Name: Werner Coetzee

Call Sign: Drake

Race: Human

Age: 30

Creed: Silently in, Victorious out

Official Personnel Description:
Werner stands at a solid 6’1, with broad shoulders and a slim waist. Lean, sleek muscle can be found throughout his body, accented even further by an almost complete lack of fat. Werner’s left arm is entirely absent from the shoulder, replaced by a black prosthetic. The arm is very similar to that of a geth, complete with five fingers, and slowly weaves into his flesh. His human hand is callused and hard, his pinkie finger a rounded stump from the first knuckle up. The rest of Werner’s body is similarly abused, comprising of a writhing mass of scars, burns, and faded tattoos. The pirate’s face has fared slightly better, two scars digging into his left cheek and his right eye being another prosthetic.

Armor:Werner’s Armor

Weapons:
M-96 Mattock equipped with: extended barrel, stability damper
M-3 Predator equipped with: high caliber barrel, extended magazine

Specialty: Soldier

Powers:
Concussive Shot
Adrenaline Rush

Homeworld: Earth

History: Werner Coetzee was born to a long line of pirates. His father even traced their roots back as far as 1500, where he discovered Francis Drake, a famous English privateer, was one of their ancestors. Initially constrained to the high seas, Werner’s forefathers eventually made their way off Earth, where the pirates flourished. Werner’s father, Pieter Coetzee, was the sole member of his long lineage that did not raid ships. Instead, the man sought to return honor to his family name by becoming a high-ranking member of the Systems Alliance navy, even commanding his own ship. While on shore leave in Cape Town, South Africa, the young captain fell for a woman named Charlize, who happened to be an Alliance lieutenant. The two married and gave birth to one son, Werner.

Growing up, Werner wanted for little. His parents loved him deeply, providing for all of his needs, and gave him a proper education. He spent much of his youth reading historical novels on pirates from long ago, deeply fascinated by their seemingly carefree lifestyle. Pieter constantly discouraged these books, but Werner managed to smuggle them into his room anyway. When not engulfed in a novel, Werner spent his time with his childhood friend, Claire. The two were practically inseparable despite the differences in their personalities. Claire was always a realist, even in her youth, while Werner a dreamer. She scoffed at his fantasies about becoming a pirate, favoring the path of a politician instead. Werner couldn't stand the thought of being constrained to a desk all day, yearning for both the sea and space. Werner was always fond of the gorgeous ocean off the coast of South Africa, and could usually be found in the water either swimming, surfing or sailing.

Werner’s idealistic life came crashing to an end at the age of 14 when both of his parents were killed in a pirate attack on their small shuttle to the Cathedral, likely an act of revenge after his father hunted down several wanted captains. Wracked with grief and anger, Werner immediately sought revenge against those who murdered his parents. It was not difficult to track down those responsible, the culprits being the Devil’s Damned, a batarian pirate crew operating in the Armstrong Nebula. For two years, the teenager trained his mind and body to face the pirates, despite Claire telling him it wasn’t what his parents would want. Werner, in his youthful angst and foolishness, felt he was prepared to face the hardened pirates and headed to their planet using public shuttles, armed with his father’s assault rifle, an M-96 Mattock and his mother’s M-3 predator.

Upon his arrival on the pirate planet, the Damned were watching him, though Werner didn’t know. A young human on a batarian colony drew quite a bit of attention. He entered their base, under the guise of seeking employment, and soon stood before the pirate captain, a batarian named Kriost. Stripped of his arms and surrounded by pirates, Werner was quickly rethinking his brash strategy. He decided to go along with his guise and state he wished to join the batarian pirates. He was met with laughter at first, but after some consideration, Kriost felt that a young human might serve as an excellent infiltrator in their crew. A batarian rarely went through security checks without a thorough examination, but a teenage human could slip right through. Adopting the name Drake as a reference to his ancestor, Werner strangely fulfilled his childhood dreams of becoming a pirate, though not under the best terms.

A year later, Werner was barely a notch above a slave, reduced to cleaning and cooking as he slowly gained the pirate’s trust. Constantly, he was searching for a way to kill Kriost to avenge his father, but could never get close enough to the guarded pirate king. After this initial, painful year, Werner was allowed to accompany a pirate crew on a routine raiding mission, the target being an Alliance supply frigate. The group boarded the ship after destroying its thrusters and slaughtered the crew, Werner taking part in the bloodbath. Guilt and shame consumed him for weeks, often having nightmares of those he killed. Werner justified their deaths, telling himself that they did not die in vain, for he would kill Kriost and stop anyone else from being murdered. This excuse became a common theme for Werner as he committed the same acts over and over with the pirate crew, slowly crawling his way up the ranks. At the age of 25, Werner was within Kriost’s inner circle, now commanding full raiding parties. He no longer justified his means behind killing, now solely focused on eliminating Kriost.

