You got to be kidding me. What are the odds that someone using the same abilities and class that I planned on using for my dude. lol.
Guess its time to try out Krogan.
Guess its time to try out Krogan.
[OOC] Mass Effect: Sinless Page 2
- Fandom
- Future
- 18+
- Advanced
- Small Group
- Sci-Fi
- GM Amaranth Co-GM Scrub Mage
Join Status:
Full
Mao Mao Sheriff of Pure Hearts (They/Them)
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
Dervish Let's get volatile
Member
Seen
1 mo ago
You got to be kidding me. What are the odds that someone using the same abilities and class that I planned on using for my dude. lol.
Guess its time to try out Krogan.
Considering there's six classes and a relatively modest pool of skills based on three types, pretty high lol. Don't be discouraged if you're passionate about an idea and someone presents something similar.
coGM
Scrub Mage Ascended Sleeper
Member
Seen
5 mos ago
I don’t think Amaranth plopped up a Discord server yet, so here’s a link:
discord.gg/TMyx5jh
I’ll tell her to add it onto the OOC.
discord.gg/TMyx5jh
I’ll tell her to add it onto the OOC.
Fallenreaper ღ~Lil' Emotional Cocktail~ღ
Member
Seen
5 hrs ago
I don’t think Amaranth plopped up a Discord server yet, so here’s a link:
discord.gg/TMyx5jh
I’ll tell her to add it onto the OOC.
Do we need to wait until we're accepted to join it? I'm asking since I personally like checking things over a character through Discord rather than pms or over the OC. It gets things done faster, but I also don't want to invade if I'm not allowed. XD
GM
Amaranth the Kasaanda
Member
Seen
2 days ago
Do we need to wait until we're accepted to join it? I'm asking since I personally like checking things over a character through Discord rather than pms or over the OC. It gets things done faster, but I also don't want to invade if I'm not allowed. XD
No you can join at any time. We're setting a deadline of 3 days from now to submit a character, at which point Scrub and I will go through and review all the sheets and go from there.
DJAtomika Second to Most
Member
Seen
4 mos ago
Name: Hazan Volintis
Race: Turian
Gender: Male
Class: Infiltrator; tech and combat powers, two weapons.
Age: 46 CE
Homeworld: Palaven
Appearance: Hazan stands six feet tall, 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. The pattern of his face paint resembles an upside down, cartoon representation of a sun: a curved stripe in a wide U shape that stretches from eye to eye and curves across the front of his face and mouth, with five stripes that point inwards towards his eyes. The pointy stripes are arrayed in a small fan that intersect with the curved stripe; one vertically across his mouth and nose, two diagonally across his cheeks, and two more horizontally on either side of his face.
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.
When not on a job, he usually wears a slate grey hoodie with blue and white highlights, paired with a simple white t-shirt and grey jeans and shoes. He keeps his visor on at all times, mostly for convenience sake.
Psychological Profile: Hazan is a calculated, cold and precise sniper on the outside. His loyalty lies with those that pay him, and the few friends he's made over the years he's spent on Omega and in the Navy. 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 an even sharper eye. Soft-spoken and a turian of few words is how his colleagues in the Navy described him, a soldier driven by his job, humble, down-to-earth and resolute in his beliefs and morals.
Past the gun, however, is another story. Throughout his service in the Navy, the turian spent his downtime alone, either reading or brushing up on combat tactics or manoeuvres. The soldier in him enjoys the solitude; it gives him ample opportunities to go over strategies and game plans in his head without the cacophony of other voices that a planning room or a team brings. He worked well with his team in the soldiering life, but when it came to socialising, he often was at the back of the room, content with his own thoughts. The isolation only furthered as time went by, and often his successes in the field were overshadowed by the victories of others, even though his work was thoroughly appreciated by his superiors. Over the years, Hazan went from a soldier at the forefront of anti-piracy operations to just another marksman accompanying younger, talented fresh graduates, eager to prove themselves in the field.
When Hazan became a mercenary, the isolation became an "illness", something he made himself become accustomed to, working as an independent operator in the fringe systems. It irritated him, but he forged on regardless, his longing to be at the forefront taking a back seat to the allure of credits. But it comes through every now and then, especially when he's tipsy or drunk. Oftentimes he sees rookie mercs and soldiers committing the same mistakes he's made when he was their age or at their skill level, but they don't go to him for help. Secretly, he wanted to be that grizzled veteran that gave new blood advice for their lives, like his father had.
When not on duty or on a job, Hazan's method of relaxing is to throw on some comfortable clothes and listen to music to destress. Old Earth tunes satisfy this craving of his the most, specifically from classic Rock bands of the 1980s. Something about the electric guitar riffs and energetic drum beats just rings true with him. Along with this is a love of literature, from more modern novels to old Earth classics, he reads on his personal datapad to relax between missions or jobs.
Equipment:
Abilities:
Bio: 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 of the galaxy 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.
On the decrepit station, he made a name for himself as a mercenary and an extremely proficient tracker and hunter of men. Taking the name of Ghost, he built his reputation amongst the local bounty hunting community by being one of the top baggers, getting his targets alive on more occasions than dead.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Misc: Font colour is Light Blue for Hazan's spoken dialogue.
Race: Turian
Gender: Male
Class: Infiltrator; tech and combat powers, two weapons.
Age: 46 CE
Homeworld: Palaven
Appearance: Hazan stands six feet tall, 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. The pattern of his face paint resembles an upside down, cartoon representation of a sun: a curved stripe in a wide U shape that stretches from eye to eye and curves across the front of his face and mouth, with five stripes that point inwards towards his eyes. The pointy stripes are arrayed in a small fan that intersect with the curved stripe; one vertically across his mouth and nose, two diagonally across his cheeks, and two more horizontally on either side of his face.
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.
When not on a job, he usually wears a slate grey hoodie with blue and white highlights, paired with a simple white t-shirt and grey jeans and shoes. He keeps his visor on at all times, mostly for convenience sake.
Psychological Profile: Hazan is a calculated, cold and precise sniper on the outside. His loyalty lies with those that pay him, and the few friends he's made over the years he's spent on Omega and in the Navy. 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 an even sharper eye. Soft-spoken and a turian of few words is how his colleagues in the Navy described him, a soldier driven by his job, humble, down-to-earth and resolute in his beliefs and morals.
Past the gun, however, is another story. Throughout his service in the Navy, the turian spent his downtime alone, either reading or brushing up on combat tactics or manoeuvres. The soldier in him enjoys the solitude; it gives him ample opportunities to go over strategies and game plans in his head without the cacophony of other voices that a planning room or a team brings. He worked well with his team in the soldiering life, but when it came to socialising, he often was at the back of the room, content with his own thoughts. The isolation only furthered as time went by, and often his successes in the field were overshadowed by the victories of others, even though his work was thoroughly appreciated by his superiors. Over the years, Hazan went from a soldier at the forefront of anti-piracy operations to just another marksman accompanying younger, talented fresh graduates, eager to prove themselves in the field.
When Hazan became a mercenary, the isolation became an "illness", something he made himself become accustomed to, working as an independent operator in the fringe systems. It irritated him, but he forged on regardless, his longing to be at the forefront taking a back seat to the allure of credits. But it comes through every now and then, especially when he's tipsy or drunk. Oftentimes he sees rookie mercs and soldiers committing the same mistakes he's made when he was their age or at their skill level, but they don't go to him for help. Secretly, he wanted to be that grizzled veteran that gave new blood advice for their lives, like his father had.
When not on duty or on a job, Hazan's method of relaxing is to throw on some comfortable clothes and listen to music to destress. Old Earth tunes satisfy this craving of his the most, specifically from classic Rock bands of the 1980s. Something about the electric guitar riffs and energetic drum beats just rings true with him. Along with this is a love of literature, from more modern novels to old Earth classics, he reads on his personal datapad to relax between missions or jobs.
Equipment:
- M-92 Mantis sniper rifle
- M-3 Predator heavy pistol
- Serrice Council Phantom-class light armour, minus the hood.
- Ariake Technologies Kuwashii Visor.
- Kassa Fabrications Polaris omni tool, with omni blade functionality.
- Combat knife
Abilities:
- Tactical Cloak
- Adrenaline Rush
- Concussive Shot
- Incendiary Ammo
- Disruptor Ammo
Bio: 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 of the galaxy 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.
On the decrepit station, he made a name for himself as a mercenary and an extremely proficient tracker and hunter of men. Taking the name of Ghost, he built his reputation amongst the local bounty hunting community by being one of the top baggers, getting his targets alive on more occasions than dead.
Strengths:
- Thorough - Nothing says risky business like charging in without a plan. Hazan is the type to take days, if not weeks, stalking a target and building a profile and a plan, before executing an assassination or a bag-and-tag.
- Focused - He will accomplish his mission without distraction.
- Determined - Nothing can stop him from achieving what he wants.
- Stealth - If you need someone to sneak past guards, become invisible in a crowd to stalk a target or to insert himself behind enemy lines, Hazan is your turian.
- Marksmanship - Give Haze a rifle and not only will he shoot straight, he will shoot whatever you need him to shoot.
Weaknesses:
- Sentimental - His attraction towards his friends and allies can usually result in him making stupid decisions.
- Blunt - Sugarcoating things isn't his speciality.
- Aloof - His time spent as a hunter of slavers and other scum meant that he's seen a lot, and his time spent on Omega only furthered his cool, distant nature, though he's been trying to change this for the better.
- Drunkard - He's usually found in a bar, with a turian brandy in his talons.
Misc: Font colour is Light Blue for Hazan's spoken dialogue.
Hank Dionysian Mystery
Moderator
Seen
5 days ago
Name: Kyo Zhang.
Species: Human.
Gender: Male.
Age: 32.
Homeworld: Shanxi.
Appearance:
A very typical human of Asian descent, Kyo stands at 5’8” and has an athletic build that seems to be made specifically for speed and dexterity. His skin is light and almost Caucasian in complexion but its slight hue makes his race unmistakable when combined with the rest of his features. His body appears to be in good shape for a mercenary; he has only a few scars, none major, and Kyo’s smooth skin, trimmed nails and immaculately groomed body hair indicate his vanity and the pride he takes in his appearance.
Kyo’s face has an almost permanently austere look to it, even when he is amused or delighted, owing to the raptorian arch of his brow, the lines beneath his eyes and the way his lips naturally purse together. His eyes are narrow, sharp and as black as his hair, giving them an inscrutable and keen quality at all times. Speaking of his hair, Kyo wears it in a simple style, longer on top of his head and trimmed shorter on the sides, that he sweeps back out of his face. It has a healthy sheen and lustre to it and appears to be just as well cared for as the rest of his body. There are no visible scars or blemishes on his face, leaving the overall impression of Kyo that of a meticulous and capable professional that does not take unnecessary risks or put himself in harm’s way all that often.
His movement and speech would support that notion. Kyo is inherently graceful and agile, carrying himself with the deliberation and restraint of a gymnast -- or a killer. He speaks in short, clipped tones and with as few words as possible to get his point across, but that does not mean he is averse to talking. His flexibility and core strength allow him to sit in strange, seemingly uncomfortable positions that are perfectly manageable for him and Kyo likes to seat himself on top of something, be it a table, a closet or a support beam, to gain the high ground in conversation.
His casual clothes are simple and comfortable, mostly harem pants and plain t-shirts, making them equally suitable for relaxation and exercise. Kyo’s battledress, however, is a stylish ensemble of black leather trimmed with yellow that he wears over the ceramic plating of his combat hardsuit. The inside of the popped collar of his jacket and the embroidered sash he wears diagonally across his chest are decorated in gold thread over a soft yellow background. His helmet is matte black and features a single narrow and horizontal yellow visor that is reminiscent of the helmets worn by the participants of Earth’s Urban Combat Championship League. Unlike the bulky suits of armor worn by Soldiers, Kyo’s gear is lightweight and flexible enough for him to wear it practically every time he leaves his quarters or has to be seen in public. This is by design; the look is part of his trademark.
Biography: Born on Shanxi five years before the First Contact War with the turians, Kyo was the only child of a very typical pair of colonists; his father Yaoru and his mother Sakura. Yaoru worked in construction and Sakura as a nurse in one of the colony’s health clinics. They were already in their late thirties when they finally managed to conceive a child and Kyo was hailed as a blessing and a miracle. He was doted upon by his entire family and never wanted for anything. The colony was prosperous and it looked like humanity’s dreams amongst the stars were going to be realized without much trouble.
Until the turians arrived, of course. Shanxi was besieged and the Zhang family found themselves having to seek refuge in the bomb shelters amidst the turian fleet leveling entire city blocks just to kill single squads of Marines. Kyo’s uncle, Shinto, took up arms against the turian invaders and participated in the guerilla war against the turians on the ground. He was not an Alliance Marine and operated as a rogue element. He was the older brother of Yaoru and carried a legacy with him that could be traced back to the family’s distant origins in Asia on Earth. The discovery of the Prothean technology on Mars and the Mass Relay inside Chaurus suddenly propelled humanity into the stars but it also prompted a wave of retrospection among colonists, learning about and identifying with their Earthly heritage before departing for worlds unknown. Simply put Shinto had become a trained warrior in the ancient Oriental style, his skills with the blade enhanced with modern technology that rendered him invisible and gave his swords tremendous killing power. He stalked the battlefields of Shanxi as a lone wolf, anathema to the disciplined and organized way that the turians waged warfare, striking from the shadows at officers and snipers before slipping away and living to fight another day. He continued this practice even when General Williams surrendered and despite the turians’ best efforts, Shinto was never caught. His distinctive appearance, characterized by an ochre sash around his torso, was passed on to turian command by the few witnesses that Shinto left behind and he became known as the Yellow Death among the occupying force -- a much hated and reviled foe.
In the final days of the turian occupation an orbital strike destroyed the shelter where Kyo’s grandparents sought refuge and they were among the dead. Enraged, Shinto visited Yaoru, Sakura and Kyo and told them that he intended to fight the turians until his death and that he would likely never see them again. Yaoru, unwilling to lose another family member to the aliens, managed to talk him out of it -- but only barely. Shinto stayed with them, buried his gear to hide all incriminating evidence of his activity as the Yellow Death, and quietly fumed.
Life went back to normal as well as it possibly could once the Council intervened and brokered peace between the humans and the turians. Shinto was never able to let go of his anger, something that Yaoru saw, and as Kyo grew older his father told him not to listen too closely to his uncle. Yaoru thought that Shinto’s ideas and emotions were dangerous and he did not want his son to get mixed up in that. Kyo, however, grew up to see Shinto as a war hero and he was swiftly imprinted with an undying fascination for his uncle’s exploits. Yaoru tried to hide them from Kyo, but he learned the truth from others -- among them his mother, Sakura, who secretly admired Shinto for his actions and his ferocity and resented the turians deeply for the death of Kyo’s grandparents.
Inevitably, as Kyo grew older, he found himself seeking out his uncle despite his father’s warnings and asked to be told about Shinto’s experience in the First Contact War… and, while his heart raced with the audacity of his request, to be taught the same skills. Shinto rebuked him, hot anger flashing in his eyes, saying that the boy had no business asking such questions and should focus on his academic education instead to become a doctor like Yaoru wanted. Kyo insisted, emboldened by the refusal, saying that Shinto had no right to withhold the skills inspired by their heritage -- his heritage, too. Shinto remained silent for a minute before he began to laugh. Kyo was right.
And so it was to be. Yaoru was kept in the dark with Sakura’s aid while Kyo and Shinto retrieved his hidden blades from their underground stash and found a place to practice in a disused storage hangar. Kyo’s studies were to be equal parts martial and technological in nature, as the modern shinobi of the 22nd century had to incorporate bleeding edge developments into their arsenal to be successful. But Shinto introduced an unexpected third element into the curriculum: philosophy. His wrath against the turians had almost made him forget the most important parts of his teachings, Shinto told Kyo, and he had been close to losing his way. It was essential that Kyo was never to make the same mistake, or the combat skills that Shinto was to teach him would surely only lead him to death and ruin. Kyo struggled with this part. He failed to see the importance of long and boring hours of meditation and he did not grasp the meaning behind Shinto’s insistence on the strength of balance and tranquility. Was violence and combat not the domain of the incensed and the furious, Kyo thought? Discipline was important, yes, but as a tool to focus such emotions, not to negate them. No, Shinto said, time and time again. A killer was at his most dangerous when he felt nothing at all.
Yaoru was disappointed that his son did not pursue the opportunity to become a doctor and instead wasted his time studying hydroponics and horticulture. It was an easy enough education for Kyo to be able to dedicate several hours every week to training with Shinto. Many years passed this way. His busy schedule left Kyo little time for friends or romance and he was always considered a bit of an outsider by his peers, and aloof too, as if he knew something that they didn’t and it made him better. Shinto tried to get rid of this slight arrogant streak but he failed and was eventually forced to accept that that was how Kyo was. The boy was simply determined to be devoid of humility.
Kyo became a man, graduated from his class (with mediocre grades, but Sakura was swayed to forge a diploma with distinction) and when he was 20 years old, Shinto abruptly said that he was ready. Kyo naturally and easily gave himself over to meditation, voluntarily spending an hour each day before bed perched on the roof of his family’s hab, looking out over Shanxi and thinking about nothing at all. His skills with the monomolecular blades were such that he could consistently beat his uncle in a duel. And last but not least, he became capable enough with the omni-tool that his tinkering had resulted in an even stronger Tech Shield than the ability Shinto possessed. But a student does not become a real shinobi until his skills are put to the test.
At the end of a serious ritual that involved a lot of incense and meditation, Shinto handed over all of his gear to Kyo and informed him of a “job opening” with a local real estate development corporation that sought to increase its influence over Shanxi. Evidently, Kyo’s uncle was well-connected. Shinto guided Kyo remotely as he entered the world of corporate espionage, breaking into dark offices after hours to hack server farms and virtual private networks to scour them for dirt on the corporation’s competitors. The turf war of Shanxi, hitherto unknown to Kyo, was a fierce competition waged out of the public eye as multiple entities had sought to capitalize on the rebuilding efforts that were necessary after the First Contact War and still continued into the year of 2172. Shinto seemed unduly interested in this corporate kerfuffle, Kyo thought, but he could not deny the sizable paychecks he received for each successful operation. His swords remained sheathed as Shinto reminded him that lethal force was inelegant when it was unnecessary and Kyo avoided the security guards and the local police forces instead. They were innocent bystanders.
Matters escalated quickly and suddenly when Shinto gave Kyo a small device with instructions to place it within the walls of his client corporation’s head office. Kyo had gained the trust of the director with his exemplary results and was free to come and go as he pleased -- which he did often enough for briefing and debriefing. Shinto explained that he had discovered a pattern in the information Kyo retrieved but refused to explain the details until he had received confirmation from the corporation’s own data bank. Kyo, trusting his uncle, complied. Shinto called him a day later, clearly furious, and relayed a series of discoveries to Kyo -- the corporation’s director had been acting as a proxy for turian interests that sought to undermine the human rebuilding effort on Shanxi, seemingly out of spite. Shinto demanded that Kyo wet his blades for the first time and ordered the director’s death. Simmering resentment against the turians for what they had done to Shanxi drove Kyo to obey without question and he struck against the unsuspecting director the very next night in his own office. Kyo stabbed him through the heart from behind before quickly wiping the security camera footage and vanishing in thin air, only to disappear without a trace.
The murder made headlines and the corporation’s various competitors were accused, as news of the data breaches they had suffered leaked to the press and a motive for a retaliatory strike seemed evident. Kyo followed the news closely, dismayed to see that the assassination of the director had essentially achieved the alleged goal of the turians and created discord within Shanxi’s communities. The cogs in his head began to turn and Kyo set his sights on Shinto himself, convinced that there was something his uncle wasn’t telling him. The student turned his master’s own skills against him by tracking down his uncle’s hideout when Kyo knew that Shinto was meeting friends at the bar. He broke into his personal computer and discovered a very ugly truth: there had never been any turian interests. The assassination of the director had simply been another contract and Shinto had reaped the rewards in Kyo’s name without ever putting himself in danger. Clearly, Shinto lied about having almost lost his way and Kyo struggled to keep his fury from overcoming him. Every emotion that raged in his heart told him to kill his uncle in the name of revenge, and paradoxically everything that Shinto had taught him told Kyo to keep his cool and deal with this matter calmly and professionally. Kyo settled for downloading all the evidence to his omni-tool for the time being and after two days filled with meditation and reflection, Kyo knew what he wanted to do.
Using the information he had recovered from Shinto’s computer, he outed him as the mastermind behind the director’s assassination while keeping himself anonymous by sending carefully curated versions of the files to the colony’s security forces via dead drop courier delivery. He almost threw away the armor and its distinctive yellow sash that Shinto had given him, but Kyo had to admit that, once his anger had subsided, he admired Shinto’s audacity and he decided to keep it as a reminder to respect the threat that others could pose. In a way, he felt that he had earned the right to take up the mantle of the Yellow Death after outwitting his uncle and seeing him sentenced to life in prison. But he was definitely determined never to be controlled like that again. Kyo kissed his family farewell, claiming that he was leaving to pursue a career in horticulture on the colonies of the Attican Traverse, and set off for the stars of the Terminus Systems instead. He knew he had the skills and the guts to carve out a niche for himself as a freelancing thief, assassin and stealth warrior. And so he did.
Amidst a long career of odd jobs and missions completed comfortably on the fringe of galactic society and out of the public eye, the first most notable event was Kyo’s involvement in the Skyllian Blitz and its aftermath. He was still not an Alliance soldier and certainly had no intentions of signing up, but human colonists paid well for ragtag teams of mercenaries to act as their defense force against rogue pirates and slavers while the Alliance Navy was focused on fighting the bulk of the batarian forces elsewhere. This was Kyo’s first taste of real combat instead of corporate espionage. The initial shock of the brutality and sensory overload (war was loud) wore off as Kyo learned to put his specific set of skills to use on the battlefield. He was, more so than any other member of his team, uniquely suited to hunting down and taking out important threats like snipers and combat engineers that operated at the fringes of the combat zone or just behind the heat of the firefight itself. He had no qualms with killing batarians, vorcha and other alien species and found a grim satisfaction in knowing that he was now truly following in Shinto’s footsteps as the Yellow Death. It was during this time that Kyo modified his twinned pair of monomolecular swords to carry a potent electrical current to replicate the effects of Disruptor ammunition, allowing him to slice through personal shields while the singularly sharp edge of the blades themselves sank deep within the weak points of his enemy’s armor. It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, however; Kyo was wounded during his fourth proper firefight when he unexpectedly found himself bested in melee combat by a batarian with an overcharged omni-blade and Kyo had to be rescued by his allies. Where Shinto had consistently failed, Kyo now finally learned a lesson in humility and his cockiness was taken down a notch.
After the Blitz was well and truly over and the Alliance Navy had finished its retribution against the batarians, Kyo continued to operate in relative obscurity, avoiding allegiance with any of the major criminal syndicates while working for them and many other clients. If he had a reputation, it was one of true neutrality, discretion and effectiveness. He mostly took jobs that allowed him to work alone, from the shadows, but he found himself as part of a fireteam every so often -- there was no escaping that part of the job. Truthfully, he didn’t mind. Life was good and Kyo picked up the habit of sending a portion of his earned credits back home to his parents on Shanxi, who had adopted an orphan after Kyo left the nest and could definitely use the extra money. Like so many other freelance mercs, his base of operations became Omega but Kyo ranged widely throughout the galaxy, even dipping into Citadel space for clandestine operations on occasion. However, it seemed his luck was not meant to last forever...
Psychological Profile: While Kyo is stubborn and hot-blooded by nature, he has learned to overcome these traits through the power of meditation and philosophy, tempering the flare of his personality with an innering ability to keep his cool in stressful situations and his mind clear when it would otherwise be plagued by anger or doubt. Despite the betrayal Kyo suffered at his hands later in life, his uncle Shinto was a defining part of his formative years and the lessons he taught Kyo have become an integral part of who he is today. He seeks comfort and wisdom within the ancient teachings of eastern philosophers from Earth and lives his life according their tenets, just like his uncle taught him. However, Shinto also affected him negatively. Kyo is slow to trust and values his freedom and personal agency so highly that he has never stuck with a single employer, benefactor or romantic interest since leaving Shanxi, nor does he have many friends. He finds solace and satisfaction in his work and continues to hone his skills -- there is not much else he knows how to do.
In interpersonal relations, Kyo is both polite and reserved. He is quick to judge others for displays of excess and lack of restraint but he appreciates people who know what they’re about and can keep their head in the game when it matters. He has a soft spot for asari after a few flings, whereas his deep-seated racism against turians, and more recently batarians, has a habit of slipping through his mask of etiquette and good manners. If and when Kyo does warm up to someone, he is a dependable ally but it remains very difficult to get him to open up about himself. He loves having long, deep and meaningful conversations with the people that he likes about their beliefs, motivations and inner struggles, and he is very good at listening or giving sage advice, but he carefully avoids conversations about his own past with practically everybody -- it takes a lot of trust for him to delve into that. Kyo believes that telling people about his homeworld, his family or the way Shinto manipulated him gives them power over him and that thought is too frightening to entertain.
He shows affection or interest with small, attentive gestures and non-verbal communication since he is not much of a smooth talker. In fact, when he has to speak quickly due to circumstances or is involved in a group conversation, Kyo is quietly flustered and uncomfortable. This forces him to be curt and direct and he becomes oblivous to the subtleties of what other people are saying or the immediate impact of his words. When he has time to think about what to say and he feels relaxed, Kyo often speaks in metaphors and riddles that are open to interpretation and are designed to help his conversational partner with their own problems. He is perceptive and empathic, but not at a moment's notice.
He believes strongly in the virtues of inner balance and tranquility and will, whenever necessary, retreat within himself to straighten out that which is crooked before re-emerging, steadfast and whole. Kyo is not strongly affected by trauma or feelings of pain and regret for this reason, moving on quickly from losses, though he does sometimes cringe at himself (hours after the fact) when he realizes that he said the wrong thing. It could be argued that he does not properly process the things that happen to him and instead buries them so deep that they effectively disappear, which could be tied to his extreme reluctance to talk about his past. An asari psychologist that Kyo briefly dated suggested that he might be on the autistic spectrum and that he is compensating for his emotionally stunted development with wisdom from the philosophers of ages past. The truth could be somewhere in the middle, but who knows?
