Sonis'Kros

M-8 Avenger

**Sonis'Kros vas Monochrome** is a quarian engineer and an operative of the CRC.

## Biography

Sonis' life began with a small tragedy reminiscent of many quarians unfortunately.

Among the thousands of starships that make up the Migrant Fleet the Idenna is notable mostly for its heavy overpopulation, leading the ship’s hierarchy little option but to stretch their designated resources somewhat thin. This fact, in conjunction with an unfortunate complication in his birth, led Sonis' Mother Saile'Fae to suffer a particularly severe infection shortly after his delivery, robbing her of her life at an upsettingly young age. His father Ven'Kros, a field commander of the Migrant Fleet Marines, was deployed to guard a research team on the former quarian world of Apas at the time, and perished in conflict with the geth before he ever learned of his son's birth. Orphaned only days after his birth, Sonis'Kros nar Idenna was alone amongst thousands. The quarians of course are no strangers to personal tragedy, and the newborn wanted for nothing in the care of his shipmates.

The Idenna's executive officer Sen'Sunon had been a close friend and mentor to Ven, and took it upon himself to raise his friend's son as his own.  He was a wise, caring man with a love of stories and strong sense of morality and did everything in his power to impart these qualities onto Sonis, though his duties often kept him distant from his foster son. Sonis' introverted nature became unfortunately clear at a young age. He would stumble awkwardly through even the most basic interactions and spend hours hiding in small spaces away from the prying eyes that were always present aboard the crowded ship. He performed well in his lessons, his mind clearly keen and eager to learn, but he struggled to connect to other children, finding himself quietly ostracized specifically for his unwillingness to socialize. Throughout it all Sonis found escape in study, constantly reading and rereading the databases of his people's history and knowledge. When he exhausted all their stories, he went searching for more, the extranet providing near endless wellsprings of information. He scoured the histories of all races, the vast knowledge proving too much for even him to ever take in its entirety, a concept that thrilled the young quarian to no end.

In his heart of hearts he knew that out among the stars were things he would never know, things that only he would ever know, and a chance to learn for the rest of his life. As Sonis grew into adolescence and showed a considerable aptitude for the mechanical aspect of engineering he found less and less time to indulge his endless study. As work began to fill more and more of his time Sonis adopted the habit of absentmindedly tinkering with bits of scrap, evolving into his tinkering with ships systems and devices he'd been assigned to maintain. Perhaps his sporadic mind led him to think more creatively, or perhaps his exposure to the eccentricities of various cultures left subconscious ideas in the back of his mind, but whatever the case the Fleet brass found Sonis to have an uncommon yet effective approach maintenance, design, and creation of new technology.

His unconventional but obviously effective skills began to earn Sonis a small degree of positive notoriety, much to his own chagrin. All the while Sonis continued to dream of new horizons, continuing his independent study of the galaxy in the little free time allotted to him. Then, finally, on the day of his seventeenth birthday came the event that all young quarians' lives lead up to: the beginning of his Pilgrimage. Excited but apprehensive, Sonis said a private goodbye to his foster father, Sen expressing pride for the young man he had raised and giving what advice he could. "Stay vigilant, stay open minded, and hold onto your pride." Given a modest stipend to begin his journey, Sonis saluted his ship's captain, said a surprisingly heartfelt goodbye to his gathered crewmates, and set off on a second hand shuttle as the Fleet passed near Illium, mind filled with wild fantasies of adventure and discovery. Things did not exactly go as he imagined.

Despite its glistening facade Illium proved to be a cutthroat and dangerous environment ill suited to be a wide eyed young man's first excursion into the wider world. Oblivious to much of this, Sonis scrambled from place to place with glee, visiting many of the planet's major cities taking in cultural sites and museums. All the while, lost in the freedom of exploration, the young quarian took little to no notice as to just how many credits he was hemorrhaging. After several months of this, mind filled with wonder despite the trials he narrowly avoided by sheer happenstance, all the while making no real progress on any goal that might fulfill his Pilgrimage, Sonis bartered passage on a cargo vessel to the galaxy's crown jewel; he was headed to the Citadel. On arrival, after the immediate exaltation of the great station began to settle, Sonis became distressingly aware of the fact that he had all but spent the last of his funds. Now stranded on the Citadel, a penniless quarian with no contacts, Sonis felt a deep longing to return home, and for the comforting presence of his fellows, for the first time. The next year was a struggle.