His opportunity arose when Kriost invited him and a few other men for a rendevous with krogan warlords to deal Alliance arms to them. They met on Tuchanka, a grievous mistake for the pirates. Here, they found themselves surrounded by armed krogans, demanding cheaper prices and more weapons. When Kriost refused, the warlords attacked, figuring they could take the weapons for free, though they would not be repeat customers. Werner saw one charging Kriost, but met the krogan before he made contact with the batarian. He refused to let anyone take his kill, but this action came at a price. In the brutal fight with the krogan, Werner lost both an eye and arm, but this came at an advantage as well. Kriost saw this act as one of extreme loyalty, while it was just the opposite. The pirates left the planet and Kriost made sure Werner received proper medical care, giving him the best prosthetics available. The batarian made Werner his right-hand man as well, and he proved just how loyal he was by killing Kriost in his sleep. Werner had long forgotten his initial motives for murdering the pirate, now motivated only by the thought of power.

Werner became the leader of the Dammed, and radical changes were made. No longer was it about simply pirating, but also slave trafficking, arms dealing, kidnapping, and vast amounts of mercenary work. The fleet size was increased tenfold, as well as the profits. Werner led the crew for four more years, terrorizing the galaxy more than Kriost ever dreamed of. Soon, a raid so bold and with such a massive payout came along that would allow the pirates to retire permanently. The plan was to hijack a ship docked in the Cathedral packed with diplomats and ransom them back to their respective planets for a ludicrously high price, possibly executing one to show they weren't bluffing. Werner was a key part of the plan, for he was to infiltrate the ship, disguised as a politician, and deactivate the security system. He passed through security with ease with a fake identification, his face unknown to authorities as he always wore a helmet. Once aboard, he came face to face with an old friend, Claire, now a budding politician. She saw right through his guise, almost certain he had become the pirate leader known as Drake. Sensing his plans, Claire reasoned with Werner, stating his parents wouldn’t want him to live like this, and that he should give up this life for a new one. He caved to the politician’s persuasive words, and the two left the ship. Later, the pirates attempted to assault the ship, but were almost entirely slaughtered by the security system.

Werner and Claire, now adults, quickly fell in love. They sought refuge from Werner’s past on the planet Rannoch, hiring Jack Ubek, an information broker, to cover their tracks. The couple married and had a child named Pieter, after Werner’s father, and lived far from the rest of civilization. Jack, however, was easily swayed by the exuberant price paid by the remnants of the Damned to find their captain’s location. Werner returned home one evening to find his home burning to the ground with several pirates around it. He quickly killed the men and dashed into his home, only to find his family’s corpses. Knowing who was responsible, Werner first sought out Ubek for betraying him, later planning on slaughtering the entire crew of the damned. However, he realized that if he sought revenge again, he would once more slip into a life of crime. Werner instead spared Jack and the pirates, opting to turn himself in to the Alliance military. Here, he was given a choice. Considering his skills, Werner could carry out a mission seeking to stop the new Legion threat, or be executed. Werner saw the mission as an opportunity to redeem his dark past and quickly chose to join this elite squad.

Sample

I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul.

Werner first heard the words as a child, balanced carefully on his father’s knee. The memory, long forgotten, rushed through his mind now with such vividity that he felt as if he were six once more, gazing up at his father’s kind and all-knowing face as he softly read a poem to his only child. The moment was a precious one, shared between father and son, growing even more cherishable now that the reader died long ago. Werner found himself wondering why he had forgotten the memory. Perhaps his mind stored it away to prevent it from wearing with abuse, like a child stashing baseball cards in a box. The time of the recollection baffled Werner even further.

Coetzee’s armored fist twisted itself wrist-deep into the gaping maw of a male human named Jack, his teeth, once sitting in a perfect row like tightly-packed tombstones, now scattered about the grated floor beneath them, bloodied and broken. Crimson, bubbling rivers flowed out of Jack’s shattered mouth, though most of it slipped down his throat, evident from the sicking gurgle escaping from his fist-filled trap. Even through his thick ceramic armor, Werner could feel the man’s raw gums struggle against the hand that was slowly killing him. Jack’s arms beat helplessly against his chest, slowly growing weaker with each smack as he was deprived from precious oxygen.