Class: Infiltrator.
Abilities:
Equipment:
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Misc:
Species: Human.
Gender: Male.
Age: 32.
Homeworld: Shanxi.
Appearance:
A very typical human of Asian descent, Kyo stands at 5’8” and has an athletic build that seems to be made specifically for speed and dexterity. His skin is light and almost Caucasian in complexion but its slight hue makes his race unmistakable when combined with the rest of his features. His body appears to be in good shape for a mercenary; he has only a few scars, none major, and Kyo’s smooth skin, trimmed nails and immaculately groomed body hair indicate his vanity and the pride he takes in his appearance.
Kyo’s face has an almost permanently austere look to it, even when he is amused or delighted, owing to the raptorian arch of his brow, the lines beneath his eyes and the way his lips naturally purse together. His eyes are narrow, sharp and as black as his hair, giving them an inscrutable and keen quality at all times. Speaking of his hair, Kyo wears it in a simple style, longer on top of his head and trimmed shorter on the sides, that he sweeps back out of his face. It has a healthy sheen and lustre to it and appears to be just as well cared for as the rest of his body. There are no visible scars or blemishes on his face, leaving the overall impression of Kyo that of a meticulous and capable professional that does not take unnecessary risks or put himself in harm’s way all that often.
His movement and speech would support that notion. Kyo is inherently graceful and agile, carrying himself with the deliberation and restraint of a gymnast -- or a killer. He speaks in short, clipped tones and with as few words as possible to get his point across, but that does not mean he is averse to talking. His flexibility and core strength allow him to sit in strange, seemingly uncomfortable positions that are perfectly manageable for him and Kyo likes to seat himself on top of something, be it a table, a closet or a support beam, to gain the high ground in conversation.
His casual clothes are simple and comfortable, mostly harem pants and plain t-shirts, making them equally suitable for relaxation and exercise. Kyo’s battledress, however, is a stylish ensemble of black leather trimmed with yellow that he wears over the ceramic plating of his combat hardsuit. The inside of the popped collar of his jacket and the embroidered sash he wears diagonally across his chest are decorated in gold thread over a soft yellow background. His helmet is matte black and features a single narrow and horizontal yellow visor that is reminiscent of the helmets worn by the participants of Earth’s Urban Combat Championship League. Unlike the bulky suits of armor worn by Soldiers, Kyo’s gear is lightweight and flexible enough for him to wear it practically every time he leaves his quarters or has to be seen in public. This is by design; the look is part of his trademark.
Biography: Born on Shanxi five years before the First Contact War with the turians, Kyo was the only child of a very typical pair of colonists; his father Yaoru and his mother Sakura. Yaoru worked in construction and Sakura as a nurse in one of the colony’s health clinics. They were already in their late thirties when they finally managed to conceive a child and Kyo was hailed as a blessing and a miracle. He was doted upon by his entire family and never wanted for anything. The colony was prosperous and it looked like humanity’s dreams amongst the stars were going to be realized without much trouble.
Until the turians arrived, of course. Shanxi was besieged and the Zhang family found themselves having to seek refuge in the bomb shelters amidst the turian fleet leveling entire city blocks just to kill single squads of Marines. Kyo’s uncle, Shinto, took up arms against the turian invaders and participated in the guerilla war against the turians on the ground. He was not an Alliance Marine and operated as a rogue element. He was the older brother of Yaoru and carried a legacy with him that could be traced back to the family’s distant origins in Asia on Earth. The discovery of the Prothean technology on Mars and the Mass Relay inside Chaurus suddenly propelled humanity into the stars but it also prompted a wave of retrospection among colonists, learning about and identifying with their Earthly heritage before departing for worlds unknown. Simply put Shinto had become a trained warrior in the ancient Oriental style, his skills with the blade enhanced with modern technology that rendered him invisible and gave his swords tremendous killing power. He stalked the battlefields of Shanxi as a lone wolf, anathema to the disciplined and organized way that the turians waged warfare, striking from the shadows at officers and snipers before slipping away and living to fight another day. He continued this practice even when General Williams surrendered and despite the turians’ best efforts, Shinto was never caught. His distinctive appearance, characterized by an ochre sash around his torso, was passed on to turian command by the few witnesses that Shinto left behind and he became known as the Yellow Death among the occupying force -- a much hated and reviled foe.
In the final days of the turian occupation an orbital strike destroyed the shelter where Kyo’s grandparents sought refuge and they were among the dead. Enraged, Shinto visited Yaoru, Sakura and Kyo and told them that he intended to fight the turians until his death and that he would likely never see them again. Yaoru, unwilling to lose another family member to the aliens, managed to talk him out of it -- but only barely. Shinto stayed with them, buried his gear to hide all incriminating evidence of his activity as the Yellow Death, and quietly fumed.
Life went back to normal as well as it possibly could once the Council intervened and brokered peace between the humans and the turians. Shinto was never able to let go of his anger, something that Yaoru saw, and as Kyo grew older his father told him not to listen too closely to his uncle. Yaoru thought that Shinto’s ideas and emotions were dangerous and he did not want his son to get mixed up in that. Kyo, however, grew up to see Shinto as a war hero and he was swiftly imprinted with an undying fascination for his uncle’s exploits. Yaoru tried to hide them from Kyo, but he learned the truth from others -- among them his mother, Sakura, who secretly admired Shinto for his actions and his ferocity and resented the turians deeply for the death of Kyo’s grandparents.
Inevitably, as Kyo grew older, he found himself seeking out his uncle despite his father’s warnings and asked to be told about Shinto’s experience in the First Contact War… and, while his heart raced with the audacity of his request, to be taught the same skills. Shinto rebuked him, hot anger flashing in his eyes, saying that the boy had no business asking such questions and should focus on his academic education instead to become a doctor like Yaoru wanted. Kyo insisted, emboldened by the refusal, saying that Shinto had no right to withhold the skills inspired by their heritage -- his heritage, too. Shinto remained silent for a minute before he began to laugh. Kyo was right.
And so it was to be. Yaoru was kept in the dark with Sakura’s aid while Kyo and Shinto retrieved his hidden blades from their underground stash and found a place to practice in a disused storage hangar. Kyo’s studies were to be equal parts martial and technological in nature, as the modern shinobi of the 22nd century had to incorporate bleeding edge developments into their arsenal to be successful. But Shinto introduced an unexpected third element into the curriculum: philosophy. His wrath against the turians had almost made him forget the most important parts of his teachings, Shinto told Kyo, and he had been close to losing his way. It was essential that Kyo was never to make the same mistake, or the combat skills that Shinto was to teach him would surely only lead him to death and ruin. Kyo struggled with this part. He failed to see the importance of long and boring hours of meditation and he did not grasp the meaning behind Shinto’s insistence on the strength of balance and tranquility. Was violence and combat not the domain of the incensed and the furious, Kyo thought? Discipline was important, yes, but as a tool to focus such emotions, not to negate them. No, Shinto said, time and time again. A killer was at his most dangerous when he felt nothing at all.
Yaoru was disappointed that his son did not pursue the opportunity to become a doctor and instead wasted his time studying hydroponics and horticulture. It was an easy enough education for Kyo to be able to dedicate several hours every week to training with Shinto. Many years passed this way. His busy schedule left Kyo little time for friends or romance and he was always considered a bit of an outsider by his peers, and aloof too, as if he knew something that they didn’t and it made him better. Shinto tried to get rid of this slight arrogant streak but he failed and was eventually forced to accept that that was how Kyo was. The boy was simply determined to be devoid of humility.
Kyo became a man, graduated from his class (with mediocre grades, but Sakura was swayed to forge a diploma with distinction) and when he was 20 years old, Shinto abruptly said that he was ready. Kyo naturally and easily gave himself over to meditation, voluntarily spending an hour each day before bed perched on the roof of his family’s hab, looking out over Shanxi and thinking about nothing at all. His skills with the monomolecular blades were such that he could consistently beat his uncle in a duel. And last but not least, he became capable enough with the omni-tool that his tinkering had resulted in an even stronger Tech Shield than the ability Shinto possessed. But a student does not become a real shinobi until his skills are put to the test.
At the end of a serious ritual that involved a lot of incense and meditation, Shinto handed over all of his gear to Kyo and informed him of a “job opening” with a local real estate development corporation that sought to increase its influence over Shanxi. Evidently, Kyo’s uncle was well-connected. Shinto guided Kyo remotely as he entered the world of corporate espionage, breaking into dark offices after hours to hack server farms and virtual private networks to scour them for dirt on the corporation’s competitors. The turf war of Shanxi, hitherto unknown to Kyo, was a fierce competition waged out of the public eye as multiple entities had sought to capitalize on the rebuilding efforts that were necessary after the First Contact War and still continued into the year of 2172. Shinto seemed unduly interested in this corporate kerfuffle, Kyo thought, but he could not deny the sizable paychecks he received for each successful operation. His swords remained sheathed as Shinto reminded him that lethal force was inelegant when it was unnecessary and Kyo avoided the security guards and the local police forces instead. They were innocent bystanders.
Matters escalated quickly and suddenly when Shinto gave Kyo a small device with instructions to place it within the walls of his client corporation’s head office. Kyo had gained the trust of the director with his exemplary results and was free to come and go as he pleased -- which he did often enough for briefing and debriefing. Shinto explained that he had discovered a pattern in the information Kyo retrieved but refused to explain the details until he had received confirmation from the corporation’s own data bank. Kyo, trusting his uncle, complied. Shinto called him a day later, clearly furious, and relayed a series of discoveries to Kyo -- the corporation’s director had been acting as a proxy for turian interests that sought to undermine the human rebuilding effort on Shanxi, seemingly out of spite. Shinto demanded that Kyo wet his blades for the first time and ordered the director’s death. Simmering resentment against the turians for what they had done to Shanxi drove Kyo to obey without question and he struck against the unsuspecting director the very next night in his own office. Kyo stabbed him through the heart from behind before quickly wiping the security camera footage and vanishing in thin air, only to disappear without a trace.
The murder made headlines and the corporation’s various competitors were accused, as news of the data breaches they had suffered leaked to the press and a motive for a retaliatory strike seemed evident. Kyo followed the news closely, dismayed to see that the assassination of the director had essentially achieved the alleged goal of the turians and created discord within Shanxi’s communities. The cogs in his head began to turn and Kyo set his sights on Shinto himself, convinced that there was something his uncle wasn’t telling him. The student turned his master’s own skills against him by tracking down his uncle’s hideout when Kyo knew that Shinto was meeting friends at the bar. He broke into his personal computer and discovered a very ugly truth: there had never been any turian interests. The assassination of the director had simply been another contract and Shinto had reaped the rewards in Kyo’s name without ever putting himself in danger. Clearly, Shinto lied about having almost lost his way and Kyo struggled to keep his fury from overcoming him. Every emotion that raged in his heart told him to kill his uncle in the name of revenge, and paradoxically everything that Shinto had taught him told Kyo to keep his cool and deal with this matter calmly and professionally. Kyo settled for downloading all the evidence to his omni-tool for the time being and after two days filled with meditation and reflection, Kyo knew what he wanted to do.
Using the information he had recovered from Shinto’s computer, he outed him as the mastermind behind the director’s assassination while keeping himself anonymous by sending carefully curated versions of the files to the colony’s security forces via dead drop courier delivery. He almost threw away the armor and its distinctive yellow sash that Shinto had given him, but Kyo had to admit that, once his anger had subsided, he admired Shinto’s audacity and he decided to keep it as a reminder to respect the threat that others could pose. In a way, he felt that he had earned the right to take up the mantle of the Yellow Death after outwitting his uncle and seeing him sentenced to life in prison. But he was definitely determined never to be controlled like that again. Kyo kissed his family farewell, claiming that he was leaving to pursue a career in horticulture on the colonies of the Attican Traverse, and set off for the stars of the Terminus Systems instead. He knew he had the skills and the guts to carve out a niche for himself as a freelancing thief, assassin and stealth warrior. And so he did.
Amidst a long career of odd jobs and missions completed comfortably on the fringe of galactic society and out of the public eye, the first most notable event was Kyo’s involvement in the Skyllian Blitz and its aftermath. He was still not an Alliance soldier and certainly had no intentions of signing up, but human colonists paid well for ragtag teams of mercenaries to act as their defense force against rogue pirates and slavers while the Alliance Navy was focused on fighting the bulk of the batarian forces elsewhere. This was Kyo’s first taste of real combat instead of corporate espionage. The initial shock of the brutality and sensory overload (war was loud) wore off as Kyo learned to put his specific set of skills to use on the battlefield. He was, more so than any other member of his team, uniquely suited to hunting down and taking out important threats like snipers and combat engineers that operated at the fringes of the combat zone or just behind the heat of the firefight itself. He had no qualms with killing batarians, vorcha and other alien species and found a grim satisfaction in knowing that he was now truly following in Shinto’s footsteps as the Yellow Death. It was during this time that Kyo modified his twinned pair of monomolecular swords to carry a potent electrical current to replicate the effects of Disruptor ammunition, allowing him to slice through personal shields while the singularly sharp edge of the blades themselves sank deep within the weak points of his enemy’s armor. It wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows, however; Kyo was wounded during his fourth proper firefight when he unexpectedly found himself bested in melee combat by a batarian with an overcharged omni-blade and Kyo had to be rescued by his allies. Where Shinto had consistently failed, Kyo now finally learned a lesson in humility and his cockiness was taken down a notch.
After the Blitz was well and truly over and the Alliance Navy had finished its retribution against the batarians, Kyo continued to operate in relative obscurity, avoiding allegiance with any of the major criminal syndicates while working for them and many other clients. If he had a reputation, it was one of true neutrality, discretion and effectiveness. He mostly took jobs that allowed him to work alone, from the shadows, but he found himself as part of a fireteam every so often -- there was no escaping that part of the job. Truthfully, he didn’t mind. Life was good and Kyo picked up the habit of sending a portion of his earned credits back home to his parents on Shanxi, who had adopted an orphan after Kyo left the nest and could definitely use the extra money. Like so many other freelance mercs, his base of operations became Omega but Kyo ranged widely throughout the galaxy, even dipping into Citadel space for clandestine operations on occasion. However, it seemed his luck was not meant to last forever...
Psychological Profile: While Kyo is stubborn and hot-blooded by nature, he has learned to overcome these traits through the power of meditation and philosophy, tempering the flare of his personality with an innering ability to keep his cool in stressful situations and his mind clear when it would otherwise be plagued by anger or doubt. Despite the betrayal Kyo suffered at his hands later in life, his uncle Shinto was a defining part of his formative years and the lessons he taught Kyo have become an integral part of who he is today. He seeks comfort and wisdom within the ancient teachings of eastern philosophers from Earth and lives his life according their tenets, just like his uncle taught him. However, Shinto also affected him negatively. Kyo is slow to trust and values his freedom and personal agency so highly that he has never stuck with a single employer, benefactor or romantic interest since leaving Shanxi, nor does he have many friends. He finds solace and satisfaction in his work and continues to hone his skills -- there is not much else he knows how to do.
In interpersonal relations, Kyo is both polite and reserved. He is quick to judge others for displays of excess and lack of restraint but he appreciates people who know what they’re about and can keep their head in the game when it matters. He has a soft spot for asari after a few flings, whereas his deep-seated racism against turians, and more recently batarians, has a habit of slipping through his mask of etiquette and good manners. If and when Kyo does warm up to someone, he is a dependable ally but it remains very difficult to get him to open up about himself. He loves having long, deep and meaningful conversations with the people that he likes about their beliefs, motivations and inner struggles, and he is very good at listening or giving sage advice, but he carefully avoids conversations about his own past with practically everybody -- it takes a lot of trust for him to delve into that. Kyo believes that telling people about his homeworld, his family or the way Shinto manipulated him gives them power over him and that thought is too frightening to entertain.
He shows affection or interest with small, attentive gestures and non-verbal communication since he is not much of a smooth talker. In fact, when he has to speak quickly due to circumstances or is involved in a group conversation, Kyo is quietly flustered and uncomfortable. This forces him to be curt and direct and he becomes oblivous to the subtleties of what other people are saying or the immediate impact of his words. When he has time to think about what to say and he feels relaxed, Kyo often speaks in metaphors and riddles that are open to interpretation and are designed to help his conversational partner with their own problems. He is perceptive and empathic, but not at a moment's notice.
He believes strongly in the virtues of inner balance and tranquility and will, whenever necessary, retreat within himself to straighten out that which is crooked before re-emerging, steadfast and whole. Kyo is not strongly affected by trauma or feelings of pain and regret for this reason, moving on quickly from losses, though he does sometimes cringe at himself (hours after the fact) when he realizes that he said the wrong thing. It could be argued that he does not properly process the things that happen to him and instead buries them so deep that they effectively disappear, which could be tied to his extreme reluctance to talk about his past. An asari psychologist that Kyo briefly dated suggested that he might be on the autistic spectrum and that he is compensating for his emotionally stunted development with wisdom from the philosophers of ages past. The truth could be somewhere in the middle, but who knows?
Class: Infiltrator.
Abilities:
- Tactical Cloak
- Tech Armor
- Incinerate
- Electric Slash
Equipment:
- Two monomolecular blades, matte black and slightly curved, fitted with power-cells that generate a strong electrical current along the edge and the tip of the blades that replicates the effect of Disruptor ammunition.
- M-6 Carnifex fitted with a pistol scope.
- Modified suit of Light Mercenary Armor with a custom helmet worn beneath a leather ensemble, with the emphasis on mobility and shields.
Strengths:
- Focus and stability are the name of the game for Kyo and it is borderline impossible to get him to flinch. When he has set his sights on something (or someone), he does not waver until the task is done.
- His skills in the martial and blade-dancing arts make him a dextrous and agile fighter, even in a suit of light armor, and Kyo is a vicious nightmare in melee combat.
- Years of corporate espionage, theft and assassinations have made him a skilled hacker of security systems, locks, computers and everything in-between.
Weaknesses:
- Kyo’s personality does not lend itself well for diplomacy or charm and he should not be relied on to squeeze information out of someone gently or to haggle for a better price -- unless he has hours of time at his disposal.
- While perceptive and intelligent, the above weakness comes back to bite him in the ass in another way sometimes, as Kyo can be blindsided by people that are socially conniving and elegant with words. Kyo has to concentrate and think hard about what he's being told to avoid oblivously missing the point or saying the wrong thing. This is why he prefers to say as little as possible when he isn't in a comfortable situation.
- He does not get along with turians, batarians or vorcha. Bad blood. It is beyond his own skill at detachment from earthly woes to let that go and it can affect his decision-making in the field.
- Kyo considers ranged combat to be unsightly, inelegant and ultimately unreliable, and is significantly less useful in a fight if he cannot get in range to use his swords. He’s a decent shot with his Carnifex but that’s about it. The man lives and dies by the sword. Literally.
Misc:
- Unlike most other mercenaries, Kyo lives a frugal lifestyle and instead invests his extra credits (after regular expenses and sending money back home) in a diversified stock portfolio. He can be regularly found musing over the extranet stock market during any downtime.
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Mao Mao Sheriff of Pure Hearts (They/Them)
Member
Seen
0-24 hrs ago
Appearance
Yanagita Shunji stood 6’ 2” and weighted around one hundred fifty pounds with a muscular frame. He was always told that he looked and sounded like his father according to relatives. He always maintained a healthy body and often worked out despite his prosthetic leg. The prosthetic leg won't be noticeable whenever he is wearing his armor around, but it becomes very oblivious in casual wear. Beside the leg, there wasn't anything "fake" about him. And whenever he isn't wearing his armor, you might spot him wearing a professional outfit that makes him looks like an off duty officer than a freelancer. And he tends to cut his hair short since he spent time with the Alliance (Artist: Lee Yong).
Nicknames
Kirin; Qilin
Race
Human
Homeworld
Earth
Gender
Male
Age
Thirty-three
Psychological Profile
Being in the military has made Shunji into a mature and strict person. He's the one person that would be honest about any given situation and then provides a plan to deal with it. But, he won't consider him to be a leader. For one, he lacks the confidence and ambition to lead a team. Hell, he only became a freelancer to seek out the feeling of enjoyment during combat not because of fame and fortune. But, he is more of a loyal follower than a fearless leader. Take him out of combat and he is a different person.
A person that doesn't have many hobbies and interests because it doesn't provide the same amount of excitement that war has. A person that finds civilian life to be boring. It was the reason why Shunji joined C-Sec after leaving the Alliance. C-Sec provided him some form of comfort and excitement until the Citadel was under attack. Afterwards, that desire proven to be too much for Shunji to handle and left C-Sec behind to become a freelancer. He knew that being a freelancer provided enough excitement even if it meant attacking the authorities. But, he has the fear that freelancing won't be enough to contain it. He has already sought out drugs in an attempt to solve that problem. Even then, he will always feel that nothing can be done about controlling or even curing his problem.
Despite dealing with that problem, Shunji tries his best to be positive in front of strangers. He does it because he wants to prove his mother wrong. She judged people heavily and criticized them on everything from looks to the way they sit. And she hated aliens, especially turians because she never could forgive them for killing her husband. Even if it has been hard to not judge, he does his absolute best to get to know people instead of assuming things about them.
Bio
Yanagita Shunji was born a year after the discovery on Mars to Nakagome & Yamaha. They both were scientists who were trying to extract any remaining technologies from the ruins. That was why Yanagita was born on Lowell City. Once the Alliance had no more use for the scientists, they moved back to Japan and began working for them more often. Yamaha became a recruiter for the Alliance's science department to care for her only child while Nakagome directly worked for the Alliance. Nakagome was one of the scientists that studied the Charon Relay when it was discovered to reactive it. However, Yanagita barely remembered his childhood expected on the day that the First Contact happened.
Nakagome had been working with the Alliance to active any deactivated relays that they found. However, they met resistance when reactivating Relay 314. The aliens, which were the turians, opened fire on the fleet and destroyed all but one starship. Unfortunately, Nakagome wasn't on the lone starship and perished. Yanagita and Yamaha did not hear about the attack until the lone ship returned and learned of Nakagome's fate. Heartbroken and angry, she developed a hatred for aliens, especially turians and wanted the Alliance to keep fighting them after Shanxi fell. While, Yanagita was heartbroken over his father's sudden death, but he never truly understood what happened until he was older.
Yanagita struggled without his father during his time in middle and high school while his mother found comfort with Terra Firma, an anti-alien political party. Yamaha soon became a key speaker for the party and attended rallies to spread Terra Firma's message. She often got into arguments about alien influences on humanity with protesters; however, that didn't bother Yanagita until he got into high school. In high school, students quickly learned about his mother and assumed he had the same beliefs. Thus, he had to deal with bullying and mocking from everyone. It wasn't until his last year in high school that he wanted to prove everyone wrong.
In order to do that, he had to confront his own mother while she was giving her usual speech on the ninth anniversary of the First Contract War. Yamaha was stunned and embarrassed that her own son would proclaim his support of aliens and say it on the anniversary of Nakagome's death. As if it wasn't enough, a picture of Yanagita kissing a turian went viral days after the speech. It was such a big scandal that Terra Firma denounced Yamaha and discredited her as a member. She never forgave Yanagita for dishonoring the family name and ruining her only source of happiness. When he turned eighteen and finished school, she kicked him out and told him to never visit.
With nowhere to go, Yanagita went to an Alliance recruiter to join. He got basic training before being placed in a division apart of the Alliance Engineering Corp. His division was responsible for maintaining defenses of colonies located in the Skyllian Verge against pirates and slavers. Whenever he was on military leave, he attended college in Elysium to get a degree in electrical engineering. Thankfully, Yanagita wasn't on Elysium when it came under attack during the Skyllian Blitz. The attack made him angry towards the pirates and wanted to fight back. And when he heard of the upcoming battle on Torfan, he requested transform to the 103rd Marine Division. The chain of command approved the transform and Yanagita left for Torfan.
The Battle of Torfan was a bloodbath for the Alliance while a massacre for the pirates on the moon. Hundreds of Alliance soldiers were killed during the push towards the base. And thousands got injured, including Yanagita, who had shrapnel in his legs due to an explosion. It was his first serious injury that he got during his time in the Alliance. He never regretted the decision to join the Marine Division but it was a wake up call. Once he got his degree, he decided to leave the Alliance and move into the Citadel. However, civilian life was difficult for Yanagita to get back into. The Citadel was too peaceful for a military man, like Yanagita, to spend his remaining life. And he didn't have many friends in the Citadel until he met Sertius Quintis. Quintis was a C-Sec officer that met with Yanagita during his break.
Both Quintis and Yanagita were military men at a point in their life and went to the Citadel to retire; but, Quintis joined C-Sec to keep himself busy. After some convincing, Yanagita applied to the C-Sec's Network Division. It wasn't as fun as being part of the Patrol Division, but he knew that his skill would be best suited to deal with E-Crimes. For three years, he did his job for the Network Division to the best of his abilities without question. His superiors were impressed with Yanagita and gave him pay raises. And Quintis became a great friend to Yanagita. Life was comfortable enough for Yanagita until the Citadel was under attack.
Yanagita volunteered his assistance to the Patrol Division given his time in the Alliance. His superiors accepted the request and sent him to temporary join Quintis' unit. Both Yanagita and Quintis were tasked with escorting citizens to one of many safety zones established by C-Sec. The situation was getting better with the arrival of the Alliance fleet and the destruction of the geth starship. Until pieces of it began to crash down on the station. One of the pieces from the massive starship crash landed onto the safety zone that Yanagita and Quintis were in. They were trapped under rubble for hours until C-Sec finally got them out and transported to a local hospital. Yanagita' left leg had to be amputated due to it being seriously infected, while Quintis lost both of his legs. However, both men got free prosthetics because of their actions during the attack. And in need of more officers, they were offered their original jobs.
