[CHAR] Omega Serenade

Hazan Volintis

Race: Turian

Sex: Male

Age: 46 CE

Profile: Infiltrator; tech and combat powers, two weapons. 

DOB: 2139 CE

Homeworld: Palaven

Appearance: Hazan stands six feet straight, with a rather average build for a turian his age. His chitin is scratched and worn, especially across his face, with a very prominent scar running horizontally across the bridge of his nose and under both eyes. A second scar graces his chin, a small vertical scrape underneath his mouth. The colour of his chitin has not changed, but the stark white of his face paint has dulled slightly and become scraped and dinged from the battles he's fought. 

His armour is scratched, battle-worn. Dinged and scraped. His visor, similarly, is worn but still usable. His eyes are a stark, bright yellow that stands out from the rest of his colourations. He also wears a desert camouflage shemagh with his armour. 

When not on duty, he usually wears a slate grey hoodie with blue and white highlights, with the Initiative logo on the back, paired with a simple white t-shirt and grey jeans and shoes. He keeps his visor on at all times, mostly for convenience sake. 

Background: Born to a regular urban Turian family on Palaven, Hazan grew up like any other man of his race would. He spent his days in school, learning about the galaxy, the various races that made up the Council and the Alliance, along with other subjects like math and science. Inquisitive and curious for his age, Hazan displayed an aptitude early on for following instructions and improvising directions if he wasn't given any, along with displaying a near single-minded dedication to accomplishing tasks he was given. Chatty and friendly, the young turian was all set for his time in the military that came all too soon, leaving him to follow in the footsteps of his parents. They had become security specialists after their service, setting up their own company on the Citadel while they ran operations from Palaven, and although becoming a glorified security guard didn't sit well in his gut, he was young and impressionable. Something he took with him into the military.

He enlisted in 2154 CE.

All throughout basic, he got hazed (get it) for being scrawnier than the other recruits. This developed the normally talkative turian into a withdrawn, yet dedicated soldier as he spent his time honing what skills he could in the military. A knack for following and improvising directions turned into a talent for map-reading and navigating, and his single-minded dedication developed into one of the best marksmanship abilities within his company. The combination of talents made his commanders consider him for reconnaissance training, and the year of his graduation, his commanding officer came up to him with a proposition: to specialise and develop those innate talents into something solid. A scout and a marksman.

A recon sniper.

He readily accepted the challenge, thinking it'd be a good way to hone his skills even further and to push his capabilities to his limit. After all, becoming first a reconnaissance trooper and then a sniper was no easy feat. But he dedicated himself to his training. His map-reading talent expanded into analysing terrain and the stars of different systems, navigating land by moonlight, traversing jungles, forest, valleys and even urban battlefields, along with sketching and making maps from scratch and memory work, just by having been on the terrain for several days. Scout school drove him right into the ground and back out, covered in enough mapping and navigation experience to make the turian one of the best of his class. Hazan had just gotten back on terra firm of Palaven before the second phase of his training began: marksman academy. Hazan shipped off-world again and spent the majority of his academy training on different environments and planets, learning how to adjust to every land he was in, compensating for wind speeds, elevation, planet rotation and different forms of bullet drop from the various rifles he was equipped with. A lot easier on the body than scout school, but harder on the mind. Still, Hazan bit down and forged through mental tests of wind speeds on famous planets and locations, bullet speeds of different firearms and even the average bullet drop on certain planets. All this to prepare him for his final test, a combination of both schools of training: dropped on a planet he's never been on, forging his way through harsh terrain, analysing an enemy structure and eliminating a single high value target with one shot. All of which he accomplished without complaint. In 2161 CE, he graduated with full honours and became one of the turian military's many reconnaissance snipers in active service. The road was hard, rugged and destructive, but three years and two schools of training had honed Hazan into a fine-edged weapon, one that was being talent spotted by many regiments through the turian army and navy.

One stuck out to him, though. The 132nd Light Patrol Squadron, a small battalion of ships and troops that patrolled the mass effect relays between the Terminus systems and Council space. For the men and women aboard the 132nd, this meant pirates, slavers and all manner of criminal known to border space. The 132nd took down these threats to the general peace and rescued whoever they could, to be returned to their families and home worlds in one piece. He signed on and the Squadron welcomed him warmly, assigning him as chief navigator aboard one of their small light vessels. His duty was simple: aboard the ship, to navigate the systems and chart their journeys to the various criminal hub worlds and highways that their targets sailed on. On the ground he was part of a seven man fire team assigned for target elimination and VIP extraction, often picked to carry out hostage rescue missions and running security for traders and cartographers. If they weren't in combat, the Squadron spent their time training on different worlds, charting them for turian records while also analysing their terrain and formulating different strategies for each. He spent the remainder of his service years with the 132nd, making lasting friendships and learning a lot about the galaxy and how it worked.