Werner knew of all places where to find the man. Criminals always relished the company of other scum, and the largest cesspool of vermin he knew of was Omega, the massive, defunct mining colony chiseled into an asteroid. Despite his absence from the galaxy for almost two years, Werner’s ties to the underworld remained intact. Aria T’Loak, the asari who oversees every minor detail on the rock, still owed the ex-pirate one last favor. The matriarch, an old flame of the young man, was quick to give him Jack’s location, a rundown apartment deep within the asteroid. Despite all his abilities in information brokering, he could never hide from a man with nothing left to lose.

Jack had betrayed Werner, earning him this brutal reward. He was not sure of the traitor’s motives, but knew what it costed his own life, both a wife and child. The image of their charred corpses, practically grafted to one another in their dying embrace, was still burned in his eyes, the stench of burnt flesh caught in his nostrils, and their cries ringing eternally in his ears. Jack bit the hand that fed him, so it was only fitting, in Werner’s grief-twisted mind, that he choke on that very hand to his death. But then, the memory came to him. He knew, now, the significance of those ending lines. His father knew both he and his son sought to escape their fate from a life of crime, the very fate that haunted their family for generations. It seemed inescapable, constantly meeting them at every corner in life. Pieter managed to avoid this rendezvous until his death, where fate, seemingly disappointed in him, had the captain killed by the demons he fought within. Werner, too, almost avoided the lifestyle of his ancestors, but fell into darkness as he sought retribution. He was plucked from this fate, though, by a childhood friend, the one he planned on avenging now. Now, on the verge of slipping into darkness once more, his father’s words returned to him.

I am the captain of my soul.

Fate did not exist, only the illusion of the mythical force. Today marked the day that he would finally break free from this illusion and walk his own path, not that worn down by his forefathers. The motion, set in place by Pieter, would be carried out fully by his son, and nothing would stop him, not even the murderer of his wife and child that struggled before him. Werner’s love had saved him once, and he refused to tarnish her memory by making that effort in vain. With a grunt, he wrenched his gauntlet from Jack’s throat, who instantly curled over and gasped for precious, recycled air. It took all of Werner’s will not to jam it further into his trachea. He stood to his full height, towering over the vermin huddled on the ground before him.

Wordlessly, Werner turned away from the coughing pile of filth, his heavy boots crushing a few teeth to dust as he left the apartment. The man shouted something behind him, but the door sealed shut with a hiss midway through his sentence. It was time for the pirate to confess to his sins and face the punishment that awaited him. Even now, two years after his disappearance, the Alliance was still actively searching for him to bring the criminal to justice. It would not be hard to be found. Death, he knew, was inevitable, but he had little else to live for anymore. This, he reasoned, was the only way to redeem himself, as grim as it may be. But now, he was the master of his fate, not the legacy of his long-dead ancestors.

"Arileth, step forwards."

Sea-green eyes blinked twice at the transition, as their owner strode calmly from the shadowed sidelines into the light. A ring of brilliance cast from every angle of the arching roof, granting the illusion that the Thessian sun itself was shining down to watch the proceedings. It blocked out the rings of onlookers, shadowed the walls and ceilings from view, reducing the world of the one standing there to nothing but that ring of light...

That, and the four figures that stood before her.

High-necked dresses clung to every curve of their forms, falling to slit sleeves and concealing skirts. The colors and patterns changed from figure to figure, each matching the unique set of markings that adorned their sculpted faces. Only their gloves, black as pitch yet trimmed in silver, stood the same for each, a mark of their shared station.

"Matriarchs."

Dark clothing of hardened threads adorned the figure in the light, shirt and leggings woven to absorb shock and deflect shrapnel on the battlefield. Hardened plates were layered over these, revealing gaps only were mobility could not afford to be sacrificed. Currently at rest, the power cells contained in the armor would weave shields about her form in yet another layer of defense, excess power routed to improving the effectiveness of her targeting and cloaking systems. Similar to the gloves of the four figures before her, the armor was dyed in black and trimmed in silver, a common sight for a huntress of the Asari military.

And yet, for those watching the proceedings, who could see clearly the figure in the light, even when she could not see them, the differences were telling.

