: Male Personality: Taking more time to think than he does to act, Azure has been noted as a cool, calm and collected individual. He is aware of the crisis that they are dealing with in SAO, but knows that a level head and a quick wit will take him both farther, and give him the best chances of survival. On the negative side though, he does view himself as more important than most people, and though he normally plays nice, it is not beneath him to use people to meet an ends which he desires. Has issues granting trust. Other: Has a twin brother who was involved in the development of Sword Art Online, and although he declined to beta test, he knows more than your average new player would. Hopefully start this up by Thursday or so depending on how many we have.

Dante s'inclina la tête à la conférence et murmura "désolé". Soudain, une loupe est montée avec un bloc-notes qui avait une salutation dessus. Dante sourit et laissa le fusil tomber dans le berceau de sa fronde alors qu'il prenait le bloc-notes et écrivait : "Bonjour, je m'appelle Dante." Je m'en occupe. Puis il l'a remise à elle et a inspecté la fille. Il se demandait pourquoi ils étaient en guerre depuis si longtemps. En toute honnêteté, c'était une belle fille et le bloc-notes était assez mignon aussi. Autant qu'il voulait s'intégrer, il ne comprenait pas pourquoi tout le monde était comme ça. Dante a décidé de poursuivre la conversation vocalement et a dit « Alors venez souvent ici? » avec un sourire sarcastique. Il avait un bon pressentiment pour cette fille Rylan, elle semblait gentille. Tout à coup, Nathan sauta et tua un autre jeune homme alors qu'il tentait d'attaquer les loups. Dante marcha immédiatement entre Rylan et le reste des vampires mettant son dos vers elle et la protégeant. Alors que Nathan rentrait, Dante retourna aussi à son poste et dit d'une voix légèrement tendue "Bon patron d'emploi." En regardant Rylan, il a dit d'une voix très sincère « je suis extrêmement désolé que vous ayez dû voir que manquer vous avez mes excuses les plus profondes ».

Dante Obscuro noctem "What's the point of being immortal if you cant enjoy the simple pleasures of life?" Nickname: He doesn't have a nickname and is usually just called Dante. Age: real age: 17 apparent age: 20 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Species: Vampire Role: Coven member Appearance: Dante looks older than he is appearing to be in his early to mid twenties. He is 6'3 and has an athletic build but isn't huge. He wears his brown hair to his chin and often sweeps it over one eye. He wears jeans and a white t-shirt usually with a leather jacket over it. He wears a pair of black leather combat boots that he keeps shined and maintained. On his finger there is a gold signet ring with a rose inlaid into it with rubies. His eyes are a piercing green that startles many people. his left eye droops slightly but not enough to affect his vision and is only noticeable under close inspection. his knuckles are calloused and he has scars on his hands and legs from training in martial arts. Personality: Dante has the personality of a teenage boy who just discovered immortality. He is infatuated with his new gifts and has a newfound sense of purpose. This can sometimes make him vain and rash but he tries his best not to be. He is a strange guy who is sometimes extremely social and loves to interact with people and at other times he is introversive and abrasive. He can also be hard on himself and depressed at times. He is highly intelligent and is proud of this fact which often leads to conflict with others, but he still knows to respect other peoples opinions and ideas. He loves to read and his favorite things to read about are history and science. His particular favorite subject is the history of his coven members and this is evident with the attention he pays to their stories. He is a loyal person to the last and feels indebted to his new family. He feels he owes them for bestowing upon him the gift of immortality and wishes to repay that debt. He has had some time to listen to the stories of the older vampires and has come to cherish them all and would willingly lay down his life to help them. He wishes to become strong enough to protect his coven and will go to drastic measures to do so. He admires Nathaniel and wishes to become as respected as him in the coven. History: He grew up in an abusive home and hated his parents. His mother was terminally ill and was also bipolar and addicted to drugs, and his father was an abusive alcoholic. He met his best friend Eric at the age of five in kindergarten and they stuck together ever since. When he turned twelve his Eric's father enrolled them both in a Shotokan dojo to learn self defense. At the age of fourteen he went to his first karate tournament and won a gold medal in sparring while Eric took gold in forms. They were inseparable and they became like brothers doing everything together. Then one night when he was sixteen his father attacked him and he fought back sending him to the hospital. His mother was distraught and kicked him out of the house. He had nowhere to go so he went to his Eric and his parents and they gave him a place to stay. He finished his sophomore year with them then turned seventeen and went into his junior year of highschool. In the middle of his junior year Dante and Eric were walking home together after school when five guys stepped out of an alleyway. They were going to rob them but while doing so Eric saw one of their faces. They decided to kill the boys instead of leave witnesses and started trying to beat them. Both boys fought ferociously knowing their lives hung in the balance and fought with desperation unmatched. Dante always had been a little better of a fighter and as Eric went down beside him he saw one of the boys hit him in the head with a pipe killing him. Tears filled his eyes and Dante fought not only for survival but to avenge his friend as well. However this was not enough and he was slowly beaten down then as he laid there his vision fading he saw a shadowy figure emerge from what seemed like nowhere and dispatch his attackers with ease. He tried to crawl towards his friend but his arms gave out and he faded into unconsciousness. When he finally awoke he was in a large room and his throat was burning, but he felt stronger and faster than he ever had in his life. He was confused until al of his memory came washing back to him and he broke down. Finally he had o idea where he was so he went to investigate to his surprise there was already a man in the room with him. This man told him what had happened and explained to him what he was now and what had happened. Dante was overwhelmed and didn't know how to respond so he just sat silently. After a long while he finally asked the other man "what is your name?". The man answered with one word before leaving the room "Nathaniel". That had been nearly two months ago and Dante was comfortable with his new self and his surroundings. Other: What makes Dante truly special is his innate sixth sense it is not foolproof but he has impeccable gut instincts. He has a natural sense of intuition which helps him.

Alors que Riley partait, Nathan brûlait avec embarras. Cette explosion d'émotion personnelle n'était pas professionnelle et n'était pas importante pour la crise en cours. Mais cela n'invalidait pas ses sentiments, avec la façon dont les choses allaient, il était plus dangereux que jamais pour son chef de quitter les limites du manoir et avec le désastre de son vieux corbeau frais dans son esprit Nathan ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de sentir que c'était en quelque sorte sa faute. Tant qu'il s'en souvenait, il a été formé pour protéger le chef de n'importe quoi, de la façon de tuer rapidement un autre vampire jusqu'à la meilleure façon d'abattre un loup-garou. Nathan était à toutes fins utiles, l'arme parfaite. Cependant, chaque arme a ses limites, et la sienne était qu'il ressentait encore. Peu importe le conditionnement, il a toujours de la sympathie pour les humains et pense toujours comme eux. La seule chose qu'ils ne pouvaient pas lui prendre, c'était son humanité. Traînant sa main sur ses cheveux, la remettant en place, Nathan se composa et descendit les escaliers. La meute et le corbeau étaient mal à l'aise, plus que lorsqu'il est parti. Quelque chose a dû arriver pendant qu'il était parti. En demandant à l'un des membres du clan inférieur, Nathan a appris qu'un couple avait demandé s'ils pouvaient aller à leur barbecue. Normalement, le corbeau l'aurait fait sauter, mais à la lumière des événements récents, il était très suspect. Avec tout ce qu'il reste à faire, Nathan s'approche de la cuisine et attend devant la porte. Entraînant ses capacités auditives, Nathan a pu comprendre que Riley était contrarié, quelque chose au sujet des Cacciatori les trouvant. Si c'était le cas qu'ils n'avaient pas besoin de partir, Pack et Coven les deux. Alors qu'il tenait toujours une rancune contre les loups, si Riley a dit qu'il devait les protéger alors qu'il en soit ainsi. Soupirant, Nathan plie ses bras contre sa poitrine et s'appuie contre le mur. En attendant ses prochains ordres et une chance de s'expliquer.

Nathaniel Duncan Griev "Keep this in mind fledgling, try anything to harm this coven and I will personally rip out your heart." Nickname: Nathan, its shorter than saying "Nathaniel" all the time. Plus only Riley calls him Nathaniel. Age: 24 Gender: M Sexuality: Hetero Species: Vampire Role: Leaders Right Hand Appearance: Tall, blond, and handsome. These are the words Nathan uses to describe himself and for the most part its true. Standing 6'4, he fits the tall description to a T. The blond because of his dirty blond hair and lighter, less dark clothing choices. Finally the handsome. Nathan is fair skinned, with only a small scar located on his chin to mar his visage and strong features like a heavy set jaw, broad shoulders, and heavy set muscles, he would be considered a catch by anyone's standards. Of all the things he takes pride in the most, its his tattoos. The one that most people see is the sleeve on his right arm. The original was just a flower surrounded by feathers and he just added from there. He has several more located on his body, the one he paid the most for and has the most pride in is the one located were his heart would be. This ornate tattoo is mostly a large rose that covers a large portion of his pectoral, with several tribal bands making the celtic trinity knot in the background. Underneath is a banner that reads "Munus est, ut sacrificet mihi or "My duty is to serve". Clothing wise, Nathan prefers mid casual clothes and his his usual line up includes. A vest, a button up with rolled sleeves, a tie, a pair of jeans, and a pair of dress boots. Personality: How Nathan acts is dependent on which company he holds. When in the company of superiors, he will be respectful, quiet, and ready to serve his leader. When around subordinates, he is fairly apathetic to what they do as long as they respect him and the leader. When around people he considers his equal however, Nathan becomes much more relaxed. He will laugh, crack jokes, and even drink a little around his friends, but these people are far and few in between so most people consider him a stick in the mud. Nathans views of the humans are complicated. While he prefers their blood overall, he has trouble going through with it. So he mostly focus' on the scum of the earth when he goes to feed. Early on in his vampire life, he had made a friend among the humans and once word of this reached his superiors, he was ordered to kill her. Ever being the good soldier, he did and has regretted it ever sense. This is the reason he has trouble feeding on innocent people, because he knows they are more than just cattle to be fed on...not that he would tell anyone. There are two things that Nathan truly hates in this world, Scummy humans and werewolves. The former is because they deserve his wrath, picking on the weak and defenseless makes him sick, so he makes them feel what its like to be the victim. However Nathan hates werewolves more. When he was just a fledgling, several werewolf packs had banded together to take out his coven. Peace negotiations were in the works for months and a peace offering was going to be made, when the negotiator came back it was in pieces. During the full moon they attacked, knowing that they were trapped and cornered the coven fought with all they had, but their numbers were too great and one by one the coven fell apart. Eventually the coven had killed enough wolfs for them to leave, but it was a hollow victory. The Coven leader had died and there were too few to rely on each other. So they torched the mansion along with the vampires and wolfs and went their separate ways. History: Before he was a vampire, Nathan was a soldier. Enlisting at eighteen, Nathan had gown through several tours of duty before he met the leader of his first coven. His turning was a rather traumatic one and he lost most of his memories in the process, leaving only his muscle memory and fighting instincts intact. Taking advantage of this blank slate of a man, the coven leader christened him "Nathaniel Duncan Griev" and started to groom him into his right hand. This included refining his already formidable fighting skills into the perfect hit man, who knew how to take down vampires and werewolves alike. However as you know, his coven was wiped out before his training was complete and he wandered for a couple of years before meeting Riley and her Coven of Rose. After he was excepted, Nathan quickly proved himself a competent right hand was taken as such. From his position he takes the protection of the coven very seriously and will take out any threat to it, being werewolf, vampire, or something else. Other: Nathan's secondary power is his abnormal strength, even by vampire standards and can easily overpower most vampires with little to no effort. Secondly unlike most vampires, he does not have a voice of velvet. It is quite baritone and gravely, something the ladies appreciate greatly.

Dante s'approcha rapidement de Nathan et s'inclina rapidement à l'égard de sa tête. Dante avait de la sueur sur le front et un fusil dans les mains. Prenant position en face de Nathan à côté de la porte, il a ensuite commencé à taper son doigt sur la gâchette. "douze limaces de jauge faites d'argent juste au cas où" il a dit rapidement à Nathan. Il avait un sentiment inquiétant et il ne savait pas si c'était dû à la réunion ou autre chose. Il a rapidement fait un inventaire de ce qui était sur lui au cas où il devait se battre il avait son fusil avec environ 15 coquillages supplémentaires, un poignard d'argent attaché à son dos sous sa veste, et un petit couteau caché à l'intérieur de sa botte. Le fusil de chasse était le choix le plus logique pour lui et il avait l'avantage supplémentaire de l'avoir traité un avant. Dante a dit nerveusement à Nathaniel "J'ai un mauvais pressentiment à ce sujet" puis a cessé de lui taper le doigt et a exhalé. Notant qu'il n'a pas vu d'armes sur Nathaniel, il a sorti son poignard et l'a jeté à lui disant "qui pourrait être utile". Dante n'avait pas vu Nathan comme ça avant que l'homme soit généralement cool et recueilli et cela le rendait encore plus nerveux lui-même. Sa gorge était brûlante de soif et il a commencé à tousser de temps en temps. En parlant tranquillement à lui-même, "mais j'ai besoin de me nourrir à nouveau si vite...". Dante détestait nourrir il n'était que récemment tourné lui-même et cela l'ennuyait beaucoup. La seule chose qui l'a calmé était le simple fait que les loups semblaient presque aussi nerveux qu'eux.

Dante Obscuro noctem "What's the point of being immortal if you cant enjoy the simple pleasures of life?" Nickname: He doesn't have a nickname and is usually just called Dante. Age: real age: 17 apparent age: 20 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Species: Vampire Role: Coven member Appearance: Dante looks older than he is appearing to be in his early to mid twenties. He is 6'3 and has an athletic build but isn't huge. He wears his brown hair to his chin and often sweeps it over one eye. He wears jeans and a white t-shirt usually with a leather jacket over it. He wears a pair of black leather combat boots that he keeps shined and maintained. On his finger there is a gold signet ring with a rose inlaid into it with rubies. His eyes are a piercing green that startles many people. his left eye droops slightly but not enough to affect his vision and is only noticeable under close inspection. his knuckles are calloused and he has scars on his hands and legs from training in martial arts. Personality: Dante has the personality of a teenage boy who just discovered immortality. He is infatuated with his new gifts and has a newfound sense of purpose. This can sometimes make him vain and rash but he tries his best not to be. He is a strange guy who is sometimes extremely social and loves to interact with people and at other times he is introversive and abrasive. He can also be hard on himself and depressed at times. He is highly intelligent and is proud of this fact which often leads to conflict with others, but he still knows to respect other peoples opinions and ideas. He loves to read and his favorite things to read about are history and science. His particular favorite subject is the history of his coven members and this is evident with the attention he pays to their stories. He is a loyal person to the last and feels indebted to his new family. He feels he owes them for bestowing upon him the gift of immortality and wishes to repay that debt. He has had some time to listen to the stories of the older vampires and has come to cherish them all and would willingly lay down his life to help them. He wishes to become strong enough to protect his coven and will go to drastic measures to do so. He admires Nathaniel and wishes to become as respected as him in the coven. History: He grew up in an abusive home and hated his parents. His mother was terminally ill and was also bipolar and addicted to drugs, and his father was an abusive alcoholic. He met his best friend Eric at the age of five in kindergarten and they stuck together ever since. When he turned twelve his Eric's father enrolled them both in a Shotokan dojo to learn self defense. At the age of fourteen he went to his first karate tournament and won a gold medal in sparring while Eric took gold in forms. They were inseparable and they became like brothers doing everything together. Then one night when he was sixteen his father attacked him and he fought back sending him to the hospital. His mother was distraught and kicked him out of the house. He had nowhere to go so he went to his Eric and his parents and they gave him a place to stay. He finished his sophomore year with them then turned seventeen and went into his junior year of highschool. In the middle of his junior year Dante and Eric were walking home together after school when five guys stepped out of an alleyway. They were going to rob them but while doing so Eric saw one of their faces. They decided to kill the boys instead of leave witnesses and started trying to beat them. Both boys fought ferociously knowing their lives hung in the balance and fought with desperation unmatched. Dante always had been a little better of a fighter and as Eric went down beside him he saw one of the boys hit him in the head with a pipe killing him. Tears filled his eyes and Dante fought not only for survival but to avenge his friend as well. However this was not enough and he was slowly beaten down then as he laid there his vision fading he saw a shadowy figure emerge from what seemed like nowhere and dispatch his attackers with ease. He tried to crawl towards his friend but his arms gave out and he faded into unconsciousness. When he finally awoke he was in a large room and his throat was burning, but he felt stronger and faster than he ever had in his life. He was confused until al of his memory came washing back to him and he broke down. Finally he had o idea where he was so he went to investigate to his surprise there was already a man in the room with him. This man told him what had happened and explained to him what he was now and what had happened. Dante was overwhelmed and didn't know how to respond so he just sat silently. After a long while he finally asked the other man "what is your name?". The man answered with one word before leaving the room "Nathaniel". That had been nearly two months ago and Dante was comfortable with his new self and his surroundings. Other: What makes Dante truly special is his innate sixth sense it is not foolproof but he has impeccable gut instincts. He has a natural sense of intuition which helps him.

C'était étrange d'entrer dans la maison de leurs rivaux, ou plutôt la maison de leurs rivaux autrefois et maintenant alliés. Rylan ne pouvait toujours pas envelopper sa tête autour de la matière confuse. Néanmoins, elle a dû suivre ce qu'Alpha a dit, avec le reste de la meute. Elle pouvait sentir la tension dans l'air même que tout le monde était sur le bord, prêt à attaquer l'autre malgré les ordres de leurs dirigeants. Rylan est restée près de son sac, pas sûr que ce serait trop sûr pour essayer de socialiser avec les vampires. Alpha aussi bien que Keller, le pack de Beta, étaient montés. Elle voulait y aller aussi, mais l'Alpha les a exhortés à rester en place. Bien sûr, sa main droite serait capable d'aller, probablement au cas où quelque chose allait mal. Alors, bien sûr, le reste d'entre eux monterait là-haut. Eh bien, laissez-nous espérer qu'il n'arrive pas à ça. Et Alpha devrait aller bien. Il est l'Alpha pour une raison, a pensé Rylan, presque en honorant sa propre assurance. Elle a trouvé un siège car elle ne savait pas combien de temps cela allait prendre et regarder autour, regardant n'importe quel art ou d'autres sortes de décor qui était pour l'affichage. Elle n'aimait pas rester assise si longtemps, surtout dans les environs de nombreux vampires. Elle n'avait pas été si proche de tant auparavant et ce n'était pas les situations les plus confortables. Rylan a pris à se distraire par le moyen de doodling dans son --Conversation Pad-- comme elle a appelé les onze par huit pouces de papier qu'elle a utilisé pour parler avec. Elle avait un téléphone, mais n'était pas savvy technique, il s'est avéré un peu trop difficile pour elle d'utiliser. Elle doutait aussi de la majorité de ceux autour de son signe connu, donc Conversation Pad c'était. Dans les marges, elle dopait des petites versions de dessins animés de son pack, bien qu'elle n'était pas artiste, c'était surtout une figure de bâton regardant des canines. C'était une façon amusante de passer son temps alors qu'elle attendait des nouvelles de ce qu'ils parlaient à l'étage. Rylan a ensuite percé, comme plusieurs autres, le pack ou le coven, au bruit des gens qui descendaient les escaliers. Les deux leaders, Keller et le leader du Coven, avaient descendu les escaliers. Rylan l'a arrêtée, debout avec intérêt. Elle s'est regroupée avec le reste de la meute. La tension n'a toujours pas hésité, et si quoi que ce soit, a augmenté avec l'émergence des deux dirigeants. Keller faisait de son mieux pour calmer la meute, mais il y avait des questions urgentes que les autres lui tiraient dessus, et il s'agissait de Rylan tenant son tapis de papier sur la tête de ses compagnons de meute, lui demandant aussi ce qui se passait. Ils se sont vite calmés, non pas que Rylan faisait beaucoup de bruit en premier lieu, comme le chef du Coven a appelé à leur attention. Elle leur avait expliqué qu'ils travailleraient ensemble. La sécurité était en nombre, donc il était logique qu'ils travaillent ensemble. Cependant, dans quelle mesure travailleraient - ils ensemble après avoir été ennemis pendant si longtemps? Elle n'avait pas son mot à dire en la matière puisque Alpha avait également accepté ces questions comme il disait habituellement aller. Elle était scout et son opinion n'avait guère d'importance. En fin de compte, elle savait que ce regroupement de groupes serait bon pour eux. Elle n'en savait pas grand-chose sur leur plus grand ennemi. Cacciatori? C'était ça? Ça ressemble à une sorte de pâtes. Non, non, je ne devrais pas penser à la nourriture, c'est important. Je n'ai pas mangé depuis le petit déjeuner. Peut-être que je peux aller chasser après ça... Rylan a perdu la trace de la question à l'instant où l'idée de la nourriture est apparue. Cependant, son train de pensée s'est terminé par le cri de l'Alpha quand les choses sont devenues trop bruyantes de leur côté. Le chef des vampires est retourné à l'étage peu de temps après qu'elle soit descendue. Avec la fin de la petite séance de réunion, tout le monde a commencé à parler une fois de plus entre eux. Il ne semblait pas que leur chef répondait à beaucoup de questions à l'époque, alors Rylan s'était arrangé pour Keller, qui pourrait en savoir plus qu'elle ne l'a fait. Le scout se dirigea vers la Beta avec un regard curieux évident sur son visage. Elle a demandé en écrivant, en donnant un sourire poli et en restant à quelques pieds d'ici respectable. Rylan a ensuite rapidement ajouté, « Pensez-vous aussi qu'Alpha nous permettra d'organiser une petite séance de chasse? La nourriture a l'air vraiment bonne en ce moment.

I'll make changes if needed: Mehmet Zengin "The pack is family. I will always look after you pups." Nickname: For members of his pack, they may call him much of an assortment of names without much backlash, commonly "Metmet", "Zen", and, only in humorous spirit, "Papa Wolf". Real Age: 239 Apparent Age: 38 Gender: M Sexuality: He doesn't particularly seem the type to be interested in anyone, but is likely pansexual. Species: Werewolf Role: Alpha Appearance: Mehmet is a very, very sturdy man. One could punch him in the gut and break their own wrist, and fights with him usually only ended in his opponent's exhaustion. His brow is heavyset, jaw wide and leading into a thick, muscular neck and shoulders. He stands at about six feet two inches, is utterly incapable of getting rid of all of his stubble and is covered in brownish, thick hair on his arms, torso and legs. His tan skin is peppered with the precise scars of a knife, quartered off by the long lashes of a whip. His deep brown eyes are gentle but firm to his pack and unreadable to strangers, and his face has a long scar starting at his right temple, hugging the curve of his jaw, and then raggedly stopping in the cradle of his adam's apple and jugular. He has no tattoos, and broad, thick-fingered hands that sport a single small ring. His wolf form is just as stout and massive, fur a shade lighter than his normal hair. He will almost always be seen wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt, a simple pair of lightwash jeans, a belt and a pair of comfortable hiking shoes. He seems to only have two outfits to choose from: his normal outfit with a T-shirt, and his normal outfit with a jacket. Personality: It would be impossible to describe Mehmet as serene, but it would also be impossible to not describe him as such. Very paternal, he is a constant presence in the lives of the pack, teaching the young ones and leading his family with a rigidly guiding hand. He appears at ease in many settings in which his pack is with him, letting the children play around him and letting them climb on his back or hang from his outstretched arms. With the older members, he can be a little more unforgiving. Any large mistake is at least met with a stern scolding, lecture, and then demonstration on what is to be done to fix the issue. His treatment of the pack could be then described as overbearing, so focused on the improvement and wellbeing of his family that much of his energy points internally. Many know to let him rest should the rare time comes when he actually does, respecting his hard work and obsessive dedication. He is plagued by the trauma of a past he cannot let go of. If he is not talking of matters with the pack, he is recalling his experiences during his capture at the hands of Cacciatori, how he came to find his pack, how he rose through the ranks, his family bloodline, how he watched the Ottoman Empire fall and a new empire rise up. He gives his experiences freely, but to ask of his feelings on anything is to intrude so harshly that he goes into a dark, dark place for a long while. The trauma at his long-ago capture is triggered most powerfully by the sight of whips, being held down, or binding paraphernalia such as collars, handcuffs, rope or chains. Each reaction can be weaker or stronger dependent upon the situation. During a flashback, he can become very violent and blinded with imagery, sometimes only calmed by the familiar scent or touch of a pack member. History: Born into the Ottoman empire near its height and during its wars with Russia, Mehmet rose to be a highly esteemed nobleman at a young age under the tutelage of his father. While the revolutions in America and France roared on, he was commanding growing markets and toying with reforms. Modernization brought with it a variety of outsiders, and his family was soon surrounded by foreigners looking for work. His parents were both werewolves whom had involved themselves in human economic affairs, shunned from packhood on all sides due to their human-gained fortune. Mehmet, their only son, grew to follow humanity's laws and customs, growing up with a high, trusting opinion of them. That all changed during the Balkan Wars. Cacciatori from Italy itself invaded his homeland, the land he's lived on for decades, and rooted out the pack nearest his home. His family was lucky, if only because they did not involve with any pack, but the Cacciatori tortured their location out of a pack member and found them anyway. Mehmet's parents were taken off, never to be seen again, while Mehmet himself was dragged into the new Cacciatori headquarters, where he was kept for nearly ten years. During that time, the Cacciatori tested out new nonlethal torture methods, tormented and humiliated him daily, even putting a tight collar about his neck and calling him a filthy dog. Whenever they needed someone to haul rocks for a mass Immortal grave, he would be forced to throw 100-pound stones from the bottom of a pit to the edge, then haul bodies inside. Eventually, he became stronger than any other prisoner, and to keep him efficient the Cacciatori fed him just a little more. After ten years of hell, he escaped one night by snapping a guard's neck, bursting through a ten-story window and running from cars and search teams for several miles into the forest. Even so long ago, the memories still haunt him. He found a boat to America, there learning English, finding a pack and joining his werewolf kinsmen for the first time. With his strength, experience with Cacciatori methods and acute sense of human processes, he rose through the ranks, fought his way to the top and ultimately took over his own full pack. Even today he still wonders about the fate of his parents, praying emptily they did not at least suffer. Other: His threshold for pain is incredibly high, but past a certain limit and he will often go into a crippling state of flashback. His scars are old enough that they do not hurt when touched. He also hates uneaten food, eating the leftovers of pack members should they allow him to so that he could avoid wasting precious food.

Riley ne pouvait pas croire que l'Alpha est venu à elle et s'est excusé et a accepté leur alliance avec les bras ouverts. Elle soupira doucement tout en se retournant, voyant Nathaniel entrer comme elle se tenait là, les bras pliés sur sa poitrine ample. Ses oreilles secouèrent ses mots, puis elle souleva un sourcil délicat à l'exposition qu'il venait de présenter. Quelque chose ne va pas. Elle pouvait le sentir dans ses os. Ce n'était pas la façon habituelle d'agir de Nathaniel et elle ne l'a peut-être pas connu depuis si longtemps, mais elle le connaissait assez longtemps pour savoir comment il agissait. Elle laissa ses bras à ses côtés, puis se rapprocha de Nathaniel et s'agenouilla à côté de lui, le réconfortant un peu. "Hé. Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?" Elle lui demanda avec un autre sourcil surélevé. "Si tu ne veux pas que j'y aille, je n'y vais pas. Honnêtement, je ne m'attendais pas à ce que tu t'effondres." Elle a dit doucement en se tenant debout. "Je vais vous donner un peu de temps seul pour un moment, mais ne détruisez pas ma chambre." Elle a dit en sortant de sa chambre et en descendant les escaliers. Ses yeux sont allés de la meute à ses membres de corbeille puis de retour à la meute. Personne n'interagissait vraiment avec l'autre. Sa lèvre s'est évanouie pendant qu'elle roulait les yeux. Tout semblait se passer trop vite. Son amie mourante, la meute emménageant chez elle quelques jours plus tard et maintenant ils étaient chassés et pour quelle raison. Riley tenait sa main sur son front et secoua la tête, laissant un autre soupir s'échapper à travers ses lèvres séparées. Elle a commencé sa marche vers l'Alpha, mais un coup est venu par la porte. Homme. Elle pensait. Elle pouvait les sentir à un kilomètre de là. Riley n'était pas d'humeur à se battre vraiment et elle appelait Nathaniel dans les escaliers, mais ça semblait une mauvaise idée pour le moment. Elle a vu tout le monde se rendre à la porte alors que son second commandement la suivait sous peu, avec quelques autres. Elle a légèrement ouvert la porte et a collé sa tête hors de la porte. "Bonjour. Puis-je vous aider?" Riley a dit d'une manière salutaire que le couple homme et femme présent a tenu un dépliant. "Bonjour! Nous allons de porte en porte et remettons ces dépliants pour notre barbecue annuel et nous aimerions que vous y parveniez. » Riley a pris le flyer puis a souri en leur remerciant et a fermé la porte. Cacciatori. Elle a repensé. Ils savent qu'on est là. Elle a continué à penser à elle-même mais elle ne voulait pas secouer la meute ou le coven pour l'instant. "Mehmet..." Elle s'arrêta et par le ton de sa voix, on entendit que quelque chose n'allait pas. -- Pouvez-vous me suivre à la cuisine, s'il vous plaît? Elle a regardé les membres de sa meute puis l'a regardé en arrière. "Tout seul?" Elle marcha ensuite vers la cuisine et se pencha contre le comptoir, attendant qu'il entre. Quand ou si, Mehmet est entré dans la cuisine, elle claquait le flyer vers le bas sur le comptoir et pointait vers le nom. Elle a fait des allers-retours en passant sa main à travers ses cheveux blonds. "Ils nous ont repérés. Qu'est-ce qu'on va faire maintenant? Où allons-nous aller?" Elle a jeté ses mains en l'air pendant qu'elle pataugeait. "Ils ont probablement encerclé l'endroit. Nous sommes condamnés." Elle a dit en ouvrant les rideaux à la fenêtre puis en les fermant rapidement. -- Qu'allons-nous faire, Mehmet? Riley n'était pas douée pour prendre des décisions comme ça, d'autant plus qu'elle avait un peu peur. Son esprit dérive un peu puis regarde en arrière vers Mehmet, soupirant tout en se penchant contre le comptoir, attendant d'entendre ce qu'il avait à dire sur tout cela.

I would also like to be in the pack, also female. I really enjoyed The Fault In Our Stars! Rylan Joan Fletcher "Hello, friend!" Nickname: Rye, but usually just goes by Rylan Age: She’s at most 100, but appears to be in mid to late teens. Gender: Female Sexuality: Panromantic Species: Werewolf Role: Scout Appearance: Rylan stands at a decent five two, with the physique of a twelve year old boy, much to her annoyance. She’s average with weight, still sporting some of her baby fat, which is slowly working into muscle. She has a rather adolescent look to her; appearing as a young teen, with a youthful roundness to her face. Her complexion is a rather tan as she enjoys the outdoors more than being cooped up inside. She sports silver eyes that appear bright and attentive. Rylan has easy to manage short brown hair that she doesn’t do much with in the sense of styling, usually up and ready when she wakes up. Rylan usually wears clothes that aren’t to constraining, and tends to wear baggy clothes, mostly shorts and jeans as well t-shirts. Her outfits lack a sense of style and at times don’t even match, but she doesn’t mind. On her feet she wears a simple pair of slip on shoes as she can’t figure out how to tie her shoes and they are easiest to put on. Her wolf form shares the same silver grey eyes as her human form does, but her fur is a tad darker than her hair. Personality: She faces every day with a smile. She treats everyone she meets with respect and kindness. She’s rather submissive with her pack given she isn’t the strongest and isn’t much of a leader. Rylan isn’t the sharpest light bulb in the toolbox, but she makes that up with loyalty to her pack and those in it. She’s curious and is equivalent to that of a puppy, including the naivety of one. Although, with her childishness comes impulsiveness that could get her hurt. With her quiet demeanor, she makes an excellent tracker and hunter. She can be rather stubborn and it takes a lot to convince her otherwise. Rylan is a carefree girl with no worries. In her wolf form, she’s still playful but less tolerant to strangers. History: Rylan was born to a loving family of lycan decent. She has an older brother who sadly didn’t share werewolf abilities, but he was still loved dearly by both Rylan and her parents. One day, Rylan, her brother and mother had stayed home, their father had gone off on a scouting mission as he usually did, probably hunting as well patrolling. However, he came back sooner than usual with a panicked look. When asked what was wrong, he shook his head, ushering his family to hide quickly and there was no time to explain. With questions being thrown at him left and right, he finally muttered the name of one of their greatest enemy, the Cacciatori. He had the children hid away in a closet, but his wife wouldn’t budge, given they’ve been through so much, she wanted to face this next obstacle with him together. They told their children to be as silent as possible, as these were dangerous people who will harm them. Rylan’s brother didn’t have much to fear, but he still had the werewolf gene and could pass it along, so they probably wouldn’t be very tolerant towards him. The children waiting, the silence before the storm, that is until they heard the door break open. Rylan grew anxious as they heard they’re parents shouting at the strangers to leave. They then heard the barks and growls of their werewolf selves, as the shouting of the strangers as they began to fight. Rylan was a quite young at the time, didn’t understand the danger they were in, and she shifted as well, letting out her own version of a battle howl, much to her brother’s fear. This attracted one of the Cacciatori, who had found them. Rylan had no fear, and quickly went for the attack, but she was no match as she didn’t even come up to the man’s knees, and he easily kicked her flying. Before he could do any more, their parents had taken down the man. Their mother became human once more, placing her daughter’s wolf form in her son’s arms, and directed them to run far away and keep as quiet as they could as there were more of the Cacciatori around. Their mother was vulnerable in her human form, and one of the men took this to their advantage, killing her easily with an axe to the neck. Their father ended his life in revenge, going into a frenzy at the loss of his wife. Rylan had come to, pulling her frozen brother out the back way and into the forest, and in the distance; they heard the strangled cry of their father’s last cry. They were orphans from then on. They rest of the pack had come too late, as the Cacciatori were gone, and left behind the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. Hours later, they finally found Rylan and her brother, shaken up very badly and took them in. The two were raised by the older members of the pack. It was possible that due to this tragic event, Rylan had stopped talking and became mute and hasn’t spoken since. Her brother found his own life outside of the pack and speaks to his sister often, but stays away from werewolf business. Other: She’s mute and usually communicates by writing down what she has to say or sign language to those who may know it. Can send her thoughts to others werewolves telepathically while she herself is in her wolf form so she’s not completely silent.

Rylan s'inclina la tête, hurlant comme une reconnaissance à ses réprimandes, signant des excuses rapides. Ce n'était certainement pas le moment pour les jeux, elle avait réalisé. Elle pensait aux histoires que Mehmet avait souvent racontées au pack, des gens horribles qui pouvaient même blesser leur Alpha. Il était inimaginable que ces gens existent réellement et soient prêts pour eux ici et maintenant. Rylan a finalement compris que la tension n'était pas juste pour la proximité des vieux rivaux mais le calme avant la tempête. Elle a été surprise par le rap soudain, et il a fallu tout son contrôle pour ne pas se déplacer alors et là. Elle sentait l'odeur de l'humain et tout ce discours de Cacciatori avait commencé à la mettre sur le bord. Elle n'était sûrement pas la seule, y compris ceux qui étaient dans sa meute, même les membres du coven semblaient déstabilisés. Rylan regarda Riley ouvrir la porte, et s'attendait presque à ce que les humains inondent. Ils n'ont pas, heureusement, et elle pouvait les entendre parler de quelque chose d'un barbecue. Elle secoua la tête à la pensée de la nourriture une fois de plus, attendant tout signe de ce qu'ils devraient faire ensuite. Rylan regarda les deux leaders aller dans la cuisine, et lui tendit les oreilles pour essayer d'entendre ce dont ils parlaient. Elle, cependant, ne pouvait pas entendre sur les bruits des autres, et a simplement attendu. Elle s'empare encore une fois, mais ne pouvait pas continuer comme elle ne pouvait plus rester assise autour. Ils étaient certainement assis canards en séjournant tous au même endroit, peu importe à quelle distance ils étaient. Peut-être qu'ils ont eu assez de temps pour s'échapper avant d'être encerclés? Les vampires travailleraient-ils avec nous si on devait se battre? Elle se demandait, sachant que sa meute travaillerait ensemble pour se débarrasser de n'importe quel ennemi. Rylan n'était pas sûr si le coven fonctionnait comme ils l'ont fait au moyen d'une stratégie de combat. À son avis, ils ne semblaient pas très orientés vers le travail d'équipe, mais encore une fois, elle savait presque la même chose sur les voies des vampires que sur le Cacciatori. Elle regarda vers les vampires puis retourna à sa meute, et se rendit compte qu'ils se mêlaient et conversaient avec leur propre genre. C'est peut-être sa chance de briser la glace. Elle a repéré un membre de la coven qui semblait assez amical; puis, encore une fois, Rylan a pensé que tout le monde avait l'air assez amical. Avec un sourire, elle s'est approchée de lui, tenant son Conversation Pad qui avait lu "Bonjour, mon ami! Elle espérait que les autres loups-garous feraient de même et interagiraient avec leurs nouveaux copains.

Nathaniel Duncan Griev "Keep this in mind fledgling, try anything to harm this coven and I will personally rip out your heart." Nickname: Nathan, its shorter than saying "Nathaniel" all the time. Plus only Riley calls him Nathaniel. Age: 24 Gender: M Sexuality: Hetero Species: Vampire Role: Leaders Right Hand Appearance: Tall, blond, and handsome. These are the words Nathan uses to describe himself and for the most part its true. Standing 6'4, he fits the tall description to a T. The blond because of his dirty blond hair and lighter, less dark clothing choices. Finally the handsome. Nathan is fair skinned, with only a small scar located on his chin to mar his visage and strong features like a heavy set jaw, broad shoulders, and heavy set muscles, he would be considered a catch by anyone's standards. Of all the things he takes pride in the most, its his tattoos. The one that most people see is the sleeve on his right arm. The original was just a flower surrounded by feathers and he just added from there. He has several more located on his body, the one he paid the most for and has the most pride in is the one located were his heart would be. This ornate tattoo is mostly a large rose that covers a large portion of his pectoral, with several tribal bands making the celtic trinity knot in the background. Underneath is a banner that reads "Munus est, ut sacrificet mihi or "My duty is to serve". Clothing wise, Nathan prefers mid casual clothes and his his usual line up includes. A vest, a button up with rolled sleeves, a tie, a pair of jeans, and a pair of dress boots. Personality: How Nathan acts is dependent on which company he holds. When in the company of superiors, he will be respectful, quiet, and ready to serve his leader. When around subordinates, he is fairly apathetic to what they do as long as they respect him and the leader. When around people he considers his equal however, Nathan becomes much more relaxed. He will laugh, crack jokes, and even drink a little around his friends, but these people are far and few in between so most people consider him a stick in the mud. Nathans views of the humans are complicated. While he prefers their blood overall, he has trouble going through with it. So he mostly focus' on the scum of the earth when he goes to feed. Early on in his vampire life, he had made a friend among the humans and once word of this reached his superiors, he was ordered to kill her. Ever being the good soldier, he did and has regretted it ever sense. This is the reason he has trouble feeding on innocent people, because he knows they are more than just cattle to be fed on...not that he would tell anyone. There are two things that Nathan truly hates in this world, Scummy humans and werewolves. The former is because they deserve his wrath, picking on the weak and defenseless makes him sick, so he makes them feel what its like to be the victim. However Nathan hates werewolves more. When he was just a fledgling, several werewolf packs had banded together to take out his coven. Peace negotiations were in the works for months and a peace offering was going to be made, when the negotiator came back it was in pieces. During the full moon they attacked, knowing that they were trapped and cornered the coven fought with all they had, but their numbers were too great and one by one the coven fell apart. Eventually the coven had killed enough wolfs for them to leave, but it was a hollow victory. The Coven leader had died and there were too few to rely on each other. So they torched the mansion along with the vampires and wolfs and went their separate ways. History: Before he was a vampire, Nathan was a soldier. Enlisting at eighteen, Nathan had gown through several tours of duty before he met the leader of his first coven. His turning was a rather traumatic one and he lost most of his memories in the process, leaving only his muscle memory and fighting instincts intact. Taking advantage of this blank slate of a man, the coven leader christened him "Nathaniel Duncan Griev" and started to groom him into his right hand. This included refining his already formidable fighting skills into the perfect hit man, who knew how to take down vampires and werewolves alike. However as you know, his coven was wiped out before his training was complete and he wandered for a couple of years before meeting Riley and her Coven of Rose. After he was excepted, Nathan quickly proved himself a competent right hand was taken as such. From his position he takes the protection of the coven very seriously and will take out any threat to it, being werewolf, vampire, or something else. Other: Nathan's secondary power is his abnormal strength, even by vampire standards and can easily overpower most vampires with little to no effort. Secondly unlike most vampires, he does not have a voice of velvet. It is quite baritone and gravely, something the ladies appreciate greatly.

Larguer les coquilles d'argent et pomper les derniers sur les douze jauges Dante s'est excusé à sa maîtresse. Il a dit : « Je voudrais me joindre à la bataille contre les humains! » tombant à un genou et mettant son poing sur son cœur, il a continué « permettez-moi de prouver ma loyauté et mon courage ». Dante continua avec la tête fléchie " Si on m'accorde la permission, je voudrais un peu de temps pour me préparer au combat à venir. Aussi, je souhaite rester près de la meute de loups et aider à les protéger. Je crois que je suis le mieux adapté à cette tâche puisque je suis un nouveau-né et n'ai aucun mauvais sentiment envers les loups. » Après avoir dit tout cela, il est resté agenouillé en attendant la reconnaissance de son chef. Il était silencieux et il brûlait toujours avec le désir de se battre. Enfin, parlant à nouveau, Dante a dit: «Permettez-moi de porter une épée et une armure portant le symbole de notre corbeau dans ce combat afin que les humains sachent que c'est nous qui nous battons.» En regardant vers le chef des loups, il a aussi dit : « Je porterais aussi un visage de votre meute pour que notre alliance soit connue. » Après avoir dit que son morceau Dante restait agenouillé et attendait une réponse.

Dante Obscuro noctem "What's the point of being immortal if you cant enjoy the simple pleasures of life?" Nickname: He doesn't have a nickname and is usually just called Dante. Age: real age: 17 apparent age: 20 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Species: Vampire Role: Coven member Appearance: Dante looks older than he is appearing to be in his early to mid twenties. He is 6'3 and has an athletic build but isn't huge. He wears his brown hair to his chin and often sweeps it over one eye. He wears jeans and a white t-shirt usually with a leather jacket over it. He wears a pair of black leather combat boots that he keeps shined and maintained. On his finger there is a gold signet ring with a rose inlaid into it with rubies. His eyes are a piercing green that startles many people. his left eye droops slightly but not enough to affect his vision and is only noticeable under close inspection. his knuckles are calloused and he has scars on his hands and legs from training in martial arts. Personality: Dante has the personality of a teenage boy who just discovered immortality. He is infatuated with his new gifts and has a newfound sense of purpose. This can sometimes make him vain and rash but he tries his best not to be. He is a strange guy who is sometimes extremely social and loves to interact with people and at other times he is introversive and abrasive. He can also be hard on himself and depressed at times. He is highly intelligent and is proud of this fact which often leads to conflict with others, but he still knows to respect other peoples opinions and ideas. He loves to read and his favorite things to read about are history and science. His particular favorite subject is the history of his coven members and this is evident with the attention he pays to their stories. He is a loyal person to the last and feels indebted to his new family. He feels he owes them for bestowing upon him the gift of immortality and wishes to repay that debt. He has had some time to listen to the stories of the older vampires and has come to cherish them all and would willingly lay down his life to help them. He wishes to become strong enough to protect his coven and will go to drastic measures to do so. He admires Nathaniel and wishes to become as respected as him in the coven. History: He grew up in an abusive home and hated his parents. His mother was terminally ill and was also bipolar and addicted to drugs, and his father was an abusive alcoholic. He met his best friend Eric at the age of five in kindergarten and they stuck together ever since. When he turned twelve his Eric's father enrolled them both in a Shotokan dojo to learn self defense. At the age of fourteen he went to his first karate tournament and won a gold medal in sparring while Eric took gold in forms. They were inseparable and they became like brothers doing everything together. Then one night when he was sixteen his father attacked him and he fought back sending him to the hospital. His mother was distraught and kicked him out of the house. He had nowhere to go so he went to his Eric and his parents and they gave him a place to stay. He finished his sophomore year with them then turned seventeen and went into his junior year of highschool. In the middle of his junior year Dante and Eric were walking home together after school when five guys stepped out of an alleyway. They were going to rob them but while doing so Eric saw one of their faces. They decided to kill the boys instead of leave witnesses and started trying to beat them. Both boys fought ferociously knowing their lives hung in the balance and fought with desperation unmatched. Dante always had been a little better of a fighter and as Eric went down beside him he saw one of the boys hit him in the head with a pipe killing him. Tears filled his eyes and Dante fought not only for survival but to avenge his friend as well. However this was not enough and he was slowly beaten down then as he laid there his vision fading he saw a shadowy figure emerge from what seemed like nowhere and dispatch his attackers with ease. He tried to crawl towards his friend but his arms gave out and he faded into unconsciousness. When he finally awoke he was in a large room and his throat was burning, but he felt stronger and faster than he ever had in his life. He was confused until al of his memory came washing back to him and he broke down. Finally he had o idea where he was so he went to investigate to his surprise there was already a man in the room with him. This man told him what had happened and explained to him what he was now and what had happened. Dante was overwhelmed and didn't know how to respond so he just sat silently. After a long while he finally asked the other man "what is your name?". The man answered with one word before leaving the room "Nathaniel". That had been nearly two months ago and Dante was comfortable with his new self and his surroundings. Other: What makes Dante truly special is his innate sixth sense it is not foolproof but he has impeccable gut instincts. He has a natural sense of intuition which helps him.

Riley a quitté la cuisine peu de temps après Mehmet, puis l'odeur d'un autre vampire s'est écrasée sur son nez. Elle s'enfuit immédiatement et voulut confronter les loups, puis se tourna vers Nathaniel alors qu'il était couvert de l'odeur du sang qu'elle avait senti. "Nathaniel, tu as fait ça?" Sa main agita vers le corps tandis que son regard remontait vers lui. "Je ne peux pas m'occuper des humains et de ça en ce moment. C'est pas vrai, Nathaniel." Elle a dit en courant une autre main dans sa tête, mais a tourné son attention vers Dante. "Regardez, tout cet argent n'est vraiment pas nécessaire. Débarrassez-vous de ça ou je me débarrasse de vous." Elle a grondé, quelque chose qu'elle détestait faire. Ses yeux se refermèrent avec Nathaniel car elle ne fit que secouer la tête. "Ok, nous avons l'intention de combattre ces humains en tête. Capturez-en et j'en obligerai quelques-uns à nous donner des réponses. Je pense que c'est le plan." Elle a mordu sa lèvre inférieure puis a agité Nathaniel pour la suivre vers la région où habitaient le reste de ses membres et les loups-garous. Elle a recourbé ses doigts dans ses cheveux et s'est débarrassée de la gorge avant de parler. "Mehmet, leur as-tu dit le plan?" Elle a demandé. Ça ne l'a pas vraiment dérangée de voir la plupart des loups-garous éclater avec leur forme de bête. Elle l'a souvent trouvé mignon. Elle ébranla les pensées, puis regarda en arrière vers tout le monde. « En gros, nos meilleurs combattants vont se battre, ou au moins retenir les humains. Gardez à l'esprit qu'il faudra en capturer quelques-uns pour les interroger, alors s'il vous plaît... » Ses yeux rebondirent entre la meute et les membres de la coven avant de prononcer les mots suivants de ses lèvres. "Ne tuez pas tous les humains en vue." Elle a dit fermement, puis a placé ses mains sur ses hanches, regardant vers Mehmet. "Quelque chose de spécial que vous voudriez ajouter?" Elle lui demanda tout en voulant toujours réprimander Nathaniel pour avoir tué un membre du clan sans sa permission.

I would also like to be in the pack, also female. I really enjoyed The Fault In Our Stars! Rylan Joan Fletcher "Hello, friend!" Nickname: Rye, but usually just goes by Rylan Age: She’s at most 100, but appears to be in mid to late teens. Gender: Female Sexuality: Panromantic Species: Werewolf Role: Scout Appearance: Rylan stands at a decent five two, with the physique of a twelve year old boy, much to her annoyance. She’s average with weight, still sporting some of her baby fat, which is slowly working into muscle. She has a rather adolescent look to her; appearing as a young teen, with a youthful roundness to her face. Her complexion is a rather tan as she enjoys the outdoors more than being cooped up inside. She sports silver eyes that appear bright and attentive. Rylan has easy to manage short brown hair that she doesn’t do much with in the sense of styling, usually up and ready when she wakes up. Rylan usually wears clothes that aren’t to constraining, and tends to wear baggy clothes, mostly shorts and jeans as well t-shirts. Her outfits lack a sense of style and at times don’t even match, but she doesn’t mind. On her feet she wears a simple pair of slip on shoes as she can’t figure out how to tie her shoes and they are easiest to put on. Her wolf form shares the same silver grey eyes as her human form does, but her fur is a tad darker than her hair. Personality: She faces every day with a smile. She treats everyone she meets with respect and kindness. She’s rather submissive with her pack given she isn’t the strongest and isn’t much of a leader. Rylan isn’t the sharpest light bulb in the toolbox, but she makes that up with loyalty to her pack and those in it. She’s curious and is equivalent to that of a puppy, including the naivety of one. Although, with her childishness comes impulsiveness that could get her hurt. With her quiet demeanor, she makes an excellent tracker and hunter. She can be rather stubborn and it takes a lot to convince her otherwise. Rylan is a carefree girl with no worries. In her wolf form, she’s still playful but less tolerant to strangers. History: Rylan was born to a loving family of lycan decent. She has an older brother who sadly didn’t share werewolf abilities, but he was still loved dearly by both Rylan and her parents. One day, Rylan, her brother and mother had stayed home, their father had gone off on a scouting mission as he usually did, probably hunting as well patrolling. However, he came back sooner than usual with a panicked look. When asked what was wrong, he shook his head, ushering his family to hide quickly and there was no time to explain. With questions being thrown at him left and right, he finally muttered the name of one of their greatest enemy, the Cacciatori. He had the children hid away in a closet, but his wife wouldn’t budge, given they’ve been through so much, she wanted to face this next obstacle with him together. They told their children to be as silent as possible, as these were dangerous people who will harm them. Rylan’s brother didn’t have much to fear, but he still had the werewolf gene and could pass it along, so they probably wouldn’t be very tolerant towards him. The children waiting, the silence before the storm, that is until they heard the door break open. Rylan grew anxious as they heard they’re parents shouting at the strangers to leave. They then heard the barks and growls of their werewolf selves, as the shouting of the strangers as they began to fight. Rylan was a quite young at the time, didn’t understand the danger they were in, and she shifted as well, letting out her own version of a battle howl, much to her brother’s fear. This attracted one of the Cacciatori, who had found them. Rylan had no fear, and quickly went for the attack, but she was no match as she didn’t even come up to the man’s knees, and he easily kicked her flying. Before he could do any more, their parents had taken down the man. Their mother became human once more, placing her daughter’s wolf form in her son’s arms, and directed them to run far away and keep as quiet as they could as there were more of the Cacciatori around. Their mother was vulnerable in her human form, and one of the men took this to their advantage, killing her easily with an axe to the neck. Their father ended his life in revenge, going into a frenzy at the loss of his wife. Rylan had come to, pulling her frozen brother out the back way and into the forest, and in the distance; they heard the strangled cry of their father’s last cry. They were orphans from then on. They rest of the pack had come too late, as the Cacciatori were gone, and left behind the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. Hours later, they finally found Rylan and her brother, shaken up very badly and took them in. The two were raised by the older members of the pack. It was possible that due to this tragic event, Rylan had stopped talking and became mute and hasn’t spoken since. Her brother found his own life outside of the pack and speaks to his sister often, but stays away from werewolf business. Other: She’s mute and usually communicates by writing down what she has to say or sign language to those who may know it. Can send her thoughts to others werewolves telepathically while she herself is in her wolf form so she’s not completely silent.

Rylan a été confus pendant un moment quand le garçon a saisi son bloc-notes, mais a souri quand elle a réalisé qu'il a déposé sa propre salutation. Elle a rapidement écrit une explication pour ledit bloc-notes, je ne peux pas parler ainsi je parle habituellement par l'écriture! Elle a pensé, je suis sûr qu'on pourrait tous s'entendre bien! Dante a l'air d'une personne cool! Elle s'est trouvée chanceuse d'avoir choisi un bon vampire, plutôt que ceux dont elle avait été avertie, ceux qui n'étaient pas, eh bien, pas si gentils. Elle s'est ébranlée la tête en écrivant : C'est la première fois que j'y suis! » et lui a montré brièvement son bloc-notes. Rylan a remarqué Mehmet voulant qu'elle reste plus près de la meute, et il est apparu plutôt sur le bord. Rylan a signé une confirmation d'accord. Poire aux oreilles, et les yeux attentifs, elle a fait de son mieux pour être prête à tout. Elle a tenu un doigt à Dante, s'excusant un moment. Elle a écrit, les gars! Soyez sur vos orteils! » Et a tenu le coup, en s'assurant que ses compagnons de meute étaient en mesure de le lire. Rylan a tenu un pouce une fois que tout le monde avait lu son message et retourné le gentil vampire. Ironiquement, cependant, Rylan a été prise au dépourvu elle-même. Il y avait un éclair soudain de mouvement, et dans le coin de l'œil, elle venait de remarquer un vampire en l'air, arme prête pour le meurtre. De peur et d'instinct, elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de devenir sa forme de loup, sa fureur foncée sur ses haunches alors qu'elle se préparait à se lancer à l'attaquant. Bien qu'elle n'ait pas été assez rapide comme quelqu'un l'a battue à elle, le chef de corbeille est la main droite. Nathaniel, ou quelque chose comme ça? Cela n'avait pas d'importance, mais ce qui comptait, ce serait qu'il les avait non seulement sauvés, mais aussi tués brutalement l'un des siens. Rylan secoua la tête, essayant de se débarrasser de l'image des événements qui venaient de se produire, se sentant plutôt malade de la vue qui était autrefois quelqu'un. Elle n'était pas sûre comment se sentir, comme qui que ce soit qui allait les tuer et peut-être le tuer était le meilleur choix. Rylan recula quelques pas, la maintenant en forme de bête car elle ne se sentait plus en sécurité ici, malgré les excuses de Dante. Elle l'a secouée une fois de plus comme une réponse, se sentant piégée. "Nous devons sortir d'ici." Rylan a dit télépathiquement, en envoyant le message aux autres loups comme elle ne pouvait évidemment pas utiliser son bloc-notes pour le moment. Cette adhésion des deux groupes ne fonctionnerait pas, surtout si tout le monde est si impatient de s'attaquer. Elle a remarqué qu'une partie de sa meute avait suivi son exemple et changé de forme. Ce n'était probablement pas le meilleur mouvement, et elle aurait dû contrôler son instinct, mais maintenant Rylan était beaucoup plus alerte que quand elle était humaine. Il y avait alors le bruit d'une porte qui claque, et les sons féroces de leur Alpha voyant ce qui s'était passé. Rylan s'inclina, devenant soumis à la colère de Mehmet. Il a grandi calmement comme il s'attendait à une réponse alors et là. Comme Rylan a été mise en charge du pack pour ce court moment, elle a pensé que c'était sa responsabilité. Rylan a dit rapidement qu'il allait nous attaquer, mais ce Nathaniel nous a sauvés! Il s'en servit comme exemple de ceux qui rompent ce traité! » Rylan expliqua plus en détail sa télépathie, sonnant plutôt paniquée sur la situation. Elle ne pouvait toujours pas croire ce qui s'était passé. Elle n'était pas sûre de ce qu'elle aurait fait si l'un d'eux avait essayé d'attaquer, mais pourrait-elle vraiment tuer un membre de sa meute? Un membre de sa famille?

Nathaniel Duncan Griev "Keep this in mind fledgling, try anything to harm this coven and I will personally rip out your heart." Nickname: Nathan, its shorter than saying "Nathaniel" all the time. Plus only Riley calls him Nathaniel. Age: 24 Gender: M Sexuality: Hetero Species: Vampire Role: Leaders Right Hand Appearance: Tall, blond, and handsome. These are the words Nathan uses to describe himself and for the most part its true. Standing 6'4, he fits the tall description to a T. The blond because of his dirty blond hair and lighter, less dark clothing choices. Finally the handsome. Nathan is fair skinned, with only a small scar located on his chin to mar his visage and strong features like a heavy set jaw, broad shoulders, and heavy set muscles, he would be considered a catch by anyone's standards. Of all the things he takes pride in the most, its his tattoos. The one that most people see is the sleeve on his right arm. The original was just a flower surrounded by feathers and he just added from there. He has several more located on his body, the one he paid the most for and has the most pride in is the one located were his heart would be. This ornate tattoo is mostly a large rose that covers a large portion of his pectoral, with several tribal bands making the celtic trinity knot in the background. Underneath is a banner that reads "Munus est, ut sacrificet mihi or "My duty is to serve". Clothing wise, Nathan prefers mid casual clothes and his his usual line up includes. A vest, a button up with rolled sleeves, a tie, a pair of jeans, and a pair of dress boots. Personality: How Nathan acts is dependent on which company he holds. When in the company of superiors, he will be respectful, quiet, and ready to serve his leader. When around subordinates, he is fairly apathetic to what they do as long as they respect him and the leader. When around people he considers his equal however, Nathan becomes much more relaxed. He will laugh, crack jokes, and even drink a little around his friends, but these people are far and few in between so most people consider him a stick in the mud. Nathans views of the humans are complicated. While he prefers their blood overall, he has trouble going through with it. So he mostly focus' on the scum of the earth when he goes to feed. Early on in his vampire life, he had made a friend among the humans and once word of this reached his superiors, he was ordered to kill her. Ever being the good soldier, he did and has regretted it ever sense. This is the reason he has trouble feeding on innocent people, because he knows they are more than just cattle to be fed on...not that he would tell anyone. There are two things that Nathan truly hates in this world, Scummy humans and werewolves. The former is because they deserve his wrath, picking on the weak and defenseless makes him sick, so he makes them feel what its like to be the victim. However Nathan hates werewolves more. When he was just a fledgling, several werewolf packs had banded together to take out his coven. Peace negotiations were in the works for months and a peace offering was going to be made, when the negotiator came back it was in pieces. During the full moon they attacked, knowing that they were trapped and cornered the coven fought with all they had, but their numbers were too great and one by one the coven fell apart. Eventually the coven had killed enough wolfs for them to leave, but it was a hollow victory. The Coven leader had died and there were too few to rely on each other. So they torched the mansion along with the vampires and wolfs and went their separate ways. History: Before he was a vampire, Nathan was a soldier. Enlisting at eighteen, Nathan had gown through several tours of duty before he met the leader of his first coven. His turning was a rather traumatic one and he lost most of his memories in the process, leaving only his muscle memory and fighting instincts intact. Taking advantage of this blank slate of a man, the coven leader christened him "Nathaniel Duncan Griev" and started to groom him into his right hand. This included refining his already formidable fighting skills into the perfect hit man, who knew how to take down vampires and werewolves alike. However as you know, his coven was wiped out before his training was complete and he wandered for a couple of years before meeting Riley and her Coven of Rose. After he was excepted, Nathan quickly proved himself a competent right hand was taken as such. From his position he takes the protection of the coven very seriously and will take out any threat to it, being werewolf, vampire, or something else. Other: Nathan's secondary power is his abnormal strength, even by vampire standards and can easily overpower most vampires with little to no effort. Secondly unlike most vampires, he does not have a voice of velvet. It is quite baritone and gravely, something the ladies appreciate greatly.

Rylan s'est détendue en entendant Mehmet croire sa parole, donnant un joli petit brin de sa queue et souriant du mieux qu'elle pouvait dans sa forme de loup. Elle était heureuse que la meute ait eu une certaine maîtrise de soi et n'ait pas contre-attaqué ou quelque chose du genre. Elle ressentait un sentiment de fierté en sachant qu'elle pouvait leur faire confiance, et même certains vampires depuis qu'un seul avait essayé de les attaquer. Elle a senti qu'elle devait à Nathan un, malgré la commotion et l'événement plutôt horrible, étant donné qu'elle aurait dû surveiller de plus près tous les signes d'une attaque soudaine. Néanmoins, elle était heureuse que personne dans la meute n'ait été blessé. Rylan a écouté attentivement le plan. Combattre n'était pas son fort et elle était confuse aussi bien surpris Mehmet l'a choisi avec quelques-uns des plus forts de la meute. Comme Rylan se sentait excitée pour être choisie, elle croyait aussi qu'elle ralentirait les autres étant donné son manque de vitesse et de force. Elle a attendu qu'il ait fini d'expliquer avant d'annoncer ses objections. Elle m'a demandé, en utilisant un de ses surnoms communs, mais s'est souvenu qu'elle devrait être plus formelle à ce rassemblement, Er, Alpha? Je veux dire ne serait-ce pas mieux si vous choisissez quelqu'un avec plus d'expérience de combat? Elle a réalisé qu'elle était encore dans sa forme de bête et s'est sentie plutôt impolie pour rester ainsi. Certains des covens peuvent croire que c'était un acte de rupture de la trêve ou quelque chose comme ça. Même si c'était plus facile pour communiquer en tant que loup, Rylan s'est déplacée dans sa forme humaine. Elle n'a jamais eu de mal à ruiner ses vêtements quand elle changeait de forme car elle portait souvent des vêtements plus gros qu'elle juste au cas où. Ce n'était pas comme si elle n'avait pas assez de vêtements, c'était juste qu'elle n'aimait pas ruiner parfaitement les bons. Maintenant à la place d'un loup noir était maintenant Rylan comme un humain. Sur le sol, elle a remarqué qu'elle avait largué son Conversation Pad et l'a ramassé et l'a rangé sous son bras. Comme des vêtements, elle avait plein de carnets de notes qu'elle n'aimait pas non plus gaspiller. Elle s'intéressait quand ce même vampire, Dante, avait largué les armes d'argent, ce qu'elle n'avait pas remarqué quand elle lui avait parlé. Elle se demande combien d'autres portaient de l'argent sur eux. Elle doutait qu'il y avait de l'ail ou des enjeux dans la meute. Attends, tu fais l'un ou l'autre de ces travaux? Ou était-ce l'un de ces mythes? Je suppose qu'un pieu dans le cœur tuerait n'importe qui de toute façon. Dante l'a ensuite surprise encore une fois quand il s'est agenouillé et s'est prosterné la tête. Sans tout l'argent, il est totalement sans défense maintenant, et si l'un ou l'autre chef voulait, pourrait lui faire du mal. Elle s'est rendu compte que c'était peut-être sa façon de montrer qu'il était fidèle à l'une ou l'autre des parties. Quoi qu'il en soit, sa jolie petite performance a été immédiatement refusée par Mehmet. Rylan se sentait certainement audacieuse, car une fois de plus elle lui a donné des objections. Pourquoi ne lui donnons-nous pas une chance? » Elle a demandé en langue des signes, « Même s'il n'est pas le plus fort, il pourrait être une chance de, bien, développer notre alliance. Et comme il l'a dit, il n'a aucune haine envers nous, de sorte qu'il n'y aurait aucune raison pour qu'il se retourne contre nous!

Nathaniel Duncan Griev "Keep this in mind fledgling, try anything to harm this coven and I will personally rip out your heart." Nickname: Nathan, its shorter than saying "Nathaniel" all the time. Plus only Riley calls him Nathaniel. Age: 24 Gender: M Sexuality: Hetero Species: Vampire Role: Leaders Right Hand Appearance: Tall, blond, and handsome. These are the words Nathan uses to describe himself and for the most part its true. Standing 6'4, he fits the tall description to a T. The blond because of his dirty blond hair and lighter, less dark clothing choices. Finally the handsome. Nathan is fair skinned, with only a small scar located on his chin to mar his visage and strong features like a heavy set jaw, broad shoulders, and heavy set muscles, he would be considered a catch by anyone's standards. Of all the things he takes pride in the most, its his tattoos. The one that most people see is the sleeve on his right arm. The original was just a flower surrounded by feathers and he just added from there. He has several more located on his body, the one he paid the most for and has the most pride in is the one located were his heart would be. This ornate tattoo is mostly a large rose that covers a large portion of his pectoral, with several tribal bands making the celtic trinity knot in the background. Underneath is a banner that reads "Munus est, ut sacrificet mihi or "My duty is to serve". Clothing wise, Nathan prefers mid casual clothes and his his usual line up includes. A vest, a button up with rolled sleeves, a tie, a pair of jeans, and a pair of dress boots. Personality: How Nathan acts is dependent on which company he holds. When in the company of superiors, he will be respectful, quiet, and ready to serve his leader. When around subordinates, he is fairly apathetic to what they do as long as they respect him and the leader. When around people he considers his equal however, Nathan becomes much more relaxed. He will laugh, crack jokes, and even drink a little around his friends, but these people are far and few in between so most people consider him a stick in the mud. Nathans views of the humans are complicated. While he prefers their blood overall, he has trouble going through with it. So he mostly focus' on the scum of the earth when he goes to feed. Early on in his vampire life, he had made a friend among the humans and once word of this reached his superiors, he was ordered to kill her. Ever being the good soldier, he did and has regretted it ever sense. This is the reason he has trouble feeding on innocent people, because he knows they are more than just cattle to be fed on...not that he would tell anyone. There are two things that Nathan truly hates in this world, Scummy humans and werewolves. The former is because they deserve his wrath, picking on the weak and defenseless makes him sick, so he makes them feel what its like to be the victim. However Nathan hates werewolves more. When he was just a fledgling, several werewolf packs had banded together to take out his coven. Peace negotiations were in the works for months and a peace offering was going to be made, when the negotiator came back it was in pieces. During the full moon they attacked, knowing that they were trapped and cornered the coven fought with all they had, but their numbers were too great and one by one the coven fell apart. Eventually the coven had killed enough wolfs for them to leave, but it was a hollow victory. The Coven leader had died and there were too few to rely on each other. So they torched the mansion along with the vampires and wolfs and went their separate ways. History: Before he was a vampire, Nathan was a soldier. Enlisting at eighteen, Nathan had gown through several tours of duty before he met the leader of his first coven. His turning was a rather traumatic one and he lost most of his memories in the process, leaving only his muscle memory and fighting instincts intact. Taking advantage of this blank slate of a man, the coven leader christened him "Nathaniel Duncan Griev" and started to groom him into his right hand. This included refining his already formidable fighting skills into the perfect hit man, who knew how to take down vampires and werewolves alike. However as you know, his coven was wiped out before his training was complete and he wandered for a couple of years before meeting Riley and her Coven of Rose. After he was excepted, Nathan quickly proved himself a competent right hand was taken as such. From his position he takes the protection of the coven very seriously and will take out any threat to it, being werewolf, vampire, or something else. Other: Nathan's secondary power is his abnormal strength, even by vampire standards and can easily overpower most vampires with little to no effort. Secondly unlike most vampires, he does not have a voice of velvet. It is quite baritone and gravely, something the ladies appreciate greatly.

Dante se tenait debout et restait silencieux en hurlant la tête. Il est ensuite sorti de la maison et s'est promené autour du terrain. "ils pensent tous qu'ils sont si faibles." Il pensait qu'il avait atteint un arbre. Placer sa main dessus, il a filé et la maison ronde l'a frappé considérablement et l'envoi de copeaux de bois s'envolant. "Comment vais-je leur montrer que je peux me battre s'ils ne me donnent jamais la chance!" Il a crié mentalement pendant qu'il continuait son barrage d'attaques sur l'arbre. Chaque frappe l'a fait donner un peu et le bois s'envolait en jetons tandis que ses mains et ses jambes le frappaient avec une vitesse contre nature. Il a arrêté de frapper l'arbre et s'est reposé la main dessus alors qu'il se tenait là, il a regardé la lune. "dans le cœur de tous il y a une guerre qui fait rage entre deux loups. l'un est bon et est le guide des hommes. L'autre est le mal et la faim pour que l'homme soit consumé dans la haine." Il a dit calmement.

Dante Obscuro noctem "What's the point of being immortal if you cant enjoy the simple pleasures of life?" Nickname: He doesn't have a nickname and is usually just called Dante. Age: real age: 17 apparent age: 20 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Species: Vampire Role: Coven member Appearance: Dante looks older than he is appearing to be in his early to mid twenties. He is 6'3 and has an athletic build but isn't huge. He wears his brown hair to his chin and often sweeps it over one eye. He wears jeans and a white t-shirt usually with a leather jacket over it. He wears a pair of black leather combat boots that he keeps shined and maintained. On his finger there is a gold signet ring with a rose inlaid into it with rubies. His eyes are a piercing green that startles many people. his left eye droops slightly but not enough to affect his vision and is only noticeable under close inspection. his knuckles are calloused and he has scars on his hands and legs from training in martial arts. Personality: Dante has the personality of a teenage boy who just discovered immortality. He is infatuated with his new gifts and has a newfound sense of purpose. This can sometimes make him vain and rash but he tries his best not to be. He is a strange guy who is sometimes extremely social and loves to interact with people and at other times he is introversive and abrasive. He can also be hard on himself and depressed at times. He is highly intelligent and is proud of this fact which often leads to conflict with others, but he still knows to respect other peoples opinions and ideas. He loves to read and his favorite things to read about are history and science. His particular favorite subject is the history of his coven members and this is evident with the attention he pays to their stories. He is a loyal person to the last and feels indebted to his new family. He feels he owes them for bestowing upon him the gift of immortality and wishes to repay that debt. He has had some time to listen to the stories of the older vampires and has come to cherish them all and would willingly lay down his life to help them. He wishes to become strong enough to protect his coven and will go to drastic measures to do so. He admires Nathaniel and wishes to become as respected as him in the coven. History: He grew up in an abusive home and hated his parents. His mother was terminally ill and was also bipolar and addicted to drugs, and his father was an abusive alcoholic. He met his best friend Eric at the age of five in kindergarten and they stuck together ever since. When he turned twelve his Eric's father enrolled them both in a Shotokan dojo to learn self defense. At the age of fourteen he went to his first karate tournament and won a gold medal in sparring while Eric took gold in forms. They were inseparable and they became like brothers doing everything together. Then one night when he was sixteen his father attacked him and he fought back sending him to the hospital. His mother was distraught and kicked him out of the house. He had nowhere to go so he went to his Eric and his parents and they gave him a place to stay. He finished his sophomore year with them then turned seventeen and went into his junior year of highschool. In the middle of his junior year Dante and Eric were walking home together after school when five guys stepped out of an alleyway. They were going to rob them but while doing so Eric saw one of their faces. They decided to kill the boys instead of leave witnesses and started trying to beat them. Both boys fought ferociously knowing their lives hung in the balance and fought with desperation unmatched. Dante always had been a little better of a fighter and as Eric went down beside him he saw one of the boys hit him in the head with a pipe killing him. Tears filled his eyes and Dante fought not only for survival but to avenge his friend as well. However this was not enough and he was slowly beaten down then as he laid there his vision fading he saw a shadowy figure emerge from what seemed like nowhere and dispatch his attackers with ease. He tried to crawl towards his friend but his arms gave out and he faded into unconsciousness. When he finally awoke he was in a large room and his throat was burning, but he felt stronger and faster than he ever had in his life. He was confused until al of his memory came washing back to him and he broke down. Finally he had o idea where he was so he went to investigate to his surprise there was already a man in the room with him. This man told him what had happened and explained to him what he was now and what had happened. Dante was overwhelmed and didn't know how to respond so he just sat silently. After a long while he finally asked the other man "what is your name?". The man answered with one word before leaving the room "Nathaniel". That had been nearly two months ago and Dante was comfortable with his new self and his surroundings. Other: What makes Dante truly special is his innate sixth sense it is not foolproof but he has impeccable gut instincts. He has a natural sense of intuition which helps him.

Riley a regardé Dante quand il s'est avancé et s'est excusé. Ses oreilles se bousculèrent à ses mots suivants, puis elle secoua la tête. "Je vais accepter vos excuses, mais pendant que vous entrez dans la bataille, je vais décliner. Désolé, Dante." Elle a dit doucement tout en baissant la tête et en regardant vers Mehmet alors qu'il parlait aussi vers Dante. Ses yeux rebondirent vers Dante puis agitèrent une main à Mehmet. "Je ressens la même chose que ce qu'il vient de dire. Les nouveaux-nés ne sont pas censés se battre. Désolé, encore." Elle l'a dit doucement. Ses yeux retournèrent vers celui de Mehmet, puis elle écouta de nouveau ses paroles. "Oui. J'avais presque un enjeu dans mon cœur." Elle a déboutonné sa chemise juste un peu et a révélé une cicatrice juste au-dessus de son cœur. Elle a ensuite regardé la cicatrice de Mehmet et a couru sa main doucement à travers elle. "Wow. Ce soir, nous récupérerons la moitié de notre vengeance. L'autre moitié devra attendre." Elle a enlevé sa main de sa cicatrice puis a boutonné sa chemise en le regardant dans les yeux. "Tu vas avec tes meilleurs loups-garous et mes meilleurs vampires. Je resterai ici avec le reste et j'attendrai que vos hurlements soient entendus avant que nous nous dispersions." Elle lui a dit. "Je ne veux pas les laisser sans chef." Elle prit une petite part de Mehmet et se tint derrière lui maintenant. "Nathaniel, Zach et Ma'Kayla sont les meilleurs que j'ai." Elle agita pour qu'ils sortent et se tiennent debout avec Mehmet et ses confrères. Elle soupira doucement vers eux puis regarda le reste qu'on lui laissa avec puis retourna vers Mehmet et les combattants. "Allez avant qu'ils ne viennent nous tuer." Elle agita pour qu'ils sortent. Elle s'est cognée avec ses collègues, mais a tenu Nathaniel plus longtemps parce qu'elle ne voulait pas le perdre. "Soyez prudents et écoutez Mehmet, pour moi, s'il vous plaît." Riley a parlé avec lui. Elle s'est ensuite tournée vers lui et l'a même pris dans ses bras. "Vous aussi, soyez en sécurité et gardez mes membres en sécurité comme ils l'étaient." Elle lui chuchotait à l'oreille puis le tapotait sur le dos. Elle regarda alors qu'ils s'éloignaient de la porte puis se tournèrent vers le reste du corbeau et des membres de la meute. -- Eh bien, qu'est-ce qu'on peut faire ici pour s'amuser? Tout le monde se regarda, puis se retourna vers Riley, qui descendit la tête avec un soupir.