Narrowly dodging the need to sleep on the streets by very careful rationing of his few remaining credits and a near feverish effort to work odd tasks in Lower Bachjret Ward, Sonis managed to eke out a semblance of an existence amidst the hustle and bustle of the Citadel's daily goings on. Repairing terminals on the docks, selling off salvaged scrap and tinkered trinkets, clumsily serving shifts on the wait staff of several dive bars, the young quarian did whatever he could get by another day, settling eventually for renting a storage room from a hanar bartender to sleep in. Too embarrassed of his naivete to contact home for help and having nothing to show for his time abroad left Sonis feeling inadequate and silly. A child not ready to return as a man regardless of the fact he had nothing to bring back. With little else to do Sonis fell into his daily routine as a method of survival.

As long as he continued to live, there was a chance of betterment in the then nebulous future. What he thought might be that chance arrived in the form of an advertisement one day in 2185. Guardian: a Council backed effort to do true good in the galaxy. While deep in his well of shame and self deprivation the young quarian's optimistic view of the grander scale of the Milky Way's people had not been dimmed by his ordeal. The chance to help people, to work alongside the galaxy's beat and brighter, the chance to actually matter...it was enough to convince Sonis to enlist almost immediately. Mote of hope carefully grasped in his hand he departed the Citadel mere days later, eager to see what he could make of himself. The reality of the situation was significantly less inspiring of course. Guardian was a militant group, and one drudging it's way through a veritable swamp of conflict and controversy. Sonis' starry eyed wonder at the new world he'd stumbled into died within the first month. Recruited as a junior researcher early on Sonis was sent along with an exhibitionary team to Tuchanka as part of the early stages of the then developing genophage cure, a mission that went disastrously wrong. Armed terrorists attacked their team within the great Shroud, capturing one of them while the other scientists and engineers were forced to fight for their lives. Sonis learned that day the chaos of battle, the horror of impending violence, and the dread of taking life. He was numb when it happened. Solely focused on the act of firing straight as the rest of the world bled away around him.

When his shot ripped through the krogan man's neck and everything snapped back to clarity, he collapsed. The others carried him to the shuttle as they made their hasty escape away from the historic site, from which Sonis watched it be destroyed. He pounded the window in objection, screamed in horror, but to no avail. They had lost everything in a moment. That first mission changed Sonis. Always comparatively private by quarian standards he sunk into himself even further, refusing to talk to anyone for more than a moment for the next several weeks. He threw every ounce of his remaining sanity into his work, whatever the crew of the Avalon would allow him. Some days he worked forty hour shifts before finally collapsing, tuning engines, designing and redesigning tools and mechanical apparatuses. Over time, while exhausted and emotionally weary, Sonis began to open up again.

He made friends, missions began to succeed, his work was being recognized. For the first time in a very long time, despite all hardship and pain, he began to feel useful again. So it was when the time finally came to cure the genophage, a living evolution of history in the making, he was called on to play his part. In conjunction with many other talented engineers the Avalon crew constructed dispersal devices based on Sonis' designs. They independently functioned somewhat as a microcosm of the Shroud itself, individually too small to carry the cure across the krogan homeworld but when hundreds of the things were attached to shuttles and flown through Tuchanka's upper atmosphere the ability to spread to all corners of the planet became possible. The mission itself was harrowing. Terrorists and instigators fought them at every turn; shuttles were shot from the sky, resupples were attacked, ground paths were blocked, but to no avail. Guardian won the day, and all of Tuchanka cheered in raucous victory. Sonis' shuttle team in particular had nearly been jettisoned to the ground far below at one point, but through grit and teamwork had seen their share of the work done with no casualties. The immediate aftermath was hectic and exciting all at once. Celebrations, rewards, and expansion were the name of the day. As Guardian's influence grew past all expected bounds, the same happened to Sonis. For his key role in the task the young man found himself promoted to Ensign one morning.

Suddenly he was an officer, responsible for other's well being. It was a terrifying thought but also…enticing? A chance to grow and be better than he was. To make his people proud. He hadn't imagined that he would be the one ashamed of them. The Terminus War, and more over his people's place in it made no sense to Sonis. On paper yes he could understand what had happened, could process that The Flotilia's steadily growing desperation had driven them to rash decisions, but in his heart he refused to believe. How could they? Moreover, how dare they. How dare the Migrant Fleet, so proud and steadfast, join forces with pirates and slavers to wage war on galactic peace. The whole affair made Sonis ashamed, deeply sad, and drove him further from those around him. When he finally saw combat again in the Second Skyllian Blitz, it was finally too much. The destruction, the callous disregard for life he saw among the ruined streets of Elysium came to a head when he did battle against his own people. He did his part, but left much of himself to die there amidst the rubble. There was significantly less fanfare following the hard fought victory in the Blitz.