No rank was marked upon her armor, fresh paint glistening in the light were such a symbol would typically be found. No officer stood beside her in the ring, offering support or speaking on her behalf. There was only her, the Asari 'Arileth', her clear voice ringing briefly in response to the Matriarchs before her, sea green eyes never wavering from their gaze.

"You have been called here in response to actions taken during the raid upon the pirate vessel Matchmaker. Please recount for us your mission upon that ship."

"Matriarchs," Eyes closed for but a moment, as Arileth recalled all that had occurred upon that frigate. "Eight standard days ago, I infiltrated the frigate Matchmaker while it was docked at Omega. After finding a secure position, I waited for the vessel to disembark. I remained hidden for roughly thirty-six hours, during which I rigged explosives to the ship's weapon and engine systems, finally detonating them when we passed into Council space."

"And the beacon that attracted a Council cruiser, that was your doing?"

"Yes, I captured one of their engineers after the ship was disabled, forcing them to activate a distress beacon as well as transmit a message flagging their ship as a pirate vessel. After that, I silenced the engineer and hid once more, stowing away on the Council cruiser and returning Home after reaching the Cathedral."

Muffled voices drifted through the light, responses from the onlookers of her deeds. Nothing she said would leave this room, they were secrets to be known only by the military and political leaders of the Asari- those who watched her now.

"You realize that, had you been discovered, the Council would be forced to inquire as to why a Huntress was aboard such a vessel? If you weren't captured as a Pirate from the start."

Simple questions, ones to make sure Arileth hadn't simply acted on impulse. Quick, informed judgments were the pride of the Asari, not rash action. These were regular, predictable questions.

"I saw a chance to weaken a disruptive force to our supply lines, and took it. Despite the risk, I judged our gains to be worth more than my own well-being."

"That may be true, but we already had an agent aboard that ship." More voices drifted in now, as those who watched believed they had finally come to the reason of this trial. "Your actions, intentions aside, rendered that agent unable to continue their own mission. In your eagerness for short-term gains, you cost us long-term control over the pirate forces operating in the Outer Terminus. As an Asari how can you justify such an action?"

"Matriarchs," If Arileth was concerned, she revealed nothing, her voice ringing out with calm confidence. "It was because your agent was discovered that I acted."

Surprise rose from the onlookers, yet the Matriarchs themselves showed no reaction. They had known why the one before them had acted, even before the trial had began. Their words were for the benefit of those watching, to preface a judgment that had long ago been made.

"...Continune."

Arileth answered with a simple nod, fingers dancing upon the holographic interface of her omni-tool. The recording was broadcast upon screens across the building, letting all clearly witness the death of their kinsman, shot dead and left to rot.

"I witnessed this very scene in the alleys of Omega. Believing it at first to be a falling-out among crew members, I later recognized the victim upon closer inspection, and found in her Omni-tool orders to infiltrate the Matchmaker and relay intel to Thessian Military command. Given her discovery, I judged that a second attempt at such an infiltration would be unlikely to succeed, and so chose to incapacitate their vessel and turn them over to Council forces."

That was all she needed. Between her words and the recording, it was clear to those watching what had happened. This was not a rash soldier who stood on trial. These were not the actions of one seeking quick recognition without concern for the consequences. These actions were made by Arileth, a huntress with half a century spent in service to Thessia, who had always acted with the interests of her people foremost in her mind.

It dawned upon the onlookers then. This was not a trial to determine her guilt.

It was a trial to demonstrate her worth.

"In short, you acted swiftly and decisively, in what you believed to be the best course of action. This is something we ask of every Huntress, and bears at least one story that is akin to the one you have just told." One matriarch stepped forward, crimson robes swirling about her form as her voice rose to silence all others. "However, your military history is full of these stories, some overshadowing even what you have told here. Time and time again, you have acted in defense of the Asari and emerged victorious. For this reason, in the shadow of the greatest threat we have seen in hundreds of years, we offer the following judgment."

Arileth never moved, eyes straight ahead. This had all been a formality, a performance for the Asari government. A slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips, revealing itself despite her efforts to maintain discipline. Formality or not, the offer she had accepted -that the onlookers would soon learn of- was one she still could not believe. Finally, a chance to do more than hunt down pirates and mercenaries. She could do what her parents could not: She could defend her people -her homeworld- from a threat that wished to destroy them all.

"Arileth, you have been chosen as one of the Asari candidates, to join the ranks of a new unit designed to serve as a first line of defense against this new enemy. Have you anything to say?"

"Yes, Matriarchs." Discipline failed, the smile grew wide upon her face. "I gladly accept."