I would also like to be in the pack, also female. I really enjoyed The Fault In Our Stars! Rylan Joan Fletcher "Hello, friend!" Nickname: Rye, but usually just goes by Rylan Age: She’s at most 100, but appears to be in mid to late teens. Gender: Female Sexuality: Panromantic Species: Werewolf Role: Scout Appearance: Rylan stands at a decent five two, with the physique of a twelve year old boy, much to her annoyance. She’s average with weight, still sporting some of her baby fat, which is slowly working into muscle. She has a rather adolescent look to her; appearing as a young teen, with a youthful roundness to her face. Her complexion is a rather tan as she enjoys the outdoors more than being cooped up inside. She sports silver eyes that appear bright and attentive. Rylan has easy to manage short brown hair that she doesn’t do much with in the sense of styling, usually up and ready when she wakes up. Rylan usually wears clothes that aren’t to constraining, and tends to wear baggy clothes, mostly shorts and jeans as well t-shirts. Her outfits lack a sense of style and at times don’t even match, but she doesn’t mind. On her feet she wears a simple pair of slip on shoes as she can’t figure out how to tie her shoes and they are easiest to put on. Her wolf form shares the same silver grey eyes as her human form does, but her fur is a tad darker than her hair. Personality: She faces every day with a smile. She treats everyone she meets with respect and kindness. She’s rather submissive with her pack given she isn’t the strongest and isn’t much of a leader. Rylan isn’t the sharpest light bulb in the toolbox, but she makes that up with loyalty to her pack and those in it. She’s curious and is equivalent to that of a puppy, including the naivety of one. Although, with her childishness comes impulsiveness that could get her hurt. With her quiet demeanor, she makes an excellent tracker and hunter. She can be rather stubborn and it takes a lot to convince her otherwise. Rylan is a carefree girl with no worries. In her wolf form, she’s still playful but less tolerant to strangers. History: Rylan was born to a loving family of lycan decent. She has an older brother who sadly didn’t share werewolf abilities, but he was still loved dearly by both Rylan and her parents. One day, Rylan, her brother and mother had stayed home, their father had gone off on a scouting mission as he usually did, probably hunting as well patrolling. However, he came back sooner than usual with a panicked look. When asked what was wrong, he shook his head, ushering his family to hide quickly and there was no time to explain. With questions being thrown at him left and right, he finally muttered the name of one of their greatest enemy, the Cacciatori. He had the children hid away in a closet, but his wife wouldn’t budge, given they’ve been through so much, she wanted to face this next obstacle with him together. They told their children to be as silent as possible, as these were dangerous people who will harm them. Rylan’s brother didn’t have much to fear, but he still had the werewolf gene and could pass it along, so they probably wouldn’t be very tolerant towards him. The children waiting, the silence before the storm, that is until they heard the door break open. Rylan grew anxious as they heard they’re parents shouting at the strangers to leave. They then heard the barks and growls of their werewolf selves, as the shouting of the strangers as they began to fight. Rylan was a quite young at the time, didn’t understand the danger they were in, and she shifted as well, letting out her own version of a battle howl, much to her brother’s fear. This attracted one of the Cacciatori, who had found them. Rylan had no fear, and quickly went for the attack, but she was no match as she didn’t even come up to the man’s knees, and he easily kicked her flying. Before he could do any more, their parents had taken down the man. Their mother became human once more, placing her daughter’s wolf form in her son’s arms, and directed them to run far away and keep as quiet as they could as there were more of the Cacciatori around. Their mother was vulnerable in her human form, and one of the men took this to their advantage, killing her easily with an axe to the neck. Their father ended his life in revenge, going into a frenzy at the loss of his wife. Rylan had come to, pulling her frozen brother out the back way and into the forest, and in the distance; they heard the strangled cry of their father’s last cry. They were orphans from then on. They rest of the pack had come too late, as the Cacciatori were gone, and left behind the bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Fletcher. Hours later, they finally found Rylan and her brother, shaken up very badly and took them in. The two were raised by the older members of the pack. It was possible that due to this tragic event, Rylan had stopped talking and became mute and hasn’t spoken since. Her brother found his own life outside of the pack and speaks to his sister often, but stays away from werewolf business. Other: She’s mute and usually communicates by writing down what she has to say or sign language to those who may know it. Can send her thoughts to others werewolves telepathically while she herself is in her wolf form so she’s not completely silent.

Non loin de tout ça, cette même nuit, un vampire voyou était assis parmi les vivants, recueillant des informations. Le problème d'être un vampire qui a chassé des vampires était de les trouver. Ce n'était pas aussi facile que le jeu de suivi, qui pour l'humain moyen était difficile à dire le moins, parce que les vampires, et d'autres anomalies surnaturelles de ce genre, n'ont pas laissé beaucoup pour l'odeur ou les pistes ou même faire beaucoup de son là où ils allaient. Cependant, ils n'ont cessé de s'intéresser à leurs hôtes, les humains. Mithias était presque terrible à s'intégrer. Le mieux qu'il n'avait pas encore trouvé était d'imiter un vieil homme. La plupart des gens ne voulaient pas regarder un vieux visage ou peut-être malade, et ils pouvaient pardonner sa peau pâle pour la maladie. Il pouvait se déguiser avec de lourdes robes et avait appris à marcher très, très lentement. tous ses mouvements devaient être à l'aise à l'œil humain, prévisibles, afin de ne pas provoquer d'alarme. De temps en temps, ses efforts ont porté sur un immortel sadique et arrogant qu'il était capable de tuer. Le plus souvent, il conduirait au moins à une boisson rapide de la Vitae mortelle de base. Mais oh, à quel point c'était plus satisfaisant de boire de son espèce misérable. Il y avait aussi du pouvoir dans ce sang, et Mithias admettait le développement d'une petite addiction. Peut - être y eut - il une approbation naturelle ou divine de ses efforts. Mithias a fait semblant de prendre son temps avec une petite tranche de nourriture et de boire à l'arrière de la taverne. Son rythme cardiaque a légèrement sauté quand deux chasseurs sont arrivés. Ce n'est pas ce qu'ils avaient l'air de leur donner, mais leur discours. Bien sûr, ils étaient exceptionnellement en forme par rapport à la foule typique. C'était juste une preuve de soutien. Au moment où ils ont cessé de parler, Mithias a remarqué. Oui... il les a vite attrapés en s'éloignant de lui. Une tirade de malédictions abattue dans l'esprit du vampire, car il savait que sa guise était déjouée. Immédiatement, il se leva, faisant si lentement semblant de se diriger vers la sortie comme un lépreux malheureux. Il n'a délibérément pas exposé la chair de ses doigts alors qu'il prétendait pousser sur une chaise pour obtenir du soutien. Vite... s'il partait, ils ne décideraient peut-être pas de poursuivre. Il entendit la lame distincte d'une chaise contre le plancher de bois comme l'un d'eux se leva derrière lui. Toux à haute voix, la voie s'est dégagée devant lui rapidement, et Mithias a quitté le bâtiment. Maintenant a commencé la chasse aux oies sauvages dans la rue. Ils avaient sûrement quelque chose de mieux à faire ce soir...

Mithias Aldaric Varomere "Do not lose hope, for I am still here." Nickname: None. Age: 716 Looks: 27 Gender: M Sexuality: Mostly asexual and withdrawn from the world of love. Species: Vampire. Role: Unaffiliated with any coven. Mithias is an outsider of unknown parentage, a bastard vampire. Appearance: The most noticeable aspect of Mithias' appearance isn't his strikingly gold eyes or his unnaturally alabaster skin, it's his exceptionally long, shining, straight, black hair. You don't know if he has any tattoos, because you haven't beaten him enough to tear his bloody clothing from his corpse. However, you can't see any piercings so far, and who knows what else those two swords he's holding are protecting. His fangs are small, but his nails are fairly strong and sharp. What was his power again? Oh yes, determination. Personality: Mithias is hard to get to know. He's quiet most of the time, yet it seems he revels in nature, pausing to take an unnecessarily deep breath of forest air or to watch light puncture clouds in dancing rays. He must have been made from a very disciplined and patient human. It is curious who he may have been. He is never cruel. He kills, but is swift about it, seemingly never feeling regret in anything he does. A person like that should be at peace... but he isn't. The poor chap struggles with purposelessness, self doubt, ever fighting to strike a balance between forces he shouldn't need to meddle with. He seems to be after some crazy notion of redemption, wrestling with time, destiny, and the meaning of it all. Mithias is a servant without a master. History: Mithias was born sometime near the end of the 13th century in eastern Europe. If I cared, I would probably place him in present day Germany, but the exact country stopped mattering centuries ago. It was the time of the Templars and the crusades, and just before their fall. He couldn't claim to be completely unaffiliated with the order of knights, no one could at the time, but his family did have an alternative primary investment. They hunted the undead and unholy apostates, demons, and the like that plagued the dark and the unseen corners of their world. The things the Templars should have been concerned about but were too busy acquiring the riches of the east and the "holy lands." It was in this endeavor that Mithias came to be a product of his quarry, a god among vampires, yet not the devil himself. Laughable how the poor boy had no idea. Egregiously tortured by the change, Mithias found a myriad of suicides futile, much to his dismay. After an age, he pulled himself together and vowed vengeance against the vile beast that turned him and destroyed at its leisure. Encounters with his maker have been few and far between. Mithias was compelled to develop a mental barrier against his sire, which has served him well against other foes. His mind is impossible to influence or read against his will. Pathetic in his hunting, Mithias devotes himself to lesser causes until such time as destiny will grant his wish for revenge. Focused on staying alive long enough to achieve his ultimate goal, Mithias has chosen his targets carefully and vanquished them with caution. He strives to defend humans by taking out what enemies he can, but he is often forced to work alone. Modern human hunters will not accept him, for obvious reasons, but his name is known among their inner circles. Other: Mithias tends to defend humanity. He feeds off the wicked if at all possible and will also drink from his immortal enemies. That's probably a sin most covens.

Dante avait décidé que même si sa maîtresse l'avait ordonné, il devait se joindre à la bataille. Se glisser dans l'armurerie il a rapidement trouvé une armure de corps et l'a attaché sur. Ensuite, il a trouvé un pistolet G18 et l'a chargé en prenant trois magazines supplémentaires pendant qu'il l'étouffait sur sa hanche. Sprintant dans sa chambre, il a ramassé deux des seules choses qu'il restait quand il était humain. La première était une katana la lame brille à la lumière de sa chambre et les enveloppes blanches comme la neige. Ensuite, il a pris un masque qu'il avait obtenu à un tournoi au Japon c'était le visage d'un démon. Il a jeté un manteau de tranchée blanche sur son armure et a jeté le katana sur son dos. regardant par la fenêtre, il a dit "je protégerai mes amis" avant de sauter au sol en dessous et de sprinter vers le lieu de la bataille.

Dante Obscuro noctem "What's the point of being immortal if you cant enjoy the simple pleasures of life?" Nickname: He doesn't have a nickname and is usually just called Dante. Age: real age: 17 apparent age: 20 Gender: Male Sexuality: Heterosexual Species: Vampire Role: Coven member Appearance: Dante looks older than he is appearing to be in his early to mid twenties. He is 6'3 and has an athletic build but isn't huge. He wears his brown hair to his chin and often sweeps it over one eye. He wears jeans and a white t-shirt usually with a leather jacket over it. He wears a pair of black leather combat boots that he keeps shined and maintained. On his finger there is a gold signet ring with a rose inlaid into it with rubies. His eyes are a piercing green that startles many people. his left eye droops slightly but not enough to affect his vision and is only noticeable under close inspection. his knuckles are calloused and he has scars on his hands and legs from training in martial arts. Personality: Dante has the personality of a teenage boy who just discovered immortality. He is infatuated with his new gifts and has a newfound sense of purpose. This can sometimes make him vain and rash but he tries his best not to be. He is a strange guy who is sometimes extremely social and loves to interact with people and at other times he is introversive and abrasive. He can also be hard on himself and depressed at times. He is highly intelligent and is proud of this fact which often leads to conflict with others, but he still knows to respect other peoples opinions and ideas. He loves to read and his favorite things to read about are history and science. His particular favorite subject is the history of his coven members and this is evident with the attention he pays to their stories. He is a loyal person to the last and feels indebted to his new family. He feels he owes them for bestowing upon him the gift of immortality and wishes to repay that debt. He has had some time to listen to the stories of the older vampires and has come to cherish them all and would willingly lay down his life to help them. He wishes to become strong enough to protect his coven and will go to drastic measures to do so. He admires Nathaniel and wishes to become as respected as him in the coven. History: He grew up in an abusive home and hated his parents. His mother was terminally ill and was also bipolar and addicted to drugs, and his father was an abusive alcoholic. He met his best friend Eric at the age of five in kindergarten and they stuck together ever since. When he turned twelve his Eric's father enrolled them both in a Shotokan dojo to learn self defense. At the age of fourteen he went to his first karate tournament and won a gold medal in sparring while Eric took gold in forms. They were inseparable and they became like brothers doing everything together. Then one night when he was sixteen his father attacked him and he fought back sending him to the hospital. His mother was distraught and kicked him out of the house. He had nowhere to go so he went to his Eric and his parents and they gave him a place to stay. He finished his sophomore year with them then turned seventeen and went into his junior year of highschool. In the middle of his junior year Dante and Eric were walking home together after school when five guys stepped out of an alleyway. They were going to rob them but while doing so Eric saw one of their faces. They decided to kill the boys instead of leave witnesses and started trying to beat them. Both boys fought ferociously knowing their lives hung in the balance and fought with desperation unmatched. Dante always had been a little better of a fighter and as Eric went down beside him he saw one of the boys hit him in the head with a pipe killing him. Tears filled his eyes and Dante fought not only for survival but to avenge his friend as well. However this was not enough and he was slowly beaten down then as he laid there his vision fading he saw a shadowy figure emerge from what seemed like nowhere and dispatch his attackers with ease. He tried to crawl towards his friend but his arms gave out and he faded into unconsciousness. When he finally awoke he was in a large room and his throat was burning, but he felt stronger and faster than he ever had in his life. He was confused until al of his memory came washing back to him and he broke down. Finally he had o idea where he was so he went to investigate to his surprise there was already a man in the room with him. This man told him what had happened and explained to him what he was now and what had happened. Dante was overwhelmed and didn't know how to respond so he just sat silently. After a long while he finally asked the other man "what is your name?". The man answered with one word before leaving the room "Nathaniel". That had been nearly two months ago and Dante was comfortable with his new self and his surroundings. Other: What makes Dante truly special is his innate sixth sense it is not foolproof but he has impeccable gut instincts. He has a natural sense of intuition which helps him.

Quelques-uns de ses parents étaient déjà dans leur forme de loup, et il craignait le pire absolu. Le petit Rylan l'a un peu calmé, et il s'est retourné pour la regarder comme elle l'a expliqué, rapidement, ce qui s'était passé. "Je vous crois, Kuzucuğum." L'animal puissant s'est redressé, les hackers ont baissé, et il a tourné son regard vers les vampires. Il regarda les morts, lui donna un renifle, ferma les yeux, retourna dans sa forme humaine et se leva. Normalement, il pouvait revenir de sa forme de loup généralement soigneusement, mais avec la vitesse avec laquelle il s'était transformé en premier lieu, son t-shirt blanc bon marché était en tatters, déchiré trop rapidement pour être facilement assimilé à sa forme comme le reste de ses vêtements le faisait habituellement. Dans la scission de la seconde il a fallu changer, son haut du corps a toujours changé en premier. Il s'est un peu bagarré à ce qui aurait pu se passer si le motif avait changé d'avis, en regardant sa chemise de bonne nature. Il a hurlé dans son sac, "Mes excuses d'avoir pensé que n'importe quel sac pourrait être déloyal", et est retourné aux vampires. "Nathaniel. Je suis heureux de vous voir protéger les nôtres. Je ferai de même." Il tricote ses sourcils ensemble. Est-ce que le coven était si éloigné d'une famille qu'ils tueraient le leur sans une seconde pensée? Est-ce qu'il frapperait quelqu'un que leur mère a appelé ami? Riley n'était cependant pas mère, et ce ne sont pas ses enfants. Ils n'ont pas agi comme s'ils avaient de tels liens, symboliquement ou littéralement. Mehmet avait, bien sûr, biologiquement engendré quelques membres de la meute, et ils étaient quelques-uns de ses membres les plus fidèles. Mais ce n'était pas comme l'alpha, mais plutôt comme le désir d'élever des enfants avec quelqu'un. Son sac s'amenuisait lorsqu'il avait pris le relais en tant que leader, et c'était son devoir de le rendre fort à nouveau. Une femme du cercle des aînés y avait été ouverte, mais Mehmet devait demander qu'elle ne dise jamais à ses enfants qui était leur père, de peur qu'ils ne s'attendent et ne reçoivent probablement pas le favoritisme. Mais c'était il y a des années. Il a croisé les bras à Riley et s'est tourné vers son sac. "Certains d'entre nous vont se battre très bientôt. Je choisirai, et les autres doivent rester en arrière. Horatia, tu vas rester ici pour garder le paquet en sécurité pendant que je prends Rylan, Michael, Andre, Francisca et Kate pour aller avec moi." Il a regardé Rylan dans les yeux. "Tu restes à mes côtés. Vous, les autres, venez avec les quatre vampires pour vous cacher dans la clairière pour une embuscade. Vous entendrez les humains s'approcher, se caresser dans le bol de la roche. Frappe quand tu entends mes hurlements." Déterminé à garder sa meute à son maximum en toute sécurité, il balaya son regard pour verrouiller Riley, avant que la gâchette heureuse d'avant ne s'agenouille et proclame son aptitude au combat. Mehmet écouta ses paroles et grandit profondément. "Vous êtes un nouveau-né pour moi, et presque plus humain que Immortal. Quelle importance vous devez croire que vous êtes de revendiquer votre place comme digne d'un guerrier." Le tissu ruiné de sa chemise s'est heurté à l'intimidation de la poitrine alors qu'il respirait lentement. "ll va ou près, je n'exige que les plus forts pour combattre. Un grand guerrier peut haïr les loups-garous, mais seulement quand la trêve est terminée. Un grand guerrier n'est pas plus grand qu'un enfant suicidaire quand il frappe contre nous quand il a besoin de notre aide. » Il l'a largué. "Aptal çocuk." Enfin, il s'est penché sur la question plus pressante de s'entretenir avec Riley. "Rien à ajouter, sauf pour regarder leurs mains, même lorsqu'elles sont capturées. Ils sont délicats et cachent beaucoup d'armes." Il étendit son bras et afficha une longue cicatrice arquée le long de son bicep. La blessure fine là-bas a été massacrée, comme si la coupe avait été faite au cours d'une grande lutte, battante. "Un humain a caché une petite lame d'argent dans un anneau. À peine un pouce était tout ce qu'il fallait pour faire cela."

I'll make changes if needed: Mehmet Zengin "The pack is family. I will always look after you pups." Nickname: For members of his pack, they may call him much of an assortment of names without much backlash, commonly "Metmet", "Zen", and, only in humorous spirit, "Papa Wolf". Real Age: 239 Apparent Age: 38 Gender: M Sexuality: He doesn't particularly seem the type to be interested in anyone, but is likely pansexual. Species: Werewolf Role: Alpha Appearance: Mehmet is a very, very sturdy man. One could punch him in the gut and break their own wrist, and fights with him usually only ended in his opponent's exhaustion. His brow is heavyset, jaw wide and leading into a thick, muscular neck and shoulders. He stands at about six feet two inches, is utterly incapable of getting rid of all of his stubble and is covered in brownish, thick hair on his arms, torso and legs. His tan skin is peppered with the precise scars of a knife, quartered off by the long lashes of a whip. His deep brown eyes are gentle but firm to his pack and unreadable to strangers, and his face has a long scar starting at his right temple, hugging the curve of his jaw, and then raggedly stopping in the cradle of his adam's apple and jugular. He has no tattoos, and broad, thick-fingered hands that sport a single small ring. His wolf form is just as stout and massive, fur a shade lighter than his normal hair. He will almost always be seen wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt, a simple pair of lightwash jeans, a belt and a pair of comfortable hiking shoes. He seems to only have two outfits to choose from: his normal outfit with a T-shirt, and his normal outfit with a jacket. Personality: It would be impossible to describe Mehmet as serene, but it would also be impossible to not describe him as such. Very paternal, he is a constant presence in the lives of the pack, teaching the young ones and leading his family with a rigidly guiding hand. He appears at ease in many settings in which his pack is with him, letting the children play around him and letting them climb on his back or hang from his outstretched arms. With the older members, he can be a little more unforgiving. Any large mistake is at least met with a stern scolding, lecture, and then demonstration on what is to be done to fix the issue. His treatment of the pack could be then described as overbearing, so focused on the improvement and wellbeing of his family that much of his energy points internally. Many know to let him rest should the rare time comes when he actually does, respecting his hard work and obsessive dedication. He is plagued by the trauma of a past he cannot let go of. If he is not talking of matters with the pack, he is recalling his experiences during his capture at the hands of Cacciatori, how he came to find his pack, how he rose through the ranks, his family bloodline, how he watched the Ottoman Empire fall and a new empire rise up. He gives his experiences freely, but to ask of his feelings on anything is to intrude so harshly that he goes into a dark, dark place for a long while. The trauma at his long-ago capture is triggered most powerfully by the sight of whips, being held down, or binding paraphernalia such as collars, handcuffs, rope or chains. Each reaction can be weaker or stronger dependent upon the situation. During a flashback, he can become very violent and blinded with imagery, sometimes only calmed by the familiar scent or touch of a pack member. History: Born into the Ottoman empire near its height and during its wars with Russia, Mehmet rose to be a highly esteemed nobleman at a young age under the tutelage of his father. While the revolutions in America and France roared on, he was commanding growing markets and toying with reforms. Modernization brought with it a variety of outsiders, and his family was soon surrounded by foreigners looking for work. His parents were both werewolves whom had involved themselves in human economic affairs, shunned from packhood on all sides due to their human-gained fortune. Mehmet, their only son, grew to follow humanity's laws and customs, growing up with a high, trusting opinion of them. That all changed during the Balkan Wars. Cacciatori from Italy itself invaded his homeland, the land he's lived on for decades, and rooted out the pack nearest his home. His family was lucky, if only because they did not involve with any pack, but the Cacciatori tortured their location out of a pack member and found them anyway. Mehmet's parents were taken off, never to be seen again, while Mehmet himself was dragged into the new Cacciatori headquarters, where he was kept for nearly ten years. During that time, the Cacciatori tested out new nonlethal torture methods, tormented and humiliated him daily, even putting a tight collar about his neck and calling him a filthy dog. Whenever they needed someone to haul rocks for a mass Immortal grave, he would be forced to throw 100-pound stones from the bottom of a pit to the edge, then haul bodies inside. Eventually, he became stronger than any other prisoner, and to keep him efficient the Cacciatori fed him just a little more. After ten years of hell, he escaped one night by snapping a guard's neck, bursting through a ten-story window and running from cars and search teams for several miles into the forest. Even so long ago, the memories still haunt him. He found a boat to America, there learning English, finding a pack and joining his werewolf kinsmen for the first time. With his strength, experience with Cacciatori methods and acute sense of human processes, he rose through the ranks, fought his way to the top and ultimately took over his own full pack. Even today he still wonders about the fate of his parents, praying emptily they did not at least suffer. Other: His threshold for pain is incredibly high, but past a certain limit and he will often go into a crippling state of flashback. His scars are old enough that they do not hurt when touched. He also hates uneaten food, eating the leftovers of pack members should they allow him to so that he could avoid wasting precious food.

Le coup l'a jeté, et il s'est tourné pour regarder la porte. Riley était en bas maintenant, et a répondu avec un incroyable manque de fanfare, malgré la puanteur de l'homme qui s'est évanouie et a fait son nez scruter amèrement. Il a serré une main sur l'épaule de Rylan, l'exhortant à se rapprocher de quelques loups-garous plus puissants physiquement. "Restez ensemble, tous. Kuzucuğum, gardez le paquet en alerte. Je veux que vous utilisiez vos sens." Il a hurlé à Rylan brièvement pour vérifier qu'elle comprenait, soulignant en outre sa confiance dans sa responsabilité de diriger ce petit groupe pour le moment. D'accord, il semblait que Riley n'avait pas encore été mise en jeu. Elle a fermé la porte, Mehmet a senti sa panique, et est venue rapidement à son appel, glissant dans la cuisine derrière elle. Il a fermé la porte derrière lui-même, a placé deux mains larges sur le comptoir Riley avait jeté le flyer au sommet, et a incliné sa tête, le lisant. Meurtre de quelques malédictions dans sa langue maternelle alors que Riley a proclamé ses peurs -- quelque chose qu'il ne s'attendrait jamais à ce qu'un vampire fasse -- il s'est secoué la tête et a jeté un doigt sur le flyer. "Nous n'allons pas. Nous les combattons, simples." Le vent dehors hurlait dans ses oreilles comme le vent de sa prison il y a un siècle. Il trembla et, avec un grognement agité et précipité, le grognement d'un animal en coin, s'approcha de la fenêtre sans retirer le rideau. Son cœur martelait dans sa poitrine, chaque muscle pulsait et l'exhortait à combattre quelque chose. "J'ai un éclaireur. Elle est calme, pas rapide, pas forte, mais bonne pour le suivi, et étroitement liée au pack. Elle viendra avec moi et rassemblera les humains, s'ils sont ici, dans une petite clairière près de nous. Il est entouré de roche, un bon endroit d'embuscade, difficile à escalader pour les humains. Vous vous cachez là avec quatre du corbeau et le paquet chacun, tuez-les tous." Il cracha dans l'évier et se tourna vers elle, les yeux bruns clignotants, brièvement, dorés. "Je choisirai qui de la meute va en embuscade. Vous devez bien choisir, seulement les combattants. Les humains sont faibles, mais savent beaucoup comment nous tuer. » Contemplatif de son plan, il l'a mullé et a ajouté, "Peut-être laissez-en quelques-uns vivants, pour les questionner. Ils n'ont pas envoyé toute leur force en poste ici. Il doit y en avoir d'autres." Riley a regardé Mehmet quand il a commencé à parler. C'est quoi, la bagarre? Elle pensait qu'en se penchant contre le canapé, ses bras se repliaient sur sa poitrine. Elle avait peur pour elle-même, elle avait peur que son nombre de membres de clans diminue et perde une autre chère amie. Elle descendit la tête puis le regarda en arrière pendant qu'il grondissait. Riley l'a vu comme il est venu, mais il allait à la fenêtre à côté d'elle. "J'ai mon second commandement et Nathaniel. C'est tout." Elle soupira en se rapprochant de lui et le regarda directement dans les yeux. "Alors, on se faufile?" Elle lui demanda en brisant le contact visuel et en marchant vers la porte de la cuisine. "Je suis malade et fatigué de courir, Mehmet. Je le suis vraiment." Elle a dit en le regardant. "Mais les immortels doivent faire ce que les immortels doivent faire." Elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de rire de ce qu'elle venait de dire. -- Mais où allons-nous aller? Elle lui a demandé, mais elle y a réfléchi. "Je suppose que nous pourrions à notre ancienne maison de coven, si elle est toujours là, mais c'est aussi de l'autre côté de la ville." Un autre soupir a échappé à ses lèvres puis a couru ses mains à travers ses boucles blondes de cheveux à nouveau. "Peut-être que je peux forcer quelques humains à nous y conduire et à obtenir des réponses d'eux de cette façon." Elle a serré les épaules à sa suggestion puis a regardé Mehmet pour obtenir son opinion. Son visage était dur, les muscles de la mâchoire s'accroupissent et s'assombrissent alors qu'il murmurait très brièvement sur la suggestion de Riley. "Non. Si nous laissons le coven et le pack savoir à quel point nous sommes effrayés des Cacciatori, alors ils seront aussi effrayés. Pas de course. Nous devons nous battre." Il s'est tourné et l'a regardée droit dans les yeux, se tenant mal à l'aise près d'un vampire, regardant dans leurs yeux plus longtemps qu'il ne l'avait jamais fait auparavant sans les tuer. Leur histoire était longue, affligeante, sanglante. Elle était censée être son ennemi, mais ils étaient là, travaillant ensemble pour survivre, manger ensemble, dormir les uns avec les autres. Peut-être qu'il ne dort pas. Il n'était pas tout à fait sûr que les vampires avaient besoin de dormir. Il s'est rendu compte qu'il la regardait encore, très légèrement doublé sur elle dans une position intensément instinctive, et s'est redressé, soupirant. "Si les Cacciatori croient qu'ils nous emportent ce soir, ils nous écraseront pour toujours." Il a regardé par la fenêtre et l'a regardée en arrière. "Peut-être devrions-nous déménager chez vous après avoir tué et capturé ces humains. Nous rejetons l'odeur de cette façon." Son anglais brisé, embarrassant, sortit légèrement alors, et il alla regarder à nouveau la fenêtre, se penchant contre le comptoir et croisant ses bras immenses alors qu'il attendait une réponse. Riley aimait la façon dont Mehmet parlait quand il s'agissait de combattre. Elle voulait s'écarter du chemin et lui laisser tout gérer puisque c'était son plan. Elle était vraiment fatiguée de courir chaque fois que les humains les ont trouvés mais cette fois, elle allait se battre et protéger son corbeau. Ses yeux le regardaient quand il parlait car elle ne pouvait s'empêcher de hisser la tête. "D'accord. Vous vous battez et je vais forcer quelques humains à nous conduire l'autre coven et nous donner quelques réponses. Ça a l'air bien?" Elle attendait son approbation, ou voulait entendre ce qu'il avait à dire avant de continuer. Il a hurlé pensivement et s'est griffé à son chaume. Une barbe commençait à pousser là de nouveau, ce qui avec lui n'ayant pas assez de temps libre pour se raser comme il le faisait habituellement. "Attendez que le combat soit terminé et que nous ayons les humains capturés. Conduisez-les à ce coven et utilisez tout ce que vous pouvez pour les faire parler." Il s'est levé et s'est étendu, se préparant maintenant pour le premier vrai combat depuis que les vampires et les loups-garous se sont réunis. "Les loups avec toi sauront quand il est temps de venir à la clairière. Suivez leurs traces et restez tranquilles. » Il gronde. "Et dis à ce stupide petit enfoiré avec l'arme de s'en débarrasser. Les jeunes ont facilement peur." Il sentait l'odeur piquante du sang vampirique répandu dans la pièce adjacente, et, instantanément horrifié qu'un loup-garou ait tué un vampire, transformé et éclaté dans la pièce principale sous la forme de la bête. Même à quatre pattes, l'épaule du loup de couleur argileuse a atteint les côtes des membres plus courts de la congrégation. Mehmet s'est enrôlé et, ne voyant qu'un vampire mort sur le sol, s'est avancé sur sa meute, craignant le meurtrier l'un d'entre eux. Il aboie et un rugissement télépathique leur a arraché les oreilles comme la balle d'une arme. "Qui a fait ça!"

I'll make changes if needed: Mehmet Zengin "The pack is family. I will always look after you pups." Nickname: For members of his pack, they may call him much of an assortment of names without much backlash, commonly "Metmet", "Zen", and, only in humorous spirit, "Papa Wolf". Real Age: 239 Apparent Age: 38 Gender: M Sexuality: He doesn't particularly seem the type to be interested in anyone, but is likely pansexual. Species: Werewolf Role: Alpha Appearance: Mehmet is a very, very sturdy man. One could punch him in the gut and break their own wrist, and fights with him usually only ended in his opponent's exhaustion. His brow is heavyset, jaw wide and leading into a thick, muscular neck and shoulders. He stands at about six feet two inches, is utterly incapable of getting rid of all of his stubble and is covered in brownish, thick hair on his arms, torso and legs. His tan skin is peppered with the precise scars of a knife, quartered off by the long lashes of a whip. His deep brown eyes are gentle but firm to his pack and unreadable to strangers, and his face has a long scar starting at his right temple, hugging the curve of his jaw, and then raggedly stopping in the cradle of his adam's apple and jugular. He has no tattoos, and broad, thick-fingered hands that sport a single small ring. His wolf form is just as stout and massive, fur a shade lighter than his normal hair. He will almost always be seen wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt, a simple pair of lightwash jeans, a belt and a pair of comfortable hiking shoes. He seems to only have two outfits to choose from: his normal outfit with a T-shirt, and his normal outfit with a jacket. Personality: It would be impossible to describe Mehmet as serene, but it would also be impossible to not describe him as such. Very paternal, he is a constant presence in the lives of the pack, teaching the young ones and leading his family with a rigidly guiding hand. He appears at ease in many settings in which his pack is with him, letting the children play around him and letting them climb on his back or hang from his outstretched arms. With the older members, he can be a little more unforgiving. Any large mistake is at least met with a stern scolding, lecture, and then demonstration on what is to be done to fix the issue. His treatment of the pack could be then described as overbearing, so focused on the improvement and wellbeing of his family that much of his energy points internally. Many know to let him rest should the rare time comes when he actually does, respecting his hard work and obsessive dedication. He is plagued by the trauma of a past he cannot let go of. If he is not talking of matters with the pack, he is recalling his experiences during his capture at the hands of Cacciatori, how he came to find his pack, how he rose through the ranks, his family bloodline, how he watched the Ottoman Empire fall and a new empire rise up. He gives his experiences freely, but to ask of his feelings on anything is to intrude so harshly that he goes into a dark, dark place for a long while. The trauma at his long-ago capture is triggered most powerfully by the sight of whips, being held down, or binding paraphernalia such as collars, handcuffs, rope or chains. Each reaction can be weaker or stronger dependent upon the situation. During a flashback, he can become very violent and blinded with imagery, sometimes only calmed by the familiar scent or touch of a pack member. History: Born into the Ottoman empire near its height and during its wars with Russia, Mehmet rose to be a highly esteemed nobleman at a young age under the tutelage of his father. While the revolutions in America and France roared on, he was commanding growing markets and toying with reforms. Modernization brought with it a variety of outsiders, and his family was soon surrounded by foreigners looking for work. His parents were both werewolves whom had involved themselves in human economic affairs, shunned from packhood on all sides due to their human-gained fortune. Mehmet, their only son, grew to follow humanity's laws and customs, growing up with a high, trusting opinion of them. That all changed during the Balkan Wars. Cacciatori from Italy itself invaded his homeland, the land he's lived on for decades, and rooted out the pack nearest his home. His family was lucky, if only because they did not involve with any pack, but the Cacciatori tortured their location out of a pack member and found them anyway. Mehmet's parents were taken off, never to be seen again, while Mehmet himself was dragged into the new Cacciatori headquarters, where he was kept for nearly ten years. During that time, the Cacciatori tested out new nonlethal torture methods, tormented and humiliated him daily, even putting a tight collar about his neck and calling him a filthy dog. Whenever they needed someone to haul rocks for a mass Immortal grave, he would be forced to throw 100-pound stones from the bottom of a pit to the edge, then haul bodies inside. Eventually, he became stronger than any other prisoner, and to keep him efficient the Cacciatori fed him just a little more. After ten years of hell, he escaped one night by snapping a guard's neck, bursting through a ten-story window and running from cars and search teams for several miles into the forest. Even so long ago, the memories still haunt him. He found a boat to America, there learning English, finding a pack and joining his werewolf kinsmen for the first time. With his strength, experience with Cacciatori methods and acute sense of human processes, he rose through the ranks, fought his way to the top and ultimately took over his own full pack. Even today he still wonders about the fate of his parents, praying emptily they did not at least suffer. Other: His threshold for pain is incredibly high, but past a certain limit and he will often go into a crippling state of flashback. His scars are old enough that they do not hurt when touched. He also hates uneaten food, eating the leftovers of pack members should they allow him to so that he could avoid wasting precious food.

Parfait. L'imitation du "méchant, vieil homme" avait dupé tout le monde, et Mithias a perdu les deux enquêteurs en "disparu" autour d'un coin. Maintenant, au sommet d'un bâtiment, Mithias a caché sa silhouette. En dessous, il avait un manteau différent, deux épées, un fouet enroulé, une paire robuste de bottes, ceinture, et un gilet en cuir dur. Un chapeau à larges bords accroché sur le dos d'un cordon autour du cou. Un léger sourire trahit son excitation intérieure sur l'information qu'il avait recueillie. Une fête de chasse sortait ce soir. Certains jeunes chasseurs feraient leurs premiers meurtres, ou mourraient, mais le risque était supposé être faible avec un si grand groupe. Mithias s'est envolé vers l'endroit. Ses vieux sens en alerte, le vampire voyou a traqué le groupe d'humains. Il y a eu quelques heures sans action, mais dès que la lumière a diminué pour critiquer, il a détecté l'immortelle fête de chasse. En s'éloignant également de leur chemin, il surveillait leurs membres, leurs dirigeants, leurs forces, en les regroupant. Les prendre tous serait stupide, mais peut-être qu'il pourrait faire aux humains une petite faveur... Jarleth ressemblait à une proie facile. Ne connaissant pas encore son nom, Mithias a vu ce qui allait se passer. Un loup-garou lui est apparu, faisant un saut incroyable avec une hauteur et une vitesse extrêmes. Plongée au bon moment, en un éclair de noir et d'acier, Mithias a coupé les deux pattes avant du loup. Le corps lourd s'est encore écrasé dans le jeune chasseur humain pendant que la bête atterrissait, mais oh comment il hurlait et bowling sur. Le loup-garou n'a jamais vu ce qui l'a frappé. Le sang était partout. Coeur froid, et soif, Mithias n'apparaissait rien de plus qu'une paire d'yeux rouges qui brillent doucement dans l'obscurité. Le chasseur humain était évidemment paniqué alors qu'il se retirait et s'emparait d'armes. Mithias a fait un pas en avant lent. Le loup-garou s'est déplacé vers la forme humaine. Il manquait des mains et il saignait des souches. Un monstre lui-même, Mithias a fait un geste vers la créature. "Votre ennemi est la souffrance. N'avez-vous pas pitié?" Il a demandé à Jarleth.

Mithias Aldaric Varomere "Do not lose hope, for I am still here." Nickname: None. Age: 716 Looks: 27 Gender: M Sexuality: Mostly asexual and withdrawn from the world of love. Species: Vampire. Role: Unaffiliated with any coven. Mithias is an outsider of unknown parentage, a bastard vampire. Appearance: The most noticeable aspect of Mithias' appearance isn't his strikingly gold eyes or his unnaturally alabaster skin, it's his exceptionally long, shining, straight, black hair. You don't know if he has any tattoos, because you haven't beaten him enough to tear his bloody clothing from his corpse. However, you can't see any piercings so far, and who knows what else those two swords he's holding are protecting. His fangs are small, but his nails are fairly strong and sharp. What was his power again? Oh yes, determination. Personality: Mithias is hard to get to know. He's quiet most of the time, yet it seems he revels in nature, pausing to take an unnecessarily deep breath of forest air or to watch light puncture clouds in dancing rays. He must have been made from a very disciplined and patient human. It is curious who he may have been. He is never cruel. He kills, but is swift about it, seemingly never feeling regret in anything he does. A person like that should be at peace... but he isn't. The poor chap struggles with purposelessness, self doubt, ever fighting to strike a balance between forces he shouldn't need to meddle with. He seems to be after some crazy notion of redemption, wrestling with time, destiny, and the meaning of it all. Mithias is a servant without a master. History: Mithias was born sometime near the end of the 13th century in eastern Europe. If I cared, I would probably place him in present day Germany, but the exact country stopped mattering centuries ago. It was the time of the Templars and the crusades, and just before their fall. He couldn't claim to be completely unaffiliated with the order of knights, no one could at the time, but his family did have an alternative primary investment. They hunted the undead and unholy apostates, demons, and the like that plagued the dark and the unseen corners of their world. The things the Templars should have been concerned about but were too busy acquiring the riches of the east and the "holy lands." It was in this endeavor that Mithias came to be a product of his quarry, a god among vampires, yet not the devil himself. Laughable how the poor boy had no idea. Egregiously tortured by the change, Mithias found a myriad of suicides futile, much to his dismay. After an age, he pulled himself together and vowed vengeance against the vile beast that turned him and destroyed at its leisure. Encounters with his maker have been few and far between. Mithias was compelled to develop a mental barrier against his sire, which has served him well against other foes. His mind is impossible to influence or read against his will. Pathetic in his hunting, Mithias devotes himself to lesser causes until such time as destiny will grant his wish for revenge. Focused on staying alive long enough to achieve his ultimate goal, Mithias has chosen his targets carefully and vanquished them with caution. He strives to defend humans by taking out what enemies he can, but he is often forced to work alone. Modern human hunters will not accept him, for obvious reasons, but his name is known among their inner circles. Other: Mithias tends to defend humanity. He feeds off the wicked if at all possible and will also drink from his immortal enemies. That's probably a sin most covens.

L'odeur métallique du sang était apparente quand les choses ont commencé à se réchauffer. Il a réveillé une sorte d'excitation prédatrice à Rylan avec la ruée de l'adrénaline. Elle a emménagé avec les deux, attaque aux figures qui étaient des menaces. Contrairement aux deux autres, cependant, Rylan ne pouvait pas trouver en elle, même sous cette forme, de tuer. Elle ne pouvait que mutiler ou blesser gravement les humains. Ce n'était pas que les humains étaient particulièrement gentils ou pas assez menaçants, elle ne pouvait juste pas, ce n'était pas dans sa nature. Cela ne l'a pas empêchée de se faufiler et d'attaquer des ombres alors que sa peau lui permettait de s'intégrer. Elle s'est assurée de se méfier des armes, et est allée chercher les mains tenant les armes afin qu'ils l'abandonnent immédiatement. Rylan s'est servie de ses talents de scout, s'est mise à cacher des ennemis et à se concentrer sur ceux qui étaient attirés. Elle ne laisserait aucun d'eux faire la première grève, ce qui pourrait être la fin d'elle. Elle a suivi vers leur destination, et de s'assurer que les humains n'ont pas erré trop loin ou blessé ceux qui n'avaient aucun intérêt à chasser Mehmet. Quoi qu'il en soit, elle se sentait très comme un chien de mouton. Elle a craqué sur les talons de course, leur donnant la motivation de continuer. Rylan ne savait pas jusqu'à la clairière, mais quand les arbres se raréfirent et que le bol de roche était en vue, elle s'installa à l'autre bout de l'ouverture, servant de garde pour les garder. Peu de temps après son arrivée, ses hurlements d'alphas ont éclaté, et elle pouvait sentir sa bulle d'excitation. Le plan était jusqu'ici en leur faveur. Quand le hurlement a été entendu, Jarleth a dû couvrir ses oreilles pour les empêcher de sonner. C'était absolument Mehmet, il a déterminé à partir de l'ensemble de tuyaux sur celui-là. S'il faisait face aux trois petits cochons, il passerait certainement par une maison en briques. Jarleth pensa, riant de lui-même à la pensée ridicule. Il était distrait, et ne s'attendait pas à ce qu'un loup émerge ici. Il ne s'attendait pas non plus à ce qu'il arrête soudainement son attaque et finisse par s'écrouler sur le sol, les mains manquantes et le sang qui coule de ses blessures soudaines. Il n'a pas vu comment cela s'est passé, et a atteint pour où était son arbalète, seulement pour atteindre pour rien. Il avait une main dans les cheveux, il ne savait pas quoi faire. Il n'était pas prêt à quelque chose pour l'attaquer. Il regarda autour de lui, seulement pour voir les yeux rouges briller dans l'obscurité. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? Je pensais que le corbeau et le meute travaillaient ensemble? – Il l'a demandé, un peu avec peur, mais les cris venant du loup-garou maintenant humain ont ramené son attention. C'était un garçon qui avait l'air assez jeune, les larmes coulent sur son visage, et comme la voix disait, souffrait. Il ne pouvait pas le tuer car ce n'était pas un choix dans cette situation. Il s'est dit qu'il essaierait d'arrêter le saignement. Il a fait des pas lents, mettant les mains sur le loup-garou maintenant redoutable. Il ne l'a pas reconnu donc il a dû être soit nouveau ou trop jeune pour se rappeler quand Jarleth a accroché autour de la meute. De toute façon, Jarleth a agi comme si les loups-garous étaient un animal séduisant, et a fait des mouvements lents pendant qu'il s'accroupissait. Il a déboutonné sa chemise, en déchirant des morceaux avant de les attacher comme des pansements de fortune autour des souches. Il ne savait pas comment ce loup-garou fonctionnerait maintenant.

Mithias Aldaric Varomere "Do not lose hope, for I am still here." Nickname: None. Age: 716 Looks: 27 Gender: M Sexuality: Mostly asexual and withdrawn from the world of love. Species: Vampire. Role: Unaffiliated with any coven. Mithias is an outsider of unknown parentage, a bastard vampire. Appearance: The most noticeable aspect of Mithias' appearance isn't his strikingly gold eyes or his unnaturally alabaster skin, it's his exceptionally long, shining, straight, black hair. You don't know if he has any tattoos, because you haven't beaten him enough to tear his bloody clothing from his corpse. However, you can't see any piercings so far, and who knows what else those two swords he's holding are protecting. His fangs are small, but his nails are fairly strong and sharp. What was his power again? Oh yes, determination. Personality: Mithias is hard to get to know. He's quiet most of the time, yet it seems he revels in nature, pausing to take an unnecessarily deep breath of forest air or to watch light puncture clouds in dancing rays. He must have been made from a very disciplined and patient human. It is curious who he may have been. He is never cruel. He kills, but is swift about it, seemingly never feeling regret in anything he does. A person like that should be at peace... but he isn't. The poor chap struggles with purposelessness, self doubt, ever fighting to strike a balance between forces he shouldn't need to meddle with. He seems to be after some crazy notion of redemption, wrestling with time, destiny, and the meaning of it all. Mithias is a servant without a master. History: Mithias was born sometime near the end of the 13th century in eastern Europe. If I cared, I would probably place him in present day Germany, but the exact country stopped mattering centuries ago. It was the time of the Templars and the crusades, and just before their fall. He couldn't claim to be completely unaffiliated with the order of knights, no one could at the time, but his family did have an alternative primary investment. They hunted the undead and unholy apostates, demons, and the like that plagued the dark and the unseen corners of their world. The things the Templars should have been concerned about but were too busy acquiring the riches of the east and the "holy lands." It was in this endeavor that Mithias came to be a product of his quarry, a god among vampires, yet not the devil himself. Laughable how the poor boy had no idea. Egregiously tortured by the change, Mithias found a myriad of suicides futile, much to his dismay. After an age, he pulled himself together and vowed vengeance against the vile beast that turned him and destroyed at its leisure. Encounters with his maker have been few and far between. Mithias was compelled to develop a mental barrier against his sire, which has served him well against other foes. His mind is impossible to influence or read against his will. Pathetic in his hunting, Mithias devotes himself to lesser causes until such time as destiny will grant his wish for revenge. Focused on staying alive long enough to achieve his ultimate goal, Mithias has chosen his targets carefully and vanquished them with caution. He strives to defend humans by taking out what enemies he can, but he is often forced to work alone. Modern human hunters will not accept him, for obvious reasons, but his name is known among their inner circles. Other: Mithias tends to defend humanity. He feeds off the wicked if at all possible and will also drink from his immortal enemies. That's probably a sin most covens.

Le Corps est un Temple, a dit Ajax comme il a terminé une autre répétition de quatre points poussées, comme il l'avait dit après chacune des 99 répétitions précédentes. Il a laissé un soupir quand il s'est remis aux pieds. Il a regardé son téléphone et a remarqué qu'il avait un ordre de déploiement. Il a lu les détails de son déploiement et a vu qu'il avait assez de temps avant qu'il ne soit nécessaire de se présenter au transport. Il s'est déplacé vers les poids sur les murs et a attaché des poids de 50 livres à chaque poignet et à chaque cheville. C'était un glouton pour la punition alors qu'il travaillait à la construction du temple le plus fort. Il a répété le Mantra alors qu'il squattait et se balançait à travers le sol caoutchouteux de la salle de gym. Même avec toutes les merveilles de la science moderne et la puissance impressionnante des esprits, l'espace était toujours gravé en permanence de sueur. L'odeur qui s'infiltre dans les planchers et les murs. Mais, pour Ajax et beaucoup d'autres dans les ADM, c'était la maison loin de la maison. Encore plus que le dortoir d'Ajax. Dans le dortoir, c'était un espace serré. C'était Spartan. Il était nécessaire, mais il n'offrait même pas assez d'espace pour faire quelque chose de plus que des étirements rudimentaires, du moins pas pour la forme fulgurante d'Ajax Armstrong. La salle de gym avait tout ce dont Ajax pouvait avoir besoin, tout l'espace dont il pouvait avoir besoin pour son rituel quotidien. Aliments et boissons sains sur demande. Même ces boissons énergisantes insalubres dont certaines personnes étaient tellement obsédées. « Le Corps est un Temple », répéta encore le mantra, cette fois à travers l'effort alors qu'il commençait à ajouter plus de poids et à changer les mouvements. Bientôt la sueur a commencé à courir sur tout son corps alors qu'il a essayé de refroidir les muscles surmenés. Il a continué de cette façon pendant un certain temps, ajoutant de plus en plus de poids au fur et à mesure qu'il progressait jusqu'à ce que ses veines puissent à peine être contenues dans sa peau. C'était une pratique quotidienne, une partie de son mantra. Cependant, aujourd'hui, il a fini tôt à cause de la mission. Après tout, Ajax ne voulait pas brûler à travers toute son endurance quand il y aurait plus de travail à faire plus tard. Il s'est douché, a mis une chemise, et est retourné à son dortoir où il se reposerait jusqu'à ce qu'il soit temps d'aller. Quand son téléphone lui a rappelé qu'il était temps de se lever et de se préparer, Ajax s'est rapidement sorti du lit et a rassemblé ses affaires. Il a porté son marteau de guerre et son sacoche au combat et peu d'autre au-delà de ce qui était nécessaire. Il s'est attaché sur ses bottes de combat et s'est rendu au garage. En vérifiant les détails de la mission une fois de plus, il a trouvé le bon transport et Celise. "Ah, bonne journée! Tu nous rejoins dans cette mission, ou tu nous y amènes aujourd'hui? » Ajax a demandé, rappelant de leurs quelques interactions antérieures qu'elle était dans Navigators.

J O M E N S U R Y ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11 ✚ Research Division (Medical Specialization) P R E S E N C EJomen exudes an air of calmness and rationality that flows off like a steady rain. Underneath that however, is an undercurrent of anger inescapably mixed with sadness that is exposed only rarely. In addition, Jomen possesses cybernetic eyes, who pupils are lit with a dull green, that allow him to see, but unnerve people when he looks directly at them, reminding them always of the dangers of the Stigma. For this reason, he tends to keep his gaze downcast or off to the side while conversing with others. His outfits usually possess at least one item in a varying shade of blue in an effort to further signify his status as a healer. Though quiet and unassuming, in combative situations he can be found just behind the frontline fighters making him presence and abilities and constant reassurance. He is not one to try and seek out glory, but he has the courage enough to go with those who do. I D E O L O G Y Jomen will sit and listen to all sides of an argument, but once he has made his choice very little can be done to sway him from it. He believes that the Stigma is a disease that needs to be eradicated by any means available to prevent it infecting more people. While he cannot condone the actions of the Death Squads, the Cleaners he feels a certain empathy for. However, that does not exclude them from the laws that the United Defense Force have laid down upon the land. Since the UDF, is the best chance that the people of this land have for eradicating the Stigma, Jomen obeys all of their laws to his utmost ability. He may question the effectiveness or quality of some of these rules, but he will obey them until the law is changed as he believes that the rule of these laws gives them the structure they need to band together fully against the Stigma. The need of survival sometimes must curtail individual freedom. As for the spirits inside of him, Jomen believes that each is a valuable companion that serves with him valiantly in his fight. He is honored to serve alongside them and thus treats with the respect that they deserve. Often he can be found describing the full events of the day to his spirits or encouraging them to emerge briefly to see the world around them. He thanks them at shrines whenever he gets the opportunity. S T R I F EJomen is not nearly as capable of a physical fighter of those from the Warfare Division, with his relative lack of physical strength and stamina. Still in times where melee combat is necessary to either or his patients survival, he is no slouch. Jomen carries a wooden staff with a large hook at the end of it, designed to help him trip or knockdown the enemy to open them up to further attacks as well as a standard issue pistol at his side at all time. Though not particularly skilled with the gun, Jomen is quite adept at using his staff to disrupt enemies either by redirecting their attacks or successfully managing to trip them with his staff. In this, he attempts to use his enemies higher strength and speed, along with his own knowledge of anatomy, against them. However, Jomen is far more adept in using his spirits to weave Elemancy, particular utilizing his water and earth spirits, to a lesser degree, to their greatest effect. His healing abilities are at the top of his class at Oakridge, with his cybernetic eyes able to help him keep track of his allies and how much damage they have sustained. He pushes himself as much as he can to ensure that all of his allies will survive the encounter with little to no damage. His staff also helps act as a focus for his abilities, as tied near the top of small containers filled with varying types of seeds. When he activates his Water and Earth spirits in conjunction with the staff he is able to form Plant based Elemancy. Jomen is still training to gain greater control over this fusion, but is able to summon roots from the earth in order to entangle or slow enemies to give his allied fighters more of an advantage. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG While training at school, Jomen was approached with a large man from with warfare who seemed to have long, rich history of getting injured. This was, of course, Ajax. To Jomen, he seems a useful training partner as the large variety of injuries gave Jomen plenty of live practice to hone his talents to where they are now. In addition, without Ajax's warfare based insight, Jomen would have had a far diminished capacity to defend himself. Jomen respects his ability and skill on the battlefield, but thinks of Ajax as too unprofessional to reach his full potential in the warfare division. Out of respect and gratitude (though Jomen is unlikely to admit it), Jomen attempts to sway Ajax to a more professional attitude in order ensure that the future soldier has a better career later. Jomen, also constantly reminds Ajax that his name is not "Green Eyes", in the most professional way possible. He has also yet to laugh at any of Ajax's jokes. CELISE LELIÈVRE Celise and Jomen have gone on several trips to visit the more out of the way shrines. Celise had put up several fliers about "Exploring Shrines and the Unknown," which appealed to his need to honor his own spirits. The outings were enjoyable and Jomen respects the similarity between them in their treatment and respect for their spirits. C O N T A C T S To be added as developed C H R O N I C L E Content to be added as the game progresses. P R O P E R T Y 20x Saxham Rice 20x Green Peas 1x Antidote 2x Catoblepas Brisket 2x Scarlet Pimpernel 1x Oxen Marrow 1x Fish Roe

Une collaboration entre M.Diadect et Leos Klien -Ces événements se sont produits quelques instants après la visite du navire. Giles fut surprise de voir combien ses camarades s'étaient levés dans leur temps libre, en 24 heures les Asari - Vella avait réussi à briser les relations entre l'humanité et les Asari un peu plus loin - il était en fait impressionnant à quel point quelqu'un pouvait être particulièrement inepte étant donné qu'elle avait été affectée à un groupe Spectre; son temps ici serait incroyablement court si elle s'éloignait de nouveau comme ça. Les choses n'ont pas vraiment amélioré non plus, lorsque s'est produit l'opposition entre un agent N7 et les Spectres, ou que Giles simplement se tenait derrière le Krogan pour l'événement de celui-ci, sans but d'être tiré sur un argument de qui a les plus grandes boules. Aucun coup de feu n'a cependant été tiré, bien que cela resterait un problème en bas de la ligne, juste un des nombreux qui devenait rapidement une liste exhaustive. La visite de leur nouvelle maison a prouvé que les Spectres étaient sérieux à ce sujet, ils semblaient avoir quelqu'un pour tout, bien sûr Giles a dû participer à des sessions hebdomadaires obligatoires pour le counseling.... Quelque chose qui n'était pas nécessaire ni n'aiderait, l'artiste est apparu chaque fois qu'il le ressentait, ou sans rime ou raison - Giles ne savait pas, il s'en est contenté du mieux qu'il pouvait; certains Asari qu'il n'a jamais rencontré auparavant ne répondront pas au problème qu'il a eu depuis plus de 30 ans. Mais si cela empêcherait Aegon d'exploser à nouveau un vaisseau sanguin, ce serait probablement pour le mieux, la seule condition qu'il imposera à Aegon est de s'assurer qu'il n'a jamais eu à partager la pièce avec cette boîte de conserve Ellis, sinon tout serait bien. La tournée s'est terminée après environ 10 minutes, et Giles savait qu'il devait faire quelques choses et parler avec quelques-uns d'entre eux pour mettre ses affaires en ordre - peut aussi bien descendre à l'officier/le contrebandier de Req par la façon dont il a agi. Mais les chances sont la contrebande serait nécessaire pour certaines des choses que Giles demanderait. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour qu'il arrive à la soute où se trouvait l'officier Req, c'est d'une course étrange que Giles n'avait jamais vue auparavant et qu'il s'appelait Relli ou quelque chose de semblable. En approchant de Relli, Giles a offert sa main comme une forme de salutation "Vous êtes l'officier de Req, n'est-ce pas? Il y a quelques choses que j'ai besoin de vous demander....acquérir" J'ai aussi quelques formes qui auraient besoin de signer par vous et l'un des Spectres qui permet certains envois à faire sur le navire chaque fois que nous nous arrêtons à un port majeur, ils sont généralement pour mon usage personnel mais très improtant." Relli sourit alors qu'il tapait sur un datapad, sans se soucier de regarder la Drell, "l'agent des demandes est un peu formel, mais je suppose que vous pourriez m'appeler comme ça. Relli est tout à fait bien cependant. En ce qui concerne les affaires... je suis toujours ouvert pour ça. De quoi as-tu besoin? Mes prix sont flexibles, selon toutes sortes de facteurs. Mais si vous avez les crédits, je les ai ou je peux les avoir." Relli a regardé le formulaire, le tirant sur un datapad, "Et qu'est-ce que ce serait? Besoin de crème pour que vos écailles soient bouchées?" Giles s'est rétracté la main avant de répondre " J'entends frotter du sable rouge sur des écailles provoque de l'irritation, donc non ce n'est pas pour ça que je l'utilise, j'en ai besoin pour mes médicaments, entre autres choses, je vends aussi certaines choses à des gens qui pensent qu'elles peuvent être biotiques à cause de cela - atténue certaines des pertes que je fais. En dehors de ces formes, j'ai besoin d'un autre costume de combat, Kahje vend des modèles spécialement conçus pour les agents de Drell, ça devrait coûter un peu, mais les crédits sont quelque chose dont j'ai assez, je vais aussi avoir besoin de grenade universelle et de modèles de mine, 300 de chacun devraient faire." Un rapide coup d'oeil autour de la soute Giles a déclaré plus loin « Aussi, si vous pouvez mettre la main sur un M-920 Cain... Je vous donnerais volontiers tout ce que vous voudrez, dans le domaine de la raison." Le sourcil de Relli s'est subtilement ébranlé et un fantôme d'ombre s'est emparé de ses traits avant de dire : « Eh bien, maintenant tu parles. Pour l'armement. Ce ne sera pas un gros problème. Des modèles de combinaison, des miennes et des grenades. Ce sera des frais standard plus l'expédition. Mmm dire environ deux mille pour le costume et mille pour tous vos explosifs. Je peux le prendre à crédit aussi. Je prends aussi un échange équitable en troc et en faveur." Relli s'est cogné le menton, "Quant à un Cain. J'ai des contacts dans l'Alliance qui peuvent m'en donner un. Je vais jeter ça avec le reste. Si vous acceptez de faire une petite course pour moi." Relli sourit, les engrenages tournent dans sa tête. "Mais Red Sand... Bien sûr que je connais des dealers. Mais je dois demander ce que c'est exactement. Le patron pourrait s'énerver si je me mettais à déplacer des narcotiques à travers son vaisseau." Giles ne pouvait pas s'empêcher de sourire, il aimait ce Relli, sens des affaires d'un Volus mais sans le sifflement et l'auto-supériorité. " 3000 est un bon prix pour cela, je vais volontiers payer en crédits, en termes de sable rouge, comme je l'ai dit, j'en ai besoin pour mes médicaments, je prévois de parler avec Aegon plus tard, je lui parlerai de cela moi-même, bien sûr, en termes de si je distribue l'un d'eux, ce ne sera à personne sur le navire - l'homme qui dit de "ne chie pas sur votre propre pelouse" vient à l'esprit, ce sera à n'importe quel hub que nous arrêtons, si j'ai de l'argent." Gilvert donna une petite fourchette avant de continuer. " C'est quoi cette course? Ce doit être quelque chose de substantiel si vous êtes prêt à jeter un Cain gratuit dedans pour elle, ce n'est pas typiquement quelque chose que vous lancez juste dans une affaire de 3000 crédits lorsque les munitions pour elle coûte plus que cela... » Relli sourit et dit : « Quant à la faveur, c'est une petite affaire avec un contact dans le Shantytown de Londres. C'est un petit gars du temps comme moi, mais les gangs humains du coin essayent de se mêler à son métier. Essayer de l'évincer.Ce quartier dépend de beaucoup de biens qu'il apporte. Mais les humains veulent les extorquer et les retirer de tous les crédits qu'ils ont. Tout ce que j'ai besoin de toi, c'est que tu prennes soin de ces gars. Pas besoin de violence, assurez-vous que mon contact ne soit plus abusé. Faites cela et le Cain est à vous, ainsi que les premières cellules de puissance. Les recharges seront mille par paquet à partir de ce moment-là. Ça a l'air juste?" Relli s'est penché contre une caisse, "Boss, n'aime pas beaucoup le commerce de sable. Je ne sais pas s'il le ferait. Prends-le avec lui. Et peut-être que Koriandr, le docteur, peut trouver une alternative sans sable pour votre... état. Ce n'est pas à moi de décider. Je vais juste dire à Aegon ce qui se passe." Simple il dit... ce n'est jamais simple, se faire ébranler comme un rag-doll par Aegon est le meilleur scénario si on découvre qu'un extraterrestre a tué un tas d'humains sur leur chance, juste une autre affaire contre les extraterrestres sur terre par les semblables de Cerebrus et l'autre organisation de tête de merde qui semble s'aligner avec eux. Giles ne pouvait pas refuser cette opportunité, mais il aurait dû prendre grand soin quand il l'a fait, heureusement son entraînement d'assassin devrait être utile ici. "Considérez que c'est fait, je vais vous envoyer les crédits plus tard aujourd'hui, et je parlerai avec le doc comme vous l'avez suggéré, bien que je doute que beaucoup en proviendra. Merci pour votre temps Relli, ce fut un grand plaisir." Relli sourit et tendit la main pour serrer Giles pour sceller l'accord : « À tout moment Giles. De même. Et bien plus important. Ça a été rentable." Aegon était assis à pattes croisées sur le sol, les yeux fermés, les paumes de ses mains reposant sur ses genoux. Erinna a juré par méditation et Aegon a pensé qu'il y avait un certain calme à l'exercice. Aegon respira dedans et dehors, et fit de son mieux pour vider son esprit. Mais il y avait tout simplement trop de choses à craindre. Le coup à sa porte était en fait un soulagement. Aegon tailla son omni-outil et laissa la porte ouverte, debout et tirant sur une robe pour couvrir son torse nu. Aegon a fait un geste à Giles, "Gilles. Entrez, s'il vous plaît. "Boire?" Aegon a fait un geste vers une barre humide voisine avant de se verser un verre. Giles a serré la main de Relli pour obtenir l'accord et a quitté la soute, il doit se préparer plus tard pour traiter avec ce "favor" mais pour l'instant il a besoin de parler avec Aegon. Quelques minutes plus tard et Giles se tenait à l'extérieur des Spectres, Aegon répondit à ses coups en ouvrant la porte à distance. La salle des spectres était assez spacieuse, et contenait ce qu'un Turian assez âgé avec une période de vie d'expérience militaire aurait normalement dans leur chambre, sinon il était assez élégant et bien conçu, il avait aussi une touche de construction défensive, si elle était assiégée, il y avait beaucoup de couverture- fondamentalement turian design en un mot. Aegon a offert un verre à Giles alors qu'il entrait, quelque chose qu'il ne pouvait pas refuser. "Ce serait bien, merci. Le choix des concessionnaires." Giles a senti le besoin d'être formel ici, presque en assumant une position militaire d'attention, Aegon semblait mériter ce respect à tout le moins de la part d'une personne comme Gilvert. "Il y a quelques choses dont j'avais besoin pour discuter avec vous, monsieur... Il n'avait pas dit ça depuis qu'il était à la maison avec ses parents. "C'était probablement une journée stressante pour vous, mais c'est mieux traité plus tôt que plus tard." Aegon a été muselé par Giles decorum mais ne s'est pas plaint et a versé Giles un verre de vin. Il l'a remis à la Drell et a hoche la tête : "Vous avez raison. C'est mieux de régler ça. Allons-y. Expliquez ce médicament. Pourquoi Red Sand? En quoi cela aide-t-il?" Giles a accepté le verre et a donné un clin d'œil de la tête comme merci, un rouge profond avec une odeur riche, une petite gorgée a donné à Giles la pensée que c'était un millésime fin, pas trop doux et un peu sec, un bel équilibre, Aegon savait clairement ses boissons, quelque chose que Giles pouvait respecter. Mais le fait qu'il connaissait déjà le sable rouge l'a pris par surprise, Relli n'a pas attendu la cérémonie pour transmettre cette information. " Je l'utilise dans mon médicament depuis 8 ans, pas beaucoup, et pas assez pour vraiment en tirer des effets réels que le médicament est connu pour, mais depuis que j'ai commencé à l'utiliser dans mes médicaments, il a diminué les chances que l'artiste apparaisse bien mieux que quand j'avais utilisé des médicaments sans lui, je dirais qu'il diminue les chances qu'il apparaisse de 33% si pour lui donner un chiffre, abaisser ce risque est primordial je dirais, ne pas utiliser le sable rouge augmente seulement ce risque. Aegon a écouté, considérant, "Je suppose que ce serait quelque chose dans la composition chimique qui réduit les effets. Mais vous réalisez que même si elle peut être efficace pour réduire votre autre ami... l'apport combiné de Red Sand peut encore avoir des effets secondaires imprévus. Même si tu n'en prends pas assez pour te défoncer. L'ingestion est toujours un risque. Je pense qu'un objectif à long terme devrait être de trouver un moyen de remplacer Red Sand pour votre médicament. Je vais mettre Nola dessus. Red Sand est toxique. On ne sait pas ce que ça peut vous faire si vous continuez. Le Turian s'est tourné en considérant quelque chose, "Quant à ton autre métier... Je ne sais pas si je peux le sanctionner. Les armes sont une chose. Intel est une chose. Mais cette galaxie n'a pas besoin de plus de drogués. J'ai vu les effets du commerce. Je ne peux pas vous empêcher de vendre tout ce que vous pourriez avoir à d'autres pousseurs, mais je peux éliminer le besoin. Pour le nonce, j'aurai confisqué des étagères de Sand, seulement assez pour votre usage personnel et pour les recherches de Nola, transférées au vaisseau. Et vous pouvez l'utiliser pour votre médicament jusqu'à ce que nous trouvions une alternative. D'accord?" L'offre proposée par Aegon semblait vraiment la meilleure des deux mondes, impossible de la refuser sans paraître déraisonnable. " Ça m'a l'air bien, monsieur. Sur le sujet de "mon ami" comme vous l'avez dit, il y a probablement quelques contre-mesures que nous devrions hacher s'il surmonte, je préfère généralement rester en vie, évidemment, alors y a-t-il des informations que vous aimeriez sur ses... méthodes et maniérismes? Aegon a hurlé, sirotant sa boisson et se penchant sur le coin de son bureau comme il l'a dit, "Oui. D'abord et avant tout, quelles sont ses priorités? Quelle est sa méthodologie? Est-ce qu'il reconnaît un ami ou un ennemi? Combien de temps ces épisodes durent-ils? Quels sont les principaux catalyseurs du changement? Tout ce que vous pensez pourrait être pertinent. Giles a légèrement changé de position avant de parler. « Je ne peux pas parler au nom de lui, tout ce que je peux faire, c'est deviner ses motivations, je ne me souviens de rien d'un épisode, donc tout ce que je dis sera de seconde main ou ce que je peux discerner de la surveillance qui a attrapé ses actions. » En prenant une gorgée plus libérale du vin, Giles commença à expliquer qui était l'artiste. " L'artiste ne cherche qu'une chose, pour enlever les imperfections de la Galaxie, il voit tout comme un morceau de papier blanc terne; une toile vide demandant à quelqu'un de le remplir de couleurs vives et variées - son nom n'est pas venu de sa personnalité colorée, il est venu du fait qu'il peut être la seule personne capable de peindre la toile blanche, en rouge, bleu, pourpre et vert... vous remarquerez que ces couleurs sont toutes différentes couleurs de sang dans différentes races, bien que c'est sa peinture, généralement il va essayer de faire le meurtre aussi malsain que possible, et s'il a le temps et le luxe il va tirer une mort aussi longtemps que possible, pour peindre sa toile soigneusement et lentement - il est imprudent et psychopathe et ne sait rien du travail d'équipe, il y a ses peintures et puis son public, chaque peinture a besoin d'un public, je pense que le raisonnement derrière lequel était cet art a besoin d'être admiré, sinon il n'y a pas de raison... Il peut distinguer entre ami et ennemi, si à peine, peu importe à quel point je suis proche d'un individu s'ils se mettent en travers de son chemin ou l'entravent à son travail, il sera rapide et impitoyable en les enlevant, je me souviens de mon vieux groupe merc disant que parfois il ne touchera pas certaines personnes au lieu de dire simplement d'une manière ingénieuse et intimidante qu'il les sauvera pour la bonne peinture - s'il dit jamais que quelqu'un sur ce navire je recommande de garder un œil étroit sur eux chaque fois que l'artiste fait une apparition, qui sait quand il est temps de faire face à son pinceau. Autrement, la règle est que quiconque qu'il voit est avant qu'il commence son spectacle est son "audience" après qu'il déclare qu'il va commencer son tableau, celui qu'il voit sera considéré comme son ennemi; il a été facile de gérer à nouveau dans le groupe Merc, nous avons toujours coincé ensemble sans jamais avoir besoin de diviser en deux équipes, si cela se produit avant que l'artiste apparaît, il serait bien de payer pour garder les équipes séparées ou d'essayer de s'assurer que tout le monde est présent avant qu'il commence le spectacle - c'est une légère restriction logistique qui pourrait être blessant dans la ligne, mais il est préférable que quelqu'un tire des balles de veuve explosives sur vous. Giles a pris une autre gorgée avant de continuer Il y a eu des occasions où l'artiste ne tente pas réellement de peindre, mais cela ne se produit vraiment que lorsque son « brosse » aka Mon fusil de sniper, n'est pas sur sa personne ou à proximité, ou quand il ne semble pas y avoir aucune forme de combat à proximité, pensez à lui un peu comme un prédateur, le déversement de sang le déclenche à bouger, pour une fois une peinture commence, il ne s'arrêtera pas jusqu'à ce que ce soit terminé - ce qui nous amène à temps, il peut durer n'importe où de 10 minutes à 4 heures, généralement l'épisode se termine quand il termine une peinture, mais un épisode n'a jamais duré plus de 4 heures et 20 minutes. Ce qui cause le changement est difficile à discerner, généralement l'artiste apparaît avant le combat ou dans les étapes de préparation; il n'a jamais eu lieu à mi-combat avant, la seule raison pour laquelle je peux penser que c'est que l'artiste ne se souciera pas d'un travail qui n'est pas le sien, je ne suis pas sûr. Sinon, un certain nombre de facteurs différents peuvent lui faire apparaître, à savoir le stress extrême, des niveaux élevés d'émotion, ne pas prendre mes médicaments et ne pas avoir un épisode dans un long temps peut augmenter le capot probable d'un événement. Autre que cela, il est très intelligent, impitoyable, violent, psychopathe, étrangement assez attentionné aussi, il peut sauter entre les extrémités du spectre à certains moments; aussi il écoutera les ordres, mais il vaut mieux essayer de voir la situation de ses yeux et essayer de le forcer à faire quelque chose comme si cela lui serait bénéfique, Vartak le seigneur de guerre Krogan qui dirige l'équipe merc était vraiment bon à cela, le procès et l'erreur est quelque chose qui va prendre, j'espère juste que cela ne coûte pas à quelqu'un leur vie, ou en fait ma propre vie pour la découvrir. Giles a soupiré avant de prendre un autre verre, laissant son verre presque vide. "C'est tout ce que je peux dire sur lui, j'espère que c'est suffisant pour avoir une photo de son fonctionnement... Je dois dire, je suis surpris que tu m'aies choisi, non pas que je ne sois pas reconnaissant, c'est bon d'essayer de résoudre les problèmes de la galaxie, se sentant racheter après la vie que j'ai menée, mais quand même, je ne savais pas que je valais le risque, j'espère que je le suis encore." Aegon n'a rien dit pendant un certain temps quand il a soigné son verre. Finalement, il s'est exprimé : « Je comprends. J'ai déjà un dossier sur toi et ton alter ego. Mais il a payé pour l'entendre de votre point de vue. Je m'assurerai que chaque personne sur ce vaisseau soit évaluée de la situation avec votre artiste. Et nous prendrons toutes les précautions que nous pouvons pour le garder en dehors de la photo. Et s'il apparaît, nous prendrons des mesures pour nous protéger. Tu étais un atout, un bon à ton époque. Et votre artiste peut être un monstre, mais parfois nous avons besoin d'un monstre. Mais s'il s'agit du fil, vous devriez savoir que je n'hésiterai absolument pas à mettre l'Artiste à terre si je le dois. Comprenez-vous?" En fin de compte, Giles savait que c'était la ligne qu'Aegon prendrait, il espérait juste qu'il faudrait un peu pour dépasser cette ligne. "Comprenez monsieur, y a-t-il autre chose que vous aimeriez discuter, ou y a-t-il quelque chose que vous devez me demander? Aegon a réfléchi à cela un moment avant de répondre, "Pas besoin de m'appeler monsieur. Vous n'êtes plus à l'aise avec le décorum militaire. Et je crois que c'est tout ce dont je dois vous parler. Vous pouvez prendre congé." Aegon fit signe à Giles et s'assit à son bureau, finissant le verre avant de monter l'écran haptique à son bureau. Giles a fini son vin et a placé le verre vide sur une table voisine et sated "Merci pour la boisson, vous avez un bon goût si je puis dire, Aegon." Sans attendre une réponse, Giles s'inclina légèrement la tête comme un adieu et sortit de la pièce. Il ne savait pas tout à fait pourquoi il a agi comme il l'a fait quand il était dans cette pièce - l'instinct semblait prendre le dessus un peu, mais Aegon semblait rayonner l'autorité, Giles a agi d'une manière très simple quand il était jamais présent avec Aria T'Loak, au moins pendant les premières années avant qu'il ne la connaisse un peu mieux. Toutes les figures d'autorité n'ont pas réellement suscité l'autorité dans leurs sujets, mais Aegon était certainement l'un d'entre eux - un chef naturel né. Giles avait un dernier arrêt à faire avant qu'il prenne sa retraite pendant un certain temps, c'était avec le conseiller d'Asari, il semblait qu'il allait devenir très familier avec elle, ainsi peut-être aussi bien sortir les introductions du chemin avec. Konare lisait un livre quand elle a vu Giles entrer. Elle sourit et se tint debout, cherchant une main dans l'accueil. « Oh, vous devez être Giles.Je suis heureux de vous rencontrer. Que puis-je faire pour vous aujourd'hui?" Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour arriver à son arrêt final, alors qu'il entrait dans la pièce l'Asari, Konare plaça légèrement le livre qu'elle lisait et se dirigea vers lui, elle fut gentille et éloquente dans son discours et étendit sa main comme salutation - quelque chose que Giles retourna en parlant. " C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer, Konare - J'ai pensé que je passerais pour apprendre à vous connaître un peu, puisque nous allons faire cela beaucoup de ce qu'Aegon a dit; ne sais pas ce que nos sessions hebdomadaires comprendront puisque je n'ai jamais eu "thérapie" si c'est ce que vous comptez appeler? Giles était légèrement nerveux à ce sujet, il s'est occupé de l'Artiste et de sa « condition » (bien que Giles ne l'ait jamais perçu comme une forme de maladie mentale du genre, juste comme il était) à sa façon pour la majorité de sa vie - il n'était pas sûr que Konare puisse réellement l'aider. Konare étendit ses mains dans un geste conciliatoire : « J'ai lu votre dossier et je suis au courant de votre condition, mais je ne saurai pas vraiment comment procéder jusqu'à ce que nous commencions à avoir des sessions. J'aime apprendre à connaître mes patients d'abord, pour voir qui ils sont au-delà des pages avant que je commence à penser à comment aider. Et c'est ce que je veux faire, vous aider Giles. Je peux vous dire que vous êtes nerveux mais il n'y a pas besoin d'être. Notre première session sera purement une conversation et je ne ferai jamais rien qui puisse vous mettre en danger. Si tu ne veux pas parler de quelque chose, on n'en parlera pas. Et tout est complètement confidentiel. Si tu as juste besoin de quelqu'un à qui parler, c'est ce que je peux faire. Ma première préoccupation ici est votre bien-être personnel et je ferai tout mon possible pour l'assurer. » Giles a écouté attentivement ce qu'elle a dit, une fois de plus la perspective de quelqu'un qui s'occupe réellement de son bien-être était un peu déconcertant. "C'est tout? Les séances ne sont qu'une conversation amicale? Pas d'offense, mais ça n'a pas l'air d'aider ma "condition", si c'est du tout." Konare a répondu : « Comme je l'ai dit, je ne saurai pas exactement comment je peux aider jusqu'à ce que j'apprenne à mieux vous connaître. Mais même alors, je ne suis pas un de ces médecins qui croient en des mesures drastiques. J'ai suivi une formation avec les siaristes, les médecins et le Consort. Je fais ça depuis des siècles et il y a peu que je n'aie pas vu. Je suis convaincu que nous pourrons travailler ensemble sur vos questions. » Giles a légèrement hissé en réponse : « Eh bien, j'ai depuis longtemps accepté que l'artiste soit à part qui je suis, mais je ne refuserai personne qui pense pouvoir m'aider; je dois vous avertir, cependant, il peut y avoir une occasion où vous le rencontrez vous-même, qui vous aidera probablement dans la façon d'aider, mais aussi ce pourrait être très dangereux, je ne peux pas parler pour l'artiste ou ses motivations, je ne peux que deviner ce qu'il veut. » Konare hoche la tête : « Cela pourrait être incroyablement utile si jamais je pouvais parler à votre artiste. Ça pourrait faire un long chemin pour soulager votre état. Mais je connais le danger. Rassurez-vous, nous avons pris des précautions, vous n'aurez pas à vous soucier de moi Giles. Maintenant, avez-vous autre chose que vous voulez me demander?" Précautions... semble être quelque chose que Giles devrait savoir, le Turian ne l'a pas éclairé non plus... probablement le meilleur de lui ne savait pas très franchement, tant que ce n'était pas un Talon à son tibia, ce ne serait probablement pas excessif. "Seulement que tu ne me mets pas dans la même session que cette abomination, le type "ex" cerberus, sinon c'est tout, merci Konare." Giles s'est tourné d'elle après avoir donné un petit clin d'œil à la tête et a quitté la pièce.