All too quickly, 15 years passed. Hazan turned 30 in 2169 CE. He spent one last year in the 132nd, learning about the abject horror of Mindoir and being very angry about the whole situation without being able to help, before leaving. The last few years of pirate hunting and scouting new worlds had grown boring to him, and although the rest of his team didn't share the sentiment, he was the only one to harbour a very specific itch. The itch to travel, see more, and try his luck at doing things on the other side of the law. Bidding farewell to his shipmates and promising to see them again whenever their paths crossed again, he left and took a one way ticket to the only station where luck and skill with a gun meant everything: Omega.

Personality: Hazan is a humble, down-to-earth soldier merely doing his duty. His loyalty used to lie with those who paid him enough, now they fall solely with the Initiative. He doesn't agree with some of their methods, but the protection of his home comes first. Hazan keeps his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself and his team, and is fiercely loyal to those who believe in him and count on him. If you've known him for long enough, he is a reliable ally with a sharp wit and a fierce streak.

Outside of the job, Hazan is very approachable, often volunteering his ear or shoulder for others to lean on if they're feeling low. Years spent alone have developed a loner streak in the turian, and he spends most of his time off duty either drinking in the bar or walking the Nexus hallways, admiring the scenery of space and trying to keep his thoughts focused on the positives in his newfound life. He's taken up tinkering with firearms as a hobby, along with the more peaceful hobby of writing a diary that he keeps stored in his personal datapad that he carries with him at all times.

Equipment:

M-97 Viper semi automatic sniper rifle
M-96 Mattock battle rifle
M-3 Predator heavy pistol
M-27 Scimitar assault shotgun
Serrice Council Phantom-class light armour, minus the hood.
Ariake Technologies Kuwashii Visor.
Kassa Fabrications Polaris omni tool, with omni blade functionality.
Combat knife

All guns listed are rotated around as needed for the situation or mission.

Powers:

Tactical Cloak
Adrenaline Rush
Concussive Shot
Incendiary Ammo
Disruptor Ammo

Font Colour:Light Blue.

#E6CEC1 | TYPEFACE



⋙Full Name
Daro'Shuris nar Konesh

⋙ Sex
Female

⋙ Age
26 Years Old

⋙ Profile
Engineer (Medic) | Tech Powers | Shotgun & Heavy Pistol

⋙ D.o.B.
2159 CE

⋙ Birthplace
The Migrant Fleet

⋙ Appearance
Daro is a Quarian of fairly average height for her race, standing at 5'5", but would be considered small in the grand scheme of things. Her envirosuit is the only armor she can use in a firefight –– light, but able enough to hold off a few shots before failure –– and thus even in the darkest corners of Omega, she seems to be wearing 'civilian' clothes. Her headpiece is one of flowery, lacy fabric, pure white and impossible to keep clean for long in the grime of the station.

As for casual settings, she frequently wears vests or even hoodies above her envirosuit with a hand-stitched logo of the universal symbol for medic. It tends to keep the riff-raff away. While working in a surgical environment or improving the anti-organic powers of her omnitool by the means of trial and error, she wears a second-hand Huerta Memorial lab coat.

⋙ Background
Daro'Shuris was born aboard one of the smaller ships that made up the Migrant Fleet,  the Konesh, of which her mother was the Captain. Daro's father was not quite so reputable, a brilliant soldier but not all there in the common sense department. He brought home so poor a Pilgrimage gift that most of the residents of the Konesh looked down on him for, even twenty years later. Of course, to the captain who accepted him, "love knew no bounds". It's abundantly clear where their daughter's idealism came from.

Naturally, Daro was known as the Captain's kid and so was fairly well-known, especially on-board such a cramped vessel. Then again, there were always those who remembered her father's embarrassing youth and their children often parroted what their parents said – "Did he really bring back..?" – to pull on her metaphorical pigtails. Still, there were no complaints about her abilities and precocious talent for science, only a resounding relief that she wasn't as dumb as a rock like her father.