Both men quickly accepted the offer and went back to work within the month; but, Yanagita was bored working at a desk job and solving the usual extranet crime. Originally, he tried to apply for the Patrol Division but was rejected. So he did what he felt was right and retired for C-Sec. Quintis was confused about the sudden retirement and confronted Yanagita about it. He went on to explain how he felt so alive and energized during the Battle of the Citadel that he realized how much he missed the front lines. And if C-Sec wasn't going to give it to him, he had to look somewhere else.
Shortly after retiring C-Sec, Yanagita left the Citadel to begin his new life as a freelancer. In a seven month period, he had only taken a few jobs around the galaxy. He used several of his nicknames as alias and gained a decent reputation for getting a job done despite causing a mess. Being a freelancer cost him a comfortable job and a possible relationship, but Yanagita Shunji has never once expressed regret for his decision. Just like his choice of defying his mother and being apart of Torfan.
Class
Engineer
Abilities
Energy Drain
Flamethrower
Flashbang Grenade
Overload
Shredder Ammo
Equipment
Naginata Sniper Rifle VIII
Hurricane Shotgun IV
Nexus omni-tool VII
Light Freedom armor VI (in the color and with the golden markings from the picture).
Strengths
In combat, Yanagita Shunji is completely focused on accomplishing the objective while having fun in his own way. He is able to follow orders through—even if he disagrees with him. If you need a sniper to provide support for afar or someone for close quarter fighting, then Shunji's your guy to ask. And it's thanks to the military authorities in his life that taught him about the importance of loyalty and the long term benefits. As a result, he isn't prejudiced towards most species except for batarians because of reasons. For his skills as an engineer, he knows how to repair, restore, and build several things if you give the space and the tools required. His specialty is weapons, armors, prosthetics, and augmentations.
Weaknesses
Even known Shunji is an engineer, he is a terrible hacker compared to other engineers. He cannot hack a simple machine if his life was depending on it. It was one of the reasons why the Alliance moved him to the front lines rather than with the other engineers. In the terms of being a freelancer, he isn't well known across the galaxy and tends to be careful while selecting his next contract due to his good nature. Thanks to his time in the Alliance and C-Sec, Shunji has a hard time overcoming that aspect of him and its preventing him from becoming a better freelancer.
After the battle is over, Shunji has to deal with his worries and fears, eating him up because of his fear of the uncontrollable future. And the fear that his past, his family, will catch up with him. The Alliance and C-Sec helped him kept those fears in line for a while until he decided to move on for them. During the first few months as a freelancer, every fear and worry started to overwhelm and he found comfort in drugs. The high of smoking marijuana kept him chill and relaxed. Then, he tried and fell in love with other drugs like Hallex; but, he stayed away from red sand. Alcohol, on the other hand, was something that Shunji only drank with people or his friend. He does know that these things could affect his mind and thought of seeking out a therapist. But, he hated the idea of sharing his thoughts and feelings with a stranger.
Misc
As for batarians, he hates them for what they did during the Skyllian Blitz and especially the Battle of Torfan. In Torfan, he had to watch as countless soldiers and friends were killed by batarians, but he is trying to move on. And as for hobbies, Shunji recently got into cooking as another way of keeping his mind occupied. And he used to draw a whole lot before stopping for some odd reason. In the terms of having fun, he does like to play strategy games, like Kepesh-Yakshi and chess, and watching war movies. In terms of a love life, he hasn't been seeking out a relationship due to the Alliance and C-Sec; however, he has had a few one night stands. And he has a crush on turians.
Yanagita Shunji's theme song, Triumph, represents the struggles that he dealt with throughout his life and how he has always overcome them even if it came at a cost.
Lotrix Molick
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Still got openings for characters? I'm debating between a Vanguard and Sentinel at the moment
Fallenreaper ღ~Lil' Emotional Cocktail~ღ
Member
Seen
5 hrs ago
Name: Vellios Malkai
Race: Turian
Gender: Male
Class: Soldier
Age: 45 Earth years
Homeworld: Palaven (off the planet in a shuttle around obit)
Appearance:
Like most Turian, his carapace is dark in color. It’s almost a midnight dark because the surface greedily absorbs all light that touches it, diminishing any glossy shine. His stature is rather thin when compared to healthier specimens of his race. He suffered through malnutrition in his youth and favored speed rather than muscle building, retaining that reedy appearance. Those who believe he’s able to be snapped easily will find themselves sorely mistaken since he enjoys close combat.
His height is at 6’2“ enabling him to stand eye to eye with other turian males. His ice blue irises give off an aura of sharpness and chill, especially when he is in a darker mood. Along the outside are various scars. They break the perfection with their shades of greys, the older ones being lighter in color. A heavy one nearly severed his mandible when he took a close-range shot from a handgun. It has long since healed over the years.
The turian’s face has the traditional Palaven markings, consisting of a single stroke across the nose and cheeks, the tail on the cheeks followed partway to the mandible. Its ink is the same shade as his eyes, enabling it to be distinguished on the darker carapace. Its pristine shapes are also marred by minor facial scars. Around his neck area are numerous scar tissue where it appears something was inserted into his skin around the neck.
Psychological Profile:
Vellios has a way with words, using them to disarm or provoke individuals he meets. From their interactions, he can understand them a bit better. Usually, he will take the road with least resistance and get along with others. The main reason is that he has learned that surviving alone is very difficult and understand he can’t always do what he wants to. Not without making his life harder. Often he’s found with a cocky smile or subject to share with those willing to interact with him. He’s willing to roll with the sarcastic quips or insults, even teasing back.
With the fairer gender, he tends to flirt and tease. If anyone shows interest, he’s got no issues with one night stands and no strings attached. When he does cross a boundary, he will make a point never to cross it again. Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn. A lesson he’s learned a few times.
Patience is a quality he has trained himself to master. It has helped him to remain calm and safe in dire times of his life, striking when it’s best. He doesn’t have unlimited patience, but it’s still better than most.
Vellios is attracted to danger and violence, it’s something he finds familiarity in. In times of calm, he finds himself restless and sometimes on edge. His mind sometimes trying to lock him inside. During these times, he will seek out any distractions to avoid it. It's a big motivation to become rather social with others.
By nature, Vellios’ motivations are self-centered. Interesting enough, it usually brings more positive aftermath than negative. When he helps someone, it’s because there’s something he gains from it. Either an ally, knowledge or purely to see them smile. Usually, when he breaks the rules, it’s because he doesn’t give a shit about the fallout.
When he forges a bond with an individual, he can be overprotective. With so much loss in his history, he fears losing those he becomes close to. He will never admit it and even after the loss, he will heal from it. However, it usually takes alcohol to numb it first.
Equipment:
Since his time with mercs, he has learned a few could have some sticky fingers. In order to be able to retrieve his stuff and discourage theft, he has set up some precautions. He has deep knowledge of each gun, from how it feels in his talons to its settings at a glance. A small pattern is scratched into the bottom of the handles that could be found through touch. This is all of his stuff, but it will not always be on his person.
Weapons:
Additional Items
Skills:
Abilities:
Bio:
Liana Malkai, a former military soldier, left her homeworld. Vellios was born on a turian frigate going from a colony planet to Palaven. During much of his life, all he could remember is being a nomad. Their daily lives hopped from one ship to the next, following his mother’s freelancing career. Most of her jobs connected to the Hierarchy because they paid the best.
In his youth, he grew up on his mother’s tales about his father. The turian was an idol in Vellios’ childish eyes. These ideas would be short-lived when he learned the truth.
It was a month before his 11th birthday when the ship they were on came under siege by pirates. His mother and several crewmates were taken prisoner while he stowed away. After an hour or two, his concern for his mother caused him to go against his best judgment. When he found them, they were held at gunpoint and his mother being first on the execution list. Like many strong headed children his age, common sense flew out the window when Vellios attempted to interfere.
In a recruitment trial, the turian pirate captain, Syberus, ordered him to kill his mother. When he refused, his mother impaled herself on his blade and ended her life in order to spare him. It left Vellios shaken as Syberus ordered him taken onboard the Haides.
For four years, Haides showed him a world where only the strong survived. Those who failed to become cold, kill without guilt or be quick on their feet often found themselves becoming victims of older crew members. Usually dying shortly afterward. The captain seemed to single him out for lessons on how to progress in the ship’s rank.
One event stuck with him for a long time. He connected with a younger, fragile Batarian boy about two years aboard the ship. He had stopped the Batarian’s near death by tossing himself into an aggressor then leading the short-fused Turian away. When Vellios’ actions were discovered, they were both tossed into the brig for punishment. They would be given food on the condition one of them killed the other. His friend was the weaker of the pair, forcing Vellios to end his friend’s life.
“The weak have no place in the world save for reminding us of our strength.” The Captain’s words echoed in his head when Vellios’ punishment was finally over.
After being stuck in the lifestyle for four years, Vellios began to absorb it into his attitude and personality. Fueled by the desire to kill the Captain, he gradually rose up the ranks. He killed numerous times on the ships they plundered. He developed a taste for blood, but he still held his own morals. His reputation grew despite this even when he fought against larger foes.
It was only a matter of time before someone caught up to the pirates.
One night they left port and sailed into space, a lazy drift. In the silence, a mercenary ship descended on them. Fire, blood, and chaos erupted on the decks when the first gunshot was fired. Vellios rushed through the mayhem in his search for a way out, only to stumble onto Syberus wounded during a gunfight. Vellios couldn't help but take advantage of the situation. With Syberus’ dying breath, he revealed a horrible truth.
As the words rattled in his brain, Vellios fled to one part of the ship he knew well. There was a small shuttle inside that he only learned the basics on, but gave him a chance to survive. As he ducked into the pilot’s seat, his eyes glimpsed a familiar Krogan rush into the hallway leading to the Captain Quarters.
Hours passed into days when his shuttle ran out of power and food, leaving Vellios to conserve his energy with sleep. A scavenger ship ended up finding the stranded shuttle. They hauled him in, examined him and returned to Palaven for better medical attention. He was placed into therapy then the orphanage shortly afterward.
He was 18 when he joined the military after his therapist cleared him for service. Vellios adjusted well to the harsh training, putting his lessons from Haides to better use. When his training ended, he was assigned to the 6th Legion and became involved in the Relay 314 Incident. They were forced to retreat when the Second Alliance Fleet arrived.
Over the next 14 years, he ended up building a career within the military. He met his wife through the communications department and eventually they were engaged and married at 21. A few years later his children, Tiberian and Kilia, were born about a year apart from each other. They all settled on Gothis, a turian colony.
He was on military leave for his son’s 7th birthday when his past came knocking. A bloody message was printed on the wall: You killed Syberus. He rushed up the housing unit’s stairs to find his family dead, murdered in a single room. A part of him shattered that night.
He turned 33 when he tossed himself back into the military in order to distract himself from the pain. Vellios’ accomplishments drew his superior’s attention who placed him into the Spectre program. He was one among numerous candidates from other Legions, Fleets and Marine Divisions.
After the few initiation tests, Vellios was assigned to a Spectre, Trominus Yinso, for observation during a mission. While the actual events are classified, it was clear he had the potential to become a Spectre. However, there were issues when it came to putting his personal agenda aside. This flaw disqualified him instantly.
After that mission, Vellios felt his nightmares edge away. He was unsure if he was healing or simply moving on. His failure at the Spectre program pushed him to withdraw from the military and find a more suitable career.
For the next three years, he spent his time as a mercenary where he met and became a protective figure towards Selena Mathews. She was the closest he had to family. They later joined the Borealis, a rag-tag group of merc in a broken down disaster of a ship. Three good years passed before Vellios got a holovid informing him of a friend in trouble and a threat to his new family.
That’s when he simply vanished off the radar.
It took him years to dug up the courage to connect with Serena again. It was after he discovered that the Borealis crew had disbanded and scattered to their own devices. The reunion resulted in her smacking him a few times then relieved he was alive. She went home to San Pedro Sula, Honduras to help her community. He couldn't follow her. They parted on good terms. He knew she wanted to fix him, but Vellios knew he was broken too long to ever be fully fixed.
For the remaining years, he freelanced doing odd jobs around Omega. This place felt more like home than any place he had been in. Maybe it was because of the violence and criminals roaming on it or it reminded him of better times.
Strengths:
Close-Combat: Vellios thrives on getting up close and personal with his targets using his speed to limit the taken damage. Unless you use a gun or have similar talent in combat, it can be difficult to keep up with him.
Adapting to a situation- Vellios’ life has been filled with the need to adapt. From fixing himself up to following instructions over how to fix the engine, he is able to learn a wide range of basic skills to help him to survive. This also means while he’s a Jack of Trades, he is a limited master of those he focuses on.
Determined- Vellios will do whatever it takes to accomplish a goal he’s set for himself or given to him. Even if it means risking his life.
Charismatic- He’s known to be both persuasive and intimating, but either way he’s very social. Some don’t realize he suffers from mental scars as he hides them well. At least until he trusts the others wouldn’t leave him to out dry. When he feels it’s necessary, he can talk himself out of a rough spot most the time.
Understanding dark things- Vellios isn’t a saint. He doesn’t even pretend to be one when it comes to his past, a fact he will be blunt about it when he is asked. This allows him to understand others with similar issues and he uses it to prove there are bigger monsters out there than them. It doesn’t always work.
Weaknesses:
Strength- Vellios isn’t the strongest around. He prefers speed and stamina, so don’t expect him to try to outmuscle the classic brick wall known as a Krogan. It’s just not happening. Instead, he will use less fair means to outwit his opponent.
Traumatic Past- Vellios’ history is filled with loss and pain, leaving scars that never fully heal. While he has learned to coop better, there are situations where his trauma could bring his survival instincts into the surface. Most wonder why he would still choose a life of violence and pain, but it's something he finds comfort in. It's all he knows will never change.
Alcohol- Vellios has an addiction to drinking. He gets a bit moody when he's been off the stuff for a long time, like weeks at a time.
Risk Taker- It’s pretty obvious from those that have encountered him that Vellios doesn’t value his own safety. If there’s a risky job short of guarantee suicide, he’ll be among the first to volunteer for it. This is likely to feed his adrenaline needs.
Misc:
Vellios keeps a chess piece, with a combat VI for his suit, as a memento from Selena. It is mostly cosmetic with her voice replacing the original VI's, including one feature designed to shut him down should his PSTD become out of control. If he ever finds anyone that is able to play chess, he will end up dragging them into a game whenever he gets a chance.
Vellios’ things hold a moving picture of his family as a memory of his loss. In the past, he used to believe anything he became attached to would wither and die. Selena’s connection has proven to him otherwise.
He does not like living and breathing Varren, purely due to the fact the first mate bred war Varren then let them run rampant throughout the ship. Ever since Vellios becomes tense around them with his blade on hand. It's best not to leave a cherished Varren alone with him.
Dialogue Color: RosyBrown
Race: Turian
Gender: Male
Class: Soldier
Age: 45 Earth years
Homeworld: Palaven (off the planet in a shuttle around obit)
Appearance:
Like most Turian, his carapace is dark in color. It’s almost a midnight dark because the surface greedily absorbs all light that touches it, diminishing any glossy shine. His stature is rather thin when compared to healthier specimens of his race. He suffered through malnutrition in his youth and favored speed rather than muscle building, retaining that reedy appearance. Those who believe he’s able to be snapped easily will find themselves sorely mistaken since he enjoys close combat.
His height is at 6’2“ enabling him to stand eye to eye with other turian males. His ice blue irises give off an aura of sharpness and chill, especially when he is in a darker mood. Along the outside are various scars. They break the perfection with their shades of greys, the older ones being lighter in color. A heavy one nearly severed his mandible when he took a close-range shot from a handgun. It has long since healed over the years.
The turian’s face has the traditional Palaven markings, consisting of a single stroke across the nose and cheeks, the tail on the cheeks followed partway to the mandible. Its ink is the same shade as his eyes, enabling it to be distinguished on the darker carapace. Its pristine shapes are also marred by minor facial scars. Around his neck area are numerous scar tissue where it appears something was inserted into his skin around the neck.
Psychological Profile:
Vellios has a way with words, using them to disarm or provoke individuals he meets. From their interactions, he can understand them a bit better. Usually, he will take the road with least resistance and get along with others. The main reason is that he has learned that surviving alone is very difficult and understand he can’t always do what he wants to. Not without making his life harder. Often he’s found with a cocky smile or subject to share with those willing to interact with him. He’s willing to roll with the sarcastic quips or insults, even teasing back.
With the fairer gender, he tends to flirt and tease. If anyone shows interest, he’s got no issues with one night stands and no strings attached. When he does cross a boundary, he will make a point never to cross it again. Hell hath no fury like a woman’s scorn. A lesson he’s learned a few times.
Patience is a quality he has trained himself to master. It has helped him to remain calm and safe in dire times of his life, striking when it’s best. He doesn’t have unlimited patience, but it’s still better than most.
Vellios is attracted to danger and violence, it’s something he finds familiarity in. In times of calm, he finds himself restless and sometimes on edge. His mind sometimes trying to lock him inside. During these times, he will seek out any distractions to avoid it. It's a big motivation to become rather social with others.
By nature, Vellios’ motivations are self-centered. Interesting enough, it usually brings more positive aftermath than negative. When he helps someone, it’s because there’s something he gains from it. Either an ally, knowledge or purely to see them smile. Usually, when he breaks the rules, it’s because he doesn’t give a shit about the fallout.
When he forges a bond with an individual, he can be overprotective. With so much loss in his history, he fears losing those he becomes close to. He will never admit it and even after the loss, he will heal from it. However, it usually takes alcohol to numb it first.
Equipment:
Since his time with mercs, he has learned a few could have some sticky fingers. In order to be able to retrieve his stuff and discourage theft, he has set up some precautions. He has deep knowledge of each gun, from how it feels in his talons to its settings at a glance. A small pattern is scratched into the bottom of the handles that could be found through touch. This is all of his stuff, but it will not always be on his person.
Weapons:
- Weapons
- Shotgun- Scimitar (Elkoss Combine)
- Pistol- Karpov (Rosenkov Materials)
- Assault Rifle- M8 Avenger (Elkoss Combine)
- Sniper Rifle- Volkov (Rosenkov Materials)
Omni Tool: Logic Arrest Tool produced by Ariake Technologies - Flashlight
- Scanner
- Repairing items
- Dispensing medi-gel
- Programming and hacking- (he knows how to apply them but Serena often has to instruct his sorry ass.)
- Camera
- Video, audio, and holographic communication
- Downloading and playing video games
- Converting items into omni-gel
- Manufacturing objects in real time
- Omni-blade
Ammo Types - Cryo
- Disruptor
- Shredder
- Grenades
- Smoke Grenades- has about 4 currently on him, and about 7 in storage.
Armor - Light Armor- Survivor Armor produced by Delvon Industries (military issued and paid for by service)
- Heavy Armor- Colossus Armor produced by Kassa Fabrication (saved up for 2-3 years)
Additional Items
- 2 Short range knives for melee combat
Skills:
- Fitness
- Marksmanship
- Fortitude
- Military training: Ability to delay shock from wounds with adrenaline, keep calm in extreme conditions, increased reflexes and speed dominate, etc.
Abilities:
- Adrenaline Rush
- Ballistic Blades (with Explosion function optional)
- Concussion Shot
- Defense Matrix (Given and programmed by Serena)
- Cain Trip Mines
Bio:
Liana Malkai, a former military soldier, left her homeworld. Vellios was born on a turian frigate going from a colony planet to Palaven. During much of his life, all he could remember is being a nomad. Their daily lives hopped from one ship to the next, following his mother’s freelancing career. Most of her jobs connected to the Hierarchy because they paid the best.
In his youth, he grew up on his mother’s tales about his father. The turian was an idol in Vellios’ childish eyes. These ideas would be short-lived when he learned the truth.
It was a month before his 11th birthday when the ship they were on came under siege by pirates. His mother and several crewmates were taken prisoner while he stowed away. After an hour or two, his concern for his mother caused him to go against his best judgment. When he found them, they were held at gunpoint and his mother being first on the execution list. Like many strong headed children his age, common sense flew out the window when Vellios attempted to interfere.
In a recruitment trial, the turian pirate captain, Syberus, ordered him to kill his mother. When he refused, his mother impaled herself on his blade and ended her life in order to spare him. It left Vellios shaken as Syberus ordered him taken onboard the Haides.
For four years, Haides showed him a world where only the strong survived. Those who failed to become cold, kill without guilt or be quick on their feet often found themselves becoming victims of older crew members. Usually dying shortly afterward. The captain seemed to single him out for lessons on how to progress in the ship’s rank.
One event stuck with him for a long time. He connected with a younger, fragile Batarian boy about two years aboard the ship. He had stopped the Batarian’s near death by tossing himself into an aggressor then leading the short-fused Turian away. When Vellios’ actions were discovered, they were both tossed into the brig for punishment. They would be given food on the condition one of them killed the other. His friend was the weaker of the pair, forcing Vellios to end his friend’s life.
“The weak have no place in the world save for reminding us of our strength.” The Captain’s words echoed in his head when Vellios’ punishment was finally over.
After being stuck in the lifestyle for four years, Vellios began to absorb it into his attitude and personality. Fueled by the desire to kill the Captain, he gradually rose up the ranks. He killed numerous times on the ships they plundered. He developed a taste for blood, but he still held his own morals. His reputation grew despite this even when he fought against larger foes.
It was only a matter of time before someone caught up to the pirates.
One night they left port and sailed into space, a lazy drift. In the silence, a mercenary ship descended on them. Fire, blood, and chaos erupted on the decks when the first gunshot was fired. Vellios rushed through the mayhem in his search for a way out, only to stumble onto Syberus wounded during a gunfight. Vellios couldn't help but take advantage of the situation. With Syberus’ dying breath, he revealed a horrible truth.
As the words rattled in his brain, Vellios fled to one part of the ship he knew well. There was a small shuttle inside that he only learned the basics on, but gave him a chance to survive. As he ducked into the pilot’s seat, his eyes glimpsed a familiar Krogan rush into the hallway leading to the Captain Quarters.
Hours passed into days when his shuttle ran out of power and food, leaving Vellios to conserve his energy with sleep. A scavenger ship ended up finding the stranded shuttle. They hauled him in, examined him and returned to Palaven for better medical attention. He was placed into therapy then the orphanage shortly afterward.
He was 18 when he joined the military after his therapist cleared him for service. Vellios adjusted well to the harsh training, putting his lessons from Haides to better use. When his training ended, he was assigned to the 6th Legion and became involved in the Relay 314 Incident. They were forced to retreat when the Second Alliance Fleet arrived.
Over the next 14 years, he ended up building a career within the military. He met his wife through the communications department and eventually they were engaged and married at 21. A few years later his children, Tiberian and Kilia, were born about a year apart from each other. They all settled on Gothis, a turian colony.
He was on military leave for his son’s 7th birthday when his past came knocking. A bloody message was printed on the wall: You killed Syberus. He rushed up the housing unit’s stairs to find his family dead, murdered in a single room. A part of him shattered that night.
He turned 33 when he tossed himself back into the military in order to distract himself from the pain. Vellios’ accomplishments drew his superior’s attention who placed him into the Spectre program. He was one among numerous candidates from other Legions, Fleets and Marine Divisions.
After the few initiation tests, Vellios was assigned to a Spectre, Trominus Yinso, for observation during a mission. While the actual events are classified, it was clear he had the potential to become a Spectre. However, there were issues when it came to putting his personal agenda aside. This flaw disqualified him instantly.
After that mission, Vellios felt his nightmares edge away. He was unsure if he was healing or simply moving on. His failure at the Spectre program pushed him to withdraw from the military and find a more suitable career.
For the next three years, he spent his time as a mercenary where he met and became a protective figure towards Selena Mathews. She was the closest he had to family. They later joined the Borealis, a rag-tag group of merc in a broken down disaster of a ship. Three good years passed before Vellios got a holovid informing him of a friend in trouble and a threat to his new family.
That’s when he simply vanished off the radar.
It took him years to dug up the courage to connect with Serena again. It was after he discovered that the Borealis crew had disbanded and scattered to their own devices. The reunion resulted in her smacking him a few times then relieved he was alive. She went home to San Pedro Sula, Honduras to help her community. He couldn't follow her. They parted on good terms. He knew she wanted to fix him, but Vellios knew he was broken too long to ever be fully fixed.
For the remaining years, he freelanced doing odd jobs around Omega. This place felt more like home than any place he had been in. Maybe it was because of the violence and criminals roaming on it or it reminded him of better times.
Strengths:
Close-Combat: Vellios thrives on getting up close and personal with his targets using his speed to limit the taken damage. Unless you use a gun or have similar talent in combat, it can be difficult to keep up with him.
Adapting to a situation- Vellios’ life has been filled with the need to adapt. From fixing himself up to following instructions over how to fix the engine, he is able to learn a wide range of basic skills to help him to survive. This also means while he’s a Jack of Trades, he is a limited master of those he focuses on.
Determined- Vellios will do whatever it takes to accomplish a goal he’s set for himself or given to him. Even if it means risking his life.
Charismatic- He’s known to be both persuasive and intimating, but either way he’s very social. Some don’t realize he suffers from mental scars as he hides them well. At least until he trusts the others wouldn’t leave him to out dry. When he feels it’s necessary, he can talk himself out of a rough spot most the time.
Understanding dark things- Vellios isn’t a saint. He doesn’t even pretend to be one when it comes to his past, a fact he will be blunt about it when he is asked. This allows him to understand others with similar issues and he uses it to prove there are bigger monsters out there than them. It doesn’t always work.
Weaknesses:
Strength- Vellios isn’t the strongest around. He prefers speed and stamina, so don’t expect him to try to outmuscle the classic brick wall known as a Krogan. It’s just not happening. Instead, he will use less fair means to outwit his opponent.
Traumatic Past- Vellios’ history is filled with loss and pain, leaving scars that never fully heal. While he has learned to coop better, there are situations where his trauma could bring his survival instincts into the surface. Most wonder why he would still choose a life of violence and pain, but it's something he finds comfort in. It's all he knows will never change.
Alcohol- Vellios has an addiction to drinking. He gets a bit moody when he's been off the stuff for a long time, like weeks at a time.