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.

O A K R I D G E : D E P L O Y M E N T G A R A G E Dans la cabine plus ou moins vide de l'APC, l'air calme était frais et confortable même sans le climatiseur. Il s'était résigné à alterner entre regarder la raquette et le clan du conducteur tester les commandes, et jouer à un jeu de carte numérique en ligne avec certains des étudiants qui n'étaient pas déployés aujourd'hui. Bien qu'il en connaissait très peu personnellement dans la vie réelle, il avait une liste d'amis grouillants dans le jeu. Les messages ont rebondi de l'appareil à l'appareil, émettant des duels amicaux l'un à l'autre, comme une camraderie de chevaliers sur une quête de quelque sorte. Sans risque d'effusion de sang ou de mort, bien sûr. Parfois, c'était comme si c'était suffisant. Mais en repensant à la vraie vie, on lui a rappelé la crise qui a frappé tout quand Montero a espionné la lueur des doigts métalliques sur la main gauche du conducteur. Il lui est arrivé quelque chose, à tel point qu'il avait besoin d'un bras prothétique. Montero lui a donné un petit clin d'œil de reconnaissance alors que le conducteur regardait brièvement son chemin, alors qu'il réfléchissait s'il lui-même en tant que Gardien devrait vraiment s'enliser dans l'évasion? C'est pas vrai. Du moins, pas maintenant. Il secoua la tête alors qu'il ferma la demande, s'attachant aux détails de la mission qu'il relisait maintenant pour la neuvième fois. 'L'aire de répartition montagneuse de Ledale a géographiquement maintenu la portée de l'infection à la baie, mais récemment ti-...' "...combattre avec! .....Saints globes oculaires.....ces choses tirent des lasers!?" Le chercheur a regardé vers le haut, il semblait que les autres membres de l'équipe étaient arrivés à l'extérieur. Celui-ci, tenant deux mallettes, plus fort que les autres. Encore plus fort que le commentaire digne de ce nom entre le duo d'étirement. La déclaration a placé son attention sur le gars avec la cornée apparemment éclatante. Montero s'est demandé une fois exactement la même chose depuis qu'il l'a vu il y a longtemps, évident par le front unique maintenant élevé. Ça ne va pas bien se passer...

Montero Timberson ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11" ✚ Research P R E S E N C E Montero Timberson is a dark haired young man with an air of mystery that draws the attention of those who are primarily lead by their curiousity. Perhaps it's his pokerfaced nature, that keeps a focused gaze just to hide what he really thinks. That long overcoat that hides away most of his body. Or that greatsword that used to be on his back, unbecoming and unseemly to the posse of a Researcher. Rugged and broad, though not excessively tall, with somewhat handsome features. Montero speaks with deep, punctuated voice. That is, if he has to around strangers. He holds himself with some noblesse, prefering not to engage in rowdy circumstances and is quick to point out the boundaries of his personal space (and how intruders should remove themselves from it) while still trying to keep the cool and collected facade. However his colder demeanour seems to change quite quickly when Montero gets to be around Humans and Spirits he knows, to something ...brighter and more willing to crack a joke. ------- I D E O L O G Y "All it takes for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing." Montero Timberson came from neither a local or military background, his main reason for taking part in Oakridge's curriculum is one of morals -and because he can. As a Guardian, he is peculiar in that he actively avoids possession. Best as he can, that is. Strongly believing that a Soul must be kept as pure as possible, Montero sets restrictions to the spirits that he gives providence to, 'house rules' in simpler terms and is sometimes heard chiding them for not listening. But he cares for them greatly, especially the little ones, often talking to them and encouraging them to partake in his work - so they learn new experiences and the Human language. Suprisingly, they understand him. Unsuprisingly, this is considered rather irrational behaviour to some, even in Oakridge. Montero also feels that there is something wrong with the concept of Whaling and he does get vocal about it academically when given the chance, it's not just that hunting gentle giants is morally antagonistic and all. It is. But that is not what bothers him, there is a 'darkness' to the act that he cannot point out. Like a gut feeling of dread that he cannot shake away. Seeing raw Whale oil is like seeing blood, jars and jars of blood. He is seeing a professor to discuss the possibility of alternative fuels as well as to create devices that grant Spirits autonomy, though neither projects are seeing much support right now. Interesting as concepts they might be, who would support an idea that could harm the local economy? S T R I F E Though Montero wielded a Greatsword during his years as a warfare student, in his time in Research, he has found that he had a tendency to improvise in any sort of combat. Sometimes even tossing his sword as a projectile. Much to the chargrin of the instructors of Weaponary. There is no one best solution for everything. Isn't that what Science encourages us to explore? Montero switches his weapons and gear as situations change, not that Researchers are combatants anyway. Long as the school permits his use of their resources, he will prepare accordingly for each mission. He has yet to specialize in any weapon. But if there's any continuity in the way he handles a duel, it is Montero's gratituos application of Spirit arts and Science -which he does not see as a weapon. In The Spirits Within, he uses a deck centered around cunning, self-triggering traps and ultimately summoning Alexander, the Machine Tyrant, to end his opponent's life points. K I N S H I PPerpetual Work In Progress. Montero has taken a few classes with Ajax during his years in warfare. -------- "The word 'Voyeur' seems to subtly accompany this individual, flashbacks of varied classmates looking 'grossed out'." He works in the Research division, so might have seen other Researchers once or twice. Jomen tends to stand out. -------- Shadowy silhouettes, Amidst a concrete jungle, Shuffling constantly. Late nights at cafeterias tend to bring out unusual personalities, Abysso is one such individual that he knows. -------- Their opinions resonate on many matters and Montero does not mind sharing what he knows occasionally with him, to help him out. Latest elemancy techniques, test answers, how to bribe the supply shop's latest newbie. Not too much of course, it's always better to keep some hidden up the sleeves. All's good as long as Abysso doesn't steal the last midnight gâteaus. Intelligence Department. -------- Those who can't do. Judge. C O N T A C T SPerpetual Work In Progress. C H R O N I C L EPerpetual Work In Progress. P R O P E R T YHere you list valuable possessions such as items, catalysts, and currency whenever you receive them. These items are only given by the Game Master. You will have to continuously revisit this section to edit it. Phoenix Down - Revives and heals the unconcious. Quantity: 1 (1000 Gil)

O A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y A T R I U M Les esprits tourbillonnaient avec des mouvements d'accalmie dans une salle de dortoir sombre. Des teintes brillantes accordaient une faible lueur sur la peau de porcelaine et les cheveux argentés. Au cours de tels moments de repos et de tranquillité, les esprits qui se trouvaient à l'intérieur se sont empressés de s'évanouir. Beaucoup étaient leurs formes et leurs formes au sein d'une jeune fille nommée Celise, une longrine se reposant dans les premières heures. Un esprit d'affection et de tendresse particulières, la forme d'un renard aux teintes glaciales, a toujours vu la fille argentée se réveiller. Il tournoyait et tournait en l'air jusqu'à ce que Celise brise son sommeil. C'était lundi matin. Elle était restée debout tard la nuit précédente pour se promener dans le campus, autour du terrain de l'académie, aux hauteurs proches, et regarder les étoiles comme elle l'a toujours fait. Celise était une navigateur au cœur, une explorateur, et elle a apprécié de telles activités même si la région était connue d'elle pendant de nombreuses années. Cependant, cette journée a été spéciale pour de nombreuses raisons. Non seulement l'United Defense Force avait lancé une opération à grande échelle pour frapper au cœur de l'ennemi avec des armes expérimentales, mais Celise rentrait aussi chez lui pour la première fois en deux ans. La ville de Ledale a été attaquée par des créatures infectieuses, qui ont mis une bosse dans les ressources vitales et les lignes d'approvisionnement. L'académie avait diffusé les nouvelles tout au long du week-end. Alors que la plupart des étudiants-soldats réguliers n'étaient pas tenus d'aider dans cette affaire, tous les Gardiens de l'académie dans leur phase de mission sur le terrain de l'éducation allaient expédier. Celise avait parlé à ses parents de la situation, et il était apparemment devenu assez sérieux pour qu'ils emballent les choses et se rendent à la ville voisine de Rians, où vivent les grands-parents de Celise. Celise s'est sortie du lit. L'espace dans lequel elle vivait était le même que tous les autres étudiants du campus. Les chambres étaient assez petites, mais équipées d'un lit, d'un bureau, d'une douche et d'un mini réfrigérateur. L'un des murs avait un dispositif de projection holographique qui pouvait diffuser tout ce que l'élève avait choisi d'accorder. La plupart des émissions étaient des nouvelles de la guerre, de la politique, etc., mais certaines chaînes ont diffusé de vieux films. Dans la chambre il y avait aussi une petite fenêtre donnant sur un jardin central. Le campus d'Oakridge était une collection de structures cylindriques avec un milieu creux revêtu d'un jardin décoratif de fleurs, de plantes et d'arbres. Il y avait quatre de ces logements cylindres sur le campus, chacun pouvant accueillir trois mille étudiants. La première chose que Celise faisait tous les matins était d'envoyer un texto à Lisa, une voisine pas trop loin du campus. La fille argentée n'incluait que des symboles bizarres dans le message, mais le destinataire savait ce que cela signifiait ou ne signifiait pas. C'était l'un des nombreux comportements rituels entourant leur parenté. Mais, sa pratique a été interrompue par les annonces d'intervalles de trente minutes qui font écho dans tout le campus et le complexe de l'académie. Telles étaient les journées de déploiement sur le terrain à l'échelle de l'école. L'annonce exhortait les volontaires à se présenter à l'administration de l'académie et les Gardiens à recevoir leurs documents de mission. Comme Celise le savait déjà, elle partait à Ledale. Les routines matinales des jours de déploiement étaient délicieusement courtes. Il n'y avait pas de problème avec les douches, pas de problème avec les cosmétiques, pas de problème avec beaucoup du tout. Elle a emballé un sac à dos sombre avec tout ce dont elle avait besoin – un changement de vêtements de base, des boissons énergisantes, des objets de valeur, une carte et une boussole, et quelques babioles de navigation. Le déploiement des gardiens était un peu différent de l'armée régulière. On s'attendait à ce qu'ils soient seuls, pour orienter le monde en tant qu'unités indépendantes. Ils ne portaient pas d'uniforme, sauf un insigne obligatoire donné par l'académie – l'insigne représentait le logo de l'Académie Oakridge et un numéro d'identification de l'étudiant. Celise s'est habillée d'une chemise sombre et unie avec ses manches coupées. Des jeans bien ajustés, bien que déchirés, de la même couleur couvraient ses jambes. Elle a toujours eu des difficultés à s'y introduire, des bosses de peau et de chair qui envahissent les morceaux déchirés le long des cuisses. Et pour la guerre Celise a utilisé des baskets régulières, ce qui a révélé sa taille réelle. En prenant son épée dans un minuscule casier à côté du lit, Celise était prête et sortie de la porte. Les numéros d'identification des Gardiens assignés à son équipe ont été envoyés à son téléphone. Le groupe devait se réunir au garage de l'académie pour se rendre à Oakridge City. Celise pensait qu'elle reconnaissait certains des numéros d'identification des étudiants dans son équipe, mais elle ne pouvait pas être tout à fait sûre, car elle n'avait jamais mémorisé les chiffres de n'importe qui. C'était aussi sous son impression que son équipe partagerait le transport avec une autre personne effectuant une autre mission dans la ville elle-même. Celise a traversé l'atrium de l'académie. C'était plus ou moins le cœur de tout, mais relativement calme encore. L'atrium était un lieu de rassemblement pour les étudiants, ainsi qu'un centre reliant tous les autres bâtiments et lieux à lui. Il y avait de nombreux magasins, cafés, restaurants, distributeurs automatiques et des divertissements disponibles 24h/24. Ces entreprises étaient évidemment fournies par la ville d'Oakridge, pas dix minutes en voiture. Celise s'est acheté une boisson fraîche à un distributeur avant de descendre quelques escaliers au garage. La boisson s'appelait Renegade, l'une de ses préférées. En entrant dans l'espace frais et massif pour le stockage des véhicules, l'odeur du métal et du caoutchouc l'a frappée. La tête de transmission à l'intérieur d'elle s'éveilla instantanément. Les étudiants de la Division de la navigation étaient aussi des mécaniciens et des conducteurs, après tout, même si le cœur de Celise était concentré sur quelque chose de plus spécifique – la recherche et l'exploration. Alors qu'elle s'approchait du numéro de véhicule mentionné dans le message sur son téléphone, 94, il semblait que le conducteur était arrivé, faisant un peu d'entretien de base.

C E L I S E L E L I È V R E ✚ Twenty-Two ✚ Female ✚ 5'2" ✚ Navigation P R E S E N C ECelise can inspire the sense of a cousin that one resonates with, but only ever seen during rare family reunions. One can sometimes experience Celise as a sister who certainly has her own life, but sees attention to those closest as a duty rather than gift. She has an aura of serenity, yet somewhat distracted by trivial pursuits. The stars and trails of the land fascinates her to such an extent that it can instill comfort of guidance in others. Celise always knows the way and how to get there. She makes sure that nothing is rushed, that nothing is taken for granted. Celise can stop and smell the roses in such a way that will distract people from pain and suffering. Due to her relatively petite frame and height, Celise can be instinctively amicable, which makes it easy to approach her for whatever reason. Her choices in fashion might play a part in it. She often wears platform sneakers to gain an inch or two, skinny-ripped jeans, and an assortment of t-shirts with motives and comfortable sweaters. Celise looks more like a youngster than a soldier that could deflect a bullet with a piece of metal or punch a hole in a concrete wall with her bare fist. Her silvery hair is kept around shoulder length, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter. Most of her facial features follows the theme of her height and frame—petite and plump. An iconic feature is her prominent, upper eyelids. Celise may not always utter thoughts and emotions through words. She is a girl of intimacy in such ways that restore humanity in people. Her hands are soft and her touch is tender. Pursuits such as massaging, braiding of hair, decorating gear and clothing, and grooming others is a quirk that not only becalms herself, but the recipient as well. All of this is given, of course, that a person is worthy of such affections. I D E O L O G YCelise puts the freedom of the individual before all else. Liberty is the primary value that one must strive towards. In any case where such liberty is threatened, the importance of the individual must triumph the collective. Celise refuses to sacrifice anything for what someone might consider to be the ‘greater good’. Every individual matters. When and if someone claims that something is in their best interest, in which they obviously have no desire, Celise will take action to prevent it. She is severely skeptical of power and government. There is always an agenda, always a false word with which to hush the masses. Wartime often disrupts tradition and order. These two qualities that Celise take to heart. It does not matter where in the world she is, cultural rituals and esoteric habits will always be of interest to her. Whenever she has been on the move, either by her own wish or by order of the academy, Celise tries to stop and take in the views and smell the flowers every now and then. In these endeavors, values such as honesty, dedication, and dignity play an important role. Celise sees loyalty, patience, and reliability as cardinal traits. When she says that she will do something, whatever it might be, Celise will exercise her stubbornness until such commitment is realized. She believes that every type of group, family, or community needs different types of parts for its engines to work. There cannot be too much of one or the other—there must be a perfect balance. By this logic, Celise does not believe that everyone is equal. She knows it is frowned upon, but she does not consider it a bad thing. If a machine is built with the same kind of part, it simply won't work. You need different kinds of parts with different purposes for things to sail smoothly. However, Celise can seem harsh at times. She is a firm believer in tough love and has little sympathy for those who break the law or repeatedly make bad decisions in life. Everyone should have the right to a second chance after being punished, but no more than that. The idea of moral values is to live by them. They are there to guide a person, not to be squandered and abused. Certain city-states around the world are experts at this very thing that she despises. Celise shows no remorse in letting everyone know what a failure they are, and that they should be annexed by the army. All manner of vulgarity and amoral behavior makes her sick. Traditional views of family, nation, and gender roles are important to Celise. She has no problems with cooking, doing household chores, or taking care of the men in her life or around her. As a matter of fact, Celise relishes in keeping things nice and tidy, civil and orderly wherever she might find herself. This extends to her physical appearance and idea of femininity. She firmly believes that a woman's greatest strength is beauty, and such strength should not be trampled upon by toxic ideas. Individual freedoms such as thought and speech should also not be restrained on the basis of offense. However, pointless slander and insults are unnecessary. S T R I F ECelise uses what probably once was a ceremonial sword. The blade of the sword appears to be crafted from a dark metal with esoteric engravings of lighter shades. The base of the weapon along with the hilt is decorated with forged ornament of unknown origin and meaning. From tip to handle, the sword is roughly four feet, five inches long, but does not weigh an awful lot. The black metal is assumed to be unique. It cannot be found in any active mine or trading deposit, which indicates that it is finite and ancient. To this day, Celise is the only person with such an esoteric and mysterious weapon. She has no recollection of when or where she acquired it. Celise is a focused combatant. She knows a wide array of sword fighting techniques. Due to the sword’s light weight, Celise can maneuver it in uncanny ways that would otherwise feel odd and off to a normal person. However, she is a stationary fighter. Celise does not move around too much and often deals with one enemy at a time, making sure that things are actually dead before shifting attention. Celise’s use of spirits is balanced. She does not favor one or the other element, or any specific kind of catalyst. It makes her a well-rounded fighter, but not particularly good at anything. Celise has a couple of tricks up her sleeve, of course, combinations of elements and catalysts to use, but she rarely finds an excuse to be flashy or lust for blood. She would rather have those who live and breathe combat fight instead. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG Celise has met Ajax on a number of occasions at the academy gym and obstacle course. The occasional, casual spotting of heavy weights turned into longer discussions about workout programs and nutrition. Celise received a lot of good tips on how she could achieve what she wanted. MONTERO TIMBERSON Celise knows Montero by name and person. Handsome and mysterious. JOMEN SURY Celise has throughout the years at Oakridge put up flyers about 'Exploring Shrines and the Unknown' to satisfy her need for exploration and spirituality. Jomen responded to these on a few occasions. Their outings to various locations were quite memorable, as Celise usually ended up doing it by herself. DUKE KNIGHT iv Through her interactions with Ajax, Celise has gotten to know Duke a little bit. She has on more than one occasion supervised and timed the ideal men's sparring sessions. She has even broken up a few actual fights between them, and tended to bruises and swellings in the aftermath. On another note, Celise's 5'2" looks quite comical next to the 6'5"+ of both men. ROLAND FREISEN Celise knows Roland, or 'Pardosa', quite well by now. They have clashed during lectures at the academy on numerous occasions. Both of them have very distinct idealisms that oppose each other. When things have gotten nasty, they have come to terms outside of lectures. However, they still conduct an ideological battle on some issues, so to speak. LIESABET ABENDROTH Celise has known Liesabet for some time now, ever since they were young. If someone asked what kind of friend she is, Celise would not be able to explain it. There is nothing negative about it, there is nothing positive about it, there is nothing ordinary about it—it is just unique. The best explanation Celise could ever use to shed light on things would be: ”She needs me, I need her; I’m her opium, she is mine; She is my graven image, I am hers.” ABYSSO YBARIS Celise knows Abysso from their shared division at the academy. They've been in the same group projects a few times, and both enjoy the actual navigation part of the division. She doesn't know much about him beyond their school work, however. C O N T A C T S. . . C H R O N I C L E. . . P R O P E R T Y Potion x2 Elixir x1 Renegade x1

Ah oui? Je ne savais pas que Ledalle était votre ville natale. Si tu l'as déjà mentionné et que j'ai oublié, je m'excuse. Tu sais, ta famille va bien? Vous vous souvenez peut-être que j'ai une longue histoire de famille dans l'armée et que je passe par l'académie ici. Je soupçonne que j'ai un cousin ou un autre sur le terrain, probablement Gregor... Il est le mouton noir de la famille, est entré dans l'intelligence... Nous Armstrongs ne sommes pas connus pour notre intelligence, Ajax a répondu à Celise alors qu'il s'est mis en position pour l'aider à s'étirer, « J'étais au gymnase quand j'ai reçu la notification du déploiement de la mission, mais vous ne pouvez jamais s'étirer trop! Venez, venez, c'est le chemin, sentir l'étirement tout le chemin à travers le membre." Les étirements étaient lents, longs et étonnamment pleins de grâce, malgré la forme massive. Certains pourraient se rappeler certaines des formes stretch d'une classe de méditation, d'autres pourraient voir les mouvements doux et lents et penser que c'était quelque chose d'érotique qui se passait. La façon dont Armstrong conduit Celise à étirer chaque muscle se concentrant sur chaque zone individuellement, obtenant chaque fibre musculaire pour répondre et allonger, bien à la bonne personne, peut-être qu'il était érotique. Mais Armstrong l'a fait pour les muscles, c'était la meilleure façon de libérer la tension qui ralentissait le mouvement et entravait la croissance et les performances musculaires. De tels étirements profonds pourraient même conduire à un métabolisme accru et plus rapide rajeunissement si fait régulièrement, et correctement. Bien sûr, fait incorrectement et il pourrait déchirer les muscles et pourrait laisser un membre inutile jusqu'à ce que le muscle ait une chance de recoller les morceaux ensemble. Bien sûr, les influences spirituelles peuvent se protéger contre une telle atteinte ou accélérer la guérison après le fait, mais la vérité honnête est qu'il faut l'éviter autant que possible. Jomen s'est approché à un moment donné au milieu de la séance d'étirement, "Hello Green Eyes, soin de se joindre à l'étirement?" Alors qu'Ajax a fini d'aider Celise avec ses étirements, il a remarqué que Montero entrait tranquillement dans le porte-avions. Il a permis à Celise de s'appuyer sur lui un moment jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit prête à bouger de nouveau toute seule. Il lui a tout simplement fait signe. Ajax a donné à Montero un clin d'œil de salut et peu d'autre, le laissant à sa solitude. Ce serait bien de l'avoir dans le coin. D'une certaine façon, Montero a joué deux rôles, bien qu'il se soit davantage concentré sur les sciences et la recherche, il avait un peu d'expérience en guerre, de sorte qu'il pourrait lancer un coup ou deux s'il en avait besoin. « Souvenez-vous toujours, Celise, le corps est un temple. Tu dois toujours t'en occuper... peut-être boire plus d'eau et moins de ces boissons énergisantes que tu aimes tant. Sinon, il pourrait commencer à montrer dans cette peau douce de votre- Vous allez commencer à rider!" Il se termina brusquement par un rire de cœur. Le genre qui a fait sourire la plupart des gens, même s'ils ne voulaient pas vraiment... sauf Green Eyes... il ne rit jamais.

D U K E K N I G H T IV ✚ 22 ✚ Male ✚ 6'8 ✚ Warfare P R E S E N C EDuke is a young man, of mixed descent, with powerful features; seemingly, having been sculpted by the gods themselves. He has tawny (yellow-brown) skin, is muscular and extremely tall. He has dirty blonde curles and sports a standard militaristic haircut; the high fade. His chiseled jawline is sharp enough to slice through diamond. Perpetually shuttered, dead, light-green hues analyze and scan the world with laser focus. His piercing gaze would feel as though Duke is looking beyond ones physical form and stares directly at the soul. Full, thick lips hide not only a set of perfect teeth, but project a voice of power. He also has a tattoo on his right hand, symbolic of his family name. Duke's style can be defined as "athleisure"- casual, comfortable clothing designed to be suitable both for exercise and everyday wear. There a few constants in his style: 1)Pants will always be in the form of joggers. 2)Shorts will always be netted gym shorts or sweatpants shorts. 3)Shoes will always be running shoes or resemble basketball shoes. There is also a hint of minimalism. You will only find black or white clothing in Duke's closet. He is tastefully simple. Duke exudes an aura of confidence. He stands with proper posture and his head is always held high. When he walks, Duke's arms are almost always relaxed at his sides. They move as he moves, directly in front of him. His hands are also relaxed rather than tight-fisted. His head is parallel to the ground. His eyes look straight forward, too. His feet are at shoulder width. Most of all, his shoulders move, almost in a rolling figure-8 motion; like a puma stalking it's prey. Duke maintains a low and steady tone of voice, when speaking. He speaks at a slow and relaxed paced, without tension. He speaks just loud enough for others to hear, never too loud or too soft. Filler words are non-existent in Duke's speech. Should he need a moment to think of what to say next, he will simply pause and hold that silence until he is ready to speak again. I D E O L O G Y L O Y A L T Y Bear true faith and allegiance in the organization. Work within the system without manipulating it for personal gain. Observe higher headquarters priorities. D U T Y Fulfill obligations-professional, legal, and moral. Carry out mission requirements. Meet professional standards. Set the example. Comply with policies and directives. Continually pursue excellence. R E S P E C T Treat people as they should be treated. Create a climate of fairness and equal opportunity. Be discreet and tactful when correcting or questioning others. Show concern for and make an effort to check on the safety and well-being of others. Be courteous. Don't take advantage of positions of authority. S E L F L E S S S E R V I C E Sustain team morale. Share hardships. Give credit for success to others and accept responsibility for failure themselves. H O N O R Don't lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those actions by others. I N T E G R I T Y Do what is right legally and morally. Possess high personal moral standards. Be honest in word and deed. Show consistently good moral judgment and behavior. Put being right ahead of being popular. P E R S O N A L C O U R A G E Show physical and moral bravery. Take responsibility for decisions and actions. Accept responsibility for mistakes and shortcomings. N E V E R G I V E U P Success is no accident. It is hard work, perseverance, learning, studying, sacrifice and most of all, love of what you are doing or learning to do. B E I N G T H E B E S T Hard work beats talent. Solve real-time challenges. Create competitive advantages. Join with fellow guardians to create and identify competitive advantages. Go above and beyond expectations. C H I V A L R Y Come to the aid of those in need, in order of those least able to defend themselves and least responsible for their situation before others. Treat a lady with respect. Be Honourable. Follow proper procedures in all things. If challenged, either accept, or concede that the challenger is better in martial matters. There is no loss of honour in understanding that someone is more skilled, there is always someone more skilled, but one should openly acknowledge their skill, to give them just credit. Do not challenge someone who is obviously lower skilled without just cause. To do so is dishonourable and makes one look petty. D O N O T K I L L N E E D L E S S L Y Killing an evil monster is ok, killing a neutral animal that is just hungry is only needed if there is a high likelihood that others will die if one does not. P H Y S I C A L F I T N E S S Having sound health, strength, and endurance, which sustain emotional health and conceptual abilities under prolonged stress. C O N F I D E N C E Projecting self-confidence and certainty in the ability to succeed. Demonstrates composure and outward calm through steady control over emotion. L E A D S O T H E R S Provides purpose, motivation, inspiration Enforces Standards Balances mission and welfare of guardians E X T E N D S I N F L U E N C E Builds trust. Understands sphere, means and limits of influence. Negotiates, builds consensus, resolves conflict. L E A D S B Y E X A M P L E Displays character. Leads with confidence in adverse conditions. Demonstrates confidence. C O M M U N I C A T E S Listens actively. states goals for action. Ensures shared understanding. C R E A T E S A P O S I T I V E E N V I R O N M E N T Set the conditions for positive climate. Helps build teamwork and cohesion. Encourages initiative. Demonstrates care for people. P R E P A R E S S E L F Ensures he is prepared for expected and unexpected challenges. Expands knowledge. Maintains self awareness. G E T S R E S U L T S Develops and execute plans. Accomplishes tasks consistently. "I will always place the mission first. I will never accept defeat. I will never quit. I will never leave a fallen comrade." J E N O V A The world has been spiraling further into a place of darkness, since the arrival of the extraterrestrial body. Duke believes that the issues the world is plagued with, concerning Jenova, are mostly self-inflicted. Now the only cure for the world is the destruction of Jenova. Sadly, others may still believe they just need to better understand Jenova; to create a remedy. These are the idiots in Duke's eyes. Why would anybody be comfortable with allowing something to exist that has been killing us? For the sake of science? S P I R I T S S T R I F E"Time to Duke it out!" Duke is a practitioner (1 of just 3 known) of the Fist of The Iron Knight. The Fist of The Iron Knight is a hybrid martial art, exclusive to the Knight family, created by Duke's grandfather (Duke Knight II). It is said that the best defense stems from strong offense. This style is designed to eliminate threats quickly and efficiently. Maximized force seeks to end the battle quickly due to the amount of damage inflicted upon the opponent and rapidity aims to reach the target before the opponent can react. One of the premises that was incorporated into this style was combat realism. The belief is that martial arts techniques should be incorporated based upon their effectiveness in real combat situations. This would differentiate the style from other systems where there was an emphasis on flashy techniques. Flashy techniques arguably "look good", but would often prove ineffective in street survival and self-defense situations. An aspect of realistic martial arts training fundamental to FTIK is "aliveness". This is the concept of training techniques with an unwilling assistant who offers resistance. Circumstances in a fight change from millisecond to millisecond. Thus, pre-arranged patterns and techniques are not adequate in dealing with such a changing situation. For someone to attack another hand-to-hand, the attacker must approach the target. This provides an opportunity for the attacked person to "intercept" the attacking movement. The principle of interception may be applied to more than intercepting physical attacks; non-verbal cues may also be perceived or "intercepted", and thus be used to one's advantage. This perspective of combat realism and aliveness, combined with his deep-seated desire to be the best, is reason Duke is constantly searching for the strongest opponents; effectively allowing him to train going "all out". He smiles in the face of adversity because nothing brings greater joy than a good challenge. Duke fights in a southpaw stance, meaning he is a left-handed person who leads with the right. He has learned many defensive concepts such as forearm blocks. He considers himself to be a "reactive fighter". He will often wait for his opponent to make a move and react accordingly; intercepting an opponent's attack with an attack of his own instead of simply blocking it (often blocking a punch/kick with one of his own). He utilizes a nimble and agile, skipping-like- footwork technique to easily maneuver around and evade enemy strikes. Simultaneous parrying & punching combines attack and defense into one movement, thus minimizing the "time" element and maximizing the "energy" element. Being that he is a frontline fighter, Duke focuses on absorbing spirits which enhance his physical abilities. He does sacrifice some tankability for strength and speed- so that he may defeat opponents quickly and efficiently. This makes him a lot faster than what some may percieve him to be, because of his rather large build. As far as weapons go, he is a weapon. Thus, he will refuse use of weapons because he views them as "unmanly". Though, he does use gauntlets crafted from rare metals that are extremely durable and lightweight. Which were designed to further enhance the speed and explosiveness of his punches. Duke is also capable of infusing spirits with his gauntlets, to add an elemental effect. Which he uses to gain an advantage (IE. Flame fists against an opponent using ice). Though, the magical damage is actually minor, when compared to the damage from the physical impact. On the battlefield, there is only one person which Duke concerns himself with, and that is the strongest one. He firmly believes that cutting off the head of the snake is the quickest way to secure victory. He will eliminate weaker enemies as quick as possible, while conserving energy, until he can identify and engage the strongest opponent. Duke, in many ways, could be thought of as the superhero-type, saving the world with a smile and his fists. He comes complete with catch phrases and action poses. "It's time to Duke it out!" is one of his more famous, if not most famous, catch phrases. It's an obvious play on his name, but also means it's time to handle business and get to fighting. After defeating an opponent, he will shoot his teammates a thumbs up and cross his arms, saying something like "It's over"or "Target annihilated". He also cannot resist an opportunity to take an unflinching pose in front of an explosion. Duke's confidence in his, and his teammates, ability to get the job done can be a source of inspiration for comrades on the battlefield. K I N S H I P. . . . W I P . . . C O N T A C T S. . . W I P . . . C H R O N I C L E. . . W I P . . . P R O P E R T Y (x3) Wild Tomato (x3) Gighee Ham (x2) Aegir Root (x5) Oleander (x3) Catoblepas Brisket (x3) Leiden Potato (x3) Scarlet Pimpernel (x2) Potion

Jomen Sury Lieu:Academy Garage Interagir avec: "Hello Green Eyes, vous voulez vous joindre à l'étirement?" Jomen regarda à Ajax, évitant de rencontrer ses yeux, alors qu'il lui demandait s'il voulait se joindre à lui en notant la routine profonde que lui et Celise subissaient. Ce n'était pas une vue rare quand on s'entraînait avec Ajax. L'homme était tout à fait concentré à ces moments à l'amélioration de son corps et de la ténacité physique à l'avis de Jomen. Cependant, grâce à leur temps passé à s'entraîner ensemble, Jomen savait que le but d'une telle formation intensive n'était pas pour le bien de la vanité, mais plutôt d'accroître son efficacité sur le champ de bataille pour mieux protéger ses alliés en temps de conflit. C'était quelque chose qu'il pouvait respecter en tant qu'autre professionnel, malgré l'attitude trop décontractée de l'homme. Il a brièvement envisagé d'accepter l'offre, mais le fait d'obtenir plus d'informations tactiques sur la bataille à venir semblait une décision plus avantageuse. « Je vous remercie pour votre offre Ajax, mais j'ai besoin de plus de temps pour examiner les conditions de combat pour m'assurer que je travaille à un maximum d'efficacité. Je voudrais également vous rappeler une fois de plus que je m'appelle Jomen Sury, plutôt que Green Eyes. Avec cela, il a continué à mémoriser les informations de la mission et a également tiré des cartes supplémentaires de la zone environnante juste au cas où. Il a remarqué plusieurs sanctuaires dans les environs de Ledale, et a fait une note mentale pour les mentionner à Celise au cours de leur voyage. Un autre étudiant, Jomen a vaguement reconnu de son propre département mais est entré dans le véhicule, bien que Jomen a remarqué plusieurs regards dans sa direction. Il a ignoré le comportement bien que ce fut extrêmement fréquent parmi ses camarades de classe. Il a été distrait de l'autre étudiant en recherche comme Ajax a laissé un rire copieux. Jomen le regarda un instant et se cogna la tête à un angle et le regarda brièvement, son visage complètement vide avant de regarder en arrière son holoscreen. "Saints yeux... et là, j'ai pensé que j'avais de magnifiques yeux verts... Ces choses tirent des lasers?" La question a ébranlé Jomen hors de sa lecture concentrée comme un flash d'ennuis s'est précipité dans son système. Son œil s'est levé et a rencontré les yeux vert clair de l'élève bien construit debout devant lui et puis loin. L'ennui a fondu sous sa couche de professionnalisme bien développé. "Ils ne le font pas. Ils me permettent de voir un peu plus loin que la normale et donnent un faible niveau de vision nocturne. Cependant, c'est l'étendue de leurs capacités. Si vous avez d'autres questions sur mes capacités, n'hésitez pas à les poser ultérieurement. » Avec cela, il se tourna et s'assit en face de l'étudiant de recherche à l'intérieur du véhicule, prêt à partir. Il regarda brièvement l'étudiant en recherche avant de fermer les yeux en se tournant vers l'intérieur pour la méditation. Ses yeux continuèrent à briller légèrement au-delà de ses paupières.

J O M E N S U R Y ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11 ✚ Research Division (Medical Specialization) P R E S E N C EJomen exudes an air of calmness and rationality that flows off like a steady rain. Underneath that however, is an undercurrent of anger inescapably mixed with sadness that is exposed only rarely. In addition, Jomen possesses cybernetic eyes, who pupils are lit with a dull green, that allow him to see, but unnerve people when he looks directly at them, reminding them always of the dangers of the Stigma. For this reason, he tends to keep his gaze downcast or off to the side while conversing with others. His outfits usually possess at least one item in a varying shade of blue in an effort to further signify his status as a healer. Though quiet and unassuming, in combative situations he can be found just behind the frontline fighters making him presence and abilities and constant reassurance. He is not one to try and seek out glory, but he has the courage enough to go with those who do. I D E O L O G Y Jomen will sit and listen to all sides of an argument, but once he has made his choice very little can be done to sway him from it. He believes that the Stigma is a disease that needs to be eradicated by any means available to prevent it infecting more people. While he cannot condone the actions of the Death Squads, the Cleaners he feels a certain empathy for. However, that does not exclude them from the laws that the United Defense Force have laid down upon the land. Since the UDF, is the best chance that the people of this land have for eradicating the Stigma, Jomen obeys all of their laws to his utmost ability. He may question the effectiveness or quality of some of these rules, but he will obey them until the law is changed as he believes that the rule of these laws gives them the structure they need to band together fully against the Stigma. The need of survival sometimes must curtail individual freedom. As for the spirits inside of him, Jomen believes that each is a valuable companion that serves with him valiantly in his fight. He is honored to serve alongside them and thus treats with the respect that they deserve. Often he can be found describing the full events of the day to his spirits or encouraging them to emerge briefly to see the world around them. He thanks them at shrines whenever he gets the opportunity. S T R I F EJomen is not nearly as capable of a physical fighter of those from the Warfare Division, with his relative lack of physical strength and stamina. Still in times where melee combat is necessary to either or his patients survival, he is no slouch. Jomen carries a wooden staff with a large hook at the end of it, designed to help him trip or knockdown the enemy to open them up to further attacks as well as a standard issue pistol at his side at all time. Though not particularly skilled with the gun, Jomen is quite adept at using his staff to disrupt enemies either by redirecting their attacks or successfully managing to trip them with his staff. In this, he attempts to use his enemies higher strength and speed, along with his own knowledge of anatomy, against them. However, Jomen is far more adept in using his spirits to weave Elemancy, particular utilizing his water and earth spirits, to a lesser degree, to their greatest effect. His healing abilities are at the top of his class at Oakridge, with his cybernetic eyes able to help him keep track of his allies and how much damage they have sustained. He pushes himself as much as he can to ensure that all of his allies will survive the encounter with little to no damage. His staff also helps act as a focus for his abilities, as tied near the top of small containers filled with varying types of seeds. When he activates his Water and Earth spirits in conjunction with the staff he is able to form Plant based Elemancy. Jomen is still training to gain greater control over this fusion, but is able to summon roots from the earth in order to entangle or slow enemies to give his allied fighters more of an advantage. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG While training at school, Jomen was approached with a large man from with warfare who seemed to have long, rich history of getting injured. This was, of course, Ajax. To Jomen, he seems a useful training partner as the large variety of injuries gave Jomen plenty of live practice to hone his talents to where they are now. In addition, without Ajax's warfare based insight, Jomen would have had a far diminished capacity to defend himself. Jomen respects his ability and skill on the battlefield, but thinks of Ajax as too unprofessional to reach his full potential in the warfare division. Out of respect and gratitude (though Jomen is unlikely to admit it), Jomen attempts to sway Ajax to a more professional attitude in order ensure that the future soldier has a better career later. Jomen, also constantly reminds Ajax that his name is not "Green Eyes", in the most professional way possible. He has also yet to laugh at any of Ajax's jokes. CELISE LELIÈVRE Celise and Jomen have gone on several trips to visit the more out of the way shrines. Celise had put up several fliers about "Exploring Shrines and the Unknown," which appealed to his need to honor his own spirits. The outings were enjoyable and Jomen respects the similarity between them in their treatment and respect for their spirits. C O N T A C T S To be added as developed C H R O N I C L E Content to be added as the game progresses. P R O P E R T Y 20x Saxham Rice 20x Green Peas 1x Antidote 2x Catoblepas Brisket 2x Scarlet Pimpernel 1x Oxen Marrow 1x Fish Roe

O A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y A T R I U M Oakridge Academy: Arboretum BGM Le jour éclata dans une marée de lumière ambre, se lavant au-dessus de l'horizon dans une crue lucide. Même lorsque le monde est au bord du chaos, même après la crise de Jenova - certaines choses ne changent jamais, et le jour continuera comme toujours. Montero Timberson ne savait pas ce qu'il ressentait à ce sujet, regardant sur les barrières du balcon, au lever du soleil. Une telle continuité était - elle réconfortante? Ou dérangeant...? Comme si le monde ne s'en souciait pas du tout. Pas pour le destin de l'humanité, pas pour les destins des gardiens - même s'ils se battaient avec leur vie pour elle... La planète n'était pas du genre reconnaissant, il semblait. Il ferma les yeux et prit une profonde respiration lamentée, puis débrancha une petite cage argentée qui s'accrochait aux échelons avant de se frayer un chemin vers l'échappée de feu. Dommage que cette nuit tranquille soit maintenant terminée. Dans le centre du quartier résidentiel d'Oakridge, en traversant les quatre dortoirs, était un Arboretum - une collection d'arbres vivants et de plantes de diverses sortes emballés dans un paysage façonné. Alors que les portes de levage s'ouvraient dans le grand espace ouvert, le doux parfum de rosée de la flore perréniale saluait son nez, suivi d'une brise glaciale qui le faisait traverser ses bras encore plus serrés. En scannant le paysage herbeux, il a vu très peu de figures émouvantes parmi les monuments qui parsemaient le jardin. Les grandes bûches creuses vides parsemées à travers la pince, vestiges de quelques grands arbres maintenant parfaits caches pour l'étudiant fatigué de trouver le répit. Ni les berges ombragées des ruisseaux qui serpentent à travers la scène. Peut-être était-il, pour changer, tôt. C'est vrai. L'anxiété qui s'est manifestée avant le jour du déploiement était probablement à blâmer. Mais Montero n'était pas là pour attendre l'heure de pointe inévitable qui allait bientôt suivre. Il a commencé à se jeter sur un petit pont, s'éloignant brusquement du sentier battu une fois traversé et dans un morceau des bois qui était auparavant. Là, au milieu d'une alcôve cachée, se trouvait un petit Sanctuaire, peint en bois rouge arqué sur un autel communal éclairé, l'herbe de bambou qui fleurit maintenant, le cachant jalousement des yeux indiscrets. Il ne savait pas qui l'avait construite en premier lieu ni qui l'avait gardée telle qu'elle était, mais ce petit endroit de quiétude resta vierge aussi longtemps qu'il le savait. Montero débarqua une charmante petite lanterne d'une de ses nombreuses ceintures sous son manteau de tranchée, l'élevant devant l'édifice. Et à ce moment-là, la lumière dans le sanctuaire agitait et scintilleait, les guêpes dorées saignaient du bois comme des gouttelettes lambées avant de tirer libre et dans la lanterne. Bonjour. O A K R I D G E : D E P L O Y M E N T G A R A G E Il avait pensé qu'il restait beaucoup de temps, mais après beaucoup de procrastination, Montero n'avait pas le choix que d'acheter son premier repas de la machine de vente juste avant le Hanger. Une boisson douteuse de tisane chaude et deux jaunes d'oeufs crus nageant au centre, cuisinent lentement dans la chaleur qui restait. C'était l'une des tentatives saisonnières de l'Académie d'introduire de nouveaux aliments dans le corps des étudiants, supposément celui-ci était un breakfst de base dans Cetra. Il s'est pincé le nez et l'a enfoncé avec force après avoir lu l'étiquette des ingrédients, les pieds se balançant devant la porte du garage. L'arrière-goût était...suprisantement agréable. Clairement en retard, comme d'habitude, mais Montero a gardé un visage droit alors qu'il s'approchait du voisinage des autres étudiants comme il voulait être si - rien de mal avec cela. Au milieu d'eux étaient quelques étudiants, des deux était une fille bien montée aux cheveux argentés, de son point de vue, il a cherché un moment comme elle s'engageait dans un comportement très douteux à un autre étudiant masculin. Mais un détour tranquille autour d'eux a révélé qu'elle s'échauffait, heureusement. Pourtant, l'échauffement pour ce qui était essentiellement un trajet en voiture? Toujours un peu discutable. Puis il a reconnu son partenaire sur lequel elle s'appuyait, pas beaucoup, mais le mot "Voyeur" est venu à l'esprit ainsi que plusieurs flashbacks de situations embarrassantes au gymnase de retour quand ils étaient dans la même classe. Systémiquement, il a pris un rond-point jusqu'à la serrure latérale de l'APC 94, en déposant un seul pistolet de défense individuelle à émission standard et un kit d'analyse de spectromètre à l'intérieur de ses limites. Comparé à ce qui était déjà à l'intérieur, son arme était modeste. Il y avait là une élégante épée droite qui brille dans le dos, sans coutures montées par crasftman. Il a pris un moment pour courir ses doigts le long de l'appartement de la lame d'acier froid, murmurant quelque chose pour lui-même, comme s'il s'agissait de détails. Il ne s'attendait pas à faire tomber une grande monstruosité à Ledale et même s'ils en avaient besoin, mais si l'arme de l'autre est un signe de leur préparation, ils l'avaient couverte. ... Espérons. Fermant la porte de l'habitacle mais ne la fermant pas, Montero est rapidement entré dans la cabine du véhicule, ne faisant rien de plus qu'il a pris son siège au coin le plus éloigné de la droite, sauf pour les deux regards qu'il a pris à travers la fenêtre du gars avec les yeux verdâtres bizarres.

Montero Timberson ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11" ✚ Research P R E S E N C E Montero Timberson is a dark haired young man with an air of mystery that draws the attention of those who are primarily lead by their curiousity. Perhaps it's his pokerfaced nature, that keeps a focused gaze just to hide what he really thinks. That long overcoat that hides away most of his body. Or that greatsword that used to be on his back, unbecoming and unseemly to the posse of a Researcher. Rugged and broad, though not excessively tall, with somewhat handsome features. Montero speaks with deep, punctuated voice. That is, if he has to around strangers. He holds himself with some noblesse, prefering not to engage in rowdy circumstances and is quick to point out the boundaries of his personal space (and how intruders should remove themselves from it) while still trying to keep the cool and collected facade. However his colder demeanour seems to change quite quickly when Montero gets to be around Humans and Spirits he knows, to something ...brighter and more willing to crack a joke. ------- I D E O L O G Y "All it takes for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing." Montero Timberson came from neither a local or military background, his main reason for taking part in Oakridge's curriculum is one of morals -and because he can. As a Guardian, he is peculiar in that he actively avoids possession. Best as he can, that is. Strongly believing that a Soul must be kept as pure as possible, Montero sets restrictions to the spirits that he gives providence to, 'house rules' in simpler terms and is sometimes heard chiding them for not listening. But he cares for them greatly, especially the little ones, often talking to them and encouraging them to partake in his work - so they learn new experiences and the Human language. Suprisingly, they understand him. Unsuprisingly, this is considered rather irrational behaviour to some, even in Oakridge. Montero also feels that there is something wrong with the concept of Whaling and he does get vocal about it academically when given the chance, it's not just that hunting gentle giants is morally antagonistic and all. It is. But that is not what bothers him, there is a 'darkness' to the act that he cannot point out. Like a gut feeling of dread that he cannot shake away. Seeing raw Whale oil is like seeing blood, jars and jars of blood. He is seeing a professor to discuss the possibility of alternative fuels as well as to create devices that grant Spirits autonomy, though neither projects are seeing much support right now. Interesting as concepts they might be, who would support an idea that could harm the local economy? S T R I F E Though Montero wielded a Greatsword during his years as a warfare student, in his time in Research, he has found that he had a tendency to improvise in any sort of combat. Sometimes even tossing his sword as a projectile. Much to the chargrin of the instructors of Weaponary. There is no one best solution for everything. Isn't that what Science encourages us to explore? Montero switches his weapons and gear as situations change, not that Researchers are combatants anyway. Long as the school permits his use of their resources, he will prepare accordingly for each mission. He has yet to specialize in any weapon. But if there's any continuity in the way he handles a duel, it is Montero's gratituos application of Spirit arts and Science -which he does not see as a weapon. In The Spirits Within, he uses a deck centered around cunning, self-triggering traps and ultimately summoning Alexander, the Machine Tyrant, to end his opponent's life points. K I N S H I PPerpetual Work In Progress. Montero has taken a few classes with Ajax during his years in warfare. -------- "The word 'Voyeur' seems to subtly accompany this individual, flashbacks of varied classmates looking 'grossed out'." He works in the Research division, so might have seen other Researchers once or twice. Jomen tends to stand out. -------- Shadowy silhouettes, Amidst a concrete jungle, Shuffling constantly. Late nights at cafeterias tend to bring out unusual personalities, Abysso is one such individual that he knows. -------- Their opinions resonate on many matters and Montero does not mind sharing what he knows occasionally with him, to help him out. Latest elemancy techniques, test answers, how to bribe the supply shop's latest newbie. Not too much of course, it's always better to keep some hidden up the sleeves. All's good as long as Abysso doesn't steal the last midnight gâteaus. Intelligence Department. -------- Those who can't do. Judge. C O N T A C T SPerpetual Work In Progress. C H R O N I C L EPerpetual Work In Progress. P R O P E R T YHere you list valuable possessions such as items, catalysts, and currency whenever you receive them. These items are only given by the Game Master. You will have to continuously revisit this section to edit it. Phoenix Down - Revives and heals the unconcious. Quantity: 1 (1000 Gil)

Fraîchement habillé et sorti de la douche, Roland a fait son chemin pour acquérir de la nourriture. Marcher dans un manoir au rythme habituel, les mains attachées dans le dos, il a fait quelque chose presque silencieusement à lui-même. Ces premiers moments de chaque jour étaient immaculés. L'air était toujours plus frais, frais avec de la rosée et l'aura de l'endroit était claire comme du verre. Pardosa sourit peu à lui-même, nageant dans le petit moment de plaisir solitaire. Son visage pâle, doux et dur, ses yeux brillants et froids, balayés par des étourdissements de lumière et d'obscurité alors qu'il marchait seul à la cafétéria. C'était un éveilleur précoce, comme la plupart des gardiens. Cela lui a permis de s'asseoir et de manger en paix, en prenant un petit déjeuner bien équilibré pendant qu'il passait en revue les pages de son journal. Baigné dans une lueur de lumière, il tenait un morceau de toast brun dans une main, tandis qu'il doigtait à travers des pages auto-écrites. Comme si sur le signal pendant qu'il essuyait ses mains et a commencé à se tenir debout pour se débarrasser des déchets, son appareil a allumé avec l'ordre formel. Un simple clin d'œil de reconnaissance vers lui et a défilé vers le bas de l'écran pour trouver les chiffres. Avec qui devait-il travailler cette fois? Il prend note de chaque numéro. C'était difficile d'essayer de mémoriser tant de données, mais il était presque positif qu'il savait qui étaient chacun de ces gens. Il a référencé les notes qu'il a faites et s'est trouvé droit sur la plupart des comptes. Bien sûr, le seul numéro s'est distingué comme un pouce douloureux. Il sucait de l'air croustillant derrière ses dents et feignait un sourire à personne. Une Miss Celise Lelievre serait dans la même troupe, ce qui a toujours été un moment intéressant. Il se demandait si son numéro avait été mémorisé comme il l'avait fait. Avec un bouffon silencieux, il a mis son journal sous son bras et a commencé à retourner à son domicile. Il en doutait. Assis dans sa chambre Pardosa a changé le journal qu'il utilisait. Déplacer l'un de côté pour l'autre. Le premier blanc coloré, le second noir. Au fur et à mesure qu'il s'aligne sur les nouvelles, il prend des notes différentes sur les situations au fur et à mesure qu'elles se développent. Il soupira ses narines et s'assit en arrière, le menton reposant sur la paume, avec un doigt absent tapotant sur le bureau. Combien de plus d'informations avaient-ils vraiment? De combien de plus auraient-ils besoin? Combien a-t-il pu acquérir? Son tapotage est devenu plus fervent, augmentant en rythme et en volume jusqu'à ce que ce soit un staccato stable. Lentement, une main de blanc brillant sur son côté tira sa profonde concentration assise loin de lui. Son esprit de confiance faisant connaître sa présence pour ramener le jeune gardien sur terre. Le jeune homme soupirait et hurlait, pas besoin de mots. Le bras a disparu derrière lui et Pardosa a poussé son siège dehors, se préparant à partir. Après s'être transformé en tout son équipement blanc et s'être armé lui-même, il s'est mis où aller. Il a juste eu assez de temps pour prendre un café de plus et se montrer modement en retard. Arrivé au hangar, il a fait son chemin vers le véhicule désigné avec la même confiance au rythme qu'il a fait pour le petit déjeuner; bien que sachant que ce repas n'aurait pas le goût tout aussi bon. À son approche, il vit d'abord les grands corps d'Ajax et de Duke, suivi de Celise et d'Ulva. Alors que ces derniers étaient beaucoup plus petits que les premiers, ils lui étaient distinctifs dans la personnalité, ainsi que leur relation les uns avec les autres. Il semblait être entré dans une conversation entre les titans et Jomen. Décider de ne pas se laisser aller, il a simplement arrondi la voiture et s'est assis lui-même. Alors qu'il sillonnait le grand véhicule, il a repéré le dernier membre actuel de l'équipe. "Bonjour, M. Timberson." Il a offert comme il s'est assis. Alors que Pardosa s'intéressait à tous les gardiens, Montero l'attira plus. Peu auraient remarqué ces légères différences, l'ébranlement oh son oeil gauche à la vue ou peut-être les trois questions supplémentaires qu'il a demandé à l'homme. Mais pour Pardosa, il a crié l'attention. Bien sûr, après la courte salutation, il ne l'a même pas regardé pour une réponse. On ne peut pas s'en tirer comme trop impliqué, n'est-ce pas?

R O L A N D "P A R D O S A" F R E I S E N ✚ 23 ✚ Probably ✚ 5"9 ✚ Intelligence P R E S E N C ENot one to miss out on things, Pardosa seems to have a talent in getting themselves invited. They talk in paced and smooth words, with a cool disenchantment between people. Always striving for neutrality he often work as a mediator in their social circles. While he is actually quite opinionated he tends to keep this to himself, and listen on the thoughts of others. He is actually quite quick to anger, but of course also talented at keeping calm. Only those who get close to him can really read his facial emotions correctly, as he tends to display a polite smile of indifference at all times. While he seems easy to get along with, some people can find him unsettling. Of course the amount of people who fall for his charming guise are not few. When it comes to fashion they dress in the chromatic scale. Whites, grays, blacks. Nothing too loud. I D E O L O G YPardosa is a convoluted person. They are of at least two minds on many different subjects, and while they seem always in motion with direct purpose, indecision plagues them. They are of the self serving sort, while also being willing to do anything for their idea of the greater good. They think, sometimes too much, before every action. Emotions are calculated, and at times seem an annoyance. A firm believer that to make an omelette you need to crack a few eggs. True victory is never achieved without sacrifice. They like to think that they are a big picture planner, with a ruthless side, but in all honesty they can't help but do the small things ahead of them. Their actions can conflict their "sensibilities" meaning those thoughts are more so ideals, instead of their realities. S T R I F EPardosa combines three main elements in combat: Ice, primarily. Water, then wind. They enjoy the creativity that comes with limits, and hope to push the boundaries on their selected elements rather then try and grasp at too many straws. That being said of course, it's a waste to not apply other elements when one can. It's just good business. Entering combat in all white, Pardosa enforces prime conditions. Creating a steady gale of snow they use their stealth to create a moving spot of snow-blindness. They create weapons and ammunition of ice, and use guerrilla tactics to jump in and out of combat. Can travel at extreme speeds by creating roads of ice, ice skates and propelling/balancing themselves with wind. Works better alone, but again, it's good business to use your assets, even if those are allies. K I N S H I P C E L I S E: "An interesting one. Her ideals conflict in nature with mine, so we've had a few peaked conversations. I respect her individuality but we simply don't meet eye to eye on many things. Certainly I don't hate her, not in the least. If anything she makes me curious." The two haven't spent a tremendous mount of time with each other. Roland has gained some insight on her of course, but beyond their conversations the two haven't spent any time together. Acquaintances with a particular relationship is all. C O N T A C T S C H R O N I C L E P R O P E R T Y 1 Aegir Root 1 Tenebraen Oak 1 Luncheon Meat 1 Cleigne Wheat 1 Renergae Energy Drink 1 potion Energy Drink

C'est venu comme un peu d'une secousse quand Riley a couru sa main le long de la cicatrice de Mehmet, et il l'a regardée, sourcils tricotés questionnement, pendant quelques instants nus. Il roulait dans ses manches quand les mouvements de Rylan lui ont attiré l'œil. Il écoutait patiemment son argumentation, soupirant. "Ce n'est pas ma décision, quoi qu'il en soit. C'est au chef de corvée qu'il appartient.» En parlant de qui, il a hurlé à Riley. "Je m'en vais maintenant. Michael, dirige la fête d'ambulance. Reculez derrière nous et évitez d'être repérés par les chasseurs." Il regarda Riley, la vit rester dans la cabane, et secoua la tête avec une légère désapprobation. "Très bien. Vampire, tu viens avec Rylan et moi." Il a pointé vers Nathan et s'est dirigé vers lui avec un pouce. "Tu vois mieux dans la noirceur que nous." En reniflant profondément l'air, il s'est déplacé tout droit dans sa forme de loup, faisant un contact visuel avec Rylan alors qu'il sortait de la porte. "Soyez silencieux. Utilisez votre nez, comme on vous l'a enseigné." Ses yeux fouillèrent ensuite l'obscurité, s'étirant de la forme à la forme, à la recherche de l'éclat du métal, de la silhouette de l'homme debout et penché contre les arbres ou s'accroupissant en sous-bois. Il s'arrêta à une vingtaine de mètres de la porte de la cabine, les oreilles pivotant. La lune jeta une lueur de lune sur la canopée au-dessus d'eux, éclairant chaque feuille dans une couverture de murk, se déplaçant et bruissant dans la brise. "Restez près de moi, tous les deux." Attendez. Il a juste réalisé que Nathaniel ne pouvait pas l'entendre sous sa forme de loup. Il l'a regardé en arrière, s'est cogné et s'est déplacé dans sa forme humaine. "Rylan, restez comme vous êtes." Il chuchotait, rampant à travers le pinceau. "Vampire, reste près de moi et fais exactement ce que je dis." Rylan a hurlé, donnant un punch dirigé vers Dante comme un moyen de s'excuser, bien qu'il n'ait probablement pas été capable de comprendre ce qu'elle a même signé. J'ai essayé. Elle pensait que ce qui comptait maintenant, c'était leurs plans. Elle a été surprise quand il a choisi Nathan pour aller avec eux, ne sachant pas comment cela fonctionnerait comme elle n'a jamais travaillé avec un vampire avant. Rylan a donné une petite vague et le sourire comme s'il l'accueillait dans leur petite équipe avant même de prendre forme de son loup soi-même. Une fois dehors, ses sens ont été touchés par les nombreuses odeurs de la forêt et l'air frais de la nuit. Elle a fait son travail et a commencé à renifler autour du sol, à la recherche de n'importe quel signe d'un sentier ou de tout ce qui pourrait les aider. Rylan suivit lentement derrière Mehmet, faisant des cercles pour trouver un indice, ses oreilles alertent pour l'indication d'un humain se cachant quelque part dans la végétation à proximité. Elle regarda quand son chef devint humain et s'inclina la tête dans la confusion. Puis il l'a frappée, en pensant que Nathan ne pouvait pas les entendre pendant qu'ils me parlaient ces formes. Avec un clin d'œil rapide, elle continua à renifler. Voyant son enchaînement le long, l'alpha s'inclina brusquement et trotta le long de la piste d'odeur, s'élançant dans le vent alors qu'il ramassait de la vitesse. Il galopait dans la verdure, gris et noir dans l'obscurité, se tenant aussi près de Rylan qu'il gardait à l'odeur. Ils sentaient la mort, le froid et l'impitoyable, pas de chaleur, pas de famille. Son esprit s'est effondré jusqu'aux jours passés, et il s'est essuyé à l'arrêt, s'étirant doucement, se tenant contre un arbre pour reprendre son souffle. "Ils...ils sentent comme avant..." Sa tête se leva et il tenta d'avancer, trébuchant, sentant comme s'il portait des chaînes. Il pouvait sentir un poids à propos de son cou, trop lourd, trop serré, et sifflé, pantant dans le sol. "Ça fait trop longtemps que je n'ai pas senti un tel poison..." Rylan était reconnaissant Mehmet a maintenu à un rythme qu'elle pouvait suivre. Ils étaient proches; elle pouvait le sentir, sans parler de l'odeur de l'humain maintenant. Les humains n'étaient pas les plus brillants, donc ça l'a surprise qu'ils se cachaient encore et maintenant ils attaquent tous à la fois maintenant. Est-ce qu'ils auraient pu vouloir qu'un plus grand nombre d'entre eux, ou même des vampires, se joignent à eux avant de faire un geste? Peut-être qu'ils veulent abattre à la fois le coven et le pack en un seul coup. Néanmoins, c'était leur travail de les rassembler comme des moutons et de les rassembler dans la clairière. Ils n'étaient pas non plus pour tuer les humains à vue, ce qui était un soulagement pour Rylan d'une certaine manière. Elle n'était pas sûre de pouvoir tuer quelqu'un, mais elle le ferait si elle le devait. « Avant? » Rylan répétait incurablement, regardant vers son chef. Elle s'est précipitée vers lui quand elle l'a vu planer, pensant qu'il avait été blessé. Elle bougeait les oreilles de cette façon et ça, mais jusqu'à présent, elle n'entendait que les sons nocturnes de la forêt. Puis ça l'a frappée, en mettant deux et deux ensemble. Mehmet avait un de ces flashbacks à l'époque où il a été capturé. Rylan savait que ce serait mieux d'essayer et soit de le sortir de là, soit de là. Elle s'est cognée la tête dans l'épaule avec inquiétude, "Metmet, ça va. Respirez doucement, à l'intérieur et à l'extérieur. Vous êtes libre maintenant, et vous n'avez pas à les affronter si vous ne voulez pas.Les autres membres de son pack comprendraient certainement si leur alpha ne pouvait pas continuer. Rylan pourrait prendre le contrôle. Jarleth n'était pas prêt à se battre. Il n'avait rien de personnel contre le coven ou le pack, mais il n'avait pas le choix maintenant. Il a été caché le feuillage, plusieurs autres de son groupe dispersé dans la même zone. Il se demandait si sa sœur était parmi eux. Que penserait-elle de lui si elle le découvrait? Il s'est emparé de sa poitrine; sa marque d'appartenance lui a causé une douleur atroce. Ils connaissaient ses liens avec la meute, probablement pourquoi il était ici, et devait prouver lui-même et sa loyauté. C'était malade mais il était aussi un lâche et a fait ce qu'on lui a dit, et a attendu un signal pour faire un mouvement. Pendant quelques instants étourdissants, Mehmet était aveugle, s'éloignant du toucher de Rylan et s'évanouissant. Il sentit sa pression sur son cou, où aucun col ne s'enroule, et ses yeux se recentraient lentement. Il grondissait et ses épaules descendaient lentement, tremblant. Pendant un moment, il est resté comme ça, ignorant sa mission, sa famille. Mais c'était inacceptable. Il s'est redressé, expression pierreuse. "... merci, Kuzucuğum. Mais je suis l'alpha. Je dois détruire toute menace pour la meute." Ses yeux s'élançaient vers le haut et il disparut dans les buissons, traînant après le puissant parfum. Deux humains se tenaient dans un petit câlin près d'un arbre. Les stagiaires, par leur inexpérience à se cacher dans une forêt. Ils parlaient, murmuraient en fait, les arbalètes se penchaient dans les escrocs de leurs coudes. Mehmet a mesuré combien de temps il lui faudrait pour les déchirer par rapport à eux en soulevant leurs armes et en tirant. "Regarde bien, Rylan." Comme la ruée du vent dans les oreilles d'un sprinteur, il se précipita dans la clairière, se balançant d'une grande main pour trancher la poitrine du premier garçon. Il bâillonnait, bâillonnait et s'écroulait, et avant que l'autre chasseur ne puisse réagir, elle était épinglée à un arbre et mordue vicieusement dans l'épaule. Le sang a éclaboussé le visage de Mehmet, goûtant le pouls du néophyte qui saute sauvagement de panique. L'odeur du sang a rempli l'air pendant que Mehmet a enlevé les deux humains, les rookies par le regard de lui. Cependant la vue a fait ressortir de mauvais souvenirs pour Nathan, comment un par un chaque membre de son coven a été massacré juste comme cela. En remémorant la mémoire, Nathan continua de bouger avec la meute, ses yeux balayant la zone pour n'importe qui d'autre que Mehmet a terminé le néophyte. sa veillée n'était pas pour rien car un autre chasseur venait de quelques buissons. De la façon dont il s'est porté lui-même et les armements qu'il portait, il était clair qu'il était au moins un chasseur à part entière, pas les novices qui étaient juste massacrés. Les loups se préoccupaient et Nathan avait besoin d'un snack, et il prit sur lui de prendre la nouvelle arrivée. Avec des mouvements silencieux mais pressés, Nathan se referma sur sa proie et s'apprêta à frapper avant qu'un boulon d'arbale ne se fasse connaître en plongeant dans son dos. Alors qu'il s'en sortait, sa voix guerrière s'est emparée et a dit: «Folish Nathaniel, tomber dans un piège si évident.» Comme Nathan s'est rapidement mis dans la couverture d'un arbre, sa blessure a guéri et l'autre chasseur a quitté la clairière, une femme par le regard de lui. Nathan a pris dans ses environs, il n'y avait pas beaucoup de couverture entre lui et l'un des chasseurs. Avec peu d'autres options Nathan a pris une pierre, a testé le poids, et l'a jeté sur l'homme, le frappant sur son cul dans le processus. Avec lui hors de la façon Nathan a filé vers la femme, presque obtenir un boulon au visage dans le processus. Il aurait fini là si elle ne l'avait pas jetée maintenant inutile arbalète sur lui, elle savait comment se battre il lui donnerait cela. Enlevant son couteau, elle a essayé de percer son cœur mais a échoué, au lieu de l'avoir dévié et sa désarmée. Elle est peut-être compétente mais elle n'a pas passé 24 ans de formation dans les arts de la mort. Avec un simple coup de cou, elle n'était plus une menace et Nathan sortit sa balaclava et but profondément. Sentant sa force caractéristique revenir à lui dans les vagues Nathan a creusé dans ses poches, espérant qu'elle était assez stupide pour ne pas détruire ses ordres comme il l'aurait fait. Ne trouvant rien, Nathan l'a jetée sans vie et a retourné son accent sur l'homme qu'il avait pris avec un rocher. Dans un sprint rapide Nathan s'est tenu au-dessus de l'homme et a traîné dans ses poches aussi, déçu par le manque de quoi que ce soit d'utile. Avec peu de besoin de quelque chose de dramatique, Nathan a subitement écrasé la tête des hommes sous sa botte et a fait son chemin de retour à la meute. Garder un œil sur tout autre chasseur qui voulait se faire connaître. Mehmet pouvait entendre le carnage se dérouler à son sujet, et a abandonné la recrue qu'il avait tuée en faveur de se précipiter après Nathan pour garder les choses sous contrôle. "Arrête! D'autres arrivent, ils doivent suivre! » Il a aspiré de l'air dans ses poumons, a fui tout comme les chasseurs morts sont arrivés avec des arbalètes chargées, et sprinté à travers la forêt. Il espérait entendre son sac suivant son costume, ses bras pomper comme une énorme machine alors qu'il courait et sautait sur des billes et des blocs. Il a ralenti si seulement pour garder les chasseurs sur sa piste, s'écraser à travers la clairière après avoir défriché sur son sentier de guerre à la clairière. Il pria, maintenant, que les embuscades choisies étaient en position. Son esprit s'est retourné à l'image de Riley et Dante, ni beaucoup de combattants jusqu'au standard qu'il tenait pour son sac, et s'inquiétait de l'avoir dépassé. Il serait plus que suffisant pour ces humains, mais que faire si l'un des combattants les plus inexpérimentés devait mourir? Qui prendrait la responsabilité? La canopée s'ouvrit au clair de lune nu, les motes dérivant à travers les poutres comme de petites taches de substance. Bolts s'élançait devant ses oreilles, criant des jets d'argent qui s'enfonçaient dans les arbres à ses côtés. Il s'arrêta au centre de la formation rocheuse, sauta au-dessus de la plus haute pierre en face de l'entrée, et regarda une myriade de ses pires ennemis et tourmenteurs. Son cœur martelait dans sa poitrine, en partie par peur, en partie par adrénaline. "YYLAN! VAMPIRE! Frappez-les!" Sa forme s'est déplacée violemment, la tête renvoyée en tant qu'homme et bête, laissant sortir un hurlement qui a secoué la forêt à ses racines et fait la lune elle-même trembler dans le ciel de nuit. Il a jeté sur sa première proie, s'attendant à sentir le plus fort de l'embuscade en jeu maintenant que le signal avait été donné.

I'll make changes if needed: Mehmet Zengin "The pack is family. I will always look after you pups." Nickname: For members of his pack, they may call him much of an assortment of names without much backlash, commonly "Metmet", "Zen", and, only in humorous spirit, "Papa Wolf". Real Age: 239 Apparent Age: 38 Gender: M Sexuality: He doesn't particularly seem the type to be interested in anyone, but is likely pansexual. Species: Werewolf Role: Alpha Appearance: Mehmet is a very, very sturdy man. One could punch him in the gut and break their own wrist, and fights with him usually only ended in his opponent's exhaustion. His brow is heavyset, jaw wide and leading into a thick, muscular neck and shoulders. He stands at about six feet two inches, is utterly incapable of getting rid of all of his stubble and is covered in brownish, thick hair on his arms, torso and legs. His tan skin is peppered with the precise scars of a knife, quartered off by the long lashes of a whip. His deep brown eyes are gentle but firm to his pack and unreadable to strangers, and his face has a long scar starting at his right temple, hugging the curve of his jaw, and then raggedly stopping in the cradle of his adam's apple and jugular. He has no tattoos, and broad, thick-fingered hands that sport a single small ring. His wolf form is just as stout and massive, fur a shade lighter than his normal hair. He will almost always be seen wearing a tight-fitting white T-shirt, a simple pair of lightwash jeans, a belt and a pair of comfortable hiking shoes. He seems to only have two outfits to choose from: his normal outfit with a T-shirt, and his normal outfit with a jacket. Personality: It would be impossible to describe Mehmet as serene, but it would also be impossible to not describe him as such. Very paternal, he is a constant presence in the lives of the pack, teaching the young ones and leading his family with a rigidly guiding hand. He appears at ease in many settings in which his pack is with him, letting the children play around him and letting them climb on his back or hang from his outstretched arms. With the older members, he can be a little more unforgiving. Any large mistake is at least met with a stern scolding, lecture, and then demonstration on what is to be done to fix the issue. His treatment of the pack could be then described as overbearing, so focused on the improvement and wellbeing of his family that much of his energy points internally. Many know to let him rest should the rare time comes when he actually does, respecting his hard work and obsessive dedication. He is plagued by the trauma of a past he cannot let go of. If he is not talking of matters with the pack, he is recalling his experiences during his capture at the hands of Cacciatori, how he came to find his pack, how he rose through the ranks, his family bloodline, how he watched the Ottoman Empire fall and a new empire rise up. He gives his experiences freely, but to ask of his feelings on anything is to intrude so harshly that he goes into a dark, dark place for a long while. The trauma at his long-ago capture is triggered most powerfully by the sight of whips, being held down, or binding paraphernalia such as collars, handcuffs, rope or chains. Each reaction can be weaker or stronger dependent upon the situation. During a flashback, he can become very violent and blinded with imagery, sometimes only calmed by the familiar scent or touch of a pack member. History: Born into the Ottoman empire near its height and during its wars with Russia, Mehmet rose to be a highly esteemed nobleman at a young age under the tutelage of his father. While the revolutions in America and France roared on, he was commanding growing markets and toying with reforms. Modernization brought with it a variety of outsiders, and his family was soon surrounded by foreigners looking for work. His parents were both werewolves whom had involved themselves in human economic affairs, shunned from packhood on all sides due to their human-gained fortune. Mehmet, their only son, grew to follow humanity's laws and customs, growing up with a high, trusting opinion of them. That all changed during the Balkan Wars. Cacciatori from Italy itself invaded his homeland, the land he's lived on for decades, and rooted out the pack nearest his home. His family was lucky, if only because they did not involve with any pack, but the Cacciatori tortured their location out of a pack member and found them anyway. Mehmet's parents were taken off, never to be seen again, while Mehmet himself was dragged into the new Cacciatori headquarters, where he was kept for nearly ten years. During that time, the Cacciatori tested out new nonlethal torture methods, tormented and humiliated him daily, even putting a tight collar about his neck and calling him a filthy dog. Whenever they needed someone to haul rocks for a mass Immortal grave, he would be forced to throw 100-pound stones from the bottom of a pit to the edge, then haul bodies inside. Eventually, he became stronger than any other prisoner, and to keep him efficient the Cacciatori fed him just a little more. After ten years of hell, he escaped one night by snapping a guard's neck, bursting through a ten-story window and running from cars and search teams for several miles into the forest. Even so long ago, the memories still haunt him. He found a boat to America, there learning English, finding a pack and joining his werewolf kinsmen for the first time. With his strength, experience with Cacciatori methods and acute sense of human processes, he rose through the ranks, fought his way to the top and ultimately took over his own full pack. Even today he still wonders about the fate of his parents, praying emptily they did not at least suffer. Other: His threshold for pain is incredibly high, but past a certain limit and he will often go into a crippling state of flashback. His scars are old enough that they do not hurt when touched. He also hates uneaten food, eating the leftovers of pack members should they allow him to so that he could avoid wasting precious food.

Oh, être dans l'intelligence n'est pas mauvais du tout, c'est juste qu'aucun des Armstrongs de notre longue histoire n'a jamais été autre chose que la division Warfare, ou l'équivalent pour l'époque, Ajax a expliqué, "Mais il était un peu bizarre d'autres façons aussi... nous n'en parlons pas beaucoup dans notre famille, pas que je me souciais personnellement." "Oh, est-ce un chevalier que j'entends? Le claquage fort de ton armure t'a encore donné, mon ami! » Ajax a dit alors qu'il se tournait pour saluer son compagnon de longue date, "Peut-être un jour, si vous continuez à faire assez d'efforts, vous serez promu à un roi et n'aurez qu'un seul nom!" Ajax s'est introduit dans une cacophonie de rire d'un seul homme qui s'est fait écho dans le long garage en béton et en acier. Personne d'autre ne s'est moqué de cette blague stupide, c'était bien, Ajax s'en foutait. "Oh! On dirait qu'il est temps d'y aller! Venez, Duke, trouvons notre gloire sur le champ de bataille! » Ajax a tourné comme pour entrer dans le véhicule 95, qui était vide et sans conducteur, et quand nous avons réalisé cela, il a tourné en arrière, son visage stoïque a contorsé comme si dans l'horreur à la réalisation qu'il allait devoir s'intégrer à l'intérieur de 94 avec tout le monde. Il regarda Duke et cria vite "Shotgun!" Et a couru pour la position du siège avant à côté du conducteur. Lorsqu'il ouvrit la porte, le conducteur avait déjà mis sa main dehors et secouait la tête. Il était évident qu'il, ni personne d'autre, obtiendrait le luxe de ce siège particulier, "Eh bien, je suis désolé tout le monde, il semble que je vais devoir me cramper là-dedans avec le reste d'entre vous, j'ai essayé. Pour vous réconcilier, je vous promets de vous conduire tous dans une ronde d'étirements post-arrivaux pour arranger les crampes et la fatigue de la route! Ce sera génial! » Et donc, avec un effort efficace, Ajax s'est forcé dans l'arrière de l'unité et là, il s'est assis fracassé aussi petit qu'il pouvait obtenir lui-même pour être. Il a été calme pendant un certain temps lorsque le véhicule a commencé la course en bas de la route. "Pour ceux d'entre vous qui ne me connaissent pas, je suis Ajax Armstrong, comme vous l'avez peut-être deviné que je suis en guerre. Je me spécialise dans la défense. Je suis la ligne de front, je suis le mur. Je suis ton bouclier, alors tiens-toi derrière moi, et tu ne tomberas jamais! Haha!" Il s'est moqué de son propre limerick. Ce n'était pas prévu, mais il s'est senti très intelligent pour le moment. Bien qu'il ait remarqué que l'éclat de rire ne venait que de lui et que presque tout le monde dans le porte - personnel a gagné un peu au volume, "Désolé. Je vais essayer de le garder à terre."