Even as a child, Daro expected to volunteer working aboard one of the Liveships, perhaps as one of the many engineers required to keep such a large operation running. Overall, she found herself attracted to the prospect of helping others rather than harming them – she would be no Quarian mercenary selling herself for work when the Flotilla entered a new system. It was only as a teenager, perhaps twelve or thirteen, that she wondered if her talents were better suited towards helping her people combat illnesses and prevent needless death by infection. Thus she "helped out" in the medical bay of the Konesh, at first clumsily sterilising hundreds of instruments, but later she was allowed to assist in patching up injured Quarians, studying biology under the watchful eye of the ship's own Doctor.

While Daro was preparing for her Pilgrimage, her mind was made up for her. A system fault in the Konesh destroyed it quickly, and it was her mother who was blamed and exiled for it, although nothing could have been done about it. Out of the three hundred strong crew, including Quarians who had not yet become recognised adults, only half survived to flee onto its sister ship. Given that Daro's suit was irreprably damaged in the process, she saw first hand how vital medical care was. A nasty infection that set her back a whole year when it came to leaving the Flotilla for her coming-of-age experience.

When Daro was eventually fit and able-bodied enough to head out on her own, she did so leaving nothing behind save casual companionship and the never-ending amount of other Quarians to avoid talking to. While she did intend on returning, at least in the first few weeks, her first stop was Omega. That's where the ship taking her to the starting destination left, and suddenly she was all alone in one of the worst cesspools in the galaxy. The only Quarians on Omega were those who had either failed their Pilgrimage, been Exiled, or had left the Fleet of their own accord, so she worked for a time in a gun shop ran by her people.

The knowledge that those weapons were being used by various merc gangs all over Omega – sometimes on the innocent, or as innocent as someone on the asteroid could possibly be – was difficult. While initially she hoped to work only long enough to fund a trip to Ilium or perhaps the Citadel, she ended up remaining on the crime-ridden asteroid for much longer, having found a purpose.

Doctors were in short supply, she quickly realised, and murders were, of course, as high as ever. Word got around that there was a Quarian who could prevent infection like the best of them and was adept at risky surgeries. It was sort of true, she was just used to working on herself. She had so many customers showing up just asking to be treated that her employer suggested she take her business into the slums where it might help others.

(Maybe he thought she would die down there. Who knows?)

Daro genuinely thought she was doing the right thing. The clinic she set up (in a small, cramped flat that was near-impossible to do anything with let alone sterile enough to take her envirosuit off) didn't ask any questions and payment was often not mandatory. It might have helped the underdogs at first, those who had nowhere else to turn to and no association with the mercenary groups, but soon she had a suspicion that most of those she was treating were trained killers themselves.

Which was okay! Except they didn't pay. Ever. Daro, whose funds were running low as prices of medigel rapidly increased, made an executive decision to steal it from one of the suppliers, a Salarian who cared little for the good cause it was being used for and everything for the money the doctor had to pay him.

Problem One: it was quite obvious it was her that stole it. 

Problem Two: he was under the protection of another mercenary group.

Two weeks ago, Daro didn't expect to return home from her part-time job to find her clinic overrun with armed guards, effectively locking her out of it (even though she didn't try to enter since she would quite obviously die). The mercs were hunting her too, of course, if only lazily. Three years of hard work – the most productive months of her entire life – had gone to waste.

⋙ Psych Profile
If nothing else, Daro is determined to as much good as possible in the world while she is still living. Often she can be ditzy, idealistic over realistic, and almost hard to take seriously with how little she understands the circle of life on Omega; however, it's hard to argue that she hasn't seen it. It's almost willful ignorance of just how evil other sentient beings can be, but that ignorance is what keeps her going.

Presumably over the time she's spent on Omega, she has learned that not everyone is worth saving and that her own life is important too. Somehow she finds it within herself to shoot right back at those attacking her without losing even a fraction of a second to doubt. She's not stupid. Still, if there is an opportunity to spare someone she will take it; if there is someone requiring help then she'll offer it before asking the details.

⋙ Equipment
• M-3 Predator (Heavy Pistol)
• AT-12 Raider (Shotgun)
• Weapon Mods: Combat Optics, •Chemical Rounds 
• Quarian Envirosuit – Explorer Model
• Serrice Council's Savant Omnitool

⋙ Powers
• Incinerate
• Neural Shock
• Damping
• Cryo Blast
• Combat Drone

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