Risk Taker- It’s pretty obvious from those that have encountered him that Vellios doesn’t value his own safety. If there’s a risky job short of guarantee suicide, he’ll be among the first to volunteer for it. This is likely to feed his adrenaline needs.
Misc:
Vellios keeps a chess piece, with a combat VI for his suit, as a memento from Selena. It is mostly cosmetic with her voice replacing the original VI's, including one feature designed to shut him down should his PSTD become out of control. If he ever finds anyone that is able to play chess, he will end up dragging them into a game whenever he gets a chance.
Vellios’ things hold a moving picture of his family as a memory of his loss. In the past, he used to believe anything he became attached to would wither and die. Selena’s connection has proven to him otherwise.
He does not like living and breathing Varren, purely due to the fact the first mate bred war Varren then let them run rampant throughout the ship. Ever since Vellios becomes tense around them with his blade on hand. It's best not to leave a cherished Varren alone with him.
Dialogue Color: RosyBrown
Eisenhorn Inquisitor of some Note
Member
Seen
7 hrs ago
Alright, finally got something put together, criticism, suggestions, and the like are welcome and encouraged.
Race: Quarian
Gender: Male
Class: Soldier
Age: 31
Homeworld: Heavy Cruiser Weedir, Migrant Fleet
Appearance:
Unsurprisingly, Voto'Tos is encased in the environmental suit that has become the face of his species, though under the hood and robes he wears is a suit reinforced for the close quarters that would be demanded of a (former) Migrant Fleet Marine. Standing at 5'7", he has fairly dark colored attire which tends to make it hard to tell the reinforcements in the envirosuit from the normal materials. Besides the corse torso being reinforced, non jointed areas are also armored and protected as well, allowing for glancing rounds even after the shields go down, while not slowing him down. Hidden in key points are deployable boosters that provide a level of agility hard to match by most other normal combatants. Inspired by the Turian troops that employ the same, the experimental thrusters allow him to launch into fights and maneuver the field of battle readily.
Psychological Profile:
Growing up on a combat vessel has definitely shaped Voto'Tos and his mentality compared to your typical Quarian. While he has no problems chatting and engaging in dialogue, he tends to be more reserved and introspective, less open to talking about his experiences in pirate suppression exercises and the circumstances of him leaving the Migrant Fleet for good. Though when it comes to combat tactics, training, or other high stress tasks that demand his attention, Voto'Tos shows that Quarian energy that he usually holds in reserve, stress doing nothing but strengthening his confidence. In his mind he always worked better under stress than not, and he typically seems ready, able, and even eager to prove himself time and again, even long after he's proven himself to a team or allies of the moment, and when questioned on the matter Voto'Tos will quickly revert to the quieter and more introspective self, deflecting it with quiet humor or just static silence.
While Voto'Tos might get accused of some sort of inferiority complex, considering Quarian frontline troops tend to be a rare sight outside the Migrant Fleet. After all, one rupture and then they die of the flu, right? The truth of the matter is more based in fear than anything else, fear of failing again in such a catastrophic manner, and that 'confidence' in high stress is a poker face to mask that fear of failure. Easy to wear a mask when the suit already comes with one, after all, and since failure in general carries a general sort of fear with it, Voto'Tos is a perfectionist, constantly trying to improve or be the best possible in any given tasking or job. Many times a 'good enough' has been ignored in favor of doing the absolute best that Voto'Tos could do.
Off duty, Voto'Tos really does mean well for his compatriots in arms, though he struggles with getting too connected. On one hand, the Quarian cultural call of the community building, trust, and cooperation remains as strong as ever. On the other, having lost his entire squad in the Fleet Marines due to, honestly unpredictable, complications and having never forgiven himself means he doesn't want to end up in that situation again, since he is convinced he has already failed as a leader. The struggle between cultural norms and hard earned experience sometimes forces him into isolation, other times, he welcomes company rather easily, all depending on recent events. He does, at least, attempt to suppress that isolationism whenever in the company of others. Its not their problem, after all, so he has no intent of making it theirs.
Something worth noting is that Vot'Tos has a hard time accepting the view that most of the galaxy has of the Quarians. Ironically, he is of the opinion that the mistakes of the past generations should not dictate their future, and remains a staunch supporter of eventually retaking Rannoch. Whenever the idea that Quarians are "vagrants", "thieves", or "beggers" is often reacted to with hostility and argument.
"Take Earth from the Humans, Palaven from the Turians, Thessia from the Asari, or Sur'Kesh from the Salarians, and you tell me they wouldn't plan everything in their power to retake their homes. 'Just resettle elsewhere', Bosh'tet. It's what you keep telling us. To just give up and be the thieves and beggars you lot think we are." This harsh, angry, and overall unpleasant shift in self for Voto'Tos is fairly rare, as the simmering anger is not something he is proud of, but it rears its head in the face of injustice towards his people. Probably stemming from the time he spent in the Migrant Fleet Marines before his self imposed exile, but he still feels a responsibility to help and defend his fellow Quarians when the opportunity makes itself available.
Equipment:
+ M-96 Mattock
+ High Velocity Barrel
+ Piercing Mod
+ Thermal Scope
"A popular mainstay among his former squad, this heavily modified Mattock was carried by his team's designated marksman, or markswoman in her case. Carrying heavy sentimental value, and being rather weighty itself, practice has made Voto'Tos a reliable shot to open combat before the assault begins proper. The name Raefe'Waann is engraved above the thermal clip ejection port, a hint at its former owner and a clue at their eventual fate."
+ M-27 Scimitar
+ High Caliber Barrel
+ Smart Choke
"His standard issued Shotgun from time in the Migrant Fleet Marines, this fast firing shotgun has been suitable for close quarters actions. While it lacks the raw power of some shotguns, the modifications help alleviate this to a degree, coupled with better accuracy then standard makes for a room clearing weapon after a charge."
+ Armored Quarian Enviro-Suit
Abilities:
+ Havoc Strike
+ Adrenaline Rush
+ Arc Grenades
+ Stimulant Packs
+ Fortification (Passive)
Bio:
Born on the Weedir, a decommissioned Turian Cruiser that had been acquired by the Migrant Fleet, Voto'Tos was all but born into the Migrant Fleet Marines. His father was a security officer, while his mother was a trained and professional doctor. Growing up, his father was quick to train him in basic hand to hand, firearms usage, and general survival skills while his mother would take time to teach him basic first aid, how to handle suit breaches in crisis situations, and the like. While maintenance and repair work was the standard for children, and Voto'Tos was no different, his parentage gave him a fair bit of survival training and how to defend himself should the situation arise. He always felt a calling for putting himself into situations first, first into a simulated hull breach for training purposes, always first in to get to the injured, stabilize them and get them back safely. He could have made for a great emergency responder if his life took a different route.
As with all Quarians, as his Pilgrimage came closer, Voto'Tos would receive more training to compound what he already had received from his parents. How to survive, having immunity boosting implants installed, and receiving gifts and tools to help survive outside the Flotilla. He was a basic set of armor, what could be spared from the armory, alongside a sidearm, supplies, and everything he needed to head out into the galaxy on Pilgrimage. He would undergo formal combat training courses, which he excelled in, as well as unarmed combat drills to improve his ability to defend himself from danger, considering what he was considering and planning. Voto'Tos had heard countless times that the state of the armory was a constant concern, and he decided the best way to help the fleet was to bring back arms, and lots of them. Where better to find stockpiles of arms ripe for the acquiring then the Terminus System? Despite the dangers, which his father warned him of, as his father had helped in seeing off pirates before, he was confident in his abilities and departed for the Terminus Systems, with a simple plan. Find guns, lots of guns, and get them back to the Flotilla.
Voto'Tos would stop briefly on Omega, and would do some work and oddjobs fixing machines in the guts of the station, defending himself from the odd small time gang and getting a taste for how the outside galaxy worked, at least in the Terminus System. It was hard, filthy work, but thankfully the armor saved his life on more than one occasion, and he started gathering hints and ideas where he could find stockpiles of weaponry. Officially, the Pilgrimage gift could not have been gained by harming another, Quarian or otherwise, but as Voto'Tos was finding out, especially on Omega, making any sort of gains without harming another was extremely difficult at best. He would barter for transport off Omega, managing to avoid getting stuck on the mining platform, though the ship he had bought passage on was targeted by pirates. Voto'Tos would jump into the fray alongside the security forces, surprising them that this Quarian was not only ready to get into a fight, but wasn't completely useless. He was offered a job with the security firm, and as far as Voto'Tos could tell, security was defending and protecting and didn't violate the Pilgrimage's sole rule, not technically.
After joining the security firm, he would spend several years working with them on various jobs, often times assigned to ship security thanks to his experience having grown up on a Quarian ship. It also gave him the means to see more of the galaxy then in the guts of a malfunctioning engine on Omega, and most of the time any violence that erupted was seeing off pirates and slavers targeting the ship or compound he was in at the time. Between the credits from security work, and his own research, he was able to finally purchase a rather large stockpile of Mattock rifles, enough to outfit an armory on a cruiser, and began hauling them back towards the Flotilla. He left the security firm on good terms, and with an open offer to find them on Omega should he ever need work again. The hauler was slow, but his time in the Terminus System working security had taught him where pirates liked to prey, and where he could law low and take cover. Plus, trying to take a Quarian bunkered down in a ship with more guns than rations was a dangerous prospect indeed.
When he returned, Voto'Tos would broadcast the code phrase for a successful Pilgrimage and proceed to dock with the Lamorn, another heavy cruiser that had been refurbished for Heavy Fleet use by the Quarians, and presented the cargo of Mattock rifles to the Captain. It was a welcome, and needed, gift, as Voto'Tos had suspected, since accurate, hard hitting rifles were hard to come by. More inaccurate weapons were riskier to use as hitting ship components was actively avoided if firefights were unavoidable when repelling hostilities. He would take on the name Voto'Tos vas Lamorn, and promptly joined the Migrant Fleet Marine contingent on the Lamorn, applying the skills he learned in the galaxy at large alongside focused and demanding training from the Marines themselves. He would be assigned to a squad that was routinely tasked with boarding actions and ground operations, protecting specialists and scientists from the Special Projects fleet. He would even rise to command his own squad of Marines, something he remains proud of though is very, very hesitant to ever speak on due to events leading up to his self imposed exile.
Voto'Tos and his squad were assigned to a security detail for a research team heading for the edges of the Terminus System, unknowingly part of the ongoing research into the Geth and potential efforts to regain lost territory and reclaim Rannoch. The planet was a dense jungle, sparsely populated by human colonists, though the Quarian team avoided them initially. What they weren't ready for was human mining operations to accidentally breach into and trigger the defense systems of a crashed and dormant Geth ship. The ship coming partially online was easily registered by the science teams instruments, and pinpointed beneath the human colony. Voto'Tos and his marines would escort the scientists to the colony, where familiar faces were struggling against the Geth pouring out of the mines. The old security firm he worked with on his Pilgrimage was present, and his old CO no less. Colonel Vestal was his name, and despite the surprise of meeting on this backwater, it was a welcome meeting and helped coordinate Quarian Marine actions, the team specialized in assault and shock tactics on the ground, Mattock fire suppressing and covering the Marines that advanced on the enemy alongside the tech heavy hard defenses of the security company.
Between the two, with the scientists urgings, Voto'Tos and Colonel Vestal would lead their respective forces into the mines instead of burying the entrance. Still, they rigged the tunnels with explosives as they went, just in case. The humans had taken considerable casualties before the Quarians arrived, the latter better trained to handle Geth than the human security forces had been. Lack of numbers was the main problem for Voto'Tos and his squad, as he personally knew each one of them and each loss would be a heavy blow on his conscious and faith in the Special Projects team that was urging them to push on in the face of mounting losses. The Colonel had no reason to listen, but he still stood by his old Quarian comrade and helped get the team close and closer to the wrecked, long abandoned and, until recently, dormant Geth ship. Upon reaching it, the Special Project team began setting up a base camp for long term study, despite the protests and concerns that it was not a defensible position and would cost them their lives. Voto'Tos would end up telling Colonel Vestal to get to safety, withdraw and guard the tunnel entrance, he wouldn't spend a friend's life on a fool errand like this.
Several days of research would eventually trigger a second wave of Geth platforms that had not been awoken in the initial surge, which would handily overwhelm the battered and injured Quarian Marines. The scientists fled while the Fleet Marines covered them, putting their lives on the line for their kin, and Voto'Tos was the only one who could escape, having been field testing armor mounted thrusters for ground and ship operations, and gave him the mobility he needed to get out of the tunnels and collapse them. All he had was furious scientists, who were convinced they could simply come back with more troops and pacify the now lost trove of Geth parts, and his team's designated markswoman's, Raefe'Waann, heavily modified Mattock rifle. Colonel Vestal offered to bring Voto'Tos along as he reported back to Omega, since they would have to recoup their losses there. Voto'Tos would decline, needing to head back to the Migrant Fleet and report what happened, as the scientists were mumbling about treason and the like when they thought that Voto'Tos wasn't listening. The two groups would part ways, the human colony having been wiped out by the accidental find. Voto'Tos would return to his ship alone, reporting what happened and the scientist's conduct as well. This would put the two ships at odds, the Special Projects ship demanding he be reprimanded and punished for his actions while the Lamorn and her captain defended his actions as necessary, and absolving him of any wrongdoing in the loss of his squad. The tunnel fighting against the Geth would haunt him while he slept, and he eventually slipped off the ship when it was suggested he take a new squad under his command after he had recovered from the combat actions.
Voto'Tos was convinced he was, at best, incompetent and a danger to anyone under his command on the Migrant Fleet and, at worse, an active danger since his inaction against the scientist's wishes had cost not only the lives of his squad, but several of the scientist's aids had died alongside the small human colony and their security forces. He planned to go to Omega and start over in the security firm, but when he got there he found them missing, and learned that the Colonel and his surviving men had been ambushed and lacked the manpower to fight off the pirate retaliatory strike. First his squad, then one of his few remaining friends outside the Migrant Fleet. He could not readily return to the Fleet, so he started freelancing on Omega, selling his skills and abilities as a soldier to the highest bidder. He stuck to security and escort jobs mostly, though with work drying up after the battle on the Citadel, he would end up taking a job on with other freelancers on a small ship out of system. He hadn't gotten off Omega, job wise, ever since he had arrived so maybe a breath of (figuratively) fresh air would do him some good.
Strengths:
+ Migrant Fleet (Ex)Marine: Voto'Tos might have departed from the fleet on a self imposed exile, but that doesn't change the fact he was a Marine trusted to field test experimental tech. He is a skilled and tactical close quarters fighter, comfortable in tunnels, ships, and other tight locales where sometimes room is at a luxury to fight in. Add in experience during ground ops, he is a safe bet to bring along on a combat op, being a reliable shot and an excellent choice to lead an assault, being clean and focused in close quarters fighting.
+ Squad Tactics: Despite his beliefs, Voto'Tos is still a competent leader of small squads, capable of reading a situation and directing each member of his team to wherever they would do the most good, with the least amount of risk.
+ Confident under Pressure: It takes a great deal to get Voto'Tos to crack under pressure, your typical firefight or skirmish are nowhere near enough to get him to buckle. Even when facing down the Geth that cost him his squad, he kept making the best calls he could, even when that meant retreating and collapsing the tunnels to prevent the second wave from getting out.
+ Basic Medical Familiarity: Between necessary knowledge from his pilgrimage, as well as instruction from his own mother growing up, Voto'Tos has kept himself brushed up on triage and emergency care tactics. He can stabilize someone so a proper medical professional can actually bring them from the brink, which he lacks the expertise to do so. But he can delay their death until help arrives.
Weaknesses:
+ Self Confidence: As far as this Quarian is concerned, he has already failed as a squad leader and no amount of proving otherwise will help, near as Voto'Tos is concerned. Convincing him to be anything outside of a hired gun and, in combat situations, an advisor for the actual leader will take a great deal of effort to overcome.
+ Vendetta: Voto'Tos has quite a few that could readily consume him if the opportunity arose. From the Geth, that cost him his Squad and pushed him into a self imposed exile, to the pirates that ambushed and killed his friend from during his pilgrimage, he can hold a grudge and plot to take revenge for quite sometime.
+ Risktaker: Quarians are not the hardiest sort, so finding one that willingly engages in shock tactics and close assault is rare and fairly unusual. Sure, he is well armored by most standards, but the fact he gladly launches himself into close quarters with enemy ranks, lobbing grenades ahead of his charge to soften the position, is a clear indication of his willingness to throw himself into harms way.
+ Quarian Physiology: It goes without saying, but Voto'Tos is Quarian, meaning that his suit is the only thing protecting him from infection and weeks of sickness from said infections. The armor helps, of course, but a suit rupture is a suit rupture, which means infection in the area and being sick for quite some time after.
Misc:
Voto'Tos paces constantly whenever he doesn't need to be seated, walking back and forth, keeping himself moving. He says it helps him think and formulate plans and ideas, but it is as much a nervous tic as it is anything else.
He enjoys listening to human classical music, as well as music lacking vocals in general really, and will often do so during weapons maintenance or otherwise on his downtime. Hell, he has even looked into acquiring a human violin or other instruments to start practicing, though he hasn't actually gone through with it yet.
He drinks in his off time, though he is by no means a drunkard. Mainly since the amount of effort that goes into purifying and preparing himself for drinking means that he has never built up a heavy tolerance for it.
Voto'Tos just does not get things like Blasto or Fleet and Flotilla. He doesn't dislike them, mind, it just doesn't appeal and he doesn't understand the appeal. No amount of convincing will likely change this either.
Voto'Tos vas Lamorn
Race: Quarian
Gender: Male
Class: Soldier
Age: 31
Homeworld: Heavy Cruiser Weedir, Migrant Fleet
Appearance:
Unsurprisingly, Voto'Tos is encased in the environmental suit that has become the face of his species, though under the hood and robes he wears is a suit reinforced for the close quarters that would be demanded of a (former) Migrant Fleet Marine. Standing at 5'7", he has fairly dark colored attire which tends to make it hard to tell the reinforcements in the envirosuit from the normal materials. Besides the corse torso being reinforced, non jointed areas are also armored and protected as well, allowing for glancing rounds even after the shields go down, while not slowing him down. Hidden in key points are deployable boosters that provide a level of agility hard to match by most other normal combatants. Inspired by the Turian troops that employ the same, the experimental thrusters allow him to launch into fights and maneuver the field of battle readily.
Psychological Profile:
Growing up on a combat vessel has definitely shaped Voto'Tos and his mentality compared to your typical Quarian. While he has no problems chatting and engaging in dialogue, he tends to be more reserved and introspective, less open to talking about his experiences in pirate suppression exercises and the circumstances of him leaving the Migrant Fleet for good. Though when it comes to combat tactics, training, or other high stress tasks that demand his attention, Voto'Tos shows that Quarian energy that he usually holds in reserve, stress doing nothing but strengthening his confidence. In his mind he always worked better under stress than not, and he typically seems ready, able, and even eager to prove himself time and again, even long after he's proven himself to a team or allies of the moment, and when questioned on the matter Voto'Tos will quickly revert to the quieter and more introspective self, deflecting it with quiet humor or just static silence.
While Voto'Tos might get accused of some sort of inferiority complex, considering Quarian frontline troops tend to be a rare sight outside the Migrant Fleet. After all, one rupture and then they die of the flu, right? The truth of the matter is more based in fear than anything else, fear of failing again in such a catastrophic manner, and that 'confidence' in high stress is a poker face to mask that fear of failure. Easy to wear a mask when the suit already comes with one, after all, and since failure in general carries a general sort of fear with it, Voto'Tos is a perfectionist, constantly trying to improve or be the best possible in any given tasking or job. Many times a 'good enough' has been ignored in favor of doing the absolute best that Voto'Tos could do.
Off duty, Voto'Tos really does mean well for his compatriots in arms, though he struggles with getting too connected. On one hand, the Quarian cultural call of the community building, trust, and cooperation remains as strong as ever. On the other, having lost his entire squad in the Fleet Marines due to, honestly unpredictable, complications and having never forgiven himself means he doesn't want to end up in that situation again, since he is convinced he has already failed as a leader. The struggle between cultural norms and hard earned experience sometimes forces him into isolation, other times, he welcomes company rather easily, all depending on recent events. He does, at least, attempt to suppress that isolationism whenever in the company of others. Its not their problem, after all, so he has no intent of making it theirs.
Something worth noting is that Vot'Tos has a hard time accepting the view that most of the galaxy has of the Quarians. Ironically, he is of the opinion that the mistakes of the past generations should not dictate their future, and remains a staunch supporter of eventually retaking Rannoch. Whenever the idea that Quarians are "vagrants", "thieves", or "beggers" is often reacted to with hostility and argument.
"Take Earth from the Humans, Palaven from the Turians, Thessia from the Asari, or Sur'Kesh from the Salarians, and you tell me they wouldn't plan everything in their power to retake their homes. 'Just resettle elsewhere', Bosh'tet. It's what you keep telling us. To just give up and be the thieves and beggars you lot think we are." This harsh, angry, and overall unpleasant shift in self for Voto'Tos is fairly rare, as the simmering anger is not something he is proud of, but it rears its head in the face of injustice towards his people. Probably stemming from the time he spent in the Migrant Fleet Marines before his self imposed exile, but he still feels a responsibility to help and defend his fellow Quarians when the opportunity makes itself available.
Equipment:
+ M-96 Mattock
+ High Velocity Barrel
+ Piercing Mod
+ Thermal Scope
"A popular mainstay among his former squad, this heavily modified Mattock was carried by his team's designated marksman, or markswoman in her case. Carrying heavy sentimental value, and being rather weighty itself, practice has made Voto'Tos a reliable shot to open combat before the assault begins proper. The name Raefe'Waann is engraved above the thermal clip ejection port, a hint at its former owner and a clue at their eventual fate."
+ M-27 Scimitar
+ High Caliber Barrel
+ Smart Choke
"His standard issued Shotgun from time in the Migrant Fleet Marines, this fast firing shotgun has been suitable for close quarters actions. While it lacks the raw power of some shotguns, the modifications help alleviate this to a degree, coupled with better accuracy then standard makes for a room clearing weapon after a charge."
+ Armored Quarian Enviro-Suit
Abilities:
+ Havoc Strike
+ Adrenaline Rush
+ Arc Grenades
+ Stimulant Packs
+ Fortification (Passive)
Bio:
Born on the Weedir, a decommissioned Turian Cruiser that had been acquired by the Migrant Fleet, Voto'Tos was all but born into the Migrant Fleet Marines. His father was a security officer, while his mother was a trained and professional doctor. Growing up, his father was quick to train him in basic hand to hand, firearms usage, and general survival skills while his mother would take time to teach him basic first aid, how to handle suit breaches in crisis situations, and the like. While maintenance and repair work was the standard for children, and Voto'Tos was no different, his parentage gave him a fair bit of survival training and how to defend himself should the situation arise. He always felt a calling for putting himself into situations first, first into a simulated hull breach for training purposes, always first in to get to the injured, stabilize them and get them back safely. He could have made for a great emergency responder if his life took a different route.
As with all Quarians, as his Pilgrimage came closer, Voto'Tos would receive more training to compound what he already had received from his parents. How to survive, having immunity boosting implants installed, and receiving gifts and tools to help survive outside the Flotilla. He was a basic set of armor, what could be spared from the armory, alongside a sidearm, supplies, and everything he needed to head out into the galaxy on Pilgrimage. He would undergo formal combat training courses, which he excelled in, as well as unarmed combat drills to improve his ability to defend himself from danger, considering what he was considering and planning. Voto'Tos had heard countless times that the state of the armory was a constant concern, and he decided the best way to help the fleet was to bring back arms, and lots of them. Where better to find stockpiles of arms ripe for the acquiring then the Terminus System? Despite the dangers, which his father warned him of, as his father had helped in seeing off pirates before, he was confident in his abilities and departed for the Terminus Systems, with a simple plan. Find guns, lots of guns, and get them back to the Flotilla.
Voto'Tos would stop briefly on Omega, and would do some work and oddjobs fixing machines in the guts of the station, defending himself from the odd small time gang and getting a taste for how the outside galaxy worked, at least in the Terminus System. It was hard, filthy work, but thankfully the armor saved his life on more than one occasion, and he started gathering hints and ideas where he could find stockpiles of weaponry. Officially, the Pilgrimage gift could not have been gained by harming another, Quarian or otherwise, but as Voto'Tos was finding out, especially on Omega, making any sort of gains without harming another was extremely difficult at best. He would barter for transport off Omega, managing to avoid getting stuck on the mining platform, though the ship he had bought passage on was targeted by pirates. Voto'Tos would jump into the fray alongside the security forces, surprising them that this Quarian was not only ready to get into a fight, but wasn't completely useless. He was offered a job with the security firm, and as far as Voto'Tos could tell, security was defending and protecting and didn't violate the Pilgrimage's sole rule, not technically.
After joining the security firm, he would spend several years working with them on various jobs, often times assigned to ship security thanks to his experience having grown up on a Quarian ship. It also gave him the means to see more of the galaxy then in the guts of a malfunctioning engine on Omega, and most of the time any violence that erupted was seeing off pirates and slavers targeting the ship or compound he was in at the time. Between the credits from security work, and his own research, he was able to finally purchase a rather large stockpile of Mattock rifles, enough to outfit an armory on a cruiser, and began hauling them back towards the Flotilla. He left the security firm on good terms, and with an open offer to find them on Omega should he ever need work again. The hauler was slow, but his time in the Terminus System working security had taught him where pirates liked to prey, and where he could law low and take cover. Plus, trying to take a Quarian bunkered down in a ship with more guns than rations was a dangerous prospect indeed.