C E L I S E L E L I È V R E ✚ Twenty-Two ✚ Female ✚ 5'2" ✚ Navigation P R E S E N C ECelise can inspire the sense of a cousin that one resonates with, but only ever seen during rare family reunions. One can sometimes experience Celise as a sister who certainly has her own life, but sees attention to those closest as a duty rather than gift. She has an aura of serenity, yet somewhat distracted by trivial pursuits. The stars and trails of the land fascinates her to such an extent that it can instill comfort of guidance in others. Celise always knows the way and how to get there. She makes sure that nothing is rushed, that nothing is taken for granted. Celise can stop and smell the roses in such a way that will distract people from pain and suffering. Due to her relatively petite frame and height, Celise can be instinctively amicable, which makes it easy to approach her for whatever reason. Her choices in fashion might play a part in it. She often wears platform sneakers to gain an inch or two, skinny-ripped jeans, and an assortment of t-shirts with motives and comfortable sweaters. Celise looks more like a youngster than a soldier that could deflect a bullet with a piece of metal or punch a hole in a concrete wall with her bare fist. Her silvery hair is kept around shoulder length, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter. Most of her facial features follows the theme of her height and frame—petite and plump. An iconic feature is her prominent, upper eyelids. Celise may not always utter thoughts and emotions through words. She is a girl of intimacy in such ways that restore humanity in people. Her hands are soft and her touch is tender. Pursuits such as massaging, braiding of hair, decorating gear and clothing, and grooming others is a quirk that not only becalms herself, but the recipient as well. All of this is given, of course, that a person is worthy of such affections. I D E O L O G YCelise puts the freedom of the individual before all else. Liberty is the primary value that one must strive towards. In any case where such liberty is threatened, the importance of the individual must triumph the collective. Celise refuses to sacrifice anything for what someone might consider to be the ‘greater good’. Every individual matters. When and if someone claims that something is in their best interest, in which they obviously have no desire, Celise will take action to prevent it. She is severely skeptical of power and government. There is always an agenda, always a false word with which to hush the masses. Wartime often disrupts tradition and order. These two qualities that Celise take to heart. It does not matter where in the world she is, cultural rituals and esoteric habits will always be of interest to her. Whenever she has been on the move, either by her own wish or by order of the academy, Celise tries to stop and take in the views and smell the flowers every now and then. In these endeavors, values such as honesty, dedication, and dignity play an important role. Celise sees loyalty, patience, and reliability as cardinal traits. When she says that she will do something, whatever it might be, Celise will exercise her stubbornness until such commitment is realized. She believes that every type of group, family, or community needs different types of parts for its engines to work. There cannot be too much of one or the other—there must be a perfect balance. By this logic, Celise does not believe that everyone is equal. She knows it is frowned upon, but she does not consider it a bad thing. If a machine is built with the same kind of part, it simply won't work. You need different kinds of parts with different purposes for things to sail smoothly. However, Celise can seem harsh at times. She is a firm believer in tough love and has little sympathy for those who break the law or repeatedly make bad decisions in life. Everyone should have the right to a second chance after being punished, but no more than that. The idea of moral values is to live by them. They are there to guide a person, not to be squandered and abused. Certain city-states around the world are experts at this very thing that she despises. Celise shows no remorse in letting everyone know what a failure they are, and that they should be annexed by the army. All manner of vulgarity and amoral behavior makes her sick. Traditional views of family, nation, and gender roles are important to Celise. She has no problems with cooking, doing household chores, or taking care of the men in her life or around her. As a matter of fact, Celise relishes in keeping things nice and tidy, civil and orderly wherever she might find herself. This extends to her physical appearance and idea of femininity. She firmly believes that a woman's greatest strength is beauty, and such strength should not be trampled upon by toxic ideas. Individual freedoms such as thought and speech should also not be restrained on the basis of offense. However, pointless slander and insults are unnecessary. S T R I F ECelise uses what probably once was a ceremonial sword. The blade of the sword appears to be crafted from a dark metal with esoteric engravings of lighter shades. The base of the weapon along with the hilt is decorated with forged ornament of unknown origin and meaning. From tip to handle, the sword is roughly four feet, five inches long, but does not weigh an awful lot. The black metal is assumed to be unique. It cannot be found in any active mine or trading deposit, which indicates that it is finite and ancient. To this day, Celise is the only person with such an esoteric and mysterious weapon. She has no recollection of when or where she acquired it. Celise is a focused combatant. She knows a wide array of sword fighting techniques. Due to the sword’s light weight, Celise can maneuver it in uncanny ways that would otherwise feel odd and off to a normal person. However, she is a stationary fighter. Celise does not move around too much and often deals with one enemy at a time, making sure that things are actually dead before shifting attention. Celise’s use of spirits is balanced. She does not favor one or the other element, or any specific kind of catalyst. It makes her a well-rounded fighter, but not particularly good at anything. Celise has a couple of tricks up her sleeve, of course, combinations of elements and catalysts to use, but she rarely finds an excuse to be flashy or lust for blood. She would rather have those who live and breathe combat fight instead. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG Celise has met Ajax on a number of occasions at the academy gym and obstacle course. The occasional, casual spotting of heavy weights turned into longer discussions about workout programs and nutrition. Celise received a lot of good tips on how she could achieve what she wanted. MONTERO TIMBERSON Celise knows Montero by name and person. Handsome and mysterious. JOMEN SURY Celise has throughout the years at Oakridge put up flyers about 'Exploring Shrines and the Unknown' to satisfy her need for exploration and spirituality. Jomen responded to these on a few occasions. Their outings to various locations were quite memorable, as Celise usually ended up doing it by herself. DUKE KNIGHT iv Through her interactions with Ajax, Celise has gotten to know Duke a little bit. She has on more than one occasion supervised and timed the ideal men's sparring sessions. She has even broken up a few actual fights between them, and tended to bruises and swellings in the aftermath. On another note, Celise's 5'2" looks quite comical next to the 6'5"+ of both men. ROLAND FREISEN Celise knows Roland, or 'Pardosa', quite well by now. They have clashed during lectures at the academy on numerous occasions. Both of them have very distinct idealisms that oppose each other. When things have gotten nasty, they have come to terms outside of lectures. However, they still conduct an ideological battle on some issues, so to speak. LIESABET ABENDROTH Celise has known Liesabet for some time now, ever since they were young. If someone asked what kind of friend she is, Celise would not be able to explain it. There is nothing negative about it, there is nothing positive about it, there is nothing ordinary about it—it is just unique. The best explanation Celise could ever use to shed light on things would be: ”She needs me, I need her; I’m her opium, she is mine; She is my graven image, I am hers.” ABYSSO YBARIS Celise knows Abysso from their shared division at the academy. They've been in the same group projects a few times, and both enjoy the actual navigation part of the division. She doesn't know much about him beyond their school work, however. C O N T A C T S. . . C H R O N I C L E. . . P R O P E R T Y Potion x2 Elixir x1 Renegade x1

Au moment où Abysso avait jeté sa griffe dans un compartiment latéral et monté à bord de l'APC, il grimpait déjà avec le reste de l'équipe. Pendant toutes ses années à Oakridge, la ponctualité n'avait jamais été son point le plus fort. Il avait fait une bonne sieste au cours des vingt dernières heures, mais il aidait un étudiant beaucoup plus jeune de la division Warfare à cacher une lame dans son bras prothétique, ce qui s'est avéré plus difficile qu'il ne l'avait prévu parce qu'elle ne pouvait pas se décider si elle voulait que la lame sorte comme une porte, ou simplement pouvoir se rétracter comme une griffe de chat. Le temps semblait juste lui échapper chaque fois qu'il prenait un projet, et bien qu'il n'était pas en retard exactement - il a vérifié son téléphone pour s'assurer qu'il était arrivé dans le temps donné - il était clair qu'il était l'un des derniers à monter. Le véhicule lui-même était sur le côté plus robuste, il a noté qu'il a pris un siège et s'est fixé, et certains des autres Transporteurs manquaient d'armure mais plus que compensé par la vitesse ou l'utilité. Personnellement, il n'avait jamais vraiment aimé piloter les modèles les plus fortifiés. Les intérieurs étaient pleins de bords métalliques tranchants et il s'était claqué la tête sur un trop grand nombre de toits pour en entrer un sans replier réflexivement ses mains au-dessus de sa tête. Mais c'était le plus sensé pour cette mission. Ce sont des soldats, donc le confort a été naturellement omis comme une priorité de conception. La puanteur des gaz d'échappement et du caoutchouc brûlant était devenue banale après des jours passés dans les laboratoires et les forges, mais les odeurs subtiles de sueur et de chow des autres dans le compartiment des sièges étaient nouvelles. Un peu de reclus à l'académie, Abysso a pris note des autres passagers, dont certains étaient ses compagnons d'escouade envoyés pour la même mission. L'affectation avait été lu avec équanimité, et il attendait avec impatience de quitter l'académie pour ce qui semblait être la première fois dans une éternité. Ses détails de mission avaient donné les numéros d'identification du reste de l'unité, mais ils étaient inutiles pour lui, les chiffres lui semblaient presque toujours inutiles. Le tapage et l'assemblage de moteurs et de machines pouvaient parfois être cathartiques, mais le multitâche avec des nombres et des emplacements était une corvée. Ce serait une peine d'être le seul chargé d'enregistrer les emplacements, donc c'est un soulagement qu'il ait reconnu un collègue Navigator-Celise. Il ne la connaissait pas bien, mais ils avaient pris assez des mêmes classes pour qu'il sache qu'elle était à peine incompétente. À l'écoute du bavardage entre les autres étudiants-soldats, Abysso a remarqué quelques autres visages familiers. Celise a niché sa tête sur le She-Wolf, l'air d'agitation typique de ce dernier presque agréable dans un si petit espace. Puis il y avait Montero, avec qui il avait partagé plus de quelques mots et une autre nocturne. Ce n'était pas une grande surprise de les voir tous, ils étaient des Gardiens après tout. Il n'avait rencontré aucun des autres hommes dans la cabine non plus, bien que la plupart semblaient être de beaucoup plus grande stature si vaguement il se demandait s'ils se sentaient claustrophobes dans le petit espace. La cabine n'était pas petite par rapport à d'autres Carriers, mais il n'était jamais à l'aise d'être enfermé. S'il ne pouvait pas voir le ciel en haut et sentir le vent souffler à travers lui, c'était difficile de se sentir à l'aise. Les autres hommes différaient dans la disposition - recueilli, copieux, introspectif, hautain. Il n'a reconnu aucun d'eux. S'ils étaient assignés à la même mission, toutes les plaisanteries seraient hors du chemin assez tôt. Mais il connaissait Celise, Ulva et Montero. Bien qu'assis avec ses bras sur ses côtés, regarde vers l'avant, si l'un d'entre eux a pris note une fois qu'il a été situé, Abysso offrirait un léger clin d'œil en saluant.

A B Y S S O Y B A R I S ✚ 22 ✚ Male ✚ 5 "8✚ Navigation P R E S E N C EThough not of imposing weight or height, Abysso's exceedingly reticent nature has been known to intimidate or even offend individuals more accustomed to lighthearted banter or cordial greetings. Preferring to allow his work and abilities speak for themselves, Abysso rarely initiates conversation outside of necessity, and offers even more trusted individuals seldom more than a nod in greeting. Affection and open expression do not come easy to him, and he will speak to others without even making eye contact. His aloofness does not stem from timidity or conceit, however, nor does he attempt to stone his emotions- more than anything, he is simply too focused on given objectives to be bothered comprehending how he feels, or why it should even matter. When asked, he will willingly voice his opinion or provide assistance. Comparable to a coyote, he is just as content to work with others as he is to himself. His aura is unrefined and raw, as well as strikingly distant and lonely, especially around other people. Despite this, he is helpful to others when prompted to, and shows either placidity or patience to even the most frustrating tasks. Whenever he speaks freely, it is most likely to make a dry remark, though it is not clear if he is trying to be funny or is just inspired to speak at inappropriate or uncomfortable times. Lean and keen as a coyote, Abysso embraces and feels more comfortable in the wilderness. He is one-track minded, so while working he may forget to eat or change out his clothes, which never seems to bother him in the least. Being given assignments and goals interests him. Even something as menial as recording coordinates or polishing vehicles receives his full attention. When he does speak, it is in a modulated tone and his words tend to be concise and to-the-point. He dresses in whatever is convenient or close- usually form-fitting pants and a loose shirt, though he tends to favor anything that can double as sleepers and casual wear. He has defined features and dark eyes and locks. He is usually seen with a neutral expression, hardly deviating towards joy or anger. I D E O L O G YHumans speak many different languages, and the universe is deaf to them all. To put it simply, Abysso doesn't believe there is moral meaning to anything that isn't given to it by other humans. This doesn't make him bitter or uncaring of the world and its inhabitants. Contrarily, he is extraordinarily interested in observing different moral codes and philosophies, and finds gratification in displays of honor and sincerity. He doesn't believe that everything is meaningless, he believes that people give everything meaning. Showing a great degree in respecting and even revering codes that he doesn't follow, Abysso is enamored by the insistence of people abiding by their morals even when it could mean their death. To him, spirit's are the purest form of the universe, akin to atoms or matter. He believes they're alive an sentient, perhaps more sentient than humans at times, but he also considers them beyond comprehension. According to his beliefs, they are the literal Universe in smaller, more manageable parts. Though he allows them inside his body, he doesn't consider them his- nobody can own the universe, and nobody may. They're simply using his body for shelter, and Abysso has never been one who can easily refuse a request. However, the spirits repay their residence in kind, and they often assist Abysso in his tracking efforts- his speciality. Abysso's personal moral code is one that prioritizes preservation and survival at any cost. This may selfish, but Abysso isn't concerned with his own survival, but of the survival of the civilization. Though not blindly loyal to the Academy and the military, he may as well be, with a tendency to execute orders without showing curiosity or doubt- regardless if he is actually feeling curious or doubtful. He does not believe he was chosen by the spirits because he has some divine spark that distinguishes him from any other member of the wilderness, but because he is a Guardian he will do everything in his power to ensure his actions will help in the preservation of the many. A diligent worker to the bone, Abysso has a reputation for having precise focus and an agreeable attitude while working with others. He rarely makes an effort to be friendly just for the sake of politeness, but he has a difficult time refusing others, which has been taken advantage of multiple times, but he never really minds. He believes that the spirits could potentially inhabit anyone, and because of that hardly shows signs of prejudice or superiority, even if he is clearly more adept at a specific activity. His few-words demeanor was shaped by his ability to track by observation and silence. The outdoors, especially mountains and thick canopies that cast deep shadows, is where he most feels like he belongs. Like the animals of the untouched wilds, Abysso trusts his gut more than his head or his heart. Among the things that actually get a rise out of him is the needless destruction of resources. As a member of the Navigation division, Abysso understands the necessity of Whale Oil and would never protest until a sustainable alternative makes itself known, but illegal whale harvesting and poaching efforts in general make him sick. It makes little sense to him why living things should be compensated for money or development, but since he is aware it is often a sore subject with his superiors, he makes sure to never clearly state his opinion on the matter, even when pressed. S T R I F EThough he treated combat with the same severity as any of his other classes, his natural instinct compels him to flee unless he's specifically instructed to do otherwise. He's not well versed in using spirits purely offensively, though he has used them to assist in his tracking and stealth in the past with relative success. If in a group, he will tend to hang back in a fight, maybe using his smaller stature to land a few fast strikes before just supporting his allies from a safe cover or the shadows. Not by healing, however- he may be able to give them able makeshift armor with ice or earth, but he's never been good at using the spirits to renew or repair. Though he is decent at using his weapon, he is far more adept at working in tandem with the spirits for Elemancy, with a specialization in lightning-based techniques. At times he is also known to use ice, earth, water, and air spells, though he struggles with fire-based techniques. They're just too aggressive and emotionally driven for his liking. Even in combat, Abysso's emotions are level, attacking or defending with reflexive or learned maneuvers, only driven by directive and not passion. His Gauntlet is used to strike and puncture critical or otherwise sensitive areas such as joints or soft tissue, though he is more skilled at beating foes off than finishing them off. He wields a clawed gauntlet of his own invention, though it is modified for stealth and ambushes more than fair fights. Though it is perhaps not the most honorable or courageous way to fight, Abysso excecutes underhanded tactics such as sending shocks into opponents to immobilize or stun them. Though not incredibly strong, Abysso's speed coupled with his specialized claw from a lightweight material allows him to chain attacks and interrupt opponents. He uses his other hand for Elemancy, and even his spells take on more disruptive than outright aggressive forms. He can't shoot beams of lightning and ice with any decency, but he's been known to set traps, have a quick strike, and attack from the shadows. He's nothing notable in a fair fight, but he hardly ever engages in a fight he doesn't feel he has the advantage in. K I N S H I P As fellow night owls, Abysso and Montero have become acquaintances by default. Montero's stance on the immorality of whaling allows Abysso to feel more affinity and trust in usual- being on the same side of a controversy tends to have that effect. Though respect and cooperation come easy to Abysso, trust does not, and while he wouldn't divulge any of his innermost thoughts with Montero, he feels comfortable enough to voice his opinion on mutually interesting topics and even requesting assistance. On occasion, the navigator has even gone so far as to offer his assistance in finding alternative fuel sources. Since the two mostly interacted in privacy, conversing in public places such as the library or the dining hall while the majority of Oakridge's population was asleep, Abysso has been able to speak somewhat freely with the other, and sees him as more than just a viable asset. C O N T A C T S t b e C H R O N I C L E t b e P R O P E R T Y (x14) Leiden Potato *10 (x10) Scarlet Pimpernel *5 (x10) Ulwat Baerries *2 (x2) Luncheon Meat *150 (x2) Anak Meat *120 (x1) Gighee Ham *80 (x2) Catoblepas Brisket *60 (x1) Basilisk Breast *50

O A K R I D G E C I T Y W A L L Le trajet sur l'APC plutôt surpeuplé était loin d'être joyeux pour le Guardian, non pas qu'il n'y avait pas d'espace sur le véhicule - mais les inévitables bosses de route ont conduit à un mépris aggravant pour son espace personnel - qu'il a hautement apprécié. Bien sûr, la compagnie a été rendue légèrement plus inconfortable par l'absence d'une voix intérieure d'Ajax, le soldat était clairement excité de descendre du bus et de les effrayer mentalement le plus tôt possible. Mais au moins Abysso était là, la tache d'huile sur sa chemise et son coude lui a évidemment donné la raison pour laquelle il était en retard. Lorsqu'il regarda la voie de Montero, le navigateur vit l'insalubrité de Montero sur un mur vide entre les deux têtes de l'Intelligence - se changer momentanément en un seul sourcil surélevé, un regard latéral et le scintillement sordide vers le haut de son sourire barbu sur le frottis qui s'est souillé. Les deux avaient une relation amicale, largement basée sur l'opinion partagée que la chaleur et le bruit du jour étaient les plus banals à la productivité. La sérénité, l'air froid et l'arôme irrésistible du soufflé de cacao frais de la fin des nuits au Cloud Cafe de l'atrium étaient bien mieux adaptés à toute sorte de travail à faire. - C'est quoi, ça? - C'est quoi, ça? - C'est quoi, ça? Lorsque l'APC s'est arrêté, Montero a immédiatement ouvert les portes et a sauté hors du navire, allant directement dans le compartiment de l'arme pour récupérer son équipement. Il a trié à travers la pile, tournant sa main le long de certains des autres équipements pour un moment. Une fois que Celise a fini de débriefer l'équipe, il s'est jeté dans les mains, d'abord manier son arme. Commenter. "Bonne épée." Avant de tourner sur son talon, florissant son manteau et leur donnant un pouce en arrière de reconnaissance, se dirigeant rapidement ailleurs. Il allait ruer le jour où il devait participer à la procédure inélégante de l'étirement de groupe.

Montero Timberson ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11" ✚ Research P R E S E N C E Montero Timberson is a dark haired young man with an air of mystery that draws the attention of those who are primarily lead by their curiousity. Perhaps it's his pokerfaced nature, that keeps a focused gaze just to hide what he really thinks. That long overcoat that hides away most of his body. Or that greatsword that used to be on his back, unbecoming and unseemly to the posse of a Researcher. Rugged and broad, though not excessively tall, with somewhat handsome features. Montero speaks with deep, punctuated voice. That is, if he has to around strangers. He holds himself with some noblesse, prefering not to engage in rowdy circumstances and is quick to point out the boundaries of his personal space (and how intruders should remove themselves from it) while still trying to keep the cool and collected facade. However his colder demeanour seems to change quite quickly when Montero gets to be around Humans and Spirits he knows, to something ...brighter and more willing to crack a joke. ------- I D E O L O G Y "All it takes for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing." Montero Timberson came from neither a local or military background, his main reason for taking part in Oakridge's curriculum is one of morals -and because he can. As a Guardian, he is peculiar in that he actively avoids possession. Best as he can, that is. Strongly believing that a Soul must be kept as pure as possible, Montero sets restrictions to the spirits that he gives providence to, 'house rules' in simpler terms and is sometimes heard chiding them for not listening. But he cares for them greatly, especially the little ones, often talking to them and encouraging them to partake in his work - so they learn new experiences and the Human language. Suprisingly, they understand him. Unsuprisingly, this is considered rather irrational behaviour to some, even in Oakridge. Montero also feels that there is something wrong with the concept of Whaling and he does get vocal about it academically when given the chance, it's not just that hunting gentle giants is morally antagonistic and all. It is. But that is not what bothers him, there is a 'darkness' to the act that he cannot point out. Like a gut feeling of dread that he cannot shake away. Seeing raw Whale oil is like seeing blood, jars and jars of blood. He is seeing a professor to discuss the possibility of alternative fuels as well as to create devices that grant Spirits autonomy, though neither projects are seeing much support right now. Interesting as concepts they might be, who would support an idea that could harm the local economy? S T R I F E Though Montero wielded a Greatsword during his years as a warfare student, in his time in Research, he has found that he had a tendency to improvise in any sort of combat. Sometimes even tossing his sword as a projectile. Much to the chargrin of the instructors of Weaponary. There is no one best solution for everything. Isn't that what Science encourages us to explore? Montero switches his weapons and gear as situations change, not that Researchers are combatants anyway. Long as the school permits his use of their resources, he will prepare accordingly for each mission. He has yet to specialize in any weapon. But if there's any continuity in the way he handles a duel, it is Montero's gratituos application of Spirit arts and Science -which he does not see as a weapon. In The Spirits Within, he uses a deck centered around cunning, self-triggering traps and ultimately summoning Alexander, the Machine Tyrant, to end his opponent's life points. K I N S H I PPerpetual Work In Progress. Montero has taken a few classes with Ajax during his years in warfare. -------- "The word 'Voyeur' seems to subtly accompany this individual, flashbacks of varied classmates looking 'grossed out'." He works in the Research division, so might have seen other Researchers once or twice. Jomen tends to stand out. -------- Shadowy silhouettes, Amidst a concrete jungle, Shuffling constantly. Late nights at cafeterias tend to bring out unusual personalities, Abysso is one such individual that he knows. -------- Their opinions resonate on many matters and Montero does not mind sharing what he knows occasionally with him, to help him out. Latest elemancy techniques, test answers, how to bribe the supply shop's latest newbie. Not too much of course, it's always better to keep some hidden up the sleeves. All's good as long as Abysso doesn't steal the last midnight gâteaus. Intelligence Department. -------- Those who can't do. Judge. C O N T A C T SPerpetual Work In Progress. C H R O N I C L EPerpetual Work In Progress. P R O P E R T YHere you list valuable possessions such as items, catalysts, and currency whenever you receive them. These items are only given by the Game Master. You will have to continuously revisit this section to edit it. Phoenix Down - Revives and heals the unconcious. Quantity: 1 (1000 Gil)

C'est ce que j'ai dit. A A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y A T R I U M. L'uniformité dicte l'égalité, et dans ce quasi parallélisme se trouve la monotonie et la ruguosité; une sorte d'écart où dans les nuances de piscine d'ébon et de churn, jusqu'à ce que saigné gris sur leurs bords et pâle plus loin dans les plumes de blanc, et là, les taches de bleu. Dawn empiète lentement comme un amoureux sauntering, embrasse de picotements légers sur le précipice des ombres malformées et conglomérées dans un domicile strict délégué à tous ceux qui aspirent à Oakridge étant à la maison. Murs de barres, mobilier clairsemé, moyens efficaces et collectés de luxe minuscule à peine offert dans le commerce d'idéals et de traditions militaristes depuis longtemps forgés. Des touffes de piqués et des quartiers arrière en vrille barbés dans des épines élancées entre ces murs, tremblant à l'intérieur d'ombres différentes et s'inclinant contre chaque forme de projection bestiale; ils étaient aimés de la forme d'assombrissement au-dessous d'eux, les pattes béantes d'un feu éclatant qui rugissait sous la promesse d'une fournaise terrifiante, certains se posaient l'un sur l'autre dans des guêpes fantasmiques de confort - recouvertes d'épaules minces et d'une poise lisseuse. Chaque matin, Liesabet Abendroth s'éveilla, c'était toujours le même, un cycle continu d'obscurité déformée qui sifflait et s'embrasait, chaque bruit une fleur derrière les yeux de son esprit tremblant se déchirant dans les rêves eldritch. Elle a inhalé, les lèvres se sont séparées, la peau s'est pelée, le museau chaviré se trouvant sous l'os comme une suie de cils noirs s'est évanouie, se réveillant dans les griffes de l'anxiété infâme qui colorait ses yeux dans des nuances de saphir noircissant. Des gestes rapides cardés à travers des tresses et leurs talons coulés au fond de son oculus, éclipsant les tremblements persistants qui restaient de ses déformations subconscientes. Les esprits étaient souvent vénérés, respectés, révélés comme des unités de puissance incroyable et représentés dans le symbolisme aux qualités de leadership et à l'unicité globale. Des yeux grinçants d'argent étirés vers l'avant, engloutissant des mâchoires noircies et des jowls pelés larges, décollants et inébranlables avant de clin d'œil dans des lueurs remarquables de lumière pâle aux franges dorées. Une telle acclamation était sans dans son cœur, au lieu de remplacer par une peur paralysante et non-vante de leur port. Liesabet inhala avec leurs vacanciers spirituels à travers le flambeau de ses narines et de ses lèvres, sifflant le souffle pris contre ses dents et sa langue jusqu'à ce que sa cavité se boucle et tombe, s'écroulant sur une gouffre d'haleine comme des bulbes florescents s'écrasant et se retrouva nichée contre le confort spartan de son coin de dortoir; ronflant à l'apex de ses murs et caché au-delà de la limite la plus lointaine de son bureau. L'azur holographique s'est envolé dans une série de nombres et de fréquences, canalisant immédiatement vers une diffusion centrale auprès des responsables du renseignement, ce genre de planches a été compilé avec de brefs échanges d'informations et des délégations pour la journée, une sorte de calendrier que l'on a respecté pour assurer le bon fonctionnement de l'Académie. Ces détails comprenaient d'importants rappels aux inclusions U.D.F, tous brouillés et imprimés sous le titre gras de sa poignée : Ulva. Liesbet Abendroth palma rapidement à travers l'interface, les doigts détendus et arqués, ses gestes tenus dans l'élégance par sa dextérité naturelle à travers chaque passage de notification et d'interaction; des améliorations sur le point de vue politique actuel, bref résumé au front de guerre, tous traités avec presque ressemblance d'indifférence. L'horloge numérique programmée dans le coin supérieur droit, combinée à une représentation analogique lui a dit que la journée était encore jeune, assez pour assurer un régiment d'exercice pour la journée, un autre moment donné pour qu'elle assiste à sa visite quotidienne à ses supérieurs; ils ne l'ont jamais adressée par nom cependant, seulement par titre, et la dissociation était à la fois un degré d'engourdissement et un répit. Liesabet a baissé ses doigts de l'appareil au chant de son mobile, sachant immédiatement qui était son expéditeur. Chaque matin, elle a trouvé le destinataire de ces messages uniques, codés différents chaque aube, toujours traduit facilement dans son esprit, comme telle était leur parenté. Elle s'est clouée dans son code, a tapé son clou contre le verre fortifié et a permis aux passages d'un sourire de lui gratifier d'autres traits laxistes. Une couronne dans le soleil, clignotant sur les vagues, ne laissez pas la marée vous tirer sous, moins vous vous trouvez empalé sur les rochers. Liesabet a immédiatement répondu en nature, les mêmes symboles inversés, pour inverser la missive originale et l'a envoyé à travers tout comme l'annonce est venue à. Les interphones et les déploiements qui l'entouraient étaient connus des jours précédents, prononcés par l'oreille par le fltter d'une bouche secrète, une morsure contre la peau, un glissement contre sa chair qui apportait avec elle un fltter d'excitation centré bas dans son être. La menace se répandait, les ressources étaient menacées, de sorte qu'elle-même avait cherché à sécuriser et fortifier par une chasse qu'elle venait de revenir d'une quinzaine de jours peut-être auparavant. Ainsi, ce n'est qu'une personne donnée et jugée appropriée qu'elle assiste à la première ligne pour rétablir la vitalité des ressources qu'elle a acquises grâce à son initiative. Les premières choses d'abord... Son esprit était accablant dans la routine, les réponses mécaniques conviés aux récepteurs statiques de ses nerfs, actuellement, tempérés. Elle s'habille de couleurs monochromes, de charbon de bois noir et de gris décoloré en dessous, les reliures de l'usure sportive combinées avec le support de mesh et le matériau respirant baigné sur des veaux minces et la gaine de ses armes de son casier à pieds attaché aux unités de suspension modifiées dans toute sa garde-robe. Elle s'arrête. La projection holographique intégrée dans sa cabine est programmée sur son téléphone, de sorte que les détails de la mission sont bien en vue lorsqu'elle lit ses ordres dans le sérieux, scrutant. Il y a des nombres, des codes, la numérisation de l'identification des gardiens et leur destination inclus avec une brève inclusion de la situation actuelle. Elle reconnaît un, mais pas tout, réconforté par l'épitaphe bien lue de Celise et inquiétant pour ceux qui ont été intronisés par ce déploiement; elle est une âme solitaire chargée d'inclinations et de performances en solo. Elle s'empare ensuite de ses poignards, se resserre peut-être plus que nécessaire et les héberge en place avant d'envoyer immédiatement un autre message à Celise, cette fois-ci en demandant où elle se trouve. Elle n'a pas vraiment vu en elle quelques jours étranges, encombrés par leur carrière et leurs occupations, mais aussi à travers ce Celise socialisé avec ceux qu'elle n'a pas fait. Liesabet a épargné sa chambre à un dernier coup d'œil avant de partir rapidement, elle a enfilé pour l'usure étouffée des pieds, le genre d'altération fournie comme une nécessité et fait passer à travers l'atrium. Ses doigts se posaient et dansaient sur des plantes décoratives, la flore dérangée brièvement par son toucher et la pâle cantère d'une apparition loupée se baissant soudainement à ses talons. C'est ce que j'ai dit. D E P L O Y M E N T G A R A G E. Le garage était déjà bien échauffé par l'activité, les voix s'empilaient dans le silence jusqu'à ce qu'on trouve fort et bouffant, faisant que Liesabet était toujours à l'entrée et enfermé à l'intérieur de l'observation. Elle avait fait un bref détour sur sa route, ayant acheté divers Catalystes adaptés à ses moyens de prouesses, tous à l'endroit et au but du sac à dos militaire qui l'accompagnait souvent à ses chasses et à d'autres missions. Elle trouva Celise facilement, cheveux argentés et teint pâle, contre le passionné physique austère, entouré de ceux connus par le nom, mais à peine par le cœur. Elle flippe alors. Corps rigide, poils de fourrure, ses os douloureux à l'intérieur de la chair et ses dents durs l'un contre l'autre dans un grimace rigide. Chevalier du Duc. Liesabet inhale brusquement, un sifflement d'inconfort s'abattant sur l'os et la peau. Le destin trouverait fait qu'il soit affecté à ce contingent, le long d'un côté, elle a trouvé aimé, et d'autres qui voient rarement à l'amitié en dehors de ceux qui portent la ressemblance à leurs intérêts et leurs habitudes. La louve entre son cœur et son âme se blottis sauvagement, un hurlement deuil qui s'accroche contre ses côtes, les envoûtant vers l'intérieur alors que la suif canine éternellement déchirée à ses pieds commence à s'ébranler le long des murs, traquant autour de leur bantre. Elle connaît bien le porte-avions généralement assigné, spacieux et bien blindé, le ventre de l'A.P.C 94 son intention comme Liesabet s'est proposé à la fureur et au silence. Elle pouvait facilement parler à Celise plus tard, et maintenant son message secondaire aurait été reçu, de sorte qu'elle a glissé ses doigts minces à travers ses fils de cheveux bicolores, les dérangeant brièvement pour obstruer à travers le bleu de son regard évasé avant d'abriter ses armes et ses fournitures dans les compartiments fournis de la coque et d'escalader silencieusement à bord. Le bourdonnement de la reconnaissance à ce qu'elle n'était pas la seule personne aux mêmes intentions de hâter leur départ a brisé son éblouissement vers le haut, l'aperçu oblique du blues d'anshen à travers ses cils intensifié par l'ombre de tresses marchant à travers sa mâchoire. Liesabet connaissait à peine Montero Timberson, mais sa pause était suffisante pour indiquer une certaine forme de familiarité car sa tête se câlinait d'un côté, les yeux clignotant vers le bas, au-dessus de sa tenue, avant de ticquer dans les incréments lents à son placage soigneux. Elle a prononcé un clin d'œil dans l'accueil, les lèvres se sont séparées comme pour parler, un murmure d'une enquête et puis quelques appâts sur sa langue avant de choisir son propre siège, hors de la gauche, sa tête s'est prosternée.

A J A X A R M S T R O N G ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 6'5" ✚ Warfare P R E S E N C EAjax is a physically imposing figure, clearing the 6 foot mark and being extremely broad shouldered he is hard to miss. He is energetic and charismatic, and not afraid to fight and die for the cause. He likes to crack bad jokes at inappropriate times, so some people don't like him because they think he isn't taking the situation seriously. However, most people do tend to like him, even if they don't want to admit it. His honesty is another thing that people may come to not like about Ajax, as he is oft to say what he thinks in an as open and respectful way possible, if possible. Despite his potentially perceived personality flaws, he is the shield on the battlefield, and that makes him hard to hate. I D E O L O G Y V A L U E S: Ajax will always attempt to do what is best. This does not always follow the rule of law. He does believe in the sacrifice of the few for the good of the many. He finds honesty and loyalty as very favorable traits in other people. M O R A L S: Ajax, if he had to use an alignment to describe himself, he would call himself Chaotic Good. Whenever possible, he tries not to kill humans or guardians and will focus more on the defense of the team, though he has no issue with the lesser beings and monsters that they come across on their missions. He has been taught through his faith that the more spirits a body contains the more value that life has. He always tries to be honest with everyone, come what may. T H O U G H T S: The corruption brought on by the Jenova is bad news and must be stopped. While he feels that he shouldn't kill other humans or guardians, he has come to terms with the fact that sometimes it must be done in order to defeat Jenova. Ajax does generally believe in the direction of the military run government, but he does think for himself and will voice any concerns he has, in a meaningful and respectful way. -More thoughts and theories as they become relevant- S T R I F EAjax fights with a heavy war hammer which his swings and spins with great ease due to his own massive size and strength. He has four primary skills that he uses in combat. The first is projecting a large earth shield area in front of himself with plenty of room for his companions. While using this skill he cannot attack, but he is able to move around. This does take a constant amount of focus and physical effort to do, so he moves at a considerably slower rate. The second is a sudden burst of speed that allows him to sprint head first into the enemy. Often used to close a distance in a hurry, can be used to slam and pin opponents against walls or other obstacles. The third ability is launching a flaming ball of magma at an opponent. The last ability is to cause a shockwave that knocks opponents around him to the ground, stunning them for a moment. This is done by slamming his hammer into the ground creating an omnidirectional shockwave. He tends to go into combat shirtless, for some reason, all of the Armstrong men in his family do this... K I N S H I P D U K E: Ajax and Duke have a long intermingled family history of unfavorable interactions. They have opposing view points on many subjects. Despite this, the two have come to have a close friendship. Even if they have to keep it hidden from their parents. As to who is stronger between the two? Who can say, they keep sparing anyways. M O N T E R O: Ajax and Montero knew each other from younger days in the academy. Back when you first had to choose your division, Montero was also in the Warfare division. They weren't terribly close, but they did take some classes together. J O M E N: Ajax has a habit of getting himself hurt and getting to know the people that are supposed to help put him back together. So it is of no surprise that Ajax searched out the person that everyone claimed to be the best. This search brought him to Jomen. The two have trained together in their downtime between classes, trying to come up with techniques and skills to protect other members of their team. Ajax views Jomen as a friend, but isn't certain if Jomen holds Ajax in the same regard... might have something to do with calling him 'green eyes' from time to time... C E L I S E: Ajax and Celise have interacted a few times throughout the years at the academy. Primarily at the Gym or when there are cross-curriculum training sessions. She seems warm and friendly to Ajax, if not a little aloof in his opinion. Though, they aren't close, just acquaintances. C O N T A C T SNothing yet C H R O N I C L E Nothing yet P R O P E R T Y 1x Bernard's Lily 1x Anak Meat 1x Bindleweed 2x Tenebraen Oak 1x Aeger Root 1x Garula Sirloin 1x Wild Tomato 3x Gignee Ham 2x Fish Roe 1x Oxen Marrow

Kade a reconnu à la fois Jomen et Ajax lorsqu'ils se sont présentés. Son regard gris les a dépassés pour observer la scène au-delà. Des extrémistes armés, tous augmentés. L'information qu'elle avait reçue était juste, la présence du Marshall les agitait. Mais pour tenir un immeuble de bureaux? Elle pensait qu'ils n'étaient pas appelés "extrémistes" pour rien. Alors que Jomen se déplaçait devant elle pour parler aux extrémistes, elle chuchotait : « Si les choses vont fort, nous avons besoin d'eux vivants. Les non-létales s'en prennent si vous pouvez l'aider." Kade a laissé l'élève plus jeune et a regardé pendant un bref moment. Elle a entendu la blague d'Ajax, qui était en effet mal chronométrée. La réponse de Kade était simplement un front levé; peut-être que son ancien moi aurait donné une meilleure réponse. "Restez concentré sur la tâche à accomplir. Vous pouvez célébrer avec humour une fois la situation gérée. » Il faisait froid, bien sûr. Mais Kade avait vu ses amis humoristiques payer le prix de leur humour. Quand Ajax a demandé son aide, elle a hurlé. "Un convoi sous ma charge est ralenti par cet incident. Plus elle est longue ici, plus elle est menacée. Il faudra sans aucun doute s'en occuper." Le gardien a étudié le bâtiment, "La question est: Comment? Ces extrémistes pourraient avoir des informations précieuses, donc les faire vivre est une priorité. Mais ils ont des otages, donc ils ouvriront le feu si nous agissons. Si nous pouvons sécuriser les otages et leur retirer leur influence, alors nous pouvons nous installer pour les soumettre. » Ses yeux regardaient dans une ruelle. Elle regarda dans cette direction pendant un bref moment et s'inclina vers l'allée. "C'est comme ça qu'on va le faire. Je vais prendre l'escapade d'incendie et infiltrer le fond du toit. J'enverrai un esprit pour vous donner le tout clair. Si ce n'est pas le cas, les coups de feu devraient suffire à déclencher un signal. » Kade l'a retournée à Ajax et a fait son chemin jusqu'à la ruelle. Une poignée de soldats de l'UDF ont cherché son chemin pour l'instruction. Elle a répondu par un signal à la main pour se tenir à l'écart. Quand elle a disparu dans l'allée, Kade a regardé l'échappement du feu, l'échelle avait déjà été abattue. Ça a dû être comme ça qu'ils sont entrés dans le bâtiment sans causer un ruckus en premier lieu. La gardienne a concentré un peu de magie pour améliorer ses sens. Alors qu'elle montait à l'échelle, et montait les escaliers de l'interrupteur, Kade écoutait les pas qui s'approchaient à travers le mur du bâtiment. C'est bon. Kade ralentit son rythme en s'approchant du sommet. Elle a entendu du bruit sur le toit, deux extrémistes qui parlaient. Elle s'est accroupie et a écouté pendant un court moment. "Hé, Sidney. Vous êtes sûr que laisser Brett pour sécuriser les otages était une bonne idée? Je veux dire... Ce type est un canon lâche. Il commencera à tirer même s'il entend une chute d'épingle." "Je n'ai pas inventé le plan, Vinny... tu devrais prendre ça avec le patron." Sidney a dit. "Pas moyen en enfer je vais questionner les plans de Nimbus sur son visage. Ce type m'a coupé en deux dans une balançoire de son épée! » Il y a eu un ronflement, "Hey... Ouais, probablement pas une bonne chose. Il paraît qu'il est encore plus à l'écart depuis que Sev a poignardé sa copine dans le dos. Nimbus n'a jamais pu regarder Ariel de la même façon après ça... C'est dommage." "Damn honte..." Vinny répéta à son tour. Kade a recueilli assez d'informations en écoutant les deux gardes inconnus. Leur chef s'appelait Nimbus. L'homme qui tenait les otages s'est empressé d'ouvrir le feu. Et il y avait des conflits internes. Plus Kade a attendu, plus la situation allait devenir tendue. Il était temps d'agir. Si elle voulait entrer dans l'immeuble, elle aurait dû assommer les deux gardes. Kade a décroché son manteau des épaules et l'a mis dans son poing. Elle a canalisé la magie loin de ses sens, et a commencé à déplacer l'air autour d'elle. Une fois que les deux regardèrent ailleurs, Kade sauta sur le précipice du bâtiment et jeta son manteau en boule. Avec une touche de poignet, le manteau explosa et s'étendit complètement, captant une rafale de vent contrôlée par Kade. Il y avait un fouet comme le manteau s'est façonné pour boulonner l'air. Avant que Vinny ne puisse tourner, le manteau se cogna dans l'arrière de sa tête et l'enveloppa autour de son visage. Kade a couru jusqu'aux deux, a saisi l'arrière de la tête de Sidney, et a poussé son genou dans son visage. Sidney s'est effondré, inconscient. Kade s'est ensuite emparé et a pris un coup de pied. Son talon de botte se lie à sa joue, l'envoyant tourner et atterrir sur son front. Les deux étaient froids. Kade a traîné les deux ensemble, et les a attachés avec son manteau pour les garder là. Elle a retiré les radios des gardes et les a écrasés. Puis elle a saisi les armes et les a démontées rapidement, laissant les pièces éparpillées. Kade a marché jusqu'à l'accès au toit et a posé une main sur la porte. Elle a encore augmenté ses sens, en s'assurant que personne n'était de l'autre côté de la porte, ou dans l'escalier. Il semblerait que Nimbus ait laissé la sécurité sur le toit jusqu'à Vinny et Sidney. La porte était verrouillée, mais avec un abruti rapide et un peu de force de gardien, la serrure de porte s'est cassée et a cédé. Kade était là. Acte - Kade a silencieusement abattu deux gardes du toit. Réaction - Kade a réagi à Ajax et Jomen avant qu'ils n'agissent. Observer - Kade a jeté sur les gardes du toit pour vérifier les informations sur les extrémistes qui dirigent la situation d'otage. Reflect - Kade s'est rappelé, ainsi que les autres Gardiens, que cette situation d'otage ralentissait le convoi du VIP.

(Click the picture for Kade's theme song) Kade Sicario || 27 || Female || 5’ 7” || Warfare || P R E S E N C E There is an air of mystery surrounding Kade. She is a wary and careful individual who picks her words with caution. Kade’s body language suggests that she is always on edge. Her tensed posture tells others of her stressed history. Kade’s memories are clouded and distorted, which has made it difficult for her to live off of past experiences. Because of this, Kade lives in the moment, and has adapted to become quick on her feet. Despite the lack of any structured memory, Kade subconsciously responds to certain stimuli, both positively and negatively; suggesting that her memories haven’t been totally lost, and that her old self is constantly scraping at her subconscious. Kade is covered in scars, many of which have long since healed and have become nearly invisible. Others appear to be more recent. The scars vary in shape and size; some resembling gunshot wounds, while others resemble injuries incurred from beasts of Jenova. She has a collection of tattoos that run up her arms, around her shoulders, and down her back. The tattoos on her back line a series of long straight scars that run from her neck to her waist. Records from the Oakridge Academy say that Kade’s eyes were once amber, but they are now a piercing gray. Kade wears functional clothing, often in reds, whites, or blacks. Her hair is raven black, despite academy records declaring her hair as brown with white dyed streaks. She wears clothes that cover her scars, so to not bring up a subject she knows very little of. An amber pendant rests around her neck on a worn black piece of sting. The pendant is hand carved with the writing ‘Samuel’ engraved into the back of it. When she is nervous, or when her hands are idle, she will often fidget with the pendant and become rather somber. Those who remember who Kade Sicario used to know her as a kind and gentle Guardian, as well as a young songstress taking Cetra by storm. She was once compassionate and calm, even in the direst of situations. It is unclear what has changed Kade so much, both physically and mentally. Every once in a while, her old self will come out, but those moments are fleeting, and far apart from one another. Academy officials, as well as her old friends, can only hope that Kade’s memory returns in full. Until then, she is to be closely watched and observed for abnormal behavior. I D E O L O G Y”Survival is the basest of all human instincts. Once you’ve fallen to that depth, everything else loses its value. It’s either you, or them.” Kade has experienced much, but her memories of such experiences are hazy and hard to reach out to beyond five years from now. Within those five years, Kade has known little besides fighting and surviving. She is always alert, her eyes constantly flicking about and evaluating her surroundings. She is ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and is often first into the fray when the battle begins. Even before she went missing, Kade was known to have issues sleeping. While she is able to sleep easier now, she will sometimes wake up sweaty and in a panic. When danger is nowhere to be found, Kade’s old self seems to come out more. She is calm, able to smile (even if it is faint), and willing to socialize. When she is alone, or when she believes she is alone, Kade will even hum and sing quietly to herself. However, she is a lot more nervous about singing around people than she used to be. It is clear that Kade is recovering from whatever trauma she had sustained, and that it is only a matter of time before her memory returns to her in full. When she is safe, Kade seems to be in harmony with herself, something that the psychologists of Oakridge know is a shame. Once her memories return, Kade will likely not achieve such harmony again. S T R I F EKade was always an accomplished martial artist. Before her disappearance, she was a highly respected combatant. That talent in martial arts seems to not have left her. However, her fighting has become more brutal and direct. Beforehand, Kade viewed her martial arts simply as a means of combat. Now, she views her martial prowess as a means of survival, and it shows in her fighting style. Her attacks are often supplemented by air elemental magic. Kade uses this magic to create focused fields around her fists and feet to deliver powerful gusts of focused wind in order to increase the impact. Kade can also use her air magic to manipulate the physical area around her, not just as a supplement to her martial arts. She can lift and moves objects, or send out a bolt of focused wind over a longer distance if she so chooses. Kade wears leather climbing gloves with steel knuckles to fight with. There is nothing special about these gloves, and they can be easily replaced if lost. K I N S H I PStudents of the academy today might only know Kade as the Guardian who went missing five years back, or as the famous songstress who performed funeral rites for those who have died to the stigma and its creations. Some students might have been junior classmen, and remember her as the role model upper classman; if this is the case, then they’ll be concerned for who she has become since her disappearance. Her friends have all either died, or have moved on with their lives. Some of her old friends have been made aware of her resurgence, but none of them have managed to muster up the courage and face her again. Even if they did, Kana would have no memory of them. Kade is also represented in the card game, 'The Spirits Within', as a first edition card. This rendition of her resembled that of her old self, the famous songstress and powerful guardian. Being a first edition card, avid collectors of the card game, and fans of Kade's music, seek out this rare card. Jomen Sury - Kade has only just met Jomen Sury. Ajax Armstrong - Kade has only just met Ajax Armstrong. C O N T A C T SLieutenant Renalt Qatar Renalt was the man who led the special forces team that found Kade. He was the only one in the squad to recognize her, and willingly abandoned the mission to rescue the former guardian. Renalt was a captain at the time, and was demoted to the rank of lieutenant as a result of his insubordination. Kade hasn’t had the chance to speak with Renalt since he brought her back to Oakridge, but she trusts him nonetheless. Dr. Lucius Brant A longtime acquaintance to Kade, Lucius was originally her therapist during her time at the academy. He is the only one left at the academy who knows Kade personally, and has been instrumental in helping her collect fragments of her past. In the five years before their reunion, Kade did not know her first name, she was simply referred to as ‘Sicario’. Lucius has struggled in his attempts to properly reconnect with Kade, but he is determined to keep working at her in order to bring her old self back. C H R O N I C L EShe was about to speak to the convoy leader when a reporter yelled out to her. A small twin rotor camera drone floated right up to the guardian's face, which she quickly batted away harmlessly. The reporter quickly learned to keep the drone out of Kade's personal space. "Miss Sicario! Miss Sicario! Does you being here declare your support for the military's incitement of the JENOVA crisis?! You were there at Isla de los Muertos, how can you possibly support the UDF after such a massacre?" Kade glanced over to the reporter for a brief moment, but decided not to answer. Kade had heard of the reports, of her efforts during that battle, but her memory on the event was cloudy at best. She remembered that it had turned into a three way bloodbath when the aggressors arrived. And she remembered people important to her dying, but they were only faceless silhouettes in her mind. Kade couldn't even remember their names. The reports had many names covered in black ink. P R O P E R T Y2x Potions 1x Phoenix Down

La limousine se déplaçait lentement dans les rues d'Oakridge City. Alors que les escortes avaient fait assez bien pour garder les foules à la baie, les routes étaient encore encombrées. Les manifestants civils qui longent les rues ont crié et jeté des ordures sur la limousine noire du jet. Sirènes balayées au loin, en écho à travers la jungle en béton. Ici et là, les officiers et les soldats de l'UDF ont retenu des individus indisciplinés qui ont essayé de sauter la barricade. Les choses se sont arrêtées quand un grand groupe de manifestants ont refusé de dégager les routes. Tout le convoi s'est immobilisé, et le Marshall de campagne a pris une respiration nerveuse. "Nervous?" une femme assise en face de lui a demandé. Le Marshall l'a regardée, "Pourquoi devrais-je l'être? Je suis un officier de l'UDF. Ces gens devraient me remercier pour mon service. » La femme soupira et se pencha vers l'avant, se reposant les mains sur les genoux. Elle portait de l'armure Guardian légère et une paire de gants d'escalade noirs avec des nœuds en acier. Un pistolet holstered reposait sur sa cuisse gauche. Ses cheveux corbeaux sont tombés de ses épaules alors qu'elle regardait le Marshall, "Pas de respect, Marshall, mais je ne suis pas assis dans une limousine blindée attendant des remerciements pour mes sacrifices." Le marshal a avalé ses mots et a hissé, "Vous avez raison, je suis désolé, Sicario..." L'homme laissa sortir un long soupir et regarda par la fenêtre, regardant les foules de citoyens en colère. "Je suppose que je suis nerveux. Quoi avec les infos divulguées, et tout. Ce n'est pas le combat dont je suis nerveux. C'est la possibilité que le combat ne vienne même pas à moi. Les extrémistes ne jouent pas de soldats, ils jouent de la guérilla." Sicario a déclaré : « C'est pour ça que je suis là, Marshall. Je les reniflerai avant qu'ils ne bougent." L'homme sourit faiblement et détendit un peu. La cabine de limousine remplie d'un silence maladroit, la femme est restée concentrée sur les foules. Le Field Marshall a remarqué que ses yeux brillent légèrement. Il avait connu beaucoup de Gardiens, dont certains étaient amis de la femme, et il savait qu'ils pouvaient utiliser leur énergie spirituelle pour augmenter leurs sens. Sicario ne laissait rien au hasard, elle était prête à tout. Le Marshall a pris le silence pour observer Sicario. Il était étonné de voir comment les années l'avaient changée. Angelos avait brièvement rencontré Sicario avant qu'elle et ses amis soient déployés dans les îles juste à l'ouest au large de la côte d'Accadia. Le changement a été tragique, et Angelos ne pouvait pas lui reprocher de parler franchement de sa fierté. Il ne sacrifierait jamais autant que n'importe quel gardien, et encore moins le célèbre Sicario de Kade. La limousine est restée complètement stationnaire dans la serrure du quadrillage. Finalement, Kade soupira et parla à la radio, "Convoyez le plomb, c'est Sicario. Qu'est-ce qu'il y a? "Un léger retard, madame. La police locale s'en occupe, mais... -- Mais? -- Eh bien, ces manifestants deviennent plutôt têtus ici, madame. Kade a pincé le pont de son nez et avait l'air soutenue par le Marshall. Elle a tiré son pistolet et a tiré la diapositive en arrière, en chargeant une balle dans la chambre. La sécurité a été éteinte et l'arme est retournée dans le étui. Le maréchal l'a regardée alors qu'elle se préparait à partir. Il s'est tendu : "Vous allez là-bas?" Kade hoche la tête : « Ces gens doivent bouger d'une façon ou d'une autre. J'ai un mauvais pressentiment, peu importe. Garde la tête sur un maréchal pivotant." Robert Angelos s'assit droit et regarda par toutes les fenêtres auxquelles il avait accès. Kade s'est déplacé devant lui, et est sorti de la limousine. Pendant que la porte était ouverte, la cacophonie des cris et des cris inonda le paisible taxi de limousine. Ça n'a servi qu'à rendre le Marshall plus nerveux. Il a laissé sortir un soupir de soulagement quand la porte s'est refermée. Kade se tenait à la porte de la limousine pendant un bref moment et regardait autour de lui. Tout semblait clair pour l'instant. Deux soldats de l'UDF du véhicule arrière sont sortis, qui ont reçu un signal rapide à la main de Kade. Ils ont hurlé et patrouillé près de la limousine. Kade a commencé à aller plus loin dans le convoi. Pendant qu'elle marchait, les caméras de nouvelles et les journalistes ont immédiatement commencé à se concentrer sur elle. Kade a entendu des journalistes dire leur surprise qu'elle était active si peu de temps après son rétablissement. D'autres se sont interrogés alors qu'elle était même là pour commencer, pourquoi un tuteur serait - il nécessaire pour une tâche aussi banale? Les caméras ont cassé des photos d'elle, tandis que les holos dans les vitrines étaient déjà en train de la diffuser en direct. Il y avait un temps au-delà de la mémoire de Kade quand elle aurait été complètement à l'aise avec cela, mais maintenant ça lui a juste fait sentir exposé. Kade a tiré sa capuche sur sa tête et a continué sur son chemin. Elle savait une chose, si les extrémistes regardaient, peut-être que la présence d'un tuteur les dissuaderait d'agir. J'espère que ce serait tout ce qu'il faudrait pour assurer le succès de la mission. En arrivant à la tête du convoi, Kade a vu par elle-même combien de manifestants se trouvaient sur le chemin. Ils tenaient des pancartes dans la lecture de l'air, 'Arrêtez JENOVA!C'est de ta faute!', et 'ENDEZ L'ÉTAT MILITAIRE!'. Aucun d'entre eux n'a compris ce qu'il y avait là-bas. Aucun d'entre eux ne savait vraiment à quel point les choses étaient si terribles loin de la sécurité d'Oakridge. La vue même de ces manifestants frustrait Kade; elle avait souffert et avait perdu une partie d'elle-même pour ces gens. Elle était sur le point de parler au chef du convoi quand une journaliste lui a crié. Un petit drone à deux rotors a flotté jusqu'au visage du gardien, qu'elle a rapidement battu inoffensifment. Le journaliste a vite appris à garder le drone hors de l'espace personnel de Kade. "Mlle Sicario! Mlle Sicario! Êtes-vous ici pour déclarer votre soutien à l'incitation de l'armée à la crise de JENOVA?! Vous étiez à Isla de los Muertos, comment pouvez-vous soutenir l'UDF après un tel massacre? » Kade a jeté un coup d'œil au journaliste pour un bref moment, mais a décidé de ne pas répondre. Kade avait entendu parler des rapports, de ses efforts durant cette bataille, mais sa mémoire sur l'événement était au mieux nuageuse. Elle s'est rappelée qu'elle s'était transformée en bain de sang à trois reprises lorsque les agresseurs sont arrivés. Et elle se souvenait des gens importants pour sa mort, mais ils n'étaient que des silhouettes sans visage dans son esprit. Kade ne se souvenait même pas de leurs noms. Les rapports portaient de nombreux noms à l'encre noire. Les rapports attendaient une réponse, mais elle n'a été rencontrée que par un soldat de l'UDF qui la repoussait dans la foule. Un policier a utilisé un filet de capture de drones pour descendre le drone de la caméra. Kade l'a renvoyée au reporter et a parlé au chef du convoi, "Reporter, lieutenant." Le soldat a laissé un long soupir et shruged, "Nous n'avons pas de juridiction ici, donc c'est à la police de décider. Mais nous sommes coincés ici jusqu'à ce qu'ils puissent les dégager." Kade a concentré sa magie dans ses sens et a pris dans son environnement. Elle a reconnu qu'un grand nombre de manifestants étaient augmentés, tout comme le rapport de renseignement qu'ils avaient reçu des extrémistes. Non loin d'elle, Kade pouvait sentir la présence d'autres tuteurs s'approcher. Ça a attiré son attention. "Découvrez qui est responsable du blocus de la police ici et offrez de l'aide partout où vous pouvez. Je vais m'occuper de ça." Le soldat a acquiescé et a rapidement commencé à déléguer des tâches à certains de ses subordonnés. Kade se tourna et se dirigea vers les autres gardiens. Il n'a pas fallu longtemps pour qu'elle les repère, les gardiens se sont coincés après tout. Elle les fit agiter avant de dire : "Messieurs. Guardian Sicario," elle s'est présentée, "Avez-vous été ajouté au détail?" Acte - Kade s'est approché de Jomen et Ajax pour se renseigner sur leur présence au blocus. Réaction - Kade a réagi à l'arrêt du convoi. Observer - Kade a remarqué combien d'yeux étaient sur elle, et a pensé que ces yeux pouvaient facilement déplacer leur attention sur le Marshall de champ. Reflect - Kade a été rappelé de la bataille pour Isla de los Muertos.

(Click the picture for Kade's theme song) Kade Sicario || 27 || Female || 5’ 7” || Warfare || P R E S E N C E There is an air of mystery surrounding Kade. She is a wary and careful individual who picks her words with caution. Kade’s body language suggests that she is always on edge. Her tensed posture tells others of her stressed history. Kade’s memories are clouded and distorted, which has made it difficult for her to live off of past experiences. Because of this, Kade lives in the moment, and has adapted to become quick on her feet. Despite the lack of any structured memory, Kade subconsciously responds to certain stimuli, both positively and negatively; suggesting that her memories haven’t been totally lost, and that her old self is constantly scraping at her subconscious. Kade is covered in scars, many of which have long since healed and have become nearly invisible. Others appear to be more recent. The scars vary in shape and size; some resembling gunshot wounds, while others resemble injuries incurred from beasts of Jenova. She has a collection of tattoos that run up her arms, around her shoulders, and down her back. The tattoos on her back line a series of long straight scars that run from her neck to her waist. Records from the Oakridge Academy say that Kade’s eyes were once amber, but they are now a piercing gray. Kade wears functional clothing, often in reds, whites, or blacks. Her hair is raven black, despite academy records declaring her hair as brown with white dyed streaks. She wears clothes that cover her scars, so to not bring up a subject she knows very little of. An amber pendant rests around her neck on a worn black piece of sting. The pendant is hand carved with the writing ‘Samuel’ engraved into the back of it. When she is nervous, or when her hands are idle, she will often fidget with the pendant and become rather somber. Those who remember who Kade Sicario used to know her as a kind and gentle Guardian, as well as a young songstress taking Cetra by storm. She was once compassionate and calm, even in the direst of situations. It is unclear what has changed Kade so much, both physically and mentally. Every once in a while, her old self will come out, but those moments are fleeting, and far apart from one another. Academy officials, as well as her old friends, can only hope that Kade’s memory returns in full. Until then, she is to be closely watched and observed for abnormal behavior. I D E O L O G Y”Survival is the basest of all human instincts. Once you’ve fallen to that depth, everything else loses its value. It’s either you, or them.” Kade has experienced much, but her memories of such experiences are hazy and hard to reach out to beyond five years from now. Within those five years, Kade has known little besides fighting and surviving. She is always alert, her eyes constantly flicking about and evaluating her surroundings. She is ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and is often first into the fray when the battle begins. Even before she went missing, Kade was known to have issues sleeping. While she is able to sleep easier now, she will sometimes wake up sweaty and in a panic. When danger is nowhere to be found, Kade’s old self seems to come out more. She is calm, able to smile (even if it is faint), and willing to socialize. When she is alone, or when she believes she is alone, Kade will even hum and sing quietly to herself. However, she is a lot more nervous about singing around people than she used to be. It is clear that Kade is recovering from whatever trauma she had sustained, and that it is only a matter of time before her memory returns to her in full. When she is safe, Kade seems to be in harmony with herself, something that the psychologists of Oakridge know is a shame. Once her memories return, Kade will likely not achieve such harmony again. S T R I F EKade was always an accomplished martial artist. Before her disappearance, she was a highly respected combatant. That talent in martial arts seems to not have left her. However, her fighting has become more brutal and direct. Beforehand, Kade viewed her martial arts simply as a means of combat. Now, she views her martial prowess as a means of survival, and it shows in her fighting style. Her attacks are often supplemented by air elemental magic. Kade uses this magic to create focused fields around her fists and feet to deliver powerful gusts of focused wind in order to increase the impact. Kade can also use her air magic to manipulate the physical area around her, not just as a supplement to her martial arts. She can lift and moves objects, or send out a bolt of focused wind over a longer distance if she so chooses. Kade wears leather climbing gloves with steel knuckles to fight with. There is nothing special about these gloves, and they can be easily replaced if lost. K I N S H I PStudents of the academy today might only know Kade as the Guardian who went missing five years back, or as the famous songstress who performed funeral rites for those who have died to the stigma and its creations. Some students might have been junior classmen, and remember her as the role model upper classman; if this is the case, then they’ll be concerned for who she has become since her disappearance. Her friends have all either died, or have moved on with their lives. Some of her old friends have been made aware of her resurgence, but none of them have managed to muster up the courage and face her again. Even if they did, Kana would have no memory of them. Kade is also represented in the card game, 'The Spirits Within', as a first edition card. This rendition of her resembled that of her old self, the famous songstress and powerful guardian. Being a first edition card, avid collectors of the card game, and fans of Kade's music, seek out this rare card. Jomen Sury - Kade has only just met Jomen Sury. Ajax Armstrong - Kade has only just met Ajax Armstrong. C O N T A C T SLieutenant Renalt Qatar Renalt was the man who led the special forces team that found Kade. He was the only one in the squad to recognize her, and willingly abandoned the mission to rescue the former guardian. Renalt was a captain at the time, and was demoted to the rank of lieutenant as a result of his insubordination. Kade hasn’t had the chance to speak with Renalt since he brought her back to Oakridge, but she trusts him nonetheless. Dr. Lucius Brant A longtime acquaintance to Kade, Lucius was originally her therapist during her time at the academy. He is the only one left at the academy who knows Kade personally, and has been instrumental in helping her collect fragments of her past. In the five years before their reunion, Kade did not know her first name, she was simply referred to as ‘Sicario’. Lucius has struggled in his attempts to properly reconnect with Kade, but he is determined to keep working at her in order to bring her old self back. C H R O N I C L EShe was about to speak to the convoy leader when a reporter yelled out to her. A small twin rotor camera drone floated right up to the guardian's face, which she quickly batted away harmlessly. The reporter quickly learned to keep the drone out of Kade's personal space. "Miss Sicario! Miss Sicario! Does you being here declare your support for the military's incitement of the JENOVA crisis?! You were there at Isla de los Muertos, how can you possibly support the UDF after such a massacre?" Kade glanced over to the reporter for a brief moment, but decided not to answer. Kade had heard of the reports, of her efforts during that battle, but her memory on the event was cloudy at best. She remembered that it had turned into a three way bloodbath when the aggressors arrived. And she remembered people important to her dying, but they were only faceless silhouettes in her mind. Kade couldn't even remember their names. The reports had many names covered in black ink. P R O P E R T Y2x Potions 1x Phoenix Down

C'est ce que j'ai dit. O A K R I D G E C I T Y. Elle avait coulé dans ses ongles à travers le passage, se coulait profondément dans sa chair, griffant à la surface dans la repentance malformée, la culpabilité nourrie qui avait siré sous leurs brefs jours d'écart; ne parlant que par la missive cryptique. Sa joue s'était nichée contre ses épaules, son menton s'était alors aligné sur sa couronne, ses cils voilés et colorés de suie, ses cendres sur un saphir éclatant. Perturbé par les couleurs kakis et les fils pâles, teintés de neige, qui oscillent en vue, l'épingle des intentions d'observation s'enroulent serrés et saillis. Liesabet a inhalé tranchant, probablement grincé son menton contre l'argent tresses un peu trop dur et tenu sur rapide. Moins l'Oméga falter et le boulon de 'neath son Alpha. Si quelqu'un d'autre a parlé ou prononcé, elle ne l'a pas enregistré, ni leur présence. Car elle était trempée et intacte, et ainsi la loupe se plaignait. Pour l'instant. Il cherche quelque chose. Mais il ne sait jamais ce que c'est. Son nom n'est pas connu de beaucoup, et son visage connu seulement par moins. C'est une ombre à l'intérieur des montagnes, une légende à l'intérieur des paysages frigides spéculée comme quelques déserts désolés tachetés de taintes et d'histoires de culte ancien et de louanges abandonnées. C'est un homme perdu et jamais trouvé et ses déclarations sont maniaques, et parfois, teintées de désespoir. Avec les yeux vers le ciel, il erre et ne souhaite pas que le titre de La Traître se profile sur ses épaules, et ne souhaite pas que ses enfants portent la même chose. Mais c'est pour l'instant. Car tous les héritiers d'Abendroth sont condamnés pour l'éternité - pour toujours. Il s'agissait d'une cage, et l'air était empli; travaillé avec la vie morte de la machine et la vie respirait dans leurs machinations. Liesabet n'avait visité la ville qu'une poignée d'opportunités, généralement à la demande de Celise qu'elle suivit élégamment après une fois la coque bâillonnée ouverte et leur permit de descendre de l'écoutille. L'existence d'un centre-ville l'a perturbée, elle a encouragé la malice et les métiers mal favorisés au sein d'un marché noir proverbial, un marché que l'Intelligence avait une forte prise en main pour recueillir des informations et — un terme comme peut-être Montero le dirait — des palmiers gras. La subornation a été trouvée à l'intérieur de piques, a persisté derrière les fronts des gains économiques et des tractions, et une casserole rapide à son mobile a fourni un bref interlude des événements récents se produisant là-bas ces murs facilités. Hm. Elle a enregistré son identification avec le conducteur, un cordon braqué de métal clignotant brièvement avec sa désignation à la numérisation, un flou signalant que ses numéros sont effacés à la prochaine occasion. Elle fit signe de son consentement, l'échangea contre ses armes et reforma ses unités de suspension à l'intérieur de son équipement et fila ses poignards à la maison en même temps qu'une sirène saignée. Les planches clignotaient et clignotaient, les annonces interchangeantes et les proclamations de la renommée et des prix au tournoi en cours qui ont lieu. Liesabet s'arrêta pour écraser le capot de ses vêtements, lissant les bords à côté de ses tresses à la diffusion de The Spirit Within ligne des raretés à trouver dans le concours. Un nom Abendroth ne serait jamais trouvé dans ces choses, pensait-elle, ses yeux tombant à la crête de ses doigts, les enroulant vers l'intérieur pour encore leur brusque tremblement. Il s'agissait d'une surcharge sensorielle pure, l'enjoignant à presque boulonner, mais pas avant qu'elle n'enfile ses gestes autour du poignet délicat de Celise, fléchit et repousse son geste opposé pour s'immerger dans la foule. "Nous allons au port alors," elle a mis l'accent, son murmure bouillant couramment avec une cadence d'urgence, une telle grâce accordée à ceux qui ne se trouvent que dans le Nord. Je n'aime pas ces foules, Liesabet grondait, les yeux s'éblouissaient, les ombres s'appuyaient sur ses pas précipités et poussaient vers l'extérieur de sa hâte, trottant à côté d'eux deux avec des sphères scintillantes blanches dans leurs visages déformés, malformées par sa propre détresse. Liesabet les a travaillés à travers la foule, en passant la plupart des civils avec un coup de dents ou une violation de son épaule juteuse. Elle était une créature de désirs et d'inclinations solitaires, et les fourmillements du marché débordaient au-delà du seuil de sa propre tolérance, menaçant de les effondrer vers l'intérieur. Elle a eu besoin d'heures de préparation et de manipulations empathiques pour fortifier sa volonté, pour s'assurer que ses missions ont été exécutées sans entrave par l'appel d'offres du renseignement. Ils avaient certains outils en place, protocoles et dictées qui l'appelaient comme elle était: Ulva. Tempérance. Le marché noir pourrait avoir quelques choses dont nous avons besoin, il.. pas aussi bondé... Elle murmurait, regardant vers le bas où elle avait Celise dans un vice et rapidement dissipé son emprise, lui permettant sa liberté. Si vous n'êtes pas au-dessus d'un tel endroit. Il serait peut-être utile de vérifier avant que nous enregistrions avec le transport naval.