With almost no ceremony Sonis was promoted again to Second Lieutenant, but it felt hollow and undeserved. He began to wonder what the point of trying to help was if everything continued to collapse and decay. He felt so small and helpless, his dreams smashed and his hopes chiseled down to next to nothing. Sonis barely slept, his work became sloppy, and his mania culminated in an emotional breakdown when his friends tried to pull him back to his feet. It was a painful and tiring period, and things were only going to get worse. Haven, the colony serving as Guardian's base of operations was suddenly and without warning bombarded to the point of total destruction, its infrastructure razed and the ships in dry dock annihilated. For a time the chaos forced Sonis to act towards his survival, a high he rode through the weeks and days immediately after as the organisation attempted to rebuild.

As a result he was temporarily appointed as chief engineer of the fleet's new flagship, The Arcadia, but the task was largely one of delegation. It quickly became clear to the young quarian as the senseless conflict raged on and began to evolve that he didn't have the constitution necessary to continue along the violent course he had stumbled into two years prior. Sonis made the decision to depart Guardian, an act made easier by the organisation's secession from Council jurisdiction loosening the knots of bureaucracy. Once again a failure in his own eyes, Sonis fled the fight unable to return home for new reasons, and unwelcome throughout most of Council space. Forced by circumstance Sonis drifted through the Traverse for a time, a situation that quickly became more complicated by the onset of the Reaper War. Having accidently jumped from one war to another, Sonis scrambled just to survive, shuffling amongst refugees from one world to the next in an effort to avoid detection.

The devastation left in the Reapers' wake did little to help the quarians growing list of traumas. Uncomfortably aware that his experiences had made him more capable of surviving combat than the average civilian, Sonis perhaps inevitably found himself aiding resistance efforts on Zorya after having fled to the remote planet in his latest effort to disappear. It was brutal, hopeless work. Guerilla tactics and traps barely clearing openings long enough to guide terrified people to the next position just long enough to repeat the cycle. Despite this, Sonis and others were able to do enough to survive until they could be evacuated to refugee spaces within Alliance space, where he calmly waited out the remainder of the war. While his former Guardian comrades led the joined races of the galaxy, even his own, to a bitterly devastating victory against the extra dimensional invaders, Sonis sat quietly and stewed in his own regrets. He couldn't have foreseen the aftermath of the Reaper War. Loses had been tragic, but they had all prevailed. The quarians had aided the final push at great personal cost and were rewarded, re welcomed into their long confiscated place in greater society. It was a childhood dream come true, true freedom and inclusion for all quarians, at least in theory. Sonis however, remained numb to it. With the war done and the new status quo slowly settling as all the peoples of all races attempted to rebuild what was lost, Sonis knew he could return home. Would be welcome home after the work he had done before the wars and their new and pressing need for all available hands.

But he couldn't. Knew that he couldn't. In his soul believed that he didn't deserve to. With  his firm but perhaps foolish outlook guiding him, Sonis drifted back to the Citadel, seeing no other paths he was willing to take. The old routine began to repeat itself, if with more significant work being consistently available with as many ships being built to help replace what was lost.  By 2188 a pattern had been set firmly in place and his constant activity had managed to keep Sonis from dwelling much on what he had gone through. He might have been content to continue this pattern indefinitely if not for a run in with an old acquaintance. William Schiffer had been a patron of sorts in his early days on the Citadel, as he was the owner of the bar he was eventually allowed to sleep in. He was also, coincidently, a fellow Guardian veteran. The two managed to encounter each other during one of the humans visits and began to talk of what had occured over the last few years. They understood each other to a degree, and perhaps driven by Schiffer's habit of trying to steer young people he met into more stable situations than he had had, the mercenary managed to convince Sonis to join Schiffer's then infant security group as he was in need of a good engineer to retrofit a decommissioned frigate he had managed to acquire. Partially reluctant but interested in the mechanical project, Sonis agreed conditionally. Restoring the Monochrome became his greatest work. Day in and day out he rewired, redesigned, retrofitted and hauled. It was hard, dirty, time consuming work and it was exactly what he needed. For all his failure Sonis threw everything into repairing and creating again.