When he returned, Voto'Tos would broadcast the code phrase for a successful Pilgrimage and proceed to dock with the Lamorn, another heavy cruiser that had been refurbished for Heavy Fleet use by the Quarians, and presented the cargo of Mattock rifles to the Captain. It was a welcome, and needed, gift, as Voto'Tos had suspected, since accurate, hard hitting rifles were hard to come by. More inaccurate weapons were riskier to use as hitting ship components was actively avoided if firefights were unavoidable when repelling hostilities. He would take on the name Voto'Tos vas Lamorn, and promptly joined the Migrant Fleet Marine contingent on the Lamorn, applying the skills he learned in the galaxy at large alongside focused and demanding training from the Marines themselves. He would be assigned to a squad that was routinely tasked with boarding actions and ground operations, protecting specialists and scientists from the Special Projects fleet. He would even rise to command his own squad of Marines, something he remains proud of though is very, very hesitant to ever speak on due to events leading up to his self imposed exile.
Voto'Tos and his squad were assigned to a security detail for a research team heading for the edges of the Terminus System, unknowingly part of the ongoing research into the Geth and potential efforts to regain lost territory and reclaim Rannoch. The planet was a dense jungle, sparsely populated by human colonists, though the Quarian team avoided them initially. What they weren't ready for was human mining operations to accidentally breach into and trigger the defense systems of a crashed and dormant Geth ship. The ship coming partially online was easily registered by the science teams instruments, and pinpointed beneath the human colony. Voto'Tos and his marines would escort the scientists to the colony, where familiar faces were struggling against the Geth pouring out of the mines. The old security firm he worked with on his Pilgrimage was present, and his old CO no less. Colonel Vestal was his name, and despite the surprise of meeting on this backwater, it was a welcome meeting and helped coordinate Quarian Marine actions, the team specialized in assault and shock tactics on the ground, Mattock fire suppressing and covering the Marines that advanced on the enemy alongside the tech heavy hard defenses of the security company.
Between the two, with the scientists urgings, Voto'Tos and Colonel Vestal would lead their respective forces into the mines instead of burying the entrance. Still, they rigged the tunnels with explosives as they went, just in case. The humans had taken considerable casualties before the Quarians arrived, the latter better trained to handle Geth than the human security forces had been. Lack of numbers was the main problem for Voto'Tos and his squad, as he personally knew each one of them and each loss would be a heavy blow on his conscious and faith in the Special Projects team that was urging them to push on in the face of mounting losses. The Colonel had no reason to listen, but he still stood by his old Quarian comrade and helped get the team close and closer to the wrecked, long abandoned and, until recently, dormant Geth ship. Upon reaching it, the Special Project team began setting up a base camp for long term study, despite the protests and concerns that it was not a defensible position and would cost them their lives. Voto'Tos would end up telling Colonel Vestal to get to safety, withdraw and guard the tunnel entrance, he wouldn't spend a friend's life on a fool errand like this.
Several days of research would eventually trigger a second wave of Geth platforms that had not been awoken in the initial surge, which would handily overwhelm the battered and injured Quarian Marines. The scientists fled while the Fleet Marines covered them, putting their lives on the line for their kin, and Voto'Tos was the only one who could escape, having been field testing armor mounted thrusters for ground and ship operations, and gave him the mobility he needed to get out of the tunnels and collapse them. All he had was furious scientists, who were convinced they could simply come back with more troops and pacify the now lost trove of Geth parts, and his team's designated markswoman's, Raefe'Waann, heavily modified Mattock rifle. Colonel Vestal offered to bring Voto'Tos along as he reported back to Omega, since they would have to recoup their losses there. Voto'Tos would decline, needing to head back to the Migrant Fleet and report what happened, as the scientists were mumbling about treason and the like when they thought that Voto'Tos wasn't listening. The two groups would part ways, the human colony having been wiped out by the accidental find. Voto'Tos would return to his ship alone, reporting what happened and the scientist's conduct as well. This would put the two ships at odds, the Special Projects ship demanding he be reprimanded and punished for his actions while the Lamorn and her captain defended his actions as necessary, and absolving him of any wrongdoing in the loss of his squad. The tunnel fighting against the Geth would haunt him while he slept, and he eventually slipped off the ship when it was suggested he take a new squad under his command after he had recovered from the combat actions.
Voto'Tos was convinced he was, at best, incompetent and a danger to anyone under his command on the Migrant Fleet and, at worse, an active danger since his inaction against the scientist's wishes had cost not only the lives of his squad, but several of the scientist's aids had died alongside the small human colony and their security forces. He planned to go to Omega and start over in the security firm, but when he got there he found them missing, and learned that the Colonel and his surviving men had been ambushed and lacked the manpower to fight off the pirate retaliatory strike. First his squad, then one of his few remaining friends outside the Migrant Fleet. He could not readily return to the Fleet, so he started freelancing on Omega, selling his skills and abilities as a soldier to the highest bidder. He stuck to security and escort jobs mostly, though with work drying up after the battle on the Citadel, he would end up taking a job on with other freelancers on a small ship out of system. He hadn't gotten off Omega, job wise, ever since he had arrived so maybe a breath of (figuratively) fresh air would do him some good.
Strengths:
+ Migrant Fleet (Ex)Marine: Voto'Tos might have departed from the fleet on a self imposed exile, but that doesn't change the fact he was a Marine trusted to field test experimental tech. He is a skilled and tactical close quarters fighter, comfortable in tunnels, ships, and other tight locales where sometimes room is at a luxury to fight in. Add in experience during ground ops, he is a safe bet to bring along on a combat op, being a reliable shot and an excellent choice to lead an assault, being clean and focused in close quarters fighting.
+ Squad Tactics: Despite his beliefs, Voto'Tos is still a competent leader of small squads, capable of reading a situation and directing each member of his team to wherever they would do the most good, with the least amount of risk.
+ Confident under Pressure: It takes a great deal to get Voto'Tos to crack under pressure, your typical firefight or skirmish are nowhere near enough to get him to buckle. Even when facing down the Geth that cost him his squad, he kept making the best calls he could, even when that meant retreating and collapsing the tunnels to prevent the second wave from getting out.
+ Basic Medical Familiarity: Between necessary knowledge from his pilgrimage, as well as instruction from his own mother growing up, Voto'Tos has kept himself brushed up on triage and emergency care tactics. He can stabilize someone so a proper medical professional can actually bring them from the brink, which he lacks the expertise to do so. But he can delay their death until help arrives.
Weaknesses:
+ Self Confidence: As far as this Quarian is concerned, he has already failed as a squad leader and no amount of proving otherwise will help, near as Voto'Tos is concerned. Convincing him to be anything outside of a hired gun and, in combat situations, an advisor for the actual leader will take a great deal of effort to overcome.
+ Vendetta: Voto'Tos has quite a few that could readily consume him if the opportunity arose. From the Geth, that cost him his Squad and pushed him into a self imposed exile, to the pirates that ambushed and killed his friend from during his pilgrimage, he can hold a grudge and plot to take revenge for quite sometime.
+ Risktaker: Quarians are not the hardiest sort, so finding one that willingly engages in shock tactics and close assault is rare and fairly unusual. Sure, he is well armored by most standards, but the fact he gladly launches himself into close quarters with enemy ranks, lobbing grenades ahead of his charge to soften the position, is a clear indication of his willingness to throw himself into harms way.
+ Quarian Physiology: It goes without saying, but Voto'Tos is Quarian, meaning that his suit is the only thing protecting him from infection and weeks of sickness from said infections. The armor helps, of course, but a suit rupture is a suit rupture, which means infection in the area and being sick for quite some time after.
Misc:
Voto'Tos paces constantly whenever he doesn't need to be seated, walking back and forth, keeping himself moving. He says it helps him think and formulate plans and ideas, but it is as much a nervous tic as it is anything else.
He enjoys listening to human classical music, as well as music lacking vocals in general really, and will often do so during weapons maintenance or otherwise on his downtime. Hell, he has even looked into acquiring a human violin or other instruments to start practicing, though he hasn't actually gone through with it yet.
He drinks in his off time, though he is by no means a drunkard. Mainly since the amount of effort that goes into purifying and preparing himself for drinking means that he has never built up a heavy tolerance for it.
Voto'Tos just does not get things like Blasto or Fleet and Flotilla. He doesn't dislike them, mind, it just doesn't appeal and he doesn't understand the appeal. No amount of convincing will likely change this either.
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Khosin Grathe Sedgoroh
Race: Batarian
Sex: Male
Class: Sentinel
Age: 41
Homeworld: Khar’shan
Sex: Male
Class: Sentinel
Age: 41
Homeworld: Khar’shan
Appearance:
At a quick glance, it becomes readily apparent that Khosin has a lean figure when compared to other men who have underwent military training, standing at 6’7 feet and weighing 180 pounds. However, in spite of this, Khosin has an athletic, muscular, build thanks to his training. It is thanks to this very training, along with almost 3 decades of combat, that Khosin’s body is riddled with multiple scars, albeit these are often hidden behind his armor or whatever clothes he is wearing at any given situation.
The only things that make Khosin stand out from other Batarians are the red prosthesis that replaces his right forearm and the tattoo located on his neck; otherwise, Khosin looks like your average, brown-skinned, Batarian seen throughout Omega or in one of the Hegemony’s worlds in Kite’s Nest. When outside of battle, Khosin usually wears short-sleeved shirts with matching cargo pants.
Psychological Profile:
On the surface Khosin seems like an affable enough man, ready to go out for drinks with his comrades or to engage in small banter with them between contracts. But, were one to look deeper, a pattern would begin to emerge in the way Khosin behaves himself; he prefers to keep conversations focused on the present and away from himself and his past, not divulging anything truly personal. In other words, despite his seemingly affable disposition, it becomes apparent that Khosin keeps people at arm’s length rather than allowing himself to form deep friendships with his comrades. This stems mainly from the loss of his previous crew and from the simple fact that mercenary crews are volatile by their very nature, with their members changing regularly as they replace their losses be they due to the death of one of their members or from their retirement. It is simpler, and better in the long run, to keep a certain amount of distance in Khosin’s mind.
Aside from this, Khosin prefers mostly quiet afternoons where he spends his time with either a book, doing maintenance on his prosthesis, or practicing his woodcarving. Though, like mentioned previously, he isn’t opposed to going out for drinks or more social-oriented activities.
In contrast to his demeanor during down time, when in battle Khosin is fully focused on the mission and on the task of achieving the objectives that he and his teammates set out to do and fully ready to do whatever is necessary to achieve said goals. This is a result of the training that Khosin underwent when he joined the Hegemony’s military forces, in which he and other trainees were taught to pursue decisive victories no matter what methods they had to employ to achieve said victory.
“Defeat your enemies so thoroughly, so decisively, that they can’t get back up again to challenge you again. That is the only mean to attain true victory.” Such were the words of one of Khosin’s instructors, words that the Batarian still remembers to this day and which shape his choice of tactics in the battlefield. Still, in spite of the ruthlessness that Khosin displays on the battlefield, it is not like he fights that way due to deriving pleasure from it, rather in his mind it seems the most efficient way to fight and the best way to ensure that any battles in which he participates are as short as possible, no matter how bloody they might be.
Equipment:
- Kishock Harpoon Gun
- M-96 Mattock
*Improved Heat Sink, Omni-blade Attachment - AT-12 Raider
*Polonium Rounds, Extended Barrel - Medium Partisan Armor Set
- Cipher Model Omni-Tool
*Utilizes all regular functions, omni-blade replaced with Enforcement gauntlet - Gemini Bio-Amp
Powers:
- Drone
- Flamethrower
- Reave
- Tech Armor
- Shockwave
Background: Born from a moderately wealthy family in 2143 CE, Khosin found his initial life to be an easy one. His parents were a loving couple that often doted on their children, and he adored his trio of younger brothers and sisters and the discovery of biotic potential within the young Batarian proved to not be problematic and his family managed to find a school that accepted Biotic children easily enough.
As such, most of the life of the young Batarian would be a pleasant -fairly uneventful- one. His parents were kind people, treating their slaves well, and would recite excerpts from the Pillars of Strength from time to time to their children. In short order, Khosin's family was a 'model' family so to speak within the society of the Batarian Hegemony.
That all would change the year 2165 CE, when his father invested most of the family's funds in what -at the moment- seemed a secure investment in a fledgling mining colony being funded by the Hegemony in the Skyllian Verge. But what seemed to be a safe prospect turned to be anything so, as the colony was lost to the Alliance's aggressive colonizing efforts which -along with the Council favoring the Alliance in that particular instance, and the Hegemony paying a meager, if they paid at all, insurance- the Sedgoroh family found itself barely making enough money to not sell themselves into servitude. It was at this point that Khosin found himself enlisting with the Hegemony's military in the hopes of making the humans that had ruined his family pay, a decision motivated mostly by the newfound hatred of humanity that the young Batarian felt.
It wouldn't be so and although Khosin proved himself a capable soldier he was deemed a troublemaker -starting fights with his fellow soldiers and getting into arguments with his superiors- and was being considered for a discharge before his second year within the military, it was at this time when he was approached by a Colonel within the Hegemony's military for a 'special' project as the man himself put it. Seeing no reason to say no, Khosin accepted the offer that the colonel gave him and soon the young Batarian found himself listed as being honorably discharged, a cover for his transference to the command of colonel Khesrak Sed’mevan.
The 'special' project of colonel Sed'mevan, as it turned out to be, was to be inducted into a black ops squad of the Hegemony’s External Forces. The principal objective of the squad, as colonel Sed’mevan put it, was to raid ships that travelled near the Mass Effect Relays that led to Hegemony space, preferably those of the Alliance if the opportunity presented itself, and then funnel the resources back to Hegemony space via Sed'mevan's contacts in the black market. However, before Khosin could join the team he, along with the others who had been earmarked for the colonel’s squad, would have to undergo the training that those selected to join the Hegemony’s External Forces underwent before they were accepted into it.
The training was arduous, pushing Khosin and his fellow trainees to their limits and beyond them in most occasions. It wasn’t uncommon for some of them to die during the hellish exercises they were subjected to but, in the end, Khosin and many of the other trainees persevered through the program and were accepted into Sed’mevan’s black ops squad. The newly formed squad was promptly given a ship, which was promptly christened as The Serrated Sun by the members of the squad, and told to set off to do the task that the colonel had given them. Being an off the book squad, Khosin and the other crew members of the Serrated Sun enjoyed a great deal of freedom in how they conducted themselves both during their free time and during missions; as long as they raided ships and funneled the resources back to the Hegemony, they were free to do as they pleased. In this freedom were the seeds of Khosin and his squadmates downfall.
As the years went by and the crew of the Serrated Sun continued with their piracy of those ships unfortunate enough to be caught by them, Sed’mevan’s hold on the group began to loosen more and more as the crew of pirates became emboldened by their successes. Issues were Sed’mevan’s orders ‘mysteriously’ weren’t received became more and more frequent and the crew began attacking instead more high profile targets and keeping more of the spoils for themselves. The continued assault on ships eventually got the crew on the radar of the Alliance and colonel Sed’mevan, who at this point considered the corsairs of The Serrated Sun a lost cause, was more than happy to let the crew fall to the Alliance, withdrawing information from his one-time subordinates about a trap that the humans had prepared to wipe them out.
The plan of the alliance was simple: have one of their transports, usually staffed with non-combat personnel, actually be manned by trained forces ready to eliminate the corsairs while keeping the facade of being easy prey to the emboldened pirates. Predictably, the crew of The Serrated Sun, their egos bloated from years of easy piracy, fell for the trap set out for them by the Alliance. What originally seemed like an easy run soon turned into a bloodbath, the trained marines of the Alliance more than capable of being a match for the batarian corsairs who had grown accustomed to assaulting ships piloted by non-combatants and with only a token security detail. The heated firefight between marines and corsairs soon turned in favor of the former, with more and more of the Batarian pirates dying by the second. Khosin himself was taken out of the fight near its end, his right forearm mangled beyond use by a close-quarter blast from a shotgun, narrowly avoiding death thanks to the quick intervention of one of the few corsairs that still stood unscathed. The battered corsairs beat a hasty retreat to their ship, leaving those of them that couldn’t muster up the strength to run back to The Serrated Sun behind for the Alliance to deal with. But, even when they had made their way back to their ship, their troubles were far from over. Fighters soon appeared and began pursuing the Batarian’s ship; after only a few hours of pursuit, critical systems were failing aboard the Serrated Sun and those who could had found their way aboard the vessels escape pods.
The Alliance was thorough and many of the pods were either intercepted or outright destroyed but, either through faith or sheer luck, Khosin’s pod managed to avoid capture. Eventually they managed to, in a twist of irony, be picked up by a Turian merchant ship making its way to the Terminus system, Omega specifically. The Turian merchants didn’t ask too many questions, and what questions they asked were answered with difficult to track lies, and gave Khosin medical aid for his mangled forearm which unfortunately, due to the lack of timely first aid, had to be severed. Eventually Khosin was deposited in Omega and, after paying a small fee to his rescuers, disappeared into the bowels of the space station.
With only the weapons on his back and the clothes that his Turian rescuers had graciously given him, Khosin was left adrift on the galaxy. What meager savings he still had left after paying his rescuers soon went away when the Batarian bought himself a prosthetic replacement for his lost forearm. Lost in the world, and far too used to violence to ever reintegrate into a civilian life, Khosin soon found himself working on the closest thing to his previous occupation: as a bouncer for one of the many strip clubs that dotted the levels of Omega. But, even with a steady job as a bouncer, part of him itched to return to the old days or, at the very least, something similar to them. Still, it’d be many years before the Batarian would have the chance to leave the station yet again and, as the years wore on, Khosin himself began to change. Slowly but surely, the hatred that had at one point drove Khosin to join the Hegemony’s military began to evaporate as he lived on Omega and he was forced to have to live amongst the humans that he had once so thoroughly despised for his family’s misfortune.
Eventually Khosin managed to gather enough money to buy a new set of armor and, shortly after that, the former corsair entered the world of mercenaries, leaving behind his job as a bouncer. Settling into the lifestyle of a mercenary was easy enough for Khosin, who had long ago grown accustomed to risking his life on a nearly daily basis during his time on the Serrated Sun. And so Khosin settled into the life of one of thousands mercenaries on Omega, sometimes working by himself to clean nests of Vorcha or sometimes working in groups with other mercs as security for a merchant or to wipe out a gang or two from time to time.
Strengths:
- The training undergone by those chosen for the Hegemony’s External Forces is a brutal one, with a fatality rate of 18% amongst the trainees that undertake it. Khosin, having undergone such training, has an incredibly high amount of resilience, both mental and physical, and as such he is an incredibly disciplined fighter, being able to keep his cool even in the face of overwhelming odds.
- Like most Batarian soldiers, Khosin is an utterly ruthless combatant. Enforcement gauntlets, harpoon guns, polonium rounds, Khosin is willing to use any sort of weapons, no matter how cruel they might be, as long as they get the job done in a decisive, quick, way.
- As a Sentinel, Khosin is skilled in the use of both technology and biotic-based abilities. This gives him a greater degree of flexibility during combat when compared to other combatants, allowing him to react to a greater number of threats.
Weaknesses:
- While Khosin’s prosthetic forearm is built sturdily enough, there are still some defects in it’s making. The most crucial of them is that, should a sufficiently strong shock hit the prosthesis, it will stop working and, even worse, send Khosin’s right arm into a brief fit of spasms as the electric current makes its way from the metallic prosthesis to the flesh and bone that connect to the robotic appendage. Along with this, the prosthesis requires frequent maintenance to ensure that it works to its full extent.
- While Khosin’s ruthless tactics might be useful in battle, not everyone might approve of them which might cause some friction between Khosin and other members of the team who might disapprove of the use of such tactics in combat.
- Due to the very tactical flexibility afforded to him by his Sentinel training, Khosin is unfortunately outclassed by other combatants who specialised in only one specific form of combat. As such, when specialist are required, Khosin is of less use than some of his other comrades might be.
- In spite of getting over his prejudice against humans, Khosin still loathes the Alliance. As such, any pro-Alliance comments or viewpoints might, at best, be greeted with a derisive sneer or cold silence from the Batarian's part. At worst, he might argue back against the person in question and, if sufficiently pushed, Khosin could get, somewhat, violent.
Misc:
- During the process of recovering from the loss of his forearm and getting accustomed to his prosthesis, Khosin picked up woodcarving as a means to help himself regain fine motor control in his prosthetic hand. As time went on, the Batarian found the hobby to be relaxing and a way to wind down after a stressful day, during his time as a bouncer for a strip club, or after a mission once he became a mercenary. As such, even to this day, Khosin continues to practice his woodcarving skills as often as he can.
- Khosin also enjoyed doing maintenance on his prosthetic arm, finding the task a way to center himself, sometimes even reciting excerpt from the Pillars of Strength as he works on the robotic appendage.
- Khosin also enjoys reading in his free time whenever he isn’t occupied with his woodcarving or doing maintenance on his prosthesis, a holdover from the days before his family lost it all and were forced to live in on the streets.
- He periodically sends an amount of credits back to his family in Kite’s Nest to try and help them survive and, hopefully, one day be able to regain what they lost all those years ago.
- The tattoo on his neck is his own form of honoring his deceased comrades from The Serrated Sun
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Name: Keesin'Godda (Almost Always goes by Key)
Race: Quarian
Gender: Female
Class: Infiltrator
Age: 28
Homeship: The Gazan
Appearance:
Standing at 5ft 7in (1.7 meters) and decked out in as much customization as she can add to her suit, Key tends to attract even more attention than the average Quarian does. She embraces this, always making sure her suit is as clean as it can possibly be with her spikes shining and her leather belts oiled to perfection. In general Key takes great pride in her appearance, always on the look out for things she can further customize her suit with. She moves and acts like she has something to prove, almost always seeming to somehow have her shoulders squared and her chest puffed out, ready to defend herself against some disparaging remark or outright physical violence. Life is not kind in the Terminus systems, least of all to Quarians by themselves.
If you look closely you can see where her enviro-suit has been repaired on her left shoulder. It mirrors scars beneath, and is the result of being nearly killed by Varren. Because of that Key is always ready to move in an instant. She never comes across as fully relaxed, even when she's somewhere safe, always appearing tense and in a hurry to be somewhere else, usually playing with something (typically a hand puzzle) to occupy herself.
Psychological Profile:
Key was never suited for Migrant Fleet life. It was too stifling, too crowded, too focused on survival rather than living. She yearned for freedom, for doing things for pleasure rather than because the scrap heap they called a ship required it. Stories and dances offered brief escapes, but they became so frequent an escape that they eventually only served to even further remind her of her problems. Now that she's finally free of the constraints of the migrant fleet, Key is able to live the life she always dreamed of.
As a result, Key is impulsive, materialistic, and somewhat selfish, person, living by her passions. She does things for the thrill of it, and keeps things for little more than she thought they were pretty. Her emotions tend to be fiery and high, and she exhibits little control over them at any given moment. Her motivations are rarely beyond 'I want to own or do that thing' or 'I think it'll be fun.' She's a bit of an adrenaline junky, doing things for the thrill of them. With time, or guidance, she may temper her high emotions and excitability with wisdom, but for now she remains as she is: passionate and excitable.
Key is a fidgety person (always seeming to be 'Keyed up' hence her nickname), always eager to be moving and exploring new areas. After being trapped on her homeship the Gazan for 16 years, she's developed a strong sense of wanderlust and curiosity, never liking staying in one place for too long. She spent far too much time doing that during her time on the Flotilla. She's always eager to meet new people, and experience new things (As much as she can. Obviously a lot of things are off limits given how they'll kill her). That being said, her time on Omega has tempered her slightly. New experiences aren't always safe. New people, while interesting and exciting to talk to, aren't always good people. She's always prepared for that new person to be yet another regurgitator of the same old disparaging remarks (or try to rob, harm, or manipulate her in some way).
She's heard all the insults. 'Suit-Rat'. 'Beggar'. 'Thief'. She's determined to prove these people wrong, be it through interacting with them (likely through arguing once they rile her all to easily rileable anger) or doing jobs for or with them. She constantly feels like she has to prove herself to these people and others around them, to unravel the Quarian reputation as best she can.
Her time on Omega has hardened her. She often won't go to help anyone unless it benefits her in some way, for one too many times she's had her kindness and trust manipulated. She trusts only a select few, and her empathy for others extends a limited amount to whatever team she happens to be working with, and fully only to select friends. She's never very relaxed, a side effect of her near death experience with a pack of Varren. She's always ready to move in an instant, afraid of being caught off guard again.
And beneath all of that, Key is a sappy romantic at heart. She believes in things like love at first sight, that love can conquer all, and that everyone has a soulmate. She's more or less certain that for herself such a romance is impossible (given that she's a Quarian who has abandoned the Fleet) but knows that for everyone else, destiny will bring them together with their soulmates and true loves.
All in all, Key is just living her life to the fullest, embracing thrills she thought she'd never get a chance at.
Equipment:
M8 Avenger
Extended Barrel, Piercing Mod. It has a winking skull painted on the side of it.
M6 Carnifex
High Caliber Barrel, Incendiary Rounds.
XO Suit: This custom exosuit is an improvement on her envirosuit by Key herself to make it tougher to penetrate her armor and potentially kill her from infection, and to make her fighting in CQC and movement in combat unexpectedly powerful and quick. Inspired by mechs and rumors of the human's so called 'N7 Destroyers', Key has been carefully and steadily improving her envirosuit for years. The armor of her base suit has added and improved layers on it, whatever she could scavenge and repair, making it tougher and more resilient than your average Quarian armor.
She's installed jet thrusters on the back and limbs to give her brief bursts of speed, or increase her jumps. They are rickety at best, so true flight and extended levitation are both impossible. Along it she has jury-rigged strength enhancing systems (typically found in exoskeletons used for hard labor) to briefly increase her strength as needed, mostly to keep unruly patients down, (though only to roughly a fit turian's level. Still more than her own, but not by a massive amount). She can only keep her strength increased for a few minutes straight, or she risks frying the systems, and prefers to use it in short bursts of a few seconds.
Fix-em: A VI in Key's helm that can scan the body of whoever she's looking at and tell her about the physical injuries they've received, allowing her to quickly plan and prioritize her surgery. Useful for finding out if someone has internal bleeding, shrapnel deep in their bodies, ruptured organs, or any other thing that she won't be able to see herself without proper equipment that she doesn't have access to and may not have time to get people too.