A J A X A R M S T R O N G ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 6'5" ✚ Warfare P R E S E N C EAjax is a physically imposing figure, clearing the 6 foot mark and being extremely broad shouldered he is hard to miss. He is energetic and charismatic, and not afraid to fight and die for the cause. He likes to crack bad jokes at inappropriate times, so some people don't like him because they think he isn't taking the situation seriously. However, most people do tend to like him, even if they don't want to admit it. His honesty is another thing that people may come to not like about Ajax, as he is oft to say what he thinks in an as open and respectful way possible, if possible. Despite his potentially perceived personality flaws, he is the shield on the battlefield, and that makes him hard to hate. I D E O L O G Y V A L U E S: Ajax will always attempt to do what is best. This does not always follow the rule of law. He does believe in the sacrifice of the few for the good of the many. He finds honesty and loyalty as very favorable traits in other people. M O R A L S: Ajax, if he had to use an alignment to describe himself, he would call himself Chaotic Good. Whenever possible, he tries not to kill humans or guardians and will focus more on the defense of the team, though he has no issue with the lesser beings and monsters that they come across on their missions. He has been taught through his faith that the more spirits a body contains the more value that life has. He always tries to be honest with everyone, come what may. T H O U G H T S: The corruption brought on by the Jenova is bad news and must be stopped. While he feels that he shouldn't kill other humans or guardians, he has come to terms with the fact that sometimes it must be done in order to defeat Jenova. Ajax does generally believe in the direction of the military run government, but he does think for himself and will voice any concerns he has, in a meaningful and respectful way. -More thoughts and theories as they become relevant- S T R I F EAjax fights with a heavy war hammer which his swings and spins with great ease due to his own massive size and strength. He has four primary skills that he uses in combat. The first is projecting a large earth shield area in front of himself with plenty of room for his companions. While using this skill he cannot attack, but he is able to move around. This does take a constant amount of focus and physical effort to do, so he moves at a considerably slower rate. The second is a sudden burst of speed that allows him to sprint head first into the enemy. Often used to close a distance in a hurry, can be used to slam and pin opponents against walls or other obstacles. The third ability is launching a flaming ball of magma at an opponent. The last ability is to cause a shockwave that knocks opponents around him to the ground, stunning them for a moment. This is done by slamming his hammer into the ground creating an omnidirectional shockwave. He tends to go into combat shirtless, for some reason, all of the Armstrong men in his family do this... K I N S H I P D U K E: Ajax and Duke have a long intermingled family history of unfavorable interactions. They have opposing view points on many subjects. Despite this, the two have come to have a close friendship. Even if they have to keep it hidden from their parents. As to who is stronger between the two? Who can say, they keep sparing anyways. M O N T E R O: Ajax and Montero knew each other from younger days in the academy. Back when you first had to choose your division, Montero was also in the Warfare division. They weren't terribly close, but they did take some classes together. J O M E N: Ajax has a habit of getting himself hurt and getting to know the people that are supposed to help put him back together. So it is of no surprise that Ajax searched out the person that everyone claimed to be the best. This search brought him to Jomen. The two have trained together in their downtime between classes, trying to come up with techniques and skills to protect other members of their team. Ajax views Jomen as a friend, but isn't certain if Jomen holds Ajax in the same regard... might have something to do with calling him 'green eyes' from time to time... C E L I S E: Ajax and Celise have interacted a few times throughout the years at the academy. Primarily at the Gym or when there are cross-curriculum training sessions. She seems warm and friendly to Ajax, if not a little aloof in his opinion. Though, they aren't close, just acquaintances. C O N T A C T SNothing yet C H R O N I C L E Nothing yet P R O P E R T Y 1x Bernard's Lily 1x Anak Meat 1x Bindleweed 2x Tenebraen Oak 1x Aeger Root 1x Garula Sirloin 1x Wild Tomato 3x Gignee Ham 2x Fish Roe 1x Oxen Marrow

O A K R I D G E : D E P L O Y M E N T G A R A G E La cabine n'était plus si vide, c'était un fait que la quietude n'était pas un luxe facilement offert à Oakridge. Mais celui-ci semblait remuer l'air lui-même pendant sa pénétration dans le véhicule, pas d'une manière confortable, s'il n'y avait pas eu cette pression qu'il n'aurait jamais remarqué son entrée. Car elle a rôdé dans le véhicule, littéralement, chaussures ne faisant pas un seul son. Montero ne put s'empêcher de répliquer ses yeux de bleu le regardant de haut en bas, avec un regard de son propre. Comparativement à sa tenue sombre et élégante qui a enroulé son corps, criant la préparation à la bataille, sa tenue était sensiblement plus...civillien. Un manteau de tranchée kaki au-dessus de la tenue formelle, cachant la plupart de son cadre à l'exception du pantalon auburn coupé droit et des chaussures d'orteil d'acier. Avec une lanterne assise sur ses genoux. J'ai l'air très mal préparé comparativement. Il a répliqué en saluant, une acceptation silencieuse d'elle, bien que les sourcils sillonnent à l'unkempt, non...feral, oui c'est le mot, aura - quand elle ne regardait pas. Quand on passe tant de temps à interagir avec les esprits, on a tendance à être capable de lire des choses que les gens ne voient pas, n'entendent pas ou ne ressentent pas. Et c'était le cas aussi quand un autre est arrivé juste à l'écoute. "Bonjour, M. Timberson." Masque. Personne. La dualité. Son visage était trop propre, de plus d'une façon. C'est Mien. Trop professionnel, contrairement à la finition naturelle de Jomen. Ses paroles se sentaient criblées d'une deuxième signification complexe, Montero regarda droit dans ses yeux pour essayer de les lire seulement pour les moments les plus brefs. Bonjour. Une légère ressemblance d'un sourire pour rendre réciproque le geste jovial, cependant, le choix trop formel des mots et l'utilisation de son nom de famille a provoqué de fortes sonneries d'avertissement mental. Ils ont fait très peu de contact visuel après cela, mais cela ne voulait pas dire qu'ils avaient l'intention de ne rien faire l'un de l'autre, Montero était un chercheur et trouver des faits étaient une compétence de marque de leur. En tournant son téléphone de côté pour avoir l'air de jouer à un jeu, Montero a commencé à scanner à travers les détails de l'équipe et les référencer aux ressources en ligne d'Oakridge. Ulvar. Spécialiste. Vole. Pardosa. Spécialiste. Guerille. ... tous les deux dans les services secrets. L'expression de Montero Timberson s'est rapidement vidée de ce petit sourire. Peut-être qu'il n'était pas connu des autres divisions, mais les sectes de la recherche et de l'intelligence d'Oakridge Academy ne voient pas les yeux à l'oeil souvent, pour le dire à la légère. Quoi que le personnel de la recherche ait fait, les agents du renseignement ont toujours dû s'immiscer. Il est rare qu'ils se mêlent d'eux non plus, car derrière des rideaux fermés leur examen a eu le droit de savoir si des projets ont reçu du financement. Pire encore, ils ne mentionnent jamais leurs vrais critères. Juste observer, peut-être demander... mais ne jamais contribuer. S'il y avait un ennemi au concept même de progrès, la division du renseignement, ironiquement nommée, serait là. "Huh." Montero savait que ses études n'étaient pas vraiment populaires auprès du conseil d'administration, ou du moins que c'était son impression des trois propositions refusées dans le passé au cours de la seule année dernière. Maintenant travailler sur son quatrième: Était-ce une pure coïncidence que les deux premiers membres à le fouler et Jomen, deux chercheurs, dans cette minuscule cabane, étaient de ce département particulier? Il n'a pas parié ainsi. ...Mais hélas, s'il y a une guerre froide des droits et de la vie privée à avoir, Montero était seul. Pour avoir regardé Jomen, qui avait l'air si placcide alors qu'il se retirait dans la méditation devant l'ennemi même, notant qu'en tant qu'il était, il ferait un très pauvre allié dans la lutte pour la dignité de leur bon travail. Montero regardait désespérément loin de l'écran et vers le haut au plafond. Tout ce qu'il fallait pour que le mal triomphe, c'était que les hommes bons ne fassent rien. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Quand le conducteur a appelé les Gardiens pour qu'ils puissent s'en aller, Montero a éteint son téléphone puis l'a glissé dans ses poches avec ses mains - juste à temps que la fille étirée d'avant est venue envahir l'espace personnel d'Ulvar. Non, viole son espace personnel. Ses yeux s'attardaient brièvement sur leurs ministrations. Référencé aux caractères de :

Montero Timberson ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11" ✚ Research P R E S E N C E Montero Timberson is a dark haired young man with an air of mystery that draws the attention of those who are primarily lead by their curiousity. Perhaps it's his pokerfaced nature, that keeps a focused gaze just to hide what he really thinks. That long overcoat that hides away most of his body. Or that greatsword that used to be on his back, unbecoming and unseemly to the posse of a Researcher. Rugged and broad, though not excessively tall, with somewhat handsome features. Montero speaks with deep, punctuated voice. That is, if he has to around strangers. He holds himself with some noblesse, prefering not to engage in rowdy circumstances and is quick to point out the boundaries of his personal space (and how intruders should remove themselves from it) while still trying to keep the cool and collected facade. However his colder demeanour seems to change quite quickly when Montero gets to be around Humans and Spirits he knows, to something ...brighter and more willing to crack a joke. ------- I D E O L O G Y "All it takes for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing." Montero Timberson came from neither a local or military background, his main reason for taking part in Oakridge's curriculum is one of morals -and because he can. As a Guardian, he is peculiar in that he actively avoids possession. Best as he can, that is. Strongly believing that a Soul must be kept as pure as possible, Montero sets restrictions to the spirits that he gives providence to, 'house rules' in simpler terms and is sometimes heard chiding them for not listening. But he cares for them greatly, especially the little ones, often talking to them and encouraging them to partake in his work - so they learn new experiences and the Human language. Suprisingly, they understand him. Unsuprisingly, this is considered rather irrational behaviour to some, even in Oakridge. Montero also feels that there is something wrong with the concept of Whaling and he does get vocal about it academically when given the chance, it's not just that hunting gentle giants is morally antagonistic and all. It is. But that is not what bothers him, there is a 'darkness' to the act that he cannot point out. Like a gut feeling of dread that he cannot shake away. Seeing raw Whale oil is like seeing blood, jars and jars of blood. He is seeing a professor to discuss the possibility of alternative fuels as well as to create devices that grant Spirits autonomy, though neither projects are seeing much support right now. Interesting as concepts they might be, who would support an idea that could harm the local economy? S T R I F E Though Montero wielded a Greatsword during his years as a warfare student, in his time in Research, he has found that he had a tendency to improvise in any sort of combat. Sometimes even tossing his sword as a projectile. Much to the chargrin of the instructors of Weaponary. There is no one best solution for everything. Isn't that what Science encourages us to explore? Montero switches his weapons and gear as situations change, not that Researchers are combatants anyway. Long as the school permits his use of their resources, he will prepare accordingly for each mission. He has yet to specialize in any weapon. But if there's any continuity in the way he handles a duel, it is Montero's gratituos application of Spirit arts and Science -which he does not see as a weapon. In The Spirits Within, he uses a deck centered around cunning, self-triggering traps and ultimately summoning Alexander, the Machine Tyrant, to end his opponent's life points. K I N S H I PPerpetual Work In Progress. Montero has taken a few classes with Ajax during his years in warfare. -------- "The word 'Voyeur' seems to subtly accompany this individual, flashbacks of varied classmates looking 'grossed out'." He works in the Research division, so might have seen other Researchers once or twice. Jomen tends to stand out. -------- Shadowy silhouettes, Amidst a concrete jungle, Shuffling constantly. Late nights at cafeterias tend to bring out unusual personalities, Abysso is one such individual that he knows. -------- Their opinions resonate on many matters and Montero does not mind sharing what he knows occasionally with him, to help him out. Latest elemancy techniques, test answers, how to bribe the supply shop's latest newbie. Not too much of course, it's always better to keep some hidden up the sleeves. All's good as long as Abysso doesn't steal the last midnight gâteaus. Intelligence Department. -------- Those who can't do. Judge. C O N T A C T SPerpetual Work In Progress. C H R O N I C L EPerpetual Work In Progress. P R O P E R T YHere you list valuable possessions such as items, catalysts, and currency whenever you receive them. These items are only given by the Game Master. You will have to continuously revisit this section to edit it. Phoenix Down - Revives and heals the unconcious. Quantity: 1 (1000 Gil)

Jomen Sury Lieu: Oakridge City Interagir avec: Jomen s'assit dans le véhicule de transport les yeux fermés, en remuant seulement comme il sentait la main de Celise sur son bras. Il ne fait aucun doute qu'il s'agissait là d'un geste apaisant après son interaction avec le membre de la division Warfare, mais Jomen ne savait pas s'il avait besoin d'un tel geste. Mais il serait sage de paraître ingrat. Il ouvrit légèrement les yeux et regarda les yeux de Celise, rien de plus qu'une simple reconnaissance du toucher et du confort reçus. Manners satisfait, il ferma les yeux une fois de plus et plongea au fond de lui-même. Il s'est perdu dans un mélange de méditation et de rêve presque lucide entrant dans le royaume en lui-même où soit ses esprits résidaient ou il les imaginait aussi. Comme ses yeux se fermaient, ses yeux s'ouvraient une fois de plus. Plutôt que le véhicule et ses compagnons de garde se cramponnaient à l'intérieur avec lui, il se trouva d'un grand lis d'eau sur les eaux calmes. Son visage s'enflamma alors que sa bouche s'étendait au début lentement puis plus sûrement, agréablement dans les environs. Depuis sa dernière visite, la piscine d'eau à l'intérieur de lui s'était étendue plus loin avec plus de végétation et d'ascenseur. Dans les parties peu profondes de l'eau, il pouvait voir du varech s'étendre vers le haut d'un vaste acre de posidonie, ou d'herbe de mer comme il était communément appelé. Les deux signes d'une vie saine dans l'eau, bien que sa piscine intérieure ne semblait pas suivre les règles traditionnelles d'un plan d'eau. Jomen s'approcha et pressa la main à plat contre la surface de l'eau et pressa contre elle. De grands ondulations circulaires d'eau venaient des bords les plus éloignés de la piscine et rippaient vers l'intérieur vers sa main au centre qui appelait ses esprits à lui. Il tenta brièvement de pousser plus loin dans l'eau, mais sentit une légère poussée de force en retour correspondant à son propre effort. Malgré ses efforts, il ne pouvait toujours pas pénétrer la surface de l'eau, quelque chose l'a poussé loin. Il tira sa main en arrière pas particulièrement surpris, mais sentit certains des muscles douloureux dans son visage se détendre. Trois formes dans l'eau, se déplaçant vers lui, lui ôtèrent son attention au moment où ses esprits arrivèrent. Le premier à se manifester et de loin le plus grand était une grande quantité d'esprits sous la forme de Manta Ray noir et bleu qui avait été avec lui sous une forme ou une autre depuis qu'il avait commencé à recueillir des esprits en lui-même. La seconde s'est formée dans ses premiers jours de l'académie en forme de mandarin, bien connu pour sa beauté mais aussi venimeux au toucher. Son troisième et dernier esprit s'est manifesté sous la forme d'axolotl alors que ses capacités de guérison atteignaient leur pic actuel. Il était beaucoup plus petit que les deux autres, compte tenu de la façon dont les esprits s'étaient récemment formés dans sa forme, mais il ne fait aucun doute qu'il grandit à mesure qu'il absorbe plus d'esprits en lui-même. Il leur a parlé brièvement de la mission à venir avant de sentir son corps physique le rappeler à la réalité alors qu'ils étaient arrivés à Oakridge City. Les yeux verts augmentés de Jomen s'ouvrirent comme les portes d'un feu de forge en voyant les autres sortir du véhicule. Il les a suivis en prenant un moment pour permettre à ses détecteurs de lumière des yeux de s'ajuster à la lumière du soleil. Celise les regarda et leur expliqua les règles de mission que Jomen avait déjà mémorisées. Il n'a toutefois fait aucun commentaire à cet égard, car ces séances d'information avaient tendance à être bénéfiques pour les coéquipiers qui n'étaient pas particulièrement compétents dans l'art de la conservation de l'information. Comme Celise partait, Jomen fit comme pour la suivre, n'ayant guère d'intérêt à voir la ville elle-même, mais s'arrêta alors qu'il entendait le son des sirènes résonner de quelques rues. Les sons font que le pied de Jomen s'arrête et tourne en plein air alors qu'il décide d'enquêter sur l'événement au cas où ses compétences seraient nécessaires. Il s'arrêta par Ajax et murmura par son oreille : « Si vous pouviez venir avec moi Ajax, certains civils pourraient avoir besoin de nos services. » Avec cela, il s'est lancé, facilement localiser la scène à partir du son des sirènes et de la foule spectateur de l'événement. Avec la taille d'Ajax et leurs insignes de l'Académie bien en vue sur leur poitrine, il n'a pas été difficile d'amener la foule à se séparer d'eux sans un mot. Un certain nombre de regards contradictoires visaient ses yeux, certains en colère, d'autres craintifs, et d'autres même avec respect alors qu'ils regardaient vers leurs propres membres perdus. Plusieurs soldats de l'UDF repoussaient les membres de la foule de la route comme un Gardien approchait à la fois lui-même et Ajax. Le gardien portait une armure qui ne couvrait pas complètement les cicatrices qui semblaient avoir eu lieu sur tout son corps. Les femmes semblaient légèrement familières à Jomen bien qu'il ne pouvait pas placer où il avait vu son image avant. "Année finale des étudiants de l'Académie Madame. Je suis Jomen Sury de la Division de la Recherche et voici Ajax Armstong de la Division de Guerre. Nous passons sur le chemin de la bataille de Ledale et nous avons pensé que nos services pourraient être nécessaires. » Jomen allait demander plus avant de repérer un policier debout près du blocus devant ce qui semblait être un complexe de bureaux. Il s'éloigne du Guardian Sicario en laissant Ajax parler plus au tuteur plus expérimenté alors qu'il clignotait brièvement son insigne, faisait un contact visuel direct avec son regard troublant, et demanda à l'officier d'un ton faisant autorité, "Officier... Sator, Quelle est la situation actuelle? Le jeune policier, manifestement inexpérimenté à son travail, a presque salué Jomen dans sa hâte de répondre. "Un certain nombre d'extrémistes augmentés ont dépassé ce bâtiment, monsieur. Nous avons du mal à sécuriser la situation surtout avec Marshall Angelos dans la ville qui déchire l'opposition." Jomen s'inclina alors qu'il regardait et retournait vers Ajax, agitant la main sur l'homme pour indiquer qu'il avait trouvé un chemin à travers. "Je vais y aller." Avec cela, l'officier a enlevé la barricade et a appelé pour indiquer l'arrivée des groupes. Il y avait une place ouverte entre la police et l'entrée du complexe de bureaux, Jomen marchait à travers elle sans hésiter. Au centre, il s'est arrêté et a placé son personnel ouvrir le sol, les racines s'étendent du bas du personnel pénétrant facilement à travers le sol en dessous à la saleté gardant le personnel debout. Jomen a enlevé son étui contenant son arme latérale et l'a accroché au sommet de son bâton avant de placer ses mains au-dessus de sa tête. Il s'est approché du bâtiment, sachant qu'Ajax allait bientôt suivre et a appelé les canons entraînés à son approche. "Je suis guérisseur et je veux parler à votre chef." Il a gardé sa voix calme et stable comme une douce pluie, les mains restant sur sa tête sans menacer lorsqu'il est entré par la porte. W A T E R Y G R A V E L'eau lapait sans succès en essayant d'entrer dans les bottes étanches de Jomen alors qu'il marchait dans les rues de Wolfwater en surveillant les dommages que la créature qui avait été envoyée pour faire face avait causés. Le point de ralliement qu'ils avaient désigné n'était pas beaucoup plus loin et les données qu'il a recueillies ici avec les méthodes que la Division de la recherche lui avait enseignées pouvaient signifier la différence entre la victoire et l'échec dans leur chasse. Les détails de la mission comprenaient une note qu'il avait trouvé difficile de cesser de penser à la « capacité de plier l'eau à sa volonté ». Au début, il l'avait rejetée comme un œil non entraîné observant une puissante capacité d'eau, mais maintenant regardant la ville et la dévastation à niveau de la ville de l'inondation. Maintenant, son esprit triait à travers les possibilités de ce qui pourrait créer une telle capacité et ses implications là où. Si l'on pouvait parvenir à une telle maîtrise de l'eau et de ses propres capacités de guérison, serait-il même possible de guérir la Stigma? Jomen secoua et retourna ses pensées à la mission à portée de main. Quelque chose causait à la créature d'attaquer maintenant de tous les temps, si ce n'était que le premier groupe d'humains qu'elle avait rencontré ou une autre raison en particulier. Comme point de départ, Jomen avait demandé au maire d'avoir des cartes et des enregistrements de ses opérations de chasse à la baleine en cours ainsi que de tous les endroits où la créature avait attaqué. Il était possible que la chasse à la baleine ait perturbé quelque chose qu'elle n'aurait pas dû avoir et qu'elle puisse éventuellement conduire à l'emplacement de la créature qu'elle chassait. Jomen a atteint le point de ralliement et a cherché Celise qui était apparemment déjà arrivé avant lui et les autres membres de l'équipe. Un éclair de lumière d'une ruelle voisine lui donna la réponse, il s'approcha tranquillement et observa Celise agenouillé devant un sanctuaire de fortune. Il regarda les bougies s'affaiblir lentement tandis que certains esprits trouvèrent refuge à l'intérieur de leur nouveau visiteur. Tandis qu'il observait la scène, une pluie légère commença à tomber du ciel en saillie contre les côtés en bois du sanctuaire, menaçant les bougies illuminées. Jomen déplaça tranquillement le personnel dans un mouvement lent, alors qu'à côté du sanctuaire une plante commençait à germer à côté du sanctuaire. Il a grandi à un rythme accéléré jusqu'à ce qu'il s'enroule autour d'elle puis a grandi plusieurs grandes feuilles épaisses, couvrant le sanctuaire et le protégeant des éléments. Une grande feuille s'étendait pour couvrir la tête de Celise aussi bien malgré son poncho. Une petite protection qu'il pourrait donner au sanctuaire au moins pour le moment. Jomen s'est ensuite tourné vers le départ pour permettre à Celise de prier en paix, car il attendait que le membre restant de leur équipe arrive pour leur rencontre avec le maire.

J O M E N S U R Y ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11 ✚ Research Division (Medical Specialization) P R E S E N C EJomen exudes an air of calmness and rationality that flows off like a steady rain. Underneath that however, is an undercurrent of anger inescapably mixed with sadness that is exposed only rarely. In addition, Jomen possesses cybernetic eyes, who pupils are lit with a dull green, that allow him to see, but unnerve people when he looks directly at them, reminding them always of the dangers of the Stigma. For this reason, he tends to keep his gaze downcast or off to the side while conversing with others. His outfits usually possess at least one item in a varying shade of blue in an effort to further signify his status as a healer. Though quiet and unassuming, in combative situations he can be found just behind the frontline fighters making him presence and abilities and constant reassurance. He is not one to try and seek out glory, but he has the courage enough to go with those who do. I D E O L O G Y Jomen will sit and listen to all sides of an argument, but once he has made his choice very little can be done to sway him from it. He believes that the Stigma is a disease that needs to be eradicated by any means available to prevent it infecting more people. While he cannot condone the actions of the Death Squads, the Cleaners he feels a certain empathy for. However, that does not exclude them from the laws that the United Defense Force have laid down upon the land. Since the UDF, is the best chance that the people of this land have for eradicating the Stigma, Jomen obeys all of their laws to his utmost ability. He may question the effectiveness or quality of some of these rules, but he will obey them until the law is changed as he believes that the rule of these laws gives them the structure they need to band together fully against the Stigma. The need of survival sometimes must curtail individual freedom. As for the spirits inside of him, Jomen believes that each is a valuable companion that serves with him valiantly in his fight. He is honored to serve alongside them and thus treats with the respect that they deserve. Often he can be found describing the full events of the day to his spirits or encouraging them to emerge briefly to see the world around them. He thanks them at shrines whenever he gets the opportunity. S T R I F EJomen is not nearly as capable of a physical fighter of those from the Warfare Division, with his relative lack of physical strength and stamina. Still in times where melee combat is necessary to either or his patients survival, he is no slouch. Jomen carries a wooden staff with a large hook at the end of it, designed to help him trip or knockdown the enemy to open them up to further attacks as well as a standard issue pistol at his side at all time. Though not particularly skilled with the gun, Jomen is quite adept at using his staff to disrupt enemies either by redirecting their attacks or successfully managing to trip them with his staff. In this, he attempts to use his enemies higher strength and speed, along with his own knowledge of anatomy, against them. However, Jomen is far more adept in using his spirits to weave Elemancy, particular utilizing his water and earth spirits, to a lesser degree, to their greatest effect. His healing abilities are at the top of his class at Oakridge, with his cybernetic eyes able to help him keep track of his allies and how much damage they have sustained. He pushes himself as much as he can to ensure that all of his allies will survive the encounter with little to no damage. His staff also helps act as a focus for his abilities, as tied near the top of small containers filled with varying types of seeds. When he activates his Water and Earth spirits in conjunction with the staff he is able to form Plant based Elemancy. Jomen is still training to gain greater control over this fusion, but is able to summon roots from the earth in order to entangle or slow enemies to give his allied fighters more of an advantage. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG While training at school, Jomen was approached with a large man from with warfare who seemed to have long, rich history of getting injured. This was, of course, Ajax. To Jomen, he seems a useful training partner as the large variety of injuries gave Jomen plenty of live practice to hone his talents to where they are now. In addition, without Ajax's warfare based insight, Jomen would have had a far diminished capacity to defend himself. Jomen respects his ability and skill on the battlefield, but thinks of Ajax as too unprofessional to reach his full potential in the warfare division. Out of respect and gratitude (though Jomen is unlikely to admit it), Jomen attempts to sway Ajax to a more professional attitude in order ensure that the future soldier has a better career later. Jomen, also constantly reminds Ajax that his name is not "Green Eyes", in the most professional way possible. He has also yet to laugh at any of Ajax's jokes. CELISE LELIÈVRE Celise and Jomen have gone on several trips to visit the more out of the way shrines. Celise had put up several fliers about "Exploring Shrines and the Unknown," which appealed to his need to honor his own spirits. The outings were enjoyable and Jomen respects the similarity between them in their treatment and respect for their spirits. C O N T A C T S To be added as developed C H R O N I C L E Content to be added as the game progresses. P R O P E R T Y 20x Saxham Rice 20x Green Peas 1x Antidote 2x Catoblepas Brisket 2x Scarlet Pimpernel 1x Oxen Marrow 1x Fish Roe

U. D. F. A R M O R E D P E R S O N N E L C A R I E R Celise a observé de près le conducteur du véhicule 94, en vérifiant la vitalité du moteur sous le capot. Les conducteurs de l'académie étaient souvent des navigateurs actuels ou anciens, mais parfois des civils d'Oakridge se contentaient d'aider pour un prix symbolique. Ce conducteur particulier semblait être du côté plus ancien, au-delà du point de ne pas revenir de sa vie. Cependant, il semblait connaître assez bien son chemin autour du moteur, ce qui laissait Celise soupçonner qu'il était un ancien étudiant, mais elle ne lui demanda pas. Au lieu de cela, elle a mis la pointe de son épée contre le sol en béton, laissant un modeste écho accrocheur dans tout le garage, pour se reposer contre elle et faire savoir à l'homme que la présence de quelqu'un était proche. Il n'a pas réagi; il a simplement continué à bricoler comme un vrai Navigateur. Le véhicule lui-même était une machine intéressante. C'était un transporteur de personnel blindé de la United Defense Force standard, mais la conception et la fonctionnalité de celui-ci fascinaient néanmoins Celise. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Bonjour, Ajax, a dit Celise. Elle avait déjà entendu quelqu'un venir, mais a continué à prêter attention aux erreurs du conducteur – le fait était que le conducteur n'était pas censé modifier ou même toucher le moteur à moins qu'il ne soit sur le point de exploser. Je me suis inscrit pour cette mission, donc je viens avec. Comment pourrais-je ne pas? C'est ma ville natale, elle a continué. Un léger sourire s'est brisé sur le bord de ses lèvres. Celise était ravie de retourner à son cou des bois, mais les circonstances auraient pu être meilleures. "Avez-vous déjà travaillé aujourd'hui ou allez-vous le faire plus tard?" La fille d'argent demandé. Elle n'avait pas l'intention de rompre les routines simplement parce qu'il y avait une mission sur le terrain à mener à bien. À tout le moins, ils devaient rester fluides, flexibles en tout temps. Je pense que j'ai besoin d'étirements, elle grogne et retourne un clin d'œil à Jomen, alors qu'il s'approchait d'eux. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Celise a ouvert l'un des compartiments sur la longueur latérale de l'APC, et a attaché son épée à l'intérieur. Les armes n'étaient pas autorisées à l'intérieur du transporteur pour des raisons de sécurité en cas d'accident. Elle a aussi enlevé son sac à dos et l'a posé sur le sol, se penchant contre l'une des roues du véhicule, avec une boisson plus sèche. "Donne-moi une traction, veux-tu? " Celise a demandé à Ajax. Elle avait tourné le dos à l'Übermench et a incliné ses bras contre lui pendant un peu de séance d'étirement à la volée. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Quelque chose qui a excité Celise a été l'idée de voir, espérons-le, quelques hauteurs intéressantes et sanctuaires dans et autour de Ledale. Elle connaissait au moins un couple près de Rians et Bleneau. Quoi qu'il se soit passé, ces villes seraient probablement utilisées comme points de ralliement pour l'armée sur le chemin du retour. Peut-être que Jomen aimerait aller avec elle dans quelques sorties, ou un peu plus aventureuse poursuite dans la ville elle-même, pendant la confrontation. En y pensant, Celise était fasciné par l'idée de sécuriser et de sauver les sanctuaires pour les protéger de l'ennemi. La fille d'argent pensait qu'elle en parlerait avec Jomen, plus tard. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Ne vous inquiétez pas des étoiles colorées. Je m'habitue à la loi, à la réaction, à l'observation, à la réflexion. Vous n'avez pas à faire ce genre de coloration avec des symboles! C'est juste pour mon bien.

C E L I S E L E L I È V R E ✚ Twenty-Two ✚ Female ✚ 5'2" ✚ Navigation P R E S E N C ECelise can inspire the sense of a cousin that one resonates with, but only ever seen during rare family reunions. One can sometimes experience Celise as a sister who certainly has her own life, but sees attention to those closest as a duty rather than gift. She has an aura of serenity, yet somewhat distracted by trivial pursuits. The stars and trails of the land fascinates her to such an extent that it can instill comfort of guidance in others. Celise always knows the way and how to get there. She makes sure that nothing is rushed, that nothing is taken for granted. Celise can stop and smell the roses in such a way that will distract people from pain and suffering. Due to her relatively petite frame and height, Celise can be instinctively amicable, which makes it easy to approach her for whatever reason. Her choices in fashion might play a part in it. She often wears platform sneakers to gain an inch or two, skinny-ripped jeans, and an assortment of t-shirts with motives and comfortable sweaters. Celise looks more like a youngster than a soldier that could deflect a bullet with a piece of metal or punch a hole in a concrete wall with her bare fist. Her silvery hair is kept around shoulder length, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter. Most of her facial features follows the theme of her height and frame—petite and plump. An iconic feature is her prominent, upper eyelids. Celise may not always utter thoughts and emotions through words. She is a girl of intimacy in such ways that restore humanity in people. Her hands are soft and her touch is tender. Pursuits such as massaging, braiding of hair, decorating gear and clothing, and grooming others is a quirk that not only becalms herself, but the recipient as well. All of this is given, of course, that a person is worthy of such affections. I D E O L O G YCelise puts the freedom of the individual before all else. Liberty is the primary value that one must strive towards. In any case where such liberty is threatened, the importance of the individual must triumph the collective. Celise refuses to sacrifice anything for what someone might consider to be the ‘greater good’. Every individual matters. When and if someone claims that something is in their best interest, in which they obviously have no desire, Celise will take action to prevent it. She is severely skeptical of power and government. There is always an agenda, always a false word with which to hush the masses. Wartime often disrupts tradition and order. These two qualities that Celise take to heart. It does not matter where in the world she is, cultural rituals and esoteric habits will always be of interest to her. Whenever she has been on the move, either by her own wish or by order of the academy, Celise tries to stop and take in the views and smell the flowers every now and then. In these endeavors, values such as honesty, dedication, and dignity play an important role. Celise sees loyalty, patience, and reliability as cardinal traits. When she says that she will do something, whatever it might be, Celise will exercise her stubbornness until such commitment is realized. She believes that every type of group, family, or community needs different types of parts for its engines to work. There cannot be too much of one or the other—there must be a perfect balance. By this logic, Celise does not believe that everyone is equal. She knows it is frowned upon, but she does not consider it a bad thing. If a machine is built with the same kind of part, it simply won't work. You need different kinds of parts with different purposes for things to sail smoothly. However, Celise can seem harsh at times. She is a firm believer in tough love and has little sympathy for those who break the law or repeatedly make bad decisions in life. Everyone should have the right to a second chance after being punished, but no more than that. The idea of moral values is to live by them. They are there to guide a person, not to be squandered and abused. Certain city-states around the world are experts at this very thing that she despises. Celise shows no remorse in letting everyone know what a failure they are, and that they should be annexed by the army. All manner of vulgarity and amoral behavior makes her sick. Traditional views of family, nation, and gender roles are important to Celise. She has no problems with cooking, doing household chores, or taking care of the men in her life or around her. As a matter of fact, Celise relishes in keeping things nice and tidy, civil and orderly wherever she might find herself. This extends to her physical appearance and idea of femininity. She firmly believes that a woman's greatest strength is beauty, and such strength should not be trampled upon by toxic ideas. Individual freedoms such as thought and speech should also not be restrained on the basis of offense. However, pointless slander and insults are unnecessary. S T R I F ECelise uses what probably once was a ceremonial sword. The blade of the sword appears to be crafted from a dark metal with esoteric engravings of lighter shades. The base of the weapon along with the hilt is decorated with forged ornament of unknown origin and meaning. From tip to handle, the sword is roughly four feet, five inches long, but does not weigh an awful lot. The black metal is assumed to be unique. It cannot be found in any active mine or trading deposit, which indicates that it is finite and ancient. To this day, Celise is the only person with such an esoteric and mysterious weapon. She has no recollection of when or where she acquired it. Celise is a focused combatant. She knows a wide array of sword fighting techniques. Due to the sword’s light weight, Celise can maneuver it in uncanny ways that would otherwise feel odd and off to a normal person. However, she is a stationary fighter. Celise does not move around too much and often deals with one enemy at a time, making sure that things are actually dead before shifting attention. Celise’s use of spirits is balanced. She does not favor one or the other element, or any specific kind of catalyst. It makes her a well-rounded fighter, but not particularly good at anything. Celise has a couple of tricks up her sleeve, of course, combinations of elements and catalysts to use, but she rarely finds an excuse to be flashy or lust for blood. She would rather have those who live and breathe combat fight instead. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG Celise has met Ajax on a number of occasions at the academy gym and obstacle course. The occasional, casual spotting of heavy weights turned into longer discussions about workout programs and nutrition. Celise received a lot of good tips on how she could achieve what she wanted. MONTERO TIMBERSON Celise knows Montero by name and person. Handsome and mysterious. JOMEN SURY Celise has throughout the years at Oakridge put up flyers about 'Exploring Shrines and the Unknown' to satisfy her need for exploration and spirituality. Jomen responded to these on a few occasions. Their outings to various locations were quite memorable, as Celise usually ended up doing it by herself. DUKE KNIGHT iv Through her interactions with Ajax, Celise has gotten to know Duke a little bit. She has on more than one occasion supervised and timed the ideal men's sparring sessions. She has even broken up a few actual fights between them, and tended to bruises and swellings in the aftermath. On another note, Celise's 5'2" looks quite comical next to the 6'5"+ of both men. ROLAND FREISEN Celise knows Roland, or 'Pardosa', quite well by now. They have clashed during lectures at the academy on numerous occasions. Both of them have very distinct idealisms that oppose each other. When things have gotten nasty, they have come to terms outside of lectures. However, they still conduct an ideological battle on some issues, so to speak. LIESABET ABENDROTH Celise has known Liesabet for some time now, ever since they were young. If someone asked what kind of friend she is, Celise would not be able to explain it. There is nothing negative about it, there is nothing positive about it, there is nothing ordinary about it—it is just unique. The best explanation Celise could ever use to shed light on things would be: ”She needs me, I need her; I’m her opium, she is mine; She is my graven image, I am hers.” ABYSSO YBARIS Celise knows Abysso from their shared division at the academy. They've been in the same group projects a few times, and both enjoy the actual navigation part of the division. She doesn't know much about him beyond their school work, however. C O N T A C T S. . . C H R O N I C L E. . . P R O P E R T Y Potion x2 Elixir x1 Renegade x1

Kade Sicario Lieu: Oakridge City Interagir avec: Kade a culminé la tête au coin de la rue, dépeignant le groupe d'extrémistes armés entrainant leurs armes sur Jomen. Elle pouvait les prendre, elle le savait. Ce qui l'a empêchée de le faire, c'est ce que Jomen disait. Il préparait la situation pour mettre toutes les parties en lumière. Si elle attaquait maintenant, elle causerait non seulement un petit incident dans le bâtiment, mais aussi une plus grande controverse: Devrait-on faire confiance aux Gardiens? Ainsi, Kade a glissé au coin de la rue. Elle devrait se retenir malgré l'envie croissante qu'elle a en elle. Kade s'est penchée contre le mur et aspiré dans un souffle, plaçant une main sur sa poitrine. "Tu ne les as pas tous surpassés pour céder maintenant..." Kade s'est chuchoté. Avec une autre longue respiration, elle s'est détendue et a jeté un coup d'œil au coin de la rue. Ils n'avaient aucune idée qu'elle était là, et elle a préféré le garder comme ça. Le gardien est allé dans la direction opposée aux extrémistes. Elle a continué tranquillement, toujours à vérifier par-dessus son épaule juste au cas où. Soudain, on entendit un bip. Kade a craqué son regard vers la source du son, voyant qu'un ascenseur venait d'atteindre son niveau. Kade s'est écarté et a rapidement glissé à travers une porte de bureau. Tout comme l'ascenseur s'est ouvert, la porte s'est fermée tranquillement. Deux autres extrémistes riaient et plaisantaient alors qu'ils marchaient, complètement inconscients de leur infiltration. Kade ouvrit légèrement la porte pour voir si la côte était dégagée, c'est là qu'elle entendit le mouvement derrière elle. Kade se tourna et leva les poings, seulement pour affronter une femme terrifiée qui avait la chance de ne pas être prise en otage. La femme tenait un petit couteau dans la direction de Kade. La gardienne a ouvert les poings et a fait un geste pour que la femme se calme. Elle a apporté un doigt à ses lèvres, "Shh..." La femme a remarqué l'armure de Kade et s'est rendue compte qu'elle faisait face à un tuteur. Elle s'est hurlée tranquillement et a abaissé le couteau. Kade a parlé d'un ton brouillé, "Je m'appelle Kade Sicario, je suis un gardien" "Je sais qui vous êtes." la femme a interrompu. Kade s'est arrêtée et a hurlé, bien sûr que la femme la connaissait, qui ne l'a pas fait? -- Quel est votre nom? "Siri." Elle a répondu. "Siri. Je pourrais avoir besoin de ton aide." "Que puis-je faire? "Pouvez-vous me montrer où se trouve la salle électrique dans cet immeuble? Je vais éteindre les lumières. Restez près de moi, et je vous sortirai, avec les otages, pendant le chaos."

(Click the picture for Kade's theme song) Kade Sicario || 27 || Female || 5’ 7” || Warfare || P R E S E N C E There is an air of mystery surrounding Kade. She is a wary and careful individual who picks her words with caution. Kade’s body language suggests that she is always on edge. Her tensed posture tells others of her stressed history. Kade’s memories are clouded and distorted, which has made it difficult for her to live off of past experiences. Because of this, Kade lives in the moment, and has adapted to become quick on her feet. Despite the lack of any structured memory, Kade subconsciously responds to certain stimuli, both positively and negatively; suggesting that her memories haven’t been totally lost, and that her old self is constantly scraping at her subconscious. Kade is covered in scars, many of which have long since healed and have become nearly invisible. Others appear to be more recent. The scars vary in shape and size; some resembling gunshot wounds, while others resemble injuries incurred from beasts of Jenova. She has a collection of tattoos that run up her arms, around her shoulders, and down her back. The tattoos on her back line a series of long straight scars that run from her neck to her waist. Records from the Oakridge Academy say that Kade’s eyes were once amber, but they are now a piercing gray. Kade wears functional clothing, often in reds, whites, or blacks. Her hair is raven black, despite academy records declaring her hair as brown with white dyed streaks. She wears clothes that cover her scars, so to not bring up a subject she knows very little of. An amber pendant rests around her neck on a worn black piece of sting. The pendant is hand carved with the writing ‘Samuel’ engraved into the back of it. When she is nervous, or when her hands are idle, she will often fidget with the pendant and become rather somber. Those who remember who Kade Sicario used to know her as a kind and gentle Guardian, as well as a young songstress taking Cetra by storm. She was once compassionate and calm, even in the direst of situations. It is unclear what has changed Kade so much, both physically and mentally. Every once in a while, her old self will come out, but those moments are fleeting, and far apart from one another. Academy officials, as well as her old friends, can only hope that Kade’s memory returns in full. Until then, she is to be closely watched and observed for abnormal behavior. I D E O L O G Y”Survival is the basest of all human instincts. Once you’ve fallen to that depth, everything else loses its value. It’s either you, or them.” Kade has experienced much, but her memories of such experiences are hazy and hard to reach out to beyond five years from now. Within those five years, Kade has known little besides fighting and surviving. She is always alert, her eyes constantly flicking about and evaluating her surroundings. She is ready to fight at a moment’s notice, and is often first into the fray when the battle begins. Even before she went missing, Kade was known to have issues sleeping. While she is able to sleep easier now, she will sometimes wake up sweaty and in a panic. When danger is nowhere to be found, Kade’s old self seems to come out more. She is calm, able to smile (even if it is faint), and willing to socialize. When she is alone, or when she believes she is alone, Kade will even hum and sing quietly to herself. However, she is a lot more nervous about singing around people than she used to be. It is clear that Kade is recovering from whatever trauma she had sustained, and that it is only a matter of time before her memory returns to her in full. When she is safe, Kade seems to be in harmony with herself, something that the psychologists of Oakridge know is a shame. Once her memories return, Kade will likely not achieve such harmony again. S T R I F EKade was always an accomplished martial artist. Before her disappearance, she was a highly respected combatant. That talent in martial arts seems to not have left her. However, her fighting has become more brutal and direct. Beforehand, Kade viewed her martial arts simply as a means of combat. Now, she views her martial prowess as a means of survival, and it shows in her fighting style. Her attacks are often supplemented by air elemental magic. Kade uses this magic to create focused fields around her fists and feet to deliver powerful gusts of focused wind in order to increase the impact. Kade can also use her air magic to manipulate the physical area around her, not just as a supplement to her martial arts. She can lift and moves objects, or send out a bolt of focused wind over a longer distance if she so chooses. Kade wears leather climbing gloves with steel knuckles to fight with. There is nothing special about these gloves, and they can be easily replaced if lost. K I N S H I PStudents of the academy today might only know Kade as the Guardian who went missing five years back, or as the famous songstress who performed funeral rites for those who have died to the stigma and its creations. Some students might have been junior classmen, and remember her as the role model upper classman; if this is the case, then they’ll be concerned for who she has become since her disappearance. Her friends have all either died, or have moved on with their lives. Some of her old friends have been made aware of her resurgence, but none of them have managed to muster up the courage and face her again. Even if they did, Kana would have no memory of them. Kade is also represented in the card game, 'The Spirits Within', as a first edition card. This rendition of her resembled that of her old self, the famous songstress and powerful guardian. Being a first edition card, avid collectors of the card game, and fans of Kade's music, seek out this rare card. Jomen Sury - Kade has only just met Jomen Sury. Ajax Armstrong - Kade has only just met Ajax Armstrong. C O N T A C T SLieutenant Renalt Qatar Renalt was the man who led the special forces team that found Kade. He was the only one in the squad to recognize her, and willingly abandoned the mission to rescue the former guardian. Renalt was a captain at the time, and was demoted to the rank of lieutenant as a result of his insubordination. Kade hasn’t had the chance to speak with Renalt since he brought her back to Oakridge, but she trusts him nonetheless. Dr. Lucius Brant A longtime acquaintance to Kade, Lucius was originally her therapist during her time at the academy. He is the only one left at the academy who knows Kade personally, and has been instrumental in helping her collect fragments of her past. In the five years before their reunion, Kade did not know her first name, she was simply referred to as ‘Sicario’. Lucius has struggled in his attempts to properly reconnect with Kade, but he is determined to keep working at her in order to bring her old self back. C H R O N I C L EShe was about to speak to the convoy leader when a reporter yelled out to her. A small twin rotor camera drone floated right up to the guardian's face, which she quickly batted away harmlessly. The reporter quickly learned to keep the drone out of Kade's personal space. "Miss Sicario! Miss Sicario! Does you being here declare your support for the military's incitement of the JENOVA crisis?! You were there at Isla de los Muertos, how can you possibly support the UDF after such a massacre?" Kade glanced over to the reporter for a brief moment, but decided not to answer. Kade had heard of the reports, of her efforts during that battle, but her memory on the event was cloudy at best. She remembered that it had turned into a three way bloodbath when the aggressors arrived. And she remembered people important to her dying, but they were only faceless silhouettes in her mind. Kade couldn't even remember their names. The reports had many names covered in black ink. P R O P E R T Y2x Potions 1x Phoenix Down

Alors que Kade descendait par l'entrée du toit, elle ne trouvait pas d'autres obstacles. Le bâtiment étant tenu par si peu de gens, il n'y avait pas assez de gens pour avoir une patrouille régulière dans les couloirs, surtout avec deux à l'entrée, deux sur le toit, un gardien de l'otage, et le patron flottant d'une zone à l'autre. Cela n'a laissé que trois personnes stationnées le long de l'avant de l'immeuble au deuxième étage avec leurs armes tirées. Chaque membre a eu une modification d'une certaine sorte, qu'ils soient volontaires ou modifiés par nécessité après un attachement de Stigma aucun corps ne pouvait le dire en un coup d'oeil, cependant, ce groupe de personnes avait profité de l'occasion et s'était armé. Cela faisait partie de ce qui rendait les relations avec les peuples augmentés si dangereuses, c'est que vous n'étiez jamais tout à fait sûr de ce qu'ils étaient capables de sortir, de quelle arme ils avaient caché. Typiquement ces augmentations étaient uni-tâched, conçu pour faire une chose vraiment très bien, et peu d'autre que cela. Le bras de Brett, par exemple, était capable de tirer de très grandes balles, très rapidement, ou de tirer beaucoup d'entre eux à la fois comme une arme à feu. Malgré sa capacité offensive impressionnante, Brett ne pouvait jamais ouvrir une bouteille d'eau avec cette main, ne pouvait pas ouvrir la plupart des portes, ne pouvait même pas essuyer son propre arrière avec cette main. Donc une fois que vous avez compris ce qu'était leur bizarrerie unique, tout ce que vous aviez à faire était de veiller sur cela. Malheureusement pour Ajax, il était tout simplement debout devant en attendant le signal. Il n'arrêtait pas d'attendre quelque chose pour lui dire qu'il était temps d'agir. Un signe de lutte, un esprit pour l'appeler, quelque chose. Il ne pouvait même pas voir les trois dans les fenêtres assez bien pour faire le genre de modifications qu'ils avaient. Kade, d'autre part, les a croisés avant qu'elle n'ait trouvé les otages. Ils étaient sur le bord, évidemment sous beaucoup de stress. Soit ils travaillaient sur ce non-stop depuis trop longtemps, soit ils étaient des amateurs complets. Avec son esprit renforcé sens, Kade pouvait probablement entendre les hirondelles sèches et l'augmentation de la fréquence cardiaque. Ils se sentaient tellement confiants qu'ils n'ont même pas pensé à vérifier derrière eux-mêmes périodiquement. Il y en avait trois avec des armes et un seul Kade. Elle pouvait voir, si elle choisissait de regarder, que l'un des tireurs était une petite fille, pas beaucoup à son cadre, mais il était clair que son épaule gauche et le bras avaient été remplacés, et probablement son genou gauche et vers le bas aussi. A côté d'elle sur le sol a posé une grande étoile à quatre sens lancer, une arme incroyablement impraticable pour quiconque n'avait pas de force colossale. "Hey Yumi", une voix métallique a sonné de l'une des autres personnes à la fenêtre. -- Quoi, Cat? La fille avec la prothèse de l'épaule a répondu tenduement. Cat, apparemment, était couvert tête pour orteil dans un manteau d'une sorte, donc Kade ne pouvait pas faire les détails, mais la façon dont le capot du manteau a été formé indique qu'il y avait quelque chose d'autre qu'une tête humaine normale sous là, et avec la voix extra métallique, il semblait qu'ils portaient une sorte d'armure. "J'en ai assez de ça. Ça ne marche pas. Nous devrions être là à aller le chercher, ne pas attendre qu'il se montre..." « Ce n'est pas notre appel », répondit la troisième personne. Une femme aux cheveux corbeaux avec assez de buste pour demander à Kade si c'était sa modification. Bien qu'elle ait légèrement déplacé sa position, il est devenu évident du mouvement que c'était ses bras qui étaient couverts de longs gants noirs des coudes vers le bas et se sont terminés avec des gants rouges surdimensionnés qui étaient son augmentation. "Vous savez qu'il suffit de suivre les ordres de Nimbus, il nous verra par là d'une manière ou d'une autre. Je l'ai connu toute sa vie." Les deux autres dans la pièce ont simplement murmuré dans la conformité, mais peut-être Yumi était-il moins convaincu. Kade n'avait pas été détectée, elle pouvait se glisser et continuer sa chasse aux otages, ou elle pouvait tenter de les enlever et réduire la résistance à entrer et sortir du bâtiment. Pendant ce temps, dans le hall d'entrée, Jomen a affronté les deux gardes et Nimbus qui étaient apparemment le patron de ce groupe. "Je vois..." Il a dit, "Et si nous refusons. Et si on ne voulait pas aller tranquillement dans la nuit? Quelle garantie pouvez-vous nous donner de vos promesses? Bien sûr que vous êtes un tuteur, mais je vois par ce badge que vous n'êtes même pas en dehors de l'école. Vous n'avez aucune compétence, aucune autorité. Tes promesses sont vides." Les deux gardes ont encore levé leurs armes sur les mots du patron. Ajax a étouffé un bâillement...

C E L I S E L E L I È V R E ✚ Twenty-Two ✚ Female ✚ 5'2" ✚ Navigation P R E S E N C ECelise can inspire the sense of a cousin that one resonates with, but only ever seen during rare family reunions. One can sometimes experience Celise as a sister who certainly has her own life, but sees attention to those closest as a duty rather than gift. She has an aura of serenity, yet somewhat distracted by trivial pursuits. The stars and trails of the land fascinates her to such an extent that it can instill comfort of guidance in others. Celise always knows the way and how to get there. She makes sure that nothing is rushed, that nothing is taken for granted. Celise can stop and smell the roses in such a way that will distract people from pain and suffering. Due to her relatively petite frame and height, Celise can be instinctively amicable, which makes it easy to approach her for whatever reason. Her choices in fashion might play a part in it. She often wears platform sneakers to gain an inch or two, skinny-ripped jeans, and an assortment of t-shirts with motives and comfortable sweaters. Celise looks more like a youngster than a soldier that could deflect a bullet with a piece of metal or punch a hole in a concrete wall with her bare fist. Her silvery hair is kept around shoulder length, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter. Most of her facial features follows the theme of her height and frame—petite and plump. An iconic feature is her prominent, upper eyelids. Celise may not always utter thoughts and emotions through words. She is a girl of intimacy in such ways that restore humanity in people. Her hands are soft and her touch is tender. Pursuits such as massaging, braiding of hair, decorating gear and clothing, and grooming others is a quirk that not only becalms herself, but the recipient as well. All of this is given, of course, that a person is worthy of such affections. I D E O L O G YCelise puts the freedom of the individual before all else. Liberty is the primary value that one must strive towards. In any case where such liberty is threatened, the importance of the individual must triumph the collective. Celise refuses to sacrifice anything for what someone might consider to be the ‘greater good’. Every individual matters. When and if someone claims that something is in their best interest, in which they obviously have no desire, Celise will take action to prevent it. She is severely skeptical of power and government. There is always an agenda, always a false word with which to hush the masses. Wartime often disrupts tradition and order. These two qualities that Celise take to heart. It does not matter where in the world she is, cultural rituals and esoteric habits will always be of interest to her. Whenever she has been on the move, either by her own wish or by order of the academy, Celise tries to stop and take in the views and smell the flowers every now and then. In these endeavors, values such as honesty, dedication, and dignity play an important role. Celise sees loyalty, patience, and reliability as cardinal traits. When she says that she will do something, whatever it might be, Celise will exercise her stubbornness until such commitment is realized. She believes that every type of group, family, or community needs different types of parts for its engines to work. There cannot be too much of one or the other—there must be a perfect balance. By this logic, Celise does not believe that everyone is equal. She knows it is frowned upon, but she does not consider it a bad thing. If a machine is built with the same kind of part, it simply won't work. You need different kinds of parts with different purposes for things to sail smoothly. However, Celise can seem harsh at times. She is a firm believer in tough love and has little sympathy for those who break the law or repeatedly make bad decisions in life. Everyone should have the right to a second chance after being punished, but no more than that. The idea of moral values is to live by them. They are there to guide a person, not to be squandered and abused. Certain city-states around the world are experts at this very thing that she despises. Celise shows no remorse in letting everyone know what a failure they are, and that they should be annexed by the army. All manner of vulgarity and amoral behavior makes her sick. Traditional views of family, nation, and gender roles are important to Celise. She has no problems with cooking, doing household chores, or taking care of the men in her life or around her. As a matter of fact, Celise relishes in keeping things nice and tidy, civil and orderly wherever she might find herself. This extends to her physical appearance and idea of femininity. She firmly believes that a woman's greatest strength is beauty, and such strength should not be trampled upon by toxic ideas. Individual freedoms such as thought and speech should also not be restrained on the basis of offense. However, pointless slander and insults are unnecessary. S T R I F ECelise uses what probably once was a ceremonial sword. The blade of the sword appears to be crafted from a dark metal with esoteric engravings of lighter shades. The base of the weapon along with the hilt is decorated with forged ornament of unknown origin and meaning. From tip to handle, the sword is roughly four feet, five inches long, but does not weigh an awful lot. The black metal is assumed to be unique. It cannot be found in any active mine or trading deposit, which indicates that it is finite and ancient. To this day, Celise is the only person with such an esoteric and mysterious weapon. She has no recollection of when or where she acquired it. Celise is a focused combatant. She knows a wide array of sword fighting techniques. Due to the sword’s light weight, Celise can maneuver it in uncanny ways that would otherwise feel odd and off to a normal person. However, she is a stationary fighter. Celise does not move around too much and often deals with one enemy at a time, making sure that things are actually dead before shifting attention. Celise’s use of spirits is balanced. She does not favor one or the other element, or any specific kind of catalyst. It makes her a well-rounded fighter, but not particularly good at anything. Celise has a couple of tricks up her sleeve, of course, combinations of elements and catalysts to use, but she rarely finds an excuse to be flashy or lust for blood. She would rather have those who live and breathe combat fight instead. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG Celise has met Ajax on a number of occasions at the academy gym and obstacle course. The occasional, casual spotting of heavy weights turned into longer discussions about workout programs and nutrition. Celise received a lot of good tips on how she could achieve what she wanted. MONTERO TIMBERSON Celise knows Montero by name and person. Handsome and mysterious. JOMEN SURY Celise has throughout the years at Oakridge put up flyers about 'Exploring Shrines and the Unknown' to satisfy her need for exploration and spirituality. Jomen responded to these on a few occasions. Their outings to various locations were quite memorable, as Celise usually ended up doing it by herself. DUKE KNIGHT iv Through her interactions with Ajax, Celise has gotten to know Duke a little bit. She has on more than one occasion supervised and timed the ideal men's sparring sessions. She has even broken up a few actual fights between them, and tended to bruises and swellings in the aftermath. On another note, Celise's 5'2" looks quite comical next to the 6'5"+ of both men. ROLAND FREISEN Celise knows Roland, or 'Pardosa', quite well by now. They have clashed during lectures at the academy on numerous occasions. Both of them have very distinct idealisms that oppose each other. When things have gotten nasty, they have come to terms outside of lectures. However, they still conduct an ideological battle on some issues, so to speak. LIESABET ABENDROTH Celise has known Liesabet for some time now, ever since they were young. If someone asked what kind of friend she is, Celise would not be able to explain it. There is nothing negative about it, there is nothing positive about it, there is nothing ordinary about it—it is just unique. The best explanation Celise could ever use to shed light on things would be: ”She needs me, I need her; I’m her opium, she is mine; She is my graven image, I am hers.” ABYSSO YBARIS Celise knows Abysso from their shared division at the academy. They've been in the same group projects a few times, and both enjoy the actual navigation part of the division. She doesn't know much about him beyond their school work, however. C O N T A C T S. . . C H R O N I C L E. . . P R O P E R T Y Potion x2 Elixir x1 Renegade x1

Jomen Sury Lieu: Oakridge City Interagir avec: "Arrête, mon pote. Pas plus que toi. On sait que tu n'es pas un heala. Les gardiens n'ont pas d'implants! Maintenant, dites-nous ce qu'on a vraiment après et peut-être qu'on vous tue vite?" Le regard de Jomen flattait de l'homme à l'homme en examinant chacun, ses yeux augmentés zoomant sur leurs armes alors qu'il cataloguait mentalement et triait les extrémistes. Aucun d'entre eux ne semblait être leur chef, ce qui signifiait qu'elle ou lui était quelque part encore à l'intérieur du bâtiment. Cependant, il y avait encore six extrémistes nerveux et en colère qui doutaient déjà de lui et qui étaient prêts à tirer sur leurs déclencheurs en raison de toute mauvaise action. Lentement, Jomen leva le sien à la bouche, chaque motion délibérant, alors qu'il entretenait un contact visuel avec l'extrémiste qui avait parlé. Il a ouvert la bouche et a coulé ses dents dans l'éminence thénarique, le regroupement des muscles entre la base de son pouce et son poignet, de sa main droite. La grave brûlure de la blessure l'a presque fait s'éloigner, mais il a résisté à l'envie, se concentrant sur la tâche devant lui. Il a occupé la position jusqu'à ce que le sang commence à se lever puis a enlevé sa main pour que les extrémistes voient. Le sang coulait de sa main et s'installait dans le tapis nouvellement encombré en dessous comme le goût du fer enregistré sur ses sens. Ignorant la douleur ainsi que le goût dans sa bouche, il leva l'autre main au-dessus de sa blessure. En lui-même, il appela les esprits qui résidaient en lui pour leur aide. Une goutte d'eau cristalline pas plus grande qu'un pois vert formé à l'extrémité de son index gauche. Il aurait été difficile de voir si Jomen n'avait pas ajouté un léger effet lumineux à la magie avec un peu d'aide des esprits de feu en lui. La goutte est tombée de son doigt et a atterri sur sa blessure s'étendant vers l'extérieur pour couvrir toute sa surface. D'où il débarqua, la chair sur sa main se déchira comme celle d'une pierre jetée sur les eaux tranquilles. Il y avait une profonde sensation de démangeaisons sur le site de la blessure, mais aussi de soulagement. Quand Jomen leva ensuite la main, la seule peau non marquée était sur sa main droite. Il y avait des murmures dans la pièce, alors que les extrémistes regardaient entre eux dans la confusion. Jomen pouvait voir la question à leurs yeux, s'il était vraiment Guardian Healer, que faisait-il ici de tous les endroits? Il reste encore une question à résoudre avant qu'il ne s'exprime à ce sujet. Il toucha le côté de son temple quand le mécanisme de libération de son œil gauche fut localisé. Il y avait un petit clic et la moitié de sa vision est tombée sombre. Quand Jomen leva ses yeux augmentés pour que le groupe le voie, la pièce se tut. Les regards intenses autour de la pièce regardaient de l'œil à la figure avant eux. Satisfaits qu'ils ne doutaient plus qu'il était ce qu'il disait être, Jomen remplaça son œil et sentit un peu de soulagement alors que toute sa vision était réaffirmée. "Vraiment les disent que vous êtes qui vous dites que vous êtes, Heala. Qu'est-ce que tu veux?" La même personne a parlé comme avant, cette fois, cependant, un nouvel homme est entré d'une des portes voisines. La caractéristique la plus distinctive de l'homme était son épée massive qui pendait du dos de l'homme ainsi que l'air de l'autorité qui pendait au-dessus de lui. Jomen a modifié son focus pour le nouvel homme en ramassant des indices visuels du comportement des hommes. Ses muscles parlaient de la capacité d'utiliser l'arme efficacement, mais il y avait plusieurs indices intéressants de l'état d'esprit actuel de l'homme. Ses vêtements étaient ridés et très bien portés, en plus des sacs sous les yeux des hommes parlaient de plusieurs nuits sans sommeil, et la tension évidente dans les muscles de l'épaule de l'homme tout raconté d'un homme épuisé au bout de sa corde mentale. Il était possible que ce que cet homme voulait vraiment en ce moment était une évasion de cette situation. Il s'est tourné vers l'homme qui regardait légèrement au-dessus de ses cheveux, évitant tout contact direct avec les yeux. « J'aimerais que tout le monde quitte ce bâtiment vivant et en toute sécurité. Tout le monde dans ce bâtiment." Il y avait des muteurs incrédules autour de la pièce, à l'exception de qui Jomen supposait que c'était le chef qui regardait en silence. Le visage de Jomen n'a pas changé par rapport à son expression calme et neutre, il a simplement attendu que la pièce se calme à nouveau. "J'ai une proposition pour vous tout ce que j'espère que vous considérerez avec le plus grand sérieux. Un qui non seulement sauvera non seulement la vie des civils innocents que vous avez entreposés ci-dessus, mais aussi votre propre vie tout en aidant à changer la perception publique de votre cause à une lumière plus positive. » À ce que les yeux du chef se levèrent de surprise et il semblait une lumière d'espoir a commencé à se manifester dans les visages de ses hommes. "L'offre est celle-ci. Relâchez les otages, venez avec mon unité pour combattre la Stigma directement à la bataille de Ledale. Je sais que votre combat est avec l'UDF et Field Marshall Angelos et en ce qui me concerne, vous avez peut-être quelques points valables. Je n'ai pas encore examiné ou entendu assez de votre doctrine pour dire d'une manière ou d'une autre. Mes responsabilités sont envers les civils et les esprits de cette terre menacés par la Stigma, de ne pas disposer d'alliés humains potentiels. Je peux appeler un autre véhicule et voyager avec vous à Ledale pour m'assurer que vous ne serez pas blessé. Si vous aidez à sauver vos semblables, vous améliorerez votre réputation aux yeux des citoyens. Surtout s'ils entendent dire qu'un Gardien s'est adressé à vous pour vous aider à renverser les marées de la bataille. » En ce moment, ses yeux ont enfin pris contact avec les yeux des dirigeants. "Vous êtes à Oakridge, une ville remplie de policiers et de Gardiens, c'est votre seule occasion de sortir de cette situation avec votre vie et votre honneur. Venez avec moi, combattez la Stigma, et poursuivez vos propres objectifs." Jomen s'est réinstallé alors que les hommes dans la salle commençaient à parler entre eux avec enthousiasme, certains avec plus de prudence, mais le seul dont l'opinion comptait dans la salle était maintenant les dirigeants. Jomen espérait en interne qu'il avait proposé le bon argument pour écraser l'homme, sinon il deviendrait beaucoup plus difficile de sauver les otages. S'ils l'acceptaient, il pourrait y avoir des conséquences politiques pour leur permettre de se joindre au combat, mais la vie des citoyens était plus importante aussi bien que faire tout ce qui était possible pour obtenir la victoire à Ledale. Le leader s'est enfin exprimé. "Qu'est-il arrivé à tes yeux?" La question a jeté Jomen de son train de pensée et il a clignoté dans la surprise et l'inconfort. Des souvenirs lui sont revenus qu'il aurait préféré ne jamais s'en souvenir. Il a hésité, avant de répondre. "J'ai eu un accident quand j'étais jeune." "Avez-vous vraiment fait?" "...non." -- Et alors? "Je les ai brûlés dans mon crâne." Jomen ferma la bouche et prit un souffle lent et profond, ses narines éclatèrent alors qu'il attendait la décision du chef. Accepterait-il ou nierait-il?

J O M E N S U R Y ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11 ✚ Research Division (Medical Specialization) P R E S E N C EJomen exudes an air of calmness and rationality that flows off like a steady rain. Underneath that however, is an undercurrent of anger inescapably mixed with sadness that is exposed only rarely. In addition, Jomen possesses cybernetic eyes, who pupils are lit with a dull green, that allow him to see, but unnerve people when he looks directly at them, reminding them always of the dangers of the Stigma. For this reason, he tends to keep his gaze downcast or off to the side while conversing with others. His outfits usually possess at least one item in a varying shade of blue in an effort to further signify his status as a healer. Though quiet and unassuming, in combative situations he can be found just behind the frontline fighters making him presence and abilities and constant reassurance. He is not one to try and seek out glory, but he has the courage enough to go with those who do. I D E O L O G Y Jomen will sit and listen to all sides of an argument, but once he has made his choice very little can be done to sway him from it. He believes that the Stigma is a disease that needs to be eradicated by any means available to prevent it infecting more people. While he cannot condone the actions of the Death Squads, the Cleaners he feels a certain empathy for. However, that does not exclude them from the laws that the United Defense Force have laid down upon the land. Since the UDF, is the best chance that the people of this land have for eradicating the Stigma, Jomen obeys all of their laws to his utmost ability. He may question the effectiveness or quality of some of these rules, but he will obey them until the law is changed as he believes that the rule of these laws gives them the structure they need to band together fully against the Stigma. The need of survival sometimes must curtail individual freedom. As for the spirits inside of him, Jomen believes that each is a valuable companion that serves with him valiantly in his fight. He is honored to serve alongside them and thus treats with the respect that they deserve. Often he can be found describing the full events of the day to his spirits or encouraging them to emerge briefly to see the world around them. He thanks them at shrines whenever he gets the opportunity. S T R I F EJomen is not nearly as capable of a physical fighter of those from the Warfare Division, with his relative lack of physical strength and stamina. Still in times where melee combat is necessary to either or his patients survival, he is no slouch. Jomen carries a wooden staff with a large hook at the end of it, designed to help him trip or knockdown the enemy to open them up to further attacks as well as a standard issue pistol at his side at all time. Though not particularly skilled with the gun, Jomen is quite adept at using his staff to disrupt enemies either by redirecting their attacks or successfully managing to trip them with his staff. In this, he attempts to use his enemies higher strength and speed, along with his own knowledge of anatomy, against them. However, Jomen is far more adept in using his spirits to weave Elemancy, particular utilizing his water and earth spirits, to a lesser degree, to their greatest effect. His healing abilities are at the top of his class at Oakridge, with his cybernetic eyes able to help him keep track of his allies and how much damage they have sustained. He pushes himself as much as he can to ensure that all of his allies will survive the encounter with little to no damage. His staff also helps act as a focus for his abilities, as tied near the top of small containers filled with varying types of seeds. When he activates his Water and Earth spirits in conjunction with the staff he is able to form Plant based Elemancy. Jomen is still training to gain greater control over this fusion, but is able to summon roots from the earth in order to entangle or slow enemies to give his allied fighters more of an advantage. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG While training at school, Jomen was approached with a large man from with warfare who seemed to have long, rich history of getting injured. This was, of course, Ajax. To Jomen, he seems a useful training partner as the large variety of injuries gave Jomen plenty of live practice to hone his talents to where they are now. In addition, without Ajax's warfare based insight, Jomen would have had a far diminished capacity to defend himself. Jomen respects his ability and skill on the battlefield, but thinks of Ajax as too unprofessional to reach his full potential in the warfare division. Out of respect and gratitude (though Jomen is unlikely to admit it), Jomen attempts to sway Ajax to a more professional attitude in order ensure that the future soldier has a better career later. Jomen, also constantly reminds Ajax that his name is not "Green Eyes", in the most professional way possible. He has also yet to laugh at any of Ajax's jokes. CELISE LELIÈVRE Celise and Jomen have gone on several trips to visit the more out of the way shrines. Celise had put up several fliers about "Exploring Shrines and the Unknown," which appealed to his need to honor his own spirits. The outings were enjoyable and Jomen respects the similarity between them in their treatment and respect for their spirits. C O N T A C T S To be added as developed C H R O N I C L E Content to be added as the game progresses. P R O P E R T Y 20x Saxham Rice 20x Green Peas 1x Antidote 2x Catoblepas Brisket 2x Scarlet Pimpernel 1x Oxen Marrow 1x Fish Roe

Alors qu'il se tenait à la prévision du HMS Pegasus, Alexandre ne pouvait que se rappeler depuis combien de temps il attendait ce moment. Pas avec l'anticipation ou la crainte, mais avec un désir pour le moment d'arriver pour que le prochain puisse venir. Il était un homme d'action, et d'être attaché à l'hôpital après avoir pris une balle dans l'intestin avait retardé le lancement du navire de trois semaines. Les marins anglais n'étaient pas désireux de risquer leur cou dans le ciel au-dessus de l'Atlantique, et il ne blâmerait personne d'être passé à de meilleures fortunes. Néanmoins, il espérait que le navire réussirait à décoller. Il avait vu les lettres de l'Amirauté concernant leur mission, et ce n'était pas comme si le retard de son séjour à l'hôpital les avait déjà condamnés. Mais il y avait encore une chance de le faire fonctionner, d'arrêter l'Empereur avant que la Coalition ne tombe dans les champs de la Prusse. Le capitaine enflammé se contentait de tenir position à la barre de l'embarcation, les bras derrière le dos, l'épée dans sa gaine et le pistolet chargé et prêt à tirer. Le smog de Londres s'accrochait constamment en l'air ces jours-ci avec tous les navires accostés sur la Tamise pour la réparation et la remise en état.Le tissu rouge vif de son manteau et de ses pauldrons ornementaux commençait déjà à prendre un ton cendré dans les minutes où il était debout sur le pont. -- Eh bien, murmura-t-il, regardant sur les quais à côté du Pegasus, voyons qui s'est souvenu de leur devoir envers le roi et le pays... Il entra dans sa veste, retira le manifeste de l'équipage et attendit de voir qui arriverait pour le voyage inaugural du navire.

Name: Captain Alexander Lorraine Age: 29 Sex: Male Race: Human Occupation: Captain of the HMS Pegasus, Landowner in the vicinity of Aylesbury, England. Biography: Captain Alexander Lorraine is the third son of his father, Robert Lorraine. On paper he is listed as the child of Robert's wife Elizabeth, but it is an open secret that Robert is the issue of their Irish cook, Mary Wallpoole. Such fiery red hair does not come naturally to English nobility, after all. As a consequence, the was raised as an afterthought, a placeholder for Robert's line in the event both of his other sons, Martin and Johnathon, both perished. Martin caught cholera in the outbreak of 1797 and Johnathon sadly fell and broke his neck while riding his horse in 1803. Meanwhile, Alexander survived the battle of Trafalgar and was noted for his bravery, seizing command of the HMS Hurricane, a third-rate Man o War, after a cannonball killed both the captain and first mate. He has since been given orders to report to the docks of London to assume command of the HMS Pegasus, and command her crew in order to complete her mission. Weapon of choice: Captain's cutlass, clockwork pistol (four rounds). Orientation/Relationship Status: One can only guess... Audition: As he stood at the forecastle of the HMS Pegasus, Alexander could not help but recall how long he had been waiting a long time for this moment. Not with anticipation or dread, but with a desire for the moment to arrive so the next could come. He was a man of action, and to be tied up in hospital after taking a shot to the gut had delayed the launch of the vessel by three weeks. English sailors were not keen to risk their necks in the skies over the Atlantic, and he would not blame any for moving on to better fortunes. Still, he was hopeful that the ship would have a successful launch. He'd seen the letters from the Admiralty concerning their mission, and it wasn't looking like the delay of his hospital stay may have doomed them already. But there was still a chance to make it work, to stop the Emperor before the Coalition fell apart in the fields of Prussia. "Well," he mumbled, looking to the docks beside the Pegasus, "Let's see who has remembered their duty to King and Country..."

Je vois, Nimbus a dit qu'il envisageait l'offre et l'information. Il a mis sa main à l'oreille et a dit, "Cat, regardez le Code militaire de l'UDF, paragraphe 18, section 2. Faites-moi savoir ce qu'il dit." Les hommes armés dans la pièce ont refait leurs armes, leurs poignées se fatiguent, leurs bras n'ont pas l'habitude de tenir une arme dans cette position pendant très longtemps. Il était évident pour Jomen que c'était la première fois que ces hommes faisaient quelque chose comme ça. Raison de plus pour ne pas le laisser se terminer par un bain de sang. -- Bien sûr, dit Siri, je vais vous dire d'abord, juste au cas où... elle a détaillé l'itinéraire pour descendre au sous-sol, elle a même fait un point de dire à Kade comment arriver là-bas qui l'emmènerait autour de l'escalier principal dans le hall, et que la salle électrique serait là dans le coin. "Tu ne peux pas me sortir maintenant, plutôt que de m'emmener avec toi? J'ai un bébé à la maison!" Il était évident qu'elle avait peur, et qu'elle faisait de son mieux pour être courageuse et rester calme. Elle pourrait doubler avec elle sur le toit et la laisser sortir du toit s'échapper, ou elle pourrait rester en mission et risquer de l'amener avec elle. Ou lui dire de rester mis jusqu'à ce que le pouvoir soit éteint, il y avait un certain nombre d'options disponibles pour la façon de procéder pour Kade et elle savait, bien sûr, que le temps était de l'essence. Ajax s'ennuyait complètement maintenant. Il a pris note du temps qui s'était écoulé. «Jomen, nous devons conclure rapidement, nous avons un peu plus d'une heure avant de devoir rencontrer le reste et partir!» Ajax a dit à voix haute. Pas assez pour que quelqu'un à l'intérieur entende, mais assez fort pour rendre les forces de l'UDF debout et la police sur la barricade pour devenir nerveux. "Nimbus," Cat a rappelé après un moment à travers leur voix métallique, "Il semble que ce qu'il dit est vrai." -- Brett, dit Nimbus à travers son oreillette, apporta les otages au lobby. "Aww man, allez, je viens juste de les faire s'installer ici. Pourquoi le lobby?" Brett a répondu à Nimbus, seules les personnes sur les lignes de communication pourraient l'entendre. « Parce que nous les laissons partir, la situation a changé, et nous allons partir avec eux. » N'importe qui pouvait entendre ça, y compris Jomen. En dehors des communications, Nimbus dit à Jomen : « Très bien, nous irons avec vous, avec votre garantie personnelle en tant que gardien, qu'après cette bataille, nous marchons libres. Une partie de cela nous aide à cacher nos identités alors que nous partons avec les otages. Vous savez que la seconde où nous commencerons à quitter les drones des médias sera sur nous, et toutes nos négociations seront pour rien. Nous nous mélangerons au sein du groupe, couvrirons autant de nos augmentations que possible et sortirons ensemble. Nous abandonnerons les armes que nous pouvons, de sorte que votre UDF devra nous réarmer une fois que nous serons à la vue du combat. Si cela est acceptable pour vous, cela fonctionne pour moi."

J O M E N S U R Y ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11 ✚ Research Division (Medical Specialization) P R E S E N C EJomen exudes an air of calmness and rationality that flows off like a steady rain. Underneath that however, is an undercurrent of anger inescapably mixed with sadness that is exposed only rarely. In addition, Jomen possesses cybernetic eyes, who pupils are lit with a dull green, that allow him to see, but unnerve people when he looks directly at them, reminding them always of the dangers of the Stigma. For this reason, he tends to keep his gaze downcast or off to the side while conversing with others. His outfits usually possess at least one item in a varying shade of blue in an effort to further signify his status as a healer. Though quiet and unassuming, in combative situations he can be found just behind the frontline fighters making him presence and abilities and constant reassurance. He is not one to try and seek out glory, but he has the courage enough to go with those who do. I D E O L O G Y Jomen will sit and listen to all sides of an argument, but once he has made his choice very little can be done to sway him from it. He believes that the Stigma is a disease that needs to be eradicated by any means available to prevent it infecting more people. While he cannot condone the actions of the Death Squads, the Cleaners he feels a certain empathy for. However, that does not exclude them from the laws that the United Defense Force have laid down upon the land. Since the UDF, is the best chance that the people of this land have for eradicating the Stigma, Jomen obeys all of their laws to his utmost ability. He may question the effectiveness or quality of some of these rules, but he will obey them until the law is changed as he believes that the rule of these laws gives them the structure they need to band together fully against the Stigma. The need of survival sometimes must curtail individual freedom. As for the spirits inside of him, Jomen believes that each is a valuable companion that serves with him valiantly in his fight. He is honored to serve alongside them and thus treats with the respect that they deserve. Often he can be found describing the full events of the day to his spirits or encouraging them to emerge briefly to see the world around them. He thanks them at shrines whenever he gets the opportunity. S T R I F EJomen is not nearly as capable of a physical fighter of those from the Warfare Division, with his relative lack of physical strength and stamina. Still in times where melee combat is necessary to either or his patients survival, he is no slouch. Jomen carries a wooden staff with a large hook at the end of it, designed to help him trip or knockdown the enemy to open them up to further attacks as well as a standard issue pistol at his side at all time. Though not particularly skilled with the gun, Jomen is quite adept at using his staff to disrupt enemies either by redirecting their attacks or successfully managing to trip them with his staff. In this, he attempts to use his enemies higher strength and speed, along with his own knowledge of anatomy, against them. However, Jomen is far more adept in using his spirits to weave Elemancy, particular utilizing his water and earth spirits, to a lesser degree, to their greatest effect. His healing abilities are at the top of his class at Oakridge, with his cybernetic eyes able to help him keep track of his allies and how much damage they have sustained. He pushes himself as much as he can to ensure that all of his allies will survive the encounter with little to no damage. His staff also helps act as a focus for his abilities, as tied near the top of small containers filled with varying types of seeds. When he activates his Water and Earth spirits in conjunction with the staff he is able to form Plant based Elemancy. Jomen is still training to gain greater control over this fusion, but is able to summon roots from the earth in order to entangle or slow enemies to give his allied fighters more of an advantage. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG While training at school, Jomen was approached with a large man from with warfare who seemed to have long, rich history of getting injured. This was, of course, Ajax. To Jomen, he seems a useful training partner as the large variety of injuries gave Jomen plenty of live practice to hone his talents to where they are now. In addition, without Ajax's warfare based insight, Jomen would have had a far diminished capacity to defend himself. Jomen respects his ability and skill on the battlefield, but thinks of Ajax as too unprofessional to reach his full potential in the warfare division. Out of respect and gratitude (though Jomen is unlikely to admit it), Jomen attempts to sway Ajax to a more professional attitude in order ensure that the future soldier has a better career later. Jomen, also constantly reminds Ajax that his name is not "Green Eyes", in the most professional way possible. He has also yet to laugh at any of Ajax's jokes. CELISE LELIÈVRE Celise and Jomen have gone on several trips to visit the more out of the way shrines. Celise had put up several fliers about "Exploring Shrines and the Unknown," which appealed to his need to honor his own spirits. The outings were enjoyable and Jomen respects the similarity between them in their treatment and respect for their spirits. C O N T A C T S To be added as developed C H R O N I C L E Content to be added as the game progresses. P R O P E R T Y 20x Saxham Rice 20x Green Peas 1x Antidote 2x Catoblepas Brisket 2x Scarlet Pimpernel 1x Oxen Marrow 1x Fish Roe

Jomen Sury Lieu: Oakridge City Interagir avec: Jomen considérait le chef pendant un moment, prêtant peu attention aux canons entraînés sur lui. C'était, à sa manière, un autre test de ses capacités. Le leader ne l'avait pas encore nié catégoriquement, l'homme voulait un moyen de sortir de la situation, mais conservait assez de prudence pour avoir besoin d'assurances que les paroles de Jomen pouvaient être vraies. Étant donné qu'il avait réussi à maintenir le contrôle de la discipline avec ses hommes, il était clair que cet homme était un bon chef. S'il appliquait son attention à la tâche de mettre fin à la Stigma, il pourrait devenir un atout précieux pour les citoyens. Cependant, si Jomen devait se montrer faible ou duplicité, il n'avait aucun doute qu'il donnerait l'ordre de tirer sans aucune hésitation. La scène était précaire, la menace d'un effusion de sang dans les airs, mais encore Jomen essaya. "Si vous refusez cet accord, il n'y a pas de pénalité. La situation reprend comme auparavant avec un nouvel otage en remorquage ou un nouveau cadavre. C'est le risque que j'ai pris quand je suis entré dans cet immeuble. Mon but ici est de sauver des vies humaines, y compris le vôtre. Je n'ai pas envie de me battre contre toi, seulement la Stigma détruisant notre monde. La situation ici comme elle le ferait avant que je vous fasse cette offre. Sans doute avec violence, effusions de sang et souffrances des deux côtés. Pour répondre à la deuxième partie de vos questions, je suis peut-être un étudiant de l'Académie, mais je suis aussi un étudiant de dernière année qui se dirige vers une zone de guerre active dans des conditions d'urgence. En vertu du paragraphe 18 de l'article 2 du Code militaire de l'UDF, «tout tuteur ou étudiant de dernière année de l'Académie peut recruter des personnes aptes à servir en cas d'urgence, y compris celles qui ont déjà violé l'UDF, pourvu que le tuteur sache qu'il est responsable de leurs actes». Quant à une garantie, vous pouvez consulter cette partie spécifique du Code militaire de l'UDF vous-mêmes pour obtenir confirmation. Et comme je l'ai déjà dit, je vous accompagnerai moi-même à la bataille pour veiller à ce que votre sortie ne soit pas entravée. En outre, vous pouvez saisir le récit montré au public, qui vous gagnera une autre couche de protection de l'UDF. Diffusez-vous, faites savoir ce que vous faites : protéger les innocents de Ledale. Tous ceux d'entre vous qui parcourront le combat seront salués comme des héros et si l'un d'entre vous tombe, vous deviendrez martyrs. C'est certainement un meilleur objectif pour vous d'accomplir que de rester dans ce bâtiment de bureaux. Je ne vous demande pas de vous taire dans la nuit, je vous demande de vous battre à mes côtés. » Les six canons entraînés sur lui fléchissaient légèrement, mais ne se déplaçaient pas de sa personne, alors que leurs propriétaires regardaient leur chef pour obtenir leurs ordres. Jomen attendait silencieusement, il avait fait et dit tout ce qu'il pouvait pour ces gens, s'ils tiraient, il n'aurait pas d'autre choix que de se défendre et d'espérer que quelqu'un avait obtenu les otages pendant qu'il parlait au groupe. Il espérait cependant qu'ils seraient en colère, que l'humanité avait besoin de coopération pour survivre et l'emporter sur leurs ennemis communs. W A T E R Y G R A V E Jomen se tendit légèrement en sentant le léger toucher de Celise pendant qu'elle accrochait son bras autour du sien. Il s'est forcé à se détendre alors qu'il se rappelait qu'il s'agissait d'un comportement spécifique sur lequel elle avait agi auparavant. Celise s'est contenté d'approuver certaines actions par le toucher plutôt que par des réponses vocales dans la plupart des cas, semble-t-il. Il regarda le sanctuaire où de nouveaux esprits s'étaient rassemblés, convaincus qu'il resterait. Tandis qu'il regardait les nouveaux esprits profiter de leur nouvelle couverture, les coins de ses lèvres secouaient toujours si légèrement. Parfois, je me demande ce qui va se passer après tout ça. Nos esprits vont-ils nous quitter une fois la Stigma disparue? Pour chaque jour qui passe, je me sens plus connecté à eux que la veille, et je ne suis pas sûr que je pourrais gérer tous d'entre eux juste disparaître. Vous sentez-vous déjà comme ça?" Celise a posé la question alors qu'ils marchaient vers la rue Main. Jomen est resté silencieux donnant la question de la pensée qu'elle méritait. Avant d'avoir fini de réfléchir à sa réponse, il a repéré deux de la sécurité privée du maire prêt avec leur véhicule de transport au bureau du maire. Celise est entrée dans l'espace crampé dans le dos d'abord, tenant maladroitement son épée entre ses jambes. La lame était certainement étrange aussi bien en métal noir Jomen ne pouvait pas identifier et apparemment trop léger pour sa taille. Il serait très intéressé de savoir d'où il vient et a fait une note mentale pour lui demander après la mission actuelle. Son propre personnel était encore plus maladroit à manier à l'intérieur de la voiture, et s'est retrouvé coincé contre le plancher plus près de l'avant des soins et de la fenêtre de vue arrière. Ils conduisaient le seul chemin qu'ils pouvaient, naviguant dans les rues inondées souvent en arrière pour trouver un autre chemin. Ils sont arrivés dans le plus grand bâtiment du gouvernement qui abritait le bureau du maire. Les deux agents de sécurité sont entrés à l'intérieur pour s'assurer que l'intérieur était en sécurité laissant Celise et Jomen sortir leurs armes respectives de la voiture. Avec quelques manœuvres compliquées et peut-être quelques petites égratignures à l'intérieur de la voiture, Jomen s'est extrait du véhicule. Ils ont eu un moment avant que les gardes ne reviennent les chercher. "En ce qui concerne votre question précédente, oui. Chacun de mes esprits fait partie de moi, au centre de mon être. Ce sont mes amis les plus proches à leur façon. Ils me permettent d'être qui je suis et sans eux, je ne suis pas certain de qui je serais. Mais je crois que la plupart d'entre eux reviendront si nous mettions fin à la Stigma, mais pas tous. Certains auront besoin d'aide pour reconstruire leurs maisons et pour autant qu'il soit difficile de les laisser tous partir, nous leur devons beaucoup pour tout ce qu'ils ont fait pour nous. » Jomen s'est arrêté pour un autre moment dans la pensée. "Peut-être qu'ils nous permettront de nous rendre visite." L'équipe de sécurité est revenue et les a entraînés à l'intérieur alors qu'une pluie plus forte commençait à tomber. Le maire, un homme plus petit qui avait des sacs lourds sous les yeux et ce qui semblait un éclat presque perpétuel de sueur sur sa peau. Il les inaugura en deux chaises prêtes dans son bureau et ferma la porte derrière eux comme s'ils essayaient de s'assurer qu'ils ne seraient pas entendus. « Merci, merci à tous les deux d'être venus tellement, cela signifie tellement pour notre ville de faire venir de si vaillants Gardiens dans notre ville et de nous sauver de ces circonstances désastreuses. J'ai préparé les cartes de notre industrie de la chasse à la baleine que vous avez demandées à Guardian Jomen et comme je suis sûr que vous le verrez, nous avons élargi notre capacité de fournir à l'UDF plus d'huile de baleine avant que ces incidents ne commencent. » Jomen s'est emparé des cartes et des données d'exploitation qui lui ont été transmises et les a examinées à la recherche d'indices supplémentaires qui pourraient étayer ou réfuter son hypothèse selon laquelle la chasse à la baleine élargie aurait pu être le début du problème. Il a quitté la conversation avec Celise alors qu'il tentait de localiser les créatures.