It was almost therapeutic, a fact that made it easier for him to be cajoled into actual therapy at the request of the ship's captain and doctor. It was and remains a constant effort, but Sonis came to appreciate the need to try. To survive as he always had. For the chance of something better in the future. So when the crew accepted a long term position as security for the burgeoning Citadel Recovery Corps, Sonis allowed himself a spark of hope again. That with time and care he might coax that cinder into a cleansing blaze of warmth.

## Personality

An introverted quarian might seem like something of an oxymoron.

The close confines of their starships have in the last several centuries led the always socially minded race to become even more close knit and generally communal, leading to a rather uncomfortable environment for a young, awkward Sonis that desired quiet peace above all else. Furthermore, a childhood in the grossly overpopulated Idenna  left him little chance to avoid contact with his fellow crewmates at any given time. Forced to adapt by circumstance the young quarian developed a rather skittish nature, darting from place to place and through conversations as fast as he could, leaving some to look at him oddly.

His solace for the constant social pressures became his reading, a love of stories nurtured into him by his foster father. The moral parables most parents give to their children were delivered with particular heart and sincerity to Sonis, leading him to see and wish for the best of people even if he didn't particularly enjoy his interactions with them. Almost in contrast to his disillusionment with social interaction, or perhaps as an effort to fill the vacant role, Sonis found a deep interest in the history of peoples throughout the galaxy. It was a more quiet way to interact, a way he could approach on his own terms and it led to him harbouring a hefty enthusiasm to explore.

The naivete of youth never lasts of course. The universe for all its wonders can be cruel and Sonis' time thrust into war and turmoil left him more solemn than he had once been. While he has learned to function again, and does still hold onto his previous enthusiasm, there is no question that everyday has its struggles. More hardened to life but also more experienced, Sonis has found some sense of balance between his general discomfort and frantic optimism, even if it was forced on him by circumstance.

### Exceptional Skills & Interest

* *No Stone Left Unturned:* A lifelong fascination with cultural anthropology has led to sporadic amounts of independent study of various cultures and ruins. While not all encompassing, this has led to knowing various facts on a variety of subjects.
* *You Break it, I Remake it:* A Fleet trained engineer is nothing to take lightly to begin with. Sonis stands as one of the more notable examples that prove the stereotype. His unconventional habit of building eclectic devices from scraps or retrofitting existing tech beyond initial specs is as significant as their surprising effectiveness.
* *Tricks of Many Trades:* Despite his youth Sonis has traveled far and seen much, interacting with and working  alongside some of the titans of galactic civilization. Always inquisitive, he has taken these opportunities to learn the basics of many fields be it botany or marksmanship. While not a master of any of these he has a surprising amount of general competence in a wide range of seemingly disparate skills.

## Physical Description

For most of his life observers would only ever see Sonis for his moderate height and slim frame, a fairly typical expectation for most quarians.

If anything his environmental suit stands out simply for how unremarkable it really is. In opposition to most quarians Sonis had never made much effort to adorn or distinguish his suit, abstaining from any significant ornamentation beyond a long red mantle, its hood covering his helmet and running down his back to be belted at the waist. His habit of scrawling notes and reminders along his forearms were often the only thing that distinguished the unassuming young man to casual non quarian observers, if his general squirellish, franticness didn't give him away immediately.

Recent years changed much of the young man's view of life, and his appearance in turn. While he still darts rapidly about like the caffeine fiend he is few have difficulty signaling Sonis from other quarians any longer, him having adopted the concept of pockets to their fullest extent during his years in service aboard a human owned vessel. Preparation is the first step toward survival after all, a mantra that has led him to strap any and everything he may need for any situation to his person. This leaves Sonis to appear like some approximation of a bipedal hardware store amidst the plethora of pouches and satchels.

His habit of leaving notes for himself remains but has, like an infection, spread to various patches of his armor with seemingly no real cohesion. Never one to stay still, Sonis often jitters back and forth in both general activity and conversation, gesturing wildly with his hands in instances of the latter. Despite his early life and still generally introverted nature, his newfound eclectic tastes at the very least leave him quite memorable.

### Armament

* M-6 Carnifex
* M-22 Evisorator
* M-8 Avenger

### Abilities

* Tech Armor
* Incinerate
* Energy Drain
* Sentry Turret