Her twin omni-tools have been changed to have an array of medical tools available whenever she needs them, in addition to their normal functions.
Abilities:
-Fortification
-Tech Armor
-Flak Cannon
-Sticky Grenade
-Submission Net
Bio: Born in 2156 Key has always been trouble for her ship. Her mother died in childbirth, and her father died soon after after a deal with some spacers for supplies went south and they turned on the quarians. The spacers were killed but several quarians, her father included, died before they were neutralized. Taken in by a family that didn't have a child of their own, Keeto'Godda vas Gazan and Shia'Godda vas Gazan, Key never really felt like she belonged in the Migrant Fleet. Her foster parents were nice, but not her own flesh and blood, and they were all too happy to stay on the Migrant Fleet for all their lives. She was always yearning to be somewhere else, to have her own space, to do something other than survive. She wanted to have things because they brought her pleasure, not just because they were effective and useful.
She wanted to explore the galaxy without being chased out of every sector by some corporation or government that viewed them as parasites. She wanted to have her own space and do things for fun rather than try and keep herself surviving so the future of her race can survive. She would be constantly reprimanded for misuse of materials and time, pursuing trivial things when she should have been preparing for her Pilgrimage or helping keep the ship running. The only time her interests and the desires of the Fleet met was when she was learning the ship was flown and working on its flight systems. Something about the possibility of freedom and flying through space with nothing more than a desire to explore and a ship was enthralling to her.
By the time her Pilgrimage had come (at age 17, early by her own constant insistence), Key had already made up her mind. She wasn't going to go back to the Migrant Fleet. There was nothing there for her, and she would only continue argue and get in trouble with the captain and eventually the Admiralty itself. It was best for her to make her own way and never look back. Making her way to Omega, Key set herself to getting a small shuttle to explore the galaxy at her own leisure and as quickly as possible. The first year was extremely rough. She was robbed over a dozen times, swindled out of hard earned credits, and came under attack more times than she could count. She became very proficient at holding her own in a fight and defending herself, and steadily less trusting and naive. It seemed like everyone on Omega was out to cheat her, rob her, hurt her, or steal from her. Eventually she landed a job with what seemed like the only honest person on Omega. A turian by the name of Zertus, owner of a private ship repair yard. In return for two years of her service, Zertus would give her a derelict shuttle that she could repair in her free time.
Everything she could learn about the turian seemed to be trustworthy. He never double crossed customers or slacked on work. He always held up his end of bargains, even when it was to his loss. Warily, Key agreed to the job.
Also working for Zertus was a human named Tyler. Tyler was dressed more strangely than any human she had ever seen. Decked out in leather and spikes, with a bright green mohawk. He had a magnetism that Key couldn't seem to shake, a way about him that made her want to listen to him. Inevitably drawn in through curiosity of his attire and charismatic personality Key found herself spending more and more time with him. He was one of the few people who didn't seem to judge her for being a quarian, and actually cared for what her thoughts and personality was. Tyler had came to Omega in an attempt to start his career as a galactic music star, before the cruel realities of Omega set in and crushed his dreams under its foot. He was now working for Zertus just to live, playing his music on the side sometimes.
Through this day in day out interaction, Key was introduced to the human culture of 'Punk' and fell in love with it. Perhaps it was because of the emphasis on personal freedom, the way she could easily accessorize and stylize her suit with it, the loud aggressive music, or all three, but she embraced the culture of it wholeheartedly. With the way Tyler treated her and made her feel special, it wasn't long before she became infatuated with him. True romance was impossible, of course, but she could dream. She would spend as much time as possible with him, learning music from him as best she could. He was the one who gave her the nickname 'Key' in reference to how excitable and fidgety she was. She embraced the nickname with great joy.
On the side she would participate in vehicle races around Omega, racing through the streets in vehicles of questionable safety for prizes of credits. Tyler was never there to see her race, always busy with another gig or job for Zertus, but he would always be there to celebrate with her when she won, helping her decide where to spend a portion of her winnings on the celebratory party.
A year passed like this, and it was the first good times since she left the Migrant Fleet two years ago. Her relationship with Tyler was the highlight of her time (even if it wasn't as romantic as she'd like), and Zertus was an honest turian who kept up his side of the bargain and ensured that she was taken care of while working for him. Her ship was ready to fly, all she needed to do was finish her contract with Zertus and then she could start exploring the galaxy at her leisure. To her surprise however, Zertus fired Tyler after this year. She never figured out why, but given the angry look on Zertus' face, and the way he warned her to stay away from Tyler for the rest of her life, it must have been something that the turian thought was very bad. But it was Tyler, her one true friend in Omega. She made plans to meet up with him later, to help plan to mend whatever had happened between him and Zertus.
So imagine her shock that when she met up with Tyler that night, he told her he had been fired because he had found out that Zertus was planning on selling her ship, and had spoken out against it. Fearing he tell her, Tyler claimed, Zertus fired him and forbid him from coming anywhere near the shop again. At first she refused to believe it, everything Zertus had ever shown her and done to her was of an honest turian that wouldn't betray her like that. But it was Tyler, the one who had always treated her like an equal and paid attention to her ideas and plans, and when he produced a bill of sale, the kind she had seen hundreds of time of the last year and a half, with her ship on it and some stranger's name as the one owning it, she had to finally accept the truth. She was hurt, and angry. So angry that when Tyler told her they should steal the ship before Zertus could sell it, with any supplies they could steal from the old turian, she agreed without a second thought.
The theft didn't go quite as planned, them tripping an alarm almost as soon as they tried to break and being forced to grab whatever they thought looked useful, but they managed to get the ship up and gone before Zertus and whatever force he could bring to bear to stop them. Excited that they were going to finally explore the galaxy and elated they had gotten away with it, Key and Tyler blasted punk rock music as they flew away from Omega. Tyler dubbed the small ship the Freedom, as that was what it had given them.
Another year would pass, with the two of them doing odd jobs around the Terminus systems. Life wasn't always comfortable for the two of them, given how they were in no way prepared for the costs a ship would have and were always on the brink of financial collapse, but they had fun. Key was becoming more and more infatuated with Tyler, and this culminated in her declaring that her name was now Keesin'Godda vas Freedom and Tyler was her crew, the most important person in the galaxy to her. She thought she saw a brief look of shock, quickly masked by gracious acceptance, but dismissed it as a trick of the eyes.
Soon after that, and a particularly long dry period without jobs, with their credits running low and their fuel running even lower, Tyler came up with another daring plan. They would go to Omega and rob one of the big three gangs there, stealing some equipment to sell and better ship to explore with. Key agreed, and they set their course for Omega once more.
On the way there Tyler decided that they would hit the Blood Pack. As the most disorganized of the three gangs, he reasoned it would be relatively simple to sneak in past their stupid Vorcha and dull Krogan to snatch a ship and equipment from right under their noses.
The plan was simple, Key would cause a distraction and Tyler would use the distraction to snag a ship and what equipment he could, then come pick her up at a docking pay so they could once again get the hell out of Omega.
It went to shit almost immediately.
Key wasn't equipped to deal with a three Vorcha, a Krogan, and a pack of four Varren. While her grenade was enough to kill the Vorcha and one of the Varren, it had little to no effect on the Krogan. Upon seeing something of that size charge her with murderous intent in his eyes, Key panicked. She fired off a submission net, immobilizing the monster, and ran for it. She managed to keep her head long enough to inform Tyler that she couldn't keep the distraction going as long as needed, and he reassured her that it was fine, that he was already in. All she had to do now was get to a safe spot and wait for his call.
Ducking into an alleyway, Key paused to catch her breath and gain her bearings, so she could accurately respond to Tyler's call. While she was attempting to figure out where in Omega she was, the three Varren caught up to her. All Key had in warning was a snarl before an impossibly heavy body slammed into her chest, and powerful jaws crushed into her suit's shoulder. She screamed, instinctively firing her Carnifex into the creature's body. As it slumped off of her, she activated her tech armor in a panic, the yellow shields coming up just in time to stop another pair of jaws from crushing her skull. She fired wildly in a panic again, killing the beast snarling and chewing on her rapidly diminishing shields.
Pulling herself to her feet, breathing ragged and raw, she aimed her pistol at the last one as it prepared to charge her. Click Key didn't have the time to feel despair as the Varren crashed into her, knocking her to the ground, jaws only barely being held back by her tech shield. She could practically hear her tech shields cracking, and flicked open her omni-blade and stabbed recklessly in desperation. She's fairly certain she nicked herself more than once, but that doesn't matter. She killed the Varren right as her shields broke, the feeling of it's jaws stopping their pressure around her throat just before they punctured her suit haunting her nightmares to this day.
Pulling herself up, her shoulder a mess of blood and agony, she made a call to Tyler for help, telling him what happened. No reply. Telling herself to relax, to calm down, she tried again. And again. And again. After an indeterminable amount of time, she realized he wasn't going to reply. Either he was dead or...no. Tyler wouldn't just abandon her. He was dead. The Blood Pack had killed him. That was the truth. It had to be.
Key knew she needed to move, and began stumbling through the streets of of Omega. She doesn't remember much of that time. Flashes of pain and blood, terror that whatever bacteria or diseases resided in a Varren's mouth was going to kill her, and a single, fervent, desire to survive. Somehow she managed to make her way into a clinic, for the next thing she knew she was awake in a white, sterile, room. Her shoulder hurt but wasn't in agony any more. The doctor, a turian, reassured her that she was okay. She had been out for more than a week, as her body struggled to fight off the infections the Varren bite had given her, aided by the strongest immuno boosters and anti-biotics they had. Key gave them the last credits she had, and promised to stick around and help them with anything they needed to pay off the rest.
A deal was struck and Key gave a small sigh of relief. She was alive, at least, even if she was back right where she started. Much to her surprise, Key found herself enjoying her time at the clinic. Helping people for a change, rather than waiting for them to turn on her, was nice. She enjoyed helping people for the sake of helping people, much to her surprise. Maybe it was proving to them that she was more than just a thieving suit-rat. That she had saved their lives. Maybe she enjoyed finally having a dedicated purpose beyond 'live life' after wandering and nearly dying. Regardless, she applied herself with a will to the clinic. Seeing how eager she was to learn and help, the doctor began teaching her the basics of surgery and stitching back up injured aliens. She took to it very well, squashing any squeamishness she may have had in the first week. Alien bodies fascinated her (in a clinical way), and the thought that she was helping and saving people filled her with a small glow of personal pride and pleasure.
She stayed long past having paid off her debt, learning how to better help and be apart of the clinic. It was a sort of 'medical aid for hire' selling their services to the various gangs, merc companies, and people around Omega. They'd go wherever they were called, for whoever called, and either patch them up right then and there or take them back to the clinic to do deep surgery. They avoided being shot at by the merc companies and gangs for helping their enemies by making it clear that if they were shot at, the faction that shot at them would no longer receive their services. A solid enough threat that kept most of the factions in line.
In those 8 years Key became skilled driving (by necessity needing to hurry through Omega for their clients) and patching together various aliens and mercenaries after they'd been shot, blown up, stabbed, ran over, and everything in between. She's spent a lot of time behind a wheel or operating on some injured merc, becoming better at it with every time.
She's also sharpened her skills in fighting and built her XO suit in that time, determined to never be put in that situation she had been in with the Varren again. The idea that Tyler may have just abandoned her never truly left her, but she buried it as deeply as she could. He couldn't have just left her. He couldn't have. The fact that she had never heard of his death or found a body gnaws at her confidence in the matter, however, keeping her from fully laying it to rest. Rather than address her problems, Key distracts herself from them. When she isn't doing clinic for hire work, she's betting her credits in various forms of gambling. Some people turn to alcohol for their problems, Key turns to the rush of everything depending on one random roll.
She's been meaning to save up so she can go to an asari school of alien medicine, and become a proper doctor, rather than someone who just knows how to stitch up battle wounds. Everytime she gets any amount of credits saved up, however, she can't fight the urge to take it and bet it all away (something she feels extremely guilty for, but can't stop herself) She's never won, but there's always that slight chance that she can go from rags to riches in an instant, bringing her back every time.
Recently, desiring a change of pace, she found herself on a small shuttle out of space. A simple job, something to get her name out there and get her some jobs outside of Omega, maybe even Terminus space.
Strengths:
Skilled Driver : Key is talented at driving vehicles, started when she raced on the side working for Zertus, and honed when she was going through Omega for the clinci, racing to the client. She boasts that 'As long as it has wheels and an engine, I can drive it' while an exaggeration (she certainly would have no idea how to drive a tank, for example) as long as the controls to drive it are familiar to her, Key is capable of skillfully driving the vehicle.
Scrap specialist: As a Quarian, Key is no stranger to repairing whatever is broken with whatever happens to be available, often pieces of other things made to work. While not as talented at it , she knows how to maintain and fix her weapons and armor, and how to keep machines running long after they should have quit. She also has a solid grasp of hacking, programming, and the creation (and manipulation) of VI's, though it, like her skills with tools, is a skill of long practice and not natural talent. She's just good enough to get by.
Scrappy Fighter: After almost a decade in the Terminus Systems, and being a Quarian in the Terminus, Key has learned how to handler herself in a fight. It'd be a stretch to call her trained, or even disciplined, but she's good at fighting in close to mid range combat and won't back down when her team needs her.
Battle Surgeon: After almost ten years of patching together various aliens for credits, Key has gotten good at fixing people up after they've been injured. She is by no stretch of the imagination an actual doctor. She doesn't know the proper names for half of what she's stitching up while inside of an alien, and nor does she know how medication beyond pain killers and anesthetics affect the various races. She can fix your physical injuries. She's useless for any sickness or mental illnesses.
Dextro-Cook: Out of necessity, Key is a very good cook of Dextro foods. She grew tired of eating the same tasteless paste day in and day out and became determined to learn how to cook purified Turian food (and, as a result, the non-purified versions.)
Weaknesses:
Varren Phobia: Ever since her near death experience at the hands of several of those monsters, Key has a deep, instinctual, terror of the Varren. The sight of them is enough to make her start hyper ventilating, and if one gets too close she'll panic completely. Given how closely Varren, Vorcha, and Krogan are associated with one another, this extends to a lesser degree to Krogan. She gets nervous and even more twitchy around Krogan and Vorcha, expecting a Varren to leap out of the shadows at their command any second.
Gambler: Key has a gambling problem. Something about the chance of winning or losing it all at a simple roll of the dice or reveal of the cards gives her a rush she can't get anywhere else. While she's never lost anything significant, she also has never had anything significant to lose. More credits will certainly make this problem worse.
Hot-blooded: Key has a tendency to let her emotions control her actions and thoughts, more than her logic. Particularly her anger. It's not hard to get a rise out of her, and even less difficult to make her do something stupid because of it. She's a passionate person, but is often ruled by her passions rather than motivated by them.
Suit-Rat: Key has all the drawbacks of a Quarian. She has to regulate and prepare her own food. She has to check her suit daily to make sure that it is still sealed to prevent any contaminants from getting it. If her suit is exposed to contaminants, at best she'd end up with severe allergy symptoms, at worst she'd get an infection that would ravage her body and kill her. Most people think she's a beggar looking for hand outs at best, a thief looking to steal anything she can at worst.
Misc: Key can play the human guitar, and is fairly good at it. She has an electric one and a custom built amp in her apartment on Omega.
Key loves the human punk culture, and has a playlist of their heavy rock songs queued up and ready to go at any time.
Key is an avid follower of Clawball and Biotiball, frequently betting on the outcomes of those games.
Key has a collection of useless things that she keeps around purely because she likes the way they look. This ranges from a pretty rock to a spent shell casing that she thinks looks nice. She's constantly gathering more as she goes about her missions. She doesn't really have a reason, she just likes something and picks it up. She's a bit of a hoarder.
Key has managed to buy several books detailing alien anatomy and physiology, and studies them frequently. She loves learning about how every race's unique body ticks, and loves talking about it even more.
Key shamelessly loves garbage soap opera tv shows, terrible romance novels (you know the ones. Where every cover has a some male showing off his muscles or power with something ominous above him like 'He could take on anything, except her love.'), and her favorite movies are movies like Fleet and Flotilla (her second favorite being horror movies, and she has a large collection of both in her apartment and omni-tool.).
Key likes to use Simstims to experience things she normally could not, given her practically nonexistent immune system.
Key is a video game nerd, having clocked several hundred hours on Galaxy of Fantasy, Grim Terminus Alliance, Alliance Corsair, and numerous other games.
Key enjoys hand puzzles (like the rubrics cube) and has at least one on her at all times.
Race: Quarian
Gender: Female
Class: Infiltrator
Age: 28
Homeship: The Gazan
Appearance:
Standing at 5ft 7in (1.7 meters) and decked out in as much customization as she can add to her suit, Key tends to attract even more attention than the average Quarian does. She embraces this, always making sure her suit is as clean as it can possibly be with her spikes shining and her leather belts oiled to perfection. In general Key takes great pride in her appearance, always on the look out for things she can further customize her suit with. She moves and acts like she has something to prove, almost always seeming to somehow have her shoulders squared and her chest puffed out, ready to defend herself against some disparaging remark or outright physical violence. Life is not kind in the Terminus systems, least of all to Quarians by themselves.
If you look closely you can see where her enviro-suit has been repaired on her left shoulder. It mirrors scars beneath, and is the result of being nearly killed by Varren. Because of that Key is always ready to move in an instant. She never comes across as fully relaxed, even when she's somewhere safe, always appearing tense and in a hurry to be somewhere else, usually playing with something (typically a hand puzzle) to occupy herself.
Psychological Profile:
Key was never suited for Migrant Fleet life. It was too stifling, too crowded, too focused on survival rather than living. She yearned for freedom, for doing things for pleasure rather than because the scrap heap they called a ship required it. Stories and dances offered brief escapes, but they became so frequent an escape that they eventually only served to even further remind her of her problems. Now that she's finally free of the constraints of the migrant fleet, Key is able to live the life she always dreamed of.
As a result, Key is impulsive, materialistic, and somewhat selfish, person, living by her passions. She does things for the thrill of it, and keeps things for little more than she thought they were pretty. Her emotions tend to be fiery and high, and she exhibits little control over them at any given moment. Her motivations are rarely beyond 'I want to own or do that thing' or 'I think it'll be fun.' She's a bit of an adrenaline junky, doing things for the thrill of them. With time, or guidance, she may temper her high emotions and excitability with wisdom, but for now she remains as she is: passionate and excitable.
Key is a fidgety person (always seeming to be 'Keyed up' hence her nickname), always eager to be moving and exploring new areas. After being trapped on her homeship the Gazan for 16 years, she's developed a strong sense of wanderlust and curiosity, never liking staying in one place for too long. She spent far too much time doing that during her time on the Flotilla. She's always eager to meet new people, and experience new things (As much as she can. Obviously a lot of things are off limits given how they'll kill her). That being said, her time on Omega has tempered her slightly. New experiences aren't always safe. New people, while interesting and exciting to talk to, aren't always good people. She's always prepared for that new person to be yet another regurgitator of the same old disparaging remarks (or try to rob, harm, or manipulate her in some way).
She's heard all the insults. 'Suit-Rat'. 'Beggar'. 'Thief'. She's determined to prove these people wrong, be it through interacting with them (likely through arguing once they rile her all to easily rileable anger) or doing jobs for or with them. She constantly feels like she has to prove herself to these people and others around them, to unravel the Quarian reputation as best she can.
Her time on Omega has hardened her. She often won't go to help anyone unless it benefits her in some way, for one too many times she's had her kindness and trust manipulated. She trusts only a select few, and her empathy for others extends a limited amount to whatever team she happens to be working with, and fully only to select friends. She's never very relaxed, a side effect of her near death experience with a pack of Varren. She's always ready to move in an instant, afraid of being caught off guard again.
And beneath all of that, Key is a sappy romantic at heart. She believes in things like love at first sight, that love can conquer all, and that everyone has a soulmate. She's more or less certain that for herself such a romance is impossible (given that she's a Quarian who has abandoned the Fleet) but knows that for everyone else, destiny will bring them together with their soulmates and true loves.
All in all, Key is just living her life to the fullest, embracing thrills she thought she'd never get a chance at.
Equipment:
M8 Avenger
Extended Barrel, Piercing Mod. It has a winking skull painted on the side of it.
M6 Carnifex
High Caliber Barrel, Incendiary Rounds.
XO Suit: This custom exosuit is an improvement on her envirosuit by Key herself to make it tougher to penetrate her armor and potentially kill her from infection, and to make her fighting in CQC and movement in combat unexpectedly powerful and quick. Inspired by mechs and rumors of the human's so called 'N7 Destroyers', Key has been carefully and steadily improving her envirosuit for years. The armor of her base suit has added and improved layers on it, whatever she could scavenge and repair, making it tougher and more resilient than your average Quarian armor.
She's installed jet thrusters on the back and limbs to give her brief bursts of speed, or increase her jumps. They are rickety at best, so true flight and extended levitation are both impossible. Along it she has jury-rigged strength enhancing systems (typically found in exoskeletons used for hard labor) to briefly increase her strength as needed, mostly to keep unruly patients down, (though only to roughly a fit turian's level. Still more than her own, but not by a massive amount). She can only keep her strength increased for a few minutes straight, or she risks frying the systems, and prefers to use it in short bursts of a few seconds.
Fix-em: A VI in Key's helm that can scan the body of whoever she's looking at and tell her about the physical injuries they've received, allowing her to quickly plan and prioritize her surgery. Useful for finding out if someone has internal bleeding, shrapnel deep in their bodies, ruptured organs, or any other thing that she won't be able to see herself without proper equipment that she doesn't have access to and may not have time to get people too.
Her twin omni-tools have been changed to have an array of medical tools available whenever she needs them, in addition to their normal functions.
Abilities:
-Fortification
-Tech Armor
-Flak Cannon
-Sticky Grenade
-Submission Net
Bio: Born in 2156 Key has always been trouble for her ship. Her mother died in childbirth, and her father died soon after after a deal with some spacers for supplies went south and they turned on the quarians. The spacers were killed but several quarians, her father included, died before they were neutralized. Taken in by a family that didn't have a child of their own, Keeto'Godda vas Gazan and Shia'Godda vas Gazan, Key never really felt like she belonged in the Migrant Fleet. Her foster parents were nice, but not her own flesh and blood, and they were all too happy to stay on the Migrant Fleet for all their lives. She was always yearning to be somewhere else, to have her own space, to do something other than survive. She wanted to have things because they brought her pleasure, not just because they were effective and useful.
She wanted to explore the galaxy without being chased out of every sector by some corporation or government that viewed them as parasites. She wanted to have her own space and do things for fun rather than try and keep herself surviving so the future of her race can survive. She would be constantly reprimanded for misuse of materials and time, pursuing trivial things when she should have been preparing for her Pilgrimage or helping keep the ship running. The only time her interests and the desires of the Fleet met was when she was learning the ship was flown and working on its flight systems. Something about the possibility of freedom and flying through space with nothing more than a desire to explore and a ship was enthralling to her.
By the time her Pilgrimage had come (at age 17, early by her own constant insistence), Key had already made up her mind. She wasn't going to go back to the Migrant Fleet. There was nothing there for her, and she would only continue argue and get in trouble with the captain and eventually the Admiralty itself. It was best for her to make her own way and never look back. Making her way to Omega, Key set herself to getting a small shuttle to explore the galaxy at her own leisure and as quickly as possible. The first year was extremely rough. She was robbed over a dozen times, swindled out of hard earned credits, and came under attack more times than she could count. She became very proficient at holding her own in a fight and defending herself, and steadily less trusting and naive. It seemed like everyone on Omega was out to cheat her, rob her, hurt her, or steal from her. Eventually she landed a job with what seemed like the only honest person on Omega. A turian by the name of Zertus, owner of a private ship repair yard. In return for two years of her service, Zertus would give her a derelict shuttle that she could repair in her free time.
Everything she could learn about the turian seemed to be trustworthy. He never double crossed customers or slacked on work. He always held up his end of bargains, even when it was to his loss. Warily, Key agreed to the job.
Also working for Zertus was a human named Tyler. Tyler was dressed more strangely than any human she had ever seen. Decked out in leather and spikes, with a bright green mohawk. He had a magnetism that Key couldn't seem to shake, a way about him that made her want to listen to him. Inevitably drawn in through curiosity of his attire and charismatic personality Key found herself spending more and more time with him. He was one of the few people who didn't seem to judge her for being a quarian, and actually cared for what her thoughts and personality was. Tyler had came to Omega in an attempt to start his career as a galactic music star, before the cruel realities of Omega set in and crushed his dreams under its foot. He was now working for Zertus just to live, playing his music on the side sometimes.
Through this day in day out interaction, Key was introduced to the human culture of 'Punk' and fell in love with it. Perhaps it was because of the emphasis on personal freedom, the way she could easily accessorize and stylize her suit with it, the loud aggressive music, or all three, but she embraced the culture of it wholeheartedly. With the way Tyler treated her and made her feel special, it wasn't long before she became infatuated with him. True romance was impossible, of course, but she could dream. She would spend as much time as possible with him, learning music from him as best she could. He was the one who gave her the nickname 'Key' in reference to how excitable and fidgety she was. She embraced the nickname with great joy.
On the side she would participate in vehicle races around Omega, racing through the streets in vehicles of questionable safety for prizes of credits. Tyler was never there to see her race, always busy with another gig or job for Zertus, but he would always be there to celebrate with her when she won, helping her decide where to spend a portion of her winnings on the celebratory party.
A year passed like this, and it was the first good times since she left the Migrant Fleet two years ago. Her relationship with Tyler was the highlight of her time (even if it wasn't as romantic as she'd like), and Zertus was an honest turian who kept up his side of the bargain and ensured that she was taken care of while working for him. Her ship was ready to fly, all she needed to do was finish her contract with Zertus and then she could start exploring the galaxy at her leisure. To her surprise however, Zertus fired Tyler after this year. She never figured out why, but given the angry look on Zertus' face, and the way he warned her to stay away from Tyler for the rest of her life, it must have been something that the turian thought was very bad. But it was Tyler, her one true friend in Omega. She made plans to meet up with him later, to help plan to mend whatever had happened between him and Zertus.