J O M E N S U R Y ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11 ✚ Research Division (Medical Specialization) P R E S E N C EJomen exudes an air of calmness and rationality that flows off like a steady rain. Underneath that however, is an undercurrent of anger inescapably mixed with sadness that is exposed only rarely. In addition, Jomen possesses cybernetic eyes, who pupils are lit with a dull green, that allow him to see, but unnerve people when he looks directly at them, reminding them always of the dangers of the Stigma. For this reason, he tends to keep his gaze downcast or off to the side while conversing with others. His outfits usually possess at least one item in a varying shade of blue in an effort to further signify his status as a healer. Though quiet and unassuming, in combative situations he can be found just behind the frontline fighters making him presence and abilities and constant reassurance. He is not one to try and seek out glory, but he has the courage enough to go with those who do. I D E O L O G Y Jomen will sit and listen to all sides of an argument, but once he has made his choice very little can be done to sway him from it. He believes that the Stigma is a disease that needs to be eradicated by any means available to prevent it infecting more people. While he cannot condone the actions of the Death Squads, the Cleaners he feels a certain empathy for. However, that does not exclude them from the laws that the United Defense Force have laid down upon the land. Since the UDF, is the best chance that the people of this land have for eradicating the Stigma, Jomen obeys all of their laws to his utmost ability. He may question the effectiveness or quality of some of these rules, but he will obey them until the law is changed as he believes that the rule of these laws gives them the structure they need to band together fully against the Stigma. The need of survival sometimes must curtail individual freedom. As for the spirits inside of him, Jomen believes that each is a valuable companion that serves with him valiantly in his fight. He is honored to serve alongside them and thus treats with the respect that they deserve. Often he can be found describing the full events of the day to his spirits or encouraging them to emerge briefly to see the world around them. He thanks them at shrines whenever he gets the opportunity. S T R I F EJomen is not nearly as capable of a physical fighter of those from the Warfare Division, with his relative lack of physical strength and stamina. Still in times where melee combat is necessary to either or his patients survival, he is no slouch. Jomen carries a wooden staff with a large hook at the end of it, designed to help him trip or knockdown the enemy to open them up to further attacks as well as a standard issue pistol at his side at all time. Though not particularly skilled with the gun, Jomen is quite adept at using his staff to disrupt enemies either by redirecting their attacks or successfully managing to trip them with his staff. In this, he attempts to use his enemies higher strength and speed, along with his own knowledge of anatomy, against them. However, Jomen is far more adept in using his spirits to weave Elemancy, particular utilizing his water and earth spirits, to a lesser degree, to their greatest effect. His healing abilities are at the top of his class at Oakridge, with his cybernetic eyes able to help him keep track of his allies and how much damage they have sustained. He pushes himself as much as he can to ensure that all of his allies will survive the encounter with little to no damage. His staff also helps act as a focus for his abilities, as tied near the top of small containers filled with varying types of seeds. When he activates his Water and Earth spirits in conjunction with the staff he is able to form Plant based Elemancy. Jomen is still training to gain greater control over this fusion, but is able to summon roots from the earth in order to entangle or slow enemies to give his allied fighters more of an advantage. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG While training at school, Jomen was approached with a large man from with warfare who seemed to have long, rich history of getting injured. This was, of course, Ajax. To Jomen, he seems a useful training partner as the large variety of injuries gave Jomen plenty of live practice to hone his talents to where they are now. In addition, without Ajax's warfare based insight, Jomen would have had a far diminished capacity to defend himself. Jomen respects his ability and skill on the battlefield, but thinks of Ajax as too unprofessional to reach his full potential in the warfare division. Out of respect and gratitude (though Jomen is unlikely to admit it), Jomen attempts to sway Ajax to a more professional attitude in order ensure that the future soldier has a better career later. Jomen, also constantly reminds Ajax that his name is not "Green Eyes", in the most professional way possible. He has also yet to laugh at any of Ajax's jokes. CELISE LELIÈVRE Celise and Jomen have gone on several trips to visit the more out of the way shrines. Celise had put up several fliers about "Exploring Shrines and the Unknown," which appealed to his need to honor his own spirits. The outings were enjoyable and Jomen respects the similarity between them in their treatment and respect for their spirits. C O N T A C T S To be added as developed C H R O N I C L E Content to be added as the game progresses. P R O P E R T Y 20x Saxham Rice 20x Green Peas 1x Antidote 2x Catoblepas Brisket 2x Scarlet Pimpernel 1x Oxen Marrow 1x Fish Roe

Briggs était à l'intérieur du navire qu'elle vérifiait à nouveau les moteurs, elle a juste senti que quelque chose pouvait arriver, après avoir entendu que le capitaine avait été abattu avant le décollage initial, il lui a laissé un sentiment d'incertitude qu'ils resteront dans l'air longtemps. Briggs avait enlevé son manteau et l'avait accroché sur un porte-manteaux près de la porte du pont supérieur, elle transpirait de la chaleur que les moteurs éjectaient, elle essuyait une sueur du front sur ses gants. Quand Briggs a fini de vérifier les moteurs, elle est allée à la porte menant au pont supérieur et a attrapé son manteau, elle a quitté la salle des machines et est allée dans l'air frais à côté. Briggs a mis son manteau et a été accueilli par le smog qui restait dans le ciel de Londres, elle a mis ses mains dans les poches de son manteau avant de marcher à la barre à côté du capitaine, elle a pris un moment pour regarder les autres navires qui étaient amarrés à proximité, elle a atteint son manteau et sorti un petit étui en cuir qui ressemblait à un cylindre et l'a ouvert, elle a pris un cigare et l'a placé dans sa bouche, elle n'allait pas le fumer, sachant que le smog et la fumée ne se mélangeaient pas bien. "Bon chapeau les moteurs sont prêts et se préparent pour notre départ, juste pensé que je vous dirais ceci avant que n'importe qui est venu pour que vous puissiez juste décoller quand tout le monde arrive." Briggs lui a dit avant de savourer le goût de son cigare, elle s'est penchée sur la rampe et a regardé vers le ciel, « ne peut pas attendre que nous montons là-haut pour que je puisse réellement fumer cela au lieu de simplement savourer le goût. » Elle a dit.

Name: Engineer Briggs Age: 27 Race: Human/ African American Gender: Female Occupation:Engineer Biography: Briggs wasn't born of nobility or taught her skills, she learned them over time from both her parents and from studying, both of them served on ships as engineers before her and while she was a kid she would ride along with them and watch them from time to time learning how ships would work and picking up on their skills while she was 8, when she turned 14 she was one of the survivors of an attack on the ship both her her parents worked on, her parents didn't survive and a couple others did.The remaining crew dropped her off when they were close to a city. Briggs went into deep sorrow and became a thief stealing things to get by in life, this went on till she was 18 and was caught stealing and taken to prison, while in prison she thought about her actions and felt that what she was doing was horrible and her parents would be spinning in their graves if they were alive, while she was incarcerated she studied up on engineering learning how ships worked. When she was let out of prison the first thing she did was visit her parents grave and left a rose on it before she went out to find decent work. Personality: Well it may not need to be said but Briggs is very skilled in engineering and understanding technology, she is smarter than she looks, Briggs is also a very formidable hand to hand combatant. While in prison she gotten tougher and stronger than she originally was, she also swore that she wouldn't be going back to prison or commit a stupid crime as stealing. Even though she looks like a violent person she'd rather handle most problems the peaceful route and choose to take the violent route if things go south or if she needs to defend herself, she also plays a mean trumpet. Weapon of choice: 2 Sawed off Double barrel shotgun, Large two handed wrench Orientation/Relationship Status: Single Audition: Briggs felt that she wouldn't be able to serve on a ship due to her going to prison, but she didn't let her past get in the way she still auditioned to serve on a ship when she was turned down a couple times from different people she felt she needed to take another route, when she auditioned to serve on the Pegasus, she used some of her old connections from her past to strong arm her way into being the only person showing up to the audition, soon she became the engineer of the ship, Appearance: Briggs has a bronzed skin tone, with a beautiful face and complexion but it can be intimidating, she has bright jade green eyes, she has short purple hair that stops just past her ears but doesn't reach her shoulders, some thin strands of hair sometimes get in her face and constantly get moved back by her hands. Briggs stands at the tall height of 6'2, and has a muscular build to follow up with it she weighs 240, along her body she has several scars of cuts from her past life. Clothes:She wears a large light brown button up, duster coat with dark brown gloves, under her brown coat she wears a collared button up long sleeved shirt, with a red tie and suspenders, she wears a pair brown pants with two thigh holsters for her shotguns, on her feet she wears a pair of lace up boots, she had a pair of black sunglasses that she puts on whenever shes outside during the day.

Richard s'assit dans son sac alors qu'il venait au sommet du Gangway et vint à l'attention rigide en saluant le drapeau puis l'officier de quart de pont se cassant. Le lieutenant Richard York demande la permission au conseil d'administration. L'autorisation accorda à Rich les ordres de l'autre lieutenant comme preuve de sa position. Sur sa poitrine brille les Médailles du Nil, Trafalgar et Copenhague décernés à tout officier blessé dans ces batailles. Le sergent-major des Marines s'est raidi alors qu'il examinait le jeune officier en voyant ses mérites, tout comme les deux Marines en garde. Ses papiers examinaient et vérifiaient que l'officier du pont ordonnait à un marin de prendre ses affaires en dessous jusqu'à ce que le sergent-major suggère qu'il convoque un Marine pour transporter le sac de leur commandant dans ses quartiers. Rich abandonna son sac et son fusil à la Marine en gardant ses sabres jumeaux et complète l'OOD pour son aide et demande s'il pourrait se présenter au capitaine afin qu'il sache qu'il naviguera avec un commandant des Marines. Informé que le capitaine attend sur le quai de pont Richard Merci l'OOD puis se tourne vers le sergent major disant "Je vais inspecter le complément du navire à cinq cloches à moins que les ordres du capitaine ne le permettent pas. Le sergent-major est brièvement surpris que son nouveau commandant veuille inspecter dans deux heures, mais il est également heureux. Ses hommes sont haut encoche et toujours prêts pour l'inspection ou il se casse les crânes et maintenant il semble que son nouveau commandant est des meilleures traditions. Le sergent-major salue et Richard retourne ensuite au quai pour se présenter au capitaine. Un an seulement maintenant un Marine par la grâce de Dieu une sagesse de l'Amirauté Richard prévoit de s'appliquer de tout son cœur et de toute son âme. Il s'est déjà prouvé expert avec un fusil mais pas aussi bon que le sergent qu'il devine. Son uniforme, contrairement à son ancien Blues de la marine, a les épaules bleu foncé et le corps rouge d'un officier des chasseurs de l'ordre rapproché du navire, les Marines. Certains officiers auraient vu un tel rendez-vous comme un tueur de carrière, mais pas Rich parce qu'il avait appris à respecter les tireurs d'élite et les scouts de la flotte. Il n'a pas cherché la gloire ni la position comme d'autres l'ont fait parce qu'il est une sorte différente, comme le Maître des épées l'avait appelé Richard était un Lion à la recherche de la bataille. Ses bottes noires haut du genou polies comme des miroirs ébènes annonçaient son approche du pont du Quarter comme s'il marchait sur la parade. En voyant le capitaine Richard de nouveau devenu un poste rigide comme il est venu à l'attention et Saluté a ensuite attendu la reconnaissance du capitaine.

Name: Richard Dennis York Age: 23 Occupation: Junior Officer Marines (Lieutenant) : Lieutenant York was born into a well to do merchant family in the city of Liverpool. The youngest 8 sons he was not likely to inherit anything and have been nothing but a clerk to one of his brothers. His father saw in his son a drive that shone through even at the young age of 8 a personality that would never be happy as such. Concerned that Richard be able to see the realization of his potential his father decided to speak with a friend who was a officer in his majesty's Navy. So it was decided that at the age of 11 years old Richard would become a Midshipman, the year was 1796. At the age of 12 he was aboard HMS Vigilant at the Battle of the Nile were he was awarded the order of merit when he took command of the battery in which he served after his Lieutenant was killed and half it's guns destroyed. The Vigilant kept pressing her attack on the French center and was credited with the rout of it's forces when the French flagship Orient exploded under the brutal mauling. Later that year just after she'd received repairs HMS Vigilant was rushed to intercept a squadron of French ships seen leaving Brest France which were headed to reinforce the Irish rebellion. The Battle of Tory Island was Richard's second fight in less than a year and though it worried his mother he knew he'd make a career of Naval service. He was present in 1801 at Copenhagen when the British under Nelson destroyed moored Danish ships off København to prevent France taking them over. It was during the battle that Admiral Sir Hyde Parker in overall command made signal of recall for Nelson's sake saying "If he is in condition to continue the action, he will disregard it; if he is not, it will be an excuse for his retreat and no blame can be imputed to him." Nelson ordered that the signal be acknowledged, but not repeated. He turned to his flag Captain, Foley, and said "You know, Foley, I only have one eye I have the right to be blind sometimes," and then, holding his telescope to his blind eye, said "I really do not see the signal!" Rear Admiral Graves, repeated the signal, but in a place invisible to most other ships while keeping Nelson's 'close action' signal at his masthead. Of Nelson's captains, only Riou, who could not see Nelson's flagship Elephant, followed Parker's signal. Riou withdrew his force, which was then attacking the Tre Kroner fortress, exposing himself to heavy fire that killed him. Richard now 16 once again found himself aboard a ship in distress. Commanded by First-Lieutenant John Quilliam the Amazon distinguished herself by silencing the Danish fort that had killed her Captain an half her crew. Richard was offered the right to take the Lieutenant's examination an waited only six months before his commissioning as a Junior Officer. Assigned to the HMS Mars he fought at Trafalgar under Captain, George Duff. His ship was heavily damaged when she took fire from five different French and Spanish Ships. Remarkably even though Mars was forced to retire in order to fight severe fires on board she had suffered only a few casualties. Among the 29 killed and 69 wounded in the action was her Captain, George Duff, also among the wounded was Richard who was sent to England to recover. Richard recovered from his wounds and found himself without a billet and waited at the Junior Officers Barracks in Greenwich. He was soon tapped to be a replacement for a Junior Officer who'd been slated to serve aboard the HMS Pegasus but had fallen ill and was not expected to recover before her deployment. Weapon of choice: Twin Saber, Rifle Orientation/Relationship Status: Straight/Single : ...Richard stood across from a fellow Lost Boy as the officers of the Junior Barracks liked to call themselves. Best friends he and Jack Collins ; Jackie often practiced their skill at arms having little else to occupy their time. They were each stripped to their shirt sleeves held sabers and prepared for earnest combat. When the master called Lay on Richard's foe swung his blade in a glittering arch that barely missed striking his leading shoulder as he pivoted slightly out of it's strike. Richard's leading foot slid forwards as the tip of his own blade thrust towards Jackie's ribs forcing him to almost commit a foul by stepping out of line to dodge. Both were the undisputed champions at their art within the barracks and bore the bruises of the other's blunted blade. Those that observed and didn't understand thought their demonstration pretty, flashy or mere play among boys. The observing Master though he knew and he smiled as he watched the two young Lions spar in deadly play. Disturbed by a petty officer holding an official document. With a call to halt the Master took the document giving the petty officer an annoyed glance he dismissed him and opened the letter. "Dam it does seem that those clerks at the Admiralty must have made a mistake. Collins; York! Step to for it is with some degree of trepidation that I find it my duty to inform you that you Mr. Collins is to be assigned a berth aboard HMS Trident and you Mr. York aboard HMS Pegasus, may God watch over us one and all. says the Master with a laugh as his dark eyes glitter with battle lust. The other Lost Boys suddenly gathered round and congratulated the two with hearty laughs and solid slaps on the back scarcely hiding the envy in their eyes. Rich an Jackie hurried off shouting for their Batmen to follow and pack as they cleaned themselves up. Soon Lieutenant York stood waiting by a Hanson he'd hired to drive himself, Jackie an their gear down to the docks. Jackie showed late as usual earning him a cuff on the shoulder by Rich before they boarded the cab. "My, my how grand this day is" says Jackie who then adds Richard laughs then reminds Jackie of an agreement they both have made "I meet your sister when I am a Captain an her equal Sir Pembrook Jackie laughs as Mr. York reminds him of their respective social ranks though he thinks Rich his equal and in many ways better. Jackie was 20 years old when he was granted the rank of Lieutenant and Rich was a Lieutenant at barely 17 years of age. Rich never gave such thoughts a chance to trouble his mind and thought himself luck that Jackie was such amiable company. They traded small talk an promises to write till they arrived at the docks and stopped beside the massive shape of HMS Trident a ship of the line. Knowing themselves under the eyes of the deck watch Jackie and Rich shared a hearty handshake and farewell as the baggage was unloaded. That done Rich rode past other impressive ships many whose names and exploits legend. Soon they stopped beside a ship which Rich as other's had studied HMS Pegasus. Smaller than the ships of the line Pegasus still managed to give a deadly impression of herself. Climbing out of the cab Rich paid the driver after his merger baggage was unloaded an shouldered it all then headed up the gangway

Lorsque Garrett et Hal sont arrivés à bord du HMS Pegasus, leur premier arrêt était, bien sûr, le hangar d'avion du navire. Ils voulaient voir de près leur nouvel avion, le "Bronze Albatross". Il était grand, mais aussi aérodynamiquement rapide. Les seules armes installées à l'heure actuelle étaient les mitrailleuses sur les ailes. Cependant, la liste qui leur a été donnée indiquait beaucoup plus d'équipement que leur avion pourrait apporter à la bataille. Garrett regarda autour de lui pendant que Hal s'enfonçait dans l'Albatros. Tout autour d'eux, d'autres pilotes vérifiaient et ajustaient leurs avions. Le hangar semblait pouvoir transporter un petit groupe de trois avions. Le montant n'était nulle part près de celui des escadrons du HMS Orca, mais Garrett n'a jamais fait confiance aux nombres qui ont gagné un combat. "Garrett! Le manuel n'a pas menti. Cette chose a beaucoup plus de contrôles que nos anciens combattants." Il a dit. Garrett a tout simplement gâché. "Alors nous devrions commencer à mémoriser." Il a dit. Hal est sorti de l'avion et l'a regardé de nouveau. « La Marine royale n'aime pas encore financer la fabrication d'avions. Une partie de la raison pour laquelle nos emplois ont été créés était de prouver leur efficacité. Sommes-nous vraiment à la hauteur de la tâche...?" Hal a réfléchi à haute voix. Garrett a simplement répondu avec une forte tape sur le dos de sa tête. "Si tu continues à penser comme ça, nous ne le serons pas. Ce n'est pas notre responsabilité de faire en sorte que les avions soient beaux. Notre responsabilité est envers la Couronne. Tout ce que nous avons à faire, c'est faire de notre mieux. Si les avions ne sont pas aussi utiles que les dirigeables, alors on ne peut rien faire pour changer ça. S'ils le sont, alors nous leur montrerons sous une bonne lumière en nous contentant de faire ce qu'on nous a dit de faire. » Il a expliqué, essayant de soulager l'anxiété de son copilote. Hal hoche la tête. "Je suppose que vous avez raison." Il a dit. "Bien sûr que je le suis! Allons, on ferait mieux de se présenter au capitaine du navire avant qu'il ne soit en forme. » Garrett répondit en marchant vers l'échelle au bout du hangar. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- En montant sur le pont du navire, les deux pilotes furent immédiatement accueillis avec le smog londonien. "Les combinaisons de haute altitude seraient utiles au niveau du sol avec ce genre d'air..." Hal s'est exclamé. "Attends qu'on soit dans les airs. L'une des meilleures parties de l'avion est que la fumée ne peut pas vous atteindre." Il a répondu. Ils ont réussi à repérer un homme habillé à la barre du navire. Il semblait converser avec une femelle aux cheveux violets. Ils ont supposé qu'il était le capitaine. En montant à la barre, les deux ont salué l'homme. -- Êtes-vous le capitaine Lorraine? Garrett a demandé. "Les pilotes de combat Garrett Ulman et Hal Carson se présentent en service." Il a continué. Que ce soit vraiment le capitaine ou non, il serait sage de faire preuve de respect envers l'équipage du navire. Après tout, ils connaissaient à peine l'un d'eux, et il serait sage de donner une bonne impression.

Name: Garrett Ulman Age: 26 Sex: Male Race: Human Nationality: British Occupation: Fighter Pilot Appearance (normal): Garrett is a lightly-built man, that way he may easier fight into the tight cockpits of planes. However, he is not weak, as he has noticeable muscles as well. He is of white-skin color. He has brown-ish hair and hazel eyes. He has no facial hair to speak of, as he keeps it clean-shaven (so that it doesn't get itchy in his helmet). He usually wears a casual pilot uniform consisting of a white undershirt, brown pants, and a brown leather vest. He is also known to wear brown gloves most of the time. A special suit designed for pilots who often find themselves at heights where the air is thin. The suit allows them to maintain their oxygen levels even at great heights, longer than those who do not wear it. Personality: Garrett is anything but a serious man. He is optimistic, and tends to make a joke out of even the most dangerous situations. However, he is not careless, as he is fully aware of the consequences of failure. His personality is more of a defensive mechanism of his to help him manage stress and fear. It is not uncommon to hear him spout out light-hearted banter in the middle of a fight, much to the dismay of some of his fellow soldiers. When in person, he is very sociable and always takes the time to know his allies beyond a professional level, most of the time trying to become friends instead of just co-workers. In the pilot seat however, his personality seems to take a shift. He blocks out everything except for the controls and view in front of him. He treats dogfights like a playful game, and seems to have no qualms with shooting enemies out of the sky. "It's either them or me, and I don't plan on dying just yet" Is his philosophy, and he is not disturbed by seeing any form of death. However, his casual views on the topic of death (even towards allies), often makes him look like a psycho who doesn't care whether people live or die, but this is not the case. He is simply aware that in a fight, one side must eventually go down, and a man can only do their best to make sure it's not their side. . Biography: Born in Great Britain as the son of an Airship Captain (Ripley Ulman), Garrett is not a stranger to the skies, as his father often brought him along for safe trips. From a young age, he was allured by the prospect of being a captain of the clouds, much like his father. He studied basic engineering during his school days to become familiar with the different aircraft used by the British, with the intent of one day commanding his own airship. However, in the year 1793, his father's airship, the HMS Retriever, was shot down by French forces during a scouting mission. Very few survivors were found, and they all told of how Ripley managed to save them at the cost of his own life. Shaken by the tragedy, Garrett began believing that perhaps the responsibility of running an Airship was not for him; he could look out for himself but he wasn't sure if he could ensure the protection of others. Hence, upon enlisting into the Royal Navy, he signed on for the new plane pilot position. That way, he would only be concerned with his own safety, while still being an asset to a crew. The adrenaline rush of piloting the newly created aircraft appealed to Garrett, and he was one of the first few Royal Navy soldiers to be assigned to the plane squadron divisions. Their original purpose is to act as support for the, more widely used, airships. It was during his time in service that he meet Hal Carson, a fellow pilot. The two would turn out to be best friends, with Hal acting as his co-pilot and rear gunner. Garrett and Hal served in two different squadrons stationed aboard different carrier ships (The HMS Thunder and HMS Orca), fighting in the skies above both the Atlantic ocean and the European countryside. They are experienced dogfighters with the nickname of "Psycho Duo" among their fellow troops, for their lack of remorse and joking attitude in gunning down the enemy. When the Napoleonic Wars broke out in 1803, Garrett and Hal were assigned aboard the HMS Pegasus (along with being given a brand new plane) as part of its special fighter escort for its secret mission. Weapon of choice: On the ground, he is usually equipped with a pair of twin flintlock pistols and a large knife. However, he prefers tackling enemies using his experimental fighter plane: "The Bronze Albatross" (nicknamed due to it's custom bronze and copper alloy plating and design) Orientation/Relationship Status: Single (Garrett and Hal are NOT gay for each other, I swear!) Audition: After their service underneath the Royal Navy, and their participation in aerial battles against the French Navy as members of squadrons of the HMS Thunder and HMS Orca, Garrett Ulman and Hal Carson were strong candidates for the position of members of the HMS Pegasus' fighter escort. While they are not exactly the ideal image of pilots , their skills in eliminating planes and airships will be important in defending the Pegasus as it sails through hostile skies. Their ability to improvise and remain calm in dire situations also make them ideal for testing out the experimental fighter planes aboard her, and seeing their full use in actual combat. It is the firm belief of the Royal Navy airplane division that the performance of the two (along with their fellow pilots) will prove once and for all the tactical advantages of light aircraft. "This is the first time we won't be operating as part of a squadron..." Hal said, scratching the back of his black hair. "You're not getting nervous on me, are you? I swear I'll drop you out of the plane if you piss yourself in the gunner seat." Garrett replied jokingly. The two of them took a look at the HMS Pegasus, the magnificent American vessel. To the side of the shipyard, their plane (The Bronze Albatross) was being loaded into the underside hangar of the airship. "She's a beautiful example of an Iron-Side, isn't she? Can't wait to cover her pretty hull from enemy fighters with our Bronze Bird" Garrett complimented. Hal looked at Garrett with a pitying smile. "Remind me again why two trigger-happy pilots like ourselves are being assigned to a ship, whose mission is said to be of grave importance?" Hal asked. Garrett shrugged. "All they said was that our piloting skills would be an asset to the mission, never mentioned anything else. Much less what the Pegasus is supposed to be up to. All we can do is hop aboard, and do what we do best." He said with some enthusiasm, as he pat Hal on the back. Hal simply shook his head; "Just try to not get us killed in the process...." He said with a small grin. The Bronze Albatross' arsenal: -Twin rapid-fire machineguns on both wings (For use against other planes) -Capacity to carry up to four bombs (For swift bombing runs) -Two rocket-propelled bombs mounted at the end of each wing (Missiles. For bringing down airships) -Rear-mounted high-powered rifle (For sniping enemy pilots and critical parts of planes) Let me know if there's anything wrong with my application. Such as the weapons, their plane, etc. Anything at all, and I will correct it as soon as I can =)

Messieurs. Les vaisseaux aériens ci-dessous sont expérimentaux, comme vous l'imaginez probablement. La Royal Navy aurait pu avoir une frégate pour le coût du lot d'entre eux. Ce que vous faites dans le cadre de cette mission déterminera si la production se produit ou non. Je ne serai pas en mesure de donner des ordres directs dans la chaleur de la bataille, donc je m'attendrai à ce que vous utilisiez votre meilleur jugement lors de l'attaque de l'ennemi- si nous engageons l'ennemi du tout. Le capitaine Lorraine a dit. "Nous ferons de notre mieux, monsieur. Il suffit de nous montrer à l'ennemi et de nous dire combien d'explosions vous voulez voir." Garrett a dit avec un sourire, toujours salutation. « Notre ingénieur en chef sera en mesure de vous offrir de l'aide dans toutes les rénovations que vous aimeriez faire pour améliorer l'embarcation- si vous lui demandez gentiment. » Le capitaine continua alors qu'il faisait un geste à la demi-Africaine aux cheveux violets. "Ne vous inquiétez pas, tant que vous ne faites rien pour m'énerver, vous n'aurez pas à vous inquiéter des modifications, demandez juste et je ferai ce que je peux, mais ne m'attendez pas à ce que je vous ramène de la tombe si vous tombez et brûlez au sol ou à l'océan, et si vous survivez qui ne m'attendent pas à pêcher votre navire ou votre cul hors de l'océan, ou à le réparer si c'est au-delà de la réparation." Garrett a lâché son salut et s'est ridiculisé. "Si c'est le cas, alors vous n'avez absolument rien à craindre. Apporte-nous ce qu'on te demande et on ramène l'oiseau en un seul morceau. Aucun avion français ne nous a encore abattus, et nous n'allons pas commencer maintenant." Il a dit. Sur le côté, il a vu un officier habillé officiellement en saluant rouge près du capitaine. Garrett voyait de toutes ses médailles qu'il était un soldat hautement expérimenté, brandissant des médailles de Trafalgar et d'autres batailles. "Si ça ne vous dérange pas que je suggère, ami, vous feriez mieux de garder ces médailles loin quand nous sommes dans la bataille. Vous pourriez les perdre, et l'ennemi n'hésitera pas à vous tirer dessus juste parce que vous les avez épinglés sur votre poitrine » a dit Garrett en plaisantant.

Name: Garrett Ulman Age: 26 Sex: Male Race: Human Nationality: British Occupation: Fighter Pilot Appearance (normal): Garrett is a lightly-built man, that way he may easier fight into the tight cockpits of planes. However, he is not weak, as he has noticeable muscles as well. He is of white-skin color. He has brown-ish hair and hazel eyes. He has no facial hair to speak of, as he keeps it clean-shaven (so that it doesn't get itchy in his helmet). He usually wears a casual pilot uniform consisting of a white undershirt, brown pants, and a brown leather vest. He is also known to wear brown gloves most of the time. A special suit designed for pilots who often find themselves at heights where the air is thin. The suit allows them to maintain their oxygen levels even at great heights, longer than those who do not wear it. Personality: Garrett is anything but a serious man. He is optimistic, and tends to make a joke out of even the most dangerous situations. However, he is not careless, as he is fully aware of the consequences of failure. His personality is more of a defensive mechanism of his to help him manage stress and fear. It is not uncommon to hear him spout out light-hearted banter in the middle of a fight, much to the dismay of some of his fellow soldiers. When in person, he is very sociable and always takes the time to know his allies beyond a professional level, most of the time trying to become friends instead of just co-workers. In the pilot seat however, his personality seems to take a shift. He blocks out everything except for the controls and view in front of him. He treats dogfights like a playful game, and seems to have no qualms with shooting enemies out of the sky. "It's either them or me, and I don't plan on dying just yet" Is his philosophy, and he is not disturbed by seeing any form of death. However, his casual views on the topic of death (even towards allies), often makes him look like a psycho who doesn't care whether people live or die, but this is not the case. He is simply aware that in a fight, one side must eventually go down, and a man can only do their best to make sure it's not their side. . Biography: Born in Great Britain as the son of an Airship Captain (Ripley Ulman), Garrett is not a stranger to the skies, as his father often brought him along for safe trips. From a young age, he was allured by the prospect of being a captain of the clouds, much like his father. He studied basic engineering during his school days to become familiar with the different aircraft used by the British, with the intent of one day commanding his own airship. However, in the year 1793, his father's airship, the HMS Retriever, was shot down by French forces during a scouting mission. Very few survivors were found, and they all told of how Ripley managed to save them at the cost of his own life. Shaken by the tragedy, Garrett began believing that perhaps the responsibility of running an Airship was not for him; he could look out for himself but he wasn't sure if he could ensure the protection of others. Hence, upon enlisting into the Royal Navy, he signed on for the new plane pilot position. That way, he would only be concerned with his own safety, while still being an asset to a crew. The adrenaline rush of piloting the newly created aircraft appealed to Garrett, and he was one of the first few Royal Navy soldiers to be assigned to the plane squadron divisions. Their original purpose is to act as support for the, more widely used, airships. It was during his time in service that he meet Hal Carson, a fellow pilot. The two would turn out to be best friends, with Hal acting as his co-pilot and rear gunner. Garrett and Hal served in two different squadrons stationed aboard different carrier ships (The HMS Thunder and HMS Orca), fighting in the skies above both the Atlantic ocean and the European countryside. They are experienced dogfighters with the nickname of "Psycho Duo" among their fellow troops, for their lack of remorse and joking attitude in gunning down the enemy. When the Napoleonic Wars broke out in 1803, Garrett and Hal were assigned aboard the HMS Pegasus (along with being given a brand new plane) as part of its special fighter escort for its secret mission. Weapon of choice: On the ground, he is usually equipped with a pair of twin flintlock pistols and a large knife. However, he prefers tackling enemies using his experimental fighter plane: "The Bronze Albatross" (nicknamed due to it's custom bronze and copper alloy plating and design) Orientation/Relationship Status: Single (Garrett and Hal are NOT gay for each other, I swear!) Audition: After their service underneath the Royal Navy, and their participation in aerial battles against the French Navy as members of squadrons of the HMS Thunder and HMS Orca, Garrett Ulman and Hal Carson were strong candidates for the position of members of the HMS Pegasus' fighter escort. While they are not exactly the ideal image of pilots , their skills in eliminating planes and airships will be important in defending the Pegasus as it sails through hostile skies. Their ability to improvise and remain calm in dire situations also make them ideal for testing out the experimental fighter planes aboard her, and seeing their full use in actual combat. It is the firm belief of the Royal Navy airplane division that the performance of the two (along with their fellow pilots) will prove once and for all the tactical advantages of light aircraft. "This is the first time we won't be operating as part of a squadron..." Hal said, scratching the back of his black hair. "You're not getting nervous on me, are you? I swear I'll drop you out of the plane if you piss yourself in the gunner seat." Garrett replied jokingly. The two of them took a look at the HMS Pegasus, the magnificent American vessel. To the side of the shipyard, their plane (The Bronze Albatross) was being loaded into the underside hangar of the airship. "She's a beautiful example of an Iron-Side, isn't she? Can't wait to cover her pretty hull from enemy fighters with our Bronze Bird" Garrett complimented. Hal looked at Garrett with a pitying smile. "Remind me again why two trigger-happy pilots like ourselves are being assigned to a ship, whose mission is said to be of grave importance?" Hal asked. Garrett shrugged. "All they said was that our piloting skills would be an asset to the mission, never mentioned anything else. Much less what the Pegasus is supposed to be up to. All we can do is hop aboard, and do what we do best." He said with some enthusiasm, as he pat Hal on the back. Hal simply shook his head; "Just try to not get us killed in the process...." He said with a small grin. The Bronze Albatross' arsenal: -Twin rapid-fire machineguns on both wings (For use against other planes) -Capacity to carry up to four bombs (For swift bombing runs) -Two rocket-propelled bombs mounted at the end of each wing (Missiles. For bringing down airships) -Rear-mounted high-powered rifle (For sniping enemy pilots and critical parts of planes) Let me know if there's anything wrong with my application. Such as the weapons, their plane, etc. Anything at all, and I will correct it as soon as I can =)

Briggs sourit à ce que le pilote de vaisseau a dit, elle pensait que sa surconfiance était en train de se réchauffer et les porterait loin, » Eh bien, ne vous inquiétez pas, j'ai de l'ingénierie dans mon sang, aussi je demanderais que quand jamais votre hors du navire chercher des pièces que nous pouvons ajouter à vos combattants, vous ne savez jamais ce que les déchets peuvent être mortels dans les airs. » Elle lui a dit avant de se lever droit, Lorsque le chef Flynn l'avait essentiellement saluée avec un schowl, lui a dit qu'elle ne pouvait pas fumer sur le pont supérieur qu'elle avait froncé et a sorti son étui à cigares en cuir, elle l'a remis avec le reste et a mis le boîtier dans sa poche intérieure poussiéreuse, elle a léché ses lèvres en essayant d'obtenir la saveur du cigare d'eux, puis a effectué des gestes de main avec ses mains pointées vers le chef Flynn. " Trois choses ne vont pas avec ce que vous venez de dire, monsieur. Je déteste te corriger, mais je n'élève pas nos voiles et je ne les brûlerais pas avec le cigare. Aussi je ne fumerais pas sous le pont, la fumée rendrait la vue trop difficile et le tabac pourrait ruiner la machinerie puisque je travaille dans le moteur. Enfin, si je fumais, je le ferais à la poupe ou là où le vent souffle pour qu'ils ne frappent pas les voiles. » Briggs a dit d'un ton calme. Elle a mis ses mains dans ses poches Duster et a regardé le chef Flynn examiner Alexander et a tendu sa main vers lui pour une poignée de main, elle vient de soupirer, elle détestait les gens qui essayaient de la respecter avec des règles et des règlements, mais si elle devait s'abstenir de fumer jusqu'à ce qu'elle soit hors du navire et qu'ils soient accostés ou s'arrêtent tous ensemble, mais les deux seraient un vrai défi pour elle, elle pensait qu'elle n'aimerait pas vraiment le chef Flynn ou ses règles restrictives.

Name: Engineer Briggs Age: 27 Race: Human/ African American Gender: Female Occupation:Engineer Biography: Briggs wasn't born of nobility or taught her skills, she learned them over time from both her parents and from studying, both of them served on ships as engineers before her and while she was a kid she would ride along with them and watch them from time to time learning how ships would work and picking up on their skills while she was 8, when she turned 14 she was one of the survivors of an attack on the ship both her her parents worked on, her parents didn't survive and a couple others did.The remaining crew dropped her off when they were close to a city. Briggs went into deep sorrow and became a thief stealing things to get by in life, this went on till she was 18 and was caught stealing and taken to prison, while in prison she thought about her actions and felt that what she was doing was horrible and her parents would be spinning in their graves if they were alive, while she was incarcerated she studied up on engineering learning how ships worked. When she was let out of prison the first thing she did was visit her parents grave and left a rose on it before she went out to find decent work. Personality: Well it may not need to be said but Briggs is very skilled in engineering and understanding technology, she is smarter than she looks, Briggs is also a very formidable hand to hand combatant. While in prison she gotten tougher and stronger than she originally was, she also swore that she wouldn't be going back to prison or commit a stupid crime as stealing. Even though she looks like a violent person she'd rather handle most problems the peaceful route and choose to take the violent route if things go south or if she needs to defend herself, she also plays a mean trumpet. Weapon of choice: 2 Sawed off Double barrel shotgun, Large two handed wrench Orientation/Relationship Status: Single Audition: Briggs felt that she wouldn't be able to serve on a ship due to her going to prison, but she didn't let her past get in the way she still auditioned to serve on a ship when she was turned down a couple times from different people she felt she needed to take another route, when she auditioned to serve on the Pegasus, she used some of her old connections from her past to strong arm her way into being the only person showing up to the audition, soon she became the engineer of the ship, Appearance: Briggs has a bronzed skin tone, with a beautiful face and complexion but it can be intimidating, she has bright jade green eyes, she has short purple hair that stops just past her ears but doesn't reach her shoulders, some thin strands of hair sometimes get in her face and constantly get moved back by her hands. Briggs stands at the tall height of 6'2, and has a muscular build to follow up with it she weighs 240, along her body she has several scars of cuts from her past life. Clothes:She wears a large light brown button up, duster coat with dark brown gloves, under her brown coat she wears a collared button up long sleeved shirt, with a red tie and suspenders, she wears a pair brown pants with two thigh holsters for her shotguns, on her feet she wears a pair of lace up boots, she had a pair of black sunglasses that she puts on whenever shes outside during the day.

Alexander s'arrêta un moment, donnant à l'ingénieur Briggs toute son attention lorsqu'elle sortit sur le pont. Un peu dur autour des bords. Mais d'après tous les témoignages, elle connaissait ses machines et c'était tout ce dont il avait besoin d'elle. Il regarda le cigare, notant le groupe autour de son centre. Jamaïcain. Britannique fait."Engineer Briggs", a-t-il dit. "Le Pegasus n'est pas habillé comme tout autre brick. Nous avons un cadre en bois, mais les plaques de fer ajoutées à la coque augmentent notre poids exponentiellement. Malheureusement, l'équipe de construction n'a pas augmenté notre stock de charbon pour compenser. La Couronne a envoyé un magicien « First Rate » pour maintenir les moteurs en marche au cas où nous brûlerions notre charbon trop rapidement. J'espère que vous allez bien travailler avec celui-ci? S'il y a des désaccords, il pourrait nous envoyer tous au fond de la mer.« La rivalité entre les « têtes de tête » et les « mystiques » de l'Académie militaire royale était déjà légendaire. C'était toujours le cas lorsque l'ancien s'affrontait avec le nouveau, mais les magiciens servaient normalement à la guerre des hommes de la flotte, et les ingénieurs s'accrochaient aux bricks et aux frégates. Ce serait probablement la première fois que les deux devraient travailler en tandem... Avec un sixième sens presque étrange, Alexandre a détecté les salutations derrière lui et s'est tourné vers Garret et Hal. En retournant le geste, il a dit : « Messieurs. Les vaisseaux aériens ci-dessous sont expérimentaux, comme vous l'imaginez probablement. La Royal Navy aurait pu avoir une frégate pour le coût du lot d'entre eux. Ce que vous faites dans le cadre de cette mission déterminera si la production se produit ou non. Je ne serai pas en mesure de donner des ordres directs dans la chaleur de la bataille, donc je m'attendrai à ce que vous utilisiez votre meilleur jugement lors de l'attaque de l'ennemi- si nous engageons l'ennemi du tout."Notre ingénieur en chef sera en mesure de vous offrir de l'aide dans toutes les rénovations que vous aimeriez faire pour améliorer l'embarcation- si vous lui demandez gentiment." Briggs a pris le cigare hors de sa bouche, et s'est tournée vers le capitaine, elle s'est penchée sur la rampe en arrière, elle l'a regardé avec le cigare toujours en main, " Ne vous inquiétez pas, je ne suis pas contre la magie ou quoi que ce soit, tant qu'il ou elle ne gâche pas mon espace de travail, ou est un raciste alors je serai en or avec vous patron, mais je vais être droit avec vous, s'ils essaient de me diriger ou sont racistes, alors ils ne dureront pas plus longtemps qu'un canari dans une mine de charbon." Briggs a dit avant de remettre le cigare dans sa bouche, elle a attendu que l'Alexandre réponde, Elle a regardé vers Garret et a repris le cigare dans sa bouche, elle a commencé à tourner le cigare dans sa main en le regardant, " Ne vous inquiétez pas, tant que vous ne faites rien pour m'énerver, vous n'aurez pas à vous inquiéter des modifications, juste demander et je ferai ce que je peux, mais ne m'attendez pas à ce que je vous ramène de la tombe si vous crashez et brûlez au sol ou à l'océan, et si vous survivez qui ne m'attendent pas à pêcher votre navire ou cul hors de l'océan, ou de le réparer si c'est impossible à réparer." Briggs lui a dit.

Name: Engineer Briggs Age: 27 Race: Human/ African American Gender: Female Occupation:Engineer Biography: Briggs wasn't born of nobility or taught her skills, she learned them over time from both her parents and from studying, both of them served on ships as engineers before her and while she was a kid she would ride along with them and watch them from time to time learning how ships would work and picking up on their skills while she was 8, when she turned 14 she was one of the survivors of an attack on the ship both her her parents worked on, her parents didn't survive and a couple others did.The remaining crew dropped her off when they were close to a city. Briggs went into deep sorrow and became a thief stealing things to get by in life, this went on till she was 18 and was caught stealing and taken to prison, while in prison she thought about her actions and felt that what she was doing was horrible and her parents would be spinning in their graves if they were alive, while she was incarcerated she studied up on engineering learning how ships worked. When she was let out of prison the first thing she did was visit her parents grave and left a rose on it before she went out to find decent work. Personality: Well it may not need to be said but Briggs is very skilled in engineering and understanding technology, she is smarter than she looks, Briggs is also a very formidable hand to hand combatant. While in prison she gotten tougher and stronger than she originally was, she also swore that she wouldn't be going back to prison or commit a stupid crime as stealing. Even though she looks like a violent person she'd rather handle most problems the peaceful route and choose to take the violent route if things go south or if she needs to defend herself, she also plays a mean trumpet. Weapon of choice: 2 Sawed off Double barrel shotgun, Large two handed wrench Orientation/Relationship Status: Single Audition: Briggs felt that she wouldn't be able to serve on a ship due to her going to prison, but she didn't let her past get in the way she still auditioned to serve on a ship when she was turned down a couple times from different people she felt she needed to take another route, when she auditioned to serve on the Pegasus, she used some of her old connections from her past to strong arm her way into being the only person showing up to the audition, soon she became the engineer of the ship, Appearance: Briggs has a bronzed skin tone, with a beautiful face and complexion but it can be intimidating, she has bright jade green eyes, she has short purple hair that stops just past her ears but doesn't reach her shoulders, some thin strands of hair sometimes get in her face and constantly get moved back by her hands. Briggs stands at the tall height of 6'2, and has a muscular build to follow up with it she weighs 240, along her body she has several scars of cuts from her past life. Clothes:She wears a large light brown button up, duster coat with dark brown gloves, under her brown coat she wears a collared button up long sleeved shirt, with a red tie and suspenders, she wears a pair brown pants with two thigh holsters for her shotguns, on her feet she wears a pair of lace up boots, she had a pair of black sunglasses that she puts on whenever shes outside during the day.

Le ciel était bleu, les nuages étaient minimes, et Miklòs Puskás ne pouvait pas rêver de conditions plus parfaites dans lesquelles mettre la voile. Juste à côté du gangplank, Miklòs a pris un moment pour parfaire son apparence. Une lécherette rapide de sa main à travers son équipage militant a coupé les cheveux, un remorqueur à la queue de son uniforme noir corbeau pour presser les plis, et une poussière subtile à l'insigne du premier officier tissé dans ses épaules. Alors que ses traits du visage ne l'exprimaient guère, au fond de lui, Miklòs était un peu nerveux. Il y a des mois qu'il a occupé sa dernière position officielle à bord d'un navire sanctionné par le gouvernement, sans parler de l'équipage qu'il n'avait pas encore rencontré, ni même qu'il savait qu'il pouvait faire confiance à cet égard. Mais aucun d'entre eux n'avait besoin de le savoir et s'il y avait une chance qu'il s'avère être un bon officier du pont, il devait être solide comme un rocher quand il était en confiance. Avec ça à l'esprit. Il a fait ses premiers pas sur le HMS Pegasus. Il était plutôt daté dans la conception. On s'y attendait, mais ce que le Pegasus manquait en pure force, c'est plus que compensé par la réputation de la Grande armée de l'air britannique. Miklòs a trouvé son chemin vers le pont où un rassemblement assez important était venu pour rendre hommage à leur capitaine glorifié. Miklòs s'est déjà maudit parce qu'il n'avait pas été la première personne à bord seulement après le capitaine. Ses préoccupations ont été atténuées alors qu'il regardait vers le ciel pour une estimation du temps. Peut-être qu'ils étaient tous un peu plus tôt à partir de l'horaire des voiles désigné. "Peut-être que ce ne serait pas une équipe comme je le pensais." Miklòs s'est posé la question. "Si vous pardonnez les coiffures hors de la réglementation..." Il a fait un regard plutôt tardif à Briggs avant d'aller jusqu'au capitaine. Un clic vif de ses talons de bottes et un salut au front, les yeux de Miklòs fixé sur un point invisible derrière la tête du capitaine. "Jó napot kívánok! (Bonjour) Premier officier Miklòs Puskás, se présentant pour le service monsieur!" Il a présenté et terminé le salut. D'une manière plus naturelle : « J'ai pris la liberté de lire votre dossier. Puis-je dire, j'attends avec impatience ce voyage avec vous. » Il a donné un sourire de "bon garçon". Une fois les formalités terminées, il a commencé à rencontrer le reste de l'équipage. Son intérêt fut immédiatement porté à Flynn qui s'approchait à la fois de lui et du capitaine après avoir grondé l'ingénieur pour avoir son beau pédé (totalement cool ici parce que c'est un cigare :P) en plein air. Miklòs attendait qu'il s'approche et jette un coup d'œil du coin de l'œil pour attraper la plaque nominative de l'homme. Miklòs l'a immédiatement placé en tant qu'officier de pont pour leur voyage, mais s'il y avait suffisamment de confirmation, l'homme s'est adressé comme tel. Simultané, le vieil homme avait l'air d'être le père de Miklòs, bien que l'accent ait été arraché. Dans les deux cas, Flynn ressemblait au genre d'officier qui s'était lavé, passa beaucoup de temps dans l'armée sans vraiment aller nulle part. Pas pour déshonorer sa position, mais Miklòs a pensé qu'un homme de sa distinction ne serait pas assis dans une salle de cartes poussant autour des accessoires de troupes en bois? Miklòs a fait signe à Miklòs. "C'est bon de vous avoir avec nous, M. Flynn"

Name: Miklós Puskás Age: 26 Gender: Male Race: Human Nationality: Hungarian Occupation: First Mate Born in the thriving city of Szeged, Hungary, Miklós was the first and only son of Andris and Noemi Puskás. Right from the start, Miklós's parents saw that he was a bright lad academically. They placed him in honors classes and proved to excell in his studies in grade school and graduated Suma Cum Laude in his high. From there, he applied to the National School of Naval and Aeronautics in Budapest with a strong focus on military tactics. Even from an early age, Miklós had a starry eyed fascination with the Goliath steam ships that stretched on towards the horizon and he wanted to make it his life long goal to command a fine vessel for himself. He sure had the enthusiastic fire to do so to say the least. His childhood memories were chock full of reliving the fanciful tales of Captain Andoneus, a legend in the airship world who, by rumor only navigated the entire world 10 times, each at a different latitude and exploring every corner of the world. Miklós wanted to BE that captain. But like every childhood dream, the idea of flying fun and fancy free died off. His parents always did try to push him into a 'sensible' career choice and the military was the only common ground they could both agree on. It was during his time in the navy that he met what he dreamed to be the love of his life, Cecília Bordas, a culinary genius on the SMS Eildiche on which Miklós had also served as a gunner. The two quickly became something of an item often stealing shore-leave time together. It was the closest Miklós had ever gotten to that childhood dream of exploration of the seas and doing so freely. She made him feel like that stary eye'd child. Despite the strict guidelines advising against it, Miklós and Cecília had publicly announced their engagement. His career as a naval officer seemed to mirror his expectations. Within 3 years of duty, he had been assigned first mate to General Tilos of the SMS Eva. And with General Tilos's retirement rapidly approaching, it had seemed that Miklós's life long goal of becoming a captain would finally be realized. That is, until things took a rapid turn for the worse. After making a rather unpopular decision to turn tail and run in the battle of the Red Sea, General Tilos's crew viciously mutinied into piracy, murdering the glorified General and taking Miklós as hostage. For 3 years more Miklós served on that ship, though more as a cabin boy among pirates. Word of General Tilos's murder reached the Capitol and subsequently, the SMS Eva's disappearance from history. It was written that the SMS Eva had crashed and burned in the battle of the Red Sea. All the while Miklós had been itching for the right time to flee. The airship never stayed in one place for too long lest raising suspicion but lady luck visited him one night as the engines failed downing the once glorious ship. However, the luck didn't last long. With nothing left, the band of pirates dragged Miklós home to Hungary claiming that he was responsible for the General's death and the theft of the Steamship. The naval academy slapped him with a dishonorable discharge and was banished from Hungarian borders and forced to leave his engaged lover forever without even a goodbye. With nothing left, Miklós fled across Europe picking odd jobs where he could. Catching rides from Country to Country. Once the rise of Napoleon came to be, Miklós couldn't stand to let such a dictator seize control of the world and began to desperately find work on a military grade vessel. He sent his resume to every recruiting sector available but nobody would accept the black stain that haunted his name. Nobody except the Captain of the Pegasus that is... Weapon of choice: A pair of double barrel flint lock pistols Orientation/Relationship Status: Straight/Once engaged, believes his lover to be dead. Currently Single. Audition: (was kinda hoping my Biography could cover this. It pretty much explains it. If more is required I'd have no problem making one if you're looking for for a "RP sample")

Malgré ses réserves, le chef Flynn a tendu la main à l'accueil. "et tu serais le Skipper." Sa voix était profonde et amicale, avec l'écho d'une brogue irlandaise qui restait à un homme qui n'était pas rentré depuis plus d'une décennie. "Je suis le chef Warrent Emmet Reilly O'Flynn, Lord Mulgrave de l'Amirauté m'a assigné comme votre capitaine de pont." Alexander a hurlé solennellement, prenant la main d'Emmet à tour de rôle. Son visage restait lisse comme la pierre taillée comme il parlait. "Seigneur Mulgrave a bien choisi alors. Il m'a assuré le meilleur que l'Amirauté pouvait offrir à mon équipage et jusqu'à ce qu'il l'ait livré. Bienvenue à bord, monsieur." La forte interaction entre l'ingénieur et son chef de pont n'a toutefois pas été un bon début. O'Flynn était à droite sur le principe - les étincelles d'un cigare dans la mauvaise partie de ce navire pouvaient déclencher un incendie qu'ils ne pouvaient pas se permettre. Mais en tant qu'ingénieur en chef, Briggs était sans aucun doute au courant de cela. Mieux vaut faire avancer leur conversation, avant qu'elle ne devienne un concours d'autorité. Alexandre leva la tête, observant la brise sur le vent pendant qu'il déchirait le drapeau du navire. "J'ai remarqué que nous avons un fort nord-est qui arrive aujourd'hui. Ça devrait nous permettre de prendre un bon départ dans la Manche. Une partie de l'équipage est déjà en dessous." Il se tourna d'abord vers Briggs, puis vers O'Flynn, en s'adressant aux deux. "Est-ce que tu penses qu'on peut être prêts à voler à l'heure prochaine?" Il a fait un regard plutôt tardif sur Briggs avant de s'approcher du capitaine. Un clic vif de ses talons de bottes et un salut au front, les yeux de Miklòs fixé sur un point invisible derrière la tête du capitaine. "Jó napot kívánok! (Bonjour) Premier officier Miklòs Puskás, se présentant pour le service monsieur!" Il a présenté et terminé le salut. D'une manière plus naturelle : « J'ai pris la liberté de lire votre dossier. Puis-je dire, j'attends avec impatience ce voyage avec vous. » Il a donné un sourire de "bon garçon". Alexandre a pris un moment pour rendre le salut de Miklòs.. "Miklòs Puskás? Content de vous avoir à bord. J'ai lu un peu à propos de votre dernière tournée. J'ai enlevé deux frégates, si je me souviens bien? »

Name: Captain Alexander Lorraine Age: 29 Sex: Male Race: Human Occupation: Captain of the HMS Pegasus, Landowner in the vicinity of Aylesbury, England. Biography: Captain Alexander Lorraine is the third son of his father, Robert Lorraine. On paper he is listed as the child of Robert's wife Elizabeth, but it is an open secret that Robert is the issue of their Irish cook, Mary Wallpoole. Such fiery red hair does not come naturally to English nobility, after all. As a consequence, the was raised as an afterthought, a placeholder for Robert's line in the event both of his other sons, Martin and Johnathon, both perished. Martin caught cholera in the outbreak of 1797 and Johnathon sadly fell and broke his neck while riding his horse in 1803. Meanwhile, Alexander survived the battle of Trafalgar and was noted for his bravery, seizing command of the HMS Hurricane, a third-rate Man o War, after a cannonball killed both the captain and first mate. He has since been given orders to report to the docks of London to assume command of the HMS Pegasus, and command her crew in order to complete her mission. Weapon of choice: Captain's cutlass, clockwork pistol (four rounds). Orientation/Relationship Status: One can only guess... Audition: As he stood at the forecastle of the HMS Pegasus, Alexander could not help but recall how long he had been waiting a long time for this moment. Not with anticipation or dread, but with a desire for the moment to arrive so the next could come. He was a man of action, and to be tied up in hospital after taking a shot to the gut had delayed the launch of the vessel by three weeks. English sailors were not keen to risk their necks in the skies over the Atlantic, and he would not blame any for moving on to better fortunes. Still, he was hopeful that the ship would have a successful launch. He'd seen the letters from the Admiralty concerning their mission, and it wasn't looking like the delay of his hospital stay may have doomed them already. But there was still a chance to make it work, to stop the Emperor before the Coalition fell apart in the fields of Prussia. "Well," he mumbled, looking to the docks beside the Pegasus, "Let's see who has remembered their duty to King and Country..."

Briggs sourit à Alexander et sonne doucement : « Bien sûr, je vous ai dit que nous sommes prêts à décoller quelques secondes par tour, il ne devrait pas y avoir de problème avec le moteur, j'ai juste vérifié et tout, tout va bien, tant que personne ne trafique les valses ou n'empoisonne le moteur avec du charbon, ou que le moteur explose. Aussi nous serons toujours en mesure de décoller si je suis sur ce patron d'artisanat." Elle a dit au capitaine, elle a mis ses mains dans ses poches et a regardé Flynn ne pas lui donner un bon regard, le regard était un mélange de ton abruti et me laisser tranquille. Se sentant comme si elle devait vérifier le moteur, elle a commencé à s'étendre jusqu'à la porte de la salle des machines, elle a agité un de ses bras en l'air pendant qu'elle marchait lentement, « Si ça ne vous dérange pas, je vais retourner à mon poste dans la salle des machines. » Elle a dit qu'elle surpassait la majorité des autres membres de l'équipage et qu'elle allait directement à la salle des machines. Quand elle était dans la salle des machines, elle s'est sentie plus à la maison, elle a jeté son manteau sur le porte-manteau et a commencé à commencer une inspection du moteur,

Name: Engineer Briggs Age: 27 Race: Human/ African American Gender: Female Occupation:Engineer Biography: Briggs wasn't born of nobility or taught her skills, she learned them over time from both her parents and from studying, both of them served on ships as engineers before her and while she was a kid she would ride along with them and watch them from time to time learning how ships would work and picking up on their skills while she was 8, when she turned 14 she was one of the survivors of an attack on the ship both her her parents worked on, her parents didn't survive and a couple others did.The remaining crew dropped her off when they were close to a city. Briggs went into deep sorrow and became a thief stealing things to get by in life, this went on till she was 18 and was caught stealing and taken to prison, while in prison she thought about her actions and felt that what she was doing was horrible and her parents would be spinning in their graves if they were alive, while she was incarcerated she studied up on engineering learning how ships worked. When she was let out of prison the first thing she did was visit her parents grave and left a rose on it before she went out to find decent work. Personality: Well it may not need to be said but Briggs is very skilled in engineering and understanding technology, she is smarter than she looks, Briggs is also a very formidable hand to hand combatant. While in prison she gotten tougher and stronger than she originally was, she also swore that she wouldn't be going back to prison or commit a stupid crime as stealing. Even though she looks like a violent person she'd rather handle most problems the peaceful route and choose to take the violent route if things go south or if she needs to defend herself, she also plays a mean trumpet. Weapon of choice: 2 Sawed off Double barrel shotgun, Large two handed wrench Orientation/Relationship Status: Single Audition: Briggs felt that she wouldn't be able to serve on a ship due to her going to prison, but she didn't let her past get in the way she still auditioned to serve on a ship when she was turned down a couple times from different people she felt she needed to take another route, when she auditioned to serve on the Pegasus, she used some of her old connections from her past to strong arm her way into being the only person showing up to the audition, soon she became the engineer of the ship, Appearance: Briggs has a bronzed skin tone, with a beautiful face and complexion but it can be intimidating, she has bright jade green eyes, she has short purple hair that stops just past her ears but doesn't reach her shoulders, some thin strands of hair sometimes get in her face and constantly get moved back by her hands. Briggs stands at the tall height of 6'2, and has a muscular build to follow up with it she weighs 240, along her body she has several scars of cuts from her past life. Clothes:She wears a large light brown button up, duster coat with dark brown gloves, under her brown coat she wears a collared button up long sleeved shirt, with a red tie and suspenders, she wears a pair brown pants with two thigh holsters for her shotguns, on her feet she wears a pair of lace up boots, she had a pair of black sunglasses that she puts on whenever shes outside during the day.

Le leftenant Graham connaissait bien le capitaine du navire. Ils avaient convalescé ensemble à Portsmouth avant d'être affectés au Pegasus. "Digger" était curieux de voir le nouveau Brig. Même s'il était habitué au plus lourd navire armé de première classe, il connaissait les avantages du plus petit Brig et s'intéressait à sa nouvelle affectation en tant qu'officier d'artillerie. Ce jour-là, le leftenant Graham a été affecté officier du pont (OOD). Il se tenait au sommet de l'allée, salue les marins d'embarquement dans son blues vestimentaire et sa médaille de campagne solitaire dénotant sa participation à la bataille de Trafalgar. Une partie de son devoir était de tailler l'équipage au fur et à mesure qu'ils embarquaient. Ils semblent assez disciplinés pour être en uniforme, mais seulement le temps indiquerait s'ils peuvent s'acquitter de leurs tâches dans les paramètres de la situation. Il était vraiment curieux de voir combien de vitesse la vieille fille pouvait prendre avec une tête pleine de vapeur. Le jour où Hamish Graham est arrivé à bord, il a inspecté les ponts des armes après avoir rangé ses effets personnels dans ses quartiers. En tant que Gunnery Officier, il avait le troisième billet du côté bâbord du Brig. Il le partagerait avec un enseigne qui l'aiderait en tant qu'officier de la Division des armes à feu. Le petit navire agile avait un total de vingt-huit canons sur le pont à canon solitaire. Deux canons à bâbord à montage pivotant ont été montés à bâbord et à tribord sur le foc'sil et un tiers dans le nid du corbeau. Sur le pont d'armes, quatorze canons de 24 livres chacun avec une équipe d'un Automatron et deux humains. L'arme a commencé en position arrière, ses roues se sont butées contre les blocs vers l'intérieur du navire. Le chargeur humain chargerait et préparait l'arme en le rendant prêt à tirer. Une fois l'arme relevée, il appelait : "Arrête!" Ensuite, l'Automatron poussait la muselière de la pièce donc elle était en position avant, ses roues avant touchant les blocs avant et la muselière s'échappant du portail. Le tireur a préparé la longe en l'insérant dans la fumée et en gardant à l'œil quelles cibles se trouvaient devant elle. Une fois que le commandement du feu a été donné par l'officier de l'artillerie ou le commandant de la division de l'artillerie, il tirait la longe, déchargeant ainsi la pièce et répétant le processus de chargement une fois de plus. Le leftenant Hamish Graham a été impressionné par ces nouveaux canons ionisés et a cru qu'ils auraient un impact plus grand que les pièces plus anciennes. Il était triste de ne voir aucun 36-Pounders et attendait de voir les canons gatling en action plutôt que le fusil de chasse comme le souffle des Carronades qui a rasé les navires français sur le souverain royal du HMS. Mais il n'était plus avec le Souverain. Il avait perdu beaucoup d'amis sur cette vieille dame. Un navire fier qu'elle était.

Name: Hamish "Digger" Graham Age: 30 Occupation: Gunnery Officer Biography: Hamish Graham was born in December 1772, related to the Stewart Clan through his mother's side of the family. He had a fairly easy life as a child, but was educated at some of the finest schools in the United Kingdoms of England, Scotland and Northern Ireland. He was trained to speak French, Latin and Italian and studied the following subjects: mathematics, Reading, Writing, Physics, Rhetoric, European History, Modern economics, alchemy, biology, geometry, and Poetry. When he arrived at age 12, he was educated in the conduct of naval operations for both sail and steam. He learned how the various systems worked and understood the chain of command. He was disciplined in naval tactics as well as the conduct of shore parties to include the use of standard muskets and flintlocks. He has been fencing with either the rapier or the cutlass since he was 12 years old and prefers the cutlass over the rapier, but is skilled with both. At age 16, he went to see as an Ensign and made his way up through the officer ranks to Second Officer aboard the Pegasus. During his 19 year career with the Royal navy, Digger has served as Officer of the Watch, Navigator, Ship's Engineer, Gun Division Commander and his current position as Ship's Gunnery officer. In this position, Digger coordinates the activities of all gun divisions aboard ship. There are several Gun divisions which contain three or more batteries per division with four to six guns per battery. Weapon of choice: Cutlass and pair of "Sea Service" flintlock pistols. Orientation/Relationship Status: Terminal bachelor Audition: Hamish previously served aboard the HMS Royal Sovereign, a 100-gun first rate ship of the line that saw action at the Battle of Trafalgar. Due to extensive damage during the engagement with the French and Spanish fleets, the Royal Sovereign was decommissioned soon after the British victory in the skies over Trafalgar. Of the ship's 850 human and automaton crewmembers aboard ship, only175 humans and 48 machines survived the battle. Hamish, who was the highest ranking survivor had served as a Division Commander of four starboard batteries; a total of 24 guns. After recuperating from injuries in Portsmouth for six months, Hamish was reassigned as Gunnery Officer aboard the Pegasus. He has found his new assignment to be fulfilling for him, yet is a bit off-putting due the size of the smaller Brig. Afterall, the Pegasus is no First Rate ship of the line. Regardless, Hamish is happy to be serving His Majesty's Ship aboard the 28-gun Pegasus.

Richard a entendu l'officier faire des commentaires sur son uniforme et s'est fait saigner à l'intérieur d'un commentaire si bas. Comment il voulait répondre à lui soit avec un défi formel ou simplement une croix droite rapide, mais il portait l'uniforme d'un officier des marines de sa majesté et devait agir comme un gentleman. Certes, en tant que gentleman, il aurait pu prendre le commentaire comme une insulte à lui-même, mais aussi comme un gentleman, il devait être fait de trucs de sterner. En tant que tel, il a permis à la légère de lui glisser comme un canard aurait une goutte de pluie. Il pensait cependant que peut-être, lorsque le temps le permettrait, il se pencherait sur la légère approche diplomatique qui pourrait rappeler ses manières au pilote. Ce ne serait pas la première fois que Rich avait rencontré un collègue avec une langue stupide, mais il savait que s'y attaquer avec la menace de la violence d'abord n'était pas une réponse propice à gagner la guerre. Alors qu'il attendait le plaisir du capitaine, les yeux de Rich prirent tout dans sa vision, car bientôt ce serait son champ de bataille. Pendant qu'il étudiait le pont, il ne laissa pas ses yeux errer et ne tourna pas la tête.

Name: Richard Dennis York Age: 23 Occupation: Junior Officer Marines (Lieutenant) : Lieutenant York was born into a well to do merchant family in the city of Liverpool. The youngest 8 sons he was not likely to inherit anything and have been nothing but a clerk to one of his brothers. His father saw in his son a drive that shone through even at the young age of 8 a personality that would never be happy as such. Concerned that Richard be able to see the realization of his potential his father decided to speak with a friend who was a officer in his majesty's Navy. So it was decided that at the age of 11 years old Richard would become a Midshipman, the year was 1796. At the age of 12 he was aboard HMS Vigilant at the Battle of the Nile were he was awarded the order of merit when he took command of the battery in which he served after his Lieutenant was killed and half it's guns destroyed. The Vigilant kept pressing her attack on the French center and was credited with the rout of it's forces when the French flagship Orient exploded under the brutal mauling. Later that year just after she'd received repairs HMS Vigilant was rushed to intercept a squadron of French ships seen leaving Brest France which were headed to reinforce the Irish rebellion. The Battle of Tory Island was Richard's second fight in less than a year and though it worried his mother he knew he'd make a career of Naval service. He was present in 1801 at Copenhagen when the British under Nelson destroyed moored Danish ships off København to prevent France taking them over. It was during the battle that Admiral Sir Hyde Parker in overall command made signal of recall for Nelson's sake saying "If he is in condition to continue the action, he will disregard it; if he is not, it will be an excuse for his retreat and no blame can be imputed to him." Nelson ordered that the signal be acknowledged, but not repeated. He turned to his flag Captain, Foley, and said "You know, Foley, I only have one eye I have the right to be blind sometimes," and then, holding his telescope to his blind eye, said "I really do not see the signal!" Rear Admiral Graves, repeated the signal, but in a place invisible to most other ships while keeping Nelson's 'close action' signal at his masthead. Of Nelson's captains, only Riou, who could not see Nelson's flagship Elephant, followed Parker's signal. Riou withdrew his force, which was then attacking the Tre Kroner fortress, exposing himself to heavy fire that killed him. Richard now 16 once again found himself aboard a ship in distress. Commanded by First-Lieutenant John Quilliam the Amazon distinguished herself by silencing the Danish fort that had killed her Captain an half her crew. Richard was offered the right to take the Lieutenant's examination an waited only six months before his commissioning as a Junior Officer. Assigned to the HMS Mars he fought at Trafalgar under Captain, George Duff. His ship was heavily damaged when she took fire from five different French and Spanish Ships. Remarkably even though Mars was forced to retire in order to fight severe fires on board she had suffered only a few casualties. Among the 29 killed and 69 wounded in the action was her Captain, George Duff, also among the wounded was Richard who was sent to England to recover. Richard recovered from his wounds and found himself without a billet and waited at the Junior Officers Barracks in Greenwich. He was soon tapped to be a replacement for a Junior Officer who'd been slated to serve aboard the HMS Pegasus but had fallen ill and was not expected to recover before her deployment. Weapon of choice: Twin Saber, Rifle Orientation/Relationship Status: Straight/Single : ...Richard stood across from a fellow Lost Boy as the officers of the Junior Barracks liked to call themselves. Best friends he and Jack Collins ; Jackie often practiced their skill at arms having little else to occupy their time. They were each stripped to their shirt sleeves held sabers and prepared for earnest combat. When the master called Lay on Richard's foe swung his blade in a glittering arch that barely missed striking his leading shoulder as he pivoted slightly out of it's strike. Richard's leading foot slid forwards as the tip of his own blade thrust towards Jackie's ribs forcing him to almost commit a foul by stepping out of line to dodge. Both were the undisputed champions at their art within the barracks and bore the bruises of the other's blunted blade. Those that observed and didn't understand thought their demonstration pretty, flashy or mere play among boys. The observing Master though he knew and he smiled as he watched the two young Lions spar in deadly play. Disturbed by a petty officer holding an official document. With a call to halt the Master took the document giving the petty officer an annoyed glance he dismissed him and opened the letter. "Dam it does seem that those clerks at the Admiralty must have made a mistake. Collins; York! Step to for it is with some degree of trepidation that I find it my duty to inform you that you Mr. Collins is to be assigned a berth aboard HMS Trident and you Mr. York aboard HMS Pegasus, may God watch over us one and all. says the Master with a laugh as his dark eyes glitter with battle lust. The other Lost Boys suddenly gathered round and congratulated the two with hearty laughs and solid slaps on the back scarcely hiding the envy in their eyes. Rich an Jackie hurried off shouting for their Batmen to follow and pack as they cleaned themselves up. Soon Lieutenant York stood waiting by a Hanson he'd hired to drive himself, Jackie an their gear down to the docks. Jackie showed late as usual earning him a cuff on the shoulder by Rich before they boarded the cab. "My, my how grand this day is" says Jackie who then adds Richard laughs then reminds Jackie of an agreement they both have made "I meet your sister when I am a Captain an her equal Sir Pembrook Jackie laughs as Mr. York reminds him of their respective social ranks though he thinks Rich his equal and in many ways better. Jackie was 20 years old when he was granted the rank of Lieutenant and Rich was a Lieutenant at barely 17 years of age. Rich never gave such thoughts a chance to trouble his mind and thought himself luck that Jackie was such amiable company. They traded small talk an promises to write till they arrived at the docks and stopped beside the massive shape of HMS Trident a ship of the line. Knowing themselves under the eyes of the deck watch Jackie and Rich shared a hearty handshake and farewell as the baggage was unloaded. That done Rich rode past other impressive ships many whose names and exploits legend. Soon they stopped beside a ship which Rich as other's had studied HMS Pegasus. Smaller than the ships of the line Pegasus still managed to give a deadly impression of herself. Climbing out of the cab Rich paid the driver after his merger baggage was unloaded an shouldered it all then headed up the gangway

En se déplaçant à un rythme mesuré et régulier, William Mycroft regarda attentivement le HMS Pegasus se rapprocher, les yeux prenant dans tous les détails qu'il pouvait discerner. Alors qu'il s'approchait du gangplank, sa progression ralentit, ce qui lui permet d'examiner plus longtemps sa nouvelle affectation. Le navire était, même d'un coup d'œil, contrairement à tout autre qu'il n'avait jamais vu, encore moins servi. Armor plaqué, le brick était censé être à la fois plus rapide et plus dur que d'autres dessins, un vrai bruissement de foudre s'il avait jamais posé les yeux sur un. Son plus gros problème, cependant, était le charbon; Tout cette armure n'a pas laissé beaucoup de place pour le stockage du charbon, ce qui est ce que la plupart de ces petits navires utilisaient pour maintenir les chaudières. Les magiciens, a déclaré la pensée traditionnelle, étaient pour Man 'o Wars et de tels, pas pour les petits vaisseaux. Le charbon était suffisant pour eux, pas besoin de consacrer même un magicien, encore moins une équipe. C'est pourquoi il était très inhabituel qu'il se retrouve ici. La logique était bonne, bien sûr; Sans beaucoup de stockage de charbon, l'amiral avait besoin d'une autre source de combustible à bord si ce n'était pas suffisant. Le choix logique était un magicien, mais au lieu d'envoyer le minimum habituel d'un équipage de trois hommes, ils l'ont envoyé. Il avait eu un vrai choc sur celui-là, presque étouffé sur son café. Plus il a entendu parler de ce poste, plus il a eu un sentiment de naufrage à ce sujet. Mycroft avait été assez bon pour garder sa tête baissée, mais Trafalgar... le capitaine Martin n'avait pas acheté son explication de sa localisation, et ils le savaient tous les deux. Tellement pour ne pas se démarquer. C'est pas bon de réfléchir. Mains dans les poches de son manteau, il a remarqué qu'il avait atteint le gangplank quelques instants auparavant, et s'était arrêté à la fin de celui-ci. Secouant la tête, comme si ses muses étaient des toiles d'araignée qu'il pourrait déloger, il a commencé l'ascension, mettant le pied sur le pont du navire peu de temps plus tard, bottes frappant contre le pont tranquillement. Le smog habituel tournait autour, mais après quelques années, il était juste attendu. Vingt-huit canons, par son compte, et ce qui ressemblait à des fusils batling dans quelques endroits. Oui, le Pegasus était une nouvelle race en effet. Ses yeux n'ont pas eu à errer longtemps pour remarquer le rassemblement quelque peu éclectique d'individus autour d'une figure centrale, clairement le capitaine Lorraine, à en juger par sa robe, présente sur le prédateur. Mieux vaut signaler sa présence, remettre ses papiers, et cetera, et cetera. Plus vite il l'a fait, plus vite il pouvait se mettre sous les ponts et voir quoi, et avec qui, il travaillerait pendant toute la durée de son séjour. En vérité, le "qui" était plus important. Il pourrait s'adapter à différents équipements. Mais ces petits vaisseaux... les magiciens n'étaient pas à bord d'habitude, et étant une source d'énergie vivante à bord d'un navire où de telles personnes étaient attendues ont donné assez de gens lésés, il espérait vraiment qu'un manque de familiarité n'indiquerait pas une abondance de préjugés. Mais s'y tenir ne changerait rien d'une façon ou d'une autre. Il est temps de se concentrer. Il traversa le pont jusqu'au prédateur, se déplaçant à un rythme rapide mais mesuré, s'arrêtant à une distance respectueuse, mains encore dans ses poches. Le capitaine avait déjà une conversation; Butting in ne serait pas poli, et en jugeant par les rangs apparents de ceux impliqués, pourrait en fait être carrément stupide. Il parlait quand on lui parlait.

