Name: Drachia Dron'celok

Race: Batarian

Sex: Male

Age: 26

Specialization: Vanguard

Appearance:
Standing at 6'4, Drachia gazes down on most of those around him through his four black eyes. While rarely seen outside of some kind of suit of armor, when he has taken the time to remove it for whatever reason it quickly becomes clear that rigid training exercises, combat experience and his bionics have left him in top physical form, if on the leaner side of things by the slightest of margins.

Background:
Born on Omega, life was fairly rough for the young Drachia. His parents struggled with harsh, low paying jobs that risked injury and illness on an almost day to day basis to pay for an apartment the size of three cupboards. Gang warfare was common and one day Drachia's father was found dead on the side of the road, caught by a stray bullet while trying to get away from an outbreak of violence.

With the loss of his father, the then teenage Drachia had to grow up quickly and proceeded to sign up with one of the local gangs called the Storm Crows in order to try and make a living for himself. Life was brutal and cheap, the young Drachia quickly proving himself to be an effective enforcer... until he discovered that he had the spark to channel biotics. Getting the implant was a bit of an investment for both himself and the gang, but once it was in and he had a bit of experience under his belt, Drachia quickly paid off his debts by leading a small raid on an asari gang's drug warehouse resulted in a massive profit for the gang that raised it them from street level thugs to an organization that was on the up and up, able to extend its influence a great deal on the station of Omega, as well as a couple of minor smuggling/shipment lines off station.

Of course it didn't last long; One of the more arrogant leaders of the gang picked a fight with the Blood Pack and the slaughter that followed was brutal to the extreme. Drachia fled the station after it became clear that all hope was lost and managed to smuggle out with a couple of other Storm Crows who through luck and skill had managed to survive the onslaught themselves. The gang was clearly dead, so they parted ways soon afterwards...

Equipment:
Executioner I Shotgun, Judgement I Pistol

Powers (Up to four):
Blade Armor http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Blade_Armor
Biotic Charge http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Charge#Mass_Effect_3
Lash http://masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Lash
Warp masseffect.wikia.com/wiki/Warp

Name: Protus "Fission" Sulidonis

Race: Turian

Sex: Male

Age: 30

Specialization: Assassin (Infiltrator)

Appearance:

Protus towers slightly over seven feet, and his loose clothing create a successful illusion of a large frame. This is often how he catches his targets by surprise, as his movement is far faster than his frame suggests. He treats the world with the typical tired and disappointed gaze of a high-level thug, which makes his patient and well-mannered voice catch most conversation partners unprepared. In addition to being loose-fitting, his taste of clothes is purely functional, other than a weird tendency to choose colors that mimic the local fashion.

Background:
To a culture dilletante, it would make no sense for Turian worlds and settlements to have crime. After all, the entire culture of the people is based on militaristic discipline and a straightforward attitude. But as it is in all societies, corruption sprouts at the seams, where discipline has the weakest hold and power is concentrated in the hands of the few.

In other words - at the top.

It is no wonder, therefore, that it takes a single general who lets power go into their head to be able to turn the actions of thousands of honest Turian soldiers to personal gain. But unlike humans, the Turian society cannot support a rotten organ within its body. And such generals soon find themselves excommunicated and left to fend for themselves. Those whose loyalty lie with the people and not with the code of honor would join this exile to create bands of pirates, using advanced technology and no less advanced military tactics to amass power and riches, in an infinite race to make the universe into their personal paradise.

These bands readily attract other outcasts of the Turian society, as long as there's mutual gain. And Protus was such a Turian. His division was glad to get rid of him when he deserted - almost every psychology expert marked him as a borderline psychopath. The life of a front-line special ops operative was not an easy one, but still there are few who make killing into a combination of art and sports, personal achievements and records included. His corps mates avoided Galius's company for many reasons, the most dominant of which being his gaze, which made them feel like prey. When high command noticed this they started a slow process of demotion, which Galius noticed almost instantly. The solution was obvious - if the military cannot appreciate his skill, he would simply have to sell it to the highest bidder.

And after a short sortie with a band of pirates that were too weak in the "subtlety" department for his tastes, Protus decided to try his luck as a mercenary. And what better place to buy and sell lives at than the Citadel?

Equipment:
- Batarian State Arms silenced heavy pistol
- Heavily modified long monofilament knife
- A dozen or so Tungsten Carbide throwing knives
- Omnitool

Powers (Up to four):
- Tactical Cloak
- Disruptor Blade (like Ammo, for melee weapons)
- Decryption
- Incinerate