So imagine her shock that when she met up with Tyler that night, he told her he had been fired because he had found out that Zertus was planning on selling her ship, and had spoken out against it. Fearing he tell her, Tyler claimed, Zertus fired him and forbid him from coming anywhere near the shop again. At first she refused to believe it, everything Zertus had ever shown her and done to her was of an honest turian that wouldn't betray her like that. But it was Tyler, the one who had always treated her like an equal and paid attention to her ideas and plans, and when he produced a bill of sale, the kind she had seen hundreds of time of the last year and a half, with her ship on it and some stranger's name as the one owning it, she had to finally accept the truth. She was hurt, and angry. So angry that when Tyler told her they should steal the ship before Zertus could sell it, with any supplies they could steal from the old turian, she agreed without a second thought.
The theft didn't go quite as planned, them tripping an alarm almost as soon as they tried to break and being forced to grab whatever they thought looked useful, but they managed to get the ship up and gone before Zertus and whatever force he could bring to bear to stop them. Excited that they were going to finally explore the galaxy and elated they had gotten away with it, Key and Tyler blasted punk rock music as they flew away from Omega. Tyler dubbed the small ship the Freedom, as that was what it had given them.
Another year would pass, with the two of them doing odd jobs around the Terminus systems. Life wasn't always comfortable for the two of them, given how they were in no way prepared for the costs a ship would have and were always on the brink of financial collapse, but they had fun. Key was becoming more and more infatuated with Tyler, and this culminated in her declaring that her name was now Keesin'Godda vas Freedom and Tyler was her crew, the most important person in the galaxy to her. She thought she saw a brief look of shock, quickly masked by gracious acceptance, but dismissed it as a trick of the eyes.
Soon after that, and a particularly long dry period without jobs, with their credits running low and their fuel running even lower, Tyler came up with another daring plan. They would go to Omega and rob one of the big three gangs there, stealing some equipment to sell and better ship to explore with. Key agreed, and they set their course for Omega once more.
On the way there Tyler decided that they would hit the Blood Pack. As the most disorganized of the three gangs, he reasoned it would be relatively simple to sneak in past their stupid Vorcha and dull Krogan to snatch a ship and equipment from right under their noses.
The plan was simple, Key would cause a distraction and Tyler would use the distraction to snag a ship and what equipment he could, then come pick her up at a docking pay so they could once again get the hell out of Omega.
It went to shit almost immediately.
Key wasn't equipped to deal with a three Vorcha, a Krogan, and a pack of four Varren. While her grenade was enough to kill the Vorcha and one of the Varren, it had little to no effect on the Krogan. Upon seeing something of that size charge her with murderous intent in his eyes, Key panicked. She fired off a submission net, immobilizing the monster, and ran for it. She managed to keep her head long enough to inform Tyler that she couldn't keep the distraction going as long as needed, and he reassured her that it was fine, that he was already in. All she had to do now was get to a safe spot and wait for his call.
Ducking into an alleyway, Key paused to catch her breath and gain her bearings, so she could accurately respond to Tyler's call. While she was attempting to figure out where in Omega she was, the three Varren caught up to her. All Key had in warning was a snarl before an impossibly heavy body slammed into her chest, and powerful jaws crushed into her suit's shoulder. She screamed, instinctively firing her Carnifex into the creature's body. As it slumped off of her, she activated her tech armor in a panic, the yellow shields coming up just in time to stop another pair of jaws from crushing her skull. She fired wildly in a panic again, killing the beast snarling and chewing on her rapidly diminishing shields.
Pulling herself to her feet, breathing ragged and raw, she aimed her pistol at the last one as it prepared to charge her. Click Key didn't have the time to feel despair as the Varren crashed into her, knocking her to the ground, jaws only barely being held back by her tech shield. She could practically hear her tech shields cracking, and flicked open her omni-blade and stabbed recklessly in desperation. She's fairly certain she nicked herself more than once, but that doesn't matter. She killed the Varren right as her shields broke, the feeling of it's jaws stopping their pressure around her throat just before they punctured her suit haunting her nightmares to this day.
Pulling herself up, her shoulder a mess of blood and agony, she made a call to Tyler for help, telling him what happened. No reply. Telling herself to relax, to calm down, she tried again. And again. And again. After an indeterminable amount of time, she realized he wasn't going to reply. Either he was dead or...no. Tyler wouldn't just abandon her. He was dead. The Blood Pack had killed him. That was the truth. It had to be.
Key knew she needed to move, and began stumbling through the streets of of Omega. She doesn't remember much of that time. Flashes of pain and blood, terror that whatever bacteria or diseases resided in a Varren's mouth was going to kill her, and a single, fervent, desire to survive. Somehow she managed to make her way into a clinic, for the next thing she knew she was awake in a white, sterile, room. Her shoulder hurt but wasn't in agony any more. The doctor, a turian, reassured her that she was okay. She had been out for more than a week, as her body struggled to fight off the infections the Varren bite had given her, aided by the strongest immuno boosters and anti-biotics they had. Key gave them the last credits she had, and promised to stick around and help them with anything they needed to pay off the rest.
A deal was struck and Key gave a small sigh of relief. She was alive, at least, even if she was back right where she started. Much to her surprise, Key found herself enjoying her time at the clinic. Helping people for a change, rather than waiting for them to turn on her, was nice. She enjoyed helping people for the sake of helping people, much to her surprise. Maybe it was proving to them that she was more than just a thieving suit-rat. That she had saved their lives. Maybe she enjoyed finally having a dedicated purpose beyond 'live life' after wandering and nearly dying. Regardless, she applied herself with a will to the clinic. Seeing how eager she was to learn and help, the doctor began teaching her the basics of surgery and stitching back up injured aliens. She took to it very well, squashing any squeamishness she may have had in the first week. Alien bodies fascinated her (in a clinical way), and the thought that she was helping and saving people filled her with a small glow of personal pride and pleasure.
She stayed long past having paid off her debt, learning how to better help and be apart of the clinic. It was a sort of 'medical aid for hire' selling their services to the various gangs, merc companies, and people around Omega. They'd go wherever they were called, for whoever called, and either patch them up right then and there or take them back to the clinic to do deep surgery. They avoided being shot at by the merc companies and gangs for helping their enemies by making it clear that if they were shot at, the faction that shot at them would no longer receive their services. A solid enough threat that kept most of the factions in line.
In those 8 years Key became skilled driving (by necessity needing to hurry through Omega for their clients) and patching together various aliens and mercenaries after they'd been shot, blown up, stabbed, ran over, and everything in between. She's spent a lot of time behind a wheel or operating on some injured merc, becoming better at it with every time.
She's also sharpened her skills in fighting and built her XO suit in that time, determined to never be put in that situation she had been in with the Varren again. The idea that Tyler may have just abandoned her never truly left her, but she buried it as deeply as she could. He couldn't have just left her. He couldn't have. The fact that she had never heard of his death or found a body gnaws at her confidence in the matter, however, keeping her from fully laying it to rest. Rather than address her problems, Key distracts herself from them. When she isn't doing clinic for hire work, she's betting her credits in various forms of gambling. Some people turn to alcohol for their problems, Key turns to the rush of everything depending on one random roll.
She's been meaning to save up so she can go to an asari school of alien medicine, and become a proper doctor, rather than someone who just knows how to stitch up battle wounds. Everytime she gets any amount of credits saved up, however, she can't fight the urge to take it and bet it all away (something she feels extremely guilty for, but can't stop herself) She's never won, but there's always that slight chance that she can go from rags to riches in an instant, bringing her back every time.
Recently, desiring a change of pace, she found herself on a small shuttle out of space. A simple job, something to get her name out there and get her some jobs outside of Omega, maybe even Terminus space.
Strengths:
Skilled Driver : Key is talented at driving vehicles, started when she raced on the side working for Zertus, and honed when she was going through Omega for the clinci, racing to the client. She boasts that 'As long as it has wheels and an engine, I can drive it' while an exaggeration (she certainly would have no idea how to drive a tank, for example) as long as the controls to drive it are familiar to her, Key is capable of skillfully driving the vehicle.
Scrap specialist: As a Quarian, Key is no stranger to repairing whatever is broken with whatever happens to be available, often pieces of other things made to work. While not as talented at it , she knows how to maintain and fix her weapons and armor, and how to keep machines running long after they should have quit. She also has a solid grasp of hacking, programming, and the creation (and manipulation) of VI's, though it, like her skills with tools, is a skill of long practice and not natural talent. She's just good enough to get by.
Scrappy Fighter: After almost a decade in the Terminus Systems, and being a Quarian in the Terminus, Key has learned how to handler herself in a fight. It'd be a stretch to call her trained, or even disciplined, but she's good at fighting in close to mid range combat and won't back down when her team needs her.
Battle Surgeon: After almost ten years of patching together various aliens for credits, Key has gotten good at fixing people up after they've been injured. She is by no stretch of the imagination an actual doctor. She doesn't know the proper names for half of what she's stitching up while inside of an alien, and nor does she know how medication beyond pain killers and anesthetics affect the various races. She can fix your physical injuries. She's useless for any sickness or mental illnesses.
Dextro-Cook: Out of necessity, Key is a very good cook of Dextro foods. She grew tired of eating the same tasteless paste day in and day out and became determined to learn how to cook purified Turian food (and, as a result, the non-purified versions.)
Weaknesses:
Varren Phobia: Ever since her near death experience at the hands of several of those monsters, Key has a deep, instinctual, terror of the Varren. The sight of them is enough to make her start hyper ventilating, and if one gets too close she'll panic completely. Given how closely Varren, Vorcha, and Krogan are associated with one another, this extends to a lesser degree to Krogan. She gets nervous and even more twitchy around Krogan and Vorcha, expecting a Varren to leap out of the shadows at their command any second.
Gambler: Key has a gambling problem. Something about the chance of winning or losing it all at a simple roll of the dice or reveal of the cards gives her a rush she can't get anywhere else. While she's never lost anything significant, she also has never had anything significant to lose. More credits will certainly make this problem worse.
Hot-blooded: Key has a tendency to let her emotions control her actions and thoughts, more than her logic. Particularly her anger. It's not hard to get a rise out of her, and even less difficult to make her do something stupid because of it. She's a passionate person, but is often ruled by her passions rather than motivated by them.
Suit-Rat: Key has all the drawbacks of a Quarian. She has to regulate and prepare her own food. She has to check her suit daily to make sure that it is still sealed to prevent any contaminants from getting it. If her suit is exposed to contaminants, at best she'd end up with severe allergy symptoms, at worst she'd get an infection that would ravage her body and kill her. Most people think she's a beggar looking for hand outs at best, a thief looking to steal anything she can at worst.
Misc: Key can play the human guitar, and is fairly good at it. She has an electric one and a custom built amp in her apartment on Omega.
Key loves the human punk culture, and has a playlist of their heavy rock songs queued up and ready to go at any time.
Key is an avid follower of Clawball and Biotiball, frequently betting on the outcomes of those games.
Key has a collection of useless things that she keeps around purely because she likes the way they look. This ranges from a pretty rock to a spent shell casing that she thinks looks nice. She's constantly gathering more as she goes about her missions. She doesn't really have a reason, she just likes something and picks it up. She's a bit of a hoarder.
Key has managed to buy several books detailing alien anatomy and physiology, and studies them frequently. She loves learning about how every race's unique body ticks, and loves talking about it even more.
Key shamelessly loves garbage soap opera tv shows, terrible romance novels (you know the ones. Where every cover has a some male showing off his muscles or power with something ominous above him like 'He could take on anything, except her love.'), and her favorite movies are movies like Fleet and Flotilla (her second favorite being horror movies, and she has a large collection of both in her apartment and omni-tool.).
Key likes to use Simstims to experience things she normally could not, given her practically nonexistent immune system.
Key is a video game nerd, having clocked several hundred hours on Galaxy of Fantasy, Grim Terminus Alliance, Alliance Corsair, and numerous other games.
Key enjoys hand puzzles (like the rubrics cube) and has at least one on her at all times.
Lotrix Molick
Member
Seen
2 yrs ago
Name: Tinari (Krogan name is Strivanor)
Race: Krogan
Gender: Female
Class: Sentinel
Age: 340
Homeworld: Calabsa
Appearance: Towering even by krogan standards, Tinari stands at an impressive 8'3". She is actually light for her height and more agile than other krogan of her size. She weighs 134 kilos, or 295 pounds. Due to her atavism, she sports a long tail of about 6 feet in length. Her armored plating along her back continues down the length of her tail. The tail is prehensile enough to be whipped quickly or even wrapped around objects, but it cannot perform fine manipulation nor extremely precise movements. Her eyes, especially in the dark, glow very lightly.
Psychological Profile: Tinari has many characteristics in common with asari. She tends to take a longer view of things and prefers diplomatic solutions. She is also generally kind and helpful. Her sense of humor is mostly about witty remarks. The constant pain and memory of her experimentation drives her to try and reduce or remove pain from others, whether it is physical or mental. She, mostly due to her adoptive mother, developed very little consideration for personal space. If she wants to hug someone, she will hug them. If she wants to whisper something to them, she presses close to make sure she can whisper as quietly as possible. As befitting such a defensive and concerned predisposition, Tinari will normally intercept attacks or attention in combat.
Equipment:
Asari Sword: Her most prized possession and a gift given to her by her adoptive mother. She never lets it out of her sight and keeps it in pristine shape.
M-22 Eviscerator Shotgun
Upgrades: Microphasic Pulse
M-12 Locust Submachine Gun
Upgrades: Phasic Jacketing
Abilities:
Neural Shock
Tech Armor
Overload
Reave
Barrier
Bio: Born into a female clan of krogan, she would have been on Tuchanka for her life. This fate dissipated when some shady scientists stole her a few days after her birth. She was targeted due to her being afflicted with atavism, causing a long tail to be present. They took her to an isolated station, packed her into a containment chamber, and began to experiment with her. Until she reached maturity, the scientists primarily did mental tests, gene tests, and even played with her growth. This caused her to be leaner than her kin and also develop less robust muscles. Once she matured fully, they started to force her into combat trials against all manner of creatures they found. They wanted to test what their changes did to her ability. The results came out that she could react and move quicker and smoother, but she applied much less physical force than other krogan. She essentially grew to trade out muscle mass for reaction speed, flexibility, and reaction time.
The scientists began to surgically introduce implants into her to try and force her into the role of a specially designed shock trooper. The implants were often untested and dangerous, though the ones that caused lethal danger were swiftly removed. The scientists, while inhumane, still wanted her to live and become their dream. For thirty years, this cycle continued, leaving her body riddled with surgical scarring. The pain of constant surgery into nearly immediate combat left her almost constantly angry and fighting against a near constant blood rage. They treated her as little more than a smart animal. Tinari got a lucky break when some asari commandos happened upon the facility in their mission. They killed the scientists and freed the subjects that were still sane. All in all, Tinari was one of 14 subjects that left with the asari. The commandos took the subjects to Calabsa for study. There, asari scientists and doctors removed harmful implants, treated accumulated diseases, and helped subjects start to integrate into society through therapy and teaching them language.
Over a 10 year period, the subjects slowly gained socialization and capability. Most returned to Tuchanka. Tinari and two others stayed with the asari. Tinari was adopted at the end of the 10 year period by the asari huntress that first found her, Ki'Sanna. Ki'Sanna raised Tinari as her daughter, even giving her the asari name she uses currently. As such, Tinari grew up learning and immersing in the more diplomatic and thoughtful asari culture. She attended schooling with other asari of similar age. There, her biotic potential was discovered as well as her aptitude with technology. She could tinker and disassemble then reassemble nearly anything they put in front of her. Her biotics, meanwhile, focused upon surviving damage.
Because of this hybrid capability, Ki'Sanna decided to have Tinari educated as a Sentinel, expecting her to become either a huntress or adventurer. Unfortunately, Tinari could not become a huntress due to apprehension by the teachers, so once her education completed, Tinari decided to become and adventuring mercenary. Ki'Sanna, seeing her daughter's desires to leave and explore, gave Tinari her sword as a gift. Tinari set out to discover her heritage and earn a living for herself. Her education and subsequent exploration took a total of 100 years. She discovered her krogan name, though she never uses it, and became successful enough as a mercenary to make a relatively comfortable living. She decided to take a hiatus from merc work and returned home. She met an asari named Parlanna and settled down for about 150 years. They had a daughter named Wyrissa, who grew old enough to start her own life. After that 150 years, the two decided to separate and seek their own desires again.
Tinari spent the last 50 years again honing her skills, culminating in the routine mission resulting in her highly random bounty. Now in Omega, she waits and tries to figure out a means to get information on the one that caused all of this unrest in her life.
Strengths: Highly skilled medically, has implants from her time as a living experiment that increase reaction speeds and improve her night vision, normal sight, and even allow her to see into UV spectrum. The nervous system implants that increase reaction speed also increase her tactile sensations, as well as making melding nearly effortless to any asari that needs or wants to do any melding with her.
Weaknesses: The constant surgery left her in near constant pain, though some has been mitigated by the removal of the most dangerous implants. Her reaction speed implants make her more vulnerable to attacks on her nervous system by making her more likely to lock up. The sight implants make her more vulnerable to sudden bright lights such as flashbangs or similar items.
Misc: Has First Aid, Medicine, Decryption, and Electronics skills, is 100% sterile due to the experiments and even no longer produces eggs, has training equivalent to become a psychiatrist and a doctor, is well trained in massage for relaxation
Heat Hey, nice marmot
Member
Seen
2 mos ago
Name: Zaash 'Cannibal' Gakkez
Race: Vorcha
Gender: Male
Class: Vanguard
Age: 17
Homeworld: Heshtok
Appearance:
Standing roughly 5'10 in height, Zaash possesses an athletic figure. His eyes are a fierce crimson red, his mouth filled with the signature razor sharp teeth of his species. On his left thigh he has the Bloodpack insignia branded into his flesh, though he keeps it covered up. No longer a member of that brutal gang. He wears a set of lightweight dark blue metal armor in which speed and mobility is emphasized. Its rare for him to be out this armor, or in general be unarmed.
Psychological Profile: At first glance Zaash seems like another typical Vorcha, frightening looking with a predator's eyes. Beneath a rough exterior he is a different man, someone that's been through brutal hardships in his short life. He is not lacking in inner scars or issues, but refuses to allow them to be shown as to not appear weak. He is an inwardly withdrawn figure around strangers, often putting on a facade of toughness and intimidation. Never speaking of the true thoughts which plague his mind. Unlike some others of his species he has, for the most part, a firm grasp over his anger and violent tendencies. Still, he's impulsive and unpredictable in his actions. But he does not enjoy starting conflict, he is typically a non-confrontational figure, except to enemies and those that draw his ire. Though Zaash is not beyond quips or comments when he sees them appropriate. Combat is a different story, where he is a chaotic, unpredictable combatant who seems to unleash his full rage at his opponents. He's utterly ruthless when on mission, not letting anything get in the way. He's entirely focused on succeeding and just simply does what it takes to get the job done. He deeply enjoys brutalizing and utterly destroying his enemies, finding comfort in combat.
In casual or social settings he is a different person, someone that doesn't often start random conversations or reveal much about himself. He's a curious being, that enjoys wandering around and going to new places. He's not cruel hearted or mean, and enjoys friendly conversation. Someone that really likes being around friends. He is uncomfortable in large crowds of strangers, but being from a clan based species he also likes being around people much more than being alone. He shows hints of loyalty, but doesn't have anyone that he feels he can be loyal to. He craves acceptance, and to be around people that actually enjoy his company. A loneliness seems to tinge inside of him. Though he'll never speak of it. He does not have really any experience in the romantic field, especially outside of his own species. He is hilariously ignorant of flirtation and the like.
His life has been filled to the brim with violence, abuse, hatred and prejudice. Underneath the sturdy outer character is a complicated, confused and frightened person. The realization of his imminent death, even if he wins every single battle he fights until that day is something which terrifies and breaks him apart internally. The fact that he and his species live such a pathetically short life angers him, Krogans live hundreds of years and they're just as violent as his people. He doesn't want to die, and isn't sure if he will ever accept that fact. Against all odds he's managed to survive such a hard life as long as he has, its cruel that he's going to die soon anyway. Still, he's also committed to going out with a bang. Not wanting to be forever forgotten.
Due to spending years on Omega, and living such a violent, unpredictable life has made him into a somewhat selfish character, untrusting of others from to being burnt in the past. He looks out solely for himself and has his entire life, not allowing himself to show any outward weakness. He keeps everyone at a distance, refusing to be hurt more. He's seen the worst the galaxy has to offer, everyday on the streets of Omega he walks past his fellow Vorcha, homeless and ignored, spit on and despised. Zaash feels a deep empathy for his downtrodden brethren. Part of him wishes he could help them, but a larger part realizes such an endeavor would be utterly pointless. He is disgusted by racism and hatred directed at his species, but has heard so much of it any such words directed towards him just bounce off. Though remarks about his people as a whole still get to him. Anyone who damns an entire species is a despicable person. He also holds empathy for the poor and helpless in general, having been there himself.
Due to past abuse at their hands, Zaash has a deep hatred for the Blood Pack. He refuses to work with them, and even seeing their members in public is enough to ruin his day. He does pity the Vorcha in their ranks, the fact that they're used as nothing more than cannon fodder, that they are frequently beaten and tortured, abused into becoming strong soldiers. He has a strong dislike for Red Sand, having been addicted to the drug for years while in the Blood Pack. The sight of it tends to make his stomach drop. He deeply detests his given nickname, Cannibal, he's never eaten his fellow Vorcha but the name was bestowed upon him by one of his Blood Pack superiors and has stuck ever since. The nickname always tinged of racism to him, people thought that Vorcha ate each other like rabid savages. While not holding any prejudice against other races, its more difficult for him to form connections and trust non-Vorcha, being hated by all manners of people tends to do that. Still, he has no qualms working with them on missions.
Equipment:
Abilities:
Bio: Zaash was born on the chaotic Vorcha homeworld of Heshtok, a brutal, volcanic world which is located in the The Shrike Abyssal. An overcrowded world, every day was a struggle for much of the Vorcha population. He was born into the Gakkez clan, a proud bloodline filled with warriors and hunters. Resources were a rarity on the world, clans constantly fought for control of them, and so Zaash was essentially born into war. Due to his species short lifespan he taught how to fight early on, and thrust into battles against rival clans. The wars were rapid, terrifyingly violent affairs. The strongest clans absorbed smaller ones, executing any defeated clansmen who refused to submit and join. The young Zaash made a name for himself, helping to lead his clan to glory in multiple battles. He still carries a token of his first kill, a tooth of a Vorcha whose head he caved in with an axe. During those days he rarely thought of life outside his homeworld, he did dream of one day going into the stars but his people weren't in any position to join the galactic community. Family was emphasized on Heshtok, he always believed close knit clans held the strongest bonds in the galaxy. Zaash frequently thinks of his homeworld, part of him misses it.
At the age of four he was plucked from his homeworld by a visiting band of Blood Pack mercenaries. The powerful gang were the first aliens he encountered. While out on a hunt with a half dozen of his fellow clansman they encountered the visitors, after a brief firefight, and with three of his people killed Zaash was knocked unconscious by a massive Krogan. He'd awake to find himself offworld, with twelve other Vorcha in a makeshift jail cell, on a bizarre starship rapidly speeding away from his homeworld to be taken to a bizarre, alien place. He was strapped down and branded, screaming the entire time as a Krogan burnt the symbol of the Blood Pack into his leg. From that moment forward his days were frequently filled with beatings, abuse and degradation. His new superiors were tasked with beating and molding him into a fearsome mercenary. Some of his fellow Vorcha resisted and were beaten savagely, or at worst executed. One moment that will never leave his thoughts is of one of the other Vorcha being launched out the airlock, a showing of what happens if one refused and rebelled. The next year of his life was entirely about training, and being made to fight with unquestionable loyalty. It was commonplace for Zaash to be roughly beaten, or even mutilated in extreme instances. Due to his species healing factor such a thing could be done to him in order to encourage obedience.
He was brought to Omega immediately, the space station both fascinating and terrifying the Vorcha. He'd never seen so many aliens before, its constant battles between gangs reminded him of his homeworld. But it was still an alien place to him, and would take him a few weeks to settle in. His status as a biotic only encouraged his superiors to whip him into submission. Element Zero was a quite rare element on his homeworld, unbeknownst to his clan he was unknowingly exposed to it before birth after his mother wore an amulet infused with the beautiful material. Biotics were a rarity among Vorcha, but they did exist. He was implanted with a biotic implant, forced to strengthen and use his fledging powers. They forced Red Sand upon him in order to strengthen his powers, a substance which he become addicted to. The addiction itself was more of a mental one than anything else. Ever second he was clean of the Sand it seemed to be the only thing on his mind. How amazing he felt on it, how the universe seemed to just slow down. In one instance after being struck for disobedience Zaash in his rage flung the Krogan who had struck him through a window. But instead of more beatings he was positively encouraged and praised, something which really surprised him. He was deemed a potentially powerful warrior for the Blood Pack, and drafted into a legion led by the Davrak Hurm, a young, but truly brutal Krogan. He slowly developed a loyalty to the Blood Pack, developing a bond with several of his fellow Vorcha. Such bonds were frequently short lived as his people that were in the gang were frequent cannon fodder, something which always upset Zaash. Sadly, the mercenary group was the closest thing he had to family, or friends. He hated Hurm and the other superiors, dreaming of one day butchering them all and showing them how intelligent a Vorcha actually was. Such desires wouldn't come to fruition, for some time at least.
The next six years of his life were spent with the Blood Pack. He ended up on missions all over the Terminus systems, doing whatever was demanded of him. The Blood Pack did not turn down many jobs, and in fact prided themselves on taking the most immoral and violent contracts. Drug trafficking, assassinations, abductions, even slavery work was all on the table for them. They'd raid colonies like common pirates, plundering and pillaging whatever they wanted. Zaash took part in it all, albeit as someone forced into it and frequently drugged out of his mind. If he resisted he'd be killed or beaten into submission. He was powerless to protest, and did some truly terrible things. He did enjoy the credits, and the frequent battles he was put into but the despicable work he did wasn't something he took pride in. It was no fun brutalizing harmless civilians, a far cry from gunning down rival gangs. He'd get into spats with Davrak Hurm, the Krogan commander constantly pushing or picking on Zaash. He wanted nothing more than to rip the brute's head from his neck socket. As the years went on, Zaash's urge to drop everything and leave the gang grew. It was just a matter of how and when, and ensuring he was gone for good.