Name: William A. Mycroft Age: 28 Sex: Male Race: Human Nationality: British Occupation: Magician Biography: William A. Mycroft, for much of his early life, led a distinctly undistinguished life. Son of a British merchant, he never really met his mother, nor did his father ever comment on her, though what little is certain is that the elder Mycroft returned from a trip to the New World with his son, only an infant, in tow. William fit in well for the first few years of his life, no different from any other child. That changed, however, when, quite by accident, it was discovered that he had an inherent aptitude for the use of magic. Though they were initially quite successful at hiding it, word of mouth spread quickly, and it wasn't long before most of his little corner of London knew, or suspected, that little William was a magician. It wasn't long past that when he found that not many of his former friends wanted to be around him anymore. It never really bothered him, though. His father ran a book shop, and he simply turned instead towards the friends he might find in the pages of a book, or the accounts of times long gone. It wasn't hard to find papers written on the study of magic, either, and these he read with particular appetite. At the age of ten, he had begun experimenting with his abilities, testing his limits and becoming quite inventive in the use of them. He'd always had a particular affinity for fire, something that proved to be more than a little handy in keeping the home warm in winter and in general use in day to day life. He was always quiet about it, but he didn't hide it, either; If a business denied him entrance, he would simply find one that would serve him. If he was mocked, he ignored it. Public sentiment was easy to ignore, as long as he wasn't showing off exactly what he could do. And so it was that by the time William had reached the age of adulthood he was better read than some minor lordlings' sons, and equipped with an attitude that made it very hard to anger him, combined with a friendliness that made it hard to dislike him in the first place. That's not to say it was never an issue; Being one of the known magicians of a region tends to make one a target. For the first few years of his adulthood, he spent what spare time he had continuing his self-education with regards to magic. Essays, studies, theory, he read it all, much of it carried across the sea from the New World, where things weren't quite as restrained. It took him a while, but eventually, William looked outside the realm of his own study. Europe wasn't in good shape, nd while Napoleon marched across the continent, he simply stayed inside his world of theory and thought. He'd spent most of his life harnessing the power he had, refining it, working to make it better. It was pointless if he didn't use it to do a ittle good, despite the stigma that magicians often held in the view of the common people. He enlisted in the Royal Navy, assigned to crew the boilers of one of their Man 'o Wars alongside a crew of other magicians. The reality of the job was very different from what he'd anticipated. The skill level of his compatriots varied wildly, the only really consistent factor being that they all knew how to use magic to run a boiler. Outside of that, they ranged from highly practiced, if not all that well-read in the academi side of things, to barely knowing how to manage a stiff breeze. None of them were too eager to try and be much else, either; His first few months were full of attempts to reform the systems in place, discuss how to make it all more efficient. While many of the engineers were happy to listen, if only to learn about what they might be able to integrate later, on the whole no one was interested. And so, after a while, he simply gave up, and resigned himself to the undignified role of human power factory. While that carried on for a few years, and across multiple ships, it was not an attitude that would be able to survive the battle of Trafalgar. William Mycroft was, at the time, assigned to a much smaller vessel, and as such, one outfitted with a much smaller team of magicians. Two individuals, plus William himself. He spent most of the early portion of the battle manning his shift at the boilers, while above-decks, the ship managed to get itself embroiled in a rather dicey section of the fighting. Distinctly outgunned, the ship was taking more of a beating than its captain wanted to admit. It is here that things take an odd turn; In the words of the captain, one Alistair Martin, "It was rather like, for this one little section of the sky, the Lord decided that he was indeed British and began to act accordingly." Wind, fire, and a few notable lightning bolts, did their best to wreak havoc on the enemy vessels, and doing a fair bit of damage. If nothing else, the sudden turn of nature bought the ship enough time to start hitting back. When the battle died down, the captain was curious about what was very clearly unnatural intervention; But when he reached the boilers, the two magicians not currently assigned to that task were operating them. When asked, they replied that William had talked them into it, saying that he needed to lend a hand elsewhere. When William did turn up, he was helping out the ship's engineer. Such a claim was notable tenuous, however, given how exhausted he was. To say that the Captain was fooled would be distinctly false, but he chose not to press the matter. Weapon of choice: William carries a single pistol as his sidearm. The weapon has never been used in combat, and he quite suspects that it wouldn't be even in a fight. Magic: Magicians, historically, have had a track record of being a monarch's preferred method to maintain control. Despite this negative light, William has always been fascinated by the powers he found himself with, and he eagerly learned anything he could about them, both in theory and in practice. Though he is particularly handy with fire, he has taught himself a reaosnable degree of control over most of the forces of nature, though water is something he struggles with more than the others. He doesn't exactly advertise his level of profficiency, however, a habit from his earlier years that he's never really shaken. Appearance: Slightly taller than average, William Mycroft is of a mildly athletic build. His dark brown hair tends to be quite straight, and is eternally at just below the maximum length allowed by military regulation. He is always clean shaven, and if he's not, that's the first sign that something is quite amiss. His face is set in an almost perpetual smile, and a rather infetious one at that, something rather unusual for one of society's least popular types of people. Set above that smile, his eyes are a deep shade of blue. William is usually clad in a military-style long coat, gray in color, though when working belowdecks this is usually cast aside. His normal attire consists of simple trousers supported by a belt meant to hold anything he finds it necessary to carry, a plain white shirt, boots, and when working with the boilers, gloves. Orientation/Relationship Status: Straight, Single Audition: "This isn't your ship anymore, Magician." Standing at the docks, coat over his arm and a very perplexed expression on his face, William Mycroft was currently engaged in a conversation with his, apparently former, superior officer. Just beyond them was the ship that he had been serving on since Trafalgar, and the one that he had assumed he would still be serving on after his shore leave. Apparently not. "Sir, I'm not quite sure I understand what you mean." "I mean you've been reassigned." The man opposite him seemed rather amused, truth be told, as he reached into his breast pocket to retrieve a small bundle of papers. "These got handed down the chain of command while you were away. Reassigned to the HMS Pegasus, which according to these, you're to report to later this week." "Reassigned to the- Pardon me for asking, sir, but why? I've been doing my job here for a good long while now, and one magician seems to be as good as another when it comes to being a living fuel source." "That's not accurate, and you know it, Mycroft." The officer raised an amused eyebrow, holding out the papers. "None of us are that daft; We've got a pretty good idea of what you don't say. Reassignment's nothing to do with me, but the captain didn't seem very surprised. Go on, get out of here. You'll want to read up on where you'll be serving, I'm sure."

O A K R I D G E A C A D E M Y G A R A G E Ils vont bien. Ils se sont évacués dans cette ville il y a quelques jours. Mes grands-parents y vivent, a dit Celise. Des moutons noirs de la famille parce qu'il a choisi Intel? Allez, ce n'est pas si mal. C'est bon d'être intelligent et fort, vous savez.Une bouffée d'air tendue a échappé aux poumons de Celise, comme l'homme d'Armstrong l'a aidé et a fini l'étirement. "Damn", elle a murmuré. Les formes et les silhouettes du monde autour d'elle sont devenues floues pour un second point noir et blanc étincelant et rampant avant sa vision. Montero, l'homme mystérieux et beau, a réussi à la faufiler pendant ce bref moment de stupeur. Celise's le sourcil gauche tourné pour les étoiles ainsi que son iconique regard blanc de la mort au Duke's commentaire sur la hauteur. Même si elle savait qu'il n'y avait pas de pommes de terre acides pourrir derrière ses paroles, Celise ne pouvait échapper à cette anxiété éternelle au sujet de sa petite stature. Il n'y avait aucun moyen d'y faire face, et elle avait toujours pensé que l'argument selon lequel «les filles courtes étaient acceptables» était un haloney total. Cependant, à ce stade de sa vie, Celise a tôt ou tard dû s'habituer à des surnoms impliquant des références à sa taille. ★★★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ Le conducteur a tapoté son bras prothèse et sa main contre la porte du véhicule, assis près de la roue, exhortant les Gardiens à se charger. Il avait l'air d'un vieil homme "sans sottises" avec un emploi du temps à tenir. Cependant, il n'a pas dit grand-chose. Celise s'est emparé de son sac et a pris sa boisson énergisante. Elle a tout gâché devant Ajax, comme une réponse à son commentaire sur l'eau et d'autres tels duperies. Elle savait qu'il avait raison, mais elle était accro—que pouvait-elle faire? Alors qu'elle passait devant les hommes capables et berçants, sa main braignait le bras de Jomen, comme un mouvement et un geste ébranlants. Pas de contact visuel, pas de mots, juste une expression de son comportement habituel envers ceux qui ont été approuvés. Elle a suivi l'homme de remède de près pour s'asseoir. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Le second Celise arrondit le coin arrière du véhicule, les yeux fixés instantanément sur un bien-aimé qui était déjà arrivé. Elle a failli s'évanouir – comment a-t-elle manqué elle? Ce n'était peut-être pas une surprise. Chaque personne d'Intel, Lisa en particulier, était formée professionnellement à ne pas être détectée. La fille d'argent a immédiatement atteint pour son appareil cellulaire coincé loin, restreint dans une poche liquéfiée. Deux messages ont été reçus, mais malheureusement manqués. Une culpabilité ésotérique s'est effondrée sur Celise. Elle savait parfaitement que ces situations, la présence des lieux inconnus et impies, étaient intenses sur les perceptions de Lisa. Le regard de Celise n'a pas perturbé les silhouettes du feral au repos, car elle s'est élevée dans le véhicule par un pas gracieux. Sa présence s'installa à côté de Lisa, lente et douteuse dans ses mouvements, la tête se nichant sur l'autre côté de l'épaule comme un petit lupin. Telles étaient les fluctuations de ce matin. Personne ne savait comment ça marchait, ni ne le saurait jamais. Celise a lu les messages sur son téléphone, se penchant soigneusement contre Lisa. Des mots murmurants lui échappèrent alors qu'elle lisait les symboles — un léger sourire sur ses lèvres. ★★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ Une grève ferme, Sur quelques-uns coulés, Pas de verdict solennel, Blazing Kingdom adieu. Une pause rapide de l'écran de son téléphone a révélé Roland et Montero assis et prêts en face d'elle et Lisa. Son expression est restée vide et la voix silencieuse. Elle aurait pris un moment pour eux deux, mais l'air entre le bien-aimé et elle-même pas tout à fait harmonieux encore. Chaque matin était une danse complexe d'équilibre, certains jours mieux que d'autres, mais une splendeur impressionnante de manie. Pour l'observateur extérieur, leur parenté semble mystifiante, tout en suivant certains schémas communs d'interaction. Chaque mouvement et toucher avait un sens multi-couches pour eux. Le moindre détail non focalisé aboutirait à dicter l'autre pour le reste de la journée. Les yeux de Celise sont restés sur son téléphone, ses messages et les progrès dans le jeu de cartes. Cependant, elle se concentrait toujours sur Lisa. La fille d'argent laissait sa main de secours suivre le long des autres, clous pressant doucement contre la peau, mais parfois appuyant contre elle avec intention. Les deux connaissaient tous leurs déclencheurs, points de plaisir et de douleur, et pressions pour la réponse ou l'action désirées. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Agissez, réagissez, observez, réfléchissez.

C E L I S E L E L I È V R E ✚ Twenty-Two ✚ Female ✚ 5'2" ✚ Navigation P R E S E N C ECelise can inspire the sense of a cousin that one resonates with, but only ever seen during rare family reunions. One can sometimes experience Celise as a sister who certainly has her own life, but sees attention to those closest as a duty rather than gift. She has an aura of serenity, yet somewhat distracted by trivial pursuits. The stars and trails of the land fascinates her to such an extent that it can instill comfort of guidance in others. Celise always knows the way and how to get there. She makes sure that nothing is rushed, that nothing is taken for granted. Celise can stop and smell the roses in such a way that will distract people from pain and suffering. Due to her relatively petite frame and height, Celise can be instinctively amicable, which makes it easy to approach her for whatever reason. Her choices in fashion might play a part in it. She often wears platform sneakers to gain an inch or two, skinny-ripped jeans, and an assortment of t-shirts with motives and comfortable sweaters. Celise looks more like a youngster than a soldier that could deflect a bullet with a piece of metal or punch a hole in a concrete wall with her bare fist. Her silvery hair is kept around shoulder length, sometimes longer and sometimes shorter. Most of her facial features follows the theme of her height and frame—petite and plump. An iconic feature is her prominent, upper eyelids. Celise may not always utter thoughts and emotions through words. She is a girl of intimacy in such ways that restore humanity in people. Her hands are soft and her touch is tender. Pursuits such as massaging, braiding of hair, decorating gear and clothing, and grooming others is a quirk that not only becalms herself, but the recipient as well. All of this is given, of course, that a person is worthy of such affections. I D E O L O G YCelise puts the freedom of the individual before all else. Liberty is the primary value that one must strive towards. In any case where such liberty is threatened, the importance of the individual must triumph the collective. Celise refuses to sacrifice anything for what someone might consider to be the ‘greater good’. Every individual matters. When and if someone claims that something is in their best interest, in which they obviously have no desire, Celise will take action to prevent it. She is severely skeptical of power and government. There is always an agenda, always a false word with which to hush the masses. Wartime often disrupts tradition and order. These two qualities that Celise take to heart. It does not matter where in the world she is, cultural rituals and esoteric habits will always be of interest to her. Whenever she has been on the move, either by her own wish or by order of the academy, Celise tries to stop and take in the views and smell the flowers every now and then. In these endeavors, values such as honesty, dedication, and dignity play an important role. Celise sees loyalty, patience, and reliability as cardinal traits. When she says that she will do something, whatever it might be, Celise will exercise her stubbornness until such commitment is realized. She believes that every type of group, family, or community needs different types of parts for its engines to work. There cannot be too much of one or the other—there must be a perfect balance. By this logic, Celise does not believe that everyone is equal. She knows it is frowned upon, but she does not consider it a bad thing. If a machine is built with the same kind of part, it simply won't work. You need different kinds of parts with different purposes for things to sail smoothly. However, Celise can seem harsh at times. She is a firm believer in tough love and has little sympathy for those who break the law or repeatedly make bad decisions in life. Everyone should have the right to a second chance after being punished, but no more than that. The idea of moral values is to live by them. They are there to guide a person, not to be squandered and abused. Certain city-states around the world are experts at this very thing that she despises. Celise shows no remorse in letting everyone know what a failure they are, and that they should be annexed by the army. All manner of vulgarity and amoral behavior makes her sick. Traditional views of family, nation, and gender roles are important to Celise. She has no problems with cooking, doing household chores, or taking care of the men in her life or around her. As a matter of fact, Celise relishes in keeping things nice and tidy, civil and orderly wherever she might find herself. This extends to her physical appearance and idea of femininity. She firmly believes that a woman's greatest strength is beauty, and such strength should not be trampled upon by toxic ideas. Individual freedoms such as thought and speech should also not be restrained on the basis of offense. However, pointless slander and insults are unnecessary. S T R I F ECelise uses what probably once was a ceremonial sword. The blade of the sword appears to be crafted from a dark metal with esoteric engravings of lighter shades. The base of the weapon along with the hilt is decorated with forged ornament of unknown origin and meaning. From tip to handle, the sword is roughly four feet, five inches long, but does not weigh an awful lot. The black metal is assumed to be unique. It cannot be found in any active mine or trading deposit, which indicates that it is finite and ancient. To this day, Celise is the only person with such an esoteric and mysterious weapon. She has no recollection of when or where she acquired it. Celise is a focused combatant. She knows a wide array of sword fighting techniques. Due to the sword’s light weight, Celise can maneuver it in uncanny ways that would otherwise feel odd and off to a normal person. However, she is a stationary fighter. Celise does not move around too much and often deals with one enemy at a time, making sure that things are actually dead before shifting attention. Celise’s use of spirits is balanced. She does not favor one or the other element, or any specific kind of catalyst. It makes her a well-rounded fighter, but not particularly good at anything. Celise has a couple of tricks up her sleeve, of course, combinations of elements and catalysts to use, but she rarely finds an excuse to be flashy or lust for blood. She would rather have those who live and breathe combat fight instead. K I N S H I P AJAX ARMSTRONG Celise has met Ajax on a number of occasions at the academy gym and obstacle course. The occasional, casual spotting of heavy weights turned into longer discussions about workout programs and nutrition. Celise received a lot of good tips on how she could achieve what she wanted. MONTERO TIMBERSON Celise knows Montero by name and person. Handsome and mysterious. JOMEN SURY Celise has throughout the years at Oakridge put up flyers about 'Exploring Shrines and the Unknown' to satisfy her need for exploration and spirituality. Jomen responded to these on a few occasions. Their outings to various locations were quite memorable, as Celise usually ended up doing it by herself. DUKE KNIGHT iv Through her interactions with Ajax, Celise has gotten to know Duke a little bit. She has on more than one occasion supervised and timed the ideal men's sparring sessions. She has even broken up a few actual fights between them, and tended to bruises and swellings in the aftermath. On another note, Celise's 5'2" looks quite comical next to the 6'5"+ of both men. ROLAND FREISEN Celise knows Roland, or 'Pardosa', quite well by now. They have clashed during lectures at the academy on numerous occasions. Both of them have very distinct idealisms that oppose each other. When things have gotten nasty, they have come to terms outside of lectures. However, they still conduct an ideological battle on some issues, so to speak. LIESABET ABENDROTH Celise has known Liesabet for some time now, ever since they were young. If someone asked what kind of friend she is, Celise would not be able to explain it. There is nothing negative about it, there is nothing positive about it, there is nothing ordinary about it—it is just unique. The best explanation Celise could ever use to shed light on things would be: ”She needs me, I need her; I’m her opium, she is mine; She is my graven image, I am hers.” ABYSSO YBARIS Celise knows Abysso from their shared division at the academy. They've been in the same group projects a few times, and both enjoy the actual navigation part of the division. She doesn't know much about him beyond their school work, however. C O N T A C T S. . . C H R O N I C L E. . . P R O P E R T Y Potion x2 Elixir x1 Renegade x1

Le chef Flynn est entré dans le Pegasus par la baie de chargement. Techniquement parlant, il aurait dû prendre l'allée, saluer l'officier de la Garde et demander la permission de monter à bord. Il était beaucoup plus vieux, et avait beaucoup trop peu de patience pour cela, cependant. C'était le senior enrôlé à bord du navire, et le capitaine de pont d'ailleurs, en tant que tel, il n'a répondu à personne d'autre que le Captian lui-même. Même si cela n'avait pas été vrai; la baie de chargement, et les matériaux que les hommes enrôlés étaient en train de charger, étaient sa possibilité. C'était une bonne chose qu'il ait fait aussi. Alors qu'il passait par l'un des aviateurs, il avait failli larguer le baril qu'il essayait de porter seul. Le chef a réagi complètement sur l'instinct, couvrant le sol entre lui et l'homme et aidant à attraper le canon avant qu'il ne heurte le sol. Il s'est presque tourné vers le départ avant qu'une odeur distinctive n'attire son attention. "Aviateur, ce baril est-il de la poudre noire?" Le chef Flynn a dit que ses yeux clignotaient de colère. "Avez-vous failli déposer un baril de poudre noire dans mon compartiment de chargement parce que vous étiez trop stupide pour obtenir de l'aide pour le porter?" Il continua, le volume de sa voix s'élevant subtilement, alors que son visage commençait à s'éclater de colère. "Vous devez me faire rapport immédiatement après le lancement du navire. Vous êtes maintenant en charge de vous assurer que rien ne va vraiment mal pendant le chargement de ce navire, et les dieux vous aident si vous foirez." Le chef s'est ensuite proptencé sur son talon et s'est dirigé vers le quai. Il n'a pas tardé à voir un aviateur se pencher sur l'un des murs. Le chef s'arrêta devant l'homme, qui semblait ne pas le remarquer jusqu'à ce qu'il soit attiré à l'attention par son collier. "Ce vaisseau n'a pas besoin de ton aide pour tenir la cloison." Le chef Flynn sifflait, tenant le visage de l'aviateur à l'écart du sien. « Il y a du travail à faire dans la baie de chargement, allez-y! » Il a dit, libérant l'homme avec une pelle rapide. Après avoir vu l'homme trébucher sur lui-même pour s'enfuir, le chef Flynn se retourna dans la direction du Quarter Deck se sentant un peu mieux après le solding. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Quand le chef Flynn est sorti sur le Quarter Deck, il sifflait à hisslelf. Il s'est arrêté, pour surveiller le pont et le gréement. Même avec le smog de Londres et sans l'emprise familière d'un vaisseau aérien en cours, le chef Flynn se sentait plus chez lui qu'il ne l'avait fait depuis longtemps. Il savait que ce n'était qu'une question de temps avant de pouvoir sentir l'éther et sentir à nouveau le vent sur son visage. En se concentrant à nouveau sur la tâche à accomplir, le chef a remarqué une multitude de jeunes officiers debout sur la Prévision. En supposant que l'un d'eux puisse le diriger vers le captian du navire. Dès qu'il a atteint le groupe, la première chose qu'il a remarquée était que le cigare était détenu par une grande femme africaine. --Ma'am, dit-il avec une pelle, malgré l'étendue extérieure, ce navire est surtout du bois, et ces voiles sont des nappes d'huile fraîche. De plus, même maintenant, des barils de poudre noire sont chargés sur les ponts inférieurs... Si vous allumez cette chose sur un de mes ponts, vous aurez de la chance si la pire chose qui se passe est que je la jette par-dessus bord." Avant que la femme ne puisse répondre, le chef a remarqué que les capitaines épaulaient sur le jeune homme roux. Son front tricotait ensemble, et il était impossible de cacher la légère fronce qui apparaissait sur son visage. Le capitaine était à peine plus qu'un garçon... cependant, le chef Flynn pensait à lui-même, je suppose que ça a du sens avec la guerre. Les hommes plus âgés étaient susceptibles de se faire tuer, ou avaient le bon sens d'être promus à des positions loin du front. Malgré ses réserves, le chef Flynn a tendu la main à l'accueil. "et tu serais le Skipper." Sa voix était profonde et amicale, avec l'écho d'une brogue irlandaise qui restait à un homme qui n'était pas rentré depuis plus d'une décennie. "Je suis le chef Warrent Emmet Reilly O'Flynn, Lord Mulgrave de l'Amirauté m'a assigné comme votre capitaine de pont."

Name:CWO Emmet Reilly "Chief Flynn" O'Flynn Age: 52 Sex: Male Race: While Emmet claims that his bloodline is purely human, he does not seem to carry the full weight of his advancing years, rumors amongst the crew speculate that his years amongst the aether have changed him somehow, while others claim that he is simply lieing to avoid the stigma of mixed parentage. Nationality: Irish Appearance: Chief Flynn seems both younger and older than his actual age. Long days of working in sun and wind has turned his skin into sunbaked leather, and working on rigging and with tools have left his hands and feet covered in thick calluses. Age and weather has left his face covered in wrinkles and lines, and his hair is begining to strongly favor the salt part of salt and peper. On the other hand, his grey-blue eyes still burn brightly, and when he does manage a smile it is full of bright white teeth. Beyond this, he has not adopted the stooped posture or withered limbs of other men his age. Instead he stands steady and strait, with a lean musculature that puts men half his age to shame. Occupation: Chief O'Flynn is in charge of much of the day to day operations onboard the ship, supervising the airmen, POs and automotons who work the rigging and the main deck, maintain the fighter craft and it's launch and recapture equipment in the hanger bay, and handle logistics and supply in the loading docks and storage decks. Biography: Born at the dawn of the Seven Years War(1756) to a poor Irish family, Emmet's father left to fight in the war and was reported dead not long afterward. As such he had a difficult early life, having to work to help support his family from an early age and often going without enough food or basic amenities. After his mother died of a fever Emmet lied about his age, and fradulently enlisted on the HMAS Buteon at the age of 13, in 1769 (coincedentaly, this was the year Nepoleon was born. Emmet spent a year and a half serving aboard the HMAS Buteon, the ship was attacked and taken by the 'Privateer' (read pirate) Airship, The Black Sun, one of the few remaining pirate airships of the Golden Age of Pirates. The fifteen year old Emmet was shanghaied into service onboard The Black Sun, where he served for three years before the Royal Air Navy was able to finaly track down and capture the infamous privateer ship. After which Emmet spent nearly a year in the custody of military police custody before he was able to convince the authorities that he had not been a willing participant in any acts of piracy. At this point Emmet returned to the service. Between his return to service in the year 1775 and his forced retirement (due to age) in 1801, Chief Flynn served 26 distinguised years on 15 different airships. In this time he advanced in both rank and experience, eventually leaving the fleet at the rank of Chief Petty Officer. Between the years of 1801 and 1803, Chief Flynn served various manual labor jobs, not content to enjoy his retirement, and hating every moment of being landbound. Thus, he was greatly relived when one of the Captians he had served under during his long carrer (now an Admiral) asked him to return to service at the onset of the Nepolionic wars. The Admiralty believed that his experience was needed for the success of the Fleet, and they offered him the new rank of Warrant Officer. Since his return, Emmit has served aboard six ships in five years. The Admiralty seems to find his skills more valuble for training recruits than serving in the actuall combat zone, a mentality that irritates the Chief to no end. He is happy to have an actual official position aboard the Pegasus. Weapon of choice: Chief Flynn was a skilled boxer and wrestler in his youth, and still prefers to fight with his hands. However, he does carry a sizable ivory handled knife. The knife is intended for cutting rope and similar tasks, but is more than capable of serving as a weapon. Orientation/Relationship Status: Chief Flynn is the model of the phrase 'A girl in every port,' He has children in most locations he has visited, and acts as a fairly good father and 'husband' when he returns to those places. "Hey EllTee, who's the codger?" The Airman who spoke obviously couldn't tell that the Chief, could hear him over the din of the Airship Docks. It was an understandable mistake, The area around The Pegasus was a proverbial zoo, with Marines and Airmen saying goodbuy to their familes, and loading teams moving heavy boxes and barrels into their stageing areas, shouting instructions and inventory information across the dock. Chief Flynn had been doing this job for longer than most on the crew had even been alive however, and he had long ago learned to shut out the background noise. "You should watch your tongue Willem," The young officer chuckled in response "That 'codger' might hear you and toss you over the side..." The Airman's face turned two shades paler at the Lieutenant's words. "Th-that's Chief Flynn?! Why's he being stationed with us?" The Airman asked nervously before seeming to regain his bravado. "Anyway, I'm not scared of any old man. I'm sure the whole things a myth anyway..." The Lieutenant shrugged in response. "I really couldn't tell you, I'm glad he is though. That 'old man' has been doing his job longer than I can even imagine, likely he could do any job on the ship at least half as well as the person they have doing it." Chief Flynn scowled and moved toward the gangplank to the Pegasus itself. What sort of men put this mission together? Most of this crew looked younger than some of his children, and very few of the junior men had much experience on an airship, he could tell by the way they moved, the way they talked, even the way they smelled... He'd have his work cut out for him. He may even have to toss someone overboard. That particular trick didn't make him any friends, but he wasn't there to make friends, he was there to keep these men alive and doing their jobs... and he always made sure he clipped a teather to them first. Nobody died, and they always made damn sure not to wander around his deck without their teathers afterwards. Now, where was this Captain Lorraine, he intended to meet his new Skipper before doing anything else...

Seule une poignée d'expériences de toute sa vie, la plupart ayant eu lieu au cours des six derniers mois, avaient été plus inconfortables que cela. Il a passé les cinq premières minutes du vol à essayer de tailler ses compagnons d'escouade sans faire de contact visuel et le reste du vol à essayer de ne pas faire de contact visuel. (Non pas qu'il puisse en voir plusieurs grâce à l'énorme Golem assis à côté de lui. Il ne se rappelait pas avoir senti ce petit avant.) C'était une blague? Est-ce vraiment le peuple que l'Enclave avait déclaré le meilleur des meilleurs? Des experts, des génies, des prodiges, des monstres et des assassins de sang-froid ou un pédé de tueurs aux haches qui ont besoin d'une psychothérapie? Il a pris une profonde respiration, essayant de garder le silence afin de ne pas perturber l'atmosphère tendue plus que la fille murmurant pour elle-même. L'interphone crépitait et la voix d'une femme dispersait le silence. Enfin. Alors qu'il écoutait un sourire, il traversa le visage et put se concentrer. Passez par les hordes mutantes et neutralisez les cuves de la FEV. Compris. Il ne pouvait pas nier que l'anxiété cède la place à l'excitation. Il ne pourrait pas y avoir de meilleur sentiment que d'assassiner des mutants et Dieu dammit si la perspective de faire tomber un Béhémoth ne faisait pas son doigt de gâchette démangeaisons. Il semblait qu'il n'était pas le seul à partager les sentiments alors que l'escouade s'est amusée à préparer leur équipement. Après un dernier contrôle de ses armes (un contrôle légitime cette fois-ci), il a roulé ses épaules, incliné la tête de côté en côté pour lui sauter le cou et glisser son casque. C'était certainement la partie la plus inconfortable de mettre sur sa marque particulière d'armure de puissance. Le casque a initié un "sync" de l'esprit et du corps au costume via un module à peine exposé à la base du crâne. Le module a puisé dans le système nerveux central de l'utilisateur et, sans lui, l'armure de puissance prototype serait complètement impraticable et, dans certains cas, complètement inutilisable. Avec un sifflement silencieux et cliquez sur le casque, armure et chair à l'intérieur est devenu une seule entité. Les lumières sombres sur la visière s'éclairaient en ressemblant à un ensemble grotesque d'yeux arachnides. Ses sens se sont aiguisés. Ses muscles étaient tendus. Le virtibird s'est effondré. Il était sur ses pieds, fusil de gauss chargé. Bonne chance, Eagle Squad! Tuez quelques muties pour moi!" leur beau pilote leur a donné un adieu. "Ce sera plus que quelques-uns pour toi, ma chérie!" Ginger a appelé au cockpit avec un sourire sous son casque. Une brise humide et légèrement balayée par l'ouverture des portes. Ils étaient partis et il était trop reconnaissant de mettre un peu plus d'espace entre lui et le reste de l'équipe. Peu de temps après, il a passé Deathstroke, le chef de l'escouade, avant qu'une balle ricochete sur l'épaule de son armure. C'était assez près pour ses goûts et il trouva une couverture accrochée derrière l'un des nombreux rochers qui jonchaient la région. Il entendait les voix et les rugissements des mutants d'ici. Petits cheveux croisés dansaient sur sa vision où la visière ramassait des figures en mouvement pressant à travers le paysage. Il a aligné ses yeux. Un son comme un autre marteau du monde frappant une enclume rebondit sur les rochers et les falaises. Simultanément, un supermutant s'est trouvé englouti dans la décharge électrique avec un trou de taille balle de soccer poinçonné dans sa poitrine. Le chaos a éclaté. Ginger pouvait entendre le reste de l'équipe prendre contact. Des coups de feu, des cris de mort de brutes inhumaines, des lamentations de créatures dégoûtantes, des corps qui frappent le sol. Et au-dessus de tout cela à travers son oreillette, il pouvait entendre le sniper chanter avec une phrase tout à fait trop appropriée. Ça lui a ramené le sourire au visage. Une autre charge à travers le canon de son arme et un autre mutant a rencontré son destin moins une jambe et un bon morceau de sa hanche. Après qu'il est tombé Ginger a remarqué une distorsion qui a déformé le tronc d'un arbre mort long seulement pour une seconde. Il suffisait que sa visière y mette un cheveux croisés, mais que trop vite disparaisse. "Regardez-vous," il parlait calmement et calmement sur les communications, "J'ai un petit fils de pute avec un garçon furtif par ici." Pendant un moment, il a repensé à sa nouvelle équipe. Ces étranges personnes sur le virtibird étaient maintenant une équipe qui comptait l'une sur l'autre pour mener à bien la mission et garder chaque membre en vie. Ce serait l'extermination supermutante du siècle... ...ou ils mourraient tous horriblement.

Agent Name Tristan McBay Agent Code Name Ginger Age 25 Gender Male Appearance I paint my own character images. Please don't steal it or use it without my permission. Armor: Coyote Neural Assistance Power Armor Clothing Mechanic's jumpsuit, utility belt, combat boots, white t-shirt. Weapons He almost always carries a .44 Magnum and a trench knife for those just-in-case moments. The Gauss Rifle he takes with him into the field is meticulously cared for. The phrase, "86'd" has been painstakingly emblazoned on the side of the gun. Miscellaneous Items An old, wrinkled photo of him and his twin brother when they were kids. Sunglasses (only wears them if the occasion calls for it), lighter, deck of cards and a flask. Forces of habit He's a smoker. Not a pack-a-day habit mind you, but he'll take what he can get and it's just enough for the scent to linger. BiographyThe old folks used to gather around and talk about how life used to be down in Vault 86 before the Enclave, but Tristan could never really remember what it was like. He had been too young and too concerned with smaller things. When did all the vault dwellers get replaced with men in uniforms? Why were he and his brother forced to sit and learn in a room full of other kids with a mean and sour old man for a teacher? What were these red, white and blue banners going up all over the place? Why were Mom and Dad gone almost all the time? Where could he get an amazing suit of armor like those? As he grew these memories faded from being new and confusing to just being his memories. Though born to Canadian parents the twins, Tristan and Lucas, had an upbringing that molded them into the most upstanding of American citizens. From a young age they had their little imaginations filled with images of the patriotic Enclave soldiers triumphing over the devious and mutated monsters to the south and taking back what had been stolen from them. It was their right, their destiny and the American dream would see it come to fruition. All the schooling and hard labor wouldn't be for naught. Good will always triumph over evil. Often the two boys would play with finger guns, running down the vault corridors, acting out battle scenes between the Enclave and their enemies. "BANG!" Tristan yelled, "Raaarrrhhhggg! Muah, ha, ha! I got you human!" Lucas collapsed to his knees gripping his side, "Uhg! No! You'll never take me alive you freak! BANG!" he returned fire. In turn Tristan would fall over in a rather comical, overly-dramatic supermutant death. The two would laugh and continue their games. Then one day someone put real guns into their hands. Training began at an early age for the children of Vault 86 and the twins were no exception. It was hard at first. The drill sergeants were not easy on them just for being kids. They were treated like adults, like soldiers. Come rain or shine or harsh Canadian winter they were out there training like their lives depended on it. Time and time again they were reminded that soon enough their lives would indeed depend on it. As they grew under the Enclave hand it became obvious who the stronger brother was. Lucas. Where as Tristan was more focused on adolescent jokes, keeping himself amused and girls, his brother had a much more quiet and serious demeanor. He became focused in his studies and ruthless. He didn't have time for the games anymore. Not when their was a whole country left to conquer. Every time Tristan met up with him he seemed to have his eyes set south. It was graduation. The twins had made it to what the Enclave military considered adulthood, they had passed every test, overcome every challenge, and most importantly they knew what they were fighting for. At least they thought they knew. They Enclave had been pretty clear on that after all. Assignments were being handed to all the graduates. "Where do you think we're going?" Tristan asked, his grin betraying his excitement. "... 'We?'" Lucas cast him an incredulous glance, "They aren't going to be sending us to the same place. It doesn't work like that." Tristan didn't even have time to look shocked before an officer, holding a clipboard, stepped in front of him and shouted his name. Sure enough, they both had different assignments. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that. They had always been together so he just assumed it would always be that way. They would be guarding the Enclave territorial holdings along the Canadian border. Lucas was being sent east and would not be far from the ruined Ronto. Tristan was being sent west. It was only days before they were saying their farewells to their parents and to each other. Lucas told his brother to fight well, for the American dream. Tristan told his brother he bet he would get more kills than him. Lucas only smirked, shook his head and walked away. It was quieter out west than he had expected. Sure there were raiders, mutants, ghouls and the occasional Legionary to pick off, but somehow it wasn't as fulfilling as he had imagined. His first kill was a ghoul. Feral or not it wandered too close to the perimeter. Tristan looked down the barrel of his rifle and took the shot without a second thought. The thing fell motionless. That was it. There was a small pang of excitement, a small pang of guilt, a small pang of killer instinct. As he crouched in the snow, his joints seizing up from hours in the endless, miserable cold, he realized, however, he didn't feel the pride or glory he had been promised. He decided it just wasn't a very glorious circumstance and so he waited for the next kill. There was a raider attack on one of his patrols. Two soldiers and at least fifteen raider scum were dead. By the end of the skirmish Tristan had racked up two more kills and had been close enough to become splattered in blood that was not his own. He had fought well. He still felt no pride or glory. A month later he got a letter. It was from the Enclave and quite formal from the look of it. It was exciting to have a small break in the monotony of his post and he tore into the letter with a smirk. We regret to inform you that on the 22nd of November... killed in action... supermutant ambush... compensation... loss... the... we... a... Tristan couldn't get through it. He crumpled up the letter, threw it into the snow and ground it into the dirt with his foot. He couldn't move. Lucas was dead. "It's part of life, kid," an officer grumbled at him, "Get your gun and get over it. You have a job to do." "You still bitchin' 'bout that?" his patrol mate moaned, "Shit, you'd think nobody'd got shot the hell up 'round you before." "That's too bad." "It happens." "What's wrong with you?" "Get over it." "Nobody cares." It felt like everything was ablaze that night. The outpost was on the verge of falling. Men screamed and shouted all around him, but it was drowned out by the roars of the supermutants. They had skin like rawhide and skulls like steel. Tristan felt his hands shaking as more and more of the bullets from his standard issue rifle seemed to just bounce of their immense bodies. It was hopeless, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, to run away. The thought that maybe just one of those shots would strike gold and bring one of those monsters what it deserved was too good. An explosion rocked him and sent him plummeting from the wall where he once stood. The ground hit him like a kick in the guts from out of nowhere. All was silent now except for one continuous high note blasting in his ears. More fire. There was a large hole punched through the outpost wall and beyond that a huge lumbering figure. Gun. Where's my gun? He scrambled around in the mud but the rifle was long gone. Getting up right seemed impossible. He was panicking. Once, twice he lurched and fell. The third time he tripped over a corpse. A high ranked officer judging from the blood and dirt stained uniform. Clutched in the man's death grip was one of the biggest God-damned guns Tristan had ever seen. At this horrible moment it was a beautiful, perfect beacon. He wrenched it out of the dead man's arms and steadied himself on his feet, facing the wall. The lumbering figure was stepping through the breach and it saw him. Though there was still no sound in Tristan's world the beast's maw opened in a roar and it flung it's massive arms out causing thick slabs of muscle to ripple around it's frame. It charged. The ground shook under it's weight. The all too young soldier pulled the gun up and fired. The recoil was nearly enough to knock him off his feet and the electrical discharge that spiraled down the barrel was blinding. The monster's head came clean off it's shoulders. Another kill. There was still no pride and no glory. How could there ever be in this hellish filth called a battlefield? But there was definitely something there, and it was so much better. Retribution. Years later, while celebrating his 75th supermutant kill, Tristan was approached by a man... Extra Tristan tends to have a fly-boy attitude and almost never leaves home without a cocky smile. He never speaks about his brother.

O A K R I D G E C I T Y T R A D E H U B Le sel de roche, peu commun dans l'économie de l'océan d'Oakridge. Minerais de fer cru, encore légèrement magnétique. Boeuf séché, fumé et assaisonné de branches de bouleau. Ethanol et antibiotiques, les bases des premiers soins. Et Phoenix Down, une injection médicale rare composée d'un mélange secret comprenant de l'adrénaline, des corticostéroïdes et divers composés - y compris une substance qui l'a fait briller une ambre incandescente dans l'obscurité, lui donnant une crédibilité viduelle à son nom. Après tout, Phénix étaient des symboles de la réanimation miraculeuse et ce que la drogue a fait n'était rien de moins qu'un miracle. Tels étaient les fournitures que Montero Timberson avait trouvées sur le marché d'Oakridge City, même s'il devait traiter avec un marchand ombragé ou deux, la variété des marchandises et les prix réduits rendaient le voyage valable. Mais en regardant l'heure, il se demandait ce qu'il pouvait faire d'autre dans la prochaine heure et demie. Puis, tout comme il était sur le point de quitter le stand, une bande son en plein essor est venue sur les panneaux d'affichage électroniques qui parsemaient la ville. Montero a regardé l'écran avec une expression visuellement éclairante, plus précisément, aux mots clignotants: Tournoi du Grand Prix TSW, deuxième finale en 15 minutes. TouchSpel VS Cebion Lieu: Stade Oakridge "Seerie. Cartes. Les directions. Stade Oakridge. ... maintenant." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- BGM O A K R I D G E C I T Y S T A D I U M Le stade, inattendu et contrairement à son nom implicite, était un hall souterrain qui a été conduit dans les tunnels qui sortent d'Oakridge City. L'air jaillit, sec et froid, au-delà des grandes portes quand elles glissent, révélant des lumières aveuglantes toutes centrées sur une scène surélevée et presque flottante au milieu de tout cela. Le Guardian marchait dans le cœur battant avec excitation qui saturé les stands avec une nausée induisant la sonorité chaque fois qu'un duel se présentait. Comme prévu, il y avait des soldats en service ici - non pas en tant que sécurité, mais en tant que participants à l'événement grandiose. Bien qu'il ait misé sur le fait que le port de leur équipement n'était pas efficace et pourrait nuire à la jouissance d'autrui, tout le monde n'aimait pas l'après-midi militaire. Montero inclus. - Non, c'est pas vrai. "Avant de faire une pause, nous avons invité un vrai Gardien de la célèbre Oakridge Academy à nous donner quelques mots." Soudain, l'écran s'inscrivait dans la foule et Montero regardait bientôt un reflet de son moi surpris et maladroit parmi les autres. Ils ne l'ont certainement pas invité. "Ayons des nouvelles de M...." Il a froncé le regard de beaucoup d'anticipants à venir à son chemin, regrettant immédiatement sa décision de porter le badge de l'Académie en public - même s'il était obligatoire de le faire... au pire, s'il était pris, il dirait qu'il traquait d'éventuels renégats ou quelque chose comme ça. Tout était meilleur que l'anxiété qu'il a affrontée aujourd'hui. "... Le silence était douloureux. "...Timberson." Donc il disait son nom. Montero a cogné physiquement. "Timberson! Oui! Nous l'avons invité à nous montrer tous un exemple de ce que les Esprits ressemblent. Le vrai stuf. Pour inspirer nos duellistes avant la finale! » C'est superficiel. Montero s'est moqué de jugement, mais son visage était encore entaché d'inconfort de toute l'attention, trop pour même l'exprimer. "...mais vous savez à quoi ils ressemblent. Ils sont sur les cartes." Sa voix presque une plainte murmurante, dommage que l'équipe de scène avait un micro-bot planant juste à côté de ses manches diffusant tout. "Bien sûr! Mais c'est vrai! Nous ne les voyons pas tous les jours comme vous les Gardiens le font, n'est-ce pas?" Pourquoi est-il si bizarre? C'est juste un esprit, c'est quoi le problème avec ce gars? J'ai entendu dire que Kade Sicario était venu aussi. C'est un tuteur? Pourquoi est-il si... différent d'elle? Tu crois que Kade n'a pas pu venir et qu'il est son remplaçant? "Oui! Montre-nous un Esprit! Allez! GUARDIEN." J'ai envoyé un duel, Cebion, avec un dédain palpable dans sa voix. Un punk aux cheveux oranges et aux piercings à travers le nez. Son rival, Touchspell, un jeune hirsuite musclé avec une barbe légère, semblait désireux de voir un esprit aussi bien que le jeune homme était beaucoup moins impoli que son adversaire. De toute évidence, l'annonceur avait joué avec le public. Maintenant, une ligne entre eux et Gardiens comme Montero était en train d'être tracée et s'il n'a rien fait bientôt, la fracture ne fera que s'élargir à l'œuf de l'annonceur. "... très bien." Montero a suivi le microbot qui a conduit à la plate-forme où les projecteurs étaient vraiment aveuglants. Il a pris une profonde respiration. "Lucy. Harriot. C'est Alice. Ethel. Revenez tout de suite." Il a dit d'un ton presque parental. Immédiatement, de multiples orbes de lumières de la taille d'une paume sont apparus des coins et des crans de la scène, les esprits avaient été à l'exploration. Montero a élevé sa lanterne et la petite porte en cage s'est ouverte elle-même, invitant ses résidents à la maison. Le public est resté calme et attentif au spectacle, sauf pour une seule voix. "Les Wisps!" Montero s'est tourné vers Cebion. "C'est nul." Il y a eu un moment où l'ennui a saturé tout le mien du Guardian, heureusement il a eu le recul pour se rendre compte qu'il était à la caméra et qu'il restait calme. "Hmph." Montero s'est encore moqué. Il fixa le duel pendant un long moment, regardant au-delà de ses yeux, une idée lui vint. "... Ne bougez pas." - Oh, les enfants du deuxième né... -... sortir de la racine de la création. L'autre main de Montero griffonnait furieusement à l'air, puis avant que Cebion ne puisse réagir, le Gardien s'est jeté sur lui - seulement pour le toucher légèrement au-dessus du cœur avec son pointeur. Soudain, des vagues d'éclat se sont effondrées et lorsqu'elles se sont apaisées. Une petite orbe de lumière, semblable aux amis de Montero, émergeait du jeune garçon - qui avait l'air complètement stupéfait. Montero s'est tourné vers le public, florissant son manteau alors qu'il filait sur le talon. "Juste parce que tu ne peux pas les voir, ça ne veut pas dire qu'ils ne sont pas là. Les esprits sont sans-" Il leva la main dans un geste sur lequel le nouvel esprit dansait librement, le son de petites cloches qui accompagnaient la danse. "-et en tout." Ou du moins, jusqu'à la crise de Jenova. Montero regarda la foule, surtout l'annonceur qui était assis derrière une boîte en verre. « Le terme Guardian ne s'applique pas seulement à nous, il s'applique à tous les êtres humains. Car nous les humains avons une ancienne relation symbiotique avec eux, nous nous profitons mutuellement et avons un devoir les uns envers les autres. Ils aident, nous protégeons. Ils travaillent pour apporter la pluie et le soleil sur nos terres où nous cultivons notre nourriture et de la terre nous jusqu'à ce que nous cultivons et plantes, de nouveaux jeunes Esprits sont nés. Ce n'est qu'une des nombreuses façons dont nos destins sont liés, depuis le début du temps. » Il a donné des conférences d'une manière pratique, comme s'il l'avait répété plusieurs fois auparavant. "Sache que non seulement nous Gardiens, mais la pure de chacun d'entre vous possède aussi des Esprits, qui VOUS ont choisi d'être leur Gardien." Il a pointé vers eux, puis a bouclé son doigt. "Chéris-les." "Si petit", l'esprit perché sur le doigt de Montero en lui parlant. "Voulez-vous retourner à quelqu'un qui vous appelle "lame"?" À ce moment-là, le visage de Cebion devint encore plus brillant que ses cheveux. *Les Wisps sont des Esprits de Lumière mais sont classés comme l'une des convocations les plus basiques et non-impressives dans le jeu de cartes de trading en raison de leur taille dimunitive et de leur apparence sans prétention. * Montero Timberson maintient Wisps, parmi d'autres Esprits délicats, en sécurité dans sa lanterne. *The Spirits Inside est un jeu de cartes numérique/physique qui est joué sur des holoboards, même s'il peut être joué analogique, car cela permet aux joueurs d'accéder à d'autres fonctionnalités du jeu - comme le contrôle des cartes dans la bataille avec plein contrôle en tant que personnages réels. Les duels du tournoi sont souvent référencés par leurs noms d'utilisateur en ligne, tel est le cas de TouchSpell et Cebion. *OOC: TouchSpell est une marque de stylos lumineux. Cebion est une marque de comprimés de vitamine C.

Montero Timberson ✚ 23 ✚ Male ✚ 5'11" ✚ Research P R E S E N C E Montero Timberson is a dark haired young man with an air of mystery that draws the attention of those who are primarily lead by their curiousity. Perhaps it's his pokerfaced nature, that keeps a focused gaze just to hide what he really thinks. That long overcoat that hides away most of his body. Or that greatsword that used to be on his back, unbecoming and unseemly to the posse of a Researcher. Rugged and broad, though not excessively tall, with somewhat handsome features. Montero speaks with deep, punctuated voice. That is, if he has to around strangers. He holds himself with some noblesse, prefering not to engage in rowdy circumstances and is quick to point out the boundaries of his personal space (and how intruders should remove themselves from it) while still trying to keep the cool and collected facade. However his colder demeanour seems to change quite quickly when Montero gets to be around Humans and Spirits he knows, to something ...brighter and more willing to crack a joke. ------- I D E O L O G Y "All it takes for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing." Montero Timberson came from neither a local or military background, his main reason for taking part in Oakridge's curriculum is one of morals -and because he can. As a Guardian, he is peculiar in that he actively avoids possession. Best as he can, that is. Strongly believing that a Soul must be kept as pure as possible, Montero sets restrictions to the spirits that he gives providence to, 'house rules' in simpler terms and is sometimes heard chiding them for not listening. But he cares for them greatly, especially the little ones, often talking to them and encouraging them to partake in his work - so they learn new experiences and the Human language. Suprisingly, they understand him. Unsuprisingly, this is considered rather irrational behaviour to some, even in Oakridge. Montero also feels that there is something wrong with the concept of Whaling and he does get vocal about it academically when given the chance, it's not just that hunting gentle giants is morally antagonistic and all. It is. But that is not what bothers him, there is a 'darkness' to the act that he cannot point out. Like a gut feeling of dread that he cannot shake away. Seeing raw Whale oil is like seeing blood, jars and jars of blood. He is seeing a professor to discuss the possibility of alternative fuels as well as to create devices that grant Spirits autonomy, though neither projects are seeing much support right now. Interesting as concepts they might be, who would support an idea that could harm the local economy? S T R I F E Though Montero wielded a Greatsword during his years as a warfare student, in his time in Research, he has found that he had a tendency to improvise in any sort of combat. Sometimes even tossing his sword as a projectile. Much to the chargrin of the instructors of Weaponary. There is no one best solution for everything. Isn't that what Science encourages us to explore? Montero switches his weapons and gear as situations change, not that Researchers are combatants anyway. Long as the school permits his use of their resources, he will prepare accordingly for each mission. He has yet to specialize in any weapon. But if there's any continuity in the way he handles a duel, it is Montero's gratituos application of Spirit arts and Science -which he does not see as a weapon. In The Spirits Within, he uses a deck centered around cunning, self-triggering traps and ultimately summoning Alexander, the Machine Tyrant, to end his opponent's life points. K I N S H I PPerpetual Work In Progress. Montero has taken a few classes with Ajax during his years in warfare. -------- "The word 'Voyeur' seems to subtly accompany this individual, flashbacks of varied classmates looking 'grossed out'." He works in the Research division, so might have seen other Researchers once or twice. Jomen tends to stand out. -------- Shadowy silhouettes, Amidst a concrete jungle, Shuffling constantly. Late nights at cafeterias tend to bring out unusual personalities, Abysso is one such individual that he knows. -------- Their opinions resonate on many matters and Montero does not mind sharing what he knows occasionally with him, to help him out. Latest elemancy techniques, test answers, how to bribe the supply shop's latest newbie. Not too much of course, it's always better to keep some hidden up the sleeves. All's good as long as Abysso doesn't steal the last midnight gâteaus. Intelligence Department. -------- Those who can't do. Judge. C O N T A C T SPerpetual Work In Progress. C H R O N I C L EPerpetual Work In Progress. P R O P E R T YHere you list valuable possessions such as items, catalysts, and currency whenever you receive them. These items are only given by the Game Master. You will have to continuously revisit this section to edit it. Phoenix Down - Revives and heals the unconcious. Quantity: 1 (1000 Gil)

OOC Barres Eagle Point Vérification des intérêts Cafétéria Eagle Point Cafétéria auxiliaire Eagle Point C'est anxieux... C'était le mot qui semblait parfait en ce moment... première mission depuis avoir été recruté par la griffe d'aigle à peine rusée. Dans la toundra gelée, il a balayé une partie inconnue du nord et s'est engagé dans l'entraînement le plus épuisant possible. Il a vu plus de quelques recrues mourir du froid, de l'épuisement... ou des coups de feu des commandants. Tous ceux qui ne pouvaient pas gérer l'entraînement ont été abattus ou utilisés comme un exemple de ce qui arriverait si le reste d'entre nous ne pouvait pas gérer l'entraînement... Mais la récompense... oh seigneur dans le ciel les récompenses. De nombreux dîners à la cafétéria avec des aliments qu'il n'avait jamais vus auparavant, les meilleurs sodas et alcools disponibles... en réalité ceux qui ont gagné leur place dans le camp d'Eagle Point ont obtenu ce qu'ils méritaient. Six mois, deux jours, quatorze heures et vingt-cinq minutes après l'arrivée au camp d'Eagle Point, l'entraînement avait pris fin, nous quelques-uns qui étions encore diplômés et ont été placés dans l'équipe de la Griffe Eagle ensemble. Nous étions cinquante quand nous avons commencé... et onze quand nous avons fini. Ils ont eu moins de quelques heures pour se reposer après leur formation alors qu'ils ont reçu leur première mission officielle. Une façon de tester s'ils étaient devenus ce que Squad Sigma espérait être. Ils ont été placés dans le soin du meilleur pilote que l'Enclave pouvait trouver et s'entraîner avec presque la même formation que la propre formation de la compagnie Eagle Claw. Code nommé "Wraith", Aria Hunter a été choisi à la main par le commandant d'Eagle Point, le président Lui-même. D'après cette description, elle doit pouvoir piloter un Vertibird inversé sans rotor. Il avait son masque et son baklava éteints, assis sur ses genoux dans le vertibird. Il regarda entre ses camarades, stupéfaits de la diversité qu'ils avaient. Un, habillé dans le nouveau prototype N.A.P.A. C'est un costume. Ça t'a rendu plus forte, plus rapide et plus furtive. Capable de se cacher pendant de longues périodes, il devint un formidable allié... surtout avec le Gauss Rifle qu'il avait sur ses genoux. Il l'a brillamment brillamment brillamment. Nom de code "Ginger" pour ses cheveux orange clair. Mais l'ombrer était le géant d'un homme nommé code: Golem... pour une bonne raison. Il n'avait pas d'autre façon de le décrire, il était comme un Super Mutant mais sans l'attitude. Il s'assit là en silence, bricolant avec sa hache Proton, son gros bouclier de cul sur son dos comme si c'était aussi léger qu'une plume. Il n'était pas sûr de ce qui était plus grand, lui ou l'armure colosse massive qu'il portait. Au siège suivant, assis à côté de lui était l'une des seules femmes de l'équipe autre que le pilote. La plupart seraient intimidés par la masse de viande qui l'entourait, mais avec son fusil laser, elle n'avait rien à craindre. Nom de code: Archange, elle a regardé humble à première vue, mais quelque chose au sujet de sa position a dit qu'elle savait ce qu'elle faisait. Son pied a tapé un peu en prévision, probablement d'une addition de caféine. Il a dû admettre qu'elle avait aussi de la gentillesse sur elle. Contrairement à la BEAR littérale à côté d'elle qui était assise, silencieuse. Ses yeux étaient comme ceux du président, celui d'un tueur. Il a lu le dossier du Président, il a été l'un des meilleurs soldats de la guerre et est allé aux pieds avec le Vault Dweller de D.C. et a vécu pour raconter l'histoire. Avant qu'ils ne soient épouvantablement massacrés aux mains de l'entraînement, quelques rumeurs tournaient autour des autres recrues d'Eagle Point sur "L'Ours". L'un a dit qu'il avait déjà combattu deux Super Mutant Overlords avec ses mains nues et sorti sans égratignure... l'autre a dit qu'il était celui qui a mis la balle dans la tête d'Aaron Kimball et s'est battu contre l'ensemble de ses Rangers vétérans de la RCN pour récupérer son oreille comme trophée. Quoi qu'il en soit, l'homme a mis une obscurité dans son cœur qui l'a fait vouloir mettre une balle dans son cerveau. La suivante en ligne était Codename: Hiver, spry jeune homme qui a été amené à l'intérieur des bâtons. Un grand chasseur. Il a dit avoir été l'un de ces tribus d'Amérique qui ont migré vers le nord comme les années 80 et les autres clans de raideurs puissants ont fait court travail des villes indépendantes... complètement accro au chocolat. L'un des décès des recrues était dû au fait qu'il a pris le bar d'Hiver Hershey. L'homme s'en alla sans joue et les deux yeux pendant environ cinq minutes avant que l'hiver le chasse et le fasse s'étouffer sur la terre et la neige. La taille suivante depuis Archangel était le nom de code: Phoenix. Medic qu'il avait personnellement vu recruté alors que l'Enclave commençait à se déplacer vers le nord. L'homme n'était pas aussi intimidant que l'Ours ou redoutable que le Golem, mais il était tout autant une menace que n'importe lequel d'entre eux. Il était dans Eagle Claw Company après tout. Le dernier dans le lot était le nom de code: Whisper. Elle avait les mêmes yeux que Bear... décalé, anxieux, son pied tapait en prévision des cibles à venir. Ses mains n'arrivaient pas à se reposer, elles bougeaient constamment et elle murmurait constamment à personne d'autre qu'elle-même. C'était la folle du groupe. "Attention aux passagers, attention. On va s'installer dans l'enfer d'une seconde à l'autre. Préparez vos enfoirés à les battre par la horde super mutante de la ville de Seattle. Rappelez-vous, votre cible est la Vault au milieu de la ville. Les cuves du VEMS sont là et votre travail est de les neutraliser. » La femme du cockpit du Vertibird a parlé et leur a rappelé leur mission. Ils se dirigeaient vers Seattle car il était devenu la maison de peu moins de deux cents super mutants. Il y avait une deuxième chambre forte dans la région, mais elle a aussi été prise par les super mutants, il y a trois cents habitants qui sont ajoutés à l'armée du maître. Bien qu'il ait diminué dans le temps depuis la chute du Maître, ils sont toujours un ennemi redoutable. Renforcé par des nightkins, des flotteurs, des banamingos et un béhémoth quelque part dans le désordre, c'était vraiment un test de leur compétence. Il s'est donné un bon soupir avant de glisser sur son Balaclava et slotté son masque de haute technologie devant son visage. Il a senti le rebreather entrer et les protocoles de vision nocturne s'activer, en attendant son commandement. Le reste des actions de l'équipe reflétait sa propre préparation finale. Aucune parole de victoire ou de gloire pour l'Amérique n'a été partagée. Pas de câlins d'amour fraternel ou fraternel ou d'échanges de « bonne chance » ou de « briser une jambe ». Juste le chant du Vertibird et le clic des clips dans les armes à feu et la mise en valeur des armes à énergie. Alors qu'ils s'approchaient de leur zone d'atterrissage, plusieurs tinks commençaient à sonner du métal. On leur tirait dessus. Je suppose que la furtivité était par la fenêtre, maintenant toute la ville saura qu'ils sont là dans quelques minutes. Ils ont dû aller vite pour les neutraliser avant d'avoir eu l'occasion de se présenter à leurs camarades. Heureusement, ils n'étaient pas si intelligents et préféreraient tuer au lieu de rapporter. "S'installer derrière quelques rochers, bonne chance, Eagle Squad! Tuez quelques muties pour moi!" Les portes du Vertibird s'ouvraient et elles furent introduites dans un désert qui leur était presque étranger, gris, sombre, déprimant, États-Unis d'Amérique. Un par un, ils ont déposé et se sont séparés pendant que le Vertibird partait pour trouver un endroit plus sûr pour attendre que l'équipe termine. La zone était rocheuse à l'extérieur de Seattle, l'aiguille spatiale toujours debout au loin. C'était un miracle qu'il soit debout du tout. Au fur et à mesure que l'équipe se dirigeait vers les quelque quarante mutants qui poivraient la région. Andrew a fait ce qu'il a fait de mieux et s'est déplacé sur un gros rocher pour avoir une bonne position de tir. Il s'est couché sur le ventre et a sauté le trépied sur son fusil. Compte tenu du vent, il se récita lui-même son mantra. Il a fait écho dans les communications de l'escouade. "Tinker Tailor Soldat Sailor, ma balle punit tout sans distinction" Les balles bourdonnées par leur tête juste avant qu'elles puissent atteindre leurs positions, les têtes mutantes ont commencé à exploser dans un gâchis fantastique alors que les salauds mutants criaient et se pressaient aveuglément vers l'avant.

Name: Shibuya River Age: 24 Codename: Frost Biography: Shibuya was raised within the Enclave and is very loyal to them regardless of the racism that occurs at times because of the pigment of her skin and her ancestry. She has proven time and time again that she was more than worthy to be in the Enclave as she has been the primary source of intelligence for the Enclave for years. She is an extremely experienced Spy, able to hide among enemy factions for extended periods with ease. At one point, she was an NCR soldier for two years, revealing to the Enclave that the NCR had Nuclear Warheads in their possession and, unbeknownst to them, said warheads will now most likely self destruct if used. After nearly 15 years of continuous service to the enclave, Shibuya was recommended by her father and officer for Eagle Claw training.

Harry plongea dans la petite maison pendant qu'un couple de mutants tirait sur lui. Ils l'avaient enfin remarqué, hein? Il devrait s'en assurer. Peut-être par un petit jeu de balles. Il rampa vers l'arrière, vers le mur, et prit un léger souffle. Il regarda sa carbine, et savait intuitivement qu'elle nécessitait un rechargement. Il a rapidement et sûrement atteint pour la tige de fonctionnement, et son métal froid toucher métal légèrement gênant à ses mains un peu transpirantes. "Damn cet endroit" il chuchotait, alors qu'il tirait la tige en arrière, faisant tomber la cartouche maintenant presque vide sur le sol en bois avec un clack. Une seule ronde a cliqué sur l'impact, et est tombée sur le genou d'Harry. Il s'occuperait de ça plus tard. Il a atteint sa poche thoracique, sorti une cartouche, et l'a frappé avec une précision pratique. Il a ensuite repoussé la tige, qui a placé une autre balle dans la chambre. Il a jeté un coup d'œil de sa position au sol. Ce n'était qu'une seconde, et déjà une balle s'est évanouie. Il y en avait eu plusieurs, peut-être une douzaine. Encore plus était plus probable. Peut-être que quitter l'équipe n'était pas le geste tactique le plus brillant, mais ce n'était pas trop mal. Il avait les munitions pour ça. Il sourit, et se souvint de son entraînement. La chance avait toujours été de son côté, et il ne s'était pas enfui aujourd'hui. Il s'est envolé dans la porte, et était immédiatement dans un accrochage de tir. Le fusil a été levé en millisecondes, et le réticule a visé sa première cible, une autre mutie verte. "Fuck you" dit-il, alors qu'il tirait plusieurs fois, changeait de cible, et parlait à nouveau "Fuck you too, you and you" alors qu'il tirait plusieurs fois sur une cible différente. Ammo dehors, et tout n'était pas mort. "Oho, pourquoi pas, les amis?" Il a dit, en utilisant sa jambe avant pour le pousser à retourner dans la maison. Et pas trop tard non plus. Plusieurs balles l'ont à nouveau renversé, et deux l'ont même frappé. Heureusement, le premier lui a arraché son armure, et le second ne lui a arraché l'épaule. Eh bien, gratté n'était pas le bon mot, comme Harry s'est rendu compte qu'il saignait légèrement. Ce n'était pas si mal. Il s'est à nouveau chargé, et a conclu qu'il ne pouvait pas tirer la même chose à nouveau, car il y avait maintenant un courant de feu presque continu qui traversait la porte. Il faudrait qu'il arrive à une fenêtre. Il rampait à sa droite aussi vite qu'il le pouvait, et s'approchait de ses pieds. Une fenêtre d'un mètre sur un, étonnamment grande. Il a sauté devant, cassé la fenêtre avec le canon de son fusil, et tiré sans viser. Les balles ont encore frappé, mais elles n'ont pas toutes été tuées. "Round deux, salopes." il a dit, comme il a traversé ses munitions. Quand il a entendu le clic familier d'une cartouche s'écouler, il a tiré à nouveau la tige, et laissé la cartouche tomber. Il se détourna, courut vers la porte arrière, et sauta à travers le vieux bois pourri. Il avait perdu l'élément de surprise, certainement. Ils progressaient aussi trop vite, plus vite qu'il ne l'avait prévu. Au fur et à mesure qu'il a traversé le bois, le premier mutant a dû courir avec un club de barres d'armature, et rugir. Harry a laissé tomber son fusil, mais il n'allait pas au sol, grâce à la sangle. Il a sorti son.22 et son couteau de combat. Il attendait que le mutant sorte de son côté, tranquillement. Il n'a pas eu à attendre trop longtemps, alors qu'un club de réservistes maniant le mutant a éclaté là où il était sorti. Il a immédiatement vidé la cartouche du pistolet dans le mutant, qui n'est toujours pas mort. "Oh non" il a traversé, mais l'émotion qu'il a montré était un griffonnement de ses dents, alors qu'il s'attaquait au mutant, et a poussé le couteau dans la blessure par balle. Ça a dû être le dernier coup, comme le mutant surpris est tombé au sol en bois, avec un toud. Il était maintenant couvert de sang de mutie. Ça n'avait pas d'importance. Il a remarqué que dans la petite bagarre, il avait largué son pistolet. Ça n'avait pas d'importance non plus. Il devrait recharger le fusil immédiatement, et l'un d'entre eux a été remis. Ça prendrait plus de temps, mais il avait sorti son couteau bloddi, donc il avait confiance en lui-même. Il a pu mettre la cartouche, avant que le mutant suivant n'arrive. C'était ridicule et irréalistement semblable à un holo-game. Il a poignardé en avant, et son couteau a percé à travers la chair dure du mutant. "Luck, merde" pensait-il, puisque celui-ci ne portait pas d'armure. Il a traîné la lame à travers la chair, seulement pour être jeté à terre par la chose. Il a été blessé et enragé. "J'ai besoin d'un salaire plus élevé si c'est le genre de choses que je dois faire." il murmura, tandis que la mutie sautait sur lui, jusqu'à l'extrémité de réception de la lame relevée. Il a traversé sa peau, et doit avoir frappé quelque chose de vital, comme la mutie s'est cognée sur la sienne, et est mort. La chose était un poids mort, un jeu de mots voulu, et saignait directement sur Harry. Il a poussé le corps, et entendu Death Strike parler des ordres. Il soupira après que l'homme eut parlé, et s'empara de son sang. "Couvert de sang muet, mais prêt à servir, monsieur. J'irai jusqu'au lieu de réunion, et je serai là......" il a regardé dehors, et a estimé la distance. "..... trois minutes." C'était tout ce qu'il a dit, et il a consommé un autre bâton de chocolat blanc pendant qu'il quittait la maison, en entrant par effraction dans un jogging vers le bâtiment où ils se réunissaient. Quand il est arrivé, il n'a rien dit, et a espéré que personne ne l'a remarqué, couvert de sang mutant. "Travailler à fond"? Ça me va. ' il pensait, en réponse à ses ordres.

Agent Name Tristan McBay Agent Code Name Ginger Age 25 Gender Male Appearance I paint my own character images. Please don't steal it or use it without my permission. Armor: Coyote Neural Assistance Power Armor Clothing Mechanic's jumpsuit, utility belt, combat boots, white t-shirt. Weapons He almost always carries a .44 Magnum and a trench knife for those just-in-case moments. The Gauss Rifle he takes with him into the field is meticulously cared for. The phrase, "86'd" has been painstakingly emblazoned on the side of the gun. Miscellaneous Items An old, wrinkled photo of him and his twin brother when they were kids. Sunglasses (only wears them if the occasion calls for it), lighter, deck of cards and a flask. Forces of habit He's a smoker. Not a pack-a-day habit mind you, but he'll take what he can get and it's just enough for the scent to linger. BiographyThe old folks used to gather around and talk about how life used to be down in Vault 86 before the Enclave, but Tristan could never really remember what it was like. He had been too young and too concerned with smaller things. When did all the vault dwellers get replaced with men in uniforms? Why were he and his brother forced to sit and learn in a room full of other kids with a mean and sour old man for a teacher? What were these red, white and blue banners going up all over the place? Why were Mom and Dad gone almost all the time? Where could he get an amazing suit of armor like those? As he grew these memories faded from being new and confusing to just being his memories. Though born to Canadian parents the twins, Tristan and Lucas, had an upbringing that molded them into the most upstanding of American citizens. From a young age they had their little imaginations filled with images of the patriotic Enclave soldiers triumphing over the devious and mutated monsters to the south and taking back what had been stolen from them. It was their right, their destiny and the American dream would see it come to fruition. All the schooling and hard labor wouldn't be for naught. Good will always triumph over evil. Often the two boys would play with finger guns, running down the vault corridors, acting out battle scenes between the Enclave and their enemies. "BANG!" Tristan yelled, "Raaarrrhhhggg! Muah, ha, ha! I got you human!" Lucas collapsed to his knees gripping his side, "Uhg! No! You'll never take me alive you freak! BANG!" he returned fire. In turn Tristan would fall over in a rather comical, overly-dramatic supermutant death. The two would laugh and continue their games. Then one day someone put real guns into their hands. Training began at an early age for the children of Vault 86 and the twins were no exception. It was hard at first. The drill sergeants were not easy on them just for being kids. They were treated like adults, like soldiers. Come rain or shine or harsh Canadian winter they were out there training like their lives depended on it. Time and time again they were reminded that soon enough their lives would indeed depend on it. As they grew under the Enclave hand it became obvious who the stronger brother was. Lucas. Where as Tristan was more focused on adolescent jokes, keeping himself amused and girls, his brother had a much more quiet and serious demeanor. He became focused in his studies and ruthless. He didn't have time for the games anymore. Not when their was a whole country left to conquer. Every time Tristan met up with him he seemed to have his eyes set south. It was graduation. The twins had made it to what the Enclave military considered adulthood, they had passed every test, overcome every challenge, and most importantly they knew what they were fighting for. At least they thought they knew. They Enclave had been pretty clear on that after all. Assignments were being handed to all the graduates. "Where do you think we're going?" Tristan asked, his grin betraying his excitement. "... 'We?'" Lucas cast him an incredulous glance, "They aren't going to be sending us to the same place. It doesn't work like that." Tristan didn't even have time to look shocked before an officer, holding a clipboard, stepped in front of him and shouted his name. Sure enough, they both had different assignments. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of that. They had always been together so he just assumed it would always be that way. They would be guarding the Enclave territorial holdings along the Canadian border. Lucas was being sent east and would not be far from the ruined Ronto. Tristan was being sent west. It was only days before they were saying their farewells to their parents and to each other. Lucas told his brother to fight well, for the American dream. Tristan told his brother he bet he would get more kills than him. Lucas only smirked, shook his head and walked away. It was quieter out west than he had expected. Sure there were raiders, mutants, ghouls and the occasional Legionary to pick off, but somehow it wasn't as fulfilling as he had imagined. His first kill was a ghoul. Feral or not it wandered too close to the perimeter. Tristan looked down the barrel of his rifle and took the shot without a second thought. The thing fell motionless. That was it. There was a small pang of excitement, a small pang of guilt, a small pang of killer instinct. As he crouched in the snow, his joints seizing up from hours in the endless, miserable cold, he realized, however, he didn't feel the pride or glory he had been promised. He decided it just wasn't a very glorious circumstance and so he waited for the next kill. There was a raider attack on one of his patrols. Two soldiers and at least fifteen raider scum were dead. By the end of the skirmish Tristan had racked up two more kills and had been close enough to become splattered in blood that was not his own. He had fought well. He still felt no pride or glory. A month later he got a letter. It was from the Enclave and quite formal from the look of it. It was exciting to have a small break in the monotony of his post and he tore into the letter with a smirk. We regret to inform you that on the 22nd of November... killed in action... supermutant ambush... compensation... loss... the... we... a... Tristan couldn't get through it. He crumpled up the letter, threw it into the snow and ground it into the dirt with his foot. He couldn't move. Lucas was dead. "It's part of life, kid," an officer grumbled at him, "Get your gun and get over it. You have a job to do." "You still bitchin' 'bout that?" his patrol mate moaned, "Shit, you'd think nobody'd got shot the hell up 'round you before." "That's too bad." "It happens." "What's wrong with you?" "Get over it." "Nobody cares." It felt like everything was ablaze that night. The outpost was on the verge of falling. Men screamed and shouted all around him, but it was drowned out by the roars of the supermutants. They had skin like rawhide and skulls like steel. Tristan felt his hands shaking as more and more of the bullets from his standard issue rifle seemed to just bounce of their immense bodies. It was hopeless, but he couldn't bring himself to stop, to run away. The thought that maybe just one of those shots would strike gold and bring one of those monsters what it deserved was too good. An explosion rocked him and sent him plummeting from the wall where he once stood. The ground hit him like a kick in the guts from out of nowhere. All was silent now except for one continuous high note blasting in his ears. More fire. There was a large hole punched through the outpost wall and beyond that a huge lumbering figure. Gun. Where's my gun? He scrambled around in the mud but the rifle was long gone. Getting up right seemed impossible. He was panicking. Once, twice he lurched and fell. The third time he tripped over a corpse. A high ranked officer judging from the blood and dirt stained uniform. Clutched in the man's death grip was one of the biggest God-damned guns Tristan had ever seen. At this horrible moment it was a beautiful, perfect beacon. He wrenched it out of the dead man's arms and steadied himself on his feet, facing the wall. The lumbering figure was stepping through the breach and it saw him. Though there was still no sound in Tristan's world the beast's maw opened in a roar and it flung it's massive arms out causing thick slabs of muscle to ripple around it's frame. It charged. The ground shook under it's weight. The all too young soldier pulled the gun up and fired. The recoil was nearly enough to knock him off his feet and the electrical discharge that spiraled down the barrel was blinding. The monster's head came clean off it's shoulders. Another kill. There was still no pride and no glory. How could there ever be in this hellish filth called a battlefield? But there was definitely something there, and it was so much better. Retribution. Years later, while celebrating his 75th supermutant kill, Tristan was approached by a man... Extra Tristan tends to have a fly-boy attitude and almost never leaves home without a cocky smile. He never speaks about his brother.

Dans le vertibird qui s'approcha de Seattle de la direction générale du Canada, le jeune homme mince et bien bâti qui était assis à côté de ses camarades maintenant connus était Harrison Churchill, nom de code Winter. Il n'appréciait pas la météo de la destination de leur nouvelle mission, puisqu'il avait vécu toute sa vie dans les régions froides du Nord des États-Unis, ainsi que dans le sud du Canada. À côté de lui se trouvait son équipe, un groupe de personnes choisi pour être les meilleurs soldats de l'organisation pour laquelle il travaillait maintenant, l'Enclave. Il était plus ou moins ambivalent au sujet de l'organisation elle-même, bien que son propoganda lui soit arrivé, et il était maintenant à l'appui de leur mission. Ils avaient des méthodes douteuses, mais à un tel âge, aucune méthode n'était éthique et efficace en même temps. Il avait réfléchi à l'éthique de toute la situation plus d'une fois, et il en était toujours venu à la même conclusion, peu importe le train qu'il avait suivi le long du chemin, il était donc futile d'y revenir. Il y avait une mission à accomplir, et c'était la première Eagle Squad, donc il a dû avoir sa tête dans le jeu. Le revêtement en carbone de son armure s'est mis en place automatiquement en cassant les sangles puissantes ensemble, et a réuni son armure de poitrine. Il regarda autour de lui, et jeta un dernier coup d'œil à ses frères (et sœurs) dans les bras. Il a vérifié ses notes mentales qu'il avait faites sur eux, et se sentait assez à l'aise au sujet de son équipe. Death Strike le Leader, Golem le Géant Fuckin Brutalizer, Bear the Untrustworthy Fighter, Phoenix le Flamin Medic, Archangez le Mécanicien de champ Bon Lookin, Wraith le Cute Pilot et Ginger, le très bon tireur d'élite. Et il ne pouvait pas oublier Whisper, El Gas Masko Maniac, la seule personne dont il doutait entièrement de la capacité. Sa revérification préliminaire étant terminée, il était prêt. Il a récupéré sa carbine dans l'espace au-dessous de lui, et a atteint la cartouche. Il l'a sorti avec facilité, car il n'était pas complètement enfermé, et il a vérifié ses balles. Rempli au sommet avec le calibre 6.8x43 qu'il a tant adoré. Il l'a mis en place à l'intérieur du puits du magazine, et a tiré la tige d'opération en arrière, puis l'a laissé frapper en arrière, ce qui a produit un clic silencieux d'une balle étant introduite dans la chambre. Le bruit était suffisant pour l'informer de son état, grâce au temps qu'il avait passé avec ce fusil. Il a jeté un coup d'œil à travers la portée holographique, et a été satisfait de son état. C'était la préparation dont il avait besoin à ce moment, parce qu'il avait démonté et remonté le fusil avant qu'ils ne partent, juste au cas où il y aurait un problème. Il n'y en avait pas. Il a atteint une poche avant sur sa poitrine, et a sorti un petit bâton de chocolat blanc, quelque chose de assez rare, et l'a collé dans sa bouche comme une cigarette. Alors qu'il se moquait de son dernier traitement, le pilote a parlé de quelque chose. Il est passé par la tête momentanément, mais il savait déjà ce qu'elle disait probablement. Quelque chose à propos de l'enfer. Mais quand le vertibird s'est approché de son LZ, il a jeté un oeil dehors. Beaucoup trop de muties pour compter, vraiment. Il y avait probablement une cinquantaine de personnes en bas, et ça n'incluait même pas la nuisette! Il s'est cogné sur sa petite gâterie, et s'est levé, avec tout le poids de la carbine faisant le filet de nylon étrier tactique contre l'arrière de son cou. Il saisit la poignée sur le toit du vertibird, et sourit. Ce serait une longue journée d'extermination. La jolie pilote, Wraith, a annoncé leur toucher imminent avec gustatif, et elle leur a offert de la chance. Avec cela, il a attendu que Deathstroke, Ginger, Archange et Bear sautent, avant de lâcher la poignée et de saisir son arme, puis s'est précipité vers la lumière du soleil. Ses bottes ont heurté le gravier en une seconde, et il ne s'est pas arrêté pour jeter un coup d'oeil. Il a couru vers la droite, et a cliqué sur les communications. Il a dit "Hiver est à venir" qui était un code bien connu pour lui. Cela signifiait qu'il était sur la proue, et lui-même sentait que non seulement il était vieux, mais aussi le mantra le plus faible dont il ait jamais entendu parler. Il a complètement abandonné l'affaire en interne, car ce n'était certainement pas le moment de penser à de telles choses. Il a glissé à un arrêt, soufflant du gravier loin de lui. Il se jeta dans une croûte, et s'attaqua immédiatement à la foule de mutants devant lui. Il n'a pas dû viser à travers la vue holographique pour frapper quelque chose, mais il était préférable s'il voulait frapper quelque chose de vital. Le reticle a cliqué, et immédiatement un point rouge est apparu, mettant l'accent sur un super mutant jaunâtre dans la foule. Ils ne l'avaient pas encore remarqué, mais c'était mieux comme ça. "Laissons-nous nous présenter, voulez-vous?" il s'est dit, en s'assurant que les communications étaient éteintes comme il l'a dit. Son doigt tomba lentement du côté, et s'arrêta sur la gâchette. Il a respiré, et a laissé l'air s'éteindre, en s'assurant que tout le monde pouvait l'entendre, juste pour l'amour de lui. Il nierait que c'était lui s'ils disaient quelque chose. Comme le dernier de l'air a quitté ses poumons, et que tout son corps s'est stabilisé, il a pressé la détente, et immédiatement le fusil semi-automatique a tiré trois balles dans le cerveau de la mutie sur laquelle il s'était concentré. '6,8, bébé' est immédiatement allé son esprit, comme le mutant est tombé à terre après une seconde éclatement rapide. Le bruit des cas de chute était inintelligible dans le bruit. Il se poussa alors à gauche, plus vers l'ombre du rocher, permettant à son costume d'assassiner de mieux le cacher, et provoquant même plus de confusion parmi les rangs mutants, si cela était même possible à l'état de désarroi dans lequel ils étaient actuellement. La cible suivante était un mutant verdâtre, plus loin de sa cible originale, plus près de la position de l'axe x de Ginger, mais encore plus loin sur l'échelle des y. Ses yeux se fermaient aux fentes, et se concentraient sur sa cible. Encore une fois, il a pressé la détente comme avant, mais encore et encore en succession rapide, juste pour s'assurer qu'il a tué le mutant. Cinq pressions, pour être exact. Cependant, les balles n'ont jamais atteint leur cible initialement prévue. Ils ont été accidentellement interceptés par la poitrine et la mâchoire d'une pauvre nightkin. Les quinze rounds se sont immédiatement arrêtés à travers son corps, et sont tombés à terre dans une flaque de sang. Les yeux de Harrison s'ouvrirent brillamment, et il sourit à sa fortune. Un meurtre de nightkin comptait deux fois plus bien qu'un mutant normal, bien que non officiellement, en raison de leur réputation dérisoirement difficile à tuer parmi les troupes de l'Enclave. Il a cliqué sur les communications, et a dit avec une voix monotone qui a d'une manière ou d'une autre réussi à transmettre son exclamation, qui éclatait à travers ses barrières de la dignité, "Deux vers le bas, se déplaçant à droite." Mais alors il a remarqué l'opportunité parfaite de s'approcher, et de causer des ravages. Il y avait quelques bâtiments éparpillés autour, des endroits où les gens ont dû vivre il y a longtemps. "A bientôt, je prends le côté droit. Je vais les dessiner comme ça. Acheminons ces bâtards comme si c'était les Khans contre la RCN!", et avec cela, il a sauté à ses pieds légers, et a fait une course pour elle.

Name: Shibuya River Age: 24 Codename: Frost Biography: Shibuya was raised within the Enclave and is very loyal to them regardless of the racism that occurs at times because of the pigment of her skin and her ancestry. She has proven time and time again that she was more than worthy to be in the Enclave as she has been the primary source of intelligence for the Enclave for years. She is an extremely experienced Spy, able to hide among enemy factions for extended periods with ease. At one point, she was an NCR soldier for two years, revealing to the Enclave that the NCR had Nuclear Warheads in their possession and, unbeknownst to them, said warheads will now most likely self destruct if used. After nearly 15 years of continuous service to the enclave, Shibuya was recommended by her father and officer for Eagle Claw training.

Le grand Ours du Nord s'assit sur le vertibird, entouré de la nouvelle équipe avec laquelle il fut forcé de travailler. Ils avaient tous l'air... assez petits. Sauf ce Golem. Il y avait un homme. Un grand homme avec une grande arme. Mais, malgré le respect épouvantable qu'il avait pour Golem, l'Ours n'avait confiance en aucun d'eux. Ils étaient enclave, et l'enclave était la raison pour laquelle il était dans ce désordre, au lieu de l'endroit où il aurait dû être. Où il devrait être. Sous son casque, sa cicatrice, son visage porté se transforma en un piège féroce, ses yeux s'arrachant sur les camarades qui s'assirent devant lui. La main grippant le laser gatling qui était assis à côté de lui s'est serrée, et c'était tout ce qu'il pouvait faire pour ne pas se relâcher à ce moment-là. Ses pensées se tournèrent temporairement vers les autres membres de son équipe. Coup de mort. Un nom intimidant pour un petit homme, mais bien donné - bâtard a été l'un des meilleurs coups de feu que l'Ours ait jamais vus. Sans oublier qu'il était le chef d'équipe, quelque chose qui a irrité Bear. Il devait y avoir une raison, mais quelle que soit cette raison, il ne savait pas. Les snipers étant des leaders.. À l'époque, ce ne serait jamais arrivé. Mais ce n'était pas la seule raison pour laquelle Bear n'aimait pas Death Strike. On lui avait permis les dossiers des autres recrues, comme elles l'avaient été. Le nombre d'ours blancs que leur chef d'équipe avait tué était beaucoup trop élevé pour son goût, tout comme le nombre d'enclaves tuées par Bear était probablement trop élevé pour le goût de Deathstroke. Mais c'étaient des petits bouts à garder pour lui-même. C'est Golem. Un homme fascinant, et le seul qui pouvait le battre pour la force et la masse pure. Les nouveaux Cananéens, bien que cela ne signifiait rien pour lui. Rien de trop précis sur son passé, bien qu'il ait vaguement fait référence à des «augmentations» dans son corps. Il ne pouvait que se demander quel roi des renforts était dans ce bâtard. Tout ce qu'il savait, c'était que les têtes d'œufs de l'Enclave s'intéressaient terriblement à lui, et cela suffisait pour que l'Ours se méfie de tout ce qu'il faisait. Du bon côté, c'était un sacré bon pare-balles. Phénix. Médicament. J'avais une épée enflammée et des grenades. Fiercely fidèle à l'Enclave, si ce qui est arrivé à sa tribu était quelque chose de sortir de. C'est dégoûtant. Plutôt que d'essayer de garder leur sens de soi, ils acceptèrent humblement le pied de l'Enclave sur leur cou. Aussi utile que soit l'homme, et autant que l'Ours l'aimerait comme une personne, il ne le respecterait jamais à cause de la lâcheté dont son peuple avait fait preuve. L'hiver. Un errant du sud qui avait gagné sa vie par chance. La chance pourrait s'épuiser, mais pour l'instant, la chance marcherait pour l'Ours, tant qu'elle s'appliquerait à toute l'équipe ainsi qu'à l'hiver. À part ça, il ne connaissait pas grand-chose de lui. Sauf qu'il a tué un pauvre salaud pour avoir pris son chocolat. L'ours n'a pas cessé de rire pendant près d'une demi-heure quand c'est arrivé. Il faut respecter un homme qui protège ses biens si farouchement, même si ce n'était qu'un morceau de nourriture. C'est du gingembre. C'est bien. J'ai porté un gros flingue. Il a perdu son frère il y a quelques années. Bear connaissait la douleur de perdre sa famille, et a ressenti pour l'homme, mais ne voulait pas le montrer ou le mentionner. Il s'agissait de choses que les hommes continueraient eux-mêmes, ou d'une part de leur propre volonté. Il n'y a rien à retirer d'eux. Mais en plus, il était un bon tireur, et c'était ce qui comptait pour Bear à la fin. C'était important. Archange. Petite femme, l'une des deux seules parties de l'équipe, et l'une des étrangères. Les yeux ramassés comme un passe-temps. Non pas que Bear l'a jugée pour ça, mais c'était une chose étrange à faire. Néanmoins, elle semblait être l'une des membres les plus épouvantables. Rapide à tirer, lent à poser des questions, juste comme il aimait un soldat. Cependant, il ne la respectait pas: Avec un peu d'étude, il avait appris sur le Pip-Boy et le système de TVA, ainsi que les modifications de ses lunettes. Utilisées pour compenser un manque de compétence, ou était-elle juste prudente? Quoi qu'il en soit, c'était une faiblesse pour Bear. Il n'aurait qu'à espérer que rien ne se brise. Whisper. Une fille dégueulasse, probablement folle. Pas de confiance, mais utile d'avoir autour, comme tous les membres de l'équipe. J'aimais me battre, tuer, comme lui. C'est là que leur compréhension est venue: ils ont tué des choses ensemble, puis se sont laissés seuls. Du moins, c'est comme ça qu'il l'a traitée. Wraith. Dernier membre de l'équipe. Pilote, tir horrible, mais bon avec une épée. Ce n'est pas que les sabres valent n'importe quoi dans un monde de balles et de lasers. Mais il n'avait jamais vu quelqu'un voler un vertibird mieux qu'elle, et il avait vu certains des meilleurs pilotes en entraînement. Le fait qu'elle était celle qui les volait parlait beaucoup de sa compétence dans le cockpit, et donc il a été forcé de lui faire confiance et de la respecter, même s'il ne le voulait pas. Dans l'ensemble, il n'aimait pas la plupart d'entre eux, et respectait encore moins. Mais, ils devraient le faire. Ils devraient le faire. Mais, il y avait des choses plus importantes à faire maintenant. Comme leur pilote l'avait dit avec éloquence, ils étaient sur le site. Autant il haïssait l'Enclave pour ce qu'ils avaient fait, mutants et goules étaient encore plus dégoûtants, et plus dignes de ses compétences. Au fur et à mesure qu'ils se rangaient, les bottes d'ébène claquaient durement contre le sol, l'ours squattant sous son propre poids. Tandis qu'il se tenait, les images éclataient dans son esprit; les champs couverts de neige, poivrés avec les brûlures d'énergie et les cadavres de mutants, la seule et sombre figure de la Bête debout sur les tombés. Un sourire sauvage s'est brisé le visage, et il a apporté son arme pour viser la horde qui s'approchait lentement. Comme les communications étaient liées entre elles, le laser gatling s'est redressé. Avec un rugissement qui ne pouvait être assorti que par un Yao Guai, l'Ours laissa un torrent de destruction de son arme à la vague entrante. Un avantage à utiliser une arme avec beaucoup de propagation: Plusieurs ennemis à distance seront probablement tous frappés à un certain point. Des cris de douleur et de colère pouvaient être entendus alors qu'ils étaient poivrés par les poutres vertes. L'Ours se tenait immobile, le corps sentait à peine ou répondait au recul que son arme lui donnait. Plusieurs des mutants qui s'approchaient ont été abattus par l'assaut, bien que la paire de fusils qui les larguaient ait dû faire quelque chose pour y contribuer. À la mention d'un garçon furtif, l'Ours lâcha la gâchette et tourna son attention vers Ginger. Une petite lueur se déplaçant à travers quelques arbres a pris ses yeux, et une fois de plus, une vague de mort verte a pulvérisé la région. Au bout de quelques secondes, il laissa tomber la gâchette, et le cadavre d'un supermutant bleu s'y trouvait. Un grognement l'a laissé, et il a tourné son attention vers les nombres approchants. "Nightkin avec eux, vous tous regarder vos dos," il murmura dans la communication, voix profonde et griffon. "La mort, tu as les meilleurs yeux. Surveillez les salauds." Ce n'est plus à lui de donner des ordres, mais les vieilles habitudes sont mortes durement. Contrairement aux mutants qui les ont constamment abattus et chargés. Quelques rainures et clinks sonnaient alors que de minuscules balles rebondissaient de son armure ou dérapaient des côtés. Une bataille comme celle-ci arrive normalement une fois dans la vie. L'Ours avait été dans plusieurs comme cela auparavant, et était sorti de tous sauf un vainqueur. Ce n'était pas un qu'il avait prévu de perdre.

Name: Aria Hunter Codename: Wraith Age: 25 Biography:Born out in the west, Aria was raised in a small town just outside of control of the NCR. So small and out of the way it was, even raiders didn't seem to notice it all that much. While the village lacked firearms, they happened to have a small cash of old blades nearby. With a bit of sprucing up, many of them were ready for use. Nearly everyone in the village was trained to wield a blade, even if there weren't enough to go around, and Aria was no exception. By the time she was fourteen, she was easily as skilled as most of the adults, as they were around her age. However, Aria was rather bored with their life. Meager farming and sparring with the others weren't really the most exciting things, especially if there was no danger in it. The only thing that really ever caught her attention was the occasional sight of a vertibird flying high above. After about the fifth or six time, she decided to take off in the direction it went. After about a month of walking and slicing up geckos, she managed to arrive at an Enclave base several miles north of her village. And, fenced off from her, the vertibird. Or, rather, vertibirds. Of course, the moment she tried to climb the fence, alarms went off, and within the hour she was caught and brought in for questioning. Easily figuring out she wasn't NCR or part of the Brotherhood, she was given permission to leave. Which she denied. Several times, in fact. Rather than throw her out, the leader of the outpost decided to keep her on and train her to be a member of the Enclave, a soldier forged in youth to be loyal to the ideal of a rebirthed America. But, the soldier's life was not for her, as they all quickly figured out. She was a terrible shot, and honestly was all that bright. So, they put her in the only place they could - pilot training. And damn was she good at it. She actually wasn't allowed in a cockpit until she was eighteen, but by then she had already learned the ins and outs of flying. And, with a little practice, she was easily the best of all the recruit pilots. The maneuvers she'd do in assessments were seen as insane and near impossible by the other recruits, and either reckless or genius by her superiors. At the age of twenty, she was finally put to test, doing runs through NCR territory and even over some holdings of Caesar's Legion. At one point, she flew a little too close to Boomer territory, and was nearly shot out of the sky... Nearly. According to the men on board, if it had been any other pilot, they would have been a fiery mess for the Boomers to loot. And she only continued to impress, up until the point that when it came to choose a pilot for Eagle Claw, there really was no competition, and she flew herself all the way up to Canada just to serve the Enclave and Eagle Claw. Other: She is crass, unrefined, and sarcastic. Won't hesitate to nearly blow up the vertibird to save it. Unshakable loyalty to the Enclave. Carries a 9mm sub machinegun and a Chinese officer's sword.

Lucy (Hence out connu sous le nom d'Archange) était assise, la caféine de sa dernière tasse de café encore dans son système. Elle n'aimait pas l'admettre, mais elle manquait déjà le luxe de survivre au camp d'entraînement de la Griffe Eagle. Elle n'a pas été relevée doucement à la Vault, mais ce qu'elle a vécu était pire que quand elle s'est fait sauter le bras. Mais elle ne pouvait que se blâmer d'être trop indulgente. Quoi qu'il en soit, une fois qu'elle a marché sur le Vertibird, elle a fait la paix avec le fait qu'elle va vivre encore quelques années d'existence dans le désert. Mais elle n'était pas étrangère à la souffrance, mais ça ne voulait pas dire qu'elle en était une amie non plus. Alors que ses jitters sont morts, elle a regardé autour des autres. Elle connaissait leurs noms et leurs noms de code, et des rumeurs autour d'eux. Elle n'était pas vraiment une pour juger quelqu'un sur des rumeurs seules, mais ils lui ont fourni une sorte de référence à eux. La première personne qu'elle a vue était Tristan McBay, nom de code Ginger. Elle n'avait pas à faire beaucoup de recherches sur la raison pour laquelle il s'appelait ça; le gars avait des cheveux orange-rouge. Ce n'est pas que la plupart des gens puissent le dire une fois qu'il aura mis son Power Armor. Elle a lu sur certaines de ses spécifications, supposément c'est supposé améliorer les fonctions furtives, mais elle ne pensait pas vraiment que cela ferait beaucoup quand vous êtes un réservoir de bois. Elle était plus intéressée par son Gauss Rifle ; elle n'a entendu parler que de quelques-uns entre les mains de spécialistes de l'Enclave, mais elle a vu Ginger l'utiliser. C'était différent de tout ce qu'Archange a jamais eu le plaisir d'utiliser, c'est un tour à grande vitesse capable de frapper une griffe de mort dans le ciel. Apparemment, au moins, elle n'a jamais vu Ginger l'utiliser dans ce but précis, mais elle ne serait pas surprise si ça arrivait. La personne suivante qu'elle a regardée était Andrew Ryan Harper, autrement connu sous le nom de Death Stroke. Un peu bavarde pour un nom de code, mais elle ne les a pas choisis. Né dans l'Enclave, mais n'utilise pas d'armes énergétiques. L'Archange a simplement supposé que c'était une préférence de la sienne. Pas grand-chose d'autre à dire sur lui, mais notamment, il a porté un masque que Archange a déjà lu sur; le masque de médecin de la plague, connu pour il est long bec. On a dit qu'il avait été porté il y a longtemps lors d'une peste, pour protéger les médecins de la maladie. Les détails de la façon dont il a accompli ce fut flou pour Archange à l'heure actuelle, mais elle était assez certaine qu'elle était la seule qui savait à ce sujet. Non pas qu'il servirait beaucoup, à moins qu'elle ne veuille juste être insupportable. La personne suivante était Icarus Rose, aussi connu sous le nom de Phoenix. Il était le médecin désigné de l'équipe, et compte tenu de son équipement, il n'y avait pas grand-chose d'autre qu'il pouvait faire. Il pouvait toujours fournir un soutien d'artillerie avec son lance-grenades, ou fournir de l'intimidation avec son épée. Elle a dû admettre que c'était assez ingénieux; en utilisant une partie d'une moto comme l'arrière, une tondeuse à gazon comme la lame, et une lumière pilote comme source d'étincelles, il avait une épée flamboyante. Elle n'était pas sûre de l'effet qu'il serait ou si les flammes étaient juste esthétiques, mais au moins ils avaient une source de flamme dans le cas où ils en auraient besoin. Et là où ils allaient, elle imaginait qu'ils en auraient beaucoup besoin. La personne suivante était Aria Hunter, Wraith. Le pilote de l'équipe. Un tir terrible, mais plutôt bon avec sa lame. Archange avait espéré qu'elle (avec le vertibird) resterait un peu plus longtemps, mais elle savait que cela n'arriverait pas. Même si Wraith devait le piloter seul, l'Archange savait que le Vertibird était équipé de nombreuses armes puissantes, et ils pouvaient toujours utiliser un œil dans le ciel. Mais c'était juste un fantasme. Ensuite, Alexander Callahan, nom de code, Bear. Beaucoup de rumeurs de lui, toutes sur ses prouesses au combat. Elle ne savait pas à quel point c'était des ragots et combien de fois elle s'est vantée, car elle n'a pas eu la peine d'écouter ça. Pour autant qu'elle puisse le dire, il était certainement grand, et ses armes suggéraient qu'il était le mieux adapté pour traiter avec soit un grand adversaire, ou beaucoup plus petits. Un Laser Gatling était bon pour l'un ou l'autre. La seule chose qui l'inquiétait, c'est si cet Ours voulait se battre. Sans doute qu'il excellera, mais Archange veut sauver des munitions. La prochaine personne pourrait rivaliser avec Bear pour la messe pure. Ozymandius, nom de code Golem. Elle soupçonne que "Ozymandius" n'est pas son vrai nom, mais étant donné la nature du monde dans lequel ils vivaient, est-ce important? Contrairement à Bear, Golem était plus adapté pour le combat en mêlée; il avait une hache Proton méchante et un bouclier qui pouvait aussi bien être une porte voûtée avec des roulettes à plasma attachées à elle. Malheureusement, sa seule arme à portée était un fusil de chasse scié, qui n'était pas exactement quelque chose donné à un tireur d'élite. Cependant, contrairement à d'autres, Archange a lu plus dans Ozymandius; il était un bricoleur, et a visité un endroit appelé le « Big Empty » un sanctuaire de la science. Cela l'intéressait beaucoup en tant que femme d'intérêt scientifique et parce qu'elle se demandait ce que les deux pouvaient accomplir s'ils fusionnaient leurs capacités ensemble. Cela, et elle n'aurait pas voulu avoir une hulk d'un homme comme lui au milieu d'un combat de feu; Archangel n'était pas exactement construit pour prendre une mini-nuque au visage. La personne suivante était Harrison Churchill, qui s'appelait Winter. Il était l'un des types sournois de l'équipe, portant un costume furtif et utilisant des armes adaptées à des missions opérationnelles silencieuses. Mais même dans une fusillade ouverte, il avait une carbine, donc elle ne s'inquiétait pas de ça. Elle s'intéressait davantage à sa dépendance au chocolat. Elle craignait que cela ne serve à le distraire ou à ruiner toute l'équipe, mais c'était surtout une imagination trop active. Et ce n'est pas comme si Archange était sans ses propres faiblesses. Elle doute qu'il y ait du chocolat dans la région et espère qu'elle a raison. Le dernier membre qu'elle a regardé était un peu mystérieux. Melanie Briess, nom de code Whisper. Archangel savait ne pas juger mes apparences, mais Whisper ressemblait à un raideur. Archangel connaissait au moins son regard, donc elle ne la tuerait pas accidentellement s'ils affrontaient des punks bandits. La plupart de la conversation sur Melania l'a peinte comme une folle, mais juste à peu près tout le monde ici tomberait sous cette catégorie. Archange a regardé Whisper un peu plus longtemps que les autres, caressant quelques globes oculaires qu'elle a balayés d'un laboratoire d'Enclave. Ils appartenaient à une griffe de mort, et ils étaient noirs et percés, mais aussi une sorte de gros, comme des mandarines. Archange elle-même a pris le temps de s'examiner mentalement. Malgré les épreuves épuisantes qu'elle a affrontées lors de l'entraînement de la griffe Eagle, elle n'a pratiquement pas changé par rapport à ce qu'elle avait fait auparavant. Peut-être un peu plus fort compte tenu de ce qu'elle a vécu, mais toute augmentation du pouvoir lui est passée inaperçue. Elle a fait une vérification rapide de l'équipement, en s'assurant que son Disintegratior avait une batterie entièrement chargée, que son régulateur de conformité était correctement étalonné et que sa main droite était toujours opérationnelle. Elle a fléchi les doigts, s'est assurée qu'il était serré, et a chargé une fragmentation 25mm rond dedans. Elle allait en avoir besoin, et bientôt. La dernière chose qu'elle a vérifié, c'était son Pipboy; elle a remarqué qu'elle était la seule habitante de la chambre forte du groupe, ou au moins la seule avec un pipboy. Elle avait ses lunettes branchées à son VASS et s'est assurée que son communicateur radio était correctement synchronisé, ainsi que d'autres capacités soignées accordées par la machine, y compris une carte pratique de la région. Elle avait une carte complète, une boussole et tout, mais il n'y avait pas de repères puisqu'il s'agissait en grande partie d'un territoire inexploré. L'attention d'Archange a été déplacée de son pipboy quand elle a entendu des liens du vertibird. "C'est comme si on nous tirait dessus." Elle a dit n'importe quoi. Wraith a donné à l'équipage un bref résumé de leur mission et un dernier mot de bonne chance, avant d'ouvrir les portes pour permettre à l'équipage de sortir. Autant qu'Archange voudrait prendre dans le paysage, ce n'était pas le moment. Elle avait déjà synthétisé son Pipboy (Et étendre ses lunettes) avec tous les autres signaux biologiques, et a marqué tout le signal bio supermutant comme hostile. Et avant même qu'elle ne sorte du siège ses détecteurs sont devenus fous avec le rouge, et elle a détecté au moins vingt tiques, donc vingt super mutants, mais probablement beaucoup plus. Effacer l'Archange Vertibird a pris un bref moment pour affronter l'ennemi. Bien que les super mutants étaient certainement des ennemis à craindre, ils n'étaient pas ce que tu appellerais bien armé. La plupart avaient des fusils de chasse rudimentaires qui pouvaient à peine rentrer dans leurs mains, bien que certains avaient des fusils entièrement automatiques. Elle n'en a pas vu avec de plus grandes armes comme des lance-roquettes ou des fusils Gatling, même si elle pensait qu'il y en avait autour d'eux déjà tiré dessus. Elle a vu la tête de la mort pour quelques rochers et a déposé le feu de sniper, tuant un mutant. Archange a dirigé son gantelet sur deux super mutants debout ensemble, tirant son explosif autour d'eux. Il s'est armé dans les airs d'un léger sifflement avant de s'enfoncer dans la rotule d'un super mutant. Il n'a même pas eu l'occasion de rugir dans la douleur quand il a explosé, soufflant les deux jambes et les tuant. Archange n'a cependant pas eu le temps de savourer le moment, car diverses balles se rapprochaient beaucoup de sa direction générale qu'elle aimerait. En chargeant rapidement son gantelet avec un autre tour, l'habitant de la chambre forte est allé couvrir derrière une colonne renversée, prenant le Disintegratior pour couvrir l'arrière de l'équipe. Lorsqu'elle a repéré un mutant autour du coin, elle a pressé la détente, en envoyant au moins neuf faisceaux de lasers simultanément au mutant. Bien que trois des poutres aient manqué leur marque, six ont atterri. L'un a frappé la main du mutant, brûlant à travers lui et dans son fusil. Quatre sont entrés dans sa poitrine, lui donnant des brûlures de fente dont même son armure brute ne pouvait pas le protéger. Le dernier laser a frappé son visage, ce qui était tout ce qui était nécessaire pour transformer le mutant en un tas de cendres. "Trois en bas, mais nous ne sommes pas encore sortis du feu..." Archange chuchotait alors qu'elle scannait pour plus d'hostilités.

Agent Name: Lucy Cipher Agent Code Name: Archangel Age: 27 Gender: Female Appearance: Armor: Armored modified utility jumpsuit (Luck+1, Repair+5, Rad Resist +10, DR +12) Digital Interface Glasses (Gives her Sensors and allows her to zoom in onto things at a distance) Clothing: Pip-Boy 3000 (Functional), Standard Issue Underwear, Naughty Nightwear, Prewar Business Wear Weapons: Compliance Regulator, The Disintegrator, Modified Ballistic Fist (Can use explosives to enhance punches or launch them like a grenade launcher), various grenades Miscellaneous items: Vault Canteen, Various drugs and Medical Equipment Forces of habit: Lucy is a compulsive hoarder, specifically, anything she can read (Regardless if she has any interest in the material) and more morbidly, people's eyes. She says it helps her remember who they are "When I can look them in the eyes". She also has a minor addiction to Black Coffee; not so much that it's seriously detrimental, but it can be fairly distracting to have it around or simply mentioned near her. She's also something of a quick shot, able to shoot quickly but with no regards to accuracy. This makes her somewhat trigger happy, if she doesn't simply punch you. Biography: Lucy was born in raised in Vault 103. Their vault's mission was simply survival, but more specifically, scientific research. To survive the nuclear apocalypse and build back from the ashes. Lucy was born in the ordinance research and disposal sector; she would deal with weapons like bombs and guns, to disarm them and create them. She started young, right receiving her basic education, and went right into researching things as simply as a tin-can grenade to nuclear warheads. By the time she was a teenager, she could create a high-yield nuclear device with some cleaning fluids and nukacola. And she'd need that knowledge too; when she was a teenager, she was sent out with a exposition crew into the wasteland. Lucy's first expedition was to the north-west, to a derelict robot facility. Their sources said that the facility was still operational, and it would be a great boon for the vault to have a ready supply of robots in their service. Lucy came along to deal with any explosive issues, as well as provide an extra gun. She was given a standard issue laser rifle, which she would later customize and alter into something devastatingly powerful. But they met with a lot of resistance along the way; raiders from the east, wild animals, rogue machines. It was the latter that allowed Lucy to begin developing her skills with machines; while the others were satisfied with simply destroying the robots, she sought to use them. She would attempt to repair them, or turning them to her side before they would be destroyed. She didn't always succeed, but with constant effort, she was making large improvements. By the time they reached the robot facility, she was as capable of running it as their designated robotic expert. But this was where things took a slight turn for the worse. While Lucy always kept her knowledge of robots to a minimum, the robotics expert grew mad with power. After they had activated the facility, they took control of many robots, including the combat capable sentry bots. There was at least fifty of them, fulled armed with Gatling weapons and explosive launchers. The robotic expert wanted to take over the facility for himself, and use it to make his own nation. Some of the team joined him, but not Lucy. She knew what their mission was, and she was not about to let one man hunger for power bring it down. Working under his nose, she began to sabotage the robots, knowing that if she had altered their programming she would be quickly discovered. She rigged their rocket launchers to self-destruct, shorten their fusion batteries, disabled their combat inhibitors. When she finally spoke out against the rogue leader, he was quick to use his machines to execute Lucy. But the robots turned against him, destroying each other and killing him and his collaborator. Lucy hid during the chaos, only coming out to defend herself when she was found. After the robots wiped out the rogues, Lucy went about restoring their programming, repairing the damaged robots, and trying to contact the Vault about her mission. Lucy's results had mixed reactions from the vault. On one hand, she was commemorated for securing the facility. But many had died during the short uprising, some of them people of high standing. Lucy did not want to risk going back to the Vault on her own, as even if she could get past the dangers on the way, there was likely many angry inhabitants who wanted her blood for what happened, regardless of why it did. So she stayed at the robot facility, plying new skills there. She quickly became quite knowledgeable with robotics, and used their spare parts to improve her weapons. Lucy would occasionally send a robot or two to gather supplies for her, usually by finding a local populace that was not hostile and trading them a robot for a good amount of supplies (Food, Med, Ammo). She also got into the habit of having the robots collect her reading materials, as her time at the facility was quite lonesome. For years Lucy stayed at the facility, occasionally getting messages from the Vault about her current situation while sending them any help she could get. But aside form a few wanderers, no one ever stayed to help her. She'd trade with them, give them a robot for a good amount of supplies, even patched them up a little with what medical knowledge she had. This became something of a new occupation; not many had the need or supplies to trade for a robot, but her ability to purge their bodies of impurities like rads or chems made her service as a doctor more renown than in robotics. But with her fame came it's troubles. Though she had no problems with bandits thanks to her robots, one incident cost her her right arm. A well armed raider group came in and made a mess of the facility, and while they all died during the initial attack, Lucy's arm was blow clean off. Stabilizing herself using stimpacks, she quickly went to one of her Mister Gusty models and programmed it for a medical operation; to save her. The operation took days, where she faded in and out of life and death, but eventually she survived. Her arm was a good as gone, but she wasn't about to let it be. Using the materials at the facility and all her knowledge, she created a new arm. An arm of steel, one that would help her survive the wasteland. She modeled it after a powerfist, fitted with a barrel attached the the forearm where she could load various explosive shots. She also had to create a harness for the right side of her body in order to handle the strength of her new hand, but after some test runs she was able to use it like it was natural. But the incident reminded Lucy that she could not stay here any longer. She contacted the Vault and demanded reinforcements, or she'd have to keep the robots at the facility in order to protect it. And to her surprise, she got an answer. The Enclave. They came in mass amounts of vertibirds, and Lucy had to shutdown her robots to prevent them from opening fire. They claimed to be there on behalf of the Vault to provide assistance for Lucy, but before she could even ask why or for a clarification, she was taken away from the facility and shipped back to the vault. All her years of work, taken away from her. The Enclave took over the facility and booted Lucy back to Vault 103, where she had to deal with the friends and family of the people that had came with her during the initial exploration. It was stressful, to say the least. Many times she nearly came to blow with various of the vault dwellers, and was thinking of striking out on her own when the Enclave contacted her for an offer... Extra: Lucy doesn't think very highly of the Enclave. She knows very little about them aside that they showed up one day and took over the facility she was taking care of without so much as a chance to pack her things. Lucy doesn't trust them, but knows she lacks the support or influence to actually stand against them. So for now she works with them, if only tenuously.

Archange a continué à vaporiser plus de mutants comme ils sont apparus, et un seul d'entre eux a réussi à obtenir un bon tir sur elle, faisant une perce de balle à travers son avant-bras. Il saignait beaucoup, qu'elle n'a réussi à arrêter qu'avec un bandage lourd. Cela ne l'empêcha pas d'être capable de continuer à se battre, mais il lui enleva cinq autres mutants à la vue d'elle. Quand elle entendit les avertissements de la nuisette, elle sourit. La plupart de tous s'appuyaient sur leur vue pour les repérer, mais grâce à ses Senseurs, Archangel a pu détecter les garçons furtifs lorsqu'ils ont été activés. En utilisant sa TVA, Archange a continué à poser des lasers chauds dans les ennemis, surchauffant leur chair et la faisant bouillir et saigner à mort. Quand elle a vu deux nightkins essayer de la dépasser, elle a dirigé son gantet sur eux et a utilisé sa TVA pour la cible la plus optimale; jambe gauche pour 85 % de chance de succès. Elle l'a lancé en le voyant voler dans le duo invisible. Il a manqué les nightkins, seulement pour qu'il atterrisse entre eux donc ils ont toujours été pris dans l'explosion. L'une des nuisettes a été tuée tandis que l'autre était infirme, ce qui a permis à Lucy de la terminer avec quelques éclats de son désintégrateur. Archange a entendu des rires maniaques sur les comms et immédiatement elle savait que c'était "Whisper", leur petit scrappeur psychotique. Contrairement aux autres (à part le Golem) Whisper n'a pas mis le feu et est allé au combat en melee, poignardant ses ennemis en toute impunité. Mais contrairement au Golem, Whisper n'était pas vêtu de Power Armor, donc cela semblait une très mauvaise idée pour Archange. Elle n'a pas eu le temps de s'inquiéter quand la mort les a alertés du Wanamingo. "Qu'est-ce qu'un Wanamingo?" Archange a rapidement eu l'occasion de voir par elle-même, cependant, quand à partir des décombres ses détecteurs ont détecté trois des bêtes courent vers elle. Ils ressemblaient à des bouches géantes avec des jambes et des tentacules, pas tout à fait comme un centaure, mais ces choses étaient dans une catégorie sur leur propre en termes de panique. Archange leur a tiré dessus, mais même quand ses neuf rayons laser ont touché un seul wanamingo, ça n'a même pas autant grogne dans la douleur! Archange a dû épuiser toute une cellule de Microfusion avant que l'une des bêtes ne tombe, et cela a laissé encore deux qui venaient dangereusement près d'elle. Elle en chargea calmement un autre et tira quelques coups de feu avant qu'ils ne l'atteignent. Elle s'est envolée, veillant à ne pas se laisser exposer aux super mutants qui commençaient lentement à se retirer. Elle a essayé de tirer un autre coup quand un des monstres mutés a piégé son fusil avec son tentacule, la forçant elle et la bête à un match en difficulté. Elle a concédé quand l'autre wanamingo courait pour la flanquer. Elle s'est enfuie, faisant voler la bête au-dessus d'elle. Lorsqu'elle s'est écrasée dans un mur, elle a sorti son régulateur de conformité; bien que loin d'être une arme « non létale » dans ses mains, l'utilisation principale avec le régulateur de conformité était de paralyser les cibles au cas où elles ne pourraient pas simplement les tuer, comme les personnes qui devaient être ramenées en vie ou l'une l'autre si, pour une raison quelconque, elles ne pouvaient pas se contrôler elles-mêmes. Elle n'a tiré qu'un seul coup sur le wanamingo qui avait son fusil laser et l'a fait tomber, c'est le corps stupéfait. Elle a chargé un rond dans son gantelet et a frappé la bête juste au-dessus de sa bouche, en envoyant l'explosif rond dans sa tête. Ça a explosé de façon spectaculaire. Avant que l'autre wanamingo puisse avoir une chance de reprendre son attaque, Archangel l'a aussi paralysé et l'a tué via un tour explosif inséré manuellement. Après avoir pris soin des deux monstres, Archange a remarqué un calme soudain des coups de feu. Elle a déduit que les super mutants avaient commencé à se retirer, mais sans doute qu'ils reviendront en plus grand nombre. L'équipage aurait besoin d'une meilleure position qu'ici, de préférence à l'aide d'explosifs de proximité et de tourelles automatisées. La voix de Death Strike s'est effondrée sur les communications alors qu'il commençait à dorloter les ordres. Leur cible était un appartement haut de gamme; contrairement aux décombres qui l'entouraient, il n'y avait que peu de bâtiments debout en vue. Bear, Golem, Ginger et Phoenix formeraient l'avant-garde qui distrait et occuperait l'attention des Super Mutants locaux. Pendant ce temps, elle et les autres se faufilaient vers les appartements pour voir s'il y avait quelque chose qu'ils pouvaient récupérer là-dedans. Par la suite, Deathstrole et Whisper couvriraient la haute terre alors qu'elle et Winter soutenaient les avant-gardes. "C'est bon pour moi." Coup de mort qu'un rappel rapide de leur mission. Ils devaient trouver l'aiguille spatiale, qui est le point de repère où se trouve la voûte. Mais il y avait une prise, elle ne pouvait pas y aller. En tant que l'une des rares habitants de Vault dans ce groupe, elle était la seule plus sensible au VEMS qui était à l'intérieur. Archange a frémi à l'idée d'être dans le pétrin. Au cours de l'entraînement de base, elle et une vingtaine d'autres habitants de la chambre forte ont traversé une « simulation » qui a tué la moitié par choc, et a fait abandonner les autres sur place ou dès qu'ils se sont rétablis. La seule raison pour laquelle elle ne l'a pas fait, c'est qu'elle s'est évanouie tout le temps et qu'elle ne savait pas ce qui s'est passé jusqu'à ce qu'elle voie l'holotape. Elle ne savait pas qu'elle pouvait crier comme ça. "Roger Roger..." Avec leurs objectifs fixés, Archange a rechargé ses armes et a suivi Death Strike jusqu'aux appartements.

Agent Name: Lucy Cipher Agent Code Name: Archangel Age: 27 Gender: Female Appearance: Armor: Armored modified utility jumpsuit (Luck+1, Repair+5, Rad Resist +10, DR +12) Digital Interface Glasses (Gives her Sensors and allows her to zoom in onto things at a distance) Clothing: Pip-Boy 3000 (Functional), Standard Issue Underwear, Naughty Nightwear, Prewar Business Wear Weapons: Compliance Regulator, The Disintegrator, Modified Ballistic Fist (Can use explosives to enhance punches or launch them like a grenade launcher), various grenades Miscellaneous items: Vault Canteen, Various drugs and Medical Equipment Forces of habit: Lucy is a compulsive hoarder, specifically, anything she can read (Regardless if she has any interest in the material) and more morbidly, people's eyes. She says it helps her remember who they are "When I can look them in the eyes". She also has a minor addiction to Black Coffee; not so much that it's seriously detrimental, but it can be fairly distracting to have it around or simply mentioned near her. She's also something of a quick shot, able to shoot quickly but with no regards to accuracy. This makes her somewhat trigger happy, if she doesn't simply punch you. Biography: Lucy was born in raised in Vault 103. Their vault's mission was simply survival, but more specifically, scientific research. To survive the nuclear apocalypse and build back from the ashes. Lucy was born in the ordinance research and disposal sector; she would deal with weapons like bombs and guns, to disarm them and create them. She started young, right receiving her basic education, and went right into researching things as simply as a tin-can grenade to nuclear warheads. By the time she was a teenager, she could create a high-yield nuclear device with some cleaning fluids and nukacola. And she'd need that knowledge too; when she was a teenager, she was sent out with a exposition crew into the wasteland. Lucy's first expedition was to the north-west, to a derelict robot facility. Their sources said that the facility was still operational, and it would be a great boon for the vault to have a ready supply of robots in their service. Lucy came along to deal with any explosive issues, as well as provide an extra gun. She was given a standard issue laser rifle, which she would later customize and alter into something devastatingly powerful. But they met with a lot of resistance along the way; raiders from the east, wild animals, rogue machines. It was the latter that allowed Lucy to begin developing her skills with machines; while the others were satisfied with simply destroying the robots, she sought to use them. She would attempt to repair them, or turning them to her side before they would be destroyed. She didn't always succeed, but with constant effort, she was making large improvements. By the time they reached the robot facility, she was as capable of running it as their designated robotic expert. But this was where things took a slight turn for the worse. While Lucy always kept her knowledge of robots to a minimum, the robotics expert grew mad with power. After they had activated the facility, they took control of many robots, including the combat capable sentry bots. There was at least fifty of them, fulled armed with Gatling weapons and explosive launchers. The robotic expert wanted to take over the facility for himself, and use it to make his own nation. Some of the team joined him, but not Lucy. She knew what their mission was, and she was not about to let one man hunger for power bring it down. Working under his nose, she began to sabotage the robots, knowing that if she had altered their programming she would be quickly discovered. She rigged their rocket launchers to self-destruct, shorten their fusion batteries, disabled their combat inhibitors. When she finally spoke out against the rogue leader, he was quick to use his machines to execute Lucy. But the robots turned against him, destroying each other and killing him and his collaborator. Lucy hid during the chaos, only coming out to defend herself when she was found. After the robots wiped out the rogues, Lucy went about restoring their programming, repairing the damaged robots, and trying to contact the Vault about her mission. Lucy's results had mixed reactions from the vault. On one hand, she was commemorated for securing the facility. But many had died during the short uprising, some of them people of high standing. Lucy did not want to risk going back to the Vault on her own, as even if she could get past the dangers on the way, there was likely many angry inhabitants who wanted her blood for what happened, regardless of why it did. So she stayed at the robot facility, plying new skills there. She quickly became quite knowledgeable with robotics, and used their spare parts to improve her weapons. Lucy would occasionally send a robot or two to gather supplies for her, usually by finding a local populace that was not hostile and trading them a robot for a good amount of supplies (Food, Med, Ammo). She also got into the habit of having the robots collect her reading materials, as her time at the facility was quite lonesome. For years Lucy stayed at the facility, occasionally getting messages from the Vault about her current situation while sending them any help she could get. But aside form a few wanderers, no one ever stayed to help her. She'd trade with them, give them a robot for a good amount of supplies, even patched them up a little with what medical knowledge she had. This became something of a new occupation; not many had the need or supplies to trade for a robot, but her ability to purge their bodies of impurities like rads or chems made her service as a doctor more renown than in robotics. But with her fame came it's troubles. Though she had no problems with bandits thanks to her robots, one incident cost her her right arm. A well armed raider group came in and made a mess of the facility, and while they all died during the initial attack, Lucy's arm was blow clean off. Stabilizing herself using stimpacks, she quickly went to one of her Mister Gusty models and programmed it for a medical operation; to save her. The operation took days, where she faded in and out of life and death, but eventually she survived. Her arm was a good as gone, but she wasn't about to let it be. Using the materials at the facility and all her knowledge, she created a new arm. An arm of steel, one that would help her survive the wasteland. She modeled it after a powerfist, fitted with a barrel attached the the forearm where she could load various explosive shots. She also had to create a harness for the right side of her body in order to handle the strength of her new hand, but after some test runs she was able to use it like it was natural. But the incident reminded Lucy that she could not stay here any longer. She contacted the Vault and demanded reinforcements, or she'd have to keep the robots at the facility in order to protect it. And to her surprise, she got an answer. The Enclave. They came in mass amounts of vertibirds, and Lucy had to shutdown her robots to prevent them from opening fire. They claimed to be there on behalf of the Vault to provide assistance for Lucy, but before she could even ask why or for a clarification, she was taken away from the facility and shipped back to the vault. All her years of work, taken away from her. The Enclave took over the facility and booted Lucy back to Vault 103, where she had to deal with the friends and family of the people that had came with her during the initial exploration. It was stressful, to say the least. Many times she nearly came to blow with various of the vault dwellers, and was thinking of striking out on her own when the Enclave contacted her for an offer... Extra: Lucy doesn't think very highly of the Enclave. She knows very little about them aside that they showed up one day and took over the facility she was taking care of without so much as a chance to pack her things. Lucy doesn't trust them, but knows she lacks the support or influence to actually stand against them. So for now she works with them, if only tenuously.

Alexander s'arrêta un moment, donnant à l'ingénieur Briggs toute son attention lorsqu'elle sortit sur le pont. Un peu dur autour des bords. Mais d'après tous les témoignages, elle connaissait ses machines et c'était tout ce dont il avait besoin d'elle. Il regarda le cigare, notant le groupe autour de son centre. Jamaïcain. Britannique fait. "Engineer Briggs", a-t-il dit. "Le Pegasus n'est pas habillé comme tout autre brick. Nous avons un cadre en bois, mais les plaques de fer ajoutées à la coque augmentent notre poids exponentiellement. Malheureusement, l'équipe de construction n'a pas augmenté notre stock de charbon pour compenser. La Couronne a envoyé un magicien « First Rate » pour maintenir les moteurs en marche au cas où nous brûlerions notre charbon trop rapidement. J'espère que vous allez bien travailler avec celui-ci? S'il y a des désaccords, cela pourrait nous envoyer tous au fond de la mer. » La rivalité entre les « têtes de tête » et les « mystiques » de l'Académie militaire royale était déjà légendaire. C'était toujours le cas lorsque l'ancien s'affrontait avec le nouveau, mais les magiciens servaient normalement à la guerre des hommes de la flotte, et les ingénieurs s'accrochaient aux bricks et aux frégates. Ce serait probablement la première fois qu'on s'attendrait à ce que les deux travaillent en tandem les uns avec les autres... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Avec un sixième sens presque étrange, Alexandre a détecté les saluts derrière lui et s'est tourné vers Garret et Hal. En retournant le geste, il a dit : « Messieurs. Les vaisseaux aériens ci-dessous sont expérimentaux, comme vous l'imaginez probablement. La Royal Navy aurait pu avoir une frégate pour le coût du lot d'entre eux. Ce que vous faites dans le cadre de cette mission déterminera si la production se produit ou non. Je ne serai pas en mesure de donner des ordres directs dans la chaleur de la bataille, donc je m'attendrai à ce que vous utilisiez votre meilleur jugement lors de l'attaque de l'ennemi- si nous engageons l'ennemi du tout." Condamnation à l'ingénieur Briggs il a dit « Notre ingénieur en chef sera en mesure de vous offrir de l'aide dans toutes les rénovations que vous aimeriez faire pour améliorer l'embarcation- si vous lui demandez gentiment. »

Name: Captain Alexander Lorraine Age: 29 Sex: Male Race: Human Occupation: Captain of the HMS Pegasus, Landowner in the vicinity of Aylesbury, England. Biography: Captain Alexander Lorraine is the third son of his father, Robert Lorraine. On paper he is listed as the child of Robert's wife Elizabeth, but it is an open secret that Robert is the issue of their Irish cook, Mary Wallpoole. Such fiery red hair does not come naturally to English nobility, after all. As a consequence, the was raised as an afterthought, a placeholder for Robert's line in the event both of his other sons, Martin and Johnathon, both perished. Martin caught cholera in the outbreak of 1797 and Johnathon sadly fell and broke his neck while riding his horse in 1803. Meanwhile, Alexander survived the battle of Trafalgar and was noted for his bravery, seizing command of the HMS Hurricane, a third-rate Man o War, after a cannonball killed both the captain and first mate. He has since been given orders to report to the docks of London to assume command of the HMS Pegasus, and command her crew in order to complete her mission. Weapon of choice: Captain's cutlass, clockwork pistol (four rounds). Orientation/Relationship Status: One can only guess... Audition: As he stood at the forecastle of the HMS Pegasus, Alexander could not help but recall how long he had been waiting a long time for this moment. Not with anticipation or dread, but with a desire for the moment to arrive so the next could come. He was a man of action, and to be tied up in hospital after taking a shot to the gut had delayed the launch of the vessel by three weeks. English sailors were not keen to risk their necks in the skies over the Atlantic, and he would not blame any for moving on to better fortunes. Still, he was hopeful that the ship would have a successful launch. He'd seen the letters from the Admiralty concerning their mission, and it wasn't looking like the delay of his hospital stay may have doomed them already. But there was still a chance to make it work, to stop the Emperor before the Coalition fell apart in the fields of Prussia. "Well," he mumbled, looking to the docks beside the Pegasus, "Let's see who has remembered their duty to King and Country..."

Wanamingos, Bear pensé, le seul mot qui parvient à traverser la brume rouge de la guerre. Le tonneau de rotation s'arrêta lentement, tandis que l'ours se rétrécissait les yeux, les jetant, la tête tournait lentement pour essayer d'attraper les bâtards avant qu'ils ne puissent se faufiler sur lui. Déjà, Whisper était le cou profond en eux, et Death Strike sur sa perche était en train de traiter avec certains de ses propres. Il s'est tourné pour aider le chef d'équipe, la folle gaspilleur jeté de son esprit comme il pensait qu'elle serait tuée dans une question de moments, avec ou sans son aide. Alors que le canon commençait à tourner lentement, les blocs d'électrons se chargeant, un petit éclat traversa son champ de vision. Avec un cri sauvage, il a refusé son arme, commençant à tirer sur les monstruosités cachées qui semblaient se croire ses meilleurs. Une paire s'est dérobée et est tombée sous son barrage, provoquant un rire de cœur pour l'échapper. C'était le puissant banamingos que tout le monde craignait? Il riait encore alors qu'il jetait son regard autour de lui, seulement pour qu'il fasse sombre comme un bouffon fort! Sonné et un poids a été pressé sur son dos. Le métal de son armure de puissance gémit sous la morsure du wanamingo, et ses mains lâchèrent le laser gatling, permettant au précieux pistolet de frapper le sol avec un clin d'oeil. Ses mains se levèrent jusqu'aux lèvres du monstre, et se travaillèrent les doigts entre les dents du rasoir. Avec un gémissement, il a commencé à tirer, les mâchoires se desserrent lentement alors qu'il forçait la chose monstrueuse à le libérer. La lumière a commencé à monter en flèche, éclairant l'intérieur dégoûtant du mutant. Avec un rugissement puissant qui a explosé sur les communications et sur la région, poursuivant les super mutants fuyant, il a fait sortir le wanamingo de lui et l'a frappé sur le sol avant lui. Sa main gauche s'enflamma à la hanche, s'emparant du pistolet, tandis que son pied s'accrochait sous la bête pendant qu'elle se tenait debout. La force du coup de pied l'a frappé dans l'air alors que son défenseur de plasma était tiré, et avec un coup de feu, la face inférieure de sa mâchoire et la plupart de sa bouche a été fondue. Il lâchait un cri shrill, qu'il a fait taire avec un second coup de feu. De son autre hanche, il récupéra l'épais couteau, et le retena devant lui de façon défensive, le pistolet se tenant lâchement à ses côtés. Bien sûr, ce défi a été relevé. Un grognement derrière lui l'a alerté de la présence d'un, et il s'est tourné pour l'affronter, pointant le pistolet dans la direction et tirant. Le dérapage de l'explosion de son côté, en creusant la peau épaisse, et en la déverrouillant. Alors qu'il se préparait à tirer un coup de feu, une vrille s'est évanouie, s'empare du bras et l'égare. Le second bâtard enveloppa son autre vrille autour de son avant-bras, et commença à les tirer l'un vers l'autre. Plutôt que d'être vaincu par cette chose, cette abomination, la lame dans sa main a été tournée de sorte que la lame pointée vers le bas, et il a été creusé dans la première vrille, tenant sur son poignet. Il lâchait un cri et desserrait son emprise, lui permettant de pointer le pistolet droit vers sa bouche ouverte et son feu. Il l'a libéré, criant dans la douleur, mais pas mort. Donc, ils étaient durs. La première était sur lui, cependant, alors qu'il se tournait vers elle à nouveau. Il sauta sur sa poitrine, mais l'Ours n'avait pas envie de voir à nouveau l'intérieur d'une bouche de wanamingo. Les vrilles se sont enroulées autour du cou et du haut du dos, le forçant vers les mâchoires ouvertes. Malheureusement, il n'a rien fait contre ses bras. La lame a d'abord été relevée, elle s'est enfoncée dans le haut de sa tête. Avant même qu'il puisse crier dans la douleur, le défenseur a été élevé pour tirer un cinquième coup de feu, soufflant à travers sa peau et son crâne. Le cadavre l'a glissé, et il a tourné en arrière, seulement pour voir celui qu'il a blessé avant de l'inculper, un nouvel ami avec lui. La paire s'est cassée, essayant de le flanquer. Il maudit à haute voix, et se tourna pour combattre le nouveau. Il réajusta sa lame pour la tenir normalement, et se prépara à la charge ou au lancement inévitables des vrilles. Malheureusement, il n'est jamais venu. De derrière, un ensemble de vrilles enroulées autour de sa jambe inférieure, et l'yaient en arrière, le forçant à tomber à son genou, la jambe s'étirait derrière lui. Un autre jure, et il a regardé vers le haut pour voir celui qu'il avait été en face de l'inculper, déterminé à obtenir le meurtre. Stupide, stupide créature. Sa main se leva et entra dans la bouche des créatures, le canon du pistolet s'y enfonça. Avec un sourire sauvage et un rire, il a appuyé sur la gâchette, en envoyant une poussée de plasma à travers l'estomac de la chose et en sortant son cul. En se balançant l'arme et en la poussant, il sentit quelque chose de lourd sur son dos, le forçant à une position de pose. Il laissa ses armes à côté de lui, et s'approcha pour saisir les vrilles alors que la chose s'appuyait pour lui couper la tête. Avec une traction, elle s'enfonçait en avant, claquant dans le cadavre de son frère tombé. Pendant que l'ours se tenait, il a glissé, et comme il a essayé de se tenir, il a fait ce que toute personne normale ferait. Avec rafales, il a crié "Le coude des gens!" et il sauta dans l'air, et, comme il tomba son coude épaisement vêtu, se claqua sur le côté de sa tête, le reste de son corps tombant dessus. Avec un crack satisfaisant! la chose arrête de se dorloter, et il s'est tiré jusqu'à ses pieds. Il s'est tenu au-dessus des cadavres, baignant dans son casque, un petit souvenir revenant à lui. Un village enflammé, il se tenait au-dessus, les corps d'innombrables hommes et femmes devant lui comme le blizzard faisait rage autour de lui, et ses hommes le regardaient avec respect. Alors qu'il ouvrit les yeux, il ne reçut aucune telle louange, seulement un ordre d'aller de l'avant. Il semblait que pendant qu'il était occupé, les autres finissaient leurs propres restes. Récupérer ses armes, il a éteint le pistolet et a fourré le couteau, puis a hissé son laser gatling. Puis il s'en est suivi pendant que les autres s'en allaient après le coup de mort. Il s'attendait à plus de combats de la part des super mutants célèbres et de la nightkin, l'armée dite craintive que le Maître avait élevé il y a si longtemps. Ces vieilles monstruosités auraient dû être capables d'enlever quelques humains, en particulier Whisper, qui avaient chargé leurs lignes comme une maudite folle! Mais non, ils s'étaient laissés bercer par eux. Ça l'a dégoûté. Il s'assit silencieusement alors que le briefing de la mission était donné, le géant ébène chargé d'inspecter soigneusement son arme pour s'assurer qu'elle n'avait pas été endommagée par la chute. Satisfait qu'il l'était, il a arraché la paire de rad-x de son commandant et a sauté de son casque. L'homme en dessous a été barbu, la masse noire apprivoisée par une série de tresses complexes qui lui a permis de s'adapter sous le casque. Ses joues et son front étaient recouverts d'innombrables minuscules cicatrices, de chair usée qui semblait appartenir à la chaleur du sud plutôt qu'au froid du nord marqué par les marques blanches. Les pilules ont été rapidement descendues et avalées, et il a frissonné à la sensation. Il détestait avaler ces choses entières, et il fallait toujours résister à l'envie de les mettre dans la poussière. Une fois que l'acte rapide a été fait en quelques secondes, le casque a été ramené et verrouillé autour de lui. L'ours se leva jusqu'à ses pieds, s'emparant fermement du laser gatling dans ses poings. « Très bien, les garçons, » dit-il, en commençant à marcher vers la sortie, prêt à revenir dans l'épaisseur des choses. "Golem et moi allons prendre les devants, pendant que Ginger et Phoenix restent derrière nous pour soutenir le feu. Aucun héroïsme de personne. Allons-y." Il n'y aurait pas de temps pour des questions ou quoi que ce soit contre ses commandements à moins de parler au sujet des communications alors qu'il se dirigeait vers la rue, prêt à commencer la mission avec sérieux.

Name: Aria Hunter Codename: Wraith Age: 25 Biography:Born out in the west, Aria was raised in a small town just outside of control of the NCR. So small and out of the way it was, even raiders didn't seem to notice it all that much. While the village lacked firearms, they happened to have a small cash of old blades nearby. With a bit of sprucing up, many of them were ready for use. Nearly everyone in the village was trained to wield a blade, even if there weren't enough to go around, and Aria was no exception. By the time she was fourteen, she was easily as skilled as most of the adults, as they were around her age. However, Aria was rather bored with their life. Meager farming and sparring with the others weren't really the most exciting things, especially if there was no danger in it. The only thing that really ever caught her attention was the occasional sight of a vertibird flying high above. After about the fifth or six time, she decided to take off in the direction it went. After about a month of walking and slicing up geckos, she managed to arrive at an Enclave base several miles north of her village. And, fenced off from her, the vertibird. Or, rather, vertibirds. Of course, the moment she tried to climb the fence, alarms went off, and within the hour she was caught and brought in for questioning. Easily figuring out she wasn't NCR or part of the Brotherhood, she was given permission to leave. Which she denied. Several times, in fact. Rather than throw her out, the leader of the outpost decided to keep her on and train her to be a member of the Enclave, a soldier forged in youth to be loyal to the ideal of a rebirthed America. But, the soldier's life was not for her, as they all quickly figured out. She was a terrible shot, and honestly was all that bright. So, they put her in the only place they could - pilot training. And damn was she good at it. She actually wasn't allowed in a cockpit until she was eighteen, but by then she had already learned the ins and outs of flying. And, with a little practice, she was easily the best of all the recruit pilots. The maneuvers she'd do in assessments were seen as insane and near impossible by the other recruits, and either reckless or genius by her superiors. At the age of twenty, she was finally put to test, doing runs through NCR territory and even over some holdings of Caesar's Legion. At one point, she flew a little too close to Boomer territory, and was nearly shot out of the sky... Nearly. According to the men on board, if it had been any other pilot, they would have been a fiery mess for the Boomers to loot. And she only continued to impress, up until the point that when it came to choose a pilot for Eagle Claw, there really was no competition, and she flew herself all the way up to Canada just to serve the Enclave and Eagle Claw. Other: She is crass, unrefined, and sarcastic. Won't hesitate to nearly blow up the vertibird to save it. Unshakable loyalty to the Enclave. Carries a 9mm sub machinegun and a Chinese officer's sword.

Le sang a soufflé un pied dans l'air quand Golem a arraché sa hache libre de la gorge des mutants. Un autre vint à lui et le coup s'était serré vers le bas, scindant la tête des mutants tout au long de son larynx laissant Golem sans défense du mutant chargé sur sa gauche. Il a claqué sa luge dans son côté. La douleur du coup était agaçante, mais ce qui inquiète Golem, c'est la bosselure sur le côté de son armure. Ignorant la brèche pour le moment, il a dérobé le mutant offensif, lui donnant juste le temps de tourner son bouclier pour intercepter le prochain coup. Le Muttie avait de la force, Golem lui donnait ça, et c'est la balançoire qui l'a mis à genoux. Reposant son bouclier sur le sol, il s'agenouilla en attendant que le Mutant se promène pour porter un coup dévastateur vers le bas. Grinning à lui-même, sa main a saisi la poignée de son fusil et a balancé son bouclier vers le haut alors que le Super soulevait son arme au-dessus de sa tête. Le coup n'est jamais tombé alors que le mutant a cessé d'avoir une tête quand le tir à bout portant a plu sanglant sur la forme debout de Golem. À son tour, il a levé son arme et a tiré sur le deuxième tour dans les décombres derrière lui. Pour beaucoup, il aurait l'air fou; gaspiller un rond sur un espace vide, mais n'importe quelle équipe regarder aurait été récompensée par le scintillement du garçon furtif alors que la nuisette tombait à genoux, c'est la poitrine non armée soufflée par la coquille. Souriant à lui-même Ozymandias était heureux que ce parent de nuit particulier avait utilisé les garçons furtifs pendant un peu trop longtemps. Il avait clairement perdu le contrôle d'un esprit comme il murmurait pour lui-même alors qu'il se faufilait sur lui. Son sourire s'est évanoui alors qu'il se retournait pour voir un mutant se déchirer la hache du cadavre de son frère tombé. Personne n'a touché sa hache. Personne! Dans un mouvement fluide, il avait ouvert le fusil et l'avait glissé dans la poignée à l'intérieur de son bouclier. En jetant une balle sur son bandolier à la jambe, il a chargé l'arme et l'a retirée en l'enclenchant. Frappant la gâchette droite, il a attendu que le mutant fasse un mouvement. Le bâtard a levé sa hache et a commencé à marcher en avant à un rythme calme. Ce mutant était plus intelligent que ses prédécesseurs que tout était clair. Elle marchait lentement, se rapprochant de lui, entrant dans la portée de son arme, mais gardant la hache devant lui. Pour tuer le mutant, il devait tirer au-delà de sa hache et le mutant pariait qu'il ne voudrait pas blesser son arme. Malheureusement pour le mutant Golem n'était pas aussi stupide. Quand il est arrivé assez près pour balancer, il s'est avancé et a claqué le bouclier dans le mutant ou au moins il aurait claqué le bouclier dans la hache si le mutant ne l'avait pas écarté. Golem a à peine déclaré que le mutant l'avait piégé avant que le bâtard ne l'abatte alors qu'il était déséquilibré. Golem a perdu la main sur son bouclier, il aurait été mort si le mutant n'avait pas arrêté de se vanter. Alors que sa bouche s'ouvrait pour dire quelque chose d'offensant avant de faire tomber la hache sur la tête de Golem. C'était la deuxième fois au cours des cinq dernières minutes qu'il avait été frappé sur son cul et à la merci d'un Super, c'était inacceptable. Cette fois, son sourire n'est pas revenu quand il a tiré sur la merde verte dans la poitrine. Repoussant à ses pieds, il s'est rechargé, retournant son fusil à son étui. Il s'est emparé de sa hache et a recommencé à prêter attention aux communications. Tout le monde se faisait sauter par des wanamingos, mais même quand il était complètement exposé, ils n'avaient pas sauté pour attaquer. Avec soin, il a commencé à se battre à travers les mutants restants qu'il a fait revenir au groupe en gardant un œil sur tous les wanamingos. Il a pris la pilule et l'a baissée, en vérifiant la bosse dans son armure pendant que son casque était éteint. Le mutant avait fait un vrai nombre sur son armure, ouvrant un petit loyer dans le côté de l'armure de puissance. Heureusement le coup avait manqué une des sources d'énergie, donc il n'y avait pas de fuite de rayonnement, ce qui était un plus. Grinnant sur leurs ordres, il recolla son casque et plongea sa hache sur son dos, il arracha une grenade à plasma du cadavre d'un super tombé avant de suivre Bear. Hé, l'ours! Attrapez! – Il a appelé, jetant la grenade sur la tête d'Ours. Il n'avait pas tiré l'épingle et normalement il ne lancerait pas une grenade comme ça, mais Bear a toujours été si sérieux. L'homme avait besoin de s'éclaircir un peu.

Name: Aria Hunter Codename: Wraith Age: 25 Biography:Born out in the west, Aria was raised in a small town just outside of control of the NCR. So small and out of the way it was, even raiders didn't seem to notice it all that much. While the village lacked firearms, they happened to have a small cash of old blades nearby. With a bit of sprucing up, many of them were ready for use. Nearly everyone in the village was trained to wield a blade, even if there weren't enough to go around, and Aria was no exception. By the time she was fourteen, she was easily as skilled as most of the adults, as they were around her age. However, Aria was rather bored with their life. Meager farming and sparring with the others weren't really the most exciting things, especially if there was no danger in it. The only thing that really ever caught her attention was the occasional sight of a vertibird flying high above. After about the fifth or six time, she decided to take off in the direction it went. After about a month of walking and slicing up geckos, she managed to arrive at an Enclave base several miles north of her village. And, fenced off from her, the vertibird. Or, rather, vertibirds. Of course, the moment she tried to climb the fence, alarms went off, and within the hour she was caught and brought in for questioning. Easily figuring out she wasn't NCR or part of the Brotherhood, she was given permission to leave. Which she denied. Several times, in fact. Rather than throw her out, the leader of the outpost decided to keep her on and train her to be a member of the Enclave, a soldier forged in youth to be loyal to the ideal of a rebirthed America. But, the soldier's life was not for her, as they all quickly figured out. She was a terrible shot, and honestly was all that bright. So, they put her in the only place they could - pilot training. And damn was she good at it. She actually wasn't allowed in a cockpit until she was eighteen, but by then she had already learned the ins and outs of flying. And, with a little practice, she was easily the best of all the recruit pilots. The maneuvers she'd do in assessments were seen as insane and near impossible by the other recruits, and either reckless or genius by her superiors. At the age of twenty, she was finally put to test, doing runs through NCR territory and even over some holdings of Caesar's Legion. At one point, she flew a little too close to Boomer territory, and was nearly shot out of the sky... Nearly. According to the men on board, if it had been any other pilot, they would have been a fiery mess for the Boomers to loot. And she only continued to impress, up until the point that when it came to choose a pilot for Eagle Claw, there really was no competition, and she flew herself all the way up to Canada just to serve the Enclave and Eagle Claw. Other: She is crass, unrefined, and sarcastic. Won't hesitate to nearly blow up the vertibird to save it. Unshakable loyalty to the Enclave. Carries a 9mm sub machinegun and a Chinese officer's sword.

En mettant le laser gatling contre le mur, il s'est retourné et a commencé à chercher l'équipement approprié. Dehors, il entendait le rugissement de la bête, et les bruits d'explosions et de coups de feu. Oh, comme il voulait pouvoir le voir! Mais, il aurait la chance d'infliger des dégâts assez tôt. Au moment où les tirs s'arrêtaient, et quand le cri sur les virgules pour qu'ils l'achèvent, l'Ours portait un lance-missile chargé sur son épaule, quatre autres étant retenus sous son bras. Un sourire sauvage a couvert son visage sous son casque alors qu'il montait à un niveau supérieur de l'immeuble, et a regardé dehors. Déjà, ce satané truc commençait à se lever. Bien qu'il semblait y avoir quelque chose qui grimpait dessus... Quand le cri est venu sur les communications, il a juré à haute voix, et a préparé le lanceur. Plutôt que de tenir son feu, il s'est contenté de crier : "Regarde-toi, Hiver!" Puis il a appuyé sur la gâchette, et un missile s'est tiré du canon. Il a volé dans l'air, laissant sortir un petit bruit tourbillonnant suivant le sentier de fumée laissé derrière. Après un petit retard, le missile s'est heurté, directement dans la joue gauche du Béhémoth. C'est la tête jetée sur le côté, et un rugissement de douleur l'a échappé, tandis que l'ours chargé dans un autre missile. Un rugissement lui a échappé, et le deuxième missile a été tiré, frappant la chose dans l'épaule. Espérons que l'éclaboussure ne frapperait pas l'hiver, mais pour le moment, la seule chose que Bear pouvait voir était le rouge de la rage et son ennemi. Un tiers était chargé, et il abaissait considérablement son but. "Reste à terre!" Il rugissait, et le missile volait du canon, vers le genou de la créature. Il n'a même pas pris la peine de vérifier l'impact avant d'avoir chargé le quatrième missile, et a tiré dans la même direction. Les missiles ont frappé leur marque, le premier frappant l'avant du genou et le second frappant le dos, forçant les Behemoth à tomber sur son genou. Le missile final a été chargé dans le lanceur, et il l'a lentement soulevé, prenant finalement un objectif prudent. Celui-ci devait compter. Les missiles avaient été une sacrée bonne distraction pour l'hiver, mais maintenant que son petit barrage était terminé, ce ne serait qu'une question de temps avant que le bâtard ait remarqué que le petit homme le rampait. Lentement, il l'a dirigé vers son visage, vers les yeux. Plus précisément, l'œil gâché que Death Strike avait enlevé. Maintenant, il a juste attendu une ouverture qui, espérons-le, lui permettrait d'achever cette foutue bête. Heureusement, Winter n'était pas un gommage avec un couteau. Le fils de pute habile a pu le forcer à retourner au sol avec un peu de gougissement dans son autre oeil. Comme l'homme commençait à marcher, il pouvait voir la bête aveuglée agiter. Alors qu'il s'asseyait, il lui donnait le point de vue parfait. "Je t'ai dit de rester à terre!" Il a crié, le missile final s'envolant vers la blessure béante qu'Hiver avait laissée. Le missile a déchiré à travers la chair molle de l'œil, et est entré dans le crâne avant d'exploser. Gore s'est éparpillé, pleuvant sur sa poitrine et, malheureusement, l'hiver. Lâché de l'arme, il l'a laissé tomber sur le sol à plusieurs mètres au-dessous. Alors qu'il se tournait vers le bas, il murmurait sur les communications, "Votre bienvenue." Il a récupéré le laser gatling sur le mur, et s'est dirigé vers l'extérieur. Les Béhémoth étaient morts, mais il y avait encore plusieurs dizaines de mutants qui couraient là-bas. Ils n'avaient pas la permission de vivre, et ils n'allaient pas s'éloigner de lui. Une porte en ruine s'est ouverte, le bois s'est brisé et jeté sur le sol. Un groupe de mutants ont été groupés, regardant abrutiment le cadavre des Béhémoth, un dieu selon leurs normes. Et voici l'Ours, celui qui l'avait tué pour de bon, le géant ébène qui sculpterait là-bas des pierres tombales. Alors qu'ils se tournaient pour vérifier le bruit que l'Ours avait causé, le laser gatling tournait déjà et une explosion d'énergie verte éclatait vers eux, les emportant momentanément. Ça s'est arrêté, et il s'est retourné jusqu'à ce qu'il puisse voir autre chose à tuer. Il avait encore un peu de rage à laisser sortir.

Name: Aria Hunter Codename: Wraith Age: 25 Biography:Born out in the west, Aria was raised in a small town just outside of control of the NCR. So small and out of the way it was, even raiders didn't seem to notice it all that much. While the village lacked firearms, they happened to have a small cash of old blades nearby. With a bit of sprucing up, many of them were ready for use. Nearly everyone in the village was trained to wield a blade, even if there weren't enough to go around, and Aria was no exception. By the time she was fourteen, she was easily as skilled as most of the adults, as they were around her age. However, Aria was rather bored with their life. Meager farming and sparring with the others weren't really the most exciting things, especially if there was no danger in it. The only thing that really ever caught her attention was the occasional sight of a vertibird flying high above. After about the fifth or six time, she decided to take off in the direction it went. After about a month of walking and slicing up geckos, she managed to arrive at an Enclave base several miles north of her village. And, fenced off from her, the vertibird. Or, rather, vertibirds. Of course, the moment she tried to climb the fence, alarms went off, and within the hour she was caught and brought in for questioning. Easily figuring out she wasn't NCR or part of the Brotherhood, she was given permission to leave. Which she denied. Several times, in fact. Rather than throw her out, the leader of the outpost decided to keep her on and train her to be a member of the Enclave, a soldier forged in youth to be loyal to the ideal of a rebirthed America. But, the soldier's life was not for her, as they all quickly figured out. She was a terrible shot, and honestly was all that bright. So, they put her in the only place they could - pilot training. And damn was she good at it. She actually wasn't allowed in a cockpit until she was eighteen, but by then she had already learned the ins and outs of flying. And, with a little practice, she was easily the best of all the recruit pilots. The maneuvers she'd do in assessments were seen as insane and near impossible by the other recruits, and either reckless or genius by her superiors. At the age of twenty, she was finally put to test, doing runs through NCR territory and even over some holdings of Caesar's Legion. At one point, she flew a little too close to Boomer territory, and was nearly shot out of the sky... Nearly. According to the men on board, if it had been any other pilot, they would have been a fiery mess for the Boomers to loot. And she only continued to impress, up until the point that when it came to choose a pilot for Eagle Claw, there really was no competition, and she flew herself all the way up to Canada just to serve the Enclave and Eagle Claw. Other: She is crass, unrefined, and sarcastic. Won't hesitate to nearly blow up the vertibird to save it. Unshakable loyalty to the Enclave. Carries a 9mm sub machinegun and a Chinese officer's sword.