On his final day of service with the Blood Pack Zaash forced himself to refuse taking any Red Sand, the substance was part of what let him be so controlled. Even as his fingers twitched and his skin crawled his pure hatred for the Pack and his treatment at their hands allowed him to back away from the drug. He was tasked with assisting in the shakedown of a doctor in the slums of Omeha, a human named Dr. Loring. Zaash decided this was an ideal opportunity to break free. Following Hurm and two other Vorcha into the winding streets of Omega he bid his time. As they came to the doctor's office, Hurm put on his show, smashing windows, bashing in equipment, the usual for a shakedown. The other Vorcha went at the doctor, kicking Loring to the ground. Hurm commanded Zaash to shatter the man's legs, he did not expect the now veteran mercenary to hesitate and instead send him flying into a wall. Zaash rapidly gunned down the other two Vorcha, then took on Hurm, it was a day he had been waiting for. The two engaged in a brawl, the fierce Krogan's physical strength giving him an early advantage. Brimming with emotion, Zaash channeled his biotics into a charge, rocketing Hurm out of the office and into the streets. He then plunged his Omni blade through the Krogan's left eye.
A wave of relief seem to overcome him, as Hurm's corpse slopped to the floor. Then a stronger wave of panic. He bolted into the depths of the slums, running until he couldn't anymore. The Blood Pack would hunt him down relentlessly, and he'd need to lay low. He took refuge in the worst areas of the streets, fitting in amongst the numerous vagrants, many of which were unfortunate Vorcha. Zaash's need for Red Sand tore at his soul, almost breaking him. He went four days without the drug, not allowing himself to submit and become a slave again. Collapsed on the street, twitching and suffering from the worst of withdrawl he thought that was how he'd die. A pathetic, strung out runaway. He was saved by a familiar face, Dr. Loring, who had witnessed the Vorcha's entire escape from the Blood Pack. Zaash had spared the man's life, he had relocated his clinic and brought Zaash to it. Loring would become Zaash's only friend, someone he'd forever been in debt to for helping him fully kick his addiction. As well as be an example of a kind face on Omega, someone that didn't just see him as a wanton pest, a symbol of kindness in the unlikeliest of places. Loring would also help shield him from the Blood Pack, who eventually gave up their search as they were drawn into a turf war with the Blue Suns. Eventually Zaash with the help of the doctor would become a changed man, a composed and unchained being.
He'd re-enter mercenary work, albeit as a freelancer. Shunning the type of jobs that the Blood Pack forced him to take he'd instead find a place in other fields, body-guarding being a popular service. He'd take other jobs, participating in small time conflicts and turf wars as a freelance merc. The credits were nice, and he carved out a solid place for himself. While he'd never truly escape his past reputation or misdeeds, he had no problem finding steady work. As Sovereign attacked the Citadel, Zaash was unaffected by it. He'd never been there, and Omega was tucked in the safety of the Terminus systems. The stuck up people on the Citadel didn't like his people, and refused to help them in anyway. He ignored it and continued to live his life, making credits. All while the slowly growing realization that he was more than likely approaching his final years crept its way into his mind, only having grown worse recently.
Zaash would take a recent mysterious job offer with interest, seeing it as an opportunity to make a bigger name for himself. Perhaps go out with a bang.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Misc: Theme song
Race: Vorcha
Gender: Male
Class: Vanguard
Age: 17
Homeworld: Heshtok
Appearance:
Standing roughly 5'10 in height, Zaash possesses an athletic figure. His eyes are a fierce crimson red, his mouth filled with the signature razor sharp teeth of his species. On his left thigh he has the Bloodpack insignia branded into his flesh, though he keeps it covered up. No longer a member of that brutal gang. He wears a set of lightweight dark blue metal armor in which speed and mobility is emphasized. Its rare for him to be out this armor, or in general be unarmed.
Psychological Profile: At first glance Zaash seems like another typical Vorcha, frightening looking with a predator's eyes. Beneath a rough exterior he is a different man, someone that's been through brutal hardships in his short life. He is not lacking in inner scars or issues, but refuses to allow them to be shown as to not appear weak. He is an inwardly withdrawn figure around strangers, often putting on a facade of toughness and intimidation. Never speaking of the true thoughts which plague his mind. Unlike some others of his species he has, for the most part, a firm grasp over his anger and violent tendencies. Still, he's impulsive and unpredictable in his actions. But he does not enjoy starting conflict, he is typically a non-confrontational figure, except to enemies and those that draw his ire. Though Zaash is not beyond quips or comments when he sees them appropriate. Combat is a different story, where he is a chaotic, unpredictable combatant who seems to unleash his full rage at his opponents. He's utterly ruthless when on mission, not letting anything get in the way. He's entirely focused on succeeding and just simply does what it takes to get the job done. He deeply enjoys brutalizing and utterly destroying his enemies, finding comfort in combat.
In casual or social settings he is a different person, someone that doesn't often start random conversations or reveal much about himself. He's a curious being, that enjoys wandering around and going to new places. He's not cruel hearted or mean, and enjoys friendly conversation. Someone that really likes being around friends. He is uncomfortable in large crowds of strangers, but being from a clan based species he also likes being around people much more than being alone. He shows hints of loyalty, but doesn't have anyone that he feels he can be loyal to. He craves acceptance, and to be around people that actually enjoy his company. A loneliness seems to tinge inside of him. Though he'll never speak of it. He does not have really any experience in the romantic field, especially outside of his own species. He is hilariously ignorant of flirtation and the like.
His life has been filled to the brim with violence, abuse, hatred and prejudice. Underneath the sturdy outer character is a complicated, confused and frightened person. The realization of his imminent death, even if he wins every single battle he fights until that day is something which terrifies and breaks him apart internally. The fact that he and his species live such a pathetically short life angers him, Krogans live hundreds of years and they're just as violent as his people. He doesn't want to die, and isn't sure if he will ever accept that fact. Against all odds he's managed to survive such a hard life as long as he has, its cruel that he's going to die soon anyway. Still, he's also committed to going out with a bang. Not wanting to be forever forgotten.
Due to spending years on Omega, and living such a violent, unpredictable life has made him into a somewhat selfish character, untrusting of others from to being burnt in the past. He looks out solely for himself and has his entire life, not allowing himself to show any outward weakness. He keeps everyone at a distance, refusing to be hurt more. He's seen the worst the galaxy has to offer, everyday on the streets of Omega he walks past his fellow Vorcha, homeless and ignored, spit on and despised. Zaash feels a deep empathy for his downtrodden brethren. Part of him wishes he could help them, but a larger part realizes such an endeavor would be utterly pointless. He is disgusted by racism and hatred directed at his species, but has heard so much of it any such words directed towards him just bounce off. Though remarks about his people as a whole still get to him. Anyone who damns an entire species is a despicable person. He also holds empathy for the poor and helpless in general, having been there himself.
Due to past abuse at their hands, Zaash has a deep hatred for the Blood Pack. He refuses to work with them, and even seeing their members in public is enough to ruin his day. He does pity the Vorcha in their ranks, the fact that they're used as nothing more than cannon fodder, that they are frequently beaten and tortured, abused into becoming strong soldiers. He has a strong dislike for Red Sand, having been addicted to the drug for years while in the Blood Pack. The sight of it tends to make his stomach drop. He deeply detests his given nickname, Cannibal, he's never eaten his fellow Vorcha but the name was bestowed upon him by one of his Blood Pack superiors and has stuck ever since. The nickname always tinged of racism to him, people thought that Vorcha ate each other like rabid savages. While not holding any prejudice against other races, its more difficult for him to form connections and trust non-Vorcha, being hated by all manners of people tends to do that. Still, he has no qualms working with them on missions.
Equipment:
- M-22 Eviscerator, equipped with a bayonet
- M-3 Predator
- Incendiary Ammo
- A wrist mounted grappling hook
- Elkoss Combine Cipher Omni-tool
- Aldrin Labs Solaris Biotic Amp
- His light armor
Abilities:
- Shockwave
- Charge
- Pull
Bio: Zaash was born on the chaotic Vorcha homeworld of Heshtok, a brutal, volcanic world which is located in the The Shrike Abyssal. An overcrowded world, every day was a struggle for much of the Vorcha population. He was born into the Gakkez clan, a proud bloodline filled with warriors and hunters. Resources were a rarity on the world, clans constantly fought for control of them, and so Zaash was essentially born into war. Due to his species short lifespan he taught how to fight early on, and thrust into battles against rival clans. The wars were rapid, terrifyingly violent affairs. The strongest clans absorbed smaller ones, executing any defeated clansmen who refused to submit and join. The young Zaash made a name for himself, helping to lead his clan to glory in multiple battles. He still carries a token of his first kill, a tooth of a Vorcha whose head he caved in with an axe. During those days he rarely thought of life outside his homeworld, he did dream of one day going into the stars but his people weren't in any position to join the galactic community. Family was emphasized on Heshtok, he always believed close knit clans held the strongest bonds in the galaxy. Zaash frequently thinks of his homeworld, part of him misses it.
At the age of four he was plucked from his homeworld by a visiting band of Blood Pack mercenaries. The powerful gang were the first aliens he encountered. While out on a hunt with a half dozen of his fellow clansman they encountered the visitors, after a brief firefight, and with three of his people killed Zaash was knocked unconscious by a massive Krogan. He'd awake to find himself offworld, with twelve other Vorcha in a makeshift jail cell, on a bizarre starship rapidly speeding away from his homeworld to be taken to a bizarre, alien place. He was strapped down and branded, screaming the entire time as a Krogan burnt the symbol of the Blood Pack into his leg. From that moment forward his days were frequently filled with beatings, abuse and degradation. His new superiors were tasked with beating and molding him into a fearsome mercenary. Some of his fellow Vorcha resisted and were beaten savagely, or at worst executed. One moment that will never leave his thoughts is of one of the other Vorcha being launched out the airlock, a showing of what happens if one refused and rebelled. The next year of his life was entirely about training, and being made to fight with unquestionable loyalty. It was commonplace for Zaash to be roughly beaten, or even mutilated in extreme instances. Due to his species healing factor such a thing could be done to him in order to encourage obedience.
He was brought to Omega immediately, the space station both fascinating and terrifying the Vorcha. He'd never seen so many aliens before, its constant battles between gangs reminded him of his homeworld. But it was still an alien place to him, and would take him a few weeks to settle in. His status as a biotic only encouraged his superiors to whip him into submission. Element Zero was a quite rare element on his homeworld, unbeknownst to his clan he was unknowingly exposed to it before birth after his mother wore an amulet infused with the beautiful material. Biotics were a rarity among Vorcha, but they did exist. He was implanted with a biotic implant, forced to strengthen and use his fledging powers. They forced Red Sand upon him in order to strengthen his powers, a substance which he become addicted to. The addiction itself was more of a mental one than anything else. Ever second he was clean of the Sand it seemed to be the only thing on his mind. How amazing he felt on it, how the universe seemed to just slow down. In one instance after being struck for disobedience Zaash in his rage flung the Krogan who had struck him through a window. But instead of more beatings he was positively encouraged and praised, something which really surprised him. He was deemed a potentially powerful warrior for the Blood Pack, and drafted into a legion led by the Davrak Hurm, a young, but truly brutal Krogan. He slowly developed a loyalty to the Blood Pack, developing a bond with several of his fellow Vorcha. Such bonds were frequently short lived as his people that were in the gang were frequent cannon fodder, something which always upset Zaash. Sadly, the mercenary group was the closest thing he had to family, or friends. He hated Hurm and the other superiors, dreaming of one day butchering them all and showing them how intelligent a Vorcha actually was. Such desires wouldn't come to fruition, for some time at least.
The next six years of his life were spent with the Blood Pack. He ended up on missions all over the Terminus systems, doing whatever was demanded of him. The Blood Pack did not turn down many jobs, and in fact prided themselves on taking the most immoral and violent contracts. Drug trafficking, assassinations, abductions, even slavery work was all on the table for them. They'd raid colonies like common pirates, plundering and pillaging whatever they wanted. Zaash took part in it all, albeit as someone forced into it and frequently drugged out of his mind. If he resisted he'd be killed or beaten into submission. He was powerless to protest, and did some truly terrible things. He did enjoy the credits, and the frequent battles he was put into but the despicable work he did wasn't something he took pride in. It was no fun brutalizing harmless civilians, a far cry from gunning down rival gangs. He'd get into spats with Davrak Hurm, the Krogan commander constantly pushing or picking on Zaash. He wanted nothing more than to rip the brute's head from his neck socket. As the years went on, Zaash's urge to drop everything and leave the gang grew. It was just a matter of how and when, and ensuring he was gone for good.
On his final day of service with the Blood Pack Zaash forced himself to refuse taking any Red Sand, the substance was part of what let him be so controlled. Even as his fingers twitched and his skin crawled his pure hatred for the Pack and his treatment at their hands allowed him to back away from the drug. He was tasked with assisting in the shakedown of a doctor in the slums of Omeha, a human named Dr. Loring. Zaash decided this was an ideal opportunity to break free. Following Hurm and two other Vorcha into the winding streets of Omega he bid his time. As they came to the doctor's office, Hurm put on his show, smashing windows, bashing in equipment, the usual for a shakedown. The other Vorcha went at the doctor, kicking Loring to the ground. Hurm commanded Zaash to shatter the man's legs, he did not expect the now veteran mercenary to hesitate and instead send him flying into a wall. Zaash rapidly gunned down the other two Vorcha, then took on Hurm, it was a day he had been waiting for. The two engaged in a brawl, the fierce Krogan's physical strength giving him an early advantage. Brimming with emotion, Zaash channeled his biotics into a charge, rocketing Hurm out of the office and into the streets. He then plunged his Omni blade through the Krogan's left eye.
A wave of relief seem to overcome him, as Hurm's corpse slopped to the floor. Then a stronger wave of panic. He bolted into the depths of the slums, running until he couldn't anymore. The Blood Pack would hunt him down relentlessly, and he'd need to lay low. He took refuge in the worst areas of the streets, fitting in amongst the numerous vagrants, many of which were unfortunate Vorcha. Zaash's need for Red Sand tore at his soul, almost breaking him. He went four days without the drug, not allowing himself to submit and become a slave again. Collapsed on the street, twitching and suffering from the worst of withdrawl he thought that was how he'd die. A pathetic, strung out runaway. He was saved by a familiar face, Dr. Loring, who had witnessed the Vorcha's entire escape from the Blood Pack. Zaash had spared the man's life, he had relocated his clinic and brought Zaash to it. Loring would become Zaash's only friend, someone he'd forever been in debt to for helping him fully kick his addiction. As well as be an example of a kind face on Omega, someone that didn't just see him as a wanton pest, a symbol of kindness in the unlikeliest of places. Loring would also help shield him from the Blood Pack, who eventually gave up their search as they were drawn into a turf war with the Blue Suns. Eventually Zaash with the help of the doctor would become a changed man, a composed and unchained being.
He'd re-enter mercenary work, albeit as a freelancer. Shunning the type of jobs that the Blood Pack forced him to take he'd instead find a place in other fields, body-guarding being a popular service. He'd take other jobs, participating in small time conflicts and turf wars as a freelance merc. The credits were nice, and he carved out a solid place for himself. While he'd never truly escape his past reputation or misdeeds, he had no problem finding steady work. As Sovereign attacked the Citadel, Zaash was unaffected by it. He'd never been there, and Omega was tucked in the safety of the Terminus systems. The stuck up people on the Citadel didn't like his people, and refused to help them in anyway. He ignored it and continued to live his life, making credits. All while the slowly growing realization that he was more than likely approaching his final years crept its way into his mind, only having grown worse recently.
Zaash would take a recent mysterious job offer with interest, seeing it as an opportunity to make a bigger name for himself. Perhaps go out with a bang.
Strengths:
- Zaash is a highly skilled combatant, a fierce, vicious opponent to face on the battlefield. He's done whatever it takes to survive and persevere. The Vorcha has fought basically his entire life and it shows. He's a formidable biotic with years of experience using his powers.
- His species is well known for their pure adaptability, and their limited regenerative abilities. Zaash is no different, this natural healing factor hassaved his life in the past several times. The Vorcha are also naturally immune to most diseases.
- With years of frontlines combat behind him, Zaash has a good deal of tactical knowledge in his mind. He's a talented strategist who can effectively set up traps or ambushes on the battlefield, as well as recognize them.
- He's an intimating figure, who knows how to get information from someone. His fierce appearance, and the 'savage' stereotype of his species helps in this regard. Due to his time in the Blood Pack he also knows torture techniques and how to 'break' someone in that regard.
Weaknesses:
- Due to being a Vorcha, many people believe him to be an ultra violent simple minded savage. He routinely faces racism, hatred and fear because of this species wide stereotype. Its something he'll never fully escape.
- He knows he's not long for this life, Vorcha have very short lifespans and he's fully realizing that one way or another he is going to die soon. He's yet to fully accept this and it terrifies him deeply, though he's not open about this.
- Zassh is quite arrogant, someone like him thats survived as long as he has living an extremely dangerous lifestyle has to be skilled. He has no issues speaking about his talents or ability to survive.
- Zaash is a reckless with his actions, acting without much regard for circumstances having been this way for a long time. This is also evident on the battlefield where he does not care about collateral damage at all. But the realization that he is in his final years has caused him to begin to harbor regret over some past actions.
- He's very blunt with his words, to the point where they can be taken as insensitive or frank.
- When enraged Zaash tends to just go wild and destroy things. In these 'meltdowns' its easy for him to lose control of his biotics and wreck everything around him.
- Due to being betrayed and abused in the past, Zaash does not trust easily. He does not have any actual friends, in part because of this fear. When it comes to the big picture he looks out for himself above everything else, there has truly been no one else for him to look out for anyway.
- Due to past actions and especially during his time with the Blood Pack, Zaash has a pretty bad reputation. While in the Blood Pack he was well known for his brutality and bloodlust. The reputation has helped with getting some jobs on Omega, but isn't so great when trying to make friends. He frequently spends time explaining it and how he's a different man.
Misc: Theme song
- Deeply enjoys human heavy metal music, and aggressive music in general. He's always wanted to learn the drums.
- He follows Biotiball, and is a diehard fan of the Usaru Maestros.
- He likes Varren, finding them loyal and cute. Someday he'd like to adopt one, perhaps a retired pit fighter.
Ready for judgement.
1x Like
Mixtape Ghost N SOMETIMES EVЕN RICH NIGGAS GET LOST
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0-24 hrs ago
expressing interest in the case you consider opening applications
coGM
Scrub Mage Ascended Sleeper
Member
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5 mos ago
After careful consideration and hours of scraping through Dossiers, @Amaranth and I have determined which of you folk would be most suited for our current mission.
To start, we'll list those who we felt did not make the cut. Comments here will be rather barebones because of HIPAA. If you are curious about your case, please submit a PM to @Scrub Mage.
Now for the rest of you lot. Again, I'll keep my comments rather plain in comparison to what I want to write, but this is simply because I have spent the last two days stewing over your characters and cannot wait to take a break. As with above, PM me if you'd like more specificity regarding my thoughts.
Alright, now that you're all out of the way, I suppose I can devote time to planning the rest of the RP. : ^ )
To start, we'll list those who we felt did not make the cut. Comments here will be rather barebones because of HIPAA. If you are curious about your case, please submit a PM to @Scrub Mage.
@DJAtomika Hazan does not meet the standards set by other applicants.
@Fallenreaper Vellios does not meet the standards set by other applicants.
@Lotrix Molick Tinari does not meet the standards set by other applicants.
@Star Lord Yanagita Shunji is a fine character, but unfortunately, there are a few issues which prevent us from accepting him at this time. If there is an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
@Eisenhorn While we quite liked Voto'tos, we feel that the role he fills is occupied by other characters of just slightly higher quality. Should their be an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
@Rtron I absolutely adore Key. I don't dish out this comment often at all, so please take it for all that it is worth. If there is an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
@Fallenreaper Vellios does not meet the standards set by other applicants.
@Lotrix Molick Tinari does not meet the standards set by other applicants.
@Star Lord Yanagita Shunji is a fine character, but unfortunately, there are a few issues which prevent us from accepting him at this time. If there is an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
@Eisenhorn While we quite liked Voto'tos, we feel that the role he fills is occupied by other characters of just slightly higher quality. Should their be an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
@Rtron I absolutely adore Key. I don't dish out this comment often at all, so please take it for all that it is worth. If there is an opening, you'll be kept in mind.
Now for the rest of you lot. Again, I'll keep my comments rather plain in comparison to what I want to write, but this is simply because I have spent the last two days stewing over your characters and cannot wait to take a break. As with above, PM me if you'd like more specificity regarding my thoughts.
@Dervish Ardan is a straight-edge with a bit of neurosis. From the application you've submitted it is clear that you crafted your character with an eye aimed toward the rich Turian culture and with a desire to have a fully realized individual. All that I would recommend is doing a quick proofread before switching Ardan over to the characters tab.
@Stormflyx Naryxa is the mother the group needs. Her view seems to be much more tame than some of the others, but her long history will give her an insight that the other characters seem to lack. Personally, I am interested in seeing how you handle PTSD with an Asari. Just about the only notes I would before switching her over to the character tabs would be mostly just to do some light proofreading. Personally, the second-to-last paragraph raises some questions about the seriousness of her Mercenary career for me, but I will leave that to your discretion.
@Spoopy Scary Shy is a golden god. Move her over. The only thing I'd have you do is some proofreading. It feels like you got tired while writing the application, so just clean some of that up so it flows better, thanks.
@Hank Kyo is, aside from Key, the character which screams Shadowrun the most to me. His background in Corporate Espionage also makes him a prime candidate for the work the crew will be doing. The only thing I'd really like to see out of him is more specificity regarding the philosophies he draws from, but as it stands now I am fine with him moving over to the characters tab. Also, even though it is a joke, please remove the line regarding Kai Leng from the misc.
@Mortarion Khosin is a great foil to Ardan, given his reformed racism. His character reminds me of Gaichu from Shadowrun: Hong Kong, and his viewpoints will provide a nice contrast to just about everyone in the party. His philosophy of war offers combined with the aforementioned reformed racism offer an interesting character dynamic that I don't think is present in the others. Just do some proofreading and cleaning up before moving him on over.
@Heat Zaash provides an interesting take on a Vorcha. Not only that, but considering the amount of people who hate Vorcha for no good reason in this party, it will be interesting to see how they change with him in their lives. While we're not exactly sure what the extent of Vorcha biotics is in-universe, I am willing to take a leap and let the Vanguard get through. Aside from proofreading, all that we require you to do is carefully consider the effects of addiction on a Vorcha. A part of me wonders if it would be possible for a Vorcha to become addicted to Red Sand in the first place, considering their physiology is hyper-adaptable to conditions including resource scarcity. I'd say you are accepted, but before moving over to the Character Tab let's have a discussion to figure that bit out.
@Stormflyx Naryxa is the mother the group needs. Her view seems to be much more tame than some of the others, but her long history will give her an insight that the other characters seem to lack. Personally, I am interested in seeing how you handle PTSD with an Asari. Just about the only notes I would before switching her over to the character tabs would be mostly just to do some light proofreading. Personally, the second-to-last paragraph raises some questions about the seriousness of her Mercenary career for me, but I will leave that to your discretion.
@Spoopy Scary Shy is a golden god. Move her over. The only thing I'd have you do is some proofreading. It feels like you got tired while writing the application, so just clean some of that up so it flows better, thanks.
@Hank Kyo is, aside from Key, the character which screams Shadowrun the most to me. His background in Corporate Espionage also makes him a prime candidate for the work the crew will be doing. The only thing I'd really like to see out of him is more specificity regarding the philosophies he draws from, but as it stands now I am fine with him moving over to the characters tab. Also, even though it is a joke, please remove the line regarding Kai Leng from the misc.
@Mortarion Khosin is a great foil to Ardan, given his reformed racism. His character reminds me of Gaichu from Shadowrun: Hong Kong, and his viewpoints will provide a nice contrast to just about everyone in the party. His philosophy of war offers combined with the aforementioned reformed racism offer an interesting character dynamic that I don't think is present in the others. Just do some proofreading and cleaning up before moving him on over.
@Heat Zaash provides an interesting take on a Vorcha. Not only that, but considering the amount of people who hate Vorcha for no good reason in this party, it will be interesting to see how they change with him in their lives. While we're not exactly sure what the extent of Vorcha biotics is in-universe, I am willing to take a leap and let the Vanguard get through. Aside from proofreading, all that we require you to do is carefully consider the effects of addiction on a Vorcha. A part of me wonders if it would be possible for a Vorcha to become addicted to Red Sand in the first place, considering their physiology is hyper-adaptable to conditions including resource scarcity. I'd say you are accepted, but before moving over to the Character Tab let's have a discussion to figure that bit out.
Alright, now that you're all out of the way, I suppose I can devote time to planning the rest of the RP. : ^ )
Dervish Let's get volatile
Member
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1 mo ago
I just wanna say, as someone who GMs a lot and has gone through a number of application processes on the other side, I appreciate the hard work you guys did reviewing all of the heavy tomes of submissions the past few days and all of the careful work you guys put into this.
I'm honoured to be here. Let's make a story to remember!
I'm honoured to be here. Let's make a story to remember!
OwO what's this?
Member
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0-24 hrs ago
I appreciate the hard work you guys did reviewing all of the heavy tomes of submissions the past few days and all of the careful work you guys put into this.
"*Groan of pain* why does everyone in advanced write novels?" - Scrub Mage on spending 4+ hours reviewing characters in one sitting before getting up to violently play random instruments, 11/01/2019.
Dervish Let's get volatile
Member
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1 mo ago
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